#that scott is not or not the only one at fault here | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

not-neverland06 · 3 months ago

Note

Hey! Love your writing and love Flux!! I was hoping to request a kind of angsty/fluffy fic with the worst!wolverine where the meet her in the void and maybe Logan knew her just not very well and he’s finally letting himself open up and be close with her (likewise with reader/flux towards logan) and they get into an argument or maybe logan has a nightmare and he ends up stabbing her with his claws and maybe the aftermath of him beating himself up and sabotaging the new relationship until reader finally snaps him out of it and says it was an accident and she still loves him?? Thanks!!

mistake

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

a/n: I want to thank you for this request because I've been having the worst writer's block in the world. I was worried about having to go into another unofficial hiatus, but this made something in my brain click together and I knocked it out in two hours. my life is yours 🙏🙏 Summary: You know him. Or, you knew him. And you never blamed him for what happened in your world. It wasn't his fault that everyone you loved died and you barely escaped with your life. But you never actually thought you'd have to see him again. You don't know what to do when all these feelings resurface with his appearance.

No one truly knew who you were back in your universe. After the horrific incident at the mansion, you had run. You’d run as fast and as far as you could from the slaughter of your friends. You’d barely escaped with your life, and from the amount of blood and gore they’d left behind, most people just assumed you were dead.

It’s not like anyone cared about you. Scott, Ororo, and Jean had been the real heroes. But it didn’t matter because they were still mutants at the end of the day. It didn’t matter how many people they saved. How many lives they positively changed, no one would ever see past the fact that they were mutants.

Being one of the newer members of the recently disbanded X-Men gave you enough anonymity to get through daily life without being recognized. It did not, however, protect you from being sucked into the shit fest that is the multiverse.

You’re not sure what it is about you that just attracts bad luck. You don’t know if it’s some hidden power that’s a part of your evolution. You’re just apparently perpetually fucked. The TVA had determined that you were interfering with the proper flow of your timeline or some bullshit.

Now you’re here. Stuck in the void with nothing but decay and drunk former superheroes. If you have to watch one more Captain America ‘rally the troops’ you’re gonna kill him yourself. You’ve considered switching teams and joining Cassandra Nova at times. If only so you don’t have to deal with Johnny Storm and the rest of the dipshits.

You get along with Laura, at least. She likes to tell you about her Logan and you like to dodge her questions about yours. She doesn’t need to know that not every version of Wolverine has a golden heart and story worthy of tears. Yours was a fuck up, plain and simple, but you never thought the incident was his fault.

As much as others tried to push the blame on him. The people who raided the mansion were determined. There was no other way that day was going to end up. You’d just have one less X-Man. But people always love a martyr more than a victim.

After a couple of years, you get used to the monotony. Your days are only occasionally broken up by dodging Cassandra’s henchmen and trying not to get sucked up into the soul destroyer. Other than that, you spend your nights getting drunk with Gambit and pretending you know whatever the fuck he’s talking about.

“Laura! I managed to find some chocolate!” You run into the hideout looking for the girl. It’s rare to find good food that isn’t already a month past its expiration date. You weren’t planning on sharing the candy with her but you figured she’d smell it on you and it’s not worth the fight.

Instead, you stop short as the familiar blue and yellow uniform you’d always try to force on him comes into view. He’s stealing Gambit’s liquor and you know that’s not going to go over well. What you don’t know is why you are so sure that this is your Wolverine.

You’ve never had a Wolverine in the void. Not once. This could be any one of the hundreds of thousands of variants. But you see that look in his eye. That familiar watery gaze shows just how much he hurts, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.

“Logan?” You breathe his name out in disbelief. Bypassing the Deadpool standing nearby. You’ve dealt with enough of those in your time down here. He takes a step back, fixing you with a distrusting look.

He keeps the bottle of alcohol clutched close to his chest like he thinks you’re going to take it. You track the movement and you scoff. “Right,” you shake your head and stop short. “Of course, the only thing you care about is still getting fucking drunk.”

He glares at you, taking a step forward like he thinks it might actually intimidate you. “Do I know you, bub?” He reaches forward, probably to jab his finger in your chest. You drop your gaze to his outstretched hand and narrow your eyes.

The material of his suit fluctuates, pulling back and rippling over his arms like liquid and not spandex. He doesn’t notice the manipulation of matter until it's his skin you target. It melts off his adamantium bones and he stares down in horror.

You know he's scared because he’s watching his body dissolve but he’s not feeling any pain. You could make it hurt, but that’s not what you want. You just want to see if he’ll remember you now. If there’s anything half-decent left in that alcohol-rotted brain of his.

“Flux,” he grits your X-Man name out through his teeth like it hurts him to say it.

You nod and his skin and suit go back to normal, like you’d never tampered with it in the first place. “You do remember me, then?”

“Thought you fucking died with the rest of them.” Your face drops before you feel an astonished smile on your face.

“You know, it’s a comfort to know nothing about my world has changed. You’re still the same spineless dick that left us all to die.” You shake your head and storm out of the hideout. You don’t know how long they’re planning on staying but you pray they leave soon. If you have to deal with him longer than a week, you’ll just kill him.

You step outside just as Laura’s coming back from the bonfire. She greets you with a stiff smile and you wonder what’s got in her in a mood. It only takes a glance over her shoulder to find the reason.

Logan is sulking by the fire, nursing yet another bottle of whiskey. He’s drinking it like water and even with his healing, his liver should have turned to mush by now. “I can see why you didn’t tell me about him,” she mutters as she passes by you.

You know she tried to be quiet but you can see the way Logan’s head tilts slightly towards you. He’s heard her and you know it has to sting just a little.

You glance down at the leaves under your feet, eyes glazing over as you feel the guilt sink into your stomach. You shouldn’t feel bad, you didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t hurt him, technically, just reminded him who you were. But you still feel bad for what you said.

You’ve never blamed Logan for what happened. And if you did, you would be a hypocrite. Because you survived too, and you left them all behind. You ran like a coward. You could never blame him when you failed to save them just the same.

You take in a deep breath and steel yourself. You’ll just apologize, walk over there, and explain to him you didn’t mean what you said. You know he’ll be a dick about it. Claiming he doesn’t want your apology. You’ll just leave him alone after.

You’re about to step forward when he barks out a gruff command, “Don’t fucking stare at me like that. I don’t want your company.” He turns back to the fire and takes another swig from his bottle.

You roll your eyes and walk towards him. “You can be as miserable and self-pitying as you want, just let me say one thing.”

His head whips towards you so quickly you’re surprised you don’t hear it snap. “I’m not fucking pitying myself,” he grits out. You quirk your brows in amusement, glancing towards the bottle in his hand and the clear way he’s sulking. He turns his attention back towards the fire, intent on ignoring you again.

“I don’t blame you for what happened,” you tell him. You ignore the warning look he shoots you, taking a seat beside him even if he doesn’t want you to. “I-” you choke on the words, struggling to admit to yourself what you’ve never wanted to.

“Don’t.” You know it’s meant to be a warning. But when you look at him and see how completely broken he is, it sounds more like a pathetic plead.

But you need to say this. As selfish as it is, you need to say this to someone., Need to unload this guilt you’ve carried for so long. “I was there, Logan. I could have saved them and I didn’t. I fucking ran.”

“Kid, don’t do this-”

“Jean was still moving,” you blurt out. You feel the way your heart speeds up at the admission. Your fingers shake and the air around you stills.

His face drops and he slowly turns towards you. You’re afraid to look at him. You feel like a bunny staring down the snout of a wolf, there’s no escaping this. You’ve created this trap for yourself.

“What?” He demands. His voice has lost that tremor of vulnerability. Instead, he sounds like he did when he first found out what had happened to you all. That same deadly level of calm that makes you want to bolt again.

“She,” you stare into the fire until your eyes burn. You don’t know if it’s from the light or the smoke but the pain focuses you. “She was shaking on the floor. There was blood everywhere and she could barely breathe. They had gassed us with something. None of us could use our powers, it’s the only reason they got a one-up on us.”

You can feel yourself slipping back into that moment. You feel the warmth of the blood on your skin. It seeps into your suit and makes the material cling to you. Your gut is split open and the only thing holding your intestines in is your hands.

Jean is in front of you. Her hands are twitching by her sides. There’s blood pouring out of her lips, dribbling down her tongue and cheeks. Every breath is a rattle so deep you feel it in your bones.

Each inhale sounds like someone dragging glass through the membrane of her lungs. Her chest rises and sinks shallowly as she gasps for air. She’s practically convulsing, eyes twitching every which way.

The gas has faded from the halls. The people have left, satisfied with the carnage. You’re alone, surrounded only by the blood and bodies of your friends. None of the others are moving. Some of them are so mangled you can’t even tell who they are anymore.

Jean’s eyes lock onto yours. The only anchor she has. And you can see it, the frantic, wounded animal gaze on her face. She knows she’s dying. She knows there’s nothing she can do about it.

You can only stand by and watch as your friend dies. You could be her comfort. You could be the last face she sees before she dies, distracting her from the sight of her dead fiancee behind her.

But what do you do?

You hold your guts in your stomach and you run. You can’t look at her. You can’t look at any of them. You can hear her croaking behind you. And even when you’re out of the mansion, when you’re in a hospital somewhere getting repaired and Logan’s on a rampage, you still hear her.

You feel something heavy on your arm and it’s like you're being forcibly dragged out of a trance. Logan’s looking at you with something you’ve never seen before. But it’s something you’ve always desperately craved.

It’s like he’s seeing you, really seeing you. For the first time in a long time, you feel that ache of guilt ease away ever so slightly. It doesn’t disappear, but you’re sharing the burden with someone else and it’s a relief you’ve desperately craved.

“You’re not a bad person for leaving, kid.” He swallows roughly and you place your hand over his. He doesn’t look completely comfortable with the touch, slightly flinching away from it, but he doesn’t move. “If you hadn’t, you would be dead.”

You squeeze his hand, forcing him to meet your gaze. “I never blamed you for what happened.” emotion is so thick on your tongue and in your throat that the words come out a whisper. “Their deaths weren’t your fault, and what happened after wasn’t.”

He clenches his eyes shut and jerks his hand out of your grip. You sigh, knowing you’ve lost him. “I slaughtered them.”

You scoff, “They slaughtered us!” You nearly shout, anger bubbling hot in your gut. When you heard about him killing those who had hunted down your friends, you’d celebrated. And when you heard the way the public was crucifying him, you realized that no matter what you did they would never love you.

You would always be nothing more than a mutant to them.

“And the people who didn’t hurt them? The innocents I killed?”

You don’t have anything to say to that. You just stand up, placing a hand on his shoulder as you pass by him. “I never blamed you, Logan.”

You don’t see Logan again after that. At least, not while you’re in the void. What was left of your little resistance was sucked up into the purple cloud of death. Only you and Laura are left with the carnage.

Logan and Wade have disappeared to who knows where. It stings, to be on your own again. Sure, you have Laura, but she’ll never understand the pain of what happened to your universe.

As much as it hurt, at least with Logan, you had someone to share the pain with. You could share your burden with him. You feel lonely and cold. Like there’s a part of you missing. You finally figure out what that ache is when the TVA comes to collect you and you see him again.

He’s standing behind Wade as he enthusiastically tells you and Larua all about his world. But you can’t take your eyes off Logan, or the tentative smile on his face. Whatever had happened during that fight with Cassandra Nova had changed him, for the better.

You smile back at him and it feels like taking a breath of fresh air after years.

Apparently, whoever this world’s Flux had been, she was fucking insanely rich. And dead, which sucked for her but was great for you and Logan.

It’s not hard for you to fake some government identities and explain that you’d been mistakenly marked as dead. It’s apparently pretty common in this universe. Superheroes are blipped out of existence all the time. You couldn’t get all of her assets as some had been liquidated, but you did get her giant ass house.

You let Logan and Laura stay with you until they decide where they want to go. It’s better than living with Wade and his coke-fiend roommate. Laura finds her groove pretty quickly, it is her world after all. But you and Logan struggle to figure out what to do with yourselves.

Neither of you has an interest in being X-Men again, and it seems like they’re not incredibly present in this world either. You also hadn’t been the best of friends, even before everything went wrong, back home.

You’re not strangers, you’re not friends, you’re that awkward place in between. Each day is another opportunity to get to know each other. The progress might be slow, but you know that you’re getting closer to something real.

It’s why you don’t feel any qualms about running into his room when you hear him shouting. You burst into his room and the door slamming against the wall isn’t even enough to wake him up.

He’s writhing around in the bed, sheets twisted around his waist while sweat beads down his forehead. The noises he’s making remind you of a wounded animal. There’s something heartbreaking about this.

He doesn’t get peace even when he’s sleeping. It makes you hurt for him. You want to smooth over the aches and pains he carries and burden yourself with them.

The thought snaps you out of your reverie and you’re shocked by the revelation. You’d been growing closer to him, but you hadn’t thought you were growing this close. You feel so strongly for him, but you’re not ready to put a name on what it is that you feel for him. You just know that right now you want to make him feel better.

You approach the bed cautiously, taking a seat beside him. The bed ripples and jolts underneath you as he tosses and turns. You place a gentle hand on his arm and shake, “Logan,” you whisper. You don’t want to startle him too bad.

But he’s not responding to anything. It doesn’t matter how much you shake him or call out his name. Finally, you can’t handle it anymore. You get on your knees, sitting over him and bringing your palm down across his face as hard as you can.

In a second he’s shooting up. You don’t even notice his hand until you see the way his vision clears. The visceral panic fades and something is aching in your gut. “Oh god, no no no,” he says the word so many times it stops sounding real.

You look down and see the blood dribbling down his palm, the claws buried in your stomach. It’s almost funny, how perfectly aligned they are with the scar that already lived there. The reminder of your friend’s death being erased and reformed by Logan’s hand.

He pulls his wrist back and you quickly snatch it up. “Don’t!” You shout, jaw clenching against the pain. “Don’t pull them out, I’ll just bleed out.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” You know he’s worried, that’s why he snaps at you. But it doesn’t help the way you feel yourself fighting back tears.

He sees them drip down your cheeks and his face drops. His other hand, the one not in you, comes up and cradles your cheek. “What do I do?” He whispers, and he sounds more desperate than you do.

You know he doesn’t want another death on his hands. But there’s something beyond that. He doesn’t want to be the reason you stop breathing. There’s a startling clarity when you’re slowly dying.

He cares about you. Just as deeply as you do for him. You can’t make him go through this pain again. Can’t let him suffer alone, not when he’s made so much progress. “Slowly,” you tell him, guiding his claws out inch by inch.

It’s hard not to black out. You’d barely felt it when he’d gotten you the first time. You think it’s because of how fast and sudden it was. But this, having them oh so slowly slicing through your insides is the worst form of torture.

But you don’t heal like him. You have to close your eyes, focus on the pain, and forcibly reknit your skin back together. It’s a clever manipulation of your powers, but it’s a slow one. You could never take serious damage on the field because you wouldn’t be fast enough to repair yourself.

This is easy to repair. But that doesn’t make it hurt less. It feels like an hour before he can safely draw them the rest of the way out. The second he does, you’re sinking into his arms with a pained sob.

He clutches you so tightly to his chest you worry your back might snap. He keeps muttering apologies into your hair, hands desperately grasping at every inch of you he can hold. You’re too tired to say anything.

You realized you should have. You should have told him you don’t blame him. You were the one who snuck into his room. You should have been smarter. But it doesn’t matter how many times you tell Logan not to blame himself, he always will. And you were too tired to try anyway.

You only realize what’s happening two days after the incident. You figured he might need some space to process what happened. And honestly, you did too. It was awful and incredibly draining. You’ve felt fatigued ever since.

But when you try and approach him and he just brushes past you like you weren’t even there, you know something is wrong. You watch his retreating back with a disturbed glare. You connect the dots quickly, already knowing what he’s doing.

He doesn’t want to be responsible for hurting another person he loves. He can’t handle a loss like that again, even if it’s not by his hands. He wants to make sure you don’t want him, that you don’t care for him. Like that might ease the pain and guilt.

But it wouldn’t. It would just make him feel worse. It would make you feel worse.

You don’t waste a second, following him up the stairs and barging into his room before he can slam the door shut. It bounces off the wall and he lets out a deeply irritated sigh. He doesn’t turn to look at you, just walks over to his nightstand and rummages around through the doors.

You know he’s not looking for anything. He’s just trying to ignore you long enough for you to give up. It’s not going to happen, he should know better.

You take a step further into the room and the smell of chemicals slams into you. Your nose wrinkles in disgust. It smells like he pumped Lysol into the vents. Your eyes dart to the bed and you sigh.

Your blood, you’d completely forgotten. He must have been cleaning it up the morning after. You can’t blame him for wanting to get rid of the remainder. But this seems excessive.

“Strong nose,” he mutters. You hadn’t realized you’d spoken aloud and you glanced over at him. “I can still smell it, even after cleaning.” He takes a seat on the bed and you hate the way his shoulders are slumped.

He’d seemed so much more comfortable with himself lately. It’s like one accident has undone all his progress. “Logan,” you start, taking a step towards him. He holds his hand up, still not looking at you.

It’s driving you insane. You wish he would just meet your eyes. You feel like you could change his mind if he would just see you. Maybe that’s why he won’t. He won’t let himself be happy.

“Look, that night just made me realize what a huge fucking mistake this was.” He gets up and slides something out from under the bed. It takes a moment for you to register what it is. A duffel bag, packed with all his essentials and what little clothes he owns.

He’s going to leave.

You act without thinking. Pure panic making your powers surge out. Logan grunts and the bag falls out of his hand. “Quit it,” he snipes, bending over to pick it up. But he can’t because it’s so heavy it’s making the wooden floor splinter and crack under its weight.

“You don’t get to just leave when things get hard, Logan.”

He stands up, hands propped on his sides. There’s a challenge in his eyes that makes you nervous. “Fuck this,” he scoffs and brushes past you.

It’s beyond manipulative to use your powers against him. But sometimes, someone is such a fucking idiot, they need a little outside help. You slam the door closed and the handle disappears, locking you both in his room.

He turns towards you with a fierce glare on his face. “Open the goddamn door before I break it down.”

“You can try,” you taunt, a nasty tone to your voice. You’re sick of this. You’re sick of running from what you want. You’ve been miserable and alone for years. You want to be happy. For the first time in forever, you want something.

And you want Logan to be happy with you. You can’t force him to feel the way you do. But you can stop him from actively preventing this. “Stop acting like a goddamn child and just talk to me!” You shout at him.

There’s a disbelieving look on your face. You don’t understand why he won’t let this happen. Why does he have to fight so hard against any semblance of happiness in his life?

“I’m going to hurt you. That is all I do. I hurt the people I love and I cannot hurt you too.” Your eyes widen in shock at his outburst. Beyond anger, there was so much fear in his voice it was almost enough to make you miss what he’d said.

“You love me?” You can see the realization dawn on him. The fact that he let slip why he’s so hesitant to be around you. You know he wants to leave, his eyes are darting around the room for an escape route, but you’ve blocked them all. You can’t let this go, not now.

“Logan,” you snap, demanding an answer from him.

“Fuck you,” he mutters, something vicious on his face.

He’s going to hurt you. He’s going to lash out and say something cruel so that this doesn’t happen. You know him because you’ve been him. He will take every possible route to get out of this if it means he doesn’t have to face his feelings.

You roll your eyes and take a step forward. You jerk him towards you and throw yourself on him before he can say something stupid. The kiss is brief, just enough to snap him out of this ridiculous headspace he’s in.

When you pull back he looks dazed, but he’s relaxed in your hold, sinking towards you. You grin up at him, “I love you too, dumbass.” You lean up to kiss him again but you dart back at the last second, a mean glare on your face. “Pull some shit like this again and I’m going to melt your dick off.”

You kiss him before he can respond, but you feel the smile against your lips. You can taste the defeat on his tongue as he wraps his arms around you and tugs you into his chest. He’s not going to push you away and you’re not going to let him.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist: @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte

@mrs-ephemeral @wolviesgirl @allllium ♡

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett #the worst logan x reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine imagine #wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman #hugh jackman x reader #anon

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p1utofairy · 20 days ago

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★ WHICH COMIC BOOK COUPLE ARE YOU AND YOUR PERSON MOST LIKE?

NOTE — love and light my babies ⭐️🧿 take what resonates, leave what doesn’t. for entertainment purposes only. your feedback is always so greatly appreciated, enjoy!

— PILE 1.

channeled couple(s) → batman x catwoman + jean grey x cyclops.

your person is a very hands-on, actively involved and dynamic individual who thrives in fast-paced environments. they’re very resourceful and can turn a negative into a positive in the blink of an eye – a true problem solver if you will. they learn things/adapt quicker than most and i feel like a lot of people regard them as an amazing friend. your person is very inquisitive and always wants to know more. once they complete a task, they’re on to the next; it can be hard to pin them down for long periods of time. they might move around a lot physically (could have OCD) but i’m more so picking up that they’ve lived here, there and everywhere.

they’re always on the go! i’m also picking up that your person is a little bit of a control freak but gosh they can't help it; they truly love to lead and be of service. you’re gonna find this so hot lowkey lol which is funny because i think you typically go for someone that let’s you control things and have the upper hand but with this person it’s not like that. their sense of control is different though — it’s not possessive, like “you’re mine!” or “no, you can’t go out wearing that!” instead, it’s more about seeing you struggle with something and insisting on helping you with it. you might say, “no, i’ve got it,” but they’ll respond, “here, just let me…” you get frustrated because you just said you could handle it, but there they go, taking it from your hands and easing the stress and pain you were carrying. wow, that was such a descriptive scenerio but it just randomly came to me lol. it’s giving 6H energy!

11:11 on the clock i’m blushing hehe your person is super sweet and chivalrous it’s very charming, pile 1. don’t even get me started on their physique WHEW you’re gonna love their arms/biceps…your person might even have a lot of tattoos (i’m seeing sleeve tats) and i can just see you fighting the urge to playfully bite them lol. they could be very athletic and go to the gym a lot. now switching gears, the comic book couples that similarly mirrors your connection is jean grey x cyclops + batman and catwoman. some of y’all might be rolling your eyes at the mention of jean and scott (my wolverine girlies i’m talking to you) but HERE ME OUT and let me cook!

i feel like you’re more of a wanderer and don’t care to be as involved as your person is, if that makes sense? gypsy by fleetwood mac just started playing in my mind. trials and tribulations throughout your life might have caused you to turn inwards, and you feel unsure about what it is your supposed to be doing/where life is exactly taking you. your presence is more calm and still and your person is again, more hands on and out there. like jean grey, you are very clever and passionate but there’s a temperamental side to you. you might have strong air sign placements in your chart because i feel that you’re very rational about your emotions – sometimes to a fault. i think you hold back a lot of the times (especially when it comes to love) in fear of hurting other people’s feelings or just being misunderstood. some of you could have people-pleasing tendencies. your person gives that scott summers vibe because their actions are typically driven by a sense of duty rather than a desire to please others.

whether you know it or not, you wield a lot of power and sometimes i think people take your kindness for weakness. what your person is really going to admire about you is how intentional you are especially when it comes to giving/receiving love. you are so gentle and kind with your person – soooo doting and attentive. you two deadass have a telepathic connection cause when one person is feeling off, the other one can sense it. your person is also tryna be funny and say that you’re used to dealing with logans (wolverine) but they’re coming to change that. LMAOOOO your person is funny as fuck if you couldn’t already tell.

you both compliment each other so well, spiritually and physically. that’s why i also channeled batman x catwoman because y’alls vibe just gives that. y’all know those crazy ass tiktok/IG comments when people are like i need to see the tape PLS yeah…y’all evoke that reaction from people. you both find each other incredibly sexy like the sexual tension between you both is gonna be insaneeeee. i’m also sensing a bit of a bratty energy coming from your end in terms of the attention your person gets lol they might be very sought after. it’s reminding of the ending scene of ‘the batman’ when selena is urging batman to come with her and part of him is superrrr tempted but duty calls. i promise you that your person only wants you, though. like i’m being so deadass when i say that they’re literally gonna be devoted to you.

OTHER CHANNELED MESSAGES —

“i work alone”, you might be used to the wolverine types but what you really need is a scott summers, back to black by amy winehouse, spotless mind by jhené aiko, maneater by nelly furtado, dylan, slayyyter, dua lipa, ESFJ, ISTJ, resemblance to callum turner, 333, sagittarius, 6H cancer, capricorn rising, 555.

— PILE 2.

channeled couple(s) → daredevil x elektra + rogue x gambit.

oooo right off the bat i’m hearing stand still by sabrina claudia. you’re so unaware that we're feeling, the same thing, the same damn thing…time is standing still and why are we still here? interesting, pile 2. very interesting! you and your person are more alike than you would think. from the outside you both appear very different, but energetically you both are sooo compatible. i’m hearing “from different worlds” and being drawn to the movie aladdin lol maybe that’s one of your favorite disney movies or your person’s? i think that’s why i was picking up on elektra x daredevil because it’s like…you and your person’s upbringing differed in a way but there’s a common ground in terms of how it’s shaped you both. one of you is more forward and hasty while the other is more reluctant and calculated.

you feel very confined and limited…like your environment is just so repetitive and boring. you’ve been hoping for something new to manifest – and you feel like you’re on the brink of it, it’s like you can almost reach out and touch it. for most of you, this is in regards to your connection with this person but for other’s it’s a job/traveling opportunity of some sort. you could possibly live in a very small town or somewhere that doesn’t have a lot to offer/keep you occupied. you’re about to see some progress sooner than you think, pile 2. give it about 1-3 months and watch how the magic happens! sagittarius season could be very significant for you.

your person is going to come into your life HOT and HEAVY, omg. you’re gonna be like wait wtf when did you get here?! nobody’s supposed to be here by deborah cox is playing in my head now – i’ve tried that love thing for the last time…my heart says no, no! nobody's supposed to be here…but you came along and changed my mind. LMAOOOO well pile 2 get ready cause your person is gonna sweep you off your damn feet. now it makes sense why i channeled rogue x gambit for you two because it’s like you’re taking of risk of some sort…the risk being your heart. trusting someone romantically is like risky business for you.

you’re so used to being able to predict outcomes and know what’s going to happen next, but with this person uhn uhn things are not so black and white. actually, there’s a lot of grey areas and that’s what’s going to scare you yet intrigue you about this person. you’re so rogue coded, awww. rogue has the ability to absorb the powers and memories of others through touch, so that makes her very guarded and reluctant to form close relationships. gambit is intrigued by her, but she is wary of him. i see this being similar to you and your person’s interactions…there might be an initial hesitation on your end but there’s an undeniable chemistry between the two of you!

your person is similar to gambit who is a smooth-talking, charming, and rough around the edges type of character. he’s very drawn to rogue’s beauty and strength (and similar to you) her self-imposed isolation and emotional baggage makes her hesitant to open up to him. i’m definitely picking up on the slow-burn trope for y’all, pile 2. although you really want this connection you might feel held back by self-doubt and fear intimacy/vulnerability. you’ve gotta work through this slowly but surely, my loves. it’s not easy but it’s necessary because this person absolutely loves you, pile 2. they’d put everything on the line for you if they had to.

just like gambit, this person will always be deeply in love with you no matter how much you try to shut them out or act like your feelings aren’t as deep as they really are. i also just want to mention that your person has such a way with words like UGH the way they say things/articulate themselves is gonna have you going feral lol they’re so knowledgeable and persuasive. it doesn’t help that they’re fine as fuck too lol you’re gonna be mentally shadow-boxing your anxiety whenever you’re around them because they’re just soooo damn charming fr!

i’m also being drawn to one of the biggest themes of rogue and gambit’s relationship which is rogue not being able to physically touch him without absorbing his memories and abilities – which is something that frightens her, not only because it could harm him but also because it’s something that strips away everything from the person she’s touching. now y’alls situation is obviously not that dramatic, but i am picking up that some of you that picked this pile could be virgins or celibate. i feel like the wait will make you both become even closer.

OTHER CHANNELED MESSAGES —

you make wanna by usher, “i never thought this was possible”, bit of a wild card (no pun intended), fiery personality, leo/aquarius placements, you’re their best friend, love on the brain by rihanna.

— PILE 3.

channeled couple → wanda maximoff x vision.

you and your person are too stinkin’ cute, pile 3. lmaooo i know that sounds so corny and cheesy but your person puts you in this kind of mood. the sun is shining sooo bright as i’m writing this. it’s like you light up their life and vice versa. you remind them of a warm summer day at the beach where you’re free to just roam around, have ice cream and relax. you’re like a breath of fresh air for this person. your person can be extremely sappy (in the best way possible) like i see them randomly just grabbing you and spinning you around or twirling you lol they’re like…always in a good mood. they might like to sing or dance mhm i get the vibe that they have a CD collection like they really love music sooo much! they will love to cook for you as well awww they’re so considerate, pile 3. you guys are definitely giving that old school cutesy romantic 60s couple vibe for sure, i could cry!

i channeled wanda maximoff x vision for a reason i see. i feel like when you first meet your person you’re going to be going through alot in your own life and i’m not necessarily getting that it’s anything bad but it seems like you’re either working through something or towards something. this could be you confronting some childhood trauma and/or previous relationship baggage. it might also be that you're not quite where you imagined you'd be in life right now, or maybe you're feeling a bit unsure about your current path. whatever the reason, your person will likely sense that you're feeling a little lost, and they'll pick up on that shift in your energy. you might meet your person while you’re traveling or outside of wherever you live (i’m hearing out the country for some) and i see you two forming a very close friendship first. infrunami by steve lacy is coming to mind – girl, you're the one i want, you’re the one i need…i’m beggin' you, please. can you come back to me? 'cause i was blind to see that you were right in front of me. hm for some of you this person could be a mutual or you somehow know them through your friends? if not, there just seems to be a sense of familiarity between the two of you.

i’m hearing “wow what a small world!” so tbh you could meet this person through one of your friends lol now i’m hearing best friend’s brother by victoria justice PLEASE that’s so random but on brand. also i’m picking up that your person could wear glasses? they are very inquisitive and can read you like a book, pile 3.

like vision, your person can pick up on your emotions, sensing when something is off even if you don’t express it. though vision is a synthezoid, his close connection to wanda and his time with the avengers allowed him to empathize deeply with human emotions. over time, his understanding of these feelings went beyond his programming, and his love for wanda amplified his ability to sense when she’s in distress. he offers comfort to her when she's struggling with her powers or grief. i feel like this relationship will be therapeutic for the both of you! you scratch their back, they’ll scratch yours.

you are similar to wanda in the sense that you can alter/create your reality – YOU have the power, but you have to believe it first. you doubt yourself a lot and create a lot of chaos within your mind because you can’t decide whether or not you should do something or if you’re even making the right decision. i think this has a lot to do with your childhood/upbringing, you stay in the shadows instead of being in the spotlight. that’s the problem, pile 3. i think you’re afraid of taking up space in fear of what others might say or think. there’s this sense of imposter syndrome. in order to bring this relationship into fruition you’ve gotta trust and believe in yourself, my loves. you’re an absolute badass – pop out and act like it! 10:10 on the clock. stop getting so caught up in the idea of what you think should be perfect. nothing and no one is perfect and ironically that’s the beauty of life lol shit ain’t always sweet and that’s okay. the world keeps spinning. it might not seem like it now but you will be more than okay, trust me! your person can’t wait to be in your orbit eeek i’m giddy at the thought of you two connecting. you don’t even realize it but your spirit guides are working overtime to make this connection happen hehe it starts with you though, babe. buckle up cause your person is ready. are you down to ride?

OTHER CHANNELED MESSAGES —

michael, breakfast at tiffany’s, NYC, month of may, one of the girls by the weeknd ft. lily rose depp & jennie, looks like MBJ, leo, 7H, 6H/virgo venus.

#pick a card #pac #pac reading #pick a pile #pick a card reading #tarot reading #p1utofairy #intuitive reading #text divider #by ioveartfilm

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slyandthefamilybook · 8 months ago

Text

okay because I'm seeing some misinfo, here's the story on the Key Bridge collapse

What was the Key Bridge?

The Francis Scott Key Bridge (also called the Key Bridge, the Beltway Bridge, and the Outer Harbor Crossing) was steel-arch continuous-through-truss bridge spanning the Patapsco River south of the Baltimore Harbor. The bridge took 5 years to build and cost an estimated $145 million ($735 million in today's dollars). The full bridge project (including approaches) was 10.9 miles long, but the stretch over the Patapsco was 1.6 miles long and 4 lanes wide, and comprised a length of I-695, the Baltimore Beltway. It traveled between Hawkins Point and Dundalk, and in addition to the I-895 Harbor Tunnel was the primary way for Marylanders to cross from the Eastern Shore to the West. The bridge carried an estimated 11.5 million vehicles per year. There is a lane for ships to pass under the Key Bridge with enough clearance.

Was it structurally sound?

The bridge received its latest inspection in 2022 and received a 6/9 score, which is considered "fair" by federal standards. There was a concern with one of its columns, which was downgraded from a health index of 77.8 to 65.9, but it is not clear yet if this was one of the columns struck by the ship. In 1980 the bridge was struck by a different cargo ship which destroyed a concrete support structure, but the bridge itself was unharmed. There is as of yet no evidence that the bridge collapsed because of poor condition. Experts say the lesson to be learned is about the size and weight of modern cargo ships, and that the bridge was not to blame. Engineers have noted, however, that the bridge's piers lacked protective devices such as fenders.

What was the ship?

The MV Dali is a container ship flying the Singapore flag. It is owned by Grace Ocean Private Ltd. and operated by Synergy Marine Group Ltd. The ship is currently being chartered by Maersk, a Dutch shipping company. It was built in 2015 by Hyundai. The ship is 980 feet long and 157 feet wide. The ship's gross tonnage (its internal volume) is 95,128 tons (190,256,000 pounds). Its deadweight (the weight of cargo it can carry) is 116,851 tons (233,702,000 pounds). The ship was carrying 3,000 containers. The engine is a MAN-B&W 9S90ME putting out 41,480 kilowatts (55,626 horsepower).

Over its lifetime the Dali has been inspected 27 times, and only 2 faults were ever found. On June 27, 2023 the Dali was held in port in Chile due to an issue with the propulsion system. According to an inspector the pressure gauges on the heating system were "unreadable". The fault was fixed before the ship left port.

The Dali is crewed by 22 Indian nationals including 2 maritime pilots.

What happened?

The Dali arrived at the Port of Baltimore on March 23, 2024. At 12:44 AM on March 26, 2024 the Dali left port, beginning its journey to Colombo, Sri Lanka. At 01:26 AM the ship suffered a "complete blackout" and began to drift out of the shipping lane. It is not yet known what caused the electrical failure. The backup generator did not power the propulsion system. At around 01:26 AM the crew of the Dali sent a mayday distress call to the Maryland Department of Transportation (MDOT) informing them of the loss of power and that a collision with the Key Bridge was possible. The anchors were dropped as an emergency measure to attempt to slow or stop the vessel. At the request of one of the pilots traffic flow over the bridge was immediately halted. Black smoke was seen coming from the Dali, which experts believe was the result of the crew managing to restart the power system to regain some maneuvering capability.

At 01:28 AM the Dali, traveling at 8 knots (considered to be a fast speed) collided with a support strut beneath the Key Bridge's metal truss at the southwest end of the bridge. A Baltimore resident said he heard the collision and that it "felt like an earthquake". Emergency teams began receiving 911 calls at 01:30 AM, and the Baltimore Police Department were alerted at 01:35 AM. One of the officers present radioed that he was going to go onto the bridge to alert the construction crew as soon as a second officer arrived, but the bridge collapsed seconds later.

What was the damage?

The Key Bridge has completely collapsed. The metal truss relies on structural tension from the bridge itself to maintain its rigidity. As soon as one of the support columns was destroyed, the rest of the bridge quickly followed.

The damage to the Dali is reported as minimal. The ship was impaled by the bridge's structure above the waterline, but has maintained watertight integrity. The crew has not reported any water contamination from its 1.8 million gallons of marine fuel. 13 containers carrying potentially hazardous material were damaged, and are being inspected by a team of Coast Guard divers. At least 5 vehicles including 3 passenger cars and a cement mixer were detected underwater, but authorities do not believe they were occupied

Who was hurt?

The crew of the Dali reports no casualties, except one crewmember who was hospitalized for minor injuries. There was a crew of 8 construction workers on the Key Bridge filling in potholes. 2 were immediately pulled from the water by rescue crews, with 1 being rushed to emergency care and the other reporting minor injuries and refusing treatment. The hospitalized worker has since been discharged. 1 of those rescued was Mexican. The remaining 6 remain missing. Of those 6, 2 have been identified:

Miguel Luna from El Salvador

Maynor Yassir Suazo Sandoval from Honduras

Of the remaining 4, 2 are Guatemalan nationals. Neither have been identified, but the Guatemalan Foreign Affairs Ministry has stated that they were a 26-year-old from San Luis, Petén, and a 35-year-old from Camotán, Chiquimula. The other 2 are presumed to be Mexican.

Rescue Efforts

The Coast Guard was immediately deployed for search-and-rescue operations. Military Blackhawk helicopters were seen over the river. Rescue efforts were ended at 07:30 PM on March 26, 2024 due to darkness, fog, and cold temperatures. Rear Admiral Shannon Gilreath said "Based on the length of time that we've gone in the search, the extensive search efforts that we put into it, the water temperature -- at this point, we do not believe that we're going to find any of these individuals still alive". Recovery operations resumed at 07:30 AM on March 27, 2024 with all 6 workers presumed dead.

No divers have yet entered the water underneath the bridge. Supervisory Special Agent Brian Hudson of the FBI's Underwater Search and Evidence Response Team said "the debris field is pretty sizable and I know that’s why they’re hesitant to send divers down because some of the debris is still shifting, the heavy weight of the rocks". The FBI has deployed Remotely Operated Vehicles (ROVs) equipped with cameras and SONAR.

Aftermath

At 05:08 AM on March 26, 2024 Transportation Secretary Pete Buttegiege posted on X (formerly Twitter):

"I’ve spoken with Gov. Moore and Mayor Scott to offer USDOT’s support following the vessel strike and collapse of the Francis Scott Key bridge. Rescue efforts remain underway and drivers in the Baltimore area should follow local responder guidance on detours and response."

At 07:30 AM on March 27, 2024 President of the Maryland State Senate Bill Ferguson posted on X (formerly Twitter):

"Over 15,000 in the Balt region rely on daily operations at Port of Baltimore to put food on the table. Today, with Del. @LukeClippinger and colleagues representing Port, we are drafting an emergency bill to provide for income replacement for workers impacted by this travesty."

At around 09:40 AM on March 26, 2024 Maryland Governor Wes Moore and Baltimore Mayor Brandon Scott declared a State of Emergency to take effect at 10:30 AM March 26, 2024, and to last 30 days. Baltimore's Emergency Operations Plan was put into effect.

More than 1,000 personnel from the US Army Corps of Engineers (USACE) have been deployed to assist with clearing the debris and rebuilding efforts. President Joe Biden has pledged that the federal government will pay for the entire reconstruction of the bridge.

Jennifer Homendy, the chair of the National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) has recovered the Dali's data recorder, and will be inspecting both the Key Bridge and the Dali to determine the cause of the crash and the collapse. She says the investigation could take up to 2 years to complete.

Was it intentional?

According to William DelBagno, head of the FBI's Baltimore field office: "There is no specific or credible information to suggest there are ties to terrorism in this incident".

Secretary of Homeland Security Alejandro Mayorkas said: "There are no indications this was an intentional act".

At least 3 people have been killed in accidents related to ships operated by Synergy in the past 6 years. In 2018 a person on board a Synergy ship in Australia was killed in an accident relating to the vessel's personnel elevator. In 2019 an officer aboard a Synergy vessel in Singapore fell overboard while performing maintenance. In 2023 at least one sailor was killed when a Synergy ship collided with a dredging ship in the Philippines. In the first two cases safety inspectors noted that proper safety procedures had not been adhered to.

Sources

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

#atlas entry #this is still a developing story but all the information herein is accurate and current at time of publishing #baltimore #baltimore bridge collapse #francis scott key bridge #key bridge #I spent an hour collating all this info please give it a reblog

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darnell-la · 3 months ago

Note

how about dark!logan and ex-girlfriend human reader. They broke up bcs she thought he was cheating on her, but turns out it was just misunderstanding and now dark!logan gets jealous that she already moved on from her

note: this story was an emotional roller coaster, but that’s how we like it. we love a bit of chaos and overreaction.

in this story, Logan is pretty emotional whether that’s him being sad at first or turning into a wild animal once he gets y/n back. of course, his jealousy is mentioned when he FUCKS y/n. he HATED how close she was to a man while he was being ignored.

follow our Instagram @ darnell.la so we can start posting random videos, photos, edits, and memes of the people we write about!

———

“We’re done, Logan, and that’s that,” Y/n said before she walked away from the man. “Y/n! — Hey!” The man stalked after her, confused about where this attitude came from.

“You’re not going to just break up with me, and walk away without an explanation!” The man said as he sped in front of her to stop her in her tracks.

“You get no explanation, just like I didn’t. I’ve been confused, hurt, upset, and left for months! You can deal with it for the rest of your life,”

That was the last time y/n had talked to Logan. The young woman packed her stuff at night so she wouldn’t cause a scene, and left.

Y/n feels off about being here again. It’s been a year, and she hasn’t quite talked to anyone since then. Of course, Charles would speak to her through her thoughts, but at times, she shut him out.

Hank, Storm, and Jean try to invite her to parties or get-togethers, thinking she’d maybe come one day, but she never does. She was in a whole new state in those times.

Scott on the other hand messaged her every day he could. Apart from her thoughts he only wanted to get close to her, to get at Logan from past jealousy, but in actuality, he genuinely liked her company.

The man texted her every day, even called and somehow, she’d answer him. Scott felt special that out of everyone, she’d answer him.

Logan was the only one in the group that had no contact with y/n. She had blocked the man anytime a new number or social media account popped up. He was desperate, and she hated it. She hated him.

“Charles said you were coming. Didn’t believe it until now,” Scott said as he walked out of the mansion, instantly picking y/n up into a hug. “Did you get stronger?” Y/n laughed after the man placed her down. “You can say that,”

“Y/n!?” Storm shouted before her, Hank and Jean ran over to her, giving her a group hug. For a second, she felt bad for leaving them all behind, but after Logan, she had to go somewhere. She couldn’t stay around anymore.

“How long are you staying?” Hank asked as he grabbed her bags, as well as Scott's. “Maybe a night or two,” she replied making them all sigh. “Seriously!? You can’t leave us like that. Not again,” Jean spoke.

Y/n didn’t hate Jean, but when she looked at the woman, she felt pain. It wasn’t her fault that Logan couldn’t put aside his feelings.

“Maybe I’ll stay long,” Y/n said before walking into the mansion. Storm and Jean drifted off to finish whatever they were doing while Hank and Scott took her to her room. Her old room that she hadn’t really slept in since she used to be with Logan all the time.

“Logan will be here. He went out to get wood,” Hank said before he left. “You okay with being back? You never really told us why you did,” Scott spoke after y/n sat down on her bed.

“Oh, just some personal things going on. That’s it,” she said. “Heard you haven’t talked to Logan. Was he the reason why you left?” He asked as he sat next to the young lady. He knew it was, but didn’t know why.

“I don’t really feel like talking about it or him. I kinda don’t even wanna see him,” y/n said, making Scott chuckle. “I feel you on that, but Logan’s crushed. I hate the man, but I also hate to see a teammate distracted,”

Scott got up and walked towards her room door, ready to get back to what he was doing. “Think about it, because my motorcycle just pulled up,” Scott said before leaving.

Y/n sighed, knowing Logan was going to make his way straight up here. She didn’t know how he’d react. She didn’t know how she’d react. What will she possibly do or say?

Y/n said in silence for only a couple of minutes before her door opened. He had pushed it open, not believing she was here until he saw her.

“Y/n,” he said before rushing over to her. The man dropped to his knees and hugged the girl tightly. His face hurried into her stomach as tears streamed down his face. She was really here.

“Logan,” y/n softly pushed at his shoulders, but he wouldn’t let go. He didn’t want to. It’s been a year, and he’s traveled to so many places, hoping to find her, but she was never there.

“Lo,” she spoke again, and this time, he pulled away. His hands rose to her face and cupped both of her cheeks. “I-It’s been so long,” the man looked into her eyes, making her feel like shit.

The man who couldn’t give her any attention gave it to her a year later. How dare he make her feel like this?

“Yeah — It has,” she softly pulled his hands away from his wrist. The man’s face changed from, I’m so happy you’re finally here, too, what’s going on? She’s never been this way towards him until that night. The last night he saw her.

“I’m kinda tired, so, yeah,” she spoke, wanting him away from her and out of her sight. “D-Don’t go to sleep without me, lemme get a shower in then I’ll-“ he stood up and walked towards the door, but the woman cut him off. “No,” she said with a stern voice.

“I like being alone,” she added. The man looked back at her, confused about why his girlfriend was acting this way. “Baby, what’s up with you? I-I thought that maybe since you came back, fixed whatever was going on with you,” Logan said in a soft voice.

“Whatever what going on with me!? God, Logan — Please, the fuck out,” y/n rolled her eyes. “Y/n, I didn’t mean it like-“ he tried explaining himself. “I said get the fuck out!” She yelled at the man.

Logan’s body jumped slightly, shocked at the way she was being. He didn’t know what was wrong, and she refused to tell him. It’s been a year, and she still hasn’t told him.

Logan opened his mouth, but the girl turned around and tucked herself under her covers. She was done seeing him for tonight. For the rest of the time she planned to stay here.

“Been a while since you’ve partied with us. Kinda missed that,” Scott said after he took a shot with y/n. “Yeah — I kind of missed it too,” she admitted with a smile. “Wanna dance?” The man asked in a friendly way, and she accepted.

The two went on the dance floor, dancing wide by wide for a while until he grabbed her hips. They both laughed with each other, having the most fun she’s had in a year.

“God, I’ve missed you, y/n. Texting and calling ain’t enough, you know? Maybe you should come visit me or I’ll come visit you,” he suggested. “I’ll think about it,” she smiled.

As Scott and y/n hugged it out on the floor, Logan couldn’t help but stop it. The man pushed off of the tree he was leaning back on in the distance and sped over to the two.

The man was close, about to ruin whatever the fuck they had going on, but y/n pulled away and said something to the man before she left.

Logan stopped in his tracks and watched her walk off to the side of the party. She got on her phone and began texting.

“Might stay with family for another night. I’ll be back to work soon,”

“So — How’s your night going?” Logan asked, making y/n turn around as she placed her phone in her pocket. Looking at the man in front of him felt different. When she first got here, the man looked warm out.

He had grown the beard but didn’t take care of it, his face looked dirty like he hadn’t washed it, his eyes were baggy, and she swore his body looked less fit, but not too much. Only she’d notice it…

“Can you not just fuck off? For once, Logan! Fuck!” Y/n shouted at the man who came up to her with two cups. He noticed she’d been drinking for the past few days, and even though he hated it when she did, he still brought one of the lighter drinks to maybe get close to her.

“But why? You won’t talk to me. You won’t even look at me. I-I don’t understand, y/n,” Logan’s voice cracked as he walked after y/n through the woods. “I’m goin’ to bed. Gotta leave early tomorrow,” the woman had instantly changed her mind about staying.

“W-What!?” Logan basically screamed. She hadn’t even been here for a week. She hadn’t spoken to him unless she yelled at him. She was going to leave him. Again.

“Y/n, stop it!” The man shouted as he threw the two cups to the ground and ran in front of her to stop her in her tracks. Last time, that didn’t stop her from leaving, but he’ll make sure it does this time.

“Logan — Get the fuck out of my way,” she said as she moved to the side, but before she could go any further, he grabbed her arm tightly. The man slowly grew angry, but still had all that sad emotion running through his heart.

“N-No — I-I’m not gonna let you talk to Storm, talk to Jean, talk to Hank a-and dance on Scott and leave without talking to me!” The man’s eyes teared up again.

“Well, I don’t wanna talk to you, so,” y/n went to pull away, but he tightened his grip. She was human, and he knew that grip would hurt, but he couldn’t let her go again. Not without an explanation, and even if she gave a damn good one, he wasn’t letting her out of his sight again.

“Logan, ow!” She shouted at the man, now slapping his arm. “Stop it — Stop it, y/n!” He yelled in her face, letting a deep growl escape his mouth.

“Y-You’re not leaving! — I-I’m not letting you go again, so, like— So what if you hate me now? So what i-if you don’t wanna date me anymore? Y-You don’t have to leave though,”

“Logan-“ y/n tried saying. “No! You’re not gonna fuckin’ talk to Scott, and not me!” The man finally let her arm go with a push. The look on his face made sure she knew he was angry, but all she could do was roll her eyes.

“You’re a dick, you know? All you care about is me talking to Scott, but nothing else. What about what you did, huh? What about what you did!” Y/n grew angry. “You won’t tell me what I did!” Logan shouted.

“Because you should already know! Why do I have to tell my boyfriend, now ex-boyfriend that giving another woman more attention than me, is a problem!? Why!? That’s not my place to if you’re a real man, and clearly — You’re not!”

Y/n nudged Logan’s shoulder as she walked by, but instantly got grabbed and pushed against a tree. The man held her upper arm, not letting her go anywhere.

“What the fuck are you talking about, babe? Ian never gives no other woman my attention. Not one! I-I’ve only thought about you for the past year!”

“Oh, is that true? Then why before I finally dumped your ass, Hank blabbered to me that you and Jean, your ex-kissing toy, by the way, were going on a secret mission?” Y/n finally asked.

“Oh, oh- And tell me why he also said that you choose to go on mission with her, instead of me. Tell me that! Tell me why you can’t tell me that you’re going on missions with your ex!” Y/n yelled in the man’s face with no tears in her eyes. Just full of anger.

“Baby, I — Baby, Hank wasn’t supposed to tell you-“ Logan went to say, but y/n cut him off with a wild scream as she shook her whole body. She was furious and wanted him out of her face.

“Of course, he wasn’t, you dumb bitch! Because you’re a cheating son of a bitch! A fuckin’ dumb, damn good-looking, manipulative cheater!”

“Baby, no, no- That’s not what I am. You never even asked me what was going on, you just-“ he got cut off again. “I left! I fucking left because I have no business being with a manwhore who can’t keep his dick in his beer-printed dollar tree boxers!”

Logan softly pulled y/n off of the tree and slamming her back to shut her up. “God, y/n, what the fuck — You-You can’t even let me get a sentence out without disrespecting or interrupting me,” he said. “I thought you loved those boxers,”

Y/n chuckled to herself as a tear finally slipped from her eye. “I did — That was before you decided to throw that all away,” the way she looked at him with no type of love in her eyes, broke his heart. And she had her story all wrong.

“If I wasn’t enough, why couldn’t you just tell me? Let me go and let me live my life instead of thinking someone actually loved me. Y-You say you’re not like any human I’ve dated, but you’re are. You’re like them all,”

“Hey!” Logan’s hands gripped around y/n’s neck, upset at her words. “Don’t fuckin’ disrespect me like that — Especially since you got your story all flipped and fucked up,” the man still had cracks in his voice. He was left for a year, all because of caring for y/n.

“I wasn’t fucking cheating on you. Those secret missions were days I’d leave with Jean and Storm which I bet he forgot to mention because he didn’t know you’d react like that — to go find me and you a new home to live in,”

“For months I’ve been trying to find a nice house away from people because I know how much you like being alone. I just needed woman’s help because I suck when it comes to that shit,”

Y/n’s heart rate began to slow down, and her eyes softened at his side of the story. She couldn’t think about what she’d done and caused, but she knew it was bad when her head felt light.

“As for the picking Jean to go on missions? That was shitty of me, but my excuse is that I didn’t want my girlfriend fighting fights she didn’t have to,”

“What the fuck so I look like having you come fight mutants when you’re not a mutant? Jean is one of the strongest mutants, so I chose her. Storm has to teach the kids, Hank never leaves the lab, and god knows Ian pickin’ Scott,”

“And y/n — You’re a teacher too, so why the fuck would I pull you away from what you love doing just to fight and risk your life? I rather thee others do that, then you, Bub,”

Y/n hasn’t heard that nickname in a year. Bub. She missed and, and he knew how much he missed it when she instantly began crying.

“Hey, hey,” Logan lifted the girl back to her feet after her legs gave out on her. “I’m sorry!” She cried out, fully knowing the situation, and understanding how shitty she is for leaving without asking.

“I-I thought I was helping myself, but I wasn’t! I-I hurt you and the others a-and I’m just a bad person!” She sobbed into his chest.

“Baby, no. Don’t think that way about yourself. I understand how you thought about what you did, baby. Don’t push yourself down for that,” the man pulled her head back and rubbed her tears away.

“Just make it up by staying. All that pain I felt of you ignoring me and being away from my arms are all gone away, you know why? Because you’re here right now. In front of my face looking as beautiful as you were last year,”

“I’m just so sorry, Logan,” Y/n looked down, but the man quickly lifted her chin back up. “Nah uh — we’re not feeling like this anymore. I have a lot to make up for,” the man rubbed the girl's bottom lip, happy that she was finally with him again.

“Gonna look back into those homes, and get ‘em ready for us, baby,” Logan used his free hand to trace down her body until he gripped her waist. “And then you’ll never be able to leave me again. Gonna be just us. No one else,”

Logan's lips finally touched hers, making his heart rate rise. It’s been so long, and his lips are finally back on his girl. His future.

Y/n lazily kissed back, tears still running down her cheek. The girl pulled back a few times to catch her breath, but Logan would instantly reattach their lips. He needed to taste her forever.

“C’mon, stop movin, baby,” Logan hungrily sucked on her lips, even slipping his tongue in her mouth to feel her inner cheeks. “Please, baby,” the man spoke, but y/n couldn’t grow that instant energy. She was still human.

“Baby,” Logan pulled back and looked down at his girlfriend. “Don’t fuckin’ make me wait any longer. I need you, so please fuckin’ stay still,” he demanded before leaning to go back in, but she stopped him by placing her hands on his chest.

“Give me a second, babe — Please,” she looked up at the man, but he couldn’t. “You didn’t give Scott a second,” the man said in a stern voice. “What!? — Baby, I’ve never kissed him,” she assured.

“Well, you were close. Too close, and you know how I feel about him,” Logan’s hands gripped both sides of y/n’s waist, digging his nails into the pretty little dress she wore for the night.

“You were mad at me and went straight to Scott. You fuckin’ knew that would piss me off,” y/n pushed at her taken-back boyfriend, trying to get his grip to loosen, but it never did.

“Yeah, I’ve been sad, baby. So fuckin’ sad, but the only thing I could think about was showing you who the fuck you talked to that night,” the man thought back to the day she left him.

“I heard them talk about being in touch with you — Every day y/n? Really? Textin’ that son of a bitch every day, but can’t shoot me a lil like on my message!?” Logan finally pulled his hands off of y/n’s waist, taking her dress with him.

“Logan!” The girl shouted in shock as she held the breeze on her. “Got me so fuckin’ angry, Bub. I can’t control it. Can’t get out of my head the days you’ve been away from me. The days you text him, and not me,” Logan had sniffed y/n’s neck.

“At least I don’t smell a new man on you. You know what I would’ve done if I did, baby?” The man asked, lips pressed against the girl's neck. “The same shit I’m about to do to you for humping Scott,”

Logan quickly unbuckled his belt and pulled his thick blue jeans down. Y/n opened her mouth to calm the man down, but she didn’t want to. She deserved this. He needed to get his anger out.

Y/n went to jump, but before she did, the man pulled her up himself, quickly pulling her down on his cock until every inch of him was covered.

“L-Lo!” The girl moaned loudly as her feet curled. “Augh, yes!Still fuckin’ tight,” Logan pressed y/n further into the tree as he bucked his hips upward, making sure to bruise her cervix.

The growls he let out on her ear and on her neck, made her heart raise. It was hot, but she was slightly afraid. He was going to break up, but there was nothing she could do about it. She deserved this.

“Don’t ever fuckin’ leave me again. Pretty little sluts like you are in men’s minds all the time. You need me around. Need me to keep you safe and away from them. Even Scott! — If I ever fuckin’ catch you guys eye fuckin’ again — I’ll fuck you in front of him. Make sure he knows how good this pussy’s molded for my cock,”

Logan’s sad emotions were no longer here. The man was full of anger. His girl left him over some stupid-ass miss understanding and then she almost left again after having a sweet ole dance with Scott. Oh — he wasn’t letting this go soon. Not at all.

“I bet when you spoke to him before you left, you told him to come meet you in your room. Such a fuckin’ slut. I knew you had something for that four eyed freak,” Logan’s hips snapped up against y/n’s thighs. She could barely breathe.

“I-I did no such thing,” y/n struggled to get out. “Sure you didn’t. You know you’re a pretty little thing, right? You know you can get whoever you want, and I know you wanted him. I just know it,” Logan’s mind went crazy. The jealousy showed in the man, and he didn’t care.

Logan was nothing like y/n. She left when she thought he cheated, but Logan could never. He’d hold her closer. Lock her up somewhere so she can’t do it again, then kill the guy she cheated on him with. She belonged to him, and him only.

One of Logan’s hands reached up and gripped her neck as he looked into her eyes. His eyes were dark and hers were soft and could barely stay open.

“Ima take you back to your room, and if he knocks and comes in, the sight he’ll see will be buried into his mind just like my cock in that pretty little hole you haven’t let me fuck yet,”

That threat made y/n’s cunt clench. In the back of her mind, she had wished Scott would come to her room for something so Logan could fuck her ass. She was so wet, and that leaked down the crack of her ass, making her feel like she could take him so easily.

“P-Please,” the girl begged, making the man that was fucking her into the tree, chuckle. “Slut likes being fucked in the ass? Bet it’s a virgin ass, and you’re just a dirty little whore,” Logan guessed right.

“So fuckin’ dirty — Came back to ignore me, and now I’m balls deep in your pussy — My pussy — My fuckin’ pussy, baby,” Logan twitched in the grips walls, making her close. She hasn’t felt his seed in months. She needed it.

“S-Such a dirty w-whore, Logan,” y/n admitted in a low and whiny voice. All the crying and hate she had towards the man had faded away. She loved him and never stopped. She just needed a reminder that she could never leave him. Even if she tried, like she did.

“That’s it, baby — My dirty little whore — Fuck,” Logan used a hand to grab the side of her face and pull her into a rough and sloppy kiss. She’s always tasted so damn good.

Both of them moaned in each other's mouths, sweating, breathing heavily, and feeling their climax near. They needed to cum. They needed to few each other cum.

Before they knew it, the woods filled with their moans and groans. The wet sloppy sound of Logan’s cock slipping in and out of her heat could be heard as well.

Anyone who walked by in the distance definitely heard the two, but who cared at this point? All that would do is make Logan feel better because at least then they’d go off and tell people that she really does belong to him.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” the man growled, lips all over hers as he breathed into her mouth. “So fuckin’ full of me, Bub. All filled up and up to date,” the man chuckled with a smile. He missed it. He missed her.

“T-Thank you, baby,” Y/n said low, feeling her vision slowly slip away, but she knew she would be taken care of. She was with Logan again, and he would do anything to make sure she knew she was safe and set for life.

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rosie-read-that · 2 months ago

Text

bad blood / scott miller x reader

summary: set after twisters. when scott initiates a lawsuit against javi and his new business partners, they choose to take you on as their attorney—no matter that you and scott were once high school sweethearts, that you still have his ring in your closet, or that things between you ended catastrophically six years past. this is business. no need to go down memory lane… right?

content warnings: f!reader, alcohol use, language, offscreen parental death, one open door scene (unprotected piv), couple angst, riggs is his own walking red flag, questionable legal ethics

word count: 21.6k (sorry, guys 😬)

author’s note: here it is! i tried to rein in the length, but clearly i failed ✌🏼 shoutout to @hederasgarden and @sailor-aviator for giving scott his fandom-approved surname. on a final note, i am not a lawyer, i took one (1) business law class in college, so don’t take my word on any of this and definitely don’t do stuff with your ex while he’s the opposing party in a case you’re working (but if it’s david corenswet, i meannnn… should anyone be blamed?)

PRESENT DAY OKLAHOMA CITY

Well-meaning, and with typical Arkansan practicality, Tyler Owens leaned back in his chair and said, “Javi, you need to chill out, man.”

Immediately, you knew it was the wrong thing to say.

“What makes you think I’m not? It's not like my entire livelihood is on the line or anything, so why would I not be chilled out?—Dammit!”

“Actually, lose the tie,” you suggested, having watched him fumble for the last five minutes. You were sure it was nerves that did it, not a lack of dexterity.

Javi sighed and let the two ends hang pathetically around his neck. “I thought I was supposed to wear one…”

“I think that’s only for court,” Kate put in, “like with an actual judge and stuff.”

“Maybe in the 1970s,” remarked Tyler under his breath. Javi glared. “Bro, it’s gonna be fine.”

“We should be out there, tracking tornadoes!” There was a mounted television in the little waiting area, playing a 24-hour news channel on mute. Javi gestured at the weather report. It was March, and Tornado Alley was looking active, “robust,” as the weatherman put it… not that your clients would know firsthand, seeing as they were stuck in a high-rise in the city instead of out in the fields of Sapulpa County. Kate and Tyler were watching the radar images with twin expressions of restless longing. Javi yanked the tie from his neck. “That son of a bitch knew exactly what he was doing, tying us up in meetings at this time of year.”

“Yeah, he did,” you replied. “I know it’s inconvenient as shit, but believe me, I’m going to do everything I can to get you back out on the field. There’s no reason for all three of you to be here. I mean, it’s the modern age: some of this could be a Zoom meeting.”

“You think we’re gonna Zoom in the middle of a storm?” Tyler quipped. Kate turned to him with a chastising look.

She was clearly just about as done as her other two partners, but a lot more level-headed about the fact that they were being sued for everything they had. Which you appreciated. Suits between friends and former business associates had a tendency to turn into mud-slinging wars, and there was nothing you hated more than a client stuck in denial. Kate was the opposite. She was cool-headed, calm. A happy medium between Tyler’s annoyed outrage (“who does this guy think he is!”) and Javi’s frustrated melancholy (“guys, I’m sorry, this is all my fault”).

Right now, Javi was sinking well into the latter.

“Just remember we’re here for you, Javi.” Kate rubbed a soothing hand across his back. “All the way. We know this is personal.”

“Yeah, which means it’s gonna get ugly. I hate the thought of our company going under because I had shitty taste in business partners, you know?”

“Well, you don't anymore. That’s character growth,” Tyler pointed out. “Now, I’m no legal expert, but as far as I can see, he’s got no legs to stand on—”

You held up a finger. “Uh, that’s not entirely true…”

“—and he’s going to come out of this looking like a complete and total tool. Which he is! If he wants to spend all this time and boatloads of his uncle’s money on a belligerent witch hunt, then so be it.”

“You mean our time, our money,” said Javi.

Kate looked at you. “If this ends up going to court, is it likely he’ll win?”

You sighed. “Okay, listen.” You sat on the coffee table. There was no avoiding the sight of three pairs of eyes with varying degrees of hopefulness trained on you, hanging onto your every word. Javi you had known before, but after a brief acquaintance, you’d decided that you liked Kate and Tyler too, had even spent an hour or two watching Tornado Wrangler videos on YouTube, and, while storm chasing seemed, well, kind of unhinged, their enthusiasm was contagious. They were passionate, not in a purely thrill-seeking or overly scientific way. They actually cared. And you wanted them to win. “The whole point,” you explained, “is that we’re trying to avoid this going to trial. If you’re looking to cut down on the cost to your bottom line—not to mention how this could drag on for literal years—it’s best to reach a settlement before this ever sees the inside of a courtroom. Either way, things are going to get a little worse before they get better. But the point is a clean break, right? When all this is over, StormPAR will never have any sort of claim over you. You’ll be free to chase storms, build your doo-dads—”

That got you a trio of chuckles. Good, let them think you were a meteorological idiot; all the better to make them feel like a united front.

“—and it’ll be like Scott and Riggs never happened.”

“Sounds good to me,” Tyler said, that steely determination from his old rodeo days coming through.

Kate gave a nod. “No matter what, we’ll be okay”

Javi put his hand on your knee. “Thank you… for everything. I know this has gotta suck for you too.”

“Who, me?” you asked, feigning ignorance. “I’m fine.”

“Mm-hm…”

“Do I not look fine?”

“You look great,” Kate said honestly.

“Miller’s gonna shit his pants.”

“Tyler!”

“Hey, we’re up,” your assistant announced, her fingers not pausing for a second as she typed on her phone. Abby may have the social skills of a polar bear, but her organizational skills were top-notch and you relied on her predatory instincts. Plus, you were sure that her geometrically perfect French bob had magical powers.

Signaling for the others to follow, you made your way down a hallway bordered by walls banded in frosted glass, the sound of typing and muffled phone calls familiar and yet not. This was enemy territory. Having you meet here instead of at the offices of Conway & Fine was a calculated move.

Before entering the conference room, you took Tyler by the elbow. “Please just… try to behave yourself.”

Me? He pointed at his face.

“Yes, you! Don’t provoke him—as a matter of fact, don’t even look at him—don't piss him off unless you want to make this a hell of a lot worse for everyone. Capisce?”

“I’ll be the picture of civility.”

You shot him a skeptical look.

“I’ll be a gentleman!”

You glared. “Tyler Owens, I’m holding you to that.” Adjusting your power suit, you put on your best Professional Face. “Alright guys, it’s showtime.”

Through the glass, your eyes landed on Scott. The temptation to bolt left you breathless, though you couldn’t say whether you wanted to run towards or far, far away. You wouldn’t. You were all too aware of the people standing behind you, counting on you, while Scott himself had been a stranger to you for the last few years.

You owed him nothing; this was simply business, you reminded yourself.

Simply business.

He turned his head and spotted you, and kept his eyes on you as you opened the door.

TEN YEARS AGO PARK HAVEN, PENNSYLVANIA

You’d been working on the same calculus assignment for the last three-quarters of an hour, the sound of rain lashing against your window doing nothing for your frazzled nerves. While math was by no means your obvious strong suit, you would have finished by now if you hadn’t spent most of it staring at the wall beneath your windowsill, bouncing your leg, tapping your pencil compulsively against the edge of your AP textbook and imagining all the ways in which your life could go horribly, unfixably wrong. An outcome that now seemed likely.

“You still have time, sweetheart,” your mom tried to say at dinner that night. She smiled at you and patted your hand. “It’s only March.”

“Exactly—it’s March!” you’d wanted to say, but bit your tongue. There wasn't any point; your mom would always believe you were capable of walking on the moon, which was lovely, you guessed. Or it would be, if all your classmates weren't overachievers and if a lot of them hadn't already received acceptance letters and stuck pennants to the inside of their lockers for all the rejects to see.

It was hopeless… you should’ve gotten an answer by now.

Tossing the book and papers away, you buried your face in your hands and tried to hold it together. The sleeves of your sweatshirt emanated a woodsy, clean smell, kind of like rain in a forest, and you breathed in deep to let it ground you.

Slowly, the intensity of the storm outside faded to background noise, no longer angry, insistent—it was only rain after all, only weather. You sniffed, feeling silly, and snuggled into the navy-blue sweatshirt, wrapping your arms around your knees. The gold lettering read NICHOLS ACADEMY ATHLETICS. On you, it was practically a dress, and you’d been living in it all week, ignoring Mom’s teases about how “you’re going to have to wash it at some point!” while your dad watched you pass by, saying nothing, only flipping the page of whatever biography he was reading, not wanting to comment or so much as reference your boyfriend of two years, who played center field on Nichols’s prize baseball team and from whom you’d stolen the sweatshirt after a date at the park.

Try as you might, your dad had never warmed up to Scott, but you thought it had more to do with an objection to Scott’s father rather than to Scott himself. The whole family’s trouble, he said once, prompting a fight that ended with you slamming your bedroom door and not speaking to him for two days, until your mom laid down the law and said she wouldn't have that sort of tension around the house.

He didn’t get it. Scott wasn't like his father—if anything, you saw the way his jaw tensed whenever he heard rumors (whispered, unless intended to get a rise out of him by a school rival) about the private club scenes, the drinking, the reckless gambling, the other women. Of course your straitlaced dad assumed the apple wouldn't fall too far from the tree, but you knew Scott. You trusted him. And, fine, so you were seventeen, but you knew you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him—it happened, didn't it?

Granted, this was why that damned letter was so important. It was the perfect plan… so long as Scott got into MIT, which seemed like a given, and you into Harvard, the culmination of four years of meticulous planning and candle-burning work. But what if it didn’t happen? Could your relationship survive the time and long distance? As much as you hoped so, you didn’t want to find out.

Out of nowhere came sharp rap at your window. Startled, you looked up to see a familiar face peering through the rain-lashed glass, and automatically you sprang to your feet. “Scott! What the hell were you thinking!” you hissed, mindful of your parents, probably in bed at this hour. He paused halfway through the window, pretending offense.

“Wow, okay, here I thought I was making a big romantic gesture…”

“You’re soaking wet! You could’ve fallen and broken your neck!”

As you lowered and latched the window behind him, trying to be as quiet as possible, he defended, “I’m a tree connoisseur. If anything, I’m a that-tree connoisseur and she’s never let me down before. Literally. Sturdy branches on her.”

He had a point there. The tree directly outside your bedroom window had played makeshift ladder to him over the last couple of years—not that your parents were any the wiser. If your dad knew, he’d go straight to the nearest hardware store and buy the ax himself. (What he would do with that ax, having never done a day’s manual labor in his life besides recreational fishing, was beyond you.)

You shook your head, watching Scott drip all over the hardwood. God, he was stunning.

And there was a chance you might lose him forever in a few months.

You felt the sting in your throat and behind your eyes. “I’ll go get you a towel,” you said, averting your face and turning towards the ensuite so you could get a few seconds to yourself. He caught you by the wrist and spun you into his body.

“Wait a minute, kiss me first,” he demanded, a cocky grin on his face. You managed to see a flash of it before his lips met yours. You closed your eyes in spite of everything, melting into the kiss, into Scott, because it was as easy as breathing and just as pointless trying to resist.

His cheeks were cold, his mouth warm. Coaxing. The pressure of his hands on your waist like an anchor in the storm. He was perfect for you. How could you belong with anyone else? It was impossible.

His tongue brushed your bottom lip, and it was a move so practiced, so instinctive, so perfectly well-known, that it made the fear swell in your chest again. You held onto the front of his rain-drenched hoodie, breaking the kiss. Your breathing was ragged. You felt you could burst.

“You’re insane,” you tried to cover, burying your head in his chest. “My dad will kill you if he catches you.”

He took a step back and tilted your face up, gently, by the chin. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you replied.

“Tell me.”

Instead of answering, you made your way to the bathroom and got a towel out of the linen closet. You could feel Scott’s questioning gaze, but he waited, rubbing the towel across his head, brows knitted together as you hesitated, still trying to hedge. “I just—we have that exam next week and I’ve fallen behind on calc and I think I’m going to have to start over on my AP Civ end-of-the-year project, and my mom—”

“Your mom’s great,” Scott interjected.

“Why, d’you want her?”

He pursed his lips. As soon as you said it, you knew that it had sounded kind of bitchy.

“Fine, okay. She’s great, she’s just… trying to help.”

“Is this about Drexler getting her Harvard letter? Because it’s only—”

“It's only March. Yeah. That’s what Mom said. But I’m cutting it close, right? Some people got their letters in December, Scott—December!” You looked down at your feet. “I’m not going to get in.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Well, it sure feels like it!”

“C’mere.”

“No.” You shook your head.

“Come here,” he insisted, tossing the damp towel onto your bed and holding your arms loosely, his hands stroking up and down. No matter how much you held onto the scent-memory of him on his Nichols sweatshirt, nothing compares to the real thing. He made everything better; and if not, he made everything feel like it could get better, because he was Scott Miller, and the world bent to his charm or else. “You’re going to get in,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “They’d be crazy not to have you.” And the thing was, despite being utterly convinced only two minutes before that the worst was inevitable, you wanted to believe him, wanted to convince yourself that everything would settle into place as it should.

Scott dipped his head to brush his lips against yours, a deliberate barely-there sweep that made your eyes flutter closed and your arms lace around the wide breadth of his shoulders. Scott’s hands traveled down your back, pressing into your hips until you were flush against the length of his body. You felt him smile as he let you deepen the kiss, and the little rumble of his almost-laugh pinged all the way down to your toes, warming you from the inside the way only Scott could.

As his mouth moved down to your jaw and then the side of your neck, you slid your hands down his chest and then stopped, feeling something other than the hidden planes of his stomach through the fabric of his dark hoodie. You pulled away. Scott’s face had frozen into a look of mild panic and his hands wrapped around your wrists, holding them loosely, which only made the alarm bells ring louder in your head. That was not the sort of face he would make if he was hoarding old receipts.

“Scott?” you asked. He looked away, exhaled, and let your wrists drop with a resigned expression. You reached into his pocket, pulling out a sheet of white letter paper folded into quarters, carefully and with Scott-like precision. “What…” you began, glancing at him briefly and opening the sheet.

At the top, in cardinal red: Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

You might have gasped. At the very least, one of your hands flew up to your mouth. “Oh my God… Scott…”

“We don’t have to talk about it now.”

“Scott! This is from MIT! You got in?”

“It's really not a big deal.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, his shoulders curved slightly inward.

Not a big deal? “Scott, shut up! You got in!” you exclaimed, aghast.

“You’re not upset?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” You set the letter down to the side, knowing he’d want to keep it—that so much as folding it and putting it in his pocket so he could make the ten-minute run to your house in the middle of a downpour must have been a minor sacrifice on your account. Because he wanted to tell you. Because he wanted you to be the first person other than his mom to hear the good news. “We’ve talked about this. This is your dream school, babe.”

“Yeah, well, it feels kinda shitty celebrating now.”

“Stop.” You reached up and gave him a peck on the lips, stroking his cheeks, resting your forehead against his. “I'm so freaking proud of you. You’re going to be the best, most kick-ass engineer.”

You looked into his eyes so that he’d know it was true, and for a moment you could tell he was letting himself feel the achievement—his shoulders relaxed, he caressed your hands gratefully, but there was something about his smile that signaled not all being well.

“I heard Mom talking on the phone with my uncle today,” he confessed.

“Your uncle Riggs? Down in New Orleans?”

“Yeah. She doesn't want me to know, but I heard her talking about college and…”

You placed your hands on his chest. “Is it that bad?”

He didn't like talking about it but you knew his father had made a few bad investments lately, and from your own dad, who had confided it to your mom in secret one night—not that he saw you lurking outside the kitchen, drawn by the mention of the name “Miller”—you were aware that he had made a truly catastrophic impulsive bet with some Swedish businessmen he’d been trying to impress. Add to that the drawn look on Mrs. Miller’s face whenever you saw her, and the overly sympathetic way your mom referred to “poor Pamela,” and you had enough evidence to assume that Scott’s father had royally fucked up this time.

“They’ve been talking about selling the house,” he said with a dark look. “I think my parents are going to split up… for good this time.”

“Oh, Scott…”

“So who knows? I might not be able to go to MIT anyway—even with this.”

“Are you okay?” you asked, aware that nothing got his back up more than pity. But you had to ask.

He shrugged. “It is what it is.”

This was a side of him you’d never learned how to handle, not even after two years of dating. For all that he was an expert at making you feel like the world was yours for the taking, when it came to his own struggles, he was a tightly closed book. Instead of admitting when he was hurt or disappointed, he resorted to indifference and the kind of dark humor that could put you in a bad mood if you weren't careful.

Right now, all you wanted was for him to know that you were there for him. Nothing you could say or do would make Ray Miller grow practical common sense or an ounce of familial consideration—you weren't even sure that he knew your name, despite being Scott’s long-term girlfriend; he was hardly ever home, and never present even on the occasions when he was. But you could state the obvious, just in case he’d doubted it for a second.

“Hey, I love you,” you said to him.

“I love you, too,” he replied. “Now, no more shop talk—why do you think I risked my neck climbing up here?” And just like that, the matter was closed, the dark look disappeared, replaced by the telltale lowering of his dark lashes as he dropped another kiss at the side of your neck, his arms tightening around you, turning you so that the backs of your knees hit the edge of your bed.

“And here I thought your intentions were pure,” you replied, trying to downplay the butterflies in your stomach.

“Darling, there’s no such thing… especially when it comes to you.”

“What an idealist,” you rejoined, then fell quiet when he kissed you again. Without missing a beat, he lowered you onto the bed, hands gliding beneath your sweatshirt with apparent purpose. “Scott,” you protested, “my parents are across the hall.”

“So we’ll be quiet. Or we’ll get caught. What's the worst that could happen?”

“Um, you flying headfirst out that window?”

He pretended to think about it, then, by the warm glow of your bedside lamp, you saw his mouth quirk into a smirk before he dove towards your lips, eyes twinkling. “I don’t know about you, but that sounds like a price I’m willing to pay.”

PRESENT DAY OKLAHOMA CITY

“The damages your client is seeking are absolutely unreasonable. I would even say they border on the ridiculous—and, quite frankly, even frivolous!”

“Frivolous! Your client founded his new company with StormPAR assets—”

“His assets!”

“—accumulated during his tenure as a business partner to my client. Assets which came out of the pocket of Mr. Riggs as well, might I remind you!”

“We were equal partners!” Javi exclaimed, no longer able to keep his temper in check. You supposed the moment you snapped at Mr. Rankin, Javi figured the gloves were off.

Maybe instead of worrying about Tyler, you should've worried about yourself.

Rankin stabbed a finger at the files stacked in front of him. “Exactly, and Mr. Miller deserves to be compensated for the financial losses incurred from your breach of contract.”

Javi balked. “What, I can’t decide to leave my own company?”

“You can do whatever the hell you want, just not with my money,” Scott said in a dangerous monotone. For the last half-hour you’d been trying not to look at him, focusing instead on his middle-aged bespectacled lawyer, but to say you weren't losing your shit would be disproven by the Montblanc you’ve been fidgeting with since the meeting began. When he wasn’t glaring daggers at his former business partner, you could feel the power of his gaze, daring you to meet his eyes again.

“Oh, you mean your uncle’s money?”

“Javi.” You touched his hand in warning.

“You weren't turning your nose up at my uncle’s money when you were trying to found StormPAR.” Scott gibed. In your periphery, you saw Kate rubbing her left temple.

“Me? I thought we were partners, partner.”

“Like you give a shit! You jumped ship, Javi—you jumped ship, set up shop with the opposition, then hired my ex-girlfriend so you could get away with robbing us blind!”

You gritted your teeth. “Mr. Rankin, control your client.”

“‘Control your client’?” Scott spat out, leaning forward and turning the dial up to ten. “What the hell is wrong with you? What are you even doing here?”

“My job, Mr. Miller.” This time you did risk staring him in the face, ignoring the play of light on his cheekbones, the shape of his lips, the triangle of exposed skin at his throat that you used to know so well. “I work for StormLab. You might find my presence objectionable, but that’s neither here nor there as long as my clients choose to keep me on retainer. If you don't like it, you’re free to leave and we can negotiate with Mr. Rankin directly.”

He said nothing. Scott was never at a loss for words unless he was well and truly pissed, the force of his intelligence diverted into barely suppressed anger. You could've heard a pin drop in that conference room. His hands were on top of the table, tense, almost shaking, and the rise and fall of his chest was visible even to you. Against your will, your brain threw up images of those same hands holding yours, threaded through your hair, brushing gently against the small of your back; those same arms drawing you close; the same mouth smiling.

You cleared your throat, shuffled a few papers around, and once again addressed the general room and Mr. Rankin. “Now, if you turn to page 16, you’ll see that Mr. Rivera is willing to formally sell his share of StormPAR for less than he’s entitled—if both Mr. Miller and Mr. Riggs agree to desist in interference with StormLab, which, need I remind you, was founded two-thirds of the way with assets entirely independent from the former. If this action’s purpose isn’t frivolous, then Mr. Owens and Ms. Carter should be removed from this suit.”

“Like hell,” Scott interrupted, prompting Javi to fire back with:

“What, you think we’re not good for it? I’ll have you know—”

“You expect me to believe you started your little company on the merits of an NWS salary and a fucking YouTube channel?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Tyler lean forward, ready to pounce. Rankin muttered, “Language,” and pushed his eyeglasses up his nose. You knew he was a personal friend of Scott’s uncle—you could also tell that he would rather be out on the golf course than in the middle of this friend-divorce and embarrassing squabble, one where his input seemed superfluous and his counsel went unheeded even by his client.

Scott went on, full of accusation. “You used StormPAR money, didn’t you?”

“If you want to request any financial disclosures…” you began.

“We’re talking.”

Bitch. “No, you’re berating,” you shot back.

Javi put his hand on your wrist. “It’s fine. Yeah—I guess if you want to look at it that way, if I was making a living off StormPAR and taking Riggs’s money, then yeah, technically my share of StormLab exists because of what we had.”

“Javi.”

“No. Fair’s fair and all that. I don’t want any part of it anymore. Hell, you can have it. But come on, man, don’t pretend you’re doing any of this because you’re broke. Even if I gave you half of whatever StormPAR’s worth, it wouldn’t make a difference. You’re mad that I left. I get it. Let’s settle this, you and me. Leave Kate and Tyler out of it.”

“You stole our data!”

Now, that couldn't stand. “He made the executive decision to share data with Mr. Owens’s team.” Sure, it was a technicality but it was a true technicality.

“Bullshit!”

You sighed. “Are we getting anywhere here, Rankin?”

The lawyer glanced down at his watch and shook his head almost mournfully. “It’s not looking likely.”

“Wonderful.” You stood up, gathering your things and motioning for Kate, Tyler, and Javi to do the same. “Well, we’re all very busy people and clearly meeting in-person is counterproductive. Shall we agree to make this a video call next time? My clients have places to be.”

“I’ll bet they do,” Scott mocked, staring not only at Javi but at his new partners for probably the first time all afternoon. “How’re your investors doing, by the way, knowing you’re getting sued for infringement, breach of contract and fiduciary duty…”

You wanted to strangle him. In a voice that matched him venom for venom, you turned to your assistant and said, “Did you get that on record, Abby? Please, keep going,” you urged Scott, “you might just win us a dismissal.”

After a moment of charged silence, you told your clients: “We’re done here.”

“You’ll be hearing from me,” said the reluctant Mr. Rankin.

You snatched the chrome door handle from Tyler. “Boy, am I looking forward to it.”

Outside, you didn’t stop until you’d turned the corner into another section of the office, not wanting to be within eyeshot of Scott when you gritted your teeth and let the mask of cool indifference fall.

“Well, that went…” Tyler trailed off, leaning against the metal doorframe of Copy Room 3. The smell of toner and ozone was strangely comforting, bringing you back to your professional self now that Scott and his stupid, handsome-as-ever face were out of view. That, and you were noticing that Tyler Owens in a corporate-adjacent setting didn’t sit well with you; you couldn’t decide whether it was the outdoor tan or the in-your-face belt-buckle that gave it away. Regardless, he seemed too big for the confines of a downtown law office.

“It went like a garbage fire,” you confirmed, “which means about as well as I expected.”

Kate crossed her arms. “So we’re going to court, then.”

“I’m going to keep pushing for him to drop StormLab from the suit.”

“That just leaves me,” Javi remarked, downcast, but still willing to take one for the team.

“I mean, Javi, dear, you did abandon the partnership without ironing out all the kinks first.”

“How was I supposed to know I needed to hire a lawyer?”

“Um, literally everyone knows you’re supposed to hire a lawyer,” said Tyler, “especially if you’re dealing with someone like Textbook Type A over there.”

Javi ran a hand down his face, then shook his head. “What can I say? I-I thought he was my friend.”

“I know.” You clapped your hand on Javi’s shoulder. I understand. “But sometimes all that does is make it worse.”

After a bit more commiserating you parted ways with the three, hanging back with Abby to touch base on a few points and clear up the rest of your schedule, which included a deposition in an hour-and-a-half and witness prep at 4:30. Understandably, you were in the mood for none of this and wanted nothing more than to retire to your apartment with a glass of red and a bowl of popcorn as big as your head à la Olivia Pope, but alas… you were trying to make junior partner.

No rest for the wicked and all that.

You released Abby for a late lunch and made your way to the bank of elevators after a brief pit stop at the restroom, side-eyeing the fancy automatic taps and the whiff of something hotel-like emanating from the vents. You’d have to tell the office manager at Conway & Fine to up your game.

Fishing your phone out of your bag, you pushed the elevator button and began scrolling through a frightful amount of emails—there were intraoffice communications and check-in requests from clients, a few items of junk not caught by the email filter, the latest newsletters from PennAlumni and the Oklahoma Bar Association, as well as an invitation to an old mentor’s golden anniversary celebration. You were in the middle of responding to this when Scott sidled up next to you, giving no indication other than the familiar scent of his cologne and the tap of shined leather shoes against the polished tile. Of all the bad luck…

“So what is this, some kind of a decade-old revenge plot?” he finally asked, disconcerting you with the fact that he was standing so close to you that you couldn't glance at his expression without craning your neck. “Maybe I should’ve expected it from you, but Javi? I didn't know he had it in him.”

“Go away, Scott. This is business.”

“Really, is that what you want to call it? He could've hired anyone.”

“Well, he chose to hire a friend.”

“Right…” A laugh. Dry, cynical. “And what's your excuse?”

You stared at the light above the door, willing it to flash green and put you out of your misery. “Believe it or not, my taking this case has nothing to do with you. Forgive me if I thought you could be a fucking adult about it—clearly I was wrong.”

Ding!

You walked into the elevator without looking back. As parting words went, you thought they passed muster. Except, instead of being a regular person and taking the next car, Scott followed you in, ignoring the outrage written plain on your face.

You looked at him as if to say, “Do you mind?” It was obvious that he didn't. Whatever composure he’d lost in the conference room had been regained now that it was just you, and him, and the shared knowledge that you would have avoided being alone with him if you could.

He stood next to you, towering. As the floor number inched downward from 22, you were all too aware of his presence: the Scott smell of him, the warmth of his body, and the brush of his dark linen jacket against your arm. You wished you handed discarded your own in the restroom; you needed armor, and while Scott had donned his as soon as he was able, he had caught you unawares, expecting him to play fair even when all the evidence of the last two hours had told you that “fair” was no longer in his vocabulary.

As if to illustrate the point, you felt him lean in, his voice the closest it had been in over six years. “You always did love making a show of taking the moral high ground. How’s the view, sweetheart? You must love getting the chance to look down on me for change.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Not bothering to contain your disgust, you stepped away from him, clutching your bag in a white-knuckle grip. For a moment you felt struck by lightning. There was a time when you knew the planes of his face better than your own—the slope of his nose, the variations of blue in his eyes; you knew the shade of his hair in every light; how to tell a false smile from the true. But this Scott… the one with the shuttered expression, the see-if-I-care set to his shoulders, “how’re your investors doing, by the way”… It wasn’t like those things came out of left field—Scott had always been capable of a certain amount of pride, petulance, vindictiveness, even. But it was like the best parts of him had been filed away, or else hidden so deep that you couldn't find nary a sight of them when you looked into his face. “What happened to you?”

You saw his jaw clench. “If you want to know, then you shouldn’t have left.”

8…

7…

6…

You took a breath. “That whole last year—you pushed me away and you know it.”

Instead of answering your honesty in kind, Scott hitched up his sleeve so he could glance at the time on his fancy Swiss watch, a present from Good Old Uncle Riggs on the event of his graduation from MIT. “Yeah, well, you made it easy.”

4…

3…

2…

The doors opened onto a vast lobby. Incredulous, you kept waiting for him to take his words back, to apologize, to so much as glance at you, damn it. When you saw there wasn't any point, you swallowed the knot in your throat, stepping out of the elevator car and feeling twenty-one all over again.

This time, he didn't follow you. He leaned against the back handrail, not reacting even when you mustered every remaining ounce of dignity to say, “Go fuck yourself, Scott.” Then you turned on your heel and walked away.

TEN YEARS AGO PARK HAVEN, PENNSYLVANIA

Once more on your bedroom floor. Scott sat at your back, his arms wrapped around you and his head bent over yours. “Hey, listen to me… we’ll make it work. I’ll call you every day.”

“With a full slate of classes? That doesn't make any sense.”

“I don’t care if it doesn't. Hey,”—he kissed your temple—“it’s you and me. That doesn’t need to change”

“You say that now…”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I do.” You sighed. “It’s the hot nerds I don’t trust.”

You felt him laugh. “You’re a hot nerd.”

“Stop it.” But you smiled anyway, probably for the first time since you’d opened the rejection letter from Harvard. Concerned, your mom had called Scott while you were holed up in your room, ugly-crying into the bedspread, and it was enough to make you regret having been so bitchy about her the week before. She really had been trying to help… not that it mattered now that Harvard had given you the hard pass.

It wasn’t like you had no other options—you’d have been crazy not to line up a contingency plan or two. But Harvard had been your dream since you could remember caring about college. It was your castle in the sky, the thing that kept you going through four years of grueling hard work, a neverending grind of AP and Honors classes, student clubs and extracurriculars. And still it wasn’t enough.

“We regret to inform you…”

Well, not as much as you regretted it.

As if reading your mind, Scott wrapped his arms a little tighter, his tone light when he said, “UPenn’s nothing to scoff at, you know. You’re upset because you got into an Ivy League?”

“An Ivy League in Philadelphia,” you protested.

You didn’t add “and not the one I wanted” because you knew, objectively, that he and your parents and Ms. Andersson, your favorite teacher, were all right. You were incredibly lucky to have gotten into the University of Pennsylvania—the campus was beautiful, it was close to home, and, like Harvard, it boasted its own fair share of Supreme Court Justices and legal luminaries. It wasn’t like your future was in complete and utter shambles. You would still have everything you wanted… except Scott.

You felt him shrug behind you. “So what? It’s just a five-and-a-half-hour drive—or an hour-and-a-half by plane if we’re desperate.” You shifted so you could shoot him a funny look. “I might have googled it,” he admitted, “right after you told me you got in.”

“Of course you did…” The fact that he had started making plans without waiting on Harvard made you feel better; it meant he had every intention of making it work and maybe you were the downer, seeing the situation as near-hopeless when, really, there had to be couples who didn't let physical distance stop them from being together.

Glass half-full. All you needed was a little faith, a little more optimism.

“At least we’ve got the whole summer,” you said, trying to implement this new, sunnier outlook.

You felt Scott stiffen.

“What?” You turned around properly, anchoring your hand on the side of his neck. You had a minor panic when he wouldn't look at you, and at the guilt written on his brow. “Tell me,” you said.

“Uncle Riggs wants me to spend the summer down in NOLA—something about getting to know me better. I think he must’ve worked it out with Mom. She’s finally put the house up for sale, doesn't want me around when strangers start traipsing through and asking about whether or not she’ll throw in the vintage furniture for an extra few grand.”

At last, after years of painful back and forth, the Miller divorce was imminent. True to Scott’s prediction, “poor Pamela” had hired an attorney and filed paperwork on the very week he climbed through your window. So far his dad had been uncharacteristically passive, perhaps figuring he had put his family through enough, or else fearful of the very same Marshall Riggs who had been summoned from the rafters to come through for his sister after a period of long estrangement.

It was Riggs who had retained Pamela’s ace divorce attorney, Riggs who agreed to pay most of Scott’s tuition. Spending a few months with him seemed like the least he could do. You were disappointed. But you understood.

“When do you leave?”

“Two weeks after graduation.”

“So we have a month,” you said. “That’s thirty days.”

“More like twenty-six… and three quarters.” He smiled the same wistful sort of half-smile that was on your face, and you kissed him, savoring the familiar taste of mint on his mouth from the gum he chewed out of habit.

“Then let’s not waste a second,” you answered back.

He placed a kiss on your forehead. “I love you.”

When he said it, it sounded like a promise that everything would be all right, and in spite of your worries you chose to believe him.

PRESENT DAY OKLAHOMA CITY

For the last ten minutes you’d had trouble hearing Kate’s voice clearly over the phone, but you figured it was to be expected since she was calling from the middle of nowhere (at least to your urban- and suburban-bred estimation), and really, after almost three months of similar experiences, you’d grown tired of plugging your ear and saying, “Kate? Kate? You’re breaking up!”

On the upside, your cognitive skills had to be getting a real workout from filling in the weather-induced gaps in your conversations. Case in point:

“—bad luck with the last two, but I—feeling—building in the east—”

“Yeah, her Spidey Senses are tingling!” you heard Javi yell in the background.

Kate laughed. “Go away!”

“Ask her if she caught the livestream!” Tyler said, no doubt from the driver’s seat.

It sounded like she had you on speakerphone, so you spoke to him directly. “Ty, need I remind you that I have an actual job.”

“Ouch! Did you hear that?—thinks we don’t have real jobs!”

“I did not—”

The clarity improved, and you could hear the sound of car doors slamming and voices cracking jokes in the background, which usually meant they’d returned to Kate’s mother’s farm in Sapulpa, where StormLab kept a satellite office in Cathy Carter’s barn. It was makeshift, but what you saw of it during one of Tyler’s Facetime calls had a rustic charm completely at odds with the glass-and-chrome offices where Herb Rankin worked.

Actually, now that you gave it a moment’s thought, not even Herb Rankin fit into his office.

“Listen to her, the Big City Bigshot slumming it with the rednecks,” Tyler went on, earning a few spirited hoots and howls from the other Wranglers.

“Kate is from New York!” you objected. You waved an arm in the middle of your dim-lit apartment as if anyone could see you, vaguely aware that you were holding a pair of chopsticks and had probably sent a strand of shredded cabbage flying behind your couch.

This assertion was too much for Javi to bear. “Excuse me! Kate is OK to the bone, New York’s just where she keeps her apartment.”

Kate laughed as she said something you couldn’t catch, then Tyler’s voice came, audibly close to the phone. “Hey, that reminds me, where’re you from, again?”

“Pennsylvania.”

“That is not a Philly accent.”

You were about to say that not everyone in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania sounds like Rocky Balboa when Javi replied, “That’s ’cause she’s from the fancy part of Pennsylvania—but we don't hold that against her.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Tyler asked, “Wait, you’re not billing us for all this shit-talking, are you?”

You let out a snort, picked up your phone, and held it close to your mouth. “You know, maybe I should, Arkansas.”

At first you couldn’t work out what the hell was going on when Tyler broke out in “It's the spirit of the mountains… and the spirit of the Delta… it's the spirit of the Caaapitol doooooome,” but by the time the other Wranglers pitched in, with all the gusto of a drunk karaoke night despite being stone-cold sober, you understood that you had been treated to a rare and hopefully never-to-be-repeated rendition of one of the state songs of Arkansas. A short while later you hung up, cheeks sore and still laughing to yourself. The silence in your apartment was deafening by comparison.

Sometimes, you called them just because you lacked company. There wasn’t much to report on the Rankin front—as much as you had tried to negotiate on Javi’s behalf for a less hostile resolution, Scott insisted on keeping Kate and Tyler in the suit and seemed determined to take their tiff before a judge if his terms weren’t met.

Even Rankin seemed fed up.

Maybe it was a bad idea, maybe it was the two glasses of wine you’d had with dinner or the post-ballad high. Maybe you wanted to be the one to make StormLab’s problem go away. Whatever the reason, after you put the dirty dishes in the sink, you found yourself calling the one person you swore you’d never speak to ever again.

For good measure, as the dial tone rang you poured yourself another glass. When he answered, you nearly choked.

“Can we talk?” you managed to ask, swallowing down a mouthful of Syrah. There was a long silence on the other end. You didn't know if he had your number saved, if he knew who had called him, or whether he’d recognized the sound of your voice. You remembered that the last thing you had said to him was “go fuck yourself,” and added it to the mental list of why maybe you shouldn't have called him after all.

Tyler’s impulsiveness seemed to be as contagious as a rash.

Scott answered: “Not without my lawyer present.”

Okay, fair. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. He sounded clipped, like he’d rather be lowered into a tank of leeches than be on the phone with you. You were reconsidering the wisdom of your actions when he asked, “What do you want?”

Your eyes darted around the living room. Thinking on your feet wasn't new to you, it couldn't be, in your profession. But a part of you knew you’d taken a stupid gamble in pressing the call button, and now that the die was cast, you had to make it count.

You opted for the aggressive approach.

“Rankin says you're being uncooperative.”

You could feel the animus on the other end. “No, he didn't.”

“It was implied. No one wants to keep drawing this out, Scott. So, come off it. What is it that you’re actually looking to get out of all this?”

If he opted to tell you to go fuck yourself, you figured it would be fair play. This really was business, and not having to look him in the eyes made it easier to feel the rush of adrenaline that came with making a risky move in the name of work. You knew that technically, and in the strictest interpretation of the word, reaching out to another lawyer’s client crossed the line into inappropriate, but you were also a couple years beyond green. If you could cut out the middleman and get Scott to come to the table in a serious way, it would all be worth it. And Rankin could go back to playing 9 holes without losing face in front of his old school mate Riggs.

You waited for Scott’s response with bated breath.

“I want StormLab run into the ground.”

The answer came as no surprise but his tone did. Dark, intense, almost as bad as one of the nights he snuck into your room after a fight with his dad. It was the one and only time you’d ever heard him say he hated his father—his lack of control, his thoughtlessness, his inability to keep his word. Afterward he’d pretended he never said it, or rather, he was careful to never bring it up again, but you knew he had meant it.

And he meant it now. He wanted to take StormLab down. He’d succeed over your dead body. Javi and the others were counting on you.

You moved the phone to your other ear. “Right, well… that's not gonna happen, so any other alternatives?” You could feel he was about to end the call, so you tacked on, “Wait, just… hear me out, okay? Forget about Tyler and Kate—this isn’t about them, really, this is about StormPAR. Compromise on this one thing and you have a better chance of being compensated for what went down last year. You and Javi can just… move on with your lives. On paper it's about money, right? Riggs’s investment? So let’s settle this as soon as possible.”

“You and me?”

“And Rankin,” you added, your conscience getting the better of you.

There was a pause before Scott repeated, “You and me.”

“I don’t…”

“That’s my final offer.”

Alarm bells of a different sort rang in your head. On the phone was one thing, but in person, alone? Could you really sit across from Scott and keep your cool?

You had to. More than that, you wanted to prove to yourself that you’d grown up since you were twenty-one, that you were assured and confident and could handle messy things like sitting across from your ex. There were many things you regretted from that time; the one you regretted most was a reluctance to stand up for yourself. What was Tyler always saying? You don’t face your fears, you ride them. Frankly, you still weren't sure what the hell he meant by that, but it sounded a lot like “put your money where your mouth is.” At some point you had to choose to take action.

“Okay, fine,” you said. “When and where?”

“You busy tonight?”

You scoffed, casting a glance at your open laptop and the piles of paperwork lying on top of the coffee table. “I’m busy every night.”

“Perch. In an hour. Don’t be late.”

THREE YEARS AGO PARK HAVEN, PENNSYLVANIA

As a rule you’d been avoiding your hometown for the last three years, ever since your breakup with Scott. It was easier to stay in Oklahoma, where the possibility of running into someone who knew the Millers or would ask “are the two of you still together?” was slim. After your father died, you started to regret being such a coward. So much lost time… although your mom kept telling you that your dad understood the need to have your own life and never held it against you.

You held it against you, and all the more when your mom decided to downsize and move in with a friend.

After requesting two weeks off you got on a plane to Philadelphia and drove south to Park Haven to help her pack. You stayed up late, wore holiday pajamas, filled your hand with paper cuts, and inhaled about four pounds of dust in the attic. It was nice to spend time with your mom. All the old grievances seemed minor in comparison with the massive changes that lay ahead. Always one for sentimentality, sorting through boxes full of clothes, keepsakes, and old mementos put your mom in an especially chatty mood, and you soaked everything in, not having realized before how little you knew about your dad. He was so reserved in life, so buttoned-up, with clear expectations of himself and others that you were surprised to learn about his stint in an amateur dramatics troupe, the year he tried his hand at playing the alto sax, his fear of geese.

“Geese?” you asked your mom.

“Yes, geese. Those fuckers are vicious!” Having never heard your mom swear before, you froze while elbow-deep in a box of photographs dating back to the 70s. All she did was shrug and finish the rest of her margarita while lightbulbs flashed on her navy blue Rudolph sweater. “What do you want me to say? Parents have secrets, too.”

“Well, I think this parent went a little hard on the tequila,” you said.

Your mom plucked a faded Polaroid from the box. “You know… he didn’t look it, but your dad was actually a lot of fun. We both were. Then… life gets in the way, you start caring about PTA meetings and getting the HOA off your back…”

“Fuck the HOA.”

“Right on! Can’t say I’ll miss any of those jerks.” She sighed, and with a little shake of her head, put the Polaroid back in the box. “Sometimes I worry—” She stopped herself and glanced at you nervously.

“What?”

“Sometimes I worry that you think about us, about your dad and me, and that you don’t see us as having ever been in love. Especially after you and Scott—”

“Mom,” you warned.

“I know, I know, me and my big mouth.” She held up her hands, chuckling to herself. Normally you’d seize the opportunity to change the subject, but you were thinking a lot about how you could’ve been a better daughter, all the times you shut the door in their face because you didn’t want to feel scolded or uncomfortable, because you weren’t interested in what they had to say.

Your mom was trying to respect your privacy. The least you could do was not leave her with the impression that you thought she had a “big mouth.”

You reached across the box and touched her arm. “That’s not what I meant.”

“All I mean is… I know you’re not dating.”

“How do you know that?”

She grinned. “Mothers have their ways. I just don’t want you giving up, is all. If Dad and I weren’t the model marriage—”

“What are you talking about?” you asked. “Half of my friends have divorced parents. And even if you were divorced, the whole ‘nuclear family or you’re a failure to society’ thing is so five-decades-ago.”

“Well, good! Because I was happy—I want you to know that. Maybe it wasn’t the sort of romance people write songs about—God knows your dad had his faults. He wasn't perfect. No one is. But when you love someone… it’s less about keeping score and more about what you build. Together.”

She looked off to the far wall, where their wedding portrait sat propped in its frame, ready to be wrapped in old newspapers and put away. You turned around and looked at it, too—at your mom’s curly updo and poofy skirts, the sleeves that looked like pool inflatables, at least to your modern eyes, at your dad before his hair went gray, the sheepish smile on his face like he couldn’t believe he’d gotten away with the steal of the century.

You’d gotten so used to its presence in the living room that you couldn’t remember the last time you gave it more than a passing glance.

Lit by an alternating flash of blue and purple lights, your mom’s face was cast in an otherworldly glow. Then the spell was broken, and she was your mom again in an ugly Christmas sweater, smiling fondly at an old memory to which you weren’t privy. “For some reason, we brought out the best in each other. That mattered to us more than anything we ever did wrong.” And that was that, a twenty-nine year marriage summed up in a few sentences.

You said, “I guess that does sound romantic… in a super-practical, boring, construction-analogy sort of way.”

She laughed and threw a wadded-up newspaper at your head.

“Dad never liked Scott,” you said after a while, rolling the ball between your hands.

“What makes you say that?”

You threw her a pointed look. Her expression said, Oh, alright.

“He wasn’t disapproving, exactly. He was worried about you. Who wouldn’t be? Your first boyfriend, your first love… I don’t think he was quite ready to see his teenage daughter all head over heels over some guy on the baseball team. And the Millers, well… they had their issues, as a family. Maybe your dad didn’t want you becoming collateral damage. But, oh sweetie,”—it was her turn to touch your arm, Rudolph’s nose squished against the cardboard—“it was never about Scott. When you told us you were engaged, we were so pleased for you! And then a few months later… just like that…”

You swallowed the knot in your throat. How much time would have to pass before you could think of Scott without a tidal wave of sadness hitting you square in the chest? Collateral damage, that was one way of putting it. “I guess Dad was right, after all.”

“He never said ‘I told you so,’” your mom pointed out, “and he never would’ve wanted to.”

You squeezed her hand. “Yeah, I know.”

A phone call from your mother’s friend Rose prompted a break in packing. She went into the kitchen to discuss sideboard dimensions, and you went upstairs, where you were slowly going through your childhood bedroom and putting things in boxes marked Keep and Donate, or else in bags to be discarded when trash day rolled around.

You were almost finished, the walls empty of medals and photos, the corkboard of mementos lying in the recycling bin outside. Already it felt like a bedroom that had belonged to someone else, and while you were sad to know that, after the house was sold, you would never step foot in it again, the process of taking things down one at a time had given you a sort of detachment. There were items, like the snowglobe your friend Tash gave you when she got home from a skiing trip in the Alps in the seventh grade, that you had once thought you could never do without. But now Tash lived in LA with her wife and kids, and you hadn’t spoken much since high school except for a few text messages now and then.

You’d decided to keep the globe but you knew it would live in a box in your closet, a relic rather than an everyday part of your life in Oklahoma.

Speaking of closets, you tackled the wardrobe next, marveling at how many items would be considered “trendy” now that the fashion cycle had taken a turn—or God forbid, “vintage.” There were stuffed animals shoved into the top shelf, your old 50 State quarter collection, debate club certificates, a landscape picture from your senior year mock trial, and a shoebox falling apart at the seams.

You took it to the stripped bed with shaking hands, knowing you’d been dreading this most of all but that it had to be done, so why not now.

After you broke your engagement off with Scott, you’d gone home to lick your wounds. This was before you found a job, before you decided to move to Oklahoma on the literal toss of a coin, knowing only that you couldn't stay in Pennsylvania and that you needed a fresh start. Left with no other options, home had been your best bet, even though the weeks spent living with your parents and avoiding their worried questions had seemed at the time like cruel and unusual punishment. When you moved out you had left something behind, hidden beneath seashells and baubles and silly notes you had passed during class, movie stubs, train tickets, an inexplicable piece of gum, the collar that had once belonged to Clover, your old childhood dog.

You lifted a school ribbon and found it: a blue velvet box with a golden clasp. Your heart pounded in your ears. You took a deep breath, let it out again before lifting the lid… and there it was, glinting in the light of late afternoon.

“Honey, Rose wants to know if you’d like to join us for dinner at her place!”

Box, ring, and all tumbled onto the hardwood. Though you were alone, your mother calling to you from the bottom of the stairs, you felt incredibly guilty. “I’ll be right down!” you yelled back. You got on your hands and knees and slipped the ring back in its cradle.

It felt dangerous somehow, like a live grenade. But you couldn't get rid of it. When you went back home at the end of the month you packed it at the bottom of your suitcase and it’d been living with you ever since, moved from closet to closet, unseen but never quite forgotten.

PRESENT DAY OKLAHOMA CITY

The jewel twinkled in your hand, an oval diamond surrounded by small clusters and set in a ring of yellow gold. It was one of a kind. Scott told you he found it at an antique jeweler’s who dated it to the summer of 1880; it was a genuine Victorian piece, and for nearly four months it had been your most prized possession.

The same foolhardy impulse that made you call Scott and agree to meet him made you dig it out of your closet, right after you spent twenty minutes agonizing over what to wear and the state of your hair. This isn’t a date, you kept reminding yourself. If anything, it might be a trap. He was, after all, Marshall Riggs's nephew.

Letting your lesser sense win out, you slipped the ring on your finger and watched it catch the light. It truly was a beautiful ring. And it was sentimental, as though its selection revealed a hidden truth about Scott.

Its weight on your hand, present and comfortable, calmed your racing thoughts and the nerves roiling in your belly. You kept it on as you dressed and got ready, then chalked it up to a desire for punctuality when you rushed to the elevator, through the lobby, and into your waiting Uber still wearing it. The driver’s presence snapped you out of your momentary lapse in sanity. They were chatty, and the more you talked about work and the weather and what you liked doing in the city, the sillier it felt to be wearing your ex-fiancé’s engagement ring. Before getting out, you stuck it in the pocket of your linen duster… which was also, admittedly, kind of a stupid thing to do.

(You blamed Tyler for all of it.)

Located at the top of a fifty-floor high-rise, Perch was a bar and restaurant with full views of the city and a James Beard Award-winning chef. The atmosphere was relaxed and unfussy, the lighting unobtrusive, and the cocktails reasonably priced. At the door, the vest-clad host directed you through the assemblage of diners and beyond a decorative glass partition to the tables reserved for business meetings, minor celebrities, and men who didn’t want to be seen with their mistresses. Scott was there in rolled-up shirtsleeves. You watched from a distance as he rubbed his stubbled cheek and his pointer finger came to rest at the seam of his lips.

You would not stare at his mouth or let your eyes linger anywhere on his person. This was business, goddammit.

But hell if he didn’t look good. You hated that after all this time you still found him maddeningly attractive.

“Seriously?” he asked, casting a pointed look at the portfolio in your arms.

“Well, this isn’t a social call.”

“By all means.” He gestured at the seat in front of him, mockingly formal. You glanced at the coupe waiting on your side of the table, a cheerful yellow with a perfect white foam on top and a twist of lemon peel. “I took the liberty of ordering your usual.”

You sat down and set the portfolio to one side, adopting an air of casual indifference. “Actually, it’s not my usual anymore.”

“Really?”

“But thanks anyway. So, from previous conversations with Javi—”

“What is this mythical new usual?”

“Are you kidding?” you balked, narrowing your eyes.

“No, I’m just curious.” He propped his chin in his hand. Maybe lying had been a petty move on your part but you’d be damned if he forced you to backtrack and you came out of this looking a fool.

“I hate to be the one to tell you this, but at some point you’re gonna have to learn to live with uncertainty. Anyway—”

“You don’t have a new usual.” Scott smirked. “It’s still a gin sour and you’re just being difficult.”

“Difficult… Wow, okay! We”—wagging your finger in the space between you—“are not together anymore, so these mind games you’re trying to play are highly inappropriate and also kind of a dick move—”

“A dick move!” he repeated.

“Yeah, a dick move! Which I know is, like, your whole personality now—”

“Is it?” he laughed.

“—but I’m trying to settle this like an actual grown-up and all you’ve done for three months is make that very difficult for everyone involved!”

He rolled his eyes. “This is such a fucking boring conversation.”

Incensed, you had the fleeting thought to throw your drink in his face, but people only did that in soap operas. “You were the one who wanted to do this in person!” you fired back, shrill and drawing the attention of a server who promptly beelined to a different table and pretended not to hear. Which only made you wonder what sort of clientele frequented her section.

“And you were the one who called me,” Scott pointed out, “not the other way around.”

His being right made you even angrier. You had thought you were prepared, that magically you’d be able to have a civil conversation that settled the matter in a way that left you with your pride intact and StormLab the clear winner on the side of good. Clearly, you’d miscalculated. “You know what… fuck this.” After downing half your cocktail in a single gulp, you gathered the portfolio in your arms and made to stand before deciding that, actually, you wanted to get a few things off your chest first so that abandoning your PJs would be worth it. “I am so over this whole… fucking… stupid… mess. I’ve had actual divorces that were easier to mediate, Scott. Whole marriages—and not short ones either! Just take the fucking shares! Please… take the shares and go back to Riggs and leave us all the hell alone. We’re tired, okay? This is just… so unbelievably tiring. And fuck you, by the way—yes, it’s still a gin sour.” You finished yours, figuring that if Scott was paying, you might as well.

And now I’m ready to leave, you thought.

But Scott had other ideas.

“You spoken to your mom lately?”

“What?” You gaped at him, wondering if you were losing your mind. Was he? Was there a dimensional shift happening that you weren’t aware of?

“Pardon the observation,” Scott went on, “but you don’t seem… well.”

“Are you being for real right now?”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

And how else could you mean it? was on the tip of your tongue. But the look on his face made you stop. No bullshit, no smug provocation. He was serious. Somehow, that was more unsettling than when he was fucking with you. It brought back too many memories.

“I was sorry to hear about your dad.”

He looked you straight in the eyes when he said it. You wanted to burrow into a hole in the ground—into him, if you were being honest. It didn’t matter how many years had gone by. A part of you was still twenty-seven and glancing at the door wondering if maybe, just maybe…

“Oh, I’m gonna need another one of these,” you whispered to yourself, stunned back into a seated position. The server came around and eyed your empty glass, asking meekly if you would like anything else. “I might as well,” you answered, sounding patently glum. All the while Scott kept a neutral expression, even waited until you had another drink—and a glass of water—in front of you, giving the server a soundless thanks before she scurried away.

Probably off to the kitchen to tell her coworkers about the crazy lady at B25.

“I thought about showing up to the funeral, actually,” added Scott when you had regained most of your composure. “But I didn’t know if I’d be welcome. Mom, being a firm believer in Emily Post, thought it’d be better if we skipped it. She sent flowers, though.”

“She what?”

“She sent flowers. Your mom never said?”

You shook your head. She must’ve been trying not to upset you. But you had been upset anyway, thinking about how Scott should’ve been there, how you had always expected him to show up and make things better.

All this time you had used his absence as yet another example of how little you must’ve mattered in the end. Which made no sense, because you were the one to break things off—and yet, that entire winter’s morning, you had bargained with yourself that if he showed up through those chapel double doors you would forget everything and beg him to take you back. It was too late for that. But knowing that he’d thought about going loosened a painful knot in your chest that you weren’t aware you even had.

You cleared your throat. “How’s your mom, by the way?”

“She’s doing all right. She’s part of a sewing circle, believe it or not.”

“Please tell me that isn’t a euphemism.”

“God, I hope not.”

You smiled involuntarily, picturing Pam Miller in her sweater sets and pearls. “I’m glad she’s doing okay. Your dad…?”

He picked up his drink, a Macallan on the rocks. It was his uncle’s drink, too. “I haven't heard from him in years. Guess neither of us ever saw the point.”

“Scott—”

“How’d you and Javi become an ‘us’ anyway? He never said.”

Fair enough. It made sense that he wouldn’t want to talk about his dad, let alone with you. But talking about Javi? When an hour ago he had admitted to wanting to bankrupt Javi’s company?

“I’ll be on my best behavior for the next”—he looked down at his watch—“fifteen minutes. Promise.”

“I don’t know, I think it’s better if we table all the personal talk,” you hedged.

“Better for whom?”

“Better for my clients. And better for me, too. We’re not friends.”

“We’ve never been friends,” Scott pointed out.

“Exactly. So why lie and pretend like we are?”

“Call it a term of this negotiation.”

“Scott…” Already this night was going nothing like how you’d planned. Your defenses had all the strength of a thin paper bag; he was in front of you, all dark-haired, blue-eyed, 6’4” reality and you weren’t unaffected. You wanted to keep talking to him, make the moment last… and all the more because you knew it had to end at some point. Scott would never be yours—not again. You’d made your peace with that a long time ago. But he has a right to know. Maybe if you could convince him that there was no grand conspiracy against him, he would be more amenable to Javi’s offer.

This is business, you reminded yourself. Redirect, bring it all back to StormLab.

“Fine,” you decided, settling in to tell the story of how you and Javi first met. “It happened maybe a year after I moved to Oklahoma City… I was out with a new friend and she took me to this bar after dinner to meet a bunch of people, one of whom was Javi. We get to talking, he tells me all about this new company he’s starting with a friend of his, says it’s a lucky coincidence or maybe fate having a twisted sense of humor because—”o

You broke off. You hadn’t considered how to broach this particular detail in the story. Obviously, Javi had no idea at the time how messy your backstory with Scott was. He had only thought to poke fun at his friend and seemed delighted to have solved a long-standing mystery for himself.

“So you’re the girl!”

“Come again?”

“The girl, you know. He has a picture of you in one of his old notebooks from college. What a small world!”

“What?” Scott prompted. You felt your face heating up and took a sip of water to hide it. You couldn't well omit the rest having already begun, but the knowledge that Scott had kept a photograph of you, whether by accident or otherwise, made you flustered then and it flustered you now.

You settled for: “He said he recognized me, and that he thought we might have a friend in common. Obviously, he meant you. He was dating one of Christa’s friends at the time—”

“Rachel.”

“Yeah. So he’d show up, be around… You know how Javi can be.”

“Like a persistent terrier.”

“Sounds like your kind of business partner.”

Scott looked away.

Not wanting to push things further in that direction just yet, you explained, “I work a lot, so it’s hard for me to make friends. Javi seems to make them wherever he goes. It’s nice having people like that in your life, to open you up, remind you there’s more to all this than billable hours and senior partner tracks. But we never talked about you. Not until this whole thing happened.”

“What thing did he say happened?”

Tread carefully now. Scott was watching you intently—if you said the wrong thing it might start a new argument between you and make his relationship with Javi a hell of a lot worse. In polished business-speak, you recited: “Just that you had a fundamental disagreement about the direction of the company.”

Your reward was a skeptical laugh.

“Also, that he might have left you on the side of the road during a tornado… which he feels bad about, by the way.”

“Not bad enough.”

“Scott, you can’t really want to ruin him, can you? I mean, this is Javi we’re talking about.”

“That’s not part of this discussion.”

“Okay?” you shot back. “I don’t remember agreeing to that condition.”

“You’re still at this table.”

“And that can easily be fixed!”

“All right, calm down.” Maybe it was you in danger of starting another fight. Scott, holding up his hands in a show of good faith, said, “I thought we were playing nice here, being civilized, acting like adults… What else have you been up to?”

“You want to know about my life?”

“Like I said, I’m curious. And seeing as this is a momentary parley, I plan on making the most of it.”

Again, you took in his face in search for any signs of subterfuge and found none, only the barest hint of levity in his eyes at your willingness to argue. It reminded you of the old days, when Scott would delight in teasing you for the sole purpose of seeing what your reaction would be. “Fine. But it’s going to be quid pro quo,” you demanded. “Call it a term of this negotiation.”

His mouth curved into a smile. Then he held out his hand across the table and waited for you to take it before saying, “Term accepted, counselor.”

In the end, playing nice with Scott turned out to be a lot easier once you’d established a few ground rules, mainly the stipulation that either of you could say “pass” if you weren’t willing to answer a question.

You went through the whole gamut of discussing your first jobs after college, gossiped about the old Park Haven crowd, the who-married-who and the who-got-divorced of it all. It turned out that, like you, Scott hadn’t returned to Pennsylvania much in the last few years. StormPAR kept him traveling through the Great Plains for most of the spring and summer, and during the rest of the year he lived in New Orleans, where Riggs and his mother lived. You got the sense that his life revolved around work, and that StormPAR, while not the be all and end all of his professional fate, had been an important part of it until Javi called it quits. You figured this explained, in part, why he took the loss so personally, and though you kept your thoughts to yourself you lamented that his one attempt to branch out for himself and away from his uncle—if you could call taking a major investment from Riggs “branching out”—had gone badly.

Either way, by the end of the evening you felt you’d been a little hasty in believing the old Scott had left the building for good. You exited Perch in higher spirits, glad to see that the night was clear and that the air felt good on your cheeks. When he asked if you were getting a car, you shared your desire for a long walk and he responded with mild horror until you explained that you didn’t live far. “Maybe twenty minutes? Thirty at most.”

“I’ll walk you home,” he insisted. You didn't argue because you were secretly pleased. The only thing you had to guard against was the urge to take his arm as you used to do. You felt giddy with it, which you were sure had to be the alcohol, but it was also the fact that Scott was here, in the flesh, that you were cracking jokes and sometimes even pulling smiles from his otherwise deadpan expression. You’d forgotten how that could make you feel like you’d won the jackpot.

“I’m sorry, I know you’re going to take this the wrong way,” you prefaced while walking backwards on the sidewalk, “but I have a really hard time imagining you as a storm chaser.”

“Excuse me!”

“I mean…” You stopped and full-body gestured. “I mean, look at you!”

“What?”

“Even your slacks are pressed!”

“Objection, why are you studying my slacks like a degenerate?”

“Don’t make it weird,” you replied, and fell into step beside him, if only to keep him from seeing that you were embarrassed by the implication that you might’ve been checking him out. “All I meant to say was—”

“That I don’t look like a rugged adrenaline junkie? Maybe ‘Rodeo Clown’ is more your thing these days.”

“Don’t—Tyler’s actually quite decent, you know.”

“But you knew exactly who I was talking about.” Scott snapped his fingers as if to say, Gotcha! as you ruefully shook your head. Something about Tyler Owens tended to evoke a Neanderthal-like competitiveness in certain men—Scott, being competitive by nature, fell for it all too easily.

“This is me.” You pointed at your building. It was a relatively new construction with climbing greenery and pop-out balconies where you’d lived for a year-and-a-half after a not inconsiderable raise, and the reason why you worked sixty hours a week.

“Can I come up?” Scott asked.

You whipped your head so hard that your temples throbbed. “That’s…” A no good, awful, terrible, ill-conceived, perilous idea?

Scott seemed to find your distress highly entertaining. “Jesus, would you relax?” he said. “I’m not asking to tuck you in—unless, if there’s someone—”

“There isn’t,” you hurried to say.

“Oh? How come?”

The knowledge that the man with whom you were formerly engaged was inquiring as to the current state of your love life with all the breeziness of do you have the time? was enough to make you believe in karmic punishment. “Like I said, I’m busy,” you managed to eke out, which only made him lift his shoulders as if to say, Then, what’s the big deal?

Scott Miller was good at that, getting his way.

“Fine,” you caved. “But only for ten minutes! Fifteen, tops!”

“Scout’s honor.”

In the elevator car you stuck your hands in your pockets, searching for your keys only to find the cold hard metal of your engagement ring. You looked guiltily at the oblivious Scott, who was staring at the floor display with a contented expression and was none the wiser about your having worn it earlier in the night like some kind of weirdo. Should you give it back? At the time he’d wanted nothing to do with it, but was keeping it the proper thing? Was it good for you to even have it?

At last you found your keys at the bottom of your purse. You opened the door, trying to remember how well you’d tidied after dinner as he walked in, inspecting everything. You watched as his gaze traveled over the open-plan kitchen and living area—the work files, magazines, and old mail stacked on various side tables; the midcentury beechwood couch you got for a steal at a secondhand warehouse when you first moved; the shelves, filled with books and framed photographs and trinkets you’d brought from home; and the view from your window, which wasn’t nearly as spectacular as the one from Perch, but it faced west, and if you were home during golden hour you could see the other buildings lit orange and gold.

“Yeah, this is exactly how I pictured it,” Scott mentioned at last.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, it’s just… you,” he answered. Your stomach turned to knots. He made you feel seen like nobody else could, not least of which because you’d let him back when you were younger and less guarded. Your heart kicked wildly in your chest, urging you to go to him, go to him, explain everything, get him back, because he was the one. Then Scott looked away, pointing at a sad fern that sat on a pedestal next to your mounted TV. “You still can’t keep a plant alive worth shit.”

“Rude,” you fired back, grasping at levity in order to shove the other thoughts away.

Scott drifted back to your bookshelves, seeing a few paperbacks he must’ve recognized from your old room at Park Haven. “And yet you keep trying. Do you actually use any of these?” he inquired, motioning towards the half-dozen board games you kept piled on an open top shelf. There was Clue and Monopoly, Candy Land, Sorry!, Scrabble and Life.

“Sometimes,” you replied, “when I have friends over. Which hasn’t happened much this year, if I’m being honest.”

“Let’s play.”

You laughed. You didn’t believe him. He pulled one of the boxes out and took it to the coffee table and all you could do was stare, incredulous, as he took his jacket off and rolled up his sleeves, actually sitting on the floor and looking expectantly at you to join him.

“You want to play Life with me?” you challenged. “Doesn’t that seem a little…”

“And you call me uptight.” He waved you over, determined not to take no for an answer. “Come on, hotshot, live a little.”

Despite your better judgment, and after a moment’s panicked hesitation, you lowered yourself next to him. He still smelled the same, like rain and sandalwood and pine. You wanted to curl into his side and feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath your ear, like you’d done on the nights he spent hidden away with you in your room. You had never gotten to live together; all you had were countable memories of waking up next to him and thinking, One day… one day we’ll have this every day.

As he set up the board, all you could do was stare at his hands.

SIX YEARS AGO NEW ORLEANS

Marshall Riggs greeted with you a double-kiss at the door, one on each side of your cheeks. Then he held you at arm’s length so he could look you up and down. “Would you take a look at that,” he said to Scott, “pretty as a picture! I suppose this is the part where I welcome you to the family?”

It was midsummer in Louisiana, on the hotter side of balmy and with the cicadas out in force. Shortly before you graduated Scott traveled to Philadelphia and asked you to marry him. Saying yes had been a no-brainer. You were in love, had put up with four years of distance and near-breakups, and now here was the culmination of all your compromise, communication, and hard work. For a second there you’d thought it would end badly; you were both in highly-intensive undergrad programs, there was only so much you could hash out over phone and video calls, and you were young. The question of “do we really want to make a life-changing decision at twenty-one?” had crossed your mind. But upon further reflection you realized that the answer was yes—had always been yes. And Scott seemed to agree.

In the absence of his father, “meeting the family” entailed paying court to his Uncle Riggs, a man you had spoken to a few times, at holiday parties and summer outings hosted by Pam, now settled in New Orleans and much happier than you’d known her before. But all those other times, you’d met Riggs as Scott’s girlfriend. Now you were his fiancée, with a fancy law degree and a diamond ring and everything, and while you would’ve preferred keeping your distance you knew this was important to Scott—that Riggs was important to him.

So you put on a smile and indulged the old man. Do it for Scott, you said to yourself. You’ve come this far. No point faltering while you were at the winning stretch.

You bowed your head. “Thank you for having us, Mr. Riggs.”

“Please, just Riggs,” he laughed. “Or Marshall—but only my ex-wives call me that.”

You soon found he had a way of twinkling his eyes that made you feel like you were sharing a joke. As he pointed out the features of his home—the old tapestries, the mural commissioned by Candice, his second ex-wife, the wall he knocked down because he wanted to “open up the space”, and his plans to expand the front garden, which, as it was, made the house look like it was in the middle of a tropical rainforest—he regaled you with stories about the people he knew, going off on tangents and bringing it back to the topic at hand. He was genteel and witty, and though he carried himself with Southern indifference there was no doubt he had power: he cocked his head, and a woman in an apron appeared with a tray of mint juleps; Scott held onto his every word; and when you were led into a dining room that might’ve fit forty or fifty at least, it was taken as a matter of course.

He pulled out your chair and sat you at his right hand because it was “the place of honor,” and Scott smiled encouragingly. You were doing so well.

You only wished that you could feel it.

“So, you want to be a big-deal attorney,” Riggs announced, digging into a perfect roast chicken. “What kind? Criminal?”

“Oh, no,” you replied. “Civil all the way. I’ve got a few offers but I want to shop around, make sure I’m making the right first move.”

“The right first move!” He pointed his knife at you. “I like that. By any chance, are you a chessplayer, sweetheart?”

“Can’t say that I am. My family are more into board games, really. Colonel Mustard in the library with the candlestick?” you explained.

He got a kick out of that. But he was partial to chess. “Opening moves—if you look at the big picture, they don't seem all that important. But well, in that case, why the hell’re there so many of ’em? Napoleon Opening, Greco Defense, Bled Variation, Balogh Defense… Sometimes how a thing starts dictates how the rest of it’ll unfold, from midgame all the way down to the end. If you're gonna do something, might as well do it right the first time or so I always say. Don’t I, boy?” He turned to Scott for confirmation.

“Yes, sir.”

“Yessir…” Riggs chuckled, spearing a roasted sprout. The ends of his bolo tie shifted on his neck. A turquoise the size of an acorn sat between his collar, and he was dressed to the nines—for your benefit, the guest of honor’s.

Nevertheless, there was something of the austere in his eyes. You couldn’t shake it when he put down his fork and sat back, looking from you to Scott, nodding like a king about to give his blessing to a pair of kneeling courtiers. “Pretty as a picture…” he repeated. “Look at you both—young, on the cusp, and none too hard on the eyes, if I do say so myself. A real golden couple on our hands! To opening moves”—he raised his glass—“may we always know when to make the right one.”

You raised your glass to be polite.

Scott leaned across the table. “Before you ask, yes, he is always like this.”

His uncle laughed, clapped him on the shoulder, and called for “champagne! To my nephew and his beautiful bride!”

As the night wore on, you convinced yourself that any discomfort was all in your head. You worked your way through three dinner courses, all impeccably cooked, and by the time the doberge was served you decided that you had judged the man too harshly. Sure, he was old-fashioned, but he was also jovial, polite, and he clearly doted on Scott.

“How nice it is to spend some quality time,” he remarked when Scott left the table, saying Pamela was on the phone. She wanted to know what plans you had for the rest of the week, whether you were still on for the garden fête on the 25th, and what dates you were considering for your engagement party, whether that would be here or in Pennsylvania, but I really do think you’d better do it here.

“I’ll just be a few minutes,” he said to Riggs, leaving you alone with his uncle. Now he had focused all of his attention on you, the full glare of his eye-twinkle and magnetic allure. He wasn’t a handsome man; it wasn’t about his looks—which were well past their prime—but about the knowledge that he could get almost everything he wanted simply by wanting it.

“It’s a shame we never did this sooner,” he went on. “Why do you think that is?” You shifted guiltily. The truth was, Riggs had always made you a bit uneasy. He had a reputation as a difficult man—ruthless, exacting, guileful, hard to please, and he liked doing business in the gray, always legal but never quite on the up-and-up.

Over the last four years, you may have avoided him on the grounds of self-righteous principle, but you couldn't admit to that if you were trying to leave a good impression.

You hedged, “I’m afraid law school doesn't leave much time to spare.”

“Very true… Not that I would know—it was always too much book learning for me, I’m a man of action,” Riggs explained, sipping his whiskey and looking happy as a clam. He had polished off two slices of cake earlier, but only because we’re celebrating. “Now, my nephew… he’s a bit o’ both, isn’t he? Either way, he’s got too much of his mother in ’im.”

You frowned, wanting to say a word in defense of Pamela. Riggs waved you off. “Don’t mind me, I’m just a silly old man with too many opinions. It tends to rub people up the wrong way—don't think I haven't noticed!” Another laugh, another narrowing of the eyes that could have been humor but which you felt like a lightning strike down your back.

He knows and you’re making something out of nothing struggled for dominance within your head, and still he kept on talking, forcing you to pay attention and leave the question unresolved.

He pointed in the direction where Scott had gone. “That nephew of mine—I don’t have any children of my own, did you know that? It never happened for me. Four wives and nothing to show for it—imagine that! But that boy… good thing his father never knew what to do with ’im—smart as a whip he is, and like a dog with a bone once he’s got an idea in his head. That part I’d say he got from me,” he said with a chuckle, wagging his finger in the air. He gave your hand a few avuncular pats and then kept it there, meaty and warm.

“I can see that you love ’im… I can see that you really love ’im. What bright, young, sensible girl wouldn't? You should see him ’round the office! He breaks hearts left, right, and center wherever he goes—a real catch, my secretary always says, and she’s been with me since Scott was yea-high. He’s got his mother’s looks, which I’ll say not to sound too self-serving, heh!” A slight tug on your wrist. You kept your objections to yourself, saying, He’s just a strange old man. As your discomfort grew, stretched to its very limits, he removed his hand and was back to being an innocuous grandfatherly man again. He seemed a little sad, wistful, even. Almost frail.

“I don’t know what I would do without him,” said Riggs, staring at his empty plate. “I really don't. Oh, here! before I forget—I have something for you.” He reached into the inner pocket of his cream suit jacket, extracting a long envelope which he slid across the table with a paternal expression, his gaze warm. You began to object, and, “Go on, now!” he insisted. “I don't hold with false modesty! Nothin’ but a waste o’ time in my book. Open it! Call it a graduation present to help you get started. Scott said your old man was taking some time off from his job, feeling under the weather.”

You opened the flap to find a check with more zeros on it than you could’ve reasonably imagined, payable to your name and typewritten in official font.

“Mr. Riggs, this is…” Your hands shook, you felt too hot in the enclosed dining room. Where was Scott? What was taking him so long? You slid the check in the envelope and tried to push it back to Riggs’s side of the table. “There is no way I can accept this,” you said. “It’s too much money, and while I appreciate the gesture—”

“Nonsense! It’s my pleasure and I won’t hear no can’ts or won’ts about it! I want you to know how well Scott’s been doing here since he finished school. He’s flourishing, all my business associates love him. I can’t possibly make do without him now.”

“I don’t understand,” you said, a pit growing in your stomach.

Once more Riggs pinned you with that twinkle in his eye. “I think you do, a smart girl like you. A man should sow his wild oats while he's young. I had a pretty young wife when I was his age. Marjorie, her name was. My first. It's true what they say—you never forget your first… By God, she was beautiful! and we had all these plans… so many plans! Dreams, really. But mine were always just a little too big for her, you understand, and at first that didn't matter much—we were in love. But then… the kids never came, and Marjorie had too much time on her hands—at the very least, she had more time on her hands than I did, that’s for sure! That gets to a woman sometimes.

“I know you won't have that problem, big city lawyer and all,” he said to you, as if in you he had the fullest confidence and he was speaking about other, less distinguished women. “But really, even if Marjorie’d been an ambassador to the United Nations she’d still have had a compunction about something or other… Ambition’s a hard pill for most folks to swallow.

“Now, you seem like a nice girl… really, I like you plenty! But let’s talk facts here for a minute. You are not the girl for Scott—not when he’s trying to become the man that he’s trying to become. The boy’s got the instincts of a killer. Really! All I’ve gotta do is stand back and look at him! But you, my dear, you’re nothin’ like him. You’ll never be. For most of my life, I thought the perfect woman would be someone to ‘balance me out,’ as they say. It’s taken me almost fifty years to find out that ain’t nothin’ but bullshit made up by Hallmark or whoever to sell us some cards. There ain't no use fighting one’s true nature. You and Scott are doomed to fail—if not now then in five years, if not in five then in another ten! You’ve seen the cracks, haven't you? He’s not the boy you met in Park Haven. He’s becoming his own man. He doesn’t need you anymore.”

You were almost too stunned to speak. Between the casual misogyny, the callous worldview, and the envelope that lay between you on the table like a coiled snake, you felt like you had left reality—there was no way this conversation could be taking place with Scott just in the other room.

“Let me get this straight,” you began, willing your voice not to shake, “you’re offering me money to break up with Scott because you think I’m not good enough for him?”

“No, no, no!” Riggs drew in close to you and took both of your hands, his face earnest and pained. “You’re getting this all wrong. I’m not some mustache-twirling villain trying to thwart the course of true love! You’re a wonderful girl, I’m sure Scott’s been very happy with you. But everything has its season. The time for moons and Junes and Ferris wheels is over. You can leave him to me now.”

“With all due respect, you’re out of your mind!” You slid your chair back, making an angry scrape along the tile. Riggs closed his grip around your hands.

“Sittdown before you wreck the boy’s life.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Did Scott ever tell you about his old man? How he squandered the family fortunes and left him and Pamela all but bankrupt? Now, me, I’d have done the decent thing—put a pistol to my head for all my sins—but the man has his pride, though I don’t know where-all he gets it from. You see Pam now, up in her French colonial sunning her face and drinking cocktails like the belle of the ball?” He pointed to his chest. “I did that. Scott’s shiny new diploma from M-I-T? Right again! Now, I don't believe in somethin’ for nothing. Everything in this here world has its cost, sweetheart. Everything. I have invested in that boy—not just money, but my blood, sweat, and tears! I won’t abide a loss. I won’t abide it.”

“Scott isn’t an investment,” you shot back. “He isn't yours to own.”

“And yet it would seem he’s worth more to me than he is to you. If he marries you, he and Pam won’t see another cent from me even if I have to drive past them through the gutter. I’m telling you I would throw my own sister out on the street for him—my own flesh! Can you say the same? Could Scott? Would he choose you over his poor, silly mother? Now, I highly doubt that.”

The crazy thing was, he seemed genuinely aggrieved by this predicament of his own making. In his face you could see him imagining the scene—him in his black town car, driving past Pam. And yet he remained immovable. Either you gave up Scott or he would make good on his threat.

It was callous, immoral. I have invested in that boy.

The sound of Scott’s shoes came up the hallway. Riggs folded the check into your hands and said, “Don't make a scene. Think about it.”

“What did I miss?” Scott stopped to kiss the top of your head before resuming his seat. You felt nauseous, your hands clammy around the paper you hid in your lap. To you, Scott seemed like he belonged in another world, another time—a Before-Time.

As you tried not to cry, Riggs smiled at him broadly and said, “Oh, nothing much. But I have a little present for you.”

He pulled a box from the bottom of his seat, crimson leather and beautifully stitched. Scott lifted the lid. Inside was a silver Patek Philippe, the watch he would wear when you saw him six years later, sitting across from you at a conference table with a strange coldness in his eyes. He showed it to you, beaming with pride, and while you couldn't remember what canned response you gave, you did recall that he pulled Riggs into a hug, and said, “Uncle, you really shouldn’t have…”

PRESENT DAY OKLAHOMA CITY

For nearly an hour you and Scott sat on the floor of your living room, playing at marriage and midlife crises and how many babies you would have, which on any other occasion would have made you hysterically laugh or, as Javi said on the night you met, remark upon the universe’s odd sense of humor.

But you were strangely levelheaded. If anything, you felt slightly out-of-body and yet entirely in your body, if that made sense.

You were aware of every piece put on the board. You watched the spinner turn in a rainbow of colors, the clack of the spokes sounding faster and faster before it slowed and then drew to a stop. You felt the couch cushions at your back. Scott’s shoulder brushed against yours sometimes, when he reached for one of the tiny bright pegs that went on top of the tiny bright cars. It felt like you were inside of a dream, and because dreams didn’t matter and had no consequences unless you let them, you started to ease into surrealism.

You played the game, and gradually your body began to relax. This was familiar to you—Scott taking it way too seriously, you poking fun at the furrow between his brows, the way you alternated between cold-hard strategy and chaotically negligent gameplay just to see a reaction flicker across his face. He stretched his legs out beneath the table, threw an arm across the seat-edge of the couch; sometimes, you would recline further back and your neck would touch his arm. You did it a few times, feeling embarrassed at first. But when you saw he didn’t mind, you let your head fall back, waiting as he picked a card.

Something was building beneath your skin. You felt restless, and a little reckless. Despite the law you laid down at the restaurant, you couldn’t stop your gaze from lingering. It lingered everywhere: on the hollow of his throat, the shape of his nose, the play of light across his cheeks, his mouth, the spaces where his white shirt gapped between the buttons and you could see his bare chest underneath. Oh, you’re in trouble… you said to yourself, and yet it didn’t matter. You didn’t care. This was a liminal space, a void where you could be honest and unafraid of the truth.

Even when Scott caught you looking, all he did was look back. He let the tips of his fingers touch yours when sliding a card from your hands, knocked his knee against yours. There was a time—or maybe you imagined it—when you felt his hand stroke your shoulder and you almost did something out-of-line. Because there was a line, blurred, but it existed; you kept within the bounds because you knew it was the sole condition to prolonging this state, so you bought owner’s insurance and traded in stocks, changed careers, had twins, repaid a loan (with interest) and made your slow and steady way to retirement at Countryside Acres.

At the end of the game, after all the remaining play money had been counted, it was Scott who said, “Looks like I win,” and all you said was, “Why am I not surprised?”

Then you glanced at the clock. “It’s late.”

“And we haven’t killed each other. How’s that for a détente?” Scott began putting all the parts away, pulling the pegs out of the cars first, sticking each one inside its appropriate little plastic bag. You would’ve thrown them straight in the box and not had a care in the world about it, but you liked that he did.

It was a Scott thing—patient, methodical, kind of annoying, and mostly well-intentioned. You sat back and watched him do it.

“Wow… they teach words like that at MIT?”

“They tried it out with our class—apparently, word was going ’round that STEM nerds lack empathy.”

You smiled. “Now where would they go and get an idea like that?” His eyes flicked down to yours. Having finished, he went back to reclining against the couch, one arm draped over his bent knee.

His gaze on your skin felt like a physical touch, and when it stopped at your lips, a shock of heat went through your body, from the crown of your head down to your toes. You watched him swallow. The urge to kiss him was vicious, urgent and unrelenting, and when you saw his mouth part, his tongue emerging to wet his lips, you thought, Now now now, but then Scott stood so fast he almost upset the table.

“I should go,” he managed to say, his voice ragged. He sought sightlessly for his discarded jacket, found it lying over the top of the couch, and he couldn’t escape fast enough. Frustration rolled off him in waves.

“Scott!” You scrambled to your feet. You might have touched the very edge of his sleeve, but he held up his hand to stop you coming any closer.

“This was a mistake.”

You went stock still. The spell was broken—this was no longer the dreamworld where nothing mattered, this was the Real World. The one where everything had been broken, not least of which because of you, and it was all a mistake. Calling him had been a mistake, meeting him had been a mistake, thinking that you could control anything you felt about him had been a mistake.

And now there was this: Scott raking his hands through his hair, turning in the middle of the room, almost a decade’s worth of anger and disappointment and confusion and, why not, maybe a little hatred thrown into the mix.

“You never trusted me!” he threw in your face. “And I mean never—even when we were in high school, especially not in college—”

“Why are you talking about college?” you demanded, your voice rising to meet his.

“Every time I called, it was like you were expecting me to tell you it was over. Every girl I so much as spoke to when you came to visit—”

“I was eighteen! What the fuck do you want me to say? That I was insecure and kind of an idiot? Yeah, no shit! I thought we’d moved past that!”

“No, we didn’t move past it because it never changed! Maybe it stopped being about other women, but then it was about work, about the time I spent shadowing at my uncle’s company. Do you have any idea how exhausting it was to keep having to convince you that I was all in? And what, somehow we went from that to ‘you’ve changed, Scott, I don’t think I like who you are anymore, Scott’—?”

“What the fuck? I never said that!”

“The night we had dinner at my uncle’s—the night you left! And again in the elevator—”

“Can we not do this?” you plead. “I thought we weren’t going to do this. We agreed!”

“Well, maybe I'm changing the terms.”

“Then this ends right here.”

There was silence. You knew it was coming, and yet it still hurt like a freight train hitting you square in the chest when he looked you in the eyes and said: “What else is new?”

You flinched. You felt your whole body recoil, your eyes sting. Your fault. The one who couldn’t stand up for herself, couldn't commit, who ran at the first sign of trouble. You and Scott are doomed to fail. Riggs had laid down his vision for the future and you had believed him, had chosen to believe him more than you had ever believed in Scott, or in yourself.

You’re not the girl for him. You’re nothing like him.

Hadn’t you always told yourself the same in the darkest recess of your mind? Hadn’t you, in truth, been just a little bit relieved when you packed your things and moved back to Park Haven, play-acting ended, no more trying, no more waiting for the other shoe to drop?

“I’m sorry.” Scott took an immediate step towards you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

“Yes, you did,” you shot back with more vitriol than you intended.

“Don’t do that—don’t pretend to know how I fucking feel.”

“You forget, Scott. I know you.”

“I thought the whole point was that you didn't! That I was so… unrecognizable!”

“Well, you are!” you exclaimed, shouting again. “Suing Javi? Trying to take down his company? Being Riggs’s, what, fucking loyal dog—”

“Oh, spare me the hysterics…”

“Did you say it?” you cut in. “Did you really say you didn’t care about that town full of people?”

Scott froze. You watched his jaw clench, and you knew in that moment that he'd been counting on Javi’s discretion on that score.

If your intention had been to preserve any goodwill between them, that was all going up in flames now. Hell, after tonight, you and Scott might be incapable of being in the same room together, let alone working towards a peaceful resolution to a civil suit.

“You weren’t there,” he ground out. “There were other things going on.”

“Did you say it, Scott?” It was obvious that he had. The shame kept him from saying another word when you finally stepped around the coffee table. “But God forbid I say a word against Marshall Riggs, the undoubted patron saint of Tornado Alley. I'm sure his real estate empire only exists so he can share his considerable wealth with the downtrodden and needy!”

“What do you want me to fucking say? Do you want me to apologize for who my family is? I'm sorry if you find my uncle objectionable, but he is the only reason I ever made something of myself—you ever consider that? I’d be nothing without him—nothing! You think my father could have lifted a finger? Riggs is the only reason Mom and I made it through that summer. I owe him everything! So he makes business decisions you don't agree with—”

You scoffed.

“—but Javi knew exactly where all that money came from. He wasn't duped, I didn’t trick him… he made a choice. He made a choice! And then, what, Kate Carter comes along and he grows a fucking conscience? Give me a break…”

“And where the hell is yours! You think I give a shit what Marshall Riggs does? I care about you, you fucking idiot! Are you really going to stand there and tell me you’re happy? That it… that it feels good to know you’re suing your best friend, that you seemingly have no other friends, that you’ve hitched yourself to your uncle and the most you can say is you’re doing it out of obligation? You used to want more for yourself, Scott!”

He laughed at that. Rubbing his hand across his mouth, he regarded you with a derisive humor.

“Tell me, how’s the trust fund going? Your dad—he was always a pretty shrewd investor, right? and your mom’s family… they’ve got those boutique hotels along the eastern seaboard, the ones that get their pictures in the magazines and all over social media? It’s pretty easy to talk about wanting more for yourself when your father didn’t sink your family prospects on a deck of cards. I do what I have to do. Not that you’d ever understand.”

Money—had it been this big of an issue the whole time? Had you ignored it all the years of your relationship? Money… and jealousy of your father, Scott’s resentment towards his. You felt so blind, so stupid. The “cracks” Riggs had referenced had been there all along, and instead of talking about them you had stuck your head in the sand, worried that if you said the wrong thing all your insecurities would be proven right. That Scott would leave.

Scott… Did you ever stop to consider the damage that leaving him alone with Riggs might cause?

“You only think you can’t make it without him,” you dared to say. “But he doesn’t care about you.”

“What, not like you do?”

“No,” you affirmed. “Not like I do.”

Scott frowned at you. He appeared almost childlike, vulnerable. A boy calling “no fair!”, probably with Riggs’s voice in the background saying, Life isn't fair. “You don't get to do that. You don’t get to do that after all this time… you—you fucking left!”

“He offered me money. Did he ever tell you that? How he tried to buy me off to leave you? You talk about my trust fund, and it’s true—I grew up lucky, but we never had Marshall Riggs Money. There’s rich and then there’s capital-R Rich, the kind you only get when you’ve turned being a ruthless son-of-a-bitch into an art form.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Yes, you do. I can see it in your eyes—you know I’m telling the truth. I never liked him. What's more, he could tell I didn't like him, and he couldn't have that… no, not Riggs. He’d gotten used to you being his right-hand man and he wasn’t about to lose you. So he waited until you left the table—”

“I’m not going to listen to this.”

“—he waited until you left the table,” you repeated, almost toe to toe. You forced yourself to continue, even in the face of Scott’s patent distress. You couldn't live like this, not anymore. Keeping secrets, taking the biggest share of the blame. “‘If he marries you, he and his mother won’t see another cent from me even if I have to drive past them through the gutter,’” you recited. “Those were his words. I’m not lying to you—I wouldn't, not about this.

“He was never going to let us be together. Obviously, I didn’t take the money, but he was dead serious about his threat. And I was angry. I thought if only you’d stood up to your uncle before, if you weren’t blind to what he really was, I would never have been put in that position. So I took it out on you. I blamed you. And I said things…”

You faltered, remembering the night you returned to the hotel. You couldn’t stay, not with Riggs’s check in your pocket and the memory of his hand gripping your wrist. But Scott didn’t understand. He didn't know what had made you so upset, why you were throwing your clothes into your suitcase and talking about flights and returning his ring and about how it was time you stopped pretending. And, yes, you took to heart what Riggs had implied about other women. You weren’t picky. You weren’t careful. You just had to leave.

You were ashamed of it now. The knowledge of how you’d acted lodged in your throat like a stone you couldn’t swallow down. Scott remembered it, too. His eyes flickered this way and that, recalling, wondering how much of it was true.

“I said things to you that I wish I’d never… that I still think about, and I still regret, because I love—” Your voice broke. You placed your hands over his chest, then cradled his face, willing him to believe you, willing yourself to be brave. “I still love you, Scott. I love you. I should’ve told you the truth, but I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“No… you left,” he said weakly, bracing his hands around your wrists.

“I know I did… I know, but he can’t have you.” You kissed his mouth, once, twice, as many times as he allowed, and all the while you said the things you should’ve said that night in New Orleans. “I won’t let him have you… not this time… not again.”

Scott turned his head and the heat of his tongue met yours.

One second he was all coiled tension and the next he was all over you, walking you back towards the couch, kissing a trail down your neck, one hand tangled in your hair while the other was already up your skirt matching his strokes to the curl of his tongue. He laid you down on the couch, settling between your thighs, and even clothed the weight of him felt familiar—the pass of his hand up and down your leg, the way he liked to tease you by wandering just close enough to where you wanted before pulling away, distracting you with a searing kiss or a shallow roll of his hips.

In the past, there were times when he would draw it out for hours, taking you to the brink and back until you were sure you wanted to curse him.

At a friend’s New York wedding, he made you come three times before he entered you, and you weren’t too proud—now, with the real Scott on top of you, all over you, soon to be in you if there was any justice in the world—to admit that you had replayed that night in your head sometimes when you were lonely. When a bad day at work or an ill-advised night of drinking too much ended with you trying to chase sleep on the heels of an orgasm that was never as satisfying as the ones you got with Scott.

Even when you managed to make yourself come—really come, that full-bodied electricity-followed-by-deep-silence feeling—you had been all too aware of his absence. What was the point, you had wondered, if you couldn’t curl up next to him or listen to the steady flow of his breathing or hear him sigh into your neck when he wrapped his arms around you and went to sleep? What was the point if, upon waking, you wouldn't have Scott and his early-morning voice, the clarity of his eyes, the smell of the coffee he made in his stupidly expensive espresso machines? (God, you missed that coffee.)

It was Scott… it was only ever Scott.

The couch was a perilous place to be doing any of this. You weren't sure that he fit in it, for one, and for another, you were mildly worried about the potential costs of fixing a broken midcentury piece of furniture. Oh, well, you thought, life’s too short. Not bothering to undress, you pushed aside articles of clothing, hands bumping into each other, scraps of fabric pushed aside, belt buckle rattling as it landed on the floor, until finally he surged into you, gripping the side of the couch and burying a curse against your neck as you stretched around him.

He slid a hand below your hips and fixed the angle. The sex was hurried, messy and it had nothing of grace; it was imperfect and rather cramped, really, but all that mattered was how he felt. He felt like home. As you came, he entwined his fingers around yours, and then he finished, trembling, prolonging a wave of pleasure that took your breath away.

Don’t go, you want to say into his heaving chest.

Somehow, he turned you on your side so you could stretch along the couch. He wrapped his arms around you, stroking feather-light touched along your arm as his breathing slowed. You felt tired, hollowed out, but not in a bad way. In a quiet-before-the-storm way, when you can smell water in the air and the breeze picks up, and the world sits on the cusp of being new.

“I miss you,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I miss you too.”

After that, there was a silence so long it made you think he’d dozed off, but then he spoke again, painfully honest and a little scared. “I don't think I can do what you need me to do. I’m not… that’s not who I am anymore.”

“I think you are,” you said back. “I think he’s who you’ve always been.”

THREE WEEKS LATER

You were enjoying a rare weekend off from work. Figuring you could do with some real time off the clock, you’d let the office know you’d be holding all work calls and emails until Monday. Abby’s eyes had nearly popped out of her skull in a rare show of feeling, but after the emotional turmoil of the last few months, you knew you needed to walk around the city, have a massage, touch some grass, maybe eat a pint of ice cream in front of a frothy period drama—a true-blue staycation.

The morning after you and Scott slept together, you’d agreed that it was in everyone’s best interest to let things be. He needed time to think about a few things, and regardless of your shared history, you were still Javi’s lawyer. You distracted yourself by doubling down on other cases. It helped that dealing with Mrs. Richardson-Burkhardt and the four Barone siblings was as eventful as watching an HBO television series—between the scathing one-liners and last-minute twists, there was little bandwidth left over to think about Scott.

And yet you always managed.

For better or for worse, Scott had always been good at making you hope for things. Even when you wanted to err on the side of caution, expect the worst and thus avoid disappointment, just the fact that he loved you made you feel like anything was possible, like you could make things happen.

“We brought out the best in each other. That mattered to us more than anything your father and I ever did wrong.”

At a department store downtown, you watched across the way as a young couple studied a tray of rings at the jewelry counter, diamonds sparkling in the light. The woman grabbed her partner’s arm and pointed at one of the selections as if to say, “That one!”, and for a moment they were in perfect sync. The salesman offered up the band with elaborate flourish, the groom-to-be took his bride’s hand, slipped the ring on her finger, and they admired it together, the play of white gold on her black skin.

The woman beamed. So did he.

“Looks like we have ourselves a winner,” the pleased salesman declared.

After lunch and an overpriced iced coffee, you arrived home with a gift for the Travises’ golden anniversary party, a pair of gold-accented crystal champagne glasses you hoped would survive the flight. It would be nice to see your mom again, to reunite with your old college friends, and revisit old haunts.

The thought of going home no longer filled you with dread—for which, even if nothing came out of your night with Scott, if he decided that upending his life was too much for him to handle right now, you would always be grateful. For years, your idea of a worst nightmare was running into him and having the truth spoken aloud, plainly, and for both of you to hear. Nothing will ever be as bad as this, you told yourself.

But it was a half-lie. Not seeing him again would be worse.

Already, you felt his absence like a hollow in your chest.

On the kitchen counter, you saw that your phone began to ring. “Javi, how’s the weather looking?” you asked, putting him on speaker as you poured yourself some water.

“She’s a fickle mistress, I’ll tell you that! Hey, I just wanted to let you know… Scott called this morning. He says he’s dropping the suit.”

“Oh?”

“You don’t sound too surprised. Any of that you're doing?”

“No,” you replied, picking up your phone, “that’s all Scott. I haven’t spoken to him in weeks, actually.”

“Well, he sounded different. Still Scott, but a shorter stick up his ass, if you know what I mean. Anyway, I know a part of how everything went down was my fault—business is business, as my Ma always says. I sold him my share of StormPAR, which means I also have to pay back some of the money we took from Riggs. That’ll hurt like a—well, you know… I’m not the guy’s biggest fan these days. But if I don’t have to hear the name Marshall Riggs ever again, I’ll count myself lucky and say it’s a price well-paid.”

“And Scott?” you ventured to say.

“Honestly, I think he’s done with the whole thing. Sounds like he’s closing up shop, which makes sense. He’s a damn good engineer but kind of hopeless as a chaser.”

You laughed. “Yeah, I guess I can see that. Are you okay?”

“Me, or me and Scott?”

“Both.”

To Javi’s credit, he took a few moments to actually think about it. “Yeah, I’m good. You know me… I never stay down for long. Man with a thousand plans. Me and Scott? Man, I don’t know about that one… I did leave him by the side of the road. Ruined one of his immaculately pressed shirts.”

You snorted. “God forbid.”

“Yeah, God forbid. Listen, if it were up to me, I’d just let bygones be bygones. Life’s too short, you know. Shit happens… I don’t want to be a guy who burns bridges over money.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

“What I mean to say,” Javi spoke over a sudden burst of wind, “is that if Scott ever wants to give me a call, I’ll answer. You can even tell him I said that.”

“Me?” You set your glass down with a clatter, heat rising to your face.

“Yeah, you! I’m not an idiot, hotshot, that history’s not gone ancient yet.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Mhm… Anyway, the wind’s picking up. Kate’s off reading her dandelions.”

“You know, I kinda wish I could see her doing that…”

“Watch out, we might make a chaser of you yet!” Javi crowed.

You shook your head, said, “I wouldn't hold my breath,” but you were smiling. The sun streamed through your open windows and anything was possible.

Once Javi ended the call, you stared at your phone, wondering… And then you decided to be reckless one more time. Call it a calculated risk, you thought instead. You held the phone up to your ear and listened to it ring. The dial tone sounded a few times, and then it stopped.

He’d answered.

“Scott, it’s me,” you said, trying to relax the thrumming in your heart.

There was a pause and then you heard his voice: “Did Javi tell you?”

“Yeah, we just got off the phone.”

“Open your door.”

You made a face, glancing at the screen and holding it against your ear again. “What?”

“Open your door, UPenn!”

You dashed to the entryway, patting your hair, blotting your face, wondering if your shirt was wrinkled. When you pulled the door open, you saw Scott in full view, in the middle of the day. Not wearing white. The blue of his shirt brought out his eyes, which looked tired but less burdened, too.

He seemed lighter, if not happy then trying to get there.

“Thought I’d skip out on being a sore loser this time.” He gave a half-shrug.

“I don’t know, Miller… from here it doesn't seem like you're losing.”

He smiled at the floor, almost shy. And when he looked into your face you saw the boy you fell in love with at Nichols Academy, the one who took baseball too seriously, who loved Hemingway and your mom’s apple crisp, the one who sang bad Sinatra and got into fights and thought James Watt was something of a god. It was like the worst of the last few years had gone away, leaving only space for something new to grow, to be built—together.

“All I want is you,” promised Scott, taking you into his arms.

You stuck your hand in your pocket, extracted the ring you’d kept there for almost a month like a talisman, like a good-luck charm, and held it up to Scott. He stared at it, and then at you, with something like shock.

Something like awe and wonder.

“Don’t you know? You've always had me.”

And in that hallway, Scott Miller, a man who’d never cop to having a romantic bone in his body, spun you around and kissed you and wouldn’t have cared if your neighbor at Apartment 424 had noticed or if one of his investors appeared. Maybe there was something to Tyler’s corny catchphrase, after all: If you feel it, chase it—no matter the odds, no matter the obstacles in your path, because feeling it was purpose and inspiration and direction when you lost your way.

It took you a while, but you understood it now.

#rosie.fic #scott miller #scott twisters #scott miller x reader #scott twisters x reader

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randomshyperson · 4 months ago

Note

Hey

Hope you get rid of this writers block soon ✨

How about hand holding no 34 with Wanda 🥺

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

prompt: holding hands while driving | warnings: none.

When you suggested taking the lead, it had much more to do with the crestfallen witch in the front seat than the retired Avenger's possible fatigue from driving for a few hours. Don't let Barton hear you say that.

Wanda gave you a brief smile as you took the driver's seat, and unfortunately, your attempt at conversation ended up being disastrous because you simply didn't know what to say to her.

Losing her country, and her brother, and growing up in a civil war only to be dragged from battle to battle her whole life doesn't seem like something you can fix, no matter how many bad jokes you say to try to make her smile. Still, you think you should keep trying. Because Wanda is so special, she's so sweet and clever, and you enjoy her company so much. She deserved all the good things life had to offer, even if she didn't believe it.

You end up getting so distracted by your own thoughts that you don't notice that Wanda has been stealing glances in your direction for a good few minutes until she finally calls you.

"Huh, sorry, I was distracted." You mumble, glancing at her quickly before focusing on the road again. "We'll be there in the morning if you're wondering."

She's looking at you funny. Maybe you mumbled something. It wouldn't be the first time you've let your thoughts slip away. It doesn't recall you that Wanda didn't need you to speak to know what you were thinking, and focused on the road, you didn't notice the brief red flash of her eyes either.

"I wasn't." She retorts, perhaps more harshly than she'd like. You don't know, but Wanda hates how she's a disaster whenever she tries to talk to you. But still, you never seem to mind her clumsiness. You laugh weakly, nodding. She uncrosses her arms, her nervous fingers gripping the seat. "I mean... this trip isn't so bad. And I wouldn't mind staying in the car a little longer."

You hum thoughtfully, clicking your tongue afterward. "I get it, I guess. The car feels safe, right? While we're here, no one on the team is fighting, nothing is falling apart. It's calm. It almost feels like... well, just a trip between friends." The tables have turned a bit, and now it's Wanda who feels the sudden urge to comfort you. You, who have been nothing but kind and considerate, who are watching your entire family fall apart because of a mistake she made in Lagos, even though everyone keeps telling her it wasn't her fault.

"Maybe we should stay here." She murmurs, and at the same time, you both glance in the rearview mirror, where Clint and Scott are sleeping in the backseat. "Maybe we could just not leave."

"We already left, Wands." You sigh sadly. One of your hands goes to the gearshift, there's a small curve in the road. "I did it, in Berlin, when I refused to fight my brother. And you did it, when you agreed to leave the Tower and get in this car." You say, one hand resting on the seat. "Maybe it's finally time for us to be proud of our choices and start standing up for what we believe in. Not just as a team, but as individuals." She knows you're talking about the accords, but she doesn't want to think about it again. Because for the past few weeks, everything has been a mess and within a few hours, she has the feeling that there won't be any more Avengers. So Wanda stops squeezing the seat and decides to squeeze your hand instead. You look at her immediately, before turning your attention back to the road. She makes a motion of pulling away, seeing your shoulders tense, but you adjust your grip to intertwine your fingers together. Her heart skips two beats in a row, but even with her voice cracking, she speaks; "You're right. We should honor our choices. And our feelings." There's a soft blush on her cheeks, which when you notice it in the rearview mirror, spreads to yours.

You nod in agreement and don't let go of her hand anymore.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #marvel imagines #writing challenge #wanda maximoff imagines

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mj0702 · 6 months ago

Text

The other Bronze – Pt. 18 🔞

I just want to put it out there that this chapter contains adult stuff - Minors do not read it!!!

“So violent” G teased as she bit down lightly

“Fuck” a low moan escaped your lips

“Soon” your girlfriend chuckled against your neck

After the elevator doors opened again you stepped outside into the corridor and whistled lowly

“Damn.... even the corridor looks so SO fancy” you looked impressed before you get pushed forward by your girlfriend

“You really want to stand out here and gawk at the corridor while we could do something more satisfying?” Georgia mumbled against the back of your neck using her complete body to push you towards your room

“Oh my... Miss Stanway... what has gotten into you?” you giggled letting her maneuver you down the hallway

“Nothing for a while” your girlfriend murmured which made you grin

“Are we a little desperate?” you chuckled as you checked the room numbers you got pushed past

“I haven't had anytime with my girlfriend in nearly two month” Georgia growled as you finally found your room and you quickly opened the door

“Fuck me...” you breathed out overwhelmed when you entered the room “Wow”

“Damn Sarina” Georgia said behind you shocked “This room is bigger as my flat in Munich”

“It's beautiful” you said in awe as you slowly walked further into the room looking around with wide eyes

“We so going to use of this bed” your girlfriend smirked obviously only one thing in mind

“Get your head out of the gutter...” you said playfully as you went on discovering the room going through a door standing in the bathroom “... okay... we're so going to use that tub”

You looked at the bathtub which was standing right under a big window facing Covent Garden but still private enough so you easily could take a bath without being seen. You stood at the window looking down at the business in which people hushed in and out of the place when you felt a pair of hands on your waist and you immediately leaned backwards into Georgias embrace.

“A bath actually sound wonderful” your girlfriend mumbled against your hair pulling you against her even tighter “You want one?”

“Yeah... please...” you murmured your eyes closing enjoying the closeness the two of you were sharing

“Okay... I'll set it up and get you...” Georgia mumbled against your hair pushing you a little away signaling you to go into the bedroom

You flopped down onto the big King size bed grabbing the remote from the side table and switched on the TV. Of course the first face that greeted you on screen was Alex Scott herself talking about the upcoming games – mainly the Manchester Derby in a few Days. You thought about asking Lucy if you could stay for the game since you had enough people to look out for you. Tooney would always have an eye on you – question was who had an eye on Toons. You chuckled to yourself thinking how Mary literally locked the two of you into different lockers the last time she had to look after you. To your defense it wasn't your fault – nor Tooneys – that there was jello powder in the guests locker room and that all their stuff got all jello-ed when sprinkled them kitbags with water. Leah, Beth and the rest of the Arsenals weren't happy that day. You'll never forget Vivs disgusted face when she pulled one of her socks out of her bag and it was all slimed up. You'd also never forget how Katie McCabe tried to come for you and just slipped and slided around the locker-room since the floor was slimy as well. You learned a lot of Irish curse words that day. The game had to be delayed due to an “accident” with the Arsenal kits and United had to pay a fine since Tooney was involved in your little stunt. Leah was so annoyed with you that she actually signed cutting her throat in your direction before the game started. You on the other hand just laughed loudly and flipped her off. Leila who was there to just say hi to you and to see how you were doing had a field day with all the clips you showed her of Katie McCard and got you the biggest slushy you've ever seen as a treat. She knew that it was part of your healing process and that you indeed were doing better – what didn't stop her from keeping an eye on you. It was pure luck she answered the phone that day. She didn't look who was calling otherwise she wouldn't have answered since it was an unknown number. But thankfully she did answer and the second she heard you crying into the phone that you didn't mean to and you're scared she already had her car keys in her hand on her way out of the door. Leila didn't even cared that she wasn't wearing shoes. She just knew whoever called needed help and that it was up to her to provide that help. Leila kept you on the phone until she was sprinting through the little park seeing you hunched over on a bench. Up to this point she didn't knew who was on the other side of the line but the second she saw your form she knew exactly who you were – the best kept secret in Womens Football. You were Lucy Bronzes baby sister. Leila came to a skirting halt right in front of you her phone on the ground by this point and she knew she had no choice than to make you throw up. So she did what possibly no one would've done – she hauled you up and bend you over standing behind you prying your mouth open and pushing two of her long fingers down your throat until she saw how your body try to reject her digits and if this wasn't enough she sneaked her arm around your torso holding you tightly putting pressure on your stomach so you really started to throw up.

The moment Leila was sure you were somewhat done with emptying your stomach content into the bushes she pulled you upright turning you around to face her. The sight that greeted her broke her heart. You looked so lost, scared and just – Leila would say broken. You realized there and then that it wasn't Hempo who you called and you scrambled away from the strange woman. Leila left you some space talking to you in her at this time broken english assuring you that everything will be okay. Somehow you knew deep inside you that you could trust her and you started to let her come nearer until she was right in front of you again and that second you just broke down crying in her arms. She held you before carefully maneuvering you towards her car asking you if she should call Lucy which set you into a full blown panic attack. Leila immediately retreated into offering to drive you home – which wasn't much better than calling Lucy. So she asked who you wanted to call in the first place and you choked out a “Hempo” and that's what Leila did without any further question. Saying that Hempo freaked out was an understatement. She made Leila driving you straight to hospital while she already texted Mary.

Hospital was the worst part. They immediately shoved a tube down your throat to pump and flush your stomach to make sure to get everything out – you were pretty sure your stomach came out that day too. Keira always said you eat like a bottomless pit and you were fully convinced that's because you didn't have a stomach anymore and it was the hospitals fault. They kept you for supervision but at least you could convince them not calling your emergency contact – which was Lucy of course. Mary promised them she would call someone who would be able to look after you without getting your sister involved. In all honesty all of them were scared that Lucy would find out and she'll wouldn't even need a plane to come back to England to rip them all a new one – she would just use her anger and run above the water like Jesus Bronze. So Mary decided pretty quickly to inform the next best person – Leah Williamson herself. To say Leah nearly crawled through the phone was the understatement of the century. The blonde called her teammate Beth Mead immediately after she hung up with Mary and they basically both jumped into Leahs car and made it to Manchester in just a little more than three hours. After you heard that you just knew that Leah broke basically every existing traffic law – the speeding tickets she received weeks later just proved your point. To be honest you couldn't have asked for a better support than Leah and Meado. Leah decided the second she laid eyes on you in the hospital bed that she would take you home with her – even if she had to fight your parents for it. You looked so pale and small that she had to muster up every strength she had left in her body to not break down crying next to you. That lasted until your eyes fluttered open the next morning and you noticed who sat beside your bed. Leah held your hand in hers loosely but the second she felt you moving just the tiniest bit her eyes snapped up to meet yours.

“I'm sorry” you whispered your throat sore from the events the day before

“Why pumpkin? Why did you do it?” Leah whispered back not wanting to wake up Meado who slept on the small couch in your room

“I... I don't know...” you rasped out

“You're coming home with Beth and me...” the blonde said and you knew you wouldn't have a choice

“Okay” you said defeated

“You don't put up a fight?” Leah asked surprised

“I don't want it to happen again... I want help Leah... I NEED help” you whispered and Leah saw the tears forming in your eyes

“We'll get you all the help you need pumpkin” the blonde promised removing the tears which now ran down your cheeks with her thumb “... we're all gonna help you – I promise pumpkin... whoever you want or need... we're all there”

“Thank you” you choked out

“It's gonna be okay pumpkin... I promise” this time Leah couldn't hold back her own tears before wedging herself next to you into the bed pulling you into her side just holding you tightly while you cry silently into her shoulder

“Hey...” Georgias soft voice pulled you back into the present

“Yeah?” you looked at her a little bit dazed

“Where did you go?” your girlfriend plopped down next to you gently poking your head “I called you four times”

“Back to Manchester...” you mumbled a little bit ashamed

“Manchester?” Georgia asked surprised “You miss home?”

“God no... there's nothing that holds me there... home is where my family is... where you are” you smiled carefully “... back to the time where I...”

“Where you thought it would be a good idea to play pill roulette in the middle of a park?” your girlfriend asked

“Yeah... wasn't a good idea” you said ashamed

“It wasn't... but it's in the past and you can't change it” Georgia said keeping her voice soft “... you just need to promise to never do it again”

“I promise... Leah would probably bring me back from the dead to choke me to death anyway... not worth it..” you tried to crack a joke

“She has to beat me to it then...” G smiled softly “... even if I didn't think you and me would work the way we do... I don't want a world without you.. never ever again”

“You should write that down and reuse it when you propose to me” you chuckled

“Even if I write it down... I'll probably lose it and then I'm fucked...” Georgia smirked pushing her nose into your neck “... I'll just wing that proposal”

“Please don't... I remember the speech you winged the night before Leahs 100 Cap... it was horrible” you laughed

“Excuse you.... I totally rocked that speech” your girlfriend exclaimed shocked

“You started with “100 Caps is not really a big achievement considering your age and how long you already play for the Lionesses”.... not even I would be so stupid to say that” you rolled your eyes laughing

“It was sarcasm” Georgia started to poke your sides knowing you were tickle-ish

“Make a sign next time....” you started to laugh harder

“Stop... G please... stop... I can't” you choked out between laughter

“Say that my speech was amazing” your girlfriend laughed next to you not stopping to tickle you

“It was horrible...” you laughed

“Amazing... you just don't know the definition of amazing” Georgia now moved to straddle you

“I know the definition of amazing perfectly well... look it up... next to amazing is my picture” you smirk

“You wish...” your girlfriend smirked right back “... but if I remember right you called ME amazing not even 24 hours ago”

“Not you....” you grinned “... the things you do to me....”

“There's more where that came from” Georgia husked leaning forward to press a passionate kiss to your lips

It surprised your every time how your girlfriend could switch from thoughtful to goofy to passionate. This time was no difference – it was like she knew what you needed before you knew yourself. It took her mere seconds to change you from being stuck in your own head into a moaning squirming mess. The way she kept you in place, her hands pinning yours into the mattress her weight on upper legs showing you in the most soft way who was in charge just made you feel safe and so SO turned on. You moaned lowly into the kiss making Georgia smirk against your lips.

“Looks like you enjoying yourself” your girlfriend teased after she ended the kiss but made no move her lips millimeters away from yours

“Teeny tiny bit” you panted back

“Just teeny tiny?” Georgia husked against your lips

“Maybe tiny” you gave in

“I think it's more than just tiny...” the blonde grinned her voice teasing

“... I know you Baby – I know how you moan and groan... how you whimper and beg... how you whine and squirm... and how you look and FEEL when you come...” Georgia said her voice now deeper and her eyes nearly black

“Then please...” you begged oh so quietly

“I made us a bath... would be a shame to let it go to waste don't you think?” your girlfriend asked but you know she didn't really asked – it was an information

Just as you thought she got up and off the bed seconds later letting you behind flustered and panting as she walked through the room towards the bathroom.

You watched as your girlfriend got rid of her clothes on the way ready to step into the bathtub. You shamelessly stared at her back how her muscles moved when she reached behind her back to unclasped her bra and threw the garment to the side. You were by far not the religious type but dear jesus this woman had you on your knees praying the “Father our”

You got up not so smooth as Georgia did – nearly falling off the bed as you followed her path now standing into the door that separated the bath- and bedroom

She graciously stepped into the bathtub and sank down in the warm water. You saw in the dim light from the next room how Georgia immediately relaxed and closed her eyes for a minute just soaking the calm and peacefulness in. She opened her eyes again looking at you a slight smirk tugging on the edge if her mouth

“You coming baby?” G asked her voice raspy

“Nuh huh” you nodded looking like an idiot rooted in place just staring at her dumbfounded

“Water is amazing…” your girlfriend held your stare and again her voice deeper as usual

She knew exactly what she was doing to you. That deep husky voice got you ever time. You started to undress yourself by pulling the shirt over your head leaving you in your jeans and a bra. You were by all means not shy about your body – growing up with Lucy definitely help shaping your body and even now you worked out every day so your body wasn’t far off from the players around you. But there was one thing you still were incredible insecure about. The scars on your knees. The permanent reminders that you never going to be a professional athlete. Georgia noticed your hesitation as you fumbled a little bit with the button of your jeans

“Don’t over think… it’s just me” she whispered lowly knowing exactly why you hesitated

“I hate them” you mumbled back feeling extremely vulnerable breaking the eye contact

“It’s just me” your girlfriend repeated “if you’re feeling uncomfortable we just stop”

With one deep breath you pushed your jeans down leaving you in your boxer short and your bra. You couldn’t muster up the strength to find your girlfriends eyes again as you made quick work of getting rid if the last two pieces remaining

“So beautiful” Georgia breathed out watching your naked silhouette getting surrounded by the light from the other room

“Come here baby” she instructed you knowing you needed the guidance

You tenderly took a careful step towards the tub nervousness radiating from your body

“You’re doing so good.. come on in baby… join me… just a bath” Georgia spoke lowly and held out a hand for you

You grabbed her hand and stepped into the bath sinking down into the water positioning yourself between her legs with your back laying against her front as her hands immediately snuck around your middle. Her head immediately rested on your shoulder again as you felt yourself relaxing in her embrace.

“You are so beautiful… can’t believe that I’m the only one who gets to see this beauty ” Georgia whispered as she started to kiss your neck “Still can’t believe you’re mine”

“Only yours” you whimpered as she bit down on your neck lightly and if you’d be even half coherent you’d be embarrassed by yourself how quickly she reduced you to a whimpering mess

“Only mine” your girlfriend confirmed switching between bites and kisses up and down your neck

“I should make sure everyone knows….” She mumbled against your skin before biting down a little harder but not hard enough to leave a mark “… but then again we have to face reality in two days again and I’m not keen on getting murdered by your sister when I just got you”

“Don’t bring her up right now…” you grumbled “… not a good moment”

“Sorry” G breathed against your neck before turning your face with her hand to capture your lips in a soft kiss.

The kiss didn’t stay soft for long as you turned your body slightly in her embrace. You were on your side on top of her now as the kiss heated up and your girlfriend slipped her tongue into your mouth. A needy whiny moan escaped your throat as she dominated the kiss – and your whole body.

“You need something baby?” she smirked after she broke the kiss leaving you breathless

Your brain was mush at this point and if someone asked you what your name was while holding a gun to your head you’d definitely die.

You whined needy you now fully on top of Georgia your hands pressing against her hips to help you holding your upper body afloat

“Baby… words… we clarified before that you need to ask for the things you need and want” your girlfriend husked against your lips

“Baby…. Please” you begged feeling your core clench at Georgia soft display of dominance.

You knew she can be a force to be reckon with – she’s shown it more than once on the field. But with you Georgia was always soft. Careful even. She always made sure you are comfortable with what she’s doing. Always checked in if you are okay. You still get your fair share of experimenting around but your girlfriend always put your comfort first.

“Please what baby… use your words” she teased smirk on her lips as her hands wander down to your ass

“Please” you whined again your head falling forward on her collarbone as you hip rocked forward

Your girlfriend just chuckled as she bend her knee and she planted her foot against the bottom of the tub. G grabbed your waist and gently lifted you over her thigh.

The moment your middle made contact with her thigh you moaned deeply your head still on Gs collarbone. You couldn’t contain the movement of your hip as you pressed down on the firm muscle of your girlfriend

“That’s it Baby… keep going” your girlfriend encouraged you slightly guiding your hip with her hands

“Feels good baby” you moan against her

“Keep going love… make yourself come on my thigh” Georgia mumbled flexing the muscles in her leg

Your hip snapped forward again at the sudden hardness and a loud moan left your throat

“So beautiful… you look so fucking beautiful fucking yourself on my thigh babe… you’re close already aren’t you?” your girlfriend growled in your ear her hands never leaving your waist but she stopped guiding you and retreated in just giving you the comfort of her touch

You nodded against her shoulder not capable of answering vocally as your rhythm falters slightly

“You know what to do” Georgia smirked knowing she’s pushing it right now

“Please” you begged your body trembling as you felt that familiar pull in your stomach

“No baby… properly” your girlfriend growled now stopping your rocking hips

You whined pathetically your breathing labored as you desperately try to move your lower half again chasing that first orgasm of many for the night but your girlfriend held on tightly forcing you still.

“G please” you begged again

“No baby… come on… we established since the beginning how this is working” Georgia said her voice a dominant undertone

You whined again feeling overwhelmed with the need to find relief

“You know what to do if you want to come, my love ” your girlfriend smirked waiting for you to finally break your resistance

“Please… please baby… please may I come” you moaned out and immediately your girlfriend pulled your lower half forward and down on her thigh

“There we go… good girl” Georgia praised you smirking “Come babe” she instructed you

Your body shook as you moaned loudly when you felt the orgasm wash over you before you sacked forward panting hard against your girlfriends neck who immediately embraced you in a loving reassuring hug.

“Come on baby... let's get out of here” your girlfriend said softly after a few minutes “Water gets cold”

“Mhm” you nodded against Georgias neck your eyes closed breathing in her scent

Georgia tried to pry you off her but no use – so she did what every good girlfriend would do. She just stood up with you in her arms. You thanked every available God that your girlfriend was a pro athlete that was able to do such things because you were still in no state of standing up yourself. Georgia grabbed a big towel throwing it over you before carrying you into the bedroom laying you down on the big bed but you still didn't let go

“Baby I need to let go for a second, I need to clean the bathroom” your girlfriend said softly but you just shook your head

“Need you G” you murmured “Missed you so much”

“What do you need baby...” Georgia had a feeling what you needed but like always she wanted – and needed – you to verbalize it

“Need all of you...” you mumbled pressing your nose deeper into the skin of her neck “... I need you to fuck me so I can't walk until we see each other again”

You heard how your girlfriends breath hitches and you know she weights pro and cons so you did what you were sure would let Georgia decide in your favor. You started to nuzzle against her neck and softly kissed her under her ear. Just like you thought it worked and the next moment you felt you back hit the mattress with your girlfriend hovering over you

“You think you can take whatever I give you?” Georgia growled lowly staring down on you with dark eyes

“Did before, didn't I?” you challenged her

“Don't get bratty, Baby.... you know you'll regret it later” your girlfriend warned you before leaning down pushing your head to the side with her nose getting more access to your neck

“First I'm gonna make you come on my tongue...” Georgia started kissing down your neck “... then on my fingers” she bit down on your collarbone getting a moan out of you “... and THEN if you were good and listened to what I said... then on my strap” she licked over your nipple and you arched your back with your breath already becoming labored again.

Just the thought of what your girlfriend wanted to do to you had you dripping in seconds

“Babe.. please” you husked out while your hand threaded through long blond hair trying to get Georgia to go a little rougher on you

“Patience” your girlfriend mumbled against your breast before she bit down softly

“Fuck me” you moaned a little louder and your hips automatically rock against her lower half

“What's your safe word?” Georgia let go of your hard nipple with a small plopp

“You never pushed me that far” you said lowly

“Tell me Baby...” the blonde pushed a little “... we won't do anything if you don't tell me your safe word”

“Red if I need you to stop, yellow if I need you to slow down... Penalty if I can't take the physical contact” you listed off knowing Georgia needed to know not only because she wanted to test you but also so she was settled herself.

She couldn't bare the thought of hurting you in any way. Georgia herself invented the extra safe word after an incident where you got so overwhelmed with just everything (it was at your first shared experience and G apparently did her job more than right) that you freaked out and tried to run. If it wasn't for Georgias quick reaction you probably would've run and would have never come back. That's something she also learned pretty quickly – if you didn't want to be found nobody could find you.

“Good girl” the blonde purred starting to kiss the small valley between your breasts and downwards

Georgia sucked a hickey just above your belly button where no one could see it – even tho she would like to mark you as hers so much more obvious but her fear of Lucy ripping her throat was too big for your girlfriend to actually go through with it.

The blonde shuffled a little more downwards so she was laying in between your legs pressing soft kisses and bites to your thighs. Your hand found her hair again and you tried to get her where you wanted her the most by tugging a little bit on the blonde makeshift pony tail. But with the tease your girlfriend was at times the only thing you got out of her was a warning growl

“Stop it or I'll stop...” Georgia looked up from in between your legs and you moaned at the sheer sight of it “... my night – my rules – my pace... you asked for ME to fuck you so I will do as I please”

“Stop teasing then...” you whined

“Baby... you know I'm not fond of being told what to do... If I want to take my time and want to enjoy myself going as slow as I want... then I'll do that and you'll be patient otherwise I will edge you the whole night and some without letting you come at all... are we clear?” the blonde raised an eyebrow at you in question

“Crystal... just.. please Baby... PLEASE” you threw your head back into the pillows whining desperately

“You begging already?” Georgia smirked and just when you wanted to throw back a sarcastic jab she lowered her head not wasting any time pushing her tongue deep inside your pussy

“FUCK” you moaned deeply your hips rocking against your girlfriends face trying to get more pleasure

Even knowing that it wasn't the best idea to coax Georgia to give you more than she was willing to give you at this point you couldn't help yourself and to your surprise your girlfriend let you get away with it just going so far to sneak her hands under your legs to lay them on top of your hips holding you still while she worked her tongue deeper and faster into you. The noises you made were at this point straight up pornographic but you didn't care since you were far FAR away from your sister and any peering ears. You felt that familiar pull in the lower half of your stomach and honestly you were a little embarrassed at how fast Georgia got you to this point.

“Baby... I... I.. “ you panted (or was it a moan) out knowing she would understand and she sure did

Mere seconds before you came she pulled back with a shit eating grin her mouth and chin covered with your arousal.

“NO.... please no... don't do this... Please!” you whimpered frustrated

“You really think I would let you come after you tried to take matters into you own hand and try to make me go faster?” the blonde smirked “You should know better Baby”

“I'm sorry... I'm sorry... SO sorry... I just couldn't...” you started to ramble desperately

“That's why I'm helping you now Baby...” Georgia cooed but you know it was just show and that she didn't care how much she was teasing you “... you not gonna do it again will you now?”

“No I promise...” you whimpered

“I know Baby... you're gonna be my good girl will you?” your girlfriend smirked

“Yes... yes so good....” you nodded your head quickly

“Good... try that stunt again and I'll stop for good” the blonde warned before diving right in between your legs again pulling a loud moan from your lips

She knew what she was doing to you curling her tongue just the right way licking your walls and it took you so much restraint NOT to buck your hips again but with the little distraction of you biting your arm you managed barely to do so. Georgia noticed how you fought your own body and decided to step it up a notch, bringing her hand around your waist once more and putting light pressure on your clit with her thumb. Of course you couldn't hold back when she did that and your hips bucked against her face what resulted in Georgia pulling back from your center again

“Oh Baby...” the blonde said her voice dripping with disappointment “... I know you can do better than this... you really want a repeat from last time you couldn't listen to me?”

Tears of frustration were building in your eyes and you shook your head no remembering just how much Georgia can tease and in the end deny you your release. The last time she decided to test your limits she kept you on edge for two days (and nights) straight and you were ready to die. Not only did she keep you on the brim of your orgasm she also teased you endlessly through out the days and whenever Lucy was near you had to act like you weren't about to break down in a crying overly horny dripping mess.

For everyone else Georgia Stanway was this sweet goof always laughing always joking but when you looked closely enough at her playing you knew that she can be a completely different person. She told you right from the start that she likes to have control in the bedroom and over her partner to a certain point which you happily agreed with since you were not really experienced in any aspects of a relationship. Did you manage to get some pleasure on your own? Yes but you still had no idea what to do to other people. Georgia was sweet and loving and patient with you from the very first kiss. Showed you what she liked and what she didn't like. She coaxed you out of your initial hesitation and fear of doing something wrong by just being patient. She always checks in with you when she wants to try something and even through the process she still keeps a close eye on you so she wouldn't push you too far out of you comfort zone.

“You know what we'll do now, don't you baby?” Georgia said like it was the most obvious thing in the world and you nodded a small whine escaping your lips

“Three times... you think you can do that for me Baby?” your girlfriend took a little pity on your desperate state pressing a soft kiss to your hip bone before resting her chin on that same spot

Again you nodded your head furiously trying to prove just how well you can listen. But you knew it wouldn't be easy to tell Georgia three times the point when you were about to come knowing she'll stop whatever she was doing right this moment. Edging you over and over again was Georgias most favorite thing to do at this point. Seeing how desperate you were for her – and just for her. Seeing all these emotions that were just for her to see. Making all these little sounds for only her to hear. She also knew that if it would get too much you would tell her – both of you had a really long chat about the importance of limits and accepting those. The last time she would have edged you even more but end of the second night when she pulled her fingers out of you for the umpteenth time you choked out a “yellow” and immediately her whole demeanor switched from dominating to caring. She let you calm down telling you over and over how good you were and that she promise to make you come as soon as you were ready. And oh boy did she keep her word. You were pretty sure you passed out at one point but hearing your girlfriend whisper all those praises into your ear made up for that.

“Just three?” you asked carefully biting your lower lip

“Just three... if you're being good” your girlfriend confirmed this time using her finger to tease your entrance lightly

A shiver ran through your body and you fisted the sheet tightly in your hand like an anchor so you wouldn't end up with more punishment

“So wet... you really enjoying yourself Baby don't you?” the blonde between your legs teased collecting your arousal with her finger before sucking it off said digit moaning lowly

“Please G... please” you whimpered but still held as still as possible

“Don't forget to tell me Baby... every time you come without my permission I'll add another one” Georgia said her voice a little warning undertone before she carefully pushed one finger into your dripping opening

“Fuck” your girlfriend swore under her breath before looking up at you from her position “... you're still so tight Baby... even after all the times I fucked you with the strap you're still so so tight...”

“M'sorry” you whimpered losing the common sense battle against the ecstasy that was shooting through your body

“No Baby... that's so fucking hot” Georgia mumbled shuffling her body over yours so she had firstly a better angle of her hand and secondly could watch your face “It just means I have to gently fuck you open so you can take my dick”

You moaned loudly when you heard the blondes dirty words turning you on even more

“You like that hm?” she asked her voice deep next to your ear while she oh so gently started to work her finger in and out of you “You like it when I make you take my dick... starting slow and gently just to work you up until you're so open that I can basically jackhammer into your sweet pussy without any resistance”

“Baby I... I... about...” you moaned out loudly the thought (and promise) what your girlfriend had planned for you

The second you told her you were about to come any second now she pulled her finger out of you drawing a small whine from your throat

“You did so good Baby... so good for telling me” the blonde said soothingly pressing soft kissed under your ear “... just two more times”

She waited until your breathing returned to normal helping you calm down with soft soothing words and kisses

“Okay?” Georgia asked again feeling how you started to get restless again

“Yeah okay...” you confirmed

“Color?” the blonde checked again knowing how much this can take out of you

“Green... oh so fucking green” you huffed out a small smile tugging on your lips

“Good.... just wanted to make sure” Georgia smiled back starting to rub light circles over your clit

“I lo... fuck” you started to answer before you choked on your own spit

“You what?” your girlfriend smirked putting a little more pressure on the small bud

“Love you...” you panted out quickly before you moaned again

“Aw Baby... I love you too” the blonde smiled pressing a soft kiss to your lips letting her finger slide downwards entering you once again

“There we go... taking my finger so well already... god I love how you feel around my finger Baby” Georgia moaned quietly and nudged your jaw so you would move your head granting her access to your neck and throat

She started to kiss and lightly bite – again no visible marks because of fear of Lucy – while she worked her finger in and out of your tight channel a little more rougher than before

“Think you can take a second one Baby?” Georgia mumbled against your neck feeling how you opened up a little more your pussy excepting her finger more easily

“Yes... yes I can... please” your body was trembling already again but you wanted to how you could hold on and hopefully make Georgia proud

It was a stupid thing to think and you knew it because she always was proud of you but you just needed this little approval and praise whenever you gave over your body to her. The blonde discovered pretty quickly that you had a praise kink always seeking the approval you somehow never received from anyone especially your parents – but this was a whole other topic

“Relax for me Baby... I know you can be so good for me” the blonde murmured against your neck scraping her teeth along the side “I know you're my good girl and I'm so proud of you for listening so well...”

You moved your head towards Georgias pressing your cheek against hers in a matter of comfort feeling how her middle finger teased your entrance as she tried to accept her second digit

“Relax Baby” the blonde said again her voice soft knowing that even you both had sex a few times now it was all still new to you “Just relax for me and let me do the rest okay”

You bit your lip hard trying to follow the small command Georgia had given you but with you being on edge already it wasn't as easy as normally

“G... I can't....” you choked out trembles shooting right from your core through your body

“Still green Baby?” your girlfriend asked lifting her head away from your neck looking at your face intensely searching for any sign of discomfort

“Yes... yes... green... I just... can't...” you panted and Georgia understood what you tried to tell her

“Spread your legs” Georgia ordered you her voice a little more stern leaving your body to sit back on her heels between your legs

“Like that.... good girl” the blonde praised you after you let your legs fall open “...I know you're trying Baby and I know it's not easy... but I know you can relax for me”

You took a deep breath closing your eyes feeling your muscles relax under the watchful eyes of your girlfriend

“There see... not so hard” Georgia said feeling how your walls loosen around her index finger “Now we can keep going.... breath Baby”

You kept your breath deep and even feeling the stretch and the slight burn when your girlfriend slowly pushed her second finger inside you

“Fuck Baby... you look so beautiful” the blonde growled letting you adjust for a hot minute before she started to gently fuck her fingers in and out of you

“Won't last long” you panted and moaned squirming slightly

“You don't need to last my Beauty” Georgia said her eyes transfixed on her fingers disappearing inside your pussy

She kept her rhythm gentle but after a few minutes her strokes began to go deeper which didn't go unnoticed by you or your girlfriend considering how loud you moaned after a particular deep thrust from her

“You're doing so well Baby... I'm so proud of you” the blonde said softly leaning forward to kiss your breast biting your nipple lightly

“Fuck Babe... I... I can't... G...” you moaned whimpering trying to push her away a little and immediately you felt empty again your girlfriend pulling her fingers out

Your walls contracting around nothing pulling a loud whine from your throat the tears that pooled in your eyes again threatening to spill down your cheeks

“So good Baby... you're doing so good for me...” you faintly heard the voice of your girlfriend as your body trembled and you worried it was just this split second to late

“It's okay my Love – you're doing such a good job telling me every time... I'm so proud of you” Georgia stroked her flat hands up and down your body trying to help you to calm down

After a few minutes – but definitely not as fast as before – your breathing started to get more regular again and you whined lowly letting the blonde know you needed more contact than just her hands on your body. Thankfully she understood your silent request and laid down next to you pulling you into her arms

“You did so good Baby.... just once more okay?” she mumbled against your hair while you pressed your face against her neck

“I can't...” you tried weakly but you knew that Georgia would edge you once more as long as you wouldn't use one of your safe words

“Color?” the blonde mumbled a little concern in her voice

“Green” you whispered

“I'll ask again Baby and I want you to be honest” Georgia said her voice soft her eyes finding yours after she pushed your head up using her finger under your chin “Color?”

“Green” you said again your eyes never leaving hers

“Okay...” the blonde smiled softly as she continued to hold you tightly against her body

With her other hand she stroke lightly over your ribs down your body over your hips until she reached your knee pulling it up and over her waist

“Just once more Baby.... you're doing so good” she murmured against your forehead holing your leg in place until she was sure you wouldn't move it “One more time Baby and then you can come”

Your head made it back into the crook of her neck whining slightly knowing already that this time it would be extremly hard to hold back since Georgia let herself go a little more on these occasions. She was always more determent and a little rougher knowing it would make it so much harder on you and so much more beautiful for her. Just like she knew you you knew her just as much – the second her hand sneaked between your bodies and she adjusted her hold on you you knew you were in for it. As you expected she quickly collected some of your juice before pressing both of her long slim fingers into you without any warning. You jerked once still getting a little bit surprised by her action but the soothing kiss pressed to the crown of your hair made you still your movements

“There we go... taking me like you were made just for me” Georgia said feeling how tight your pussy was around her two fingers

She started to fuck you with deep strong thrusts that had your head spinning and your walls tighten even more

“You feel so good around my fingers Baby...” your girlfriend moaned against your head while you couldn't muster up the strength to reply verbally so you just whined again biting into her collarbone “... next I'm gonna make you come on my dick you know.... I packed your favorite” Georgia growled speeding up her thrusts even more feeling how you started to tremble in her arms again

“Baby....” you whined but your girlfriend saw right through you

“Nu-uh” the blonde shook her head slightly “... you're not there yet... I can feel that you're not there....” she said before starting to really fuck her fingers into you hitting that one magical spot over and over again

The first time she hit it it made you scream out in pleasure with Georgia smirking proudly into your hair. Now – with her repeat probing it – it send you nearly flying... nearly

“Gonna come... Babe... gonna...” you squeaked at this point feeling your walls tighten not wanting to let Georgias finger go ever again

But yet again your girlfriend managed to pull out of you just in time and this time you couldn't hold back the loud desperate frustrated whine as tears starting to roll down your cheeks

“Just a second Baby... I'm gonna make you feel so good in just a second okay” the blonde growled letting go of you quickly getting of the bed

You couldn't stop the way you whimpered when she suddenly let go of you but the next thing you noticed was how Georgia maneuvered you onto your back and nudged your legs apart with her knees

“Color?” your girlfriend asked sounding a little desperate herself now

“Green” you choked out “Just G... PLEASE”

“On it Baby girl...” the blonde huffed out and you felt the cold silicon from the head of the strap-on being teased at entrance as Georgia made sure to use your own arousal to lube the fake dick up so it wouldn't hurt you which caused you to whine desperately “... I know Baby... but I need you to take a deep breath”

You did as Georgia told you and took one then a second deep breath as you felt the head getting slowly pushed through your folds and into your tight sensitive pussy

“Fuuuuuck” you moaned out deeply and you heard your girlfriend moan on top of you too

“So fucking tight” Georgia grunted holding still after she pushed just the head into you

After a minute which you needed to adjust to the new intrusion before you gave your girlfriend a small nod. Georgia leaned forward down on her elbows which were on either side of your head as she pressed a loving kiss on your lips which quickly got heated while she pushed the strap oh so slowly into you. When she was about half way she pulled back out and slowly back in but this time a little deeper. Like that she managed to fuck the whole strap into you with a slow gentle rhythm until she bottomed out growling deeply feeling her hips connect with yours

“So perfect Baby... you're so perfect for me and my dick... you were made to get fucked by me” the blonde growled against your neck and had to hold herself back not biting down hard

“You feel sooooo goood” you moaned rocking your hips a little bit

“Yeah? You like that Baby? You like it when I ruin you for everyone else?” Georgia grunted but you could feel her smirk against your neck

“Yes...” you moaned

“Tell me how much you like it Baby....” your girlfriend teased you starting to pull out of you again before sliding back in without problems due to your juices not only covering the fake dick but also your thighs and you were pretty sure the bedsheet too

“Your dick feels so good Baby... you stretch me out so much but it feels sooooo gooooood” you moaned into her ear knowing exactly what she wanted to hear

“Fuck... you know what it does to me when you talk like this” Georgia growled

“Then do it Babe...” you groaned in response locking your ankles behind her ass pulling her in deeper “Make me yours”

“Gonna make sure you remember who you belong to for the next 8 weeks.... until we see each other again when Bayern plays Barcelona in the Champions League” Georgia growled so deep you could have sworn she felt the urge to hold you down at your throat with her teeth before she started to really fuck into you

Her thrusts hard and fast hitting the best spots inside you while you desperately trying to get to hold on to something scratching her back open in process before you could feel that all to familiar pull in your stomach again

“Baby... I... I'm gonna...” you moaned loudly one of your hand on her shoulder blade with your nails digging into the soft skin the other hand intertwined with Georgias next to your head

“Hold it Baby... I promise I let you come but you need to hold it for me for a minute longer” the blonde grunted and growled speeding up her thrusting once again

“I can't” you whined out your limits getting pushed hard today

“I know you can...” your girlfriend grunted a little softer “I'm nearly there... just a few seconds”

These “few seconds” ended up to feel like hours. You begged you whined you whimpered but you held your orgasm back until Georgia suddenly said

“Come Baby... come for me.. NOW” the blonde growled thrusting into you one last time before stilling enjoying her own orgasm as she nearly fell on top of you catching herself in the last second not wanting to squish you under her

You on the other hand came with a high pitched scream of her name your eyes rolling into the back of your head your breathing rigid and you felt this blissfully floating experience. You came back to reality when Georgia carefully started to pull out of you but you kept your ankles locked behind her ass not letting her go

“Stay” you murmured still blissed out “Feels good”

“Okay...” the blonde whispered pressing soft kisses all over your face “Just let me move us a little so it's more comfortable for you”

She gently pulled you onto your side your leg automatically finding it's way over her hip again making you moan quietly when the strap moved inside you

“Ssssshhhh Baby... It's okay...” Georgia said soothingly trying to comfort you as much as possible as you pressed your face again into her neck

“Need more G...” you breathed out desperately

“More?” the blonde asked surprised

“Yes... 8 weeks is a long time... I need more” you nuzzled her neck

“We still have ti...” your girlfriend started but you interrupted her

“No... now... I need more now... please Baby” you tugged carefully on her earlobe with your teeth

“God woman... you're gonna be the death of me one day” Georgia chuckled

“At least you would leave this earth as a happy woman” you shot back

“Oh that I would” your girlfriend chuckled back before she smirked down at you “... would you want to try something?”

You knew that smirk. That smirk got you a lot of good memories and a lot of enjoyable satisfying nights

“Bring it Stanway” you smirked back before squealing as she single handily pulled you on top of her

“Where the fuck is my sister and Stanway??” Lucy asked for the 100th time pacing the entrance of Heathrow Airport

“God Lucy... calm the fuck down” Keira rolled her eyes but checking her phone nonetheless

“I can't believe everyone went against me and planned that” your sister grumbled

“If you hadn't behaved like the last asshole standing we wouldn't have... and WE will talk about that back in Barcelona” Keira shot her ex-girlfriend a murderous glare when she spotted you and Georgia coming down the Hall with you sitting on the luggage trolley and Georgia pushing you happily a wide grin plastered on her face

“There you are” Keira smiled warmly seeing both of you happy

“Are you out of your fucking..” Lucy started but Keira elbowed her so hard in the ribs that she started to cough hard – very hard

“You okay?” Keira looked at you giving you a once over

“So SO okay Kei” you smiled dreamily

“Okay... you G?” the blonde looked at her best friend

“Needed that little get-away...” your girlfriend smiled happily

“Good.,,, now come on... we need to get through security” Keira said after seeing that both of you are okay and well

“Wait a second!!” Lucy exclaimed now recovering from her coughing fit

“No” Keira said strictly “Security... NOW”

“Oh wow...” you mumbled under your breath and looked a little scared at Georgia who just shrugged her shoulders and decided it would be better to follow her best friend and quickly started to push that trolley after Keira

The security check went well until you had to leave your place on the luggage trolley so G could check in her bags. You tried to hide the little wince that quickly made it through your impression before you could collect yourself and got your resting bitch face back in place. Naturally this didn't go unnoticed by Keira who looked at you expectantly with a raised eyebrow

“I'm good” you mumbled in her direction not wanting Lucy to catch on

“Are you in pain?” the blonde asked lowly moving closer to you

“No... yeah... no... yeah...” you stuttered your cheeks flushing red

“What is it now... yes or no?” Keira asked missing the way you bit your lip embarrassed

“A little... but... good pain you know” you tried to be a subtle as possible

“Huh?” the blonde looked at you confused before understanding what you were trying to say “OH!”

“Yeah...” you smiled embarrassed while Georgia sported a proud smirk

“What you smirking about Stanway?” Lucy snapped after she came back from checking in her own luggage.

“Just knowing how we destroy you in eight weeks...” Georgia retorted sounding way more convinced that you knew she was

“Oh please.... Bayern is a good club but... we're Barca and you play our stadium” your sister shot back her signature smirk on her face

“But our team isn't one game away from moving into an old peoples home” it bursted out of your girlfriend and you knew it was the classic “Not thinking before speaking”-moment

But that didn't stop Keira and you from bursting out laughing even louder when you spotted your sisters outraged face

“Excuse me??!!” Lucy exclaimed her eyes wide in shock

“Come on... Security...” Keira ushered you all along before the situation could turn into something negative

“You okay Bubs??” Lucy asked concerned seeing your slight limp

“Totally” you grinned hoping to convince her

“Are you sure.. you kind of limping or something” your sister looked at your legs “Your knees acting up again? We gonna ice them back home okay?”

“No Lucy... not my knees Luce... I... I....” you desperately tried to come up with a good excuse “... I hit me ankle trying to cut a corner at Covent Garden”

“Covent Garden? What were you doing at Covent Garden?” Lucy looked even more confused now

“Ehrm.... Culture... Dining... you know...” you mumbled not meeting her eyes

“You went all the way to the West End for some food with your girlfriend?” your sister asked lost

“YES!” you exclaimed quickly

“You could have said something... I could've talked to Sarina to let you go out with G one night” your sister looked like a lost puppy

“I know Lucy..... it was just... very... spontaneous” you looked at Keira for help

“Let her be Luce... she's a big girl now – she can ask Sarina herself” the blonde said laying her arm around your shoulders stroking over your hair affectionately

“Yeah I know... it's just..” your sister shrugged removing everything for the security check on auto pilot

“Just nothing Lucy....” Keira said softly before pushing her ex towards the body scanner

And like in Barcelona the scanner started to ring in the most annoying tone the second Lucy stepped inside it. Your sister groaned annoyed throwing her head back and asked to no one in particular

“Why always me???”

She stepped out of it and immediately got flanked by two security guards who started to pad her down. After they discovered that your Sister didn't carry any weapons or something similar she was allowed to continue her journey. YOU on the other hand were now absolutely TERRIFIED of going through the body scanner. You stepped backwards and right into Keira who tried to convince you in a hushed soothing whisper to get you moving. But no – you were absolutely convinced that thing would start screaming again and then the guards would touch you which was your horror scenario. Georgia quickly got in front of you walking through the scanner without any problems trying to show you that it's okay. But even seeing with your own eyes that your girlfriend got through without any problems didn't got you moving

“Bitsy... you need to get through that scanner... I have one last little gift from Sarina for you but I only can give it to you on the other side of the security” the blonde mumbled from behind you keeping her hands on your waist so you wouldn't run away “Trust me Bitsy...”

With a deep breath and your eyes fixed on your girlfriend you took a step and then two more until you were in the scanner screwing your eyes shut like it would change any outcome.

“Miss... you can move” you heard a friendly voice from your right

“You done Bitsy... go to Lucy” you now heard Keiras voice from your left

You turned right and started to quickly sprinting out of the scanner. Only to forget that your eyes were still closed so you ran into the first person standing in your way – which was the nice security lady who told you you could move.

“Oh my God I'm so sorry” you quickly rambled out as you scrambled backwards

“It's okay.... you really don't like the scanner huh?” the woman said

“Don't like flying in general” you mumbled embarrassed when you saw Lucy and Georgia rushing over trying to help only to get held back by some security staff

For your and Georgias benefits you went straight for the hug Lucy offered you immediately after you “freed” yourself from the security. You didn't miss the way your girlfriends face fell slightly but you knew if you would've went to Georgia Lucy would've thrown a fit so you just put an apologetic smile on your face and pressed yourself into your sisters embrace

“It's okay Bubs... you did good” Lucy mumbled against your hair holding you tightly against her

“I hate it” you mumbled against her shoulder

“I know... but you did good” your sister assured you again waiting for Keira to get through the scanner as well

Very subtle you found your girlfriends hand and grabbed her pinky with yours. Georgia turned her head a little bit so Lucy wouldn't see the small smile that appeared on her face when she felt your hand looking for hers.

“All done... let's go” Keira appeared next to you ruffling through your hair

“Keiraaaaaa” you whined trying to get away from her hands “Took me ages to get me hair like this”

“Here” the ginger rolled her eyes giving you your snapback back

“Uh... I wondered where this was” you said happily putting the hat on

“It was in Millies bag and she gave it to me with the massage that you shouldn't leave your stuff all over the place” Keira huffed but pulled you away from Lucy into a side hug pulling you forward

“You want something to eat Bubs? We still have some time until boarding” Lucy asked

“Ugh no... I probably throw up if I eat something” you shuddered at the pure thought of eating

This time Georgia perked up to your disproval

“You hadn't had any breakfast either... I think a roll or something would do you some good ba... y/n” she quickly corrected herself in front of Lucy which caused Keira to chuckle under her breath before bringing her attention back to you

“No breakky Bits?? Are we back to that?” the ginger raised her eyebrow at you

“I... didn't have time” you defended yourself and before your girlfriend could interrupt you elbowed her hard

“Lucy... get your sister something light to eat” Keira said without taking her eyes off you fully aware that you shut Georgia up with your elbowing

“Some fruit Bubs?” your sister asked totally obvious to what just happened

“Fruits is fine...” you huffed knowing Keira caught on – of course she did she always did “Just... no Mango or Papaya or whatever that slimy shit is”

“Banana okay?” Lucy checked one last time

“Ugh no... bleh” you said quickly pulling a face

“Bitsy” Keira warned you and now even Georgia stepped away for safety

“But I don't want Banana” you whined like a three year old

“No “buts”...” the ginger started getting interrupted from a voice behind you

“Cariño... what did you do now to upset Keira?” the voice asked teasing and you just KNEW your savior in form of Alexia Putellas just arrived

“They want to force Banana down me throat but I don't like Banana... sí us plau ajuda'm” you begged her not even realizing what you just did

Alexia on the other hand – along with half the Barca squad AND Jenni – noticed immediately and looked at you with wide shocked eyes

“Did... did you just speak catalan Cariño?” the spaniard asked confused

“What?” you asked just as confused back

“You just spoke catalan” Alexia looked at you blankly

“I did?” you asked baffled

“You did pequeño” Jenni confirmed grinning “Even tho I didn't grew up in Catalonia I know catalan when I hear it...”

“When did I learn catalan?” you asked flabbergasted making the whole group bursting out laughing

“I don't know Cariño but it was very good catalan... better than your sister and DEFINITELY better than Keira” the spaniard capitan laughed

“Oy... you don't have any ground to stand on Ale... you don't even speak the accent” Keira exclaimed but everyone knew she wasn't serious

“I won't even comment on that... what I WILL comment on is... Cariño... eat that banana your sister will get you in a minute – it will help settle your stomach” Alexia said strictly

“But I don't like bananas...” you whined again

“No... I will personally make you eat that banana if I have to...” the blonde spaniard said firmly taking the chore of arguing with you off Keiras shoulders “... I WILL make Jenni to hold you down and believe me – she can”

You carefully looked up over Alexias shoulder where Jenni stood and were met with a wolfish grin

“She knows what she's talking about” the black haired spaniard grinned and wriggled her eyebrows which earned her a slap from her capitan

“Stop scaring the Cariño” Alexia huffed rolling her eyes what caused Georgia to snort and suddenly all attention was on her

“Anything you want to share with the class G?” Keira smirked when she saw her best friend looking uncomfortable

“Nope.. all good... just remembered that funny cat video I saw this morning” your girlfriend said quickly moving a bit away from your sister who shot daggers at your girlfriend

“Cat video me ass” Keira snorted but let go of the topic to shoo Lucy away getting some fruit for you

“What are you all doing here?” you asked after you plopped down next to Alexia absently grabbing Onas hand who sat on your right and started playing with her rings – something you did to calm your own nerves without it even realizing it

Ona looked a little taken aback for a second before just shrugging her shoulder starting to get into a conversation with Keira. The only person who still stood around looking unsure was your girlfriend

“So.... you and the little Bronze” Georgia jumped a little when she heard the voice next to her and suddenly found herself being pushed into a seat two rows behind you

“Ehrm...” your girlfriend just looked around shocked as four pair of spanish eyes were fixed on her

“Pot parlar??” Mapí asked looking expectantly at Georgia who of course got even more insecure as the other three snorted

“Be nice Mapí...” Jenni said but she still smirked at your girlfriend “Speak up... you and y/n?”

“Yes?” Georgia answered carefully

“Are you really asking me if you're dating the little Bronze?” now the dark haired spaniard raised her eyebrow

“No... I just don't know what you want from me?” your girlfriend said still not sure what to make out of this surreal situation

“Just... talk” Mapí moved a little closer to Georgia

“Talk?” Georgia asked

“Sí...” Pina said nodding her head “... that's spanish for “yes”...”

“I'm not THAT stupid” your girlfriend huffed out offended

“Your girlfriend spoke perfect catalan without even knowing she spoke catalan... sorry for trying to be nice” Pina huffed back

“Let's get down to business... Listen....” Jenni said seriously looking Georgia straight into the eye

“You don't even know my name??” your girlfriend exclaimed upset

“I do... I just didn't know if I use Georgia or Stanway... but I think I go with Stanway” the dark haired said back “... listen Stanway... this Girl... she's very valued among our team”

“What does among mean?” Pina interrupted making Jennis upcoming threat basically useless

“Calla I deixa'm parlar idiota” Jenni growled towards the small spaniard who immediately shrunk backwards in her seat “... as I said – she's very valued amongst us.. I personally owe her a lot... if you hurt her you don't only have Lucia to fear... you'll have Barcelona to fear... Spain to fear... Norway to fear... Sweden to fear... and me...”

“Wow... this one is more concepted than Lucys... she just said “Hurt her and I'll kill you”... I'm impressed” Georgia looked blankly at Jenni nodding her head lightly “... REALLY impressed”

“You better take me seriously Stanway....” Jenni growled getting angry as how easily the young Lioness dismisses her

“Hermoso... I'm dating Lucy Bronze little sister.... I KNEW what I was getting into... you don't scare me... KEIRA scares me... she's me best friend and I KNOW what she's able to do... and she's highly protective over y/n... so no... I really don't take you seriously” your girlfriend shrugged her shoulders before pushing out of the seat leaving a totally baffled Jenni Hermoso, María León, Claudia Pina and a even lost Patri behind

“You okay G?” Keira asked the second her best friend was close enough having kept an eye on her

“All good... they tried to threaten me... was a good attempt... if I wasn't dating a Bronze with an overprotective Walsh around...” your girlfriend shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly smiling shortly at Ona who still hasn't gotten her hand back while you were still talking to Alexia

“I love it how they all underestimate me” Keira chuckled as she saw Lucy approaching with a bowl full of different fruit

“I picked all the good ones Bubs...” your sister smiled presenting you the plastic container with a plastic fork as she crouched down in front of you

“Do I have too??” you immediately started to whine looking at your sister with puppy eyes

“Just a little bit okay Bubs?” Lucy said helplessly being an absolute sucker for your puppy eyes

“All of it Bitsy” Keira interrupted before you could get away with three pieces and not more

“But... Keiraaaaaa” you whined trying to cuddle into Alexia hoping for her backup

“No... It's not that much anyway so you'll manage just fine” the ginger put her foot down so you tried one last attempt

“Mapí!! You want some fruit?” you looked up from Alexias shoulder you tried to hide in

“Uh... SÌ!!!” the quirky spaniard shot out of her seat

“No... NO Mapí... that's y/n fruit and she eats it...” Keira quickly interrupted but it was already too late as Mapí snatched the plastic container out of Lucys hands immediately digging in

“María!!” now Alexia got involved as well scolding her friend firmly

“She gave it to me�� the tattooed spaniard mumbled with a full mouth half the fruits already gone

“Give... it... back” Alexia warned her friend and Mapí moved instinctively a little further away from Alexia cradling the container to her chest

“María Pilar León Cebrían!!!” Alexia warned lowly knowing she only had a TINY window left to get the rest of your fruit back

“No” Mapí said recutlanty

“Jenni” Alexia called out nodding towards Mapí not having the patience to deal with the situation right now

“Great... make me the bad one again... just because you can't keep your children under control” Jenni groaned standing up already “Mapí don't” she warned seeing how the tattooed woman already sized up a way to flee

To Jennis big annoyance Mapí turned around on her heels started sprinting away

“You owe me Putellas” the lanky spaniard groaned sprinting after Maps

“Cariño...” the blonde spaniard now turned her attention to you

“There was papaya in there” you said quickly

“Was NOT” your sister exclaimed still sitting in front of you “I hand sorted them out....”

“At the bottom there was a papaya...” you huffed

“Cariño” Alexia said again her voice turning a little icy and you flinched “You with me... now”

The spaniard stood up pulling you up with her. You clutched to Onas hand who winched slightly trying to free her hand carefully

“Let go of Onas hand” Alexia said strictly and you dropped your sisters girlfriends hand immediately

“Thank you” the capitan said pulling you over to one of the small coffee bars at the terminal “I don't care what you choose but I'll be damned if I don't get some food into you before take-off...”

“Alexia I'm really not hungry” you mumbled

“When was the last time you've eaten something?” the blonde asked softly seeing how much this situation stresses you out

“Last night” you said without thinking

“Really? Room service?” Alexia asked raising her eyebrow

“Ehrm... kinda... it was in a room... and I... .served??” you committed embarrassed

“Ay dios...” the blonde threw her hands up rolling her eyes “NOT what I meant... so... when was the last time you ate FOOD?”

“Ehrm...” you tried to remember

“That's answer enough... choose... now” the blonde said firmly “I will stand here the whole day if I have too...”

“But then you'll miss your flight” you looked confused

“Then it'll be.... but I'm not boarding a plane knowing you haven't eaten food for... probably days” Alexia said calmly

“Croissant?” you asked carefully

“Okay...” the blonde nodded and paid for your beverage which you took a little hesitantly and a little uncomfortable but at least you took it

“Thank you” you mumbled trying to bring yourself to bite into it

“No problem at all Cariño... it's okay to eat you know...” Alexia encouraged you carefully knowing from Keira that you sometimes don't feel comfortable eating in front of others while other times you just inhale whatever lands in front of you

“It's just.... yucky feeling” you admitted trying to buy yourself some more time

“I understand that Cariño... just a bite okay?” the blonde lead you a little away from the hectic and covered your body with her own so you'd hopefully felt a little more secure “No one will see okay..”

You hesitantly brought the croissant up and bit of a tiny edge chewing it carefully

“Good... you're doing good Cariño... could you manage a second one for me please?” Alexia said a soft smile on her lips knowing how much effort it took you and how grateful she could be that you trust her enough to let her see you like this

“Do I have too?” you asked your voice barely over a whisper

“You don't HAVE to Cariño... but it would make me feel better” the blonde answered softly

She knew it was risky but she hoped that you liked her enough to consider another bite. To her big surprise you did. You took a second bite to immediately stuff the croissant back into the paper bag it came in and hand it to Alexia

“You did very good Cariño... thank you” the blonde smiled at you taking the bag before pulling you into a side hug leading you back to the group

“Boarding starts in a few minutes” your sister said when Alexia and you came back

“We're back... don't stress us Lucia” Alexia rolled her eyes playfully making you chuckle

It'll never stop to amaze Alexia how quickly you switch emotions to hide your problems

“Yes Lucia...” you teased your sister “... don't stress us”

“Excuse me??” Lucy exclaimed “upset” playing along seeing you need a lighter mood

“Guys... boarding” Irene shouted to get everyones attention and your head snapped immediately towards Georgia who still sat in comfortable in one of the uncomfortable airport chairs

“Go say bye Cariño...” Alexia mumbled in your ear pushing softly towards your girlfriend

Even if you wanted to walk over you couldn't bring your legs to move as you felt Alexia let go of you and heard in distance how she ushered everyone forward. Seeing how lost you stood there Georgia pushed herself up covering the short distance to you

“It's okay... we see each other soon okay... We'll see each other when I come to Barcelona for the Champions League... just a few weeks... basically around the corner already” Georgia tried to comfort you seeing how the tears pool up in your eyes

You on the other hand didn't trust yourself to speak so you just threw yourself into your girlfriends arms sniffling quietly. Even tho the two of you had a long distance relationship right from the start it didn't make the goodbyes easier

“It'll be okay Baby” Georgia mumbled against your hair pressing a soft subtle kiss to your head “I know it's hard but we'll see each other soon okay... I love you.... so much... and whenever you need me I'm just a call away... or a text... or a pigeon”

You chuckled through your tears when Georgia brought the pigeon into the mix the two of you always joking that you sometimes consider sending a pigeon to get your message across to Georgia in Germany since your girlfriend sometimes needed forever to answer texts.

“I know” you sniffled into her shoulder “It just sucks”

“Yeah it does... but Champions League is in eight weeks... just 60 days... we managed longer before... the days will just fly by and next thing you know you're gonna pick me up in Barcelona and show me your favorite little coffee shop you told me about... the one hidden away from the busy streets” your girlfriend said quietly

“Bubs come on... boarding” you heard your sister yell from a few feet away and you instinctively grabbed Georgias shirt a little tighter

“Go Baby... I need to board soon too.... don't make Luce come over and pry you off me” Georgia chuckled knowing neither of you actually wanted to let go

“You text me when you land yes?” you mumbled

“Always... and I'll phone you tonight when I'm back in me flat okay?” your girlfriend nodded and pressed another subtle kiss to your hairline

“Okay...” you took a deep breath letting go of your girlfriend – ripping off the band aid style with just letting go turning around and walking over to where Lucy and Keira were waiting for you your head hung low so no one would see your tears

“I'm sorry Bubs” Lucy mumbled seeing how much it hurt you as she pulled you into her side looking over to Georgia who stood there lost her shoulders sagged and nodded to the blonde that she will look after you

After Lucy locked eyes with Georgia and let her know you were save your girlfriend turned around to walk over to her own terminal having a half an hour to spare until she needed to board the flight to Munich. Lucy went through the ticket control first while Keira handed you your ticket. With Lucy waiting on the other side of sliding glass doors she couldn't hear what was going on but she saw there was some kind of problem with your ticket and cursed herself out knowing how much you feared problems in public spaces since you weren't one standing happily in the lime light. Your sister saw the flight attended telling you to try and scan your ticket again but again it got refused. You looked lost at Keira who was still standing behind you with a small smile on her lips

“Keira... it's not working” you said stressed

“Don't EVER say I don't love you...” the ginger said seriously but still soft and loving

“What??” you asked confused still getting more and more stressed by the second

“You remember I told you Sarina had one last gift for you.. it's not only from her.... it's from me as well....” Keira said softly hoping you'd catch on – but you didn't

“Look on your ticket Bitsy” the ginger smiled lovingly after you looked at her lost

You did look down on the small paper slip in your hand. Reading you name. Your seating. Your departure airport. Your departure time. Your arrival airpo... no. Your head snapped up looking at Keira shocked and lost.

“Go...” Keira said lovingly pulling you into a quick hug pressing a soft kiss to your temple “... just make sure to keep in touch okay... don't ghost any of us... I know where G lives... I will come and get you if I don't hear from you at least once a day”

“Thank you Keira....” you now sniffled – but this time it was happy tears

“Now off you go... oh and Bitsy... G doesn't know... it was Sarinas and my doing” the ginger smiled pushing you away slightly which you took to sprint off in the direction you thought you would find your girlfriend a big smile on your face

#lucy bronze x reader #keira walsh x reader #woso image #mapi leon x reader #lucy bronze #ona batlle x reader #lionesses x reader #jenni hermoso x reader #georgia stanway x reader

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