#they just banter so well with one another

[cuteandhughesy]

Please Please Please | Luke Hughes

summary: navigating a secret relationship with your brothers teammate is turning out to be a little harder than you expected. the 3 times you and luke were almost caught + the 1 time you are caught.

4.3k

warnings: NSFW! pre-established relationship | brothers teammate trope | lazar! reader | sneaking around | kissing | suggestive dialogue and scenes | the tiniest sprinkle of smut but no actual sex | read at your own discretion

a/n: formed based on this request! i’m working on a good chunk of fics and similar stuff so keep your eyes open 💕 for now…enjoy! it’s been so long since i’ve written for luke..I missed him.

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one

"we really shouldn't be doing this..." luke's hushed words trail off, whispered against your slick lips as you two move through the room, stumbling over loose shoes and discarded clothes. his hands run up your torso hurriedly—yet smoothly—squeezing your skin in his palms like he can't get enough of you, despite his words. it's a sweet gesture, one that only turns you on further.

you shush him gently, dismissing his hesitance. you pull away from him slightly, but still close enough that you could lean back in at any moment and continue your hurried kiss. "please." you pout slightly, looking up through your lashes. you're so wound up from just kissing luke, you're not sure if you'll be able to stop now—despite the circumstances.

so regardless of your own selflessness—you can understand luke's apprehension. after all, if you were in his shoes you'd probably be shitting bricks right about now. your hands fall away from luke's broad shoulders, letting them trail down his chest until you reach his hips. slowly, you slip your fingers into the waistband of luke's sweats, and begin pulling him forward. "we just have to be really quiet."

luke stumbles slightly, caught off guard by your sudden movements. regardless, he follows easily, allowing you to bring him towards the edge of the bed. in that moment you're thankful the upstairs bedroom floors are carpeted, and the wobbly footsteps are muffled by the rug under your and luke’s socked feet.

the back of your knees meet the edge of the bed, and that has you falling back into the mass of blankets, releasing your hold on the elastic waistband around luke's ridiculously attractive hips—which, before you even met luke, you didn't even think hips could be so hot, but you'd been very quickly proven wrong.

you blink up at luke lazily, making your gaze come across as sensual as possible. you bring your knees up, and slowly your legs part, revealing the thin material off your blueberry printed panties—just visible under your shifted pyjama shorts.

but luke doesn't bite. he stays stagnant at the end of the bed, shirtless and visibly turned on—the straining situation under the soft material of his sweatpants giving him away.

his brows furrow. "what if curtis comes up here." luke questions, the worry evident in his expression. he gently rubs along his growing stubble, deep in thought as he continues to eye you. "what if we get caught?" luke's hesitant eyes flicker towards your closed bedroom door—well, your brother and his wife's guest bedroom door.

you were finishing up your final year of university in jersey, and instead of paying the ridiculous residence fees, curtis offered you the spare bedroom in his families home. and with that came a lot of social situations involving your brothers teammates. whether it was team dinners at different houses, or crowded bars after games, you were there—which is where you met luke.

luke seemed to always be around, and that combined with the constant banter he has with your brother, had you feeling enamoured with the youngest hughes brother very soon after curtis introduced you two. you found yourselves drawn to one another, and if one of you was near, the other wasn't far behind. you and luke quickly started dating—behind the back of your brother of course.

curtis has always been protective of you, especially when it comes to your relationships. it all comes from a good place, even if it made dating extremely difficult for you. curtis has always made sure to drill the negative stigma around young hockey players into your head—how he would never want you to date one...especially if said hockey player was one of his own teammates.

locker room talk was inevitable, and curtis didn't want to subject you to any of that ridiculous stuff or make you uncomfortable. and you didn't mind that protective rule of curtis' because you've never had an attraction to any of his teammates—until luke.

with that in mind, you and luke found yourself involved in a secret relationship. there's many measures you'd both take to ensure your romance stayed under wraps—you'd plan your calls around schedules, allowing yourselves to talk freely without your brother listening in. as well, you and luke would always plan secret dates, giving excuses of seeing friends in the city while you're actually tangled in whoever's bed is free. during gatherings, you'd be sneaking off into dark rooms, kissing like horny teenagers—it was all a thrill, one that you and luke found yourselves growing accustomed to, and honestly preferred.

you and luke were always careful—especially if curtis was around. if your brother was near, you and luke simply wouldn't sneak away, both too worried about getting caught and loosing the excitement and intimacy of your secret life.

but tonight was different.

the devils had been away on a week long road trip, expanding along the west coast and visiting teams like the sharks and kings. with the change in time zones, sneaking calls and facetimes with your boyfriend was practically impossible, and you and luke had only texted every few days to check in.

the interfering schedules and lack of communication left you and luke missing each other more than usual, and as soon as the devils plan landed back on jersey soil, you were practically vibrating with need.

when you proposed the idea of sneaking luke into the house once everyone had gone to bed, you didn't think he'd agree, but surprisingly enough he did. luke was apprehensive at first—which is understandable— because seeing one another while you're brother was home was always a big no-no. but the combination of the time missed between you and your pouty voice, luke had no choice but to agree.

slowly you unfold your leg, lifting your foot until you meet luke's shoulder. you nudge the buff surface with your sock covered toes, pulling luke's attention away from the bedroom door and back to you.

luke's gaze moves over you, shifting from your plump, spit slicked lips, down to your barley covered core and thin tank top that gives him the perfect outline of your pebbled nipples. he swallows roughly, a blush covering his high cheek bones.

"we won't get caught." you whisper seductively, your foot slowly trailing down his arm.

suddenly luke grabs onto your ankle, bringing your foot closer to his face. "you're such a bad influence." luke presses a soft kiss on your exposed ankle, right over the beaded anklet decorating you. his eyes don't leave your face, and as he slowly pulls away, a smirk begins to pull at his lips—tempting you.

you take your lip between your teeth. "you gunna punish me?"

he breathes a laugh, and manoeuvres your leg back into his spread, bent position. "you want me to punish you?"

you watch through hooded eyes as luke crawls onto the bed, moving until he's hovering over your flushed body. instantly your hands are in hair, running through his light curls, feeling the defined pattern between your fingers. "maybe I do."

his eyes flutter closed at the feeling, a small whimper passing through his parted lips. luke's large palm runs up your side, scooping under your tank until he's feeling your bare skin—running his thumb over your nipple.

you arch into him, a breathy moan leaving your lips, goosebumps covering your skin in the wake of luke's gentle touches.

luke kisses you slowly, a deep and bruising pressure that has you tingling all the way down to your toes. your lips part instinctively, moaning into luke's mouth as his continues to kiss yours, lips passing over yours in a gentle, slick embrace.

you're so easily distracted by luke's presence and touch, and you find yourself falling into a trance like state—loosing yourself in him. you find yourself here anytime you're with luke, always so easily falling into this intimate pattern. so it comes as suprise when your ears pick up on a dull thump in the distance, almost echoing through the quiet home.

"did you hear that?" you pull away from luke hurriedly, brows furrowed as you try and concentrate and listen further—straining your ears in attempt to catch any more sounds from beyond your bedroom.

luke whimpers at the loss of contact, eyes fluttering open to reveal his glossy, lustful eyes. "hear what?"

the dull thudding noise continues, increasing as if it was coming closer— sounding like somebody is walking, moving up the stairs towards your room. you gasp lightly, and with all the strength you can find, you push luke off the bed.

your sudden actions catch him off guard, and he goes easily, tumbling onto the rug with a loud thud. he groans out, and watches as you peek over the edge of the bed—your eyes blown wide with worry.

just before he can question your behaviour, you interrupt him, your tone hushed and full of fear. "it's curtis."

luke's face falls. "it's curtis?"

you nod quickly, looking in the direction of the door anxiously, listening as your brothers steps grow closer. you look back down at luke, "you gotta get under the bed."

"i'm not going to fit under the bed." luke whispers roughly, his own gaze darting between your nervous eyes and the bedroom door.

"well you gotta make it work, luke." you whisper wildly, shooing him. "scoot under—now."

the urgency in your voice has luke springing into action. he grabs onto the wooden frame of the bed, pulling himself under your bed. the rug rubs his bare back uncomfortably and the dust under the mattress is tickling his noise dangerously. the space is limited, and dirty, but you're not even thinking about that right now.

all you can focus on is the sound of curtis footsteps right outside the door, and just as the golden handle begins turning, luke finally gets situated under your bed, hiding from not only your sight, but hopefully your brothers.

you whip around just as the hinges squeak open, curtis appearing from behind the oak door. "hey." he greets you gently, still rubbing the sleep out of his eye with the palm of his hand. "are you talking to someone?"

you can feel the colour drain from your face, swallowing roughly as you keep your gaze ahead. "no?" your voice is definitely too high—too suspicious—answering quickly.

curtis's gaze narrows. "really? I thought I heard something." you watch in horror as your brother begins to look around the room, his movements suspiciously nonchalant as he scans the area—you can only pray that luke's feet aren't sticking out from underneath the mattress

you desperately need to get your brothers attention again and stop him from snooping around your space—you're pretty sure luke's phone is on the dresser. quickly, you spin your body to fully face curtis, clearing your throat. "well, I was watching a movie."

curtis' eyes flicker back to yours and away from your desk, his brows raised questionably. then, slowly, his gaze moves towards the tv on the wall. "the tv is broken."

you curse inwardly, swallowing thick salvia. "on my phone."

"okay..."he trails off. "just coming to check on you, making sure you were alright—couldve swore I heard something." your brother doesn't look all too convinced with what you're saying, and his pointed gaze has yet to waver.

you plaster on a smile. "oh i'm just peachy, curtis. thanks."

"you're acting weird."

"am I?" you question highly, crossing your arms.

he hums in answer, eyeing you suspiciously. "must just be tired. right?"

"right." you exhale shakily, and at this point you can only pray for this conversation to come to a close. subconsciously your eyes trail towards the bed, checking to make sure luke was still hidden.

curtis hums again, pulling your attention back to him. "better get to sleep then. goodnight."

you breathe, smiling again. "night."

he sends you one more curious look over his shoulder before he finally leaves, shutting the door with a gentle thud. the entire time you feel like you're going to die.

as soon as his feet sound descending back down the stairs, you're moving, practically skipping towards the bed.

your drop down on your stomach, looking under the gap between the floor and the mattress. "luke? are you breathing?"

he exhales loudly. "barley."

you send him a guilty smile. "guess we won't try this again, huh?"

two

luke pulls his hoodie over his torso, stretching his tired muscles as he adjust the material over his body.

the practice that finished only half hour ago was a taxing one. after a rough loss the previous night—one that he'd been cross checked in the ribs three separate times without a call—coach had been extra hard on the group today, which left luke even more sore and exhausted.

he shakes out his freshly washed hair, ruffling the curls between his fingers after they'd been flatted by his devils branded hood. the fuzzy material sticks to his damp chest, as luke was too tired to properly dry his skin—he just wanted to get home and call you, letting you coo at him and call him pretty (he loves it more than he’d ever admit).

"hey rusty." curtis distinctive teasing voice sounds behind luke, and he feels the center man’s hand on his shoulder, a rough squeeze in greeting. "you heading home now?"

curtis drops down to his reprieve stall—the one beside luke's—towel still around his waist as he pulls on his t-shirt, looking at the defence man expectantly.

luke swallows gently, giving curtis a quick nod. "yeah," he grabs his duffle bag, one full of extra hockey gear he always brings back and forth to the rink. "jacks already outside, said he wanted to shower when he got home."

"right on." curtis hums, pulling on his socks.

the sporadic buzzing noise of an incoming call draws the attention of both athletes, and their eyes are pulled to luke's beaten up phone, sitting screen up on the stall seat.

it's you. you're calling him.

curtis's brows raise, and he makes a teasing noise. "russssttttyyyy, who the hell is lovey?" before luke can even react, curtis picks up the phone, inspecting the profile picture set for your contact that’s flashing on the screen. thank god it’s an inconspicuous mirror pic, one lacking your face—luke can only pray curtis doesn’t inspect that picture too hard. "I didn't know you had a girlfriend."

luke swallows, eyes darting between the centerman and the phone clutched in his calloused hands. "I don't."

"there's a heart beside the name." he deadpans. "should I answer it and ask her about it instead?"

"no!" luke lunges towards his phone, but curtis is quicker, standing from is stall and side stepping the youngest hughes.

"easy dude. what's the big deal." with a breathy laugh, curtis slides his thumb across the answer button, picking up your incoming call.

"dude." luke grabs the phone from his hands just before curtis can place it to his ear. "a little privacy." the awkward chuckle that leaves him is almost embarrassing, and the way his hands have started shaking and the blush covering luke from head to toe is also humiliating.

curtis laughs, clearly finding amusement in luke's clear embarrassment. "i'm literally standing in front of you with my dick out, but sure rusty, i'll leave your secret girlfriend alone."

luke can just hear your muffled voice through the phone, muttering his name questionably—no doubt wondering what the fuck is going on. "sorry she's just...shy. you'll meet her one day."

curtis snickers, finally pulling on his sweats. "i'm sure I will."

luke nods—unsure what to say.

"better get going, rusty. think somebody is probably waiting to hear your voice." the center man's eyes dart between him and the phone in his hands, brows raised knowingly.

"right." he swallows, "see you later." luke practically runs out of the locker room, and as soon as he makes it down the hall, he raises the phone to his ear, hurriedly explaining to you the close call he'd just encountered with curtis.

three

you didn’t mean to have that many drinks—really, you didn't. but a couple of your friends from class invited you out to celebrate the ending semester, and because you all passed, they said drinks were in order and you had to join.

a few hours and many drinks in, you were practically falling over. you had stayed out later than you originally planned on, and curtis would be long asleep by now—leaving you with limited options for getting home.

drink you—ever to clingy girlfriend—called luke almost instantly.and obviously luke picked up on the first ring, despite the early morning time, and of course he came to the bar as soon as you asked.

which brings you to right now, knees weak as you sway on the your homes front porch, pouting at your boyfriend in the cold winter night.

luke looks down at you gently, his eyes full of exhaustion. but yet, there’s a hint of amusement in them, and the edge of his mouth is turned up in a lazy smirk.

"kiss me goodnight." you drunkenly slur for the 10th time since luke guided you out of the car. you are looking at your boyfriend expectantly, an impatient whine leaving your lips. "please baby."

it's so dark outside he can barley make out your features, but he can see the way your hazy eyes twinkle at him—silently begging. luke's gaze flickers towards the ring camera quickly, praying that it's one that isn't an audio recorder, and if it does pick up sound, luke hopes you're too quiet to catch.

you’ve both always been careful with the camera before this, and if the lazar house was the only option for your…escapades, you’d both avoid the camera expertly—sneaking through windows and back doors like misbehaved children.

but you’re too drunk to even think about that, and luke’s too tired to even attempt sneaking you through the back door.

your pout turns into a smile, and your arms snake up his body, wrapping around his neck and pulling yourself up to your toes. "please please please please."

he sighs gently, glancing at the camera again. in a moment of weakness, he decides it's probably to dark too make out any kind of facial features through the camera anyway, and if he doesn't kiss you now, the camera will be the least of his worries.

so luke wraps his arms around your waist tighter, keeping your sway steady. he leans down, pecking your lips so quickly that he hopes even if the camera can see him, the affection was so brief that in a blink you'd miss it. "okay now go inside."

your grin widens, and as you finally pull away from luke, you're overjoyed and satisfied.

when you wake the next morning, you feel yourself panic—flashes of the kiss on the porch and the ring camera running through your mind.

you wait anxiously for curtis to bring it up and call you out for kissing his teammate in front of the front door...but it never comes.

the ring camera hasn't worked for a week—and that has you breathing a sigh of relief when your sister-in-law mentions it the following evening.

+one

you can't even think logically as you rush through the crowded arena, weaving through bodies as you clutch the pass around your neck, anxiously fiddling with the lanyard.

the scene in your head is playing on repeat—watching luke get thrown to the ice during the messy scrum from only minutes ago, his head slamming against the ice as he hit the ground.

you'd shot up from your seat, worry sketched across your face as you watched luke laying limp on the ice as the trainer spoke into his ear—the fear all but consumed you. jack's girlfriend tried to console you—comfort you—but nothing was helping.

you gave it 5 minutes. 5 minutes after they helped luke off the ice and down to the assessment room, before you were out of your seat, mumbling some excuse to sammy as you left.

you make your way through the tunnels easily, very much used to the area and familiar with the space after many visits with curtis. you find the assessment room easily, the door left open the smallest crack so you're able to subtly peek in—so if someone else is in there with him, you won’t be caught.

but it's just luke, sitting slumped on a doctor like bed with his eyes closed—arms crossed over his chest guard, his jerseys discarded in a sweaty lump on the metal table beside him.

with the coast clear, you push open the door fully, letting it softly swing closed behind you. the sound has luke's eyes fluttering open, and he immediately finds your worried eyes blinking back at him.

you breathe a heavy exhale, a slight wobble in the sound that portrays the emotion crawling up your throat—desperate to be let out. all the fear and stress and worry you've been feeling for the past 6 minutes are coming to a hilt, and you rush towards your boyfriend with a pout pulling at your lips. "are you okay?"

"hey." he mumbles gently, brows pulled tightly as you appear his side. "what are you doing down here?"

you gently take ahold of his face, eyes frantically bouncing around as if you're trying to locate any injuries. "luke, holy shit. I was so scared." tears begin welling in your eyes, bottom lip trembling. “you weren’t moving.”

luke slowly swings his legs over the side of the medical bed, cooing gently. your hands fall from his face in favour of wiping your own, catching the trail of water as it cascades down your cheeks.

luke's hockey pant covered thighs part, creating enough space for you to stand between them. he wraps his arm around you waist, bringing you into his embrace. you go easily, tears continuing to cloud your vision as you fall into his sweaty chest. "i'm sorry I scared you." he mumbles into your hair, pressing a lingering kiss against your forehead.

you shake your head. "are you okay?" you ask again, pulling back just enough to look into his warm eyes. “what did they say?”

"i've got a concussion most likely, but i'll be fine." luke's words are reassuring, and so is the kiss he presses against your cheek. he's coherent, and he's moving—he's okay.

"is there anything you need from me?" you ask gently, pushing his wet curls off his forehead—something you’d always find yourself doing.

luke’s eyes flutter slightly at the comforting action. his soft grin turns boyish, and silently he purses his lips, asking for a kiss.

you roll your eyes gently, but oblige, leaning in and pressing your lips to his. luke sighs pleasantly, parting his lips as he begins to deepen the kiss, pulling your body in tighter.

you smile into it, which allows luke the access to slip his tongue past your bottom lip, and you let him. his hand travels down your back, slowly tickling the expanse of your skin until he's rounding over the curve of your ass, giving your cheek a firm squeeze.

"alright rusty if you're gunna kiss my sister here, the least you could do is not play grab ass while you do it." the sudden voice of curtis has you pulling away, and you turn towards the door in record speed.

you'd been too lost in the trance luke always put you in—to absorbed in his body and lips that you'd missed not only the end of period buzzer echoing throughout the arena, but the door opening behind you.

you're too scared too move—too scared to even blink. you look at curtis with wide eyes, your face void of colour, giving you a lifeless look. and luke's no better, with his mouth opening and closing like a fish and his hand still on your ass cheek—even after you turned around.

you push his hand away and swallow roughly. "curtis...I-we can explain."

your brother shrugs. "there's nothing to explain. I know."

your brows shoot up. "you know?"

curtis nods triumphantly, looking rather pleased with himself. this time it's luke who speaks, swallowing the little salvia lingering in his dry mouth. "what-I-how?" he stutters.

"that night awhile back, when I came to check on you, luke's sweater was on your chair." he looks at you playfully, "I saw the number and I knew."

now you're going red, felling a wave of guilt and embarrassment creep in on you. "i'm sorry."

"we're sorry." luke adds gently. "we shouldn't of kept it a secret."

"I'm not mad—just a little disappointed that I was left out of the loop." then, curtis expression changes, looking at you with a gentle smile. "out of all the guys on this team you couldn't picked...rusty's the best one."

you smile, glancing up at luke.

he meets your gaze, and he wraps his arm around your waist, bringing you back into his side.

"consider yourself in the loop." you chime through and exhale, looking back towards curtis.

"good." he nods, his usual teasing expression back on his face. curtis looks at luke, a brow raised. "so, were you under the bed or in the closet?"

you feel luke stiffen beside you, and you can't help but laugh.

[princesssarahblog]

𝐣𝐣 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

SFW and NSFW

warnin: alcohol, weed, adventure, sex (first sex too) and romance

author notes: I am writing for the first time smut.. I want to write something like this with many more characters obx, next one might be rafe (idk)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ SFW

get ready for this naughty blonde diva to come to your house almost every day, at first you thought he just had nothing to do but over time you realized that your house is a new refuge for him, where he can relax and be away from his tyrant father

he is quite clingy to you (only you) jj will hug you almost constantly or especially kiss you. if you both have to be separated, he will grab you by the waist with his strong muscular arm and pull you in for a gentle passionate kiss. before the relationship, he would touch you often and try to touch you subtly to feel your skin.

we all know that jj is also a bit of a wild guy, and he might make bold and spontaneous decisions and you constantly dissuade him from his "brilliant ideas" and advise him to think logically together. but it would be better for you to make a decision yourself, and jj would help you implement it

lets you braid and style his hair when his head is on your lap or stomach, you’ll do little tiny braids or buns all over his head and he’ll love the giggles it brings out of you.

I think he's one of those guys who will sing some stupid songs he made up on the fly if you get offended by him. you start laughing at those moments, and you just shut him up, saying you forgave him, just so you doesn't have to listen anymore.

he's the kind of boyfriend who would go to great lengths to make you happy and will always be there for you when you need him. just be ready for a lot of playful banter and sarcastic remarks, this is just another display of affection from jj

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ NSFW

lots of quick rounds, this blond guy is constantly horny and needs sex urgently. he often gets horny at the wrong time and can take you away right in the middle of a conversation with friends without embarrassment

he likes it when you just turn into a puddle and can't say anything

he drives you crazy in bed, jj is just unrelenting. he needs to fill you with his cum at least 3 times. and he also loves when you hold on to his chest. he basically likes your touching his chest

you both remember your first time having sex very well. it was at your place, you were sweating and your pussy was on jj's thigh when you first saw his dick. and the guy often reminds you of it, teasing you and making you embarrassed

actually he comes to your house not only to hide from the world but also to have a good night with you. you are always afraid if your parents find out about it, your father often checks on you at night and once you almost got caught but everything worked out

will stimulate your sweet spot very strongly using your fingers, mouth and tongue. jj pulls you back in by your ankles when you try to squirm away from him, whining that you're too sensitive, you can't take anymore. it's too much

even during the solstice festival he somehow ended up having sex with you. he found you in the great hall after he escaped from rafe and you locked you in the closet. he showered you with kisses and told you how beautiful you were in the dress you wore for the festival. it was only because of you that rafe lost him and after that you and your group of friends left. and jj got to enjoy you and his favorite sweet spot.

asks you to sit on his face so he can eat your pussy!

jj intertwines your fingers together while you're riding his face cause he like that, murmuring how much he loves you, how perfect you are, how you're such a good girl for him. he also loves to squeeze your breasts and nipples in this position and naturally drive you crazy

- jj is the kind of person that will be hard to just start dating. In order to date him, you need to gain his complete trust in you. he is very protective and devoted, but all this can also quickly disappear. even if you date him, you will date him for a maximum of a week and blonde guy will dump you and you will be another girl for his own entertainment

[themultifanshipper]

You decided, on a random Thursday in december, that you were going to give each of the 2025 rookies a visit, to congratulate them on getting into F1. 

Warnings: this is kinda wild but not very explicit, it's more about the dynamics than the actual smut, I'm trying to set stuff up for the 2025 season, biting kink, gym sex, kitchen sex, oral sex, anal sex, very bad flirting, half of this was written while blackout drunk

Part 10, and epilogue to One of the Boys

It was also to show them a little of what they would be fighting for next year, along with the trophies. 

You went to see Ollie first, him being the one you knew best. 

He'd done 3 races in 2024 and you'd gotten to know him a bit when you two would chat during weekends where he wasn't driving. 

You'd sent him a text, you were staying in Italy for a few days and you should hang out sometime. 

He readily agreed. 

You showed up at his house one sunny afternoon, and he answered the doorbell with his usual grin. 

He was also shirtless, wearing gray sweats, and his hair was dripping wet. 

“I just had a shower” he said apologetically. 

You raised an eyebrow at him. “I can see that”  

“Come on in!” he ushered you inside with enthusiasm “Don't mind the mess, it's laundry day” 

You giggled at his nervous disposition. He was fidgeting with his hands. 

“I don't care Ollie, I'm not here to comment on your tidiness” 

His nervous grin turned into a genuine smile and he visibly relaxed a bit. 

“Right, yeah of course. Uh do you want a drink?” 

It was your turn to grin at him. 

“Would love one! What have you got?” 

“I've got like… loads of fruit juice.”  

You frowned curiously. “What do you mean loads?” 

You ended up staring at all the bottles lined up in his fridge door. The tension was palpable, you hadn't said a word in a whole minute as you read all the different labels. 

“Like… seven or… eight… maybe nine different kinds?” 

“Is this weird? I feel like it's weird” he finally piped up sheepishly. 

You picked up the bottle of passion fruit juice and stared at it, before turning towards him with a barely concealed smirk. 

“I didn't know you were so… passionate about fruit juice” 

He looked at you in disbelief and you dissolved into a fit of giggles. 

“Simple orange will do me fine thank you, Ollie” you wiped your tears of laughter away while he rolled his eyes. 

“I can't believe I just bared my soul to you and you're making puns about it” he scoffed, but he was smiling as he took a couple of glasses out of the cupboard and filled them. 

“Well, you are the bare- man” 

“Oh my god” he groaned “I hate you” 

You laughed and the tension seeped out of the room as you bantered back and forth like you always did. 

“So-” he eventually asked, eyeing you suspiciously  “What actually brings you to Italy?” 

You were sat on top of the kitchen table, next to Ollie who was sat on a chair. 

“What? Can't I come and visit my friends?” 

“Friends…Plural?” he asked teasingly. 

“Yeah, you're actually the first on my little trip, I'm also going to see Kimi and Gabriel in the next couple of days…” 

He raised an eyebrow and hummed in surprise. 

“Are you, now?” the sarcasm was dripping from his tone and he held back a laugh as he took another sip from his juice. 

You frowned suspiciously at him. “What's that supposed to mean?” 

He put his glass down, considering his next words carefully. 

“You know… Franco has told me a few things…” his eyes bore into yours and you shivered under his intense gaze, gesturing for him to continue. 

 “…about the private party in Monaco” 

“Colapinto…” you tutted “One of these days that mouth of his is going to get him in trouble” 

You put your own glass down before adding “I'll be having a word with him. And you'd better not share whatever he told you with anyone else” 

He smirked, finishing his glass before standing up to put it in the sink. 

“Of course not…” he muttered as he turned around and stalked towards you “We wouldn't want my mouth getting me into any trouble, would we?” 

He stopped inches away from you, hands leaning on the table either side of you, effectively caging you in.  

“Or can I get into a little bit of trouble every now and then?” 

You weren't sure where his brazenness had come from, but his lazy smirk was getting you hot all over. You glanced at his lips, and he caught the movement. 

“Little Oliver Bearman?” you goaded him “he would never get into any trouble! He's an angel…”  

Your breaths mingled as he leaned in, painfully slowly, his pupils dilating as he closed the gap. 

“We'll see about that”  his lips lightly brushed yours, and you could feel him smiling, tempting, daring you to make a move. 

You did, you crumbled, leaning forwards and joining your lips heatedly. 

He tasted like oranges and sugar, and when you deepened the kiss he closed the space between your bodies, leaving absolutely no room for Jesus as he immediately started rocking his hips against yours, and you realised he definitely wasn't wearing any underwear. 

He took you right there on the kitchen table. 

He ate you out first, proving to you that his mouth was, in fact, trouble. 

Then he worshipped you with his hands while he reduced you to a puddle of goo on his cock. 

After, he asked if you wanted to stay the night, hang out, watch a movie or something. 

You agreed without hesitation.  

… 

You secretly, desperately hoped the Haas wasn't going to be a glorified wheelbarrow next season. 

Next on your list was Gabriel, and if his response to your message was anything to go by, he had definitely been briefed by Fernando beforehand. 

It took all of ten minutes of you crossing the threshold of his apartment, before he had you on your knees for him, swallowing around him as he looked down at your tear stained cheeks with nothing but hunger in his eyes. 

“Meu deus-” he groaned “Fernando was right, you do have a mouth worth fighting for” 

You hummed and took him deeper, sucking him down as far as you could, and it didn't take long for him to come with a shout down your throat. 

Once again you stayed the night, and in the morning he very kindly repaid you with three orgasms.  

One with you sitting on his face, one with his fingers dragging you to the edge of ecstasy with insane precision, and the last one with him bucking up into you while you held onto him for dear life. 

He was a lot of fun, that was undeniable. 

… 

But unfortunately for both of you, their really wasn't  much hope for the Sauber. 

Your tour of Italy ended in Kimi's apartment. 

And he had obviously not been briefed. 

He didn't seem like he had any inkling whatsoever about why you were there. 

When he opened the door he had his airpods in and he was sweating buckets. 

He was in the middle of a workout, and had lost track of time. 

“I am so sorry” he panted as he let you in “I didn't realise it was already time” 

You laughed at his panicked expression. 

“It s fine, Kimi. Just finish your workout I'm not in a rush.” 

He didn't seem to pick up on the way your hands lingered on his body when you hugged. 

So you watched him do the last part of his routine: weights. 

It was hard not to salivate. He'd rolled up his sleeves so that his arms were on full display, and you swore you saw a little smirk appear when he did. 

His biceps were objectively quite shocking in their size compared to the rest of him, and your gaze wandered over his body as it flexed. 

You couldn't help notice him repeatedly having to unstick his shirt from his body while grimacing at the feeling, so you took a gamble. 

“Kimi, if your shirt is bothering you, you can take it off” 

This time he definitely smirked at you. 

“Are you sure?” he grabbed the hem of his shirt “I don't want to make you uncomfortable” 

You bit the inside of your cheek at his tone, he was definitely trying to tease you. 

“Of course.” You giggled “Don't worry, I don't bite”  

Something in his gaze darkened and he muttered “that's a shame” before grabbing the back of the shirt and pulling it over his head. 

You could honestly say you definitely didn’t moan at the sight of his insane physique. 

Whatever went through your head in that moment was between you, and God. 

But Kimi could see the look on your face, jaw slack, dark eyes fixed on his sweaty muscles. 

You were no better than a man. You licked your lips and he laughed. 

“You sure you don't want a bite?” he teased, subtly flexing his arms. 

“Why don't you come here and find out?” you tried to sound confident but even to you it wasn't very convincing. 

That day, Kimi found out you loved to bite.  

And you found out he fucking loved to be bitten… everywhere. 

He fucked you on the workout bench. Then on the exercise mat on the floor, and by the end of it he was covered in teeth marks. 

His biceps, his neck, his tits, his thighs… 

He was going to have trouble explaining those to his physio. 

And everything he lacked in experience, he made up for in enthusiasm and endurance. 

Two to go… 

You were at it for so long the sun had set and you were both pretty hungry so you decided to order take-out before going to bed.  

Isack was a bit shy at first, not really knowing what to expect when you showed up at his front door. 

You decided to do Paris first, that way you could circle back to Monaco afterwards to see Jack, and then spend a couple of days with Oscar and Lando, like you'd promised. 

You sat next to him on the sofa, telling him about your… reward system. 

He was hesitant with his touch, hand softly caressing the skin of your thigh as you spoke, but he quickly got into the spirit when you straddled his lap and pulled him in for a kiss. 

As soon as your top was off he made sure to give your tits all the attention they deserved with his hands and most of all, his mouth. 

It was heavenly when it trailed along your collarbones, nipping and sucking at your skin while his hands made quick work of your clothing. 

And once he was inside you, it was his turn to be in heaven. 

He was mesmerized by the way his cock disappeared inside you every time you bounced in his lap, his hands tightening around your hips to help you along. 

“Putain…” you could tell he was getting close by the strain in his voice as he uttered curses against your skin. 

“Can I… inside?” he whined, looking up at you with a pout, those beautiful brown eyes staring into your soul, and you bit your lip at the sight. 

“Go on then Isack, fill me up” 

He groaned and his hips slammed up to meet yours, letting himself go completely. 

… 

He then played with your clit lazily, eyes on yours the whole time as he studied your reactions, and he made you come just like that, seated on his softening cock while he made you writhe on top of him. 

Monaco was just as sunny as Italy, but there was a slight chill in the air as you knocked on Jack's door. 

He opened it seconds later with a massive smirk adorning his features. 

“I was wondering if I'd be getting a visit from you during the break” 

He winked and let you in, offering you a drink as you made yourself comfortable. 

“Seems like word travels fast, then” you blushed as you sipped your drink. 

You were already feeling tingly because of the couple of drinks you'd had on the plane, so you didn't hesitate to put your legs up on his lap. 

“You have no idea” he chuckled, one of his hands going to stroke your thigh. “I've had quite a few interesting conversations about you” 

You rolled your eyes. “I’ve heard that a few times now… I need to teach my boys to be a bit more discreet if they want me to come to the races next year”  

He raised an eyebrow, looking at the way his hand was making goosebumps appear on your skin in its wake. 

“I'm sure I could do something to convince you” 

You put your glass down to disguise the way your heart was racing at the look he was giving you. 

“I'm sure you could. But where's the fun in that? They're the ones that have been running their mouths” 

He grinned, leaning closer to you. 

“If you'll let me take you upstairs, I could show you how I could be running my mouth” 

His gaze dropped to your lips, his pupils growing by the second. 

“You've given this some thought, haven't you?” you teased, rubbing your calf over where you could feel him, already half hard in his shorts. 

“I've had quite a bit of time to think about what I want to do to you” he growled, hands going to hold your hips. 

“By all means, then. Take me to bed Jack” 

He sprung into action, lifting your body easily and carrying you up the stairs to the bedroom. 

Once inside, he stripped you of your clothes and manhandled you onto your front. 

“Hips up, whore” he ordered, landing a light smack against your thigh and you gasped at the unexpected show of dominance. 

You did as he asked without hesitation, and he chuckled. “Already wet for me and I haven't even touched you” 

His resolve crumbled relatively quickly though, and he crawled up behind you to eat you out like a man starved. 

But as you trembled in his hold, his attention slowly moved upwards. 

Well it was rare that anyone ate your ass, but he was doing so with so much gusto you couldn't help but moan into the pillow you were gripping onto for dear life. 

A bottle of lube and a few fingers later, you were spread out under him, your legs having given out embarrassingly early in process. 

He was inside you, rocking his hips against yours while your wetness spilled onto the sheets uselessly. 

You begged and begged, but no use. 

He wasn't usually a selfish lover by any means, there was just something about you that made him want to see you squirming and desperate. 

“Whores don't get to have their cunts filled” he said with a mean lilt to his voice. “But I am feeling merciful, so you can come if you can be bothered to do it yourself” 

You obeyed without question, reaching down under your body to help yourself along. 

He felt you come around him before he heard the high pitched moan come out of your mouth. 

Well, you had your work cut out for you with these rookies, and getting to play with them all season long was going to be so much fun, you could feel it. 

You clenched so tight around him he had no choice but to finish inside you, rocking against you until you both shuddered in overstimulation. 

You stayed the night at Jack's, shooting Oscar and Lando a quick text to let them know you were back in Monaco, and that they would soon be able to collect their Championship prize, just as promised. 

[sky-scribbles]

Party Banter with Rook!Blackwall

Harding: You know, for a moment back there, I thought you might actually get through to Solas.

Thom: Regret’s something we have in common. I thought… if I reached out to him, told him I understood what guilt drives you to do…

Harding: But no. ‘Do not compare your regrets with mine, Thom Rainier!’

Thom: He’s right, though. He can at least say he did his crimes trying to stop tyrants. I did mine for coin.

Harding: Uh, yeah, and then you faced up to it and decided no one else was going to get hurt for it except you. Solas is right. He’s nothing like you.

—

Lucanis: Do we have a problem, Warden Rainier?

Thom: You kill people. For gold.

Lucanis: I do. Venatori. Blood mages. The political rivals of those who hired me.

Thom: And that’s enough for you? Someone flashes a purse, and you’re ready to murder over some nobles’ spat over which of them gets the bigger fancy house?

Lucanis: Depends on the size of the purse.

—

Bellara: Um, so, about the mayor of D'Meta's Crossing? I just… do you really want someone like that? In the Wardens, I mean.

Thom: I won’t defend him. But he wouldn’t be the first Warden who let innocent people die for gold, and got another chance from the Order.

Bellara: He doesn’t deserve it. Like, really, really doesn’t deserve it.

Thom: No. Neither did I.

—

Thom: Do you ever get people trying to bribe you? To look the other way, or drop a case, or...

Neve: It's Minrathous. If I took even half the bribes I've been offered, I could buy an estate in Hightown.

Thom: It takes a special kind of strength to resist that.

—

Thom: I got a letter from Sera the other day. Don’t ask me how she got it to the Lighthouse.

Harding: ‘Friends’, I bet. And hey - she dealt with the Fade for you! So what'd she say?

Thom: Well, there was a lot of calling Solas a shite-faced arseknuckle. And then she told me not to get killed, or she’d yank my beard ‘til my head came off.

Harding: Aw.

—

Lucanis: Rainier, I do not knife civilians. Everyone I have killed has been embedded in politics. Their hands are never clean.

Thom: And you're sure you’ve never made a mistake? Never got a passer-by or a child caught in all the blades and arrows? Never gone in without knowing everything, and got someone hurt?

Lucanis: Of course not. I’m a professional.

Thom: You’re a mercenary with a cape.

—

Thom: You could’ve left Dock Town. A mage. Talented. You could’ve gone anywhere, chased a better life.

Neve: If I left, I’d be abandoning people who never got that choice. I’m good where I’m at.

Thom: I hope you know how admirable that makes you.

Neve: Not that admirable. If I got that estate in Hightown? Too far to walk to Hal’s fish stand.

Thom: (laughs) Good priorities.

—

Davrin: So, Rainier. Heard a lot of rumours about how you joined the Wardens.

Thom: (uneasy noise) You know, Warden Blackwall told me your past gets forgotten after the Joining.

Davrin: A nice ideal, but it never stands up to the gossip. But you’ve shown your worth.

Thom: Enough for me to have one of those griffons when we rescue them, d’you reckon?

Davrin: (laughs) We’ll see.

—

Thom: I knew someone like Manfred once. He was a spirit, but he sort of… grew his own body.

Emmrich: Oh! A spontaneous incarnation! Do you happen to know what kind of spirit he was?

Thom: Uh… the kind that looks like a young man, but reads minds and flits about trying to make everyone feel better about themselves?

Emmrich: Ah, Compassion! A rather more advanced emotion than Curiosity, and therefore capable of manifesting a physical body, rather than needing to adopt a vacant one.

Thom: More advanced? Right. That explains why Cole used to talk to me about living with the weight of regret, and Manfred spent ten minutes yesterday poking my face to see if my beard came off.

—

Neve: So, you know Dorian?

Thom: Does anyone who’s been in the same room as him for thirty seconds get a choice about knowing Dorian?

Neve: And didn’t always get along, I take it.

Thom: He’s… he’s not so bad. We might’ve judged each other by first impressions back when we met.

Neve: And what’s your impression now?

Blackwall: Still too fancy for his own good. But it says exactly who he is that he’s fighting against slavers and blood mages. I think I got the better deal with the darkspawn.

—

Taash: I heard the Inquisitor turned into a dragon.

Thom: No, she… didn’t. But she did get one to fight with us once.

Taash: She did? What kind? How’d she do it?

Thom: Sort of… gold? And she drank from this pool of elven magic, and… that somehow let her ask it to help us. I think.

Taash: Did she ride it into battle?

Thom: Uh… No.

Taash: Oh. I would’ve ridden it into battle.

—

Thom: Emmrich, do you know what those demons were the other day? The ones that wouldn’t leave me alone?

Emmrich: Ah. Those were manifestations of Shame. A variant of the Despair spirit.

Thom: Right. Don’t know what I expected.

Emmrich: If it’s any consolation, I find that one can tell much more about a person from the more benign spirits that gather around them. I catch glimpses of them about you often. Valour. Fortitude. Honour.

Thom: I hope to be worthy of them.

—

Thom: Lucanis, have you ever regretted any of your kills?

Lucanis: Not so far.

Thom: So this is what you’re fine with being? A man who takes nobles’ money and lives in luxury with your bloodied hands? That's the life you chose?

Lucanis: Not ‘chose’, exactly. It is what I was trained to be since my childhood.

Thom: Wait. You were – who trains a child to be an assassin?

Lucanis: You met my grandmother.

—

Davrin: You held up pretty well in the last fight, Rainier. For an old man.

Thom: Whelp like you’d better watch what he says around a senior Warden.

Davrin: Why? You’ll tell me to do the fifty press-ups that your creaky bones can’t handle?

Thom (laughs) I’ll stop letting you borrow my best chisel.

—

Bellara: Hey, um, Thom? You know that little rocking griffon you made? Could you make, I don’t know, a bigger one? Like… adult… person-sized?

Thom: (chuckles) You never have a rocking griffon growing up?

Bellara: No! They’re not a Dalish thing! Because you can’t really rock. When the aravel’s moving, I mean. So… no, it’s a dumb idea. Forget I said anything.

Thom: You want me to make it a rocking halla?

Bellara: Yes please thank you.

—

Emmrich: How far you must have travelled, with both the Inquisition and the Wardens!

Thom: I like being on the road. Keeps a man honest.

Emmrich: I rather envy your fearlessness of the wider world. It’s so recent that the end of the Circles allowed me to travel freely outside the Necropolis.

Thom: Must have been freeing. Having the whole world suddenly open to you.

Emmrich: And rather overwhelming, I must admit. When I compare myself to you – a brave Warden, combatting the Blight across all of Thedas…

Thom: Trust me: compare the two of us, and that’s the only way I’ll come out better from it.

—

Thom: We fought quite a few dragons in the Inquisition. Almost got eaten once by some pissed-off beast in the Hinterlands. Kept throwing its dragonlings at us.

Taash: Fereldan Frostbacks are crappy mothers. First sign of trouble, and it’s ‘here! Take my children!’

Thom: (laughs) The worst was the lightning-spitter off the Storm Coast. Spent twenty minutes hacking away at its scales, rest of my team unconscious on the ground.

Taash: Wait - you what? That's not how you fight dragons. You can't just stand there and hit them. That's stupid. And boring.

—

Lucanis: It’s how the Crow Houses work. Children of the House lineage are trained from our infancy.

Thom: Andraste’s fucking tits.

Lucanis: It’s necessary. If Illario and I had been coddled… Caterina pushed us hard and young, because she wanted us to survive.

Thom: I don’t… (sighs) The things people do to children.

—

Harding: I never thought to ask - how come Varric changed your nickname?

Thom: I asked him to go with something else. 'Hero'... that was a name he gave to Blackwall.

Harding: Well, he chose the right name. You know, 'cause Rooks move in straight lines. And you charge right in there, don't mess around with fancy words, just hit things til they drop. You could say you're -

Thom: Don't do it, Lace.

Harding: Straightforward.

Thom: (chuckles) You're as bad as Sera.

—

Emmrich: Master Rainier, I wanted to say – I hope you know that you’re the only person here who looks at you with any harshness.

Thom: I – (sighs) You don’t know everything about me.

Emmrich: I would never claim to. But I know that you place yourself before your allies and the defenceless without hesitation and with utter selflessness. I know you understand your Warden oath better than many of your superiors. I know that you are a good man.

Thom: … I wish I knew what it was like to be you. Seeing the good in everyone, living or dead.

Emmrich: Then I hope you’ll permit me continue to see the good in you – until you can see yourself as I do.

[soleilpinto]

DRS = Defining Relationship Status?: Love in the Last Corner °‧🫐𐙚⭒

“Defining Relationship Status Zone” 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐

Synopsis: Motorsport fan and model, Y/n, and her thirst-filled tweets about Franco catch his attention, sparking a hilarious online banter that goes viral. As their playful exchanges become real connections, fans and media can’t get enough—will their chemistry survive offline?

Genre: Fluff, Crack, Slowburn, (Slight) Angst

AU: Social Media AU!

Pairing: Franco Colapinto x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None

Note: I can’t believe we’re finally at the final part of this series, it’s been a wild time writing this fic 😭 Don’t worry though, I’ll have another smau coming out soon so you guys won’t get bored. Thank you guys so much again for the huge amount of love on the series, even if it is my first one on this account. Love you all!

DRS Masterlist. (PREV./NEXT.)

@williamzracing so y/n's been radio silent about franco for weeks... but now she’s in qatar and hanging out with lando? 👀 something’s up

@oversteerqueen y/n showing up in the mclaren garage with lando like she didn’t spend the entire season thirsting over franco... the AUDACITY

@chequeredflirt i’m calling it now: y/n and franco are done, and lando is moving in for the win (and i’m not talking about the constructors) 😂

@chicanechatter imagine being franco and seeing y/n with lando in qatar. the silence is deafening.

@formulafrenzyy this lando and y/n thing better be pr because I’m not emotionally ready for a breakup AND a new ship all at once

The McLaren garage buzzed with energy as checks were being made before the first free practice session.

You stood off to the side, leaning casually against a wall, chatting with Lando. His easy humor had you laughing, your shoulders relaxing despite the chaos of the paddock around you.

“You know,” Lando teased, crossing his arms with a sly grin, “if you’re going to hang around the McLaren garage this much, we might as well get you some team gear. You’d look good in papaya.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile. “I don’t know, Lando. Orange might not be my color.”

“It’s papaya,” Lando corrected with mock seriousness, making you laugh again.

The sound of footsteps caught your attention, and before you could turn fully, you felt it—Franco’s presence. He was walking past, his gaze locked on you and Lando, his jaw tight and his eyes unreadable.

You tensed involuntarily, your laughter dying down as your eyes met his for the briefest of moments.

Lando noticed the change in your demeanor and followed your gaze, his expression shifting.

“Speak of the devil,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

Franco slowed his stride as if debating something, and then, to your surprise, he pivoted on his heel and walked straight toward you. Your stomach flipped.

This wasn’t like him.

“Can we talk?” Franco’s voice was steady, but there was a sharp edge to it as he glanced between you and Lando.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Now?”

“Yes. Now.” Franco’s tone left no room for argument.

Lando raised an eyebrow, stepping back slightly but still hovering close enough to observe.

“Well, I think that’s my cue to check on the car,” he said, shooting you a quick look as if to say good luck.

“Thanks, Lando,” you muttered, your voice tight as he walked off, leaving you alone with Franco.

You crossed your arms, looking up at him. “What’s this about?”

Franco’s expression softened for a moment before hardening again, as if he were fighting some internal battle.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said bluntly.

You frowned. “Do what?”

“This... pretending like I don’t care,” he admitted, his voice low but intense.

“I saw you laughing with Lando, and I couldn’t just walk away this time. I’m tired of avoiding this, Y/N.”

Your breath hitched at the sudden vulnerability in his tone, your heart pounding as you tried to process his words.

“Avoiding what?” you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Franco’s eyes searched yours, and for the first time in weeks, the tension between you felt less like a wall and more like a thread ready to snap.

“You,” he said simply. “Us.”

Your heart felt like it had stopped altogether, and the world around you faded into the background. But before you could find the words to respond, Franco shook his head slightly, as if trying to steady himself.

“I just... I needed to say it,” he muttered. “I couldn’t let it go unsaid anymore.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there in the middle of the McLaren garage, your thoughts spinning faster than the engines roaring in the background.

liked by lettiemng, gabyprentice_ and others

ynbardot doha dump (day one)

lilymhe always so gorgeous

— ynbardot when YOU exist omg lily 😭

iamrebeccad 😍

— ynbardot 😚

The hotel room was quiet except for the hum of the air conditioning and the occasional sound of Elena scrolling on her phone.

You sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the room service tray you’d barely touched, replaying the events from the McLaren garage over and over in your mind.

Elena finally looked up, noticing the faraway expression on your face.

“Alright, spill,” she said, setting her phone down and crossing her legs. “What’s got you looking like you’ve seen a ghost?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair.

“Franco came up to me today. In the McLaren garage.”

Elena’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“What? He actually said something for once? And here I thought the boy had forgotten how to talk.”

You managed a small, bitter laugh. “Yeah, he finally talked. He said he couldn’t pretend he didn’t care anymore.”

“Wait… what exactly did he say?” Her expression shifted, softening with curiosity.

You hesitated, trying to recall the exact words without letting your emotions twist them.

“He said he was tired of avoiding it. That he couldn’t just walk away this time. And then he said… he’s tired of pretending like he doesn’t care.”

Elena stared at you, her lips parted in shock. “Wow,” she finally said, leaning back against the headboard.

“That’s big. That’s really big.”

“Is it, though?” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Because I still don’t understand why he’s been so cold lately. Why he let things get so bad between us. I don’t even know if I believe him, Elena. It’s like… it’s like he’s just now realizing I exist.”

Elena frowned, tilting her head as she studied you.

“You’re hurt,” she said softly.

“Of course I am,” you admitted, your voice cracking slightly.

“This whole thing has been a mess. He was fine keeping his distance for weeks, acting like nothing happened, and now he decides to come up to me and say all this? I don’t know how to feel.”

Elena reached over, placing a hand on your arm.

“Y/N, I get it. But listen to me—Franco’s been in his head about you for a while now. Probably longer than he even realizes.”

“What are you talking about?” You looked at her skeptically.

She shrugged, her tone matter-of-fact.

“He’s been acting this way ever since Vegas. I mean, the guy practically spiraled when he saw you and Lando hanging out. Do you really think he didn’t know what he was feeling back then? He’s just been too stubborn—or scared—to admit it.”

Your heart clenched at her words, the memory of Vegas flooding back. Franco’s sharp glares, his tense expression, the way he seemed on edge every time Lando was around.

“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

“Because it wasn’t my place to meddle,” Elena said gently.

“He had to figure it out on his own, and it looks like he finally has. I’m just saying—maybe don’t write him off completely just yet.”

You sighed, burying your face in your hands.

“I don’t know, Elena. It’s not that simple. I’m still hurt. I still don’t trust him not to run away again.”

“And that’s fair,” she said, her voice firm but understanding. “But if he’s finally stepping up, don’t shut him out without hearing him out first. You deserve answers, Y/N. You deserve to know how he really feels.”

You leaned back against the pillows, your mind swirling with doubt and confusion. “What if it’s too late?” you asked softly.

Elena gave you a small smile, her tone reassuring. “If it’s real, it’s never too late. But you have to decide if you’re willing to find out.”

You closed your eyes, her words settling over you like a weight.

Part of you wanted to keep your walls up, to protect yourself from further hurt. But another part—a smaller, quieter part—couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, Franco was finally ready to let you in.

The next afternoon, the buzz of activity in the McLaren garage was a welcome distraction. Engineers hurried around, adjusting setups, while mechanics prepped Lando’s car for the third free practice session.

You were perched on a stool by one of the monitors, sipping on a water bottle as Elena scrolled through her phone beside you.

Lando strolled over, helmet tucked under his arm, his signature grin plastered on his face. “Enjoying the chaos?” he asked, leaning casually against the counter.

You laughed softly. “It’s actually kind of relaxing. Well, compared to my brain lately.”

Elena shot you a knowing look, but said nothing, letting Lando take the bait.

“Oh?” Lando raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s going on in that overthinking head of yours?”

You hesitated, glancing at Elena, who nodded encouragingly.

“It’s… about Franco,” you finally admitted.

Lando set his helmet down, folding his arms as he leaned in closer.

“Alright, now I’m invested. What did he do this time?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Remember how he came up to me yesterday? Before free practice. He said he couldn’t pretend he didn’t care anymore.”

Lando blinked, clearly surprised. “Wow. That’s… actually huge for him. But I’m guessing there’s more to the story.”

“Of course there is,” you said with a dry laugh.

“I just… I don’t know what to do, Lando. Part of me wants to hear him out, but the other part is still so angry and hurt. He’s been so distant for weeks, and now suddenly he wants to talk?”

Lando nodded thoughtfully, his expression unusually serious.

“Look, I’m not gonna pretend I know Franco super well, but from what I’ve seen? He’s not the kind of guy who puts himself out there unless he means it.”

“That’s what Elena said,” you muttered, glancing at your friend, who gave you an encouraging smile.

Lando shrugged, his tone casual but sincere.

“Then maybe Elena’s onto something. I get that you’re hurt, and you have every right to be. But if he’s finally stepping up, don’t you think it’s worth at least hearing him out?”

You bit your lip, his words sinking in. “What if he’s just going to hurt me again?”

“Then you’ll have every right to tell him to shove it. But at least you’ll know you gave him the chance to explain himself. Better than sitting here wondering what could’ve been, right?” Lando reached out, gently poking your shoulder.

Before you could respond, Oscar called for Lando, signaling it was time for him to suit up. He grabbed his helmet, flashing you a quick grin.

“Think about it, yeah? I’ve gotta go be a superstar now.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help smiling as he walked off toward his car. Elena nudged your arm, her expression teasing.

“He’s got a point, you know,” she said.

You exhaled deeply, watching as Lando climbed into his car, the hum of the engine roaring to life. Maybe it was time to stop running from this and face whatever was waiting for you.

The podium celebrations had ended, and the Qatar Grand Prix winners were back in the paddock, mingling with team members and a few drivers who had stayed behind to offer their congratulations.

The desert night was cool, but the buzz of the race still lingered in the air.

You stood nearby with Elena, chatting casually with Lando and Oscar, both still riding the adrenaline high from their stellar performances that weekend.

“Not a bad day at the office, huh?” you said to Lando, who was leaning against a table, his trademark grin on full display.

“Not bad at all,” he replied, his tone playful. “But now, it’s all about getting some rest before Abu Dhabi. That’s where the real fun is.”

Oscar chuckled, his demeanor calm as always. “Yeah, if we don’t wake up late that is. Speaking of, we should probably head out soon.”

“Agreed,” Lando added, pushing himself upright. “Gotta make sure we’re fresh for the finale.” He glanced at you and Elena. “You two are heading to Abu Dhabi later, right?”

You nodded. “We’re on the early morning flight. Guess we’ll see you there.”

“Perfect,” Lando said with a wink. “Abu Dhabi’s gonna be a party.”

The sun casts a golden glow over Abu Dhabi, illuminating the city’s gleaming architecture and turquoise waters.

You wandered through the Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque with Elena, Jade, and Alex by your side, the four of you taking in the breathtaking beauty of the place. Tourists moved around you, their whispers blending into the serene atmosphere.

Elena nudged your side as you adjusted your scarf. “You’ve been quiet all morning. Still thinking about Franco?”

“What do you think?” You shot her a look, but the slight heat in your cheeks gave you away.

“I think you’re pretending to enjoy the scenery, but all you can think about is how he looked at you back in Vegas—and maybe what he said yesterday.” She smirked knowingly.

You sighed, brushing your fingers over the marble pillars. “It’s just… I don’t know what to do. He seemed so genuine, but it’s hard to forget how much he hurt me. And this is supposed to be his weekend. His last race in F1. I don’t want to distract him.”

Elena stopped walking and turned to face you, her expression soft yet serious.

“Y/N, you’re not a distraction. You’re the one thing he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about. Don’t you see it? He’s been aware of his feelings for you since Vegas, and the fact that he finally admitted them says a lot.”

You crossed your arms, feeling the weight of her words. “What if I can’t trust him again? What if I just get hurt all over?”

Elena reached out, placing a comforting hand on your arm.

“That’s a risk, yeah. But what if this time, he’s ready to prove himself to you? You’ve always been good at reading people, Y/N. Trust your gut.”

Before you could respond, your phone buzzed in your pocket. Pulling it out, you saw Franco’s name flashing on the screen. Your heart skipped a beat, and Elena raised an eyebrow.

“Speaking of,” she said with a teasing grin.

You hesitated before answering, your voice coming out softer than you intended.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” Franco’s voice was steady, but there was an undertone of nervousness. “I heard you’re out exploring the city. Do you have a minute? There’s something I want to show you.”

Elena gave you an encouraging nod, mouthing, Go.

“Uh, yeah,” you said, your pulse quickening. “Where are you?”

“Corniche Beach,” he replied. “I’ll send you the location.”

After hanging up, you turned to Elena, who was already grinning. “Go,” she urged. “I’ll be fine. Take the chance, Y/N.”

You gave her a hesitant smile before walking toward the exit. As you stepped into the warm Abu Dhabi air, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was the moment where things between you and Franco would finally find clarity—or fall apart completely.

The sun dipped low over Corniche Beach, painting the sky in shades of amber and rose.

The gentle sound of waves lapping against the shore was a stark contrast to the whirlwind in your chest as you spotted Franco waiting by the railing. He was dressed casually, his hands shoved into his pockets, but the look on his face was anything but relaxed.

He straightened up when he saw you approach, his lips curving into a tentative smile. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you replied, stopping a few feet away.

The cool evening breeze swept through your hair, and you crossed your arms, unsure of how to start. “You wanted to see me?”

Franco nodded, exhaling deeply before gesturing toward the beach.

“Yeah, I thought this would be a good place to talk. It’s quieter.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Talk about what?”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the ground before meeting yours again. “Us.”

The word hung in the air between you, heavy and loaded. You swallowed hard, trying to steel yourself.

“What about us, Franco?”

He stepped closer, his expression serious yet vulnerable.

“I’ve been a complete idiot. I know that. I messed everything up in Vegas, and then I made it worse by not talking to you. I let my own fear ruin everything. But… I can’t keep pretending I don’t care about you. Because I do. I care so much it scares me.”

Your breath hitched, his words cutting through the layers of doubt and hurt that had built up over the past few weeks.

“Franco, you can’t just say that after everything,” you said, your voice wavering. “You hurt me. Do you have any idea how hard it’s been?”

“I know,” he said, his voice low and laced with regret. “I know I hurt you, and I hate myself for it. But I need you to know that it wasn’t because I didn’t care. It was because I cared too much, and I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

You looked at him, searching his face for any sign of insincerity. But all you saw was raw honesty, his dark eyes pleading with you to believe him.

“I kept telling myself this was fake, that it didn’t mean anything,” he continued, his voice breaking slightly. “But it wasn’t fake for me. Not then, and definitely not now.”

The weight of his confession settled over you, leaving you momentarily speechless. When you finally found your voice, it was soft but steady.

“Franco, I don’t want to be someone you’re unsure about. I don’t want to be second-guessing where I stand with you.”

“You’re not,” he said firmly, taking another step closer. “You’re not second to anything, Y/N. You’re everything. And I’m done running from it.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, the walls you’d built around it starting to crack.

“Franco, if I give this a chance—if I give you a chance—you have to promise me something.”

“Anything,” he said without hesitation.

“Be honest with me,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “No more mixed signals, no more hiding. If you’re all in, I need to know.”

He nodded, reaching for your hands. His touch was warm, grounding you as he looked into your eyes with an intensity that made your knees weak.

“I’m all in,” he said softly. “I’m not letting fear get in the way again.”

For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade, the sound of the waves and the distant hum of the city becoming background noise. Then, slowly, you nodded.

“Okay,” you whispered. “Let’s do this.”

A smile broke across his face, and before you could say another word, he pulled you into his arms, holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world. You leaned into him, the weight of the past weeks lifting as the warmth of his embrace wrapped around you.

When he finally pulled back, his grin was boyish, full of relief and happiness. “You won’t regret this,” he promised.

You couldn’t help but smile, the tension in your chest finally easing. “You better not make me.”

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the beach, you felt something you hadn’t in weeks—hope.

liked by francolapinto, alexandrasaintmleux and others

ynbardot headstart in abu dhabi

elenavalor omg she finally did it 😭

— ynbardot i love you 🥹

francisca.cgomes 🥹🫶

@gridgossips not y/n soft launching franco on her feed and him immediately liking it. y’all… we’re so back. 😭

@lightsoutndaway y/n subtly dropping franco in her post and he’s out here liking it like they didn’t just have the messiest fallout? this is PEAK f1 drama

@tifosiqueen that photo of franco and y/n in her post was so soft. are they finally on good terms or are we entering relationship announcement territory? 👀✨

@pitlaneinsider not me seeing y/n and franco walking together at the paddock entrance…i thought they weren’t on speaking terms? 🧐

@colapintcentral the fact that y/n and franco are literally together at yas marina right now after WEEKS of silence has me going insane. someone explain the timeline 🥲

The roar of the crowd at Yas Marina fades into a low hum as you make your way to the paddock after the race.

The air feels thick with tension, and the pit crews are busy packing up, but all you can focus on is Franco.

You had seen him in the cockpit, his car fighting for position before that unfortunate technical issue, and now you know he's out of the race.

He didn't finish.

You walk through the garage, your heart sinking a little with every step until you spot him by his team's pit wall.

Franco's shoulders are slumped, and his gaze is fixed on the ground. He doesn’t see you at first, too caught up in the frustration of yet another DNF.

“Franco,” you call softly, and his head snaps up.

There’s a flicker of something in his eyes, and for a moment, you almost regret the words that follow. “Are you okay?”

He exhales sharply, his usual confident demeanor now worn down by the race.

“I’ll live,” he says with a tight smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I’m just... tired since it’s already the last race. Feels like I’m always on the edge, always close, but never quite there.”

You walk closer, carefully avoiding the space around him that feels like he’s trying to keep himself distant.

“You know, you're still one of the best out there,” you say, your voice soothing despite the ache in your chest. “None of this was your fault.”

Franco lets out a frustrated sigh, rubbing his hands over his face.

“I’m not worried about that. It’s more... everything else. The pressure. The expectations. And... well,” he pauses, glancing at you through his lashes, “this.”

You swallow, trying not to let the weight of his words pull you under. “You don’t have to keep pretending with me, you know,” you murmur, stepping closer so there’s no space between the two of you.

You’re quiet for a beat, your heart hammering in your chest as his words echo in your head. It’s strange.

It’s been so easy to let things go, to keep pretending for the cameras, for the fans. But now, it feels different.

“I don’t know where we go from here,” you say, voice shaking slightly, but your eyes never leave his. “I don’t know if this is just a phase, or if we’re making something out of nothing.”

Franco steps a little closer, his hand brushing against yours.

“We take it one step at a time. No pressure. Just... let’s see where the world takes us, yeah?”

You nod, a small but relieved smile tugging at your lips. It’s not perfect. It’s not figured out.

But for the first time in a long while, you feel like maybe you’ve taken a step toward something real—something you weren’t sure you’d get.

© soleilpinto 25’ -. no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any manner without the permission from the publisher.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Requested by: @idkwthgoitmww <3 thanks, hun! Words: 2,451 Pairing: Negan Smith x Fem!Reader Warnings: language, descriptions of blood and injuries, references to assault and possible attempted sexual violence (did not occur, no description or details) Summary: Negan has to figure out why you've collapsed and try to patch you up. Concern and banter ensues... A/N: I intended this to be the final part, but now I think maybe we need a little more closure with these two? Hmm... should I do one more part? Let me know in the reblogs or comments!

Previous part here!

“Shit, shit, shit,” Negan growled through his teeth. “Alright. Okay…” He scooped you into his arms the rest of the way and laid you down on the couch as gently as he could. Clearly, more had happened out there than you had admitted to him. He clasped your face one more time in an attempt to rouse you. “Hey, doll? Wake up,” he urged. But not even an eyelid twitched. You were out cold. Negan straightened up and rubbed a hand over his face. Obviously, there was a reason you were passed out, so he needed to figure out what it was and fix it. A flash of terror seemed to seize his heart in a tight, icy grip. Hopefully, he could fix it.

His eyes went to your head, propped on the throw pillow at one end of the couch. Head injury? He knelt beside you and cupped your head in his hands gently, turning it slightly this way and that, feeling for any bumps or injuries. He felt and saw nothing besides the injury to your ear which he’d already noticed, and that certainly wasn’t enough to warrant you passing out. His hands and his eyes traveled down to your neck. He unwrapped your scarf and slipped it off. There was the mark he’d seen right away, which was quickly darkening toward a bruise. A bruise and a scratch? Someone had had you by the neck? Just the idea of it made a hot flame of anger flare upwards in his chest.

His fingers went to the buttons of your coat and he loosed them. The wool fabric fell open and he didn’t have to search for an explanation any longer. “Oh, shit,” he cursed. Your white sweater was completely stained crimson on your left side. The material was soaked with blood and it was running toward your back and starting to seep into your coat. “Fuck me,” Negan swore, climbing hurriedly to his feet. He rushed over to the shelves and grabbed a couple clean towels before returning to your side. He let out a shaky breath.

Negan peeled your shirt up, completely unsure of what he would find underneath. At first, he was met only with the sight of a gauze bandage taped to your skin, also completely saturated with your blood. But when he peeled that up, there was a rather significant round hole in your side, about halfway between the flare of your hip and your ribs. A gunshot wound. It looked like you’d tried to stitch it yourself, but the stitches were clumsy and ineffective, probably due at least in part to the fact that you wouldn’t have been able to see it well. “Jesus, doll,” Negan murmured. He gently rolled you slightly toward the back of the couch and tucked one of the towels underneath you. The other he pressed to the wound while he tried to think about what to do. He didn’t have a ton of first aid supplies on hand. His hazel eyes landed on your pack and he dragged it closer, keeping pressure on the wound with the other hand as best he could.

The first thing he pulled out from inside your bag was another bloodstained shirt. He held it up and could see the actual bullet hole through the fabric. He tossed it down. He dug inside again and finally his hands closed around a plastic bag full of first aid supplies. He let out a breath of relief and started setting them out on the little table next to him.

He looked at you lying prone on the couch and realized the bleeding might slow if he rolled you onto your side. “Alright, sweetheart. Let’s get you fixed up,” he said softly. He stood and slipped his hands underneath you again and gently tipped you toward the back of the couch, adjusting the pillow beneath your head. It was just then, perhaps jostled awake, when you started to stir.

The first thing you really remembered was the sensation of cold air on your side and the residual cloud of pain which seemed to be pulsing through your entire torso. “Fuck,” you muttered, dragging your eyelids open.

“Doll?” Negan sounded relieved and you felt his hand press down hard on your side, adding pressure to some wad of something soft.

“Ow!” you hissed, trying to sit up and push him off you.

“Whoa, whoa! Take it easy! You’re bleeding a lot here. We’ve gotta get this stitched up again,” Negan said.

“I already stitched it,” you argued, not thinking entirely clearly at the moment.

“Yeah, and you did a piss poor job, which is why you’re currently lying in a pool of your own blood,” he retorted, not letting up on the pressure to the wound.

You craned your neck to look over at Negan and your side, your brows tense in a wince. Your sweater was soaked crimson and pushed up so Negan could hold a towel over the wound. Your skin was smeared and stained. You felt suddenly tired and laid back down, trying to catch your breath. “Fine… okay,” you sighed. “Do whatever you need to.”

Negan let out a noise that was part laugh and part scoff. “I was planning on it. Hey—is the bullet still in there?”

You nodded, closing your eyes against another wave of pain. “Yeah…”

“Uh, shouldn’t we try to get that out? You could get an infection.”

You laughed grimly. “I was going to leave it in because going on a fishing expedition inside my body with dirty hands while I was laying in the woods didn’t seem like a good idea. Not to mention the fact that I can’t really see it. But please, by all means…”

Negan cleared his throat. “Alright. Hey—hold the towel on here a minute.” You placed your hand over his, sharply aware of even the glancing contact before he slipped away. You stared at the back of the worn couch, focusing on the little squares of woven stitches. You could hear him opening and closing cabinets in the next room.

“Take your time,” you said loudly. “Not like I’m slowly bleeding out over here...”

Negan came back in with a large glass bottle in his hand. Vodka.

You stared at him. “I’m more of a whiskey girl, myself,” you said dryly.

He let out a disbelieving laugh and shook his head. You were still cracking jokes with a bullet in your side. “Of course you are, doll. I’d have guessed that. But this is all I’ve got.” You finally noticed the long silver instrument in his other hand and any jest you had left in you slipped away. You gulped at the sight of the cold metal of the long tweezers.

“You better hand me that bottle,” you said.

“It’s for disinfect—”

“I don’t give a shit. I need a drink if you’re going to dig that thing into me,” you breathed.

_ _ _ _ _ _

The sound of your own breathing came first, steady but louder than normal, and then there was the comforting sound of a crackling fire in the background. Your eyes were a bit bleary as you opened them but cleared as you blinked a few times. Your side felt as if it was on fire.

You shifted on the couch and Negan straightened up in his chair, the grim expression on his face melting away. “Thank fuck you’re awake,” he said, leaning forward to study your face. “How ya feelin’?”

“Uhh—I think a little drunk actually,” you said, sitting up and putting a hand to your head. The room wobbled a little.

“I’m not surprised. You may have overdone it on the liquid courage. I barely had enough to do the job,” Negan said.

You pressed a hand over your side and could feel that he’d secured a bandage and gauze over the wound. The bandage wrapped all the way around you. “I passed out again?”

Negan nodded and then grabbed a little saucer off the table and held it out so you could see what was on it. “Fucker was in there pretty deep,” he said. The bullet made a sharp noise as it rolled on the ceramic. It was stained with a rusty coating of dried blood.

You nodded. “Right. Well, you got it. Don’t throw that out. I want it,” you said with a half-smile. “I’ll make a necklace or something with it.” Negan didn’t look amused. “It stitched up okay?”

Negan nodded again, discarding the plate on the table again and giving you a long, serious look. “Yeah, it was easy since I could actually see it.” He sighed as you avoided his hazel eyes. “Your ear. That’s a bullet graze.” It wasn’t a question.

You fiddled with the edge of blanket he’d tucked over you, but said nothing. Negan sighed heavily again and you were surprised to see him anxiously running both his hands over his face. You thought they looked a little shaky even. “I’m fine,” you said.

“Somebody almost blew your head off on the way here, but you’re fine?” he said. His voice was deep and gruff, and you could hear anger in it. Not at you, but at what had happened. It surprised you how much feeling was in his voice. “Tell me.”

You gulped and shrugged. “I—ran into some men on the way here. First, they demanded my gear but—that—wasn’t enough,” you said. You avoided his eyes again. “I don’t think they even wanted the gear...” you trailed off. There was a tense silence for a long moment before you hazarded a glance up at Negan and there was a shadow on his face and a violent rage behind his eyes. “They underestimated me. I fought them off but—the last guy had a gun I didn’t know about... But—I took care of it. I’m fine,” you said again, repeating it in the same tone you had every single time you’d already said it. Were you trying to convince yourself or him?

Negan leaned forward, his gaze still intense. “You were attacked by a group of men on the way here, shot in the side, and almost shot in the head which you barely survived, and you’re ‘fine’,” he said. His expression softened as he looked at you, the anger replaced with some mixture of worry and sorrow and regret. “Doll—”

You let out a humorless laugh. “I have to be fine! So, I am!” you said, perhaps a little more loudly than you needed to. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve been in almost the exact same situation since the world went to shit? Be glad you were born a man.”

His eyes flickered over your face, the worry on your behalf still pronounced. “Coming to see me would be a pretty fuckin’ stupid reason to die,” he said.

“I didn’t die, did I? I’m fine.”

He looked hesitant. “None of them got away? Because if they did, I will go out there right now and put them down myself. Just say the word.”

You shook your head. “None of them are left. I took care of it.”

His eyes flickered between yours and the feeling between you was intense and charged. His jaw tightened and he straightened up again in his seat. “For fuck’s sake, why the hell didn’t you just tell me what happened when you got here?”

You opened your mouth to speak, then closed it again. Then, you finally said, “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

Negan gave you a look. “You were shot. You almost died. It is a big fuckin’ deal. Besides, how’d that work out for you, hmm? Not making a big deal out of it? You passed out right in front of me and were suddenly soaked in blood.”

“I thought I’d taken care of it myself. I didn’t think—”

Negan crossed his arms, surveying you from his place at the table. “No, you just never want to have to rely on anyone else. Because you think that makes you vulnerable.”

You looked at him with a struck look of surprise and he knew he’d hit the mark. “What, were you a shrink in your last life?”

“No. A gym teacher,” he said with a small laugh.

You couldn’t stop the laugh that left you just after his. “Wow. Really? Sexy,” you said sarcastically.

His lips curved in a small smile. He was relieved you were cracking jokes again. Some of the tension in the air seemed to evaporate. “I’m glad you think so. You’re stuck here now for a few days, so get comfortable, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes. “If you think I’m going to let you, of all people, boss me around—”

Negan smiled more broadly. “I love when you try to argue with me. It’s good. I need a firm fucking hand. Speaking of jobs requiring a firm hand—”

“Negan—” you warned him, your tone dangerous.

“—I better go cut some more firewood before we run out,” he finished with a grin. You felt your cheeks flushing. “Jesus, where was your dirty little mind at?” he asked, climbing to his feet. “You relax and drink some water. I’ll be back in a few.”

You stared at his tall frame as he pulled his coat on and opened the door to step outside. “You said it that way on purpose!” you yelled after him.

He glanced back at you over his shoulder from the doorway with that same shit-eating grin. “What? I don’t get what you’re driving at. Maybe you could explain it to me?”

You flicked him off and shot him a glare. Negan only laughed. “Listen, don’t get your hopes up. You’ve got some healing up to do before we can—”

“Negan—” you growled.

“—walk back to Alexandria together. For fuck’s sake, what did you think I was about to say?” You gave him an unamused look and he laughed again. The sound warmed you. “Don’t worry about a thing. I’ve got it from here. Just rest. You’ll be back kicking ass before you know it. And in the meantime, I am fuckin’ thrilled to have your company.”

[waynes-multiverse]

Aww, glad you enjoyed the first part of this! I tried to capture him as best as I could. I definitely had too much fun with all the twists 😂🤍

(A hot tub in the back, huh? Wayne, stop giving me ideas for ESC one-shots. 🥵🫠)

Yesssss, girl! Please write that!!! 🥵🔥🫠

Ooh yep! You really picked up on aspects of Russell's personality that I felt inherently when I was watching (studying) him, but hadn't consciously put into words. 👌🏽

He's for sure a little enigma 😏 (and a little shit lol) I found it interesting when I read the books that he was described as reclusive, and even though he comes off as charming and quirky in the show, I still get the feeling he's hiding the biggest stuff underneath the surface... I really wanted to showcase that his behavior and words don't always match his feelings and thoughts 👀

It's also so interesting (and crazy) how little Russ and Colter know about each other now as men. There's got to be shades of who they were when they were younger, but it's bittersweet in a sense. And now they're both trying to suss each other out like lone wolves that are kinda sorta friends. 😂

Yesss!!! That's always something I wanted the show to address, so I had to weave it in there! 😂 And considering they grew up pretty isolated and only had each other, it made sense to me they would've had a pretty close relationship as children (kinda like Sam and Dean if they'd ever been ripped apart for 20+ years 🥲)

But naturally, they wouldn't trust one another fully after all this time. I had a lot of fun writing their suspicion mixed in with brotherly banter 🤓

Okay, this whole thing with the reader is fascinating. Because why does he have to go through all this trouble to find her if they've been a thing for 10...12...14...20-something years?! (Love how the number in Russell's "memory" just kept getting longer. 🤣🤣)

Russell giving vague estimates of numbers actually became a running gag lol I used it first in the prequel before sprinkling it in here too 😂😂

Not the "we were on a break" gif 🤣🤣 (But the topic of how broken up they really were comes up in the next part lmao)

I'm full of questions, but I know you have a brilliant master plan for all of this. I've noticed this about the most recent stories you've created, but you're so very good at writing these law enforcement/military men paired with heroines that share their world, almost the "same foxhole" type of deal. Except for that his heroine partners usually outrank him. 😏

Haha thanks!! I honestly think I get hung up too much on details and then it escalates into a monstrosity 😂

And you already now I love all things SVU, crime etc. A year ago, I then got super into spy/CIA novels and media (Homeland, The Americans etc.), so I've been dreaming to write something like this for ages and jumped on the chance with Russell's background 🤓

Lol yes they always outrank him, don't they? I might go with the "tough love" approach a little too much, but I always feel like the Beaus, Deans, Soldier Boys, and Russells of this world need that 😂🫶

Also something about a little submission in a strong guy is a turn-on... 🫠

I tend to go the opposite route, partly because I'm interested in the dynamic between these kinds of men and a "civilian," but also because I don't think I'd be able to do the "same foxhole" trope justice. So that's something I really admire about you as a writer. 💜

Oh, I know! It's actually why I love your stories so much because you go the opposite route of me and I get a different experience. I usually struggle more with the "civilian" characters 😂 For fluffier fics, I go more civilian as well, but I clearly had an agenda for this one lmao

The push and pull banter between Colter and Russ in this chapter was also so fun to read lol. I could literally quote every moment because it was all so well-written and priceless. And it just kept building up the mystery of the reader and why Russell is doing all of this, right up until that awesome cliffhanger!!

Aww, thanks! That means a lot 🥰 I had so much fun writing those two. At some points, they even gave me Sam & Dean vibes 🥲❤️

Thanks so much for that sweet comment, Alex!!! 🤍

Btw, I'm so excited to read the last parts of ATW and the ESC one shots!! I so wanted to read them before the new year, thinking a week-long stay with baby's grandparents would get me some Mommy time, but... family. My husband actually sent me this after we left and I still feel it deeply 😂👇

The Exit Strategy – Part 1

Summary: Russell is ready to hang it all up and retire, open up a brewery, and enjoy the rest of his civilian life. However, there's one important thing missing before he can take the big plunge. Luckily, he knows just the right person to help him find it.

Pairing: Russell Shaw x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18, language, mystery, a tinge of angst, humor & brotherly banter, one tiny surprise 🤓

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: Happy holidays, guys! Enjoy 🎄❤️

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Part 1: This Is Not a Pipe

The heavy truck door slammed shut behind him as Russell slid into the passenger seat with an exhaustive sigh. Colter’s big pickup was parked right next to his beautiful Chevelle in that same old motel parking lot in Virginia.

Russell hadn’t moved – yet. Well, sort of. He’d been away on assignment in some frosty region for a couple of weeks. He wasn’t allowed to say where exactly he’d been, and he knew better than to put it into writing, so let’s just agree he was at the North Pole looking for Santa Claus.

He could’ve ended up anywhere he wanted once he touched ground in the States again, but a very appreciated phone call from a former colleague made the decision for him. Besides, Russell knew this particular motel well. The coffee was more than decent and got the job done, the owner and employees were nice, comforting, and, most of all, trustworthy, and there were always fresh towels.

“Extra fluffy for you, Mr. Russell,” Rosa, the maid, would say every morning with the brightest smile.

Oh, and they had a hot tub in the back…

“Thanks for coming, man,” Russell extended his greeting without glancing at his younger brother once. He could feel Colter’s scrutinizing eyes on him, though, drilling for answers. Granted, his request had been rather unusual, so Russell understood where his younger brother’s ever-frozen furrowed brow stemmed from.

Providing answers didn’t come easy for the older Shaw, however. In fact, it had always been sort of a problem for him – even in the past. Especially in the past. Russell never lied, but he did omit things. Important things. On purpose.

“Yeah, uh, sure,” Colter replied with a polite smile as he started the car and rolled out of the lot.

Ah, yes, politeness…

That was what they were at, although it was progressively improving. It was only the third time the brothers were seeing each other since they had reconnected. And while the last two encounters had given the Shaws some well-needed time to talk things out and build trust, Colter was still naturally wary of his estranged sibling. As was Russell.

“So, what’s this about? You were pretty vague on the phone. You in trouble?”

That finally caught Russell’s full attention. He quickly shook his head, causing his hair to fall into his face. “What? No! No… No trouble,” he swiftly assuaged his brother with a dismissive hand gesture and a lighthearted chuckle. “Just need your help tracking down an old friend of mine, is all.”

Colter quirked an eyebrow at that. “Another Army buddy of yours?”

“Uh, something like that, yeah,” Russell replied rather mysteriously and didn’t even try to conceal the fact that he was hiding something more behind his ambiguous answer. But Colter only intensified his stare at him and wouldn’t let go that easily. Russell knew that. After all, they were related.

Persistence was a Shaw family trait. Another survival skill, if you will.

But this time, Russell wasn’t hiding a big government secret (or maybe he was). No lives depended on this particular mission (or so he thought). He wasn’t protecting a client, a company, or even his dubious employer (but someone else). He wasn’t choked by an NDA or about to save someone in grave danger (as far as he knew).

No, if anything, it was the fact that Russell didn’t know how much he could or should share with his brother. They were related, yes. But, technically, they hadn’t seen each other in decades, so they weren’t just considered merely estranged but strangers. Russell had always been aware of that fact, and Colter was beginning to catch on.

Especially during this mission.

See, once upon a time, the two hadn’t been just brothers. After moving to the cabin, societal contacts became scarce for the siblings. All they had was them. They were friends. Best friends. Always competitive, but friends nonetheless.

How much did they really know about each other now, though? How much of the old was still there?

“So, who are we looking for? What’s the guy’s name?” Colter asked, suddenly eager as he jumped into gear. He had always been restless, even as a kid, which fondly reminded Russell of their childhood.

But how much was he still the Russell that Colter once knew?

Well, Russell, on the other hand, remained calm and ruffled a casual hand through his beard. “Well, she’s, uh–”

Eyebrow cocked, Colter snapped his head to the passenger seat where his brother started to squirm. “Oh… Oh, so it’s a she,” he emphasized with a small grin. “Now I think I get it.”

There it is. I knew it, Russell thought with an internal sigh. In order for this mission to work, he knew he had to reveal some things. Private things. Things about himself and his life. Going in, Russell knew he couldn’t ask Colter for help without giving him something.

Their father had loved tests (and so did you – but that’s another story…). Russell always thought it had been the professor in him. So, Russell saw this as a test as well.

Could he trust Colter? And more pressingly, considering some long held accusations of murder, did Colter trust him?

A clear of Russell’s throat cut right through Colter’s chuckle. And then, the eldest tried his best to give no reaction at all. “Yes, she’s a… woman, but hold your horses. It’s not what you think, okay?” Colter lifted his eyebrow once more, causing Russell to heave another exhaustive sigh. “Fine, alright? It’s exactly what you think.”

Well, close enough, Russell thought. He knew Colter couldn’t even possibly imagine the reality in his wildest dreams.

Usually, Russell was an expert in avoiding uncomfortable questions. He was a pro at ditching answers and keeping secrets, even under torture and duress. However, there was just something entirely unique about dodging questions posed by little brothers.

And Russell saw it as a perfect bonding opportunity. He wanted to fill the chasm between them that their father’s death had caused – once and for all. But he couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t walking around on eggshells most of the time – something that reminded him of you again.

Learning from past mistakes, Russell wanted Colter to experience the fun side of him. The one that brewed his own beer, cared too much about his car, and had weird tastes in food. He chose to leave out the rest – the dark stuff and the very best stuff, too.

After all, Russell was good at omitting things.

Colter chuckled triumphantly. “Does this mean you’re finally giving up on Reenie?”

Amused, Russell let out a snort. “Ha! You wish… First things first, alright? Let’s just see how this thing pans out. It’s kind of a long shot. You know that exit plan I told you about?”

“Yeah, you wanna open your own brewery, right?”

“Yeah, well, let’s just say in an ideal world this, uh, woman would be part of that exit,” Russell said and sounded purposely casual as if he didn’t care the mission was successful or not in the end, omitting yet another thing – he did care.

He cared a fucking lot.

“Really? Okay.” Colter scratched his jaw and gave his words some thought. Then he offered a small, yet kind, smile. Honestly, Russell didn’t know what he had expected. “But, you know, if you want me to find the future Mrs. Shaw, I’m gonna need more information to go on. A name, last address, or a-, uh, a picture, maybe?”

“Well, name’s not gonna help you much in this case.” Your first name might’ve been shareable intel, but your last name was of the highest classification. “Her last address that I know of was in Berlin. And while I do have one photo of her, it’s not meant for your eyes, brother,” Russell said with a firmly territorial look that still carried a mischievous twinkle, revealing the exact nature of the photograph to be indeed inappropriate.

Russell had one naughty photo, yes. But he had a whole giant box of others, too.

Colter’s eyebrows met above his nose as he licked his lips. Customarily, people gave him more details when they needed him to find someone. But then again, those people usually weren’t his brother. “Do you know anything about this woman? How long have you two dated?”

“Uhm… not that long,” Russell supplied with a clear of his throat before mumbling the rest of his answer, hoping his beard would swallow most of his words. “Ten years. Give or take…”

What is time anyway if nothing but a concept, right?

Colter blinked at him and almost steered the vehicle off-road before gripping the wheel a little tighter. “I’m sorry… Did you just say ten years?”

“Well, might be more like twelve,” he admitted finally. “Well, anyways, saw her last three years ago.”

“Wow, okay, uhm…” Colter became quiet for a moment, speechless probably, the tiny bits of information running on a loop through his mind. He figured his brother still had lived a life while they hadn’t been speaking. Of course he had. He just never thought about what that life might have entailed, aside from classified military operations. “So, you’ve dated a woman for twelve years…”

“Fourteen.”

“…haven’t seen her in three, and know basically nothing about her?”

Russell snorted a laugh. “Yeah, I know. Ridiculous… Not even sure the name she did give me was her real one,” he said. It was a joke. He did know the name. He knew everything there was to know about you. So, maybe he did lie – sometimes. “But it’s the job, you know? It’s-, uh, it’s complicated.”

That part was true. Truer than he could ever possibly describe in words.

“I guess so…” Colter sighed, and Russell could hear the growing frustration. “So, she does what you do?”

Russell nodded. “In a way, yeah…” And Colter knew what that answer meant – he couldn’t say more. Again. “But don’t worry. We won’t have to turn over every stone on the face of this planet. I have a general idea of where she lives these days,” Russell provided. “One of my, uh, associates was working a job with her not that long ago. That’s how I found out she’s back in the States.”

Colter nodded in acceptance, knowing it was no use to try and prod more answers out of his brother. “Alright. Guess that’s something. So, where are we headed to?”

Russell then flashed him a grin with newfound determination sparkling in his green eyes. “Falls Church.”

The short drive had remained quiet for the most part. Colter refrained from asking more questions, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get straight answers out of his older brother in one form or the other. To accentuate Colter’s assumption of receiving non-answers, Russell mostly stared out the window with an intensity that had Colter believe his brother was counting trees when, in fact, Russell was pondering what he would, could, or should tell Colter.

Of course, Colter could also always ask more questions about their elusive father, but he didn’t do that either. Sure, one could say he was curious. More than that even.

What did Russell really know about his death? Their mother? Their family? Their work?

Another time, he kept telling himself throughout whenever he stole glances at his long-lost sibling. It was too soon. What was the point when Russell was so clearly reluctant to share anything at all?

Thus, there was nothing left but silence among peaceful woods and dense foliage till Colter pulled his truck over curbside in the idyllic town center of Falls Church.

Patiently, he waited a moment for Russell to open the floor and tell them their next logical steps. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, blew raspberries, clicked his tongue, and waited and waited and waited…

Nothing.

If Colter didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought someone carved a lifeless wax statue out of his brother and planted it on his passenger seat. Russell’s entire body stood motionless, only a set of green eyes flickered alive every once in a while and swayed out the windshield in search of something – or someone.

“So, what’s the plan here?” Colter asked with a clear of his throat. “You just wanna stay here and wait till she accidentally runs across the street?” It was meant as a joke, but to Colter’s dismay, Russell remained dead serious.

“That’s exactly what we’re doing,” the older Shaw confirmed and squinted his eyes at the busy street. Again, he had omitted a few things. In his mind, Colter didn’t need to know why Russell knew to be in front of the post office at exactly 15:03 (UTC–4) on a Tuesday.

Colter snorted a laugh. “What? C’mon, that can’t be the plan… Do you know how many people live in Falls Church? Or in the general Washington metropolitan area? We could be here for days. Weeks even…” The younger Shaw then switched fully into work mode, grabbing his phone from the Bluetooth car mount. “We’re never gonna find her like this. You got a phone number, maybe?” But before Russell could answer, Colter replied himself, shaking his head at his own silliness. “What am I even asking? Of course you don’t.”

Russell only smirked at that. Restless, he thought again.

“What about an old one? Maybe even that would help. I could call Bobby, Reenie… You got anything? Nothing?” But the younger Shaw’s questions apparently stumbled upon deaf ears. “Russell? Russ? Are you even listening to me? I’m trying to help you here. You could at least–”

“Found her!”

Russell almost jumped out of the car as his voice rang with sheer excitement. His heart was beating a mile a minute when his emerald eyes landed on the target. It felt like the very first time all over again.

Granted, the first meeting didn’t go so smoothly – there had definitely been some bumps (all on his part). Then again, he expected this next meeting to go a little roughly too (again, all on him).

“Wait, what?!”

Russell downright beamed. “Told you this would work.”

Colter only scoffed under his breath, the familiar competitiveness crawling back to the surface. “Yeah, well, beginner’s luck, okay?”

One boot had nearly touched asphalt before Russell remembered this wasn’t a situation that required him to storm in guns a-blazing – not even covert. Gentle hands, he reminded himself and swiftly closed the car door again, falling back into his seat. His lungs deflated.

Colter, on the other hand, was more confused than ever. “What-, uh, what are you doing?” Half-amused, his brow furrowed a bit more. “If you’ve found her, go talk to her. Where is she? Who is it?”

Curiosity could only be contained for so long. Colter wanted to know who had been a part of his brother’s life for almost as long as he had. He felt this was a key piece of information that would cause the first domino to fall. And then, revelation after revelation about Russell’s past would unravel.

Basically, Colter was waiting for the big epiphany. No pressure.

Russell vehemently shook his head. “Can’t. At least not like this. I need more intel first. You need to find out her name, and then we need your guy Bobby to get onto this.”

And yet again, guess what? Yes, Russell was, indeed, omitting things.

“Me? Why me?” Colter blinked at him. Surprise, surprise…

“‘Cause, obviously, she’d recognize me,” Russell pointed out. Again, omission. Like he had explained earlier, it was a real problem…

Colter exhaled a deep sigh. “Okay, and I’m guessing you’re still not gonna tell me why we’re doing all of this, right?”

“Nope.”

“Yup, thought so.” Still not convinced, Colter narrowed his eyes at his clearly paranoid brother. Maybe paranoia ran in the family. Not to point fingers – he recognized it in himself, too. “Do we really need to go through all that trouble? I mean, you’ve known that woman for, what, fourteen years, you said? Isn’t that a little extreme… even for you?”

Fifteen, Russell corrected in his mind. Close to sixteen. Nineteen max.

“Just trust me, okay? It’s necessary,” Russell reassured, knowing those words bore some weight. Hurriedly (he was getting antsy – this was a time-sensitive issue), he pointed a finger out the window to the sidewalk across the street. “You see that woman walking into the post office? That’s her.”

“What, the brunette in the flowery dress with the golden cross necklace? That’s her?”

“Yup.”

“Wow, okay…” Surprised didn’t come close to explain how Colter felt. He had expected… different. His brow almost met his hairline, but he still tried his best to conceal his wonder – to no avail.

Suspiciously, Russell leaned back in his seat and assessed his brother’s demeanor with a small glare. “What?”

“Nothing.” Colter threw his hands up in surrender, swallowing. “Just… She doesn’t really seem like your type.”

Amused, Russell stifled a chuckle. “And what exactly do you think is my type, little brother?”

“I don’t know…”

“What, you think some nice Christian girl is too good for me?” Russell deadpanned. Admittedly, he enjoyed bantering with his little brother. It reminded him of what he had missed out on for years. This was what he had wanted and longed for since he had left the family at eighteen.

Well, “left” wasn’t really the right word for it now, was it? It implied a voluntary act, and his leaving wasn’t so voluntary.

“That is exactly what I’m saying,” Colter countered, laughing. “It’s just, you know… dental hygienist in a motel hot tub springs to mind.”

“Okay, alright… You done?” Russell huffed, shaking his head. He refrained from showing his honest amusement. “You’re gonna follow her in or not?”

“Alright, I’ll go,” Colter finally agreed somewhat enthusiastically and jumped out of the car, swiftly following the woman inside. After all, he was curiouser and curiouser…

Russell kept his eyes trained on his younger brother until Colter vanished inside the post office. Now, it was out of his hands, only hoping his little brother wouldn’t blow it. Chances were high he would. Not that Russell didn’t have some faith.

He just had more faith in you.

Colter spotted you picking up mail from a PO box and decided on a plan of action in a matter of seconds. After all, he was quick thinking on his feet and the best at what he did. That’s why he was here. That’s why Russell had picked him for the job, right?

As you made your way back to the door, Colter eloquently intercepted you without disturbing the crowd. Another thing he had learned from his father.

He bumped straight into your shoulder and almost tackled you to the ground by the sheer force of his sneak attack. The mail in your hands scattered to the tiled floor like autumn leaves, and as Colter bent down to help you pick it up, he took a peek at your name on a postcard.

“Oh my God, would you look at that… I’m so sorry, Miss–,” the younger Shaw apologized clumsily, “Nora Laurier.” He uttered your name with a suave smile as he handed you back your pile of letters. The flirt in his eyes, however, he only added for Russell as revenge for Reenie. “Beautiful name.”

Your hands lingered on the letters between you for a moment as you took in his features and tall stature. It left you with a strange haunting of familiarity.

“Thank you,” you finally said with a hint of a smile as he let go of the mail. “Be more careful next time.”

“I will. Sorry again.” Colter chuckled with blushed cheeks and watched you leave. He waited till you had passed the row of windows before exiting himself.

He was a good actor, too.

Antsy, Russell almost bit his lip bloody as he stared the post office down till a migraine began to form. God, what he wouldn’t pay for some X-ray vision and super-hearing. He could be downright Superman with that – and the hero always got the girl.

His heart dithered anew with longing as you walked out – it took his breath away. You always did that, and you did it well. But then, you stopped short for a mere second, which wouldn’t have caused a civilian to raise a single brow. But Russell did.

“Shit…” he mumbled in the silence of the truck and lowered himself down to the dashboard. He watched you reach for your phone in your purse and call someone as you headed down the street.

Eventually, you stopped three houses east and finished your call in the shade of a tree next to a busy (and noisy) bus station. Russell caught your eyes drifting back to the doors of the post office, though, just as his little brother walked out and jogged towards the car.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Russell ducked even further down, hitting his head in several places. “What did that knucklehead do?”

The driver’s door opened as Colter casually slipped inside. “Got a name,” he announced victoriously. Part of his happiness emanated from gathering yet another puzzle piece of his mysterious brother – meeting you. “She goes by Nora Laurier now… And she seems nice. Way too nice for you, actually…” As he drifted off, his eyes searched for the elder one before finding him almost kissing the floor mat. “Russ, uh… What-, uh, what are you doing down there?”

“What the hell did you do?” Russell’s tone was both snappy and frustrated.

“Whoa, what d’you mean what did I do?” Colter waved off defensively. “I did what you told me to do!”

“She made you!”

“She did not make me,” Colter brushed off with a laugh, quite confident of his own skill set. They’d had the same teacher. He would know if you had suspected anything.

“Then why did she wait and look after you, huh?” Russell pointed out in annoyance.

Colter’s lips itched to break a smile. He couldn’t help it. It was the perfect opportunity to teach his flirt of a brother a well-needed lesson. “Well, maybe I caught her eye… piqued her interest, you know?”

Russell cocked a brow from below, his stare lethal. “Did you flirt with her?”

Colter hesitated for a moment. Mostly for dramatic effect. “I-, uh… You told me to get her name. ‘Sides, I told you Reenie was off limits.”

“Oh, so this is about revenge? Very mature.” Russell frowned. “She still there?”

“Where?” Colter stretched himself a bit as he looked out the windshield.

“Tree. Bus station.”

An amused smile formed on Colter’s lips as he spotted you. “Oh, yeah. I see her. I don’t think she suspects anything. She’s not even loo-… No, uh, wait… Yup.”

“What?” Russell’s brows drew together as he rose a little from his crouched position.

“Yeah, she’s definitely looking over here.”

“Well, stop looking down,” Russell hissed through gritted teeth. After a deep breath, he spoke in a calmer, more advising tone, “Pretend I’m not here.”

“Trying to, trust me… Should I wave at her? Smile?”

“Are you nuts?! Just look ahead. Pretend you’re getting a phone call.”

Colter did as he was told and held his phone to his ear. “She’s still looking,” he informed with a pressed smile, barely moving his mouth when he spoke.

“Okay, what’s she doing now?”

“There’s a-, uh, there’s a car coming and pulling over by the bus station. Dark gray Audi A6. Virginia Plates. Yankee-Papa-Charlie-5824,” Colter said as Russell hauled a pen from his pocket and began to jot down the plate numbers on his left palm.

“Copy that.”

He’d memorize them anyway, but one could never be too safe. He could get a concussion in the next hour or so (most likely because of you), and then what?

“Okay, she’s getting in,” Colter narrated. “Driver’s in his late-thirties. Male. Glasses. Medium height. Medium build… I think you could take him,” he added with a teasing grin.

“Shut up,” Russell retorted. “Are they gone now?”

“Pulling away from the curb and… Yep, they’re gone. Headed south down the road,” Colter affirmed.

“Alright.” Russell popped back into his seat with a sigh and some sore muscles. He had been sure he’d heard a few bones crack while he’d been cowering down there. He might be finally getting too old for these missions. But that was part of the reason why he was here in the first place – retirement was calling. And Russell wanted to fill the chair next to him on the porch.

“You good?” Colter checked and choked the small laugh that wanted to escape upon the ruffled sight of his older brother.

“Yeah, go ahead and follow them. Just keep a low profile,” Russell instructed. “On our way, you might wanna call your op analyst, too. See what he can find out.”

“Alright,” Colter agreed somewhat reluctantly but still tailed the sedan. “You sure this is a good idea?”

“What d’you mean?” Russell said mindlessly, keeping his eyes focused on the target vehicle.

“Us… stalking your ex-girlfriend?” Colter noted with a cocked brow. “And her potentially new boyfriend?”

Russell only laughed at that. “We’re good. Trust me.”

Admittedly, though, a small part of him wondered (and worried) if this was all real. Maybe Nora Laurier wasn’t your real name, but it might be your actual new one – one you’d adopted as a safety precaution after you’d left it all behind. Maybe you had finally done it and retired, found a perfectly normal guy, and settled down – just without him.

Or:

Maybe you were still in the game, after all.

Russell was hoping it was the latter. Otherwise, he could probably expect a hefty restraining order in his future, but he wasn’t about to tell Colter that. Not until he knew for sure.

The Audi parked in front of an organic grocery store a few blocks down. Colter chose a spot across the parking lot, keeping a reasonable distance with the perfect view. Russell watched as you and Unnamed Man #1 sauntered into the store, an arm slung tightly around your waist and a smile on your face.

While on the phone with Bobby, Colter could tell that the sight of you in another man’s arms stung. “Okay, uh, thanks, Bobby.”

“What’d he say?” Russell fired as soon as Colter had removed the phone even just an inch from his ear.

“Uh, well, there’s some bad news,” Colter revealed hesitantly and licked his lips, not knowing how he was supposed to break his brother’s heart. “Bobby ran the plate number through the DMV. It’s registered to an Aiden Laurier.”

“Laurier?” Undeniably, Russell’s heart flinched at the connection. “Maybe a brother. Cousin…”

Or a colleague, Russell’s mind stubbornly added.

Colter bit his lower lip hard before he spoke, “They’ve been married for two years. I’m sorry, Russ.”

A hand comfortingly patted Russell’s shoulder. A part of him wanted to scream heavenward, but something else inside was gnawing on him.

He clicked his tongue. “No… No.” Sure, one could argue that denial was always the first step of grief. “No. No way she married sweater-vest John Mulaney over there.”

“I’m pretty sure she did. Bobby sent me the marriage certificate,” Colter countered and showed him the screenshot on his phone.

Russell glanced at it for a short second, not even bothering to waste more time on fake news. He shook his head. He knew better.

“Nah. I’m not buying it. You need to go in there and tell me what you see.” He sealed his words with an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

Colter exhaled deeply. “Russ, I-, uh, I think you need to let this go, man. You’re starting to… Never mind.”

“No. Go ahead. Say it,” Russell prompted with some thunder in his voice. “I’m reminding you of Dad, don’t I?”

Colter only twitched his shoulders. “I mean, yeah. A little.”

Russell’s head bobbed in thought before he met his little brother’s eyes. “You really don’t see it?”

“See what?”

“The post office, the road crew over there, the-, the fake documents?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“C’mon… Just think about everything Dad taught us, huh?”

Was Colter really not getting it? Russell found that quite hard to believe. He had known his little brother to be as sharp as a whip. While Russell didn’t always have the nicest things to say about their father, he could admit the old man had prepared them well for life. Well, one life at least. This one.

The nomad life, the odd jobs that required them to have a particular set of skills like Liam Neeson.

Colter shook his head. “I have no clue what you’re talking about, Russell.”

Russell let out a sigh and leaned back in his seat. “Alright, if you don’t see it, you don’t see it.” A smirk twitched in the corners of his lips. “It’s your funeral, brother…”

With narrowed eyes, Colter pursed his lips. “Alright, just tell me one thing, okay?”

“You know I can’t tell you anything,” Russell reiterated and brushed his beard.

“I know. I know… It’s not that kinda question,” the younger Shaw reassured.

“Go ahead,” Russell relented and curiously looked at his brother.

Within a second, Russell could think of a million questions Colter might want to ask him, but this hadn’t been one of them:

“In the past three years, how many times have you thought about her? And I don’t just mean ‘crossed your mind’ every couple of months. I mean ‘seriously thought’ about her?”

“Hmm.” Russell pondered for a moment before replying, “Every damn day.”

It wasn’t a lie, no omission of anything, and Colter could tell. You were the first thought that popped into Russell’s still groggy mind when he woke up and the last one every night that fluttered across his weary eyelids. Obviously, he didn’t give Colter the soppy answer, though.

“Fine. I’ll go,” Colter softened his stance. “You owe me,” he added with a pointed finger before setting foot outside the car.

“I do owe you. Anything you want, brother,” Russell agreed with a broad grin. “How about we start with a full case of my homebrew, huh?”

Colter danced gracefully through the aisles, spying through canned goods and boxes of cereal. He watched you carefully select fruit with your husband, move through the dairy talking about “organic” and “locally sourced” till you landed on a few choices of toothpaste and finally strolled to the cash register.

Everything seemed boringly normal and ordinary. You chatted with the cashier. They handed you a coupon, which you slipped into your purse. Your husband paid with his credit card (which carried the same name matching the DMV records), and both of you left the store with two paper bags in your arms.

Once through the sliding glass doors, you stopped and turned to your husband. “Darn, honey, I think we forgot the milk.”

“You want me to grab it?”

“No, I’ll do it.”

“Okay, I’ll wait by the car and load the rest of the groceries.”

Now, Colter found that odd. He had watched you spent at least five minutes in the dairy aisle. How could you forget something as basic as milk?

As you hushed inside, your husband sauntered back to the car, and Colter followed you back in. You passed right by the dairy and, with a few looks that resembled a scan of your surroundings, you slipped past the door that led to the restrooms.

Waiting a beat, Colter went in after you. But you were long gone – just not to the restroom. An ‘Employee Only’ door that led to a dumpster alley outside was just falling shut.

Granted, Colter had a bad feeling about this. It was the same feeling he always got shortly before walking into a trap. In his defense, though, you were not a seven-foot-tall, 300-pound kind of guy. He wasn’t about to be ambushed by Shaquille O’Neal, which is probably why Colter didn’t find it necessary to pull his gun.

In hindsight, he should have.

The narrow alley was quiet and empty, except for some trash littering the ground around the dumpsters. It was closed-off, too, wedged between buildings with no view to the parking lot or nearby streets.

And then, something hit him. Or better yet: You hit him. With an elbow to the face and a stiff, flat palm to his throat, Colter stumbled forward before you gave him the final blow and knocked him off balance, tackling him to the ground.

Pressing his cheek into the rough and unforgiving surface of the asphalt, you jumped on him and restrained his arms tightly behind his back. While he squirmed to get out of your hold, he didn’t use as much brutal force as you expected he would.

“Shit,” he muttered below you, his voice muffled by the gravel. A light chuckle escaped him. “Okay, you got me.”

“Sounds about right,” you agreed with a smirk and tightened your grip on his arm.

Then, Colter heard a gun click above him. Hoping to see his brother, he looked up – only to find your husband with a weapon in hand as he stared down the barrel.

“Ah, I think you broke my nose,” the younger Shaw mumbled with a groan.

“Good. You’ve been following me. Why?” you prompted sternly. “Who are you? Who are you working for? Jafari? Mueller?”

“Listen, I-I think you’ve got the wrong idea. I’m not who you think I am,” Colter argued with a strained voice. What the hell had Russell gotten him into? “This is just a big misunderstanding.”

“Uh-huh.” You could only roll your eyes at that. How many times had you heard that line before?

“Let’s hood him. Get him to the Market,” your partner suggested. “We’ll see if he talks then.”

“No, really,” Colter insisted, growing a bit more uneasy. He had no idea what the Market was, but it didn’t sound pleasant. “You know my brother.”

“Who’s your brother?” With your elbow, you put more pressure on his back.

“Ow, alright…” Colter groaned once more as the pain intensified. “Looks kinda like me. Think two decades younger. He was in the Army, so probably didn’t have long hair and a beard. Uh, kind… green eyes? No? Doesn’t ring a bell?”

Colter watched your brow furrow in his periphery as he squinted upwards. He could see the gears starting to turn in your head. You just needed one final push to put all the puzzle pieces together.

“If it helps, my name is Colter. Colter Sh–”

“Shaw,” you shot like a missile. Your jaw plummeted to the ground, your heart springing right out with it. Your grip on the man caught between your thighs loosened, hearing Colter’s sigh of relief before you heard his voice.

“Hiya, sweetheart.”

Your head darted up, the man beneath you long forgotten. You swallowed as your eyes landed on an all too familiar face – even when it was covered by a bunch of hair that had never been there before. The heart-crushing smile was still the same as if it had been ripped straight from an old photograph you had of him.

“Russell?!”

Part 2: This Is a Russell Mission

Quite the entrance! Writing Russell reminded me somewhat of Plastic Hearts Dean (minus the addiction problems unless you count lying) because of all the wild overthinking 😂

If you enjoyed this story, then I'll gladly keep working on its prequel. Was a bit nervous to post this since I filled in some family history gaps myself 😅 I also dove into the books a little and added some things that kinda fit their "show" personalities.

Please let me know what you think and if you'd be interested in a young soldier!Russell series 😉🤍

TAGS:

Forevers: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @deans-baby-momma @yoobusgoobus @jessjad

@hunter-or-the-hunted @k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways

@muhahaha303 @ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70 @brightlilith

@nesnejwritings @samslvrgirl @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @fromcaintodean @barewithme02

@thebiggerbear @star-yawnznn

@deansimpalababy

[stylesonfilms]

ink & innocence - 21

word count: 8.8k

sorry for the wait, hope you guys enjoy!

The next day, though Harry had to be cooped up at the shop once more, he made sure to bring Aspen along. The girl sat perched by the front desk, swaying in her chair as Niall and Zayn kept her company while her boyfriend worked on another large last minute walk-in piece.

Aspen hadn't minded tagging along to the shop today. In fact, she liked being around Harry's world, seeing the environment he was so comfortable in. It was different from her own, rougher around the edges, but it fascinated her. The steady hum of the tattoo machines, the scent of antiseptic and ink in the air—it was all so uniquely him.

She sat at the front desk, her legs crossed at the ankle as she absentmindedly flipped through one of the shop's design books. Every now and then, her eyes drifted toward Harry's station where he was focused on a client, sleeves pushed up, forearms tense with concentration. He looked good when he worked, brows drawn together, tongue occasionally swiping across his bottom lip in focus. She felt warmth rise in her cheeks just watching him.

Zayn and Niall were keeping her company in the meantime, the two of them going back and forth in their usual banter, making Aspen giggle behind her hand.

"You know, I think I'd look real good with a full sleeve," Niall mused, stretching his arm out in front of him and squinting as if he were already picturing it.

Zayn snorted, shaking his head. "You're too indecisive. You'd get halfway through and regret it."

Aspen giggled as Niall shot Zayn an exaggerated glare. "Oi! I could pull it off." He turned to Aspen for backup. "Don't you think I'd look good with a sleeve?"

Aspen tilted her head, feigning deep thought before giving a shy little shrug. "I think it would suit you... maybe."

Zayn barked out a laugh, pointing at Niall. "Even Aspen doesn't sound convinced."

Niall groaned, slumping back dramatically in his seat, which only made Aspen giggle more. The conversation carried on lightheartedly, small jokes exchanged between them as she grew more comfortable with their dynamic.

"Okay, fine," Niall huffed. "No sleeve. But what about, like, a single bold piece? Something cool and mysterious. Maybe a dagger? A wolf? A dragon?"

Zayn raised a brow. "You sound like every dude who walks in here asking for their 'first ink' and then chickens out when the needle actually touches their skin."

Aspen covered her mouth as she laughed, her shoulders shaking. "Do people really do that?"

"More often than you'd think," Zayn smirked, leaning against the counter. "You should see some of the excuses we get. 'Oh, I forgot I had a meeting.' 'Oh, my girlfriend doesn't like tattoos.' 'Oh, I think I left my oven on at home.'"

Aspen giggled harder, imagining the scene unfolding.

Niall pointed at Zayn accusingly. "Listen, I may be many things, but a coward is not one of them. If I commit, I commit."

Zayn gave him a skeptical look. "That so?"

"Absolutely."

Aspen, still smiling, tapped a finger against the open design book in front of her. "Well... if you had to pick one right now, what would it be?"

Niall leaned over, scanning the page, before pointing to a classic anchor design. "That. Timeless. Rugged. Manly."

Zayn snorted. "Basic."

"Oh, come on!" Niall groaned. "I thought we were past judging people for classic ink choices!"

Aspen bit her lip to keep from laughing too hard, enjoying the easy back-and-forth between them. She liked this—being included, feeling like she belonged in their little world.

Her eyes flickered over to Harry again, watching the way he moved, the way he gently tilted his client's arm to get a better angle, the way he was so deeply focused. It still amazed her, how skilled he was, how much he cared about his craft. He made everything seem effortless.

She didn't even realize she was staring until Niall leaned closer and whispered, "You're drooling."

Aspen's face burned as she snapped her gaze back to him. "I—I am not!"

Niall grinned, nudging her arm. "S'fine, love, we get it. Your boyfriend's hot."

Zayn smirked, adding, "At least you're subtle about it."

Aspen groaned, burying her face in her hands as they both chuckled at her expense.

"Fine, fine," she muttered, shaking her head with a shy smile. "Let's change the subject."

"Aw, but this was getting good," Niall teased, but he relented when she shot him a playful glare.

Aspen took a sip from her water bottle, settling herself again before her curiosity got the better of her.

Aspen absentmindedly traced patterns along the condensation of her water bottle, the soft hum of tattoo machines filling the shop as she let the words roll off her tongue without much thought. "So... where were you guys the other day?"

She wasn't asking with suspicion—just curiosity. It was normal for them all to be busy, especially Harry and Zayn, but with both of them disappearing on the same day, she had assumed they had been working at the shop together.

Zayn, who had been scrolling on his phone, stilled almost imperceptibly. It was brief, barely noticeable, before he smoothly resumed, tapping his thumb against the screen in thought.

Niall, however, was as easygoing as ever, giving a nonchalant shrug. "Dunno. They weren't at the shop, I—"

Before he could finish, Zayn subtly nudged him under the counter, just enough to make Niall pause. The interruption was swift, casual, and Aspen didn't catch on to its meaning.

Niall, never one to be easily flustered, let out an easy chuckle. "Oh, wait, nah. I got my days mixed up," he corrected smoothly, waving a dismissive hand in the air. "Yeah, they were definitely here. You know how it is—busy day, tons of walk-ins. I wasn't here much, though. Just popped in for a bit."

Aspen nodded, easily accepting the answer. It made sense. Niall was always in and out, never one to stay planted in one place unless he had a reason to.

Zayn leaned back against the counter, arms crossed as he picked up the explanation. "Yeah, long ass day. Harry and I had some big pieces to do, so we were stuck here forever. Back-to-back appointments. Barely had time to eat, let alone breathe." His voice was smooth, perfectly composed, and it wasn't unusual for him and Harry to take on big projects.

Aspen didn't even think to question it further. In fact, she felt a little guilty for asking—if they'd had such a long day, she didn't want to seem like she was prying.

She stole a glance at Harry across the room. He was still deep in his work, head tilted in concentration, jaw set as he dragged the tattoo machine carefully over his client's skin. He looked so at home in his element.

She smiled softly to herself, brushing away any lingering thoughts. Harry had never given her a reason to doubt him, and besides, if something was wrong, he would tell her.

"Well, as long as you weren't getting into trouble," she teased lightly, taking a sip of her water.

Niall grinned, dramatically clutching his chest. "Me? Trouble? Never."

Zayn smirked, taking a slow sip of his drink, the picture of amusement but offering no further comment.

Aspen giggled at their antics, letting the conversation drift into something else, not noticing the fleeting glance Zayn and Niall exchanged. If she had, maybe she would've realized there was more to the story than they were letting on.

Aspen leaned forward slightly in her chair, resting her elbow on the desk as she idly twirled the cap of her water bottle between her fingers. The conversation had shifted naturally, moving from their usual banter to something a little more personal.

"So, what's the plan for you two, then?" Niall grinned, wiggling his brows between her and Zayn. "Aspen, you finally got yourself a big, brooding tattoo artist. What's next?"

Aspen blushed, the warmth creeping up her neck. She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "I don't know... we're just taking things as they come."

"Boring answer," Niall teased, leaning back in his chair. "Come on, give me something. Future plans? Marriage? White picket fence? Maybe some tattooed babies running around?"

Aspen nearly choked on her water, her face burning even hotter. "Niall!" she squeaked, eyes wide.

Zayn barked out a laugh, slapping a hand against the counter. "Too soon, man," he smirked. "Let 'em breathe."

"I'm just saying! You two are disgustingly cute." Niall stretched his arms behind his head. "If Harry wasn't already obsessed with you, I'd be worried."

Aspen tried to play off her embarrassment, but she couldn't stop the way her lips curled into a soft smile. Her fingers absentmindedly traced the rim of her bottle again, and when she stole another glance across the room, she caught Harry's gaze.

He was already looking at her.

It was brief, just a flicker of his eyes before he turned his attention back to his work, but it was enough to send a pleasant warmth blooming in Aspen's chest.

Niall was still talking, something about how he was destined to be the world's best godfather whenever Harry and Aspen decided to have kids (which, in Aspen's opinion, was way too early to even think about), but she was only half-listening.

Because every time she glanced toward Harry, she caught him doing the same.

And every time their eyes met, it sent little flutters through her stomach.

"So what about you guys?" she asked, eager to shift the conversation away from herself. "What's your plan for the future?"

Zayn shrugged, taking a slow sip of his drink. "Haven't thought about it much. Business is good. I don't see myself doing anything else anytime soon."

"Fair," Aspen nodded. "And you, Niall?"

"Oh, I'm gonna be rich," Niall declared, pointing at himself with full confidence. "But like, stupid rich. Don't ask me how yet. Maybe I'll invent something. Or marry into money. Either way, I'll be set."

Aspen laughed, shaking her head. "Solid plan."

"Exactly," Niall grinned. "And speaking of plans... Aspen, be real with me—are you gonna stay with this guy forever, or what?"

Aspen opened her mouth to respond, but she didn't have an answer.

Forever?

Her gaze flickered back toward Harry. She wasn't even sure if he was listening to their conversation, but she knew that if she was being honest with herself... the idea of forever with him didn't seem so scary.

She just smiled, a little shy, a little uncertain.

"We'll see," she murmured.

And from across the room, Harry glanced up once more—just in time to catch her looking at him again.

Aspen shifted in her seat, her fingers absentmindedly twisting the cap of her water bottle as she debated whether or not to ask the question sitting at the tip of her tongue. She wasn't usually the type to pry, but curiosity had a way of gnawing at her when it came to Harry—especially when it came to the parts of his life he didn't bring up often.

"Can I ask you guys something?" she finally murmured, glancing between Niall and Zayn.

Zayn quirked a brow, while Niall leaned in like she was about to spill the most interesting gossip he'd ever heard. "Course you can, sweetheart," Niall grinned. "What's on your mind?"

She hesitated for a moment before voicing what she'd been wondering. "Has Harry ever talked about... past relationships? Like, has he ever been in love before?"

Niall and Zayn exchanged a look, one Aspen couldn't quite decipher. It wasn't amusement, nor was it discomfort—it was something in between, like they were deciding how much they should say.

"Depends on what you mean by 'in love,'" Zayn finally said, tapping his fingers against the counter. "If you're asking if he's had girlfriends before, then yeah, he's had a few. If you're asking if he's ever been in love? That's a different question entirely."

Aspen frowned slightly. "So... has he?"

Zayn sighed, tilting his head as he considered his answer. "I don't think so," he admitted. "Not the way you mean. Harry's had flings, some more serious than others, but he's never been the type to settle down. Not because he couldn't, just... he never found anyone he wanted to."

Aspen processed that quietly, her fingers still tracing idle patterns on her bottle. It wasn't a bad answer. If anything, it only made her feel more special—like she was different.

Still, she wasn't quite done with her questions.

"What about the way he talks about me?" she asked softly, suddenly feeling a little shy about the inquiry. "Does he... ever bring me up?"

Niall let out an exaggerated groan, throwing his head back. "God, Aspen, you have no idea," he whined. "The man does not shut up about you."

Aspen's eyes widened. "He does?"

"Constantly," Zayn smirked. "It's almost embarrassing, really. We could be talking about literally anything, and he'll find a way to bring you into the conversation. 'Aspen would love this.' 'Aspen was reading this book the other day.' 'Aspen said the funniest thing.' It's ridiculous."

Aspen's face heated instantly, her heart swelling at the revelation. She'd known Harry cared about her—he wasn't shy in the way he showed his affection—but hearing that he talked about her so often when she wasn't around made her feel warm in a way she couldn't quite describe.

"Yeah," Niall added, grinning. "And don't even get me started on the way he talks about you when he's drunk."

Aspen's brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, he gets all sappy," Niall said, waving a hand. "Like, real soft. Talks about how much he likes you, how you make him feel different than anyone else ever has. It's kinda sweet, actually, if you ignore the fact that he sounds like a lovesick idiot."

Aspen's heart did a little flip in her chest. "He really says that?"

"Every damn time," Zayn confirmed, shaking his head. "And if you ask me, that's saying a lot. Harry doesn't open up easily. But with you? I think he's completely gone."

Aspen chewed on her bottom lip, trying to suppress the giddy smile threatening to take over her face. She'd known Harry felt something strong for her, but hearing it from his friends, from the people who knew him best, made it feel even more real.

After a moment, she gathered her thoughts enough to ask her next question. "Has he ever told you guys why he never got serious with anyone before?"

Niall and Zayn exchanged another glance before Zayn answered. "He's never given us a straightforward reason," he admitted. "But I think it has to do with trust. Harry's not the kind of guy who lets people in easily. He's seen too many people turn their backs when things got hard, so he stopped letting them get close in the first place."

Aspen frowned slightly, her heart aching at the thought. She knew Harry had his walls, knew he carried burdens he didn't always talk about. But the idea that he'd spent so much of his life keeping people at arm's length made her want to hold onto him even tighter.

"Well," she said softly, her fingers curling around the edge of the counter, "I hope he knows he doesn't have to worry about that with me."

Zayn studied her for a moment before nodding, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I think he does," he murmured. "And I think that's why you're different."

Aspen exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, feeling an overwhelming sense of warmth spread through her chest. Maybe she was different. Maybe, despite everything, Harry had finally found someone he was willing to let in.

And maybe—just maybe—she was willing to let him in, too.

As Harry worked, the rhythmic hum of the tattoo machine filled the space around him, the buzz familiar and grounding. His hand was steady, movements precise as he filled in the last bit of shading on his client’s forearm. It was muscle memory by now, the way he worked—careful, methodical, ensuring every line was perfect. But despite how deep he was in his craft, his attention kept drifting elsewhere.

Aspen.

Every now and then, between dipping his needle into ink and wiping away excess, his gaze would flicker toward the front of the shop where she sat. She was perched on the chair, her legs tucked under her, absently twirling the cap of her water bottle between her fingers as she listened to whatever nonsense Niall and Zayn were spewing. She was smiling, her cheeks soft with warmth, and fuck—Harry swore he could feel that smile in his damn chest.

It was different, having her here. Not in a bad way—quite the opposite, really. It was grounding, a quiet reassurance that she was becoming a part of this life of his. A life he never thought he’d want to share so openly with someone.

His fingers tightened around the tattoo machine slightly. That thought—it was dangerous. Because there were parts of his life she couldn’t know. Not yet.

He swallowed, forcing his focus back on the piece he was working on. The secrecy—it wasn’t about not trusting her. He did. More than he cared to admit. But there were things in his world that were better left in the dark. Things that weren’t meant for someone like her—soft, kind, untouched by the shit he and Zayn were tangled up in.

Maybe one day, he’d tell her. But not now. Not when he could still shield her from it.

He exhaled, shaking off the heaviness pressing against his ribs, and refocused on finishing up.

Fifteen minutes later, he wiped down the tattoo one last time, nodding in satisfaction before wrapping it up. “Alright, man,” he said to his client, standing and stretching out his arms. “You’re all set. Just follow the aftercare instructions, and you’ll be golden.”

After handling payment and bidding the guy goodbye, Harry finally took a breath. His break had been long overdue.

As he walked over to the front of the shop, the scent of food hit him first. His brows lifted slightly in surprise as he spotted Aspen setting out plates in front of Niall and Zayn, her movements careful and deliberate as she made sure everyone had what they needed. His own plate was set aside for him, waiting.

His heart clenched at the sight.

She had cooked for them?

Something about that simple act of care made something deep in him ache.

Before he made his way over to grab his plate, he veered slightly, walking past Niall and—without hesitation—snagging a bite right off his plate.

“Oi!” Niall protested, pulling his plate away. “What the hell, mate? You've got your own!”

Harry chewed, smirking as he handed Niall back his fork. “I know,” he said easily with a shrug of his broad shoulders, “but if m'lady made it, I want it all.”

Aspen, who had just taken a seat, turned a deep shade of red at his words, her fingers curling in her lap as she ducked her head slightly.

Niall groaned, rolling his eyes as he snatched his plate back. “Christ, you two are disgusting.”

Harry grinned, but didn’t respond, instead making his way over to his own plate. Before sitting down, he leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against Aspen’s cheek from behind.

She stilled for a second, then exhaled, shoulders loosening as a shy little smile played on her lips.

Harry took his seat next to her, grabbing his fork as he dug in. The second he took his first bite, he let out a hum of approval. “Fuck, baby. This is good.”

“She’s got skills,” Zayn agreed, shoveling another bite into his mouth. “Could open up a restaurant or some shit.”

Aspen’s cheeks were still pink as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s really not that big of a deal…”

“It is when all we usually eat is takeout,” Niall chimed in. “This is the best thing I’ve had all week.”

Harry chewed thoughtfully, tapping his fork against his plate before swallowing. “Dunno,” he mused, his lips curling into a slow, cheeky smirk. “I’ve had somethin’ better this week.”

Niall snorted. “Mate, there’s no way you’ve eaten anything better than this. We’ve all been living off gas station snacks and whatever the hell Zayn throws together when he remembers food exists.”

Harry simply leaned back in his chair, draping his arm over the back of Aspen’s. His smirk deepened as he tilted his head slightly toward her, voice dropping just enough to make her stomach twist. “Wasn’t talkin’ about the food.”

Aspen nearly choked on her bite of rice.

Her wide eyes snapped up to him, cheeks instantly burning as she realized exactly what he was implying. Her fingers curled against the napkin in her lap as she shot him a scandalized look, her lips parting slightly in disbelief.

Zayn, always one to catch on quickly, just chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. Niall, on the other hand, took an extra second before groaning in exaggerated disgust. “Christ, Harry. I did not need that mental image while I’m eating.”

Harry only grinned, winking at Aspen before casually picking his fork back up like he hadn’t just made her want to shrink into the floor.

Aspen, flustered beyond belief, pressed her lips together, glancing down at her plate as if it might save her from the warmth spreading all the way to her ears. “You’re insufferable,” she muttered, nudging his knee with hers beneath the table.

Harry let out a low chuckle, nudging her back. “But you like me anyway.”

She didn’t dignify that with an answer—mostly because it was true. And he damn well knew it.

Harry smirked, nudging Aspen lightly with his knee under the table. “Guess that means you’ll have to start cooking for us more often, yeah?”

Aspen rolled her eyes playfully but didn’t argue. Instead, she focused on eating her own food, her lips twitching slightly as the conversation between them carried on.

The energy was easy, lighthearted. They talked about everything and nothing—Niall complaining about a client who wouldn’t stop moving while getting tattooed, Zayn discussing the new pieces he and Harry had lined up, Aspen giggling at their banter.

As the laughter settled, the four of them fell into easy conversation, the clinking of utensils against plates filling the quiet lulls between their words. Harry sat comfortably next to Aspen, his arm draped lazily along the back of her chair, occasionally letting his fingers brush the ends of her hair. It was subtle—so subtle that if someone wasn’t looking, they wouldn’t notice—but Aspen felt every touch, every slight movement of his fingers, and it made her stomach twist in a way she wasn’t used to.

Zayn was the first to steer the conversation into something deeper, leaning back in his chair as he chewed. “So, what’s the plan for the future?” He raised a brow, glancing between them. “Y’know, since we’re all clearly on different paths here. You lot got it all figured out?”

Niall snorted. “Figure out what? That I’ll probably be covered head to toe in ink before I turn thirty and still be eating this girl’s cooking?” He gestured to Aspen with his fork, grinning. “Because if that’s the future, I’m pretty happy with it.”

Aspen smiled, warmth spreading in her chest at the compliment. “You act like I’ll be cooking for you forever,” she teased.

“Oh, come on, sweetheart, don’t do me like that. You’d miss me if I stopped showing up to steal your food.”

Harry rolled his eyes, smirking as he took a sip of his drink. “You’re like a stray cat. Feed you once, and you never leave.”

Zayn chuckled. “That explains why he practically lives at the shop.”

Niall threw up his hands in mock offense. “You lot love having me around, don’t even try to deny it.”

Aspen giggled, shaking her head before turning her attention back to the question Zayn had asked. “But, um, I don’t really know yet,” she admitted softly. “I mean, I have ideas. I love books, so maybe something with that… but it’s hard to say.”

Harry glanced at her, taking in the slight uncertainty in her voice. He could tell she thought about it—probably more than she let on—but she wasn’t one to be loud about her ambitions. She kept them tucked away, only revealing them in small doses, and for some reason, that made him want to hear them even more.

“What about you?” Aspen nudged Harry’s arm lightly.

He took a slow bite, chewing as he considered his answer. “Dunno,” he said finally. “Tattooin’ is what I love. Keeps me steady, keeps me busy. But…” He paused, swirling his fork against his plate. “I guess I wouldn’t mind somethin’ more down the road.”

“More?” Aspen tilted her head, intrigued.

Harry glanced at her, a small smirk playing at his lips. “What? You think I wanna be slingin’ ink forever?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “You’re really good at it.”

His chest swelled slightly at the compliment, but he only shrugged. “Yeah, but sometimes… I think about what it’d be like to settle down a bit.”

That made Aspen pause, her fork hovering mid-air. “Settle down?”

Harry’s smirk didn’t fade, but there was something softer in his eyes now. “Yeah,” he said simply. “Someday.”

Aspen lowered her gaze, heat crawling up her neck. The thought of Harry—this inked-up, reckless, sometimes smug but always caring man—talking about settling down was almost impossible to picture. But at the same time… it wasn’t.

“What about you?” Harry’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

She blinked up at him, then quickly shook her head. “I—I don’t know,” she murmured. “I never really thought about it.”

Harry hummed, studying her carefully before offering her a teasing grin. “Guess I’ll have to change that, then.”

Aspen’s heart stuttered in her chest, and before she could even process his words, Niall groaned dramatically.

“Christ, you two are disgustingly cute. Can we eat in peace without watchin’ you make heart eyes at each other?”

Zayn chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re just jealous.”

Niall scoffed. “Jealous my ass. I like my peace. Not my fault these two make it impossible.”

Zayn smirked as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Speaking of impossible,” he started, glancing over at Niall with a knowing glint in his eye. “Didn’t you go on that date the other week? The one with that girl you wouldn’t shut up about?”

Aspen perked up immediately, turning her attention to Niall, who suddenly looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but here. She had never heard anything about Niall dating, and now she was curious.

“Oh?” Aspen tilted her head, eyes bright with interest. “Who’s this mystery girl?”

Niall groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. “Why do you always have to bring shit up, man?” he grumbled at Zayn before exhaling dramatically. “It was just a date. Nothin’ serious.”

“That’s not what you were saying last week,” Zayn shot back smugly.

Aspen turned fully in her chair, leaning in closer with excitement. “Come on, tell me! I need details.”

Harry snorted beside her, clearly enjoying Niall’s misery as he took another bite of his food.

Niall gave them all an exasperated look before slumping back in his seat. “Her name’s Elena. Met her at a café—well, more like she bumped into me and spilled coffee all over my jeans.” He chuckled, shaking his head at the memory. “She was all flustered and apologetic, tryin’ to clean me up, and I was just standin’ there like an idiot. But we got talkin’, and I don’t know… she was easy to talk to.”

Aspen smiled at the way his voice softened slightly, like he hadn’t meant to sound so fond but couldn’t help it. “That sounds cute,” she mused. “So? How was the date?”

Niall shrugged. “It was good. Took her to dinner, talked a lot. She’s studying psychology, so she’s always analyzin’ people. Pretty sure she was psychoanalyzin’ me the whole time.”

Zayn chuckled. “That’s probably not hard.”

Niall shot him a look before continuing. “Anyway, she’s nice. Sweet. Smart as hell. But I dunno, she’s busy with school, and I’m always at the shop. We haven’t really talked much since.”

Aspen frowned slightly, sensing that there was more to it than just being busy. “Do you like her?”

Niall hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean… yeah, I guess.”

Zayn scoffed. “You more than ‘guess.’ You texted her three days straight after the date.”

Aspen gasped, her eyes lighting up. “Oh my god, Niall!”

Niall groaned again, dropping his head against the table. “I hate you all.”

Harry, who had been relatively quiet, finally smirked and chimed in. “So, what’s stoppin’ you? If you like her, ask her out again.”

Niall lifted his head just enough to glare at him. “You make it sound so easy.”

Aspen tapped her fingers against the table thoughtfully before an idea struck her. “Wait! What if I helped?”

Niall narrowed his eyes. “Help how?”

“Well,” Aspen began, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, “you said she’s in psychology, right? I actually have a class with her. We’re not super close or anything, but I could… I don’t know, maybe put in a good word for you?”

Zayn barked out a laugh. “Oh, this is gold.”

Niall groaned for what seemed like the hundredth time, dragging his hands down his face. “Jesus. This is humiliatin’.”

“It’s not humiliating!” Aspen argued. “Think of it as… giving you a little push in the right direction.”

Harry chuckled beside her, shaking his head. “That’s dangerous, mate. Aspen’s got a way of getting what she wants.”

Aspen elbowed him playfully but turned back to Niall with an encouraging smile. “I’ll be subtle, I promise. Just casual, ‘Oh, Niall’s such a great guy’ kind of stuff.”

Niall sighed dramatically. “If this backfires, I’m blamin’ you.”

Aspen grinned. “Deal.”

Zayn smirked. “This is the most entertaining lunch I’ve had in weeks.”

As they continued eating, the conversation naturally flowed into playful teasing and joking, but Aspen made a mental note to follow through on her promise. If there was a chance she could help Niall get the push he needed, she’d gladly take it.

Aspen, still burning from Harry’s words, buried her face in her hands. Harry only grinned wider, reaching over to steal another bite from Niall’s plate, completely unbothered.

As the conversation carried on, Aspen couldn’t help but steal glances at Harry—at the way he fit so easily into the dynamic, at the way he teased and laughed and looked at her like she was something he wanted to keep close.

And for a little while, Harry let himself sink into it.

No stress, no secrets.

Just this. Her.

He’d hold onto it for as long as he could.

Harry sat back in his chair, absently twirling his fork between his fingers as conversation carried on around him. The food was good—great, actually, because Aspen had made it—but if he was being honest, he wasn’t fully present. His mind kept slipping, getting caught up in memories that were much more intoxicating than anything else in the room.

He’d been doing his best to keep himself engaged, nodding along when Niall teased Zayn about something, adding in a comment here and there, but all it took was one glance at Aspen, one moment of catching the soft curve of her lips as she smiled, or the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, and he was gone again.

His grip tightened slightly on his fork as his mind drifted back to that night in his office. He could still feel her, taste her, the phantom sensation of her lips and tongue making his stomach coil with heat. The way she had looked at him—wide-eyed, eager, completely wrapped up in him—had nearly ruined him. He’d had plenty of hookups before, but none of them stuck in his head like this, none of them made him crave more than just the physical. But Aspen? She was burned into his mind, into his fucking soul.

And the bathroom. Christ.

He swallowed hard, taking a sip of his drink to keep himself grounded, but it didn’t help much. He could still see the way she’d knelt for him, how shy she had been but how determined, how she’d hesitated but only for a moment before she found her rhythm. The contrast between her softness and the way she had wrecked him had his head spinning even now. He’d never been so completely fucking whipped for someone, never felt this all-consuming urge to take and give all at once. The way she’d looked up at him through her lashes, her fingers barely able to wrap around him, her lips stretched as far as they could go—it had been enough to make him lose all control.

He shifted in his seat, adjusting himself subtly as he forced himself to refocus. He had to get a grip. It wouldn’t do him any favors to sit there getting lost in his own head while they were all supposed to be enjoying a meal. He glanced over at Aspen, catching the way she was laughing at something Niall said, completely unaware of the way she had him tied in knots.

She had no idea what she did to him.

Harry exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair before speaking up, his voice deliberately casual. “Hey, babe,” he said, shifting his attention to Aspen. “Think you could help me move a few things around in my office?”

Aspen blinked, surprised by the sudden request. “Oh,” she said softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, of course.”

Harry smirked, pleased with her easy agreement. Truthfully, there wasn’t much that needed moving, but with Niall and Zayn getting caught up with clients, he had a perfect excuse to steal her away for a few moments. He needed a break, and more than that, he wanted to be alone with her—just her.

“Tryin’ to get her alone, are we?” Niall teased, wiggling his brows as he stood from the table to grab his supplies.

Zayn chuckled, not bothering to hide his amusement. “Smooth, mate.”

Harry rolled his eyes, standing as well before placing a firm hand at Aspen’s lower back, guiding her toward the hall leading to his office. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” he muttered, though the smirk tugging at his lips gave him away.

Aspen followed quietly, her heart picking up its pace just from the warmth of his palm against her. There was something about the way he touched her—casual yet possessive, like he was always reminding her that she was his. She tried not to overthink it, but the way her stomach fluttered made it impossible.

The moment they stepped into his office, Harry shut the door behind them, leaning against it for a second as he took her in. She looked soft under the dim lighting, her features gentle but curious, and for a split second, he forgot why he even made up the excuse in the first place.

“So… what are we moving?” Aspen asked, glancing around the office.

Harry tilted his head slightly, dragging his lip ring between his teeth as he considered her. Then, with a slow grin, he shrugged. “Dunno,” he admitted. “Might’ve just wanted to get you alone.”

Aspen’s cheeks flushed instantly. “Harry,” she scolded, but there was no real bite to it.

“What?” He smirked, stepping closer, his hands finding her hips with ease. “Can’t a man want some time with his girl?”

Aspen’s breath hitched, her hands instinctively pressing against his chest to create the smallest bit of distance, but Harry only squeezed her hips gently, pulling her in just enough to make her heart race.

“You—” She swallowed, trying to compose herself. “You could’ve just said that instead of pretending you needed help moving things.”

Harry hummed, dipping his head to brush his nose against hers. “Mm. Could’ve,” he mused. “But this way was more fun.”

Aspen’s lips parted slightly, her resolve slipping just from the heat of his proximity. He had this effect on her—one look, one touch, and she was undone.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” she murmured.

Harry grinned, pressing a lingering kiss to her cheek before pulling back just enough to look her in the eye. “Good,” he said simply. “Because you do the same to me.”

Aspen barely had a second to process his words before Harry closed the distance between them, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that stole the breath from her lungs. His hands moved from her hips to her waist, fingers pressing firmly against the fabric of her top as he pulled her even closer. She melted into him instantly, her own hands slipping up to cup his face, thumbs grazing along his jawline as she sighed softly against his lips.

It started slow, sweet, like they had all the time in the world to explore each other. Harry kissed her with an intensity that sent warmth spilling through her veins, his lips moving over hers with a tenderness that contradicted the way his fingers flexed against her waist. It had been a long day, a long week, and this was what they needed—just the two of them, no distractions, no rushed moments stolen between the chaos of their lives.

But as much as Harry wanted to savor this, his self-control started slipping the second Aspen let out the softest whimper against his mouth. His grip tightened, his lips parting to deepen the kiss, tongue swiping against hers in a way that had her knees weakening beneath her. Aspen clung to him, her fingers curling into the collar of his shirt as she let herself drown in him.

Harry groaned softly, one hand leaving her waist to tangle in her hair, angling her head just how he wanted as he took his time tasting her. The soft scent of her perfume, the warmth of her body pressed against his—it was overwhelming in the best way. He could stay like this forever, but then Aspen pressed just a bit closer, her body molding against his like she was meant to be there, and Harry nearly lost it.

His lips moved from hers, trailing slow, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw, down to the soft skin of her neck. Aspen gasped, tilting her head to give him more access as his teeth scraped lightly against her pulse point. He smiled against her skin when he felt her shiver, his other hand gripping her waist even tighter.

“Harry,” she whispered, voice breathy, and it sent a shudder down his spine.

It took everything in him to pull back, his forehead resting against hers as he caught his breath. His chest rose and fell heavily, his grip on her tightening before he forced himself to let go completely.

Aspen blinked up at him, lips swollen and eyes dazed. “Why’d you stop?” she asked softly, her voice laced with curiosity and the faintest hint of disappointment.

Harry chuckled, his hands finding her hips once more as he gave her a gentle squeeze. “Because, sweetheart,” he murmured, pressing one last kiss to the corner of her mouth, “if I keep going, I’m gonna start something I can’t finish.”

Aspen’s face turned a deep shade of red at his words, and she quickly dropped her gaze. “Oh,” she squeaked out in a breath, suddenly very interested in the buttons on his shirt.

Harry grinned, loving the way she got all shy on him. “Cute,” he mused, nudging her chin up with his fingers so she’d look at him again. “C’mon, little mouse. Have a seat.”

Aspen obeyed, settling onto the small sofa against the wall, her hands fidgeting in her lap as she tried to recover from the heat still lingering in her veins.

Harry grabbed his sketchbook from the desk before sitting beside her, his arm draped along the back of the couch as he flipped to a fresh page. “I needed a break anyway,” he murmured, tapping his pencil against the paper.

Aspen peeked at him, still feeling a little breathless. “What are you gonna draw?” she asked, her voice softer than usual.

Harry smirked, eyes flicking to hers before looking back at the blank page. “Dunno yet,” he admitted. “Maybe you.”

Aspen’s heart skipped at that, but she only tilted her head slightly, a confused smile pulling at her lips. “What do you mean?” she asked softly.

Harry stilled for a moment, debating whether he should keep it to himself or let her in on the little secret he had been holding onto for months. A small smirk played at the corner of his lips as he exhaled, deciding that maybe it was time.

Instead of answering right away, he flipped through his sketchbook, fingers dragging over the edges of the pages as he searched for something specific. Aspen watched curiously, her brows knitting together when she noticed how careful he was being, almost hesitant.

And then he turned the book toward her.

Aspen blinked. Her lips parted slightly as her gaze landed on the first drawing—a sketch of her, sitting beneath a tree, completely lost in her book. The details were so precise, so tenderly drawn, she could almost feel the sunlight filtering through the leaves above her, just like it had been that day during their camping trip.

Her throat tightened. “Is this…?”

“The first time I sketched you,” Harry finished for her, voice softer than usual. “Back at the campsite.”

Aspen reached out, her fingers barely grazing the page as she stared at it, taking in every detail. “You… you drew this back then?” Her voice was breathy, almost disbelieving.

Harry chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. You just… I dunno, you looked so peaceful sitting there. I couldn’t help it.”

Aspen’s chest ached in the best way possible. She turned the page, revealing another sketch of her—this one of her standing by Zayn’s car, arms crossed, deep in thought. And then another of her sitting at the tattoo shop, nose buried in a book, oblivious to everything around her. There were so many.

Page after page, she found herself staring at different versions of herself through Harry’s eyes. Some were quick, rough sketches, as if he had drawn them in a hurry before the image slipped from his mind. Others were detailed, shaded with such care that they looked almost lifelike.

She swallowed thickly, emotions swelling in her chest as she reached another drawing—one that looked fresher, the graphite still bold and untouched by time. It was her, curled up on the couch, wearing the oversized hoodie she had stolen from Harry the other night.

“I drew that one a couple nights ago,” Harry admitted, watching her reaction closely. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Aspen’s fingers trembled slightly as she turned to face him. “You never told me,” she whispered.

Harry held her gaze, his usual cocky demeanor slipping into something more vulnerable. “Didn’t think I needed to,” he murmured. “You’re just… always on my mind, I guess.”

Aspen’s heart stuttered in her chest. The weight of his words settled deep in her bones, making it hard to breathe for a moment. She didn’t know what to say, so instead, she reached out and laced her fingers through his, squeezing his hand in silent understanding.

Harry let out a breath and flipped to the back of the sketchbook. “That’s not the only thing I’ve been working on,” he admitted, flipping past a few blank pages before stopping at something else entirely.

Aspen frowned slightly, eyes narrowing as she realized it wasn’t another sketch—it was handwriting. Lyrics.

She tilted her head, reading the words on the page.

"Sweet creature, had another talk about where it’s going wrong… but we’re still young, we don’t know where we’re going, but we know where we belong…”

Aspen’s breath hitched. She looked up at him, wide-eyed. “Harry… this is—”

Harry cut her off with a nervous chuckle, rubbing his jaw. “Yeah, I’ve been dabbling with the guitar,” he admitted. “Words just kinda… flow sometimes.”

Aspen traced the title with her fingertips, her heart swelling at the sight of it. Sweet Creature.

“It’s about me, isn’t it?” she asked quietly, already knowing the answer.

Harry smirked, but there was a softness behind it. “Who else would it be about?”

Aspen bit her lip, a deep warmth spreading through her chest. She wanted to ask him to play it for her, but something about the way he was looking at her—like he wasn’t quite ready to share it completely—made her hold back.

Instead, she turned the page, revealing another song title scribbled onto the next sheet.

"Meet Me in the Hallway."

Aspen’s brows knitted together as she read through the lyrics, the weight of the words pressing down on her chest. There was something haunting about them, something aching, as if each line bled with regret. The melody was absent, but she could feel it in the rhythm of the syllables, in the spaces between the words where silence spoke just as loudly.

Her fingers traced over the ink, eyes scanning over the phrase again and again.

"Just let me know I'll be at the door, at the door Hoping you'll come around Just let me know I'll be on the floor, on the floor Maybe we'll work it out..."

She swallowed thickly, the lump in her throat making it hard to speak. “This one feels…” she trailed off, trying to pinpoint the exact emotion clawing at her chest.

Harry, who had been watching her reaction closely, answered before she could. His voice was quiet, low. “Guilty?”

Aspen’s head snapped up, and when their eyes met, she understood immediately. This wasn’t just a song. It was them.

It was all the nights she had spent wondering what she had done wrong, why he had looked at her like she was both too much and not enough all at once. It was every moment he had pushed her away despite the way his body betrayed him, lingering too close, brushing against her like he couldn't help himself.

It was the space he had put between them, and the silence that had suffocated her when she hadn't understood why.

Aspen’s chest tightened, her fingers curling around the edge of the sketchbook. She had never asked him about those days, about why he had acted the way he had. Some part of her had been too afraid of the answer.

And yet, here it was—laid bare in ink and paper, more honest than he had ever been aloud.

“Harry…” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

He shook his head, exhaling through his nose as he ran a hand through his curls. “I know,” he murmured, his eyes flickering away for a second before coming back to her. “I fucked up back then.”

Aspen sucked in a shaky breath. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Harry cut in, firmer this time. His jaw tensed, his fingers gripping the fabric of his jeans. “I need to. Because I know how I treated you before, and I don’t ever want you t'think for a second that it was because of you.”

Aspen’s heart twisted painfully in her chest. She searched his face, her own emotions threatening to overwhelm her. She had spent so long convincing herself that she had imagined the tension, that she had misread the way his eyes had lingered on her, the way he had always seemed to fight against something when he was near her.

And now, hearing him say it outright, the confirmation was almost too much.

“I don’t think that anymore,” she admitted, her voice soft, reassuring. “Not now.”

Harry let out a slow breath, his shoulders dropping as if he had been holding onto something heavy for too long. His fingers inched toward hers, hesitant at first, until Aspen reached for him on her own, closing the distance.

His skin was warm, rough at the fingertips, and yet he held her hand with a gentleness that made her chest ache.

Aspen studied him for a long moment, taking in the little signs of his discomfort—the way his knee bounced slightly, the way his thumb rubbed absentmindedly over her knuckles, as if grounding himself. She could see the vulnerability in his face, the unspoken weight behind his words.

Slowly, a small smile pulled at her lips. “I think it’s beautiful,” she murmured. “Both of them.”

Harry’s eyes flickered up to meet hers, searching for any trace of dishonesty. “Yeah?”

Aspen nodded. “Yeah.”

For a second, he just stared at her, and then something in him seemed to settle. His grip on her hand tightened ever so slightly, and a small, genuine smile spread across his lips.

He exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Didn’t plan on showing you these t'day,” he admitted, a hint of sheepishness creeping into his tone.

Aspen squeezed his hand, her heart swelling with something deep and warm. “I’m glad you did.”

They sat there, fingers intertwined, the sketchbook still resting between them like a silent bridge to all the things they had never said. And for the first time in a long time, neither of them felt the need to fill the silence.

Because for once, it wasn’t heavy. It wasn’t suffocating.

It was simply them.

A quiet stillness settled between them, warm and familiar, as Aspen gently traced the edges of the sketchbook with her fingertips. The weight of everything they had just shared lingered in the air, unspoken yet understood. Harry, still holding her hand, let his thumb lazily graze over her knuckles, grounding himself in the moment. He wasn’t sure if it was the intimacy of her learning about his songs, or if it was simply the way she looked at him—like he was something good, something worth knowing—but a sense of peace washed over him.

Without thinking, he shifted closer, slipping his arm around her waist and pulling her into his side. Aspen let out a quiet breath of surprise but didn’t resist, instinctively tucking herself against him. Her cheek pressed softly against his shoulder, and Harry relished the feeling of her fitting so perfectly against him.

For a moment, they sat like that, just breathing in each other’s presence.

Then, Harry tilted his head down, brushing his lips against her temple. It was slow, lingering, like he wanted to imprint himself into her skin. “Didn’t know how much I needed this,” he murmured, voice low and thick with something tender.

Aspen smiled, her fingers finding the hem of his sleeve and lightly toying with the fabric. “Needed what?” she asked softly.

Harry pressed another kiss against her hair, his lips barely leaving her skin as he whispered, “You. Just you, sugar.”

Aspen felt her chest tighten in the best way, a warmth spreading through her limbs at his words. She turned slightly in his hold, looking up at him with those soft, doe-like eyes of hers. The affection in them made something deep in his chest clench, a feeling so strong it nearly stole his breath.

Without hesitation, he leaned in, capturing her lips in a slow, lazy kiss. It wasn’t rushed or filled with desperation—it was something deeper, something sweeter. His lips moved against hers with a careful kind of reverence, as if every kiss was meant to tell her all the things he struggled to put into words.

Aspen sighed against his mouth, her hand sliding up to rest against his chest, fingers curling slightly into his shirt. She felt his heartbeat beneath her palm—steady, strong, real.

Harry couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, pulling her impossibly closer. “God, you’re somethin’ else,” he muttered between kisses, voice hushed like he was speaking a secret only for her.

Aspen’s cheeks warmed, and she buried her face against his neck, a quiet giggle escaping her lips. “You always say that.”

Harry chuckled, nuzzling against her. “’Cause it’s true.”

She hummed in response, her fingers drawing small patterns against his chest. The silence stretched again, but it wasn’t awkward or uncertain. It was filled with the quiet kind of love that didn’t need to be spoken to be felt.

But then Harry, feeling the way she melted into him, feeling the way her presence made everything better, suddenly had the overwhelming urge to say it out loud.

The words formed on his tongue before he could second-guess himself.

“I love you.”

Aspen stiffened slightly against him, her breath catching.

Harry felt his heart stutter, a rare flicker of nervousness crawling up his spine. He hadn’t planned on saying it—not yet, not now—but the moment had felt too right to hold it back. And now, waiting for her response, he felt completely, utterly exposed.

Aspen slowly pulled back just enough to look up at him, her wide eyes searching his face as if trying to determine if she had heard him correctly.

Harry held her gaze, unwavering. He didn’t regret saying it. Harry was more so nervous if he had said it too soon, or if it was too much right now.

Aspen’s lips parted slightly, her throat working as she swallowed. She looked so soft—so pure in the way she was taking in his words, like she wanted to tuck them away somewhere safe.

Then, almost shyly, she ducked her head, her cheeks turning a shade of pink that made Harry’s chest tighten. Her fingers played with the hem of his sleeve again, fidgeting. And then, in the quietest, sweetest voice, she whispered, “I love you too.”

Harry swore his heart stopped for a second.

A slow, breathy chuckle left his lips, pure relief flooding through him. “Yeah?” he murmured, tipping her chin up so she had no choice but to look at him again.

Aspen nodded, still impossibly shy, but her eyes held no hesitation. “Yeah.”

Harry felt something shift inside him, something settle. He leaned down, pressing another lingering kiss to her lips, his grip around her tightening like he never wanted to let go.

“Sweetest thing,” he whispered against her mouth.

Aspen smiled against his lips, and when they pulled away, she nestled back into his side, her fingers tracing absentminded shapes against his arm.

They stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, hearts steady and full.

And for the first time in a long time, Harry felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be.

[v33n4-c4rn1s]

"The odds are ours."

Remy Lebeau x fem!reader

A/n: HERE IT IS!! it got delayed twice but its here!! thank you for all the love, for making this possible. Here's the FINAL part of the main series. To answer your question..no! the series is NOT over! i plan to continue this in little oneshots! tiny extras! now, without further ado! here's the last part! as usual, Angst/Comfort. Enjoy!! <3

Summary: When wade wilson dragged you into the mess you were miserable, mourning and utterly heartbroken but now, after following Wilson and Howlett around for hours, watching them fight you finally get your end of the deal. Seeing a man you thought you'd never see again.

────────────────⋆༺𓆩🂱𓆪༻⋆─────────────────

To say you were pissed was an understatement, you were livid.

You should have stayed. Ran back to the face you’ve been so familiar with for just a few hours. The very face that handed out a clean, fresh start. To forget the pain of the past, to live on with him.

But luck never favoured you. 

..Neither did gravity.

You learned that when your back slammed into a car. The force of it sent white hot pain up your spine and you could barely resist the urge to curl up and scream. First you leave behind a solid connection and now your ribs are broken. Nice.

Wade groans, hoisting himself off the car while Logan just..slumps.

“Holy shit that's deadpool!!”

“And wolverine!!”

..well, at least they don’t recognize you. You're half thankful, half offended.

“You're damn straight it is! Fox killed him. Disney brought him back! They're gonna make him do this till he’s ninety!”

Wade points his finger at Logan. Amusing the children and earning a scoff from the older man. You get a brief meeting of this..Peter guy that Wade has been yapping on about. He seems..sweet. Really sweet. That's a nice change. 

- - - - - - -

You follow the ketchup and mustard pots to the street. Seriously, the pain in your ribs is killing you. You’re almost tempted to ask Logan to carry you..or play dead.

That’s when you see him, the phony bastard. Paradox.

“No! Piss off! You’re too late!” 

He yells at all three of you, waving his arms until Logan snaps at him.

“You’re fuckin’ done.”

“Why was Thor crying!?”

  Wade jumps in, pointing an accusing finger...Well, now you just have to get a word in.

“Why’d you send him to get me!?”

You point to Wade. Seriously..why are you tangled up in this mess?

“How dare you! No one comes back from the void! I didn’t send him to get you! It was his idea!”

Paradox lets out a frustrated little huff. Logan speaks up, interjecting with an almost comedic growl.

“Tell that to Cassandra Nova.”

Oh, right on cue. The beam of orange tears into the empty space. The sound of boots and..it’s the man from before. The one Logan punched real hard. God you just want to see Remy again. 

“Paradox, we have a problem.”

His head twists to the side, A shuddering snap of bones occurs before Cassandra Nova steps out. Tossing the corpse to one side. She speaks, her tone is playful. Like she's bantering with Paradox.

“You tried to kill me.”

You tense up. Just the sight of her makes you feel cold. God, you wish you could just go straight back to Remy. The portal is open. The void is there. You can see it. Hell. Fuck it. 

You move to rush forward, not even paying attention to the conversation ahead..

“Now shoo. Mummy and daddy are having a conversation.”

You’re forced backwards, Flying back alongside Wade and Logan. At Least they’re cushioned by a car. You, on the other hand, smack to the ground with an obvious thud. You don’t have as much strength as you like, You can’t pull through, not like this. Your brain feels fuzzy, your eyelids are heavy and with one last curse from Wade..you fall unconscious.

- - - - - - -

The Fire is warm on your skin. It’s comforting. The familiar scent of burning wood and..Tobacco. Your head rests against the warmth of another body.

You jolt. You don’t even realise someone else is there, neither do you realise your surroundings.

The library. In the mansion. Your home.

You look up. You dread to see what you’ll find. Memories itching to tear from your weary bones. Begging for freedom against the confines of your mind..

But a familiar face stares back. Eyes soft with affection.

“Remy–”

The words die in your throat. You just stare. He takes your hand, bringing it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles. Its soft, a gesture you could never scrub from your mind even if you tried.

“Mon amour..”

He coo’s so softly. It’s a sound you’ve missed. Before you can stop yourself. You throw your arms around his neck. WIthout missing a single beat, he wraps his arms around your waist.

“I–I thought– I thought I'd never see you again! How— How is this–”

He stops you, pulling you away just to cup your face. He avoids the question. Instead..he gives you a word of advice.

“You need t’move on Chère. Dis ain’t healthy. Holdin’ onto the past.”

It makes you feel sick. Why is he telling you this? Does he not want you to stay?

“But– I can’t let you go–”

How could you? You’ve loved him for years. Your affection never wavered for him.

“I know dat. Trust me, Gambit knows all dat.”

Despite his instance, you couldn’t. Why? Why would you? He was..everything.

“It ain’t gon’ be easy..but you gotta try– Gambit don’t want you stressin’ for de rest o’ yer life..”

He leaned down, his hands resting on your shoulders. Such a foreign feeling but oh..you missed it.

He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. He pulls away so slowly, like it hurts him to part from you. He’s always been a gentleman, he breaks your heart so softly.

“You deserve good t’ings mon amour..all dat good stuff is gon’ be yours..you just gotta take it.”

The flames in the fire roar. It's sweating hot. Remy seems to panic a little. His brows knit together and he cups your face.

“You’re never gon’ have to carry de burden anymore– everythings gonna go.”

Is it selfish to say you don’t care? It might be. The people, the friends, the history. Gone.

But this place isn’t a home, no without him.

Your Remy. Your Dashing Cajun.

A man who has seen so much but never loves too little.

A fresh, painless start is what you need.

He’ll find you. He always does

- - - - - - -

Your head feels like it's splitting open. God, everything is hurting. Your ribs, your knees, your heart.

Fuck, what the hell happened?

Oh, right..

You sit up, immediately regretting the decision. Pain climbs up your spine, causing you to wince.

“Easy, bub.”

A gravely but surprisingly soft tone comes from the all familiar Logan.

His hand rests on your chest, gently pushing you to lay back down. For a moment, he watches you. Eyes taking inyour trembling form. His hand, still resting on your chest, twitches softly. These hands have spilled so much blood yet they’re so tender on the people he cares for. Hah, lucky you. Sneaking into Logan Howlett’s heart, making him play doctor. There's an authoritative yet parental touch.

He lets you relax before he breathes out a quiet sigh, shaking his head.

“Wade’s playing hero. Said something about a gift to you for all your..hard work.”

You can tell he’s trying not to laugh. A breathy chuckle leaves him as he sits back down in the arm chair.

“How long have i–”

Your voice is..embarrassingly raspy. Seems like it's been out of action for a bit but Logan knows what you're asking him.

“Day and a half at most. You ain’t missed much. We saved his universe and uh..essentially became his roommates. Hah. I see that look. You seriously thought you could get away from ol’ mouth?”

You throw your head back with a groan. Shaking your head. God, first you lose your home and you’re already checking in to a new one? It’s happening way too fast for you to even–

“You think I still have that spare mattress? I can’t remember if i tossed it out yesterday or–”

Wade, completely geared out in costume, casually struts out of that blazing orange portal with..

Remy. 

The Remy you met in that dump–

He’s battered, for sure. A nasty cut lines his cheek and his nose is coated in more of the sticky red liquid. He’s limping. Straining to get inside without toppling over. His usual charm seems to be tossed out the window as he coughs into his fist, shoulders trembling.

“Oh there’s our sleeping beauty! Hi sweetie! Did you have a nice coma? Look what your buddy Wade got ya– and he’s all yours! We can sort out a collar tomorrow–”

He’s obviously making it sound like Remy’s some kind of dog– leashed and collared and to be honest? He might as well be. Look at those puppy dog eyes.

“Chère..”

He breathes out so softly. For a moment..it’s like you’ve known him your whole life. Wade backs up and grabs Logan’s arm. Muttering about needing to “find the mattress.”

You rush forwards, stumbling slightly and without thinking you crash against the Cajun’s chest. It’s so warm, so comforting. A breath of fresh air after the polluted heartbreak. He caves immediately. He wraps his arms around you, cradling your head against his chest.

“There's my girl..”

He speaks so softly, like you’ll shatter under his touch. You know you're crying. Pitiful cries slip past and he hushes you softly like he did that night in the hideout. It breaks his heart to see more tears but he knows it's out of relief. 

There's no need for words, not when he swoops down to cup your jaw, tilting your head up to pepper your forehead in featherlite kisses. 

He came from nothing. Living off the scraps of garbage and the skills he had. You, a version of you, changed his life for the better. He lost you once before and now he’s never losing you again. This is the start of the best new leaf anyone could wish for. Some call it relighting old flames, but is it really an old flame if it never burnt out?

You look up at him, meeting his gaze. Something clicks in your head the minute he leans in closer..

He pauses, he's a breath away from taking your own but he waits..he needs to know you're ready. It doesn’t matter if it takes years. He’d wait a thousand years if it meant he got to return to your loving arms.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to wait any longer. You meet him in the middle.

His lips are incredibly soft against your own, he tastes like liquor..it's no surprise or a shock. You already knew the taste. It was seared into your mind for good.

He outright groans in satisfaction. You can tell he’s overjoyed by the way he fumbles. He’s not sure where to hold you. It's cute, his hands try to find purchase anywhere they can. They settle on your waist before his arms decide to wrap around you, pulling you in deeper.

He’s breathless when you pull back. Cheeks flushed such a pretty pink. The tips of his ears are red. His brows furrow before he noses your cheek lovingly and presses his forehead to yours.

This is exactly where he wants to be.

He lets out a breathy sigh once more, his gaze meets yours.

“Might need to start hopin’ through portals some more if I get welcomed like dis..”

He laughs softly when you hit his shoulder gently. He pecks your nose in response, squeezing your hips.

“Ah, Behave chère, Remy’s only teasin’..”

Such a fool, but he’s claimed himself as your fool. 

The odds have always been in his favour. And this time, they brought him home.

────────────────⋆༺𓆩🂱𓆪༻⋆─────────────────

Taglist: @techs-stitches @kaidan-z @tetra-stark @aisling1985 @trinswhimsys

Thank you all so much! i love you all SO MUCH!! <3

[dannyz0ur]

Please I need a curly x reader fic where the reader see how stressed out Curly is and offers another way for him to relax…the cockpit has a lock…🙏 excited to see the fic if you chose to do this!

ok so a little short teehee~ i hope this delivers though!

You knew Curly just as well as any other crew member. He was a ray of sunshine, a beaming motivation in the midst of the sad grey ship you were all trapped in.

He was always cheering everyone up, saying words of ecouragement of advising them to take a break. Never did he show any signs of exhaustion, frustration, or anything else than joy for that matter. But you knew better than to assume he was fine. Of course being captain was an arduous task, he must've felt like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He was so specially kind to you, or so it seemed to every other member of the crew.

You two had longer conversations after morning meetings and seemed to engage in playful banter while working, had your coffee together... y'know, stuff close friends do.

Little did everyone know how actually close you were. Or, well; right now, how close Curly was.

"Haah~ hun, keep that up and- shit..." He panted, gently pushing your head further down his cock. You knew just as well as he did that he wouldn't last long if you kept sucking him off like that.

Sometimes it was a blessing the cockpit had a lock.

And sometimes, the blessing was you, Curly thought.

The stress, the burden of being a captain would've driven him insane if he hadn't met you. Such a good friend at first, then gradually becoming fuck buddies one of those lonely nights at the Tulpar. You would either listen at him vent about his stress and burdens or make him forget about them with the warmth of your touch.

Not even five minutes later, you were bouncing on his lap, your plushy thighs and ass slapping against his muscular ones, the only sounds in the cockpit now were the wet plap plap plap each time he buried his length as deep as possible inside you, making your eyes roll back and your breath hitch, and the ragged breaths you two let out in an attempt to lessen the louder moans.

“G-gods… you’re- ahh- you’re amazing…” Curly mumbled in your neck, arms tightly wrapped around your waist while he helped you bounce up and down. “Captain~” you moaned, because you’d learned he has a thing for titles. At least when it comes to you. “You’re doing so good, hun… feels so good…” He always mumbled praises against your neck whenever he was close, it was his giveaway, so you gave your best to him until you were the first one to come—his request—and he followed soon after; whimpering your name.

Then you’d sit there for a moment, catching your breath, and after that you’d sneak out of the cockpit and into your respective quarters as if nothing had happened. But still, you both knew that it’d happen again and again. You were one of the few things keeping Curly sane.

Of course you’d do it, he was your Captain, he deserves it.

again, too short and took too long but here it is!! remember reqs are OPEN and here's my req sheet!

[zeebee3]

Queen, I read almost all your recs and wanted to thank you.💙😍 I liked that most of them featured the breeding kink (I didn't want children before but now I might be reconsidering hehehehe).

If you could suggest more, I wouldn't be mad.😳🙏

Woohoo, so happy you read and enjoyed so many of them!! Your wish is my command--always happy to rec fics 😍

Again, in no particular order...

Dramione

She Will by Undertheglow. Draco/Hermione, written in future tense and poetic as HELL while still being scorching hot. I adore this one.

Dépaysement by Setissma. If you haven't read this OH MY GOD you're in for a treat. I can't be eloquent about how much I love it. It has it all (fake marriage, forced domesticity, tension and smut and feeelingggsssssss) and I can't be chill about it.

One Whole by SaffronGin. Don't be intimidated by the chapter count, they are delicious little bites. This fic is a JOURNEY in every sense and I had the best time following it as a WIP. In fact, I need to do reread now that it's complete--keeping the tab open!

The Unintended Consequences of Purposive Action by ellieauthor. When an accidental bit of roleplay has unintended consequences 🤭 Everything Ellie writes is whip-smart and banter-rich, and this is a peak example of it.

The Delivery Clause by ThornedHuntress. You've heard of arranged marriages, well the hot new thing is an arranged pregnancy. Enjoyyyy!

A Tentacular Spectacular by Sugarquilling. Hermione fucks the giant squid while Draco watches. I mean...idk what else to say about it (except read it, it's glorious)

We Fell In Love In October by ohthedrarry. This is a socmed AU (textfic) and dkfjsldfjskdfjl I just love it

CHESS CLUB by Ivy_and_right. Another textfic. Draco has a virginity kink, and Hermione is a virgin. Again, idk what else to say about it except that you will stay up all night reading it

icebreaker by ninepiecesofcrait. Nine really outdid herself with this one guys. PHEW BOY. Ginny gives Hermione a sex toy as a not-so-joking joke, but oops it's wrapped identically to Draco's gift. Guess which one he takes home. Guess what he decides to set to rights 🤗

For I Have Sinned by spicyxpisces and Stars_in_motion. Priest!Draco, devout!Hermione. We're not going to talk about how many times I've read this one. Join me in the soft-and-gentle edging depravity 🙏

atonement by takenbytheview. You know that scene in Atonement, when he writes That Letter then gives her the wrong one? Yeah. That. That but Dramione; That but somehow BETTER than it's ever been 🫠🫠🫠

Not Dramione

I Did Something Bad by charingfae. Tom Riddle/Hermione, with time travel and tension and the most toxic flirting you've ever seen. I think about this one all the time.

Voussoir by setissma. Look, I'm just gonna out myself as a die-hard Setissma fangirl. Just go through their backlog and read everything--do it do it! This is a Draco/Harry/Hermione triad fic, and reading it makes me both yearny and calm (as with basically everything else Setissma writes does).

Hydra by setissma. Omg weird, another Setissma? How'd that get in here? Pansy/Harry. READ IT READ IT READ IT. These are the characterizations I would die to be able to write.

Hopefully you find more fics to enjoy from here! And don't forget to kudos and, even more meaningful, comment so the writers know you enjoyed them too. It really does make all the difference 🥰🫶

[windmaedchen-oceanhorn]

Merlinverse Wheel Interactions - Collection Post

I was bored, so I spun the wheel a couple of times. I actually only ignored results I already had, but removed options later on to get more variation. I haven't consulted anyone and just went from vague memory, so lemme know how badly I am off the mark. xDDD

Lavinia attempts to play matchmaker for Zelda

Magister Zelda by @fgfirenation

I believe we had this scenario before, where Zelda is playing matchmaker for Lavinia, when she learned that Zelda actually has en ever so small thing for a certain rabbit. 

But truth is... I think Lavi is a rather bad matchmaker. At least in terms of taking action to get them together. She is much rather having long talks with Zelda about when and how and possibilities of outcomes, never failing to encourage Zelda to do whatever is needed. Although, she might also be one to STOP the magister from doing something entirely headless. Since Lavinia's bound to Holistone in service, she'd not often have the chance to actually meet and talk to Lorsan. But since Lorsan is traveling, he might actually drop by and then when he does, Lavi is definitely observing VERY HARD and trying to see what he thinks about Zelda.

So yeah, rather than orchestrating things, she's gotta do the observing and spying and information forwarding. xD

Lavinia learns a new skill from Zelda

Uhm, so the standard answer is, of course, that any Merlin will one way or other, show Lavi how to deal with the left-over Hypogean magic within her. So the definite "feeling" of magic in and around herself, the certain things one can do to ease stress related to that, actual little spells and so on.

On another note, Zelda is such a powerhouse and crazy creature... that I feel like it would be so silly and cool if Lavi learned something as beautiful, delicate and soothing as sand mandala creation. Or like making small pottery creatures. Or making jewellery? xD Anything that's a little unexpected and shows Zelda's warm and caring side. Maybe it's crocheting? Felting? Well, origami, at the least! 

Lavinia playfully argues/banters with Sena.

Magister Sena by @bunnybird-afk

I am not sure what this means, to be honest. It sounds more like teasing to me... and in that case, I gotta move forward in time a little bit. Lavinia and Sena are comfortable with each others presence now, not least due to Valen, and there may have been little squibs from one to the other before. But for more lengthy banters, I think Lavinia's firstborn is the perfect reason. xD

Shall the kid have this or that to wear? Can it have tea and why couldn't it be wrapped up in a sock rather than a blanket? Can it be levitated around the Mystical House and climb up the towers made of books? Bedtime is when again and what bedtime story to read? And so on and so forth. <3

Lavinia teaches a new skill to DK

Magister DK by @gloriousrebirth

Ah, oh no, I don't think Lavi can teach ANY Merlin a new skill. xD At least certainly not in terms of magic. And what other skill might she be able to show to DK? Probably something incredibly boring... like a useful knot for tying things up. Maybe that knot turned out essential later on when DK needed it on Sinbad. xD Or maybe DK likes the nuts Lavi sometimes brings to the Mystical House not knowing that they have simply been soaked in water over night. Or maybe the same memory trick Lavi taught Molpe, given Merlin has an issue with forgetting things. xD

Lavinia compares opinions about .... with Celestino

Magister Celestino by @meepinmeat

Well, naturally the first thing that comes to mind is Valen. And that's not gonna be all too exciting, since they have the SAME opinion about him. xD BUT, given the difference in universe, they would probably be quite interested in the subtle differences of the Valens.

Alternatively, if it's CelVerse Lavi, then she'd be just friends with Valen and the three of them have, given her experience etc, a VERY in-depth discussion about the Heroic Order! And subsequently the Celestials and their role against the Hypogeans and whether they might not also be required to help "Esperian" problems.

Lavinia fights/spars with Celestino

Since Celestino is a Merlin, whether Lavi is from CelVerse or her own, the fighting is training in regards to her Hypogean powers. Not that Celestino would have to really break a sweat, though, it's all basic routine stuff. And yet, sometimes, he might make it extra tough for Lavi, not only forcing her to use her magic but also still the sword to win. And I don't see a reason why he wouldn't be able to drag Dionel into the ring, too. "Must I really, son?" and "Yes, really, or do you want to risk her ending up corrupted and on the other end of your spear for real?"

Lavinia attempts to play matchmaker for Rose

Magister Rose by @afkhowstrange

Not. xD Ahahaha, while they probably have a good relationship and can easily sit together with tea and cookies after training sessions etc, Lavinia is still too impressed and careful in what she does around Rose. Playing matchmaker? I don't think she'd allow herself to. That doesn't mean she'd not be interested and observing from the sidelines, to witness any developments. And if Rose ever confided in Lavinia, she's happily try to help in word or action (although she'd always feel silly for "setting anything up").

Lavinia offers to dance with Rose

Oh boy, you know what? Maybe THAT would be something Lavinia isn't embarrassed to do for Rose in terms of matchmaking. I don't actually know who Rose might have a crush on, but this dance would definitely be the perfect excuse to then go and ask her crush, too! Whether a confession follows, I don't know... but at least Lavi's done something for Rose to have a good time. <3

Lavinia meets the child version of Molpe

Magister Molpe by @mcnana

Aww, that would be so adorable! I don't think there would be anything special about the situation, but Lavinia has a way to pay actual attention to children and thus be perceived as a "nice lady" by them. Or on some cases, a lady to be reckoned with, not unlike Valen. Either way, Molpe probably lost her way or something, and Lavinia takes responsibility as a knight and delivers her back home. Getting her treats along the way, of course, and talking about her favourite games to play. xD

Lavinia offers to dance with Violyste

Magister Violyste by @magister-violyste

Hmmmm, this could be somewhere on the job, of course, a professional matter, if you will. But maybe it would be more something in relation with Hogan. xD Maybe there is no such thing as marriage for them, but let's assume there would be something akin to it, a special celebration, an anniversary, you name it... and since Lavinia is just part of Hogan's family and work, she might be asked to help with that. And then, to help Vi prepare, am sure Lavi would help her remember dances again. After all, Vi can't possible say no to Hogan when he asks, and you bet, he WILL ask. <3

[aleburton]

It was almost unbearable. Alex couldn’t decipher Luke’s motive, and the ambiguity gnawed at her. He was audacious, greeting Zach as though no time had passed, as though their entire friendship hadn’t been marred by conflict and a subtle, simmering competition. When it came to music, however, the distinction between them was crystal clear – Zach was the superior artist. While Alex could admit that there were moments of genuine camaraderie between the two, their relationship had always seemed more beneficial to Luke than mutual. She thought back to those nights spent in Zach’s old Hollywood Hills home, sitting cross-legged on the buttery leather couch, content to stay there until the California sun seeped through the curtains. Luke, Zach, and Ryan would each claim an instrument, their easy banter punctuating the flow of lyrical creation. The process felt effortless for Zach, as though he had lived a thousand lives. His words painted pictures of deep love, crushing heartache, smoldering lust, and restless angst. Alex had been captivated by his talent, watching him transform fleeting thoughts into something timeless. For a man of so few spoken words, Zach wielded an uncanny ability to bare his soul through music.

Luke was undeniably talented in his own right. His voice was smooth, capable of captivating any audience, but his true gift emerged when a guitar was in his hands. Together, he and Zach had been a powerhouse, creating hit after hit that dominated charts and captivated fans. It was no surprise that Luke harbored resentment over losing the creative force behind much of his success. When it came to women, the competition between them was more evenly matched. Both were wealthy, famous, and devastatingly handsome. Choosing between them often came down to personal preference, though sometimes, preference didn’t matter at all. Alex remembered overhearing their casual conversations about sharing their conquests. The memory churned her stomach, even more so now that she had betrayed Zach by being intimate with Luke during one of her darkest moments. It made her feel no better than the nameless, faceless groupies they spoke of so carelessly. Shifting uncomfortably in her chair, she pressed her ruby red lips together in a futile attempt to steady herself.

Across the table, Zach engaged Luke with polite indifference, at least initially. But no amount of therapy seemed capable of erasing his sharp wit or his inclination to deliver veiled barbs. His words carried a subtle sting, the kind only someone familiar with their history could detect. Luke reacted, his expression twitching just enough to betray him, though the exchange was so nuanced it would have gone unnoticed by anyone unaware of the tension that simmered between them. The lilting melody of Kylie’s voice interrupted Alex’s spiraling thoughts. Kylie was nothing if not oblivious, an irony considering how well she claimed to know Zach. All night, she had managed to overlook the blatant signals and, most glaringly, the fact that her boyfriend was openly flirting with another woman mere feet away. Alex’s gaze flickered toward Luke, and she recognized that familiar glint in his eyes. It was predatory. A mix of mischief and calculation, as if he had spotted something else to claim, to conquer. She bristled. For a moment, she found herself grasping for faith, not in any particular god but in the faint hope of a divine intervention to rescue her from this unraveling disaster.

With a practiced calm, Alex placed her napkin on the table and pushed her chair back, preparing to leave. The scrape of her chair seemed louder than she intended, but Andrew unknowingly came to her aid. He outstretched a hand toward the adjacent room, motioning for their guests to join him elsewhere. Grateful for the reprieve, Alex rose, the sigh of relief escaping her lips too quiet for anyone else to hear. Luke, however, didn’t miss her unease. A soft chuckle rumbled from his chest as he leaned in close, his voice a whisper meant only for her ears. “Relax. Your secret is safe with me.” Which secret? The one she kept from Andrew, or Zach? Or was Luke speaking of something else entirely? Ale rolled her eyes, a quiet scoff escaping as she sucked softly against her two front teeth. “I’m not the only one with a secret,” she muttered under her breath, allowing her feet to carry her away from Luke and into the crowd gathering at the entrance. The air shifted as she entered the new space, dimly lit and intimate, with romantic draping that stretched elegantly from corner to corner. The scent of freshly lit cigars mingled with the gentle hum of conversation, and trays of espresso martinis glided through the room, balanced expertly by servers. This was the quieter side of the event. Relaxed, understated, and likely where the most fun would unfold. Alex hoped to lose herself in the atmosphere, to fade into the background and give Zach no reason to remain distracted by her presence. She also sought to avoid any further threats from Luke, whose proximity lingered in her mind like a bad aftertaste.

As she stepped farther into the room, a warm hand found hers, enveloping her fingers with a reassuring touch. Startled, Alex looked up to find Andrew, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity. “You in a hurry or something?” he asked, tugging her gently closer. His sharp gaze scanned her face and body, as though searching for an answer to an unspoken question. He asked it anyway. “Are you okay? You seem a little…tense.” If only he knew. Alex nodded quickly, summoning a weak smile she hoped was convincing. “Just a little,” she replied with a soft exhale. “Busy night. Lots of moving parts.” Andrew didn’t seem entirely satisfied but chose not to press further. Instead, he motioned toward the bar, sidestepping a cluster of guests. Within moments, two martinis appeared in front of them, summoned as if by magic. Andrew handed her one with his trademark crooked smile, so effortlessly charming that it almost made her forget what was going on around her. “The worst is over now,” he said, his tone light and comforting. “Relax. Enjoy the night. It turned out perfectly, just like I knew it would.” Alex raised the glass to her lips, the cool rim brushing against her mouth as she took a small sip. She prayed he was right.

If there was one thing Zach had never been discomfited doing, it was making others uncomfortable. He sat assuredly in his roiling silence, the tingeing cheeks and squirming bodies of those around him waiting impatiently for his response ineffective in swaying his strange composure. He and Luke locked eyes for more than a few bloated, lumbering moments of wordlessness. What is it he wanted? Likely what he’d always wanted; a shot at being even half of Zach. And leeching from Zach was the only way he’d ever tasted an ounce of that success. Zach’s jaw feathered; a lifetime’s worth of history curled from the disturbed seabed of the muddy water between them. Last they had seen one another, it had been brutal; perhaps the most visceral display of Zach’s own torment he’d ever elicited unto himself. Because that’s what it had been – they’d both known it. It could have been about Alex, his guilt, (and a lot of it was), or it could have been about Sarah. It could have been about their near decade-long toxicity, their constant competition, their hatred for themselves projected onto one another. Their mirror-image, their dichotomy. How it had all eventually imploded exactly as prophecy would have it written. 

But Zach had changed a lot since then. Violence no longer twitched urgently at his fingertips, ever-present and awaiting trigger. His anger had not lessened in weight but had grown patient and cool, buried under a layer of apathy. Something wriggled beneath it all, seeing Luke again. Seeing him only a body away from Alex, who he yearned for so pathetically. Zach wasn’t sure what it was. Yet. Luke endeavoured to break the silence, his facade brilliant. Charming, even. But as he spoke, his painted fingertips ran slowly, intentionally, along his mangled knuckles. It was fucking bold, Zach would give him that. Unfamiliar ink curdled above the scarring, giving his fingers the eerie look of a rotten tree. Unwittingly, Zach’s tongue snaked out, nudging carefully at the scar on his top lip. A perfect ghost of flesh split open between fist and tooth. Then he smiled; broad, brilliant, a superstar. He could almost feel the terse nature of their onlookers unravelling. “You too, man,” he greeted easily, getting to his feet with his hands upon the tablecloth. He leaned slightly, extending his hand. Luke eyed it, likely having anticipated a response worthy of the old Zach, but the hesitation was only brief enough for those in the know to clock it; they shook, firmly.

Up close, the damage was crystal clear; his nose now displayed a sharp crook, and a thick, tangled rope of a scar drove right down from his forehead through his eyebrow. Blonde, gelled hair hung around them like a show curtain. Zach’s eyes sparkled, a foreign, forgotten feeling soaring through him of gross pride. He used his free hand to thump Luke jovially on the shoulder and watched as his body ricocheted with the movement. “Third time’s the charm,” he muttered happily, referring to Luke’s repeated attempts at sky-rocketing his career. Luke grunted, his smile waning as they dropped one another’s hands. “Hi,” Kylie chirped from her seat. Zach almost laughed. How little she knew of his life, really. She'd never asked who delivered the assault unto Zach that day – had never possessed the gall, couldn't face the inevitable rejection. Luke’s eyes slid beyond Zach to the bubbling froth of a pop star. His eyebrows raised. Zach showed no sign of rising to it. Instead, he took the opportunity to gaze down at Alex, her rigid spine and lithe fingers white-knuckling into a small fist. She was beautiful, in her silent, almost invisible mess. He felt electric-charged, a little crazy, recognizing the signs of anxiety. Of fear. For some reason, it all only made him want her more. His lip twitched in a tiny, frenzied smile, just for her. “Right, then,” Andrew interrupted, capturing the attention of the room at large. His wide palm gestured to the adjoining room; lights danced from the corridor, music thudding. “Shall we move onto the fun part of the evening?”

[beaulesbian]

so unfair i'm on my third playthrough and only for the first time i see a romance-only option added into a dialogue like this (that wasn't just between rook and their romanced companion)

[kingkatsuki]

Specifically thinking about long distance relationships today.

So tell me how you and your f/o would first meet online?

[awesometothe3rd]