#this is just a piece that i want to finish over the weekend before we return to reality when monday starts

[burntheedges]

Pas de Deux Chapter 13

Din Djarin x f!reader | 4k | fic masterlist | main masterlist | ao3

chapter summary: it's finally the night of the Gala, and it's finally time to perform with Din.

a/n: First, if you didn't see the AMAZING art @kenobiwanx made of ballet!Din, please go look now!!!

Second, a week or so ago @iknowisoundcrazy asked me about a scene I was proud of writing, or something like that, and my answer was really this chapter. I just couldn't say that yet. I hope y'all enjoy it. I can't believe we only have one more chapter! I'm super behind on replying to your amazing comments because I just moved over the weekend, but I will catch up, I promise. Thank you @katareyoudrilling for being the best beta, as always!!

chapter tags/warnings: fluff, dancing, flirting, touching, pet names (sweetheart), hand-holding, intense feelings, kissing, I think we've already covered all of the dance moves in this chapter but I added some links used previously just in case

Chapter 13

At call time, you were feeling much more relaxed and ready for the performance. You successfully avoided the tornado that was Greef Karga backstage (where Alexa and Vince were corralling him) and found one of your usual spots in the dressing room near Adrian. He was already dressed for Jee’s piece in a full-coverage bodysuit with a skin color background and abstract shapes printed on it in blue. You knew his fellow dancers were in similar outfits with different colors, and that the shapes were somehow incorporated into the choreography. Jee was good at things like that.

You quickly put on your bodysuit and your sweats over top. It was a little chilly backstage and you had plenty of time before the show would start. 

Adrian leaned against the counter to your right and crossed his arms. “Where’s your other half?”

You pointed upwards – there were a couple of dressing rooms that were more private, and you were pretty sure that’s where Din had been getting ready. “He’ll be down in a bit. You ready?”

He nodded, smiling. “This is a fun one. Jee’s choreography is always weird, but cool.”

You laughed as you finished your stage makeup. “True,” you agreed.

Fifteen minutes later, Din popped his head into the room. He had on a loose t-shirt and sweats, but you figured he had his shorts on underneath. You noticed a few people waved at him and he nodded in response. He caught your eye in the mirror and motioned for you to join him in the hall. 

You looked at Adrian. “See you in a bit.”

He smiled and shoved your shoulder lightly. “Get out of here.”

You laughed and joined Din in the doorway. He smiled and led you to the right and around the corner, and you realized where you were going. There was a tiny dressing room with no mirror that no one ever used, except for taking naps – it had a somewhat comfortable loveseat.

As you entered, you realized no one was in there but Din’s bag was on the couch. “Is this where you’ve been getting ready?” The room was so small that the two of you basically filled it.

He nodded, a bit sheepish. “I just drop by the other room to use the mirror.”

You smiled. “If I’d known I’d have come and claimed the couch,” you teased.

He ducked his head and smiled. “You’re always welcome.”

You moved over to the couch and sat down. “So, what’s up?”

Din leaned against the folding table that ran the length of the wall by the door. “Could you help me with the body paint? I think some of it wore off in the back.”

“Sure,” you said, moving to get up, but he waved you back down.

“Not yet. We’ve got a few minutes and it’s too cold to be basically naked in here already.” 

You laughed. “True. But we want it to dry, right?”

He sighed. “Alright. Ok, come here.” His hands moved to the hem of his shirt and he tugged it gingerly over his head. You realized he was avoiding the paint. It was dry, though, and looked fine.

“Where’s the problem? The front looks fine.” Your eyes traveled over the swirls on his torso and you smiled, lightly. When you met his eyes he was smirking again.

“Should I take off my pants, too?” His eyes were almost sparkling as he teased you.

You gasped, just for show. “Din! What are you insinuating, hmm?” You stepped up next to him and took a closer look at the paint, looking for any spots that had rubbed off.

As soon as you were close enough, he grabbed your hips and pulled you forward between his open knees on the table. You flailed a bit as you looked for somewhere to rest your hands, eventually settling on his forearms. You didn’t want to mess up the paint, which was mostly on his torso and biceps. 

Once you were steady, he leaned forward, far enough that his lips were almost touching your ear. “I saw you check me out, you know. Last week.” His voice was deep, and you shivered again. He pulled back and grinned.

“Din Djarin, you tease.” 

He squeezed your hips and shook his head. “It’s not a tease, sweetheart. I checked you out, too.” He cleared his throat and looked down. “Not for the first time.”

You smiled. “Adrian said we were both watching each other in class, all the time.”

Din laughed. “I don’t know how you didn’t see me. It felt like I never looked at anything else.”

You felt your face heat. “Ok. Enough of that. We have a performance,” you poked him in the side and laughed when he tried to dodge, “get your head in the game.” He smiled and squeezed your hips again. “Now let me see your back.”

You moved back as he stood so he could turn in front of you. For a moment you simply looked – your eyes danced over his broad shoulders and then down his spine. You wanted to reach out and touch, to trace the lines of his muscles and curve of his waist with your fingertips. He was so strong. 

You shook your head. The paint. You frowned as you looked for any breaks in the paint. “Din, it looks fine. I don’t see any spots where you need a touch up.”

When he turned back to face you, his expression was suspiciously blank. “Oh? Well, maybe I was wrong, then.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Din Djarin, did you have ulterior motives when you brought me in here?”

He smirked again and shook his head. “No, you know we’re saving those for later. I just…” he sighed. “I’d rather wait with you than alone.”

You rolled your eyes at him, but smiled. “You could have just said that.”

He shrugged. “There could have been some spots to touch up. You never know.”

You laughed and tugged him over to the couch. He sat sideways so as not to actually rub off any of his paint, and you sank into the corner. “How much time do you think we have?”

“Probably about ten minutes.” The first movement was after Vince’s piece, which opened the show. You needed to be backstage when it started. Then the second movement was between Talia’s and Jee’s, and the third finished the show. 

You reached for his hand and laced your fingers together. It wasn’t out of the ordinary to get comfortable touching your pas de deux partner before a performance, but you knew this felt different, for both of you. “Want to go warm up?” He nodded. “Alright. Meet me backstage? I have to go do my pre-show thing with Adrian.”

Din raised an eyebrow, and you realized he’d never seen your “thing”, as you called it. “Or you can come and watch, if you want. We just have a silly handshake and then we hug.”

It turned out that he did want to watch, and he followed you back to your dressing room after stripping off his sweatpants. You allowed yourself to ogle his legs briefly before leading him out of the room. “Do you have any show rituals?”

Din shrugged. “Not really. I usually do the same stretches and warm up.” He thought about it for a moment. “Grogu says I have a lucky shirt. It’s in my bag.”

You laughed. You realized, as you grabbed Adrian and started your ritual handshake, that you felt more at ease, more comfortable than you usually did before a performance.

It must be because of Din, you figured. It was hard to be nervous when you knew he’d be there with you for every step. Adrian hugged you, and you squeezed him until he made an “oof” sound.

“Ok, ok, let me go. Don’t squeeze me to death.” You laughed at his grumbling as Adrian pulled back to check his costume in the mirror. “Go do your thing, I’ll see you backstage later.”

You pulled off your sweats and left them at your spot. You grabbed your pointe shoes and turned to face Din, who was looking at you. Well, he was looking at your legs. You grinned. 

“Come on,” you said, grabbing his arm. As you passed him, you murmured, “who’s checking who out now, hmm?” 

Din followed you out, and once in the hall, he said, smirking, “I already confessed.”

You made your way backstage together and found a spot where you could warm up in the large area behind the wings. You put on your shoes and began to help each other stretch.

Kuiil found you there a few minutes later, and he smiled down at you both. “Are you ready?”

You both nodded, but Din said, “we are.” His voice was firm and warm and it made you smile.

Kuiil nodded. “Yes, you are. Excellent. I will be in the audience. I wish to see it as I meant others to see it. I will see you soon.” He reached down and rested a hand on each of your shoulders. “Remember. Be in the moment, and be there for each other.”

WIth that, he turned and made his way down the hall and, you presumed, out to the audience. You felt warmed from his clear pride and belief in the two of you together. 

As you finished stretching, you heard the audience settle down, and you figured the house lights had just gone down. Your guess was confirmed when you heard Karga’s voice welcoming everyone to the gala.

“Good evening,” he began, and you could picture the wide smile on his face. “Thank you for celebrating our 5th anniversary with us. We are so pleased to have you here.” The crowd applauded, and Karga chuckled. “Yes, thank you. We have a wonderful program planned for you tonight, with pieces that feature the best of what our amazing dancers can do. All of our choreographers – Vince, Talia, Jee, and our visiting choreographer in residence, Kuiil – have prepared new, never before seen pieces for you just for this gala.” The audience applauded again. “We are so grateful for your patronage, and we hope you enjoyed this season. Please, sit back and enjoy the visual feast we have prepared – and don’t forget about the free refreshments during intermission!" That got a light chuckle from the audience. “Thank you.”

The crowd applauded once more, and you assumed Karga was walking off stage. You heard the curtains open and nudged Din. You tilted your head towards the wings, silently asking if he wanted to go watch the quartet. He shook his head and motioned for you to stand with him. He leaned in and murmured, “I’d rather warm up a bit more with you.”

You’d seen the quartet in dress rehearsal, and it really was beautiful. It was funny to think that it had been your original role in this program. You nodded and joined him in some light jumps and lunges, and then spent a few minutes warming up your ankles.

You heard the quartet’s music begin to build towards its crescendo. Before you could turn to head backstage, Din grabbed your arm and reeled you in. He placed his hands at your waist and you let yours rest lightly on his forearms again. He leaned in and rested his forehead lightly against yours. 

“You’re going to blow them away,” he murmured, and you felt that familiar feeling that he inspired start to well up in you. “Ready?”

You nodded. “You too, Din. Show them who you are.”

He pulled back and smiled at you. As you turned, you slid your hand down his arm and tangled your hands together. You walked backstage hand-in-hand.

The quartet was just finishing up when you found a place to stand together, out of the way of their exit. You caught Phil’s eye where he stood with his headset on by the tiny backstage lamp, and he nodded at you. You tugged on Din’s hand. “Here we go.”

He nodded at you and released your hand. You would go out first on your own, and then Din, and then you would be on stage together. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Just before you stepped forward, you heard Din murmur, “beautiful.”

You stepped into the wings with a smile playing around your mouth. And then the music started, and all you thought about was the dance.

…

You’d never felt like this before. You’d never danced like this before. 

From the moment you stepped onto the stage, you could feel it – you were going to nail it. And you did.

You whirled through your solo, and leapt off the stage just in time for Din to enter after you. You watched him and you could see it – he felt it, too. You grinned, and then forced it off your face. He was a stranger, and you were meeting for the first time.

You spun back onto the stage at your cue and you felt his eyes trace across your shoulders like a caress. The two of you danced past each other, circled each other, glanced off of each other, just barely not touching. The connection between you pulled taut and you swore you could see where he was on stage even when you weren’t looking at him.

It would have stolen your breath away, if you had let it – you’d never felt so in sync with another dancer before. 

The first movement ended with the two of you touching, briefly, and then dancing away from each other. As you were about to exit into the wings, you looked back, and caught him already looking at you. You both froze, and then darted off stage.

The audience burst into applause. You grinned at the dancers waiting backstage for Talia’s ballet, and they met you with silent cheers and pats on the shoulder as you passed. 

You headed straight for the door to the backstage area, looking for Din.

He must have had the same idea, because as you turned into the hall that ran behind the stage, you found him almost jogging towards you, smiling wider than you’d ever seen him.

“You and me,” he said, breathlessly, and you nodded.

…

You had to wait through two longer pieces for the second movement, which would be between Talia and Vince’s collaboration piece and Jee’s. Wary of getting too cold, you returned to Din’s small dressing room, grabbing your sweats on the way. You didn’t want to break the bubble you could feel forming around the two of you.

Din pulled you into the room behind him and then into a loose hug. “I want to hold you tighter,” he murmured, “but this paint.” 

You laughed. “It’s probably for the best.” He hummed. “Ok. We can rest for a minute, and then we need to get ready for the second. And go stay warm.” He nodded. 

“You were beautiful.” His voice sounded deeper than normal and you shivered in his arms. 

“So were you, Din.”

…

There was a barre set up backstage for warming up, and the two of you stayed there as you waited. You watched as the dancers heading backstage moved around you for Talia’s piece and then Talia and Vince’s collaboration, but you and Din stayed in your own little world. That wasn’t unusual, for a piece like yours. You practiced a couple of lifts just to have something to do.

You were ready.

With only a few minutes to go, Din leaned into you again. “Ready?” 

You nodded. He grabbed your hand, this time, and led you backstage.

The piece Talia and Vince had collaborated on was almost over – it had three couples, a mix of principals and soloists, and you let yourself watch them for a few moments. When it was almost time, Din tugged you in again, foreheads together. 

“Let’s blow them away,” you said, stealing his words from earlier. He smiled.

For the second movement, you started on stage, so you stepped away from Din to go take your place when the lights went down. Alone on stage, in the dark, you took a deep breath. As the music started, you stretched into position, and sank into your character. 

You felt Din’s presence when he leapt on stage, and from there, the chase was on. 

In the second movement, you circled each other, sometimes coming closer, sometimes moving farther away. Glancing touches brought you together and then hesitation drove you apart. You wanted to know each other, to understand each other, but you had to find a way to communicate. To make yourselves understood.

You began to mirror each other’s movements, to adopt each other’s styles. You found common ground between you to build on and with the first lift so firmly grounded, it felt like you flew into the air. Din held you aloft and then flipped you downwards, catching you in another hold. You spun away and felt him follow you, and the connection between you strengthened.

Just like the first movement, you could barely think, could only feel – and it felt amazing. You knew, distantly, that you and Din were performing at a level neither of you had managed alone. You had created something new, something that could only exist because you made it together.

The second ended with you and Din briefly together, and then your character shied away – you ran from him, twirling off stage without looking back. He reached for you just before the lights went down.

The audience erupted. You were grinning so wide your cheeks hurt. Adrian was backstage, ready for Jee’s piece, and he looked like he wanted to run over and hug you. But just then Din came through the wings behind you and you felt his arms circle your waist. 

He didn’t pull you too close (the paint) but he leaned forward to breathe into your ear, “so fucking beautiful.”

You shivered, and Adrian winked at you. You laughed and tugged Din behind you into the hall.

You didn’t have as long of a break this time, only the length of Jee’s piece, which was only about 25 minutes. You knew you didn’t really have time to go far.

As you entered the hall, Din grabbed your hand, and made a sharp right. Just around the corner out of sight he backed you against the wall. 

He leaned on the wall with his forearm by your head. For a moment neither of you said anything – you were both breathing hard, chests almost touching every time you took a breath. His eyes caught yours and you couldn’t look away.

“I’ve never…” he trailed off, and you nodded. You understood. 

“Me neither,” you breathed, and his eyes darted down to look at your lips. The feeling that had built inside of you during the performance turned into fire.

“Din–” you started, but he cut you off by pressing his lips to yours in a searing kiss. He pulled away almost as quickly.

“I know,” he said, “I know.” He leaned back, and looked at you again. “I never dreamed it could be like this. I think I was meant to dance with you.”

You were glad you were already leaning against the wall, because your knees threatened to give out at his words. “Me too,” you said. His hand came up to cup your cheek lightly, careful of your makeup. 

“Come on,” he said, “let’s get ready for the third.”

You nodded and let him lead you back down the hall.

…

You thought you’d be nervous, as you stood in the wings before the third movement. You’d gone backstage a little bit earlier than before to watch Adrian, but it wasn’t distracting you. 

But that might have had something to do with Din’s presence at your back and his hand tangled with yours.

You breathed together as you watched and sank back into your characters. In the third, you were almost always touching – almost always chasing or being chased, grabbing or holding on. The movements revolved around your need to be together and create something new together.

As Jee’s piece came to a close, you felt Din step closer. He kept hold of your hand but wrapped his other arm around your shoulders from the back. “One more,” he murmured in your ear. “Let’s show them who we are.” You smiled and nodded. He squeezed your hand.

In the third, you started off stage. In the wings you both took a deep breath, and then the music started. You darted on quickly with Din at your heels, and from there you were off.

He chased you across the stage, and you let him catch you on the other side. You twirled around each other, leaping together, pulling each other along. He supported you through turns and lifts and jumps and you let yourself sink into the music. You internally marveled at how you seemed to be two dancers with one brain – you would reach for him, and he would be there, every time.

When you reached the pique turn, a smile played around your mouth. Din tugged you backwards by your ankle, capturing you and lifting you into a spin. Your body moved through the familiar steps, and when it came time to launch yourself through the air so he could catch you, you fought a grin off your face.

He lifted you over his shoulder, and let yourself appreciate, just for a moment, the strength of the muscles in his back.

Din tilted you back up and let you slide down against his chest. You sank into it with ease, and the two of you let the moment linger. You met his gaze and saw the smile dancing behind his eyes.

From there the choreography built to a crescendo that had you breathing hard, coordinating your movements perfectly to stay in contact – your hand on his leg, his arm around his waist, your arm around his neck, his shoulders supporting you. It pushed you upward and forward until, suddenly, you stopped, facing each other. You breathed as the last note held, staring into each other’s eyes, and then slowly folded into an embrace that took you both to your knees. 

The lights went out, and for a moment you couldn’t make sense of the sound that washed over you. You looked up at Din, and then out to the audience. It seemed like everyone in the theater had taken to their feet, cheering and applauding.

The rest of the company was backstage cheering, too.

Din leaned backwards and stood, offering his hand to pull you up, too. You took it, and he tugged you forward so that you had to lean into him just a bit. He looked like he wanted to say something, but then the lights came up.

You both turned to the audience, bodies moving into the familiar stance, ready to take your bows. But you were both taken aback when somehow the applause got louder.

You glanced at Din, but he swept you forward, and before you could stop him, presented you to the audience. 

You smiled, and when it was his turn, did the same for him.

As soon as you were done, the rest of the company poured out of the wings to join you on stage, and the standing ovation seemed to go on forever. Adrian popped out of the crowd at your side and wrapped you both up in a hug, which startled Din and made you laugh. “That was fucking amazing!” he shouted in your ear, and you laughed. Din started to smile, too, and you squeezed his hand, still tangled with yours between you.

You looked at him as the company moved to take a final bow together, and for a moment, you couldn’t hear the noise around you at all.

You could only see Din, smiling at you, so widely his eyes crinkled. 

Beautiful.

...

prev | next

a/n: they did it!! I'm so proud of them!!! next week... what happens after the gala? 😏 we finally earn those smut tags, lol. I don't really have any notes this week, but let me know if you have any questions! 🧡 and don't forget to check out the art!!

[mjintm]

"Do you really think that?"

When Satsuki looked up at Sorawo to ask this, best believe my heart skipped a beat too.

Satsuki truly is an alpha woman.

[monzabee]

park avenue polyanna (social media au) - mv1

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where everyone is confused how Max, the resident villain of f1, has such a wholesome girlfriend.

Pairing: max verstappen x gallerist!reader (model used: random people i've found on the internet)

Warnings: none other than some cursing

Author note: okaaaaay, this is kinda all over the place but to be completely fair, i started it like a month ago and i finished it right after the singapore gp, so it has been a while, lol. miss charlotte york is here (my personal fav alongside samantha), so i hope you guys enjoy this one as wel!! we have one more to go, and boy is that one going to be fun to work on!

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

yourusername just posted a story!

yourusername

Liked by maxverstappen1, yourbestfriendsinstagram, f1wagss and 34,826 others.

yourusername: would %100 recommend pilates if you want to make a grown f1 driver cry because he can't handle the stretching!

user: please tell me there is video evidence of max doing reformer

yourusername: i can neither confirm nor deny these allegations against my beloved boyfriend

yourusername: but if i had to, the answer would be yes, yes i do

user: I LOVE YOU YOU ARE A NATIONAL TREASURE

user: she is probably the nicest people on earth and i can't, for the life of me understand how she and max are in a relationship

user: maybe we should stop assuming people's personalities and also speculate about their relationships bestie

yourusername: period!

user: thank you for giving us the best content on this app, queen

user: i will pay thousands and millions to see max verstappen do pilates

user: everybody say thank you yn for the best piece of information ever

view all 2,647 comments.

user: i just know some of the drivers on the grid are going to have so much fun with this brand new piece of information

maxverstappen1: not so simply lovely🙄

yourusername: but you were sooo cute

yourusername just posted a story!

yourusername

Liked by maxverstappen1, elleusa, f1gossipworld and 39,267 others.

yourusername: mandatory busy week recap

user: nothing to see here just subtly flexing her chanel kelly on us (i love you queen you're so iconic)

user: omg she works??

user: stop this right now you're embarrassing yourself

yourusername: i wish i didn't need to work but gotta feed the kids, you know? (max, the cats and my dog)

user: she might be the busiest girl in the world, but one thing about yn is that she is NEVER missing that pilates class

maxverstappen1: come back hoooooome

yourusername: soooooon

view all 3,456 comments.

user: i can feel it, she's going to be in singapore

user: manifesting this for the looks

yourusername

Liked by f1wagsupdates, maxverstappen1, yourbestie and 43,2647 others.

yourusername: lesson from this weekend: kill them with kindness, or in our case, with a no comment interview!

user: the look on max's face is so telling of the situation

yourusername: nothing a bunch of cuddles can't fix!!

user: this relationship is the proof that opposites, in fact, attract

user: i can't believe we got a max mention before gta 6

user: oh to be wearing vintage chanel and dating max verstappen

user: she is who i wanna be when i grow up (i'm 23)

view all 5,253 comments.

maxverstappen1: no comment

yourusername: not disappointed and not surprised

maxverstappen1

Liked by yourusername, redbullracing, landonorris and 601,3674 others.

maxverstappen1: i don't know what you are talking about i'm always nice

user: the duality of men

user: mad max to gentleman pipeline is actually insane

yourusername: can confirm that you are VERY nice

maxverstappen1: simply lovely

user: okay but are we winning the championship oooor??

view all 10,273 comments.

user: MAX VERSTAPPEN IN A SUIT, I REPEAT, MAX VERSTAPPEN IN A SUIT

user: this relationship confuses me a lot but i also love it so much

user: it's giving grumpy x sunshine to the extreme extents and i love it

[miniwheat77]

Army Green. (Ghost x Virgin!Reader.)

!CW! NSFW, Smut, Age gap (Reader is 20, Simon is 32), unprotected sex, p in v sex, virginity loss, animal getting hurt, Simon in distress, PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS BEFORE YOU READ. (Sorry if I missed any.)

It’s a sunny day, you’ve spent most of the day outside.

Mostly working on your yard, but you didn’t always mind. It did get rough sometimes of course, living alone and doing all of the work constantly. You lived in a pretty small house. It had a smaller yard, gravel driveway. It was fenced in. It was nice.

Sometimes the work piled up, getting busy, trying to pull yourself out of a funk. Especially because doing 100% of the work was new to you. Since you’d just gotten out of a serious relationship. It was a tough situation. You’d moved out with your boyfriend at 18. You were together for the better part of your teenage years, your first real boyfriend, the only serious boyfriend you’d ever had.

The break up was miserable and rough. The fights were bad, the messages were vulgar and laced with venom. It was a really rough breakup that left you damaged.

You went from a two person household, to one. Having to work more to pay the bills, having to pick up the rest of the household chores and somehow still stay sane. It was tough, but you managed. You had a few friends that helped you stay busy, and you were thankful for that.

You were sitting on your couch, it was the weekend and you didn’t want to spend all of it doing yard work. Your friends were supposed to be coming over and you were excited to spend the night with them. Just as you finished cleaning up your house, you heard a knock on your door. Knowing that it was your friends, you yelled for them to come inside. They walked in with all kinds of drinks and snacks in their hands, ready to have a good night.

“Dude, your neighbor is super weird.” One of them mumbles. “He wears a mask with like.. a skull face on it.” She mumbles. “Yeah?” You laugh. “Why does that make him weird?” You question her. “That’s all he ever wears. I’ve never seen him in anything else.”

“So what. Maybe he doesn’t want people seeing his face.” You shrug. “Whatever. I think it’s weird.” She shrugs. “Maybe he’s like.. super hot and doesn’t want people to know.” Your other friend smiles. “Maybe. Walk over there and find out for me.” You nudge her. Earning a laugh from them. “You’ve never met him?” She asks. You shake your head. “No. I’ve actually never even seen him, I didn’t know he wore a skull mask.” You shrug. They laugh. Eventually the subject changes.

Later that night as you’re sitting on the couch, you’re all about to go to bed. “What if your neighbor is super hot?” She asks again. “There’s tons of hot people, be specific.” You toss a piece of popcorn at her. “I mean.. what if he’s like super hot. You should talk to him.” She shrugs. “Um. I’m pretty sure he’s like 30.” The other one laughs. “Oh.. well damn.” She sighs. “What’s wrong with him being 30? Why would that stop me?” You ask. They both look at you like you’ve just called them the worst names known to mankind. “Jesus! You whore!” They laugh. “I’m serious! What’s wrong with that.” You giggle. “Just.. not your own age?”

“Maybe that’s why guys suck so bad. Maybe we need to branch out a bit. Go for the weird old guys that wear skull masks.” She wiggles her eyebrows at you. “Maybe.” You smirk. “Nah, I’m not trying anything with anyone. Maybe not ever after Wesley.” You roll your eyes. “Oh please, Wesley wouldn’t see a good girl if he got hit by one.”

“Clearly.” The other rolls her eyes. “It’s just because I wasn’t ready.” You mumble. Earning glances for them. “Ready for what?”

“Sex.” They perk up. “What? You were together for that long and never had sex?”

“No?”

“Why not?”

“Because.. I’ve never had sex before? And wasn’t ready?” You laugh awkwardly. They’re both staring at you in confusion. “Well shit. We didn’t know that.” They laugh. “Damn. Whole new perspective.” They laugh softly.

“Yeah, my poor ‘old’ neighbor probably heard those nasty fights, no way he’d fuck around with a girl like me.” You laugh. “Never know until you try.”

You roll your eyes. “Goodnight you two.” You laugh, walking back into your bedroom. You settle into your bed, eyes heavy as you fade into a deep sleep.

You hear whining outside, it startles you awake.

You look at your phone, it’s early. The sun has just barely risen, it’s still mostly dark. Cascades of blue painting the sky. You sit up, rubbing your eyes as you hear it again. It sounds like a dog in pain.

You climb out of bed, walking out to your living room. You can still hear it faintly. Your friends are still asleep on the couch and you open your front door quietly, peeking outside. It’s cold, chills creep up your legs and arms immediately, maybe a bad time to sleep in a tank top and shorts. You step outside, covering yourself with your arms as you look around for the sound you’re hearing. You notice the noise is louder now, along with rattling. You spot a dog, it’s got it’s paw stuck in your fence. Fairly close to your bedroom, that’s why you heard it.

“Shit-“ you mumble. You jog lightly to get to her. It’s your neighbors dog, you assume the one with the skull mask. “Hey, stop moving.” You mumble as she tugs to free her paw. You hear a door open and close behind you, noticing it’s your neighbor.

And he doesn’t have on a skull mask.

“Shite, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize she’d gotten out.” He says as he jogs to you. You can hear the gravel giving away under his feet. “It’s alright. No worries.” You mumble. You unwrap her paw. “It’s alright, I’ve got you.” You mumble. As she whines more. Once you free her paw, she frantically licks at it. “Let me see it darling.” You breathe, reaching your hand out. To your surprise she lies down, rolling onto her back so that you could get a good look at her. Your neighbor crouches down to check the rest of her as you look at her paw. “Just a scratch.” You smile. “Yeah, she’s a bit over dramatic.” The man laughs. “I heard her whining.” You laugh. “Yeah. If I accidentally bump her she’ll yelp like I’ve cut her leg off.” He smiles. His accent is thick and his voice is incredibly deep.

And your friends were absolutely right, he’s hot as hell.

“I don’t think we’ve ever met.” You stand up. He stands up with you, reaching his hand out. “I’m Simon.” You send him a smile. “Y/N.” He smiles. “Ah, and this is my dramatic princess Paisley.” He looks down at her. “Nothing wrong with a little bit of embellishment, gets the attention you need.” You smile down at her. He laughs at this. “Anyways, sorry for waking you, love.” You feel your cheeks warm at his pet name. “No worries, I’m just glad she’s alright.”

“Cmon, back to bed with you.” He nods his head at the dog and she walks with him back to their house. You make your way back to your door, stepping inside. You forget that your friends are there and they stir awake with the sound of your door closing. “Y/N? What are you doing?”

“My neighbors dog got stuck in the fence.”

“Is it okay?”

“Yeah she’s fine. But you were right. He’s hot as fuck.” You laugh. Walking passed them, going back into your room.

—

It’s been a while since you’ve had a day off, picking up extra shifts and doing more and more work so that you could afford your house. It was getting rough. You didn’t see much of your neighbor, aside from passing. He did always wear a skull mask which you found weird. Until you were up early and seen him leaving one day.

He was wearing full military attire, Paisley had on a vest and he was telling her to get into the back of his truck, that’s when it clicked.

His accent, why he was always gone, his large build, the mask. It all made sense now.

Your next day off, you’re sitting in a coffee shop with your friends and they’re making fun of you. It’s a gathering, an every once in a while coincidence that all of you had the same day off. “So what’s going on with everyone else? I feel like I’ve been talking about myself this entire time.”

“Not much.” Everyone mumbles.

“Oh, Y/N’s neighbor is smoking hot, I’m waiting for her to announce that she has a controversially older boyfriend.”

The girl next to you is loud when she says it, earning an elbow to the side from you. “Ohhhh. Tell us more?”

You roll your eyes. “I’ve talked to him once, his dog got her paw stuck in my fence, there’s nothing weird about that. Although he is very, very attractive.”

“It’s weird, he always wears a skull mask.”

“Oh!” You sit up. “I know why. I saw him leaving the other morning wearing full military gear. That explains the accent and everything.” You laugh.

“Accent?”

“Oh.. I forgot to say that? He’s British.”

Their mouths drop, and you can’t help but blush at your spaced information.

“No way, Y/N. If you don’t have sex with that man right now..” she laughs. “Oh god, I am not ready for that. I just got out of a shitty relationship.” You laugh. “Well.. just out of curiosity.” She sips her from her cup. “Just how much thinking have you done about Wesley since you talked to your neighbor?” She teases. You roll your eyes which makes them all laugh. “See!”

“Christ. You guys are ridiculous. I have to go do yard work.” You roll your eyes.

“Look sexy!” She calls out as you exit the building, your cheeks are on fire.

When you arrive home, you look up at the sky, noticing the brewing storm. Maybe today was a bad day for yard work after all. Just as you make your way inside, the rain starts to come down. You sit down on your couch, deciding to watch a show instead.

You lose track of time. You could hear the rain pouring down outside. Thunder making you jump slightly.

A knock at your door has you whipping around. You stand up, slowly making your way up to your door. You open it slightly, noticing your neighbor. He’s soaking wet. “Uh.. hi. Sorry to bother you so late. I just.. have you seen Paisley?” He asks. “Uh.. no I haven’t. Is something wrong?” You ask, opening the door up wider. “I let her out earlier and she never came back in. I think she ran off.” He sighs. “I’ve been looking everywhere and I can’t find her.”

“Let me put some shoes on, I can help.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” He sighs. “No, she’s a good girl, I wouldn’t want something bad happening to her.” You smile. Once you’ve slid on shoes and a jacket, you’re stepping out into the rain.

Ghost notices your tattered old skate shoes immediately. If you’ve got a boyfriend, why isn’t he taking care of you? Ghost knows he’s seen a guy around.

Behind your houses was a huge patch of trees, that’s where the both of you decide to look first. You’re calling out for her, walking along. You part ways when you get into the trees. Calling out for her. You don’t see anything and it’s getting darker as you walk along.

Ghost is somewhere further away by now, he’s calling for her, but she isn’t coming. He stops with a sigh. “Christ, where the fuck are you, fucking dog.” He growls.

“Simon!” He hears you yell. “Y/N?”

“I found her!” You call to him. He quickly makes his way over to you, seeing you’ve got a hand on her collar. “Ugh, damn dog.” He breathes. “Home now!” He says sternly, Paisley bolts for his house immediately. “Sorry. You didn’t have to come out here.” He laughs. “I don’t mind the rain.” You laugh, walking towards your houses with him. “Not real good shoes for bad weather.” He laughs. “Oh psh these? They’re fine.” You wave your hand. “What, your boyfriend doesn’t spoil you?” He laughs. “Oh god, I don’t have a boyfriend.” You laugh. “What? Who was that guy than?”

“Uh.. well. He WAS my boyfriend. But.. it’s a long story.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.” He laughs awkwardly. “Oh it’s fine.”

“I’ve got a fire going in my house, if you wanted to dry your clothes out. You could talk about it if you want.” He shrugs. “Uhh. Sure.” You shrug. You follow him up to his back door, he opens the door up for you. You step inside and he shows you to his living room, where he had a pretty wood stove going. Lined with bricks. “Give me a moment.” His house was really nice. You wait before sitting down, not wanting to get his couch wet. “Here.” He passes you a towel and a shirt. “It’s an old shirt of mine.” He nods. “Thank you.” You smile. It’s Army Green.

He shows you to his bathroom and you change quickly, making your way back to his living room. You notice that he’s put your shoes on the tile in front of the fire to dry them out. You can’t help but smile.

He brings out tea and sets it down on his coffee table, sitting in the chair across from you. You pull his shirt down over your knees, making sure you’re covering yourself. Your panties had gotten wet and you had to take them off too. “Why did you guys break up if you don’t mind me asking?” He asks. “Uhh.” You laugh. “I found out that he was talking to a couple other girls. Meeting up with them and.. yeah.” You look down. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He breathes. You smile, looking up at him. He’s no longer wearing his mask.

“Honestly? I thought it would hurt more.” You shrug. “We.. I mean we’d been together for a long time but our relationship wasn’t serious. I didn’t really have any feelings towards the end, not after all of the things he said to me.” Ghost tilts his head. He’s curious.

“Uh..” you shift awkwardly. “I.. this is probably too much information but.. we never.. slept together. I just wasn’t into it, and he hated that I wasn’t. He said a lot of gross things to me.” You shrug. He nods his head. “How old are you?” He asks. “I’m 20.”

“How old was he?” He asks. “21.”

He smiles. “There’s your problem darling.” He laughs. “He’s just.. stupid and immature. I was at that age too. You’re too young to be worried about all of that anyways.”

You smile. “How old are you?” You ask. “32.” Your eyes widen. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, m’ an old man.” He laughs. “You do not look 32.” You smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” He winks.

“You need new shoes.” He nods to them. “Uhhh. Yeah. That has to wait.” You laugh. “Hm?”

“I can barely afford my house, those shoes will just have to do. They’ve done me good.” You smile. You move to stand in front of the fire, crouching to pet Paisley who’s laying in front of it. Ghost stands up too. “How about we check you out, make sure you didn’t get into something.” He breathes, rolling paisley over onto her back. He runs his hands along her fur. Feeling that she’s fine as he stands back up. He towers over you, and now you really feel how close you are to him. “I can help you get new ones.” He nods. “No.. that’s not your job.” You shake your head.

“Course not, you could work for it.” He smiles.

Your eyes widen. “Not- Jesus. Not like that.” He laughs. “Oh good.” You breathe out. “Had me worried for a second.” You laugh. “Got a dirty mind.” he rolls his eyes. “I mean.. if you babysit for me when I’m gone.” He nods. “I usually have her boarded at the base but.. they keep her cooped up a lot there.” He looks down at her. “Simon, I don’t mind watching Paisley. You don’t have to get me anything. She’s a good girl, I don’t mind.” You smile. He nods his head. “Thank you Y/N.” He smiles. “Of course.”

You’re warm from the fire, spinning around to warm your front. He does the same. Looking at the dancing flames through the glass. “Do you have a wife or anything?” You ask. “No.” He laughs. “My job isn’t good for relationships.” You nod your head. “Fair.” He laughs. “Why?” He asks. “I was just curious.” You say nervously. His smile is flirty, and you’re worried.

Not because he intimidates you.

You’re worried by how much you like it.

“You sure?” He looks at you, making you turn your head to look at him. “Mhm.” You smile. He takes a step toward you, making you step back.

Back hitting the wall with a gasp. “Might be overstepping here..” he laughs. “But he was stupid to fumble a girl like you.” He breathes. He’s toying with the shirt you’re wearing. You take in a shaky breath, looking up at him. “Simon.” You start. He tilts your chin to make you look him in the eyes, leaning into you. “Can I kiss you?” He asks. You part your lips, not saying a word. After a second, you nod your head.

He closes the gap right away, kissing you hard.

Your friends were going to freak when you told them.

You feel his fingertips gliding up your thigh and you gasp into his lips as he glides them over your bare opening. “Ah- Simon wait!” You breathe. Pushing him back slightly. “I.. I-“ you’re stuttering, not sure what to say. “I’m sorry, maybe I misunderstood..” he breathes. “No- no it’s not that. I.. I liked it. I just.. I’ve never done this before.” You breath, looking up at him. Your cheeks are burning, because his fingertips touching you is the first time a man has ever touched you like that. And this is only the second time you’ve ever interacted with him. “It’s alright.. I know you haven’t known me long.” He laughs. “No.. I don’t mean..” you clench your eyes closed. “I’ve never had sex before.” You sigh. He raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Oh.. well. I’m sorry I pushed you so hard, I had no idea.” He steps back.

“You didn’t. I.. I liked it.” You swallow hard.

He crosses his arms. “Have you ever been touched.. at all?” He asks. You shake your head. “Have you.. done anything at all? Like.. touched yourself?” You chew on your lip nervously. Shaking your head again. “I’ve tried but.. it’s.. weird.” You bring your hands behind your back. “It’s not weird, not if you’re doing it right.” He looks at you. The room is dark, the lights are dim and the fire illuminates it slightly.

“D-do you think you could show me? W-what it feels like I mean…” You look up at him.

“Yeah, of course. Cmere.” He tilts his head, reaching his hand out for you to take. He walks around his couch, pulling you with him. “Go ahead.” You sit down. “Lay back sweetheart.” He nods. You’re nervous as you lay back. “If you don’t like what I’m doing, if you want me to stop at all, you tell me okay?” He says. “Of course.” You nod.

He pushes the Army Green shirt up over your hips, you’re bare. Wearing nothing underneath.

He glides his hand up your thighs, feeling you shiver as he does. His fingertips gliding over your exposed flesh, rubbing over your opening. When he touches your clit, you flinch away from him. He forgets that you’re untouched.

Sensitive, easily stimulated. He chuckles. “Relax. You’re tense.” He breathes. He moves himself over you, pressing his thigh right up against your opening, hearing a gasp from your lips. He lowers himself on top of you, pressing his lips to yours again. You kiss him sloppily, cheeks flushed, your tummy feels warm as he rocks his thigh into you. You whine into his lips, raising your hips to meet him.

He pulls away from you, kissing your chin and down your neck, pushing the shirt up and over your chest. Exposing every part of you to him. The first man to ever see such sensitive parts of you. He attaches his lips to your nipple, hearing you gasp. You lift your hips into him, wanting more. But he takes his time with you. You’ve never felt this way, never been so turned on before. He finishes showing your nipples attention and moves lower, leaving a trail of kisses down your stomach. You’re nervous as he moves himself between your legs. He looks up at you, leaving a kiss to your thigh. One kiss to your swollen clit and you were done.

You let your head fall back, he pushes his hands up his couch, entwining his fingers with yours as he spreads your folds with his tongue. It takes just a few minutes and you’re crying his name out in the perfect symphony. Your stomach is moving with the way you’re panting and you can barely hold still. He moves his hands away from yours, holding your hips down. Sucking and lapping at your clit, pushing his tongue into you slightly. It’s an unfamiliar feeling. You can feel something building. “S-Simon. Feels funny.” You whimper, lifting yourself up to rest on your elbows. Watching him eat your pussy like it’s the sweetest ice cream he’s ever had.

You feel his fingertips gliding over your entrance, and you gasp when he pushes one inside of you. Curling it right into your spongy spot. You can’t hold yourself together, especially not when he adds another finger, scissoring them. A cry leaves your lips, it’s a desperate moan. Something that tells him that you’re just about to cum. You can’t say anything which is what he wants, he’s cornering you right into pure bliss, leaving you nowhere to go. It feels like your body bursts into flames when he works your pussy to an orgasm. The first of many that he’s going to give you. Your eyes are full of tears and clench shut as he works you through your orgasm. Until you’re sensitive and squirming. He finally pulls away from you, moving himself above you again, kissing you, letting you taste yourself on him. You’re breathing hard when you pull away, looking up at him. Like he’s just killed an army in your honor.

“How do you feel?” He asks. Your lips are parted, you want to say something but you can’t. He chuckles at your trance-like state. “It’s alright. I know it’s a lot.” He smiles, pulling the shirt down to cover you. Pulling you up until you’re sitting up to look at him. “I feel good.” You finally say, cheeks burning. “Good, I hope so.”

Your eyes are lost in him and he says something but you don’t even hear it.

He waves in front of your eyes, chuckling when you flinch away. Shaking yourself out of your thoughts. “You alright, space cadet? I wasn’t too much was I?” He laughs. “No.. no.” You giggle, “sorry.” You blush. “First time is always intense. I get it.” He smiles. Leaning into you. “Can’t wait to see how spacey you’ll be when I fuck that pussy for the first time.”

You swallow hard, eyes clenching shut. You’re quiet.

A laugh is what makes you open your eyes. “I’m only kidding. Relax.” He stands up. “Unless you want me to of course.” He winks at you.

“I know you have work tomorrow, I’m keeping you up.” He laughs. “Let’s get these shoes on you and I’ll walk you home.” He smiles. He kneels down onto one knee, reaching out for one of your shoes. It’s dry and warm.

You’re surprised at first.

He’s actually putting shoes on you, like you’re some kind of princess.

He helps you up, throwing one of his jackets over you and holding your clothes. The storm has passed now, it’s only dark. When you reach your front porch, he passes you your clothes. “I can go change and give you your shirt back.” You stutter when you say. He’s making you nervous. “Don’t worry about it. Keep it. It looks better on you anyways.” He smiles. You blush, looking down. “Thank you, for helping me find Paisley.”

“Of course. I don’t mind at all.” You smile. “Um.. t-thank you for um..”

“You don’t have to thank me for that.” He laughs. “Sorry..” you blush. “It’s alright. Get some sleep.” He smiles.

You smile. “Goodnight Simon.”

“Goodnight Y/N.” He nods. “Oh.. wait. Can I have your phone number? Since you’re willing to watch Paisley for me.” He playing his eagerness off. “Yeah of course.” You smile, walking toward your couch where you had left your phone. You pick it up and walk back to the door where he was waiting, passing it to him. He types his phone number into your phone and sends himself a text with it. “Awesome. Thank you Y/N. Goodnight now.” He smiles.

“Goodnight Simon.”

—

“You seem to be in a good mood LT.” Soap smiles.

“Something going on at home?” He smirks.

Ghost rolls his eyes. “Not now Soap.” He rolls his eyes.

“Who’s the girl, you’ve been checking your phone every 10 minutes.” He crosses his arms. Ghost sighs. “It’s my neighbor. I asked if she’d watch my dog. Stop being weird.” He shoves passed Soap. “Aw Cmon. I’m your friend.” Soap scoffs. “I tell you everything. I’ve never seen you act this way before.”

Ghost sighs. “Alright fine. Yeah, something happened between us and I don’t know what to think of it. But she’s kind’ve way out of my league.” He mumbles. “What do you mean by that?”

“She’s 20.”

Soaps eyes widen. “Jesus. A tad bit young don’t you think.” Ghost looks at him unimpressed. “She’s been my neighbor for a while, I thought she was older.” He shrugs. Soap laughs. “Nah, women just mature way before men do.” Ghost snorts. “Yeah. Well.. what I did with her last night I can’t really come back from.” He laughs. “Did you sleep with her?” Simon shakes his head. “No.. but. I don’t want to talk about it. Paisley got her paw stuck in her fence a few weeks back and I went out to check on her and she was helping her. Last night, Paisley didn’t come back when I let her out, so I stopped by and asked her if she’d seen her and she said no, but offered to help me look for her.” He shrugs. “So.. if you did stuff with her, why didn’t you have sex with her?” Ghost flinches. “She.. uh.” He laughs nervously. “She’s a Virgin.”

Soap’s eyes are wide. “Christ. You’ve got yourself into quite the situation Ghost.” He laughs. “Yeah. You’ll have to see her.” He mumbles. “Take me with you when you drop Paisley off for a mission sometime.” Soap crosses his arms. Simon laughs. “Alright. If you insist Johnny.”

“I’m good at reading people, I’ll tell you if she’s good for you.”

“She’s not good for me, I haven’t felt like this in forever.” Soap raises his eyebrows, a smug look on his face. “That means she’s good for you. You’re supposed to feel happiness.” He rolls his eyes. Ghost laughs. “It’s bad for a man like me. I’ve lost everyone, makes me vulnerable.” He mumbles. “So don’t lose this one.” Soap pats his shoulder.

Ghost shakes his head. “It’s never been in my control. But.. me being vulnerable, means that I can be very dangerous. So let’s hope this goes alright.”

—

“You WHAT?” She yells from the other end of the phone, you can hear her coughing violently on her coffee. “Uh.. yeah.”

“Did you have sex?” She asks. “What? No. He just.. he. We didn’t have sex.” You blush. “What’s gotten into you?” She squeals, making you laugh. “I don’t know. I guess I just really like him.” You bite your lip. “Damn. Who would’ve guessed. A 32 year old in the military is your type.” She laughs. “I know right. I don’t know. He’s.. ugh.” You sigh. “I’ve talked to him twice ever, and he’s already been so much fucking nicer to me than Wesley. I just.. don’t even know what to say.” You laugh. “That’s how you’re supposed to be treated Y/N.” She laughs. “Maybe he’ll be really good for you. Maybe you’ll get married and have a bunch of kids.” She snorts. You roll your eyes. “Whatever. I have to get back to work.” You mumble. “We’re not done talking about this. You’re telling me every detail later.” She mumbles through the phone, making you laugh. “We’ll see.” You say before hanging up.

You bite your lip.

You can’t stop thinking about the night before. What he said to you.

“Can’t wait to see how spacey you’ll be when I fuck that pussy for the first time.”

Your stomach turns and you feel yourself getting wet just from the thought of it. You needed to get your mind off of this. You stand up, heading outside to find something to do.

You’re sure you could find some yard work of some kind to do.

You look around your house, noticing the patch of grass by your driveway was mixing with gravel. You head back inside, changing into more comfortable clothes to do this task. Not paying any mind to whos eyes may be on you. Simon was meant to be at work anyways. You get a rake, raking the gravel back into it’s dedicated location. You needed to plant more grass seed, maybe line it with some spare bricks to keep the gravel away from it. It’d keep Paisley away from the fence to avoid getting her paw stuck. Simon really needed to fence his yard in to keep her inside. Although she was a pretty large dog, she’d probably just jump over it. You’re carrying bricks when Simon pulls up, Soap is in his passenger seat. “Is that her?” Soap asks. “Oh.. yeah. I guess so. I thought she was supposed to work today.” He mumbles. “Guess I’ll get to meet her sooner than later.” He smiles. You’ve got your ear buds in, not paying any attention. “We’re just checking on Paisley, get your head out of the gutter.” Ghost mumbles. As soon as Simon opens the door, Paisley bolts to your house. “Oh Jesus Christ, seriously!” He mumbles. Paisley attacking you with kisses, jumping on you catches you off guard.

“Oh my gosh!” You laugh. Turning your face to avoid her sloppy kisses. Simon and Soap approach, and you’re petting Paisley. “Hi darling, I’m glad to see you’re okay after your great escape.” You smile. When you glance up and see Simon walking toward you, another man behind him. “Thought you were supposed to be at work?” Simon asks.

“Ah, a bunch of offices flooded last night in the storm, mine included. So I’ve got a couple weeks off while they renovate.” You smile. “Ah, paid I hope?” He laughs. “Oh yeah. I would be out looking for another job otherwise.” You laugh. “That’s good though, a nice break.”

Ghost looks at Soap. “We just stopped by to check on Paisley. This is Soap by the way.” He nods. You look confused. “Did you say Soap?” You ask, looking at him. Soap laughs. “My name is Johnny, but you can call me Soap.” He nods, reaching his hand out. You take it, shaking his hand. Ghost feels jealousy boiling through him when he touches you. He doesn’t like that. “Civilians don’t get the nickname, Ghost.” Soap judges him. You tilt your head. “Ghost?” You smile, crossing your arms. “Nice. A weird duo but I like it.” You laugh. “I like the Mohawk too, don’t see that haircut much anymore.” You nod. “Thanks.” He smiles. “Oh no, don’t go giving the bloke a big head.” Simon rolls his eyes. “Whatever, I’m gonna go find Paisley. She’s nicer than you.” Soap rolls his eyes. “Nice meeting you, lass.” He smiles. “Nice meeting you too.” You wave.

Simon lingers behind. “Why’re you not relaxing?” He laughs. You blush, looking down. “Can’t sit down for too long or I’ll think about what you said last night.” You laugh. “Ah. That makes sense.” He laughs. “I can give you something else to think about if you want.” He chuckles. “Jesus Christ.” You roll your eyes.

“I think Soap is getting impatient, Ghost.” You call him by his nickname and he freezes up. He laughs. “Don’t call me that. Not unless you’re moaning it.” He turns to walk away from you, hearing you laugh. Mumbling a ‘Jesus’ under your breath.

—

As he works, training new recruits, helping out anywhere he can, preparing for missions. He thinks about you.

The jealousy he felt earlier with Soap, it worries him. He’s getting too close to you. He knows it. The last time he did this, he got hurt. Irreversible damage to him that he still suffers from. He needs to stay away from you, but he fears it’s too late.

You’re so kind. Naive in a good way almost.

You’re so nice, so sweet. Even Paisley likes you.

He can’t focus on work without thinking about you. Zoning out as he loads everything up. The way that you sounded with his face buried between your thighs, he thinks about how you’ll sound when he-

He groans out in frustration, earning a couple glances. He throws down the wrench he’s holding, cursing under his breath.

Soap and Captain Price exchange a worried glance as he storms off.

Soap can’t help but laugh when he’s gone, the door shut and latched behind him. “Something going on with him?” Captain Price asks. “Yeah, a girl.” He snickers. “Ah. Trouble in paradise?”

“No.” He laughs. “She’s his neighbor and they aren’t.. anything just yet. But I guess he had an encounter with her.” Captain Price nods. “Women. They’ll do that to ya.” He laughs, picking up the box of ammo and walking to the back of the Humvee. “Tell me about it.” Johnny smiles, digging through the box of tools.

Captain Price sets down the box of ammo in the back of the vehicle, swiping his hands off together to get the dust off of them. “Suppose I’ll go talk to ‘im.” Captain Price mutters as he makes his way into the office that Simon had gone into. He opens the door, seeing him sitting at the desk. He’s got a water bottle in front of him and it’s already almost gone. “You alright Simon?” Price sits down in the chair across from him. Hearing Simon sigh. “M’fine Price.” He mumbles. “Johnny told me a bit about your troubles.” He smiles. Ghost rolls his eyes at this. “It’s alright, maybe we can talk about it. Maybe it’ll make you feel better.” He shrugs. “What, is this a therapy session?” He jokes. Earning a snort from his Captain. “I’m serious, I’m a wise old man with a lot of advice.” He smiles, setting his hands in his lap. The dad energy that Price gives off warms Simon’s heart in a way. “I don’t know. She’s my neighbor and she’s a lot younger than me.” He sighs. “I just think I’m going to end up getting myself into something dumb with her.”

“Well.. what’s she like?”

“I.. I mean she’s nice. She lives on her own. She.. said that she just got out of a relationship.” He sighs. “Oh? Did she say why?”

“He cheated on her because she wasn’t ready to… take the next step with him.” Ghost shrugs. “Hm.. do you know anything about her background? How responsible she is?”

Ghost shakes his head. “Not really. I’ve only talked to her twice but the second time.. we were alone and things escalated.” He mumbles. “So.. you had sex?”

“No.” Ghost laughs. “She’s.. a Virgin.”

Captain Price’s eyes widen, and he shifts uncomfortably. “How old did you say she was?” He asks.

“20.”

Captain Price nods his head. “Hm.. well. What does she do in her spare time? Do you know?”

“She.. mostly just works so that she can pay her bills and hangs out with her friends.” He shrugs. “Do you know where she works?” Simon nods. “A bookkeeper for a construction company. She’s worked there since she was eighteen.” He nods.

“So.. she’s got a stable job.. can take care of herself.. she seems really mature.” Price shrugs. “I know it seems weird that she’s so young, but women mature a lot faster than men.” Captain Price nods. “You’re both consenting adults, who are responsible and can take care of yourselves.. I know you’re afraid of being hurt.” Captain Price sits up. “But you’ll never find your forever if you don’t put yourself out there and be vulnerable for others.” He smiles. Simon nods his head. “I know.”

“You’ll have to bring her around, let me judge her myself.” He smiles. Earning a snort from Simon. “Yeah, Johnny said the same thing.”

Price stands up, patting Simon on the shoulder as he goes to exit. “You’ll never know until you try, Simon. Don’t give up just yet.” He nods.

Simon sighs when the door closes behind him. What the hell was he getting himself into.

Later that day, Simon had come home. He didn’t see you and decided to leave everything be for now. Deciding to watch a show and drink a beer. Give himself time to relax, as bad as he wants to spend this time with you. He sighs, hearing Paisley scratching at the door, whining. She’s pacing back and fourth. “It’s probably just a Racoon. Down girl.” He breathes. But she doesn’t calm down. “Paisley, please. Give it a rest darling. I’ve just let you out.” He groans.

Nothing seems to calm her. He stands up, setting his beer down. He makes his way over to the kitchen to discard his empty beer bottles, setting them by his sink. He glances up through his kitchen window for a second, when something catches his attention.

You’re talking to a guy.

Not just any guy either, your ex-boyfriend. Ghost feels himself stiffen up, eyes narrowing as he looks outside the window. It seems as if you’re having a normal conversation with him. Ghost quickly moves to the back door, cracking it open and holding Paisley back as she tries to force her way outside. “Stop, sit.” He growls.

“Look.. I’m sorry okay? I miss you.” He hears him say it. Ghost can feel himself tensing up. "You need to leave. I won't ask you again." You breathe. "And if I don't?" He sighs. "What are you going to do hm? Nobody will come for you. You're just a stupid girl Y/N." He can hear him. He can hear you laugh. "Go." He hears you growl. "I'll tell the neighbor if you don't go." Simon's smile is too wide upon hearing that. "The neighbor? What, are you friends now?" He hears him scoff. "Come on, let's just talk baby, I can take your mind off things for a while."

"Simon!" You yell, Simon stands up immediately, ripping his door open and stepping outside. He can see that he's got a strong grip on your upper arm. When he sees Simon step down the few concrete stairs, he lets go. "Seriously?" He can hear him scoff. "She doesn't need you, go back inside and mind your own fucking business." He growls. Simon makes his way across his lawn, crossing the gravel of your driveway. "She is my business. She is now." He crosses his arms. "And if you want to leave here in one piece, I suggest you get back in your car and drive as far away as you can." He says it casually. "Yeah? Or else what?" He asks, making Simon raise his shirt up over his hip, not only does he expose his insanely fit body and v-line, but there's a pearl gripped pistol sitting in his waistband. A whistle leaves his lips and Paisley bursts out of his house, bolting to stand next to him at attention, staring your ex-boyfriend down. "Go." Simon nods.

He scoffs, shaking his head. "What, you fucking him?" He looks at you, teeth gritted behind his pursed lips, you glance at Simon before looking back to the ground, swallowing hard. "Some virgin huh?" He shakes his head. "This is fucking stupid, don't even know why I bothered with you." He growls. He walks down the concrete path by your door, walking around and climbing into his car, speeding off. "Go home." Simon mumbles to Paisley. "Hey. You okay?" He asks. You nod your head. "Yeah.." You shake your head. "I'm fine. Just.. yeah." You breathe. "Cmon, I'll make you some tea." He tilts his head for you to follow him. You nod your head, following after him. He leads you into his back door, closing it behind you. You notice Paisley laying in her bed in the living room. "I didn't think you'd be able to hear me." You breathe. "Was worried for a second." You laugh nervously. "Paisley was stressed out, kept harassing me. I happened to notice.” He mumbles. “You were listening?” You ask. “Just.. making sure nothing happened. Suppose it’s a good thing I was though.” He reaches up into his cupboard, shirt rising until you could see the Pistol grip.

You’ve never been more sure of anything in your life.

“Simon?” You say, stepping closer to him. “Yeah?” He asks, turning to face you. Once he’s close enough, you lean in, kissing him hard, cupping his cheeks so that he can’t pull away. “W-woah.” He breathes. “Are you okay?” He asks. “Just kiss me.” You pant. He sets everything he has in his hand down, returning his lips to yours and moving you so that he could pin you up against the countertop, feeling you moan into his mouth. He reaches down, grasping the back of your thighs and lifting you up until you’re on the countertop. You rest your hands on the countertop, pushing your hips forward. Like you wanted him.

“What’s gotten into you?” He asks. You pull away, looking at him, reaching forward and raising his shirt up. Getting a good look at his gun. “Nobody’s ever done that for me before.” You look up at him, taking a deep breath. “What? Told some scumbag off?” He laughs. “Defended me.” You breathe. “Seriously? Not ever?” He asks. You shake your head. “Please keep kissing me, Simon.” You whine. He leans into you, kissing you again. Stiffening up when he feels your hand on him through his jeans. He groans into his lips when you palm him hard through them. He pulls away, resting his forehead against yours. “Do you know what you’re getting yourself into?” He breathes. “Yes.” You whine. You sit up, reaching with both of your hands to unbuckle his belt.

He reaches down, hand gripping onto the cool metal of the pistol, setting it down on the countertop. Leaning in to kiss your neck as you pulled his belt apart and started on his jeans. You can’t help but glance at the gun as it sits there. You’re starting to realize just what kind of man Simon is.

A strong military man. A guarded one at that. He’s nice but gruff, quiet and observing. And something you’ve noticed since meeting him, since Paisley got stuck in your fence.

He’s protective of what’s his.

“Simon.” You pant. “What baby?” He breathes.

“I want you.” You breathe. “But.. you.. you’re..” he looks down between the both of you.

“Please, I want you to take my virginity.” You whine. Pushing your hips out. He takes in a deep breath. “Are you sure?” He asks. You nod your head. He pushes his pants down his thighs just enough to reveal himself to you, hearing you sigh when you see the size of him. “S’alright. Will only hurt a minute.” He moves closer to you. He tugs your pants down, discarding them to the side somewhere. Seeing all of you once again. He spits in his hand, focusing it on the tip of his cock. “Are you sure? Once I take it, it’s gone.” He breathes. “I trust you. I want you to take it.” You pant. He pushes your legs open, getting a good look at you. “Just relax for me.” Your heart is racing and he can hear it thumping in your chest from where he stands.

“If you let me do this..” he trails off, circling your opening with his fingers again, going to take his time stretching you out before he takes what’s rightfully his. “You’re mine.” He leans into you. Lips ghosting over your throat, right where your jugular vein sits beneath the surface. “Simon.” You breathe out.

“I think I was always yours.” You look him in the eyes, watching him stiffen at your sentence. Eyes darkening as he stares at you. “Fuck.” He growls, gritting his teeth. He presses the tip of his cock up against your entrance, tip pressing between your sopping wet folds. He forces you to look at him, taking his time thrusting every inch into you. He holds your throat, not cutting off your oxygen but just enough to hold you still. When your eyes flick down to watch him sink into you, he growls. “Look at me.” He growls. “Keep looking at me.”

“Simon.. it hurts.”

“I know baby.” He breathes. “S’alright, just for a minute. One minute.” He pants. You’re so tight on him, he can barely contain himself. He finally closes his eyes, sighing out as he bottoms out inside of you, hearing you cry out. He leans into you, holding you steady as he slides out, rocking his hips into you. “It’s alright. I know it hurts.” He takes in a sharp breath, hating that you hurt so bad, but he felt so fucking good. He keeps a slow, steady pace. Letting you adjust to him. He notices a little bit of blood, but it doesn’t bother him any.

“Simon..” you’re breathless when you say it. “Hm?”

“Fuck me.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I can take it, please.” You hiss, pushing your hips into him.

He wraps his arms around your waist, holding you tight as he rocks his hips into yours faster, a little harder than before. Pushing your legs up as he slides deeper into you, hearing a gasp leave your lips. “Oh my god-“ you breathe.

He keeps up this pace for a few minutes, letting you get used to him. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you.

“How does it feel huh?” He pants, voice unsteady and desperate.

“‘M fucking your pussy.” He hisses, feeling you tighten around him. “Took your virginity.” He breathes. “How’s it feel?” He smiles. “It- it feels so good.” You whine. ”I feel so full Simon.” You hiccup with watery eyes. “Yeah? That’s how you’re supposed to feel. Supposed to feel overwhelmed and good.” He chuckles. He rests his hands on the undersides of your thighs, gripping you and keeping your legs open for him. Smiling when he sees you gripping the countertop like your life depends on it. He lifts his shirt up more, showing off more of his toned stomach.

“Fuck!” You cry, letting your head tilt back. He’s picking up his pace, getting you so close. You can feel swirling in your stomach, feeling something building.

A pant leaves your lips and you move up, trying to adjust yourself. “Simon. Feels weird.” You gasp. He lowers his hand to rub at your sensitive clit.

Just a little bit of that and you’re crying out for him. Clenching hard around him, your pussy milking him for every bit of his spunk.

He’s panting hard, moans unsteady as he approaches his orgasm. He’s going to cum hard.

He slides out of you last second, pumping his cock until he finishes on your stomach, groaning out, his body jerking as he finishes. “Oh fuck..” he whines.

After a moment of coming down from your highs, it finally hits you. You’d really just given this man, who’s way older than you, way more experienced than you, who you aren’t even in a relationship with. Your virginity. You’re staring at him with wide eyes as he cleans your skin of his filth, making sure you’re completely clean, even wiping down between your legs. He wants you to be comfortable. He sighs when he sees your nervous appearance. “It’s alright. I know.” He breathes. “Cmon, let’s go warm up by the fire.” He breathes. Lifting you up and bringing you with him to the couch. He sets you down, throwing a blanket over you.

You’re silent for a while. Not nervous or upset, more content than anything.

Simon is so caring of you, and he barely knows you. Which tells you everything you need to know about him. That he’s going to be the best thing for you. That he’ll take care of you. He finally sits down next to you after starting the fire. Throwing an arm around you so that you could lean into his chest. “I’m sorry if I took advantage of you.” He breathes. Hearing you laugh. “You didn’t. I’m a grown woman, I know what I want.” You smile. “Well.. good.” He smiles. “I just hope you don’t want it to be a one time thing.” You mumble.

“I was wondering the exact same thing.” He breathes.

“I know you just got out of a relationship and all but.. you’re mine.”

You smile up at him. “Always.”

“Oh yes, one more thing.” He mumbles, standing up and disappearing up his stairs for a minute, returning back down holding a box.

“Here.” He smiles. You take it from him, confused. “Simon.. I told you not to get me these.” You look up at him. “Open them.”

You open the box up, noticing a brand new pair of shoes. You can’t even imagine how much they probably costed. “Simon this is way too much.” You laugh. “You need new ones, I can help out. Let’s see how they fit.” He kneels down again.

“You’re doing too much for me already.”

He scoffs. “What I’m doing is the bare minimum. You’re just used to below average darling.” He laughs, tying the laces. You can’t help but smile at this.

“Thank you Simon.” You breathe.

“Always.”

[dreamesamu]

THE THINGS HE TAKES FOR GRANTED

in which he takes a moment to justify himself after never noticing your little crush for him

starring. akaashi keiji x fem!reader

genre(s): angst to fluff, (super, like-) long scenario 

warning(s): none, i think so? except for clueless keiji and not proof-reading

author’s note: akaashi is just a major green flag in this (every haikyu!! boy is 😭) i feel too bad to write them red-flag-y.

choose your character: m. atsumu | k. akaashi

you’ve known akaashi for quite some time, starting from your last year of fukurodani academy and then serendipity brought you both ended up being each other’s classmate at a same college/university. bokuto kotaro was your best friend, the little owl introduced his favorite setter to you and the friendship of three gradually become established, and as if it can not be any more inevitably, you eventually developed a secret admiration for the pretty setter when you three have been closed enough. however, graduating separated ways, kotaro pursued his journey to become professional in volleyball while keiji, once said to you he wanted a place in the literature department.

truth be told, even if you promised each other you would still keep in touch and plan every weekend friend group meeting online or offline, you’ve never expect you would share every class in higher education life with your crush, the akaashi keiji. the great thing is you both are paired up for an presentation assignment in the major you and him pursue, you do have plenty of time to stay close and grab his attention from making gestures that he usually failed to realizes.

here you are again, happily humming your favourite song while carrying a box wrapped with a small detailed towel, some big rolls of assignment paper stuck underneath your arm as you make your way back to where you both planned to finish the project - the library. 

“keiji, i’m back!” you set your things respectively on the table, and akaashi nods with a smile on his face in acknowledgement.

“oookay, so here’s your today’s snack, I hope you’ll like it” you grin, tapping on the box before pushing it to his side as he receives it and casually opens it while speaking.

“hmm? are those sketches of our poster? you can always edit them on the computer, why the effort?” he chuckled softly before completely unwrapping the bento box.

“I’m not good at designing and stuff. I may draw as I like and you’ll be the one to edit it on the computer.” you puff your cheek out, hands resting on hips as you watch his reaction to your delicately decorated sweets in the box made for him.

“this looks amazing.” he smiles upon seeing the pastries you made, decorated beautifully with different kinds of fruit as each pastry has different flavours, you probably did not stay up so late last night just to make all kinds of flavours for him to show how much you like him. yeah, probably not.

"oh, it's nothing, I just hope it doesn't taste bad" you chuckle nervously while scratching the back of your neck, letting his praise send you up to cloud nine.

your actions falter when you see akaashi put back the box's cap on, set it aside as he leans over to reach the posters you drew.

"now then, can we start working on the project?" he spreads out the piece of paper, glancing at you as you stand there awkwardly, prefer him taking a bite to look through all of your efforts than just shrugging it off and go straight to the main part of your study session.

"what...? oh- um..." you trail off, a bit embarrassed. "wouldn't you like to try one out? it won't hurt to just have a taste of it..."

"maybe later, y/n. we have other things need to be done right now." he merely states, eyes study the poster in front of him, unknowingly sinking your heart.

"yes, right." you shift slightly, taking the sit by the opposite of him, trying to catch up with him on the progress.

you let your mind wanders off how many times you've lost count already while akaashi quietly focused on scribbling something in his notebook, every thoughts you have are always about keiji, your feelings and the stare you give him thinking it's discreet. what's stopping him from trying my tarts out? and how does he feel being around me? or is that his way of rejecting something without making that person feel bad? flooded your mind.

"y/n?" you realize his faint voice ringing somewhere "y/n..." the voice becomes clearer. "earth to y/n, you're staring." awh, snap. right.

you blink, startled before clearing your throat, mumbling a small apology as you try to get yourself busy with the work underneath you once again.

but akaashi just chuckles, his voice calm and reassuring.

"hey, you seem off today. it's lunch break, please make yourself comfortable." you fumble at his words, it's noon already? as he collects his books and tidy it up at one corner of the table before speaking again.

"yuri satsuki is inviting me to have lunch with her. would you like to also join? i think she wouldn't mind." he kindly offers, probably not knowing the words struck you shocked.

you know satsuki-senpai, she's a year older than you and has been a social butterfly ever since you set foot in student life. she is a nice person, you conceived, but not until you found out that she has a huge crush on your akaashi keiji, her behaviour in your eyes became somewhat annoying. in return, she did realize she had a rival to win over him, you acknowledge that through the smug look she gave every time akaashi was around her instead of you, that is how the tension gradually builds up between you and your pain-in-the-ass rival.

and now she's even invited keiji for lunch? you feel an uncomfortable twist in your belly, screaming that if you do not take further actions, you lose akaashi to her. but his way of discarding your hard work, also known as an attempt to get his attention earlier discourages you hastily. this comes to a realization: ever since he start hanging out with satsuki-senpai, he has never touched one of your cooks once.

"no, i'm fine staying here. you go" you force a smile waving him goodbye. he hesitates upon seeing the downward trend of your mood as well as the strange attitude every time he brings up yuri.

"what are you waiting for?" you scoff, trying your best to make it sound not so bitterly. he nods quietly before ruffles your hair, thoughtfully remind you to get something to eat before start working again, and he'll be back with you soon.

you groan for the nth time in thirty minutes since his last leave, deciding not to eat anything at all after you laugh bitterly to yourself seeing the bento box laid cold by his stuffs which corrects your thoughts that he is not going to appreciate what you did for him.

the chair scraped the floor when you stand up, attempting to compose yourself when you feel your brain need a break from overthinking such situations.

on the way out of the library, your eyes meet yuri satsuki's, assuming that keiji is just somewhere around here as his lunch break partner is the person you least excited to bump into.

"well, well. isn't that the girl whose best friend choose to hang out with me instead of her?"

excuse me?

"don't get too ahead of yourself, satsuki-senpai. just a friendly reminder" your tone evidently irritated as you flash her an unamused smile, trying to avoid her as soon as possible.

but the radio scene of her voice replayed all over your head, your mind goes muddy despite the fresh air you're trying to take in, you let out a shaky breath, tears brimming out.

maybe, he doesn't quite noticed the things I did for him after all...

---

"you're back. where were you?" akaashi worried tone surprises you after a quite fine time of trying to find you because your study desk in the library was empty.

"i was... out for fresh air. why?" your voice is off and he noticed that. he always knew when something is bothering you, and right now he definitely know that something is wrong.

"after i finished my lunch i got yours, 'cause i know when i'm back you would still hadn't eaten anything." his brows slightly furrow seeing your avoiding attitude.

"thanks, keiji." you said briefly, take the package from his hand and sit down on your seat, never forget to notice the pastry box still intact.

your strange attitude didn't just stop there, it confuses akaashi for a more couple of days of your avoidance, he dislike the way you put a small distance between you both in study sessions, you flinch and tense around him more often, your answers and conversations are brief and sometimes awkward as you seem to be more preoccupied and attentive rather than to communicate with him.

"good morning, y/n." he smiles, your state has been bothering him for days as he is paying attention to your fade grin and a small "hey" as a greet back.

then he fumbles. something is missing...

oh. but then, realization sets in him quite quickly: you didn't bring any homemade sweets today.

"y/n..." he hesitates, meeting your eyes as you lift your head up from the notebook you're scribbling on. "does your home perhaps... out of ingredients or something?"

you are stunned for a moment, knowing exactly what he was trying to imply, scared to look at him directly in the eye as you shift your gaze elsewhere, pretending to have forgotten.

"oh... you mean the pastries... I forgot to do it. I was busy yesterday"

lies. he see through it, you know that, but you can't just blurt it all out that you're heartbreaking because of his indirect rejection that never says he doesn't like you, but makes you feel like it did.

"hey... i know something is wrong, can you tell me what it is?"

there it is - the worried look on such handsome face that never fails to make your heart flutter. but you know, that is just his nature of being an attentive and thoughtful person, not just for only you, but for everyone in his orbit.

so his question remained unanswered.

akaashi has been extremely distracted due to the sudden lack of your affection on him. it's just doesn't feel the same. even if he refuses it but deep down, he misses your midday snacks, your bubbly laugh around him and that flushed cheeks you wear every time he caught you staring. it has been a whole week since, and the fact that you didn't join the friend group video call with bokuto last sunday was his last straw.

he misses you, dearly. and if he doesn't do anything now before your project is finished, he might find it difficult to approach you even when you are his best friend.

and then, on an another lovely morning in the college's campus, an emotion he thinks he's aware of stirring in his stomach at the scene of you handing out a bento box wrapped with the same detailed towel, a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips as the other boy laughs lightly, scratches his neck, sending regards with a polite bow before making his way back in the classroom, akaashi doesn't like what his eyes have witnessed, so when he met yours, the bitterful look sends shivers down your spine.

you turn away, begin to walk, you do not want to deal with your bothered heart right now, not if it has anything to do with him, with that thought, you choose to neglect it because it is just your one-sided feelings for him.

but you hear footsteps behind, next is a small "wait" escaped from his lips when he managed to catch up and hold gently on your arm. that stopped you midtrack.

"please. can we talk?" he pleads.

---

you find yourself trapped by his presence in a corner of the school's library. there's no point in avoiding now.

"i'm sorry." he states. "i like you, i should've known."

your eyes widen. why- all of a sudden?

akaashi glances at you, softly sighs before bring your hand up to his face and kiss your knuckles gently.

"i understand now, i was clueless, you have the very right to be mad at me." each sentences he speaks crack your heart, but at the same time, they give you hope.

you neither know how to react, nor what to say, you just stand there, completely speechless, it encourages him to continue his speech of pursuing you.

"the last time i went to have lunch with satsuki, she confessed to me." he stopped, watching your expression. "but i turned her down, then, she got angry and started to brag about you. i did not like what she said, so i got quite defensive and... that was when i realised."

"i didn't know when it started. i just knew that i didn't feel very comfortable seeing you bringing your pastries that was meant for me to someone else, and more it's because i didn't appreciate it."

he squeezes your hand, afraid if not, you'll slip from his grip and become somebody else's apple. he certainly dislikes the thought.

"i want your pastries back, i love them as much as i love you. please let me correct such a terrible mistake."

---

"yes, hello. i've received the box, thank you, my love."

akaashi spins his office chair slightly, softly speaking to the phone stuck between his cheek and shoulder with a smile while unwrapping a huge warm box of freshly baked tarts.

"keiji, bad news, i'm out of powdered sugar after that batch." your voice echoed on output, he chuckles.

"are you free after work? we can visit the supermarket to purchase some. i'll drive, consider this a date with me, 'mkay?"

© 2024 dreamesamu. all rights reserved.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Tattoos IV

Mapi León x Ingrid Engen x Child!Reader

Summary: You design Mami a tattoo

You sit crosslegged in front of Mr Pina's enclosure, drawing furiously on your notepad. It's a new piece for your best friend Pequeñita and you want to make it perfect.

Mr Pina helps with your inspiration sometimes so you sit with him as you draw.

"Hola, teeny."

Mami comes up behind you and pulls you into her lap. She looks over your shoulder to see what you're drawing and she smiles.

"That looks great!"

"Mumma says when I'm done we can frame it before giving it to Pequeñita!" You say," So I'm working very hard!"

"I'm sure Pequeñita is going to love it," Mami says," But, hey, can I have some help with something?"

You look away from your paper to look at Mami, humming your confirmation.

"I was thinking about getting another tattoo," She says," And I want it to be extra special."

You nod along. "Mumma says tattoos are permanent and you must be very careful what you put on your body."

"Your Mumma is very smart," Mami says," That's exactly right."

"What are you getting?"

"Well," Mami says, moving you so you're facing her," I was thinking my favourite little artist could design me one."

"Really?!"

"Really!"

You think for a moment. "After Pequeñita's drawing is done. We have a playdate next week and it has to be finished by then."

"Alright, teeny. I can wait."

Mapi finds that she doesn't have to wait long because you come running into the bedroom very early a few days later with your sketchpad and pen covering your hands.

"Oh, teeny," Ingrid laughs as she pulls you up onto the bed," You've gotten very messy."

"I made Mami's tattoo!" You say, crawling over Ingrid to settle between them," It's Bagheera!"

It's a black blob, in truth but it's got a tail and little cat ears and it's outlined with a dash of gold because Bagheera is one of the queens of the house and she makes you extra happy-happy.

She makes Mami happy too.

You explain it all to her and Mami smiles.

"Thank you, teeny," She says, giving lots of kisses all over your face," This is perfect."

"Did you hear, Mumma? Mami called my drawing perfect!"

"Of course she did!" Ingrid pulls you into a big hug," Our favourite artist never produces anything that isn't perfect."

You giggle as Mumma layers kisses on your cheek.

"We'll take a trip to the tattoo parlour later," Mumma says," And you can see Mami get her new tattoo."

"Of course! I can't have it done without my favourite artist being there to see!"

Mapi can't stop smiling at her new tattoo as she goes into training the day after it's finished. It looks absolutely perfect on her arm and the smile never falls.

You run off pretty quickly to go and see Alexia's Pequeñita with your little backpack of art supplies and Mapi watches you from afar.

"That one's new," Alexia says, pointing at the Bagheera blob.

"Teeny designed it," Mapi boasts," I got it done a few days ago."

You've gotten out your skin pens again, drawing over your arms as Pequeñita attempts a portrait of you.

"Is it meant to be Bagheera?"

"It is! She's so talented!"

Alexia laughs. "She's coming back to mine tonight, right?"

Mapi nods. "She's got a picture for Pequeñita in the car. She worked on it all weekend."

"Pequeñita's got one at home for her as well."

"Mami!" You call, running over to her," Look! I'm you!"

You show off your pen covered arms, pointing out which ones are crude depictions of Mapi's own tattoos. You point at you shoulder and beam, showing off your own Bagheera blob.

"Tia Ale! Do you see? Me and Mami match!"

"Very nice, teeny," Alexia laughs," I was just saying how cool Mapi's new tattoo is. You'll have to design me one soon."

You nod seriously. "Soon," You promise," But not now because me and Pequeñita are drawing each other now."

"Okay, teeny," She says," Are you excited to come over tonight?"

You nod. "Pequeñita says she got new paints and we can paint together!"

"You can only paint with Pequeñita," Ingrid says as she approaches," If you have clean hands and arms. It's nice that you want to match with your Mami but you also need to be clean, teeny. Come on, let's go and wash it off so you can draw some more."

You sigh. "But Mumma-"

"You can be like Mami later," Mumma promises you," But right now, I need clean arms or I can't put these on."

She waves a packet of temporary tattoos in your face and you gasp.

"I'll wash my arms!"

You take off for the toilets.

"Take someone with you!"

You grab Pequeñita's hand.

"An adult, teeny!"

You grab Pina's hand too, dragging her and Pequeñita with you.

"Where did you get those?" Mapi laughs.

"Corner store," Ingrid replies," I used to love these things. She can't get ink poisoning from these. It's the safe solution if she wants to be like you."

"But she won't be like me if we don't match!" Mapi complains and Alexia grins.

"I think there's a site where you can design your own."

Ingrid groans as Mapi's eyes light up.

[callsign-rogueone]

change of plans

Liam Mairi x reader words: 1.6k 🏷: no book spoilers. she/her reader who Imogen calls a "girl" once. technical part three to the spider and one too many, but can be read as a standalone. these two are getting closer to getting together... I'm on hour 22 of this headache, and it made me think... ✨ riders getting migraines from using their signets too much ✨ and our sweet boy just needs to be taken care and cuddled of for once.

“Good morning, soft one.”

You groan, turning over and burying your face in your pillow. “Too early. Come back in an hour.”

She makes a sound like a laugh. “I thought you wouldn’t want to miss breakfast.”

You blink through the sleepiness, realizing how hungry you are. Did you eat dinner last night? How did you get back from the tavern? Maybe that whole thing was just one of those weird dreams you have when you’re a little too tired — you’re still recovering from that terrible virus that had swept through the quadrant earlier this month. But you must have been completely exhausted if you fell asleep still in your daytime clothes. You’re incredibly picky about that — you don’t even like to sit on your bed in anything you’ve worn outside your room.

And why does it smell like… man in here? Oh, gods…

“Yes, this is your own bed,” she says before you can ask. “And no, you didn’t sleep with anyone. Deigh’s boy walked you back here and made sure you were safe. We are in his debt.”

Deigh’s boy… oh, gods, she means Liam.

You still can’t believe that you fell asleep in your flight jacket. How drunk were you? You yawn into a too-long sleeve, pulling it back and inspecting it. Well, that’s definitely the source of the cologne smell. Oh, shit. Is this Liam‘s jacket?

“Indeed it is. I suggest you freshen up before returning it to him.”

You flop down against the pillow again, groaning. 

“I’ve had enough riders to know that you need hot food after a night like that. And coffee. Up you get.”

She’s right. You scrape yourself out of bed, going through the motions of a shower and heading down to the cafeteria for breakfast, Liam’s jacket draped over your arm in case you run into him there. Hot food does indeed make you feel better, but you don’t see him there, nor any of his usual companions.

You’ll try the gym, maybe. A guy as muscled as him has to be spending his weekend mornings training, too. 

You spot Imogen first, taking a breath before you approach her — she’s intimidating as hell. The twin daggers in her hands don’t help.

“Hi. Uh, is Liam around?”

You regret the question instantly as she looks you up and down shamelessly, unamused. You shouldn’t have assumed she’d know where he was — yeah, they’re friends, but not all Tyrrish move in packs. They aren’t really allowed to, outside of the common areas, anyway. 

You’ve always thought that was a bullshit rule. 

She finishes inspecting you, turning her head and yelling for him. “Liam! There’s a pretty girl here to see you!”

You burn with embarrassment, thankful that the gym isn’t too crowded. At least it’s a reassurance that you’ve cleaned up well enough if she called you pretty. That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever heard her say. 

Liam appears in a split second, out of breath and a little sweaty as he smiles at you. “Hey! I’m glad you’re okay.”

Imogen leaves before you can thank her, clearly not deeming this conversation worth her time. 

“I wanted to return this,” you begin carefully, “and to thank you for getting me back to my room in one piece, and to apologize for whatever dumb stuff I probably said last night when I was super out of it. I swear that’s never happened before, and I won’t let it happen again.”

“Nothing too dumb,” he says, but there’s a twinkle in his eye that tells you otherwise. “And it’s not a problem at all. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You said that already, Deigh reminds him dryly. 

There’s an awkward pause. You rock back and forth on your heels, Liam rubbing the back of his neck — both wondering who should speak next, and what to say. 

He tries something first. “Do you want to study with me for the physics test tomorrow night?”

You weren’t expecting that. 

“Sure,” you squeak. “Meet you after dinner?”

“Sounds good,” he manages, looking like he wasn’t expecting you to say yes.

As if you’d ever decline an invitation to do anything with Liam Mairi. 

You offer him another smile. “Thank you again, really. I’ll get out of your hair now — your friend is waiting,” you excuse, nodding toward Garrick, who stands twenty feet away, looking impatient. He gives you a slick grin from his corner of the room, raising his eyebrows once. 

Maybe his reputation for being a shameless flirt is true.

Liam manages a goodbye, and waits until you’re out of sight to take a whiff of the jacket — it smells like your perfume.

“You’re down so fucking bad, dude,” Garrick laughs, clapping a hand onto the younger boy’s shoulder. “She’s cute, though. Let me know if it doesn’t work out.”

Liam turns to glare at him. 

“I’m kidding,” he says with a grin. “Not about her being cute — she’s a total catch — but I wouldn’t do that to you. Bro code and shit, y’know.”

Liam still looks unamused.

“You should see the look on your face. You wanna hit me soooo bad. Are we gonna fight, or are you saving your energy for later?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows. 

The jacket is dropped rather unceremoniously as Liam lunges forward, intent on tackling Garrick to the ground — easier said than done. 

“Attaboy,” Garrick laughs, pushing back. “Knew that would get you to stop mooning over her and get back to work.”

Liam blinks, realizing that his friend was just messing with him. His moment of hesitation earns him a swift blow to the stomach, winding him. He doubles over, wheezing. “Fuck, Gare! What was that for?”

Xaden laughs from the sidelines. “It was a clean hit. Be glad he chose not to go for the head — don’t want to bust up that cute little nose before your date.”

Liam groans. “Not you, too.”

“Li’s going on a date? Our baby is all grown up,” Bodhi coos, reaching up to pinch his cheek, but his hand is quickly swatted away. 

“Guys, seriously. We’re just studying.”

“That’s what they all say,” Garrick teases. “But physics can turn into anatomy very quickly if you do it right.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you?” Imogen asks. 

“Sounds like someone’s jealous that I have more game than they do.”

The two of them continue their bickering, showing no signs of stopping any time soon, but Bodhi tries to make peace anyway.

“Hey,” Xaden says, touching his brother’s shoulder gently. “She seems nice. I’m happy for you.”

“She’s great. She… she sees past this, y’know,” he says quietly, looking down at his arm. “Most people don’t.”

“Yeah.” Another small silence. “Wanna fight?”

—————————————————————

You know something is wrong as soon as Liam walks in your door — his usual relaxed and cheery demeanor is gone. His bookbag is dragging him down like an anchor, his shoulders slumped. His eyes squeeze shut for a second as he adjusts to the bright mage light of your room, brighter than the dark hallways. 

He visibly relaxes when you wave a hand to dim it; further evidence of your suspicion. 

“Migraine?” you ask softly.

“Migraine,” he confirms, sounding utterly exhausted and a little embarrassed. “I always get them after Carr’s class. Hurts my eyes to use it too much.”

Poor thing.

“M’sorry,” he mumbles. “Know we were supposed to study tonight, but I feel like shit and I probably wouldn’t be good company. Can’t even think right now.”

“You are always excellent company,” you say gently. “But if you just want to lay down for a while, that’s fine. I feel pretty good about the test, anyway.”

He gives you a few slow blinks in response, like he’s wondering if you mean for him to leave and go lay down in his own room, or…

“C’mere,” you offer, patting your leg and scooting down a little to get more comfortable.

He kicks off his boots, shrugs off his jacket, and climbs up with you without hesitation, resting his head on your stomach and wrapping his arms around your hips with a cute, sleepy sigh, tucking in his legs so that they don’t hang off the bed. 

You bring a hand up to stroke his hair, combing your fingers through the soft blonde strands. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs. “Feels nice.”

“Did you take medicine? Drink some water?”

He makes a lazy sound of affirmation, muffled by your shirt.

“I’m assuming that’s a yes. I don’t speak mumble,” you tease quietly.

He nods his head yes against your stomach, cuddling into you further with a soft hum.

“Alright, sweet boy. Get some sleep if you can, hm?”

Your hand stills, and he whines softly, complaining that you’d stopped. You shake your head in amusement, starting up again. “Sorry, baby.”

Baby indeed — it must hurt pretty badly for the Liam you know, who’s big and tall and tough, ranked first overall in Emeterrio’s challenges, to be this soft and small, letting someone take care of him. Letting you take care of him.

You feel a little swell of pride that he’s okay being vulnerable with you — you suppose it’s warranted after he’d walked your very inebriated self back home from the tavern two days ago. You can trade embarrassments.

Still, you wish he didn’t have to be in pain to come to you like this, to curl up with you like a fully-grown hound who thinks he’s still a lapdog. It’s adorable.

You stay like this until the sun goes down, petting the soft blonde strands and lightly massaging the base of his neck to relieve the tension, even after he’s sound asleep. When your hand slips from his hair again, it’s because you’ve fallen asleep yourself, comforted by the weight of his body against yours and the slow, deep rhythm of his breathing.

[eupheme]

— the season for second third fourth chances

[part v of sugar, sugar] | [masterlist]

wolverine/logan howlett x neighbor!f!reader

rated e - 4.5k

tags: holiday fluff, reader references/celebrates christmas, misunderstandings, light angst, references to canon-typical anxiety, violence, wade's cancer diagnosis, and death, references plot events in DP 1 & 2, sexual innuendos/implied smut, feelings

With the holidays on the horizon, your afternoons are filled with preparations for Wade’s annual holiday party. With baking and cookie decorating, finishing up wrapping presents - and maybe even a little Christmas miracle, when you find yourself running into a familiar face.

"What?"

It slips from you, as your eyebrows shoot up - glancing down at the piece of cardstock. Before you're adding -

"Why?"

Wade huffs, his finger tapping against the text that loops across the top.

"Don't give me that, Sugar. I spent ages picking out the right font, I know the contrast is enough for you to read it clearly."

And he's right. You can definitely read it, even without the coarse coat of glitter making the headline sparkle.

‘Spread Some Christmas Cheer’

The letters arching above a photo of Wade. His suit on, of course, as he lounges across the lap of what appears to be a mall Santa. Dread in the man’s once-twinkling blue eyes, as one of Wade’s legs drapes across the velvet red suit, the other kicked high against the back of the padded red chair.

‘With Wade Wilson's Winter Wonderland’ in script beneath - with dates and time for his party listed below.

"I can definitely read it," You acknowledge, "I was just asking what, as in what made you take this, and maybe even where, because-"

"Oh," He chuckles, "Yeah, I'm absolutely banned from JCPenney, but worth it, right? This is my best-looking card yet."

You can't help the smile, "It's definitely something."

He grins, "So, you'll come? I heard there might be a certain someone there."

"Is that right?" Your tongue pokes against your cheek.

"Mhmm. Pretty sure he sees you when you're sleeping. Definitely know if you've been naughty or nice, and I know for a fact I've seen you in his lap-"

There's a sound of disgust, as your nose wrinkles, "Okay, can you not talk about Logan that way? I don't need a Santa comparison in my head."

"Just thought I'd spice some things up for you. It's nothing to be ashamed of, we've all had a crush on the big man."

"On who?" There's a rough voice behind you - Logan hand fisted around the fleece jacket tugged from the back of the armchair.

"He knows what I'm talking about," Wade points, "I'm just saying, if Santa needs help handling that sack of his, I'm so fucking down."

"Jesus fucking Christ." An arm curls around you, as Logan glances at the invite, "Wait, this is this weekend?"

"Yes, this weekend," Wade sniffs, "We talked about it yesterday."

"Wasn't home yesterday." Logan's eyebrow cocks, "Or the day before."

"Well, I talked about it with somebody." Wade shrugs - another tapped finger at the bottom of the card, "Anyways, blah, blah, blah. It’s all here, proper name, place name, backstory stuff... just be there, because I know where you live-"

"We'll be there." You interrupt, biting back your smile, "Want me to bring anything?"

Wade's look turns pleased, and then thoughtful, "Well, I was going to get some cookies from Yeastie Boys Bakery..."

The words trailing off, as you groan - already so over the new bakery in town, their stupid jingle and 'viral' cupcakes that taste like shit.

"Don't even talk to me about them."

You can feel the way Logan's hands brace on your shoulder. The low, "he's kidding sweetheart-" rumbled in your ear.

"Guilty." Wade's hands spread wide, "Was just trying to rile you up into offering some of your own splendid wares. Al still talks about the ones you brought over last year. If it’s not too much work…"

The sentence trails off, as he bats his brown, pleading, puppy-dog eyes at you.

"Lead with that next time, asshole." Logan sighs.

"It's not." You answer automatically, though you're already mentally running through your schedule.

The presents you still have to wrap. The loose ends of Wade's gift that you still have to weave in. Another trip to the grocery store, for certain - you'll have to bake at home, since it's a favor.

There's a kiss pressed to your temple, as Logan moves around you.

"I know that look. Don't push too hard, honey." He finishes shrugging on his jacket, "I’ll see if Laura and I can help you out tomorrow."

Wade's voice chiming in, “And let it be known I am formally offering to help, but-”

You huff, “Thank you, but you’re still banned from my kitchen, Wade.”

Still not over the surprise of your gingerbread appearing with piped anatomically correct additions, after you had left him unsupervised last year.

The kiss goodbye you share with Logan lingers, a grateful press of your mouth against his. Wondering what you did to deserve such a man, still ready to pinch yourself every day.

A look in his eyes that matches yours, as he steps around Wade, who still lingers.

"Thanks, Sugar." He grins, "And remember - you better be good for goodness sake-"

You groan, as you shove him out the door. Logan's fingers curling around the collar of Wade’s jacket, the other tugging at the handle.

Unable to help adding your usual farewell, “Be careful out there, okay? Come back safe.”

Not that they need it, not with their powers. But it still feels like a charm, tucked carefully into their pockets as they head out together again - off on a new mission.

"I’ll take care of your Sugar Bear.” It's sung out, muffled behind the closed door. “Love you byeee!"

A sigh, as you shake your head.

Guess you have some work to do.

Your pen marks another item off your list, as you inch your cart through the too-busy grocery store.

It’s already half-filled with other last-minute items. Another couple gifts, now that official date of the party looms on the horizon - you can’t leave Peter, Ellie, and Yukio out, after all.

A new decorative Christmas plate for the cookies - you had lost yours in the impromptu disc golf match that Wade hosted at the apartment last year.

Last you heard, it was still on the roof next door.

Molasses, brown sugar, and spices for gingerbread. A fresh box of food coloring, for the sugar cookies - you were out of red, from last year as well.

A pack of powdered sugar drops down into your cart. Reaching for a second, just as another hand bumps against yours.

Twin apologies chime, as your eyes flick to the side.

Instantly recognizing the woman next to you - the sheepish look on your face cooling.

“Oh.” Her eyes widen in recognition, “Hey.”

“Hi, Vanessa.” You offer a half-smile - the last dregs of your annoyance with Wade vanishing, as you rest the second bag on top of the other.

A beat, before you manage, “How are you?”

“Good. Office party,” She wiggles her own bag, before it slips into the basket at her elbow, “You?”

“Um, I’m good, too.” You shrug, “And no, uh… friend’s party.”

Wade seemed mostly over the disaster that happened close to two months ago. More prone to forgiving and forgetting - gracious, in a way that you could be, when you wanted. That you were, most of the time.

After all, it was easier, to let something slide off your back when it came to a personal grudge. You could be an adult and move on, then.

But it was still hard to forget how crushed Wade had been. How you knew that she knew he had been cooking for her the night she stood him up- a drunken confession that he had seen the notification that she had watched the stories he had snapped for his social media stories.

And even if he was over it, you weren’t sure you were.

“Wade’s party?” She guesses, and it makes you blink.

Wondering when and how she had been invited. As far as you knew, her name hadn’t passed his lips in weeks.

“Yeah.” Your eyes search hers - the tightness in them, how she bites the inside of her cheek, “Are… you?”

“Undecided,” Her lips lift. A breath, before she’s asking, “How’s he been lately? Is he…”

You can’t help the small frown, a mark deepening between your brows, “He’s good.”

A half-truth, before you tack a little more on, “Sure he’s appreciating the extra space. Fixed Al up with a Murphy bed, and Logan’s been staying with me a lot lately.”

“Oh. I thought-” Vanessa’s sentence trails off.

She looks lost for a moment. A glance downward, picking at the manicured edge of a nail.

You haven’t seen her like this before. Too used to her confidence, those sharp edges that you lack.

Pity flickers through you.

“I really have to go. If I don’t start these soon, I’ll be up all night.”

It comes out apologetic - and you realize, you actually mean it, “But why don’t you swing by my apartment in a bit? I’m gonna be baking all afternoon, but I make a mean boozy hot chocolate.”

The look she gives you is tinged with relief.

It’s enough to make you wonder what you’re missing.

“Wait, what?” You yelp - for the second time, in forty-eight hours.

There’s a smudge of flour on your sweater. Holiday music pouring through the speaker on your counter. Vanessa carefully inching the gingerbread cutouts an inch apart.

A shoulder lifting, as she repeats herself, “I said I thought he moved on. With you.”

Not knowing, with the way she had come late to the party where you had met Logan. Left early, with her new corporate schedule.

You almost over-pour the ground cinnamon into the second batch. Tipping it back into the jar, as you let the spoon clatter against the counter. Her head tilts, at your expression.

“You haven’t thought about it? I know you’re both close.”

In another world, perhaps.

Another life - one where you hadn’t met Logan when you did. Hadn’t spent months cheering Wade on, those once barely-there flickers of interest fading to something solidly platonic some time ago.

Your head shakes, the words coming slowly, “It’s always been you, Vanessa. Everyone knows that.”

The corner of her lips lift. Fingernails tapping against the aluminum pan.

“I thought so, too.”

You frown, “Is that why didn’t you show? When he asked you over for dinner?”

Vanessa laughs then, rueful.

“The dinner.” Her eyes flick away, going back to a memory - a beat, before the snap to yours, “Yeah. I wanted to go. I uh, just split with Dermot. From work.”

You nod, remembering - overhearing the conversation at Wade’s birthday.

“He wanted me to move in. Said he saw a future with me, but when it came down to taking that step…” Her lips press together, the lift of a shoulder, “I’ve never seen myself with anyone else. Only him.”

Only Wade.

“But… then I saw you with him. The stories he posted. The two of you cooking, dressed up like a date.” It comes in a rush, “I thought, incorrectly, apparently-”

“He was cooking for you.” There’s a furrow in your brow, trying to piece together the way she saw it.

The sundress you wore for Logan. The captions that tipped towards lewd that you had tried to get him to delete - jokes about “getting lucky”, or the chicken not the only thing “being stuffed tonight”.

She nods, “I’m getting that now.”

“I think you still should have gone.” It’s starting to make sense, but you can’t help the reproach in your tone, ”He was devastated.”

The look she shoots you is defensive. Vanessa had always carried an intensity you lacked, and you take the full brunt of it now. Your fingers curl into fists for strength, not letting your gaze drop first. A beat, before she nods.

“I guess it’s just become easier to run.” Vanessa admits, “Defense mechanism. Get out first. Ironic, I know.”

You frown, not knowing, “Has that… has that happened before?”

“Which time?” Her laugh is close to a scoff, as she sighs.

Your eyes drop now, as you go back to your work. Back to measuring, tipping the spices into your mixer. The words coming slowly.

”He hasn’t told me a lot. Just a bit about last time. About…” You search for the words, feeling guilty. “About him not doing enough. That you wanted him to do something meaningful, and then the stuff with the Avengers, and…”

The words die, when you see her face.

Sorrow and anger, with the sharp shake of her head, “I never gave a damn about the Avengers. That was all Wade.”

A sigh, as she collects herself.

“I just wanted him to find his passion again. He changed… a few years ago. Something happened, a really close call. He fixed it, but he wasn’t the same after.”

A breath, before she adding, “He took it hard. Guilt, I think. All I really wanted was for him to talk to me. To let me help him, but he never let me in because he didn’t want me getting hurt again. He shut down, and stopped talking to me.”

The mixer hums. A beep of your timer, as the minutes tick down.

“You know Wade. Always has a joke ready. Never wants to get serious if he can help it. It’s stupid, but we... drifted.” Vanessa’s throat bobs as she swallows, “I was dealing with my own shit, and when he pushed me away, it reminded me of last time.”

She catches your expression again, as the dough tips out of the bowl. The furrow of your brow, as you swap it for a chilled portion in your fridge.

“It’s been a recurring theme,” It comes out blunt.

Her look turning considering, then, when the frown doesn't waver.

“Do you love Logan?”

The rolling pin slips in your grip. Pressing too hard, denting dough.

“I-,” You breathe. The question unexpected, leaving you wholly unprepared, even as your heart beats out the answer.

Her expression softens, “You care about him.”

You nod mutely.

“What would you do, if Logan just - disappeared? No trace of him, just gone in the night?”

Her question hangs. A physical ache in your chest at the mere thought, one that leaves you unable to breathe. Pieces starting to click together - little bits of what you know, forming some sort of photo.

“Is that what Wade did?”

She nods, “It was right after his cancer diagnosis. He was going through a lot, and just - left. For years. I thought… I thought he had died. I mourned him. It crushed me.”

You can’t help but reach across the table - hesitant, in the way you squeeze her arm.

She lets you, a look shot your way. Defending him, unable to help it.

“I get it, though. I get that it was a lot. I’ve forgiven him. But…” Her teeth pinch at her cheek, that guilt coming back, “When he started pulling away, I thought it was happening again. I couldn’t live through that again.”

You finish for her, “So you left first.”

She nods.

Silence lingers. Nails tapping on the countertop, fiddling with the silver rings on her fingers. The heat of the oven curling across your arms, as you swap one tray for another. Setting it aside to cool.

“You should go talk to him.” Your voice cracks through the quiet, when you turn - hands bracing against the counter.

Her eyebrows raise, “And say what?”

”Tell him what you told me. That you were just scared.” Your voice softens, “He invited you to his party because he still *wants* you in his life.”

She blinks, silent.

“I’ll help you,” You coax, “Logan’s already coming over tonight.”

Your eyes flick down to your phone, checking, ”Uh, really soon, actually. I’ll go next door with you, and bring Althea back with me. Give you two some time to catch up.”

Vanessa’s fingers cards through her hair - pushing back the long strands, the words coming slowly, “I don’t know…”

“Wade is crazy about you.” It comes out bluntly, and it’s this that pulls her attention.

You’re already swiping a container off the counter. Filling the bottom with sugar cookies baked this morning - cut into trees and mittens, decorated with buttercream and sprinkles.

The lid snaps on, as you hold it out to her.

“Trust me?”

Her eyes meet yours, and you can see the swirl of emotions across her face.

You smile and finally - she nods.

She follows a step behind, as you leave the apartment. The hallway chilly, the entrance bringing in a dusting of snow across the carpet, with the revolving holiday traffic.

The closing front door downstairs echoes with your own, as you head the next apartment over. Knuckles rapping against the wood, fingers mentally crossed.

A voice ringing out, muffled, “If you’re part of Rudolph and the Red-Hot Reindeers, you’re a day early-”

Opening to reveal Wade, dressed down in a shirt and sweatpants with his Deadpool logo patterned across them.

“Oh, hey Sugar.” He smiles, “What’s up?”

“Well,” You stall for a second, trying to figure out what exactly to say, “Is Althea home? Was wondering if she could help me with something.”

Wade chuckles.

“Fat fucking chance, she’s two episodes into the Golden Bachelor right now and she’s sure as hell not moving-” The words die out as Vanessa moves into view, the container in hand.

He goes silent, for the first time you can remember.

“I have the same streaming apps as you, I’m sure I can convince her.” Your shift - a hand touching at her shoulder, urging her forward, “And maybe you could do me a favor, too. Taste test these for tomorrow?”

For a moment, you think he doesn’t hear you. His eyes lingering on Vanessa, his face bleeding from surprise to confusion to hope, as he takes her in.

“Yeah.” He manages after a long moment - clearing his throat.

“Yeah. I’d love to.”

It doesn’t take much convincing, not with the way Al enjoys a cup of piping hot tea as much as you do - along with the promise she can watch her beloved show in peace. Almost giddy in the way she makes for the door, cane in hand and Dogpool tucked in the crook of her other arm.

The door just shutting behind you before she’s hissing, “What in God’s name was that?”

You shush her, eyes flicking back towards the apartment. Almost jumping out of your skin when it’s followed by another voice, this one pitched low.

“Seconded. Busy afternoon?”

Logan leans against the wall, Laura expression clear with the pull of her brows. Thirded.

“Something like that.” You herd them inside your apartment, before they can be overheard - not that Wade was listening, you’re sure.

The door is barely shut, before they’re rounding on you. Your own hands on your hips - a nod directing them towards the kitchen table, laden with bare gingerbread cookies.

Al tucked in the armchair, spun around the face the bustle of the kitchen, her show long forgotten.

“You’re stalling.” Laura points out bluntly, as you hand her the bag of icing.

Your tongue tucked against your teeth, as you shoot Logan a look. His eyebrows raised in response, eyes sliding over to the brick wall that separates your apartment from Wade.

“I’m not,” The word strings out, “It’s just, like, it’s not a big deal, right?”

She scoffs.

Althea’s cane taps the ground, “Something happened, and you’d better spill.”

“Alright,” Your fingers spread in front of you, “I ran into Vanessa at the store today. And we got to talking, and I invited her back here. I think she regrets what happened between them.”

There’s a snort of derision, and you can feel yourself starting to bristle.

“We all have our opinions, myself included-” You allow, as another noise interrupts you - lower and more gruff this time. You spin, shooting Logan another look.

“But I think she was genuine. I’ve certainly had my fair share of… miscommunications,” His expressions softens at your words, the corner of his lips curling as you shift to face Al.

“And I got some really good advice once from someone. Something about ‘talking about it’, and that’s what I encouraged her to do.”

“Hope you’re right,” Al sighs- but there’s a smile there, hidden in the way her lips press together, “That boy is more sensitive than my left tit in a snowstorm.”

“Jesus.” It’s muttered, at your shoulder. Logan’s head shaking as he joins Laura, the hint of a smirk as she works on piping a set of angry eyebrows.

Your eyes roll, “I am.”

Spinning back to face the table, as you grab your own bag of frosting.

“After all, it’s Christmas,” You can’t help but throw her way, from over your shoulder.

“And isn’t that the best time for a miracle?”

Logan’s arms wrap around you later, as you snap the last lid in place. Finally done with your last-minute idea - decorating each of the gingerbread to look like your friends.

Laura slipping out a few minutes ago, intent on staying until the end. Just as determined as Logan to see things through, even though you tried to get her to leave a few times - worried about the weather, the long drive back to the mansion.

The slight smile as her eyes rolled - with your affection towards her, you forget how impervious she is.

Althea long asleep in the couch, the quilt Logan’s borrowed so many nights before tucked around her. Ambient holiday music still pouring through the speaker, your attempt to drown out the enthusiastic reunion taking place next door.

Can’t bring yourself to mind. More relieved than anything.

And you deserve it, you suppose.

“You did a good thing.” It’s murmured into your hair, as you finally relax into him.

Arms curling beneath his, wrapping around his broad back to embrace him. You hum with contentment as his lips brush your temple.

“Don’t know if I can manage a miracle,” His lips curve when you lean back, eyes flicking up to meet his, “But if there anything else you might want for Christmas?”

Your teeth sink into your lip, as you grin.

The answer is easy, as your face tips towards his.

“Just want more time with you.”

Logan huffs, as his hand dips down. Cupping soft flesh, kneading - as he tugs you the rest of the way. A grin, just before his mouth presses against yours.

“Mm. Hope you don’t mind celebrating a little early, then.”

Red and green have exploded in the apartment next door - the flamingo lights that spill from the kitchen replaced with blinking bulbs. A tree that you’re truly unsure how it fit through the door, much less the narrow hallway, tucked in the corner.

You and Logan had helped decorate it earlier in the month - Wade directing from the couch, as the two of you and Althea arranged the ornaments. A ninja star zip-tied to the top, but with the lights turned low, and the swirl of snow coming down outside - it’s cozy.

It’s familiar - faces you’ve come to know well, known to love, fill the space. The cookies are a hit, sweet exclamations as they find the ones that represent them. Woolen and knitted sweaters, bodies tucked together on a hodgepodge of surfaces.

And perhaps, you do end up on Logan’s lap. His thighs spread wide in an armchair Wade found on the curb, out of place against the brick walls and industrial windows with its floral pattern.

Your eyes meeting Wade’s from across the living room, anticipating the tease.

But he only smiles back.

Something soft - an arm slung around Vanessa’s shoulder. The ‘white elephant in the room’, as he had cheekily alluded to it, addressed with a carefully placed piece of mistletoe.

Side-eyes and stunned silence easing into smiles, when you all saw the way they looked at each other.

And when he corners you to tell you thank you, you know the bone-crushing hug is not just for the handmade red-and-black beanie and scarf that you had gotten up early to finish for him.

The rest of your gifts don’t quite reach the same level, but you’re pleased all the same. Laura’s smile shy as she tries on the Docs you caught her eyeing, ankle twisting as her eyes dip down.

Logan’s arm tightening around your waist when you hand him the wrapped package. His eyes lingering on yours until the paper is loosened, a pleased hum when he sees the lined leather jacket you picked out for him.

“Your first winter with us in New York,” You smile, “Can’t have you catching cold.”

Something to keep in warm, when he tinkers on the bike stashed in the basement. To protect him, when he’s not in his suit. Better than that the faded fleece he’s lifted from Wade’s closet.

And even though you’d been fairly certain he’d given you your gift last night - and again this morning - there’s still a pretty card tucked into your palm. A piece of paper folded inside, next to sentiments that made heat rise to your cheeks.

A photo printed out - a cozy little cabin, the roof lined with snow. Framed with a thick ring of woods and surrounded by wilderness. The reservation dates and details marked out in the text below.

“A vacation?” You can’t remember the last time you’ve been away. Excitement surging at the thought of spending a week tucked away with your boyfriend, “For us?”

“Yeah, sweetheart.” Logan husks, “Found a nice little place up north. Just you and me.”

His fingers flex against your waist, his face tipping up to yours, “Would you like that?”

“I’d love that.” You smile.

You love him.

You’re certain of that - a name for that warm weight in your chest that’s been there for weeks. Since the beginning really, coming to a full flourish with the conversation the day before.

Maybe with the turn of the new year, you’ll pluck up enough courage to tell him.

For now, you beam at him. Pressing yourself close - entwining fingers that squeeze. Hoping he can read the soft look you give him, the words murmured out, in the little bubble you’ve found yourselves in.

“Merry Christmas, Logan.”

His thumb brushes your cheek, before he tugs you down to meet him.

“Merry Christmas, Sugar.”

after part iii, i could not leave our bff wade with a sad ending!!! 💖 for a little bit early on i toyed with the idea of making this series a poly one (before come on and show me) hence a couple little references throughout (and the reason to keep the breakup in the first place) (which I still have beef with in the movie, BUT I did my best). thank you for checking out this series, it might be one of my favorite things I’ve had the pleasure to work on and seeing the love on it has been so amazing 💕

[fairene]

good for you / ln4, part one

lando norris x fem!reader

no use of y/n, as always.

in which you and lando have parted ways, but on what terms? at what cost is he willing to get you back, and how far down are you finished with him? what lengths with the two of you go, battling with your hearts, before you can be together once more? he knows that no one is good for you, except him.

a/n⋯ a collaborative piece between myself and the lovely @jamminvroomvroom. she will be writing the next chapter, so keep your eyes out! we don't have a total idea of how long this'll be, but we are so thrilled to have it ready for you all. jas is an amazing writer, and i am so, so lucky that she wanted to do this with me. shower her with all the love, and i hope you enjoy this. as usual, reader's clothes are left up to interpretation. this is for you afterall;)!

warnings⋯ smut, MINORS DNI 18++. language, drinking, choking, p in v sex (wrap before you tap!), insecurity, arguments, exes to lovers(?(we shall see!)) possession, jealousy. if i forgot any warnings, feel free to let me know.

wc⋯ 5.2k (unedited.)

the night began well. the boy you were with was well. you were well. that was the most important thing, wasn’t it? it must be. it had to be, you convinced yourself of that very fact. truly, you had no reason to complain. your friends supported you, loved you, were obsessed with you. and you had a man on your arm who felt the exact same way, and would kiss the ground you walked on.

but others, another, would worship you. used to. but now you were alone, a goddess left untouched, brazen in this world of antagonists. yet, it was a change. it was a change that you needed. this relationship you had with damian was one of new blood. a shift from your tumultuous routine that felt liberating over a life you once mourned. 

damian was a man of respectful nature, good upbringings, and he was a good chat. he was fit, treated you with a sweet tenderness that you adored him for, and didn’t devolve into a flaming lair of toxicity to keep you trapped. 

and, he was a football player, which was a bonus. he played for barcelona’s team, and you couldn’t be more proud of him. after your previous relationship concluded, the pair of you were introduced by mutual friends, namely the ferrari driver, carlos. you were apathetic at first, unsure of if this was the right move. if it was too soon to want to jump into something. 

but damian was kind. he adored you. what else did you want? 

more. 

you danced with him. in the night life of monaco, you were showered with his attention. the attention of your friends. it was a weekend off for the drivers, so you were able to meet up with the other girls you knew. kika and alexandra in particular, who’ve been entirely supportive of you these past few months. 

they danced with one another, cheering you and your now boyfriend on, shouting pleasantries of how good you looked at his side. 

damian’s hands around your hips felt good. it felt right. when the bass dropped, so did you. he caught your seductive actions and his eyes widened. there were no words to describe his expression besides admiration. you loved his eyes the most about him— his dark hair, tanned skin, muscular physique— 

shit,

maybe you did have a type.

you spun back around, latching your arms around his neck, and he cradled your lower back with his palms. “what?” you questioned his stare that was unrelenting. 

“nothin’,” he scoffed. “you’re just absolutely beautiful, innit?” 

your head fell back with a laugh, patting his chest as a means to quiet him, but he kept going. 

“‘m serious,” your name was low on his tongue. “you’re practically glowin’, love.” 

you peppered a kiss on his lips. he met you halfway, swallowing your mouth whole. his tongue entered your mouth, and you could only respond with a noise deep within your throat. he felt the vibration against his lips, and continued his movements. 

the pair of you were swaying against each other’s bodies, tongue down one another’s throats, and for a moment the world washed away. something that hasn’t happened in ages, you felt like a makeshift paradise was born between the both of you. a hideaway. 

but mirages only serve their purpose for a short time before they fade away into nothingness. 

you broke away from his kiss. he looked surprised, offended, but you said nothing of his expression. you brought your lips to his ear for a brief kiss, “i’ll get us drinks?” 

he nodded, letting you go. 

you brushed past him, trailing your hand up kika’s arm. she immediately spun towards you, alexandra’s attention drawing as well. they beamed when they saw you, following you right over to the bar. the triad of you loitered there, swirling the drinks you ordered in hand. 

“so?” kika asked you, as if she’s been dying to hear this story the whole night. alexandra glowered at her, pestering her to be quiet, but you’d answer her regardless.

“it’s good.” 

the girls looked at one another. 

“that’s it? good?” kika looked baffled. 

“what? what else do you wanna know?” you took a sip of your drink, feet hanging from the barstool that you were sat upon. 

“anything!” alexandra exclaimed. “haven’t seen you this happy in months.” kika made a face at her, telltale of not to bring up what happened. ah, you thought, what happened. none of you discussed in great details of what happened that night, but they knew it was intense. intense enough for you to lock yourself away for a week with no contact. it was a horrid sight, and they were terrified for you. 

“well,” you shrugged. “i am. really. damian’s a great guy.” 

the girls squealed, grabbing your free hand. “he seems lovely, doesn’t he? ugh! you look so good together, too!” kika was more excited than you expected her to be, but her support meant the world. along with alexandra’s approval, you felt like you were taking the great steps that were needed to…move on. a dreadful phrase that has been bouncing back and forth in your mind. 

“you really do. and he’s an excellent photographer. i mean, look at these pictures he took of you—” alexandra passed you her phone, damian’s instagram story open. it was of you, looking divine beneath the yellow-hues of the club. you’d give him credit where credit is due— you looked fantastic. 

your hand flew to your mouth, covering your smile. that only had the girls squealing out more, finding your bashful attitude enough to answer their wearisome concerns. they were so worried about your state after the breakup that they would hound you. would stay as invested as they could in your life, until they were rather annoying. but you were grateful for them nonetheless. without them, you would’ve never met damian. without them, you may not have ever found happiness. however temporary it may be, it was what you felt at the moment. 

when damian’s drink arrived in front of you, you swung off the stool and bid them a sweet goodbye with a kiss in your palm, blowing it in your direction. you sashayed through the crowd, slithering through the stalks of grass, and made your way into his arms. he reacted instantaneously, holding you close to his chest. his chin rubbed against your shoulder, clean-shaven, and whispered to you.

“thought you ran away on me.” he said with a hushed tone. you swiveled to hand him his drink, which he took, but not before pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand. 

“me?” you made a ‘pfft’ motion with your lips. “never.” 

but oh,

how right he was. 

damian let out a soft laugh before the two of you made a ‘cheers’ motion with your glasses, and danced the rest of the night away. it was a beautiful evening, truly, and you shouldn’t be feeling the way you were. devoid. 

you pushed down the feeling as much as you could. 

when you and damian left the club that night, you were happy. glittering with the sparkles of what young love was meant to be. you’d only been dating for two months, but it had you on the edge of your seat. fantasizing about what a life you could have with him. 

but some things just stay fantasies, don’t they?

“you sure you’ll be alright?” damian asked you when you unlocked the door to your flat. you hummed with appreciation, feeling the buzz of alcohol through your system. 

“i’m sure, my knight.” you said with dramatics. he smiled, appreciating your small antics. they kept him on his toes. 

“whatever you say, babe.” he shook his head, holding the door open for you. you stepped inside, gripping the wood, and turned to face him.

you kissed him once good night on the lips, “i’ll text you in the morning.” he nodded against your lips, unwilling to let go, but did when you laughed against him. he was sweet. a sweet, sweet boy.\

“goodnight.” you cooed. he returned the phrase, and you shut your door and locked it. 

now alone in your apartment, you threw your bag to the empty countertop and sauntered over to your room. fuck taking a shower tonight, you were just too tired for all of that. you stripped of your dress and threw on an old tee shirt that you had, unknowing of its origins, and laid in your bed.

on your phone you scrolled briefly on instagram, but froze on a singular post.

it was a suggested post. you were instantly gripped. the man draped over this girls body was instantly recognizable. his tanned skin. the stubble on his chin. the curls atop his head. the curls that you used to be obsessed with, running your fingers along his scalp.

you stared at the description:

paradise!

paradise. you scoffed to yourself. 

tagged in the photo was the man himself. you clicked on his profile, curious, though you promised yourself you wouldn’t. once wouldn’t hurt, would it? too late, anyways, as you were down the rabbit hole of his feed. 

the first post was a feature of him at his races. then, the second slide was a picture of him and her. what was this feeling? how could you find the audacity to let your stomach churn, your heart race? it wasn’t your place anymore. your place, albeit fought for, was not at his side. 

he looked happy.

but so were you.

you were.

you are.

but the suggested post of his new girl had you hooked. it had you seething. biting your thumb nail with your front teeth, you made an impulsive decision.

you liked the post. 

the night was just beginning for lando when you were in your bed. in the club with his mates, he was bumping to the rap mixes they played on the speakers. drenched in the mix of sweat and alcohol, he was living the life he dreamed of having. it was everything to him, picture perfect that no one could argue. 

but there was something missing.

the girl at his front, his girlfriend, grinded against him with radical intentions. she was beautiful, of course, but that was all the words that lando had for her. she accessorized well, was in the media spotlight, and that’s all the boxes it took for him to swoop her off her feet. it was easy, truthfully, and their relationship has been a breeze.

but lando didn’t want a breeze, he wanted a storm. you were the eye of the hurricane that he yearned for. nothing about that has changed– and he feared, deeply, that nothing will ever turn his head. he’d been fixated on you since he laid eyes on you, your attitude. you kept him on his toes, not laid down and bored. 

the girl, samantha, spun around to wrap her arms around lando’s neck. his hand traveled to her lower back, holding her close to him. she shouted and cheered with her girlfriends, lando’s own doing the same. but he said nothing, and brought his cocktail to his lips, gurgling a deep swallow of the bitter liquid that heated his throat. 

with his bloodshot eyes and weary smiles, he’d attempt to be picturesque for the media. media, media, media. everything returned to the circulation of photos that’d come out with him and his girlfriend. girlfriends. you. he’d never felt so protective of you, of anyone, than the relationship that you had with him.  nothing could compare, especially how samantha boasted in every post that he was with her. 

her following count jumped well over five hundred thousand since he came in the picture. of course she never said anything, made it a point to speak about, but he knew. lando watched. scrolled endlessly through his phone in the middle of night, drinking up every word that his fan spewed out. a folly of comments asking where you were. what happened between the two of you. but he never made a post about it. it had been radio silence on his end, just as it was the same for you.

but it’d end with him throwing his phone to the side, and promising himself that he didn’t care. he couldn’t care. not when you weren’t his anymore, and that you walked out on him that night with valid purpose. he failed you, and that was on him.

in the meantime of your absence, samantha was there to fill the gaps. to soothe his broken heart with her painfully long acrylics that dug into the back of his neck, her pathetic moans of pleasure when he fucked her better than anyone ever could, and the rocking of his hips against her own in the darkness of the night club. 

for now, it was enough. just barely, as it scraped the surface, but lando would down cup after cup to glue the pieces of his heart that you shattered. 

samantha continued her movements. lando didn’t relent either, finishing off his drink, slapping his palm against her ass. the crowd around them erupted in cheers, and lando plastered a bolstered smile across his face. this is what they wanted. the surface level teasing, the sultry nature of grotesque actions. but it is not what he wanted. he craved the solitude, the comfort you brought him in the hours of the night before his races. he’d been a phantom crawling through this season, a ghost in the shell of a formula one driver. 

“you alright?” samantha asked him. apparently he hadn’t been good at hiding the turmoil from his expressive face. her puckered lips had his eyes shifting downward. her bare chest, barely covered tits. 

he’d say nothing in response and simply go in for a kiss. a deep one, aggressive, filling her mouth to the brim with his tongue. maybe this could erase the memories of you, however stubborn they were on placating in his mind as permanent fixtures. 

his hand came around the back of her neck, angling her head better for him to swallow her whole. the bracelet, silver imbued with his logo, clanged against her large golden hoops. it was a loud noise that samantha pulled their lips apart. she turned her head to glance at the jewelry, and her lip curled with disgust. 

the bracelet. the bracelet you gave him. 

she scoffed and he could hear it, but he opted to say nothing in rebuttal. instead, she stalked away from him, looming large near the bar. he followed her tail, knowing that this spat between them wouldn’t last long. 

she ordered a drink. lando’s head spun as is. 

samantha pulled out her phone, bringing her drink to her lips, and damn near spit out the liquid. she covered her mouth from it spilling, and lando watched with a raised brow. 

“what?” he asked of her. 

“she liked it.” she. who’s she? who is she?

“what? who?” lando begged for clarification. samantha spun her phone around to shove it in his face. the screen illuminated him beneath the barely visible hues of light, and his eyes nearly popped out of his skill. 

you liked her post with him. 

you who swore you wanted nothing to do with him ever again. you who snapped the chain of the necklace he got from you, though made of the toughest silver, the metal was nothing beneath your furious fingertips. 

lando swallowed, though it did little to stifle his salivating mouth, his racing heart. he clutched the back of the bar with one hand, feeling the world collapse in on him in that moment. a singular like on a photo he didn’t even want to be posted. all it took to have him breaking out into a cold sweat, feeling nausea tug on his stomach, was a like on instagram. 

fucking pathetic, wasn’t he? 

his thumb came to spin the bracelet around his wrist, twirling it in front of him. samantha hadn’t noticed, too hyper focused on your account. she uttered words that he couldn’t make out. things along the lines of, ‘weird,’ ‘she’s obsessed, ‘innshe?’ but they never made sense to his ears. if anything, you were obsessed with staying away. obsessed with anything but him, contrary to his own feelings. he wasn’t even sure if they mattered to you— did they?

in retaliation, he knew only one thing to steady his heart. he took samantha by her wrist to the nearest restroom, a single stall, and banged on the locked door.

she stood there, speechless, but had a feeling how this night would end. it brought a cruel smile to her lips, but she covered it with her phone in hand. she knew this is how she’d get some of the best sex of her life, when he was riled about his ex, brimming with fury. she didn’t care that she was being used as an outlet, for she was using him for the same. 

so she didn’t care.

the man in the bathroom left with a curse but lando didn’t seem to give a fuck. he pulled the girl inside and slammed the door behind him, locking it without a care in the world. against the wall she was pushed, ravished by the company of his lips. he sucked and tugged at her lower lip, becoming so bold as to bite the flesh with his top teeth. she smacked his arm and he relented, knowing damn well that you would’ve been moaning with pleasure. 

his lips left no surface untouched as he trailed down the surface of her body. along her collarbones, her bare chest, but he left no marks. he never did, much to her dismay, as if he were saying that she was never really his. because she wasn’t, his thoughts were rampant. this should be you. 

lando hiked up the fabric around her cunt, scrunching the dress in his hand. his other made work around his pants, shuffling them down so his blistering cock could spring to life. it did, but with the work of you in his memories, and not the girl who was spilling her breasts for him in face. 

he didn’t spend long serenading her with his tongue, though it would be a different story if it was you beneath him. he spared no effort where his lips rejected, the only way he found himself happy would be with your own against his. they were claimed for you and you alone. 

it would be a fair assumption to say that you utterly ruined him. 

his dick slid into her with ease with the help of his spit across his hand. he had slipped a condom on, too, tearing open the packaging and threw it to the ground. samantha’s hands came to wrap around the back of his neck, her claw-like nails digging into his skin. it had him curl his lip, not finding the sensation enjoyable, but he didn’t care. not when you were thundering on his mind. his storm, his sunshine. 

she moaned deeply at the contact, finding her g-spot with no effort whatsoever. she was already a mess beneath him as he solidified a pace, grunting in the wake of his thrusts. 

but he wasn’t thinking of her. ‘course he wasn’t. he was thinking of the first time he had you. you in your light-toned dress, you with your big, sparkling eyes. it would be there, beneath the moonlight of his monaco apartment, that he’d taken you to his bed for the first time. and that was the first time you’d ever came at a man’s touch, and lando wouldn’t forget that he was the first you spilled a name on your tongue. 

how you voice was so iridescently sweet. how it curdled his heart into a bow, tying it off with a kiss. your scent had him stirring with craze, frenzied as he ate you out that first time, and nothing ever compared. your cunt was the nectar of his life, fueling him day to day whilst he could have you. when you were his. now he was a man running on fumes, on the oils you’d left behind in his apartment. there wasn’t much he could spare, but that fucking liked photo seemed to do the trick. 

it’s enough to hold him over for the time being. the pace at which hips were thrusting increased, sporadic. his hand came to clutch the base of her throat, but samantha slapped his hand away. the wall would suffice, but knew you’d beg him to hold you. clutch you with your life in his hands, bestowing him the greatest trust he could ever earn. he’d have you tearing up, whining, mewling with pleasure from his hands alone. now, the sex was black and white, when you were the whole world. ripped away from his clutch, he’d be empty handed. 

she shouted his name, “lando–!” while she came over his cock, tightening around him. he’d groan, forehead flush against the concrete of the wall. 

he was reaching his own. those photos of you on your instagram. the feed of your soft launch with that fucking football player. how your friends posted the pair of you— how you were glowing in every light that caught your face. you were so fucking beautiful, so perfect, that he couldn’t help but cum at the thought of you.

but this time, he made a mistake. 

it had been your name that flew past his lips when he filled the condom to the brim. it was your name that he grunted in her ear. not samantha’s.

she was furious. disgusted. she shimmied out of lando’s hold, tugging her underwear up and her dress down. 

lando knew he fucked up. this wouldn’t be the first time, and ultimately, not the last. 

before she left with tears streaming down her face, she had words. “you’re pathetic,” she spat. “take off that fucking bracelet. you know she won’t want you back.” 

and then she was gone. 

lando was left in the empty stall of the bathroom with his head draped against the wall. his breaths were rampant, coming down from the high of his orgasm, but there was no regret in his mind. there was nothing there except the distress of his memories, the titration of you that fumigated him, held him in a chokehold. 

he fixed his pants, washed his hands, and glanced at himself in the mirror. sweaty, bloodshot, exhausted, he didn’t recognize himself. he didn’t recognize the man that was there; unshaved, overgrown hair, sloppy dress attire. this wasn’t him. he was nothing without you, it seemed, and it would drive him into the fucking ground sooner, rather than later. but he was betting on the latter. 

aggravated, he let out a curse, “fuck.” before he left the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. 

when the both of you were in your beds that night, you tossed and turned. a whirlwind of emotions swaddling the both of your beneath the comforters, you kept checking your phone to see if he texted you. you wouldn’t ever say it, but you’d unblocked him a week after you broke up. you wanted to see if he’d chase you. but he didn’t. he didn’t. 

he was on his phone, too, fresh out of the shower. waiting. looming on instagram to see if you’d like any of his posts, but he saw no activity. but he did see that his fans caught wind of your liked post. confusion was stirred, wondering if the pair of you were friends again. he couldn’t help but chuckle at that insinuation, because he was wondering the same fucking thing. 

but when you both put your phones down and settled in for the night, you were consumed by your memories, and so was he. 

you’d dragged him from the event that night back to his flat. when you opened it with the copy of his key he gave to you, you threw your bag on the sofa without a word. you made move to run right to your shared bedroom, but lando wasn’t far behind, and grabbed your elbow. 

“what is it?” he asked, confused, and that only angered you more. 

“you’re serious?” you said, mouth agape. you couldn’t believe he claimed to not have a single clue what he’d done. what this mess had been amounting to for quite some time. 

“clearly, otherwise i wouldn’t be asking,” he said with a bite. “would i?” 

you rolled your eyes, attempting to pull your arm out from his hold. but he didn’t relent. he kept his hands firm on you, keeping you settled. 

“don’t be daft,” you hissed. he simply raised a brow, shrugged his shoulders. “how you treated me.” 

he was still clearly at a loss, free hand coming to rub the back of his neck with a scoff. “and how did i treat you, then?” 

your hands flew up with contempt, finally loosening his grip. “this! like this!” your voice raised. “first you hate to post us, and then you say ‘we’re not that serious’?” 

that night you’d been standing beside lando, keeping him company with his mates, when they popped the question about the sincerity of your relationship together. you’d expect him to answer with a smile, saying that you were very much in love— because he’s told you that numerous times— but he simply batted the question off with a ‘not too serious, innit? here for a good time.’ 

“you know i didn’t mean it that—” 

“oh…! here we fucking go.” you turned your back on him, head falling into your hands. you ran them over your face, “you say that. you always say that. ‘it doesn’t matter,’ ‘they don’t know the truth,’ then why don’t you tell them?” 

he couldn’t believe what you were saying. that you didn’t trust him, didn’t have faith in the words he spoke to you in the peacefulness of your bedroom. 

“we don’t owe them shit,” he spoke your name in a controlled tone, gritting his teeth against one another. 

“and when i get flamed on instagram? twitter? for taking you away from them?” the fanbase that lando acquired was some of the most valiant people you’ve ever witnessed, but could also be the most brutal. 

“you know how they are—” 

“i didn’t sign up for that.” you retorted quick, shouting this time, which had his face going a ghastly white. “i’ve done nothing but love you. cherish you. and you can’t owe me the decency to speak kindly on my name. defend the ‘love of your life,’ — as you’ve so called me before!” 

lando was stunned to silence. 

“and what do you have to say to her now? while i get numerous death threats, how they’ll kill my family, tarnish my work.” you waited for an answer, turning back to him with your hands up. 

he said your name again, stepping closer to you. but you threw your hand up in front of him, halting his steps. 

“no. no. what would you say?” 

lando swallowed the thick, anguished lump in his throat. 

“i’d tell her i was sorry.” he took a step closer, letting your hand rest on his heart as he bumped into it. your lip quivered, finally coming to terms with how emotional you’d gotten. “i’d tell her that she means the world to me, and that i’m the biggest fucking mug she’s ever met.” 

your breath stifled. arm relaxing, he closed the distance. 

you began to believe him. 

“and i’d tell her she’s more than what the internet says.” that had you flickering your eyes up. was he still not going to make a statement? “and that their words are meaningless.” 

you raised a brow at his indecency. 

“threats that they’ll find my parents? dox them, send feds to their house?” you backed away from him. he realized that he fucked up again, and that it could cost him everything. 

“you know that won’t happen—” 

“and if it does?” you were still firm with your statements, however desperate he looked in his eyes. “what then, when i get a call that my parents house was ransacked? what would you do, oh lord of fame?”

he took a step back from you as if your words pierced through the thick flesh of his heart. he didn’t see it that way, didn’t see how you saw it. the words of hate he received online were toilsome, ignorable, but it was different from you. you didn’t ask for any of this, and he knew it more than true that you didn’t deserve it. 

but he made the discovery too late. 

“that’s what i thought.” 

you moved to grab your bag, your phone, brushing past him whilst he was locked in place. his heart was bursting out of the cage of his chest, his mind pushing him forward, but he was terrified. terrified that if the next words he’d say, you’d be gone. 

“don’t fucking call me until you figure your shit out. i’m not playing—” 

you were stopped when you were pulled against lando’s chest. his stubble grazing your shoulder, bringing you a greater comfort than you’d sooner die than admit. you felt his heart against him, racing with a speed greater than his car, and let the tears slip from your eyes.

“stop,” you shook your head, begging him to let you go.

“don’t,” he begged, not even sure what he was truly begging for. “don’t go, baby, don’t leave.” 

but your mind was already made up. though his begging could suffice if the circumstances were different, but he’d already made his mind up, too. he embarrassed you, threw you under the bus, and allowed you to be tormented in the eyes of the media. you knew it wouldn’t be easy, but you also thought he’d defend you. 

yet, you were met with radio silence on his account. 

and nothing but an endless stream of apologies, but no solution. 

“let me go.” you said. metaphorically, physically. your hand went to the necklace around your neck, picking at the chain. 

he shook his head, refusing. 

“lando…” you hissed, trying to weave out of his grip. you finally turned to face him, seeing the tears falling from his eyes. 

you were crying, too. it felt like something was ending, though you didn’t wish it to be true. but you couldn’t let this media abuse continue any further, and needed to protect yourself, your family, when he failed as its guardian. 

“don’t go. please.” he begged, forehead coming to connect with yours. you sucked in a tight breath, wishing to relieve him of his sadness, but your own was overpowering. 

“i have to,” you said, holding back a sob. “i’ll be back once you find a way to fix it.”

it was enough to bring the formula one driver to his knees, falling to the carpeted floor. he shriveled beneath your disappointment, unable to keep himself afloat with your wishes. 

“get up.” you hissed, wiping away the tears from your own face. 

but he didn’t, and laid his head on your stomach, pushing his face into you as hard as he could. you could feel the indent of his nose, his lips. the quivering of his jaw, the shaking sensation of his fingertips as he wrapped around your waist. 

“don’t leave me.” 

to be continued

tags ; @landoslutmeout @basicallyric @mybluesoul1 @toriiez @customsbyjcg-blog @sofs16 @strengthandstay @mybluesoul1 @f1fantasys @cmleitora @idgasb @amalialeclerc @laneyspaulding19 @staurdvst @oreosareara @sideboobrry11 @mortallyblueninja @fionamiller123 @2pagenumb @marvelfangirl04 @brune77e @allabouthappiness @tellybearryyyy @ringdingdingdingx @tillyt04 @danywonderland @rosebud224 @simpfortoomanymen @nataliambc @forcesensitivesoulmate @sweate-r-weathe-r @norlestappen @madszoca @milkandcookhot @fionamiller123 @16f1lc @jwiltsz @plotpal @inevesgf @theonottsbxtch

[novashelby]

Beg for It~TommyxReaderxJohn

Pairings: TommyxReader(3rd person)xJohn

MDNI.18+

Warnings: NON-CON, Degradation, humiliation, offensive language, spanking, and manipulation. PLEASE, PLEASE...take this warning seriously because I almost didn't post this. The vocal humiliation and degradation is ROUGH. Because it is, I just want to disclaim that, I, myself are against these actions in real life. However, this is purely fiction and for consenting ADULTS wishing to indulge.

Summary: When John Shelby goes to pick up the protection fee, he is met with the baker's sassy daughter. Not appreciating her attitude, Tommy and John teach her a little lesson.

Prompt: Beg for It

Word Count: 4,243

Please enjoy. I appreciate reblogs and comments. Likes are kind and thoughtful, and I appreciate you reading my work. However, reblogs really help writers out. So, please, considering rebloging.

It was a new bakery that many people in the city seemed to enjoy. Italian. Which always made the Shelby family slightly curious. But everyone assured them: a sweet family that always minded their own business. Even Tommy couldn’t find anything wrong about them-Italian mother, Italian father, American born daughter. Though, perhaps that was curious. But, really, the worst thing they have done was introduce the Brummies to this soft, decadent pastry. It was a fluffy bun stuffed to the brim with a soft, sweet cream. They sold out within thirty minutes every morning and by early afternoons most days, the shop was bare minimums with perhaps some breads and biscuits. 

The shop owners' daughter was left to clean after closing. That was her duty besides working the counter; clean the shop top to bottom. She'd just finished sweeping the floor when the door opened. Not realizing she had left it unlocked, she jumped to find a young man dressed well in a blue suit. Politely, he took off his flat cap and tucked it away under her arm, and bowed his head respectfully. Regrettably she winced, “I’m sorry, sir, but we are closed. But we have some leftover bread if you want to just take it.” She started to walk around the counter, leaving her broom leaning on the wall. He grinned, walking around the shop, looking around at everything. He took note of the small things and the big things. It was a nice place, he admitted to himself. Perhaps his aunt was right in praising it. 

She was packing up some bread when he finally paused and turned to her, toothpick twirling about in his mouth. He grinned and walked to the counter, leaning on it. Teasingly, he pulled the bag closer to him by his index finger before lifting it to his face. Almost mockingly, he closed his eyes and took a deep inhale, holding it before letting out a long, exaggerated, “mmmmmmm.” His eyes fluttered open and he gave a toothy grin. “Do you bake?”

She smiled, taking the bag back and taping it shut for him. “No. My father and mother…I do everything else. Cleaning, the counter, the money, the organizing. Keeps me busy. Out of trouble, they say.” 

That’s when he leaned in a bit closer wearing a grin that made her drop her smile. Despite being modest, his eyes still moved to her blouse as he said, “and are you trouble?”

“No.” She was a bit more curt with him, lips pursed. “But I heard you Brummie boys were a lot of trouble. What are you looking for? Something tells me you aren’t exactly looking for bread.” That’s when he chuckled to himself. Always the girls with the big mouths, he thought, looking back up to her before digging out a piece of paper. It had a money amount written on it. 

“Actually, it is I that has something for your father. Is he around?”

She grabbed the paper from his fingers, tearing it at the edge before her eyes skimmed over it. She had to lie. “No, you just missed him. He’s gone away to visit some family for the weekend. What is this?” 

“A little fee that businesses around here pay,” he explained, tone changing a bit. Sitting up, he straightened his jacket. “I’m John Shelby.”

She glared at him, jaw stiff a bit. “A fee? Pizzo. It’s fuckin’ pizzo!” She ripped it up in tiny little pieces. John watched her, amused. What a fighter, eh? In her hand was a pile of white flakes. She leaned down and blew. “Now, it’s fuckin’ snow! Merry fuckin’ Christmas, John Shelby, and you can go fuck yourself and your Pizzo….” John Shelby looked down at his jacket, flicking off the white specks, nodding his head. 

“Do you normally have such a mouth?” he asked, arching a brow. “Hm? Did your daddy ever tell you that you shouldn’t talk to others like that, eh?”

“And did yours ever tell you that you shouldn’t extort innocent businesses?” she mocked. “It's extortion. That is the actual term, asshole.”

“Extortion, fee, pizzo,” he shrugged. “All the same fookin’ outcome if you don’t pay it-”

“Oh!?” She laughed, amused. She grabbed a rum bottle from under the counter. The same type her father both drank from and used for baking. “What will happen? Hmm?” She started to walk around the counter. “Burn it down?” she mocked. “Oh, no! The big scary man is going to burn down my bakery cause he didn’t get his way.” She was walking towards him, finger poking at his vest-covered chest. Slowly, he backed up, eying her.

“It’s a protection fee,” he said. “Protect you and your family and business from-”

“From what? You? Please, you can’t fool me. I’m fuckin’ Italian. I know what pizzo is. I pay it, I keep my business. I don’t…you burn it down. But you know what, burn it right now, Mr. Shelby. Go ahead, hm? Be that big, scary gangster you are and burn it.” John was not going to entertain this. Crazy girl. He rolled his eyes and nodded for her to have a good day, but when he turned his back, he heard the rum spill to the ground and splash to him. In her pocket was a book of matches and she lit one. “Hmm? I’ll do it.” 

John cursed under his breath, rubbing his temple. Putting his hand up, he said, “okay, look…just put the fookin’ match down, alright. No pizzo…no pizzo!” Breathing got a bit heavier, he scratched the back of his head. “Fuckin’ ell, you crazy bitch! What is wrong with you?”  That is when she smirked and started to lower the match, throwing it to the ground. He jumped back, hollering. “What the fuck!?” But she laughed as the match sizzled and went out. It was water in the rum bottle. 

“What is wrong with me? Ha!” She dropped her smile and glared. “I’m fucking crazy and if you don’t leave my bakery, I will show you just how fucking crazy I can be, John Shelby.” He scoffed and put his hat on his head, leaving. The bakery shook as he was not shy about slamming the door. 

That night when she explained to her father about the predicament she was sure she handled it, but he was less than impressed. The next day, a few shillings in hand and a bag of bread, she was forced to go to the Garrison. “Apologize sincerely,” her father had warned. But she simply rolled her eyes. There was no way an apology was going to slip from her stubborn lips. 

She walked in, the pub empty except a familiar man at the counter, sipping a whiskey, writing some numbers in a book. She cleared her throat, and he paused, turning around. Snorting, he looked at her and continued writing. “Come here to burn the pub?” he asked in a mumble. 

“No.” She walked forward and slammed the bread on the counter before reaching in her little coin satchel. “Here. Though I don’t see it, my father is scared of you. Pathetic, really.” She put the fee on the counter and pushed it to him. He was about to say something when another man walked through double wooden doors, pausing.  

“You’re that baker’s girl, eh?” he asked, lighting a smoke and walking forward. “Called me this morning. Said you’d be here by nine.” Mockingly, he pulled out his gold watch and said, “ah, but it’s ten.” She scoffed, eyes about to roll, but he tapped on the counter. “Oi! Don’t look at me like that, girl.” He said ‘girl’ as if she was below him, condescendingly. His finger pointed at her. “You have a fuckin’ mouth on you, y’know? Talkin’ to me brother like that, eh.”

She grinned and looked down at John. “Told your brother? Aw, you must be the baby. Telling his older brother…oh, the mean little baker girl scared-” She jumped and yelped when Tommy hit the wooden counter again. That time was harder and louder. Her eyes slowly looked up at him as he made his way to her. 

“How old are you?” he asked, perching the cigarette between his lips. The smoke blew in her face, causing her to choke a bit.

Admittedly, she was a little scared when she noticed the gun in the holster. But she kept her attitude. “Seeing the wrinkles under your eyes, I’m a lot younger than you.” John paused, taking a deep breath, mouthing fuckin’ ‘ell. Little did she know her stubborn mouth was going to get her in trouble. 

Tommy took the smoke from his lips and stared at her in disbelief. He reached out and grabbed her cheeks, fingers pressing harshly into her skin. John watched, feeling his stomach drop when she pushed away and slapped him. Tommy laughed, head still turned and rubbing his cheek. “Fuckin’ ‘ell.” Looking back at her, he asked, “Daddy never taught you any manners, eh? Just walk around thinking you can act like a little cunt, hm?”

She spat at his feet and said, “definitely taught me not to let men put their fuckin’ hands on me. You got your money, I’m going to leave.” When she attempted to push past him, unapologetically bumping into his arm, he turned and gripped a handful of her hair. “Shit!” She hissed, struggling to regain herself, pushing at him. “Let go-!” With his free hand, he wrapped it around her throat just enough to make her panic. 

“You’re a fuckin’ brat,” he said, amused walking her to the back office. She kept telling him in a mix of grunts and pleads to let go of her, but he easily shut her up. He gripped her neck in a way that his thumb, pinky, and ring finger were pressing against her flesh, but his middle and index were shoved in her mouth. “There you go, shut up, hm?” He laughed as her tongue tried to pry his fingers out of her mouth. It was even more cute when she tried to speak and her words were just a string of gurgles. “Hmm? What is it, baby?” He moved his fingers around in her mouth and cooed. “I know, sweety. It doesn’t feel so nice being humiliated, does it? It’s okay, though. Mr. Shelby is going to be so kind, hmm? Okay? He’s going to teach you a little lesson so this doesn’t happen again.” He kicked the door to his office shut and moved her to the wooden desk. She fought against him, trying to push her body against his to throw him off. 

John could hear the commotion from the bar and slid off his stool, walking in and pausing at the door frame. Brow arched, he asked, “is this really necessary?” Tommy, tired, threw her on the ground and put his foot on the back on her left leg, telling her to stay. John shook his head. “She paid the money, let ‘er go, Tommy.”

Tommy, out of breath, gave his brother a look that was familiar. The one look that John couldn’t fight with. “What?” he asked, arching his brow. “John, lock fucking door and come…stop fuckin’ moving…and come here, eh?” John let out a long sigh and shut the double doors, locking them. When he walked over, Tommy took a seat back and grabbed his bottle of rum. “Get her over the desk-”

“Tommy,” John said, slumping his shoulders a bit. “What the fuck are you going to? Spank her?” When Tommy didn’t answer, John froze before cursing. “You aren’t-”

“You’re right,” he said. “I’m not, John, you are.” 

She sat up and backed herself up against the desk, swallowing as she looked up at John. When their eyes connected, she said, “I’m sorry…please don’t. I just want to go home.”  But John had to listen to his older brother. Kneeling, he gave her a sympathetic frown before hoisting her up. She struggled a bit, but gave up seeing that the doors were locked by a key. 

“Face her towards me, John,” he said, reaching for another smoke. John rested her body over the wooden desk, and when she looked at Tommy, he smiled at her. She flinched when he reached out and gently caressed her cheek, thumb teasing at her lips. “What a fuckin’ mouth on you, eh? Such a messy girl, hm? Open.” She sucked her lips in, in protest, shaking her head, but he simply pinched her nose. Struggling she kept her lips sealed until she had to suck in air. “Good girl,” he praised. “See?” Tommy shoved his two fingers in her mouth again, pushing them to the back of her throat. Gagging and drooling, she made a pool of mess on the desk. “See, John? She’s a good girl. Just only shuts her mouth at the wrong times.” John looked down at her in pity, but he would be lying if he said it wasn’t turning him on just a bit. “You never had anything in this pretty mouth before, huh? I can tell. That’s a good girl. Practice on my fingers.” That’s when she fought back, pushing away and spitting them out. Catching John off guard, she slipped from the desk, accidentally falling into the seat.

“You’re disgusting,” she said, wiping her mouth. 

Tommy slid back in his chair and got up, walking to his brother and gripping his face. The two had a short stair down before Tommy said, “can’t keep a fuckin’ girl half your fuckin’ size in place?” John looked off to the side, but Tommy forced him to look at him, slapping his cheek. “Oi! Listen to me, eh? You fuckin’ keep her in place or I’ll do it! Understand me, John?” John nodded and mumbled alright, Tommy.  “Good.” He turned to her and kneeled to her height, lifting up her chin. “You better hope he does what I tell him because you’ll not like what I do to you.” Those words sent a chill up her spine that caused her to be slightly more compliant. She allowed him to easily place her over the desk. “Look at me, sweetheart. I want to see those beautiful eyes…ah, good girl. Now open your mouth.” John pressed his lower half against her legs so she couldn’t move. She opened her mouth and took in his fingers. “Go on, practice. How would you suck my cock?” The way he said ‘my’ and not ‘a’ made her stomach curl. Was he going to make her do it? She obediently bobbed her head back and forth, not breaking eye contact. “You can do better…try harder.” His eyes fluttered up to John, amused. “Fuckin’ just gonna stand there?” She bobbed harder, sucking on them and swirling her tongue around his fingers. Drool was pooling from her lips. 

John rolled his eyes. “What would you like me to do, Tommy?”

“What are you, a fuckin’ virgin? Got to show you what to do? Take off your fuckin’ belt for one,” he said looking back at her, smiling. “Cause someone still needs her little arse spanked, huh? Cause someone’s father didn’t fucking do it. Huh? It’s okay…don’t be scared. Some girls like having their body abused like that. I think you may be one of them.” John’s hands slid up her quivering legs. She whimpered on his fingers, feeling John tickle her skin. His fingers hooked around the waist band and pulled south until he slipped them from her legs. John looked over the pink silk, thumb rubbing against the oval wet spot, a small grin on his face before he showed Tommy. Tommy pulled his fingers out of her mouth, a string of spit following. Her lips were a beautiful bruised red that made his cock twitch in his trousers. When he noticed her eyes drift down, he gently tickled her chin. “Don’t worry, sweety. You’ll get that soon enough when I’m sure you won’t bite.” He grabbed the panties and looked at the wet spot before showing her. “Look at this,” he said, smiling as if he was proud of her. “What is this? You either tinkled yourself or your little cunt is getting excited.” He brought it up his face and to her disgust, he licked it before grinning. “Such a dirty slut.”

Meanwhile, John was rolling her skirt over her ass, resting it on her back. It gave him a full, beautiful view of her ass and pussy. John grinned and looked up at Tommy, “I think someone enjoys being degraded.” His hands worked at his belt, sliding it off through the loops. It was pure leather. When his hand rested on her ass, massaging the soft, untouched skin, her body jolted. His hands were cold. John sighed. “I didn’t even start yet, babygirl.” 

“I think twenty would do her good,” Tommy said, balling up her panties. “C’mon, sweetheart, open your mouth up again…let me put these in.” 

“It’s going to hurt,” she whimpered, but didn’t protest, opening her mouth for him to gag her with her own panties. 

“That’s the point, babygirl,” John said, looking up at Tommy with a grin. He was starting to enjoy it a bit himself, remembering how much the girl pissed him off the day before. “Twenty?” Tommy nodded and looked back at her. 

“Yes, twenty,” he said. “Are you scared?” 

She nodded, unable to speak properly.

“Think of just how much more scared you would be if you didn’t pay that fuckin’ fee,” he said, touching her cheek, sliding it up to her hair. “Without me protecting you. Hm? Aren’t you happy you are here with Mr. Shelby and not getting your little cunt raped by some savage fucking Italian.” Her eyes started to well a bit and he pouted, mockingly. “Oh, sweetheart, I forgot…you’re Italian. Sorry, you kind of just look like a dirty little girl to me right now. You want me to stop? Yeah? You do?” She nodded, crying into the rag. He chuckled. “Then beg for it. Beg for me to stop.” She tried to yell the words through her underwear, but it didn’t come out. “Aww, you can’t, can you. John, go on. Twenty spanks…soft at first. We’ll at least be nice in that regard.”

John nodded. “Alright.” He gave her round ass once last rub and a love tap before spitting on her. His eyes studied the hand crafted leather belt, feeling it in his hands before raising it and bringing it down against her skin. It was a soft tap, and she jolted for the surprise more than anything. It was a little sting, nothing more. “One.” He waited a second before bringing it down again. “Oi!” He shouted. “Two! C’mon…count.” Through the fabric, she tried to count, but he was always one ahead of her. Sometimes he’d land one at a time then others, two. With each spank, he went harder as if he was getting angrier, hating her. But John just loved the sound of leather hitting her bare skin. Especially the way it looked. “Your arse is so fuckin’ red,” he moaned out, one handly unbuttoning his trousers, allowing his cock out. “Tommy,” he said, looking over to his brother. “After…after I’m done-”

“You still have ten more spanks,” he said, hand still cradling her cheek, wiping away her tears with a swipe of his thumb. “Doesn’t he, sweetheart? It’s okay. You’re taking them so well. Daddy is very proud of you.” The way he said daddy nearly made her toes curl. She moaned in the rag, eyes getting heavy. “I’m going to take such good care of you,” he whispered.

John sighed as his hand gently tugged eagerly at his cock. Her cunt was there and all he wanted was to rub it against her. But he raised the belt and from frustration, slammed it down hard. In pain, she screamed into the rag, fingers white knuckled gripping at the wood. There was a knock at his office, and through the wood, someone said, “Jesus, Tommy, what the fuck are you doin’ in there?”

Tommy sighed, but John answered for him, “fuck off, Arthur!” 

Tommy laughed and pinched her cheek. “Screaming a little too loud, princess. Did Johnny boy hit you too hard, hm?” She nodded and he frowned. “Alright, but it’s your job to keep quiet, eh?” She nodded, feeling completely submitted to him. If she wasn’t gagged, she would have said, with ease, yes, sir. “Good girl.” 

“What is going on in there, eh?” The door jiggled and John glared at him. “Why is the door locked, hm?” 

“I said, fuck off!” he hollered, spanking another skin splitting hit. Her eyes nearly bulged from her head as she tried not to scream. Tommy looked at John and put his hand up, silently telling him to calm down just a tad. The poor girl’s ass was blistering red and on fire. Tommy hadn’t expected his brother to get so worked up. 

“Arthur,” Tommy yelled, standing up and leaning into the girl. “It’s my other brother. I’ll be back, sweetheart. Be good to John, eh? Can you do that?” And she nodded, which made him smile. Sweetly, and surprisingly, he kissed her forehead, lingering there. Waltzing around the desk, he paused at John, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Just seven more.” John nodded. Something about spanking her made him feral. Made him want to shove her body against his bed, face pushed in the pillow. Tommy unlocked the door and slid out. 

When he left, John dropped his belt and leaned over her, hand around her throat. “You really fuckin’ pissed me off yesterday…. Ripping up my shite like that.” He pushed his cock between her legs, allowing it to tease at her lips. Feeling it there felt like hell. She tried to shimmy herself from his grasp, whimpering, but he was far too heavy. “What the fuck you think you’re doing, huh? Coming here with your smart mouth…not so smart now, huh? Your dirty panties shoved down your throat. You can’t even ask me to stop right now. I could do it, you know? Pissed me off so, so fucking bad…I could do it.” He started to move his hips up, his cock slipping between her lips, pushing up and rubbing against her clit. His breath shuddered. “Then you come in here like you fuckin’ own everywhere you step…And you didn’t even apologize. Get this fuckin’ rag out of your mouth!” He pulled it out and grabbed a fist of her hair, and made her sit up a bit. Immediately, she started choking and gasping for all the air she could. “Say you’re fuckin’ sorry.”

Choking on her tears, she cried out, “I’m sorry!”

“Say it again…say you’re fucking sorry for being such a disgusting little cunt.”

She had to pause, squeezing her eyes shut in shame. “I-I’m-”

“Get it the fuck out!” he yelled in her ear.

“I’m sorry for being such a disgusting little cunt!”

“Good,” he said, about to position himself when the door opened and locked behind him. He closed his eyes, cursing. Tommy walked around the desk, looking at his brother. “I finished the spanking….”

“Did you?” he asked, and John nodded. Tommy looked at the girl. “Did he?” She nodded. Tommy tsked and shook his head. “Are you lying to me, sweetheart?” When she nodded again, Tommy looked up at John. “Got a fuckin’ wife at home and you’re that horny? Get a new fuckin’ wife, eh? Take your cock and put it away.” John groaned, pushing away from the girl, fixing himself.

“Really, Tommy? You made me do this and you won’t let me finish?” he asked.

Tommy lit another smoke and said,  “no, your job was to spank her…never said to fuck the girl. You can leave. Arthur is outside waiting. You two need to go run some errands for me.” John rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath before heading out the door. When it slammed shut and locked, Tommy looked down at her. “Did he fuck you?” She shook her head. “Use your words.”

“No, sir,” she choked. 

He gave a quick nod, “good.” Tommy sat back in his chair and leaned back. “C’mere.” The girl paused for a second watching as he patted his lap before slowly climbing off the desk and into his lap. “Good girl,” he cooed, bringing her into his chest. “Rest against me. Don’t worry, we’re done with our little lesson. Did you learn anything?”

“Yes, sir.’

“And what did you learn?”

“To be a good girl.” Tommy smiled at that answer, cradling her in his arms. His hand danced in circles around her back while her head rested against his chest. “Can I go home soon?” she asked, feeling worn out and filthy from what had happened. Nevermind emotionally and mentally fucked.

Tommy looked down at her before he said, “no. I think you and Mr. Shelby will spend some more time together. Perhaps for the evening. How does that sound, eh?” He placed a kiss on her head and called her a, “pretty girl.” She couldn’t fight him. It was no use. Submitting, she snuggled into his lap, yawning. “And I think you and I can make a new arrangement in regards to the protection fee.” With that, he stood, holding her in his arms. “C’mon,” he whispered. “I’ll take you to my home and we’ll have a bath.”

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

Princess | Intro/ Part 01

There's more to it than what meets the eye.

Tags/Warnings: Wolfdog Hybrid!Jungkook, Showdog Hybrid!Reader, Enemies to lovers, Angst, Fluff?, Brat!Reader, Jungkook has major brat tamer energy, reader has some issues, mentions of depression

Length: 6.5k Words

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Jungkook hates loosing.

And that’s especially true when it comes to bets- because he also can’t really pass up any opportunity to show off and be the best at something. So when he took on the bet with Jimin, he didn’t think anything of it- after all, even if he lost, he could still simply teach that so-called ‘puppy’ Jimin was supposed to be working with a killer choreo and make his way on top either way.

What Jimin failed to tell him, however, was that you are an absolute menace.

Not only are you spoiled to high heavens and dressed head to toe in pretty designer pieces designed and tailored just for you, no- your attitude is making him want to throw himself into a busy road to be run over by any moving vehicle willing to do so. It’s been not even thirty minutes he’s spent in the meeting room, and he already regrets his big mouth with Jimin.

But maybe it’s just a bad first impression. Maybe, you’re just having a bad day.

“So, basically, we’ve got four weeks to make it work.” Your manager says, having finished his plan as he stands at the end of the table everyone is sitting at, you included- though you clearly do not listen to the conversations happening at all, instead occupied with a game on your switch console, decorated in plastic gemstones and cute stickers, sound not even all the way down as to not interrupt anyone.

Jungkook feels his blood boiling. Can’t you at least attempt to listen? After all, it’s your career that’s on the line.

“I’ll need the possible song choices she made, and I also gotta get a copy of the guidelines and what the judges generally look for. Doesn’t have to be today, but I’d like to have it before we start making anything up.” Jungkook offers, arms crossed. You’ve not even looked at him once today.

If he just went by looks, you’d actually be quite cute- you're clearly taking good care of yourself, and you fall right into the category of hybrid girl he’d see himself interested in- but your character seems to be the exact opposite, as you stare down at the small screen in your hands, lashes long, hiding your gaze a little from him.

“We can totally do that.” Your manager says. “I- uhm.. Are you okay with that too?” He asks towards you, and you simply take in a deep breath before you sigh, shoulders shrugging and head somewhat nodding. Your eyes however never break away from your game, instead, you just adjust your seating postition a little before you become completely detached from the situation again. “I’m sorry about that. She’s.. Having a bad day.” Your manager justifies.

Jungkook smells the lie right away.

“Practice will start at 7 AM then-” Jungkook starts, and that seems to catch your attention as your face turns into a frown. “-And we’ll practice the whole week, except weekends.”

“That’s too early.” You mumble, grumbling down at your game while your legs stretch out under the table, feet brushing against his shins. You’re not wearing shoes, only your knee-high socks, having discarded the slip on’s early on for no apparent reason other than comfort.

“She usually sleeps until.. 11 so..” Your manager starts, and Jungkook has to swallow a growl.

“8.” He says sternly, staring at you who scoffs down at your hands. “She’ll have to get up earlier then.” He decides, making you lift your chin a little, before you save your game, turn off the console and put it on the table, your arms now crossed as well as you finally, for the first time, look at him.

The fire in your eyes could seriously burn someone if it was to be manifested into a real flame, he decides.

“You’ll have to wait until I show up then.” You answer him, and his eyes narrow, feeling challenged. But before he can respond, your manager seems to sense the growing tension between you two, as he dissolves the meeting quickly to have you driven back home.

Jungkook however, can’t let go this easily.

“You forgot to tell me that she’s an absolute bitch.” Jungkook growls into his phone, sitting on his couch with the TV on but on mute. “There’s no way I’ll be working with her for four weeks without committing a crime.” He threatens, and Jimin has the audacity to laugh.

“Oh Jungkookie, don’t let her fool you!” He laughs. “She’s a literal angel, believe me. She just acts all tough.”

“Or she was just interested in you.” Jungkook denies. “I’ve spent barely an hour with her and I already know She’s gonna be a handful to manage.” He sighs.

“Come on now, she’s what? Half your size?” Jimin playfully exaggerates. “Just put her in timeout, big guy, and you’ll be fine.” He jokes, very much aware of Jungkook’s rather dominant nature due to his wolfblood. And while the joke is funny, it’s also a problem.

Jungkook doesn’t know if he can really stay calm while working with you. And his career could be over in a second if he so much as lashes out at you verbally- because no way would someone work with a hybrid choreograph or dancer who can’t keep his cool. He already has issues getting some gigs due to his wolfblood mixed in- one mistake and he can surely put his career to rest.

He really regrets taking on this bet now.

Hopefully this won’t end too badly.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

You really do not turn up at 8 like he told you to.

He’s impatiently waiting in the practice room, your manager and stylist and other staff already present- everyone trying to get a hold of you with no luck at all. It’s only until an hour later that another staff member informs everyone that you’ve finally woken up, and that you’re currently on your way to the practice room.

Jungkook is pissed, to say the least.

If you work like this the entire four weeks, there’s no way he can manage to push a good choreography into your head that you can pull off properly on stage. And if you fail, it’ll be on him- and he just can’t accept that. Hopefully, you’ll warm up to the idea of actually putting effort into this.

Hopefully.

When you finally turn up, you don’t appear to be sorry at all- still somewhat asleep and in no way ready to start practicing anytime soon. Instead, you sit down and take out your breakfast to eat, while your stylist runs a brush through your hair. But what’s odd about this, is more or less that Jungkook can sense a total shift in energy right now.

It’s like they’re shielding you, giving him no access to you until they deem the timing alright.

And you just robotically eat your little breakfast, while everyone else scatters around you, rushing from spot to spot. Jungkook isn’t too sure what exactly might be happening- but then again, it’s also not unusual to see such a scene. You’re a showhybrid after all- meant to look pretty at all times and in every living moment just in case there’s a camera around. And he knows that the practice is going to be filmed occasionally for some behind the scenes content for your fanbase- which is why you have your stylist around in the first place. You’re just supposed to look like you’re not wearing any makeup at all.

No one wants to see reality, because reality is what everyone can witness if they look in the mirror. And that’s boring. That’s not entertaining. That’s not something to be jealous of, or something to admire.

In a way, Jungkook starts to feel a bit sorry for you. Do you ever have a moment for yourself?

Either way, the moment the cameras start running, you switch character almost instantly. Suddenly you’re polite, soft spoken and determined to get every step right- though your true nature does poke it’s head through on occasion, especially when you can’t get something quite right the first or second try.

“Maybe we need to work on how to keep to the beat first.” Jungkook suggests, and at that, you seem to break, sighing with an agitated groan as your tail unravels, falling limp behind you. He’s not seen this happen often- his best friend Yoongi being a dog-hybrid with a curled tail as well, who can be quite grumpy most of the time. But even he never has his tail this.. Lifeless.

It’s unnerving to see.

“I’m not lobotomized, mutt.” You groan, making the manager motion to cut the cameras for a second. “I can keep to a beat, you’re just shit at teaching.” You growl to yourself, sitting down stubbornly as you visibly try and mask the fact that you’re out of breath.

Truth be told, Jungkook isn’t technically a choreographer. He usually works with professional dancers or simply follows whatever he’s given by an artist themselves- so yes, he might actually be a little rusty when it comes to teaching others.

Do you have to be so rude about it though? No.

“Well we’re going around in circles like this.” Jungkook shakes his head. “I’ll get us something to drink. Try and calm down a bit..” He attempts to soothe your temper, as he leaves the practice room- mostly so that he himself can escape the situation for a moment.

He’s not sure what it is. Maybe your scent full of anger and fear filling the space so much that it feels like it’s drowning him in the room, or the fact that you always have to be so rude-

Wait.

Fear?

Alarmed by that, Jungkook walks a bit faster with the water bottles in hand to get back into the room- just to find you not there anymore, everyone looking at him as if they’re surprised to see him back already. “Where is she?” Jungkook asks, and your manager blinks a little, caught off guard.

“She went to get something to drink.” He states, making Jungkook frown.

“I said I’m gonna get us some. Why did she go by herself?” Jungkook asks. “She doesn’t even know where the vending machines are.”

“She said you were taking too long.” A stylist mentions. Jungkook pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I was gone for not even five minutes?” He growls to himself, before he hears you enter the room again, a small juicebox in hand that you punch the tiny straw into. “Don’t just run off.” He scolds you.

You roll your eyes.

“Yeah alright, Daddy.” You scoff, walking past him to sit in a corner- actually facing it for some reason, your back turned towards everyone else.

“Ah, don’t be alarmed.” Your manager explains. “She.. Sometimes does this. We don’t know either why, and we don’t really question it either. Give her a few minutes and she’ll be right back to practice.” He beams at him, and Jungkook feels weirdly played.

Something’s odd here.

But it’s also none of his business.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

The next day, you’re not there on time again.

And despite the fact that Jungkook had told you no food in the practice room was allowed, you clearly disregarded that as nothing but background noise, while you take out your bag of foods in the middle of the large room.

“I said no food in the practice room.” Jungkook scolds, walking towards you to stand right in front of you, arms crossed. “and you’re also late again. Two hours to be exact.”

“You said no food.” You shrug, lifting up the small bag of puffed rice crisps. “That’s snacks.” You respond, making him narrow his eyes and clench his jaw.

“put it to the side.” He says. “You’re here to practice, not to eat.” He reminds you, able to talk freely with almost none of your staff around today.

“can’t practice on an empty stomach.” You respond however, letting yourself fall into your bag, before you take out your phone to scroll on it while you eat your snacks- crumbs already littering the floor. “Why’s your wifi so shit in here?” You mumble to yourself, when suddenly, the signal stops entirely. “Hey, your internet cut off-“ you start, before you spot him putting his phone down. “Turn it back on-“

“Since you’re acting like a brat, I’ll treat you like one.” He simply says. “wifi stays off until you practiced.” He scolds, boldly taking both your snacks and your phone from you to put it on a table close by, the act alone catching you so off guard that it has you frozen in place while you process it. “Do you want to get up yourself or do I need to help you with that as well?” He asks, and you glare at him.

“Touch me and I’ll sue you.” You threaten, and he watches you for a moment as if to see if you’re serious- before he decides you’re clearly not, with the way your tail slightly twitches, clearly needing to be consciously held down by yourself to not wag.

“Alright that’s it.” He simply tells you before he walks towards you, and much to his dismay, you let yourself fall limply down onto the ground as if you’re trying to become liquid. “You’re being ridiculous right now-“

“let me have the wifi again!” You just huff. “and my snacks. I’m hungry.” You argue.

“get up earlier tomorrow and have breakfast then.” He shakes his head, before he grabs your wrists to lift you into a sitting position. But the moment he lets go, you’ve flopped back down again, lips twitching.

Now your tail is wagging, clearly.

“so that’s what you’re after, huh?” Jungkook clicks his tongue. “too bad. I’m not playing your game.” He says, before he walks to the side where all his stuff is, changing his shoes.

“wait- What’re you doing?” You ask, watching him tie his sneakers.

“going home.” He answers without looking. “were clearly not getting anywhere.”

You sigh, groaning out lout before you angrily hit the floor-

Getting up to walk towards him, pulling his jacket from his hands before you let it fall onto the table. “I wanna practice.” You pout.

“What a bummer, princess.” He answers, taking his jacket back to slip it on. “I don’t. Now get your stuff, and then-“ He tells you, walking closer before he points to the door behind you. “-get out.” He demands.

And you just angrily huff at yourself, doing just that.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

You fail to get to practice on time again the day after.

And the day after that.

But on friday, Jungkook has finally had enough of your poor excuses and frankly stupid behavior.

"Why is she late this time?" Jungkook asks your staff, jaw clenched as he's already frustrated again. You're clearly not taking this seriously, and he honestly doesn't know how anyone else has ever managed to work with you in any way.

"We're.. not sure." Your manager says, face showing his own shame about your behavior. "She turned her phone off, we can't reach her."

That's it.

Jungkook can understand a lot of things. You're used to being spoiled and having everything set in front of you on a silver platter- he gets that. Sometimes, people's minds can be poisoned by wealth and success. But turning off your phone? That's too far.

What if something actually happened? What if you're sick, in need of help, in danger? This is absolutely ridiculous behaviour, and he does not care anymore. "She said she lives in the city here, right?" Jungkook asks, and the manager nods. "Alright, where exactly?" He wonders, and a stylist of yours calls out your address.

And that sets him off even further- because you barely live ten minutes away from him. Which means there's not even a single reason as to why you would be late at all.

"What are you going to do?" Your manager worries as Jungkook changes his shoes and slips on his jacket, grabbing the keys to his motorcycle.

"I'm getting her myself."

If there’s one thing Jungkook hates, then it’s people isolating themselves just for their own convenience. It’s mainly due to his best friend years back doing that constantly- turning off his phone to get some quiet time for himself, until he actually did end up being in trouble.

And when someone tried to call him, and couldn’t get a hold of him, they just thought ‘It’s probably one of those days again.’

If Jungkook didn’t go against his better judgement, if he didn’t end up checking up on him despite his mind telling him that it was for nothing, Yoongi would not be alive today.

He rings your doorbell multiple times, annoyingly so to get you to stand up at some point. There’s no way you can sleep through that, especially when he starts angrily knocking onto your door. Suddenly, you open it, staring at him with eyes barely open. “What.” You ask, and Jungkook takes a look at you for a second.

You’ve clearly been asleep, but you don’t look rested at all- eyes barely open as you glare at him, and funnily enough, one of your ears is even a bit floppy- not quite entirely down, but also no standing as straight as it usually does. “You’re late.” Jungkook scolds. You attempt to close the door again, making him attempt something dangerous.

He puts his hand in between the door.

But, maybe Jimin wasn’t so wrong after all, because you immediately open the door again, now wide awake as you look at his hand, worried you might’ve hurt him. Only when you don’t find anything you push his palm back towards him, and cross you arms.

“Come on.” He says, nodding towards the hallway behind him.

“No.” You deny.

“What do you mean, no?’ he asks, agitated.

“I said no. I don’t wanna.” You answer, walking back into your apartment- and with your door left open, he takes it as an invitation to walk inside.

The second he closes the door and turns around, he’s in shock.

Cardboard boxes, trash bags, crumpled papers and wrappings all over the place. Shoes litter the entrance area, your coats are thrown over the chairs at your open kitchen which sink is filled with unwashed dishes. The windows are shut, curtains heavy as they hide the mess in your home from the outside world. It’s so dark that Jungkook feels like if he wasn’t a hybrid, he most likely wouldn’t be able to see where he’s stepping at all.

How long have you been living like this?

The apartment isn’t big, there doesn’t seem to be many rooms at all. After searching for a bit he finds you curled up in your large bed, pink bedsheets and blankets halfway on the floor while your little gaming console chimes and beeps while you play.

“..come on now, you’ve.. got the weekend off.” Jungkook says. “it’s just today-“

“I said I don’t want to.” You growl, face focused on your game. “now fuck off and leave me.”

Jungkook sighs. This really isn’t any of his business.

But somehow, as he walks back into the main area of the small apartment, he finds himself opening a new trashbag to throw away all the plastic strewn around. He puts your shoes in order, places the garbage bags in a corner to have them out the way, before he rips the cardboard apart to throw away easier later. He’s not sure why he’s doing that- maybe partially to annoy you and get you to get out of bed, or maybe because he pities you.

This isn’t just laziness. From the way you act, to the body language you scream out quietly, to the fact that you don’t seem motivated for anything at all.

This is something deeper.

“What’re you doing?” You growl from a corner, before you walk closer to rip the cardboard box from his hands, throwing it in a corner again. “I told you to fuck off.” You threaten, and he nods.

“heard it loud and clear.” He agrees with crossed arms, and you huff.

“Ears seem to be working then.” You snap. “the mistake must be in your brain.”

“I can assure you it’s working just fine as well.” He answers, and you snarl at that, distinctive canines showing.

“Then why are you still here digging through my shit?!” You bark at him, and he shrugs.

“Because no one deserves to rot away like this.”

It’s quiet at that, for a good moment. The only sound heard is the clock in the kitchen ticking, some faint rain against the windows, and a garbage bag slowly slipping a little from its position. And when it falls to the floor, he catches a short second of your eyes tearing up, before you turn around, looking away from him before you run off into your bedroom-

But the door won’t close with all the clutter, making you angrily growl at it while you try and somewhat pull it close.

Jungkook slowly walks towards you, to pull your hands off of the door handle, making you drop down to the floor in defeat, sitting right on your clothes that are laying on the floor. “leave me alone.” You cry to yourself, head low and hybrid ears even lower as you sit there, kicking away some of the clutter.

The wolfdog hybrid slowly squats down to your level, before he carefully moves a broken jar away from your leg and onto a small table close by. “What’s going on with you?” He finally asks, and you kick your leg again at that, a small box flying through the room.

“I just want to be alone!” You bark. “I don’t want anyone in here, I don’t want to go to practice, I don’t want to do this stupid contest, I don’t want anyone to look at me!” You complain loudly, and Jungkook would easily call this a textbook temper tantrum, if it wasn’t for your clearly desperate tears.

“did you tell your management?” He asks, and you scoff, sniffling.

“as if they care!” You huff. “it’s always just do this, do that, go here, eat that, smile, be nice, film everything.!” You tell him. “I want to go home!” You begin to cry now, hiding your face in your hands.

“Home?” Jungkook wonders, unsure what you mean. Isn’t this your home?

“I just wanna go home..” you continue to cry into your hands. “I wanna go see mom, and dad..” you mumble muffled into your palms, and Jungkook feels terrible seeing you like this. He doesn’t know you, but something is clearly not right. This isn’t acting, because your body language, your scent- everything tells him that you’re in genuine distress.

“Maybe you can visit them?” He wonders, slowly reaching out to put his hand on your knee, offering silent comfort that you, for now, seem to accept. “do they live far away-“

“they won’t let me.” You say. “they told them.. they told them I don’t wanna see them and that I hate them, and now they hate me.” You whimper.

“They?” the wolfdog asks, pushing some clutter to the side to sit down as well.

“the company.” You mumble. “because.. my dad didn’t want me to move away back when.. when I was still a pup.” You say. A pup possibly meaning that you were still underage. “and.. back then, I thought it was for the best. This was such a one-in-a-million chance..” you reveal to him. “I thought it was worth it.”

“Do they threaten you?” Jungkook worries, and you’re quiet for a moment.

“..They’re all I have.” You admit. “my.. my apartment. My money. My name. They own me.” You say, defeat evident in your voice as you slowly calm down again, tension leaving your body. “just.. leave me alone.”

“I cant.” Jungkook denies with a sigh. “not anymore.”

“fuck off-“ you start, grabbing at his hand, but he somehow moves it around, holding yours now instead.

“I won’t.” He sternly says. “Alright? I don’t know how, but I’ll figure something out.” He promises, and you look up at him with slightly red eyes, confused.

“Figure out what?” You ask, and he smiles.

“How to bring you home.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

You’re very clearly not very happy about Jungkook currently cleaning your apartment with you.

You’re slow and sluggish, and you constantly complain about everything- and Jungkook can somewhat understand it. You’ve quite literally buried yourself in this little cave, having someone take it apart like this must be horribly uncomfortable. But it’s for the best- and you’ll soon realize that.

That doesn’t mean you don’t annoy him, still.

“Come on now, get up.” Jungkook scolds you, as he watches you sit on the couch.

“What?” You complain. “I’m cleaning.. under the coffee table.” You pretend, but he doesn’t take that as an appropriate answer.

“We agreed on one area at a time. We’re still in the kitchen.” He says. “now get over here and help me with the dishes. I wash, you dry.” He decides, making you somewhat reluctantly get up. It’s odd to have anyone in your apartment at all, since not even staff is allowed inside- you constantly find and make up excuses to keep them out at all times. This is your only safe space, after all.

The only place no one is looking at you.

“yesterday..” jungkook slowly says, putting another plate towards you so you can dry it. “..you said that the company owns you.” He remembers, and you nod. “To what degree?”

“I have an independence license.” You say. An independence license is basically a permanent permit to live on your own, and also work on your own. Basically, with it, you don’t need an owner at all. “But.. the company has full control over my finances and such. And they own my, you know, brand name.” You shrug.

“I meant it, you know?” He tells you, draining the sink of the soapy water. “I’ll try and figure something out.”

“Don’t bother.” You simply say. “it doesn’t matter.”

“It does.” Jungkook denies, drying his hands on a towel. But you stay silent as you put the dishes away in their proper places, not really sparing him any glance at all again.

Jungkook doesn’t really know yet how to help you. First, he wants to somehow get into contact with your parents and set things right again- maybe he can get their names and phone number from jimin who’s been working you for a good while now. And then, maybe they can help, too.

“I’m tired.” You complain as you sit down on the now finally somewhat clean floor, all the trash in bags and in a corner.

“You can take a nap.” Jungkook agrees, and you look at him with positive surprise.

“wait, really?!” You ask, tail wagging a little.

“sure. You’ve been working hard.” He approves. “and now that your couch isn’t cluttered, you can take a proper nap there.”

“Why not my bed?” You whine, disappointed.

“bed is for proper sleep. Couch is for naps.” He explains. “if you go to bed now you’ll just start rotting again.”

You stay quiet for a good moment, before you speak again, looking out the windows, curtains by now pulled open. Slowly, you walk over to the couch to sit down on, staring at your hands in your lap.

“I’m such a fuck up, am I not?” You sigh. “imagine if people knew how much of a failure I am.”

“You’re not a failure.” Jungkook denies, sitting down next to you on the couch. “just.. a bit lost at the moment.”

“Jungkook..” you say quietly, looking at his chest. “I really want to go home.” You admit, and he smiles softly.

“I know. And I’ll figure out a way, promise.” He offers, opening his arms. And much to his surprise, you take the invitation- even so much as to crawl onto his lap, leaning against his chest with your arms wrapped around him. It’s a lot more than he thought this was going to be, but he also can’t deny that this feels oddly comforting for him too.

And even though your tail is still limp and lifeless, at least you’re starting to open up. And maybe jimin was right after all.

Maybe you’re just acting tough.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Jungkook quickly learns that you really must’ve left home at a very young age- because you’re very much completely lost in translation when it comes to general tasks that fall onto someone when they live alone.

You’ve got no idea how to properly do laundry, you don’t know how to cook at all, and you have no idea what cleaning products to use for what. When he asked you if you had some window cleaner, you’d stared at him for a good second before you asked him why he can’t just use soap- and cooking in your book is simply boiling water for instant noodles.

It’s no wonder your apartment was in the state it was in. No one ever taught you how to look after yourself and your own home.

“Alright?” Jungkook asks while you stare at the washing machine with a determined gaze.

“put the clothes in, put the soap-squishy-thing in, close the door and then set it to that program there.” You repeat. Jungkook nods.

“But-?” He presses, and you stare at him for a second, thinking.

“But...uh..” you try and find an answer. “no colored stuff with white clothes? And no black with colors?” You try, and he grins, tail wagging.

“Good girl. See? You’re not dumb, you just didn’t know.” He praises. “now press start and then we can go laze around a little until it’s done.” He says, making you happily press the start button.

Something that Jungkook has noticed, is that the entire apartment seems oddly.. sterile almost, in that it looks and feels taken straight out of a magazine. You’ve got no thing personal it seems like, no blankets that aren’t a neutral color, no toys, no plushies despite you telling him by now that you love these things. Instead, you only really have your little gaming console and that’s it- your bedroom is mostly taken over by designer clothes and shoes, as well as all sorts of accessories. The bathroom contains shelves full of skincare for face and body, but everything else appears to be not at all to be your personality.

“You can get yourself some new blankets for the couch now that we’ve cleaned up.” Jungkook mentions, but at that you simply begin to pout next to him, legs pulled close to you as you slide down a little, slouching.

“Nah, they’ll say no.” You huff, watching the TV commercial play.

So you really meant it when you said that the company has full control over your money. He believed it might just involve big spendings, which would make sense- but it looks like it more so involves every single purchase you make instead.

“How long is your contract?” He asks, and you shrug.

“I think forever.” You say, flopping to the side, legs hanging off to the floor. “I don’t know.”

“Thats.. not legal.” Jungkook frowns. “did you never renew it?”

“Huh?” Your ears tilt towards him for a second. He still wonders why one of your ears is floppy these days. “..no. I don’t think I ever did.”

“I.. how long have you been with them?” He asks, and you hold your hands in front of you to start counting. And the more fingers you seem to add, the more concerned he becomes.

“Well, I uh.. wait, I left when I was..” you mumble to yourself. “and now that I’m.. I think eleven years?” You answer, looking at him.

The maximum contract length for hybrids is five years.

Five.

“I.. okay, can you do me a favor?” He asks, and you nod, slowly sitting up. “next time you’re at your company’s HQ, try and get a hold of a copy of your contract. But don’t tell anyone what you need it for.” He says.

If he can get a copy of whatever slave contract you’re under, getting you out of it will be easy. There’s strict laws for hybrids in place after all- one can’t just work them like pets, there’s rules every company has to follow. And that is the same in your industry as well.

“am I gonna go to jail?” You ask, and Jungkook shakes his head.

“No no, you did nothing wrong.” He denies, reaching out to pet your head- pleasantly surprised when you visibly accept the gesture.

Because he speaks the truth. You did nothing wrong.

You were simply used from the start.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

On Monday, jungkook is standing at your door, 7 AM.

And you really, really do not want to go with him.

“Come on now-“ he urges again, pulling on your fluffy sweater while you cling to the doorframe of your apartment building entrance, having just seen what exactly Jungkook uses as his preferred means of transportation.

“No, you’re not getting me on that death-trap, no way in hell!” You complain, escaping his grasp just for a second before his arms are around your middle, easily removing your fingers from the door with a smile sent towards the security guard as reassurance, before he carries your struggling body towards his Harley. “No!” You complain. “This is kidnapping! Abduction!” You cry out, before he puts the helmet he’d gotten recently on your head, hands fastening the strap beneath your chin before he gets onto the motorcycle as well, sitting in front of you.

And the second it roars to life, you’re clinging to him with arms and legs involved, resulting in Jungkook adjusting your grip a little to not strangle him.

Well- at least he’s not driving fast.

“I hate you.” You complain when he removes the helmet again in the underground parking lot beneath the dance studio, pupils still blown wide, cheeks a bit flushed.

“If you just got up yourself like a big girl, I wouldn’t have to drive you.” He easily tells you, helping you down from the vehicle. “we’ll do this again and again until you learn.” He explains, stepping into the elevator with you- still lowly growling to yourself, pissed off at his attitude.

You’re not a kid. He’s stupid.

But it does work, because at least you somewhat practice with him for a few hours, before you stubbornly lay down starfish style in the middle of the practice room, demanding a break- one he grants for once, even if it’s just ten minutes.

“I really don’t wanna go to that contest.” You huff, half of your face squished against the shiny floorboards. Jungkook slowly walks towards you, squatting down to flick his finger against one of your ears that’s again, a little floppy today.

“I know.” He answers, because he does still remember your outburst, devastating cries edged into his mind.

“Hey Jungkook?” you ask, as he absent-mindedly rubs your ear between his fingers, almost enchanted by the softness of it.

“Yeah?” He answers, noticing the way you clearly enjoy such a simple touch to the fullest. You’re constantly surrounded by people, and yet it’s clear that you’re touch-starved and just treated like a doll and nothing else. How lonely must you have been until now?

“Do you have a girlfriend?” You ask. “or a boyfriend?” You wonder, leaning into his hand with closed eyes.

“No.” He answers, unsure and most of all suspicious.

“nice.” You smile, tail wagging softly. “I’m your girlfriend then.” You decide, and he freezes.

“...what?” He asks, sitting down now, a water bottle next to his crossed legs. “You can’t.. that’s not how it works.” He explains, but you shrug.

“My mom and my dad didn’t like each other either.” You reply, staring at nothing ahead, chin on your hands. “they just.. got together out of convenience. Cause they were the same hybrid breed, and I guess didn’t have anyone else at the time.” You mumble. “love isn’t real anyways. I’m pretty- isn’t that enough for you to like me?” You ask, turning your head to look at him with a gaze so.. detached that it makes him feel pity.

Is that your view on the world around you?

“You are pretty.” He responds. “but that’s not a foundation for.. a relationship.” He shakes his head.

“I don’t mind that you’re a mix.” You shrug. “you’re handsome, I’m pretty, and I have money.” You say. “if we get together thousands will flock to your dance studio. You’ll be super successful. “ You propose to him. “doesn’t even have to be for long. You can just.. I don’t know. Spend some time with me until you get bored, and then move on.”

“No.” He denies again. You frown.

“Huh.” You huff, slowly sitting up. “whatever then, I guess.”

“Do you even like me?” he asks you, confused, and you shrug before nodding.

“You’re nice. A bit stick-up-you-ass, but overall nice.” You offer.

Jungkook just watches you for a second, in full disbelief at what had been done to you. Raised in a place of luxury, with a golden spoon in your mouth and lies fed daily to create the view you have on everything around you right now. No kindness without some ulterior motive fits your reality. Everything has to be convenient for everyone involved.

“I don’t want a relationship without love, no matter what I might gain from it.” He explains himself, and you roll your eyes, before you flop onto your back, arms crossed again as you sulk. “You shouldn’t settle for less either.”

“Yeah well I wont get that.” You answer. “no one wants me. They want.. her.” You say, while twirling the silver name tag from around your neck in your fingers.

Until he leans over you, body entirely covering yours for a second, causing you to become nervous and wide eyed at his bold move. He’s looking at your neck, and you’re sure he must’ve realized what’s in it for him- after all, everyone is out for something to gain.

His hands move around your neck, fingers warm. You close your eyes as his face draws closer, awaiting the inevitable.

When suddenly, the collar around your neck is undone, and pulled off your neck.

“what-“ you ask, eyes open again as you watch him still above you, now looking into your eyes, and no longer anywhere else.

“I don’t want her.” He says, referring to the name on the tag around your neck that’s now in his hand, pushed into the floorboards where he holds himself up.

“But I’d like to get to know you instead.”

[enwoso]

NAUGHTY ELF — alessia russo x child!reader

twelve days of christmas | day 1

based on this request

when alessia first saw the idea of doing elf on the shelf for the month until christmas, she thought it would be a cute wholesome idea and since you were a little older you would probably become a fond memory to look back on in years to come.

the key word however was thought, as she was now wondering why nobody told how much work it was to do in such a small amount of time. now she knew why not everyone did it with their children.

but still alessia was determined to finish it, and with only ten days left she was sure she could pull through. so after a bit of a gruelling day, a long day of training for the champions league match in a few days time and an even harder job of trying to put you to bed after the excitement of santa visiting your nursery today.

still though she managed and the clock had just struck half nine. walking into the lit kitchen the blonde made a beeline for the coffee machine, putting a coffee pod in and her mug in as she pressed the button to start.

alessia then went to find the elf — who you had named for some unbeknownst reason elvis — who had spent the day pinned to the wall with tape as little drawn flames were below him and a sticky note saying: 'the floor is lava'

but before she had to get her coffee from the machine her phone started to ring, a small huff coming from her as she had to backpedal and go back into the living room to get it.

seeing the screen light up a warm smile coming over her features seeing it was her mum calling, "hi mum"

"hi alessia, are you okay?" carol, alessia's mum asked as alessia wandered back into the kitchen to finally get her hands on her hot coffee which by now which just be edging the warm stage.

"yeah, i'm just doing lovie's elf and then gonna have an early night" alessia smiled as she placed her phone on the kitchen counter pressing it so her mum was on speaker as she added the sugar into her coffee.

"elf? what elf?" carol questioned as a small laugh came from alessia as she could imagine the confused look on her mums face.

"like an elf on the shelf?" alessia tried as she knew her mum knew what one was, but the other end of the line stayed silent. "mum! you used to do one for me, giorgio and luca when we were a similar age to lovie”

a chuckle came over alessia as she heard her mums realisation hum through the line, "oh yes, how lovely. i bet tiny is loving that" carol said as alessia moved around her kitchen getting what she needed as her mum carried on with their little catch up.

alessia had decided that for day 15 was had saw a cute idea of the elf sledding along the counter which was covered in snow, flour, a cute little letter on a green sticky note.

still chatting away to her mum on the phone as she began the little project, but as the blonde went to place the empty bag of flour into the bin she accidentally knocked her coffee cup over. a loud bang echoing throughout the kitchen as the cup fell on the floor smashing into tiny pieces and covering the once white flour.

"so me and your dad can take lovie-" carol was filling alessia in on the plans for the weekend when alessia was at a shoot which you weren't allowed to go to before she stopped her sentence after hearing the loud crash.

"oh you've got to be kidding me-" alessia muttered under her breath, burying her head into her hands wanting nothing but to scream the house down but it probably would be the smartest idea considering you were sound asleep.

"alessia? what was that bang.." carol asked as it echoed through the phone, alessia just letting out a loud groan. "less, honey what's happened?" carol tried again.

alessia eventually moved her head from her hands not before dragging them dramatically down her face. "i've knocked my coffee over onto the counter where i had just laid out the flour for the elf thing and now i’ve also smashed my favourite mug" a pout came over alessia's face.

"do you not have any more flour? or even caster sugar will work" carol said hoping to lighten the mood and bring a quick fix to stop the panic that was slowly setting into alessia’s mind.

“no? what am i supposed to do now” alessia whispered as she spoke fast the panic was really setting into as she could just see the imagine in her head of you waking up and seeing your elf in the same place as before you went to sleep. her heart breaking slightly just at the thought.

“can you not call one of the girls? i’m sure one will help you out and plus they would all do anything to see tiny with a smile on her face” carol pointed out as alessia hummed racking her head around her lived close by and maybe wouldn’t mind doing her a small favour.

“yeah maybe..”

“well don’t fall or drop your phone in the making, clumsy!”

“hilarious mum! i’ll call you tomorrow”

-

"lotte.." alessia dragged out as a hum came from lotte on the other line. "what's up less?" the girl asked with the slight hint of sleepiness in her tone.

“i haven’t woke you have i?” alessia panicked glancing to the time on her phone it only showing 9:54pm. a small wince on her face as she feared the worse.

“no? what’s wrong though, you sound stressed-“ lotte asked as alessia began to recount the events and how she needed a favour from the girl, hoping she wouldn’t mind.

lotte trying her best not to start belly laughing at the blondes clumsiness, it sounding as if it was all made up and probably someone that had never met alessia would think she had.

but lotte knew better and with alessia who struggled to keep herself and objects up straight than to know that alessia was saying she was one hundred percent being serious.

“honestly i’m not even surprised anymore less, but of course i can just give me twenty minutes and i’ll be round” lotte chuckled as a sigh of relief could be heard leaving alessia’s lips.

“i don’t know what i would do without you lotte!”

“me neither less-“

-

“mummy! get up i wanna see elvis!” you excitedly jumped up and down on your mummy’s bed as she groaned rubbing her eyes as you flopped on top of her.

“hang on lovie, let mummy open her eyes first!” alessia let out a small laugh as you began to pull the blankets off her, tugging at her hand for her to hurry up.

at least with the arrival of your elf, elvis, there was one positive that came from it and that was there was no trouble at getting you up in the morning. you waking yourself up with energy and excitement seeping through your small limps to see what your elf had been up to while you were asleep.

“go on then, mummy will follow behind you!” alessia opened her door a little wider than the small gap you had squeezed through, grabbing her robe to wrap around herself as the cool air that surrounded the hallway hit her bare arms.

“i wonder if elvis has been cheeky today?” you thought out loud as you carefully walked down the stairs, alessia three steps behind you.

once you reached the bottom step alessia let you find your elf knowing you had found him when, “oh mummy he’s been very cheeky” you called out from the kitchen as a gasp could be heard from you.

“oh my gosh, how’s he done that!" alessia said as she flung her arms in the air a smile on her lips as she watched your face change with excitement as you took in the sight of your elf sitting on some candy canes in a trail of snow — flour — with a bright green sticky note close by.

“have you read his little note?” your mummy pointed to it as you shook your head, “should we read it together?” alessia asked as you nodded, your mummy picking you up as she sat you on the edge of the counter holding you by the knee so you didn’t fall.

“just sledding in-“ your mummy read along with you helping you with the more trickier words helping you to sound them out by the letters, “to say have a good day”

“oh that’s nice of him” alessia cooed as you nodded eagerly wanting to read the rest.

“and i almost didn’t make it cause-“ you began to read again along side your mummy as she pointed to the word as you read it, “-you went to bed realllly late” a small gaps coming from you as you were a little shocked.

“i didn’t go to bed late” you pouted as your mummy had a small grin her eyebrows slightly raised, “it was a little past your bedtime”

“be good today- wait what do they mean” you pointed to the small xo’s on the handwritten letter that elvis — lotte — had written. “so the o’s are hugs and the x’s are kisses” alessia explained as a small awh came over you.

“that’s was nice of elvis wasn’t it” your mummy asked as you nodded drawing small patterns on the edge of the counter in the flour.

“who going to clean this up though!” you asked, your brows furrowing a little bit.

“well i hope elvis does, he made the mess” as alessia took you down from the counter and making her way to start making your breakfast.

“elvis! mummy says you have to remember to clean up otherwise it’ll make her sad” you peered over the counter whispering to the elf as you babbled along to yourself talking with elvis the elf.

but even though it was a little tiring making the elf on the shelf each night it made it all worth it to see your excitement each morning and your facial expressions when you saw what your elf had been up to — so in alessia’s mind that made it all worth the while.

[paddockletters]

shattered hearts | lando norris

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: you break free from a toxic relationship, embarking on an exhilarating journey of self-discovery

warning: emotional abuse, infidelity, toxic relationship, angst

author's note:this was hard, so hard omg... as I always say, english is not my first language so sorry me if there are mistakes —feel free to tell me— and my requests are open!👀

I met Lando when we were barely out of high school. Back then, he was just a kid with dreams and a mischievous smile that made you feel like you were the only one in the world that mattered. For a while, I believed that was true. But as the years went by, I learned that Lando's smile wasn’t mine alone—it was shared with others, stolen moments behind my back. And somehow, I was always the one left picking up the pieces.

Our relationship was a whirlwind, the couple everyone thought would either crash or last forever. We did crash—over and over again. But somehow, Lando always found a way to convince me to come back.

“I’m sorry,” he’d say, voice low and pleading after one of his inevitable affairs. “But you know you’re my number one, right? None of them matter like you do.”

He’d wrap his arms around me, pull me close, and somehow, I’d believe him. I had to because after eight years of being with him, I didn’t know who I was without him.

The first time he cheated, I was devastated. It was in his early F1 days, just as his fame started to sink in. He swore it was a one-time thing that it didn’t mean anything. And like a fool, I believed him. But it didn’t stop. It never stopped. There was always another girl, another excuse, another lie wrapped up in the promise that I was still the "main one."

One particular night, I remember the argument that nearly broke us for good. Lando had been out late, and I found out through a mutual friend that he had been seen with another girl. Again. When he came home, reeking of alcohol and guilt, I confronted him.

“You said you were going to change, Lando!” I yelled, tears streaming down my face. “You promised me, over and over again, but nothing ever changes!”

“Why are you making such a big deal out of this? You always come back. You always forgive me,” he shot back, arms crossed, his face a mask of irritation.

His words stung like a slap to the face. I wanted to scream, to leave right then and there. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Because a part of me still loved him, or maybe it was the idea of him—the boy I met before the fame, before the lies.

As the years rolled on, our friends saw the cracks. One night during a get-together at a bar, I tried to put on a brave face. I thought maybe if I acted normal, I could convince myself everything was fine. But when Jess pulled me aside, her expression serious, I knew I couldn’t hide anymore.

“Why do you keep letting him treat you like this?” she asked, frustration evident in her voice. “You deserve so much better, and he’s just going to keep doing this until you realize it.”

“Maybe he’ll change. I can’t just throw away eight years,” I replied defensively. “We have a history.”

“You mean a history of him cheating on you? You have to stop putting up with this, or you’re going to lose yourself,” she insisted, shaking her head.

I didn’t have an answer for her, not really. I just wanted to believe that things would get better. That Lando would see how much I cared and finally choose me over everyone else.

Our mutual friends began to pick sides. Some supported me, while others were loyal to Lando. It was suffocating, a constant tug-of-war that made everything feel so much worse. I felt more isolated than ever, even when surrounded by people.

Then there was the jealousy. Lando was incredibly possessive, especially with his fellow drivers. During one race weekend, I was talking to Charles, who had just finished his session. Lando walked in, and his eyes darkened.

“Why are you always chatting up the other drivers?” he snapped, pulling me aside as Charles walked away, giving us a questioning look.

“Because they’re my friends, Lando! Just because you’re in F1 doesn’t mean I can’t talk to anyone else. You’re not my warden,” I shot back, feeling the anger rise in my chest.

“Don’t act like I’m overreacting. You know how it looks,” he hissed, jaw clenched, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

I knew he was being unreasonable, but I was too exhausted to fight back. Our friends watched the tension build, hoping to intervene. I overheard Max once whisper to Lando.

“You need to chill, mate. You’re pushing her away.”

But Lando always had an excuse for everything, often deflecting blame onto me.

“You just don’t understand how this world works!” he’d shout, leaving me feeling small and defeated.

The cycle continued, and I found myself in the same painful arguments over and over. One night, after he came home late from a party, I had finally reached my breaking point.

“Do you even care about how I feel?” I shouted, my voice echoing through our apartment. “You’re always out with other girls! How am I supposed to trust you?”

“I told you, you’re the main one! None of them matter!” he retorted, but his words felt hollow to me.

We spent that night in silence, and I knew I had to make a decision. I just didn’t know how to let go.

The more time passed, the more I began to distance myself from Lando. Therapy helped. I began to see the truth behind his words and actions. The way he manipulated me, made me feel guilty for his mistakes. The way he made it seem like I was the one at fault for staying, like I was to blame for the pain he caused me.

During one therapy session, I shared my frustrations.

“I don’t know why I keep coming back to him. He’s hurt me so many times, and I just can’t let go.”

The therapist asked me one simple question: “Do you love him, or are you just scared of being without him?”

It hit me like a ton of bricks. I didn’t know the answer.

One evening after another brutal fight, I finally left. For good this time. I packed my bags while he watched, silent for once. Maybe he thought I’d come back, just like I always did. But this time was different. I walked out the door, leaving behind eight years of memories, both good and bad.

The nights were long and lonely, and I often found myself thinking about the happy moments we had. One flashback struck me particularly hard: it was the first time he had taken me to the paddock during a race weekend, and we laughed like kids as he showed me around.

“Can you believe this is my life now?” he had said, beaming with pride. “I never would have thought I’d be racing in F1.”

“I always knew you could do it,” I replied, squeezing his hand.

But now, those memories felt tainted, and I needed to focus on myself. It wasn’t easy. There were nights I cried myself to sleep, wondering if I had made the right decision. But with time, and with the help of my therapist, I started to heal. I began to see that I deserved better, that I deserved someone who would love me the way I had always wanted Lando to.

One evening, after finally leaving Lando for good, I found myself at a racing event with friends. It was a chance to distract myself from the whirlwind of emotions I was navigating. As I wandered through the paddock, I was drawn to the sound of laughter.

“Are you lost, or just overwhelmed by all this?” a smooth voice asked. I turned to see Pato O'Ward, the charming IndyCar driver, grinning at me. His eyes sparkled with warmth, and for the first time in a long time, I felt a flicker of something hopeful.

“I guess a little bit of both,” I replied, smiling back.

“Come on, I’ll show you around,” he offered, his energy contagious. As we walked through the paddock, he shared stories about his racing experiences and the thrill of competing. It felt so refreshing to be around someone who was passionate and genuine, without the weight of expectations or drama.

Days turned into weeks, and I found myself spending more time with Pato. He was everything I had needed—funny, respectful, and utterly devoted. He listened to me, understood my past, and never once made me feel like I was in a competition for his attention.

One night, after a thrilling race, he took me to a quiet spot overlooking the track. “You know,” he said, “I’ve been thinking a lot about how important it is to find someone who truly sees you. I see you, and I want to be that person.”

His words resonated deep within me, filling the void Lando had left. In that moment, I knew I had found something special with Pato, something I had longed for but never thought I could have.

Meanwhile, Lando had his own set of problems. He was still juggling relationships, using his charm to keep people around while juggling jealousy over his fellow drivers. I heard from our mutual friends that he was still stuck in the same toxic patterns, always in and out of relationships, always claiming that I was the one who got away.

I remember a race weekend when Charles and Lando got into an argument. I was watching from the sidelines with Pato when Charles approached me, concern etched on his face.

“Are you okay? I know things with Lando have been… complicated,” he said, his gaze shifting to Lando, who was across the paddock, still fuming.

“I’m fine, really. I’ve moved on,” I assured him, but I could see the doubt in his eyes.

Later that evening, I got a message from Lando, who had obviously overheard the chatter.

“I know you’re happy with him, but you’re still mine. You always come back to me, remember?”

It took everything in me not to respond. I had a new life now, a new partner who respected me and didn’t cheat. Lando’s words were just echoes of the past.

Fast forward to our wedding day. I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting my veil, my heart racing with excitement. Pato had become my rock, my partner in every sense of the word. I knew this was the right choice, and my heart was finally at peace.

Then, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Lando.

“I heard you’re getting married. Just wanted to say, I hope you’re happy. But I still think about you. We could’ve had it all, you know.”

I stared at the message, my heart pounding. For a moment, I considered replying. But then I remembered all the sleepless nights, the tears, the heartbreak, and all the promises he had broken.

“Too late,” I typed back, hitting send before I could second-guess myself.

As I walked down the aisle, Pato’s face lit up with joy, and I couldn’t help but smile back. When he took my hands in his, I felt a sense of completeness I hadn’t known in years.

The ceremony was beautiful, I felt a sense of completeness I hadn’t felt in years. When Pato took my hands in his, I knew I was finally moving forward.

As we exchanged vows, Lando’s presence lingered in the back of my mind, but I let it go.

“I promise to love you through every challenge and to celebrate every victory,” he said, his eyes shining with sincerity.

“I promise to choose you every day for the rest of my life,” I replied, my voice steady and full of conviction.

We sealed our vows with a kiss, and I felt liberated. Lando was no longer my story; I was the author of my own life now, and it was a beautiful beginning with Pato. With him by my side, I was ready to embrace the future we would build together, thriving in a relationship based on trust, respect, and love.

As time passed, I learned to appreciate the small moments—the laughter, the late-night talks, the shared dreams of a future together. Pato supported my passions and encouraged me to pursue my own ambitions, something I had never fully experienced before.

One day, I received a message from Max: “Lando’s been a mess since your wedding. He didn’t handle it well.”

I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of satisfaction. He had always taken me for granted, and now, he was the one left behind.

I hoped Lando would find peace eventually, but I also knew I couldn’t go back to the pain of our past. Pato was everything I needed, and I was determined to focus on our life together.

As our first anniversary approached, Pato planned a surprise getaway. “I want to celebrate us, everything we’ve built,” he said, a bright smile on his face.

We traveled to a beautiful beach destination, where we spent our days relaxing, laughing, and simply enjoying each other’s company. One night, under a sky full of stars, Pato took my hand and said, “You’ve changed my life for the better. I want to keep building this amazing life with you.”

I couldn’t hold back my tears. “You’ve shown me what real love looks like, Pato. I’m so grateful for you.”

His expression softened as he leaned in, kissing me gently.

Then, one day, I got a call from Lando.

“Can we talk?” he asked, voice shaky.

“What do you want, Lando?” I replied, my heart racing.

“I just need to explain… things didn’t go as planned after you left. I’ve made mistakes, and I want you back.”

I paused, memories flooding back. “You had your chance, Lando. I can’t keep going back to the past. I’m happy now. I’ve moved on.”

“But I still love you!” he pleaded. “You were always my main one!”

His words echoed painfully in my mind, but I stood my ground. “You had your chance to prove that. You made your choice.”

The phone call ended, and I sighed with relief. I looked at Pato, who was sitting beside me, and smiled. I had made the right choice.

I felt a sense of peace wash over me. Lando was no longer a part of my narrative. My life was filled with the warmth and love Pato brought into it, and I was excited for the future we would continue to create together.

With Pato, I had learned to love again, not just him, but also myself. And that made all the difference.

Lando’s chapter had closed, and I was finally ready to start anew, with someone who truly valued me, not just as the ‘main one,’ but as the woman I had become.

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Last Name (Logan x Reader)

Summary: You wake up to the knowledge that you married a handsome stranger.

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 621

Read on Ao3!

Waking up, you blink in the sunlight as it shines its betraying light through slits in the curtain. You’re wearing clothes, which is a relief to you. Stretching your body, you feel a breeze between your legs, and it’s only then that you realize you’re not lying in the hotel room you shared with your friend for her bachelor party this weekend. The sound of someone shifting beside you in the bed startled you. 

Shooting up into a sitting position, you were greeted with a tousled bedhead as the man sleepily turned to face you, wearing the reflected shocked expression on his face that you knew you wore as well. 

“Well, hello there...” he greeted, sitting up in the bed as well, a loopy grin on his face as his eyes scaled your body.

Feeling exposed, you pulled the duvet tighter to your body before finding your voice. “Who are you?”

Surveying the hotel room, still wearing the lopsided grin, he shrugged. “A person of interest, I’m sure. You aren’t the party I was with last night.”

“I have to find my friends.” you frantically got out of the bed, tangled in the sheets and falling face-first onto the carpeted floor beneath you. “Fuck,” you groaned as you lifted yourself up onto your elbows, only to be greeted with the man whose name you still didn’t know, staring at you in entertainment, stretched out on your side of the bed.

“Where do you think you’re going, wife?” he smirked as you struggled to free yourself from your blanket prison. The last word he spoke caught your attention, and your eyes snapped to meet his left hand, baring a gold ring. Shaking your head, you glanced down at your own hand and felt your eyes widen in fear. “Oh no,” you groaned.

“Oh, yes.” he chuckled, pointing his lips to the bouquet and a piece of paper across the room on a small desk. “I was waiting for you to wake up; I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Who are you?”

“Logan,” he heaved himself away from the bed after turning on his back and running his fingers through his hair. I suggest we locate your party before they send out a search warrant. My own will see me later tonight.” He grabbed your cell phone from his side of the bed and tossed it to you as you stood up from the floor. 

“We—” you scrolled through your notifications on your lock screen before sighing in relief that your friends had noticed your absence but had also seen you sloshing all over a random man at the bar last night. They’d taken many pictures of you hanging all over the man in your drunken state, and judging from his starry eyes in the photos, he seemed just as excited to have you there.

Looks like there are two weddings to attend, huh?

I thought I was the only one getting married this weekend!

You vixen!

Chuckling at your friend's messages, relief washed over you as you looked up and noticed Logan was now going through the same ritual as you, sending messages to his own group, you assumed.

“Should we venture out into the morning sunlight to search for my friends?” you asked as you searched for your heels from the previous night. As you finished lacing them up, you took a good look at him; he wasn’t ugly by any means, and you’d found him hilarious now that the panic was over.

“I’d say we venture onto the strip and have a good time by ourselves for the morning first, eh? We’re newlyweds, after all.” 

You didn’t hesitate to agree as he approached the door and opened it for you.

[finelinefae]

my darling

synopsis: a love triangle

word count: 10.8k

contains: angst angst angst, love triangle, mfm, best friends to lovers, boarding school, violence, unrequited love,

a/n: i wrote this for wattpad during the My Policeman era. I wanted to post it here after re-reading it. I remember this being one of the first pieces of fanfic i felt super proud of !! warning it is pretty sad

. . .

Then — 1996

Dear Diary,

Today we moved into our new home in Halton. It’s small, quaint, and quiet—very quiet. The kind of place where everyone seems set in their routines, the same patterns repeating every day. I already miss London. Mum says this will be good for us, though. Good to get away from the drama. Good to get away from Dad.

The house isn’t as big as our old one. I have to share a room with Delilah now, but it’s fine—I’ll be off to boarding school by the end of the summer. Mum says I’ll enjoy it since she went to the same school at my age, but I think she’s just trying to make me feel better. Who actually enjoys living at school?

It’s a three-hour drive from Halton, which feels like a world away. I’m nervous, excited, sad, and happy all at once. The feelings are so overwhelming they all blur together into something I can only describe as... heavy. Like my life is a snow globe someone’s just shaken up, glitter falling everywhere. It looks magical at first, but the reality is you’re stuck cleaning it up for weeks, finding it in the oddest places long after.

I miss my dog. I never got to say goodbye.

Dad cried when we left. I’ve never seen him cry before. He told me it wasn’t goodbye, just a "see you later." Mum always says Dad’s a good liar, but I don’t think he was lying this time. Maybe it was the tears—they don’t suit him.

-

Dear Diary,

Today I moved into my dorm at Southend Park School.

Mum was annoyed we had to wake up before seven to pack the car and drive me down, even though this was all her idea. She’s probably just tired—or maybe something else. I have a suspicion she’s met someone. I’m not sure how she moved on from Dad so quickly. Did she ever really love him?

My dorm has six girls, including me. I’ve mostly been talking to Ellis, who’s in the room next door. She’s fourteen, older than the rest of us, but only because her birthday is the 1st of September. Today’s the third, so her advantage is technical, but she likes to remind us.

Being alone here scares me, but it’s nothing new. Delilah always had loads of friends, and Dad was always working. Mum was usually out socializing, too.

Mum cried as we finished unpacking, promising she’d pick me up for half-term or that I could come home anytime. But I don’t want to go home. I hate it there.

Tomorrow is a full day of inductions, and I’m worried about making friends. Southend Park is a mixed school, and boys make me nervous. I’d rather have no friends at all than feel like I have to pretend to be someone I’m not.

I still feel like I’m picking up glitter from months ago. I wonder when it will finally stop.

-

Dear Diary,

I made two friends. You’ll never guess—they’re boys!

Their names are Harry and Dylan. They’re both thirteen, like me, but they feel older somehow. They even live in the same dorm and invited me over this weekend.

We met during lunch in the courtyard. I was sitting alone when Dylan walked up first, chatting easily and cracking jokes. Harry followed behind, much quieter. Dylan has blond hair and a small scar on his eyebrow from climbing trees back in Morston. Harry’s hair is thick and curly—I wanted to touch it but stopped myself because, well, that would’ve been weird.

Harry didn’t say much at first, though I noticed him glancing at me. When I met his gaze, he blushed and looked down at his extra-polished school shoes.

We didn’t talk much again until the end of the day, on the way back to the dorms. That’s when we compared timetables and realized we share four classes, including English Literature. It’s just Harry and me in that one, though.

I never thought I’d be friends with boys, but I like it. It feels different from being friends with girls—less pressure to act outgoing or girly. I hope we stay friends. I like them both a lot.

. . .

Then — 2000

“Hey, Harry,” Y/N called, running across the field toward the headmaster’s office where Harry stood, focused on his Nokia flip phone.

Harry glanced up, his expression softening when he saw her. He tucked the phone into his pocket and waved her over. Despite the end-of-day chaos, both were still dressed in their school uniforms. “Hey, baby.” He greeted her with a quick kiss, pulling her closer and wrapping an arm around her waist. He loved how perfectly she fit against him, as though they were made for each other.

“What’s going on? Aren’t we meeting Dylan to go to Ellis’ dorm?” Y/N asked, frowning slightly as she looked around for their other best friend.

Harry smirked, shaking his head. “We are, but Dylan got caught passing notes to Casey Becker in geometry. He’s stuck with thirty minutes in the headmaster’s office to make amends.”

Y/N chuckled, her laugh warm and familiar. “Again? He’s going to get himself expelled if he’s not careful.” She slid her hands under Harry’s blazer, warming them against his torso.

Harry brushed a strand of hair from her face, letting his thumb linger on her cheekbone. “How was your day?” he murmured, his lips brushing hers as he spoke.

“It was fine,” Y/N replied. “I scored three points in netball, and Tessa Riley gave me daggers in the changing room.” She giggled, leaning into him.

Harry smiled, pride gleaming in his eyes. “That’s m’girl.” He bent down and kissed her forehead gently.

“Oh, please, don’t make me sick,” a familiar voice drawled, breaking the moment.

“Hi, Dylan.” Y/N turned to see him strolling down the stone steps, his blazer slung over his shoulder and a cigarette dangling between his fingers. She leaned back against Harry, crossing her arms.

“Hello, my darling Y/N,” Dylan teased, his tone playful as he lit the cigarette with practiced ease.

“Seriously, Dylan?” Harry said, narrowing his eyes. “Do you really need another detention?”

“Don’t you smoke, Styles?” Dylan shot back, grinning. “Besides, Mary would love to see me again after our chat earlier. She’s got a soft spot for me.” He smirked, wiping his thumb across the corner of his mouth.

Y/N rolled her eyes, stepping away from Harry’s warmth. She was long used to Dylan’s antics—four and a half years of friendship had left little room for surprises.

The three of them had been inseparable since their first days at Southend Park Boarding School. Despite their differences in personality, they were like a family unit, supporting one another through the highs and lows of adolescence.

Dylan, the loudest of the trio, was notorious for his sharp wit and knack for trouble. Teachers despaired over his behavior, but students were drawn to his charm—especially the girls, who fell for his rebellious streak and the ever-present cigarette.

Harry, by contrast, was the golden boy: smart, polite, and beloved by staff. He balanced his role as student ambassador with captaining the football team, a position that made him one of the most popular boys in school. Dylan teasingly called him a “teacher’s pet,” but Harry wore the label without shame.

Y/N was the quietest of the three, rarely seeking the spotlight. She volunteered in the school library every Tuesday and spent her free time with her dorm mates. Still, Harry and Dylan were fiercely protective of her, and she often marveled at how lucky she was to have them.

The trio walked out of the school gates toward the housing blocks, their shadows stretching long in the late afternoon sun. Harry carried Y/N’s backpack on one shoulder, his free hand clasping hers. Dylan trailed behind, typing on his phone with an unlit cigarette between his teeth.

“Ellis doesn’t want you bringing anything to the party this time, Dylan,” Y/N warned, glancing over her shoulder. “You know what happened last time. If you pull that again, you’re getting kicked out of school.”

“My darling Y/N,” Dylan began with exaggerated sincerity, pausing for effect, “only for you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile.

When they reached her dorm, Y/N kissed Harry on the cheek and took her bag from his shoulder. “I’ll see you both later?” she asked, her eyes bright.

Dylan saluted her without looking up from his phone, while Harry smiled warmly. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you too, Harry,” she replied before disappearing inside.

Harry and Dylan walked in silence toward their dorm. The tension was palpable, Dylan unusually quiet as Harry’s mind churned with unspoken thoughts.

“We’re going to have to tell her at some point,” Dylan murmured, his voice low as the setting sun bathed the path in a golden glow.

Harry’s heart tightened. “No, we don’t.”

“Harry—”

“Shut up, Dylan. Nothing happened.” Harry’s voice was sharp, cutting Dylan off before he could continue.

They stopped, staring at each other, the air between them heavy. Harry’s frustration burned in his eyes, while Dylan’s sadness hung like a weight on his shoulders.

“I love her,” Harry finally said, his voice trembling. “I’ll never love anyone else as much as I love Y/N.”

Without another word, he turned and stormed into their dormitory, leaving Dylan alone on the pavement. Dylan exhaled shakily, the ache in his chest unbearable.

. . .

Then — 1998

Dear Diary,

It’s been a month since my fifteenth birthday, and Harry finally asked me out on a date. It feels like a dream, the kind where everything is so perfect you fear waking up to find it never happened.

To be honest, I think I’m already in love with him. He’s always been so kind to me, much more than Dylan. Harry carries my bag to class when I have netball, and sometimes, during English Literature, I catch him staring at me. There’s something about the way his gaze lingers that makes me feel seen.

In art class, he taught me how to use watercolors for the first time, his thumb brushing against mine as he guided me. Little moments like that remind me how much I care for him—so much that the thought of being without him feels unbearable. Is that dramatic? Probably. But I can’t help it if it’s true.

Even when I’m talking to Ellis during lunch or before bed, my mind wanders back to Harry—his smile, his eyes, the way he laughs at my jokes even when they aren’t funny, and how he hugs me differently from everyone else.

It feels strange to be fifteen and falling so deeply. What do I know about love at this age? How much further can I fall?

I think I’m going to love him forever. I hope he loves me forever too.

-

Dear Diary,

Harry kissed me today. My first kiss—with the boy I love most in the entire world.

I knew it was going to happen. We’d just finished dinner in the dining hall when he asked if I wanted to take a walk in the gardens. Dylan wanted to come along, but Harry shook his head, saying he wanted it to be just the two of us.

I felt a twinge of guilt when I looked back and saw Dylan standing there, his expression heavy as he watched us leave. He kept staring at Harry, even as we walked past the window overlooking the gardens.

Harry brought me to the tulips because he knows they’re my favorite. He said my braid looked pretty today, and that’s when I knew—I truly, completely loved him. It was the worst braid I’ve ever done, but he still thought it was beautiful.

We sat on a swinging bench, listening to birds returning to their nests. When he said my name, it sounded magical, like it had been made for his lips alone. I turned to look at him, and that’s when he leaned in and kissed me.

It felt like a scene from a movie.

No one ever tells you what it’s like to kiss someone for the first time. The way their breath mingles with yours, the world fading away as you close your eyes and step into a place so tender it consumes you. It makes you wonder if you’ve ever been truly loved before.

We only stopped because we heard a rustling in the bushes. We looked around but didn’t find anything, so Harry walked me back to my dorm. He kissed me again outside the door, and I floated through the rest of the night, humming to myself as I got ready for bed.

But when I think back to that moment, I could swear I saw a tuft of blond hair sticking out from behind a bush.

. . .

Now — 2000

Y/N sat cross-legged in front of the mirror on Ellis’ floor, carefully applying mascara as Fiona Apple played softly in the background. Ellis sat nearby, painting her nails a deep red.

“I’m just saying,” Ellis began, waving the brush for emphasis, “you and Harry have been dating for two years, and you haven’t done the deed yet?”

Y/N flushed at the mention of sex, shifting uncomfortably. She hated talking about it, even with Harry. Maybe it was because she didn’t know much about it or because she’d never had a safe space to ask questions, but every time the topic came up—whether in conversation or during truth or dare—she wanted to run for cover.

“We’re waiting for the right time,” Y/N said evenly, her voice robotic as she repeated the well-rehearsed answer.

“The right time?” Ellis scoffed. “I’ve never seen a couple more in love—it’s nauseating.”

Y/N hesitated, her mind drifting to moments when she’d wanted to take things further with Harry. But he always stopped before it went too far. Sometimes it made her feel like she wasn’t enough—pretty enough, desirable enough—but then he’d kiss her softly and remind her how beautiful she was, stroking her cheek as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “We’ve done... things, but not that.”

“Is Harry religious or something?” Ellis asked, narrowing her eyes.

“No, I don’t think so,” Y/N replied with a frown. “He’s never mentioned it.”

“Maybe he’s waiting until marriage,” Ellis mused.

The thought of marrying Harry made Y/N’s heart swell. She’d dreamed of it ever since their first kiss in the gardens—walking down the aisle in a white dress, Harry waiting for her at the end, tears in his eyes. Maybe they’d both cry.

“I don’t mind waiting,” Y/N said, her voice soft but certain. “I love him enough to wait as long as he needs me to.”

Ellis groaned, grabbing a bottle of vodka from her bedside table. “You can’t say stuff like that when I haven’t had a single drink.” She poured herself a shot and downed it in one go. “Okay, continue.”

Y/N laughed and turned back to her reflection, humming Queen’s Love of My Life as her thoughts drifted back to Harry.

. . .

Then — 1998

Dear Harry,

Today we went to the beach—the three of us. Me, you, and Y/N. I know in most situations it’s you, Y/N, then me, but in these letters, it will always be me and you.

We’d been planning this trip for weeks. It’s a three-hour drive to the coast from school, and Y/N had been complaining about the journey the entire time. I didn’t mind. Is it wrong of me to want to sit next to you on a bus full of people not one of them knowing who we are for three whole hours? Our knees touching for three whole hours? Sand on your feet and your hair salty from the sea, inhaling your scent and wanting your hand to touch my thigh for three whole hours?

When we got there, the morning was overcast, but by the time we hit the sand, the sun broke through the clouds. It was perfect. The light caught your skin, making it glisten, and your eyes shone with that impossible sea-glass green. I wanted to look into them forever, but you were too busy looking at Y/N.

I tried to catch your attention—touching your shoulder as I passed by, reaching for the beach bag at the same time as you, brushing my fingers against yours. But it didn’t matter. You only had eyes for her, and I only had eyes for you.

When you kissed her in the gardens, a part of me died. I had been pining for you for so long, silently hoping you’d see me, but it was always her. I felt stupid, running miles afterward, the wind howling in my ears: You fool, you idiot, how could he ever love you?

I didn’t want to feel this way, Harry. I tried to bury it, to pretend it wasn’t real, but when I met you, everything I’d hidden about myself unraveled.

The day wasn’t without its drama. Y/N, distracted, stepped into the road thinking the approaching van was the bus. You moved so fast, grabbing her and pulling her back before the van could hit her. I watched the terror flash across your face, the way you held her afterward as she cried. You kissed her forehead, comforted her, showed her the kind of love I’d only ever dreamed of.

And I hated her for it.

I feel terrible admitting this because I do love Y/N. I truly do. But most days, I hate her, and only because she has you.

When we finally got to the beach, the three of us ran toward the waves, shedding our clothes as we went, laughing like we were carefree children. For a moment, we were. We left our troubles behind in the sand.

You swung Y/N over your shoulder as you splashed into the water, and I couldn’t help but admire the way your muscles flexed. You were a work of art, Harry, something meant to be admired in a gallery. And I was nothing more than an observer, longing for what I could never have.

Later, Y/N went to get ice cream. Before she left, she asked for your order, and I already knew what you’d say—mint chocolate chip. The way she looked surprised made me feel smug for a second, but that quickly disappeared when she said it was her favorite too.

While she was gone, I felt a cramp in my shoulder. “Let me,” you murmured, and before I could answer, your fingertips ghosted over my shoulder, pressing into the tight muscle.

I couldn’t breathe, Harry. You were so close, your breath warm against my neck. For a split second, I thought if I just turned my head, I could kiss you.

I’ll never forget that moment for as long as I live. Even if you do.

. . .

Now — 2000

Dylan and Harry were in their dorm room, preparing for the party. Harry stood in front of the mirror, anxiously gelling his hair back.

“I think I’m going to do it,” Harry said suddenly, turning to face Dylan. “I’m going to go all the way with Y/N.”

Dylan froze, his heart sinking. He lit a cigarette, trying to appear nonchalant as he perched on the windowsill. “Really? Are you sure that’s a good idea?” His voice betrayed him, tinged with irritation and jealousy.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m just saying, are you sure it’s the right time to sleep with her? After... what happened?”

Harry’s expression darkened. “Nothing happened. It was a mistake.”

“You keep saying that,” Dylan said, standing now, his voice rising. “Like you’re trying to gaslight me into thinking I imagined it. But I’ve imagined kissing you enough times to know what’s real and what’s not.”

Harry’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching. “I was drunk, and you took advantage of me.”

The words hit Dylan like a slap, but he forced himself to stay calm. “Don’t try that with me, Harry. It might work in your petty arguments with Y/N, but it won’t work on me. You’re the one twisting the truth to fit your narrative.”

“I don’t care what you think,” Harry snapped. “I only care about Y/N. And if you can’t handle that, maybe you need to step away—from both of us.”

“Step away?” Dylan said incredulously, his voice breaking. “You want me to walk away from the only two people who’ve ever cared about me? You want me to walk away from you?”

Harry hesitated, guilt flickering across his face. “You know how I feel about Y/N. I love her. I’m in love with her. Even if I felt something for you, it would never compare.”

“You’re lying,” Dylan whispered, his eyes glassy. “If you loved her so much, you wouldn’t have kissed me in the first place.”

“You don’t know anything!” Harry exploded, his voice shaking with fury. “Do you know what would happen if someone found out? What it would do to Y/N? To us? I felt nothing! It was a mistake!”

“Harry—”

“No,” Harry cut him off. “Whatever feelings you have, whatever intentions, you need to get over them.”

“That’s not as easy as you think—”

“You have to.” Harry’s voice was sharp, leaving no room for argument. Dylan stared at him, shattered, as Harry turned and stormed out.

He left Dylan standing there, broken, feeling like Harry had taken his very soul with him.

. . .

Then — 1999

Dear Harry,

We’ve been assigned as partners in media class, and now we have to make a music video. Naturally, you asked Y/N if she’d star in it. You told her she was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen and that she’d be perfect for it. She blushed, of course, and said yes. Then you kissed her—so long and so deeply that I had to look away.

I imagined myself in her place, wondering what it would be like to kiss you in public, to have the world see how much I adored you. If it were allowed, I don’t think I’d ever stop kissing you.

Today, we filmed the music video. You wanted it to feel like a coming-of-age story. I’d wanted something more abstract, but I agreed to your ideas, nodding eagerly at every suggestion, whether it was brilliant or terrible.

We filmed in the gardens—my least favorite place in the entire school. That’s where you kissed Y/N for the first time, and if I could erase that night from my memory, I would in a heartbeat.

The sun was shining as you whispered into Y/N’s ear while I set up the camera. I tried to block out the sound of your laughter, the sight of her hand on your shoulder.

“Are we ready?” I called, my voice louder than I intended. You straightened up immediately.

“Dylan, why don’t you be in the video with me?” Y/N smiled warmly. She had that rare ability to make everyone feel seen, like she was radiating sunshine. It was impossible not to smile back.

“My darling, you know I’m not nearly as perfect as you,” I teased, watching her blush.

I don’t even remember when I started calling her “my darling.” The first time, I remember catching the flash of jealousy in your eyes. I liked that. I liked seeing you react to me, even if it wasn’t in the way I wanted. You’re used to it now, but sometimes, when I say it, I still see a flicker of something in your gaze.

The music video took all day to shoot. Every time Y/N nailed a scene, you rewarded her with a kiss. I worked hard too, Harry. Shouldn’t I have been rewarded in some way?

When Y/N left for her library shift that evening, it was just the two of us. You wanted to capture the soft glow of the sunset, so we stayed behind to get more footage.

“My mother wants me to go into politics,” you said as we sat cross-legged on the grass, the camera between us. “But I’d love to do this—be a director. I’ve always wanted to be an artist of some kind. It’s a silly dream, but I think about it all the time.”

I could imagine it. You had a way of leading people, commanding attention without being arrogant. You cared so deeply—for the art, for the people—that it would probably destroy you someday.

“It’s not silly,” I said. “It’s never silly to dream. My God, Harry, we only live once. Might as well do everything we can to feel something in the little time we have.”

You looked at me then, really looked at me. For the first time, I thought you might be feeling a fraction of what I felt every day. “I’ve never told anyone that before. Not even Y/N knows.”

“It’ll be our secret,” I whispered. And for a moment, I could’ve sworn you glanced at my lips.

Then, just as quickly, you diverted the topic. Grabbing the camera, you aimed it at me lying in the grass. “Looks like Y/N’s not the only model anymore,” you teased.

I tried to act indifferent, but I would’ve stayed there all night if it meant seeing you laugh like that.

It makes me wonder, Harry—do you know how much power you have over your friends? Do you know that you have two people who worship the ground you walk on? How does it feel to be desired? How does it feel to have a choice in who you love?

. . .

Now — 2000

“You’re here!” Y/N beamed, running into Harry’s arms and wrapping her hands around his neck.

“Hey, baby,” he murmured, kissing her temple before setting her down.

The party was already in full swing. Students from across campus had crammed into Ellis’ dorm, the air thick with music, laughter, and the faint smell of alcohol.

“Hi, Dylan,” Y/N greeted, pulling him into a tight hug. “You’re dressed pretty smart. Planning on impressing anyone tonight?”

“Only you, darling,” Dylan replied, forcing a wink and a smirk despite the ache in his chest. Harry’s words from earlier still rang in his ears, but he pushed them aside.

Harry’s eyes darted to the cup in Y/N’s hand. “Have you been drinking?” he asked, his tone light but concerned.

“It’s water,” she whispered with a smile. Harry relaxed. She wasn’t much of a drinker, and he knew that.

“You look so pretty,” he said, marvelling at her dress. It was the one she wore for special occasions—one he had once told her was his favourite. A pang of guilt pricked at his heart as she looked back at him, her doe eyes filled with love.

“Come dance with me!” she said, pulling him toward the living room. “Both of you! My boys!”

Harry and Dylan followed her to the dance floor. The song Love My Way blared through the speakers, and Y/N moved between them, carefree and radiant.

At first, Harry danced with her, his focus entirely on Y/N. But then his gaze shifted to Dylan, who was swaying along with the music. Something unspoken passed between them, an invisible thread pulling them closer.

Harry laughed when Dylan moved towards him and for a moment they had forgotten everything around them. Dylan was just Dylan and Harry was just Harry, two boys who felt something they weren’t allowed to feel in the eyes of everyone else.

Harry was so close, their faces almost touching and for a moment Dylan thought they might kiss. But the blissful moment was broken as Harry stepped away, shaking his head, “N-No.” He whispered, “No, No, No.” He shook his head, his eyes frantic in search of Y/N.

“O-Oh, Harry,” Y/N yelped as he grabbed hold of her hand and lead her out of Ellis’ dorm and over to her own, three doors down from where the party was happening.

“What are you doing? Are you okay?” She cups his face in her hands and he exhales, trying to regain composure. This was the girl he loved, the only girl he could ever love and being in her hands felt like home. Didn’t it?

“Y-Y/N, I-I think I’m ready.” He presses his forehead against hers, kissing her bottom lip. “I’m ready.”

Her lips part in shock. She hadn’t been expecting this tonight and she wasn’t sure where Harry’s sudden desperation was coming from. He kissed down her neck as she tried to speak to him, “H-Harry, a-are you sure?” He nodded, his mouth leaving open mouthed kisses on her shoulder.

“I love you Y/N.” He looked into her eyes and she saw the sincerity behind them but also a hint of something else that she couldn’t quite place.

He started to peel her clothing off, his fingertips gently brushing against her soft skin. She tried to steady her breathing but her chest caved in and out as the oxygen in the room seemed to be escaping as he moved down her body. “Harry,” She whispered and he could hear the desperation in her voice. She reached for his hand and intertwined their fingers together.

Y/N was stripped down to her bra and underwear. This was the most skin she had revealed to anybody but she trusted Harry with everything in her, he was her best friend. He blew warm air over the thin material of her bra and her nipples hardened, an overwhelming sense of desire and lust flooding her insides. It was so new and overwhelming, her hands shaking as she ran her fingers through his hair and tugged on the roots.

“Baby,” He whispered, his hands cupping her thighs as he pressed kisses down her body.

“Harry, wait.” She murmured, his eyes looking up from where he was laying between her legs, “You’re still dressed.” She sat up and tugged on the hem of his sweater.

He laughed softly, as she struggled to pull the sweater over his head. She marvelled at the sound and kissed the tip of his nose. He pulled her onto his lap and she grinded her hips against his, “God look at you.” He whispered. “Don’t leave me Y/N. You can never leave me.”

“I’m never going to.” She said it like it was a promise.

His hands hooked the straps of her bra and he gently pulled them down, her breath hitching as the pad of his thumb brushed against the side of her breast. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him in tightly, his face burying into the crook of her neck as he inhaled her.

This was going to be perfect, she thought, nothing could go wrong.

She grinded her hips against him again, a groan eliciting from his lip and a name escaping past the lips he had kissed her with so many times.

“Dylan.” Y/N froze. Her blood ran cold, and she pulled away as though Harry’s touch burned her.

“What did you say?” She pulled away, suddenly being naked in front of him didn’t feel right, being in a space alone with him didn’t feel right, everything she had ever felt for him before this moment didn’t feel right.

“Y/N,” He reached for her but she slipped away from him, slipped out of his touch, a touch she begged for just moments ago.

Harry’s heart no longer existed, wherever it was it had abandoned him and left him here in this terrible moment to fend for himself. He felt his eyes well up with tears as he watched Y/N try to pick up her discarded clothes. This wasn’t how it was meant to be, she was suppose to be picking up his clothes after a night making love to each other.

“Y-You said his name.” Y/N whimpered, she was panicking and Harry could do nothing but watch.

“Baby I-”

“NO.” She spat, “You don’t get to call me that. Not anymore.”

Harry watched as she turned around and clutched at her head, her knees buckling as she fell to the ground. She sobbed and sobbed, his hear wrenching at the sound of it. He had never heard a sound so painful in his life and he wanted to die in this very moment.

“No, No, No, No.” She sobbed, her shoulders shaking.

“Y/N please just let me explain.” Harry tried, crouching down in front of her and trying to place a hand on her now clothed shoulder.

“NO.” She pushed him away and leaped back, her back hitting the wall.

Harry was broken. He was truly broken. This was something well out of his reach in fixing and nothing he could do or say could make up for the fact that he had hurt the two people he loved and cherished the most in this world, in the span of one night.

“Get out of my room!” She began to scream, “Get out of here!”

A knock at the door shattered the silence.

“Hey, you guys in there?” Dylan’s voice called from the hallway.

Before Harry could respond, Y/N lunged for the door, anger blazing in her eyes.

“Get out of my room!” she screamed, her voice raw with betrayal.

Harry caught her before she reached Dylan, her fists pounding against his chest. “I’m broken,” she whimpered, her strength fading. “You broke me.”

And for the first time, Harry knew what it felt like to be utterly powerless.

. . .

Then — 2000

Dear Diary,

You know those secrets so big they feel like they could swallow you whole? The kind you promise never to tell a soul for as long as you live? At first, they consume you, taking over every thought and breath. But over time, they settle into the corners of your mind, a quiet part of you that only stirs when something triggers it.

Well, today I made one of those secrets.

It was a Tuesday, the day I volunteer in the library after school. There’s something peaceful about wandering the empty halls when no one else is around—a stark contrast to the chaos between periods. Mrs. Ableton asked me to deliver a stack of books to the English Literature cupboard. Our copies of The Catcher in the Rye were practically falling apart, so we’d ordered replacements.

As I walked through the hall, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye near the classroom where Harry and I have English together. Curious, I paused, almost dropping the books in my hands.

Harry was leaning against a desk, and Dylan stood in front of him. At first, I thought nothing of it and smiled, reaching for the door handle to make myself known. But then Dylan stepped closer, touched Harry’s hand, and kissed him.

I froze.

I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. The same lips that had kissed mine were now kissing the lips of my best friend.

I wanted to cry, but I was too shocked to do anything but stand there, watching. A part of me hoped I was trapped in a nightmare—that I’d wake up, call Harry, and laugh about how silly it all was. But when Dylan pulled back, Harry grabbed his arm and kissed him again.

That time, I couldn’t watch.

I backed away, the tears finally falling. My mind raced as I searched for somewhere—anywhere—I could cry louder, scream even, because this wasn’t something I could cry about quietly.

Harry was mine. But he was also Dylan’s.

By the time I went to bed, I’d convinced myself I would confront them. I’d tell them I saw what happened and ask if we could move on, pretend it never happened. But as the hours stretched on, I realized I didn’t want to speak about it. Talking about it would mean reliving it, over and over.

I didn’t want to remember.

I just wanted Harry.

So, this is a secret I’ll take to my grave. I’ll never tell a soul I watched Harry kiss Dylan in a way he never kissed me.

Even if it breaks me.

. . .

Now — 2000

“What happened?” Dylan asked. They were back in his dorm now, Harry pacing the room like a caged animal.

“She knows,” Harry muttered, his fingers pulling at his hair—a habit whenever he was upset. “She knows about us, what we did.”

Dylan collapsed onto the bed, his face pale. “How?”

Harry stopped and turned to him, shame written all over his face. “I said your name.”

Dylan’s shoulders sagged, and he buried his face in his hands. Images of Y/N, broken and sobbing on her bedroom floor, flashed through his mind. She had begged them to fix her, but they were the ones who broke her.

“It’s fine,” Harry rambled, his voice shaking. “I-I’ll give her some time, however long she needs. Then I’ll explain. I’ll explain it was a misunderstanding.”

“Harry,” Dylan said gently, standing to take Harry’s hands in his own. “I don’t think there’s enough time in the world for Y/N to get over this.”

Harry’s breath hitched, and a sob escaped him as he crumpled into Dylan’s arms. Dylan ran his fingers through Harry’s hair, resting his cheek against Harry’s head. “It’s okay, love,” he whispered. “Everything will be alright.”

“I hurt her so bad, Dylan,” Harry cried. “I love her, and I hurt her.”

“She was always going to find out,” Dylan said softly, the truth cutting deeper than any lie.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” Harry whispered.

Dylan sighed. “Why do you always talk about how things are meant to be? You act like your life was mapped out before you left the womb. Was it ‘meant to be’ that the three of us became inseparable? That you fell in love with both of us because you care so deeply? That I fell in love with you because you see art in everything? None of this was ‘meant to be,’ Harry. It just happened. And now we deal with it.”

Harry pulled back, tears streaking his face. “You still love me? Even after I pushed you away?”

Dylan smiled sadly, wiping a tear from Harry’s cheek. “I love you despite everything.”

Harry’s lips ghosted over Dylan’s, and for a moment, it felt like all their pain had been lifted. “Dylan,” Harry whispered, his voice trembling as he said the name again and again, like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“You can say my name as much as you want, love,” Dylan murmured. “I’ll always be here.”

. . .

Three weeks passed and the friends were no longer talking to each other, instead they acted as though they didn’t know each other as they passed each other in the hallway.

Harry had to try and not flinch when he saw Y/N scurry pass him, her eyes red and bloodshot as Ellis comforted her, glaring at Harry as they did. He wanted to speak to her but he was never given the chance to, rightly so considering what he had done to her.

Dylan and Harry, mostly Harry, thought it would best to keep their distance for a while. It killed them both to not be around each other but for the sake of their friendship with Y/N, they shared small moments of brief eye contact and touches throughout the day. Neither of them knew what was to come for the both of them but this limbo was enough for now.

Dylan ate lunch alone and as he did, he listened to the conversations of everyone around him. He wondered what it felt like for them to go about their day feeling like they belong in their own skin and not feel ashamed over who they love. He had never felt so alienated and so out of touch with himself.

He had been given an after school detention for an hour with Mr Henley after calling him sexist in front of the class. No one was around when he left the classroom until he saw a group of girls walking across the field.

At the end of the line was Y/N, wearing her netball uniform.

She must have caught sight of him because the next thing he knew, she was walking up to him. He had to check behind him to see he was seeing correctly.

“Hi Dylan,” She keeps her distance for reasons unknown to him but being around her again made him relax, he missed the friendship he shared right at the very beginning when they were thirteen and picking each other up from class to go to the sweet shop after school.

“Hey Y/N.” He offers her a smile.

“How are you doing?” He didn’t miss the way she gripped her bag like she was trying to stop herself from saying anything she really wanted to.

“I feel like I should be asking you that.” Y/N huffs, “I’ve had better days.” “Y/N-”

“Just tell me this,” She starts, “H-How long?”

Dylan decided he would be as honest and as straight to the point as he could be, it was what she deserved at least.

“Y/N the only thing we did was kiss one time. Harry stopped it because he’s in love with you.”

“And you’re in love with him.”

“Y-Yes.”

Y/N laughs incredulously, “We could never just be three best friends could we? It was always going to be complicated.”

“We could still be best friends Y/N.”

“But it’s not the same now is it?” She bit back and Dylan realised he needed to be careful with what he said. “Is he sad?”

“Terribly. Sometimes I hear him crying in his room at night.”

A silence fell between them which was strange. Y/N and Dylan has always had a brother-sister relationship, Dylan was always one to tease Y/N and make her laugh but right now it seemed all he was doing was making her upset.

“I’m moving schools.” Y/N confessed, “At the end of the term, I’m moving to Bridgewater. Mum’s moving in with her fiancee, and she wants me to be closer.”

“When were you going to tell us?” Dylan was shocked.

“I was given the choice. I could stay here or move to another school but if I stayed I’d have to stay at my dad’s during the holidays and I’m not in the mood to be lectured during my time away from school.”

Dylan didn’t know what to say, he couldn’t fathom the three of them not being together for such a long period of time. “I know what you’re thinking. I know I need to tell him but if we are going to have a shot at being friends again, I need to be away from you both.”

“Y/N,” Dylan shakes his head, “It doesn’t have to be like this,”

“You know I saw you when you kissed each other in the English Literature classroom?” She confessed, Dylan’s lips parting. “He kissed you in a way that he never kissed me. Everytime we kissed afterwards all I could think about was how different it was, how I desperately wanted him to kiss me the way I had seen him kiss you. I used to write in my diary about how I would die if I didn’t have him near me. I thought he would be the end of me but I didn’t realise you would be too.”

“I know he loves you Dylan and... I’m happy for you but I’m not selfless enough to stand beside you both and watch you fall in love when I so desperately love him too.”

“Y/N,” Dylan reaches out for her hand and takes it, “I’m sorry.” “I know Dylan, I know.”

. . .

Now — 2000

Harry’s leg wouldn’t stop jittering as he sat outside the school library on a Tuesday evening. He’d been waiting for this moment for weeks, replaying it over and over in his mind. He had spent countless hours rehearsing his apology to Y/N until it became a permanent loop in his thoughts.

When the library door swung open, he shot up immediately, brushing down his school trousers and running a hand through his hair. Y/N stepped out, holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand and her backpack slung over her shoulder.

She looked better than she had in weeks, and Harry’s heart ached at the sight of her. He would have carried her bag for her if they were still together.

Her expression changed when she saw him, her voice barely above a whisper. “H-Harry.”

“I came,” he said quickly, the words tumbling out. “I-I couldn’t believe it when I got your text. I’d have waited here for hours if you hadn’t shown up.”

Her face softened briefly, but she walked past him. “Follow me,” she said simply.

He trailed behind her as she led him to the gardens—the place where they’d shared their first kiss and filmed the music video for his and Dylan’s project. It was a space filled with memories of the three of them: Y/N doing homework, Dylan reading, and Harry strumming his guitar.

They sat down on the swinging bench, a familiar seat now heavy with unspoken tension. Harry noticed she kept her distance, and though every fiber of his being wanted to pull her close, he knew it wasn’t the right time.

“Who gave you those?” Harry finally asked, nodding at the flowers in her hand. A flicker of hope crossed his face.

“Debbie,” she said, referring to the school librarian. “It’s my last day working at the library.”

“You quit?” Harry frowned, his gaze flicking from the flowers to her face.

Y/N inhaled deeply before speaking. “I’m leaving, Harry.”

The wind seemed to leave him. “N-No,” he stammered, shaking his head. “You—you can’t. You can’t just leave. I won’t let you—”

“Harry,” she interrupted, reaching for his hand and holding it gently in her lap. “It’s what’s best.”

“How can you say that?” he asked, trying to pull his hand away, though her warmth made it impossible. “How can you say it’s what’s best? The three of us—we’re supposed to be together.”

“It’s a little too late for that, don’t you think?” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she looked at him. He looked thinner, more tired than she’d ever seen him, but she couldn’t help him—not anymore.

“Y/N, the thing with Dylan...” Harry began, his voice cracking. “I-I never meant for it to happen. We were just alone, I was stressed, and my emotions got the better of me. But I don’t feel the same way about him as I do about you.”

She shook her head softly. “Maybe that’s true, but not in the way you think. Dylan has always been there for you, Harry, in ways I never could. The way you look at him... it’s like he hung the stars in the sky just for you, like he tilted the sun so it would never blind you but still brighten your world.

“Maybe you do love me,” she continued, her voice trembling, “but love isn’t just about taking care of someone. It’s not carrying my backpack because it’s too heavy or doing my homework when I’m too tired after netball. Love is about being vulnerable. It’s about being taken care of, about laughing and crying and feeling like your heart is burning, and nothing can put it out.

“Now tell me, Harry. Did you ever feel that way with me? Were you ever vulnerable with me?”

Harry’s heart cracked. He opened his mouth to respond but couldn’t find the words.

“Please, Y/N,” he whimpered, his voice breaking. “I can’t be without you.”

“You have Dylan,” she said, trying to be the bigger person even though it shattered her inside. “It was never going to be me, Harry. Can you honestly look me in the eye and tell me you don’t have feelings for him?”

Harry looked down at the ground, his silence all the confirmation she needed.

Her heart broke all over again, but she forced herself to stay strong. “Why do you have to go?” he asked, tears streaming down his face.

“Because, Harry,” she said gently, “what good would it do for the three of us if I stayed? You need to find out who you are, and so do I. Before me, it was you and Dylan. Now, it will end that way - with you and Dylan.”

“And what about you?” he asked desperately. “What will you do? Where will you go?”

“I don’t know yet,” she admitted. “But I’m grateful for what I’ve had. You and Dylan will always be a part of me. I hope one day we’ll forget this pain, and everything will be okay again.”

She reached out, brushing his hair back the way she used to. “I love you, Harry. I love you so much, I feel like I could burst.”

“I love you too,” he murmured. For the first time, he meant it in a way that felt true—not as a lover, but as a best friend.

“Be brave,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “And tell him you love him.”

Harry nodded as the tears fell freely, clinging to her like a child who didn’t want to let go.

She was going to love him forever. She now knew he wouldn’t.

. . .

“She’s gone,” Dylan said softly from the doorway of Harry’s bedroom.

Harry sat at his desk, a pen still in his hand though it hovered, unmoving, above the page. “Was she alright?” he murmured.

“She was better than we probably thought,” Dylan admitted, realizing how much they’d underestimated Y/N’s strength. They’d always thought it was their job to protect her, but she’d always been stronger than the two of them combined.

“Right,” Harry muttered, his voice hollow.

Dylan moved to sit on the bed, the springs creaking under his weight. “I was thinking we could have the leftover soup for dinner instead of going to the dining hall.”

“I’m not hungry,” Harry replied—a rare admission from someone who was always hungry.

Dylan frowned. “How long are you going to wallow in this? Can’t you see we’re both trying to do the right thing for your benefit?”

Harry turned to him, anger flashing in his eyes. “And what exactly are you doing?”

“I’ve been keeping my distance,” Dylan snapped. “Acting like we’re strangers when we’re the complete opposite. Do you know how much it kills me to not be near you? To have to hide from myself?”

Harry stood abruptly. “And you think I’m not struggling? You think I haven’t been grappling with everything I feel?”

“Oh, don’t give me that bullshit!” Dylan shouted, standing to meet Harry’s gaze. “You had someone who loved you for two whole years. You have everything, Harry—loving parents, the best grades, popularity. And you act like it’s all been taken from you because I kissed you!”

“Y/N is gone because of us!” Harry yelled back.

“No,” Dylan said fiercely, his voice rising. “She’s gone because of you! Because you’re too afraid to be honest about who you are! Because you care too much about what everyone else thinks. That’s why she’s gone!”

Their faces were inches apart, their anger radiating in the small space between them.

“How dare you? Can’t you see this is difficult for me to accept?” Harry shouted, his voice trembling with anger and frustration.

“What is?” Dylan snapped back, stepping closer. “What is so difficult, Harry? What’s so hard that you have to sit in the dark and ignore the only two people who’ve ever truly cared about you? Huh? What is it? Tell me. TELL ME.”

“I am in love with you!” Harry yelled, the words ripping out of him like they had been clawing to escape for years. “I am a fool, and I am in love with you.”

Dylan froze, stunned. His breath caught in his throat as the weight of Harry’s confession settled over him. The words he had dreamed of hearing for years hung in the air between them, impossible to ignore.

“What?” Dylan managed, his voice barely a whisper.

“I have loved you since the moment I met you,” Harry said, his voice softer now but no less raw. “And it’s been killing me every day since. I think of you—daily, nightly, every moment in between—and it tears me apart. Kissing you was the bravest thing I’ve ever done, and denying it afterward made me a coward. But here I am now, standing in front of you, a man stupidly, hopelessly in love with his best friend.”

Harry’s eyes were red and glassy, the weight of years of unspoken emotion etched into his every feature.

Dylan stared at him, speechless. He had imagined this moment countless times, but now that it was real, the depth of Harry’s vulnerability left him breathless.

“Kiss me,” Dylan whispered, his voice breaking. “Kiss me.”

Harry didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, cupping Dylan’s face in his hands as though it had been crafted to fit perfectly in his palms. Then he kissed him—fervent and unrestrained, pouring every ounce of his love and longing into that singular moment.

Dylan’s world ignited. A piece of him that had been dormant for years finally came alive. His heart and mind, long at odds, now burned in harmony as Harry’s lips moved against his. He felt consumed, but in the most beautiful way, as if he could lose himself in Harry forever and never once regret it.

“I love you too, Harry,” Dylan whispered when they finally parted, their foreheads resting together.

“I bloody well hope so,” Harry murmured, a small laugh escaping his lips as tears spilled down his cheeks.

. . .

Now

Dear Harry,

I’d like to tell you a story that will more than likely make you happy.

One day, I was sat in a café, only a twenty-minute walk away from Southend Park School, which is closed down now and turned into a factory to fix airplanes. I bought my usual order of a decaf cappuccino and a slice of toffee apple cake. On this particular day, they added more sugar to my cappuccino, so I knew it would be a good day.

Across from me, a woman sat, her dog lying down at her feet as she read The Catcher in the Rye whilst sipping on a fruit tea. I didn’t think much of it, but I found it interesting the way she would read something and then shakily jot something down in the little notebook on the table.

Anyway, I had originally come to the café so I could write about our trip to Brighton. You were still complaining about the sand in your clothes just last night despite the fact that Brighton has no sand.

“It’s alright, love,” I comforted you, helping you put your pyjamas on.

“It bothers me, Dylan.” You responded, coughing into your handkerchief.

We don’t leave our small bungalow very often because you don’t like to leave the dogs and I don’t like change, but this trip to Brighton was one we had been planning for a year or so, so we didn’t really have much choice in the matter.

We spent a lot of time sat on the beach in the evenings whilst we were there, a blanket wrapped around the both of us as we fed the seagulls. I remember you saying you liked the sound of the ocean because it made you feel like we were seventeen again, running into the ocean without a care in the world.

You then proceeded to mention how worried you are about our Y/N, “I hope she’s doing alright, our Y/N.” You said and then went back to talking about a programme you watched the night before.

You had always worried about Y/N in the years after she left, always asking where she was or what she was up to despite the fact we never got in contact with her again. I also wonder whether or not she is okay, and I knew that if I were to see her again, I would thank her for allowing us the space to fall in love.

It was awfully difficult those months after we kissed in your bedroom. We were constantly berated by people we had never spoken to before, and I knew it bothered you for a while, but we overcame it just like we did every other obstacle in our lives... together.

Anyway, as I continued to write about our trip, the door to the café opened again and three middle-aged people walked over to the elderly lady in the corner. “Come on Mum, we’ve got to say goodbye to Dad now,” the man spoke to her, and she swatted him away. Something about that small action gave me a strong sense of déjà vu.

“Give me a moment,” the woman responded, and the three children sat at the table in the chairs around her.

Eventually, they managed to get her standing up. One of them placed her coat around her shoulders, and another handed her her walking stick. When she turned to look at me, I saw a familiar set of eyes looking straight at me.

The three people aiding her walked to the door and held it open for her. As she was about to step out the door, her walking stick fell out of her shaky hands and right at my feet. I quickly picked it up and handed it to her, her face brightening at the sight of me.

“Thank you.” Her voice still sounded the same all that time ago.

“No... Thank you, my darling.”

[lychgate]

i haven't posted a really poorly drawn thought piece adventure in years so here's a brief update!

hope i hit the read more thing right oh well anyway:

"Spent a lot of time applying for a home loan. I had to pay -fucked up- to have a convincing income for a decent loan. It was very confusing but cody helped me a lot."

"Cody proposed to me It felt wonderful that someone wanted to share their time and love with me. Cody proposed Anthrohio weekend, it's the con we really met at."

"We saw the listing that sunday morning before we had to go to our table to vend."

"It was a perfect house. We were the first people to view it and we immediately put in a bid. And we got the house. Many papers to sign."

"Moving was not easy. It took 2 whole months. Cody was out of town helping their grandma recover from a big surgery and we had to sell their old house/move that as well as move from my apartment. ALSO THE PETS: My cat dick wolf + Cody's 3 birds. Until we could get some doors installed and separate the house, I had to live between two places every day to feed and care for them."

"Still, life was good. I bought my first house! It has a swing in the backyard. I've never had my own backyard. I've never even lived somewhere that had trees (in said yard) It felt nice. Living together with the love of my life and 4 pets."

"Through all this i never closed my shop. How could I? It was my income, and I just bought a house. It needed to stay open. Moving that much inventory, setting up a new office, the house is a nice size but it's not huge, so, very careful organizing had to be executed if I wanted my apparel laid out right. (Which I totally managed to do)"

"but i Did get really good at baking pies. the two are connected."

"sacred_crow on instagram!"

"there's like 25 of u bastards i would absolutely die for, and about 75 more that i would go nearly dead over."

"We have an extra bedroom so I got to turn it into a toy room. There's games, crafts, stuffed animals, movies, a sick loft I painted the shit out of. It rules. It brings me a lot of Joy."

"Under the loft we have a dug out where we can watch VHS tapes. I love to sit with Cody and watch movies and play Donkey Kong."

"I am not good at Banjo Kazooie, but Cody is. Cody is so talented. I love watching them play games. (Depicted is not banjo kazooie but donkey kong country 2 as we are currently playing that. I'm good at DKC but I will still swear and make sounds like im about to throw up)"

"Half the basement is finished, so we turned it into a dual office space. It rules. Cody has a whole side for fursuit crafting, and my side is mostly my gigantic gamer computer area/shipping area. I took a whole wall to put all my non apparel merch like pins charms and notebooks also. for hte love of god someone buy the notebooks they take up more space then i wanted"

"I love to look over from my computer and see cody working. They always look so focused, yet peaceful."

"It's winter but it rains. I miss the snow. I lived by the lakes growing up. I miss piles of snow. It's just wet and cold here. Yes i'm quite aware of global warming"

"I got kicked off both my health and car insurance. I fixed the car one but health insurance still no. All my meds have gone away. The past few months have been hard. I think way too much lately. I can't get myself to do anything. -this is a whole page of downer bullshit and i cropped it!-"

"We had a leaky ceiling that took a month to fix. Cody did all the work because they are smart and kind."

"Oh yeah I had my uterus removed earlier this year. They let me keep it. It's in a jar in my living room."

"We threw a very nice halloween party. I was the green m&m. Cody was the monarch."

"We adopted 8 beautiful kiwis from a crane machine at the mall. we spent over 100 monies to get them but it was worth it."

"

It was a rough year. My health is in decline. Our country may try to end my life for being trans soon (lol?) I am in hte middle of a colossal mental breakdown of my core fundamental behavior (depression advanced) BUT ALSO: I am engaged to my favorite person. We bought a house together. I'm beginning a new chapter of my life. I have a swing in my backyard. The negatives suck but there are also many positives. The cycle of emotions is immense, but there is beauty in it. There is beauty in life, and isn't that wonderful?"