#this might be the first time some of the new followers hear my voice for the 1st time actually (´･ω･`) spanish accent jumpscare /lh

[riddlemearose]

There were a couple of things for me.

The first was realising the plot, especially the opening tutorial area, was a copy-paste from BOTW. Ghost King, area secluded from the rest of the map where you have to complete four shrines to leave, etc etc. It didn't have any of the importance that I felt the Great Plateau did. Hearing Zelda's voice, watching the Calamity awaken and envelop the castle, and finally having Rhoam himself be the one to ask you to save Zelda and the rest of the Kingdom hit hard, and I didn't get any of that w/ Rauru and the sky islands.

The next thing was the loss of the Sheikah tech like everywhere - and finding out that the devs were like "yeah it just vanished". Umm what? The Sheikah and the ancient technology is one of the two cores of BOTW's whole narrative, with the other core being nature. Number 1 how do you just strip that away, especially when it's so key to Hyrule's history? And number 2, what's replaced the Sheikah tech then? The answer is nothing. The Zonai were introduced to be a replacement, but the writers never went in depth with anything about the Zonai. They lived, they died, we get to use their stuff for free.

The Secret Stones. Wtf is up with them? It feels weird that Ganondorf is causing the regional phenomena to stop people from finding the Stones or something, when literally no one knows wtf a Secret Stone is, nor would be able to or have any reason to go access the temples where they're kept. Ganondorf causing the regional phenomena is the direct reason anyone gets a Secret Stone. If he didn't do anything (like he does w/ the rest of the plot), then Link wouldn't have a single Sage?????

The biggest thing for me is the plot. For an open-world game, TOTK has an extremely linear and extremely shallow storyline. The thing about BOTW is it literally doesn't matter what order you do anything in; the story is the same and, better yet, it's wholly unaffected by your choices (in a good way obviously).

Totk does not have that. For example the devs don't want you to get the Master Sword before you find all the other Dragon Tears, Mineru and clear the Great Deku Tree, despite giving you the technology to get to the Light Dragon.

So if your story is reliant on people following it in a linear way otherwise they either get massive spoilers about important plot points, then it shouldn't be in an open-world game.

And finally Ganondorf. Oh my god, Ganondorf. This might get catch some shit but I dunno how they managed to make him more bland. His entire character is literally summarised perfectly by Yunobo in-game as "we don't know anything about the Demon King other than the fact that he's bad news and super strong".

Writers that is your main antagonist! We should know stuff about him? We should know his motivations and they should be more complex than "wants to destroy everything bc Power"?? What are you doing???

I was done w/ the game by the time I got to Ganondorf. Walked into the boss fight w/ several rocket shields, at least two 5-shot Lynel Bows and about 800 bomb flowers from exploring the depths to hide from the plot. Whole thing was over Very Quickly.

To summarise, here are my thoughts on TOTK Cons: the entire plot Pros: Glide Armour

wont have time to work on anything for a few days probably, so uh, since i love reading comments/tags of people sharing their experiences- as part of the preparation for the totk rant script i got another question to ask :3

if you dont like tears of the kingdom, was there a moment that "broke" you, as in, the moment you knew this game is worse than you thought/hoped, and if so what was it?

personally, while i was suspicious after seeing its last trailer, i told myself its just me again and i kept up my hopes for a long time into my playthrough- its hard to point to a specific point since it was a growing feeling of something being off, things didnt make sense and i ever so more wondered how they would pull this all together (they didnt)- i do think the moment i stopped being in denial about it was when i found the shrine of life, the beginning of botw, and found .. nothing, a dingy cave practically licked clean of any traces of the shiekah tech like it never existed, instead of the medical bed a pathetic puddle of water that healed you, no one caring at all, like it actually never happened- i felt like the game pointed and laughed at me for caring about botw, pretty sure i was struggeling to keep it together on stream bc it forced me to realize this game truly is everything i hoped it wouldnt be, even if that sounds a little weird, at that time zelda and especially botw was so much more important to me, a passion for the franchise this game really did end up killing.

[reinabeestudio]

2 and 3 for the ask game! I'm thinking about Steven mostly but if that's taken, get another redneck!! :]]

The audio got kinda long at the end cause I started rambling out loud I'm so sorry ADHJSBFDHJS

Also sorry for the background noise 😔💥

2.Tell a story about how my s/i and my f/o(s) met.

3.Gush about my favorite qualities of my f/o(s).

[vrystalius]

Not saying “I love you“ back to the Squid game men.

How will they react if you don‘t say it back? In what scenario would they not say it back to you?

Pairing: The Recruiter, Thanos, Nam-gyu, Dae-ho, Gi-hun, In-ho x gn!reader

Summary: Them not saying “I love you“, their reaction to you not saying “I love you“

Genre: fluff, a lil bit of angst sprinkled on top

If you’re interested, here’s more fluff! Calling the Squid Game men some weird petnames and their reaction to it!

(Pre-Squid game)

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

Gong Yoo // The Recruiter // The Salesman

♡— Him not saying I love you…

It barely ever happens, really. He adores everything about you, from your face, voice, body and the ground you walk on; that man is ready to worship you like a devoted follower would to the most merciful goddess. Therefor he would always be aware of how to make your day a little better, even if it‘s just a small “I love you” or a gentle kiss here and there.

The first thing you hear from him in the morning is a groggy voice mumbling a small “Good morning love...” into your ear while warm kisses were trailed down your back.

While standing in the kitchen and searching the fridge for any signs of a tasty breakfast, a small “I love you, I‘ll be back later!“ would echo slightly through the apartment as the front door closed.

Once, he did forget to say his usual I love you on the way out. He thought about how he possibly could forget? You‘re probably overthinking everything now and think what you might‘ve done wrong or do to offend him. You didn‘t, though! He was just too caught up in perfecting his appearance because his damn hair refused to obey and submit to his meticulous styling.

The poor man was almost scared to come home. As some sort of peace offering, he bought some of your favorite take-out food alongside some dessert, flowers and a new bracelet he thought you might like. Anything to try and make you know that he does really love you.

“Apologies, it completely slipped my mind. It will never happen again my sunshine. I love you.”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

His face may be neutral and his expressions calculated but his features soften up immensely when you show even an ounce of affection. His smirk shifts into a dreamy smile, the crinkles around his mouth shifting and becoming bigger, his eyes twinkling just a little. He just can’t suppress when you even look at him.

Your kisses and words energise him, gift him life, so whenever you don’t give him that little boost of dopamine, he gets visibly more tense in a way.

The silence that followed after his usual “I love you my darling, I’ll be back later!” was almost eerie to him. He stuck his head back into the kitchen to check if you even heard him. You glanced back at him for a moment and gave your husband a dismissive head nod. So you did hear him?

Silently, he left the apartment and went on with his usual day during that time of the year. For some reason, today he is especially looking forward to slap his elders for loosing a damn children’s game. His face remained neutral and had his usual smirk on his face, but deep inside, he’s offended, confused, worried, stressed; all the negative emotions someone can feel after their spouse doesn’t reincorporate ones affection.

Do you want a divorce? Because hell no, he’d never let you go no matter how hard you

But once he got a little text message on his phone that read a simple: “Need cuddles in bed later pls. Got some snacks too. Love you.”, all of his worries washed away in an instant. You probably were still too sleepy to answer this morning.

A smile spread over his face as he thought about slipping into your arms tonight. Isn’t it ridiculous how he melt like putty in your hands?

“You forgot something this morning and it did worry me a lot. But it doesn’t matter, it’s silly anyway.”

Thanos // Su-bong // Player 230

♡— Him not saying I love you…

It’s actually quite rare to hear Thanos say “I love you” word for word. He still feels awkward committing himself to the relationship you have and those three magic words feel so heavy on his tongue, so he’ll rephrase them to suit his level of comfort. “Love ya”, “Thanos loves you” and “Me too” are his ways to dodge the action to reincorporate those sweets words you shower him with.

Thanos only really says “I love you” if you two are alone, sober and you holding him in your arms. To be cradled by someone he admires, cares and loves so much makes him want to cry for some reason, but he suppresses those emotions and instead buries his face in your shoulder as your hand soothingly runs up and down his back.

Those are the times you hear a small “I love you…” being mumbled against your warm skin.

So quiet it’s almost unnoticeable, yet it was there. You know Su-bong needs time to get used to everything, so you’ll settle with a small audio message-rap in reply to your usual “I love you” text message.

“Back to the kitty ‘cause she kinda pretty, I can’t stop looking at her ti- ti- ti-face.. Anyways, thinking of you babygirl. Iloveyatoo.” (You barely caught him saying this the way how quietly he mumbled it into the mic)

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

It’s fine. It’s cool. You don’t have to reassure him every day that you love him, it’s totally fine. You still love him like you did the day before.

It causes a deep panic inside of Thanos when you don’t give him his usual “I love you” text in the morning after he had woken up. He kept checking his phone like a madman, while he was brushing his teeth, peeking his arm and head out of the shower in the middle of shampooing, staring at his text messages while microwaving himself an convenience store meal. Nothing.

Not wanting to reach out first and appear clingy, he decided to write you like he is not having a full blown eternal panic attack. A small voice message here, a picture of his food there, a selfie from the bottom to show off his double chin, anything really.

You replied like normal but still, his eyes searched for the three key words. I. Love. You.

Thanos doesn’t want to admit to himself or to anyone for that matter that your calls, texts, hell, you coming over is like the most addictive drug to him. And he had his share of all kinds of colourful drugs.

His foot was nervously tapping the ground while his finger kept ringing your poor doorbell until you were forced to answer. He gave you a close look up and down, his lips formed into a pout of sorts.

“You okay? You didn’t text me you love me this morning. It’s totally cool and all but like… do you want to break up with me or something?”

Nam-gyu // Player 124

♡— Him not saying I love you…

Similar to Thanos, at first, Nam-gyu barely ever told you how much he loved you, liked you even. He just assumed you already knew and his actions were enough. A small side hug there and ruffling your hair here had to be enough for the rest of the week anyway.

He is guarded, afraid of commitment and to be frank in belief that you’re using him for the longest of time. Maybe you’re just “dating” him to get access to high-end drugs, all kinds of clubs or whatever else reason there is there to date him but for love.

You had to say those three magic words first for him to get comfortable with the thought that you are actually just want to date and love him. It came to him in the middle of a night shift at a random club he was supposed to promote. A moment of enlightenment.

Nam-gyu hid in a bathroom stall with his phone and ignored whatever the couple was doing next door, writing you a whole paragraph about what he was thinking, feeling, before deleting everything again because he thought he’d come off as some kind of pussy if he’d sent that.

His first time telling you how much he loved you was at your place. A casual evening watching some random movie you picked out while being arms deep in a bag of chips and dressed like a homeless person, Nam-gyu was staring up at you as if you were the most beautiful person in the universe even during this ungraceful moment of yours, admiring you in silence until finally…

“I love you.”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you…

Did he fuck up again? Do or say something wrong? Don’t you love him anymore? Was there someone else?? His thoughts go ballistic as he stared at the screen of his phone with a deadpan-expression, trying to shake the crippling fear and nervousness off while looking nonchalant.

Nam-gyu’s finger kept hovering over the call button to check on you in case something happened because there could be a whole other person talking to him by how there were no affirmations at all.

He doesn’t want to appear clingy or too attached to you as that may scare you off or even disgust you, so Nam-gyu’s casually mention that one time you didn’t say “I love you” while fidgeting with his ring, trying to appear indifferent about it while intensely watching your facial expression shift to try and detect if you’re lying about your reasoning or not.

Your boyfriend is afraid to not be good enough, too much, too little. Your little affirmations give him reassurance, every day a little more until he’s full convinced that you do really, really love him.

“Hey, uhhh. Did you forget anything today?… No? You sure? Mkay.”

Dae-ho // Player 388

♡— Him not saying I love you…

Never happens. Either he is dead and not able to reply to you or already said it multiple times throughout the day. Dae-ho has separation anxiety and gets nervous when he doesn’t have you in line of his sight or not around him in general, that’s why he always tells you how much he loves you whenever he can.

Off to the bathroom? I love you. Bringing the trash out? I love you. Getting dressed? You’re gorgeous and I love you. You could be simply existing and Dae-ho would bury his face in your neck and mumble a soft I love you into your warm skin, his lips planting a soft kiss here and there.

Dae-ho is just a little scared about saying his usual affirmation in front of his family, mostly his father. He’s a very affectionate and physical man but he still wants to look like the tough-marine-son his dad wants to see.

His sisters know better though, they see how their brother’s eyes twinkle in delight when you help his mom out in the kitchen with the dinner.

He does make it up to you after coming home though. Your boyfriend will stuff the leftovers his mom gave him into the microwave and usher to you made yourself comfortable on the couch while he makes some preparations to completely pamper you for the rest of the evening.

Sometimes Dae-ho’ll even try to flirt a little but he’s still a little awkward in that department.

“Hey, do you want some snacks with that? A drink? O-Or am I enough of a snack…?”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you…

Every time Dae-ho tells you that he loves you, you always reply with equal enthusiasm. How could you not? That golden retriever of a man gets that almost childish smile of his whenever you kiss his cheek or just tell him that he looks handsome today.

Once, you tested how he’d react when you don’t give him his hourly dose of dopamine by deflecting or ignoring his touches.

As his arms securely snaked around your waist and gently pulled you against his torso, you paid him no mind and continued to stir the ramen in the food container. He watched the noodles move in circles and gave your waist a gentle poke, trying to pull your attention to him. Dae-ho’s eyes slowly dimmed and the edges of his smile turned downwards.

The silence made him seriously nervous. You could feel his rapidly increasing heartbeat drum against your back.

“Hey… is everything okay? Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry. Can you talk to me?…”

Gi-hun // Player 456 (post s1)

♡— Him not saying I love you…

Gi-hun always reassures you of his love, even during arguments. He wants you to know that he cherishes and loves you for the rest of his life and that you are his everything. Whenever he doesn’t say I love you, something must’ve happened.

He has been missing for a whole week and you had no idea where your boyfriend went. Gi-hun didn’t leave a note, a voice mail, no nothing!

And after he returned and suddenly began giving you expensive gifts, the same boyfriend that used to ask you for money to get himself an convenience store dinner, now began buying you new headphones, bracelet and whatever else you even eyed.

It was nice, sure, but you were more worried about his mental state. He was paranoid and quiet, kept checking his whole body for some kind of tracker and barely ever spoke what was on his mind. Gi-hun began having panic attacks and you were barely able to leave his side because of how terrified he was to leave you alone.

He barely touched you, gave you kisses or affection. He changed after whatever happened during that week he went missing.

While running your fingers through his hair, trying to make him fall asleep after being awake for two days straight, he sleepily stared up at you through his dyed-red hair. His voice was quiet, broken almost.

“I’m sorry. Please… know that I love you. I love you so much.. Don’t leave me, please… please...”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

Your boyfriend called out to you but you didn’t quite hear what he said, so you replied with an “yeah!” and just hoped that that’s an appropriate response to whatever he tried to tell or ask you. It wasn’t.

Gi-hun stood there for a couple of moments, waiting on your reply to yelling “I love you!” across the whole apartment. When nothing came, he didn’t call out to you again. You were probably busy with something or don’t want him with your right now, he gets that.

Later though, thoughts of self-doubt began to cook up inside his mind. As he bit all his nails to shreds he overthought about how you had enough of him now. Maybe you are falling out of love now after how the death games fucked up his mind and body. You’re surely fed up with his paranoia and secretive behaviour, how much he has been obsession over finding a weird salesman. Surely.

The metallic taste that spread inside his mouth after biting the skin surrounding his nails began to open and bleed finally pulled Gi-hun out of his self-destructive thoughts that continued to circle like a toy train. Picking up his throwaway phone and choosing the one contact he saved on every single burner phone he had as “Reason to smile ❤️” and pressing the call button.

“Gi-hun? What’s wrong?” Your voice forced a small smile to form on his face. He hesitated

“Hey. Just wanted to ask if I should bring some take out home tonight. That’s all.”

In-ho // The Frontman // Player 001

♡— Him not saying I love you…

It’s purely just to tease you. When bored, In-ho will make you his greatest entertainment.

He likes making you annoyed and flustered, so he’ll intentionally ignore you just to make you react and pout at him adorably while he was trying so hard to keep his stone cold face and not break into a shit-eating grin and maybe even pull on your cheek to make you whine even more.

In-ho adores your whole being and cherishes all of your affections, so he’ll let himself get showered in them any tome he can.

Expect you to he cuddled up on his lap while he was leaning back in the leather chair, mumbling a complaint about how you covered his whole face in kisses but managed to miss the bridge of his nose. He will not allow you to move off his lap until you covered his whole face in kisses again as compensation for that mistake of yours.

So, In-ho’ll intentionally not give you affection so you pay even more attention to him. He is like a cat in that way weirdly enough.

Once you finally break his facade, the flood gates will open and you will be showered, bathed, drowned in his affection, physical and verbal.

“Fine. I’ll say it just because you’ve been so good to me today. I love you, my dearest, lovely darling.”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

In-ho has a dedicated frequency on his walkie-talkie for you, so he can call in and ask you to come to his office for a kiss that cannot wait, to inform you that he is in the bedroom and retiring for the day or just to tell you that he loves you randomly throughout the day.

Of course, you’d always reply back with your own gadget, but to pay back his infinite teasing he has done to you, you decided to ignore him the way he sometimes does to you. Payback.

Your husband called into your frequency. “Dove, are you free right now? Come to my office, I miss you.” and so your game begins. You simply ignored his request and continued getting comfortable in your bed and all the sheets surrounding you, grinning to yourself as you awaited the next time In-ho calls in again, for which you don’t have to wait long for.

“Darling, I am waiting. Do you want me to send someone to pick you up?” Your grin widened as you heard how impatient he was slowly getting with the lack of your response. “I can see you in the bedroom.” That one caught you off guard. Did he install cameras in your shared bedroom??

Almost on cue, your bedroom door opened, revealing the masked Frontman. His shoulders were tense and you could feel his intense state through the mask. You stared back, not expecting how quickly your husband would cave in and visit you himself. Innocently, you batted your lashes at him.

In-ho slipped his mask off and carelessly tossed it on the nightstand. “Why are you ignoring me? Are you upset or just moody?” Unimpressed, you silently glared at him. He gave you an equally uninterested look and leaned down to your face to give you a small peck on your cheek. “Not enough. More.”

A chuckle escaped his lips as his lips cracked into a smile.

“Demanding, aren’t we? Fine. As you wish.”

💠

Author’s note. Thank you for reading <3

Watch me announce that I’m going to post In-ho’s yandere profile and proceed to get hit with the most ungodly group-assignment in Chemistry. Anyways, take this as an apology! Had to write a little fluff for them since the only thing I’m finding is smut 🙏😭 I’m not complaining but this fluff prompt came to me like a truck during a class of mine. It was originally inspired by this post and I made a similar one before for the Demon Slayer hashira. Check it out if you’re interested!!

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <33

[wonryllis]

the hot dad next door (m) | park sunghoon.

﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ぃ ────𝗶𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗵𝗼𝘁 𝗱𝗮𝗱 𝗻𝗲𝘅𝘁 𝗱𝗼𝗼𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂?

preview. the ever quintessential first time dad moves in next door with his five year old and finds it impossible not to fall for you, the pretty girl who gives his daughter cookies and him; the doll eyes. obsessed with your entire being, unable to keep his hands off you, park sunghoon questions if he's just crazy or he's crazy over you.

or where, he notices the way you look at his hands a little too long for it to be innocent.

meet the cast. single dad!park sunghoon with his pretty neighbour fem!reader.

genre. DILFF AUU !!, SMUT MDNI, fluff, neighbours to lovers, sunghoon is quite literally yes insanely crazed over you and for the sake of god can't keep his dick soft, domestic a little bit i guess, i want to make her my wife trope EEEKKK, slight age gap (hoon in late twenties and reader in early twenties) more to be added.

word count. est around 20k or more

warnings. inaccuracies about parenting cause i aint a parent, i got no idea. more will be mentioned in the actual post.

releasing. TBD , progress update tag , second preview

park sunghoon was hot, he was a walking greek god. was single and wore these fitted suits that had you weak in the knees. if that wasn't hot enough, park sunghoon also had the cutest baby girl you had ever come across and it just made him hotter than he could ever have been.

"hey, um .. is ji—" sunghoon stands at the threshold of your open apartment door, one hand holding his creased blazer and the other rubbing at the back of his neck. embarrassed and shy at having to show up at yours looking like a mess after work because his daughter ran off while he was busy on a call and taking out her school bag from the backseat. and because everytime his daughter ran off, it was to the pretty girl next door who gives away sweet cookies all the time.

"is jia here? yeah she's in the kitchen," you answer, smiling soft and knowingly at the worried guy who barely looked like a dad. he worked in a corporate editorial, out before eight in the morning just as you prepared ingredients for your bakery. taking his daughter along to school, her excited voice resonating through the halls talking about how they were going to play with clay in class. around seven in the evening you'd hear her again, this time alone as she would skip over to your door because dada was too slow.

on weekends it'd be impossible to ignore the ruckus they made playing around, sometimes inviting you over for lunch because sunghoon apparently made too much and jia wanted to share her dada's delicious food. on some occasional weekends when he'd be called in to work for a few hours, jia would promise him to stay home and behave only to call you through the landline the moment he'd step out the door. and you would text sunghoon to come over to yours after work, his daughter munching on the new flavored cupcakes you made, unbothered about her dad and his scoldings.

"come on in, i made some almond lime tart, you could give me some feedbacks along with jia. you know she always says it's good and i can never know if it's actually good," sunghoon can't help but chuckle at that, slipping off his shoes by the front and walking inside. his eyes following your figure with a fond look as you tend to his daughter delicately, and might he admit— even more so than him.

you're sweet, you know how to handle kids; cue that one time jia was crying her eyes out after school and he had no idea what to do to comfort her, knocking at your door frantically and having his mind blown at how quickly you figured things out and calmed her down.

you're sweet, you know how to handle kids, you treat them both so well, always ready to help him out with jia, giving them sweet treats every other day and most of all— you're fucking pretty. way too pretty for him to handle.

FIRST TAGLIST (open.) @s00buwu @lilyuwon @pockyyasii @nctislifue @shawnyle @enhastolemyheart @belowbun @aaa-sia @niniissus @tobiosbbyghorl @imjakes-wifeofc1 @youresolivlie @eun-cherry @kimsunoops @aiden2001 @brownsugarbaybee @pockettwinzz @bangtancultsposts @diorikis @heelvsted @crimnalseung @iselltulips @yzzyhee @woniebae @river-demon-slayer @lovingvoidgoatee @antonsgirlfriend @kpopslover @bugcattie @slut4hee @yunjinswifee @woniefull @nanaheex @soobs-things @dammit-jjk @starlvcieszsq @mnxnii @skylaly @mintdsunoo @uyuchoco @anittamaxwynnn @rikiwaify-blog @kill4jl @ggparkjh @sstephenzz @judeduartewannabe @jungwoneez @aye2611-blog @hybeboyenthusisast @minjaexvz

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

Sex pollen

A/N: Reader is female, also a mutant with logan like powers. Logan calls the reader princess, darling, and his girl. Unprotected sex (Please don't be stupid and do this). I had a few requests for this, and i figured why not post it on Halloween! Happy Halloween to everyone who celebrates, I hope you enjoy the smut. I worked hard on it, but I'm not the best smut writer, lol. Request are open for Logan and Bucky! And I'm very close to 1,000 followers, so I might try and do some sort of special for it <3

********************************************

Logan should've listened to you when you said something was going to go wrong during the mission. "I don't know Lo, I just have this feeling that I can't seem to shake" you whined and grabbed his arm trying to get him to reconsider and have Charles send someone else for the mission, but he just disregarded you completely. He was just too stubborn, too proud for his own good, and it was really biting him in the ass now.

The mission was supposed to be normal, just a quick in and out. Get into the abandoned laboratory, do a quick scan to make sure it is abandoned, and then steal the plans for mutant mass destruction. Simple, something he's done a million times before but as he sits in the jet panting, sweating, nearly moaning in discomfort, he realizes how badly he fucked up. Fuck when is she ever wrong? Why didn't you just listen to her?! He groaned internally as he looked at the time, only a few more minutes than he'd be home in your bed, with you in his arms... with his cock deep in your pussy. He let a loud moan fall from his lips as he started to think of your body, fuck did he need you.

You were pacing waiting for Logan to come back from the mission, "Where is he? He should've been home hours ago!" You were beyond worried and frustrated over the whole situation, technically you knew that Logan would always come back home to you but that doesn't make the wait easier, it doesn't make seeing him bloody and aching easier either.

The front door finally opened and slammed shut. Logan's heavy footsteps could easily be heard echoing through the hall, "Logan!" You rushed to him to start checking for any injuries. Before you could ask him if he was okay, Logan pulled you into a deep, feverish kiss.

Logan groaned as he felt you gasp against his lips; his hands started to wander up your shirt as he walked you to your shared bedroom, trying his hardest not to break the kiss. You are the first to pull away,completely breathless and a bit confused."Logan...fuck baby what's going on?" You asked as his lips trailed down your neck, leaving rough bites in their place. "Need you, need your skin on mine, need your pussy choking my cock" he cut himself off with a broken moan as he starts to grind his throbbing cock into your thigh, making you feel how hard he was. "Princess, please." He begged completely helpless.

You were worried, Logan had never acted this way before, never whined or begged, but you'd be a liar if you said it didn't make you wet hearing his deep voice beg for you.

Logan was pawing at your clothes before he finally decided to just rip them off completely. Before you could whine to him about your clothes being ripped, he silenced you with a kiss and promised to buy a new outfit for you. "I'll buy you whatever you want princess, just need to see you, need to see my pretty pussy." He moans pitifully when he does get a glimpse at your sex. "Fucking christ darlin' look how wet you are, all this for me?"

You nodded quickly and pulled him closer, "Logan please, need you in me, fuck me please I need it, need to feel you deep in me for the rest of the week." Your begging made his knees weak, it sounded like heaven to him, and who was he to deny you of what you wanted.

"Whatever, you need princess," he assured you with a smirk as he pulled away to finally undress completely. Your eyes widen seeing how hard he was, "Fucking hell Lo..." You muttered quietly knowing he would still hear you. "Does my girl need me?" He asked crawling up the bed, kissing the skin exposed as he moved further up your body.

When he finally reached your mouth, he gave you a sweet kiss as he slowly thrust into you. Oh, oh my fucking--! He groaned internally as he felt your warm walls stretch around him. You broke the kiss to moan his name, throwing your head back.

You ended up moving your hands to his shoulder to hold on to him better as he thrusted more erratic, and without noticing, your claws slowly started to appear from your nails. Before you could notice, they ended up digging into his shoulder muscle deeply. An animalistic moan ripped from his chest as he felt your claws draw blood. His hips moved on their own, in and out, into your warmth and out for a split second before plunging back into you faster and deeper than before. It was like his hips were moving faster than his mind could keep up, and the only thing he could think about was you.

Your warmth, your softness, your smell, your taste. You were the only thing on his mind. He could feel his eyes roll back as his orgasm approaches. With his eyes closed, he could feel every inch of you. It was like he could feel each one of your atoms against his.

His eyes fluttered open when he heard you whimper louder than before. "Fuck you're so pretty darlin, sound so pretty for me...need more, need you to cum." He moaned before he could finish his sentence. "I really, really need you to cum on my cock princess, need you to milk me. Take it, take it all from me princess it's yours." He grunted and moved your legs to be over his shoulders, given him a new angle to thrust even deeper than before. You screamed his name as you came on his cock. He leaned down to have your chest press together as he prepared to cum deep in your pussy, "Gonna cum-fuck gonna cum deep in my pussy, keep you full for a while then when it's dripped out, I'll fuck you again to keep you full all over again." His pelvis rubbed against your clit, making you clench around him even tighter than before thanks to the overstimulation he was giving you. Feeling you get even tighter made Logan moan out and finally give in before cumming as deep as he possibly could.

It felt like an eternity before Logan finally stopped cumming. He collapsed on top of you, completely breathless and his limbs felt numb. "Holy...fuck darling" he nearly giggles as he basks in his afterglow, in all of his life he cannot remember a time where he ever came like that. "I don't think I'd ever fucked that good before" he said kissing the bruises that he could reach that was slowly disappearing on your skin.

You sighed happily, feeling his lips on your skin. You started to play with his hair softly as you hummed in agreement. You couldn't remember ever having sex that intensely before. "What did you get into on that mission?" You asked curiously, and he shrugged. "Not much. There was this pink powder that poofed in my face, though." He said as if it meant nothing, "Logan!" You tried to look at him to see if he was drugged in some sort of way but before you could, you could feel his cock hardening inside you all over again.

Logan moved to have you caged between his arms once again and asked with a knowing smirk, "Round two?"

Well how could you say no to that?...

Tagging:

@userchai

@mahi-tamashi

@100percentlazybonez

@lanassmarty

@western-pyro

@misscrissfemmefatale

@marit332

@navs-bhat

@fluffy-b33z

@chaimshelii

@aoi-targaryen

@eyes-ofhell

@sad0ni0n

@fries11

@slowlikehoneyyy

@iamburdened

@brisinggamenwearer

[sanguineterrain]

Kurt wagner and tail stuff!!! I love that boy! I love how you write! I love the tail! Smashing them together we got a a little piece of heaven! So Kurt wagner with s/o and some tail action pretty please!!

(Like if you need some more then that: for example, the times before they were together Kurt’s tail always seemed to gravitate towards reader (I’m an advocate that Kurt’s tail is like a fricking mood ring) wrapping around them, touching them. The times when they were together! And the time reader wraps their hand or something around his tail or something)

Love your writing! You’re awesome and amazing! And I want to say in advance, thank you so so much for doing this ask! I will treasure it dearly! And if you don’t do the ask then thank you so so much to taking the time to read it! Have a lovely day!

ouuu this is a sweet request <3 tail boy! thanks nonnie :) hopefully I did him justice 🫶 changed the request a bit but kept the same idea about the tail. may write a part 2... we'll see!

kurt wagner (nightcrawler) x gn!reader. fluff, cooking, gambit and rogue trying to talk some sense into the reader.

note: I tried to capture kurt and gambit's accents. however, as always, I'm open to feedback on them. It's definitely not my intention to offend or miswrite anyone!

****

The smell of bubbling cheese wafts from your pot as you stir. It's been a while since you were able to cook for yourself and have a nice meal, always running out to do something or another for the good of the planet.

"Smells good," comes a familiar voice. A moment later, a tail curls around your wrist as you shake some paprika into the pot.

You look away from your stirring into golden, irisless eyes. Kurt grins at you.

"Mac 'n cheese," you say by way of greeting. "Want some?"

"Please und thank you."

Anytime you cook, you offer Kurt to share. You frequently have the thought that you spoil the hell out of him, but you can't help it.

He helps you out by putting away the milk and cheese. But he's never far; his tail remains on you. It slackens from your wrist, then explores up your arm and around your elbow.

It's nothing new, of course. The first thing you learned about Kurt Wagner is how physically affectionate he is.

"That tail seems to have a mind of its own, elfie," you say, smiling down at the pot.

"What do you mean?"

"It's always holding onto me." You turn off the burner.

"Ah." Kurt drops his tail. "My apologies. I can ease up, as you say."

You shake your head. "Don't. I don't mind. Never have."

So Kurt gives you one final tail squeeze. The fur on his arm tickles you as he brushes past. You watch him in confusion.

"Where are you going?" you ask, halfway through scooping two servings of the pasta.

"Not far," he says brightly. "Jean wanted me to bring spoons from the kitchen." He holds up three metal spoons with his tail.

"Spoons?"

He shrugs. "An experiment. Who am I to question a scientist's whim? I promise I will be fast."

He teleports away, and you have a mind to cover Kurt's bowl with a plate. You bring both bowls to the table. At last, a proper meal.

You don't mind eating alone, but that hardly ever happens with Kurt around. Even if he's just eaten, he'll nibble on whatever you've made. You don't know where he puts all that food—perhaps in another dimension—but he makes it a point to eat with you, regardless of whether you've cooked or not. Even if you're in the middle of the forest eating a tin of beans, Kurt will plant himself right next to you and keep you company.

He's a good friend. The best friend you've ever had, actually.

"Woo, smells good!"

Gambit comes in first, followed by Rogue, since the two are never seen apart anymore. Gambit, nosy that he is, makes a beeline to Kurt's covered bowl.

"And what's in here?" he asks, lifting the plate.

"That's Kurt's," you say. "You can get some from the pot."

"Mais, it's Kurt's, huh?" He glances at Rogue, who grins. "Hear that, chère? Not sure if I should take from the pot. Might take my head, too."

You squint as they share laughter. "What're you talking about?"

"Oh, nothin'," Rogue says sweetly, taking the seat diagonal to you. Gambit sits next to her.

Your frown deepens. "I didn't say you couldn't have some, G, I just—"

Gambit shakes his head. "Don't go worryin' 'bout that. I'm just teasin'. I think it's cute how you feed the furball."

"Excuse me, I feed myself first," you say, and shovel a forkful of pasta into your mouth.

You hate not being in the know. It happens frequently, being that you're not a mutant. You're here on a personal invitation from Charles due to your "technology skills."

Really, you'd been brought here to fix Cerebro. And after that, you'd sort of just... stayed at the school. Charles had offered you a room, Kurt had won your friendship (or, perhaps, you'd won his), and you'd never left.

"Well, what do you mean, anyway? So what if I feed Kurt," you say, unable to stand not knowing.

"Just seems like where you are, Kurt's never far," Rogue says, watching you eat.

"Yeah, so? He's my friend."

"Oh, un ami. Is that what we're callin' it?" Gambit asks, eyes gleaming with mirth.

"What else would you call it?"

They look at each other in that Siamese cats way. Often, you've had the thought that they can read each other's minds—no powers needed.

"You really don't know?" Rogue asks, voice softening.

"Know what?" you ask impatiently.

Gambit makes a quiet noise in his throat. "Y'all don't know. He's gone on you."

Your brows rise. "Kurt? Don't be silly, Remy."

"Oh, great. You're both in denial," Rogue says, rolling her eyes. "Haven't you noticed how touchy he is around ya? Always huggin' and clingin'."

"Kurt's like that with everybody," you say. "He's like that with Logan!"

"Mais, the tail, it never lies," Gambit says with all the wisdom of someone centuries older. "He don't go wrappin' that tail 'round anybody."

Rogue nods sagely. "True. And he's always puttin' that tail around you."

"But he's..." You put your fork down in frustration. "That's ridiculous. Kurt would've said—I mean, there would've been a sign. He would've told me. Kurt doesn't hide anything from me."

"This is new for him, honey," Rogue says. "He's never been in love for real. He's not gonna act rationally."

"Alors, look at it this way. La Raison parle, mais l'Amour chante. Hm? His body betray his words. It sings to you. Jus' like I sing to ma cherie."

He reaches to take Rogue's hand, eyes practically heart-shaped. Rogue lets him, smiling in that secret, shy way of hers whenever Gambit is sweet on her.

L'Amour...

"Kurt is not in love with me," you say. "End of story."

They both heave sighs.

"Just watch his tail," Rogue says. "Kurt can hide a lot, but he can't control how he—"

BAMF!

You flinch as Kurt teleports into the kitchen. He grins and waves, then bounces around the table to greet the others.

"I'm back!" he says. "I hope my mac did not get cold. Will you be eating with us?"

"No, that's okay," Rogue says, looking at you meaningfully behind Kurt's back. "Rain check. We've gotta go train."

Gambit winks at you. "See y'all."

They disappear quickly. Kurt turns to you, blissfully unaware of your newly formed nerves.

"I am sorry I was gone for so long," Kurt says, sitting down to his bowl. "Jean had some questions about my abilities. Apparently, she's trying to replicate them in a machine."

"That's okay," you say. "Rogue and G kept me company."

Kurt beams. "They are so good for that, yes?"

He shovels a mouthful of mac 'n cheese into his mouth and groans in appreciation. His tail instantly curls around your wrist.

"Amazing!" Kurt says. "Perhaps your special ability is your cooking, hm? I would believe it."

You laugh. "Danke, elfie."

"Bitte schön," he says, eyes lighting up at your German. He frequently informs everyone about how good your German is becoming, even though you hardly know ten phrases.

His tail begins to stroke your arm. You wonder if he's aware of it. If he knows how his tail betrays him.

But no, that's outrageous. And even if it was true, it's not like the feeling's mutual, right?

"Oh, and," Kurt says. "I got us tickets to that show you wanted to see. They're playing it at the theater downtown. We can go on Saturday, ja?"

"You... oh. Wow. I told you about that ages ago, Kurt. You remembered?"

"Why wouldn't I?" he says, tilting his head. Like it hadn't occurred to him to be anything less than thoughtful.

"No, I'm just—thank you. That's really nice of you."

Kurt beams. "I am excited to watch the green witch und her pink friend sing!"

He keeps eating, unaware of the way he's made your world tip on its axis. Because now you know.

You're in love with Kurt Wagner. And the feeling just might be mutual.

[roosterforme]

Mail Call | Rooster x Reader

Summary: After a long and illustrious Naval career, Bradley was used to months spent on an aircraft carrier. Nothing ever felt quite as good as a letter from home. He thought he knew what to expect this time, but you always made things more exciting.

Warnings: adult language, masturbation, horny love letter

Length: 2500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley had been in the Navy long enough to know when to expect a mail call. Maybe it was intuition or a sixth sense, but after so many years of deployments, he was certain. When he woke up on Tuesday, something told him to start getting excited. There would be a box with his name written in a familiar scrawl in his hands soon. "Commander Bradshaw." He turned to see a petty officer jogging along the interior corridor of the aircraft carrier with a clipboard in hand. "Sir, here's your schedule for the day." Bradley grunted and skimmed the sheet as he made his way up to the tower. The lightness he felt mere moments ago was replaced by annoyance. Back-to-back meetings filled every inch of the sheet, including a meeting that was scheduled for after dinner.

"Damn it," he muttered, taking the stairs two at a time. His plan to collect his parcel, enjoy a meal, and then head to his private bunk to read the letter was dashed. But he was still convinced that a Comanche helicopter would touch down on deck at some point this afternoon if the weather permitted. He'd get his mail when he could. He needed to wait a little longer to hear from you, which would make him grouchy in the interim.When he pushed open the heavy door to the tower, he greeted the collection of older officers by uttering just one word. "Admirals."

They all greeted him in response with a chorus of overworked voices, and then another clipboard was thrust into his hand. Attached to this one was a sheet detailing the flight schedules for the day, and sure enough, a smile curled along his lips below his mustache when he saw that a Comanche was slated to arrive at 1500 hours with the note US Airmail Transport.

God, a letter from you was sounding better by the minute. Your tone would be soft. You'd tell him how much you missed him. There would be something in there from-

"Commander Bradshaw. Let's get started with your pilots."

His musings were cut short, and he sighed before slipping the offered headset into place and testing out the comms. He was in charge of the training exercises for this deployment, and he needed to keep his mind clear so he could keep his aviators safe. It would do him no good to be focused on what might be happening back at home. He could read about it later.

But as the day wore on, the sky darkened, and storm clouds painted the horizon. When he called his team back to the carrier and watched them land one at a time, he asked the admirals, "Should we check in with the mail transport? It seems to have gone off schedule."

Lightning cut across the sky just as the comms crackled to life with a new voice. "This is Comanche. We're coming in low from the east, trying to avoid the rain. Are we clear to make a quick landing in seventeen minutes?"

Bradley listened to the air traffic team guide the helicopter in, and sure enough, the landing was low and loud, followed by another crack of lightning. He watched from his high vantage point as a team ran out in boots and rain slickers to collect bin after bin of mail, and now his hands were itching again. He could already feel the familiar weight of the box packed with his favorite snacks and some handmade artwork.

"Commander, you'll be late to meet with the pilots."

Bradley was once again yanked from his daydream of being at home where it was warm and dry and cozy, and he was faced with the prospect of having to duck outside into the storm to get to the meeting rooms on time.

The first gust of wind had him shivering and wishing he could grab his mail directly from the helicopter and head back to his bunk. The second gust left him cursing under his breath. He had to go lecture all of these young pilots about where they needed to improve before they could fly their mission, and he just didn't have the energy for it.

"Work now, reward later," he told himself, taking a deep breath and picturing your smile. That was enough to get him through the meetings. It was enough to get him back to his small office where he wrote up his notes for the day. It was even enough to get him all the way to the narrow hallway where the mail was being sorted.

But now there was a massive fucking line of officers in uniform waiting for the same thing he was. And to top it off, his stomach was growling. He could bail out of line, eat dinner, and come back later, hoping there was still someone there to disperse the mail before they closed up shop for the night. But it wasn't worth the risk. He'd be happy to skip dinner in favor of mail from you. It wasn't even a question in his mind.

When he finally reached the window and the rows of alphabetized bins, he told the officer in charge, "Bradshaw, Bradley," and then waited quite impatiently to have an ordinary looking cardboard box thrust into his hands. But his heart leapt with joy as soon as he held it and saw your handwriting. "Thank you."

The box felt a little lighter than usual. Maybe you didn't have time to load it up with as many snacks as you usually did. He hated leaving you for weeks and months at a time to deal with everything at home on your own. He loved being at home for the day to day grind. Loved it. But there was something unique about seeing how much things changed while he was gone.

He shook the box a little bit, curiosity getting the best of him. He passed the cafeteria and ran like a child to get back to his bunk as quickly as he could where he set the box down and tore into it. When he saw the three envelopes on top, he had to fight back his tears and take a deep breath.

He carefully picked up the envelope that said Daddy in purple crayon and opened it up to find several coloring sheets and a note written in light pink crayon that was a little hard to read.

Daddy,

I lost my first toooth. The toooth fairee took it. I got a glittery doller. I drew you the toooth and the fairee.

Love, Wren

Bradley found the corresponding page with a drawing of the tooth along with the tooth fairy. His daughter also wrote her name all over the back of the paper in every color crayon imaginable which made him smile. He read her note again before carefully placing it on his nightstand, and then he picked up the envelope that said Dad in black pen.

Dad,

When are you coming home? Fourth grade is so boring. We are learning how to write in cursive, but I already know how. Mom doesn't make the homework as fun as you do. Don't tell her I said that.

Actually everything is better when you're at home. I had a good report card, so mom let me get a skateboard. I covered it in bird stickers. I can almost stand on it for three seconds. Soccer tryouts are next week, and mom promised to take a video so you can watch it later. When are you coming home again? I'll make sure she doesn't delete the video.

Wren drew you a tooth fairy, but it looks like a demon. So then I started to try to draw the tooth fairy, and it looks really cool. It's on the back of the page. Please write back and tell us when you're coming home.

Love, Hawk

His son's version of the tooth fairy did look pretty cool, and now Bradley was cracking up as he took a second look at the one his daughter drew. Yeah, it was a bit frightening. He set both notes aside, finally ready to read what you had written to him. The third envelope said Bradley in your familiar handwriting, but his heart lurched into his belly. Instead of the thick envelope filled with page after page that he usually received from you, this one was light. His brow creased in concern as he opened it up to reveal just one sheet.

Bradley,

We miss you. The kids are mostly holding it together, but we're waiting until we know your return date to start a countdown. You know how much Wren cries when the countdown goes on for too long. Honestly, it makes me want to cry, too.

I could write you a novel about work and school and how much I miss you, but I thought it might just be more fun to show you. I got a little carried away with the camera a few nights ago when I couldn't sleep. I was too hot, and your pillow still smells like you. It smelled so good. I started thinking about what you and I will do when you get home. Then I couldn't stop. I literally could not stop touching myself, Bradley.

It never feels as good without you, but I do think some of the photos portray just how vivid my imagination was that night. Like I said, I got carried away.

Let us know when you'll be home.

Love, Your horny wife

Bradley immediately started digging through the box, and he soon realized you'd only included a thin layer of his favorite snacks. He scooped them out onto his bed and was left with some Polaroids. A lot of Polaroids.

"Holy shit," he whispered under his breath, reaching in and pulling out a photo of you wearing nothing but a tiny lace thong in his favorite shade of blue. He loved that thing. He loved taking it off of you. Your arm was covering your breasts in the photo, but that was okay. He had a vivid imagination.

Oh, but you didn't leave him hanging at all. The next one he grabbed was you sprawled out in bed, tits on full display, thong present and accounted for. You were biting down on your lip, and he could almost hear you moan. Your nipples were hard and looked just like they did after he had them in his mouth.

"God damn it, Baby. You're killing me." He missed his family. He missed being at home. But right now, all he could think about was fucking the absolute shit out of his wife.

Now he was looking at a beautiful shot of just your face, eyes closed, lips parted in pleasure. That was followed up by you bending over in the thong. And then one where you had your nose buried in his pillow.

There were so many photos, he was getting dizzy. And he was hard. He took a few seconds to unzip his khaki uniform pants while his eyes searched through the photos still inside the box. "Damn," he groaned, wrapping his right hand around his cock while he picked up one of the photos with his left.

You were straddling his pillow in your underwear. Literally grinding your pussy against it. Back arched, tits front and center, riding his pillow like it was his face. He really wished it was.

"Okay, Baby," he murmured, picking up another one while he stroked himself. Your hand was inside your thong. Another one where your blue thong was pulled to the side, showing off your pussy. Another one where you had two fingers knuckle-deep inside yourself. Another one where you were licking your wet fingers.

When he reached blindly into the box again, his hand connected with something softer next to the Polaroids. To his absolute delight, his fingers wrapped around that bit of fabric that he recognized right away. The blue thong. His cock jumped in excitement as he raised your panties slowly from the box and brought them all the way to his face. He knew. He knew you hadn't washed it. He just fucking knew this little thing was put in the box directly after you came all over it and dragged it down your soft legs.

His mouth watered as he pressed it to his nose. Eyes squeezed shut, he inhaled the scent of your arousal. He moaned your name. He could practically taste you as he rutted into his own hand. Bradley inhaled and exhaled your smell, running the lace along his nose, mustache and lips. The fabric was soft on his face, and he could picture you teasing him with it.

He would do anything to have you right now. He wanted you bent over the end of the bed, sobbing and begging him to go harder. He wanted your sweet voice in his ear. He wanted you on your knees. He wanted to bury his face in your pussy until you screamed.

"Jesus Christ," he whined, panting as he jerked himself off. All he could smell was you. It smelled like home and being in love. He couldn't get enough as he rubbed your thong all over his face before lowering it down to his cock. The lace felt exquisite as he ached with need. The fabric glided along in his hand, creating a friction that left him groaning.

He jerked himself off slowly, trying to make it last as long as he could, but the Polaroids were all he could see, and your pussy was all he could smell. He came all over your thong, ribbons of white decorating it while he held onto the wall for support.

"Oh, fuck," he whispered, voice harsh as he drained every drop onto the lace. He held the sticky mess in his hand and huffed out a surprised laugh. From thousands of miles away, you did this to him. This was different from the mail he usually received from you, but he wasn't complaining. He got a nice update on what was happening at home plus a lot more than he bargained for.

Bradley walked into his tiny bathroom and draped your thong over the sink faucet before washing his hands. Maybe he'd have time to grab some dinner before returning to his bunk to write back to you, Hawk, and Wren. He had so much to say. Especially to you. He'd set himself up in bed with one of his clipboards and tell you all about what you made him do.

"Oh, shit," he told his reflection in the mirror as he thought about his clipboard again. "Fuck!"

He had one more meeting left. Starting in just minutes. He eased his cock back into his pants, still zipping up as he left his bunk. Then he walked while discreetly trying to tuck his shirt in and straighten out his uniform.

The further he got from your wrecked underwear, the more he realized he could still smell you. He was going to be able to smell you all night. This was going to be a painfully long meeting. And the letter he wrote to you later was going to be as dirty as your underwear.

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

Thanks for reading! It's been a while since I posted a Bradley one-shot, and this one was hanging out in my drafts for a bit. Much love for a DILF. Hope you enjoy your Valentine's Day as much as Bradley enjoyed his mail!

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[starkwlkr]

hello may i request a logan x reader fic where they co-parent and take care of laura? it can be in an au where laura goes to school but she keeps getting herself into fights and stuff. Just thought it’ll be cute to see a family dynamic between them hehe

little family | old man logan

an: keep the old man logan requests coming 😫 i love dilfs

mutant!reader (again, same as logan 😍)

You were at work at the local library when you got a call about Laura. The young girl had gotten into another fight. She was truly a spitting image of her father. You apologized to your manager and excused yourself so you could go meet Logan at the school. Your relationship with Logan had come to an end, but you still cared deeply for each other and for Laura.

You finally made it to the school parking lot where you coincidentally parked next to Logan’s car. You headed inside the school and from the entrance you could hear loud talking coming from the main office. It was Logan’s voice so you followed it.

Laura sat outside the main office in the chairs that were neatly arranged in a row. She looked at you then ran to you in need of her mother.

“Are you hurt?” You crouched down to her level and inspected her face for cuts or bruises.

Laura shook her head. “No.”

“Was the boy being mean again?” Laura had told you about a boy that kept picking on her. Laura nodded.

You were glad she wasn’t injured. Now it was the principal you had to deal with. You told Laura to stay outside while you confronted the principal.

“How are you sure that Laura was the one to start the fight? The other kid could’ve swung first!” Logan raised his voice.

“Sir, this is the fourth grade. No kid should be ‘swinging’ their fists in the first place. We suggest you and your wife talk to Laura and perhaps look into other schools. Her teacher described her as unhinged and we can’t have—” the principal said.

“Excuse me?” You spoke. All eyes were on you now. Laura had poked her head into the office wanting to see what was going to happen. “Laura is perfectly fine. She doesn’t need this school. Don’t ever talk about my daughter like that ever again.”

Logan could see your claws slowly coming out of your knuckle as you approached the counter. He held you back by grabbing your wrist. “Let’s go.”

Just as Logan was guiding you out the door, the principal spoke again. “What is wrong with you people?!”

“Fuck off!” You and Logan shouted at her as you exited the office, Laura followed you with a small smile on her face.

Your little family of three headed outside. You were sure Logan wasn’t bringing her back to school. Maybe it was time to homeschool Laura. . .

“I can take her if you want to go back to work.” Logan said, taking out a flask from his jacket. He never really did care about school anyway.

“It’s fine. You can go back.” He exhaled, putting the flask back in his jacket.

“Actually, why don’t we go get ice cream? We haven’t done that in a while.” You suggested. Laura immediately turned to Logan and started pulling at his jacket. She loved going out with you and Logan for ice cream.

“Yeah . . . That’s . . Yeah, we could do that.”

So Logan drove in his car while you drove yours with Laura in the passenger seat to the nearest ice cream shop. At the shop, you told them about all the workplace drama and some new books you thought Laura might.

“You three are such a lovely family!” An elderly woman gushed when she saw you. “How long have you and your husband been married? I just celebrated fifty five.”

Before you could correct her about your marital status, Logan spoke up.

“Twenty five years, although it feels as if we’ve been married all this time.” He grabbed your hand from under the table and squeezed it.

“How adorable.” The woman said before saying goodbye and leaving the shop.

Laura looked at you and Logan with a smirk.As she was about to say something, Logan quickly stopped her.

“Just shut up and eat your ice cream, kid.” All you and Laura did was laugh. You loved your little family to death.

[nanamisgirly]

༊࿐ ͎. TIKTOK TREND? FOOL, YOU'RE GETTING FOLDED ft. boyfriend!sukuna

cw mostly porn, dom/sub, looot of degradation (he calls her slut, whore, thing, bitch), p in v, unprotected sex, blowjob, cock slap, sukuna is mean basically

wc 2.3k of filth 🙂‍↕️

reblogs and feed back are always appreciated my girliies :333

it all started because you wanted to try this new trend with boyfriend!sukuna. .

“stay put," you instruct him, setting up your phone in front of you before pressing record. at first, sukuna barely reacts, letting you tug at him like an impatient child. but the second he hears the telltale click of the camera, he sighs, already looking irritated. 

“the fuck are we doing now?” he grumbles, arms crossed. pink brows furrowed, scowl set deep—he looks done before you've even begun.

you don't answer. you don't even warn him. you just jump—grabbing his face, body crashing into his, lips speeding toward his like some kind of heat-seeking missile. “THINKFASTIMARANDOMGIRL—”

and sukuna does everything but think.

big hands clamp onto your waist, his body moving on muscle memory, his lips crash into yours. instinct takes over—he deepens the kiss instantly, teeth grazing your bottom lip, tongue already demanding entrance before you can even process what's happening.

you gasp, eyes wide, pressing a hand to your mouth like he just betrayed you. “what the fuck, sukuna??” you exclaim, breathless. “you're cheating on me?”

he blinks. processing.

then his brows knit tighter, lips still glossy with your spit, and he deadpans, “what the hell are you on?”

“you literally just kissed another girl in front of me!” you point an accusing finger at him, gasping like a scandalized housewife. sukuna follows the direction of your finger—eyes flicking from you… to your phone… back to you. his whole face contorts. his expression shifts from confused to genuinely offended, like you just disrespected him on a spiritual level.

“are you fucking dump?” his tone is flat, unimpressed.

you try to keep a straight face, but his reaction is too good. he looks personally insulted. “what kinda stupid-ass mind games are you playing, huh?” his grip on your waist tightens, pink eyes narrowing. “what is this, some tiktok bullshit?”

you purse your lips, trying not to laugh. “you're avoiding the question, cheater.”

his nostrils flare. “cheater?” he repeats the word. sukuna may be many things—cocky, ruthless, borderline feral— but a cheater? that, he was not.

“…y'know what?” his grip loosens. his voice drops, suddenly calm—too calm. “you're right.” his face comes closer to you, your stomach flips. “i did just kiss another girl in front of you. so i might as well do it right, huh?”

his lips slam against yours—rough, hungry. his teeth sink into your bottom lip—hard enough to make you whimper before his tongue shoves right back into your mouth. his fingers dig into your ass, pulling you flush against him, groaning low and satisfied at the heat of your body against his.

your brain short-circuits. this is—this is not how it was supposed to go.

“you wanted a reaction, yeah?” his voice is all rough and smug, hands grabbing at your ass, pushing you against his length. “wanted me to panic? get all guilty 'n shit?” he huffs a short, breathy laugh. “hell, no.”

he tilts his head, deepening the kiss again before finally pulling back. “the only thing i'm guilty of,” he murmurs, gripping your chin, tilting your head back, eyes burning into yours, “is not fucking this mouth properly.” 

your stomach plummets. 

you really fucked up. your whole plan—your little joke— is backfiring in real-time. because sukuna's looking at you like he wants to ruin you. like he's about to. 

“look at you, all out of comebacks now, huh?” his hand slides up your thigh, fingers teasing the hem of your short, creeping higher, higher, higher—

“'kuna...”

“you wanna call me a cheater?” he interrupts, tilting his head, gaze flicking between your eyes and your mouth. “might as well make it worth my time, yeah?” his hand moves from your thigh—down to your wrist. he guids your hand right onto his bulge.

he's hard. thick and heavy straining against his sweats, heat radiating through the fabric, throbbing against your palm. and then—just to fuck with you—he grinds up into your touch, slow and deliberate, letting you feel every inch of him. “that what you wanted, slut?”

your breath catches. your brain is screaming at you to stop—to explain yourself. but your frozen body betrays you, heat pooling between your thighs, because fuck—he's huge.

“bet if i put you on your knees right now," his voice nothing but gravel and sin, "you'd let me fuck your throat just 'cause i told you to.”

a soft involuntary whimper escapes your lips. 

“yeah,” he breathes, cock pressing against your palm, twitching. “that's what i thought.”

sukuna doesn't shove you down—he forces you, his grip tight and bruising in your hair, yanking you onto your knees so fast your head spins. your hands slap against his thighs, trying to steady yourself, but he doesn't give you a second to breathe.

“naughty little thing.” he presses his clothed dick against your cheek, then against your lips—forcing them apart. his pupils blew out when he saw your tongue peek out. “bet you'd let me fuck your throat ‘til you’re drooling.”

you moan at his words, a slow, aching pulse deep in your core. your panties? a useless soaked mess—clinging to your needy cunt, every shift of your thighs making the wet fabric smear slick across your skin.

sukuna huffs out a low chuckle, hooking his fingers into the waistband of his sweats and tugging them down just enough to free his cock—thick and flushed, smacking your face on the way. precum beads at the fat tip, twitching with every little gasp you let out, as if it knows exactly where it's meant to be.

you should tell him that this wasn't part of the joke, that this was all just some stupid prank—but you don't.

“you wanted to act up,” he mutters, fisting his cock, tapping the heavy, red tip against your cheek, smearing precum along your skin. “now you're gonna be a good little whore and clean up the mess you made.” before you can even open your mouth, he's already stuffing it full, forcing his cock past your lips, down your throat, chocking you on his length. the stretch burns, your jaw aching as he forces himself in, holding you there—his fat cock throbbing against your tongue, head nudging deep.

you gag instantly, body jerking, but sukuna just groans, shoving you down further. “ohhh, fuck yeah—choking on it already?” his grip tightens in your hair, dragging your head back just to thrust forward again, forcing you to take it, nose pressing into the coarse hair at his base. “you like that, right? bet you fucking love being used.”

drool is already spilling past your lips, eyes welling up. “messy fuckin' slut,” he spits, pulling out enough for you to gasp before he slaps his cock across your face, sticky and slick with spit. he grins at the sight—your cheeks wet, lips swollen, chin dripping. “god, you look so fucking dump like this.” then he shoves himself back in.

“c'mon, take it. all the way,” he growls, fucking into your throat with rough, snapping thrusts. every movement is brutal, merciless, his cock stretching you open, forcing you to gag and swallow around him. “that's it. choke on it. fuckin' drool on me.”

you're gasping for air, moaning, spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth, dripping down your chin and onto your shirt. your throat is so tight, so warm around him, and he groans deep, his hips jerking harder. “shit—fucking knew you had a slutty mouth on you,” his jaw clenched. “all that yappin' and for what? just to end up here? on your knees, suckin' my cock like a desperate little thing?”

your thighs squeeze together, eyes rolling back as he thrusts deeper, faster, using your mouth like a fleshlight. the sounds are obscene—wet, messy, sloppy, each thrust making your spit spill further onto your shirt, dropping onto the floor.

“atta girl,” he yanks you down onto him one last time, his cock twitching, stuffing your throat so full you can't breathe. he groans, deep and ragged, holding you there. “gonna fucking cum down your throat,” he growls, fingers tightening in your hair. “and you're gonna take every last drop, got it?”

tears streak your cheeks, your body trembling, but you nod as best as you can, moaning around him, sending vibrations up his shaft.

“fuuuuck—” sukuna's head tips back as his cock throbs, spilling hot and thick white strands down your throat. the taste is overwhelming—bitter and heavy on your tongue—but he doesn't let up, forcing you to swallow every single drop. he rides out his high, hips jerking with every pulse of his cock.

when he finally pulls out, a sticky string of spit and cum connects your lips to his tip. he smirks down at you, wiping a thumb across your cheek. “good fuckin' girl,” his voice is thick with satisfaction as he forces your head up to look at him through your dazed, tear-filled eyes.

“now,” he purrs, dragging his thumb across your swollen lips, voice dripping down to a low, mocking drawl. “you're ready for the real punishment?”

“t-the real p-punishment?” you managed to let out through your sore throat, confusion written all over your face.

sukuna crouches down to your level as his fingers trail along your spit-soaked chin. “oh, don't you think i was going to stop there," he licks his lips. “i was just warming up my cock, babe.” and in an instant he's scooping you up off the floor, manhandling you like you weigh nothing, throwing you over his shoulder.

“k-kuna—”you squeak, but he smacks your ass so hard you yelp.

“shut up. you don't get to talk. you just get to take it.”

the world tilts, your back suddenly hitting the bed, the sheets cool against your overheated skin. sukuna's already climbing over you, spreading your legs apart with one firm push of his knee. his grin is nothing short of predatory as he takes in the sight of you—lips swollen and puffy, mascara smudged from your teary eyes, thighs already trembling in anticipation.

“you look so fucking ruined already,” he muses, dragging his fingers up your thighs, spreading your legs wider. his hand dips between your thighs, fingers pressing against the soaked fabric of your panties, and he lets out a low, amused hum. “look at this mess.” his digits drag over your puffy lips, pressing right on your clit through the fabric. “all that from just sucking my cock?”

you whimper, hips twitching, heat spreading through your stomach.

sukuna clicks his tongue “pathetic.”

with one swift motion, he grabs your underwear and rips them clean off, tossing the useless scrap of fabric aside. then, without warning he's spreading your folds apart, groaning at the sight. “god damn.” his thumb swipes through your slick, coating his fingers in your arousal before shoving them into your mouth. “taste that, slut? that's what a cock-hungry little bitch tastes like.” your tongue swirls around his fingers, sucking them in pure submission, and he groans. “fuck you're so easy. just a dump little thing, waiting for me to stretch you out, huh?”

his fingers slide out of your mouth, trailing back down to your dripping cunt, rubbing slow, teasing circles against your aching clit, smearing your wetness over the swollen bud. his cock is already thick and heavy between his legs, flushed and twitching, leaking precum onto your skin like you hadn't made him cum minutes ago. 

“i could slide in right now. no prep, no warning— just split this pretty cunt open and make it take me.” his fingers pressing against your entrance.

your breath hitched, a needy whimper slipping past your lips as your hips bucked into his touch, desperate for more.

and that's when he slaps your pussy. 

a sharp, wet smack! rang through the room, the sting pulsing through your clit. your entire body jolted, a choked whine leaving your throat, but sukuna was already gripping your hips, holding you still, fingers digging into your flesh. positioning himself against your core.

“wanna act shy, now?” he mocked, a cruel smirk curling his lips. he dragged the thick head of his cock along your slick folds, grazing your sensitive clit. “you wanted this, didn't you?” his voice dripping with sadistic amusement. “so be a good girl and take every fucking inch."

sukuna doesn't easy you into it. doesn't give you time to adjust. 

he's too big, stretching you open with one deep, brutal thrust that punches a gasp right out of you. your nails clawed at the sheets, back arching as he buried himself to the hilt, the stretch almost unbearable, the girth of him pulsing inside your clenching walls. 

“fuckin' take it.” sukuna snarled, his hips snapping forward, shoving his monstrous cock balls-deep inside your fluttering cunt. “wanted my attention, yeah? wanted to run that filthy mouth, calling me a cheater—" he pulled back just enough to drive into you again. "now feel every inch of me.”

your eyes roll back, mouth falling open in a perfect O as he sets a punishing pace. the slick obscene slap! slap! slap! of skin-on-skin was the only thing we could hear, your dripping cunt sucking him in, making a mess all over his cock and the sheets. 

“listen to yourself,” he pants, voice thick with lust, his sweat-damp chest pressing against yours as he leaned down. “dripping all over me like a desperate fuckin' whore.” his hand found your thigh, shoving your legs up, spreading you even wider. sukuna was relentless, stuffing you full, hitting every nerve ending like he was made to break you. the pleasure bordered on unbearable, a searing heat pooling in your gut. 

“p-please,” you sobbed, tears clinging to your lashes. “w-want m-more—” 

he huffed out a dark chuckle, grabbing your legs and hooking them over his shoulders, folding you in half as he straightened up, arms locked firmly around your thighs. his cock drove even deeper, pounding into you with ruthless force, heavy balls slapping against your soaked, swollen cunt. the impact stole the breath from your lungs. 

“yeah?” sukuna's voice was rough, his body slick with sweat, muscles flexing as he fucked you into the mattress. “then take it. take it like the fucktoy you are.” 

“y-yes, i-i'm your f-f-fucktoy—mfghn” another sharp thrust, brutal and deep. the swollen head battering your cervix. “so tight,” he growled, “squeezing my cock like you were made for it.” his grin was vicious, all sharp teeth and cruel satisfaction. 

“i'm—ohmygod—” 

“that's a good girl.” his fingers slip down to your clit, rubbing in fast, precise circles, making your overstimulated body jolts with every movement. “gonna cum for me, slut?” his tone was teasing, but beneath the mockery, there was something deeper—something possessive. “gonna cream all over my cock like the needy girl you are?”

you couldn't stop it. didn't want to. not when he was rearranging your guts so perfectly, pulling moans and gasping whimpers from your lips.

your body seized up, thighs trembling, back arching off the bed as pleasure crashed through you in violent waves. your pussy clenched around him, sucking him in deeper, milking his cock as you came hard, a desperate cry spilling from your throat.

and that's what does it for him. 

sukuna groans, a low, guttural sound vibrating through his chest. his thrusts turned rougher, messier, his control slipping as your walls squeezed him so fucking tight. “fuck,” he grits out. “gonna fill this tight little pussy up—gonna make sure you feel me leaking out of you for fucking hours—” 

one final, brutal thrust—his cock slammed in to the hilt, burying itself as deep as it could go. then, with a shuddering growl, he spilled inside you, thick ropes of cum flooding your overstimulated walls, filling you up until you could feel the heat of it pooling inside.

for a moment, the only sounds in the room is both of you panting, bodies still tangled together. 

sukuna doesn't pull out right away. he stayed there, cock softening inside your spent cunt, just watching the way your body twitches beneath him, your breath uneven, your pretty pussy still fluttering around his cock.

a lazy smirk spread across his face. you felt it against your skin as his fingers trailed down, spreading the sticky mess dripping out of you before shoving them right back into your mouth. “taste that?” he muttered, voice laced with amusement. “next time…” his fingers pressed deeper on your tongue, making you gag just a little.

“think fast before running that pretty mouth of yours.”

(｡o_o｡)

[haydenthewitch]

can you imagine

buck is doing his whole "i'm baking becuse i want to call him" thing but for eddie. becuse it's like 4 am in texas right now and buck KNOWS eddie is probably sleeping but he misses eddie and they haven't talked on the phone for like 2 weeks becuse they are on oppistes firehouse scedules (eddie's on shift when buck's off and vice versa) and buck keeps thinking of calling him at in-oppurtune times. and he obvpusly doesn't want to bother eddie a ton, like, he doesn't want to be super needy (even though he IS needy for eddie). and so he bakes.

and it's super late, and he's had a shit day, and he misses eddie and it HURTS like a cracked tooth. and so he decidceds to make some cookies. He has some cookie dough in the fridge, (that he made not to bake but to EAT SADLY in it's un-baked form) and he rolls them out into balls and places them on a tray. This is the same cookie recipie for the ones he baked for eddie before eddie left, and that just makes him want to call again. he feels like all hus bones are lead, hes barely stumbling through the very simple steps, limbs tired. and just as he puts his cookies into the oven, his wrist accedntly touches the oven door.

"Motherfucker!" buck exlaims as he pulls it away. He shuts the oven door, hit's start on the timer, and them promptly bursts into tears. it's one of those "everything is going wrong and today is a terrible horrible no good very bad day" type cry. it's childish and simple.

just then, his phone rings. He jumps when he relizes that it's eddie's ring tone- scrambling to pick it up. To just hear his voice. It's a little pathetic, Buck thinks. like everything else about tonight.

"Hey buck, i didn't wake you, did i?" eddie's voice comes through the phone. A new wave of tears wells up in buck's eyes.

"...hey eddie." Buck snuffles.

"Are you okay???" eddie's asked, overwhelmingly alarmed.

"I just burned myself," Buck says. "i'm gonna be fine. it just hurts." His phone buzzes again, eddie requesting a face time call. He accepts it.

"Lemme see." eddie insists, and buck does just that, flipping the camera and showing eddie the burn on his wrist. "Okay, it's not bad. probably a first degree burn. It's going to be okay buck." and... fuck.

the thing is, buck is also a firefighter. He knew the burn was superficial. He knew that he was going to be fine. Eddie didn't have to tell him that... but he did. From anyone else, Buck might actualy take offense. But he knew that eddie wasn't being condesending. Eddie was reassuring buck, like he always did becuse he cared about buck. and from eddie, it did actualy make buck feel better, honestly. His words were like a soothing balm for buck's soul. (FUCK, he's so gone for this man. If eddie never wanted him buck might actualy stop dating forever. No one can take care of him like eddie can, and it wouldn't be fair to any other partner buck might have, considering how he would always be eddie's.)

"Do you still have that first aid kit in the house?" Eddie asks.

"Mhm." Buck says. He sniffles again, but he's not realy crying anymore.

"Okay, good. Go get it." Eddie tells him, in that calm dad tone he always uses, and buck feels safe. They go on like that, eddie telling him what to do and genuintly reassuring him, buck following instructions and letting eddie's prescense wash over himself.

when they are finaly done, and buck is all bandaged up and eating the cookies he went through so much trouble for, he finaly gets it in his head to ask, "Uh... eddie? what were you calling for in the first place? isn't it super late in texas?"

Eddie pulls a face, like he doesn't like the anser, like he's tasted something rotten. "I had a feeling that something bad was happening to you. something in my chest. I was hyping myself up to face you laughing at me, but when you picked up you were crying, so..."

"You had a feeling?" Buck says, a little smile creeping onto his face. "or was it maybe.... a premnition?"

eddie groaned. "Don't do that to me buck. or i'll call you every hour of every day at any twinge of anxiety that you are doing something stupid or reckless."

"I wouldn't mind..." Buck says, and it comes off way more soft than he ment it. "i've kinda missed you, eddie. any exuse to get to talk to you is a win in my books."

"I missed you too, buck."

(they eventualy get a system going where eddie will just text buck 🔮 (becuse he's getting a premnition) and buck will respond back with whatever he's doing and a reassurance that he's okay. sometimes selfies. about a month in, buck is the one to text eddie a 🔮? and ever since then it's a mutual check up between them. even when eddie and chris come back to LA, they keep the system going, and it just becomes another thing about buck-and-eddie.)

[capuccinodoll]

The boyfriend act, part 1: "The one with the proposal" Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!reader

SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter summary: The journey from Dallas to Austin is tense but tolerable, as you and Frankie do your best to ignore the mutual disdain simmering between you. But everything derails when a chance encounter with Harry—your ex—and his fiancée pushes you to tell a spur-of-the-moment lie. Frankie’s reaction makes it clear he’s not on board. WC: 14.3k

A/N: Okay, here's my new baby! And I fucking love it! I hope you enjoy this story as much as I've been enjoying writing it. Also, just a heads-up: I’ve taken some creative liberties with the characters. While this story is inspired by the ones in Triple Frontier, it barely follows the events of the movie, and the characters themselves aren’t portrayed exactly as they are in the film. PS: I’d love to hear your thoughts—your feedback means so much to me! Knowing what you think truly motivates me to keep going. So don't hesitate and let me know <3 Also, if you want to be on the tag list, let me know. And don't forget to follow capuccinodollupdates for notifs :)

When Santiago’s message arrived, you read it three times, as if repetition might change the words or soften their impact.

[Santi]: Hey bubs, mornin. I’m really sorry but I won’t be able to come get you. I’ll meet you at home later tho. Frankie will pick you up, same time as planned, don’t worry:)

The words seemed to pulse faintly on the screen, a quiet disruption of the neat plan you’d constructed in your head.

Frankie. He wasn’t your first choice—or your second, or third. If you were honest, he didn’t even make the list.

That morning had started with a sense of calm, a kind of orderly anticipation. The steady hum of the fan in the corner of Emma’s room, the cool sting of the shower water, the first sip of coffee, sweet and bitter all at once—it all felt like the clean slate of a well-prepared day. You’d zipped your suitcase shut with a satisfying finality, placed your carry-on by the door. Nothing left to chance.

The plan was simple: you’d take the bus. Predictable, unremarkable. But Santiago had insisted earlier that week, his voice crackling through the phone with a kind of rare, unguarded enthusiasm.

“We can stop for lunch, you know? Like we used to do with dad. Maybe even take a detour if we find somethin' cool,” he’d said, his tone warm, almost playful.

You’d been leaning against Emma’s kitchen counter at the time, a glass of wine in one hand, a cube of cheese in the other, and your phone between your cheek and your shoulder. Emma raised an eyebrow from across the room, silently prompting you to explain.

“Everything okay with Yovanna?” you teased, your voice carrying just enough edge to feel like a joke, even though it wasn’t entirely one. “Or is this an excuse to run away for the day?”

“Fuck you,” he laughed, the kind of laugh that came easily between you two. “I just want to spend time with you. It’s been ages since we really caught up. I miss you like hell.”

That stopped you. He wasn’t wrong—months had passed since the two of you had talked properly, beyond the surface-level exchanges over meals or texts.

“Okay,” you’d said, your voice softer than before, though you avoided looking at Emma. “I miss you too. I’ll wait for you then.”

And now, this. No Santiago, no shared lunch or detours. Just Frankie, an unwelcome rewrite of the day you thought you had mapped out so clearly.

You sat back against the bed frame, rereading the message one last time. Frankie will pick you up. Frankie will pick you up. Frankie. Frankie. Fucking Frankie. Now the plan had unraveled, and the disappointment felt sharper than you wanted to admit.

You let the phone fall to the bed beside you, the screen dimming as it landed.

Emma lay stretched out next to you, her head tilted toward the TV, where an episode of Friends played on low volume. It was one of those episodes you both knew by heart, the kind you could recite without effort. The one where everybody finds out. The blue light from the screen washed over her face, softening her features, making her eyes look brighter than they really were. Without looking away, she reached out and hooked her arm around yours, a quiet gesture that felt like home. She’d done the same thing when you were teenagers, sharing the lumpy couch in your parents’ living room, giggling over something trivial while your mom cooked dinner in the next room.

“What happened?” she murmured, her voice soft but curious, as if she could already sense the shift in your mood. The laugh track bubbled in the background, filling the space between her words.

“Santi’s not coming,” you said, glancing at the TV without really seeing it. “He sent Frankie.”

You felt a pang, not just from the change in plans but from the weight of the goodbye looming in the background. You’d learned to carry that feeling since Emma moved out of Austin—this persistent ache, like a thread pulling tighter with every visit that ended. On most days, it faded into the background. But today, it stuck to you, clinging like a damp sock you couldn’t quite shake off.

“That Frankie?” 

“I doubt he knows any others.”

“How convenient,” she said, her voice low with mockery, though her arm squeezed yours gently. “Well, call me when you get there. And try to be nice to him, if you can manage it.”

Emma turned her head slightly, just enough to glance at you out of the corner of her eye. “And don’t take too long to come back and visit me, okay?” 

“You could always visit Austin, you know."

“It’s more fun if you come here. You get to be a tourist,” she said, with that breezy logic she always used to disarm you. “I already know Austin. That’s not so exciting.”

You snorted, more out of habit than disagreement. She wasn’t wrong. Emma rarely was.

The rest of the evening passed in near silence, broken only by the low murmur of the television. First, another episode of Friends, then one of The Nanny. The rhythm of the shows was familiar, the kind of easy, forgettable comfort that didn’t require much from you. At some point, Emma shifted closer, resting her head on your shoulder. Her breathing slowed, deepened, a steady rise and fall that seemed to sync with your own. She didn’t say anything, didn’t need to. There was something about her presence, her weight against you, that felt like a reminder—you were understood here, even when you didn’t have the words to explain yourself. She wasn't just your best friend, she was your sister.

The sharp blare of a car horn shattered the calm, breaking through the evening like the crack of distant thunder. You flinched, your body instinctively tensing, the warm cocoon of the moment dissolving in an instant. Emma didn’t stir much, her eyes still closed, her arm still draped over yours. You nudged her gently, tapping her arm until she groaned softly and sat up, squinting against the glow of the TV.

“I think he’s here,” you said, your voice low but cutting through the quiet.

Emma stretched in one graceful motion, her arms arching overhead before she bent down to grab the bright lavender Crocs she kept by the bed. The shoes, adorned with an assortment of decorative pins—a blue flower, a miniature coffee cup, and a small plastic dinosaur—were an oddly perfect reflection of her: delicate, energetic, and just the right amount of ridiculous, in the best way. 

“Come on, I’ll walk you out,” she said, her tone casual, but there was a softness to it, an unspoken understanding that made the impending goodbye feel heavier.

Outside, the heat clung to you immediately, the air thick and sticky, humming with the faint buzz of cicadas. Your gaze landed on the car parked in front of Emma’s house, and something in you tensed. It wasn’t Santi’s car, of course, and it wasn’t Santi standing there waiting.

Frankie was leaning against the hood, arms crossed, his whole posture radiating impatience. He looked as though he’d been sculpted there, his bored expression so exaggerated it almost felt theatrical. The heat shimmered in waves around him, but he didn’t seem to notice—or care. He wore a rumpled gray shirt that looked like it hadn’t been ironed in weeks and a pair of dark sunglasses, their reflective lenses hiding whatever was going on behind them. The cap was familiar, too—plain, worn, the same style you’d seen him wear before, though this time in a faded gray that matched his shirt.

For a fleeting, irrational moment, you thought maybe this was all a mistake. That Santi might suddenly appear, stepping out from behind the car or walking up the driveway with that easy laugh of his, telling you it had all been a joke. But the driveway remained empty, and Frankie, noticing you, straightened up with a kind of deliberate slowness.

He started walking toward you, each step measured, as if he were pacing himself for an obligation he didn’t particularly want to fulfill. His movements had the casual indifference of someone who would rather be anywhere else, but was too resigned to argue.

“Where’s Santi?” you asked as you approached, the question coming out sharper than you’d intended.

Frankie didn’t answer immediately. He simply closed the distance between you with deliberate, unhurried steps. Then, without a word, he grabbed the suitcase from your hand in one fluid motion. The gesture caught you off guard—not because he took it, but because of how mechanical it felt. He didn’t look at you, didn’t acknowledge you in any meaningful way. It was as though you were just an extension of the bag he was moving, an obstacle to be dealt with as quickly as possible.

“He couldn’t make it,” he said at last, his voice flat, almost dismissive.

He hauled the suitcase toward the trunk and tossed it in with a thud that seemed louder than it should’ve been. The sound echoed briefly, underscoring his lack of finesse. He slammed the trunk shut with a single decisive motion and turned back toward the driver’s seat, his body language broadcasting that he considered the interaction over.

“He didn’t tell me anything about it,” you said, your voice rising slightly, tinged with disbelief. You stayed rooted to the spot, your feet planted as if the weight of the confusion had sunk into the concrete beneath you.

Frankie paused, his hand on the car door.

“It was a last-minute thing.” 

Before you could respond—before you could even begin to untangle your frustration into something coherent—he opened the door, slid into the driver’s seat, and pulled it shut behind him with a force that made the air shudder.

You turned back toward the house. Emma was watching from the porch, her arms crossed loosely over her chest. Her expression hovered somewhere between curiosity and bewilderment, her head tilting slightly as you approached.

She hugged you tightly, holding on a beat longer than usual. When you pulled away, her eyes searched yours, silently asking questions you didn’t have answers for.

“I’ll call you when I get there,” you said, though you weren’t sure what the call would entail—whether you’d laugh about all this, or vent, or just let her voice fill the empty spaces.

Her lips twitched into a faint smile, one tinged with resignation.

“I love you so much,” you added, your voice quieter now. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I always do. I love you too. Take care and call me as soon as you can."

She stepped back as you turned toward the car, your feet dragging slightly with each step.

Now, an hour and a half later, the car sped steadily toward Austin, the scenery blurring into a series of indistinct shapes. Frankie hadn’t said a word since you’d left Emma’s house, and the silence had settled in the car like a heavy fog, pressing down on you with every passing mile.

You’d considered speaking—several times, in fact—but every potential conversation starter you thought of seemed pointless. What was there to say to him? You barely knew each other, and what little you did know felt more like a series of grudges than shared history. The only things you had in common were your mutual love for Santi and, apparently, your mutual irritation with each other. Neither felt like enough to bridge the yawning gap between you.

You stared out the window, the dry, flat landscape sliding by in endless monotony, like a movie stripped of plot and color. Pale beige fields stretched into the horizon, broken only by the occasional cluster of power lines. The sameness of it all seemed to lull the world into a kind of dull, static hum.  

The only relief came from the music spilling softly from the car’s speakers—classic rock, its grainy tones unmistakable even at low volume. The sound was tethered to Frankie’s phone, resting in the cupholder beside him, the screen glowing faintly every so often with an incoming notification he didn’t bother to check. A Fleetwood Mac song began again, its familiar opening chords filling the silence for the third time since you’d left.  

You shifted in your seat, glancing at him from the corner of your eye before turning your attention back to the road ahead.

“Do you like this song?” 

“I think so.”

“It’s played three times already.”

“It’s a good song,” he said softly, his voice low enough to be mistaken for an afterthought. 

You turned back to the window, letting the conversation dissolve into the space between you. He hadn’t said it to be defensive—just matter-of-fact, like the song itself was reason enough. You folded your arms across your chest, the seatbelt digging slightly into your side.  

Then, your mind wandered back to Santi, to the message that had upended your day. What had he been thinking? Of all his friends, why send Frankie? The question rolled over in your head, each repetition more insistent than the last. Was it an oversight? A logistical decision made in haste, without considering how you’d feel about it? Or was it intentional? That idea sat uneasily with you, gnawing at the edge of your thoughts. He knew how strange things felt between you and Frankie. Hell, everyone knew. They’d all been there, witnessed it firsthand—the arguments, the uncomfortable silences, the way your personalities seemed to clash as naturally as oil and water.  

The possibility that Santi might’ve chosen Frankie on purpose—maybe even as some misguided attempt to force you into tolerating each other—bothered you more than you wanted to admit. You shifted again, suddenly restless, as the car hummed along the empty stretch of highway, the silence between you growing heavier despite the steady background of Fleetwood Mac.

Over the last few years, Frankie had been a fixture in your life, the way someone else’s shadow might be—not yours, but unavoidable. Being your brother’s best friend meant your paths crossed often enough, though you both seemed to approach these encounters with mutual disdain. You didn’t like him, and he didn’t bother pretending to like you. Disgust was the word that came to mind when you thought about how he looked at you. Not exaggerated or theatrical, just a cool, unflinching disgust, as though he found something about you fundamentally wrong. 

The last time you’d spoken more than a handful of clipped, perfunctory words to each other was in Santi’s kitchen a few years ago. That was the breaking point. The fight. It wasn’t dramatic, not really—no yelling, no slammed doors—but it was the kind of exchange that changed things irreversibly. After that, you decided you didn’t want to think about him, let alone look at him, ever again.

And that was the end of it. You stopped trying to explain. You'd come to accept that to Santi, Frankie was probably nothing like how you saw him. You weren't sure what it was about him that rubbed you the wrong way, but you knew that with your brother, Frankie surely couldn't be as unpleasant as he was with you. 

So, you ignored him. Every time you saw him, you made sure your gaze passed over him like he was just another fixture in the room. And he did the same. It was as though you were two people occupying the same space, but never truly sharing it.

Why on earth, then, had he agreed to come and pick you up?

The silence in the car stretched on, and you settled into the uncomfortable rhythm of it, letting it fill the space between you and him. Frankie’s eyes stayed fixed on the road, and his thumbs twitched restlessly over the steering wheel.

Finally, he broke the silence, but his words felt like a formality.

“We'll stop for lunch,” he said, his voice low, almost indifferent. His gaze flickered to you for a brief second, enough to make sure you had heard, before returning to the road. “I haven’t eaten anything all day. Do you mind?”

You were starting to feel the pangs of hunger yourself, but you didn’t let that soften your response. You couldn’t. 

“No,” you replied, your voice curt, colder than you intended.

Frankie nodded, the movement barely noticeable. He turned his attention back to the road, his expression unchanged, as though you hadn’t spoken at all. His calmness was maddening. 

For a moment, you considered breaking the silence again, saying something just to disrupt his steady composure. But then you thought better of it. There was still a long way to go, and the last thing you wanted was for this trip to feel even more suffocating than it already was. So you stayed silent, the weight of your irritation pressing down on you, knowing that with each mile, you were only getting closer to end of this torture.

Fifteen minutes later, the engine turned off  and you looked over at the driver's side, half-expecting Frankie to say something—anything—but he was already in motion. Before you could open your mouth, the door swung open, and he was out of the car, his body moving with an urgency that seemed to come from some invisible force, as though he were escaping the confines of the vehicle. For a moment, the empty passenger seat seemed to expand, making the car feel smaller, quieter. 

You stayed there a second longer, watching as Frankie made his way across the parking lot. His steps were steady, deliberate, almost too casual, as if walking away from you might somehow erase you from the moment entirely. He didn’t look back, didn’t pause to see if you were following. And honestly, you weren’t in any rush to do so. There was no reason to catch up with him. He clearly didn’t want you there, and you didn’t want to be near him either. This trip wasn’t about you; it was about doing your brother a favor.

The parking lot was modest, just enough space for the few cars scattered about. It wasn’t anything remarkable, just a typical lot for a small, unassuming restaurant. The faded lines barely marked the spots, and you counted five cars parked across the patch of asphalt. The windows of the restaurant were perfectly clean, and you could see people inside. A couple of families were chatting animatedly at their tables, and a few solitary diners were hunched over their food, their focus far from the simple meal in front of them.

With a sigh, you walked toward the entrance. Above the door, the sign Jimmy’s buzzed softly in red neon, its glow a little too bright for the evening light. Next to it, a yellow arrow with tiny, flickering bulbs pointed inside, inviting anyone who passed by to come in. "Eat here!" The sign seemed eager, almost enthusiastic in its attempt to catch attention.

You pushed open the door, the bell chiming brightly above your head as you stepped inside. The rush of cool air from the air conditioning met you instantly, a welcome contrast to the heat that still clung to your skin from the car. The coolness was almost too sharp, sending a slight shiver down your spine as you paused just inside the doorway. Your eyes took a moment to adjust to the softer light inside. The diner was small, but it had a cozy, familiar feel, with colorful walls and a few tables scattered around. The noise inside was a comfortable hum, punctuated by the occasional clink of silverware, low conversation and the music in the background.

It didn’t take long to spot him. Frankie was seated at the bar, absorbed in the menu in front of him. His posture was casual, but there was something about the way he held himself, his shoulders slightly hunched, that made it feel like he was a little too withdrawn, like he didn’t want to engage. 

You walked toward him slowly, the sound of your footsteps softened by the tiles beneath you. You were just about to sit next to him when he looked up, his gaze meeting yours briefly before returning to the menu. His voice was flat, almost bored as he spoke, as if the interaction was nothing more than a passing inconvenience.

“Go find a table,” he said, his tone neither rude nor warm.

You frowned, taking the menu from his hand without a word. His gaze didn’t follow you as he stood up, stretching slightly as he rose from the bar stool. There was something about his movements—relaxed, yet sharp—that made you feel like you weren’t really a part of whatever was going on. His shirt clung slightly to his back from the heat of the car, the evidence of sweat still visible on his skin, and you couldn't help but notice the fine hairs on his arms standing on end, a subtle sign of the sharp contrast between the stifling heat outside and the chill of the air-conditioned room.

“I’m goin' to the bathroom. Be back in a sec,” he added casually, his voice even, before disappearing down the narrow hallway to the right. No expectation of a response. No glance to see if you were still standing there, just a simple statement. He was gone before you could offer anything in reply.

You were left standing there, the laminated menu in your hands, a slight weariness creeping in.

With a sigh, you turned on your heels and began scanning the room for a table. There was still at least an hour and a half of travel left, plus however long you'd spend eating. Why hadn’t Santi given you a heads-up? You could’ve taken the bus or the train, something that didn’t involve sitting in a car with anyone but him. But no, that wasn’t even an option, apparently. 

You spotted an empty table near the back, next to the window, and as you walked toward it, the decor around you caught your eye. The place had a playful, nostalgic vibe, as if it were trying to channel the spirit of another time. Framed posters of Grease, Fame, Footloose, and Saturday Night Fever hung on the walls, adding to the feeling of a throwback to the ‘70s and ‘80s. It was all very upbeat, almost theatrical, like a movie set. The tables were red and white, and a jukebox stood in the corner.

You glanced at the posters, half wondering if the owner had lived through that era or just loved the aesthetic of it all. Either way, it gave the place a sense of warmth and a bit of character, a stark contrast to the outside. 

Suddenly, a voice cut through the quiet murmur of the restaurant, sharp and unexpected, and your name echoed in the air. You froze, the sound ricocheting in your chest, followed by a rush of emotions you didn’t want to acknowledge, let alone feel. You could feel the familiar tension ripple through your muscles, a mix of surprise, confusion, and something deeper you couldn’t quite place. Slowly, you turned to face him, every step feeling like it took an eternity.

“Harry,” you said, the name falling from your lips like it belonged to someone else, someone distant. A smile flickered across your face—perfectly timed and just the right shape, though it felt hollow, as fake as the kindness you were trying to project. Your lips tightened, a familiar mask of politeness slipping over your expression, one you wished you didn’t have to wear. “What... what are you doing here?”

His smile was instant and disarming, his surprise clear, and his happiness so genuine it made your chest tighten. For a moment, it erased the absurdity of seeing him here, of all places, in the middle of nowhere. The coincidence felt cruel, as if the universe was playing a cruel joke on you.

The last time you saw him, three months ago, it felt like a lifetime ago—a goodbye steeped in heartbreak. You’d clung to him, tears soaking his crisp white shirt as he whispered reassurances: “It’s okay. You’ll be okay. I care about you.” But the words he didn’t say cut deeper: he cared for you, but he loved her.  

It had been a casual fling, no strings attached—or so you told yourself. Then came the day he confessed: he was in love with Lisa, a friend you’d never met. They were getting married. His words, calm and rehearsed, felt like a gut punch, but his excitement betrayed him. He was happy. You weren’t.  

You tried to be strong, to tell him you were fine, even as you broke down. Because you loved him, and you couldn’t bear the thought of him with her.  

And now, here he was, smiling like nothing had happened, curiosity in his eyes—oblivious to the wreckage he’d left behind.  

In front of him, Lisa was sitting with a big bright smile. You’d seen her face before, her perfectly curated Instagram photos, her flawless smile that could have been lifted straight from a movie. But in person? She was even more striking, the kind of beauty that didn’t need filters or captions. The kind of beauty that made everything around her seem insignificant, that made you feel small just standing next to her. Her presence was magnetic, the sort of thing that pulled your gaze despite every instinct telling you to look away.

Suddenly, the air conditioning hit you like a blast of cold, sharp enough to make you flinch. But then again, maybe it wasn’t the air conditioning. Maybe it was just your body freezing in place, rigid with surprise and something much harder to define. You didn’t know how to respond. Harry was talking—his voice was there, filling the space, but the words barely reached you. They felt like distant echoes, the kind that might have meant something once but now were just noise, reverberating uselessly around you.

“What are you doing around here?” he asked, pulling you back from the tangle of thoughts you were trying so hard to keep at bay.

You blinked, trying to center yourself, but it was like you had forgotten how to breathe properly.

“We’re... I’m just passing through, heading back to Austin,” you said, your voice sounding too steady, too rehearsed, even to your own ears. Your heart was lodged somewhere near your throat, threatening to choke you if you said too much. “I went to visit Emma.”

“Ah, Emma. How is she? Is she still in Dallas?”

“Yep,” you answered, the word sharp and clipped, offering nothing more. 

The silence hung between you, thick and uncomfortable. You could feel it stretching, wrapping itself around your words, making them heavier than they needed to be. Finally, you exhaled, the air coming out in a slow, resigned sigh.

“What about you guys? What are you doing around here?”

You didn’t really want to know, not at all.

“Lisa’s grandparents live in Waco,” Harry said with that wide smile of his, the one that always made you feel like you were watching the world tilt on its axis. He looked at Lisa like she was the center of his universe, as if everything that mattered began and ended with her. “We went to take the invitation to them personally and I met the rest of the family while we were at it.”

You didn’t smile. You couldn’t. Your lips pulled tight, the gesture feeling almost painful, like your face wasn’t sure how to form the expression anymore. The words were there, though, just beneath the surface.

“Right, right.” You swallowed, forcing the words out despite how hollow they felt. “How cool. You must be so excited—a summer wedding, then?”

You’d known for weeks—September 13th. The invitation, with its sparkling gold lettering, had made your stomach churn. You buried it under junk mail, unable to face seeing him so happy, so certain of what he had.

But you couldn’t say that, could you? You couldn’t tell him that the mere thought of them together, of their future, felt like a knife to your chest. So you forced a smile, a tight, lifeless thing, and let the conversation carry on.

"That's right," Harry said, laughing as his gaze flickered to Lisa, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Even though we wanted to enjoy the early days of fall, Lisa wanted to get married around summer, mostly because of her parents. They got married during summer too."

Lisa laughed softly, the sound like a note held too long, then spoke, her voice low and warm.

"It's not just that," she said, her hand resting lightly on Harry's. You found yourself looking away, unable to hold the image of them together for too long. "Everything looks more beautiful during this season, doesn't it? Even the days last longer."

Her voice was thick with something you couldn't quite place—familiarity, maybe. Or maybe it was love, that unspoken thing that you couldn’t ignore, even if you wanted to. The way they fit together made everything else seem smaller, less important. And yet Harry’s eyes shifted to you, seeking something. Approval, maybe. He didn’t say it, but it was clear. His look said: Don’t disagree.

"That's true. Summer is beautiful," you replied, feeling the words slip out too easily, forced through your teeth. Your voice came out softer than you intended, and you felt Lisa’s smile hit you like a jolt. It was stunning—perfect in a way that seemed almost too much, like she’d been born to smile in that exact way. You hated her for it, just a little.

"We look forward to seeing you there," Harry said, breaking the moment, his words direct and heavy. "We haven't received your confirmation—you’re going, aren't you?"

How could he ask that, not see how unnatural this felt? But Harry wasn’t cruel—just unaware. You’d never told him you loved him, never made your feelings clear. To him, this was normal. He thought you’d be fine.

“I... um—” 

“Don’t worry about going alone,” he said, that same nonchalant tone that had once made you smile. "You always meet people at weddings."

Heat flooded your face, burning like a slap. The words stung, but his obliviousness made it worse. You wished the ground would swallow you whole—or anything to escape. Instead, you laughed—a thin, brittle sound that barely masked the pain.

"Ah, no, that’s not it," you lied, your voice trembling just enough for Harry to notice. "That's covered."

“Oh, is it?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow, his interest piqued. He leaned forward, a relieved smile crossing his face.

"Sure," you said, forcing a confidence into your tone that you didn’t feel. "I’ll... I’ll go with my boyfriend."

Harry's eyes widened a little, and then the smile appeared again—this one more genuine, more curious. He tapped the table, an excited gesture that made your stomach twist.

“You don’t say?” he said, his voice rising in pitch. “And who’s the lucky guy?”

You wanted to crumble. You wanted to say nothing, because the truth felt too big, too overwhelming, and there was no way to say it without everything falling apart. But you couldn't. You just couldn't.

As if by some celestial miracle, you saw Frankie emerge from the hallway, his attention absorbed by the screen of his phone, scrolling, unaware of anything around him. His timing was perfect, and relief washed over you, as if fate had sent him. He wasn’t supposed to be here, yet there he was—a lifeline in the chaos.  

For a moment, he seemed to glow, his familiar, worn cap catching the harsh lights like a crown. You’d never been so glad to see someone. Then his eyes met yours, and his expression shifted—confusion flickering as he took in your frantic stance, the mess of emotions written on your face.  

Before you could stop it, before you could make any sense of what was happening, a smile stretched across your face—too wide, too fast, like a reflex you hadn’t been prepared for. It was probably a little too sharp to be anything but forced, but you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t help anything.

"Frankie," you said, the words tumbling out with more enthusiasm than you intended. It sounded too bright, almost exaggerated, but there was no stopping it now. "This is Frankie... Frankie, my boyfriend.”

You weren’t sure what you were doing, but it didn’t matter—you needed to make something clear. Frankie tensed beside you, glancing your way, trying to read the situation. His eyes met yours, and you silently begged him: Help. Please.

For a moment, he studied you, his gaze flicking between you and the couple. Then, as if something clicked, his expression shifted to understanding. He realized what he had to do and adjusted instantly.

"Right," he finally said, his voice low, the smile on his face still a little unsure but polite. "I’m Frankie."

Harry extended his hand with a practiced smile, warm but a touch too bright. Frankie hesitated, his gaze shifting from Harry’s hand to your face, brow slightly furrowed as he tried to assess the situation—or his role in it.  

You stepped closer, tapping his waist lightly, a subtle signal to act. He blinked, refocusing, and finally took Harry’s hand, his grip firm and deliberate. But in his eyes, there was a flicker of discomfort—one only you noticed.

“Frankie,” Harry said, his voice carrying a weight of something too calm for the situation. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I'm Harry.” Then, he nodded enthusiastically, dropping his hand back to the table. “And this is Lisa."

Lisa smiled, her gaze bright and almost blinding.

“Nice to meet ya, Frankie,” she said, her voice the epitome of warmth, her charm effortless, her presence just... perfect. Oh my God, just stop it!

Frankie finally turned his attention back to you, though it wasn’t immediately clear if he was still processing the social niceties or deciding how best to carry this conversation forward. His voice shifted slightly as he spoke again.

“Same here,” he said, his tone unfamiliar to you—something smoother, almost softer, like he was trying to convince himself as much as anyone else. 

He moved closer, just a bit too close, slipping his arm around your waist with ease, sending a flutter through your stomach. His hand rested lightly against your side, his palm warm at your back. You froze, unable to focus on anything but the pulse of his touch, the way he effortlessly played the boyfriend role.

It felt wrong, uncomfortable.

Confusion and relief mixed inside you, unsure if the relief came from the act itself or the distraction it provided from the situation.

"Well," Frankie broke the silence. "Sorry to interrupt, but we need to leave soon. I want to make sure this beautiful woman gets some food before we go—otherwise, she goes bad."

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by the way he phrased it. 

Harry chuckled, his easy laughter filling the space.

“Yeah, I believe you,” he said, his grin still wide but with a spark of curiosity. He shot a look at Lisa, then back at Frankie, narrowing his eyes just a touch. “That’s the main reason we stopped. Though I’ll admit,” he added, glancing down at the table with a mock grimace, “I was the one really starving.”

The awkwardness of the moment barely registered for Harry. He seemed to think everything was going smoothly, unaware of the small cracks in the facade that were threatening to show. Frankie, however, was more aware than anyone, and you could see it in his eyes—the way his face shifted from the casual smile to something more guarded, something more carefully neutral. 

Frankie gave a short, almost amused laugh, pulling his arm back from your waist with a light tap. His tone was polite, more deliberate than before.

“Yeah, I’m sure you can relate,” he said, a flicker of warmth in his eyes. “Keeping your lady happy, that's what it's all about, isn't it?” 

You tried to smile, but it came out thin, tight around the edges. Your legs became weak. 

Harry’s laugh was light. He buyed it.

Frankie straightened up slightly, offering his hand to Harry in that careful, calculated way that now seemed practiced, even though it hadn’t been moments ago. His movements were calculated, polite, but entirely different from the Frankie you knew. The way he was acting felt like an entirely unfamiliar version of him—Thank God.

“Okay, thanks for the chat, but we bett—” 

"Yeah, of course," Harry interrupted, still upbeat and completely oblivious to the tension. "It was nice meeting you, Frankie. Take care of her, alright? She's... well, you know. A special one."

Frankie’s smile stiffened, the edges barely moving as he gave a short nod. His eyes flicked to you for a fleeting second, his expression tight and controlled, though something was definitely off.

"I will, man," he replied, voice steady but carrying an underlying edge. "I’ve got her covered. Don’t worry. She’s in good hands."

“Bye, Harry,” you said, turning to him with a friendly but somewhat distant smile, your hand lifting in a wave that felt too casual for the weight of everything you hadn’t said. “And you too, Lisa. Good luck with the wedding!”

Lisa smiled warmly. “Thank you,” she replied, her voice smooth. “Let us know if you're coming."

“Yeah. Hope to see you at the wedding. You too, Frankie,” Harry said, just before you thought about starting to walk to the table at the back of the place.

Frankie looked confused, and looked at you for an answer, or for you to say something.

"Sure," you said, taking him by the arm, ready to leave. "We'll definitely be there!"

You moved in silence toward the booth, Frankie's hand resting at the small of your back, guiding you like an automatic reflex. The low hum of conversation in the restaurant seemed to fade as you both reached the table, and you were strangely relieved that the high backs of the seats shielded you from Harry’s view. 

He dropped into the seat across from you, his presence as loud and brash as ever, even without a word. When you looked at him, it struck you how quickly he'd reverted to the expression he always wore around you—furrowed brows, lips pressed into a thin, almost unnatural line. It wasn’t clear if it was annoyance, confusion, or just him being him.

“I’m so hungry,” you said, flipping through the laminated menu like it might hold the answers to something bigger than lunch. “I really want a burger, and some fries.”

He didn’t reply immediately, his stare heavy on you. Then:

“What the fuck was that?”

You sighed, closing the menu and flattening your hands on the table as if bracing yourself. His face was a familiar mix of wide eyes, creased forehead, and that particular grimace that always made you feel like you’d said something wrong.

You shrugged. “My ex.”

“Okay? And?”

“And that’s it. Nothing else.”

Frankie leaned back with a dramatic exhale, the leather of the booth creaking under him. He shook his head in disbelief, his jaw tightening.

“Since when am I your boyfriend?” he asked, his tone sharp with irritation. “Last time I checked, I was doing your brother a favor.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you said quickly, cheeks warming. You picked up the menu again, trying to will your face back to neutrality. “Thanks for playing along, anyway.”

He sighed—loud, pointed. You glanced up, and sure enough, he was staring at you, his fingers drumming a steady rhythm on the table. Not impatient, exactly. Calculated.

“You’re not going to tell me what the fuck that was?”

You ignored him, letting the embarrassment swirl hot in your stomach as you fixed your eyes on the menu. Burgers. Burgers. Burgers. Burgers. Fries. Onion rings, maybe.

“Hey,” he said sharply, snapping his fingers in front of your face.

You blinked, snapping your head up to look at him.

“Oh, are you talking to me?”

Frankie gave you a look so exaggerated you almost laughed, except you knew he wasn’t joking.

“Who else would I be talking to? You think I’m out here monologuing? Who are you, fucking De Niro?”

“Hey!” you snapped, slamming the menu down on the table. The sound echoed between you, a sharp punctuation that sent a ripple of air across his forehead, lifting the dark strands just slightly. “Don’t talk to me like that, Francisco. Who do you think you’re talking to? We’re not friends.”

He snorted, the sound sharp but oddly soft at the same time, pulling off his cap and placing it on the seat beside him. With a low groan, he ran a hand through his hair, fingers catching briefly in the strands. His gaze found yours again, his posture seemingly relaxed but betraying a subtle tension. You could see it in the way his shoulders didn’t quite settle, in the way his eyes didn’t blink as he studied you.

“I know, we’re not friends. But I just lied for you. Why? Who was that? And why are you acting so weird?”

Before you could answer, he straightened in his seat, leaning forward slightly. “No, wait. The real question is: why are you acting weirder than usual?”

You folded your arms, leaning back until you felt the booth press into your shoulders. Your gaze flicked to the front door, the thought of walking out taking root in your mind. Leaving felt easier—safer. Honestly, you’d rather trudge all the way back to Austin on foot, the heat and endless asphalt blistering your skin, than sit here and explain yourself to Frankie. He wouldn’t care. Worse, he might care just enough to make you regret opening your mouth.

When your eyes returned to him, though, his expression surprised you. Serious, yes. But not angry. He was watching you with an almost disarming calmness, like he’d decided he had all the time in the world to wait for your answer.

You sighed, the sound shaky as it escaped your chest.

“It’s my ex,” you said, barely above a murmur.

“Yes,” he said immediately. “Your ex. I got that part. And?”

“And his fiancée.”

“Aha,” he nodded slowly, like he was piecing something together, but his eyes didn’t leave yours. “Why did you lie to them?”

You swallowed hard, the pulse in your neck thudding too loudly in your ears.

“Because...” Your voice wavered, and you hated it. “Because... Um, he told me I might meet someone at the wedding.”

Frankie blinked, his confusion shifting into something closer to disbelief.

“What?”

“God,” you muttered, rolling your eyes as heat crept up your neck. Your hands dropped to your thighs, fingers curling into the fabric of your jeans. “We dated for four months, and he broke up with me to get engaged to her. Then he invited me to their wedding. When I said I’d go, he told me not to worry about showing up alone, because I’d probably meet someone there.”

Frankie’s mouth opened slightly, but no words came out, so you pressed on, a flush of anger sparking under your skin.

“So, I panicked,” you admitted, your voice sharpening. “I told him not to worry, that I’d bring my boyfriend. And then you showed up, and it just—it made sense in the moment, okay? That’s it.”

“It made sense to you to say I was your boyfriend?” he asked, his tone incredulous. “You couldn’t have said I was someone else? Made up something better?”

“No, it didn’t occur to me!” you hissed, your eyes widening as your voice rose, though you kept it just shy of shouting. “I panicked, okay? I’m sorry! What was I supposed to do?”

He stared at you for a moment, his face a mix of annoyance and bafflement, before leaning back again. You could see the wheels turning in his head, though whatever he was thinking, he wasn’t about to share it with you.

You sank deeper into your seat, glaring at the table like it might offer some kind of solace. But all you could feel was the mortifying heat of his gaze, still fixed firmly on you.

Frankie scratched his forehead, his fingers dragging slowly down to his chin, where they rested briefly before falling to the table. His expression was skeptical, as if he were trying to solve a particularly irritating puzzle.

“Okay,” he started, his voice even but edged with disbelief. “So, you dated this guy for three months—”

“Four months,” you corrected, your tone clipped.

“Right. Four months. And then he left you to get engaged?”

“Yeah.”

Frankie leaned back, his posture deceptively relaxed, but the sharpness in his eyes gave him away.

“You’re telling me he cheated on you, and you’re still planning to go to his fucking wedding? Are you out of your mind?”

He propped his chin on his left hand, elbow planted firmly on the table, and his gaze locked onto you. There was something in his expression that made your stomach twist—a combination of pity and incredulity that made you feel stupid, even if he hadn’t said the word outright.

“No, he didn’t cheat on me,” you replied, lowering your voice as you leaned forward slightly, not wanting anyone else to overhear. “We weren’t in a serious relationship. We were just... casually dating. He was always in love with her, but they couldn’t figure things out. I knew that. He told me.”

Frankie’s eyebrows lifted, his disbelief evident.

“He told you he was in love with another woman, and you still kept dating him?”

“No,” you shot back, frowning. “He told me after a while—around the time we broke up. I would never date someone who was in love with someone else.”

“But you were in love with him, weren’t you?”

There it was. That tone. The one that suggested Frankie thought he had you all figured out, as if your life and feelings were nothing more than a series of obvious moves on a chessboard he could read from across the room. He was so infuriatingly arrogant, so sure of himself.

You narrowed your eyes, but the involuntary twitch of your eyebrows betrayed you.

“I had feelings for him,” you admitted, your voice stiff with frustration.

Frankie tilted his head slightly, his lips quirking into a half-smile that made you want to smack him.

“Okay, let me make sure I’ve got this straight: this guy you casually dated for four months left you for another woman, got engaged, invited you to the wedding, and you, still hung up on him, agreed to go but invented an imaginary boyfriend so you wouldn’t have to show up alone. That about right?”

“I’m not in love with him,” you snapped, crossing your arms defensively and shaking your head.

“I don’t believe you."

“I don’t care what you believe."

“You want to know what I think?”

“Are you deaf?” you said, your lips pressing into a pout. “I just told you I don’t care.”

“I think you’re crazy for going to that wedding,” he said, leaning forward slightly. His voice dropped lower, as though he were sharing a secret, though his words carried no sympathy. “Do you want to torture yourself or something? Are you a masochist?”

The word slipped out like a dagger, his eyes narrowing as he studied your reaction, his face drawing closer, his voice almost a whisper.

You exhaled sharply, a mix of frustration and disbelief, biting your lower lip as you turned to look out the window. The distant hum of cars on the road outside felt like the only thing grounding you in the moment.

When you looked back at him, your voice was steadier, quieter.

“We’re friends. Things between us ended well. Why wouldn’t I go to his wedding?”

“So he broke your heart, and you’re still going to his wedding. Got it.” Frankie leaned back slightly as he said it, his tone deliberately even, but the words were sharp enough to make you flinch.

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, anger mixing with a deep, familiar embarrassment.

“Why the fuck do you care anyway? I already told you everything. Make fun of me all you want, but stop interrogating me and leave me alone.”

Frankie’s eyebrows lifted, his expression shifting into something maddeningly amused. A slow, sarcastic smile spread across his face, the kind that made your stomach twist in irritation.

“You got me involved in this, remember?” he said, his voice light, almost playful, which only made you angrier.

“It was just a little lie, that’s all.”

He let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head.

“Well, you didn’t think it through,” he said flatly, reaching across the table to grab the menu you’d abandoned. He straightened it out in front of him, his fingers smoothing the creases, and his eyes scanned the options with an air of exaggerated focus.

For a moment, you thought he might actually drop it. But of course, he didn’t.

“I wonder what he’ll think,” Frankie said suddenly, his tone casual but cutting, “when he sees you show up to the wedding alone.” His eyes stayed on the menu, but his words hung heavy in the air between you. “You should’ve come up with something else. Be more witty next time. Or, I don’t know, just don’t go to the wedding. That works too.”

Oh.

Your stomach churned at the thought, the weight of it pressing down on you as your mind raced through the possibilities. He was right, of course. What were you going to do? There was no way you could actually show up to the wedding now. You’d have to turn down the invitation at the last minute, make up some absurd excuse about why you couldn’t make it. Or maybe you wouldn’t say anything at all. Harry didn’t deserve an explanation. He wasn’t entitled to one.

The silence stretched between you, uncomfortable and loud. You didn’t answer him. What could you say? You felt silly, even ridiculous, sitting there, replaying the moment over and over in your mind. Of all the places in the world, did you really have to run into Harry there, in the middle of the road, with Frankie of all people?

None of this would’ve happened if Santiago had come to pick you up like he was supposed to. If he’d warned you he couldn’t make it, you would’ve saved yourself the humiliation. You wouldn’t have had to deal with Frankie’s smirking face or his infuriating commentary.

You stared at the table, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of it. God, why did everything have to turn into a mess? Why couldn’t things just go smoothly for once?

Frankie didn’t seem to notice—or care—that you hadn’t responded. He flipped a page of the menu, his expression unreadable now, as if he’d already moved on. But his words lingered, heavy and persistent, refusing to leave you alone.

With your appetite nearly nonexistent, you ordered a hamburger. It sat heavy in front of you, unappealing and far too big. You nibbled at it slowly, methodically, as if chewing it down might somehow help you swallow the rest of your humiliation. Across the table, Frankie made quick work of his own meal. He ate like someone who hadn’t seen food in days, the kind of eating that could make anyone watching feel small.

When he finished—barely ten minutes in—he leaned back in his chair and fixed you with a look. Not an outright stare, but enough of one that you could feel the weight of his impatience.

You didn’t care.

Instead, you turned your attention to the fries on your plate. Picking up each one with deliberate slowness, you savored them, your gaze drifting toward the window. Outside, the road stretched on endlessly, shimmering in the summer heat. Frankie sighed, low and exasperated, every few minutes, but to your surprise, he didn’t rush you.

When you finally stood to leave, Harry and Lisa were nowhere to be seen. Relief swept over you like cool water. If you’d had to exchange goodbyes with them, you were sure you’d lose every bite of food you’d managed to stomach.

You followed Frankie out to the car. His footsteps were quick and purposeful, the kind that demanded anyone trailing behind him keep up or risk being left behind. Once inside, the tight, enclosed space of the vehicle made your skin crawl. You clicked your seatbelt into place, but the snugness of the strap across your chest only added to your discomfort.

For a fleeting moment, you considered bolting. What if you just opened the door and threw yourself onto the hot, sticky asphalt? You’d roll a little, maybe scrape a knee, but at least you wouldn’t be here.

The car started with a low rumble, and Frankie turned up the music without a word. The sound wasn’t loud enough to drown out your thoughts, but it added a layer of noise, a distraction you didn’t ask for but didn’t resist either.

Your gaze shifted to the scenery blurring past the window. You rested your forehead against the cool glass, welcoming the breeze coming in through the lowered window. The air smelled faintly of gasoline and sun-warmed earth.

Frankie drove in silence, his hands steady on the wheel. His thumbs tapped along to the rhythm of the song playing faintly in the background—Rebel Yell by Billy Idol. You stared at the horizon, but your mind kept circling back to him.

He probably thought this whole situation was hilarious. You could see it in the way his eyebrows had lifted earlier, the way his lips twitched with incredulity every time he asked about Harry. He didn’t need to say it—he thought you were foolish, and maybe you were. You felt it, deep in your chest, that heavy, sinking shame that told you he was right to think so.

What the hell were you going to do?

Not going to the wedding wasn’t an option, not unless you wanted Harry to think you were still upset—or worse, that you still cared. But going? Going alone? That wasn’t an option either. You could bring someone else, maybe. But who?

Harry knew all your friends, and you didn’t have many male ones left who weren’t married, taken, or entirely inappropriate. Your brother’s friends? Sure, because that would work out great. Another one of Santiago’s buddies, strolling in on your arm. You ran through the list in your head. Will? No. Ben? Ben had a girlfriend.

It was hopeless. Every scenario felt more humiliating than the last.

God, you wished you could disappear. Or better yet, transform into something simple and unbothered. A worm, maybe. Worms didn’t have exes. They didn’t have weddings to dread.

You were spiraling, and it must have shown on your face because Frankie spoke up, his voice breaking through your chaotic thoughts.

“We’ll make a stop to fill up the tank, okay?” His tone was casual, distracted, as he turned left into the gas station lot.

“Sure,” you mumbled, barely lifting your head.

The car slowed to a stop, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. For a moment, the world outside felt steadier than the one inside your head.

You followed Frankie out of the car, your steps slower and more hesitant than his easy stride. He moved with the kind of casual confidence that seemed effortless, his shoulders relaxed and his head bobbing slightly as he hummed along to a song that had been playing a few miles back. The heat pressed down on you, thick and relentless, but he didn’t seem to notice.  

You lingered by the passenger side, arms folded across your chest. Your gaze flitted to the gas station shop, where shelves of snacks and cold drinks promised brief relief from the sweltering air. For a fleeting moment, you considered going inside—maybe grabbing a soda, or even just standing under the blast of an air conditioner. But then you thought about how much longer that would draw out this journey. The idea of extending your time in Frankie’s company, even by a minute, was enough to keep you rooted in place.  

So you waited, watching him in silence. He moved with the kind of efficiency you’d expect from someone used to things like this—mundane tasks, long drives, solitude. He didn’t rush, but he didn’t dawdle either. He glanced at you once as he replaced the nozzle, his expression unreadable, and then he climbed back into the car without a word.  

You followed suit, settling into your seat and pulling the door shut with a soft click.  

The miles ahead stretched out endlessly, yet the closer you got to Austin, the more your thoughts swirled. You cycled through possibilities, none of them good. Each option felt like another layer of embarrassment, a new way to showcase just how deeply you’d tangled yourself in this ridiculous situation.  

Eventually, your mind settled on one solution—a compromise of sorts, though it was far from ideal. You turned it over and over, weighing the risk against your pride. It felt heavy in your chest, but the closer you got to the city, the harder it became to ignore.  

Finally, as the familiar outline of Austin came into view, you forced yourself to speak.  

“Frankie,” you said, your voice tentative. You turned to look at him, your hands fidgeting nervously in your lap.  

He didn’t take his eyes off the road. “What?”  

“You know,” you began, cautiously, “Santi loves you a lot. You’re one of his best friends.”  

“I know.” 

“And you must love Santi too, right? I mean, you’d do anything for him.”  

At that, he glanced at you, his brows knitting together in confusion. The kindness in your voice must have thrown him off. But what really seemed to unnerve him was the faint, almost hesitant smile you were giving him.  

“Of course I love him,” he said slowly, his tone edged with suspicion. “What do you want?”  

You smiled a little wider, tilting your head. “Why do you think I want something?”  

“Because you’re smiling at me like that,” he shot back, returning his focus to the road. “And it’s creepy. Stop it. You’re scaring me.”  

“I just think,” you said carefully, “that it was really nice of you to go all the way to Dallas to pick me up. You didn’t have to, you know. I could’ve taken a bus or figured something out. But you did it anyway. You did me a favor today, and I just—”  

He cut you off with a dry laugh, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. A bead of sweat had formed there, glistening in the harsh afternoon light.

“If you want to call it that,” he muttered.  

“I mean it,” you insisted, leaning slightly toward him. “You didn’t have to do this. You could’ve said no, and I wouldn’t have blamed you. But you didn’t. Why?”  

His grip tightened on the wheel, and he shot you another quick, sidelong glance. His expression was guarded, like he wasn’t sure where this was going or if he wanted to know.

“I dunno,” he said finally, his tone clipped. “Because Santi asked me to. Because I had nothing else to do. Does it matter?”  

You pursed your lips, staring straight ahead as your thoughts spiraled. Why were you nervous? It wasn’t fear—definitely not fear of him. But still, there was something about Frankie that unsettled you, something sharp-edged and unyielding in the way he looked at you, like he could see more than you intended to show.

You forced yourself to steady your breathing, trying to reason with your own hesitation. It didn’t matter if he was intimidating. It didn’t matter what he thought of you.

“I think you should come to the wedding with me,” you blurted, the words tumbling out before you had the chance to second-guess them. As soon as they were out, you snapped your gaze away, focusing intently on a crack in the dashboard as though it held the secrets of the universe.

“What?” Frankie’s tone wasn’t as surprised as you’d expected—it was more amused, like he thought you’d just said something profoundly ridiculous.

“You should come to the wedding with me,” you repeated, forcing yourself to look at him this time.

He turned his head briefly, his eyes scanning your face, his expression unreadable. He seemed to be studying you, trying to decide whether you were joking or if you’d completely lost your mind. Finally, he clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“No,” he said flatly.

“Frankie.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“What’s the matter with you?” he asked, his voice rising slightly in exasperation. “Did you hit your head or something? Have you completely lost it?”

“No, just hear me out,” you said, raising a hand in what you hoped was a calming gesture. He shot you a wary glance but didn’t interrupt. “It’ll just be a favor—a small favor. I swear, if you do this for me, I’ll give you whatever you want. Wathever. Um, well—not whatever you want,” you corrected quickly. “Something reasonable. Something human. Please.”

Frankie snorted, a small, incredulous smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You’re asking me to pretend to be your boyfriend at the wedding of a guy who dumped you? And you’re the sister of one of my best friends?” He shook his head, laughing quietly, like he couldn’t quite believe the words coming out of your mouth.

You sighed, the weight of your desperation pressing down on you.

“Santi will understand,” you argued, your tone bordering on pleading now. “He will. And it’s not like I’m asking for much—just come with me for a little while. We don’t even have to stay all night. Just long enough to…” You trailed off, realizing how pathetic you sounded. “Just long enough to make it believable.”

“Sorry, no,” Frankie said firmly, cutting you off. “I’m not getting dragged into your drama. And honestly? I think it’s stupid for you to go to that wedding in the first place. What are you trying to prove? My answer is no. Invite someone else.”

Frustration burned in your chest, rising up to your cheeks as his words landed. You could feel your face heating, both from embarrassment and anger.

“I can’t invite someone else,” you snapped. “You’re my boyfriend, remember? That’s what Harry thinks. He saw you. They saw you. And you did a pretty good job pretending to be nice to me today—can’t you do it one more time? Just this once?”

“No—”

“I’ll do anything you want,” you interrupted, your voice insistent. “I mean it. Any favor you can think of. Just name it.”

Frankie tilted his head, giving you a skeptical look.

“I’m not interested in any favors from you,” he said bluntly. “I don’t need anything.”

“Then do it for Santi,” you said, desperate now.

Frankie laughed at that, a low, disbelieving sound that only irritated you further.

“What does your brother have to do with any of this?”

“He’s your best friend,” you said, leaning toward him slightly, like you could will him to understand. “And you love him. And I’m his sister.”

“Uh-huh,” Frankie said, still smirking. “So?”

“So, doesn’t that mean you should help me?”

Frankie’s laugh grew louder, his shoulders shaking slightly as he glanced at you.

“You’re really reaching now, aren’t you?”

He turned to look at you then, the movement deliberate, his eyes narrowing slightly as they met yours. There was no malice there, but the firm set of his jaw told you all you needed to know—there was no convincing him. He understood the weight of your request, the quiet urgency stitched into each word, but it didn’t sway him.

“I’ve never asked you for help before,” you said, your voice softer now, almost brittle. “In fact, I’ve refused your help plenty of times. You said I was childish, remember? Well, fine. Maybe I’m being childish. But now I’m asking. Just this once.”

He shook his head slowly.

“It’s not the same thing,” he said, his voice low and steady, like he was trying to explain something simple to a child. “And you are being childish. Like I told you—no. The answer’s fucking no.”

You blinked hard, swallowing against the sting of rejection that settled heavy in your throat.

“Okay, fine,” you replied, the word clipped, your voice devoid of emotion. You turned your face away from him, angling it toward the window, not wanting him to see the look on your face—humiliation, maybe, or something closer to defeat. “Thank you.”

Frankie sighed, long and low, his hands flexing around the steering wheel as though he were squeezing the last ounce of patience from himself. The silence that followed was thick, broken only by the low hum of the car and the faint thrum of your pulse in your ears.

The rest of the drive passed without a single word exchanged. You stared out the window while Frankie focused intently on the road, his grip on the wheel tight and unyielding.

When the car finally pulled up in front of your house, the relief that washed over you was immediate and overwhelming. You reached for the door handle, your fingers trembling slightly, and stepped out into the humid air.

Frankie followed, moving around to the back of the car with the same mechanical precision he’d had all day. He popped the trunk and pulled out your suitcase, the effort seemingly as uninspired as when he’d loaded it hours ago.

He carried it to the door and set it down, his movements brisk, almost dismissive. You stood there, arms crossed, your body angled away from him, unwilling to meet his gaze.

“That’ll be all,” he said finally, his tone flat, his sunglasses obscuring his eyes on your face.

“Thank you,” you murmured, barely audible. “I’ll let Santi know I’m home.”

“Good.”

You didn’t look up as he turned back toward the car. You didn’t watch him leave, but you heard the sound of his door slamming shut, the low rumble of the engine as he drove off.

As the noise of his departure faded into the distance, you stayed rooted to the spot for a moment longer, the weight of the day pressing heavy on your shoulders. The heat prickled against your skin, and your head ached faintly, a dull reminder of how much you wanted this day to end.

You grabbed the handle of your suitcase, pulling it inside as the silence of the house enveloped you. You needed a shower—cold water to wash away the heat, the frustration, the embarrassment of it all. You needed to be alone, to let the day dissolve into nothingness behind a locked door.

Nearly two weeks slipped by, lost in the haze of your routines and the background hum of self-destructive thoughts.

What were you going to do? Probably nothing. You wouldn’t go. That was the easiest answer, and maybe the only one that made sense. What choice did you really have?

Still, Frankie’s words stuck in your head, gnawing at the edges of your resolve. What are you trying to prove? he’d asked. And after a few restless nights, staring at the ceiling and replaying the conversation, you realized he was right. You did want to prove something—to Harry, to yourself. You wanted him to see you happy, radiantly happy, at his wedding, as though it didn’t touch you at all. You wanted to seem light and unbothered, the kind of woman who could be at her ex’s wedding without flinching.

Except you did care. Of course, you cared. You hated that you cared. And you hated Harry for putting you in this position. How could you not be upset? The man had left you only a few months ago, and now he was marrying someone else. It wasn’t normal—none of it was. But you couldn’t shake the question gnawing at the back of your mind: why did you have to be the one left hurt?

And Frankie. You’d hated the way he’d looked at you when he said it; What are you trying to prove? What the hell were you trying to prove? like he couldn’t believe how foolish you were. If you hadn’t wanted to see him before, you definitely didn’t want to now. You resolved to talk to Santi, to tell him how uncomfortable the trip had been—without blaming Frankie, exactly—and to ask, kindly but firmly, that he warn you if Frankie would be around in the future.

It was humiliating, this whole situation. But you were sure about one thing: you never wanted to see Francisco Morales again.

The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving your kitchen in soft shadows as you stirred sugar into your coffee. Your gaze stayed fixed on your laptop, on Harry’s wedding invitation glowing on the screen. You’d read it so many times it felt permanently etched into your mind. But now, you’d decided. You weren’t going.

Your finger hovered over the trackpad, guiding the cursor to the “RSVP not attending” option. You paused, just for a second, your chest tightening. Then, before you could click, the doorbell rang, sharp and sudden, making you flinch.

Setting the mug down, you crossed to the window, peering out at the sidewalk. The sight below made your brows knit together. That couldn’t be right. Surely, you were imagining things.

You slipped on a pair of shoes and headed downstairs, opening the door without much thought.

“Francisco,” you said flatly, his name sitting awkwardly on your tongue. “What are you doing here? Did something happen with Santi?”

He dragged a hand over his mouth and shook his head, slow and deliberate.

“Can we talk?”

“About what?” Your tone was sharp, incredulous, your expression twisted like he’d just said something absurd.

He looked different somehow. Neater, you thought, though you hated yourself for noticing. His hair was slightly shorter, his beard more trimmed than usual.

He sighed, long and heavy, like he’d been forced into something he didn’t want to do. The sound made you laugh, a sharp, derisive snort. As if he had the right to be irritated. He’d shown up unannounced, at night, on your doorstep. If anyone should feel fed up, it was you.

“I’m going to help you,” he said finally, the words clipped and begrudging.

“With what?”

“With your ex.”

“What?” The confusion on your face deepened. “Harry?”

Frankie glanced to the side, as if checking for onlookers, before returning his gaze to you and nodding.

“Are there other exes you need help with?”

His question was thick with sarcasm, and you rolled your eyes in response.  

“Well, I don’t need your help anymore. But thanks,” you said quickly, your voice tight, as you began to push the door shut, inch by inch.  

Then his hand was on it, stopping you.  

“Wait,” he said, and this time his voice was different—tinged with something almost like desperation. “I’m serious.”  

You paused, narrowing your eyes at him through the gap.

“Why would you help me? You were very clear the other day,” you said, your tone sharp. “There’s no point in me going to the wedding.”  

“True, there’s no point,” he said, his gaze steady on yours. “But I know you well enough to know you’d love to go anyway. To show Harry how great you’re doing. Am I wrong?”  

“You’re wrong,” you shot back instantly, too quickly.  

Frankie sighed, the sound dragging out like he was trying to buy himself time. He glanced away for a second, then back at you, his expression suddenly resolute.  

“I’ll do whatever you want,” he said.  

You blinked at him, stunned into silence for a moment.

Then, with a raised brow, you asked, “Are you sick? Do you have a fever, Francisco?” You brought your hand up toward his forehead, but he flinched back dramatically before you could touch him.  

“What are you up to?” you asked, pulling the door open wider, suspicion laced in your tone.  

Frankie stood there, his posture stiff, his expression uncomfortable, like he was holding something in that might burst out if you pressed too hard.  

“May I come in?” he asked finally, his brown eyes soft and glinting, almost boyish.  

You hesitated, studying him for a few beats, letting the curiosity outweigh your disdain. Then you stepped back and opened the door fully, sealing the moment with the soft click of the latch behind him.  

Frankie climbed the stairs ahead of you, pausing at the top to wait as you opened the door to your apartment. He stepped inside, scanning the space.  

Your living room was warm, cozy but cluttered—books and mugs scattered across the coffee table and nearly every other available surface, interspersed with pens, pencils, and random odds and ends. Behind the sofa, the kitchen was visible, small but functional.  

You stood back, watching him take it all in. His expression was unreadable, but you imagined him silently judging the chaos. You almost wanted him to—let him think it was messy, or that your style was lacking. You didn’t care.

He didn’t belong there, in your space. Everything about him seemed incongruous with the world you’d built for yourself—his presence like a mismatched puzzle piece, forcibly shoved into place where it clearly didn’t fit. He was out of tune with your reality, standing in the warmth of your living room like he’d wandered in from an entirely different life.

You crossed to the kitchen island, where your half-drunk coffee sat waiting. Sliding onto the stool, you gestured at the one across from you.

“Have a seat.”

Frankie hesitated but eventually sat down, his movements stiff and reluctant, like he’d rather be anywhere else. His expression was tight, uncomfortable, like he was a vampire catching the faintest whiff of garlic in the air. His eyes landed immediately on your laptop, still glowing with Harry’s wedding invitation.

“I see you’re taking the wedding well,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You sighed audibly, refusing to take the bait.

“What do you want?”

As you waited for him to answer, you lifted your coffee to your lips. It had already cooled, the bitterness more pronounced now that it was lukewarm. Another thing he ruined for you, you thought bitterly. Your fucking coffee. 

“I’ve been thinking—”

“Congratulations,” you cut in, deadpan.

Frankie’s eyes flicked up to meet yours, dark and unamused. He didn’t even blink, just stared at you like he was waiting for you to get it out of your system. You shrugged, feigning indifference, though the weight of his gaze made your skin prickle.

“I’ve decided I’m going to the wedding with you,” he said finally.

You raised an eyebrow, lowering your mug to the counter.

“You decided? I thought you didn’t want to go with me.”

“I don’t,” he said. His fingers brushed the edge of your laptop, tracing a line along it.

“But you’re still here,” you said, your voice laced with suspicion.

Frankie exhaled slowly, leaning back slightly.

“I’ll help you… if you help me.”

“If I help you? With what? Don’t tell me you’re finally going to therapy,” you blurted out, a half-smile tugging at your lips.

Frankie straightened in his seat, his back stiffening like you’d just landed a verbal jab. For a moment, it looked like he might get up and leave—walk out and never look back. But instead, he stayed. He clenched his jaw, his eyes locking on yours with a determined, almost defiant look.

“I had dinner with my family tonight,” he began, his voice measured but tense. “With my mom and two of my sisters—”

“Is that why you look like that?” you interrupted, tilting your head.

“What?”

“Like you finally took a bath,” you said, your smirk widening.

Frankie exhaled sharply, his patience visibly fraying. “Can you shut up and listen to me for a second? I’ll be brief.”

You held up a hand as if to say, Fine, go on.

“They’re nice, my family, but they won’t leave me alone,” he said, his tone growing more frustrated. “All through dinner, they kept asking me these awkward questions, trying to convince me to go on these dates they’ve been setting up with their friends’ daughters or coworkers or whoever.”

Your smile widened, thoroughly amused. “Why? Why don’t you just go? Come to think of it—”

“No,” he cut you off, his voice sharp. “I already agreed once, and it was a disaster. I’m not doing it again. And I’m not about to get into that with you.”

“Good,” you said, leaning back slightly. “Because I’m not interested.”

Frankie sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair.

“Every time I see them—for over a year now—it’s the same thing. They won’t leave me alone. And look, I get it. They’re trying to be helpful. But I’ve had enough.”

Your curiosity piqued at that. “What happened a year ago? Why?”

Frankie’s face tightened, his upper lip curling slightly as if the question had caught him off guard.

He frowned, his brows drawing together, before finally muttering, “That doesn’t matter.”

The dodge only made you more curious, but you let it go, watching as he leaned forward slightly, his hands gripping the edge of the counter.

“The point is,” he continued, “I got fed up. So tonight, when they started in on me again, I told them to back off. That I didn’t need them setting me up on dates because… because I already have a girlfriend.”

His words hung in the air for a moment, their weight sinking in.

Oh.

“Oh,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Your eyebrows lifted just enough to show your surprise, though you tried to mask it.

Frankie shifted in his seat, his gaze falling to his hand resting on his knee. He shook his head slightly, a faint, almost imperceptible motion, as though he was trying to block out whatever he feared you might say next.  

“Funny,” you said, your voice light with mockery. “And your mother believed you?”  

When he looked up at you, his expression darkened. The amused smile playing on your lips ignited a flash of irritation in his eyes. You looked entirely too entertained by the situation, and it made him bristle.  

“Hardly,” he admitted, his tone sharp. “I don’t even think I convinced her. That’s why I need your help.”  

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly, as though creating space from whatever absurdity was about to come out of his mouth.

“You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend?”  

Frankie nodded once, curtly. “My mom’s birthday is in a few days. She’s turning sixty. She’s having this big nice party, and she told me she wants to meet my girlfriend then.”  

You crossed your arms, still trying to gauge whether or not this was some elaborate joke.

“When’s the party?”  

“Next Saturday.”  

Your eyebrows shot up, and your lips parted in disbelief.

“Francisco,” you grumbled, the word low and heavy. “That’s in three days.”  

“I know,” he muttered, matching your tone. His jaw tightened like he was already regretting the entire conversation.  

“And what did you tell her?” you demanded. “What did you say when she asked?”  

Frankie’s hand moved to the counter, his fingers drumming once before he let them still.

He hesitated, and then, in a resigned voice, said, “I told her yes. That I’d bring my girlfriend to her birthday.” He paused, meeting your gaze. “So she’d finally leave me alone.”  

You pushed back from the stool, standing in one swift, exasperated motion. Your hands flew to your hips, your whole body radiating irritation as you glared at him.  

“Oh, so you just assumed I’d help you, didn’t you?” you snapped, your voice loud in the otherwise quiet apartment. “What if I said no?”  

“I knew you wouldn’t say no,” Frankie said, meeting your anger with calm certainty.  

You let out an incredulous laugh, your head tilting back briefly before you fixed him with a sharp look.

“My God, what’s wrong with you? You don’t know what I’m thinking.”  

He didn’t flinch, though you could see his patience thinning in the slight twitch of his brow.

“I know you well enough to know you’ll say yes,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact, as though he were stating the obvious.  

The sheer audacity of it made you want to scream.

Frankie rose from his spot, his movements deliberate and quick. His footsteps echoed as he crossed the room, closing the space between you with purposeful strides. He stopped in front of you, standing taller, looking down at you with an intensity that was hard to ignore.  

“I know you want to go to the wedding,” he said, his voice firm. “I know you asked me to go with you, and you were persistent. And anyway, I think you owe me.”  

You blinked, incredulous, a small laugh escaping your lips despite yourself.

“I owe you?”  

Frankie’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he took a small step closer.

“Don’t forget that the only reason you didn’t make a complete fool of yourself in front of Harry was because I decided to help you. I played along. If I’d wanted to, I could’ve exposed you in front of him and his fiancée. I could’ve made it worse.”  

“Thank you so much, Francisco, you're a fucking angel,” you spat, your tone thick with sarcasm, though the incredulous smile on your face betrayed how absurd it all felt. “What do you want me to do? Give you a hero of the century award?”  

Frankie’s expression didn’t waver; he was dead serious. “No. Come with me to my mom’s birthday and we’re even.”  

You froze for a moment, processing his words, the sheer audacity of them making your heart skip a beat. This was beyond ridiculous.  

"You're fucking crazy! Are you serious?" you demanded, unable to hide the disbelief in your voice. "It’s not even close. Harry’s my ex something, nothing more. And you’re asking me to go with you to a family event, full of your relatives, and you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend in front of all of them?”  

Frankie’s eyes flicked upwards, his impatience seeping into his expression. He rolled his eyes.  

“It’s not like we’re getting married,” he said, dismissive, his voice tinged with frustration. “You’re exaggerating. It’s not the first time I’ve taken a girlfriend to a family thing. What are you, fifteen?”  

You crossed your arms, giving him a skeptical look. “I don’t know, by my standards, introducing a girlfriend to your family seems like a pretty serious thing.”  

Frankie exhaled through his nose, clearly growing more insistent. He looked at you with unwavering intensity, his gaze now pointed, as if trying to break through the walls you were building between you and this ridiculous proposition.  

“I’ll take care of that,” he said, his voice steady but with a finality that made it clear he wasn’t backing down.

You stood there for a moment, the room stretching in a strange, suspended silence. You weighed his words in your mind, the absurdity of the situation tangled with a strange sense of reluctant curiosity.  

“Are you really going to accompany me to the wedding?” you asked, your voice quieter than you’d intended, the question slipping out like something you hadn’t meant to say aloud.  

Frankie nodded, a reassuring, almost teasing gesture, as though he was certain he had already won.

“I’ll help you catch the bouquet and everything,” he said, the corner of his mouth curling in a grin that almost made you want to punch him.  

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, your voice edged with irritation.  

“And yet, here you are, still going with me to that wedding.”  

Frustration rose in your chest, pooling in your throat like heat. You bit down hard on the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress the rush of emotion that threatened to spill over. How utterly insolent. How impossible.  

“Fine,” you finally spat out, barely containing the anger simmering beneath your words. “I’ll help you. But you’d better make my time count, Francisco.”  

He flashed a half-smile, the kind of smug, self-satisfied smirk that made your fingers itch to slap him. You wanted to say something else—something cutting, something that would make him regret this entire conversation. But you couldn’t.  

Instead, Frankie reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and tapped the screen a couple of times before handing it to you.

“Give me your number.”  

You took the phone from him with a swift, almost startled motion, your fingers brushing against his as you punched in your number. The action felt mechanical, as if you were moving through a script you didn’t want to follow. When you handed it back to him, you watched him tap the screen, adding you to his contacts with deliberate motions. His fingers moved quickly, but you couldn’t catch the name he gave you. It was probably something ridiculous, something that made you cringe even without knowing it.

He didn’t say anything, just slid the phone back into his pocket, and turned to head for the door. But before he reached it, he stopped and looked at you, his eyes meeting yours once more.  

“I’ll text you,” he said abruptly, almost as if it were a last-minute afterthought.  

And then, without waiting for a response, he opened the door and left, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the quiet stairs. You stood there, still staring at the empty doorway, the weight of his words hanging in the air long after he was gone.

With one click, you confirmed your attendance.

tags: @darkheartgatita @joelmillerisapunk @nandan11 @whirlwindrider29 @onlythehobi @diabaroxa @yellowbrickyeti (a few of the tags aren't working, idk why, fix it tumblr!!!!)

beautiful divider by @saradika-graphics 💗

[fairytaleendingss]

Room for One More?

Chapter 7

Summary: The group Christmas party takes a few unexpected turns.

CW: Swearing, alcohol consumption, mention of boobs?, sexual references.

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x fem!reader

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

So I may have stayed up until 2am finishing this last night so that I could have it posted on schedule but it also might be my favourite chapter so far!

--

The apartment looked amazing. You'd gone all out with decorating in preparation for this evening's Christmas party. There were lights and candelabras adorning just about every available surface in the room. A garland was laid out across the TV stand and the table was set with your favourite Christmas place setting. You'd even hung mistletoe in the entryway.

You looked yourself over in the mirror once more. You were dressed in your brand new dress, your hair pinned up in a simple, yet elegant updo and you're favourite red lipstick coated your lips. It was important to you that you made a good impression tonight. Despite having already spent a significant amount of time with the group, this was your first time hosting and you'd put a lot of effort into making it perfect.

You took one last deep breath, adjusting your dress slightly where it sat on your shoulders and stealed yourself for an entrance.

The smooth notes of "Last Christmas" filled the air around you as you pushed open the bedroom door. You could hear voices drifitng from the living room. Your guests had arrived.

Exiting the comforting confines of your room, you couldn't help the nerves that wracked through you. That was only amplified when eyes fell upon your form.

"Oh my god!"

Mary was the first to speak, exclaiming loudly with that endearing enthusiasm that she always seemed to exude.

"You look incredible!"

She charged towards you and engulfed you in a warm embrace. You melted into her touch, her excitement helping to ease your nerves ever so slightly.

"Thanks, Mary. So do you!" you told her earnestly. She looked stunning in a silky, red, wrap dress.

"And look at this place!" she continued, pulling away and gesturing around the room. "Did you do this?"

"I had some help," you responded, glancing over at Sirius and James. They were standing beside the tree, chatting to Peter with drinks in hand.

It was at that moment that Sirius looked over to you and his eyes almost bulged fair out of his skull at the sight. He blinked at you senselessly for a moment, completely zoning out of the conversation he'd previously been a part of you. You chuckled lightly, winking and sending him a flirtatious wave across the room.

Unbeknownst to you, Mary was observing the interaction, a curious look of suspicion crossing her features.

"Well, then," She stated after a moment. "Shall we get you a drink?"

You nodded, smiling back at her. "I'd love that."

The two of you linked arms as you headed into the kitchen. Sirius' gaze followed you the whole way there.

--

The room was filled with people dancing and laughing and drinking. The party so far seemed to be a smashing success. You were sitting on the couch, positioned next to Lily while Dorcas sat on the oveseat, Marlene huddled in her lap. Mary was perched on the coffee table, engrossed deeply in a story about a man who'd attempted to ask her on a date in a bookshop earlier that week.

"I could tell he was hovering," she explained. "But I chose to ignore him for the most part. I was in the Crime and Thriller aisle when he approached and I kid you not, he looked me dead in the eyes and said 'I have a library card, can I check you out?'".

The group erupted into fits of laughter.

"But you weren't even in a library! It was a book shop right? That doesn't even make any sense!" Dorcas pointed out.

"I know!" Mary chuckled. "I just looked at him like he was crazy and told him I'm seeing someone. Not that I would've ever gone out with him even if I wasn't!"

"Ugh, men are ridiculous," Marlene remarked. "Luckily for me, they aren't something I have to worry about."

She leaned up and planted a sloppy kiss on Dorcas' cheek causing the girl to flinch away and groan dramatically, eliciting another ripple of laughter.

You took a sip of your cocktail. It was lovely and sweet; a combination of gin, prosecco and canberry juice. Mary had insisted on making them for the party. She called it a "Gin-gle Bell Fizz."

"So, y/n," Suddenly attention was on you as Lily piped up from your right. "Have you been seeing anyone recently?"

You inhaled sharply, accidentally swallowing wrong and causing yourself to sputter for a moment as you placed your glass down on the table.

"Oh no. Not at all," you chuckled, once you'd managed to regain your breath. "I've been lacking in the area of romance for quite some time, honestly."

"Really?" Dorcas pressed, and you nodded sheepishly.

"I'm surprised to hear you say that," Lily respoded kindly. You were sure that in the time you'd known her, you'd discovered the lovliest person on the planet. "You're so beautiful! Anyone would be lucky to have you!"

"I concur!" Marlene agreed. "You're a hit, babe. It's only a matter of time. I'm sure half of London has the hots for you by now."

You chuckled lightly. "Thanks everyone. Careful or you'll give me an ego."

"Don't worry. No matter how inflated it gets, it'll surely never be as large as James'," Dorcas announced, prompting another round of laughter.

"What's as large as me?"

As if on cue, James appeared behind you, leaning down over the couch so that his head was pertruding into your conversation.

"We were just talking about how hot, y/n is," Marlene chirped.

"Well you aren't wrong there," James smirked. "What'dya think I bought her that dress for?"

Mary raised a brow. "You bought her that, did you?"

He winked at her slyly. "Call it an early Christmas gift."

That's when Sirius appeared, Remus by his side.

"Speaking of gifts," he chimed in. "Who's ready for Secret Santa?"

"Oooh yes!"

That came from Peter, who was just returning from the kitchen with drinks for himself and Sybil.

"I call Santa!" James exclaimed, jumping up from his spot and rushing towards the tree as everyone took their seats.

__

"What on earth is this?"

James was surpressing a laugh as he ripped the last of the wrapping paper from his gift.

"They're shot glasses!" Marlene exclaimed as if that much wasn't obvious. She was leaning back in her chair, arms folded and a smug smirk across her face.

"They have tits!"

"I know! Classy aren't they?"

He held one of the glasses up so everyone could see and sure enough, they were shaped like the curves of a female body. You couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of the gift.

"And there are four in there, so each of you boys can use one," Marlene stated. "You know, just in case you were forgetting what they looked like-"

"Oh come off it!" Sirius responded, giving Marlene a playful shove from where he sat beside her as she giggled. "I get plenty of action, thank you very much. I'm the lead singer of a band, remember?"

She shrugged. "Sure, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night!"

"Okay next!" James shouted, sitting his gift aside and rumaging once again under the tree. After a moment he retreated, his lop-sided santa hat (that he'd insisted on wearing) snagging on one of the branches and causing everyone to burst into a flurry of laughter.

"Alright," he announced once his hat was righted. "This one is for y/n!"

He passed you the gift, a small box wrapped in shiny gold wrapping. Excitedly, you pulled off the bow and began to tear into the paper, all eyes on you as the gift was unvailed.

Inside was a small, red box. On top of it was a tag, decorarted with the words, "For your new beginning here with us."

You pulled it open and couldn't stop yourself from gasping at what was inside.

It was a gold necklace with an ornate dragonfly charm, one that matched almost exactly with the orament on your tree. You pulled it out to inspect it closer.

"Oh my god! This is beautiful!"

Your eyes scanned the circle of people, looking for an indication of who might have given you the gift. You knew that your roommates were the only ones who new about your Christmas ornament so it had to be one of them. You already knew that James had Mary so that just left... Sirius. It had to be Sirius.

It made sense now as to why he didn't want to help you with your shopping. He apparently didn't want to give anything away.

You caught his eye across the room and sent him a genuine smile. One which he returned. You're heart felt fuzzy at the sentiment.

--

Secret Santa had been a hit, if you did say so yourself. Dorcas had absolutely fawned over the set of paintbrushes you'd gotten her and everyone else seemed reasonably satisfied with their presents.

You then sat down to eat dinner, and having each brought a plate of food, the meal seemed decently well-rounded. As you tucked into the turkey James had prepared, you said a silent prayer of thanks that you hadn't been made to serve this entire group. Let's just say you were a much better party host then caterer.

After dinner, your guests had retired to the couch where slightly tipsy game of 'Cards Against Humanity' had commenced (at Sirius' request, of course. According to Marlene, he'd been pulling that game out at every group gathering since high-school.)

You and Peter had volunteered to tidy up the plates before you joined them and ended up in a surprisingly interesting dicussion about the Botany course he'd briefly taken during University.

Towards the end of the conversation, you'd recieved a message from your Mum double checking the dates for your Christmas visit and you realised that your phone was down to 10%.

"Could you excuse me for a moment?" You asked Peter as you placed the last of the dishes in the dishwasher.

"Sure," he nodded gently. "If we're finished up here, I'll go join the others."

"Yeah, go for it. I'll be there in a second," you told him and quickly ventured down the hallway with the intent of plugging your phone in in your bedroom.

You responded to your Mum's message on the way and absentmindedly threw the door of your room open without even thinking to knock.

"Oh my god!" you shouted as you entered.

Mary and Lily pulled away from each other in a flash, from where they'd been interlocked in a passionate kiss only a moment prior.

Mary shushed you quickly, pulling you into the room and Lily rushed to push the door closed.

You all fell silent for a moment, listening as to whether anyone outside had heard you, however, a ripple of laughter told you that they were still absorbed in the game.

"What the hell?" you questioned, eyes wide as you looked between the two of them. Lily looked extremely embarassed, her face almost as red as her hair as she bit her lower lip.

Mary, on the other hand, just shrugged. "Surprise, I guess?"

"Are you two together?" You questioned, still trying to process the scene unfoldng before you. A realisation dawned on you a second later. "Mary, is Lily who you've been secretely seeing?"

Mary sighed, taking a seat on your bed as she thought over her next words carefully. "I wanted to tell you. We just weren't ready for it to come out in the group yet. We didn't want to make it a whole big thing."

You nodded thoughtfully, taking a seat on the bed beside her. Lily stood in front of you, fiddling with the rings on her fingers nervously.

"This is kind of new to us," she gestured between them and instantly you understood what she was referring to. "And we're still just figuring everything out."

You gave her a small smile, eyes drifting between the two girls. "Well... I'm really happy for you. You guys are a good match."

Mary smiled, wrapping a friendly arm around your shoulder. Lily seemed to relax a little.

"Thanks, girl," Marry said softly. "We appreciate that."

It was then that another, more invasive thought entered your mind.

"Oh god, Lily. James is going to freak out! He's been pining after you since forever!"

Lily let out a lofty sigh, looking immensely guilty. "I know. Which is why you can't tell him, okay? Or anyone."

You furrowed your brows. "Of course I won't tell anyone... but guys, these are your best friends. You can't keep sneaking around forever. You're going to have to tell them at some point."

"We know," Mary muttered. "We're just trying to figure out the right time to do it."

"But we promise we will," Lily added. "Soon. I mean, someone was bound to catch us sooner or later."

"Although, I'm glad it was you and not Sirius," Mary joked. "He cant keep a secret to save his life. Especially from James."

You chuckled lightly. "Yeah, you're right about that."

"So... you're really okay with all this?" Lily questioned. You could tell on her face that she was worried about putting you in an uncomforable situation.

You sighed and sent her a small smile. "Yeah of course. It's not my place to tell anyone about your personal situations. You have to do that when you're ready."

"Thanks, hun, you're the best!" Mary exclaimed, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and pulling you into a sideways hug.

You just chuckled as Lily gave you a warm smile.

"And just so you know, I think you guys make a really cute couple."

Lily turned bright red once more.

--

A few hours later, the party drew to a close. Peter and Sybil were the first to leave, followed shortly after by Dorcas and Marlene.

You said goodbye to Mary and Lily around 1am and the four of you who lived at the apartment stayed up a little while longer to tidy up before you went to bed.

Remus said goodnight earlier than the rest of you, as he was having trouble with his knee again. And you sent James off after him when you noticed how his eyes were falling shut while he was picking up wrapping paper.

Eventually, you and Sirius were all that was left. It was the dead of night by that point, and the city had grown silent. There was something peaceful about it, you observed, being awake while the rest of the world was sleeping. For a moment, it felt like you were the only two people in the world.

Sirius smiled when he caught you gazing out of the widow at the cityscape. There were a few cars still driving on the road below, a few stray lights on in apartment windows, a few little signs of life peering through an otherwise silent metropolis.

Sirius approached you slowly, coming to stand behind you as you looked out at the night-covered skyline.

"What are you thinking about?" He asked softly. His warm breath fanned the back of your neck.

"Those people down there, driving," you responded. "I wonder where they're going?"

Sirius chuckled. It was a deep, rich sound that welled from somewhere in his chest.

"It's a bit late for a drive, you'd think."

You hummed in response. "Isn't it odd to think about how life doesn't just exist around you?"

Sirius frowned. "What do you mean?"

You shrugged. "Like, the idea that every single person that you see through their apartment window, or pass on the street, or who's driving one of those cars down there, is living their own individual life. They each have their own stories; their own friends and family and lovers. There's just so many people in the world and most of them, we'll never cross paths with even once."

Sirius pursed his lips. "Wow. That is odd. I can't say I've ever really thought of it like that."

You turned around towards him, the countours of your face highlited in the dim lamp-light.

"Don't you ever wonder about your fans? Who they are? What their life is like? To think that there could be all these people out there listening to the music you created, and you may never even know their names."

Sirius pushed a low breath from his lips. "What a philosophical way to end a Christmas party."

You scoffed loudly and rolled your eyes. "Sorry to ruin the mood."

"It's no problem, love. As long as you had a fun time."

He placed his large hands on your upper arms and you couldn't fight the smile that arose. "I had a wonderful time. Did you?"

He returned your smile. "Best Christmas party yet!"

You giggled softely and he placed a kiss on your forehead. "Come on, it's getting late. We should head to bed."

You nodded and pulled away to gather your things. As you did so, your eyes fell on the box containing the necklace you'd recieved for Secret Santa. Another smile graced your lips at the sight of it.

"Hey Sirius?" You called out, just as the boy began to head towards his bedroom door.

"Yeah, doll?"

"I just wanted to say, thank you so much for your gift. It's so wonderful and thoughtful. I absolutely love it!"

A slight frown came over Sirius' face. "Uh... as much as i'd love to take the credit for it, I didn't get that for you."

Your brows furrowed. "Really?"

Sirius shrugged. "Sorry. I had Remus."

"Well then who..."

Your question trailed off as your eyes fluttered to the aformentioned man's door. No. Surely not. It couldn't be!

Remus?

He'd never get you a gift that thoughtful... would he?

You looked down at the necklace as Sirius bid you a final goodnight. Your finger gently drifted over the dragonfly pendent and then to the note that was stuck to the top of the box.

"For your new beginning here with us."

--

Taglist:

@hisparentsgallerryy @navs-bhat @shushbruv @magicwithaknife @eeviee4 @notapoetjustscar @gugggu6gvai @robertsmithclone @ilovesugurugeto69 @taytayy178 @its-notkiee @bugworldsworld @switchingfandomslikecrazy @evangelquill, @delusional-4-fake-people

[lunajay33]

Save a Horse🍂

Summary: Wandering around in the apocalypse was hell until you came across a a ranch, finding a injured horse you helped it finding the owner and things getting a little heated with an older cowboy

Pairing: Cowboy Negan Smith x f!reader

Warning: Age gap, reader is in 20s Negan is mid 40s, p in v, praise, virginity lose

Inspired by @lanadelnegan stories🤎

•Masterlist•

The apocalypse hit and everything happened so fast, I was with my family at our farm for some time watching the news, listening to the horror stories on the radio, we thought that we could go unscathed since we hadn’t been affected and that all the food and water we needed was on our land but all that changed one night when a hoard of walkers ran down our farm, my parents were first trying to fight of the walkers, quickly being ripped apart their screams still lingered in my head whenever I thought about them, then it was my two sisters trying to flee but got surrounded taking them down as well, I was lucky enough to get to my truck finding an opening in the walkers and driving away from my home, leaving me all alone on the road

Now it’s been 2 years going from place to place just trying to survive, to find a reason to keep living in this cruel world, I’ve been able to dodge as many walkers as I can, that wasn’t the main problem anymore, the food shortage was what dwindled my hope

My truck had broke down a while back so now I’ve just been wandering on foot, walking through the trees trying to get some shade from Georgia summer heat when I hear a groan and thud, I follow the direction of the whines on a left of what have might caused it, walkers, people, god knows what now a days

Rounding a tree I see a horse laying down on the ground, I approached slowly not wanting to spook it having experience with horses back on the farm, kneeling in front of it petting its soft black mane

“Hey girl, what are you doing out here all alone?” She didn’t look injured she was laying down fine, maybe she just got hot it was one of the hottest days I’ve ever lived in even in Georgia

I took out one of the bottles of water I found poring some of it over her face to help cool her down then poring the rest in a bowl I had in my bag and she was quick to drink it

After some time I stood up taking her lead rope trying to get her to stand up, I couldn’t leave her here all alone for some walkers to eat her alive maybe she came from somewhere near by

Walking through the trees she would occasionally change our course more like she was leading me than I was her until we got to a break in the trees, a ranch in perfect condition, a few horses grazing the field, little sheep’s hoping around, a chicken coop and a cozy little cabin like house right in the middle of the land, a brown bronco truck parked out front

Opening the gate, closing it behind me and the horse so the other animals wouldn’t get out like she did somehow, when a deep voice stopped me in my tracks

“See ya brought Missy back, been wondering where she went off to” coming down the porch steps was a older man, cowboy hat, white shirt, blue jeans and boots, maybe it was the lack of human contact or even interactions but damn was he fine, I didn’t realize he was right infront of me till he cleared his throat breaking me out of my oogling

“Oh yeah, I found her out in the woods she must had heat exhaustion so I gave her some water” my stomach feels like it’s in knots, I haven’t felt like this in so long, he’s said a few words and I’m entranced by him

“A nice and pretty girl might just have to keep ya around darling” he smirked making my knees weak, but I still have my values I’m not just going to jump his bones even though the urge is so strong

“Oh I mean if you’re able to take me in I’ll earn my keep, help around the farm, anything I just…..I can’t stay out there alone any longer” I said praying he’d give me a chance, some hope

“Ya sure you know what you’re doing around a farm?” He asked as he looked me up and down, lingering on my chest

“I grew up on a farm, I know what I’m doing”

“Hmmm well come on in, see where you can stay” I let Missy go so she could run off with the others, following him inside, it was bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside, cute kitchen, wooden accents around the house, he kept walking down a hallways till he stopped at a room waiting for me to go in first, it was cozy, I don’t care if this place was trashy as long as I can be stress free and have someone to keep me company

“You like it?” He asked from the doorway

“I love it, thank you” I said as I sit on the bed letting out a long awaited sigh

“How long were you out there?”

“I don’t know time is hard to keep track of out there, maybe 2 years”

“Damn girl, 2 years did you atleast have someone out there?”

“My farm fell early taking my family with it when the walkers came, so it’s just been me until now”

He gave me a pitiful look it made the blood rush to my cheeks

“Come on darlin, supper should be done, should get some food in you” he said waving me out of the room and Im quick to follow him to the kitchen where I sit at the table as he dishes up some food, fresh food something I haven’t had in well forever it feels like

He sits across from me at the table taking his hat of showing his dark brown hair streaked with some grey, biting my lip to stop myself from fantasizing about running my hands through his hair, pulling on it as I feel his beard scratch against my legs

“So what’s your name darlin, like to call you something other than sweet names” he smirks obviously realizing my constant leering but he didn’t make it easy

“I’m fine with your little names but it’s y/n”

“You got a spark still considering how long you’ve been out there, how old are you even?”

“20 you?”

“Let’s just say I’m old enough to be your father”

“Not a problem for me” I said under my breath

A few weeks went by and I did what I said, working hard around the farm, waking up early to collect eggs from the chicken coop, feeding the horses and sheep, picking any ripe berries from the garden all before he was even up, no different from today, I laid berries on our plates and scrambled some eggs finishing right when he comes out of his room, scruffy hair, boxers and a black tank top showing off his tattoos, yes I earned my keep but the tension between us was growing stronger and stronger everyday, every touch, every long night of staying up talking I have to do something about it

“Morning Negan sleep well?” I asked as he sat across from me, our usual spots since that first day

“Great darlin, would’ve been better if you were next to me all night” he smirked, he’d do this tease me and act like it was nothing but it was something to me especially when I’d stay up late at night touching myself thinking of the things he’d say

“Negan you’re driving me crazy you know that” I said chomping on a strawberry

“You think I don’t hear you?”

“What?” My face flushed, please god don’t let it be what I think it is

“At night, when you think I’m fast asleep, I hear you moaning my name, whimpering when you can’t make yourself finish” he said his voice getting deeper as he leaned further across the table

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I gotta go……..go clean up the hay” I said flustered and completely embarrassed standing up and leaving the house to the barn

OH MY GOD this is so embarrassing, he’s heard me touch my self to him what is wrong with me, it’s only been a week and I can’t control myself, maybe because he’s everything I want, strong sexy makes my knees weak and panties wet, plus I have so much pent up sexual frustration, growing up on a farm and not being allowed to date led to me now, a horny 20 year old fantasizing about a man who generously gave me shelter and food, I’m a mess, a horny mess that wants to ride this man all day long

I get to the barn pitchforking any loose straw back into the pile trying to figure out what I’m suppose to do now, how do I face him again after he’s heard me moan his name

“I can hear your crazy thoughts from here darling” I look to the barn door seeing him dressed in blue jeans, cowboy boots, his cowboy hat and a brown plaid

“I can’t take it anymore Negan, obviously you know that now, please just……..”

“Just what baby?” He asks his voice deeper again as he gets closer gripping my waist, his hands alone engulfing me

“Just touch me”

He leans down grabbing the back of my thighs lifting me to straddle his hips, my arms wrapped around his shoulders now face to face

“You sure you can handle this sweetheart?”

“I need it, I need you to fuck me please I’ve been so good” I say as he litters my neck with sloppy kisses

“You have, such a good girl for me, guess you deserve a big reward for that” he smirks as he squeezes my ass, laying my down in the hay pile

“Fuck you got me so hard, you know how hard it was to not bust into your room hearing your sweet moans just begging for me to plow this pussy?” He grips the bottom of my sundress hauling it off over my head leaving me in just my panties, my tits completely exposed

Hearing him groan as his hands roam my body, from my hips up my stomach to caress my tits rubbing his thumbs over them making my panties even more soaked

“That feels so good, doesn’t feel like this *fuck* when I try” I whimper my body feeling like it’s on fire

“No one ever make you feel good darling?” He says as he leaves kitten licks against my nipples feeling like lighting shooting from them to my clit, trying to grind against his thigh between my legs

“No, no one’s ever…..”

“No ones ever touched you, you’re a virgin?” He continues to suck hickeys down my stomach stopping at the hem of my panties

“Only you” I moan needing more

“Don’t worry I’ll make you feel good baby” he removed everything he’d wearing going to throw his hat in the pile of clothes but is top him

“Stop!……keep it on”

“You like cowboys? Wanna take a ride?” He smirks as he pulls down my panties leaving us both naked

“I mean I did save your horse, it’s only right to ride the cowboy” I say as I flip him over to straddle his hips, his dick standing big thick and prominent, he’s really gonna stretch me out good

“Oh ya it’s only right” he laughs squeezing my hips hard as he helps me move them back and forth grinding on his dick getting it wet

“I need it please”

“Take your time darling” he says as he lifts me up so I’m hovering right above him feeling his tip gently pushing against me

I slowly push down feeling the pressure and stretch, it hurt god it was way bigger than my two fingers

“Fuck baby you’re so tight” he grunts

“Is it…….is it all in, you’re so big I don’t know if I can take much more” I moan uncontrollably, all this sexual frustration finally breaking free

“Just a little more, come on be a good girl and take it” he helps push me down the rest of the way till I feel his skin flush against my clit

I sigh I relief that I got it all in but the sting isn’t pleasant

“Take your time cowgirl, wanna get you nice and stretched before you try and ride your cowboy” he laughs as he sits up kissing my neck again and rubbing my clit to help distract the pain

“God I can’t wait” I say gripping his shoulders as I start moving up and down, slowly at first feeling him deeper and deeper each time

“Fuck baby this pussy is gonna be the death of me” I take his hat putting it on holding it with one hand just like I would when riding a mechanical bull, bouncing and gyrating fast and harder and deeper feeling him hit that spot where it makes me see stars and screaming his name over and over as I feel that tension build up in my lower stomach

“Come on cowgirl, cum on my dick, make yourself cum, let it out” he says meeting my thrusts over and over driving even deeper

My hearing goes fuzzy feeling like my whole body is lit up with pleasure, it’s never felt this good before doing it by myself, soon feeling a warm liquid shoot up inside me, dripping down in between us making a sticky hot mess

Coming back down to earth from that mind blowing orgasm I feel his hands roaming up and down my back, his chest pressed against mine

“Did I do it right” I moan biting my lip slowly grinding on him

“Damn darling, that was the best fuck of my life, yeah you did it right, look great doing it to, could get us to this” he says laying back in the hay hands behind his head

I sat up feeling him slide out whining when he popped out his cum dripping onto the hay as I lean down against his chest

“I want more”

“Damn baby girl, they were right good girls really are the most frustrated”

We spent the rest of the day in the barn, him taking me in every position imaginable, everyone better than the last until we were exhausted and my pussy ached so good

“Glad you found my horse that day”

“Me too Negan”

I want this man desperately damn, I’m newish to writing this kind of story so if you got any tips lmk

[choerypetal]

Hickeys / Wade, Logan and Remy

summary: small prompts, on how the xmen boys would be when given hickeys.

ps; i apologies if there is a few grammatical errors, as english isn't my first language.

enjoy!

Wade: 

That man can’t resist keeping you in his sight and making sure to give you at least a kiss, or some small gesture of affection, before heading off to work.

This means his lips would form an adorable pout as he insists on leaning in. When you give in, his lips curl into a smirk, and before you can protest, you feel his hungry kiss.

Of course, it doesn't end there. His fingers slide around your waist, gripping tightly as he pulls you onto his lap. "The boss can wait a little while," he murmurs, his voice rough and laced with a hunger that demands to feel his teeth on your skin. That's how his habit of leaving hickeys began. "Not until I'm done."

"Wadee," you tried to protest, glancing at the clock to remind him not to be late, but his priorities were elsewhere. You knew it when you felt his tongue tracing the crook of your neck, followed by the slow press of his teeth against your skin. He left a few more bruises, as if the ones from yesterday weren’t already enough for him.

"Shh…" he purred, his eyes darkened by lust and the passion in his voice. "I need to finish my little masterpiece." You rolled your eyes, letting out a slight chuckle, but before you knew it, a moan escaped your lips as he nipped harder with his teeth. "That's it, princess, I want to hear you moan," Wade whispered, the desire and need evident in his gaze.

He finally stopped, as always, to admire his work—several new hickeys on your neck. Just the sight of them made him bite his bottom lip. When your eyes met his, he leaned in for a sloppy kiss, leaving you breathless, with pouty lips and fluttering lashes. "Oh, so now the princess wants more? It's a shame I have to go to work. And so do you," he teased. Typical bastard, you thought to yourself.

Logan: 

Unlike Wade, Logan isn’t the type to be vocal about what’s his. As the Wolverine, it wasn’t surprising when you ended up covered in hickeys. One time at the X-Men Labs, Logan immediately noticed a coworker checking you out. It wasn’t just the hickeys on your neck but also an outrageous comment that set him off. If those hickeys weren’t enough, you were in for a session where Logan would mark you as his—completely and everywhere. EVERYWHERE.

Naturally, he chose the Lab as the perfect place to do it. Despite his wild nature, Logan is surprisingly traditional, which might catch anyone, including you, off guard. But with his Wolverine instincts, he didn’t hesitate to grip your waist, pulling you up from your chair despite your protests, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist for support. "You really thought I’d let you leave work that early? That’s the kind of question that would make me feel ashamed, love."

Before you could say anything, his lips caught yours in a hungry kiss. His voice was hoarse, thick with the impatience and craving he’d been holding back all day—especially after seeing you with your coworker. When Logan’s jealousy flared, you knew there was no stopping him. “Logan…” you whispered, your soft, vulnerable voice a huge turn-on for him. He purred as he nodded at your call. “Yes, sweetheart?” he murmured, his gaze never leaving you. “I need you, so bad…” Your confession was all he needed. He began by nuzzling his head against your neck, his teeth sinking in without hesitation.

The neck was just the beginning for Logan; he wasn’t satisfied yet. He needed more, which meant leaning you over your Lab desk. Your blouse clung to your curves as his fingers, both gentle and eager, began unbuttoning your jacket. The typical work attire—a short skirt, sheer lace, and a blouse that matched the color of your nail polish—was what truly captivated him. Even his own attire seemed to complement yours. One of the many things he adored about you, he murmured, “Man, you look gorgeous…” 

“You don’t look bad yourself either,” you echoed the words you’d whispered when you first met Logan. He adored this gesture, finding it endearing. Just moments before unbuttoning your blouse, he asked, “May I?” with the gentlemanly demeanor he always displayed. You smiled and nodded in response. “Since no one else will be coming to the Lab, my body is yours, Logan.”

That response alone pleased the Wolverine. As his fingers delicately and slowly unbuttoned your blouse, he took a moment to admire your breasts, beautifully outlined by the cup of your bra, before nuzzling his head against your stomach. His teeth sank into your flesh, leaving more hickeys than he had originally intended. “Now, I hope this will stop your coworker from looking…” he murmured.

Remy Lebeau: 

Of the two, Remy is undoubtedly the most proud when it comes to showcasing his affection. His love language includes plenty of flirtation, and he makes sure that most of your hickeys are prominently displayed. He’s also quite vocal about it, especially when your best friend, Peter Maximoff, notices the sudden marks on your neck and expresses his concern. “Geez, Y/N, someone was feisty last night. I’m curious who the lucky one is.”

In no time, an arm wrapped around your shoulder, with Remy’s shadow looming over your petite frame and a smug look of pride on his face. “Ma chérie, you look a bit tired today,” he remarked, prompting you to shoot him a death glare. Despite your effort to remain professional, Remy’s public displays of affection made Peter gulp silently. “I guess that’s my cue to leave,” he said. “See you at lunch?” 

That question was an offer Remy was inclined to refuse, as he had other plans in mind. Everyone knew it, especially you, which surprised him when you agreed to join. His grip around your waist tightened, and a smile spread across his face. As polite as ever, he said, “It would be a shame if Y/N didn’t join us. But my chère has other plans. Sorry, mon cher Peter.”

Wanting to protest or suggest otherwise, it was clear that Remy had different plans. Sneaking out of work hours only seemed to please him more. As he planted a few kisses in the crook of your neck, his silhouette lingering behind you, Peter took the opportunity to excuse himself. He shared a glance with you, his expression teasingly reflecting his amusement at Gambit’s protective nature.

“Now, chère,” he said, his voice hoarse and his accent more pronounced. His fingers gently caressed your waist. “We have some unfinished business to attend to, don’t we?”

He wasn’t wrong. Your eyelids grew heavier as his teeth sank in, a soft moan escaping your lips just before he covered your mouth with his hand. “No, no, no,” he purred. “Not here.” Yet, he continued, and when he finally stopped, his fingers intertwined with yours, leaving you breathless. With a look of typical smugness, he found you adorable and said, “Alons, y.”

[hellobykittys]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 (𝐈𝐌)𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐍 ✦ 𝐂𝐋¹⁶

SUMMARY: Charles Leclerc, a Formula 1 star, faces the decline of his reputation after breaking up with art curator Alexandra Saint Mleux. Under pressure from his team, he is forced into a fake relationship with one of the most popular influencers of the moment. NOTES: English is not my first language, so there might be some writing mistakes. I apologize for that, and feel free to point out any improvements. WC: 2.6k WARNING: enemies to lovers, teasing, fake relationship

MASTERLIST | NEXT PART

The meeting room was lit by cold lights reflecting off an impeccably clean glass table. Charles Leclerc sat at the head, his chin resting on his hand, visibly bored. The tension in the air was thick, and he already knew this meeting wasn’t going to end well. Around the table, members of Ferrari’s PR team sat, along with Lorenzo Leclerc, Charles’ older brother and personal manager.

“Let’s get straight to the point,” Lorenzo began, crossing his arms. His voice carried the firmness of someone tired of useless discussions. “Charles, we need to talk about your reputation.”

Charles rolled his eyes, setting his phone down on the table.

“My reputation? You mean the circus the media makes out of everything I do?”

“It’s not a circus if you keep giving them material,” Sofia, Ferrari’s PR head, cut in. A woman with short hair and piercing eyes, Sofia was known for her blunt and impatient approach.

“Seriously?” Charles raised an eyebrow. “Now you want to control my personal life too?”

Lorenzo sighed, rubbing his temples.

“Charles, we’re not here to debate who’s right or wrong. We’re here because your image is directly affecting your career.”

“My career’s fine,” Charles shot back, crossing his arms.

Sofia slammed a folder full of tabloid clippings on the table, making a sharp noise.

“Is it? Because from what we see here, it doesn’t look like it. ‘Charles Leclerc spotted at a party until 5 AM with a mysterious model.’ ‘Ferrari driver involved in a new controversy after a fight at a club.’ This affects the sponsors, Charles. It affects the Ferrari brand.”

Charles leaned back in his chair, rubbing his face.

“Look, I get it. But what do you want me to do? Lock myself in my house?”

“Not exactly,” Sofia replied with a cold smile that made Charles immediately suspicious.

Lorenzo cleared his throat, trying to soften what was coming.

“Charles, we’ve come up with a solution that could help clean up your image quickly while you focus on what really matters: your performance on the track.”

“Great. So, what’s the plan?” he asked, clearly impatient.

Sofia leaned forward, clasping her hands on the table.

“We’re going to put you in a fake relationship.”

The silence that followed was so deep that you could hear the clock ticking on the wall. Charles blinked a few times, sure he’d misunderstood.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“We’re not,” Sofia replied, serious. “The idea is simple. We want to associate your image with a public figure who’s seen as positive, inspiring, and… balanced.”

“You want me to fake being in love with someone to save my reputation? This is ridiculous!”

“It’s not that simple, Charles,” Lorenzo tried to intervene. “We’re not asking you to fall in love. It’s a contract. An agreement. None of this has to be real.”

Charles laughed humorlessly, shaking his head.

“And who’s this poor soul you’ve hired for this?”

Sofia smiled, clearly expecting this question.

“Y/N.”

The name hit the silence like a shot. Charles frowned, trying to remember where he’d heard it. It didn’t take long before the girl’s face popped into his mind. She was impossible to ignore on social media, with her impeccable style, viral videos, and appearances at fashion and entertainment events.

“You’re talking about that… influencer?” he asked, incredulous.

“Not just any influencer. She’s the influencer right now,” Sofia corrected. “Everyone loves her. She’s elegant, charismatic, and has a solid fanbase. Associating with her will change the public’s perception of you.”

“You want me to fake dating a girl I barely know and who probably thinks race cars are just fancy toys?” Charles shot back, irritated.

Lorenzo took a deep breath, visibly trying to stay calm.

“Charles, no one’s saying it’ll be easy. But think of it as a strategy. Y/N isn’t just an influencer. She’s professional, ambitious, and has as much to gain from this as you do.”

“Great. So, she’s doing it for personal gain too,” Charles said sarcastically.

Sofia rolled her eyes.

“This isn’t about what she wants, it’s about what you need.”

Charles sat in silence for a few seconds, staring at the table. The idea seemed absurd. He didn’t want to give up his freedom for some farce that, deep down, made no sense to him.

“You guys must be crazy if you think I’ll agree to this,” Charles declared, suddenly standing up. His voice echoed through the room, but no one seemed surprised by his reaction.

Lorenzo sighed, already expecting this kind of response. He knew his brother too well to think he’d accept something so outside his comfort zone without resistance.

“Charles, sit down,” Lorenzo said, his voice firm and authoritative. “You have every right to be angry, but if you keep acting like a spoiled child, you won’t get anywhere.”

“A spoiled child?” Charles laughed darkly, pointing at his brother. “This coming from you, trying to convince me to join this ridiculous show. It’s my life, Lorenzo! I’m not a puppet for you guys to manipulate.”

Sofia intervened, trying to stay professional, but her patience was clearly wearing thin.

“Charles, understand this: we’re talking about your career. It’s not just about you. It’s about the team, the sponsors, the thousands of jobs that depend on Ferrari’s success. Formula 1 is a business, and in this business, your image is as important as your driving skills.”

“My driving skills should be the only thing that matters!” he shot back, pointing to himself. “I’m a driver. That’s what I do. I’m not a celebrity who needs a fake romance to get attention.”

“Don’t be naive, Charles,” Sofia replied coldly. “In today’s world, public perception is everything. You could be the best driver on the grid, but if your image keeps getting tied to scandals, no one will want to invest in you.”

Lorenzo crossed his arms, looking at his brother seriously.

“You know she’s right. You don’t have to like the idea, but you have to accept that it’s necessary.”

Charles took a deep breath, trying to calm down, but the knot in his throat only tightened. He hated the idea of being seen as someone who couldn’t control his own life, but Lorenzo and Sofia had a point: the external pressure was becoming unbearable.

“Why her?” he asked, his voice a little quieter.

Sofia gave a slight smile, as though she’d been waiting for this question.

“Because Y/N is exactly what you need. She has an impeccable reputation, knows how to handle the media, and most importantly, knows how to play the game.”

“And how are you so sure she’ll agree to this?” Charles asked, crossing his arms.

“We’ve already talked to her,” Lorenzo revealed. “She agreed. Obviously, she has her conditions, but she’s willing to collaborate.”

Charles laughed, incredulous.

“Of course she agreed. She’s probably loving the idea of being associated with me. She’ll gain even more followers and the ‘Wag’ title. That must be her dream.”

“Don’t underestimate Y/N,” Sofia warned. “She’s far from being a superficial girl. If she agreed, it’s because she saw value in the proposal, just like we did.”

Charles fell silent for a moment, processing everything that had been said. He felt a mix of anger, frustration, and, in a way, helplessness. He hated being put against the wall, but he knew refusing wouldn’t solve his problems.

“And how long is this going to last?” he asked, his disgust evident.

“The contract is for a year,” Lorenzo answered. “Long enough to solidify the lie, but short enough not to be unsustainable.”

“And what if it doesn’t work?”

“It will work,” Sofia assured him confidently.

Charles let out a heavy sigh, running his hands through his hair.

“I hate you guys.”

“Feel free to hate us all you want,” Lorenzo replied, standing up. “But do what needs to be done.”

Sofia grabbed the folder and gave one last look at Charles.

“Y/N will be here tomorrow to talk officially. Hope you’re ready.”

With that, everyone began to leave the room, leaving Charles alone. He slumped back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, trying to accept that, like it or not, his life was about to change.

The meeting room was spacious and well-lit, with glass walls offering a panoramic view of the city. Charles Leclerc was already there, on time this time, sitting next to the conference table in a relaxed yet attentive posture. He was casually flipping through a document, but his mind was elsewhere. The decision to accept the deal still felt surreal.

When the door opened, he lifted his eyes and saw Y/N entering with confident steps. She looked calm, self-assured. She wore a fitted blazer and pants that accentuated her confident posture. Her perfume reached him before her voice, subtle yet striking.

“Hope I’m not late,” she said, placing her bag on a chair and giving Charles a brief glance before looking away.

“You’re not,” he replied, giving a slight nod, observing her carefully.

Lorenzo and Sofia entered right after, carrying folders and an air of seriousness.

“Alright, now that everyone’s here, let’s get straight to the point,” Lorenzo began, taking his seat at the head of the table. “You both know how important this partnership is, both for the team and for your respective careers.”

“It’s not like we have much of a choice, right?” Y/N commented, not aggressively, but with a touch of realism.

“Not exactly,” Sofia answered, unfazed. “But we expect you to see the mutual benefit in this.”

Charles leaned his elbows on the table and glanced at Y/N for a moment before speaking.

“And you? What do you think of all this?”

Y/N blinked, surprised by the direct question, but maintained her composure.

“I think it’s… unexpected. But I won’t deny it’s an opportunity. And you?”

He tilted his head slightly, as if considering.

“I think it could work, as long as we follow a few rules.”

“Rules?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” he answered, with a slight smile. “Like, don’t try to kill me in front of the cameras.”

Y/N let out a short laugh, almost genuine.

“I think I can follow that.”

Lorenzo interrupted, trying to keep the focus.

“Great. Let’s start by clarifying expectations. You’ll need to attend events together, create interactions for social media, and above all, look natural.”

“Does that mean we need to get to know each other better?” Y/N asked, looking directly at Charles, this time with less provocation and more curiosity.

“Probably,” he replied, her eyes holding his for a moment longer than necessary.

Sofia cleared her throat.

“For that, we recommend starting with something simple. A dinner, maybe. Nothing formal, just so you get used to being together outside a professional setting.”

Y/N looked away, pretending to think, but there was something uncomfortably intimate about the idea.

“Seems fair,” she finally said, grabbing a pen to sign the contract placed in front of her.

Charles didn’t say anything but let the corner of his mouth curve into a slight smile. He grabbed his own copy of the contract and signed it right after her.

When they finished, Lorenzo looked at both of them.

“Perfect. From now on, you’re officially a couple.”

Lorenzo’s statement hung in the air like an uncomfortable reminder of what had just been signed. Y/N grabbed her bag, ready to leave, but hesitated at the door.

“Charles?” she called, without turning around.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t plan on complicating this, but I hope you do your part.”

Charles adjusted his watch nonchalantly, as if this kind of deal was something he had mastered.

“I always do.” A discreet smile formed on his lips. “But maybe we should establish a few rules to make sure it works.”

“It’s so nice to see you both so… invested!” Sofia interrupted, letting out a light laugh. “But I’ll leave the details to you two. Just don’t kill each other, please.”

Lorenzo stood up shortly after, giving his brother a nearly conspiratorial look before giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. When he said goodbye to Y/N, he smiled warmly, as if to say, “Good luck.”

Once the room was silent, Charles broke it with a casual tone.

“So, about those rules…”

Y/N crossed her arms, clearly determined to make everything crystal clear from the start.

“The first limit is simple: don’t touch or kiss me without prior notice.”

Charles raised an eyebrow, surprised, but entertained by her firmness.

“You do realize that’s basically what couples do, right? Touch, kiss, look close… How are we supposed to convince anyone we’re real if we’re so mechanical?”

“I never said it was forbidden,” she corrected, remaining calm. “I’m just saying, don’t do it without a reason or without letting me know first.”

He chuckled softly, tilting his head slightly.

“Do you really think I’m interested in anything beyond what this contract requires?” He stepped forward, not breaking eye contact. “What happened at the club was just an impulse, not a sign that I’m in love with you.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes, as if analyzing every word he said.

“Great. Then it shouldn’t be hard to keep your hands and lips off me.”

Charles opened his mouth to retort but stopped when he saw the look in her eyes. It was a clear challenge, with something more hidden behind that confidence.

“Of course,” he replied, finally curving his lips into a nearly provocative smile. “But I’ve got my conditions too.”

Y/N adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, unfazed.

“Alright, go ahead.”

“You have to attend my races whenever you can. And when you can’t, show support on social media. It’s the least I expect.”

She let out an incredulous laugh.

“I’m gonna be your fake girlfriend, not your number one fan.”

“As my girlfriend, you should show support. Isn’t that what girlfriends do? Plus, my fans will love it. It’ll be good for our image.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but knew he had a point.

“Fine, but I’ve got commitments too. Don’t expect me to be at every race.”

Charles shrugged, still with that annoyingly confident smile.

“It’s a start.”

Silence fell between them again, but this time it wasn’t heavy. It was as if both were evaluating the other, trying to figure out what was coming next.

Y/N adjusted her bag again and took two steps toward the door before stopping.

“One more thing, Charles.”

“What?” He raised an eyebrow, curious.

“If you want this to work, stop trying to always have the last word.”

He smiled, a mix of challenge and amusement.

“That’s asking too much.”

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head before finally walking out of the room.

Charles stood there for a moment, staring at the door she had just walked through. There was something about her that made him feel intrigued, and he knew this story was far from simple.

Outside the building, Y/N got into the waiting car and took a deep breath. “This is going to be more complicated than I thought,” she mused as the driver started the engine.

Back inside, Charles picked up his phone and quickly sent a message to Lorenzo.

Charles: “If she thinks she can challenge me, this is going to be fun.”

On the other side, Lorenzo just laughed as he read the message.

[kirislovelygf]

make us proud (sevika x reader)

warning!! season ii act iii spoilers ahead!! read at ur own risk :)

contents: you and sevika are dating. takes place post piltover-noxian war (act 3) jinx is gone :( but isha is alive!! you, sevika, and isha are a little family. nicknames, fluff, arguments, sevika's stubborn but she loves you a lot so

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

the war between piltover and the noxians was brutal. zaunites bled in a fight that wasn’t theirs. but piltover and zaun become united as they once were and defeat the enemies now there’s a bright future for zaunites. 

when caitlyn invited sevika to the kiramann house, she was scared. her first thought was she was about to be arrested.

she held the letter in her hand and i asked to read it. it sounded much better on paper than how she reacted. 

“maybe she wants to settle some treaty.” i said to her. she walked behind the bar and pulled out a bottle of whiskey only god knows how old. 

“don’t make me laugh.” she grumbled. she pulled out a glass and then struggled to pull the cork off the bottle. 

i sighed and took the bottle from her, pulling the cork off with ease. “let’s just go and hear her out. she thanked you after the battle, remember?” i said, pouring the heavy whiskey into the glass. 

“i could've done that..” she muttered. “please, let’s go. i’ll come with-” 

“no.” she said. 

i scoffed. “just like that?” 

“what if she gets you arrested too? i’m not gonna break you out, i’m telling you now.” she said, raising the glass to her lips. 

i sighed out. “what if she wants to help us? she wouldn't be asking us to go to her house if she wanted to arrest us, she would have sent enforcers down here by now.” i said. 

she scrunched her face slightly from the drink before putting it down. she stared at the ground, ideas and thoughts and possibilities conflicting. 

“it says she wants to talk to you about something new and.. innovative. says you have the sense of leadersh- did you even read this whole thing?” i snapped before looking at the paper again. 

she rolled her eyes. “i might have skimmed it..” she mumbled. i looked at her again.

“vika, this could be life-changing. we have to go.” i said. she let out a heavy sigh. 

“this is the opportunity you’ve been fighting your whole life for.” i said to her. she looks up at me slightly. 

she sighs out heavily before downing the rest of the whiskey and nodding. “okay, i'll go.” 

i smield. “yes!” i clapped my hands together, to which she rolled her eyes to. 

“i don’t know how you survived that battle.” 

“and killed more noxians than you. alright, let’s go!” i jumped off the bar stool and ran out the bar. 

we went to the kiramann house together and caitlyn and vi greeted us at the front steps. 

i wnet and hugged vi quickly before going back to stand by sevika again. sevika glared them both down while caitlyn rubbed her hands together nervously. 

“thank you so much for coming.” she smiled. i smiled back and looked up at sevika. she just simply nodded. 

“come inside, please.” caitlyn sputtered. vi took her hand and they walk in together. i look at sevika and n judge her to follow. she looked up at the castle-like mansion with awe. 

i don't remember that last time she willingly came up here. 

we followed caitlyn to some lounge area with a fireplace. there was a desk in front of a giant bookshelf. in fact, most of the walls were just tall bookshelves. sunlight poured in from the fancy gold-lined windows. 

“the reason i sent you the letter was first, to thank you for your help. piltover would have fallen if you hadn’t led the zaunites into battle to help us.” she started. 

sevika nods. “it’s our city too” she muttered. “and of course, we have jinx and ekko to thank…” i added. 

vi’s face softens when i mention jinx. but caitlyn quickly diverts the conversation. “yes, of course, well.. the other reason i invited you is because i have a proposition for you.” she said.

she looks at vi. “vi helped me realize i need to use my position to give zaunites a voice. to give you a voice, sevika and y/n.” she said, lookign at us.

sevika and i glance at each other. 

“there’s space on the council for one more councilperson. vi suggested you take the spot, sevika." she said.

“what.” sevika and i gasped. "are you serious?" i asked, lookign at vi. she gives a slight nod.

“you are a symbol of hope and loyalty. you know exactly what zaunites need and how to get rid of shimmer so your people can thrive again.” she said. 

“the council needs someone who has seen the pain firsthand.” she continued. “but it’s.. it’s up to you if you would like to take up the responsibility.. and of course, every councilperson needs an assistant...” she gestures to me. 

“so i don't get a seat on the council?” 

her eyes go wide and she glances at vi. “oh.. um-" vi chuckled softly.

“nah, i’m just fuckin wit ya.” i smiled. she laughed nervously while vi rolled her eyes. 

“well? sevika?” i smiled, looking up at her. she was still in shock from the offer.  

“i think.. i um..” she stuttered. caitlyn nodded. “why don't you take a moment to disuss this? and let me know what you decide." she starts to step out of the room.

"the choice is yours, but i truly do hope you join the council, sevika. you’d help a lot of lives.” she said softly. 

she nods at her and caitlyn left the room, vi walking slowly behind her. i look up at sevika and stand in front of her. i waited for the door to close to talkto sevika.

“vika, you have to say yes!” i whisper-yelled. 

“i can-t.. i don’t- ugh, it's just-” i noticed vi didn’t leave the room and she went and stood by me. 

“did she ask you?” she looks at vi. “i’m not old enough. you gotta be like a hundred.” she joked. 

sevika rolled her eyes and started walking out the door to leave. “vika, she was just kidding!” i said. 

“i'm serious. you think i’m about to become a pawn in piltover’s game? what would our people think if they saw me sitting at that table?” 

i laughed in disbelief. “vika, this is.. so amazingly huge. how can you not see this as a good thing? let me remind you that there has never ever once been a zaunite councilperson. you have the rare chance to make real change.” i continued. 

she keeps her back to me, staring a the door. i look at vi. “say something.”

she sputtered. “uh-sevika, you..” she takes a second to think. “i seriously can’t think of anyone better fit for the job than you. that’s why i suggested to caitlyn it be you.” she said. i nodded and looked to sevika. 

she looks back angrily. “you told her to do this. i bet even a topsider like her would rather die than have someone like me sitting next to her.”

vi sighs. “vika, come on.” i begged. 

“i’ll see you at home.” she muttered. she slams the door behind her and the stomping of her boots fades to silence. vi and i look at each other. 

“i’m sorry.. i thought she’d jump at a chance like this.” i told her. 

“me too.” vi nodded. caitlyn comes back into the room and her face scrunches when she sees that sevika left. 

vi and i look at her carrying a tray of a teapot and four cute teacups “oh!” aw, she’s so cute. 

“uh.. what did she say?” she asked, putting the tray down on the coffee table in front of the fireplace. we walked over to her. 

“she needs a little time to think it over, caitlyn.” i said to her. “oh.. of course. please let her know to take her time.” she nodded 

"i will.." i smiled and couldn't help myself. i jumped into a hug, wrapping my arm tightly around ber. “but thank you, thank you so much!” i said. “you have no idea how much this means for us.” 

she laughs awkwardly but returns the hug. i pull away from her and she holds my hands. “piltover has done enough damage in the lanes. it’s time we pick up the mess one step at a time. and that step is you and sevika.” she said. 

i smiled at her and thanked her again before going to take my leave. i assumed vi was gonna come with but when i looked to see if she was following, her and caitlyn had their foreheads pressed together and then they kissed. 

“aw..” i mumbled before quickly taking my exit. i strode through the messed up streets of piltover and then zaun where the sunlight gradually grew less and less. 

i found sevika at this tent some enforcers set up in the square. people came to get fixed up, get some medicine, to get some rest. 

while i maneuvered my way through e crowds of people in bandages and walking on crushed, i found sevika. 

weirdly enough, physically helping people. she was crouched down in front of a gurney where a little girl was with blue hair was sat. sevika had just finished wrapped a bandage around isha's ankle.

“isha!” i called out. her gorgeous light brown eyes lit up and she jumped off the make-shift gurney to run to me. “aw, my baby!” i laughed out as she jumped into my arms. i held her head gently before pulling back to look atv her. 

i picked her up and saw sevika walking over. “i thought i told you not to run.” she said to isha. she looks down at her ankle. 

“what happened here?” i asked. 

“twisted it running away. thankfully, some of these crazies were sane enough to take her here, where she's been resting the past couple days.” she said. 

i look up at isha’s scratched face. “you’re a brave little one, damn.” i said, shaking her, making her bounce. she laughs and i put her down. she walks back to her gurney and sist where sevika nd i follow her. 

i hung around until sundown and a medic said isha was good to go home. 

sevika and i walked home to my palace while she carried a sleepy isha in her arm. 

“vika, about today..” i started. 

she sighed out. “i know you have no reason to trust caitlyn. or anyone in piltover. none of us do.” i said. 

she stares ahead. “but you can make so much more change while sitting at that table than you have in the last twenty years.” 

“you make me sound way older than i actually am, i just turned 34 like a month ago.” 

i glared at her and sped up so i could stand in front of her. “i’m serious. you’re worried about how people would look at you if you were on the council but why is that a bad thing? i bet zaunites would be ecstatic to see someone just like them get to represent them up there.” 

she blinks and looks down. then her gaze shifts to a sleeping isha. i smiled softly before inching closer to her. 

“you’ll help little girls like her. people like us. don’t you think she deserves more than this?” she looks at our surroundings. 

the dirty alleys, the lanes she grew up in, where we looked death in the eye multiple times. 

hints of shimmer laced on the walls, on the ground, in the air, in the food and water. anyone who was born in the lanes inhaled shimmer at least once, whether on purpose or not. 

sevika looks down at me and nods. “fine. i’ll do it.” 

i smiled. “really?” 

“for her.” she looks at isha as she stirs in her sleep. i cupped her face in my hands, my arms extended since she was so much taller than me. "and for you.. i guess."

she leaned her forehead against mine before i hugged her. she didn't have her mechanical arm anymore, so she just let her head rest on mine. 

the next day, the two of us were standing behind the doors that led to the council room. i’ve never seen sevika so nervous before. 

i step in front of her and move strands of her hair out of the way of her eyes. “you could’ve cleaned up a bit before your first day, vika.” i pat off the lint from her maroon cape, covering her missing arm.

"gotta look your best for these topsiders." i fix her hair a bit again.

she chuckled softly. my hands fell down and held her face. “thank you for convicing me this is a good idea.” 

she hums, leaning into the touch of my palm. i pulled her face down slightly to kiss her, even then having to get on my toes. her hand slips around my waist to pull me closer. 

i pulled away to rest my forehead against hers. i pull away from her and step beside her. 

“i’m not worthy enough to open the doors, a councilwoman has to do it..” i smirked. 

“tch.. come one.” she shakes her head and follows her. she slams open the giant doors. i winced at the sudden sunlight from the giant windows but kept walking behind her. 

i pulled her seat out for her and she nodded as a thank you before taking her seat at the end of a half-circle table. i stood beside her as she took her seat. 

i look around at the other council people, giving us dirty looks. a moment later, caitlyn comes in. 

“everyone, i’d like you to meet our newest member of the council. councilwoman sevika, representing the lanes.” she said, her heeled boots clicking on the polished granite floors. 

“i expect everyone to give her and her assistant a warm welcome.” she said. she comes up to me and puts a hand on my shoulder. 

the council people didn’t look at sevika any differently than before caitlyn walked in. 

“she’ll be taking my place from now on.” she continued.

sevika and i look at each other, neither of us knowing she would do that.

change for the lanes, change for isha, was not about to come easily or quickly.

i wondered what jinx would think of sevika sitting here if she were alive now. and how isha was going to grow up as i watched an airship fly past the council building into the blue sky. 

a/n: OMGGGG i am so proud sevika got a seat at teh council as her ending, i was so proud of her!!!! <33