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shlonguru · 3 months

Note

Can we get one of Alastor fucking you in his radio booth and broadcasting it to fuck with Vox~ pretty please with a cherry on top💕

God thank you so much for your request and this idea, it really inspired me so much and I might do even more with this cause I find it inherently hot hehe. I'm so happy so many people enjoyed the first part of Alastor x Fem!Reader x Vox and I'm a degenerate so I wrote a second. I hope you guys like it too! Enjoy my fellow degenerates! o/

I would also like to thank @wipmoop for their amazing art cover for this smut! They're truly the best you can check them out !

And with this, I present you, drumroll please :

Alastor X Fem!Reader X Vox 2 - Rematch !

Summary : You're tired of waiting for your rematch and decide to take things into your own hands. Are you ready to face the consequences of your actions ?

Warning : 18+, Smut, dirty talking, oral, oral creampie, creampie, threesome, cum swallowing, praise kink, teasing, overstimulation, rough, cunnilingus, hair pulling, bondage, spanking.

Word Count : 4883 words (Yup, it's worse than the first one.)

After the events of the party Alastor brought you back to the hotel, explaining to Charlie that you might’ve hmm…had more than you could handle. She was delighted at the idea of you residing at the hotel and extended an unlimited invitation to you. You had your own room and actually enjoyed the people there more than you thought you would. You thought you’d give redemption a shot. However, you had been dreaming of your rematch with Vox and Alastor and it occupied most of your daily thoughts, as much as you hated to admit it.

It had been 2 weeks since you moved in and you hadn’t really been seeing Alastor since the party, he was a busy man after all, he was usually very polite when he saw you and would give you a hand kiss or wink at you. You hadn’t seen Vox at all since the party, but it wasn’t too surprising. Slowly, you started realizing that you were okay with what happened being a one-off thing.

This day you had just finished exercises with everyone and was chilling having some tea when Charlie exclaimed: “Oh Alastor is hosting his radio show! We should bring him some tea! Where’s Niffty? She’d be super-fast.” She looked around unable to find her.”

“She was chasing a family of roaches last time I saw her.” You explained drinking your tea. “I can bring him if you want.” You offered, not thinking much of it, but knowing the idea of seeing Alastor brought a slight smile to your face.

“Really?” Asked Charlie with sparks in her eyes. “That is such a selfless act I love it!”

“Is it?” You questioned. She nodded furiously before handing you a tray with a cup of tea, some milk, sugar, and some biscuits on it.

You left the group and started making your way to the radio tower. As you approached it you heard the demon speaking into his mic.

“And that my fellows, is why you should never trust a demon whose name starts with a V. I will return in a moment, enjoy this musical break of electro swing.”

You arrived in front of the door and knocked.

“Come in.” You heard.

You entered the room to find Alastor sitting in front of his station, his legs crossed.

“Oh, Hello Dear!” He exclaimed seeing it was you at the door.

“Hi! Charlie asked me to bring you some tea. How’s your show going?” You smiled as you entered the room. Alastor looked at you intensely as you walked past him, his smile as wide as ever, you could feel his gaze on your body, you were wearing a short red dress hugging your shape and flared at the bottom and a pair of black thigh highs. You sat the tray on the coffee table he had next to him and poured him a cup of tea.

“The show is going as well as it needs to be.” He replied coldly, pausing afterwards. “But more importantly, this dress suits you very well, I don’t think I’ve seen you in a dress since that night at the party.” He proclaimed calmly.

Your face flushed lightly and he noticed. He hadn’t talked about the party since that night and the simple mention of it sent back embarrassing flashbacks to your mind. Not that you regretted it.

“Oh really? I hadn’t noticed. This is more casual though.” You replied, not looking him in the eyes.

“Is it now Dear?” Asked the demon searching for your gaze then looking you from the bottom up.

“I'm glad you like it." You teased then presented the cup in front of him and thought you noticed a quick glance at your cleavage.

This was enough for you to decide that you had done progress at the hotel and that meant you deserved a little reward, and if you were honest with yourself, you had missed Alastor and Vox’s touch since that night, after all, they had given you a night you could never forget as promised. You had been a good girl but now it was time to drop the act.

You lingered giving him a good look. You then asked innocently: “Is there anything I can do to help?”

He took a good look at you, almost as if he was trying to gauge your intentions. “Actually, I do, would you grab me the mic from the shelf over there.”

“Sure!” You replied smiling. You made your way to the shelf and pretended to struggle to grab the mic which fell to the floor and rolled under the shelf. You then got on all fours and bent over trying to grab it, almost exposing your parts. After grabbing it you stood back up and turned around only to be met with Alastor smiling widely, leaning on the counter of his studio.

“Are you doing okay, Dear?” He grinned tauntingly before taking a sip.

“I don’t know, am I? Here’s your mic.” You handed him the mic. He put down his cup of tea and grabbed the mic slowly, not breaking eye contact with you. He then proceeded to pull swiftly on it, bringing you with it as you hadn’t let go yet. Your body ended up pressed against his.

“You know if you had been craving my attention this badly you should have mentioned it sooner.” He exclaimed looking deep into your eyes.

“Did I crave your attention, or did you miss giving it to me?” You asked smugly smirking back.

“Oh, I can give it to you alright.” He smiled wider, his mouth an inch from yours.

“Do it then.” You smiled back, holding the fold of his jacket.

You felt his lips crash onto yours, the both of you dropping the mic simultaneously. He grabbed your hips tightly pulling you into the kiss, kissing you even deeper as he moved one hand behind your neck. He then lowered his hands to your ass before grabbing both of your cheeks tightly, pulling you off the ground, you legs locking around him instinctively. He turned around, still kissing you while holding your weightless body and sat you on the edge of the counter of his studio. He grabbed both of your wrists and laid you on your back, pinning your hands above your head. He then proceeded to kiss down your neck and onto your cleavage.

“Coming here dressed this way was your mistake.” He smirked.

“Debatable.” You smirked back.

He kept both of your hands pinned together with one of his and took a good look of your flushed, panting, and eager body. While scanning down your body he noticed something that made his eyes widen slightly before he went back to looking into your eyes with a devious smile. His second hand travelled down your body making you realize how sensitive you felt already.

“You might not have missed my attention but this part of you certainly has.” His hand then rubbed against your womanhood, making you realize just how soaked you were already as you squirmed.

“Listen Dear,” he looked at you, still rubbing your pussy, “I’m going to let go of your hands, but you may not touch anything but yourself with them.” He then let go of your hands and pussy before bending over you, resting both of his hands on each side of your head.

“Understood?” He menacingly whispered with a very serious grin.

You nodded.

“Good girl. And be sure to make all of hell know how good you’re feeling.” He smiled before removing his jacket which he threw on his couch.

“Wha-“ You were about to question but then saw him casually turn on the mic of his station. The sign [On Air] turning bright red confirming what you thought.

Alastor then proceeded to kneel in front of you and pull you closer, to the edge of the counter, he then ripped your panties in one movement and started digging in.

You immediately felt his tongue dig deep inside of you, earning a loud moan out of you as he spread your walls. The moans kept pouring as he enthusiastically ate you out, alternating between the inside and the outside of your pussy that he was eating like the first meal he’d had in days. He kept moving his tongue in motions that sent jolts up and down your body.

Before you realized, your hands had made their way into Alastor’s hair, pulling slightly as the pleasure intensified. You only noticed when the pleasure stopped. You looked down, confused, and immediately realized your mistake, letting go of his hair, as the tall demon stood back on his feet, looking at you calmly, which somehow made it scarier.

“Didn’t we agree on you touching nothing but yourself? See not only have you not touched yourself, but you’ve also touched me, and I am not part of you, yet.” He said menacingly.

“Sorry…” You muttered.

“Too late Darling, I’m afraid bad girls need to be disciplined.”

You stared at him as you witnessed him calmly removing his bowtie then grabbing both of your wrists once again, this time tying them together, in a very tight fashion.

“Good.” He exclaimed proud of his work.

And with that he resumed eating you out, this time more aggressively. You felt your walls tighten as he attacked them relentlessly, grabbing your thighs with both of his hands. Your moans were getting louder and louder as his name poured continuously out of your mouth until you felt the knot that had been building up break and the orgasm wash over your body, making your legs shake in the process.

“Holy shit…” You blurted, panting hard as you watched Alastor stand up and give you a quick kiss.

“See, you know how to be a good girl.” He whispered in your ear before licking your ear lobe. You felt his throbbing crotch press against yours.

Before any of you could add anything, you saw a glowing blue circle draw itself around the both of you.

“What is th-“ You couldn’t finish your sentence as you felt yourself fall down through what had now obviously been a portal. The radio demon fell with you, though in a much classier and composed manner, almost as if he knew it was coming.

You felt yourself land on something soft and looked around. It was a very large bed. Alastor had landed comfortably on his feet next to the bed.

“Took him long enough…” He huffed.

You scanned the room; it was very large and luxurious, like a palace. It was a giant bedroom with huge French windows, and tall wooden doors at its entrance. As soon as you laid your eyes on said doors they opened violently.

“The fuck is wrong with you !?” Yelled the handsome tall demon entering the room. It was a very furious Vox. Seeing him furious made you immediately crave him.

“Well, hello to you too.” Smiled Alastor, still in the same relaxed position.

“Why would you broadcast her for all of hell to listen to? Have you lost your mind?” He screamed unable to compose himself.

“I only did so long enough for you to notice.” He mentioned “And if you were so bothered by it, then maybe you should have noticed sooner.” He smiled wider.

“What a dumbass.” Vox walked past Alastor and arrived in front of you. He smiled for the first time.

“Long time no see y/n !” He leaned in front of you making you blush as you took a good look at his handsome figure.

“Hi Vox! I’ve missed you!” You smiled with your face still flushed from your orgasm. He held your chin up gently.

“Fuck I really missed that hot face of yours, I’m sorry you were stuck with such an ungrateful prick for so long, I knew you should’ve moved into my place instead. You’ve clearly gone way too long without getting some well-deserved action, which would have never happened here by the way.” He said that last part louder on purpose. He looked down for a second. “Dear, you are making my sheets wet already, did you really miss me that much?” He smiled looking at your exposed parts, dripping onto the bed.

“We could have settled on a date to have our rematch instead of you exposing her to every lowlife that would listen.” He turned to Alastor.

“Our dear friend couldn’t wait any longer and well I guess I had to take matters into my own hands.” He said innocently.

“You’re such a piece of shit.” Proclaimed Vox with a wide grin on his face, briefly glitching. “I see you’re unable to try and beat me without a head start you radio bastard.”

“It’s not like I was doing anything you could do anyways, Mr. Flat-screen-no-tongue.” The redhead smirked.

“Oh really?” He glitched lightly. “Sit back, relax and shut the fuck up.”

He turned to you, and away from Alastor.

“Y/n! Time to get that rematch baby! Get your ass on the edge of that bed and spread those legs for me!”

Your body moved on its own at this command, and you managed to sit up at the edge of the bed despite your wrists still tied together and sat with your thighs spread open, revealing your most intimate part which couldn’t lie about how much you wanted this. Vox looked at you intensely, taking in the sight he had missed more than he thought he had and bent over resting one hand on his knee, the other holding the bowtie tying your wrists together with a finger.

“Has someone been a bad girl~?” He teased.

“That’s entirely possible.” You smirked back. You could tell from his face he liked that. He let go of your wrists and grabbed both of your thighs tightly, making you lose your balance and fall back onto the bed. The next instant, you sensed something that felt like a tongue slide inside your pussy. It sent immediate literal jolts up your body, earning a loud moan out of you that surprised even you. You came a little from that but didnt say anything, you moved your head, looking at what was going on down there and saw a big blue tongue, sliding out of Vox’s screen and eating out your deepest parts.

“Oh wow!” You exclaimed not knowing what to make of the mix of intense pleasure, surprise and shock you were feeling. A quick glance behind Vox and you saw Alastor roll his eyes unbothered having a cup of tea on the sofa not too far. You didn’t have time to really process anything as the TV demon kept eating you out aggressively, making your orgasm come sooner than you would have expected. You had absolutely no control over how fast it was building up, you just felt it snap and felt yourself come, arching your back embracing the wave of pleasure, grabbing your dress tightly as you did so.

You felt the tongue pull out of you and giving your whole pussy a good lick before Vox stood back up, wiping his face with a satisfied look on his it.

“Fuck you’re so hot when you come.” He blurted trying to keep his composure, but you could already see his member throbbing through his pants.

“Are you done with your ridiculous endeavor? An attempt to prove what exactly?” Exclaimed Alastor in a tone he tried to portray as nonchalant, but everyone else could tell he was ticked off. “Can’t you see she comes so easily you could barely even consider it a challenge.”

That statement pissed you off because as much as you were enjoying yourself you didn’t like being underestimated.

“I had no idea my enjoying myself would make you this insecure?” You responded smirking in your brattiest tone.

“Oh, I like you more and more.” Said Vox raising his brows and smiling at you.

You could swear you noticed an eye twitch on Alastor.

“You brat…clearly if you’re still feeling this confident then we haven’t gone hard enough on you.” He declared with a wicked smile scaring you as much as it turned you on. Alastor teleported onto the bed next to you, grabbed your hair firmly into a ponytail and pulled you further into the large bed, leaving you no choice but to follow him on your knees before pulling your face close to his. Your tied hands were hanging down in front of you as you looked up at the radio demon. “I guess we’ll have to fix that.” He kissed you deeply shoving his tongue in your mouth making your head spin. He pulled away from the kiss for a second.

“Sorry Dear, I am but a terrible spectator.” He went back into the kiss making you dizzy as he pulled down the top of your dress making your breasts bounce out of it. He grabbed one of your tit with his free hand, pinching your nipple and making you whine softly.

"Now you’re going to use all that confidence you were so proud of just seconds ago and you’re going to take it all in.” He let go of you and you fell on all fours, now facing his crotch. You took a good look and immediately noticed how tight his pants looked around his cock, it almost looked painful. With your tied wrists you unzipped his pants, pulling out your reward.

‘Was it this big last time?’ you thought to yourself. A slight look of surprise covering your face for a brief instant.

“Yes, it was.” Replied the radio demon, as if he had read your mind. “You were just too eager to notice.” He finished. You blushed heavily before giving your best shot at taking as much of his member as you could in your mouth, it amounted to about 2/3 of his manhood.

“Not quite, Dear, here, let me give you a hand.” He chuckled before shoving your face down his member, lodging it all the way down your throat. You couldn’t breathe but it still felt good, you pussy was quivering and dripping, and Vox noticed.

“Damn, look at your cunt, don’t worry I gotchu.” You heard Vox who was right behind you and the moment after felt him give your ass a hard spank. That made you moan loudly, and you knew Alastor felt it when you heard a groan coming from him, you looked up only to be met with an intense and serious gaze filled with lust coming from the radio demon. His hands were both in your hair, guiding your mouth up and down, enjoying himself.

Vox stood right behind you, and you heard his pants unzip. Immediately after, you felt one of his hands rest on your hips and the tip of his cock rub against your entrance teasingly.

“Have you missed that?” He asked, lust exuding off his tone. After a few seconds of his teasing, you wanted to beg for him to insert it but you mouth was too full for that.

“Come on…” He teased, knowing he put you in an impossible position.

In one motion you pulled your mouth off Alastor’s cock and pleaded loudly. “Vox please I need your cock in me!” You looked at him with a lewd look on your face .

Seeing you in that state made him blush briefly before he composed himself again.

“Fucking finally! You’re so fucking hot!” He groaned loudly pushing all of him inside of you in one go making you scream of pleasure in the process. You immediately felt Alastor grab your hair in the same fashion he had moments ago, pulling your face close and squinting.

“Let’s not get distracted now, shall we?” He demanded sternly.

Vox felt you tighten around him as you heard those words, pulling an involuntary moan out of him.

“You naughty girl, you’re loving this aren’t you?” He spanked roughly you before starting to thrust at a rather fast pace.

“Obviously.” Declared Alastor smiling before shoving your face back onto his cock. He was the one thrusting now, in fact, they both were and soon enough, you felt that coil build up once again in your insides. Your eyes rolled back as you felt the knot snap.

Vox felt you tighten almost uncomfortably around his member as you came. He grabbed both of our ass cheeks tightly.

“That’s right, come for me!” He groaned throwing his head back and fucking you through your climax, holding your ass tightly then spanking it.

You had just finished coming when you felt Alastor pull out of your mouth. You exhaled loudly catching your breath.

“Good job not suffocating, here’s your reward.” Said Alastor grabbing your panting figure, pulling you off Vox and propping you onto his cock as he stood on his knees, you were still panting but it was now intertwined with moans as he effortlessly moved you up and down his member. You moved your tied up wrists over his head, wrapping your arms around his neck and grabbing it gently, you kissed him softly yet longingly as the moans continuously flooded out of your mouth. You felt his member grow thicker inside of you, as expressed by your moans becoming louder. Your kiss was interrupted by the TV overlord who grabbed your chin, turning your face away from the radio demon.

“Now you can’t just give all your holes away so easily my dear.” He said calmly standing bent over next to you.

“My apologies.” You replied looking up into his eyes.

“You’re forgiven.” He added with a smooth voice before you felt his lips meet yours. You were surprised at how soft they felt, and you had just found out he could do such a thing. He probably didn’t do it every day, but he was such a good kisser, you were dazzled by the kiss before he pulled out of it.

“Now open up dove, we’re not done just yet.” He grinned.

He hadn’t finished his sentence that you had opened your mouth, eagerly awaiting him.

“My god you’re such a good little slut.” He laughed not able to contain himself any longer, he pushed himself deep into your mouth and moaned loudly as he did so, you started moving your head swallowing his member to the base each time.

You hadn’t noticed because of how gradual it had been, but Alastor was now moving much faster than how he had started, hitting your deepest parts each time.

“Are you going to come again and prove me right?” Alastor smirked at you, pausing his thrusting for a moment and spanking your ass roughly. You moaned loudly around Vox’s cock and stopped moving as he immediately grabbed your head and kept the thrusting going.

“Nuh uh, you can’t stop yet.” The TV demon said as he kept pumping in and out of your mouth.

You looked at Alastor from the corner of your eye.

“What is it sweetheart? The TV got your tongue?” He spanked you again this time harder. Your pussy tightened around him, and he felt it, making his grin widen even more.

You looked at him trying your hardest to stay in control.

“Aww you still think you can decide whether you come or not. How adorable…I guess it’s time I teach you this lesson.” He squinted his eyes challengingly before he spanked you one last time, harder than all the other time, this time immediately grabbing both of your ass cheeks very firmly, not breaking eye contact with you.

“I…” He slammed you against his cock. “…decide…” He slammed harder. “…if…” He slammed even harder, digging his nails into your ass. “…and when…” He slammed hard and you felt yourself dangerously close to the edge. “…you come!” He grinned, slamming one last time harder than you had ever felt him thrust in you and he saw your eyes roll back as your pussy started pulsating around his cock. You moaned loudly around Vox’s cock, who pulled out just in time to hear it aloud. You were panting hard, your whole body going limp.

Vox grabbed your face and pressed your cheeks together bringing his face close to yours. “You’ll relax soon enough bitch, but we’re not done yet.” He then proceeded to grab you off Alastor and prop you once again on all fours. You were wobbly at best. “Come on are you already exhausted? After all this big talk?” He spanked you now red ass making you whine. You moaned softly and looked at him with pleading eyes. Your legs felt weak from all this thrusting and climaxing, and he could tell. He let out a soft sigh.

“Here. Let me give you a hand.” He grabbed one of your legs and propped it on his shoulder. “Now you’re going to take it like a good girl?” He looked at you his eyes focusing intensely on you.

“Yes, Sir.” You pleaded. As soon as he heard those words coming out of your mouth he felt an irrepressible urge to take you and you felt all of him enter you once more, at this point your pussy being overstimulated felt so sensitive everything felt ten times more intense. You moaned loudly while your tongue hung out of your mouth, and you gripped the sheets tightly as Vox started thrusting more roughly than he previously had.

Alastor, seeing your tongue hanging and your mouth open, took this opportunity to push himself inside your mouth and started thrusting.

“Enjoy your own taste dear, because you’re about to taste me.” He declared with a sadistic gaze on his now flushed face. You loved seeing the evolution of his boldness as lust took over.

“Shit you’re so fucking tight!” Vox thrusted hard, gritting his teeth, and digging his nails into your thigh, pulling it close against his chest as he lost himself in pleasure, his movement becoming more erratic as he glitched and he brought himself closer to the final release, nevertheless, he never failed to hit your G-spot with each thrust. You felt it coming, despite your best efforts, they both felt you tense up more and more. You still did a great job wrapping your tongue around the radio demon’s shaft, you heard his breath get shakier as he maintained composure fucking your mouth, one hand under your chin and the other in your hair.

You felt the knot about to snap as you hear them both declare as one:

“Are you ready?”

They both thrusted deep in you one last time, releasing simultaneously, filling you up from both sides as you came one last time, almost seeing stars at this point.

Alastor let out the closest thing to a moan as he emptied himself directly down your throat tightening around his member, slowly pulling himself out afterwards and enjoying the sight of your dazed expression.

“Good job.” He patted your cheek smiling and slightly panting, much more relaxed than a few moments ago.

Vox pulled out next and you immediately collapsed onto the bed, cum flowing out of you.

“Holy shit you felt so fucking good!” Vox also felt all sorts of dizzy after his orgasm. He quickly got a grip and they both grabbed what was necessary to clean you up, laying you down comfortably after Alastor removed his bowtie from your sore wrists and Vox handed you one of his shirts to wear.

You were fast asleep and woke up probably a few hours later to both of them having tea in the corner of the room.

“Oh, shut the fuck up, you can’t talk your way into being better in bed, she literally blacked out after I made her come, that’s how good it was.” Expressed Vox with frustration.

“Maybe that or you were just so boring she fell asleep.” Replied Alastor calmly sipping his tea.

“Fuck off, weren’t you facefucking her as well? Wouldn’t that make you boring by extension?” He proclaimed, anger taking over his tone.

Alastor ignored him. You moved in the bed making it creak and earning their attention.

“Oh, looks like our friend has finally awaken from her great slumber.” Announced the radio demon.

They both arrived by your side as you fully came to.

“Hello beautiful.” Exclaimed Vox, with his usual smile and composure. “How are we doing?”

“Well!” You replied attempting to stretch then realizing how sore your whole body felt. “Never mind.” You added.

They both smiled with a satisfied look on their face, almost as if admiring their work.

“Yeah, you need to rest. Next time try not to bite off more than you can chew sweetheart.” Declared Vox with Alastor nodding approvingly next to him.

“Any idea who performed best this time Dear?” Asked the radio demon.

“I mean, it’s hard to give you an answer when you both do whatever you want at all times.” You said with a hint of frustration. “Maybe if you both stuck to one hole, I would be able to tell.” You added, genuinely trying to recall all the events in the right order.

“Hmm, No.”

“Nope.” They both proclaimed simultaneously.

“We will, however, keep fucking you until you give us an answer.” Gloated Vox with a hint of excitement in his voice.

“I’m afraid it’s the only way.” Added Alastor calmly.

“Fair.” You conceded.

‘Holy shit what did I get myself into…’ You thought to yourself.

“Now, rest my dear, you’re going to need it.” Said Vox still smiling at you before vanishing into electricity out of the room.

“I’ll see you soon Darling.” Declared Alastor before smiling and disappearing into a shadow.

To be continued...

Vox is genuinely so effortless to write. I love how versatile he can be, Alastor on the other hand is rough -.- but once I'm done I can fully appreciate it.

PS : I know Alastor is Aroace and I hope no one takes offense to my work. I genuinely take pleasure in writing smuts and I've been loving his personality that's all.

Peace out ! o/

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finelinefae · 2 months

Text

the aviator [pilot!harry x teacher!yn]

synopsis: It’s the 1950s. Harry is the best pilot on the Air Force base and y/n is a teacher at a nursery.

word count: 8.5k

contains: fluff, flirting, opposites attract, bad boy/good girl dynamic, Harry has a southern accent, alcohol, smoking, allusions to childhood trauma

This is part 1 of a new series that will probably have 3-ish parts !!

. . .

Offutt Air Force Base, situated in Omaha, Nebraska, housed thousands of civilians working in or connected to the military. People living in the nearby town would often hear the loud plane engines as they take off and land on the runway. They’d look out the windows of their home and see spitfires piloted by men undergoing training, executing missions, or just having a good time, even when they technically weren’t given permission.

“Wah Hooo!” The spitfire trembled as it finally landed on solid ground. Harry braced himself for the landing, pushing himself back against his seat to stop himself from jolting around. He did his best to hide his smile and remain nonchalant as he heard the familiar voices yelp in excitement as he landed the aircraft.

He removed his helmet and pushed the canopy of the cockpit open, leaping down and getting familiar with feeling the solid ground beneath his feet after being in the air. Two figures ran up to him, flailing their arms and screeching in excitement, “Tha’s what I’m talking about!” Harry opened his arms, unable to stop himself from laughing the two men almost knocked him over as they joined in a group hug.

“You flew her like a champ, H. Never seen anything like that in my life.” Harry looked into two sets of eyes an identical colour to his own.

Standing in front of him were his two brothers, Sonny and George. All three of them were pilots in the military and had been since they left school to sign up after the War. There wasn’t too much age difference between them which was probably one of the reasons the brothers were so close. Harry was the oldest, just over a year senior to George, who happened to be taller despite being the middle child, and Sonny was the youngest.

“Yeah well, she still needs some work. One of her engine cylinders is faulty.” The three of them walked side by side towards the maintenance shed. Despite their differences in height, anyone would assume the three brothers were triplets from how similar they looked. Most people on base knew them for their signature sea-glass green eyes and their brown hair.

“Oh I’ll go and tell Ruddy, he might still be here.” Sonny ran ahead

“Oh and Sonny,” Harry called for his younger brother, “Good job.” Harry winked at his younger brother, referring to his work on the plane he had just flown. In response, Sonny straightened his shoulders and smiled feeling proud after receiving a compliment from his older brother.

Harry and George both lit a cigarette each, pausing outside the door to the warehouse to smoke together. “I opened up a letter this morning from Ma.” George exhaled, smoke escaping past his lips.

Harry tried not to show his annoyance, “Wha’d she say?” He grumbled.

“She misses us… All of us and she wants us to stop by, come visit for dinner one day maybe.” George explained.

“Is she still with that old bastard?” Harry looked up at his younger brother.

George nodded, “Last time I heard.”

“Then we’re not going, none of us are.” Harry thought back to the last time he had allowed himself and his siblings to visit his mother. It was going well in the beginning, she’d cooked them up a roast pork and engaged in conversation, until their Father came home. It wasn’t long into their visit before they left the house and Sonny had gone home with a black eye whilst Harry had to get his hand stitched up at a hospital on the journey back.

Harry had grown up in Dallas, Texas, in a tacky old house that barely stood upright just on the outside of town. Whilst his Father was out working on a ranch somewhere and getting pissed up every night, Harry would spend most of his days keeping the house together whilst tending to his younger siblings. His mother was often somewhere in the house - nobody knew exactly what she was doing, since she wasn’t exactly all there half the time - but she was there.

Every visit they made back home was a reminder as to why they had entered the military in the first place. Whenever their mother would send them a letter, it was either because she wanted something or wanted them to come home so she could ask for that same something in person. The last time Harry had bought his siblings home was the first time in years. He thought his mother would be different yet he had no idea why - she was still letting that old man walk around as if he was the one who kept the house from falling.

“Sonny and I agreed you’re picking up Elise from nursery by the way,” George smirked, chucking his cigarette on the ground and putting it out with his foot.

“You and Sonny agreed that?” Harry frowned, receiving a nod from his brother, “I’ve been flying all day and y’ still want me to go pick up the baby?”

George clapped his older brother on the shoulder, “We’ve both got to help out in the warehouse this evening and besides, you’re Offutt's best pilot, I think you can handle picking up a two-year-old on the way home.”

Harry didn’t have time to argue with his brother as he stepped into the warehouse. He let out a deep sigh and took one puff of his cigarette before throwing it to the ground. He put his flight cap on his head to cover his messy hair and straightened his aviator jacket, walking towards the nursery.

. . .

“How have you found your first day Y/N?” Midge, one of the other nursery workers asked as they stood at the sink together to wash up some of the paint pots a few of the kids had been playing with in the afternoon.

“It’s been wonderful, Midge.” Y/N grinned. Although she was tired, she also felt ecstatic to finally be working again after months of searching for a new job. She had always been good with children thanks to her older sister having a kid of her own for her to babysit now and then. So when the opportunity arose to work a well-paying job at a nursery on the military base, she couldn’t pass it up. They’d even offer her free accommodation and discounted food for groceries which was perfect considering she didn’t have much of any of those things when she was living alone.

“I expect most of the kids will be getting picked up soon,” Midge glanced at the clock, “Everyone will be returning from work.”

Y/N hadn’t expected pick up time at the nursery to be so busy but fathers and mothers bustled in to pick up their children to take them home all at once. Once the majority of the kids had been picked up, Y/N glanced around to see the mess that had been left from the day that she’d have to clean up by herself. Her shoulders dropped as she landed on a small figure, realising she wasn’t completely alone yet.

“Elise, what are you doing?” Y/N smiled at the tiny girl playing in the corner, she was picking up picture books and flicking through them as if she were actually reading them. Y/N crouched down in front of the small toddler, “Are you enjoying those?”

Elise just grinned, picking something up with her small fingers and trying to put it in her mouth. Her brown, curly ringlets were no longer in uneven bunches like they had been this morning and her overalls were covered in food and paint stains. Y/N picked up the two-year-old to place in her lap, “Shall we read something before your dad comes to get you?” Elise babbled a reply.

Halfway through their fifth book, Elise was near enough asleep on Y/N’s lap. It had already been an hour since all of the other children went home and it wouldn’t be long before the sun would set. Y/N carefully picked Elise up so her head was on her shoulder and it was comfy enough to sleep as she stepped towards the telephone to see if Elise’s father was coming to pick her up.

As her hand went to pick up the telephone, a voice stopped her, “Hello?” It was deep and southern and husky like he had just smoked a cigarette or two, “I’m here to pick up Elise.”

Y/N turned around, and her breath caught in her throat as she spotted a tall figure leaning casually against the door frame. He wore a brown leather aviator jacket and grey trousers, with his flight cap tucked under his arm. His piercing green eyes, similar to Elise's, met hers, framed by brown curly hair. An unlit cigarette dangled from his lips.

Y/N had never seen anyone like him in her entire life.

“Y-yes,” She cleared her throat and forced her eyes to look away from his intense gaze. She stood and walked over to where he stood by the door with Elise in his arms, “You must be Elise’s father.”

“M her brother,” He corrected.

“Excuse me?” Y/N wasn’t sure if she heard him correctly, too busy gawking at him to actually pay attention.

“M Elise’s brother, one out of three of her brothers to be exact.” He repeated, his eyes glancing at the sleeping girl Y/N was holding.

“O-oh,” She blushed, “My bad, you look so similar I thought you were her father.”

“Easy mistake,” Harry smirked, “Would you like me to take her from you?”

“Yes, of course,” Y/N gently removed Elise from her and passed her to Harry.

“There we go,” He cooed as Elise whimpered at the sudden movement, “There’s m’ little Elise.”

Y/N thought her ovaries might explode as she watched the pilot interact with the small girl in his arms, making sure she was comfortable enough so she could remain asleep. “Are you new here ma’am?” Harry spoke his focus now back on Y/N.

“Yes actually, today’s my first day here,” She explained.

“No wonder, I ain’t ever seen y’ around the place. How’re you liking it so far?”

“I’ve only been here a couple of days but it’s been nice. Working here at the nursery has been lovely too,”

“Yeah?” Harry’s lips curled, “I hope this one hasn’t been giving y’ much trouble. She can be a little devil with my younger brothers.”

Y/N immediately shook her head, “No, she’s been lovely honestly. Think I spent most of the day with Elise out of all the other children.”

Y/N noticed how Harry focused on her face as she spoke to him, every now and then his eyes would dart to her lips and then back up to meet her eyes, “Y got any friends here?”

She paused, “Any friends?”

“Yeah, you know,” He half smiled, it felt almost flirty but maybe Y/N was just imagining it, “People y’ like to hang out with.”

“Uh yeah, I share a house with a few of the girls who work in various places around the base. I get along with most of them and the ladies who work here at the nursery too.” Y/N explained, cringing at how awkward she was and how she’d probably be replaying this conversation back later only to die of embarrassment of all the things she said.

“Y’ know there’s a dance down at the community centre this Friday, y’ should come, oh and invite some of those friends of yours too.”

“Oh I don’t know, I think I’m working this Friday and-”

“A lot of my buddies who I fly with go there sometimes - a good time they said. It might be a good chance to meet some of the people here,” He shrugged, “Could offer y’ a dance or two if you’d like.”

Y/N wondered if all this was really happening right now or if she was just so tired that she was hallucinating, “O-okay,”

Harry grinned, a dimple carving into his cheek, “Well alright then,”

“Alright then,” Y/N tried to keep her smile at bay as she took it as his queue to leave. She kept the door open so he could easily step out as he walked backwards with Elise in his arms and his eyes still on Y/N even as he said nothing.

“So I’ll see y’ at the dance?”

“Maybe,” Y/N shrugged, even though she had already decided she was most definitely going to the dance.

“Alright, maybe I’ll see y’ at the dance then,” Harry responded with a light, amused chuckle.

Y/N watched as he turned his back and began to walk down the dirt road until he stopped briefly and spun around, “I didn’t catch y’name by the way,” He called out to her.

Y/N cupped her mouth, “It’s Y/N,”

“Y/N,” He said the name like he was testing how it sounded, “M Harry. Hey, I better see y’ at that dance Y/N, I don’t handle rejection all that well.” Y/N couldn’t help but giggle.

“I can believe that,” She yelled back.

“I’d say goodbye but I wanna see y’ at that dance so I’ll say goodnight instead.” Harry said with a casual salute before turning and continuing down the road.

Y/N shut the door and leaned against it, clutching her hands over her chest in complete disbelief. Her sister had warned her the pilots on the base would be young men near enough her own age and that she ought to be careful hanging around them. However, her sister hadn’t warned her that a man like Harry would stumble over to her workplace to pick up his sister and invite her to a dance on Friday night.

Y/N quickly cleaned up the nursery, shoving things into boxes and wiping down the tables, before grabbing her coat and running down the road to her house.

On every street on the housing estate, there was a row of houses that all looked the same but were owned by different types of people. Some had big families all living under one roof, others were men who lived alone. Y/N’s house was the first house on the street. It was a traditionally designed home with a pitched roof, a small front porch and symmetrical windows. She shared it with three other girls who all worked different jobs across the Air Force base.

The sun had already set by the time she entered the house. All the lights were turned on and the gentle music of Buddy Holly sounded from the living room. Y/N kicked off her heels and hung up her coat, walking to the living room where Patsy and Molly were lounging on the couch. Molly had Patsy’s foot in her lap as she painted her toenails a wine red.

Y/N collapsed on the couch next to Molly, “What’s wrong? Work not go so well?” Molly inquired.

“No,” Y/N huffed, resting her head on Molly’s shoulder, “It was wonderful.”

“Well, what’s got you so blue Peggy Sue,” Patsy questioned, her tone playful. She was reading a magazine and smoking a cigarette.

“A man came into work after everybody left to pick up one of the girls, Elise.” Y/N clarified.

“You mean Elise Styles?” Molly asked.

Y/N sat up, “Yes, you know her?”

“Just about every woman on this base knows her. She’s the Styles’ little sister.” Molly explained, “We’ve all had to babysit her at least once for those brothers.”

“Yeah and neither of us will be doing it again,” Patsy piped up, as if reminding Molly.

“Oh, you must know Harry then,” Molly paused, shoving Patsy’s foot off of her lap and turning to face Y/N.

“Is he the man you’re sighing over?” Patsy’s magazine fell to the floor as she too stopped to listen.

Y/N furrowed her brows, confused by their reaction, “Y-yes, what about him?”

“What about him?” Molly stood, grabbing a cigarette from the packet on the coffee table and lighting it up, “Y/N you oughta be careful around all three of those brothers but especially Harry.”

“What do you mean?” Y/N glanced at Patsy who nodded in agreement with Molly.

“That boy is not good news. He’s Offutt’s best pilot and he thinks that gives him the right to go around sniffing out every woman that steps foot onto this base.” Y/N frowns, watching as Molly begins to pace back and forth, “He didn’t ask you to go out with him did he?”

“Well he asked me to the dance on Friday. The one at the community centre.”

“Oh, I bet he did!’ Molly exclaimed, “Listen Y/N, I’m telling you this because I don’t want any trouble for you. That boy is no good, he’s slept with half the ladies residing here and even the wives too I bet! He asked Patsy to go out to dinner with him one night and stood her up to go see another woman.”

Y/N glanced at Patsy, “He was flirting with two different women inbetween the moment he asked and our date a week later.” She added.

“That’s right. Y/N darlin’, we shoulda warned y’ before y’ stepped foot out of this house this morning. Those Styles brothers will mess you around and leave y’ lonely for sport. You’re too nice to deserve all of that.”

Y/N's shoulders slumped, “But he seemed so… nice.” Y/N pictured Harry with Elise and how gentle he was with her.

“He’s not a bad person Y/N but when it comes to women, there’s no guessing what that man turns into.”

“Everyone’s heard plenty of things about why they came here too. If you ask me, his home wasn’t exactly a perfect example to him.” Patsy said.

“Well, whatever reason, best stay away from him.” Molly finished.

Y/N heaved a sigh, “So I shouldn’t go to the dance on Friday?”

“Oh no, we’ll go to the dance. Harry’s not the only fine, young pilot on base I’ll tell you that.” Molly smirked and Patsy cheered with excitement at the thought of going out Friday night.

Y/N attempted to smile, but she couldn't shake off the sadness upon realising that the man she had met earlier in the evening wasn't as kind as she had initially believed. Molly fell back onto the couch next to her and put an arm around her shoulders, “Cheer up sweet cheeks. I’m sure plenty of men will want to take you out after this dance.”

Y/N managed a weak smile, grateful for Molly's comforting presence. "Thanks, Molly," she murmured, leaning into her friend's embrace.

"Yeah, plenty of fish in the sea, darlin'. You'll find one that's worth your time." Patsy chimed in.

Feeling a bit more reassured by her friends' words, Y/N nodded. "You're right. I can’t let one bad apple ruin my night."

Molly squeezed her shoulder affectionately. "That's the spirit! Now let's focus on having a great time at the dance. We can tell you about some of the other fellas who live here too."

With her friends' support, Y/N felt an inkling of hope return. She might have been disappointed by one man, but she wasn't about to let it dampen her spirits for the rest of the evening. She was glad she told her friends about her interaction with Harry and now she was left with one rule stitched into the back of her mind.

Keep away from Harry Styles.

. . .

The night sky was clear enough to see the stars glittering against the pitch-black backdrop. A soft, gentle breeze flowed through the air as Harry lay back on the swinging chair on the front porch of the house he shared with his three brothers.

This was his favourite time of day when it was completely silent and the air was cool and crisp. He didn’t like the nights so much when he was living with his parents. After midnight, or sometimes just before, his father would come in through the backdoor stinking the place up with alcohol and waking everyone up with his nightly rampages.

Nowadays, the nighttime was the most relaxing part of the day and Harry savoured every second of it. He often finds himself sat out on the porch after putting Elise to bed. He’d smoke a cigarette or two, and maybe play his guitar a little bit.

Tonight felt a little different though. Whilst his brothers were upstairs trying to put a fussy Elise to bed after she’d napped when he brought her home from nursery, he came outside and could think of nothing but the woman he found holding his little sister in her arms.

Harry knew everyone on base the same way they knew him. He recognised faces easily and had at least one brief encounter with everyone he met in passing. However, the face he had met for the first time this evening was unfamiliar and new.

Her features were delicate and angelic, with large doe eyes that held a hint of shyness to them. A soft, rosy blush adorned her cheeks and her lips were full and plush that he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of them. Her movements were gentle and her voice was airy and sweet, Harry thought of her stuttering and the way she’d blush whenever she spoke. He hadn’t seen anything like her in his life - he wasn’t a religious or spiritual person but, at that moment, he was pretty sure an angel had landed right in front of his very eyes.

Even her name sounded as though it came from some kind of mythical text - one full of beauty and purity, love and light.

Harry wasn’t the purist of men, far from it. He had slept in the beds of women he couldn’t remember the name of and indulged in his fair share of reckless behaviour. But in the presence of Y/N, he felt an unfamiliar stirring within him, a sense of longing tugging at his heartstrings. He didn’t know what it was and he wasn’t so sure he was ready to find out yet.

He lit a cigarette with a matchstick and exhaled into the air, tendrils of smoke dancing above him. The sound of footsteps thudding inside of the house as someone walked downstairs, broke the silence he had been basking in.

The door swung open and George stepped out, “Finally managed to get Elise to settle down though it took a whole round of nursery rhymes. Sonny’s still up there now, he’s afraid she’ll wake up again if he stops singing.” George took a cigarette from the pack Harry had in his pocket, “I thought you told those ladies at the nursery not to let her nap before she comes home.”

“I did,” Harry spoke, his voice husky.

“What? They didn’t listen to y’?” George chuckled.

“There’s a new worker. I’ll let her know next time I see her.” Harry hadn’t wanted to tell Y/N that Elise wasn’t allowed to sleep so late in the afternoon because it was harder to get her to go to bed at night. He didn’t seem to have the heart to as he watched her hold the small girl in her arms.

George scoffed, “A new worker? Is she a knockout at least?”

Harry didn’t reply, instead asking, “What do y’ think about the three of us going to the dance at the Community Centre on Friday?”

George laughed until he realised his brother wasn’t laughing with him, “You’re serious?”

The door swung open again and out stepped Sonny, “I swear if that baby wakes up, you two can sit in there and dance circles around her singing Miss Muffet for all I care. I ain’t doing that again.” He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, “Can y’ pass me a cigarette, George?”

George handed the cigarette to Sonny, “Hey Sonny, Harry wants to know if we’ll go to the dance at the Community Centre this Friday.”

Sonny chuckled but that quickly went away, “Oh shit really?”

“Yeah tha’s what I thought,” George said.

“You got your eye on someone Harry?” Sonny spoke, “Is it that girl from the med centre? She sure is something.”

Harry sat up and turned to face his two brothers, “No, it’s not that,” He lied, “Jus’ thought we could go do something other than sit around and drink at the bar.”

“But the dance?” Sonny quirked a brow, “You hate dances.”

“I never said that,” Harry said, even though he always made it known how much he hated the dances they held every Friday night.

“No, I definitely think I remember y’ saying dances were for people who wanted to get laid but couldn’t,” George spoke, backing up his younger brother who nodded in agreement.

“Alright,” Harry held his hands up, “Alright maybe I did say that. C’mon, what are you, Gunther and Francis? Sit down the pair of you.” They followed their older brother's orders, sitting on the seats opposite him. “Maybe there is a girl.” He sighed.

“Oh yeah?” Sonny smirked.

“Yeah, little shit,” Harry chuckled, “So if you could both do me a favour and get yourselves cleaned up Friday night because we’re going to a shitty dance and I won’t be having either of y’ covered in grease and soot.”

“Okay, alright, H.” George took a puff of his cigarette, “But you’re paying for drinks after.” Harry shook his head, unable to suppress a chuckle.

. . .

Y/N stood in front of her bedroom mirror when Friday night rolled around. She had left the nursery in a hurry, needing as much time as possible to get ready for the dance at the Community Centre. She had been wracked with nerves all week, knowing there was a high chance she would see Harry there and she’d have to do her best to ignore him like Molly had told her to.

She had picked out her outfit the night before. It was one of her best dresses- a lovely duck egg blue, satin fabric with a fitted bodice and a sweetheart neckline that showed off her decolletage. From the waist, the skirt flowed down in a full, flared A-line silhouette, gently swaying with every step. She wore white low heels on her feet and decided to carry a small purse with her too.

Most of her time in the evening was spent on her hair and makeup. Y/N had almost used an entire can of hairspray to ensure her hair would stay intact the whole night. Molly had even given her a French manicure the night before and she spent the whole day at the nursery trying her best not to ruin her perfectly shaped nails.

It had been a long time since she had put this much effort into going somewhere and it was all for a measly dance. There would be many other pretty girls who had spent more or less time on dressing up who probably had a better chance of catching the eye of a man than Y/N did. Yet she wasn’t hoping for the attention of just any man.

Even though Molly and Patsy had warned her of Harry’s nature, she couldn’t stop thinking about Harry. The way his eyes sparkled when he smiled and the sound of his voice as he spoke in that deep, southern drawl. Every time she thought of going to the dance, he would appear in her mind. Maybe she didn’t necessarily want anything from him but she wanted to at least catch his eye enough to make a lasting impression on him.

Y/N applied a little more powder to her nose and did one final check in the mirror. She straightened her shoulders, “This will have to do,” She muttered, grabbing her purse.

Patsy and Molly were already downstairs drinking margaritas and listening to Frank Sinatra on the record player. “Oh and another one comes to join us,” Molly grinned, wearing a navy, spotty dress with a red belt wrapped around her small waist.

“What took you so long?” Patsy grinned, pouring a drink in a martini glass and handing it to Y/N.

“O-oh no thank you, I don’t drink.” Y/N shook her head and forced a smile out of politeness.

“What? You don’t?” Patsy replied like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Oh c’mon! Just one little sip - liquid courage and all that.” Molly took the glass from Patsy to give to Y/N who forced herself to take it from her. She held the glass to her lips, taking one small sip and feeling a tiny burn from the alcohol.

“Good right?” Molly smirked, lighting a cigarette and holding the packet open to Y/N.

“No thank you, I don’t smoke either.” Y/N laughs nervously.

“Fair enough,” Molly shrugs, passing the pack over to Patsy who happily takes one for herself.

Y/N places her drink on the table, knowing she won’t be touching it again. “We’ll be heading out in a moment, we’re just waiting on one more.” As if she could hear them talking about her, footsteps thumped down the stairs and into the living room.

Y/N’s eyes widened when her eyes landed on the tall, blonde standing in the doorway. She was wearing a black dress with a neckline that showed off her bust and a tight waistline that accentuated her curves. The strands of her golden, blonde hair were tied back into a high ponytail with her fringe perfectly curled. She wore red lipstick on her plump lips which made the blue in her eyes even brighter than they already were.

“You’ve been in your room for hours, Nancy,” Patsy whined.

“Yes well, I don’t just plan on getting wasted tonight Patsy.” Nancy retorted.

Nancy was Y/N's other housemate, but Y/N didn't know her as well as she knew Patsy and Molly. Even though they lived together, Nancy seemed a bit distant compared to the latter two, who were friendly and nice. Nancy would smile politely, but she didn't say much else. Oftentimes, Y/N would get a strange feeling about Nancy like how she would make little comments that seemed to be jabs masked by forced politeness or how sometimes it felt like Nancy enjoyed pointing out Y/N's mistakes, like how she did her laundry or what groceries she bought. She wasn’t sure what she had done to upset Nancy but Y/N hoped it was just her over-thinking that made her believe she was this way and that tonight would allow them to get to know each other a little better.

Nancy’s eyes fell on Y/N and looked her up and down, “Nice dress,” She said, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness.

“Thank you,” Y/N offered her a smile but received nothing in return.

“Alright ladies,” Molly stubbed her cigarette in the ashtray, “Let’s go catch us a few good men.”

“A few?” Patsy giggled.

“You’re right, I think a few is a little too much for this place.” Molly huffed and led the way out of the house and towards the community centre.

Y/N could hear the live music coming from the centre as they walked down the street. Patsy and Molly were stumbling ahead, arms linked together as they laughed side by side. Y/N tried not to laugh at her friends as she walked alongside Nancy.

“You planning on hooking up with anybody tonight?” Nancy’s voice broke the silence between them.

“No I don’t think so,” Y/N replies.

Nancy scoffs, “These dances are mostly for that you know, better prepare yourself when a fella tries to talk to you.”

“You think they’ll want to?” Y/N asked, hopeful.

Nancy glanced at her, “I’m sure they’ll snatch you right up those pilot boys.”

Y/N blushes, “Is there anyone you’ve got your eyes on tonight Nancy?” She liked this, conversing with Nancy. She hoped this would be the start of breaking the ice between them and maybe they could become friends eventually, or at least build acquaintances.

Nancy smirks, “Only one.” She said nothing after that.

The girls walked into the community centre which was already full of people from all over the airbase. A live band was playing Elvis Presley songs, the music blaring into Y/N’s ears once they stepped inside. “Any of you girls want a drink-”

“Molly is that Everett?” Patsy pointed to a man in the corner, talking to a woman.

Molly’s face scrunched up, “I guess he’s back from Italy.”

Nancy interrupted the conversation, her eyes darting across the room like she was searching for somebody, “You girls grab something to drink, I’m just going to use the bathroom.”

“Who’s Everett?” Y/N asked Patsy as they walked towards the drinks table.

“A guy Molly had a thing with last year,” Patsy explained.

“Yeah until he told me he was going to Italy for a year and wanted to break things off so he could get laid by an Italian woman.” Molly ranted, leading the girls to the drinks table.

A bowl of punch resided in the centre of the table, Molly grabbed the ladle and poured them all a drink. Y/N took a sip and allowed her eyes to scan the room. Couples were dancing in the centre whilst others spoke in groups off to the side.

Eventually, her eyes caught sight of a group of men walking through the door. Each one of them was dressed in a similar uniform, a navy blue tailored jacket and matching, fitted trousers. She watched as an entire group of them continued to flood in through the doors until the last man stepped through.

He was wearing the same uniform as the others and his hair was gelled back with one curl falling in front of his forehead, unlike the messy curls she had seen when they first met. Y/N couldn’t help but stare as he weaved through the crowd and interacted with people as he walked past them. Everyone seemed to know him from the looks of it. He exuded confidence and bravado, people’s faces lighting up whenever he stopped to talk to them.

“Patsy?” One of the boys spoke.

“Here we go,” Molly muttered, forcing a smile.

A man with features that looked similar to the man Y/N had been eyeing, walked up to them with a taller man following him. “Hi Sonny,” Patsy greeted.

“Y’ sure know how to make yourself look good when you want to,” He winked, eyeing her up and down.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Patsy put both her hands on her waist.

“You know what I mean,” Sonny argued, realising he might have said something to offend her even though he had no idea what that might be.

“Hi,” The taller man behind him spoke. Y/N looked up and was met with familiar green eyes except they were a little bit lighter than the ones she had seen.

“Hi,” Y/N blushed.

“I’m George. Are you new here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around.” He wondered, pointing his thumb over his shoulder to the crowd as he spoke.

“Y-Yes, I arrived recently actually. I just started working at the nursery.” She clarified.

“Oh, the nursery! You must know my little sister Elise.” Y/N’s lips turned upwards thinking of the little girl she had been spending so much time with over the last few days. Since her first day, Elise had constantly been wanting her attention whether it was to nap or play with things or read books. “You must have met my older brother then.”

“Older brother?” Y/N didn’t have enough time to register as George glanced around the room and called out his brother’s name.

“Harry, c’mere!” He called.

Harry’s head turned towards them in the middle of his conversation. His eyes landed on his brother until they found hers. He offered a small smile and began to walk towards them with a drink already in his hand, “This is one of the new workers at Elise’s nursery.” George introduced even though he didn’t really need to.

“Yes, we’ve already met,” Harry said and Y/N thought she might melt into a puddle on the floor at the sound of his voice. “Hi there,”

“Hello,” Y/N smiled, shyly.

“So you came?” He teased.

“I did.” She laughed, lightly.

“And these are y’ friends?” He looked to Patsy and Molly who were bickering with Sonny who seemed to have said something else to offend them, George now joining in on the argument as he let Harry and Y/N talk.

“Yeah, they’re my friends,” Y/N said, feeling nervous under his gaze. But despite her nerves, she couldn't deny the thrill of being the focus of his attention.

“Good to know,” He murmured, “Y come here with anyone else?”

"Um, no, just the girls from my house," Y/N stuttered, feeling a rush of nerves as Harry's gaze lingered on her. "I don't know that many people. Other than the girls I live with and the ones from the nursery, who are all lovely, by the way," she added, her words tumbling out in a nervous ramble.

Harry grinned, his eyes twinkling with amusement at her flustered state. "You know me too," he stated, his tone playful as he leaned in closer.

Y/N gulped the air she breathed just as the lights in the centre dimmed. The fast-paced music began to slow down and couples gathered to the dance floor to slow dance together. “Y wanna dance with me Y/N?” Harry asked.

“I-I’m not very good at it,” Y/N smiled sheepishly, her cheeks tinged with a delicate blush. It was impossible to resist the charm that radiated from him.

He held out the palm of his hand and Y/N’s lips parted as she glanced down at it, “S just swaying tha’s all. Think y’ can do that?”

Y/N hesitantly nodded, her pulse quickening as Harry's long fingers gently wrapped around her wrist. A tingling sensation danced across her skin, sending shivers down her spine and causing goosebumps to rise in response to his touch. He led her to the centre of the dancefloor and turned around so they were face to face. Harry took both of Y/N's hands in his own, his touch sending electric currents coursing through her veins. With a tender yet confident touch, he trailed his fingers down her arms, causing her breath to hitch in her throat. As his hands settled at her waist, Y/N's breath turned shallow, her heart racing as the music floated through the air.

She was stiff at first, unable to relax until he leant forward and whispered, “Relax birdy,” She felt his breath against her neck as he spoke. He squeezed her waist a little and she dropped her shoulders, trying her best to loosen up under the circumstances.

“Birdy?” Y/N spoke, questioning the new nickname.

“I spotted y’ as soon as I stepped through the door. Your dress is blue ‘n it reminded me of the bluebirds I used to see back home whenever I’d go up in the mountains with my grandpa.” He explained.

“I didn’t know you’d seen me.”

“I searched for y’ as soon as I walked in. I only came because of you, if I couldn’t find y’ I’d probably just turn back and go to a bar or something.” He chuckled and Y/N laughed with him.

“No Elise?” She questioned, unable to stop herself from asking about the little girl she had become fond of.

“Elise is staying with the family next door. Little rascal tried to get ketchup on my uniform,” He rolled his eyes, “I got a free house if that’s what you’re implying though.”

Y/N’s face turned beat red, “N-No that’s not what I’m implying at all.”

“M just messin’” Harry grinned, cheekily.

Y/N relaxed, composing herself and trying to pull herself together, “I’ve heard things about you, you know.”

“Oh yeah?” Harry smirked, “What things?”

“Just things.” Y/N felt his fingertips press her skin for a moment.

“And do you believe these things?” Harry murmured, leaning in a little closer.

Y/N looked him in the eye, trying to see if she could read him without having to ask him a thousand questions, “I don’t know yet.”

Harry opened his mouth to reply but was stopped by the sudden change in music and the lights turning on above them. People cheered as they gathered back into big groups and began dancing again. Harry bit back a grin, shaking his head, “Y wanna come outside with me?” He asked, shouting over the loud music. Y/N bit her lip and nodded, taking his outstretched hand and allowing him to pull her through the crowd of people.

The air was cold once they stepped outside. Harry led her over to a small bench nearby where fewer people were gathered. He pulled out a cigarette and offered her the pack, “Oh no thank you, I don’t smoke.” She declined, politely.

Harry smiled around his cigarette, his gaze lingering on Y/N for a beat or two as he casually slipped the pack into the pocket of his trousers. The air between them was filled with a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft sound of music drifting from inside the centre. Sensing Y/N's slight shiver, Harry swiftly removed his jacket and draped it over her shoulders without saying a word.

"But you'll get cold," Y/N protested, her eyes widening in surprise.

"Don't y’ worry about me. I don't get cold," Harry quipped, a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he shrugged off her concern. His white t-shirt revealed toned arms adorned with a few tattoos littering his tanned skin.

As Harry tilted his head back to blow smoke into the night air, Y/N couldn't help but admire the way he carried himself with effortless confidence. Gathering her courage, she decided to strike up a conversation.

"Were those your brothers back there?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Yeah, Sonny and George," Harry confirmed with a hint of pride in his voice.

"They look so much like you," Y/N remarked, her curiosity piqued.

"Strong genes, I suppose," Harry shrugged, his tone becoming more serious as he opened up about his family background.

"What about you? Do you have any siblings?" He inquired.

"Just an older sister and my little niece, Rosie Jean," Y/N replied, a fond smile tugging at her lips as she thought of her family.

"And your parents?" Harry pressed, his gaze intense as he studied her reaction.

"My parents are doctors, they work at a surgery in town," Y/N explained, feeling a pang of homesickness as she reminisced about her upbringing.

"And yours?" She prompted, turning the conversation back to Harry.

"M parents are nobodies," Harry's voice took on a sombre tone, clearly his family life was a sensitive topic. Sensing his discomfort, Y/N chose her next words carefully.

"What about Elise?" she asked, hoping to lighten the mood with talk of his sister.

"Elise is better off being raised by us three than being left alone in a house with batshit crazy," Harry scoffed, his protective instincts kicking in.

Feeling the weight of their conversation, Y/N searched for a way to lift Harry's spirits. "What made you want to be a pilot?" she asked, genuinely interested.

“Sonny came home wanting to sign up for cadet training after they visited his school. He came home running through the doors with a flyer in his hand and told everybody he was going into the army. I told him ‘No brother of mine is going anywhere that requires trench foot and guns.’ He didn’t talk to me for a week after that. It wasn’t until I found an advertisement where y’ could train to fly planes when I decided I was gonna make a better life for myself and my siblings. It just so happened Sonny and George wouldn’t let me go at it alone.” He inhaled his cigarette before tossing it to the ground.

As Harry shared the story of how he and his brothers found their way to Offutt, Y/N couldn't help but admire his determination. She found herself drawn to him even more, captivated by his strength and the way he always included his brother’s in everything he spoke about.

A comfortable silence settled between them. Y/N's heart skipped a beat as Harry smoothly slid his hand next to hers, their fingers intertwining effortlessly. His touch sent a jolt of electricity through her.

"Have I told y’ how beautiful y’look tonight?" Harry's voice was soft, his gaze locking with hers in a way that made her heart race.

Y/N blushed at his compliment, unable to tear her eyes away from his. "You're lying," she protested, feeling a surge of warmth spread through her cheeks.

"I swear it," Harry insisted, his hand reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Swear on m’ life, birdy."

Y/N's heart fluttered at the nickname, a secret thrill running through her as she turned to face him. His eyes held a tenderness that melted her defences, and she found herself smiling back at him.

"Hi, birdy," Harry murmured, a dimple appearing on his cheek as he leaned in closer.

"Hi, Harry," Y/N whispered, her voice barely above a breath as she savoured the moment.

Harry's shoulders dropped and a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips, though he seemed to be fighting to contain it. “I can’t lie to y’ birdy, I can’t stop thinking about kissing you,” Y/N's breath caught in her throat, her heart racing at his words. “I was gonna lie and tell y’ I’d been thinking about it since I saw you tonight but… quite honestly, I think I've been dreaming of y’ since I met y’ the other day.”

Y/N didn’t know what to say, she felt as though someone had put a zipper straight across her mouth and she couldn’t get it to open. All she could feel was every muscle in her body beating against her skin as though they were trying to force her to surge forward and kiss him herself. “Y-You can if you want,” She stuttered, cheeks pink.

Harry laughed, “What about if you want? Can’t go kissin’ y’ if y’ don’t want it birdy.”

“I do want it,” Y/N nodded.

“Yeah?” He spoke but it came out more like a whisper.

“Yeah.” Y/N gulped, feeling nervous.

Harry didn’t hesitate once the word had left her mouth. He leaned forward, closing the distance between them. Their lips met in a gentle, tentative kiss, soft and exploratory. Y/N's heart fluttered as she melted into the warmth of Harry's embrace, her senses flooded with the taste of his lips and the scent of his cedarwood cologne.

Time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in the sweetness of the moment, their kisses deepening with each passing second. Harry's arms wrapped around Y/N, pulling her as close to him as possible.

In that instant, everything else faded away—the noise of the party, the chill of the night air—leaving only the two of them, lost in the heat of their first kiss.

They were both breathless as they pulled apart. Y/N’s eyes fluttered open to find Harry already looking at her, his eyes filled with emotion and intense desire. She noticed his tongue poke out to lick his bottom lip and she couldn’t help but giggle when she noticed the red lipstick stain she had left on his mouth from her kiss.

“Where abouts do you live?” Harry murmured.

“Clemon Street,” Y/N spoke, her voice coming out a whisper.

“Yeah? That’s on my way home,” He grinned.

“Oh really?” Y/N bit back a laugh, “I thought y’ lived on Newark Street - it said so in Elise’s file.”

Harry shrugged, “I like to go the long way round.” Y/N didn’t bother pulling him up on the fact that the two streets were on opposite ends of the housing estate.

“Can I walk y’ home?” He asked, his fingers fiddling with the fabric of her dress.

Y/N nodded, biting her bottom lip, “Yeah I’d like that.”

Harry grinned, “Well alright then.”

They stood up, Y/N keeping his jacket around her shoulders since it was still cold out, “I’ve just got to go to the bathroom,” She motioned towards the community centre.

“I’ll wait for y’ at the door,” He said, following her as they walked to the community centre side by side. Y/N walked up to the steps and opened the door, she looked over her shoulder to make sure Harry was still there- that he was real and not just someone she dreamt up.

Harry caught her eye, “M not going anywhere birdy,” he winked, “hurry up so I can walk y’ home and kiss y’ again.”

Y/N laughed and hurried straight to the bathroom. Once inside, she closed the cubicle door behind her and sank down onto the lid of the toilet seat, a wide grin spreading across her face. Unable to contain her excitement, she let out a delighted squeal, her mind buzzing with thoughts of the moment she had just shared.

She pulled out the pocket mirror from her bag and quickly reapplied the lipstick that had been smeared off. She fluffed up her hair with her hands and rubbed her aching cheeks from where had been smiling so much. She stood up and held Harry’s coat in her arms. As Y/N stepped outside the community centre, she scanned the area in search of Harry, hoping to catch a glimpse of him waiting for her. Her anticipation turned to disappointment when she couldn't spot him anywhere, and her shoulders slumped slightly in resignation. Just as she was about to turn away, a figure caught her eye—a silhouette that had a striking resemblance to Harry—standing in a shadowy corner illuminated by the lights from the community centre.

Heart fluttering with excitement, Y/N smiled and took a step forward, eager to walk home with him. However, her joy quickly turned to dismay when she realised he wasn't alone.

A sudden giggle pierced the air, causing Y/N's heart to sink. Molly's warning appeared typed out in big letters at the forefront of her mind, filling her with regret and dread as she hesitated, frozen in place. With each step she took closer, the scene before her unfolded—it was Nancy, her housemate, clinging to the man she had just kissed.

I imagine George to be Callum Turner and Sonny to be Timothee Chalamet specifically from ms stevens but you can imagine whoever you’d like ! <;33

1K notes · View notes

scuderiahoney · 3 months

Text

Color Theory

Oscar Piastri x artist!reader

Masterlist

Summary: Oscar’s an old friend of yours. This time when he comes home to visit, things get messy. Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: alcohol, mild drug use, sexual content 18+ MDNI, overuse of color descriptions

It’s summer in Australia, your favorite time of year despite the overbearing sun and the overwhelming heat. Sweat spikes on your brow, but the sunlight that pours through the windows makes you happy. The door to the back garden is open, the smell of wildflowers blowing in with the breeze. You can hear your roommates chattering in the other room. You hold a paint palette in one hand, a brush in the other. There’s something just slightly off about this piece, some part of the light you’re not capturing quite right. You step back from the painting, trying to get a better view of the whole picture.

Someone calls your name from inside. You ignore them. By the third time you hear your name, you give in, setting the palette and brush down and heading inside. You’re still wearing your apron, covered in paint marks.

Lizzy, one of your roommates, smiles at you. “How’s it going?”

You sigh heavily. “Can’t get the light right.”

She nods in understanding. “We’re ordering pizza. Oscar’s on his way. Thought I’d give you a heads up in case you decide to try painting in your underwear again.”

You laugh. “It was one time,” you say defensively. “It was hot out and I was trying to become-“

“-one with the art, I know, I know,” she teases. “Just giving you a warning!”

You lean on the counter and let out a long breath. “It’s gonna be weird, isn’t it? Him being here?”

Oscar’s an old friend of yours, and your roommates, too. Old, like preteens old. He left for the UK so long ago that you’d probably barely remember what he looked like if it weren’t for video calls and social media and now, his face being plastered everywhere. You’ve kept up, have stayed friends through it all. But it’s the first time you’ll be seeing him in person in over a year, the first time he’s ever going to visit your shared house, the first time since… since he became Oscar Piastri and not just Oscar.

Lizzy shrugs. “Only weird if we make it weird, right?”

She’s right, to a certain extent. Your other roommate, Leo, shows up with Oscar in tow, and you do your best to not be weird about it, and you think it works. He greets you and Lizzy with long hugs. He smells like sea salt and something warm. His body’s much more firm and filled out than he was the last time you saw him, which makes sense, you suppose. He still smiles like golden yellow sunshine, though, crinkled eyes and round cheeks and that near permanent blush on his face.

The pizza arrives shortly after he does, and you all settle into the living room to catch up. Oscar tells stories about racing, about his first year in F1, about his teammate and his competitors. You’ve been keeping up with the races more than you ever did before- Leo always wanted to watch but you hadn’t cared that much before it was Oscar, before the guy in the orange car was the same kid who used to finger paint with you in the backyard, your mother worried about the mess. Now you sit glued to the TV most Sundays.

In turn, you, Lizzy, and Leo update Oscar on what he’s missed. All about your family lives, your jobs, your other friends he’s lost touch with. He listens intently to each story, the way he always has.

“What are you doing for work?” He asks, nudging your knee.

You sigh dejectedly. “Nothing fun.”

He pouts. Leo elbows you and speaks up, though.

“She’s still painting, though,” he says brightly. “You should see the sunroom.”

Oscar’s face lights up. “Is that your studio? You always said you wanted a sunroom.”

He’s always been one of your biggest supporters when it comes to your art. He’s the one who’d join you in the art room at lunchtime in school, eating his lunch at one of the counters while you worked on your latest piece, unable to put the paintbrush down. He’d attended all your art shows, had bought you paints and brushes and sketchbooks for birthdays and Christmases, and had even posed for a portrait you’d been required to paint for class. He’d had a hard time sitting still for that long without falling asleep.

You nod with a smile growing on your face. “Living the dream with that one.”

The night slips away from all of you, caught up in conversations about everything under the sun. You find yourself feeling sad when Oscar goes to leave. He does it with hugs and a promise to be back in a few days. When he leaves through the front door, you feel that emptiness again, that hole that’s never healed quite right after he left.

Lizzy sees it on your face and squeezes your shoulder. “He’ll be back.”

Two days later, you’re deep in painting mode, eyes beginning to ache as you stare at the canvas in front of you, when there’s a noise from the sunroom doorway. You turn and find Oscar standing there, eyes wide, brows raised. He chews on his lip sheepishly.

“Sorry,” he says, quietly. You hold back a laugh. “Leo said to come over and just let myself in, and I heard a noise, and- sorry-“

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, tilting your head and smiling. “Leo should’ve told you, he ran to the store for drinks.”

Oscar rolls his eyes, and his shoulders drop. “Right.”

“You’re welcome to hang out, though,” you say, nodding at the chair off to the side in the sunroom. “Don’t want you getting bored all by yourself.”

He hesitated. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

He never would have questioned it before. He would’ve already been sitting, would’ve already known what you were painting, would’ve helped you get your palette set up. It’s different now. He’s been gone a while.

You jut your chin towards the chair again and wave a paintbrush in that direction. “Please. You’ve never been a bother.”

He was always the only one of your friends that you allowed to watch you paint. He knew when to stay quiet, and when you needed the background noise of his voice, without ever having to ask. He shuffles over to the chair and sits down. Oscar’s gaze dances through the room with wide eyes, and when you turn back to the canvas, you can feel him watching intently.

“What do you think?” You ask, just to break the silence. You gesture at the paintings lined up around the room. “Have my skills improved?”

He lets out a slow breath. “They’re amazing,” he says, and your heart twists in your chest. “I’m so glad you kept up on it. That you didn’t lose your… you know. Passion. Sounds cheesy, but I mean it.”

You nod. Most of your friends and family had spent your teenage years trying to convince you to learn any skill other than art. You’d continued pouring yourself into the paintings. Oscar had been one of your only cheerleaders through it all.

“It’s not easy,” you admit. “Bills and shit, you know? Real adult stuff. But I’ve been trying to get into some galleries recently. I don’t know if it’ll ever be something I can make a living off of, but I’ve gotta try.”

Oscar nods in understanding. “How about when I win my first championship, I’ll make good on my promise?”

You laugh. There’d been a night just before he’d left for the UK where the two of you had stayed up late, out far past curfew at the local park. You’d laid under a tree next to him, giddy on the high of breaking the rules and the late hour. He’d told you all about his big dreams. About F1 and championships and how he was going to make it big. And when you’d asked if he’d remember you, he’d smiled and turned his head towards you, eyes wide in the pale moonlight, nose nearly touching yours.

“I’ll use my money and open a gallery,” he’d promised. “And I’ll fill it with all of your paintings.”

You’d rolled your eyes. “Even the bad ones?”

He’d nodded, so seriously. “Especially the bad ones.”

Now he sits next to you in your makeshift studio, so close to reaching his dreams. You can only hope you’ll get there, too, someday.

There’s a party at your house that night. There’ll be more people there than usual, wanting to talk with Oscar and taking up his time. But for now there’s just you and him in the studio you’ve always wanted, the one you talked about under the tree in the park. You’ll take what you can get.

Oscar finds you later at the party, in the back corner of the backyard. The sun is nearly gone, the last bits of daylight slipping away. When he walks up, you’re leaning back in an outdoor armchair, and you smile hazily up at him and hold out the joint you’d been smoking.

He shakes his head. You pout.

“I get drug tested,” he says, and you suppose that’s understandable. “And I think my trainer would kill me over the lung damage.”

“It’s just once,” you friend says next to you, “can’t do that much damage.”

“Oscar’s a high performance athlete,” you tease.

Someone finishes the infamous Daniel Ricciardo quote for you, complete with the sound effects. You’re not really listening, more focused on how Oscar rolls his eyes as he sits down on the arm of the chair. You tilt your head to look up at him.

The late sun is hitting the bridge of his nose, a bright orange band against his freckled skin. He blinks at you with thick lashes, and you wonder how you’d capture the look on his face with paint- the softness of his cheeks, the care that sits heavy on his browbone, the restlessness in the curve of his mouth. You don’t like to do portraits- Oscar’s one of few people you’ve painted, but it was years ago. He was a skinny kid with a bad haircut. Now his jawline is chiseled and sharp, and his hair falls over his forehead in a soft swoop. He's pretty.

He cocks his head at you. You’ve been staring too long. You force a giggle and nudge his knee. He laughs right back.

You’re not sure how he ends up squished into the chair with you, his arm over your shoulder, his bare thigh pressed to yours. You think maybe it was your doing- you grabbed his arm, pulled him until he sunk in next to you. The sun is gone, now, the evening chill taking over, and it’s nice to have him next to you, keeping you warm. His cheek is pressed to the top of your head.

“You can go, you know,” you say quietly. Most of your friends have abandoned the corner you’re in, moving to the lit back deck, or the firepit area. You and Oscar have stayed put, though.

“D’you want me to go?” He asks.

You shake your head. He laughs. “I just don’t wanna take up all your time,” you say with a shrug.

His fingers play with the ends of your hair. “I’m right where I want to be.”

You curl in closer to him. You’re right where you want to be, too.

Eventually, the two of you rejoin the group. He stays glued to your side most of the night, though. His shoulder presses against yours, and in turn, you lean against him. He grows quieter as the night goes on. That’s when you remember that his time spent with you while you were painting wasn’t just for your benefit. He’d been a quiet kid- popular, but easily exhausted by socializing. He’d liked the solitude and comfort of the art room nearly as much as you had.

In the backyard full of your old friends, he seems content to stay stuck on you. When he shoves his hands in the pocket of his hoodie, you wiggle one of yours in alongside his, hoping you’re not crossing a line. Or maybe, really, you’re hoping it’s a line he wants you to cross. When he knits your fingers together, you sigh happily.

People leave one by one, with hugs for Oscar and promises to watch the next season. He says goodbye to them and then returns quickly to your side. Soon enough, Lizzy shuffles off to bed, and then Leo stretches and does the same, and it’s just you and Oscar. You hide a yawn. You don’t want to go to bed, not yet.

He squeezes your shoulder, his arm around your back, now. He has his cheek pressed against your temple. For a moment, you wonder if you could stay stuck to him long enough to keep him here. If eventually, the two of you would fuse together. That’s probably just your wavering high speaking. He mumbles something into the side of your head. You break from your staring at the coals and make a noise of confusion.

“Missed you,” he says. “Sorry I haven’t…”

This feels like too heavy a conversation to have now, when things have felt so good and warm all night. You know it’s coming at some point, but you’ll avoid it all costs. You turn further into him and wrap an arm around his middle, and let your eyes fall closed.

“I missed you too,” you say, rubbing your thumb against his rib cage through his sweatshirt.

The two of you sit quietly for a few moments. Then, you say, “you know, I still have that portrait I did of you. How many races d’you think you need to win before I can make some money off that?”

He laughs into your hair. His hand has fallen to your side now, and he squeezes- you nearly gasp at the feeling. “I was a scrawny baby in that painting. Nobody wants to buy that.”

You giggle against him. “You were a cute scrawny baby, though.”

It’s not something you would have said all those years ago. You’d have never been caught dead admitting that you thought he was cute. But now… in the safety of the backyard, in the darkness, pressed against his side…

“You’re cuter now, though,” you say.

“Yeah?” He asks.

You nod confidently. He slips his other hand from his pocket. It comes up to hold your jaw, gently. You hold your breath. He tilts your face up towards his.

“You’re prettier than ever,” he says, softly. “And I thought you reached the limit a long time ago.”

His lips are on yours within seconds, then. It’s not the first time he’s kissed you. By now, you know it probably won’t be the last. You let it happen, opening up for him. You slip your tongue past the warmth of his lips. His hand cups the side of your face as that warm feeling melts across your skin, the one that only he brings. You’ve been searching for a replacement since the last time this happened. Nothing comes close.

He uses the arm around you to pull you into his lap. You reach up and thread your fingers into his shirt, something to anchor you in the swirling feeling of him on and around and against you again. His hands fall to your hips, trying to do the same. He kisses like Australian summers, hot and long and sunny and bright orange. His touch leaves sparks behind everywhere he goes.

When you finally break away for air, his hair is a mess, and your lips feel puffy. He grins sheepishly at you. You chew on your lower lip as he brushes a finger over the arch of your cheek.

“Sorry,” he says. Always apologizing. You know he’s not sorry for kissing you. He’s sorry for how this will eventually end.

“Don’t be,” you say, quietly. “Please. Let’s just…”

He nods, then swallows before he says, “okay.”

Then he kisses your cheek, your jaw, your temple. You giggle at the feeling and let your fingertips dance against his face and neck. He muffles another laugh into your skin.

“Missed you,” you say again.

“I missed you too,” he says.

He walks you inside. You think about inviting him to stay the night, but you think that might be a bad idea. Instead, you give him a hug and watch him walk out the front door, into the only black and blue night.

…..

You meet up with him and a few other friends at a bar a couple nights later. You walk over from your house with Lizzy, who either doesn’t notice your nervous energy, or is nice enough to just not mention it. You shouldn’t be nervous. It’s the people you’ve known for years, and it’s just Oscar. There’s no reason to be nervous.

Except for the still fading hickey he left on your neck, covered by strategically placed hair, and the way you feel his lips on your every time you close your eyes. Yeah. There’s that, sure.

The bar is crowded even before all of your friends arrive. Oscar comes in with Leo, having been out all day while you and Lizzy had to work. There are at least five people there who are acting like they haven’t seen Oscar in years, even though they were all at the party a few nights ago. You try your best to hide your jealousy. He has other friends. He probably likes them way more than he likes you, anyways.

He finds you later, standing at the bar, waiting to order a drink. He’s just- there, all of the sudden, warm shoulder pressed to yours, elbows on the countertop. He smiles softly at you when you turn to him, and he leans into you.

“Hi,” he says. “I was looking for you.”

You want to laugh, because surely he wasn’t, but- there’s something so serious in his eyes. You lean into him in response, just to watch him raise his brows and smile wider. There’s a little mole on the swell of his cheek. You want to reach out and touch it. You refrain.

“I’m here,” you finally say, nodding towards your crowd of friends in the corner. “You’ve been a busy man tonight.”

He sighs, heavily, like it’s been difficult for him. It probably has been. He’s a quiet person in general. Not one to really like being the center of attention. You wonder if he’s exhausted as easily by it now as he was before, or if his years of podium celebrations have dulled the sensation a bit. Wonder how much of your Oscar is still left, under the facade.

He chews on his lower lip lightly, and you smile softly. That’s an old habit. That’s one you recognize. You also think of the night by the firepit, how you’d pulled that same lip between your own teeth, and the noise he’d made in response. Your face grows warm.

The bartender finally turns to you. Oscar orders for both of you, because of course he knows what you’re drinking. Then you follow him back to the crowd of your friends. When he grabs your hand to pull you along, you don’t complain. You just squeeze his fingers in response.

You stumble out of the bar with him, hand in hand, hours later. He’s insistent on walking you and Lizzy home, claiming that Leo won’t be enough to keep an eye on the both of you. You’re just happy to have his fingers locked with yours, to have his shoulder brushing against you as you both sway down the sidewalk. It’s comfortably warm outside, and you hum to yourself as you walk, listening to Lizzy and Leo arguing about nothing important.

Your journey home is stopped by Oscar, who stops in his tracks suddenly. You turn back to look at him. He’s staring across the street, where there’s a neon sign lit up in the window, the word Pizza flashing like a beacon. You laugh as he tugs on your hand.

“No, come on, we’re going home,” Lizzy calls out.

“I want pizza,” Oscar says in response, deadpan.

You turn to your roommates and shrug. “He wants pizza.”

Lizzy sighs. “I want to go home.”

“You guys go,” Oscar says with a dismissive wave. “I’ll make sure she gets home safe.”

Less than ten minutes later, your legs are stuck to the vinyl of the pizza parlor booth, knee bumping Oscar’s underneath the table. There’s a pepperoni pizza between the two of you, far too much for you to actually finish.

“Yknow,” he says, waving a piece of pizza around in the air. “Logan dips his pizza in ranch.”

You laugh at the disgusted look on Oscar’s face, at the way he says ranch. You take a sip of the soda he insisted on buying for you, along with the food.

“Bet it’s good,” you admit, shrugging.

Oscar wrinkles his nose. “I’m not a picky eater, but… isn’t pizza good enough on its own?”

You shrug, pretending to think deeply about it. Except that Oscar knows you well enough to know you’re pretending, so he starts laughing. And then you follow suit, doubled over in the booth, grease from the pizza on your fingertips.

As his laughter fades, he presses his knee against yours. It feels deliberate.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he says.

Something twists in your chest. “Missed you, too, Osc.”

Your friendship goes through cycles. When he’s here, it’s almost like nothing has changed. But when he’s gone… the two of you aren’t good at long distance friendship. Or maybe, really, you’re better at it than most. You can go months without talking and pick up like nothing has changed. The tough part comes when he’s here, within reach, and then he leaves. That’s the moment you dread, the part you don’t handle well. It would probably be easier if you stopped kissing him every time he came home. But you look across the table, and his lips are soft and cherry pink and slightly shiny from the pizza, and you know that would be impossible.

“I’ve missed you too,” you say, because you know he needs to hear it even if he already knows it. “I was worried that maybe now that you’re in F1, you’d gotten too important for… us.”

You really mean me, but it feels a bit too much to say out loud. You think he knows, anyways. He reaches a hand across the table, lays it over top of yours. There’s a sad smile on his face.

“I could never,” he says, eyes drilling right into yours. “Promise.”

He walks you home, hand in hand. The front porch light is on, probably Lizzie’s doing. He insists on coming all the way up to the front door, which is sweet and does absolutely awful things to your brain. Because he’s right there, his hand in yours, and you’re fumbling for your house key in your purse, but really you’re thinking about kissing him. When his fingers squeeze yours, you give up on the key and turn to him.

He knows it’s coming, you think. When you cup his face in your hand, he’s already leaning in.

The kiss is softer, messier, than the other night. You’re both still a little tipsy. But it’s less frantic, more comfortable. His other hand falls to your hip, and you lean back against the front door to your house and melt into him. He presses against you, warm, firm muscle against every curve of your body. You don’t want this to end. You want to wrap your arms around his neck and beg him to stay right here, to never leave, to come back to you.

He pulls away first. You try to kiss him again, hands tugging at his hips as he pants through reddened lips.

“You’re drunk,” he mumbles.

You shake your head no. “Not that drunk.”

He leans in close and kisses your cheek. “This is a bad idea.”

That makes your gut twist, makes your chest hurt. You roll your eyes and turn away so he won’t see the way your tears well up. He’s right, you know, but it hurts to hear it.

“I care about you. A lot,” he says, quietly. “And I… if things were different…”

“I know,” you say, because you do know. “Yeah. Bad idea. You should go.”

You leave him standing on the porch and disappear inside the house. When you lay down in bed, you lay awake for hours, swirls of color dancing behind your eyelids.

…..

The next night, you find yourself in your studio, alone. There’s paint on the canvas in front of you- not the good stuff you’d normally use, but the cheap kind you keep on hand for moments like these. Children’s finger paint, runny and thin and non-toxic. It’s running down the palette and dripping down your wrist. You’re in a pair of shorts and a sports bra, and frankly, you’d probably be wearing less if you didn’t know your roommates were due home eventually.

Oscar’s leaving tomorrow morning. At this point, the last you’ll see of him for a while will be when you left him on the porch. You swipe a bit of blue on the canvas. You’re not really painting anything, just trying to put color to the feelings. He’s leaving and he’ll be gone for a while again, and things are weird again, because he kissed you and then you kissed him and now he has to leave. You add a swipe of orange. Papaya, you think, gritting your teeth.

You wonder if things really would’ve been different. If he’d stayed, would you be together? Would he love you the way you want him to? Maybe. Or maybe, no matter the universe, this is how it ends. Maybe there’s always a bigger dream waiting. Maybe you’re not enough for him.

There’s a knock on the door. There’s red paint on your fingertips.

“Busy,” you call out.

Someone sighs. You freeze, hand halfway to the canvas. It doesn’t sound like Lizzy or Leo.

“It’s me,” Oscar says. “Can I come in?”

You huff. “Sure.”

He opens the door and blinks owlishly at the sight of you. You know you probably look crazy. He steps into the room and shuts the door behind him. The silence is deafening. Paint runs off the palette and onto your leg.

“Rough day?” He asks, because he knows.

You laugh bitterly. “You could say that, yeah.”

“I’m-“

“Don’t apologize,” you say with a sigh. “I’m not sorry.”

“No?”

“No,” you say. “I’m just… frustrated.”

Frustrated that he gets to live out his dream while you wither away in the hot Australian sun, waiting for your chance. Frustrated that every time he comes back it sends you into a tailspin. Frustrated that he’s leaving again. Frustrated with yourself for kissing him, frustrated that you want to do it again.

He crosses the room and stands next to you. You watch his shaky fingers drag through the mess on the palette. Then he reaches out and drags them through the mess on the canvas. He’s the only one you’d let do that, the only one who’d be brave enough to even try.

You follow suit, dip a finger in the yellow and smear it in a line over the canvas. Oscar’s finger falls to your wrist, scoops the bright blue from your skin and draws a squiggle with it. Cadmium Yellow and Phthalo Blue mix on the canvas and turn into envy green. Oscar dips his hand into the Cobalt Violet and draws a line of it up your arm like a bruise. You laugh and pick up the Ultramarine Blue to match the empty feeling in your chest. It leaves behind rivers on his cheeks when you hold his face in your hand and kiss him. Gently, first, and then with all the color you can muster up. You drop the palette on the floor. It splatters everywhere.

You wonder how you’d go about painting this. Red for the brush of his tongue, the bite of his teeth against your neck. Blue for the way his fingers dig into your hips. Bright pink for the way he moans into your mouth, breathy and broken and oh-so-lovely. The way you drop to your knees is lavender purple. The feeling of him heavy on your tongue, the way he sighs over it, is sunflower yellow.

He gets paint in your hair when he pulls you off of him, and then he sinks to his knees with you. You think about suggesting the couch, but then he’s pulling you all the way down onto the floor and you can’t bring yourself to protest. He cleans the paint from his hands first, always a gentleman. Then his fingers slip into you in a rush of an orangey-yellow feeling, one that turns more and more pink with each press of his hand, each swipe of his thumb against your clit. And when he finally presses his cock into you, it’s the brightest burst of sky blue behind your eyelids.

The colors melt together in your mind. You’d never be able to put this onto a canvas- not the way he breathes so heavy in your ear, the way his fingers drag against your skin, the way you shake as you clench around him and he spills himself inside of you. There’s no way you’d get the color right.

You drag him upstairs afterwards, both of you giggling, and you gasp when you hear the front door open just as you pull him into your bedroom. You head for the attached bathroom first, drag him under the hot spray of water and watch the rainbow mix into brown and wash away down the drain. There’s paint crusted in his hair and yours- you do your best to scrub it out as he leans heavily against you.

You don’t even bother asking if he wants to stay. You just drag him to the bed and toss him a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants you think are Leo’s. He doesn’t question it. You can hear your roommates downstairs talking. You wonder if they know.

Oscar flops onto the bed and reaches for you, tugging at the hem of the oversized t-shirt you’re wearing. You go easily, willingly, eagerly. He wraps you up in his arms and presses his face into your neck.

“I…” he starts, then cuts himself off.

“I know,” you murmur, because you do. “Me too.”

I love you. I wish it was different. I would stay if I could. I’ll miss you.

You wake up in the morning to his lips against your cheek. You drag yourself out of bed to walk him to the door. Your chest aches, and the feeling is a color that you can’t quite put your finger on. Someone’s there to pick him up and take him to the airport, take him far away for a long time.

He kisses you on the forehead and squeezes your shoulder. “I’ll see you soon,” he promises.

You nod and lean up to kiss his cheek. “Yeah. See you soon.”

The ache he leaves behind is a muddy mix of all your favorite colors.

…..

Six months later, you stand in an art gallery full of people. Your paintings hang on the wall nearby. You sip your drink and try to pretend like you’re not waiting and watching their every little reaction. Like you’re not searching for validation in the faces of strangers.

It’s strange to have these paintings hung up for everyone to see. When others look at them, they see pretty landscapes or flowers or a simple still life. They don’t know the meaning of it all.

You step away to grab another drink, something to quell the anxiety rising in your chest. When you come back, the one person who might just see through the facade is standing there, staring, wide eyed.

You swallow tightly and walk up next to him, and let your shoulder bump into his. “You made it.”

Oscar’s eyes stay trained on the paintings, but he leans into you. “Of course I made it.”

You want to tell him that there’s no of course here, that you’d invited him without really expecting him to show up. You keep your mouth shut though. It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that he is here.

“What do you think?” You ask, quietly.

The truth is, of all the people in the gallery, his opinion is the one that matters most. You wonder what he sees when he looks at the canvases. Does he see the rays of sunlight on a table for what they truly are- a poor recreation of the sun on his skin? Does he realize that the deep purple of the plums in the still life matches the bruise on your knee that lasted for weeks after that night in the studio, the one you’d press your thumb into when your heart ached? There’s the painting of the orange lilies, color matched to the papaya of his car and race suit. There’s a painting of an empty table setting, a painting of a wide open blue sky over the backyard, and most telling of all, there’s the fabric study of his t-shirt, left behind, draped over the chair in the studio.

The collection is the closest thing to a portrait that you’ve done in years, even though there are no people in it. It’s the closest thing to a self portrait that you’ve ever done. Does he know?

His hand brushes against your elbow. He points at the empty plate on the empty table. “That’s how leaving felt for me, too, you know.”

You could cry, just knowing he understands. Instead, you nod and lean into him. You have people to talk to, art critics to impress and studio owners to try to convince, but the truth is that Oscar will always be the only one who truly understands. You stay with him for just a moment longer.

He stays the whole time, even as people begin to leave and the catering staff starts clearing the tables of food and drinks. You find him after you’ve had the last of your conversations with the important people. He’s standing near the door, looking only slightly out of place, scrolling on his phone.

“You didn’t have to stay the whole time,” you say.

He shrugs and smiles. “I know. I wanted to. There’s a pub down the street, it’s one of my favorites. D’you have time for a drink?”

You nod and pout. “Maybe some food too? M’starving.”

He nods eagerly in agreement. He leads you out of the gallery, holds the door for you and everything. The cool London night air hits you like a blast as you step outside.

Right. You’re not in Australia.

It’s a strange feeling, being here with Oscar- his chosen home for all these years, and yet it’s the first time you’re seeing it with him. He reaches for your hand on the sidewalk and tucks it into his jacket pocket, right alongside his. The pub isn’t far- when you get there, it’s crowded and warm, and he helps you slip your jacket off your shoulders. You smile at him in thanks. When he smiles back, your heart skips a beat.

Ten minutes later, you’re at the bar, beers in front of each of you and a pile of chips between the two of you. Your knee is pressed against his under the countertop. He’s smiling at you, his face lit up golden yellow in the inky gray light of the bar.

“So. What did you really think?” You ask, leaning towards him.

He shakes his head, almost disbelievingly. “The same thing I always think. Your paintings are amazing. It was like I could feel it, you know? Like I’m staring at, I dunno, fucking plums, but feeling something completely different.”

You nod, chest feeling tight. You’re unsure of what to even say. How to explain to him that maybe he’s the only one who feels that, because all the paintings are about him. You think of the portrait you did all those years ago, sitting in your storage, and how it doesn’t even begin to do him justice.

“How much?” He asks, and you blink widely. “I wanna buy them. I want- yeah.” He has this dreamy, hazy look on his face. “Can I buy them? Or even just one-“

“Osc,” you murmur. You reach out and press your hand over his on the countertop. “You don’t have to do that.”

He tilts his head at you, and when he speaks, his voice is almost raw. “I meant what I said, you know. The plate. That’s how I’ve felt. All of the art, it’s… you know.”

“I know,” you say. “But they’re not for sale.”

He deflates. You squeeze his hand and try not to grin too widely. “Right,” he says. “No, of course, sorry. Just thought it might be cool to have some of them in my apartment. We could get prints made, right?”

“Sure. “ you pause and take a deep breath. “The gallery wants to extend them,” you say, and his face lights up again. “The curator spoke to me after the show. She wants to keep them up for a few months.”

“That’s amazing,” he gushes, leaning over and pulling you into a hug so tight it almost topples you off the barstool. “Oh, wow, baby, that’s- and I could go see them, then, even when you’re gone?”

You laugh against his chest. “Yeah. Sure. Or, um…”

He freezes, the hand that had been sweeping up your back stuck in place. He’s holding his breath. You might be too.

“They offered me an artist’s residency,” you blurt out. “They want me to come stay for six months, maybe longer if it goes well. Work out of their studio, show art, teach some classes.”

Oscar’s voice is breathy and high pitched when he says, “here?”

You nod against his chest. “I mean. I’d have to find an apartment. And move all my stuff. And probably break Leo and Lizzy’s hearts.”

“But you’d be here,” he says. “Here, like… it took me twenty minutes to get here tonight. And you’d- this is what you’ve dreamed of, isn’t it?”

You nod, eyes burning with tears. “Would that be okay?”

Oscar laughs- you feel it more than hear it, in the shake of his shoulders and the rumble in his chest. “Yeah. I could live with that, I think.”

He kisses you in the bar, nearly pulls you off the stool with the force of it. You kiss him right back, bracing your hand on the countertop, not a care in the world who sees it. Fireworks light up behind your eyes like splashes of paint.

…..

There’s not a sunroom you can turn into a studio in your new apartment in London. It’s a smaller space, and you end up doing most of your painting at the main studio anyways. But Oscar is there, perched on the edge of a table watching you paint whenever he can. And in the entryway of your new place, you hang up the old portrait of him, right next to a photo of the two of you taken just after you moved to London.

In the photo, his arm is around your shoulders, his lips against your temple. He’d asked you to be his girlfriend officially seconds after it was taken, but there’s a light in both of your eyes that tells you it was inevitable, really. It’s something in the way he’s smiling, in the way his cheeks burn red and his lips are pink and the way you smile at him, too. Like you’ve both known it all along. That the two of you have always been complementary colors, just waiting for the right moment.

a/n: been working on this one for a while finally got it! hope you enjoyed thanks for reading!

Taglist: @4-mula1 @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me @forzalando @iloveyou3000morgan @callsign-scully @ggaslyp1

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karinab00bs · 1 month

Text

Vacation

Karina x named reader

tags: smut, first crush, swearing, pool sex, rough sex, blow jobs, teasing, flirting, dirty talks, dirty jokes, dirty thoughts, hair-pulling, biting, begging

Karina hadn’t anticipated the long journey to visit her parents, who lived quite a distance away from her current work and living situation. However, seizing the opportunity of a rare two-week break, she arrived at their doorstep, suitcase in hand, greeted by the warm sun above. The familiarity of her childhood home flooded back as she climbed out of the taxi.

Deciding against informing her parents of her arrival, Karina didn’t want to inconvenience them if her holiday plans fell through last minute.

Her father's joyful face upon opening the door made the trip instantly worth it, enveloping her in a bear hug and leading her inside.

"Why didn’t you tell us you were coming!?" he exclaimed happily, guiding her to the kitchen where her mother was busy cooking.

Their much-awaited reunion was interrupted by a knock at the door just as they settled down for dinner.

“I’ll get it,” her mother insisted, giving Karina a quick squeeze before heading to the door.

“So pumpkin,” her father started, looking a bit disappointed, unable to resist using the old nickname.

“Your mother and I had booked to go away tomorrow, for our anniversary. But if you want us to cancel, we will,” he offered, but Karina quickly stopped him, not wanting them to change their plans for her.

“Don’t you dare cancel that! We can celebrate when you guys get back. I do have two weeks off,” she reassured her dad, who visibly relaxed.

Before he could respond, her mother returned with a man Karina didn't recognize at first. Then it hit her, that is her childhood friend.

“Karina, honey, you remember Ethan,” her mother smiled, introducing Ethan as he stepped forward, all charm and green eyes.

Suppressing her smile, Karina shook his hand, noticing the size of his hands with a silent observation. “Ethan Lee, right?”

“Right,” he confirmed, maintaining his hold on her hand. She watched as his tongue swiped across his lips, unable to look away.

Finally releasing her hand, Ethan cleared his throat and turned his attention to her father. “I was just coming over to ask if you wouldn’t mind me doing the pool tomorrow, rather than next week,” he asked respectfully. As Karina’s mother handed him a drink, he thanked her before returning his gaze to her father.

“Of course. Is everything okay?” her father inquired, still engrossed in his meal as Karina resumed her seat, observing the exchange.

“Yes, sir. Just made some plans for Sammy’s birthday; he’s back in town for the next few months,” Ethan explained proudly, giving her a subtle wink as he caught her watching him.

“Yes, all fine with me, but we won’t be here so you’ll be dealing with Karina here,” her dad remarked with a roll of his eyes. Karina playfully slapped his arm when he chuckled, unable to suppress the nostalgic smile that crept onto her lips. His deep chuckle reminded her of her childhood.

“I’m sure I can handle her,” Ethan grinned directly at her, while her mother distracted her father.

“We’ll see, Lee,” Karina smirked, swiftly changing the subject to avoid losing her composure.

”So, how is Sam anyway?” Karina inquired, turning in her seat to look up at him where he stood.

“He’s good, not so little anymore. Got a fiance and he’s a lawyer,” Ethan informed her proudly as she stood by the kitchen counter, refilling her drink.

“Always thought the two of you would end up together,” Ethan revealed, completely confusing her.

Hearing her mother laugh, Karina's eyes widened. “Oh no, this one here had a thing for his b-” her mother stopped abruptly, noticing Karina's flushed face and the way she was looking at her.

Before her mother could say anything else that Karina would regret ever telling her, she led Ethan to the front door, he laughed, willingly following her. That is until they reached the door frame; he stopped, turning to look down at her.

“So best friend, or big brother?” he smirked, his green eyes practically sparkling. Karina thought to herself, cocky son of a bitch.

“See you tomorrow, pool boy.”

“Are you gonna come keep me company, while I do a favor for your parents?” he asked cheekily, throwing an arm above his head to lean against the door frame.

“I might,” Karina shrugged off her answer, wishing that he didn’t still have this insane effect on her after all of these years, but she tried not to let him get to her.

“Wait, you mean that’s not your only job?” Karina asked mockingly. Ethan smirked when she stepped closer, shaking his head at her.

“Nope,” he winked, popping the 'p'.

“My job, my real job, involves me getting a lot dirtier,” he revealed, licking his lips when he noticed her staring. She swallowed the lump in her throat, feeling the heat of his chest against hers.

“I’m a mechanic, sweetheart,” he added at her confused expression, and okay god, it got worse.

“R-Right, yeah. Makes sense,” she stuttered, and there were the nerves she remembered so well.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow then, sugar.”

“Yeah, sure,” Karina replied quietly, watching him walk away. He headed over to the car parked in the drive, the one that used to be his dad's.

Closing the door, Karina turned to find her mother behind her, quickly noticing just how sheepish she looked.

“I’m so sorry, baby! I completely forgot!” her mother rushed to explain, and all Karina could do was laugh it off.

“Stop it! I swear, it’s all fine! A little embarrassing admittedly, but still, it’s okay,” she assured her, pulling her into a hug. Her mother quickly relaxed against her, wrapping her in her arms.

She pulled back with a watery smile.

“I’m so glad you’re back, baby, we really missed you,” smiling, she cupped Karina's cheeks, like she was trying to memorize her face.

“I know, mom, let’s go eat.”

The night passed quickly, talk of the old days and how Karina was considering coming back home. Before she knew it, she was waving them away, watching the taxi disappear.

She looked at the time, swearing under her breath. Her dad had told her Ethan would be over in the next hour, and she really wanted a bath before he got here.

Taking a longer bath than she meant to, Karina left herself only ten minutes to slip into her new red bikini and shorts.

It was so hot outside, and she was determined to drive him crazy. He wanted to be all sexy; two could play at that game. She’d put up with it enough when she was younger, having a somewhat filthy crush on her best friend’s big brother was definitely not ideal.

She just about heard the knock at the door, which was quickly followed by the unmistakable noise of the doorbell. Heading downstairs after a quick glance in the mirror, taking a deep breath, she opened the door.

“Mornin’ Karina,” he winked, giving her an appreciative once over before walking past her into the house.

Closing the door behind him, Karina frowned.

“Really, Ethan, jeans? You are cleaning the pool, right? So why not wear shorts?” she questioned as she followed him into the back garden.

“I don’t do shorts, sweetheart. Why? Do you wanna see some more skin or somethin’?” he asked suggestively, unlocking the shed to get the things he needed. She didn’t see his face, but she was sure he was smirking to himself.

She scoffed at him, moving aside as he began pulling things out of the shed.

“No. I just wondered, it’s so damn hot today. Seems kinda odd weather for that,” she stated, nodding at his attire, brushing it off as easily as she could.

“Well, something is definitely hot” he grins, eyeing her shamelessly as he pulls off his shirt, hanging it on the back of the chair. “There, better?” he asks knowingly, a smug look on his face when Karina choke back a moan, almost swallowing her own tongue.

He doesn’t wait for an answer as he locks the shed door, leaving her to stare at his back.

The sunlight bounces off his tanned skin as he walks over to the pool with the equipment, and Karina realise that she never seen someone with so many muscles in their back. She can just imagine dragging your nails down it as he–

Karina manage to stop that train of thought before it gets out of hand. But she can’t stop herself from watching the very slight swing of his hips, how those jeans fit so snugly against his toned ass and legs, sitting perfectly on his hips.

All she can do is watch him walk away. Safe to say he gives as good as he gets.

Slightly bewildered, Karina follow him after a moment longer of staring, taking her seat on the sun lounger by the pool. She watch him work closely, seeing those muscles visibly rolling under his skin. He seems to be biting on his tongue as he concentrates on the job at hand. Something particularly stubborn makes his jaw tense.

Karina slip out of your shorts easily, letting them fall to the floor, she lay back, deciding to at least try and relax while Ethan works.

It wasn’t like she could stare at him all day, right?

A little while passes, the sun beating down on her is much needed. However, Karina’s sunbathing is interrupted by a large shadow, which completely blankets her body. Shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand you open them, quickly meeting Ethan’s.

“You should probably put this on sweetheart.” He instructs firmly, holding out the sun cream to her.

Karina can’t help but notice the sweat that coats his skin, glistening in the sun, she pause reaching for the bottle with an idea in mind.

“Is that an offer, Lee?” Karina question sweetly as possible, crossing her legs at the knees as she run her fingers from the top of her thigh to her knee, acutely aware of the way his eyes are taking in her body.

He shrugs with a smug look on his face, “Sure, we can’t have you burning can we,”

Karina hum in approval rolling onto her front, she rest her head on her folded arms. Turning her head to watch as Ethan's kneels beside you.

“Such a gentleman.” Karina reply sarcastically, smiling against her arm when he chuckles.

The second his cream covered warm hands touch her skin goosebumps cover her body, she bite back a moan, a little unsuccessfully when his thumbs press into the muscles of her shoulders and around her shoulder blades. Pushing under the strap of Karina’s bikini top, where he’s so close to brushing the sides of her breasts.

Ethan's hands are so big, as they rub the cream into Karina’s skin it doesn’t take him long to reach the bottom of her spine.

Karina arch back into his touch even more, when his thumbs push just under the top of her swimming bottoms, fingers curling around the front of her hips, digging in but not quite the same way. After a few minutes he continues down her body, his touch remaining firm as he quickly does just under Karina’s ass cheeks. Spreading her legs a little as his hands move down her thighs, the perfect amount of pressure against every muscle.

Karina knows that she’s wet, this is without doubt the best massage she’s ever had and very unexpected, god she hope he can’t see it.

“Fuck.” Karina hear him grit out quietly, as his hands move down her calves.

Gently he taps Karina's ankle and clears his throat.

“Turn over, I’ll do the front.” Ethan rasps out, voice breaking a little with each word.

Swallowing hard, Karina as nervous as hell, but there is no way she's backing out now. He’d started this, she's weren’t about to stop him if he wanted to finish it.

Closing her eyes she turn onto her back, shielding her eyes with her arm.

Ethan starts on Karina's legs, the higher his hands get, the more her muscles tense and her pussy starts to flutter. His hands run along the line of her swimming pants, right in the crease of her groin.

The moan that slips past Karina's lips couldn’t have been stopped if she'd tried, she feel the wood creak beneath her as Ethan climbs between her legs on the sun lounger. His calloused hands rubbing cream into Karina’s stomach, fingertips slipping beneath the cups of her bikini top, running along the underside of her breasts.

Ethan leans over her further, and Karina feel his hard cock brush against her thigh as he takes her arms, rubbing the cream in. Karina finally dare to blink open her eyes, the wild beating of her heart and the blood rushing in her ears are unbearable.

Biting into her lip when her eyes meet his again, Karina watch him squirt more cream onto his palms, before placing the bottle on the table.

Ethan's hands move over Karina's chest slowly, pushing the straps down her shoulders, she tilt her head back when he rubs the cream into her neck, his hand resting on her throat as he leans in closer.

“Ain’t even been swimmin’ yet and your panties are soaked.” Ethan groans, moving in closer still, but she stop him before he gets too close, resting her hand on his bare chest.

Pushing him back gently, watching the way he sits back on his feet, eyes completely focused on her as she sit up. Karina slip out from beneath him, smiling at the look on his face.

“Better make sure you’ve done your job properly.” Karina smile seductively, loving the way he watches her as she make her way over to the pool.

When Karina reach the steps she turn to find him standing from the sun lounger. Clearing his throat he rearranges himself in his jeans, but the thick line of his cock is still clearly visible, he quickly focuses those green eyes back on her.

“You coming, pool boy?” Karina ask cheekily, as she lower yourself into the cool water, watching the smirk that appears on his plump lips.

“You remember that I’m older than you, right? More like the pool man,” Ethan quips, undoing his belt and leather slaps against leather. Leaning against the pool’s edge as Karina's chin resting on her arms and she look up at him.

Just in time to watch him pop the button of his jeans and pull down the zipper.

“Guess you’ve got me there. So, since you don’t like shorts, are you wearing boxers?” Karina ask curiously, trying but failing to hide her smile.

Ethan laughs at that, dropping his jeans and pulling them off his legs, “Normally you would’ve been right, but on this occasion” he leaves the reply hanging in the air. Letting Karina's eyes drop with his jeans, she couldn’t even be disappointed that he was still wearing boxers. Not since the sizeable bulge was still very much present and accounted for, even more visible in the thin fabric.

Sitting down on the side of the pool Ethan's legs dangle in the water, his ass right on the very edge. Karina swimming over to him and stand between his open legs. Looking up at his face as she rest her hands on his thick thighs.

“So what’s the verdict sweetheart, did I do a good enough job?” Ethan questions leaning back on his hands, grunting in surprise when Karina’s breasts brush against the bulge in Ethan pants.

“Not too bad, for a part timer.” Karina giggle watching the comical eye roll he gives her. The image of him in overalls and covered in grease hits her. Karina almost certain he would look even better dirty than he does clean, which is saying something.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing just how good you are at your real job though, see how dirty you get.” Karina reveal, chewing on her bottom lip as her hands slip into the legs of Ethan boxers. Ethan hisses at the sting of the pain, when her nails sink into the tops of his thighs, his rock hard length laying untouched between them.

“You should come down the garage some time, I’ll show you just how dirty I get” Ethan grunts through gritted teeth.

Licking her lips, Karina hum appreciatively, “I’d really like that.” She admit, dragging her nails back down Ethan's thighs, feeling his muscles tense beneath her touch. Leaning up against the pool’s side on her elbows, Karina tuck her fingers into the sides of his boxer shorts.

Ethan seems to be nervous as he looks around the garden, like he’s expecting someone to pop out.

“Everything okay, Ethan? You look nervous.” Karina acknowledge cheekily, as he debates lifting his ass for literally a second, seeming to ignore any doubts he has he finally lets her tug the boxers down, over his ass and down those strong bow legs.

Karina watch Ethan's Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he glances around one more time. Then he focuses back on her, as her small hand wraps around his cock. That perfect green of his eyes has almost completely been swallowed by the black of his pupils when his eyes meet hers again.

Ethan shifts where he sits, trying to wiggle closer to Karina when she start to move her hand up and down his thick length. Karina other hand rests on his strong thigh, helping her keep her balance. Karina lean forward, licking her lips, hearing Ethan swear under his breath when her lips wrap around the swollen head of his cock. Running her tongue over his slit, moaning when the taste of his pre-come hits her tongue for the first time.

“Fuck, sweetheart that’s it,” Ethan groans, tossing his head back, hand fisting in Karina's hair as she take him further into her mouth, Karina's tongue pressing to the underside of his cock.

Karina love the way his hand tightens in her hair, short nails that dig into her scalp.

Karina's hands are now resting on both his thighs, as his cock bumps against the back of her throat. Ethan thrusts his hips, letting himself go a little, she watch him, almost positive there has never been a sexier sight in the world. The speed in which he snaps his hips causes her to gag a little. But even after his surprised gasp, Karina continue when his hips stop moving, letting her take the control back.

Karina continue to take him as deep as she can, saliva leaking from the corners of her lips. Nails sinking into his thighs when she swallow around his cock. Then it slips into her throat briefly and Ethan can’t stop the choked out whine that slips past his perfect lips at her actions.

Ethan's tugging on Karina's hair becomes more insistent, she finally relent, gasping for air when his cock is popped from between her lips, smacking back against his stomach.

Karina's pussy is still throbbing almost painfully, she look up at him and lick her lips, with her most seductive smile she step back, further into the pool, beckoning him towards her with a single finger.

Taking a moment to catch his breath he watches her, reminding her somewhat of a tiger ready to pounce on their meal.

Then all the air gets stuck in Karina's throat and she have to fight not to choke on it, when Ethan slips into the pool, skin still slick with sweat and he looks like a male model. He’s fucking stunning, slipping beneath the water briefly, he reemerges, running a hand through his now dripping wet hair as he walks towards her slowly, Karina suddenly not sure if she even remember how to speak.

The confidence from before is slipping and she sure that he can see it, which is made clearer when the corner of his mouth curves into a half smirk. Clearly someone catching the two of them was the last thing he was worried about now.

Crowding Karina back against the pool’s edge, Ethan presses himself close to her, resting a hand on the edge behind her, while his other hand tucks some wayward hair behind her ear.

Leaning in closer his nose nudges hers, hot breath fanning across Karina's lips, and she finally manage to swallow the lump in her throat.

“How’re you still so nervous about kissing me, sweetheart? With what this perfect little mouth just did, felt fuckin’ incredible wrapped around my cock”

Ethan pauses to let his thumb brush over Karina's parted lips, she lick her lips as his hand moves down slowly and he captures her chin. “I still remember that time at that end of year house party, the one which you and Sammy snuck into” he smirks, causing her to suck in a breath when his free hand grips her ass roughly, pulling her closer to him.

Karina blushed like crazy at the mention of that night, “You were drunk off your ass Ethan, I didn’t b-” Karina cut off by Ethan plump lips pressing against hers in a demanding kiss, his big hand cups her neck, thumb pressing into her jaw as he angles her head right were he wants it.

It takes her mind a moment to catch up with her body but she finally breathe, relaxing into the kiss. Ethan's free hand moves behind Karina's back, tugging the ties of her bikini top until it falls loose and Ethan tosses it away. Moving those big warm hands down Karina's body Ethan cups her breasts, pinching and rolling her nipples with his rough fingers and thumbs.

Karina's lips part at the same time as Ethan's, her tongues effortlessly moving together. As Ethan pulls back she capture his bottom lip between her teeth, delighting in the groan that bubbles up in his throat. He doesn’t stop there, kissing and nipping his way down her neck, sucking marks into her soft skin.

“You believe me now?” He all but growls against her ear, she nod quickly, tugging at the strings of her bikini bottoms, pulling them loose.

Ethan pulls away from Karina's neck, finally meeting her eyes again, his wet hair spiked up in all sorts of directions from the pair of her carding her hands through it. Water still clings to his eyelashes, dropping from the tip of his nose, water droplets rolling down his chest distracting her a little.

“Yes Ethan, I believe you.” Karina answer obediently, taking his hand and positioning it between her own thighs.

Ethan looks down the very small gap remaining between the two of them, sliding two fingers between Karina's folds, she grab at his shoulders when those fingers push inside her. Karina's walls stretch around his fingers, one of her hands falls from his shoulder, dropping beneath the water she wrap her small fingers around his thick cock.

Karina's forehead drops against his, panting breaths begin to mix together. Hitching a leg over his hip Karina rock against his fingers, feeling his cock pressing into her thigh.

“You want my cock in your pretty pussy baby? You wanna fuck the pool guy, like a dirty little girl?”

“Jesus Ethan,” Karina moan as his filthy words wash over her. No guy had ever spoken to Karina like this before and there was no denying that she were loving it, but she don’t have a clue about how to respond to him. “Not so worried about the neighbours seeing us now then?” Karina question breathlessly, as Ethan carefully pulls his fingers out with a final tap against her clit.

“Fuck it, let ‘em watch.” Ethan grits out when Karina release his cock. Karina running her hands up his chest then grip his broad shoulders, using them to balance when he roughly grabs her ass and squeezes, she jump a little, hooking her other leg over his free hip.

As Karina rocking her hips, Ethan’s thick cock easily slides against her slick pussy, nudging between her folds he repeatedly taps against her clit, she can’t help but whimper, clinging to his broad shoulders.

Pausing for a moment Ethan lifts Karina higher, “You ready sweetheart. C’mon talk to me? You want my cock baby?” Ethan questions huskily smirking when Karina bite her lip, his thighs shaking trying to resist the urge to just snap his hips forward.

Karina moan pushing her ass harder into his hands, hoping that he’ll give her what she need. Ethan lines up with her entrance, so that the head of his cock nudges teasingly against her opening and she meet his darkened green eyes.

“C’mon pool boy, show me what you’ve got.”

A long drawn out moan leaves Karina lips when Ethan finally breaks, slowly lowering her onto his hard cock. Clenching his jaw, veins becoming more visible in his neck as he enters her slowly inch by tortuous inch.

“So fuckin’ tight.” Ethn groans dropping his head forward, so that he can suck and bite marks into Karina's neck. Karina cling to him, curses and whimpered plea’s leaving her lips.

Tugging on Ethan’s hair harshly Karina force him to look up at her.

“Fuck! I need it Ethan, please!” Karina begging but she don’t care, because the words are barely out of her mouth before Ethan gives her what she need, snapping his hips forward, filling her in one blissfully hard thrust.

Ethan's fingers are digging into Karina's ass when he starts thrusting, the movements slow and rough but precise, hitting her g-spot on every movement. Karina's feet dig into his ass, water splashing around them with every powerful movement.

“You feel so good baby, shit.” Ethan pants breathlessly, pulling his head away from Karina's neck and his gorgeous green eyes lock onto hers. Karina pushing her hands into the back of his hair as she kiss him, tongue meeting his and messy uncontrolled kiss, angling her hips just right she start to rise and fall on his cock.

Breaking apart only when she feel her pussy beginning to clamp down around his thick length.

“Ethan.. please I’m g-gonna come..” Karina gasp out as she begin to lose her rhythm.

“Fuck, C’mon baby give it to me. Come all over my fucking cock!” Ethan practically snarls low in his chest.

Karina hooking legs over his arms a squeak of surprise leaving her lips when Ethan starts fucking up into her more faster. He’s so deep, it’s like a fire is building in her stomach.

Karina cling to him, his rough movements cause the water to create waves around her. Ethan feels so fucking good that Karina barely notice, she drop her face into the crook of his neck, hot breath fanning against his skin. Sucking and biting marks everywhere she can reach, then out of nowhere Karina orgasm hits her full force, causing her eyes to roll almost painfully, she have to sink her teeth into his shoulder to stop herself from screaming his name.

Ethan hisses as the pain throbs against his skin, carefully he lowers her legs letting her feet touch the floor again. Feeling a little dazed, Karina run her fingers along the bite mark on Ethan's skin, she can’t help but wince a little.

“I’m sorry pool boy, got you all marked up.” Karina giggle lightly, biting into her bottom lip when those eyes turn on her again.

A growl bubbles up in Ethan's throat, he spins her in his hold; roughly pressing Karina into the side of the pool, his chest pressed tightly against her back. Karina spread her legs as his lips press against her ear.

“Oh you wanna see marked up sweetheart, I’ll show you.” Ethan snaps harshly, causing Karina skin to practically buzz as he drags his teeth over her earlobe, those big hands spread her ass cheeks and his cock nudges at her slick entrance again.

“I’ll give you fuckin’ pool boy.” Ethan grunts as he pushes inside Karina in one thrust and bottoms out, muffling her screaming moan with his hand.

Karina fall over the side of the pool with a whimper when Ethan releases her mouth, grip tight and unyielding on her hips. His thrusts are nothing like they’d been before and she can’t get enough, the water sloshes over the edge of the pool as Ethan’s hips bounce off her ass with every brutal thrust he delivers.

“You’re so deep.. Fuck! Feels so good Ethan,” Karina cry out loudly, completely giving up on keeping her voice down, Karina push her ass back meeting his thrusts the best that she can.

“Shit, Karina! I’m gonna come.” Ethan grits out as his hips begin to stutter. His big hands move further over the curves of Karina body, wrapping those talented fingers around her ribs, and she sure that bruises will form there the same way they were beginning to on her hips.

Ethan shifts so that his knees are resting on the ledge between Karina legs, leaning over her so his body is almost draped on top of hers.

“Give it to me Ethan! Please, I need it! Don’t stop.” The words leave Karina lips without her really thinking, nobody has ever had her this wound up and ready to snap, not this fast and definitely not for a second time.

Pushing a hand between her legs Ethan rubs rough circles around Karina clit, forcing her orgasm forward, It’s practically bubbling in the pit of her stomach. Squeezing her eyes shut Karina feel her thighs start to shake. Ethan stills behind her, a broken moan leaving his plump lips when he finally comes, her pussy clamps down on his cock as he spills inside her.

His fingers and hips keep moving, his hands feel like they’re everywhere. Karina can’t take it anymore, she gasp his name and with a final rough thrust of his hips pushing her into the side of the pool, she fall apart around him all over again.

Karina shivering as her body collapses against the cold stone in front of her, Ethan's sweaty forehead drops to the bottom of her back, his soft lips pressing kisses into her skin waiting for her to come down.

Karina breathing finally slows down and Ethan helps you down, back into the water, he turns Karina in his arms. “Fuck that was the sexiest thing that’s ever happened.” Ethan grins happily, pulling her body against his as he kisses her, she melt against his lips.

Smiling when she pull away, she push the wet hair from his forehead.

“Think we’ll be remembering this for a few weeks.” Karina giggle, running her fingers gently over the marks on his skin, as his fingers skim across the bruises he’d left behind on her body.

Biting his lip his eyes move across Karina body, still standing so close to his own.

“Oh yeah sweetheart, I’d say so.”

“Trouble is Mr pool man, you’ve definitely got more work to do.”

Ethan rolls his eyes, but she can see the smile that’s curling at the corners of his lips, when he dangles her bikini bottoms from his finger, right in front of her face.

“Oh you ain’t gettin’ out of this one young lady.”

Karina squeal as he tosses the bottoms aside and throws her backwards, she land in the water with a splash. Karina re-emerge from the water, gasping for breath and glare right at Ethan.

“Oh you’re so fucking dead, Lee!”

942 notes · View notes

httpsleclerc · 6 months

Text

just the three of us

charles and his girlfriends eventful Saturday afternoon

Charles Leclerc x reader

warnings; pregnancy, doubt in a relationship ?

w/c: 1.5k

based off this request

You smiled over at Charles, noticing the small but chubby baby girl babbling in his arms, your smile growing wider as you heard your boyfriend mimic her incoherent babbles. You had been with Charles for 3 years now, already engaged - no wedding plans yet, but you were working up to it - but you noticed that Charles had been avoiding the one very important talk with you; kids. The thing you wanted more than anything, but the very thing that he all but refused to talk to you about; you felt terrible for thinking it, but it made you feel like he didn't want them with you, especially as you watched him entertain the baby he held in his arms.

"Hey, are you okay?" Your friend asked you, noticing that your smile had disappeared from your face, almost longingly looking over at Charles. You shook your head of your negative thoughts, giving your friend the best reassuring smile you could muster in your heartbreak for the future that Charles may or may not see himself having with you.

"Yeah, just distracted," You smiled, leaning forward to take a sip of the mocktail that your friend had made for you, you had made the suggestion to her since it was her gender reveal, it would have been fair for everyone else to be able to enjoy a drink while she couldn't. She smiled at you, leaning forward to rest her chin on your shoulder, following your gaze over to where Charles stood holding another one of your friends baby's.

"He's really good with her," She commented, looking at you with a grin. "Have you guys talked about kids yet? Cause that one is meant to be a girl dad, Y/N." She sounded so certain. You didn't know, though. Yeah, he was meant to be a girl dad, it was so blatantly evident in how he was with the now squealing baby he was tickling in his arm - His reluctancy to at least acknowledge your want for a child had you doubting that he was going to be one with you.

"He won't talk to me about it, (Name)," You told your best friend, frowning as you thought of him leaving you. "What if he doesn't want them?" Your voice was breaking as you spoke. (Name) had been your friend since you were both little girls, you had dreamed of having your babies be best friends like you were, assuming you would both be lucky enough to have girls on your first try. She sighed, wrapping her arms around you to hug you and try and comfort you.

"He'd be stupid, then, love," (Name) assured you, she knew how you were a bit of an over thinker at the best of times. "He wouldn't have asked you to marry him otherwise, yeah?" You sniffled as you nodded, quickly drying your eyes of tears before your mascara started to run and Charles would be able to tell that you were upset. "Charles loves you so much, Y/N. Maybe you should talk to him about it, he's a guy, he might be nervous to bring it up to you." She suggested, you knew that she was right, she always was and you knew that.

You knew that.

Maybe now you wouldn't trust your friend so much.

You had excused yourself to the bathroom, and as you were walking past your lover and your friends, you had heard him tell another party goer that he wasn't sure if he wanted kids.

Oh.

You swore as you heard every word leave his lips, that another piece of you crumbled. Thankfully for you, you could hide it well enough that you would be able to get home without Charles suspecting that you had heard him, that you would blame your puffy eyes on a poor nights sleep. You couldn't believe it - You weren't mad at Charles, no, you never could be, he was your boyfriend, soon to be husband; but clearly, never the father to be of your children.

"That's nice for your friend, a little girl," Charles beamed, his hand on your thigh as he drove the two of you home to your Monaco apartment. You hummed and nodded, unable to meet his eyes for fear that your resolve would crumble, and you would burst into tears. "Are you okay, mon Ange?" He asked you, concern lacing his voice as he took a moment to glance over at you, noticing your down mood.

"Yeah I'm um," You scrambled to think of an excuse. "I'm just tired, is all, I promise, my love." You quickly assured Charles, hoping that he wouldn't push you any further. He hummed, remembering that youhad been up early that morning, but only because you claimed that you had a stomach bug, caught from one of the girls that you worked with.

"Oh, okay," He seemed content with that excuse. "We can go to bed and get cosy when we get home, yeah?" Your heart swelled at his offer - Charles career meant that he was often gone for extended periods of time, and you could sometimes go a whole month without seeing him, so the offer of having time with just him made you want to start crying.

It soon became clear that your emotions were getting the better of you, however.

As Charles pulled into the garage of your apartment building, putting his Ferrari into park, you started wailing. Charles, concerned, reached over to hold your shoulders, an attempt to try and calm you down.

"Woah, it's okay, love, just breathe," Charles coaxed you, trying to calm you down enough so he could make some sort of sense about what had made you so obviously upset. "It's okay, my love, just breathe, I'm right here," He knew it was working when your wails quieted down to mere sniffles, and you rubbed at your eyes with the sleeve of your cardigan. "Can you tell me what made you so upset, mon ange?" Charles asked you, his eyes gleaming with concern for you.

"I-I just love you so much and I miss you a lot when you're gone," You cried out, sobs wracking your body. "A-and I heard you say to one of our friends that you're not sure if you want kids and it just made me really sad because th-there's nothing I want more than to have a baby with you because I really love you." It clicked for Charles why you were so upset for the remainder of your friends party after you had gone to the bathroom.

"No, no Mon Cherie, it's not like that at all," He explained to you, grabbing your hand and holding in his own. "I want a baby with you too, more than anything. I just wasn't sure if it would be fair on you since I would be gone so often. I didn't know how to bring it up to you without upsetting you, but please know that there is nothing I want more than a little me or you running around." You looked up at him as he held your face in his hands, he always found himself admiring the little things about you, his beautiful girl, the love of his life.

"Y-You're not just saying that?" Your bottom lip wobbled as you spoke, looking up at him with wide eyes. He shook his head and placed a small kiss on your lips, you knew that he was serious, Charles could be a lot of things sometimes, but he was never insincere. "Well um," You sniffled as you looked down, fiddling with the frayed end of your cardigan sleeve. "I did want to tell you in a more romantic and nicer way," Charles tilted his head. "I'm pregnant."

The two words hung heavy in the air, you and Charles staring deep into each others eyes, you noticed the tears bubbling in his own and yours followed his hand as it made its way from your cheek down to your stomach.

"We have a baby in there?"

His voice was gentle, breaking as he felt the tiny, but their bump of your tummy. You tearfully nodded, a smile growing on your face as one made its way onto Charles' own. He let out a greatful sob as he leaned over, wrapping both of his arms around you, minding to be gentle, even if you had little to no bump, that was his baby.

"We're going to be parents, Charles," You cried, looking at your lover, who's eyes held nothing but love and adoration for you as he leaned forward, locking both of your lips into a passionate, and heated kiss.

Well, maybe your best friend was right.

notes: lowkey hate this but we'll move on from it x

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #formula 1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles lechair #charles leclerc x female reader #f1 fluff

1K notes · View notes

inkdrinkerworld · 7 months

Text

Talk Too Much

Pairing: Remus Lupin x loud but shy!reader

Cw: college!au, fluff, kind of friends to lovers, obliviousness by Remus for a while, drinking (mentioned), smoking (cigarettes), I think that’s it

Wc: 2.2k

You’re a loudmouth. Through and through. Of all your friends, you honestly think you and James would be the ones to never shut up or run out of words.

That is until Remus transfers into the school and infiltrates your friend group and suddenly you find the words can run out.

It’s not on purpose.

It seems to take you over purely by coincidence- the way your throat gets dry and your tongue seems too heavy to form the words you want to get out when Remus seems to be paying attention to only you. His gaze isn’t unwelcome- that’s the entire problem.

You like the feeling of being what he looks at, but it feels too good, too natural.

His honey eyes that are just lightly flecked with green, and his sharp jawline that’s adorned with silvery scar tissue that somehow makes him even more handsome.

He’s also always got a cigarette to fiddle with.

You’ve only seen him smoke twice, and had been mesmerised by the way his cheeks hollow and how he blows the smoke out and it seems to curl around him like it’s unable to obey his exhales in the opposite direction.

He reminds you in a way of Charlie Dalton and Stephen Meeks.

Fctional characters who Remus seems to emulate in his confidence (from Charlie) and a sort of confidence that’s self-assured yet mild at the same time (a mix of the two) and that in itself makes you fall a little more for him.

It’s overwhelming- this attraction to him. It confuses you and has you tripping over words in your head, far less for if you voiced them and all that was heard were clunky excuses for sentences.

What makes your sudden bouts of silence obvious is the fact that your friends have caught onto you.

It’s not like it’s exceptionally hard to decipher either- you’re not really good at being subtle.

You suspect James and Sirius are taking bets on when it’ll all be too obvious for everyone to walk around it and you desperately hope that it takes months while simultaneously hoping it takes only weeks.

Remus notices the way your body freezes when you realise you’ve caught his attention in your storytelling. In his mind, it’s because you don’t like him.

The way you shrink down and suddenly go silent the moment his eyes set upon you, the way you remain quiet even though he sees the way the corners of your mouth twitch with something to say.

He thinks he’s put you off somehow, especially when the second he’s gone a little ways away to get a drink or get his lunch, you seem to perk right back up and dive into storytelling once more.

It bothers him so much he asks Sirius about it- a mistake in itself, because Sirius only pokes fun at his friend.

“If you can’t realise why she goes silent the moment you stare at her Lupin, I can’t help you.” Sirius walks off leaving Remus even more perplexed, moreso when he hears Sirius says, “How’s he so thick for someone doing so many higher classes?”

It bewilders Remus for weeks, your always sudden vows of silence and then your equally sudden broken vows.

You’re all at a house party when it comes to an almost end.

You’re dressed pretty like always, a skirt that hugs all the places Remus longs to touch and a top that shows a sliver of your stomach and Remus catches a glimpse of jewellery hanging in your navel.

Your ears have a pair of hanging bat earrings, and your necklace is your standard one- he’s sure he’s never seen you without it.

You’re smiling and laughing with Marlene and Mary as you walk in. Remus wants to figure out why you dislike him so, he desperately wants to change your sour opinion of him. He’s going to at least try to do so tonight, if you can stomach looking at him.

“C’mon losers,” James’ loud voice is unmistakable, “We’re playing seven minutes in heaven.”

Remus is only approaching when he hears your teasing,

“Are we taking a blast back to Year 9 Jamie?”

James nods, “Yeah we are, and would you look at that you and Lupin are up first.” You’re sure there’s an evil little grin on James’ face when you look up and find Remus standing there in his soft brown sweater and jeans.

You can smell a little of the cigarette he’d smoked before coming in, but mostly you smell his citrus, pepper and amber cologne.

It’s heady and you swear your brain gets a little drunk on it.

“Get going you two,” Sirius teases and you sigh standing.

Remus’ mind is reeling, wondering how he’s going to get back at Sirius and James and the rest of your friends that he knows are in on this too.

Out of ear shot of your friends as you both go to the nearest room, Remus says lowly, “You don’t have to come in. I’ll just tell them we talked.”

You look up at him, eyes wide and Remus takes your surprise as a moment to admire you up close. He counts three beauty marks near your right eye, another on your neck just under your chin, and one on your nose. He’s distracted by you for a good long while that he doesn’t register you’ve spoken till he sees you walk into the room and gesture for him to follow.

It’s tense, a silence neither of you are sure how to break.

You think Remus is the most gorgeous man to be placed on the Earth, and Remus thinks you find him repulsive.

You watch Remus climb onto the bed, his long legs crossed at the ankles as his back presses against the headboard.

His casualness makes him look even more attractive and while you’re aware that you’re staring at him, you can’t make yourself stop.

‘Now or never,’ he thinks to himself before asking, “Have I offended you somehow?”

There it is, laid open and bare. The question hangs in the air, like the most tantalising yet foreign fruit you’ve ever seen.

“No?” It comes out like a question. One Remus takes as a chance to explain.

“It’s just that you’re always talking or telling a story with the others, and as soon as I’m near earshot you go silent and you can’t meet my eyes. So I’ve been thinking that maybe I’ve offended you, and I just wanted to say sorry for if I did- directly or indirectly.”

Remus’ attractiveness has been upped by a thousand- you’re sure all the love deities are having a laugh at your hopelessness.

You can’t meet his eyes now, even as you sit on the bed, so close to him that your biceps brush each other’s. “You haven’t offended me.”

Your voice is much softer than he’s ever heard it. Remus thinks this must be the softest you’ve ever spoken in your whole life.

“I haven’t?” he asks and you shake your head. Hazarding a glance at him, you find Remus leaning his shoulder down, his chin tucked as his eyes roam your frame.

“N-no,” your stutter gives you away slowly. “You’re just different from the others.” It’s not a clearer explanation, but the gears are turning in Remus’ head all the same and you can tell.

“Different how?” Remus doesn’t want to assume anything and that’s what causes the gears to come to a screeching halt.

You sigh, fiddling with the hem of your skirt. Remus has never seen you this unsure. Everything you do is with confidence and ease, like you were just made to walk, talk and move the way that you do. Like it was as easy as breathing.

Maybe it’s the way you take your time to consider your words, or the way you fiddle with your clothes or even the way your breathing changes as he leans just a bit closer that makes Remus smile a little.

“Will you look at me for a second, darling gwerthfawr?” The softness of his tone and the way his accent changes to something a little more melodic makes you more jelly-like than you usually are in his presence.

“Hm?” you hum and Remus smirks. Silvery slithers of scar tissue moving with his mouth and making him look wicked in a way that has you falling a little more in love with him.

“Why don’t you like looking or speaking to me?”

Remus doesn’t let you turn away, doesn’t let you tuck your cheek to your shoulder as you deliberate what you want to say. No, instead, the menace holds your chin and stares at you, holding your gaze and making your brain cloud even more as his cologne and attention wash over you.

“I like looking at you,” you admit shyly, the confession coming from your lips with hesitation. Like Remus will be repulsed by the fact that you like looking at him. “But you make me nervous.”

The words are suspended in the quiet of the room. All there is the muffled sounds of the party going on in the living room, and then yours and Remus’ breathing.

“I make you nervous?”

Sirius and James burst through the door, wide smiles that turn into shocked smirks at your positions.

“Well love birds, sorry but your seven minutes are up.” Remus staggers in letting your chin go, but when his fingers slacken, you leave the room, belly in knots in the almost wordy confession.

“So, how’d that go?” James asks him as you bend the corner- he’s sure that Lily and the other girls will be doing the same with you.

Remus flops on the bed, “Nothing that concerns you two gits.” His mind is racing with possibilities of finishing this conversation.

Sirius boos, “After all that planning to get you two in here and snogging each other’s faces off, that’s the thanks we get?” Walking out with James who’s shaking his head.

“But you make me nervous,” repeats in his head for days. He’s not dense by a mile, but Remus has a hard time figuring out what about him makes you nervous.

Sure he’s tall and a little serious, but he’s not as intimidating as he’d first thought Sirius was. Remus doesn’t want to turn to his friends, sure they’d tease him endlessly for being ‘thick,’ and then more than likely tell you and that would just make you even more nervous to look or speak to him at the very least.

What Remus does do, is consult the best person he knows that will give him impartial advice; books.

There’s always a book for any occasion, so he delves deep. Behavioural analysis books, books on people with social anxiety (which he doesn’t think you have because it’s just him that gets the selective mutism) and even at the end of it, he turns to romance novels. Something must stand out.

It comes to a head when Remus comes to the library when you’re busy typing away at your essay. You feel the presence, the warmth of his pepper and amber cologne as he pulls the seat out beside you.

Remus doesn’t say a word as he sits down. Instead, he pulls out his laptop and begins typing at the same essay prompt you’re working on.

You’re hyper aware of everything he’s doing- every breath, every sigh, every harsh backspace and enter.

Remus doesn’t seem to be half as affected as you are and it has you whispering, “What are you doing here, Remus?”

He hums, tapping his forefinger near the touchpad. He finishes his sentence and then turns to you. “Working on that essay due tomorrow.”

You frown, lips pulled downwards as you think of your next words. “You know what I mean, why are you sitting beside me?”

Remus sighs, head hanging off the back of the chair. “I want you to not be nervous around me anymore. I also want to know why I make you nervous.”

You swallow, mouth suddenly dry.

Remus turns to look at you and the amber lighting of the library makes his skin look sunkissed and supple. His honey and sage eyes blink owlishly at you, no sign of rushing you along for an answer.

That was something you had learnt while silently watching Remus. He’s always actually listening- not just listening to respond.

“Because,” you start, eyes darting all over his face in search of any insecurity in it. “You always seem so hyper focused on what it is I’m going to say next and it flusters me.”

Remus’ face morphs into a smile, his lazy expression from before melting away as his eyes warm to your embarrassed whisper.

“So it’s not dislike?” He asks, hands itching to tip your chin up like he had the other night.

“Are you going to make me say it out loud?”

“Poor girl,” he feels much more confident now. Now that he knows for sure that you don’t hate him and that you might actually like him as much as he likes you, he can be a little more flirty.

His hand reaches for your wrist, thumb running back and forth around your pulse.

You scowl, more than a little bashful to have exposed your feelings to Remus. He doesn’t mind.

No, Remus feels over the moon. Enough so that his hand moves from your wrist and his forefinger hooks under your chin so you’re making eye contact again.

“I like you too. Just as much,” it’s his turn for a whispered confession and you hope to all hell that he can’t feel the thundering of your pulse. “Maybe more.”

You feel your body buzz under his attention. Remus leans in closer, “Let me take you out after this? We can go somewhere quiet and have a proper ‘first’ conversation.”

#remuslupin #remus lupin #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x black!reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x yn #remus lupin x loud but shy!reader

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fooled-around-and-fell · 1 year

Note

Can you write a one shot with Daddy Pascal? They have an age gap of 20 years and she’s super nervous to go public with him cause she’s afraid that his fans won’t like her? And he comfort her

A/n: hell yes I can, and hopefully you'll like this. Also this gif is freaking hot.

Pairing: Pedro Daddy Pascal x reader

second part || Masterlist

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

"It's not that easy."

"It is." Pedro stood closer to you. "I just want to be able to call you mine in public."

You sighed, gnawing on the peeling skin of your lips, something you do when nervous. "I.. I can't."

"What?"

"I can't, I'm sorry.. I just.. I can't. Not now."

Pedro couldn't believe his ears. Both of you have been together for two years, and this has been the one thing Pedro wanted. But he kept it a secret for you, because of the age gap, because he knew you weren't ready.

But now after two years.. you're still not ready.. so what now?

---

That conversation was a week ago. Pedro got pretty upset after that, wouldn't really call you when he's on break, wouldn't tell you if he's coming home, wouldn't call you pet names -- but you understood. Pedro was justifiably upset, but you didn't think it was a good idea to go public at the moment. And it's all because of-

Pedro shut the door with a soft thud and was surprised to see you lying on the couch on your phone.

"Hey. You're still awake?" He asked, though you're obviously still are.

"Yeah, I was just browsing social media." You gave him a little smile.

Pedro nodded and proceeded to go to your shared room. The smell of alcohol and cigarettes did not go unnoticed by you, and the way he was walking tells you he was probably from a nightclub.

It's not like you two had to report your location or schedule at all times, but usually going to a nightclub is something you tell your partner.

You shook your head, not wanting to overthink it, but your thoughts kept coming back to it, and so you followed him to the bedroom and asked him.

"Were you out clubbing?"

Pedro sighed and undressed, ready to go shower. "Yeah, it was a last minute thing with some coworkers. Sorry I forgot to tell you."

"'S okay." You offered another small smile.

Ignored. Pedro walked past you to the bathroom.

As he was showering, you wondered how you should talk to Pedro about going public. It's not like you didn't want to, but have you seen the amount of fans Pedro has?

The amount of people that call him daddy, that make edits of his movies, his interviews? The amount of people who love him?

And if they find out that he's dating someone who's about 20 years younger than he is, what would happen to him? Would he be accused of grooming? Would his fans understand?

You didn't realize how long you've been standing at the same spot until Pedro gently touched your back after his shower.

"Cariño, are you feeling okay?"

Cariño.

You looked at him and exhaled. "Can we talk?"

Pedro had a feeling he knew what you wanted to say. He sighed and sat on the bed, with only his damp towel hugging his waist.

"So, have you decided I'm too old for you?"

You frowned, "what?"

"Let me guess, it's been fun but you want to find someone who's closer to your age? Or is it because you realized this lifestyle isn't for you?"

You felt a little hurt. Did Pedro really think you're going to break up with him because of this? "Pedro, I'm not breaking up with you."

"Then what is it? I've been holding back mentioning your name during interviews when they ask me if I have someone I love, and yes, I do - It's you! I love you, so so much. I want to be able to bring you to places, show you off - I know it's probably a lot to ask, but cariño... I.." he sighed, unable to finish his sentence.

He was obviously frustrated, and this was mostly the aftermath of the alcohol talking. You sat next to him and held his hand.

"I'm scared." You admitted.

"Cariño-"

"Do you know how many videos of you are out there? Ones that your fans make, some even edit them from interviews from years ago. Or how many fanfictions there are of you? Or just the amount of fans you have that worship you day and night?"

You looked at him, worry in your eyes. "They all love you and look up to you so much, and so do I. I don't want to.. to ruin your life because we're going public. We have a huge age gap between us, that doesn't normally sit well with people."

"I also want to show everyone you're mine.. you know how ugly jealous I get when I see some of your costars flirting with you on the red carpet." You placed a hand on his cheek.

Pedro chuckled, leaning into your touch. "I guess I hadn't thought about that part.."

He pulled you closer to sit on his lap, his arms around your waist, your hands on his shoulders. "But I still want to. If they're really my fans, they'll understand. And yes, our age gap is.. pretty big, but I've never loved anyone as much as I love you."

"You are.. mi amor, mi vida. And I'd do anything to be with you." He kissed you softly.

You ran your hands through his hair, and they rested on his neck. "Okay."

"Okay?" You could hear the excitement in his voice.

"Okay." You nodded, reassuring him.

He gave you the biggest grin he had as he hugged you and pulled you both to lay down on the bed, laughing while he was at it.

"Then it's decided. You're coming to the next red carpet with me. As mine."

----

A/n: my crush on this man is starting to feel dangerous.

second part

#daddy pascal #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal angst #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #frankie morales #romance #joel miller #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #tlou #fluff #angst #request fic #pedro pascal narcos #pedro pascal tlou #javier pena #oberyn martell #rpf

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sleekista · 3 months

Text

forgotten about you

barça femeni x teen!reader

request: here

A/N: i just know alexia turned off the tv during the game 😭

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

You wake up, today is what could be described as a neutral day but it’s still your birthday nonetheless. You didn’t want to leave your bed, but you had to. Your family never really celebrated your birthday, only really caring about your brother and his dreams.

Even if it wasn’t the best day for you, a small part of your mind hoped that someone would wish you a happy birthday, at least Alexia anyways. It’s not like you told them though, the Barça instagram page would probably announce it.

You go through your regular movements of the day, traffic is light and you make it just in time.

Walking through, the admin wishes you a happy birthday, you smile lightly saying thanks and continuing to walk into the change room. However when you’re there it’s the same as any old day, it breaks your heart a little but you wouldn’t tell anyone that.

You’re quieter than usual walking to your cubby, it isn’t much of a change considering you’ve been one of the quieter ones since you joined barca, preferring to only be loud late at night when blasting music in your car.

It’s when even Alexia comes in and doesn’t say Happy Birthday that you feel even more hurt than before, out of everyone who would know, you’d just hoped she would. It’s not her fault though, you didn’t tell anyone. Why would she?

Training seems to be a blur, you miss the looks your older teammates give you at certain points. You’ve essentially become someone with no emotions which has somehow made you have a great session. Which in all honesty did not mend your shattering heart, no matter the praises the coaches had given you.

You make an effort to miss everyone after training and head straight home, you didn’t shower and just got up and left ignoring your confused teammates. No matter how much of an introvert you were, you’d always make time to say goodbye. It was a sign to everyone else that something had happened.

You make way to your car and drive off straight away, inevitably you end up sobbing halfway through. Unable to keep your emotions inside.

- - - - -

In the locker room, when you were gone there was silence. A pondering in the air of sorts. Mapi breaks it.

“Is she ok? She’s usually quiet but this… she’d at least say something.” Her statement lingers in the air, no one knowing what to say.

“Oh shit.” The unmistakable voice of Lucy Bronze cuts through the tension.

“Qué?” Many voices say at once. Lucy turns her phone around and shows the birthday announcement from the Barcelona Instagram page.

“How did we not know? Why didn’t she say anything?” Alexia sounds heartbroken, she cares for you deeply and to miss something so important is heartbreaking.

“I’m not sure.” Ingrid’s voice cracks and it looks like she’s about to cry.

Alexia is quick to regain her composure.

“Ok, we messed up. But, we can make this right. In the time I go to her house, talk and get her to come out, you all should do something. Plan a party and we’ll be there in like 1-2 hours. Got it?” The girls nod, seemingly ready to organise something not too big but enough to make up for what they didn’t know.

“Ingrid do you want to come with me?” The captain asks the Norwegian who nods, saying farewell to her girlfriend and teammates. You were very close with her, she took you under her wing a lot and you looked up to her.

- - - - -

You’re crying on your couch when there’s a knock on the door, thinking it’s preachers you ignore it, hoping they’ll leave. Only, the noise gets louder so you wipe your tears and trudge slowly toward the door.

Upon opening, Alexia and Ingrid immediately wrap you in a bone-crushing hug.

“What’s this for?” You say, you thought they’d forgotten about you.

“Don’t act like you don’t know, we’re sorry we didn’t know it was your birthday. We’ll make it up to you.” At Alexia’s words you start crying again.

“No Ale, it’s fine. I shouldn’t have expected anything. I didn’t tell you guys.” You say, feeling slightly bad.

“Elskling, no matter what we should’ve known, were your teammates and we didn’t even do any digging to find it. We made no effort before when we should have. Don’t ever feel like you should dismiss it. It obviously means something.” At her rant, you seem to understand her words as they compute in your mind.

“We did bring you something though nena. One from me and one from Mapi and Ingrid. Then we are going for a drive, ok?” You nod gratefully and get ready for what the two are giving you.

“Here you go.” Ingrid is first, she gives you two small boxes. You open the first one and it’s the Miss Dior perfume you’ve wanted for ages but haven’t ended up getting because you were too busy.

“I- thanks Ingrid.” You beam, she smiles softly back and points to the other one, you open it up carefully revealing a Dior charms bracelet. Your mouth opens wide.

“This is… thank you so much!” You place it down wrapping Ingrid in a hug.

“I’m glad you like it, I heard you said Dior was your favourite designer so I just figured.” It seems your broken heart from before was sealing up because she remembered something you’d told her weeks ago.

Alexia watches the interaction, smiling and happy to see you happy. Not the shell of a person you were at training because they forgot.

Luckily for her and Ingrid, there was a mall on the way to your house with many shops which would definitely satisfy what they needed to get you.

After speaking to Ingrid, you turn to Alexia who is also grinning and hands you a box.

“Aquí.”

You unwrap it, it’s quite big and heavy. When seeing the contents your eyes widen.

“Is this…” She nods her head, smirking. It’s a PS5, Alexia had been pretty strict on no video game consoles considering she wanted you to have a healthy sleep schedule.

“I didn’t think you’d ever allow it- Thank you Ale.” You bring her into a hug before unwrapping it fully and staring at the three things you had received in awe.

“Come on, get dressed we have places to be.” Alexia pulls you from your staring, you get dressed pretty quickly and you’re out of the house in 15 minutes.

- - - - -

You arrived at Patri’s house a little later and walked inside. The rest of the team were there, balloons everywhere and most importantly a cake with 19 on it being brought over by Frido.

Everyone’s singing and your face heats up at all the attention, feeling warm because of the love you’re receiving at the current moment.

When the singing dies down the Swede whispers to you softly.

“Make a good wish kid, it’ll be great.” You nod blowing out the candles and get given a knife to cut down the middle. It’s a pretty plain cake, but if you’re going to be honest you always loved when cakes weren’t so detailed.

The rest of the evening went by in bliss, people apologising and overall having a great time. Yes, they might’ve forgotten. But, they knew their mistake and made this the best birthday you’d ever had.

—————————————————————————

Finally wrote this.. I took too long to write it i’m sorry anon

can you tell what designer i like? (miss dior smells so good i feel rich when wearing it)

anyways i literally need to stop eating original kebab, like it’s so good and taking too much of my money PLEASE

#woso #woso x reader #woso community #woso fanfics #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #barcelona femeni x reader #barca femeni x reader

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bu-blegh-ost · 19 days

Text

Something just occured to me. Circling through each beautiful moment in the campaign, I noticed a pattern. Gillion never initiates hugs. Every time, no matter if he is the one consoling or the one being consoled, he never is the first person to offer an embrace. And I think it says something.

When Jay wants to hug Gill, she always asks first. She opens her arms as an invitation and always gives him a clear sign that she wants to be close to him. And any time she offers, anytime Gillion gets permission, any time he feels like he is allowed one, he clings to her desperately and fully, starved for it, finding himself unable to let go too quickly, savoring it like he isn't sure when he is going to be allowed to have another.

Chip's hugs are unprompted and usually done with just as much desperation. They are completely controlled by emotion, and are a form of a language that Chip uses when love and appreciation cannot be expressed by words anymore. Chip never asks for hugs, he takes them. He needs them, so he is scared to ask like Jay does, cause asking means risking to be denied. It is safer to steal it. In contrast Jay is still asking cause she is still afraid of taking love for granted.

But they both, in the end, ask for hugs and comfort in their own ways. Gillion doesn't. He wants it, he needs it so often, but he never dares to ask for it. Cause he still treats love as a reward that he needs to earn, that he is not allowed to ask for, that can't be had, unless he does something that makes him worthy of being loved. Affection and love is a currency and Gill was taught that he needs to fight for it. That it's something he should never dare to request on his own.

How many times on their journey did he need to feel someone else's body close to his, but his lips were sealed, suffering in silence, thinking he Has not done well enough to be given the privalage of being comforted? How many aches and worries did he swallow down and burried deep inside? How many old wounds is he trying to fill with every single hug he receives, when someone else offers it to him? When he dares to take it, when he grips their clothes in an iron grip, trying to make the best out of it before it's gone? Cause who knows when someone allows him to have that again?

The only person Gill ever hugged first was Edyn, the first time in Allport. It was done with the same ferocity of a hurt child, of a little boy who Has been going through hell and his sister is his only remedy. The only person that always lets him have love for free. The only one he knows he can hug for sure. One who for so many years has been the only source of comfort.

The rest of the world is uncertain and even with Chip and Jay, Gill still strives to fulfill the unsaid cryteria of when he is worthy of their affection.

But I know that with enough reassurance and care, he will be able to ask for love himself and start treating his crew as people he can fall back on. And just so you know, the moment in which Gillion is the first one to hug Chip or Jay is going to make me cry like a little baby.

_______

Edit: more thoughts occured

Did you notice that Jay always seems to match Gill and Chip when it comes to hugging? She never asks Chip for hugs and takes them the same way Chip does, no matter if she is the one seeking or offering comfort. And the same goes with Gill. Regardless of whether she is the one in the need of comfort or she is the one comforting, she always verbally communicates a desire to hug first. Like she kinda feels that this is what Gillion needs from her to accept it.

So maybe Jay is actually always trying to search for the most effective way to get a hug, to increase her chances. She believes she has to, cause she cannot take love for granted anymore, not after Ava's death. She took her for granted and now she is gone. So now Jay struggles to freely express her own desires and instead clings to all the ways that she thinks guarantee her the affection she needs, an act of desperation in its own right. A silent plea for acceptance.

Each Captain on this ship treats each embrace as a treasure to savor and protect. It's a result of their past and their fears, but also a proof of unyielding love they have for each other. It's beautiful and one day the same love that they still dread to take, will heal them.

#jrwi riptide #just roll with it #jrwi #gillion jrwi #gillion tidestrider #chip jrwi #jay jrwi #jrwi spoilers #jay ferin

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 7 months

Text

Practice On Me — Part Nine — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Roza’s arrival in Windhaven brings some home truths crashing down on Reader. She just needs a hug, someone to talk to, but it all goes very, very wrong…

Word Count: 3k.

Warnings: None.

Chaos evades logic.

There is no rationality to be found here. No sense to be made of the ample feelings that begin to chew you up and spit you out.

All you know, as you lace your breeches up and correct yourself, is that you feel like you’ve been punched in the gut.

“Are you decent?” Roza calls, her back still to you.

You tie the last lace. Clear your throat. “All good.”

The closest person you’ve ever had to a mother figure turns on the spot. She’s absolutely beautiful — fucking glowing — her swollen belly visible through her thick coat, and her eyes alight with a quality you’ve never seen before.

Rhysand really is the mirror image of her.

“I actually cannot believe I just witnessed that.” She grouses. “And just when I thought the morning sickness had finally come to an end, too. My poor, poor eyes.”

Cassian makes a noise. “Roz, that’s a bit dramatic—”

“You be quiet.” She points a finger at him. “Your mouth has done quite enough tonight, thank you very much.”

The two of them stare at each other — Cassian wanting to be a little shit and push his luck, and Roza wanting to…

Well, to gouge her eyes out with a rusty spoon, probably.

But then Cassian cracks a grin, and he’s bounding over to the female like an excitable pup. “Fuck, I’ve missed you.”

“Watch your language.” Roza scorns, but she happily accepts the hug that Cass yanks her into. “Gods, you’ve grown even more.”

You…you are rooted to the spot. Unable to move.

You want to go over there, too. To embrace her. But…but just seeing Roza makes the previous couple of months come hammering down on you in an unwelcome downpour of unwanted realisations.

You think: Roza caught me fooling around with Cassian.

And then you think: Fucking hell, I fooled around with Cassian again.

And then you’re wondering how — how you’ve let the recent events of your life veer down such a beaten, broken path.

It’s like Roza’s appearance brings a clarity that has been very much absent as of late. She’s always been a figure of reason and wisdom, always stopped you from spiralling.

And now she’s here, you’re looking at Cassian — your damn friend — and wondering just how much damage you might have caused.

He’s mid-conversation with Roza when he seems to notice you staring at him. Roza notices, too.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She says.

You open your mouth, unsure how you intend to respond. All that slips out is a rasped, “I’m just…so glad you’re here.”

Cassian snorts. “Tell that to your face.”

You can’t bring yourself to laugh at the jibe. And it would seem that Roza can’t, either. She’s studying you in that assessing way you’ve seen her wear a thousand times before — the one where the motherly instinct kicks in, and she’s sensing something is wrong. It seems to be a subconscious act, the way she slides her hand over her bump.

“So what are you doing back here, anyway?” Cassian asks her, slinging an arm round her shoulders. “I thought the High Lord wanted you to stay in Velaris for the pregnancy.”

“He does.” Roza says. “But then I found out Y/N had somehow ended up homeless and that he hadn’t bothered to help, so he and I aren’t on the best of terms right now.” She eyes you again. “I’ve come to move you properly into the cottage — including retrieving your belongings from your father’s house. I will not have you freezing your ass off in this dump.”

Gods, you love her.

She’s so fierce, so passionate. This is a female who housed three lost, rowdy children under her roof and offered them the same amount of love as she felt for her biological son. This is a female who does what she believes is right and damns the consequences. This is a female who doesn’t hesitate — not for one second — to help somebody in need.

She’s the exact kind of female you want yourself to be. And she’s the only person you wish to see in that moment.

“Perfect.” Cassian chirps brightly. “I’ll help. Let’s go fetch Y/N’s stuff from the bastard’s house right now.”

He takes a step towards the door, but Roza is laying a hand on his arm. She doesn’t look away from you once. “Cassian, my darling, I love you endlessly. And so, I say this with the greatest of adoration — fuck off to the mead hall, or something, and leave Y/N and I to have some girl time alone.”

“What?” He squawks in outrage. “But you just got here.”

“And I promise you we’ll catch up properly later. But right now, Y/N and I need some time alone.”

“But—”

“Do you want to stay and discuss the ins and outs of childbirth?”

Instantly, he falters. The change of tune would be comical if you were actually capable of feeling anything but despair in that moment.

“You know what?” He cracks a grin. “The mead hall sounds great right about now.”

Roza chuckles. “I thought it might. I’m taking Y/N back to the cottage. I’ll come and fetch you when we’re done. And if you see Az or Rhys, be sure to tell them to stay away, too.”

Oh.

This is going to be a serious talk.

You can’t remember the last time Roza was so insistent about it just being the two of you.

Probably when you got your first ever cycle, and she held and soothed and bathed you through it.

Will she still be so tender when she hears of the full scope of the mess you’ve created for yourself? You’re not sure you’d deserve it.

“Go easy, Cass.” Roza warns. “Don’t get into any fights.”

“Pff. As if I would.” Your friend lands a kiss on her cheek. “You look beautiful, Roz.” He says, and then he’s bustling out of the door without a care in the world.

You stare after him. Wish you could be that carefree. It feels…it feels impossible.

Gods, you just want to fucking cry.

Roza can see that. She holds a hand out.

“Come, my little dove.” She says. “Let’s get you home.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

It kind of feels like walking into the cottage for the very first time, all over again.

You remember that night like it happened only yesterday. Remember how the cold had felt as you’d followed Azriel through the snow. The noises of bickering coming from behind the door.

Even at eleven, Az had always seemed so much taller than you. You’d noticed that as he’d strode ahead and led you inside.

Roza had been standing in the kitchen, and she’d turned to you with a curious expression. “Oh.” She’d chirped, with more warmth than you’d ever heard from your own kin. “What have we here, then?”

You, Azriel had explained to her, had been set upon by a group of males far older than you. Az had defended you, and then he’d invited you to share his dinner.

Roza had taken one look at the dirt packed beneath your fingernails and told you to thoroughly wash your hands before taking a seat. You’d done just that.

And it was at that very table that Rhysand had introduced himself.

“I’m Rhysand. My father is the High Lord.”

Roza had scolded him for showing off.

And it was after that that Cassian had eyed you with a wild, feral look and simply said, “I bet I could beat you in an arm wrestle. I beat everyone.”

“Not at my dinner table, you don’t.” Roza had put a stop to that immediately. And then she’d placed a steaming pie in the centre of the table, and High Lords and arm wrestles were all but forgotten, and Azriel had been quiet and shy at your side, but dutifully offering you different foods before he took any for himself—

Standing at the threshold of the cottage, now…it’s like watching that entire scene play out before you. The ghosts of your younger, wayward selves feast greedily on a wholesome meal that lets you forget your harrowing experiences for a little while.

How things have changed.

You finally step in. Kick the door shut behind you. The smells and warmth of your sanctuary envelop you, and you know — you fucking know that you won’t be able to keep a lid on your tears for long.

“Don’t know how many times I’ve told those idiots to put the fire out before they leave the house.” Roza mutters, but she goes striding straight towards that burning fire and welcomes its warmth. “Although, I must admit, I’m a little impressed. I expected this place to be far messier in my absence than it is. Don’t tell me they’ve actually been cleaning—”

“Roza.” You cut in, your voice shaky, desperate. “About what you saw—”

She turns back to you. Says nothing as concerned, violet eyes sweep the length of your body. She’s letting you speak, but you don’t know what the fuck to say.

You open and close your mouth as though the act will make some sense of…any of this.

It doesn’t.

“I didn’t realise you and Cassian were…” Roza clears her throat. Pauses. “I just…what of Azriel, Y/N?”

You blink at her.

Roza’s very good at knowing things she hasn’t been told, but for her to know about you and Az when she’s been in Velaris this whole time, and when, as far as you’re aware, these things have been strictly kept between you and Azriel only—

“What?” You breathe.

“Perhaps I’m wrong, I don’t know.” She frowns. “But I always suspected that you and Az would be…something more. Your connection with him has always run a little deeper than with anyone else. That’s why I was so shocked when I found you…and Cass…”

Is she wrong?

No.

And fucking damn you for taking all these years to see it. Fucking damn you for only realising you wanted Azriel as more than just your friend when somebody else began to recognise his brilliance.

Fucking damn you for all of this, and damn Azriel, too, and damn everyone.

It all comes showering down on you in an instant, harsh and unwelcome.

You love Azriel. Not just in the way you love Rhysand and Cassian. You’re in love with his soul, his spirit. Who he is will always be tethered to who you are, even though he isn’t yours to cling onto. It’s been that way since you were old enough to harbour such feelings, and you’ve been burying it all these years, burying it under bad choices and regrettable actions, because all of that seemed easier to face, than…this. The fact that you were never able to control your heart, stop it from feeling such things, and now you feel them so intensely that it hurts.

Had your deal with Az ever really been about helping him, or had it been a selfish ruse under which you could have some small experience to remember him by when he inevitably gave his heart to somebody else?

Because you are just Y/N. You’ve always just been Y/N.

You are not Kaeda — Kaeda with the wings, and the strength, and the excellence.

Just Y/N. Just Y/N—

“Speak to me, my love.” Roza steps closer. “I’m worried about you.”

Your eyes blur with tears. Your legs buckle, and you’re bracing one hand on the back of the couch while the other flies up to cup over your mouth.

“Oh, gods, what have I done?” Your voice breaks.

“Speak to me.” Roza says again.

“This is all such a mess.”

“What is, Y/N?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I don’t know what—what to do!”

“You need to breathe.” She responds firmly. “Deep breaths. Now.”

You try. Gods, you try. But your chest is constricting, and the air won’t reach your lungs, and all you can hear on a constant loop inside your head is one, bellowing sentence.

Everything is irreversibly changed.

Roza closes the gap between you and cups your face. The touch is soft, but firm. She forces you to look at her, and her face is blurred by your tears, but you know she’s looking at you how she’s always looked at you — with love.

“Tell me what’s going on, and I can help you through it.” She pleads.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” You sob back.

She yanks you close, arms wrapping around you. She’s held you like this through so, so much. This is no different.

But it feels different, in that it feels worse. Not only is it possible that your actions could change your relationships with both Cassian and Azriel, but also that they could change their relationship with each other, too — change the strong, steadfast dynamic between your three closest friends.

You tremble, clinging to Roza like you may just collapse. Your heartbeat gallops in your ears like rhythmic footfalls.

“Y/N—”

“It all turned into a total mess.” You choke out. “I was feeling things — I am feeling things — and then Azriel had Kaeda and I was jealous and stupid and I — I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have slept with Cassian.”

“You did what?”

Those three, outraged words are not spoken in Roza’s voice. The sudden interjection of Azriel’s is enough for your sobs to catch in your throat.

Every single inch of your body goes cold as you step back to look at him. Blink at him. Roza fights to keep hold of you.

Normally, he would have hurried over to embrace her. But he stays rooted to the last step of the staircase. He’s staring at you. Only you.

You’ve never seen him look so pale.

“Az.” Roza sighs softly. “We didn’t realise you were home.”

He doesn’t look away from you — not once — as he asks, “What did you just say?”

Roza inches towards him. “I think we all need to sit down and talk about this—”

“You fucked Cassian?”

Tears spill over, roll down your cheeks. Your voice doesn’t want to show itself as you croak out, “Az, I can explain.”

“You fucked Cassian?” He’s repeating it like…like he needs to. Like it won’t get into his head any other way. “You had sex with him?”

“Yes, but—”

“Around the time you and I were doing similar things?”

Roza’s head whips round to you in surprise. You’d failed to mention that bit. After a moment, she rights herself once more. “Azriel, you should let her speak.”

“I can’t fucking believe you.” Letting you speak is the last thing on his mind as he steps down, storming past the two of you. You reach out for him, but he’s jerking away, heading for the door.

“Azriel, please.” Your voice cracks. “Let me explain.”

“Explain that you fucked Cass? At the same time that I was sharing such…such huge things with you—”

“At the same time you were sharing them with Kaeda!”

He falls still, hand faltering on the doorknob, shoulders hunched.

And then he glances over his shoulder at you with an expression so bleak, you’d do anything, make a bargain with anyone, to wipe it from his face.

“Except that I’ve never touched Kaeda like that.” He says. “Not once. I couldn’t.”

Before you’re capable of summoning an answer, he’s yanking the door open and thundering out into the snow.

Shock pulses through you, ice-cold and harrowing. You blink, and blink and blink and blink, and you think Roza might be saying your name, but you can only choke out another sob that grates against your throat, and then your legs are moving forward, stumbling out of the door.

“Az, wait!” You cry, but he’s already striding far into the distance. “Please!”

You try to move, but it’s like the snow is binding your ankles, grounding you firmly to the spot. You sob. Try to move. Fall. Get up. It’s cold and wet. You’re hurting. Everything’s hurting.

And somebody’s yelling — yelling at you.

“Hey!” You know the voice. It’s a voice you don’t like. But you can’t put a face to it until its owner is stopping in front of you, sneering at you. Lord Devlon. “What did I tell you about staying away from these parts, girl?”

You’re incapable of answering him. You’re not even looking at him. You just stare and stare in the direction that Az disappeared in, fat, hot tears rolling down your cheeks.

“I’m talking to you.” Devlon grabs your chin between his fingers, hard. “Insolent female—”

“Remove your hand from her face at once.”

He blinks at the sight of Roza stepping out of the cottage. Clearly, he had no clue she’d returned. And even he won’t speak out against the High Lord’s pregnant mate.

He drops his hand immediately.

Roza steps up to your side and narrows her gorgeous eyes at him. Her hand sits on her swollen belly. “Look at you, Lord Devlon — following orders like a good dog. Now, go on. Fuck off.”

There’s a slight twitch of a muscle as he clenches his jaw. He hates every second of it, but he obediently turns away from you.

“Oh — Lord Devlon?” Roza calls after him.

He stops. Turns. “Yes, lady?”

“I decide who can and cannot live in my house.” She stares him down. “That call is mine and mine alone. And if I hear of you giving Y/N any more trouble? I’ll rip your fucking throat out.”

She turns her back to him with utter dismissal. If you weren’t so devastated, you might laugh at his stunned expression.

But Roza sees the pain in your eyes, and she pulls you into her arms.

“Come, my love.” She murmurs softly. “Let’s get you inside.”

az tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes

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neteyamsilly · 1 year

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i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 5

summary ;; What could Jake do? How was he supposed to fight when he had no concrete opponent? PART 4 | PART 6 pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; jake is so depressing here. i also took liberty with his character and the reasonings for his decisions in atwow, sorry in case if thats not how you see him LMAO happy reading 💞 please excuse my mistakes if you see any! ‼ I DONT TAKE TAG REQUESTS ANYMORE ‼

“One chance, Jakesuli. You will only have one chance. Use it well. Our Great Mother favors you, that we know. But this favor hasn’t been granted to you. It has been granted to my granddaughter.”

“I won’t fail.” Not again.

“What does failing mean, I wonder. Would you fail if you take her soul back from her happiest? Or would you fail if you let her have the peace our Great Mother has laid her into?”

“I will get my daughter back. This isn’t her time. If Eywa has given me this chance, then she thinks the same as me.”

“You will take that honor from her, then?” Mo’at was being cryptic, but Jake saw through the exterior of the neutral Tsahik into an exhausted, mourning grandmother. “She was the daughter of Toruk Makto, and he was her last shadow.”

It came back to Jake in a gut-churning realization, it was his shadow that had fallen over you from the light of the torches on the walls as you’d given your last breath. It was his shadow. “No,” he refused, adamantly. “She will get to achieve greater honors of her own than that. I won’t be the one defining her ending.” The last bead of your songcord having his name, Toruk Makto’s name, was supremely wrong to him. He would not accept this fate for you.

“Very well, then.” Secretly, she was pleased with him. With his answer. “Get going. As I said. One chance.”

Jake would never be able to get used to the magnificence that was Vitraya Ramunong, or, the Tree of Souls. To him, Pandora itself was a marvel already too good to be true that he’d fallen in love with, and abandoned his own race for, there was no getting used to the beauty for a human like him who’d only found it once in neon lights, ever. He could reach the end of his natural lifespan in this body and still there would be much left to discover. That’s why Jake was more vulnerable to one of the beating hearts of Eywa in the shape of a giant, glowing willow tree.

No Na’vi was immune to the soul-purifying, all-consuming, yet being-dwarfing peace enveloping one’s very spirit, in a cradling hug as if they were nothing but a newborn in their mother’s arms. In here, only one fact mattered: they were childrens of Eywa, all of them dear, all of them seen, all of them safe and sound, including him, once alien to Eywa the way Earth was related to Pandora. Everything spoke to him here in a language he didn’t understand, but could respond to, again, in a language he didn’t understand, his soul doing the communicating.

Jake was also a child here, Eywa’s chosen child.

And he had come to her door for the most difficult request of his life, feeling like he was asking his mother for money right after he had crashed their car, unable to look her in the eye and expecting the biggest of scoldings for his shamelessness.

This was nothing like asking for her assistance against the sky people, back then, he had agency, power, the clans backing him up, Toruk. If Eywa didn’t hear him, he would fight until the last drop of blood in his body was spent anyway, he was ready.

Now, he had nothing.

Nothing to offer in return, not one concrete reason as to why he should have his daughter back other than being a desperate father with nowhere to return to other than the mercy of the Great Mother. He just wanted his child. Nothing mattered.

Not how and why Quaritch had spawned right under his nose with an avatar body, not how they could even slither in without detection, not the threat of what the sky people could bring upon their heads with that — nothing, not now. Nothing mattered until he saw this through.

Jake had found the will to quite literally tear himself from your side like nail from flesh only when you’d stabilized enough. Stabilized, as in, the faintest rise and fall of your ribcage Neteyam had to stare from where he was sitting like a sentinel for a full minute to spot, a tideless, still ocean only moving with whiffs of wind, his own breathing unnoticeable — to match yours, or to silence the sounds in his own body to hear better, Jake didn’t know.

No sky person was allowed to take over from Mo’at and Kiri. Norm had told Jake none of this made sense, if the bullet had nicked the bowels enough and the dirt leaked into the bloodstream, the possibility of sepsis was eventual, and if it didn’t, you had bled too much anyway, a blood transfusion was necessary, and the internal organs... — Christ, the amount of bad end scenarios Jake had been subjected to was as if they were telling him to open a grave for you anyway. Tsahik had scoffed into their faces. The way of healing was something none of them would see, she had scoffed. Now ally, or not. You can’t fill a cup that’s already full. Jake was in a hopeless need for water into wine kind of miracle, and honestly, he wasn’t complaining.

Leaving High Camp behind to set off on a journey calling for only him was one of the hardest things he’d done yet, the silhouette of you lying motionless, his family scattered around the tent, shadowed in their own mourning, folded into themselves was burned into his mind, glimpses of their pain visible from eclipses of light occasionally falling on their faces. A sight he never wanted to see again in his life if he could help it. It was a frosted, iron-thorned hand squishing his heart into ground meat.

Tuk, ever the stingy monopolizer, had brought her favorite toys to scatter around you because she thought they’d comfort you the way they comforted her, had tried snuggling with your unconscious body and was warned by Kiri only to hold your hand instead. She had taken to playing with your fingers, the depressive gloom of years beyond her age crooked on her. Jake couldn’t stand the sight of the little girl telling you bedtime stories he and Neytiri used to, for a moment only, he could pretend you were just going along with your sister’s whims and smiling with your eyes closed as you listened.

Kiri, buzzing around to change the bandage-leaves that soaked up some sort of sickly black colored puss every couple hours, had explained to him the salve they used on you was getting the infection and the splinters of the bullet they couldn’t get out of your body, which had turned the color of your blood into that — but the thing was, given the dwelling of the woodsprite in your mouth, they couldn’t feed you the porridge-like mix to speed up the process of blood production in the bone marrow, and she was exerting herself looking for some other way.

Before he’d left the tent for good, she had handed him the bullet— or, the biggest piece of it they’d taken out of your body, it was a mere pursed and shriveled, tiny metal. The exhausted girl had stammered when explaining that whatever they’d hit you with, had broken into shards inside you upon impact, creating severe lacerations and lethal hemorrhage that they’d worked tirelessly to pick out.

Jake had stared hollowly at it for the longest time. This small thing. It was such a small thing that took you from him.

The sentence that sent you away was also as small, and damning as this bullet. ‘Go.’

Kiri had seen it sink in his face, closing her five-fingered hand on his palm, on the bullet. “You should get going, dad,” she’d said. “We’re okay here.”

Jake had taken one last look. At Neytiri wiping your body to clean all the congealed blood. At Tuk holding your hand. At Kiri trying to fill in shoes bigger than her feet. At you lying down with trinkets surrounding you like funeral flowers. And forced his body to keep moving when all he wanted to do was stay.

He’d then heard Lo’ak complaining to his older brother outside the tent, “How can he be so cold?” The heaviness was getting to the boy, agitated and misapprehending. But he was always this way, if something was out of his control, the inability to act to change it manifested as frustration, blind anger. “Why is he so… unresponsive? Emotionless?”

Jake would have let it slide had it been about something else, but his children running their mouths not knowing he was a hair's breadth away from going clinically insane had gotten to him. He was burning alive.

“You think I don’t care, boy?” He emerged from the tent like some last boss, initially not caring he’d scared the brothers. “You think I don’t feel at all? My own child dying in the same arms I used to hold her as a baby — you think that doesn’t faze me?”

Neteyam, the mediator, or rather, the blame-taker, ran to his little brother’s rescue, the latter too flabbergasted to form any words yet. “Dad, he doesn’t mean—”

“I know exactly what he means.” When the anger subsided, Jake sighed with the weariness of an ancient man. The flames had died before they could climb, he was too exhausted for it. Honesty and trust, as Neytiri had said.

Having lost everything, having nothing to lose, and having a lot to lose were somehow simultaneously the same thing to Jake in the predicament he’d found himself in. “I know how you see me. You only know me as the person I want to show you.”

Lo’ak’s go-to answer was presented to Jake on a silver platter. “Sorry, sir.”

It wasn’t what he wanted to hear at all. Jake wasn’t trying to get Lo’ak to bow his head. “Don’t apologize—” He cut himself short, licking his chapped lips, and after rubbing his face, he’d put his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “Lo’ak. Son. I feel this, alright? Of course I do. I’m your father.” He shook him gently, feeling the words weren’t reaching him, who was just staring at something on the ground off to the side. “There’s no greater pain a parent can go through in life than losing his child. You can’t understand what this means right now—what it’s doing to me. You will only know when you become a father yourself.” He gently tapped Lo’ak on the chin so he would raise his head and look at him in the eye already. And when he did, Jake said what he said slowly, hoarsely. “But know this. Know I will lose myself if I lose you, or any of your siblings.” He turned to Neteyam as well, who was watching in full alert mode. “I’m fighting not to lose my sanity as we speak.”

Lo’ak swallowed, unsure and weirded out to hear something like this for the first time in his life. Jake didn’t blame him. He was never emotionally upfront or honest before, not even used to it, more awkward with it than his boys were. But none of that mattered. Not anymore, after what happened to you because of his shortcomings. “You just look so composed—“

“I have to be.” Jake shook his head, eyelids hanging heavy, his whole head was heavy. “I just can’t crumble under it, do you understand? I have to be strong. I can’t lose myself in it. Your sister needs me. You need me. To be strong.” He took his hands off the boy’s shoulders, putting a palm on his cheek and patting a few, fatherly times before backing off altogether. “Never say that I don’t care. Never. I might not show it—and it’s a father’s duty not to show it, so my family will have a stable anchor. Get what I’m saying?”

Lo’ak looked reassured, lighter. So that’s what Neytiri had meant. “How… how can I help?”

His youngest son’s inclination to get to the root of the problem and pump out solutions was in consanguineous with his inability to stop and wait, uncomfortable in his skin when he couldn’t do anything to improve the situation and was confronted with the intimacy of having to feel, always wanting to act. Lo’ak was like Jake in that way. Awkward when it came to communication. Dishonest with themselves.

“Stay here.” Jake said, right from his heart. “Stay safe. I don’t wish for anything else in this world.”

Lo’ak’s eyes softened, and as the father, Jake felt the renewal of the bond between them, saw the understanding in his youngest son, saw something else than the guilt and regret over being caught after mischief, for once. “I’m sorry, dad.”

“Don’t apologize.” He shared a meaningful look with him, trying to convey, again, his apology wasn’t what he wanted. Yet, his sons were defaulted to saying sorry half the time they spoke to him nowadays. Jake was understanding the severity of it, too much too late. Lo’ak nodded, ears tipped down slightly.

Then he turned to the eldest. “Neteyam—”

But he opened his mouth before Jake could say anything else. Ready. Always on his feet. “Yes, I will—”

Jake clicked his tongue. “Rest.”

Neteyam was about to say yes to whatever he was told to do, as always, but stopped right in the middle of it, voice catching in his throat, eyes blinking in confusion. “What?”

“Rest.”

“But—”

“Rest, Neteyam, I won’t tell you again.”

God knows he needed it. Neteyam looked like he’d been having night terrors for days, accumulated anxiety making him jumpy. “Sorry, sir.”

“Stop—“ Jake caught himself before he could raise his voice. “Why are you apologizing?”

Neteyam didn’t talk for a while. But when he did, he was looking up at him underneath his lashes, unable to keep eye contact for more than two seconds. “It’s my fault.”

“Bro,” Lo’ak said, a pitiful objection.

Jake knew where this was going. “What is?”

“I should have been there.” He pressed his mouth into a thin line before furrowing his brow, closing his eyes. Jake knew what he was seeing, repeated over and over again in his mind. “I should have known right away when I couldn’t catch up to her. I could have prevented it. It’s my responsibility.” One tear slipped by as he hung his head. “My fault.”

There it is.

Jake had told him before. “You’re the older brother, you gotta act like it.” — even though you and him were more like affable twins than older brother and younger sister that he never had to explicitly be a guardian to you like he was to Lo’ak, he had to be thinking this was his biggest failure. Neteyam was just reflecting what he’d been taught, the standards his father was holding him up to. Of course the boy had been overthinking it to the point where he was the catalyst to the event by not predicting your fakeout.

“No,” Jake rasped, after a beat. “This is on me first, and the sky people who got to her second. And that’s the end of the story.”

Neteyam, up until this point, had to bear half the blame, if not the rest of it, for the consequences of his siblings’ actions. Upon receiving this kind of answer, he startled with an incredulous gasp and full stare at Jake. “But I—”

“It’s not about you, Neteyam,” Jake explained, although the words were harsh, he had done his best to soften the impact. “I did this. Blame me, okay?”

‘How could I?’ was written in neon letters over the boy’s head even if he didn’t say anything. Too good-natured. He idolized Jake a lot more than the man deserved. “Mother was… she was… She is grieving, she doesn’t mean it.”

“You gotta stop making excuses for people, boy. Especially when they’re in the right.” A smile pulled on his lips, but died as it was born. “I pushed and pushed until we reached the edge, thinking there was never an edge at all. I should have known better. I should have been better. This is between me and your sister, and that’s why it is me who has to go to the Tree of Souls.”

And he’d left, but not before pulling his boys into his chest, cradling the back of their heads against himself, the smell of home repulsing instead of comforting. Prickles on his skin was the comfort he got from being able to hug his children when you were absent. It didn’t feel right.

He missed you dearly, an aching, gaping hole in his very being that only grew larger as he saw what you left behind half-completed or messy like you’d stood up and gone off for a minute to come back to it later —

The unmade pallet from the night of your Iknimaya argument that Jake had shed tears on when he’d seen the state of it, having the signs of someone getting up from it like you would be returning to go back to sleep any second.

The unfinished bark plate you had set aside to eat later and fought Lo’ak not to touch it. a squabble Jake had to break before you started wasting food by throwing it at each other.

The stack of fruits you’d gathered that you never shared except for Neytiri sometimes.

The half-carved cup you were working on because the regular cups weren’t big enough for your water needs and you didn’t like to refill it about three times until you were satisfied.

The incomplete anklet you were making out of rainbow beads for Tuk that was confidential to everyone but Jake, who knew from observing you, of course — you were missing a couple colors that you just couldn’t seem to find, nagging his head off to just let you roam around farther and there was no danger as the sky people couldn’t get in the vortex.

The little animal doodles you scratched at your side of the tent when you couldn’t sleep at nights, waking Jake up in the process every single time to listen until your breathing evened out as sleep retook you in its arms again, because he was bodily programmed to startle awake at one single rustle in his living quarters from his Marine days and fell into old habits after the return of the sky people, he knew you had developed insomnia from being uncomfortable at High Camp, longing for your hammock cocooned in the safety and comfort of the forest.

And the dumb romance novels you had taken from the humans that you, Kiri and Tuk giggled about at girl’s nights reading out loud, Spider invited as an honorary guest at times, just so you could tease Kiri about him and annoy your brothers that they weren’t allowed in, but the human boy was.

All of them had no owner now. Neither of your family members could look at them, your ghost would appear in precious memories beside your belongings if they looked too much. He didn't need to concentrate for a phantom of you to appear, you were everywhere he looked, and even now, as the gently pulsating lavender humming, a song from Eywa herself, right underneath the veinlike, labyrinthine roots was the cool summer rain on Jake’s sizzling skin, all he could see was your first communion with Eywa in his arms while Neytiri formed the tsaheylu, the clan spread all around them in celebration.

“You’ve called, and I’ve answered,” he greeted in positivity. “I think this is the most direct you’ve been with me in a long while.”

He didn’t know if it was Eywa or you he was saying this to. He genuinely didn’t know.

Kneeling, and putting his arms on the mossy, thick root, he looked up to see the woodsprites swaying and floating in the air. He reached for his braid, letting the squirming nerve-endings coil around the white-cored lavender thread closest to him, taking in the presence of Eywa, all around yet nowhere at all, but listening. No sign of you. Was he supposed to talk like this? Just like this? Was he not allowed to see you?

Jake had to admit he had been harboring the tiniest expectation of meeting you somehow, or hearing your voice through the connection like he did with a Tree of Voices when Mo’at had cryptically informed him of his chance. But this was it?

If he failed, this would be it.

“I guess this isn’t all that different,” he said out loud, instead of thinking inwards where the confusion flew. “It’s been like this for a while now, you and I. You talk, I don’t hear you. I talk, you don’t hear me. We throw the same ball at each other only for it to bounce back. Monologuing to a tree is the same thing, except it doesn’t talk back like you do.”

He looked up and around, there was nothing else to do. The air was the same as it always was in here. Always accommodating to what each Na’vi found comforting. “The last time I came here like this was to ask for Eywa’s help in the last stand against sky people. I told her I would fight either way, I knew that’s why she’d chosen me. All my life, all I’ve done was fight. Even when I wasn’t able to, I was fighting lesser battles with the excuse of not having anything to fight for. It’s all I’ve known. All I’ve ever done. It’s what I was best at.” His brow twitched, and Jake tried to keep his composure, not because he didn’t want anybody to see, no, it was to keep his shit together so he didn’t fuck this up. He had to be honest. His pride was the last thing he needed in his way at the moment.

“You were born to a different man. To a changed man. To a father who could let go because he thought his family was safe. You got to meet the man I used to be when my reason for fighting came back from my star. I know you don’t like that person — you can’t — couldn’t get used to him. I know.”

From the discomfort, his fingers dug into the moss first, and found the bark of the root, his fist curling on it next. “But I had to keep fighting.” He softly brought his fist back on the root. “The strong prey on the weak, that’s just how things are. That’s how I had it on my star. And my kids — you, you are weak, and it’s not an insult — it’s not me criticizing, Jesus, you are just children, and there’s a war on your damn heads. That’s what I mean. That’s what I’ve always meant. It’s natural that you are weak, Eywa was kind enough to let you be soft. Not Earth, though, never Earth.”

Jake had to clench his teeth and bite the anger into the inside of his mouth to not be boiled alive — not to let it reach to your side. He let out a soundless snarl. “You would never be ready for the cruelty of Earth, I would never wish that upon any of you. But it was brought to you. Right at your doorstep. I couldn’t protect you from it by hugs and kisses. You wouldn’t be safe from a gun extended to you by extending a branch in return. No.”

He reached and caressed the glowing thread, brows furrowed. “I did what I thought was right to prepare you. Every single one of you. I was making you tough. I had to. To protect you. And of course there would be clashing along the way, it’s what happens between parent and child. We fight. We fight like cats and dogs for dominance. You try me to show strength. I stand my ground to let you know you gotta do better.”

He had fired those sentences with incoherent speed, and when he got to the end of it, Jake got choked up. Stopped for a moment, took a breath. Blinking several times, his tone became vulnerable, he didn’t have anyone in front of him, but he tore away his gaze anyway. “Somewhere along the way, things just… Without me noticing, everything…” He sighed through his nose, his voice nothing but a whisper. “I fought more battles than I fought for my family. I thought I was doing my job as a father when I didn’t even know shit about being a father.”

A couple seconds floated by, and his gaze was stolen by a lone woodsprite descending down until it staggered on the fist he had against the root. The shine of it reflected from the mistiness of his eyes. His lower lip slightly trembled at the thought of it being you. This little woodsprite. You?

“The thing is, I’m lost, sweetheart,” he admitted quietly, small, shaky, not taking his eyes off the woodsprite. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I sit here, I look back, and think why I keep fighting. We could have migrated. Looked for a new Hometree. Another forest. Left the humans alone. Or made peace. A treaty. Something. None of your lives had to be sullied by war. Yet I chose this. I chose to fight, as I ‘ve always done, because now I had something to fight for. And the fighting wasn’t limited to them, I fought Neteyam, I fought Lo’ak, I fought you, my own kids, and I didn’t even know.”

He reached for it with his other hand, tentatively, scared that it would fly away with the slightest contact. But he was able to touch the top of the woodsprite ever so slightly, the little zap making all the hair on his body stand up. Jake swallowed thickly, his whole head on fire. “I don’t know what to do. I just miss you. I miss you so much, sweet girl. I wish you would scream at me. Say you hate me for all I care. Anything. Hate me until the day you die, but do it with all of your family surrounding you in old age, in peace. I would be content knowing you are under the same sky as me. But I’m forgetting your voice already, and I—” He held back a violent sob, hissed to not let it out, and groaned, getting angry at himself for the emotions. He shut his eyes tightly, willing away the tears. “I wish I could say these to your face. I wish I could see you one last time, smiling at me.”

Having everything to lose. Having lost everything. Having nothing to lose. Three different meanings had coiled around each other like snakes to become one singular outcome in linear relation of cause-and-effect through you. It wasn’t a cycle.

Having something to fight for. Having nothing left to fight for. Having nothing to fight for. You were everything. Everything. What could Jake do? How was he supposed to fight when he had no concrete opponent?

“I see you.”

The voice — your voice, albeit much, much younger, almost made him jump. When his eyes shot open, Jake was in a different location. He knew this place. The creek away from the village he and his family often frequented.

The twilight penumbra of the eclipse dimmed the shadows embracing the forest, but the ethereally glowing lights of all colors illuminated and got reflected from the water as if it was a mirror. Above and all around him were lazily dancing fireflies — or, rather, bioluminescent bugs he didn’t know the names of, tiny stars floating in the air like glitter. It was magical.

Jake realized with aching melancholy that this was the first time he’d taken you out on an eclipse to show you the beauty of the forest on a special father-daughter date. The exact memory.

The breath that left him was shaky as he felt the presence sitting right beside him, in the corner of his vision, he saw the ripples on the shining water made by swinging legs.

Jake froze for a second. Unmoving. Not looking at all — because if this was a dream, or a hallucination, he wouldn’t be able to bear it. His breathing got louder, more labored, the log underneath his hands was so realistically textured and damp. If he looked. If he looked, you would disappear. That’s how he felt.

He was supposed to talk. But now, his ribcage was holding the words hostage, burning with the strain of the pile-up.

“But I’m sad you don’t see me,” you said, and he was shaken by hearing your voice yet again, remembering the moment he found himself here, how he’d heard — ‘I see you’. “You don’t even want to look at me.”

So much hurt and vulnerability in that sentence that it left him breathless.

It all happened in a matter of seconds. Him launched into his own turmoil racking his brain about how Quaritch was back as an avatar, ignoring to look at you to protect his composure and just trying to think, think — think, of a plan, of a how, of what to do. You calling after him once Neytiri, you and he arrived at High Camp after dodging Quaritch’s men. Him purposefully walking away because he needed to cool off and not to explode on you right there and there.

That whole time, Jake hadn’t looked at you. If he did, he would have seen you needed help.

He shattered, all of his walls crumbling down, stripped down to bare despair.

“Oh sweetheart.” Before he knew it, he had wrapped his arms around you in a crushing hug, basically snatching you off from where you were sitting and on his lap, and your warmth, your pulse, your tangible existence wrenched a shiver out of him — and he buried his face to the little crook of your neck, taking your scent in, hiding his trembling face and the quiver of his arms by holding you tight. You were here. As your younger self, no older than eight, but he had you. Not bloody and battered in his arms, but alive, so alive. “Oh sweet girl, my sweet girl… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He kissed the side of your head, felt the real tickle of your hair against his face, blessed with the soothe of his child’s smell. “I see you. Of course I see you. I’ve always seen you.”

The snowflake-frail snivel followed by your sobbing sniffle broke his heart into pieces. “You’re a liar.” He shook his head, hugging you tighter. “You’re mean to me. You’re so mean to me.”

“I’m sorry.” That was all he could say. All he could do with his thrashing soul smoldering at the wetness of your tears on his shoulder. “I am mean. I’m sorry… You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“It hurt so much.” You wailed. “It hurt a lot.”

Jake began to caress your head with an awkward, clumsy, panicked hand, disturbed as to if you meant the moment of your death — at him pressing on the wound with all he had to stop the bleeding, or he and your strained relationship in general. “I know, sweetheart,” he said anyway, a stone clogging his throat. He didn’t try to explain, or tell you why, didn’t argue that it wasn’t what he meant to do. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. He had you in his arms. “I know. I know.”

You wouldn’t get to be younger than this. And maybe, he would never get to see you be older, either. The thought crumpled his face like some piece of paper. Jake just wanted to hold you. And when you wrapped your little arms around him too, freely crying in his arms, a couple tears escaped his eyes as well, he didn’t know what kind of face he was making, perhaps it was better that you didn’t see him crumble.

In the middle of it somewhere, he realized that you were younger because it was your inner child that needed this, she was more honest — more open with Jake. It caused him to sway with you back and forth, ribcage hurting with each breath. And you let it all out, clinging to him.

“I love you, always,” he whispered, watching the bioluminescent bugs, when you were calmer and had fallen silent on his chest, not wanting to let him go and just listening to his heartbeat. “Even if I don’t show it — especially when I don’t show it. You are loved, my sweet girl, more than you know. More than you’ll ever know. More than I can show.” He looked down at the top of your head, agonized. “But I want to try. I want to show you more, moving forward.”

Knowing what he was insinuating, “But it’s nice here,” you said, voice thick and coarse from crying. You still didn’t pull back to look at him. Both of you, from the start of this, never looked at one another. Not once. Embarrassed and shameful to be honest, Jake thought. That pride you two shared. “You’re not mean to me here.”

But he needed to see you. You needed to be seen. So, as gently as he could, he unwrapped your arms around him, and took your baby cheeks in his hands, and looked you in the eyes. Another tear slipped from him. “You been listenin’ to me, right sweetheart? From the start?” You nodded adorably. You wouldn’t have said oel ngati kameie and accepted to let him see you if you hadn’t felt his true intentions and heart through him pouring it all out at the Tree of Souls. “I’m hiding a lot of things. But I want to be open with you. You wanna know the secret why I’m… mean?” You nodded again, more reluctant this time. “It’s because I’m scared.”

You gasped, genuinely lost and shocked, and he tried not to smile at the purity, the innocence. “You? You’re scared?”

“All the damn time,” he whispered, landing a kiss on your temple, his opposite thumb tracing a loving line on your other temple. “Every day. Every night.”

“But you’re Toruk Makto. You’re never scared.”

“I’m also a dad,” he said sorrowfully, as if he was giving out a secret. “And it’s precisely why I’m scared. I’m scared for you. For your siblings. Of losing you. It turns into anger. Anger turns into irreparable damage. Things I can’t take back.”

In the blink of an eye, you were back to your real age. For some reason he couldn’t quite grasp, you had shed the exterior of your childhood. But he didn’t mind, didn’t let you off his lap.

“Don’t be scared, I’m here,” you said, putting your own small palm on his cheek, upset by the fact that he was feeling like that in the first place rather than whatever explanation he had. Your response was also childish, but he leaned into your touch anyway, comforted regardless, even if you were already gone — for this moment, he could ignore that no, you weren’t here at all. “If you told us, we would have been more careful not to make you sad.”

Ah, he was being lectured on communication by his kid. It had a certain flavor of humbleness to it. Jake adored it nonetheless. “I know,” he said, “I’m sorry. I won’t be mean anymore.”

“That’s a lie.”

Jake couldn’t stop the laugh, though it was tottering. “Yeah, it is. But I promise you that I’ll never hurt you again.”

“That’s a lie too. Wasn’t it you who said not to make promises you can’t keep?”

“Alright, smartypants, let me rephrase it then,” the little glimpses of your brash self made him happy. “I will never intentionally hurt you, and if I end up doing so, unknowingly, I will always make it up to you. No exceptions.”

You were acting uninterested, but stole intrigued glances at him. “How are you gonna make it up to me?”

“I’ll let you choose, how does that sound?” Jake tapped your nose. “In return, if I don’t know and haven’t taken the first step, you’ll have to tell me outright what I did.”

You deadpanned. “But I always do.”

“No, you don’t.” He raised one of his eyebrows. “You become passive-aggressive when you’re annoyed and pick fights with me.”

“That’s not—”

“Sweetheart.”

“Okay, fine.” You huffed. The normalcy had made him forget just what he was doing here. “But you get angry.”

“What I get angry at is—” He cut himself off with a tongue click. “Not important. I do get angry. But at sincere honesty, us just talking it out, I could never get angry at that. Is the difference clear?”

“I think it is.” You were apprehensive about something, your fingers on his neck flexing as if you wanted to pull them back and break the hug. “But you have to promise.”

“I promise.” And then, Jake remembered, a new fire hardening his face, not in anger, but determination. “And speaking of which. I would never. Ever. Not in a million years would get angry or blame you for getting hurt to that degree — for others, humans, avatars, whoever and whatever the hell they are, hurting you, I could never get mad at you for it. Do you understand me? Your safety is the most important to me. I could never hate you for it.” His voice dropped down to a softer, gentler tone just above a whisper. “There is nothing in this world that’ll make me hate you. Nothing. I will love you through the most heinous crimes and in inexcusable deeds, you will find forgiveness in me even if there’s nobody left, that’s a father’s heart. Forever and always, I am with you.” He touched his forehead, and then yours. “I see you.”

You avoided eye contact.

Ah, yes, the famous emotional awkwardness. He was sort of aware his feelings had reached you, you just didn’t know what to say. Jake hadn’t been like this with you for the longest time. So, he decided to make you more comfortable. “Yes I will get mad at you for breaking curfew, and yes, we might stop talking for a while and beef about the dumbest things if the fight is too intense — but always, always come to me when something is wrong. I will drop everything without hesitation.” He leaned in a bit to catch your wayward stare. “Got it?”

You murmured. “Okay.”

“Are we clear?”

You murmured once more. “Yeah.”

“Repeat it, then.”

There was something between cringing and unwillingness on your face, but at his pointed look, you sighed, giving in. “Always come to you if something’s wrong even if we’re fighting.”

“That’s right,” he affirmed, encouraging to let you know this wasn’t embarrassing. “What else?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Dad will always love you.” He nudged you, noting the flick of your ears in happiness when he’d said it. “Come on, say it.”

You didn’t look at him when you said it, but your voice was light. “Dad will always love me…”

“Dad will never hate you.”

Sheepishness took over, making Jake smile. “Dad will never hate me.”

“And. Come talk to me about it if I’ve ever hurt you without noticing so I can make it up to you.”

“Always go to you if I’m hurt and you’re unaware of it.”

“That’s right,” in this form as well, he gave your temple another kiss, heart soaring at your beautiful smile he had been dying to see. “Good girl.”

“You’re giving me a lot of power.”

“Nothing my mighty hunter can’t handle.”

The smile on your face died down. It came to Jake right away what had gone wrong. “Sweetheart—” “I didn’t mean that. You know—” But you didn’t know. Jake had to stop trying to make it easier on himself. “I’m proud of you. I’m so proud of you. About everything. About the ikran, I’m so goddamn proud. I said it, and I can’t take that back, I was angry and I was trying reverse psychology — you know what, it doesn’t matter. But you are my mighty hunter. Will always be.”

You got confident a bit, but were still testing the waters. “Well I proved I am.”

“Yes, you did,” he rejoiced, no rejection or doubt whatsoever. “Message received, Lima Charlie.”

You giggled freely, joyfully at the recognition, and Jake ached again remembering how much he’d missed that carefree, precious thing, he swore pixie dust was in it. You slipped from his lap to sit crossed-legged beside him, and he instantly missed being able to hold you close. “Wish you were there to see me.”

“Me too, sweet girl.” Your Iknimaya was a disaster. A long-passed, sacred tradition broken wasn’t as important to him as it was to Neytiri — but he knew she longed to see you complete it, by your side, as eagerly as he did. And you had been alone in your pride, when he knew from a very young age, you had been the most excited for it. Everything had been ruined and there was nothing he could do to undo it. “Will you tell me about it?”

The phantom of pensiveness on his face hadn’t quite registered with you yet, getting excited to tell him all about it like nothing had happened the moment you knew Jake wanted to know. As if you weren’t dead. As if nothing was wrong. “Well first of all, I broke Neteyam’s record.”

A mournful smile tugged on his lips. “Did you now?”

“Hell yeah!” You started gesturing with your arms. “It took, like, two minutes? One minute? Too easy.”

“You know easy means the ikran didn’t give you much of a fight, right?”

“Or, or.” One finger was raised up at him to raise another option. “I was too skilled.”

“The ikran might have been meh about you.” Jake teased. “You sure it chose you? Or did you just chase it down and it was stuck with you?”

“That’s so wrong!” He threw his head back to laugh at your outburst. “He was watching me get there the whole time! Like, from the start. His eye was on me, I just know it. You’re just jealous you didn’t get Bob like I got Jack. I was badass.”

That made him pause. “Jack?”

“Yeah, his name’s Jack.”

He couldn’t imagine Neytiri’s reaction to the blandest name imaginable, oh god. “Why?”

“Named him after you.” You tipped your head at him, raising your brows. “It’s healing, you know. He listens to me without questioning. He’s also very sweet. Unlike a certain someone.”

“Oh you little shit—”

“I didn’t say anything.” Raising your hands in defense first, you crossed your arms on your chest next. “Certain someone can mean anyone. It can mean Lo’jack—”

“Lo’jack, really? Really?” Jake half-snorted, half-scoffed. “This a new one after Lovak?”

“Jackiri—”

“Jackiri is pretty sweet, c’mon now,” he gave a blank stare. “Hope you’re not gonna say Jackeyam.”

“Jacktirey?” You asked, undecided. “She’s an anklebiter.”

“Oh, for sure.”

“Could be Jack the Ripper, Bojack Horseman, Jack-in-a-box. Jack-o-lantern.”

“All people, of course.”

“Yeah, all people.” You snapped your fingers in mock-remembrance. “Hit the road Jack.”

“Oh wow, even him?” Jake lowered his voice, leaning towards you, mocking astonishment. “Legendary figure, that guy.”

“Jack of All Trades.”

“Well, that ikran really seems to be one to me.”

“I know, right?” You stopped, and he saw that thought process, and before he could open his mouth, you blurted it out. “Unlike a certain someone I know.”

“You punk.” Jake pushed you lightly by your shoulder. “You’re pushin’ it.”

You smiled with all your teeth at him, with hands on your calves, leaning down to act cute, and Jake could pretend this was normal. That he’d fixed everything. And all was right in the world now that you were laughing with him — he’d made you smile. .

But suddenly you looked scared, looking at something over his shoulder, shrunken pupils focusing on him and whatever it was rapidly. It kicked him awake from his delusion. He tensed, tail jumping upwards, straight as a rod. “What is it, sweetheart? What’s wrong?”

Your breath hitched, and the next thing he knew, you had pushed him away, and he was falling towards the water. The last thing he saw was only a blur of you — the bioluminescent bugs became shooting stars with a thread of glow left behind them, the whole world tilted, but he didn’t hit the water, instead, he rolled down the small slope he had to climb to reach the tree.

Disoriented, he saw the root was almost split in half — bullet marks, a cloud of splinters and debris was flying around where he used to be sitting.

A lone avatar just ahead. Having made it all the way to the Tree of Souls. He didn’t know where this man had come from.

Heart picking up and roaring in his ears, all Jake could think about was, One chance.

He hadn’t even spoken to you properly yet, hadn’t said all the things he wanted to, hadn't even gotten your word, and this man — this son of a bitch — humans had taken you once again.

Once again.

You will only have one chance.

“Lucky asshole,” the man looked at him behind the barrel of the long assault rifle. “Gonna make you pay for what you pulled yesterday.”

Your ethereal smile going up in smokes at the back of his head, Jake saw red.

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