#sip and toast to normalcy

[wripewriting]

amoeba by clairo hateeees to see me coming

[littlejoels]

request: Hi I have another ask for Joel x reader ! if it’s not to much, kinda got inspired by the song ‘Nothing you can take from me’ - Rachel Zegler -The Hunger Games: The Ballad of the song birds & snakes. Reader being the singer of Jackson trying to bring comfort and a bigger sense of normalcy to the town. Joel sees reader performance and just thinks they’re the damnedest sweetest thing that he’s gotta have ;) Please make my visions come true HDJA ty in advance also soz for the double request <3 word count: 1,2k warnings: cursing!

it’s the third night this week you’ve been handed a mic and was told to “sing somethin’ pretty, sweetheart,” and tonight, you don’t mind it one bit. the bar’s got that soft golden glow around it—the kind that comes after a couple hard days working patrol, long sleeves rolled up, and good drinks already halfway downed before you’ve even picked your song. people here know you, know your voice, and most of the time, it’s just background noise.

but tonight you feel something new in the air. the little thrill when someone glances up from their glass. the warmth that rolls through your chest when a few heads sway, soft and slow, like they can’t help it.

and then—you see him.

he’s leaning against the wall near the bar, boots planted, arms crossed, like he’s still deciding whether or not this was a mistake. worn jeans, a flannel shirt, and pretty, solid, quiet eyes that linger too long but don’t look away when you meet them. he’s older. not in a bad way. just—a couple.. no, a lot years older than you, but that only makes you more attracted.

you don’t recognize him, which means he’s not a regular. and there aren’t many of those left.

you finish your song, and noticed that he’s still watching you. you pass off the mic, thank the bartender, and head toward the counter, a little grin already tugging at your mouth before your shoes even hit the floor. you slide up next to him like you do every night. your elbow brushes his, and he doesn’t pull away.

“haven’t seen you around here before,” you say, reaching for the glass the bartender’s already poured for you. “jackson’s not that big, y’know.”

he huffs something close to a laugh, and it’s so sexy. “guess that’s true.” he looks at you, direct now. “tommy finally wore me down.”

you raise your eyebrows, take a sip.“you’re tommy’s brother?”

he nods. “joel.”

“huh.” you lean your back against the bar, facing him now. “figured you’d be taller.”

he chuckles, this time for real, and it sounds like gravel and something rougher underneath. “you always this mouthy with strangers?”

“only the ones who stare at me for a full song and don’t clap.”

he looks down, like he’s been caught, and lifts one shoulder in a half-apology. “didn’t mean nothin’ by it. you were…real good.”

you tilt your head at him, grin a little. “that sounded like it hurt to say.”

“nah.” he shrugs. “just not used to talkin’ to people who aren’t tommy or my dog or my er—daughter ellie.”

you decide not to question the daughter part and tap your glass against his, a quiet little toast. “well...here’s to expanding your circle.”

he clinks it without hesitation, eyes not leaving yours.

for a while, it’s just back and forth questions. he asks how long you’ve been singing here, you tell him since the walls went up. he asks what kind of songs you like best, you say the sad ones, because it brings out a persons true emotion. just getting to know each other.

“you don’t talk much,” you say after a beat. “but somehow you say the right things.”

“didn’t realize there was a test.”

“you passin’ or failin’?”

“jury’s still out.” you grin into your glass.

the night stretches. neither of you leave the bar, even though the room gets quieter and the last few bartenders are wiping down tables. your legs were pressed to his now, knees brushing every time you shift. it’s so comfortable and electric. you don’t want the night to end, and you can tell he doesn’t either.

so when you stand, a little slow, finishing the last sip of your drink, you glance at him from under your lashes. “you walkin’ me home, joel?”

he sets his glass down, stands too. “was hopin’ you’d ask.”

the night’s crisp when you step out, the wind brushing your skin in cool little kisses. your shoulders touch as you walk. his hand hovers near yours but never quite closes the gap. you make it to your door too fast.

you turn toward him, lean against the frame. he’s standing close now, hands in his jacket pockets, eyes steady on yours. quiet, always. like he’s thinking a dozen things and only says the ones that matter.

“i liked talkin’ to you,” you say. soft. real.

“me too.”

you smile. can’t help it. “are you really gonna make me ask for it?”

he blinks, then takes a small step forward. he lifts one hand, brushes a knuckle along your cheek, gently like you might get startled. his eyes flick from your lips back to your eyes, looking at you like you're the sweetest thing this earth has ever been graced with. “can i kiss you?”

you breathe out, already leaning in. “if you don’t, i’m gonna have to sing about it tomorrow.”

he chuckles against your mouth, and then he’s kissing you, it's warm and sweet, the kind that makes you forget there’s a world outside this porch.

you don’t say anything when you pull away; you just smile, open the door, and let him follow you in.

[feinecutasy]

Red

Ah, the smell of freshly roasted coffee beans. And the sight of the buxom barista serving it. Silky brown hair flowing atop that hourglass figure. Perhaps he should frequent this place more often.

Zayn loved to start his day with a cup of life-giving black water and a good toast, and he hated it when the normalcy was disrupted. He used to frequent the Hut near the square, but the place was now in renovation. Thankfully, it only took him a few steps to find the place he was now sitting in. Order was restored.

… or perhaps not. The first sip was rich and exhilarating, until it ended with an unexpected, unwelcome, but not uncommon texture. He promptly picked out the culprit, half of which had been in his mouth and the other half still dangling on the cup. A short strand of hair. ʀᴇᴅ ʜᴀɪʀ.

Zayn’s eyes instantaneously darted from the barista to her colleague, who was busy taking the order of an elderly couple. A mop of wavy, short red hair topped his head, which along with his porcelain skin and freckle-covered face stood out in stark contrast against the black t-shirt and dark apron he was wearing. As soon as the queue was emptied, Zayn strutted to the ginger, back straightened, arms stiffened in an attempt to inflate his already bulky frame. He dropped his coffee cup on the counter loudly enough to garner the barista’s attention.  “Mate, can you make me a new cup of coffee?”, he questioned, his voice lowered. “I found a strand of red hair inside the cup”, he continued, the word ‘red’ deliberately emphasised. The ginger rolled his eyes and looked puzzled for a moment, but quickly accepted his request with no retort. Once again, it was the girl who brought the coffee out to him. “Thanks”, he smiled cockily at her before returning to his table.

Order was restored, and Zayn was back to his outpost where his eyes continued to busily clap about and mentally undress all the dainty damsels inside and outside. He actually wouldn’t have minded had the busty barista’s hair been the thing that was in his cup. Why does it always have to be the wimps and runts that ruin his day? Now that he had shown the loser his place, he could feel waves of satisfaction coursing through his body. He took a sip to celebrate.

And he spat the coffee out. Another strand of red hair. Unbothered by the stain on his cuff and the liquid still dripping on his hand, he looked inside the cup. Intricate overlapping rings of keratin formed from definitely not just one strand of hair floated on the surface of the beverage. However hot the coffee was, Zayn’s blood was now boiling ten times hotter. He bolted up from his chair and headed straight to the ginger, his face red from anger. “Are you done fucking with me?”, he said threateningly. The younger man looked even more perplexed, though before he managed to utter anything, his coworker had already chimed in to his defense.

“What is it again?”, she said with visible disinterest on her face.

“There’s. Fucking. Hair. In my coffee. Again.”

“Could be anyone’s hair”, she nonchalantly replied.

“IT’S RED!”, Zayn screamed at the top of his lungs, pointing at the other stressed employee, “Who else in this place has red hair beside that scum?”

“Mate, it's ʏᴏᴜʀ hair”, the girl replied after a long sigh, then turned away from Zayn for a moment to pick something up.

The absurd statement had temporarily overridden Zayn’s desire to smack the gob of out the red-haired pansy with an even stronger urge to give the bitch in front of him a well-deserved slap. Thankfully, the last morsel of rational thinking convinced him against it and as a result, he just hurled a deafening string of profanity at the staff. Zayn stomped out of the coffee shop, unperturbed by the concerning gaze of all the other customers.

The outside air cooled his head down and allowed his breathing to return to normal. That was when he was made aware of two things. One, his bag was still inside the shop – in the heat of the argument he had completely forgot to take it with him. Two, he needed to empty his bladder. Stat. Wasting no time, he slammed the shop’s door open and dashed straight towards the gents. In his haste, he didn’t register the fact that the two staff members were smiling warmly at him, and others in the shop were gleefully chatting with each other, as if no commotion had ever taken place just mere seconds ago.

The loo was small but odourless and clean, with a sink near the entrance and a toilet in the corner. Zayn habitually checked his face in the mirror and grinned at the dark-haired hunk looking back at him. He turned towards the bowl to finish his business. For some reason it was taking longer than usual. Too long, in fact. When Zayn was finally done relieving himself, he was barely able to keep his balance. His head felt heavy all of a sudden. Pants still a distance away from his cock, he placed his hairy hand on the wall to steady himself. It was getting abnormally hot inside the room.  Beads after beads of sweat dripped from his head and chest down his lower body, soaking all of his clothing wet. Irritated by the now damp sweater scratching against his skin, he frantically threw it on the nearby sink. Zayn couldn’t think clear. But he wasn’t feeling unwell either. The feeling was akin to that time when he downed two bottles of gin in the company of his lads. Physically he might be mildly disoriented, but deep inside he felt free. Inhibitions were broken, and the need to mentally exert oneself was gone. If someone approached him right now and asked him what his name was, he probably wouldn’t be able to answer. For now, he just needed to rest for a while.   

Zayn’s sweaty black slid against the wall as he took on a more comfortable position. He was near naked at this point. His member was out, his boxer briefs stretched around his shins and a pulled-down pair of jeans obscured the dirty socks that were separating the skin of his huge feet from the rank, imposing Adidas running shoes. His beard was itching a little as droplets of sweat made their way through it. He tried to wipe them off, but when he looked at his palm, it was his facial hair that came off. Before he could even blink, the hair had dissolved into the sweat. His arms and chest soon met the same fate, leaving only his pubes untouched by the depilatory secretion. Once bushy and swarming with hair, now only smooth, unblemished skin remained beneath the coat of glistening sweat. Zayn was not even sure if his sight was functioning properly. It’s hard to think right now. When he saw the sheen of the layer of sweat that had almost covered his whole body, it didn’t even cross his mind that his once olive skin had somehow taken on a pale, creamy colour.

The warmth of his body coupled with the room’s temperature had made his ball sack much saggier. Or perhaps it was because his balls had almost doubled in size. He wasn’t in the right state of mind to tell. His cock head felt funny though. The skin around his circumcision scar had expanded downward, wrapping around his cock head to form a long, drooping prepuce. He caressed the covered head with his fingers, and was immediately overwhelmed as his now oversensitive cock answered his touch with immense pleasure and began to ooze out a stunning amount of precum. The size of his dick hadn’t changed much – in fact thanks to the added extra skin it did look like it had gained a bit of length – but the sheer size of his testicles and the sagginess induced by it easily dwarfed the stature of his manhood and made it look relatively tiny.

Zayn’s groggy mind was still overloaded with pleasure that he hadn’t noticed his pubes had turned a fiery red. Elsewhere on his head, the new hair emerging out of his scalp would soon turn out to be of the exact same colour. As the fog his in psyche lifted and whatever that had been causing his intoxicated state disappeared, he felt lighter, much lighter. In mind and in body. The seed of carefreeness had bloomed in his bubbly soul.

As Zayn tried to recollect himself, he realised that he had been in the toilet a bit too long. He hoped no one was prevented from attending to their pressing matter while he was here. Feeling slightly guilty, he stood up and pulled his pants and trousers back on. On his way to retrieve his sweater, he caught his reflection in the mirror.

Looking back at him was a shirtless young man with glinting green eyes. He had lush, wavy locks of red-hair, still damp from an earlier bout of sweating. Freckles dotted his face and most of his pale body, interspersing with the occasional rosy complexion where blood was flowing through his strong veins. The youngster was lithe and fit, though with a certain imbalance in his build. Whatever transformation he had undergone, it had greatly slimmed up his upper body, but left the rest seemingly untouched. Zayn’s thighs had neither lost their definition nor their heftiness. The tight jeans he was wearing still struggled to contain his firm, muscular behind and his engorged genitals produced a visible bulge on the front. He shifted his big feet comfortably in his smelly socks and huge running shoes.

Zayn grinned confidently at himself in the mirror – for this was him, always had been and always will be. Redhead, smooth, freckled, happy-go-lucky. He put on his sweater, which now clung loosely to his body, washed his hands, and made his way out of the loo. The ginger barista hollered upon seeing him:

“Mate, your cappuccino is ready!”

“Alright, cool, thank you!”, Zayn smiled warmly back at the bloke. Within seconds he was back to his seat, bag by his side.

Ah, the smell of freshly roasted coffee beans. And the sight of the cute ginger barista serving it.

Perhaps he should frequent this place more often.

[beforewedriftawayy]

Dhaka took a part of you that you’ll never get back. Home doesn’t feel the same—especially not with Bucky back in your orbit, and Thor closer than ever. Healing was never going to be easy. Not when loyalty, love, and pain pull you in opposite directions.

~ Sebastian Stan as Bucky Barnes ~ "I wasn't myself when I lost her, but I am now-and it might be too late."

~ Chris Hemsworth as Thor Odinson ~ "I swore to protect her. I never knew I'd have to protect myself from losing her."

~ You as Jadeyn Rainn (OC) ~ "It wasn't the mission that broke me. It was what I came home to."

18+ (MDNI) Previous Part / Next Part

~home~ (part 3)

7:14 a.m. — Avengers Compound, East Wing

The soft light of morning filtered in through the curtains. Your body stirred first, mind still blank and floating in that in-between place. You shifted under the covers and felt warmth behind you — Thor, still asleep. It was the first time in months you’d woken up without adrenaline rushing through your veins. No chains. No alarms. Just quiet.

Careful not to wake him, you slipped out of bed to the bathroom. You rinsed your face and stared at your reflection. Tired eyes, and the faintest shimmer of calm. Recognition, maybe. You turned on the shower.

Back in the bedroom, Thor lay still, one arm draped loosely over his stomach, the other still immobile in its sling. His breath was slow, even. His jaw slackened in peace. The best sleep he’d had in what felt like forever.

Then — a knock.

It was light. Hesitant.

Thor’s brow furrowed. He blinked slowly, remembering where he was.

Not his room.

He didn’t move, didn’t call out. It wasn’t his place. The knock came again, followed by the soft creak of the door opening just a crack.

Tony Stark.

He blinked, confused. Checked the number on the door. Blinked again. Frowning.

“…This ain’t your room, Point Break,” Tony muttered, voice half amusement, half genuine surprise.

Tony opened the door a little more, hands raised in mock defense. “Hey, no judgment. Just didn’t realize you two were on this level of post-mission bonding. Thought I’d walked into the wrong timeline for a sec.”

He paused, scanning the room, the rumpled sheets. “Huh. Guess I’m late to the gossip party.”

Thor sat up, the comforter falling to his waist. “It’s nothing like that Stark, just a- difficult night.” He admitted.

Tony nodded, some of the humor fading. He understood more than he let on. “Yeah. I get that.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, Happy wants to see you both after breakfast. Routine check-in. Wellness, not interrogation.”

“Understood.”

Tony lingered for another beat, still processing what he’d just walked into, then gave a short nod and let the door close behind him.

A few minutes later, you emerged from the bathroom, hair wet and fresh clothes. Thor relayed the interaction, tone dry.

You groaned. "Great. Rumors in thirty seconds."

Thor smirked. "I told him it was nothing."

You shook your head, half-laughing. "Better hope Sam doesn’t find out."

Right on cue, when Thor left your room, Sam was already in the hallway—coffee in one hand, protein bar in the other. He slowed at the sight, clocking Thor's exit. He didn’t say a word.

But the slow, knowing eyebrow raise said everything.

Thor offered a polite nod.

Sam nodded back. “Wednesday’s about to be wild.” he muttered under his breath. —---

8:06 a.m. — Kitchen, Main Floor.

The smell of bacon and coffee welcomed you like a hug. Natasha sat at the island, sipping tea with surgical precision. Steve stood near the stove, flipping bacon like it was a mission briefing.

You grabbed a plate, slid onto the stool between them.

“Morning,” Nat said softly. She didn’t ask anything. Just placed an extra piece of toast on your plate.

Steve gave you a smile. “Sleep okay?”

You nodded. “Best in a while.”

They didn’t push. Didn’t pry. Just ate with you, offering normalcy without demand. That’s what made it feel like home again.

You finished up and made your way to the elevator.

—----

8:29 a.m. — Outside Happy’s Office

Thor was already waiting. Dressed, alert, but clearly still carrying the night on his shoulders. His shoulders broad, clothes hung looser than usual. You fell into step beside him, and he glanced down.

“Together?” he asked quietly.

You nodded. “Together.”

Happy met you at the door with a clipboard, glasses perched on his nose. He glanced between you both.

“I can do these separate if you prefer.”

Thor spoke first. “No need.”

The office was quiet, warm. Not clinical. The kind of space made for truth, not interrogation.

He flipped through a few charts. “Your med reports came back clean, considering the circumstances. Some injuries will need monitoring, especially your shoulder Odinson. I’ll flag med to check in again Thursday.”

You both nodded.

“Pain levels manageable?”

“Manageable,” you echoed, though your ribs still ached.

“How about medications? Your previous prescriptions?” He asked.

Thor’s voice cut in. “I’ll need refills. On everything.”

Happy looked up.

You glanced at Thor. Knowing how much he was struggling before you even went to Dhaka. He’d lost everything. He relied on those medications more than anyone had realized. He was your best friend, you always knew when he was struggling. And when everything went down with Bucky. You two taking the mission together was more than fighting for the team. It was fighting for distraction. A suicide mission that you were both more than willing to risk your lives for. As long as you were going together. 

Happy scribbled a note. “How’d you manage without your medication?”

Thor turned his head toward you. A small, weary smile played at his lips, as he pointed to you.

“This little one. That’s how I managed.”

You blinked. The weight of those words landed hard and fast.

Happy paused, glancing between you. “Alright. I’ll have the med team fill that prescription today.”

He walked you through more routine paperwork, logging your clearances, assigning mandatory therapy sessions starting next week. Offered a listening ear. His door. His promise.

“No pressure. But I’m here. If either of you ever need to talk. Text me, call me.”

You both thanked him, rising from your chairs, heading towards his door. “Jadeyn.” He announced before you left. Thor carried on walking and left the room, respecting the space. You looked back at Happy. “Speak to Tony.” He asked. Remembering you’d promised to chat with him this morning anyway. “I will.” “Let him explain. Trust him. Give yourself the breathing space, the thinking time you need after. Then please-.” His tone changed. Sounded desperate. “- please be easy on Barnes. Let him talk.”

There it was. That father-voice that got through to you.

And if he’s saying it. You knew you needed to go easy on him, no matter how much anger, hurt and fear was coursing through your body when you saw him last night when you reunited with everyone. You stood silent. “Jadeyn.” You nodded. Jaw clenching slightly.

“I know.” He knew you all too well. Knew that you always found arguing easier than understanding.

He smiled. Knowing you needed to hear it. “I’ll see you later, Happy. And thank you.”

You stepped out the door. Thor hovering a few doors down. “All okay?” He called. “Y-yeah, let’s go.”

The silence between you was soft. Steady. Walking back to the elevator together.

—--

9:10 a.m. — Workspace 3, Level 4, Avengers Compound.

You and Thor parted ways. Tony’s music was already blasting. “Miss Rainn! You free for our chat now?” He asked. "Depends. You keeping the fact that you saw Thor in my bed this morning a secret? Or are we already too late for that?" You joked. Taking a seat on the desk next to him.

Tony gave a dramatic scoff. “Oh, please. I processed that two coffees ago. I'm emotionally mature now.” You couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m serious,” he said, stepping up beside you, handing you a fresh cup of coffee he’d snagged from the machine. “Didn’t want the whole hallway gossiping before I got the facts straight. I know nothing happened. Not like that.”

You took the cup with a grateful nod.

You nodded. "I know what it looked like."

"And I know it wasn’t. If it was Sam, though…" He grinned.

"I’d never hear the end of it."

"Thor couldn’t sleep unless he knew you were okay?"

"Yeah." You blinked. Surprised. Tony wheeled his chair a little closer. The teasing faded.

—-

Jadeyn Rainn.

No longer the quiet, razor-sharp tactician who used to argue with him over interface latency and neural load percentages. No. This version of her walked slower. Spoke softer. Carried herself like someone made of thin glass.

But it wasn’t the way she moved that got him. It was her face.

He wheeled his chair slightly closer, rolling gently across the floor as she reached for the coffee. His eyes went to it — the scar.

Top of her right eyebrow, slicing downward through her eyelid, fading just under the eye. A surgical mark, precision sharp. And angry.

No one had said anything. Not out loud. But it was the first thing everyone noticed when she and Thor walked into that room yesterday.

Tony let his gaze linger on it for the first time. Really looked. He imagined what had to happen in Dhaka to leave a scar like that. The kind of pain. The kind of restraint it must’ve taken to survive it. He swallowed hard. There was nothing clever to say. So he didn’t.

He sipped his coffee, pausing. Thinking of how to start the conversation.

—-

You saved him from the struggle. 

“I’m all ears.”

He smiled. You knew him too well. His tone changed. He didn’t look at you when he said Bucky’s name, kept his eyes ahead, voice level.

“I know this is soon, you just got back, and I didn’t want to bombard you with this but it’s better hearing it sooner rather than later, before you are faced with him in training, debriefs, missions.”

“After what happened, I know you left for that mission straight after.” Tony started slowly, “Bucky lost it. Not like dramatic-shouting-and-punching-walls lost it. I mean he just… vanished.”

You frowned. “Vanished?”

“He was gone for almost two weeks. Just left. No comms, no tracker. Steve and Sam found him eventually — holed up in some half-collapsed cabin in Minnesota, of all places. Didn’t want to be found.”

You swallowed hard.

“What was he doing?”

Tony’s expression darkened. “Breaking down. He’d completely lost it. From what Steve told me, Bucky kept asking what the point was. Said you were the one person who never looked at him like a monster. And now… you were gone. Because of him. The last time he saw you, you were looking at him like he was a monster.”

Your grip on the coffee cup tightened.

“I didn’t know.”

Tony nodded. “None of us really did until they brought him back. Steve said he looked empty. Like he’d made peace with not being here anymore-” He swallowed.

You blinked quickly, heart thudding hard behind your ribs.

“After that, we got him help. Not just talking — real help. Shuri flew in from Wakanda, stayed for a while. Worked with him. Rebuilt neural pathways. Undid whatever Hydra left behind. It was brutal but she wasn’t letting that code live another day.”

You stared at the floor.

“Whatever happened to him on that mission — when he turned — it won’t happen again,” Tony said firmly. “I made damn sure of it. We ran tests, trigger word scenarios. Monitored every spike in brain activity. The compound signed off on him being himself again. And I wouldn’t have let him back under this roof if I wasn’t sure.”

You looked up, eyes burning. “Why are you telling me this?”

Tony’s face softened. “Because I know you. And I know you’ll be walking around here looking over your shoulder. You’ve been through hell. And you’ve got every right to keep your distance.”

He took a breath. “But shutting him out completely? It’s going to make this harder — for both of you.”

You were quiet, mind spinning.

“You’re strong. You survived things I can’t even picture. But you’re also human. And part of being human is understanding that… pain isn’t a competition. What happened to you — it hurt. But it hurt Bucky too.”

You shook your head. “He became the thing that hurt me.”

“No. Hydra made him that thing. Just like they did before,” Tony said softly. “And the second he came back, he didn’t defend it. He didn’t hide from it. He hated himself more than you could ever hate him.” He hated himself more than you could ever hate him.

Your breath hitched.

“He’s spent the last seven months fighting every piece of himself. Not to prove something to us. Not even to prove something to Steve. Just… in case you came back. In case there was a chance you’d ever look at him again without fear.”

You blinked back tears, eyes fixed on your coffee cup.

“I didn’t think about what he went through. When the Winter Soldier faded and it was just… him again.” You said softly.

Tony gave a faint smile. “None of us did, at first. He came back into himself in the middle of a nightmare — and had to live with what he’d done while he wasn’t even in control.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper. “And he still stayed.”

“Because it mattered. Because you mattered.”

You exhaled shakily.

Tony bumped your shoulder lightly. “Look, I’m not saying you need to forgive him. Or be friends. Or even talk to him today. But I am saying… you should talk to him eventually.”

You looked over.

“If I can trust him,” Tony said quietly, “then I think you can too.”

What Bucky did to you. He did to Tony just as bad. It was the pair of you that were caught in those trigger words.  You sat there in silence for a while, letting it all settle. He didn’t push you. Just let the air stay heavy until it started to feel manageable. And in that stillness, something shifted in you.

The rage didn’t disappear. The trauma didn’t dissolve. But something else began to grow — something fragile, tentative.

Understanding. Empathy.

Maybe even the beginning of healing.

You nodded slowly. “Okay.”

Tony gave you a small, proud smile. “Good. Now drink your coffee before I start crying and ruin my brand.”

You huffed out a quiet laugh, and the two of you sat side by side for a few more minutes — two survivors, trying to rebuild a bridge no one else could see.

—----------------

Previous Part / Next Part Wattpad

[its-time-to-write]

i know now it’ll pass - ch. 6

Last chapter! Thank you all for the love!

am i better yet?

You stay inside the entire time Jamie’s visiting. You end up calling Georgie and telling her you’re sick, a side effect from poor rest. She clicks her tongue and has Simon deliver some food that he swears clears up any type of ailment. You accept it readily and wave goodbye, promising to come over as soon as you’re better. 

It’s Saturday night and Jamie leaves tomorrow evening so he can be back in Richmond for Monday morning training. Sometimes you can hear his voice through the walls and you think your heart is going to burst with all the emotions it causes. 

You’re angry at yourself, first and foremost, but there’s something about actually hearing him that makes you realize how much you love him. Then comes the sadness because you screwed it all up, and you’ve come to realize that Jamie would have loved you no matter what. He had made it through the worst of your relationship, why did you convince yourself he’d leave you?

You’re fed up with all these fucking feelings so you grab one of the muffins Simon sent over and slip out the front door. The cool air kisses your skin as you lug your weighted blanket into the perfect position. Ah. Bliss. You make sure the porch light is off before completely settling in.

The routine is familiar and adds an element of normalcy that you so desperately need.

—

You’re woken up at precisely 4am by Simon and Georgie’s door creaking open and someone slipping out. You don’t even have to look to know that it’s Jamie. You can tell by his footsteps. He’s headed out for a run and doesn’t know you’re there because it’s still dark. You think you should probably head inside so he doesn’t see you when he gets back, but the thought is barely formed before you fall back to sleep.

—

You wake up again in your bed with the oddest sense of déjà vu. You know for certain you were asleep in the front of your house, and there’s no way you got yourself here. The weighted blanket is placed with care, covering you in all the right spots. You roll out of bed, throw on your robe, and pad downstairs to find out who’s making noises in the kitchen.

You round the corner to find Georgie making breakfast. “Morning love,” she says as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. “You hungry?”

You nod mutely and sit down as she hands you a plate.

“You need to lock your doors,” she says as she flips knobs on the stove. “You never know what sort of people could just walk into your house while you’re asleep on your porch.”

“Georgie,” you say slowly as she grabs a cup of coffee and sits across from you, “how did I get here?”

“What do you mean?” she asks, mug conveniently hiding her expression.

“I mean, I was outside. Then I woke up inside. And I know you and Simon didn’t get me there, so how did I get here?”

You don’t know why you’re even asking. The answer is obvious, isn’t it?

Georgie must think so too, because she doesn’t directly respond. Instead she says, “Had an interesting conversation with my son this morning. Came back from his run all flustered.”

You note the way she says my son, not “Jamie.” 

She continues, “Said he found a girl asleep out front. He was worried about her and I said not to, that’s just the girl we’re always having ‘round for tea, but he was having none of it. Said you’d be better off inside in your own bed, with someone to make sure the door was locked because you always forget to do it.”

Georgie sips her coffee again, looking straight through your eyes and down to your soul. “It’s funny, because he talked like he knows you. Odd, innit?”

You choke on your toast.

You gasp out, “Odd,” in agreement, but Georgie is still looking at you with those piercing blue eyes.

“You know my baby tells me everything,” she says. “Not always right away, but he does.”

You nod. There’s no salvaging this. You’re going to have to move again to Chelsea or someplace equally new and foreign, and it’s your own fault for never being honest.

You’re about to open your mouth to say I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, you’ll never see me again and it’ll be ok, when Georgie places her hand on yours.

“I love you like my own child,” she says. “And maybe that’s because I see myself in you. I don’t want you to get stuck in your head the same way I did. Which is why I think all you need is another chance. One where you’re told by more people than one that you’re loved and wanted, and most of all that you’re safe. Which is exactly what I told Jamie. He’ll be over here in about five minutes.”

She takes another sip of her coffee with her free hand as you choke again.

“Georgie,” you sputter, “he doesn’t even want to see me! He told you what happened. Oh my god, I need a hairbrush.”

“You’re wrong, love,” she calls after you as you rush to your bathroom, “He absolutely wants to see you.”

—

You’re thundering down the stairs exactly four minutes and fifty-eight seconds later just in time to hear Georgie answer the door and promptly exit, leaving you with Jamie. Jamie, who you haven’t seen in months.

This is going to be a shit show, you think, but then you remember everything Georgie has ever said to you. Including the phrase, “He absolutely wants to see you.”

You don’t have time to twist that into something negative because Jamie Tartt is standing in front of you in your kitchen looking like the best thing you’ve ever seen, and it’s taking every ounce of your self-control not to launch yourself into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out before he can say anything. “I shouldn’t have run away. I broke your heart on purpose and that was a shitty thing to do. And I’m sorry for becoming friends with your parents and not telling them. I should’ve handled it better.”

Jamie’s frowning. You wish his face were at least neutral.

He says, “You’re sorry,” as though he can’t believe those words are coming out of your mouth. You cringe a little. 

“Yeah,” you say, “I’m sorry. Really, really sorry. I know that doesn’t make anything better, but… I am.”

Jamie asks, “Why?” and you have no idea what he means.

“I just told you why I’m sorry,” you reply. “Not sure how much clearer you want.”

Jamie shakes his head. “No, fuck, I mean- why are you sorry? Why do you think you have something to apologize for?”

That catches you off guard. That’s not even remotely close to how you thought he would respond.

You’re trying to figure out what to say when Jamie starts talking again.

“Look- I knew what it was like for me mum when I was growing up. Sometimes you meet the wrong person and they fucking… fuck you up. So when you meet the right person, you’re all scared and it’s all shit so you do the things you should have done with the wrong person. And yeah, I was fucking wrecked when you left, but I understood. I’m me, and me is a lot.” 

The corners of your mouth turn up ever so slightly at the odd turn of phrase.

Jamie takes a breath. “What I’m saying is, maybe we have things to work on. But I want to work on them. With you. Not with someone else. Fucking hell, babe, I’ve never laughed as hard as when I’m with you. Like, imagine there’s this bird and she’s fit as fuck but then she talks and says the funniest shit and but then flips the switch and actually listens to what you have to say? Has actual empathy, like. It’s a fuckin’ breath of fresh air after being with the lads all day.”

“Right,” you say. “So you’re not mad at me?”

“Oh fuck no,” Jamie replies. “I was mad. Yeah. Proper mad. Got over it, though. Talked to Ted a lot, and Dr. Sharon. Worked through some of me own shit. Mummy says you’ve been working on your own shit too.”

You slowly nod. “Yeah, I have. It’s been alright. She gives me hope, you know? She has a perfectly wonderful life and she was able to get out of her own head long enough to enjoy it. Not let it slip through her fingers.”

You’re both silent for a moment. It’s been forever since you’ve seen Jamie up close, and you still find yourself lost in his eyes. 

You both have the same thought at the same time and suddenly your arms are wrapped around his middle and his are holding you tightly, his cheek resting on the top of your head. 

“I’m not letting you walk away again, yeah?” he says. “Mum’d fucking kill me if I did. You’re the only one I want anyway.”

You nod into his chest. “I love you so much,” you say, voice muffled. “I can’t believe that I get to have you.”

—

Jamie tells you over dinner that night that he’s the one who bought your flat. It’s waiting for you to come back. You finish out the month in Manchester then move home to Richmond.

A year later, there’s a forest and a picnic and a ring on your left hand. Eight months after that there’s a garden and starry lights hung in trees and a white dress. You’re surrounded by friends and family and a sign that says, the Tartts and glasses are clinking the whole night as you kiss someone who chose to be patient with you. You’re two people who saw exactly who the other was, and chose to love each other for it. 

Table of Contents

[b1ackoutartist]

Songs of the Heart

natasha x reader

this was written randomly while I was bored in a meeting a few days ago...so no promises for correct grammar or anything

ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗

The evening sun set the sky ablaze in hues of orange, pink, and gold, the last light of the day reflecting off the calm waters of the small, secluded beach. The sand felt warm beneath Y/N’s feet, the remnants of the day’s heat captured between each grain.

She walked hand in hand with Natasha Romanoff, the global superstar with a voice that had enchanted millions. Away from the limelight, however, she was simply Tasha – Y/N's girlfriend.

Despite the roaring success of Natasha's new album, the two had managed to keep their relationship under wraps. Their getaways, like this hidden beach, were their sanctuary.

"I sometimes wonder," Natasha mused, squeezing Y/N’s hand gently, "if there’s a song out there that could truly describe what I feel when I’m with you."

Y/N chuckled, "Considering you're the superstar, shouldn't you be writing that song?"

Natasha stopped walking and turned to Y/N, her green eyes shimmering with a mix of mischief and warmth. "Maybe I already have," she whispered, pulling Y/N close. The world seemed to stand still as their lips met, a soft and lingering kiss, full of a year’s worth of shared secrets and love.

Pulling apart, Y/N grinned, "Then when do I get a private performance?"

As Natasha leaned her forehead against Y/N’s, she whispered, "How about tonight, under the stars?" A small gust of wind lightly tousled their hair, blending the fiery hue of Natasha's locks with Y/N's softer shades.

Y/N looked deep into Natasha's eyes, nodding. "I'd love that."

A few steps later, they came across a small alcove in the rocks. It was shielded on three sides, with a clear view of the ocean. The waves gently crashed, and the last rays of the sun gave the world an ethereal glow. Natasha spread out a picnic blanket she'd discreetly carried in her tote bag.

As Y/N laid back, Natasha carefully placed a delicate string of fairy lights around the alcove, turning it into a haven of soft, twinkling stars.

“I had a feeling we'd find the perfect spot,” Natasha smirked.

They settled down, side by side, their fingers intertwining. Y/N watched as Natasha took out a pair of wine glasses and poured a soft, rose-hued drink. “A little rosé to match the sunset?” Natasha proposed, raising her glass.

“To us,” Y/N countered, her glass meeting Natasha’s with a delicate chime.

Unbeknownst to them, a camouflaged photographer captured that intimate toast, the way their fingers remained interlocked even as they sipped, and the pure, unadulterated joy in their eyes.

The night deepened. At one point, Natasha gently nudged Y/N, pointing to the sky. A shooting star! Both women closed their eyes, making silent wishes. The hidden camera clicked again, capturing the profiles of two women, lost in dreams and wishes under a canopy of stars.

The following morning, Y/N entered her college, sensing a palpable shift. Whispers followed her, eyes discreetly peeking over textbooks and from behind laptops.

The palpable shift in the atmosphere was unmistakable. As Y/N made her way through the hallways, the air felt charged, alive with murmurs and stolen glances. She tried to maintain a facade of normalcy, but every hushed whisper, every furtive look, made her acutely aware of the scrutiny she was under.

Y/N's best friend, Kate, quickly joined her side, a mix of concern and surprise evident in her eyes. "Did you know about this?" Kate inquired, showing her phone screen which displayed the now-viral photos of Y/N and Natasha.

"I had no idea," Y/N whispered, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear, a nervous habit she'd developed over the years. "It was supposed to be a private evening."

Kate, ever the protective friend, frowned. "These paparazzi, they have no respect for boundaries."

Before Y/N could respond, her phone buzzed. It was a message from Natasha, attaching the link to an online article. Y/N's fingers hesitated for a moment before tapping on it. The article was filled with the same pictures Kate had just shown her – Y/N and Natasha beneath the canopy of fairy lights, their figures illuminated against the twilight sky, lost in each other's company.

The article's title read, “Beyond the Spotlight: Natasha Romanoff's Starry-Eyed Romance.” The words that followed painted a picture of two people deeply in love, away from the world's eyes. Though the tone was respectful, Y/N couldn't help but feel exposed.

Another buzz. Another message from Natasha: "I'm so sorry, detka. I never intended for this to happen. I just wanted a perfect night with you."

Y/N quickly typed back, "Natasha, it's okay. Yes, it was a secret but this doesn´t mean it can´t be private anymore."

A few moments later, Natasha responded, "You're incredible. I don't deserve you."

Kate, who had been watching the exchange over Y/N's shoulder, chuckled softly. "You two are so sweet it's almost sickening. In a good way."

Y/N laughed, nudging Kate with her elbow, "Thanks for that, Kate."

Kate wrapped an arm around Y/N’s shoulders, pulling her into a side hug. "Just remember," she whispered, "love like yours is rare. And even if the whole world knows about it, it doesn't change what you two have."

Y/N looked at the photos once more, Natasha's smile radiating warmth and love. She replied to Natasha, "We'll get through this together. Always."

And as Y/N walked through the college corridors, with Kate by her side, she felt a newfound sense of pride. Yes, their love story was now public, but it was theirs. And nothing could ever take that away.

[husbandomail-archive]

December 21: this isn't one of my planned prompts bc it kinda just came to me so I'm calling it "not sure what to get"

Now, what could you get for someone who had seen everything in Hellsalem’s Lot?

You can feel Leonardo’s eyes on you as you cut another bite off your omelet, the gooey cheese inside stretching endlessly as you lift your fork to your mouth. Sunlight filters through the window and illuminates his brown hair into a halo around his peaceful face. The diner is filled with chattering patrons and clattering dishes; the noise is comforting and familiar, something consistent amidst the chaos of your new home. You take another bite.

You chew slowly and then swallow. “—did you need something, Leo?”

He jolts when you say his name; maybe he hadn’t been staring at you. Maybe he’d just been spacing out in your direction. It was always hard to tell.

“Nope!” He says a bit too quickly. His face is instantly splotched with bright red, and he tries to hide it by taking a swig from his mug, only to scald the roof of his mouth and cough the brew onto the polished red countertops. He sits there for a moment, far more embarrassed than when you’d caught him staring, and reaches for napkins as Vivian hands them his way. “—I was just thinking,” he mumbles, a napkin smashed to his face both to hide it, and to clean up his mess. “What kinda stuff do you like—?”

Leonardo Watch might be the one with the magic eyes, but you’re the one who sees right through him. Christmas is just around the bend, and not many in Hellsalem’s lot celebrate anymore, but it makes sense he would; he’s only been here a few months, after all, and the cornerstone holiday probably provides a sense of normalcy in his otherwise abnormal life. You just shrug and wash your food down with a sip of your cold drink.

“There’s this book series I’d like to own,” you hum. “I used to get the volumes from the library, but the latest volume was covered in slime— couldn’t read a damn thing.” You pick up your toast, buttered so heavily that it’s almost dripping, and take a nice, crunchy bite. Your next words are muffled by the food in your mouth. “I play video games too, of course, so if you have any recs there I’d be open.”

As you list a few more things, you notice that Leo is scribbling frantically on one of those napkins, ink mingling with spilled coffee as he tries to shorthand everything you say. A smile twitches across your face and you pretend you didn’t see anything.

“Of course,” you say thoughtfully, setting your food down, “The things I really enjoy can’t quite be bought.”

“Oh, yeah?” Leo rests his chin in his hand. His all-seeing eyes slowly slide open, and your breath hitches; it’s rare you get to see them at all, much less focused so intently on you. Their harsh natural glow contrasts Leonardo’s ever-shy smile. “C’mon, tell me at least! Maybe I’ll find a way to get it for you anyways!” Another slow sip from his coffee mug, trying to keep his hands from shaking so blatantly.

And another shrug from you as you begin to stack your silverware and empty drink glass on your plate for Vivian to take. “Time with you doesn’t cost anything at all.”

Leo coughs again, spilling more coffee on the counter he’d just cleaned up.

[xuchiya]

"Chapter 7: All things must come down" || kang yeosang [a mini-series]

|| next: chapter 8 || if you haven't read the previous chapter, here's the masterlist.

genre: non!idol yeosang. fluff. angst. violence. mentions: gun. knives. attempt murder/kidnapping. blood. anxiety attack.

"my lady as much as I want to drive that ... chariot as our runaway vehicle ... you're on your own."

"KANG YEOSANG?!"

The soft glow of the city lights twinkled below as you and Daniel were seated at a table near the large windows of the N Seoul Tower. The panoramic view was breathtaking, a sea of lights stretching out into the horizon, the city bustling below like a distant memory.

At first you find the invitation, the situation and more importantly, him— odd. Like you have not been invited to dinner, out of business matters, and a place you have been trying to book yet it seems fate does not want you to. But as the minutes passed by and Daniel doing his best to warm you up to him, you found yourself more relaxed than you expected, the weight of the day’s sorrows momentarily lifted. Daniel was surprisingly charming, steering the conversation away from business and allowing you a rare moment of normalcy.

 The topics flowed effortlessly, from lighthearted anecdotes to shared interests. The first impression to him slowly faded as you took upon yourself that you were just rushed by adrenaline and it was the first time meeting someone—other than your grandfather's oldest partners in business—it must have been really odd to you. For a brief moment, you could almost forget the words of Yeosang's caution.

“So, what made you choose this place?” you asked, sipping your wine and eyeing the twinkling lights. Daniel leaned back, a small smile playing on his lips, a quick scan of the view before returning them back to you. “It’s one of my favorite spots. The view is incredible plus, it’s away from the office, away from the stress. Just us and the city below.”

You nodded, feeling a bit of the tension slip away. “It’s beautiful.”

“Just like you.” Your cheeks suddenly flared in red hue, you took the wine glass and sip it quietly as a way to distract yourself.

The evening continued with laughter and a genuine connection forming. Daniel shared stories about his travels and experiences, his demeanor disarming. Despite Yeosang’s warnings echoing in your mind, you couldn’t help but enjoy his company. He seemed genuine, his earlier desperation replaced by an easygoing charm.

As dessert arrived, a waiter was serving the food when he accidentally tipped over a wine glass, causing a small commotion. The red liquid spread across the tablecloth, splashing onto your clothes. You stood up as you felt it dripping on your dress pants.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry!” the waiter stammered, quickly trying to clean up the mess. You waved it off, laughing. “Hey it;s okay, It’s alright, accidents happen.”

Daniel stood, helping to dab at the stain with a napkin. You sigh, thanking him quietly. “Let’s get you some fresh air,” he suggested, guiding you outside to the observation deck.

The cool night air was refreshing against your skin, and you took a deep breath, the stress of the day melting away. Daniel handed you a fresh glass of wine, and you clinked glasses, toasting to the night. “Thank you, Daniel really.” you said, feeling a warmth spread through you that was more than just the wine.

He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Anytime. You deserve a break.” As you both stood in silence, the wind suddenly picked up causing you to close your eyes and inhale deeply. Nights like this are calming, most especially after a good dinner.

You felt a soft and warm cloth draping over your shoulder, your eyes widening before your fingertips ran through on the soft cotton of his coat, “Cold weather, we can not guarantee their heir getting sick, don’t we?”

You chuckle softly, “I’ve been sick a few times Daniel, it’s nothing new.” He let out a soft laugh before finishing off the rest of his wine. “Well it’s new to me since you look adorable with the pink nose.” Your head whipped to his direction, his attention was focused on the view in front of the two of you, even with the small light illuminating, you saw his cheeks in red hue. You moved your head back to the city lights below. 

As the night wore on, the breeze became a lull and the white noise of the city below had made your bones and nerves relax— or so you thought it was nature helping you to unwind as you began to feel an unusual heaviness in your limbs, your eyelids growing heavy. You tried to shake it off, blaming it on the emotional toll of the day.

“Are you alright?” Daniel asked, concerned, laced his voice. You blink a few times,only in making it worse as each close of your eyes it went heavier and heavier. “I’m just a… bit tired,” you admitted, trying to stifle a yawn.

“Let’s get you home,” he said, his hand gentle on your lower back. You weren’t able to answer him and let him lead you back inside. You did not notice anything in particular but what you remember each time you force your eyes to open is Daniel waving off to someone, inside the elevator down the lower ground where he had parked his Mercedes, as he guides you to the car— you stumble on your feet to which he caught you on time.

It was that moment, you felt different. You weren’t sleepy because of everything tolling on you or the fatigue finally catching up, you knew it was something else, was it the food? Or the coffee before you had dinner? Or was it the wine? Yet none of those were able to put your finger in it. Your heart beat so loud in your ears that it started ringing, your body a little bit flushed and the way your eyes were hazy and blurry— your surroundings duplicating, you held onto what was holding you until then you felt a hot breath next to your ear, 

“Careful, don’t want to harm their heir, don’t we?” Your head turns to Daniel slowly. Your heart fell on the bottom of your stomach when you took notice of his eyes— it wasn’t those gaze when he was talking about his trip, or the way he accomplished the smallest that felt big to him— it looked distant, plain and there was a hint of … vengeance.

“Da-Daniel?” You were confused. “Let’s get you home now, hmm? It’s getting late and you’re sleepy. Not safe.” He gave you a tight smile before leading you to his Mercedes. 

As you drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep, Daniel's demeanor shifted. The kind, charming man you had dinner with seemed to evaporate, replaced by a calculating coldness. He stood in the dim light of your bedroom, his eyes scanning your unconscious form with a mixture of contempt and determination. Stepping quietly to the door, he took out his phone and dialed a number, waiting until the line connected. "It's done. She's out for the night. Make sure the next phase is ready."

He paused, listening to the response on the other end. "No, she has no idea. Her guard is down. Just keep to the plan and ensure no one slips up. We can't afford any mistakes."

As he ended the call, Daniel took a moment to survey your room. His eyes fell on the various personal items scattered around, each one a testament to the life you had built, the legacy you were set to inherit. His lips curled into a sneer when he saw a Yamaha figurine on your computer table.

He had initially targeted your father, believing him to be the key figure behind the company— the chosen heir. His plans for sabotage had been meticulously crafted, designed to exploit weaknesses and create chaos. But discovering that you, not your father, were the true heir had thrown him off balance. You were younger, more resilient, and surrounded by loyalists like NingNing— your aide, whose presence complicated things.

Then Yeosang was added to his list. 

Yet, Daniel was nothing if not adaptable. He knew he had to break you down, both mentally and emotionally, to get what he wanted. Your father's empire had to crumble, and so did you. 

Daniel knew he had to level up his strategies, every time he saw an article about any kind of succession over the company you have been accomplishing, his mind thought of a lot of ways to remove you right there. Because he believes so deeply in his father’s words that you do not belong on that spot nor were you supposed to be the heir. 

“Eveything will be over … just doing you a favor, Lady.”

With silent steps, Daniel left your room, making his way back to his car. His mind raced with the details of his plan, each step a calculated move on the chessboard of corporate warfare. He would start by isolating you, creating rifts within your inner circle. Yeosang, your personal bodyguard, was the first obstacle. Daniel had already set in motion a series of events to undermine Yeosang's trustworthiness, planting seeds of doubt within your father's most trusted security personnel. Next, he would introduce subtle disruptions within the company. Small incidents at first, easily dismissed as coincidences or minor errors. But each one would build upon the last, creating a pattern of instability and mistrust among your employees. Daniel knew that once the foundation of trust was shaken, it wouldn't take much to topple the entire structure.

But his ultimate goal was more personal. He wanted to see you break, to witness the light of determination fade from your eyes. The plan to drug you tonight was just the beginning. He needed you vulnerable, questioning your own sanity, doubting those around you.

And he is slowly getting there. One step at a time.

As he drove through the quiet streets, Daniel allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. He had always been a master at wearing masks, presenting whatever facade was necessary to achieve his goals. And tonight, he had succeeded in getting closer to you than ever before.

By the time you awoke the next morning, disoriented and groggy, Daniel would already be laying the groundwork for the next phase of his plan. You wouldn't see it coming, not until it was too late. And by then, Daniel intended to be in a position where he could watch the empire your father built—and you—crumble to the ground.

taglist: @yeosangsbabygirlsblog, @hi-kariii,@ateez-atiny380

[emma23]

Revelations under the stars Part 5:

Santiago Garcia x reader

————————————————————————

It had been weeks since Y/N had felt any sense of normalcy.

Between Santiago’s increasingly intense surveillance and his borderline absurd ways of showing affection, her life had turned into some twisted version of reality TV—except there were no cameras (that she knew of), and the only audience was a relentless Special Forces soldier with a possessive streak.

She woke up that morning feeling groggy, Santiago’s presence lingering in the apartment. She knew he was nearby, as usual. The sound of light footsteps echoed down the hallway. Y/N rubbed her eyes, sitting up in bed, wondering what new level of weirdness today would bring.

As she shuffled into the living room, she was greeted by a familiar sight: Santiago, sitting on her couch, sipping coffee as if he lived there. His usual smirk was firmly in place, and the air between them was thick with tension.

"Morning," he greeted, his voice casual, as if he wasn’t her literal stalker.

Y/N stared at him, feeling a strange mix of exasperation and resignation. "Let me guess, you made breakfast?"

He pointed toward the kitchen where, indeed, a plate of scrambled eggs and toast waited for her. "You need to eat better."

She groaned. "Santiago, I can’t keep doing this. You can’t just—" She gestured to everything. "This! You can’t just keep pretending like this is normal!"

His expression darkened slightly. "What’s not normal about it? I’m taking care of you."

Y/N shook her head, walking over to the kitchen and grabbing the plate. She wasn’t about to waste perfectly good food, even if it came from her obsessive stalker. "Taking care of me? You’ve bought my apartment, my building, and now you’ve got me locked in this weird game where I don’t even know what’s real anymore!"

Santiago stood, crossing the room to stand beside her. His presence was overwhelming, as usual. "Y/N," he said quietly, "I’ve been doing this because I need you to be safe. I’m not playing games."

She put the plate down, her appetite gone. "Safe? Or trapped?" Her voice was barely a whisper now, the weight of everything crashing down on her. "I can’t keep doing this, Santiago. You’re suffocating me."

He froze, his jaw tightening. "I’m protecting you," he said firmly. "You need someone to look after you."

Y/N’s heart was racing, her mind torn between the twisted affection she felt and the sheer absurdity of the situation. "But why, Santiago? Why go through all of this?"

Santiago stared at her, his dark eyes searching her face, as if looking for something. "Because," he said, his voice rough, "I can’t lose you. Not again."

Her eyes widened. "Again?"

For the first time, Santiago seemed caught off guard. His usual confidence faltered as he looked away, running a hand through his hair. "I’ve lost people before," he muttered, his voice barely audible. "People I cared about. People I swore I’d protect. And I won’t let that happen to you."

Y/N felt a pang in her chest, the anger and confusion mixing with something else—something that almost felt like empathy. Almost. "Santiago," she said softly, "I get that you’ve been through a lot, but you can’t just… take over my life like this. I’m not a mission for you to control."

He stepped closer, his hand brushing against her arm, sending a shiver down her spine. "You’re more than that, Y/N," he whispered, his voice low. "You’re everything."

The weight of his words hung in the air, and for a moment, Y/N didn’t know what to say. Everything? Did he really mean that? Was it possible that, beneath all the madness, there was something real?

Before she could respond, Santiago leaned in, pressing his lips against hers in a kiss that was both desperate and tender. Y/N froze for a split second, her mind screaming at her to pull away—but her body betrayed her, responding to the warmth and intensity of his touch.

The kiss deepened, Santiago’s hands sliding down her back as he pulled her closer. It was everything she had feared and everything she had secretly wanted, all rolled into one.

When they finally broke apart, Y/N’s breath was shaky, her heart pounding in her chest. She stared at Santiago, her mind racing.

"This," she said, gesturing between them, "this can’t be normal, Santiago."

His eyes were dark, filled with an intensity that made her knees weak. "Maybe not," he admitted, "but it’s real."

Y/N let out a shaky laugh, shaking her head. "God, you’re insane."

Santiago’s lips curled into a small smile. "Only for you."

That night, Y/N lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, her mind spinning with everything that had happened. The kiss. The confession. The fact that Santiago had somehow wormed his way into her heart despite all of the madness. What was she supposed to do now?

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, and she groaned, reaching over to grab it. It was another message from Santiago.

"I’ll be watching over you tonight. Don’t worry."

Y/N rolled her eyes. "Of course you will," she muttered, tossing the phone back onto the bed. But despite everything, a small smile tugged at her lips. Maybe, just maybe, there was something here worth holding onto.

The next morning, Y/N woke up to find Santiago sitting at the edge of her bed, watching her with a soft expression on his face. She blinked, groaning as she sat up. "You really don’t know how to give someone space, do you?"

He shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. "Space is overrated."

Y/N sighed, shaking her head. "You’re impossible."

Santiago’s smirk widened. "I’m glad you’re finally realizing that."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I’m not saying I’m okay with all of this," she warned.

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I never expected you to be. But I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. You’re stuck with me."

Y/N stared at him for a long moment, trying to figure out how the hell her life had ended up like this. She wasn’t sure what the future held, but one thing was for certain: it was never going to be boring.

"Fine," she muttered, lying back down and pulling the covers over her head. "But if you buy me another building, I swear to God—"

Santiago’s laugh echoed through the room, deep and warm. "No promises

[evvwenthome]

here you go:

Pulling back, I tried to find The point of wasting precious time I sip and toast to normalcy A fool's way into jealousy

-Amoeba, by Clairo

(sorry it took me so long to get to you)

OMFG RHANK YOU <3

[ask-a-w]

Absent Mind Chapter 11: Return To Normalcy

AO3

FF.net

Previous chapter: Chapter 10 - Like Old Times

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

Author's Note: This is the last chapter and it begins with smut. ;)

Snaking his hands around his wife’s waist, Leon brought Ada flush against him as he thrusted into her repeatedly. They were supposed to get ready for work but seeing her bent over the sink stirred his primal lust. 

Ada was more than happy to acquiesce as she planted one hand against the mirror to steady herself. “Oh, Leon…” She moaned as she gripped onto her husband’s arm with her other hand. 

He was close and could feel Ada’s tell tale tightening around his shaft as she was nearing her climax too. There was a shiver down Ada’s spine as she trembled and both of them let out a cry of ecstasy, tumbling into the abyss of orgasmic bliss. He seared her with his heat as the excess trickled down her thigh. 

Leon panted hard against her shoulder before kissing her neck, inhaling her sweet scent that she had spritzed on. 

“You are insatiable,” Ada said teasingly. 

Ever since his recovery, they were copulating almost daily, with occasions of fornicating multiple times a day. 

“And you love it,” he murmured huskily in her ear before pulling out slowly. The blonde then grabbed a washcloth to help her clean up. 

“Perhaps I need to set my alarm earlier if we keep doing this on a work day,” his wife replied coyly as she put on a touch of lipstick. 

Both eventually got dressed and ate a simple breakfast of peanut butter on toast along with a side of berries. 

Ada picked up her tea cup and took a sip, “Are you looking forward to your first day back to work?”

“Hmm…” Leon hummed as he chewed his toast. “Now that the policy has been implemented, I’m predicting there’s a mountain of paperwork at my desk. I’ve been scheduled for meetings and briefings too. It’s not going to be a walk in the park…” He leaned back in his chair with a sigh.

The blonde reached over to grasp his wife’s hand. “But at least I get to come back home to you every day.”

“Don’t strain yourself, handsome,” She replied with a smile. He had cleared his final medical examination a week ago and all the scans indicated no permanent damage in his head. 

They then washed up the dishes and headed to the garage. Instead of walking to his own Cadillac, Leon followed Ada to her Lexus. She raised an eyebrow at him and he responded by gently cupping her face and planting a long, searing kiss on her lips. 

“I love you, Ada. I'll see you tonight.” 

His wife grinned back. “I love you too, Leon. Have a good day.”

He had never been shy about displaying his devotion towards her but ever since the accident, he had been a lot more affectionate. Not that she was complaining. It was a refreshing change that she enjoyed. 

The couple got into their respective cars and drove on mostly the same streets before pulling off into separate routes as they approached downtown. 

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

Despite spending time doing a morning activity with Ada, Leon managed to reach his workplace twenty minutes earlier than the official start time. With his briefcase and a small paperbag in hand, he quickened his steps when he saw an elevator door closing in the lift lobby. 

“Wait up, please!” He called out and the occupant inside must have heard him as the doors swooshed open. 

The blonde stepped in to find a familiar face with long brown hair smiling at him, “Morning Leon, it’s been a while.”

“Good morning, Helena,” Leon replied as he pressed the ‘close’ button.He then eyed her sports attire with a look of curiosity. “Did you just finish a gym workout?”

The doors closed and the elevator cabin slowly rose up.  “Haven’t you heard about the new fitness tiers that rolled out last week?” She asked and Leon nodded, grateful that Helena seemed unaware that the whole fitness tier policy was related to him. “Field agents have been scheduled to take the fitness tests first.”

“That early in the morning huh…”

“Yeah…” Helena exhaled a sigh. “But the good thing is we get to knock off an hour early as compensation.”

He smiled, “Sounds like a fair deal.”

The elevator arrived at their floor and both of them stepped out but angled their strides in separate directions. 

“Just wish they would give us more time to freshen up. I can’t go meeting people smelling like this.” She gestured to herself. 

In Leon’s opinion, she did not smell at all but who was he to police one’s personal hygiene? “Don’t let me keep you then.”

“Thanks. Let’s catch up over a coffee break next time,” she gave him a wave before she sprinted off to her locker, leaving Leon alone in the lobby. 

They were frequently assigned as field partners after Lanshiang and he was proud of how Helena had matured into such a capable agent. Even though he had transitioned to a trainer role and their interactions were far and few between, they still got along well like long lost friends. 

It was a quiet, uneventful journey to his office and he winced slightly at the musty odour upon opening the door. Stifling a cough and waving a hand in front of his face to fan away the smell, he set his belongings down on his chair and opened a window for ventilation. 

The blonde then surveyed his desk. There were two neat stacks of items on it. One was bigger than the other. Someone must have come into his office to arrange them. Hunnigan was the most likely culprit. 

He picked up the first envelope from the smaller pile and tore it open. 

Get Well Soon! 

A little blush of embarrassment crept onto his cheeks. He quickly sifted through the greeting cards and boxes of snacks. They were mostly from immediate colleagues. At least the whole department did not know about his medical leave. He placed the items aside and proceeded to tackle his paperwork. 

At the top was a clipboard with his schedule for the day. The first was a short discussion with Hunnigan followed by a series of meetings with various staff. There were no training sessions that he had to oversee for today. Guess he needed to be brought up to speed first. 

With the clipboard in one hand, he grabbed the paperbag from his chair with the other hand and headed out for his first appointment. The window was left open to air out the room. 

He headed to the FOS’s floor, a place where he had not stepped into for a long time ever since he became a trainer. Despite that, the environment was still familiar to him and Leon’s feet automatically carried him to Hunnigan’s office. The light was on and he rapped his knuckles on the door. 

“Come in.”

The blonde tugged the handle and stepped inside. He surveyed the room with a sense of nostalgia. Her desk was neat, as always. With her coffee mug to her left, the giant computer monitor in the middle, and a set of stationery on the right. 

“Glad to see you back. You’re punctual today,” Ingrid spoke without looking up. 

“Might as well get an early start with the stack of paperwork on my desk. You didn't have anything to do with that, did you?”

She glanced up at him. “Someone had to make sure you didn't get too lost on your first day back at work.”

Leon cracked a small smile. “You have my thanks as always, Hunnigan. Never knew what I'd do without you.” He extended the hand that held the paperbag. “By the way, Ada insisted on giving this to you.”

“That's… generous of her,” she replied politely and took the bag which had some heft to it. They were certainly not the best of friends but there was no doubt this incident had brought both women a little closer. 

“With that aside, I'm sure you are wondering why I'm on your schedule,” Ingrid said as she set the bag beside the coffee mug. 

Leon wagered a guess, “A briefing of some sort?”

She nodded her head. “You already know about the new fitness tier policy. But I just want to tell you that Director Martin approved it albeit reluctantly.” 

Hunnigan remembered the deep frown lines on the older man’s face as he read the policy’s document in the final meeting when various members put it to a vote. Thankfully the majority were in favour of it and he had no choice but to give his stamp of approval. The hard look he shot in her direction at the end of the meeting was branded into her mind. 

The brunette quickly shoved down that memory and continued, “And there are some agents who are fussing about waking up early for the fitness assessment so I wouldn't mention that this started because of you.”

“I see,” Leon could see Hunnigan’s visage was a little downcast. “Has anyone been making things difficult for you?”

She looked up and gave him a small smile, “Thank you for your concern, Leon. Truthfully, they're just talking behind my back. It'll pass.”

After more than a decade of being his support agent, they had built a solid rapport with each other and both knew they would do anything for a friend. 

“I noticed I don’t have any training scheduled for today even though I cleared medical,” Leon spoke, changing the subject to work matters. 

“There has been a backlog of meetings for you to attend when you were away. You need to settle those first,” she replied matter-of-factly. “Afterwards, you’re responsible for your own schedule. You’re no longer a field agent and there’s no reason for me to continue giving you support.”

Leon clutched the area above his heart in mock sadness. “You wound me, Hunnigan.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes, “I will still be here for you as a friend. I hope you see our relationship as such.”

The blonde grinned, “Of course. I better get going then, see you around.”

Hunnigan gave him a quick wave as he left the office and when his footsteps faded away, she glanced at the paper bag. Curiosity got the better of her and she peeked in. 

A navy blue box was within and she took it out. There was a bit of weight to it and she carefully tugged on the ribbon. Gingerly opening the cover, she found a thank you card at the top, followed by an envelope of vouchers for some spa and massage sessions. 

At the bottom was a golden box of artisanal chocolates and a silver tin of gourmet coffee beans. 

There was a cylindrical object wrapped in paper that was sandwiched between the snacks. Hunnigan unfolded the paper to find a lavender scented reed diffuser. 

She returned her attention to the greeting card and flipped it open. Her eyes perused Ada’s elegant cursive writing. 

Thank you for watching out for Leon after all these years. Please enjoy these. 

A small smile graced Ingrid‘s lips. Ada was really spoiling her. Despite the short note, who knew Leon’s wife could be so sweet? Ingrid pulled out her phone and fired off a quick text. 

[txt] Thanks for the lovely gift. I’ll make sure to pamper myself. 

Her device buzzed moments later and she read the reply on the screen. 

[txt] You’re most welcome. 

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

Leon Kennedy opened the door to his office with an exhausted sigh and he tossed the clipboard on his desk before loosening his tie and draping his jacket over his chair. 

Finally, he was done with all the exhausting but necessary discussions. It took up much of his day and the blonde was relieved that he could make it back to his little sanctuary before the last hour of the workday. 

There was not much time left to tackle the paperwork but he could plan out his schedule for the next few days. He fired up the workstation and checked his emails. Mostly internal company circulars. His eyes scanned through the couple of training sessions he was assigned for the week; one for knife work and another for close quarters combat. 

He was in the midst of blocking his calendar when the bookcase on the wall began to slide open. Leon could only pinch his nose as he felt a headache coming on. 

There was only one man who had access to the secret entrance and he did not want a repeat of what happened last time. Still, he left his pistol on the table in plain sight. 

A bespectacled older gentleman with greying hair stepped into view and made a beeline for him. Not wasting any time, Leon immediately said, “Can I help you, Director Martin?” His voice was a little clipped from displeasure and he hoped it would go unnoticed. 

Reginald was unfazed and cast a quick gaze across the room, “Just looking around.” He then carefully eyed the younger agent, “And hoping you could change your mind.”

Agent Kennedy crossed his arms, “I’m afraid my decision is final.”

Both of them stared at each other in silence and the tension was thick. Leon kept posture and continued to maintain eye contact. They were not going to strongarm him into going back to the field now, would they? 

“What a pity,” Reginald replied a few seconds later, “You were our top operative.”

There was a shrug from Leon, “I’m sure I’ve been surpassed by others. Agents Harper and Birkin have shown stellar performance on the field too.”

“Indeed, they have. But you are still unmatched, after all. You are able to single-handedly accomplish what is typically done by a small team.”

Leon wondered if it was a blessing or a curse to have such a reputation. Before his marriage, he was going on never ending missions like clockwork and his apartment was kept spartan as he hardly lived in it. It was a miracle he had not suffered a mental breakdown. 

“We’ll have to ramp up recruitment,” Director Martin interrupted Leon’s train of thought and the blonde could only stare at him in slight astonishment. The older man’s words indicated that he was dropping the issue and that was a huge relief. 

“Did you manage to plug the leak?” Leon changed the subject. 

“Since you’re no longer a field agent, that’s classified.”

He had to stifle his chuckle, “Touché.” 

“Enjoy your new role, Mr. Kennedy. I hope you train your successor soon.” 

With that, Reginald turned around and strode off. When he cleared the entryway, Leon quickly thumbed a switch to close the bookshelf. 

That went better than he expected and he could only thank his lucky stars. 

Speaking of stars, an idea popped into his mind. Leon unlocked his phone and sent a message to Ada. 

[txt] Do you want to have dinner under the stars tonight?

Her reply was instantaneous. 

[txt] Sure ;)

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

Ada was abuzz with anticipation for dinner and waited impatiently for the traffic light signal to turn green. Leon was usually not this spontaneous for their dates but she appreciated his efforts, nonetheless. He probably had a good day at work and was celebrating. 

She found herself tapping the steering wheel and chided herself for this little tic. The lights flashed in her favour and she drove her car forward, heading towards the road that would lead them to their matrimonial home. 

The shutters to their garage opened up when her car was within the transponder’s radius and she pulled her car into the garage. She grabbed her belongings before opening the door into the living room just as the shutters clanged shut behind her. 

Ebony chirped a happy meow at her from the sofa and jumped off, running up to her owner and rubbing Ada’s legs eagerly. 

“Hi Ebony,” the raven haired woman cooed at the black cat and saw Cobalt not too far behind. “Hello to you too, Cobalt.” Ada knelt down and gave them scritches between their ears and under their chins. Both felines purred loudly before they scampered off. 

“Welcome home, gorgeous,” Leon called out from the kitchen where he was busy packing their food and utensils into a basket. 

His wife walked in and eyed the items on the table with a playful twinkle in her eye, “That looks interesting. Are we having a dinner picnic in the backyard?” 

He shook his head, “I want to check out a spot that overlooks the town and it also gives us a clear view of the sky.” 

Ada walked closer to her husband and wrapped her arms around him from behind. “I suppose I should shower when I get back then. Do I need a change of clothes?” 

The blonde took the hand on his waist and kissed the back of it. “What we’re wearing is fine.” 

His wife hummed lightly in the back of her throat, “What brought this on?” 

Leon turned around in his spouse’s embrace and gently touched foreheads with her, “I was feeling happy at work today.”

“I’m delighted for you, Leon, Ada leaned in for a quick kiss and he returned the gesture with vigour, sending a little tingle down her spine.  

“We better get going if we want to catch the sunset,” he murmured against her dainty mouth and reluctantly pulled away, turning his attention back to the basket. 

“Are we taking your car or mine?” She asked as she pulled off her jacket and draped it on the back of the dining room chair. Ada did not need it on this slightly warm evening. 

He pondered on that question for a brief moment. Eyeballing the basket, he mentally calculated if it would fit into the trunk of Ada’s Lexus. His vehicle was roomier. “Mine then.” Leon then turned his attention to their pets, “You two don’t throw any wild parties when we’re gone.”

His words elicited a snicker from his wife. 

Snapping the lid shut, he took the basket off the table and the Kennedy couple headed to Leon’s Cadillac. The blonde spent a moment studying the GPS as it was a route they were unfamiliar with. Satisfied that there were no challenging turns up the hill, he started the engine and moved off. 

The ride was uneventful and they spent it chatting about a supernatural show they were currently bingeing, speculating on what would come next and criticizing the sometimes sloppy action sequences. 

“Maybe they should hire us as stunt coordinators,” Leon mused out loud.

“And charge them more since we’ve been through hell on earth and have the experience,” came Ada’s response. 

There was more laughter from her husband, “Something we can consider then…” 

The car arrived at a flat clearing on a hilltop just as the sky began to turn into shades of oranges and purples. Leon killed the engine and stepped out, opening the trunk to retrieve their wicker basket. He pulled out a checkered picnic mat and set it on the ground just as Ada called out, “We can set up dinner later, the sun’s almost setting.”

Her fingers beckoned him over with a wave and Leon’s breath briefly hitched in his throat at the sight. Ada looked absolutely stunning against the sunset as a gentle breeze blew on her dark tresses and she had a small grin on her face. 

He flitted over like a bee to honey and laced his fingers with hers. Both stood in silence as they gazed at the natural phenomenon happening in front of them. 

“Come to think of it, isn't this the first time we admired a sunset together?” Leon said as he hugged his wife close to him. 

Ada pursed her lips briefly in thought, “It seems you're right.”

“Do you wanna do this more often, beautiful?”

“Of course, handsome.”

Soon, they were blanked by darkness and the first pinpricks of starlight dotted the sky. Switching on the flashlight on his phone, Leon guided his wife to the picnic mat. They sat down and he opened the basket, pulling out a couple of solar lamps which quickly illuminated in response to the darkness. He deactivated the light on his phone and laid out their spread of food. 

There were two small bowls of couscous salad, a tray of rotisserie chicken, a box of cookies, and a couple of bottles of sparkling cider. 

“Interesting feast we got here,” Ada said as she popped the cider bottle and her husband followed suit.

They toasted their bottles as Leon replied, “It’s the easiest picnic food that I could come up with on short notice.” 

His wife grabbed the bowl of couscous and began to dig in. She savoured the tiny granules that had walnuts, raisins, tomatoes, and cucumber in it. “I have no complaints about this, what about you?”

“I’m good too.” 

The couple glanced upwards every now and then to admire the constellations. Their conversation turned to navigation using the stars.

“It’s a handy thing to know but useless on a cloudy or rainy night,” Ada concluded their discussion as she licked her spoon clean. Her hand went for the drumstick that was sticking out of the tray and she flinched when a bright white light suddenly shone on them. 

Both of them tensed up and went into alert mode as they had a split second to decide on what to do next. How could they have gotten so engrossed in each other that they could be sneaked up on? 

“Good evening, I’m just patrolling the area,” a male voice spoke out from behind the light before anything untoward could occur. The man angled his torch to the side and they could make out an officer in uniform.

Leon visibly relaxed his posture and greeted the cop, “Hi sir, we are just having a little dinner date.” 

“That’s nice. Do clean up after yourselves when you’re done, alright?” 

“Will do,” Leon replied cordially. “Have a good evening.”

“You too,” the policeman made his way to the trees that were surrounding them and swept his torch across the foliage. Satisfied with his inspection, he walked away from the hilltop and left the couple alone. 

When they could no longer hear his footsteps, did Ada exhale a relieved sigh. “We must be losing our touch if we didn’t notice him coming up.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, hun,” he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “It’s natural to have our guard down when we go on dates anyway. We can’t always pretend to be constantly on the battlefield.” 

“You’re right,” she relented before returning back to the drumstick. A burst of juice and flavour exploded in her mouth. “Mm, the chicken is great. Quite succulent. Did you roast this?”

“Nah, it’s from the grocery store. But I could make some next time.” He took a bite of the chicken too and murmured with approval.

They leaned against each other, taking bites of chicken and sips of cider in between. There were some moments of comfortable silence as Ada nuzzled his neck, sneaking some kisses along his jawline. He returned her affections as they made out in the dark. A small part of Leon held some restraint though as they were on public property. 

With the chicken finally demolished, it was time for dessert. “I know you prefer lava cake but it’s too messy for a picnic. So, I opted for cookies,” the blonde opened up the cookie box and the sweet treats were bigger than his palm. They were currently all the rage now in New York City.

“We’ll have to share these for sure. I won’t be able to finish one by myself,” she teased him and took a piece, breaking it in half and offering him the other. 

Leon merely leaned in to take a bite of the food out of her hand. His lips brushed against her fingers and Ada felt a small spark in the depths of her belly. 

“Well now you have to feed me,” Ada rasped sensually and dropped the remainder of the cookie into his palm. 

“Here you go,” her husband said sweetly and Ada nibbled on the morsel, lightly sucking the melted chocolate off his fingers as she did so. 

It was Leon’s turn to resist his arousal. “Seems you really enjoyed the cookie…” his voice was low and he cupped her chin, bringing their faces close together once more. 

The blonde pulled away before his wife had a chance to deepen the kiss. Ada let out a small grunt of disappointment which did not go unnoticed by Leon. “Let’s finish the date at home,” he said reassuringly. 

A plan was rapidly forming in Ada’s mind as they packed up. She would have to seize the opportunity soon. 

Leon helped Ada off the picnic mat before folding it, draping the fabric over the crook of his elbow before they walked back to his car with the help of the solar lamps. 

He popped open the trunk, stowing everything into it and he heard his wife start up the car. 

“I need some help in the backseat,” she called out to him and Leon shut the trunk before opening the backdoor. 

The blonde’s jaw nearly dropped at the sight of his wife in a state of undress. The buttons on her blouse were completely undone, leaving a red lace push-up bra on display. 

He felt an uncomfortable strain in his pants and swallowed nervously. “What do you need help with, hun?”

“Help me fulfil my need for you,” she said sultrily and began to unzip her skirt. 

It was getting hot and Leon tugged at his shirt collar. “The cop might return.”

“We both know he is done with his patrol for this area. I don’t think I’ll be in the mood when we get home…” she replied in a sing-song manner as she let her skirt drop to the floor, revealing matching underwear. 

Leon knew he could not resist the allure of his wife. He threw caution to the wind and entered the car with a shit-eating grin. “It’s a good thing I’m in the mood now too…” 

Ada smiled back, “Good.” She then practically lunged at him and pinned him against the seat as she positioned herself on his lap, right against his rising bulge. 

A brief moment of surprise flashed through his blue eyes before his hands slid down to her curvy and toned bottom to support her. He pushed his pelvis up rhythmically, generating some much needed friction as his wife grinded against him repeatedly. Her moans got louder as her clit was stimulated. 

Their lips came crashing together as Ada popped open the buttons on his shirt. The need to feel his bare skin against hers thrummed through her body and upon feeling his chest, she exploded with desire. 

They pulled apart as Ada made quick work of Leon’s belt and pants. She reached through the slit of his underwear for his throbbing manhood and he felt a jolt of electricity shoot down his core. 

“I need you…” His voice was a strangled whisper as he tugged at the waistband of her panties. 

Not wanting to destroy good lingerie, Ada shimmied it off with one hand and left the scrap of cloth clinging against one of her thighs. 

Without giving him an opportunity, she impaled herself on him easily, greedily taking his entire length into her. 

She was hot and moist as always. His wife was always practically soaked and ready for him whenever they copulated. Leon’s hips began to undulate and Ada threw her head back with a contented sigh. 

The pulse point on her throat beckoned him like a siren’s call and his mouth latched onto it, tenderly sucking the soft flesh as her sighs turned to cries of desperate need. Leon gave into his passions and marked Ada once more. 

His hands slid up to her smooth creamy back, deftly unhooking the clasps of her bra. One palm quickly went to his wife’s chest and he caressed the mound, feeling her dark nipple pebble under his touch. It made him proud that he was the one that could repeatedly elicit this reaction from her. 

Tonight, his heart was set on pleasuring Ada. It was the least he could after all she had been through in the past few weeks. 

Leon was brought out of his thoughts when felt a squeeze against his shaft and he groaned. His wife was relentless in milking him, but he had to make sure she came before he did. 

The blonde could tell she was almost there anyway, with the way she closed her eyes in deep concentration to focus on her impending orgasm. She had a tendency to tremble in the lead up to it and he felt a small shudder just now.

He moved his hand down to where they were joined, and he rubbed firm circles against the little bud that was her clit. 

Ada’s body seized up in white hot euphoria, “Ah, Leon!” She leaned down and captured his mouth with her own, muffling her cries of ecstasy.

Seeing his wife climax brought him to the edge too and Leon continued to thrust upwards as he poured himself into her, over and over. His eyes fluttered shut from sheer pleasure as he scrunched his brow, concentrating on emptying every last drop.

After what seemed like eternity, they opened their eyes and Ada caressed Leon’s cheek lovingly. 

He turned his head to kiss the fleshy palm of her hand, “What other public spaces should we try next?”

She let out a chuckle, “I never thought you to be an exhibitionist, handsome.”

“You bring out the best in me.”

Ada continued to smile at Leon as he beamed back at her, the sheer elation reaching his blue-grey eyes. 

They were each other’s sun, thriving in each other’s warmth. 

They were each other’s wind, soaring through the air when filled with their beloved’s strength. 

They were each other’s rain, revitalising their souls after a weary day. 

They were each other’s rock, anchoring them to reality upon which they would rest with bliss to the end of their days. 

[pizzafishandchips]

29 - "How did this happen?"

Fandom - Infamous IF Content warnings - alcohol use Summary - Luna goes to a party. Shenanigans ensue.

The loud music reverberates through Luna’s bones, every inch of her body silently quaking with each beat. Her body instinctively bobs and moves along with it as she makes her way out of the thick of the crowd. The plastic cup in her hand is half-filled with an untouched drink; she’d taken it out of politeness when someone had thrust it into her hands unprompted and, in the chaotic mass of bodies, she hadn’t yet found a place to toss it.

She breathes a sigh of relief when she steps outside into the cool night air, a welcome reprieve from the hot, sweaty whirl of party-goers. She’s emerged out into a large outdoor recreational area, empty lawn chairs and giant umbrellas surrounding a spacious pool on the far end from where she stands.

Placing her cup on the ground, Luna slowly takes the time to casually walk around. There’s no one else around, the outdoor area covered in the calm hush of night aside from the low thrumming beats ringing from inside.

She hadn’t initially wanted to come; it feels too soon, still a little raw after a certain someone left. The band nagged her into it, telling her that it would be healthy to finally go out and mingle, to return to some semblance of normalcy after what felt like the very foundation of her world was demolished right beneath her.

On the outside, it really did look the same. The same bright lights, the same reverberating rhythms, the same kind of loud shouting and movements she’d seen countless times before. Nothing outside has changed.

But none of it feels the same. When others swarm and dance, she doesn’t feel like jumping in with them. When people start taking shots, she doesn’t toast with them. If anything, the sight of alcohol now makes her slightly queasy, the tiny rush that comes after a single sip triggering something akin to fear. All it does is remind her of her mistakes, that catastrophic party that broke it all, and she can’t let it happen again.

When Luna wanders around the edge of the pool, she hears the door leading out opening. Rowan’s familiar silhouette stumbles out; with the way he teeters, it’s obvious that he’s had quite a few drinks.

“Lunaaaaaa,” he wails. “You out here?”

Resigned to the fact that her newfound sobriety has made her the designated party babysitter, Luna returns to him, concerned that he’ll fall over onto the hard concrete any moment. Upon seeing her, his face breaks out into an easy grin.

“Hey—hic—there you are. Didn’t see you inside. Wanted to find you.”

“Yeah, it was getting a little hot in there, and I wanted some air.” She takes hold of his arm to steady him, eyeing the drink that’s in his hand and wondering whether he’d notice if she took it away.

“Hmm, air. Yeah, air. Air sounds good.”

He attempts to repeat what she’d been doing the few minutes prior, unsteadily meandering around the area as Luna frantically tries to keep hold of him.

“Rowan, are you sure you don’t want to just sit down?” she urges.

“Nah, nah, I’m fine. I’m just fine, Luna, see? I could probably even go for a swim!”

With how small she is in comparison, no amount of protests is able to keep him from walking closer to the edge of the dark water. He doesn’t seem to mind when she has to throw her whole body against him in an attempt to block him from the pool.

“Rowan, no!”

Much to her annoyance, he only laughs and gives her a one-armed hug. “Kidding, kidding. I’m not—Not that stupid.”

He moves away from the edge but only a few inches. Luna feels like she has to play goalie with how she’s trying to utilize her entire body to block him; not for the first time she wishes she was taller, anything that could give her a little more mass.

She jumps when her guitarist suddenly takes her by the shoulders, staring into her eyes with a serious expression. “Listen, listen, Luna. We’re just a little worried about you, you know? Glad that you finally came to party after… after what happened but maybe you should get back in there, you know?”

Right now you should be more worried about not being a victim of drowning.

“Yeah, yeah, sure, I’ll do that, Rowan,” she says, in an attempt to appease him enough to draw him further away from the water.

He throws his arms up. “Come on, Luna! Live a little! You got the whole world—”

Luna yelps as this time he moves too abruptly, too forcefully to be able to retain balance in his state, and Rowan sways, he tilts, and his legs flail and stumble before he tumbles into the pool. Cursing, she quickly kicks off her shoes before jumping in after him, determined to fish him out by force.

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

“Alright, and how did this happen?”

Devyn, Jazzy, and Iris tend to the two of them, drying them off with some towels some charitable person lent them. Rowan is sprawled on the ground, winded by their little nighttime swim though otherwise unharmed. Luna is hunched over, dripping wet, hands propped on her knees and panting from the effort of dragging her bandmate out of the water. After she gives a brief account of what led to their little dip, a towel is tossed over her sopping wet head, and she looks up to see Jazzy’s concerned yet sympathetic eyes.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Luna groans. “Being the responsible one.”

Her drummer simply chuckles. “You learn, and you get used to it after a while.”

She sighs. Seems like she’ll have to get used to a lot of things now.

[madsworld15]

Part 3 of Asexual Rep AU (QAF)

I have decided to upload another part because it's been written so, you are welcome @maryp50 and @winderlylandchime HEHE

Justin worked the rest of his shift with an energy he’d been lacking before. Normalcy had been restored, and Brian was once again that bitchy business queen in his mind. His one moment of kindness and concern had been overshadowed by his arrogance. It was the way things should be.

That night after work, Justin went to Woody’s for a couple of drinks where he ran into Emmett and Ted. The duo quickly welcomed him to join them as they scouted the room for potential partners for the evening. Around 2 am, they all packed it in and went home alone. However, Justin was sure Emmett was going to end up calling that cute Southern man he’d been flirting with for most of the night.

Justin walked the four blocks to his and Daphne’s place, his thoughts a million miles away. Once he arrived at their apartment and let himself in, he immediately went to bed. Daphne was a pre-med student, so she had early classes almost every single day. He knew they would chat in the morning over their cups of coffee and last-minute study sessions.

Sure enough, the next morning, Daphne woke him up half an hour early with a hot cup of coffee and the look of a best friend who wanted to talk.

“Mmm.” Justin took a sip from the proffered mug and smiled, “Thanks.”

“I feel like we keep missing each other. I haven’t seen you in days.” Daphne gave Justin her signature ‘you’re toast’ look.

“Between work and school, I barely have any time to myself.” Justin shrugged and leaned his back against his headboard. “Let alone time for freedom and fun.”

“I distinctly remember you telling me about a fun night at a gay club a few weeks ago.” Daphne crawled up the bed to position herself side-by-side with Justin.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t tell you the whole story.” Justin sighed and closed his eyes. This would be the first time he would be talking about the incident out loud.

“Oh?” Daphne sounded nonchalant and unconcerned, but Justin knew better. She was itching to know more.

“Emmett invited me to join him and Ted at this gay club Babylon after I got off work that Thursday night. So, having nothing better to do, I joined him.” Justin put his coffee mug down on the bedside dresser.

“Oh my god! How was it? I have always wanted to go to a gay club!” Daphne perked up, her excitement barely contained.

“You are a freak, you know that?” Justin laughed at his best friend before he continued. “Anyway, I enjoyed some time on the dance floor until this guy made a move to undo my pants. Without asking me.”

“Please tell me you punched him!” Daphne looked horrified at what could potentially happen to him.

“No, but Brian showed up and possessively pushed those guys away,” Justin responded. “And then he kept dancing with me until I wanted to go home. It was weird, like he wanted something from me but didn’t ask.”

“Brian. The Brian. The older guy who comes into the diner and constantly treats you like crap? That guy?” Daphne knew all about Brian because of how often Justin complained about him. But she didn’t know that Brian always gave Justin more of a tip than was necessary.

“Yep!”

“And?” Daphne turned to face him with an expectant look, but Justin didn’t have anything else to give her.

“And nothing. It’s been almost two weeks, and he hasn’t said a word to me about it. And before yesterday, our interactions at the diner and the few occasions I’ve seen him at Woody’s have all been the same. But, then yesterday, I was working the late shift, and his whole friend group came in, and instead of being rude and snarky to me, Brian was kind. Unnaturally kind, like invasion of the body snatchers.” Justin sat up completely and crossed his legs.

“He likes you!” Daphne squealed and put her hands on each of Justin’s biceps. She shook him excitedly as her grin grew more and more.

“What?! No! The guy is a conceited asshole.” Justin dismissed Daphne’s assertion. “Moments later, we were out back, and Brian told me he was everyone’s type.”

“Back up. Why were you both out back?” Daphne gave him a knowing look.

“I needed a breath of fresh air because it's all so confusing,” Justin exclaimed.

“And he followed you.” Daphne continued to give him a look. “Because he likes you.”

“No, Brian isn’t like that. He doesn’t do boyfriends or commitment of any kind. He is all about sex.”

“And that makes you upset because you like him, and you know the moment he learned you don’t like sex, he would stop being interested.” Daphne pulled her best friend into a deep hug.

“I shouldn’t like him, Daph. I know it won’t end well. But, he’s all I think about even when he’s not around.”

“Then you need to limit your time around him. At least until you are over him.” Daphne gave Justin one last squeeze before she got up to go shower and head to her first class.

“How? He comes into the diner every day. I can’t exactly quit my job. I need the money.”

“How about I start coming to the diner after my classes to help keep you focused?” Daphne stated. “That way, you can work and not get drawn any deeper under his spell.”

“Okay. We can try that.” Justin agreed as he, too, got up to get ready for classes.

The next day, Daphne was true to her word and deposited herself at the back corner booth to study while Justin did his Friday evening shift. Things were going well, and they hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Brian, despite seeing Ted and Emmett early in his shift. He was certain Brian wouldn’t show up that night when the man came breezing through the door. Only, he wasn’t his usual self. This time, Brian was wearing a white tee under his signature black leather jacket. His hair was a mess and Justin was pretty sure the tee had some stains on them. Not only that, Brian was lugging a baby carrier on his right arm. Justin bit back a laugh at the image.

A loud squeal was all he heard before Debbie pushed him aside in favor of the baby.

“GUS!” Debbie cooed as she unbuckled the baby and held him in her arms. Justin wasn’t familiar enough with babies to guess his exact age, but he figured he looked to be a few months old.

“If you love him so much, you can take him.” Brian groused and slumped down onto the counter. “Lindsay thought I was responsible enough to take care of him for the weekend while she works and Mel is at her yenta mother’s.”

“Well, you are his father!” Debbie admonished him. “And don’t insult Mel or her mother.”

“It’s not as though Mel wouldn’t do the same with me.” Brian tried to argue. “Besides, I gave up my rights as his father the day he was born. That was our deal.”

“A piece of paper doesn’t erase DNA.” Debbie chided and handed the baby back to Brian.

Justin finally found his voice enough to snark out incredulously, “You’re a dad?”

“I donated my spunk to a couple of cwazy wesbians.” Brian parroted as he stared his son in the eyes and made a goofy face for his benefit, “That doesn’t make me a father.”

Justin didn’t say anything else. He didn’t know what to say. But it did end up making him think about his own father for the first time in ages, really think about him. Brian’s assertion that a sperm donation didn’t make him a father nor give him the responsibility of stepping up really got under Justin’s skin. His whole life he believed his father loved him unconditionally. Despite their lack of connection or understanding, the man still loved him. Then, he learned quickly that there was one thing that could turn his father’s love off. Coming out as gay.

He walked away and let Debbie deal with him. He went over to Daphne’s booth and sat down. She didn’t say anything, but she placed her hand on his just the same. If anyone understood his complicated relationship with his dad, Daphne did.

“Don’t judge him.” Debbie’s voice floated above him. Justin looked up into the soft, dark eyes of the woman, “Remember what I said about how most people here have their own story? Well, Brian’s dad is probably the worst of them all.”

Justin silently looked at Debbie as he processed her words. “Just think about it, sunshine.”

As Justin continued his shift, he occasionally let his gaze wander over to Brian. Eventually, the man pulled out what looked like work as Gus slept in his baby carrier. Without a word, Justin refilled his coffee cup. He looked at Brian’s papers from across the counter. It was a bunch of artwork for what looked to be an ad.

“Can I?” Justin motioned to the ad Brian was fussing over.

Brian looked at Justin and then at the ad. “Sure, I can’t quite figure out why I don’t like it.”

Justin looked it over. The people in the image looked happy enough, the words stood out. Then he saw it. 

“You need to change the color of the font. Right now, the blue gives the image’s happiness a bitter tinge, making it sad. You want people to love the idea of this product. The text should be orange to invigorate them.” Justin gave a tight smile as he handed the ad back to Brian.

He started to move away and see to the people who had just sat down at Table 4 when Brian grabbed at his hand.

“How do you know?” The man looked genuinely interested to know how it was that Justin could see what he had missed.

“I’m an art major at PIFA with an interest in graphic art.” Justin shrugged and then went back to work, leaving Brian to contemplate what he’d just said.

By the time Justin was able to make it back over to Brian at the counter, another thirty minutes had passed, and he was now feeding the baby a bottle. Justin hung back to watch how gentle and unguarded Brian was around the little boy who shared his genetic material. Despite what Brian had said, Justin could see firsthand just how much Brian actually loved his son.

“You know, just because our dads before us have fucked everything up doesn’t mean you can’t do things differently,” Justin whispered, filled Brian’s cup again, and then walked away to clock out and gather up Daphne so they could go home.

He was just out the door when Brian’s hand landed on his bicep to stop him. Daphne gave him a look and motioned that she would be just up the block. Justin silently begged her to stay right there, but she shook her head and left.

Justin turned around and gave Brian a smile. The two stood there in awkward silence for a few minutes before Brian bit his lip. Justin noticed that his hands were doing that weird thing they did when he was uncomfortable or nervous, where he had his fingers battling each other for dominance.

“Look, I just wanted to say thank you.” Brian took a deep breath. His face looked pained, as though it took so much out of him to admit that simple phrase.

“Oh. It was no big deal.” Justin waved him off and moved to reunite with Daphne. 

But Brian stopped him once more by grabbing his arm. Only this time, the force spun Justin around until he was in Brian’s chest, and the older man’s arms were wrapped around his torso. Justin knew he should leave right then. No good would come out of whatever was bound to happen next.

“I don’t understand you.” Brian whispered, “The minute a guy doesn’t show interest in me, I forget him. But with you, I can’t stop.”

“Uhh.” Justin’s mouth was suddenly dry. “I, um, I’m sorry?” Justin tried, not really sure what Brian wanted from him.

“I don’t believe in love. I believe in fucking. It’s honest. It’s efficient. You get in and out with a maximum of pleasure and a minimum of bullshit. And yet, for some reason, I can’t quite get you out of my head.”

Justin couldn’t seem to get the words out at first, his brain in overdrive trying to process whatever it was that Brian was saying. He finally managed after what felt like hours.

“I believe in love and commitment. I’m not a fan of sex. It makes things messy and complicated.”

“I should be running away. And yet, all I want to do is get closer to you.” Brian admitted before he leaned over and placed his lips on Justin’s.

The heat that immediately radiated from Brian’s body and into Justin at their contact almost stopped his heart. This kiss was like nothing Justin had ever felt before. If lightning were to strike him down at that moment, he would die happy. Their kiss continued long enough for Brian’s tongue to ask for entrance into Justin’s mouth. That little tap woke Justin up, and the magic was gone. He pulled out of Brian’s touch entirely.

The two stared at one another and muttered, “Fuck.” at the same time, but with entirely different meanings.

Then Justin ran to Daphne, putting as much space between him and Brian as he could.

[mchalowitz]

the woman is the king, part 9

summary: a throughline of the matriarchal scullys; be they ethereal, sharp-witted, and ill-omened.

part 1: melissa / part 2: dana / part 3: emily / part 4: scully / part 5: samantha (the interlude) / part 6: them / part 7: maggie / part 8: maggie, part 2 

part 9: maggie, part 3

read on ao3

@today-in-fic

----

A scenic walking trail and two pairs of thrift store hiking boots blossoms into their first mutual hobby. Scully sees the benefit of a daily exercise regimen. She still acknowledges the possibility she just appreciates his display of athleticism in cut-off running shorts.

Mulder breaks into a vigorous run with her on his back. She squeals his name, tightening her grip around his neck. A scraped-up knee may be an indication of her skill level; she encircles his waist with her uninjured leg. 

While Mulder unlocks the door, Scully rests her cheek between his shoulder blades, and allows him to deposit her on the kitchen counter. It is nothing more than a completely superficial surface scrape; it barely requires a bandage. He still gives it a thorough cleaning with cool water and flashes her small smiles of reassurance.  

He dusts his hands together, admiring his work. “My hero,” she praises him. She wraps her arms around his neck to meet his lips. She discovered within three days of their arrival that his earlier jest to defile this place was wholly serious. 

She cannot actually complain about his voraciousness. She endured the same unending dry spell he did. While quickly rectified upon reuniting, Scully nor Mulder could deny an ever-present fear of federal agents barging through the door. Not exactly an aid for soul-stirring romance. 

“I have things to do, Mulder,” she mumbles between kisses with her hands cupped over his jaw. He grumbles his disbelief that anything else could be so pressing. “We’re almost out of clean clothes...it takes forever to do everything by hand...” 

“You’ve been injured,” he purrs. He masterfully tongues a hypersensitive nerve underneath her ear; she melts into the cabinets. His mouth momentarily unoccupied, he continues, “Gotta kiss it. Make it better.” 

“Oh, is that so?” 

Her intention to play along becomes very clear. He nods at her dreamily and drops to a kneel at her feet. She forgets about her knee instantly. 

--

Scully values knowledge; even what she was never supposed to be privy to. She was always the first of her siblings to know, or care, when they would be moving. What she and Mulder are doing now is actually quite familiar to her. Their continued Washington arrangement reminds her of re-upping. 

A few weeks of highly secure recuperation becomes a little over two months. She knows nothing about the owner of the cabin. He possesses an apparent hospitality. If it’s a him, that is. 

Her reaction to an empty bed is slightly less volatile; her heart still skips a beat. Mulder is usually making her a morning cup of coffee or stretching for an early walk. Scully hears a distinct combination of typing and whispers that signal a covert appointment. He never includes her; they agree it is best for only one of them to be implicated in something legally grey. 

Mulder appears from nowhere. A suspicious, “Hi, honey,” interrupts a bite of buttered toast. Her eyebrows raise during a sip of coffee. 

“Hi,” she responds slowly. She sets her mug down; Mulder pulls out a chair to sit. She finds his fidgeting disconcerting. With obviousness, she states, “You’re being weird, Mulder.” 

“Listen...” he starts, still shifting uneasily. “Every few years, the feds start poking around in the interconnected groups. My contacts are being targeted with false DEA claims.” 

Scully attempts to dispel any thoughts that may send her into a deep, premature sense of despondency. Maybe there’s hope. Her “there’s no drug activity here” lacks confidence. Mulder’s ballpark figure gives them three days to relocate. 

“Oh, Mulder,” she sighs. 

Their sense of normalcy was bound to implode eventually. She and Mulder were never meant to stay here. An inability to put down roots feels equally familiar and unfair. 

Mulder leans forward and outstretches his arm across the table, laying his hand over hers. The silence lasts for ages. 

--

All of their worldly goods are packed by the early evening. Scully attempts to categorize their possessions with careful organization; Mulder’s haphazard stuffing of items into their bags illustrates a race against the clock he refuses to fully acknowledge. She stills his hand with hers. 

“It’ll only be two weeks,” Mulder promises, returning from lost thoughts. Harder timelines come with their next destination in central California. He continues, “Then we can reevaluate.” 

She tries to camouflage the shattering of her fragile laxity at the possibility of a brush with a federal agency. Mulder’s concern lies with their relocation. He sees handling investigators as a non-issue. She reminds him, “We wouldn’t be able to come back here.” 

“Somewhere similar.”

Scully answers with a squeeze to his hand and a small smile; she cannot fully muster a verbal vote of confidence quite yet. She knows Mulder is trying. Their decision not to discuss the grey noticeably weighs on him. 

“We could use some sandwiches for the car,” she gently suggests. 

“Good thinkin’, Doc,” he agrees. 

--

She regrets volunteering to load the car while Mulder slaps together the remaining contents of the fridge between slices of bread. Scully can spot a government-issued sedan anywhere; it idles at the end of the driveway. 

She glances to the open screen door. She has no time to swap before a rumbling engine closes in. Young agents present their badges and assume she owns the property. 

“Oh, no, I wish,” Scully responds on a laugh; she prays her lips don’t tremble as she smiles warmly. “My husband rented through a travel agency. It’s our first little getaway since we had our son. I might have our travel agent’s phone number...”

“That won’t be necessary,” the second agent interrupts. “Thank you for your time.” 

Her unrelenting nightmares culminate in an exchange that barely lasts two minutes; the cognizance comes in all at once. She wants to throw a God-cursing tantrum, and when she opens her mouth to scream, her lungs will not allow it. 

Mulder materializes with car sandwiches and the last of their identifying items. Her hands shake violently as she slams the trunk. 

Despite its true inconsequentialism, Scully tells Mulder a tale of abject horror, and has unsure expectations for his reaction. He steps forward, and lifts his hands to hold her face, and uses his fingers to brush her hair behind her ears. He speaks with unfamiliar firmness, “It was all true, Scully.” 

Instantly dumbfounded by the lack of stress-induced incompetence and unhinged rage, Scully sees Mulder’s attempt to persuade her toward a grey half-truth. If she can convince herself to believe it, then it is true.  

She watches him through an upturned gaze and wonders what he had to believe to survive on his own. His protectiveness of her often blinds his outward actionability. He decides to make some calls. 

--

Somewhere near the border between Washington and Oregon, her state of excitement drops, and it knocks her out cold. Unconsciousness masks her ability to speculate on their final destination. She dreams of freedom.

Mulder is slurping the remnants of a gas station soda when she awakes; the straw looks mangled and cracked when he sets it in the cupholder. His head snaps toward her when she steals the cup, removing the lid and chugging the remaining liquid. 

“It’s not diet,” he informs her with a twinge of guilt. A burst of real sugar gives her an oddly good feeling on her dry throat and she shakes her with a lack of concern. She deduces his mood is completely removed from depriving her of aspartame. 

“What’s wrong?” Aside from everything, she thinks.

With a few beats of silence, he shifts out of gear in the parking lot of a little roadside diner. His hands flop into his lap. “I haven’t been telling you the truth,” he admits.

More often, Scully’s mind will catastrophize in a comparatively normal way. She briefly thinks he is cheating; which is completely improbable when they spend every moment together. Plus, it’s Mulder. 

Her mouth opens to respond, but he cuts her off with, “I think you just need to see,” and unbuckles his seatbelt. She follows him out of the car and eyes him skeptically as he holds the door for her. She feels his presence at her back; her eyes scan the room.

And in a far-corner booth, hands folded as if in prayer, is her mother. 

[bcisurat]

Nutrition and Wellness Tips for Children Undergoing Cancer Treatment

Cancer treatment can be challenging for anyone, but it’s especially difficult for children. Proper nutrition and wellness practices play a crucial role in supporting a child’s health during this trying time. Created by pediatric cancer specialists in Surat, from BCI- Blood and Cancer Institute, this blog post will provide valuable tips for parents and caregivers to help maintain their child’s nutritional status and overall well-being throughout cancer treatment.

Understanding the Nutritional Challenges

Children undergoing cancer treatment often face several nutritional challenges:

Decreased appetite

Changes in taste and smell

Nausea and vomiting

Mouth sores or throat pain

Fatigue

Altered metabolism

These side effects can make it difficult for children to eat and maintain a healthy weight. However, good nutrition is vital for helping children tolerate treatment better, maintain strength, and fight infections.

Nutrition Tips

1. Focus on Nutrient-Dense Foods

When appetite is low, every bite counts. Offer foods that pack a nutritional punch:

● Lean proteins: chicken & eggs

● Whole grains: rice, wheat & jowar

● Fruits and vegetables: aim for a variety of colors

● Healthy fats: add ghee to foods

2. Offer Frequent, Small Meals

Instead of three large meals, try offering five to six smaller meals throughout the day. This can be less overwhelming and help maintain steady energy levels.

3. Make Food Fun and Appealing

Doctors from one of the best cancer hospitals in Surat, Blood and Cancer Institute (BCI) suggest being creative with food presentation. Use cookie cutters to make shapes, create faces on plates with different foods, or involve your child in meal preparation when they feel up to it.

4. Stay Hydrated

Proper hydration is crucial. Encourage your child to sip water throughout the day. If plain water is unappealing, try:

● ORS

● Coconut water

● Clear broths

● Lemonade

5. Address Specific Side Effects

● For nausea: Offer ginger tea, bland foods like crackers or toast, and cold foods which may be better tolerated.

● For taste changes: Experiment with different seasonings and marinades. Sometimes, tart flavors like lemon can help combat metallic tastes.

● For sore mouth or throat: Offer soft, cool foods like pureed soups.

6. Consider Nutritional Supplements

Cancer specialists in Surat advice consulting your child’s healthcare team before introducing any supplements. They may recommend protein shakes, vitamin supplements, or even temporary tube feeding to ensure adequate nutrition.

Wellness Tips

Nutrition is just one aspect of overall wellness. Here are some additional tips to support your child’s well-being during treatment:

1. Encourage Physical Activity

While respecting your child’s energy levels, try to incorporate some form of physical activity daily. This could be as simple as a short walk, gentle stretching, or playing a favorite game.

2. Prioritize Sleep

Adequate sleep is crucial for healing and maintaining a strong immune system. Establish a consistent bedtime routine and create a comfortable sleep environment.

3. Support Mental Health

Cancer treatment can be emotionally challenging. Consider:

● Art therapy or music therapy

● Talking to a child psychologist

● Joining support groups for children with cancer

● Mindfulness exercises or child-friendly meditation apps

4. Maintain Hygiene

A strong immune system is vital during cancer treatment. Teach and reinforce good hygiene practices like regular hand washing and dental care.

5. Encourage Social Connections

Help your child stay connected with friends and family. This could be through video calls, letters, or supervised visits when appropriate.

6. Continue Education

When possible, help your child stay engaged with schoolwork. This maintains a sense of normalcy and keeps their mind active.

The Role of the Healthcare Team

Remember, your child’s healthcare team is your most valuable resource during the ongoing cancer treatment in Surat. They can provide personalized advice based on your child’s specific condition, treatment, and nutritional needs. Don’t hesitate to ask questions or voice concerns about your child’s nutrition and wellness.

Regular check-ins with a registered dietitian who specializes in pediatric oncology can be incredibly helpful. They can provide tailored meal plans, address specific nutritional challenges, and monitor your child’s nutritional status throughout treatment.

Conclusion

Navigating childhood cancer is a challenging journey, but focusing on good nutrition and overall wellness can make a significant difference. Remember to be patient and flexible — what works one day might not work the next. Celebrate small victories, and don’t be too hard on yourself or your child on difficult days.

By prioritizing nutrition and wellness, you’re giving your child valuable tools to support their treatment and recovery along with treatment from the best cancer hospital in Surat. With love, patience, and the support of your healthcare team, you can help your child maintain strength and resilience throughout their cancer journey.