#slowly adding changes and progress

[ic-napology]

I'm back after discovering a groundbreaking thing for grayscale-drawing me, coloured lineart

[scarletmika]

Always : ̗̀➛ Robert "Bob" Reynolds x Reader

PART TWO OF Stay With Me : ̗̀➛ Robert "Bob" Reynolds x Reader

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Reynolds/Sentry x Ex-Widow!Reader

Summary: Bob stayed with you, just as you asked, and life couldn't be better. But the past always has a way of catching up with you, no matter how hard you try and push it away and leave it behind. Now, it's Bob's turn to save you.

Warnings: fluff, angst, idiots in love, violence, death, gore, mental health talk, language, SPOILERS I guess for Thunderbolts*, Bob maybe SLIGHTLY OOC (he's making progress)

Word Count: 5,269 words

Requests are open! : ̗̀➛ Find my masterlist here A/N: @violentrayof-sunshine you requested a part two, and who was I to say no!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧

The team was sick of you and Bob, and it had only been 2 months since they’d broken into that room of rubble and fire to find the pair of you crying and wrapped in one another's arms. It wasn’t that they were sick of seeing you two together and being together so much as the added level of affection at any time of the day had John and Ava in agreement over wanting to hurl at every corner.

You both refused to talk about what had happened in that room after the bomb had exploded, choosing to keep it to yourselves so as not to worry the team. But whatever it is that had happened had changed the nature of your relationship with Bob forever, and the team was honestly thankful that it had finally happened. What they didn’t like was that Alexei got closest to guessing when you’d finally end up together, winning their entire pot of money they’d gambled months ago when they’d moved into the tower on that nature of your relationship.

Yelena saw it before anyone else did. It was almost instantaneous after they’d come back to the Watchtower from the mission, the way that Bob wouldn’t leave your side, and you didn’t seem to be pushing him away anytime soon. It wasn’t shocking, seeing you both together, but the sly hand holding under the tables didn’t go unnoticed by Yelena, and she couldn’t help but feel at peace knowing you both had found one another. You’d lived a hard life, she knew it best as she’d been there for all of it. Knowing you’d found someone you so clearly loved gave her peace.

It began that first full night back after the mission. You’d finished reports with the team, debriefing on what had happened but holding back the details of what went down in the control room. The sun had finally set, moonlight streaming through the windows of your room and highlighting the outline of New York City before you as you laid in bed. The ache in your bones was present now, more so than it was before, and you were already mentally preparing to tell Bucky that you were sitting out the next mission in favor of letting the feel of the explosion leave your bones. A soft knock on your bedroom door interrupted you as you slowly drifted in and out of consciousness, barely there. You didn’t hesitate to tell whoever it was to come in.

“I’m sorry…you’re usually up late so uh, I didn’t think you’d be asleep,”

The sound of Bob’s voice, still laced with hesitation after what had happened just hours before, brought a smile to your face. You turned your back on the windows, leaving the city behind you as you faced him instead.

“Just sore and tired from the mission, and the paperwork,” you joked lightly with him, voice like a whisper in the quiet of the bedroom. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Bob hesitated for a moment, seeming to be dancing on the line of entering flight mode. He looked back at you, at the serene and calm look on your face before choosing to shut the door behind him, wringing his hands together as he took another step toward you.

“I…I didn’t want to be alone,”

“Then come here,”

There was no hesitation from you, so for once, there was no hesitation in Bob’s own actions. He crossed the room in a second, slowly and cautiously maneuvering himself down onto your own bed as you lifted the comforter for him, allowing him to climb in and rest his head on the pillow opposite of yours. You tucked the comforter back overtop of him, fingers gentle as they glided lightly back up his now covered arm, hand moving itself up to his cheek as you cupped it. He leaned into the touch as if on instinct, eyes never leaving yours.

“Hi,”

“Hi,”

“Nightmares?” you guessed in a hushed tone, and Bob nodded slightly, not trusting himself to truly answer with his own voice. Your thumb caressed his cheek, rubbing comfortably up and down the skin. “I get them too.”

“I wish they’d stop,” he whispered back, unable to look away from you. “Sometimes it’s uh, it’s dad. The screaming, the fights…the hitting. There’s uh, moments from when I was…still doing drugs. The vault too…I-I’m scared this time I’ll see…earlier.”

Sometimes, Bob did a good job of hiding how he was feeling. Around you, from the very first meeting, he was terrible at it. You could see it clear as day in his eyes, the terror in them and the slight tremor in his bottom lip as he spoke, the shaking of his hand underneath the covers.

You retracted your hand, not missing the way he chased after the grounding feeling of your skin on his. You took his hand instead in your own, bringing it to you chest and placing it over your heart. You held him there, both of you listening to the feeling of it beating in your chest, pumping blood through your entire body.

“I’m here, and that’s because of you. You came back from the edge,” he nodded very slightly at your words as you gave him a comforting smile in return. “The nightmares will always be there, they never leave. But they’re nothing but bad dreams, they aren’t reality.”

Bob’s eyes followed your intertwined hands, locking onto them for a moment as he listened to the steady beat of your heart once again.

“...how do you deal with yours?”

“I wake up,” it brought a very small huff of a laugh from him, which was all that mattered. You gave his hand a squeeze, bringing his eyes back up to you. “You tell yourself they’re just bad dreams, and then you push them away. They can’t hurt you unless you let them.”

There was a beat of silence in the room once again, a question hanging off of Bob’s lips as his eyes flickered between yours and your lips, the flush that had appeared on his cheeks still obvious within the darkness of the room.

“...can uh, can I kiss you?”

Taking his hand still in yours, you brought it up to your own cheek, laying it there with a grin.

“From this moment on, you never have to ask again,”

There was no hesitation from Bob the second he had your consent, pulling ou to him and slotting his lips against yours. His movements were slight, cautious, but firm. The tremble in his lips was still there as you pressed back just as firmly to him, moving against him just as you had hours before as his hand managed to slip to the nape of your neck.

From that night on, neither of you ever slept alone again.

Bucky and Yelena were the first to know, having gone to wake you up for an early training one day, but instead opening the door to you and Bob tangled together in a mess of limbs as you slept. It wasn’t long until Alexei was celebrating upstairs over the news.

Bob’s bedroom soon became simply storage for his things, finding himself on the other side of your bed every single night. Curled around you with your back to his chest, his head resting against your collarbone, you name it and he’d fall asleep in any position possible as long as he was with you.

He thought the world of you. But it wouldn’t be long until he realized that you were never as “okay” as you seemed to portray yourself as. Sleeping together seemed to keep Bob’s nightmares at a bare minimum, but it hadn’t done much to stop yours.

Bob could still remember the first night he’d shot awake to your own screams. You were sweating profusely, heat essentially rolling off of your body. Bob scrambled under the covers, sitting up beside you as you ran your hands down his face, trying desperately to calm your breathing as you glanced at Bob quickly.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to wake you,” your breathing was still heavy, your heart beating out of your chest. “It was just a bad dream, I’m sorry.”

“...was it her?”

As awkward as Bob could be around others, he’d found a way to read you like a book in certain moments together, and now was one of them. The Mistress, the same woman from that day in your own personal shame room of hell, of course Bob knew it was her.

“She…wasn’t just a teacher in The Red Room. She was my mother,” you paused your own explanation, mulling over your words. “Well, as much of a mother to me as Alexei really was a father to Yelena and Natasha back then. At least he cared for them. Yelena got peewee soccer teams, got to go to school…I got hit, thrown around the room…she ruined my life in every way possible. Sometimes it’s hard to keep her out of my head.”

There was another beat of silence in the room, before Bob’s hand cautiously found yours. He threaded his own fingers through yours, giving your hand the lightest of squeezes in what he hoped was comfort. He’d grown used to receiving comfort from you and the others, but giving it himself wasn’t something he was used to.

“In the vault, Yelena tried to tell me that uh, that you just have to take that darkness and…push it down. It was…it was uh, you when you came into the Void that told me I couldn’t do that. Being with you, being around you…it helps me. I lean on you a lot, I know I do…y-you can lean on me too,”

No other words were spoken that night as Bob laid back down on his back and you slotted yourself into his side, head laid on his chest and letting the beat of his heart and the heat his body emitted lull you back into sleep.

For awhile, you never spoke of it again. The nightmares seemed to slow every night you and Bob spent wrapped up together, and you smiled around the team just as you typically did. On the outside to most, you were perfectly fine, but Bob could see through it. You were masking your thoughts and your pain, just as he always had. But you never pushed him to talk about things with you, so he didn’t push you to talk to him either about those dark thoughts that floated around your head.

Life moved on in the tower. Missions were run, dinners together were had, occasional movie nights even made their way onto the docket every week, once again courtesy of Alexei.

The first time the Red Guardian had managed to wrangle you all together in a shared space for a movie had been…chaotic. John and Ava argued over who could sit where, Yelena tried to convince her father that “old home movies of the glory days” did not constitute a movie night with the team, and Bucky shook his head quietly from the couch like a disapproving father.

One of the couches was already claimed by you and Bob. You’d slotted yourself into the corner by the armrest while Bob had found himself laid out across the cushions, his head finding it’s place in your lap as your fingers gently combed their way through his hair, nails scratching against his scalp as he closed his eyes and leaned into the feeling.

“You look like you’re going to fall asleep down there,” your voice opened his eyes once again as he looked up at your grinning face, the noise beyond you two from your friends drowned out in the moment. “Careful, fall asleep during Alexei’s movie night and you might not hear the end of it.”

“I-it’s your fault,” he mumbled back in the moment, cheeks flushing. “Your hands…they feel nice.”

That familiar four letter word was hanging in the back of your throat as you looked down at him, practically dying to crawl out of you the longer you looked at him. Instead of saying it, you leaned in, placing the gentlest of kisses on his lips, before pulling back with a smile at the awestruck look that had crossed his face in the moments after.

“God, Alexei, you’ve taken so long to pick a movie the lovebirds have already checked out!”

“Ah ah ah! Don’t be so harsh on young love, Winter Soldier! Two very strong, capable heroes these two are, I think they are perfect together. Imagine the super babies that could be had-”

“ALEXEI!”

Bob could still remember your laughter that night as the entire team yelled at the Russian super soldier, the carefree smile on your lips. He wished that smile would never leave your face, no matter what.

He loved your smile most in the moments where you were alone, though. Laying on the common room couch together, one of your heads lying in the other’s lap as one of you had your nose buried in a book. Or the moments he watched you flit around the kitchen, humming a song to yourself as you made something for the two of you to eat.

Bob loved you. He’d known it for awhile, even when he was so broken he didn’t believe he could be loved, or even give it. He felt loved by you, cared for, and he knew he loved you.

It’s because he loved you that he could clearly see that you were struggling inside. You’d never blame him, but that day in that HYDRA control room had done irreparable damage to you mentally, and he could almost see you beginning to come undone.

He saw it most when he watched you spar with Bucky or Yelena in the training room. He’d kept up with practicing control of his powers, but physical hand-to-hand combat was something he shied away from. That never stopped him from watching you, though.

Yelena ducked from the swing of your leg, sliding between your legs before landing a kick to the back of your knee. With a hiss of pain you dropped to your own knees, throwing a leg back and launching it into Yelena’s shoulder, giving you time to spin around and face her again as she bounced back to her own two feet.

Bob sat quietly in the corner, legs crossed under him as he wrung his hands together for something to do in his lap, just silently watching the two former Widows go hand to hand.

You made a lunge at Yelena, trying to knock her feet off the ground, but slipped, missing. Yelena took advantage, landing a swift punch to your jaw. You flew to your stomach, catching yourself with your hands on the ground as your jaw tightened from the pain.

“Sloppy, but you knew that. Come on, that mistake would’ve gotten you killed back in the room,”

Even Bob flinched at the comment, knowing what he knew about your past, having witnessed your greatest mistake with his own two eyes. Maybe Yelena couldn’t see it, but Bob did. The way your shoulders immediately tensed from across the room, how your entire body seemed to react to that statement, the memories you were probably enduring.

He knew the feeling of falling apart at the seams, having done it enough himself. He could see it happening to you right before his eyes, even if others didn’t notice, but he had no idea how a broken man like him could help the woman he loved.

Then, the mission came in.

“Intel suggests the base is held somewhere deep on the outskirts of Мирный, in the heart of Russia…” Bucky paused his explanation of the mission as the digital map behind him zoomed in on the coordinates outlined in the packet before him. His gaze flicked to Alexei for a second, before settling on the two former widows sat at the other end of the table. “Whoever is running it…they’d been kidnapping children, young girls, between the ages of 4 and 6. They’re…training them.”

Yelena managed to keep a straight face at Bucky’s words, even as her fists seemed to tighten. You didn’t do as good of a job at hiding it, everyone able to hear the sharp intake of breath from you. Bob could feel the way your hand tightened around his under the table as Yelena turned to look at you.

“Someone is trying to restart The Red Room,” you gave a stiff nod at Yelena’s words as you both came to the same conclusion. “Alright, what’s the plan? Dismantling, intel, what’s the job?”

“Rescue,” Bucky answered back, the digital board behind him showing the faces of a hundred or so young girls that were reported missing around the world. “They’ve got at least a hundred kids that we know of. Contain any agents around, if we can gather intel, then great, but they want us to go in and simply get these kids out of there. This is all hands on deck, no one is sitting this one out.”

You and Bob were alone before the mission, wheels up on the jet in less than ten minutes, according to Bucky. You adjusted the tactical gear that Bob had gotten himself into, the same one as last time, making sure that Bob protected for what was to come. While your hands were busy fidgeting with the buckles and straps on his tactical gear, Bob’s eyes never left your face.

“Are you…are you okay?”

“Well, someone is trying to restart the organization that ruined my life and many others, so…as good as I can be, I guess,” you tried to joke, stopping your movements as you looked up at Bob, hands sliding up until they rested on either side of his face. “I’m okay, I promise, it’s just…it’s a lot. Do me a favor, though? Let’s try not to have any Void related incidents today.”

“No promises,” you quirked an eyebrow at Bob’s words as he faltered. “T-that was supposed to uh, to be a joke.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his words, at the small smile that crossed his lips, and that four letter word was dying to spill past your lips and out into the open. You held it in, instead pulling Bob into you, molding your lips to his. His arms wound their way around you, albeit still cautiously, as you reveled in the small moment in the arms of the man you loved more than anything you ever had before.

The warehouse deep in the forests of Russia was quiet inside as the team moved through it. John and Bucky led the way through the falls, checking each and every room as Ava and Alexei looked over the files in front of them and gave directions to the area within the warehouse where the girls were said to be kept.

Yelena, Bob and yourself hung by at the back of the pack. Bob was quiet, simply looking between the former Widows as they glanced to one another every single time John or Bucky yelled out a “clear” after checking another room.

“Something is off about this, there’s no one here,” you commented quietly to Yelena and Bob. “Think they knew we were coming?”

“Maybe, but moving that many girls isn’t easy,” Yelena shot back as Bucky gave a nod back to the trio in the back, who moved to the next door. Bob stood behind you as you and Yelena raised your guns to the door, preparing to move through and check the room.

A single kick threw the door open, but the room was empty of anyone inside, just like the other ones were. You reupholstered your gun as Yelena took the right of the room, and you and Bob moved through the left side.

“It’s…kind of creepy down here,” Bob mumbled to you as you rifled through the papers on the desks before you, trying to find anything that could be useful to finding the girls. You laughed lightly at the comment.

“Well it’s not as creepy as The Red Room itself, but you aren’t wrong,”

“Widows, Bob, think we got something!”

John’s voice from the hallway brought the team back together. John quickly passed off the papers he found to you and Yelena as you rifled through them together.

“These are different from the intel we have on the girls,” Yelena shook her head, still flipping through the paperwork. “This talks about an entirely different holding cell for the girls, but it’s on the opposite end of the building.”

“We can’t be sure that information is even accurate,” Ava tried to argue back, looking around at the group. “Our intel clearly outlined they were being kept on the East end of the warehouse, there was nothing about the West end.”

“Easy, we’ll split up,” it was you that cut in, taking the papers from Yelena to look over the information. “You guys follow the original intel we received from Valentina’s team and Yelena and I will go and check out this new information.”

Bob bristled at the thought of splitting up from you, of not being with you for every second of the mission. He couldn’t help but think back on that fated HYDRA mission, of what would’ve happened if he hadn’t been there with her. In a moment of confidence, but what was probably pure terror in his heart, Bob’s hand shot out to grab onto yours as the team watched in silence.

“We- we can’t split up. What if- what if something happens and we- we aren’t there?” your face softened at the familiar look of terror glistening in Bob’s eyes. “What if…what if you get hurt?”

You leaned in quickly, not caring about your friends as you left a soft kiss on his lips, squeezing his hand once before backing away.

“I’ll see you in a bit, I promise,”

Not another word was shared between the ground as you and Yelena made your way back down the hallway toward the West end of the warehouse to check on the new information, while Bucky clapped a hand on Bob’s shoulder, trying to bring him back with them toward their original goal. Bob couldn’t help that his eyes followed you until you fully disappeared down the hallway.

The former widows were quiet for a moment before Yelena cleared her throat, looking over at you with a smirk.

“So…you told Bob you love him yet?”

You barked out a laugh, shaking your head as you both entered back into one of the larger, open rooms of the warehouse. 

“Yelena-”

“I’m just pointing out how sickeningly cute you two are. It’s nice to see Bob come out of his shell around you,” she passed by you, gun at the ready as she checked the room, bumping her shoulder with yours just slightly. “It’s nice to see you so relaxed, too. You’re different around him, lighter. After the life we’ve had…I’m glad you’ve found someone to care about like that, to make the darkness a little lighter.”

You smiled to yourself at her words, adjusting your grip on your own gun for a second as you looked around the room, still moving across the floor.

“Let’s just save these little girls from living through hell like we did so that maybe I can tell him I love him-”

The sentence was barely out of your mouth before an alarm blared, all exit doors in the open room of the warehouse being shuttered immediately. Both you and Yelena whipped back to the doorway you’d just come through, shooting toward what looked like a glass doorway that had come down, but your bullets simply ricocheted off without leaving a single mark.

“How nice it is to see two of my star pupils again,”

You and Yelena whipped around again, guns still trained high as you turned to the woman now standing behind you. Yelena’s grip on her gun tightened as she glanced between the woman and yourself just ten feet from her.

You faltered the second you laid eyes on the woman, grip on your gun loosening for just a second as she stared across the room at you.

The Mistress. Your mother.

“What, no words for your long-lost mother?” there was a smirk on her face as your grip on your gun tightened again. The smirk left her lips as she glared straight at you. “Stand up straight, have I taught you nothing-”

“There’s no girls here, are there,” Yelena cut in, stating her words instead of asking. There was no doubt in her voice. “It was all a setup to get us here.”

“Well not you,” the Mistress pointed her finger toward Yelena, before trailing it to you once again. “More so for my daughter-”

“I’m not your daughter,” you sneered back, finger resting over the trigger of your gun.

There were shouts behind you, the rest of the team seeming to have heard the alarm and running back to find the pair of you. They were stopped behind the glass-like barrier that had been shut. You looked back, seeing Bucky, John and Alexei all trying to break through, but whatever it was made out of was something that it didn’t seem super soldiers could even break that easily.

Your eyes locked with Bob’s terrified ones, and your grip on the gun tightened again.

“What do you want with us?” Yelena called out to the Mistress, who shrugged her shoulders toward her.

“Well, I’m not exactly here for you,” before anyone could react the Mistress had raised her arm, the familiar glow around her wrist of what had been nicknamed “Widow Bites” lighting up before shooting toward Yelena.

You called out for her, throwing yourself between the woman as your gun stayed trained on her and Yelena, who was now writhing on the ground in pain, the electrocution from the device obviously having been increased from the groans that sounded from your closest friend. You could hear Alexei from behind the barrier call out for her.

“This is between us,” you seethed at the Mistress, every second in her presence fueling the anger deep inside of you. All those memories, all those years, all that pain.

“That it is,” she called back. “I needed to see my girl in the flesh. My little deadly assassin, my perfect project, turned into an Avenger. What a joke. This isn’t who you are-”

“You know nothing about me,” you sneered back at her as she laughed.

“I made you, I know everything about you. Just rejoin me, my girl. Train the next generation of Widows at my side,”

“They only place I want to see you is six feet under,”

The Mistress sighed, shaking her head as she reached into the waistband of her pants.

“So sad…my perfect project…and you turned out to be nothing but a mistake,”

The calls from your team, your friends, to stop went unheard as the Mistress pulled a gun, shooting toward you. You dodged with ease, launched forward and grabbed her around the waist, slamming her onto the concrete ground below you as you sat over top of her.

The team was stunned from beyond the glass, all they could see was the wailing of your fists into the woman’s face. She slashes at your arms with a knife from her waistband, but you never even flinched, grabbing the weapon from her hands and launching it across the room before resuming your punches.

“She’s losing it…” Ava whispered loud enough for the team to hear. “Who…who is that woman?”

Bob knew, but it wasn’t his place to tell. From what you’d all explained to him, what played out before them was eerily similar to that day in New York in the Void, in the shame rooms. The way that Bob wailed punches on the other side of himself, desperately trying to free himself from…himself.

You were trapped in your own head, in your own memories and your own pain. You needed him.

Bob shoved through his friends, not wasting a second in placing his hand on the glass no one could break. The second his fingers touched the glass it shattered on impact, thousands of pieces falling to the ground. And he didn’t waste a second before rushing to your side.

Your vision was blurred from your own tears by the time that Bob’s arms wrapped around your shoulders, tugging you backward off of the bloody, beaten shell of a woman now barely breathing below you.

“NO! No, let me kill her! Let me kill her!”

The rest of the team helped Yelena to her feet as they watched on as you screamed and cried, falling into a heap in Bob’s arms as he simply held you, letting you cry as the sound echoed around the room.

Hours later, and Bob was still pacing outside the medical wing of the Watchtower back in New York. You were just on the other side of the door with Yelena, and all he wanted was to be in the room with you. His hands wrung together, his pacing increasing by the minute until the door finally opened.

“She’s okay,” Yelena told Bob with a small smile, holding up a hand to stop him as he rushed up to her the second she was through the door. “Well, physically at least. But she’s okay. She’s asking for you, though.”

“...are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just go in there and see your girl,” Yelena placed a hand on Bob’s shoulder, squeezing it with a smirk on her face, but there was a softness behind it. “And maybe…tell her, if you know what I mean.”

You were stood at the windows within the confined space of the medical wing, looking down on the streets of New York. You could hear the door open and close behind you, the footsteps crossing the room lightly, and coming to stand beside you. You knew who it was without a second thought, reaching over and taking Bob’s hand in your own.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that,”

“W-well I’m pretty sure you all uh, you all have seen me worse than that, so…”

You let out a short chuckle at the comment, turning up to look at him as tears pooled in your eyes.

“All I saw was red…she called me a mistake and all I saw was red. I’ve spent so long trying to push it all away, push my childhood away and be this strong person…and all it took was seeing her once for my walls to come crashing down,” a lump formed in your throat as you swallowed it. “I don’t know how to fix it. I can’t push it away anymore, and I…I don’t know how to get better this time.”

Bob seemed to hesitate for a second, before shaky hands came up to cup your cheeks.

“J-just stay with me,”

You smiled, leaning into his touch.

“Stealing my line now-”

“Just stay with me because I…because I love you. A-and I need you,”

You froze for just a moment at his words, and you could see the momentary panic in his eyes before you surged forward into a kiss. It was light, sweet, and the fluttering within your chest mirrored the one happening in his own.

It was you that pulled away, but just barely. Lips just an inch apart, noses brushing as another tear ran down your cheek, but this time not in sadness.

“Always…because I love you too,”

[yamumsyadadd]

the end of the road

The start of a new series :) alexia Putellas x Leah Williamson!ex wife. Other writings about it here: 4 times

When you were thirteen you thought you met the love of your life, but now at twenty-six you realised you were wrong. 

Leah had always been the pretty, popular girl. When you immigrated to Melton Kaynes in 2013 with your papa, you were intimidated by her. Her natural blonde hair and blue eyes made everyone fawn over her. Everyone but you. Though that would quickly change. 

After an assignment threw the two of you together, she wanted to be around you. You didn’t think you were anything special, your ordinary brown hair, brown eyes and Spanish skin but to Leah, you were the most beautiful person she’d ever seen. 

There was something about your demeanour that drew her in. Maybe it was the fact that you didn’t care what people thought about you, or the way you helped others in class when they didn’t understand. She wasn’t sure, but she was ready to risk everything for you. 

Leah would follow you around like a puppy begging for a crumb of food. She wanted your attention, for you to see her. Truthfully you did see her but you weren’t confident in your own sexuality, so why would you be confident in hers? 

Slowly, your walls around her came down. You had a lot more in common than you realised. Her parents were divorced and so were yours. The only difference was who you lived with. Your mami had stayed behind in Spain, continuing on with the group homes and foster care foundation she had started. Your papa opted to move back to England and extend the foundation to more European countries. 

It was a random Tuesday when you first kissed Leah. She was rambling on about some football thing she disagreed with and you couldn’t help it. After the initial confusion Leah kissed back. It didn’t even get to the end of the day before she asked you to be her girlfriend, you were slightly hesitant, but said yes nonetheless. 

You tried to hide the relationship from both your parents. Your mami was the one that caught it first, secretly telling your papa not to freak out if and when you decided to share the news. It took a few months before you felt confident and comfortable enough to share it with them. 

Since their divorce, they remained friends. Real friends, there was no huge fight or cheating that caused it, they simply just grew apart and no longer loved each other in that way. As all three of you sat around the dinner table in Barcelona, you started to cry. The overwhelming feeling that your parents would be disappointed, angry or even resentful.

“Querida, what’s wrong?” Your mami was alarmed, one minute you were all laughing then you burst into tears. 

“I’m in love with Leah. She’s my girlfriend, I’m a lesbian.” It came out in a mumbled mess. “Please don’t be mad.” You quickly added once you realised neither of your parents were talking. 

“Pumpkin, we know.” Your papa smiled at you. 

“You do?” 

“Of course. Why do you think you have to keep your bedroom door open when she’s over? Or that she has to sleep in the guest room for sleepovers?” Oh. You never thought about that. 

“Why would we be mad?” 

“I don’t know. I guess because I won’t give you grandkids?” 

“You can have a baby another way. I’m sure if and when the time comes, you will give us the most perfect grandchildren.” Your mami wiped your tears. She was wrong though. 

As the years progressed, so did your relationship with Leah. Throughout the final two years of highschool you were an anchor to each other. When your mami was diagnosed with breast cancer, she was there. 

When your mami died eighteen months later, she was there. Holding you on the hospital floor as you sobbed so hard you made yourself sick. The entire time Leah was by your side, refusing to leave, letting you cry into her until you passed out. 

At twenty, Leah proposed in the country side of England. Without hesitation you tackled her to the ground repeatedly saying yes. You were going to marry the woman of your dreams. 

It felt like a dream, telling your friends and family, throwing an engagement party, having everyone congratulate you. Never in a million years did you expect for this to happen. 

Thanks to the inheritance you received from your mami, you were able to buy a house big enough for you and Leah, maybe a few kids down the line. It wasn’t the biggest or fanciest house, but it was yours. It felt and smelt like home. 

After being engaged for two years, you had set a date. The wedding was everything you and Leah had dreamed of. Her teammates from throughout the years, high school friends and your family from Spain were all in attendance. There wasn’t an ounce of doubt in either of your minds. 

After the reception, you and Leah were able to sneak away for a few quiet moments. 

“You look so beautiful.” She said as she wrapped her arms around your waist. 

“So do you. I love you.” Your hand ran along her jaw as you took in the way she looked. Wanting to savour this moment forever. 

“I want to have a baby.” You were slightly taken aback with her serious tone but agreed straight away. 

Almost as soon as the honeymoon was over, the fertility treatments started. It didn’t take long, your second try, and you were pregnant. The pregnancy was a dream, you had limited morning sickness and no stretch marks. You and Leah were in heaven. But then the world shut down.

The COVID-19 restrictions awoke something inside of you. The feeling of missing your home country, the people who helped run the foundation and your mamis best friend, Marisol. You longed to go back to Spain, but with Leah’s football career kicking off you knew it wasn’t a possibility. 

The birth of your first child, a boy called Oscar, was something so magical and beautiful. You laboured at home with Leah for as long as you could, she was there doing whatever she could. Getting ice, massaging your lower back, swaying with you. You name it, Leah did it. 

After 49 hours, Oscar came into the world screaming incredibly loudly. As soon as he was put on your chest, both you and Leah burst into tears. 

Oscar was a dream baby. For a while it was just the three of you. While it was completely exhausting, it was worth it. You and Leah had created the most perfect little boy. You were happy with the life you created but you still longed to return home. 

It was harder to run the foundation from England then you anticipated. Marisol was taking care of the Spanish part of it, your dad looking after Germany and Switzerland. The UK was on you. Everything would go perfectly and then, in a blink of an eye, things would fall apart. 

Cracks started to appear in your marriage too. Leah was in the prime of her life, travelling all over for football, but you were stuck. Oscar was in nursery throughout the day when you worked but you couldn’t help but feel empty. 

Leah was coming home later, sometimes close to midnight. The sex had dwindled to maybe once a fortnight if you were lucky. You were the one that did everything. The laundry, house cleaning, paid all the bills, took Oscar to swimming and little kickers, read his bed night stories. It was as if you were a single parent. 

Then you noticed the signs. The change of the her phone password, no more flaunting you on social media, inviting you to team events. She made it seem like she was single. 

Oscar was only fourteen months old. You could see the future you hoped for disappear in a flash. Amanda, Leah’s mum, had taken Oscar for the night. It was supposed to be your date night. 

But as you sat there in the couch, heels thrown off near the door, dress started to feel constrictive, you realised that Leah wasn’t coming home. 

It was well past midnight when Leah came in. smelling like alcohol and someone else’s perfume. 

“Where have you been?” You asked, anger evident in your voice. 

“Out with mum.” She couldn’t even lie properly. 

“That’s a lie.” You said as you stood up, “your mum has Oscar. He’s been there since 3pm.” You watched her reaction. You walked closer to her, wanting her to know how serious you were, “I don’t care who she is. If you keep seeing her, we are done. Oscar and I will go back to Spain.” 

“Babe-“

“No.” You put your hand up to stop her, “it’s us or her. You decide.” 

She chose your family. You never asked who the girl was, you suspected, but it was never confirmed. You made her go to therapy, then for you both to go to marriage counselling. You worked hard to regain trust and Leah proved to you again why you loved her. 

It took six months but then stupidly you agreed to a second baby. For the first two trimesters Leah was there. Helping more with Oscar, doing house work, taking you out on dates and being the loving wife you knew she was. 

As you were nearing your final month of pregnancy, things were getting harder. Leah was barely around, the love you once shared seemed to be a distance memory. Most nights you cried yourself to sleep, hand in your belly as you did so. 

You needed help, Leah would have excuse after excuse so you hired a nanny. Isobel was from Spain too, spending the year studying in London. She was perfect, you were able to speak your mother language to her, Oscar picked it up quickly too. 

It was a relief. To have the help with Oscar and household chores. You got to focus on the last few days of work before you went on maternity leave. The due date of your daughter was approaching fast, as was Christmas. 

The Christmas market was a favourite of yours. The light snow dusted the ground, the smell of cinnamon and hot chocolate filled the air. Oscar looked so cute in his winter suit with his gloves and hat, and there was Leah. Looking as beautiful as you remembered. 

You felt giddy like a children when she told you she’d be joining the two of you tonight. This would probably be your last outing as a family of three. By the time you were at home in bed, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. You were incredibly happy that your family was slowly coming back together. 

It didn’t last long though. On December 21st, you sat at home on the couch. Oscar was already in bed asleep and the time was nearing 8.30pm. All day you had been having slight contractions, but the sharp pain that ripped across your stomach was nothing you’d ever felt before. 

Something was very wrong. 

You tried ringing Leah. Over and over again. But each time she declined the call. You texted and she left you on read. The final text message you sent that she did reply to broke your heart. 

You: somethings wrong Leah. I’m bleeding and the pain is horrible. 

Leah: what do you want me to do about it?”

You: I need to go to the hospital. Oscar is asleep. 

Leah: call an uber or something. Idk. 

The anger you felt was very quickly replaced with fear. Your two and a half year old son was sleeping upstairs, your wife was being a bitch and there was no other option than to call for an ambulance. 

So that’s what you did. First you rang Amanda, Leah’s mum, then you rang an ambulance. As you potted around the loungeroom, blood was dropping onto the floor. You knew it needed to be cleaned before Oscar woke up otherwise he would freak out. 

Thankfully, Amanda arrived quickly and so did the ambulance. 

“Leah’s not coming. Please stay with Oscar.” You begged her as they loaded you up. Something flashed across Amanda’s face, probably anger and disappointment in her daughter but at that moment all you could focus on was your own daughter. 

Somewhere along the way you rang your dad and Marisol begging them to come as fast as they could. They tried but ultimately you gave birth to your beautiful daughter alone, at 4.44am. 

You were exhausted and didn’t even bother looking at your phone, missing the millions of instagram notifications until it was too late. 

Marisol was the first to get to the hospital, meeting your daughter, Amelia, a mere 45 minutes after she was born. She told you how proud she was of you, how you did such a good job and you couldn’t help but cry. 

Since your mami had died, Marisol took over that role. She was your mamis best friend, your godmother, one of the best people you knew. After a few hours and minimal sleep, you decided to message Leah. Letting her know that her daughter had been born. 

Before you could though you were overwhelmed with the amount of notifications on your phone. As you clicked on one, it lead you to the comments section of an instagram post. 

A post that contained your wife and a teammate. Kissing. At the same Christmas markets you took your son to a few days prior. You couldn’t stop the sob that came out of your mouth. Both your dad and Marisol stopping what that were doing immediately.

“What’s wrong!” 

“Is something hurting?” 

“Leah-“ was all you were able to get out, shoving your phone into Marisol’s hand. Their hearts broke for you, less than 10 hours after giving birth you found out your wife was cheating on you. 

It started to make sense. The distance, the late nights and early mornings, the way she separated herself. It made you nauseous. Was she cheating when she begged for a second kid? Did she fuck someone in the house you lived in together? In your bed? 

Before you had the chance to completely spiral, Oscar ran into the room. Excited to meet his baby sister and see his mama. There was a look of anger on Jacob’s face when he walked in and saw Leah still wasn’t there. 

For an hour they kept up appearances but then you politely asked everyone but Amanda to leave. 

“Leah cheated on me. I don’t know details, and I don’t want to know details but I want all of her stuff out of my house by the time I’m home.” 

Amanda was confused so you took the liberty to show her the photos. Confusion turned into anger. She called her own family to organise the removal of Leah’s belongings, your dad took the chance to call a locksmith. 

If or when Leah decided to return to the family home she would find all of the locks changed and her belongings at her mother’s. 

You were good in a crisis. Level headed and calm, always the first point of call when something went wrong with the foundation and this was no different. The crisis was now your life and you had to fix it. 

Christmas was a good distraction, Leah had attempted to reach out, to promise it was a mistake, a one time thing. but the wound had been created and she couldn’t fix it now. 

Over new years Oscar struggled. You all did. thankfully your dad and Marisol hung around for as long as they could. 

Leah had only met Amelia twice. By the second time she didn’t seem interested at all. As if this baby was just a burden to her. Amanda visited often, as did Jacob. One night you decided to break the news to them. Oscar was already passed out in bed and Amelia was asleep in the bassinet. 

“I’m moving back to Spain. The kids will obviously be coming too. I’m selling the house.”

“What about Leah?” Amanda asked. 

“She can see the kids whenever she likes. I won’t keep them from her. However in the last week she hasn’t reached out at all.”

“That’s it? You’re giving up?” Jacob asked, raising his voice. 

“There’s nothing to give up on Jake. She cheated, she ruined this family. Not me. I gave birth alone, I have been raising our son alone.” 

“Have you told her?” 

“I tried. She left my message on read. I sent in the divorce papers, I don’t want any money from her, I don’t want to fight over this but I will if I have to.” 

Amanda let a few tears slip before she spoke up, “you deserve better.” 

“Mum!”

“No jacob she does. Leah broke this family, Leah left her wife alone to give birth, she went out to a public place and snogged a teammate. You can love your sister but this, this is her fault. Y/n, I will support you through this. You’re a wonderful mother, both those kids are incredibly lucky to have you.” You cried as she hugged you goodbye, the chapter was closing and while it is what you wanted, you felt incredibly heartbroken. 

Leah fought the divorce. It was ugly and it was messy. The prenup prevented either of you from getting each other’s money, you would keep the house. The judge agreed that sole custody would reside with you for the mean time and in a year it would be revisited. 

The alienation started almost immediately. Leah would tell Oscar it was you that broke up the family, that you were taking him away from her. Never once did you correct her, there was no way you wanted to mess up his toddler mind more than it already was. 

Spain was a breath of fresh air. You had reached out to Isobel, explaining most of what had happened and said if she was to find herself in Barcelona anytime soon, you’d happily hire her again. 

Oscar settled into his new daycare easily, at home he wasn’t so settled. You tried to be understanding, but it was so incredibly hard. Your marriage was over, your soon to be ex wife was alienating your son, the friends you shared with her slowly stopped reaching out. 

Once your maternity leave ended, you threw yourself into the foundation. Wanting to make it grow, fix everything you could. 

The idea of a compound came to you in the middle of the night. Amelia was teething and as you sat there comforting her you thought about all the teen parents doing the best they could. Fostering teenagers wasn’t something many people did, so foster a teenager who had a baby was even more limited. 

You drew up a rough plan, something to discuss with Marisol later in the day. It consisted of an apartment style complex, 6 or 7 houses, 1 and 2 bedroom apartments with one on the end for a caregiver. 

When you bought the idea up with Marisol and Miriam, the manager of the under 10s portfolio, they were on board immediately. It wouldn’t be easy to pull off but you were sure you could do it. 

While you threw yourself into work to get over the heartbreak, Leah threw herself into the beds of other women. No matter how hard to tried to avoid it, there was pictures and comments plastered on the internet. 

Oscars behaviour was getting worse. After every phone call, every quick visit, he would come back rude and mean. You knew he was struggling but you also knew that he couldn’t talk to people like that. Leah refused to help, she claimed he was the perfect child for her and this was all your fault. 

As the months pushed on, you worked tirelessly to began this project and when it started, you couldn’t help but shed some happy tears. All the extra hours you put in once the kids were asleep was finally going to pay off. 

When Leah tore her ACL you were conflicted. On one hand you were sad she wouldn’t be able to captain her team in the World Cup, but on the other hand she would be able to be move present in your children’s lives. 

Her relationship with the now five month old Amelia, was practically nonexistent. You weren’t breastfeeding, finding that it was causing you more stress than it was worth. When offered to have her over night, Leah would straight up refuse. It was getting to a point that was concerning to you. At no point did you want your daughter to grow up feeling less Love from her own mother. 

Oscar’s third birthday was fast approaching. Leah, who had done her knee, wouldn’t be attending the pre-world cup camps. Her family and yours would come together in Spain and celebrate him. As much as it hurt seeing her and her family, you had to swallow your own feelings to put Oscar first. 

He loved every second of it, all the attention, the food, the love. It had been a while since he had been that happy. As the day came to a close, Jacob and Oscar were outside on the trampoline, Marisol and Amanda were pottering around tidying up and you had just put Amelia to sleep when Leah came up behind you. 

“I miss you.” She whispered, learning up against the door frame. 

“Leah-“

“No I do. I know I fucked up but I want to fix it. I love you, only you.” She looked at you like you hung the moon, as much as you still loved Leah, you couldn’t do that to yourself. 

“I can’t Leah. You cheated on me, left me to have a baby alone. I know you’re sad and scared and whatever but I’m not the person to find comfort in. I’m sorry.” You tried to push past but she grabbed on your arm. In an instant her mouth was on yours, kissing you. 

For a moment you let yourself melt into it. Forgetting what it was like to be kissed by here but then you realised what was happening and pushed her off. “Leah no.” It’s all you could muster before you headed back outside to collect Oscar. 

After that night, something in Leah switched. She started to be more cruel, not just to you but everyone around. 

You tried to co parent with her, but ultimately you had to take her back to court and get help. From that point on, all communication went through a parenting app. The lawyers and court could read it all and see what was being said. 

The worst part of it all was watching the fallout on social media. Leah’s fans were coming for your throat. Everything was your fault, it didn’t matter that she cheated, that she ruined your family. To them, their favourite captain could so no wrong. 

things changed when you met alexia. You were scared, nervous but mostly excited.

[im-not-a-ghost]

A portrait of your fated lover

Group 1

Cards : Agate - Find your solid ground, Knight of pentacles, Treat yourself eat what you want, Underworld, Newborn butterfly, Majestic stag " I honor my self worth by asking for what I want."

There's a predominance of Earth energy in this spread, especially Taurus energy. I also picked up on Venusian energy so Libra may be significant as well. This person's energy feels very feminine. I think it is safe to say that this person is a lover by nature. They are very caring, kind, generous on a daily basis but those qualities will be even more highlighted when they are with you. They have a very empathetic nature as well. Their sensitivity shows in the way they talk and in their gestures. They walk very slowly, their touch is deliberate and careful, their tone is reassuring and warm. They are very encouraging and supportive of others as well. I feel like your trope with this person would be friends to lovers. Connection to and through music seems very significant. Music could be part of their hobbies but it could also be their job. They need time to trust people but once their mind is made, this person does not back down until they get what they want. They have a steady and secure approach with relationships. They take the time to get to know the other and make sure that both partners are on the same wave length because they value stability and authenticity. When they are dating, they are in for the long run. They're not interested in short term connections. This person is family oriented and also career oriented so they would appreciate a partner that is respectful of their goals.

They definitely are a foody ! In the past, they may have struggled with their body image and physical health. They could have struggled with eating disorders. But now, this person is very conscious of what they eat. However, they do not deprive themselves of what makes them happy. They've worked really hard on their sense of worth and can now proudly say that they love themselves. They've gone through an important transformation in their life. This could have involved a physical glow up. But I feel like their mental state changed drastically as well, as I get the impression with the underworld card that they overcame a period of depression. With the energy of the stag, I feel like this person has stepped into their true power after many trials. I also pick up on the fact that they feel grateful for these challenges because they're aware of the role they played in their progress. They learned how to set their boundaries and ensure that their needs are met. They may have been neglected in past relationships.

They enjoy spending time alone in nature to get back to their center. If in the past they used to be surrounded by many people, they learned the hard way that sometimes being alone was better than being in bad company. This person now values their alone time and makes it a part of their routine. Speaking of routines, their energy feels quite organized and stable. This person likes for things to be explicit. They like to know in advance what their schedule will be, what people expect of them, what resources do they have and so on. Unpredictability may scare them. Physically, I feel like they're quite tall and fit. They put a lot of work into their health and their appearance. They dress aesthetically. Their physical traits are natural for the majority : they don't dye their hair, they likely do not have any piercing or tattoo, if they've had any surgery it isn't something that is appearant and it was likely done for health purposes only. They may not wear make up or if they do, they use very little amount of product. I get a very clean vibe from this group. Honestly, I feel like your person could be modeling for an ad. For some of you, that may be part of their job. Anyways, they are definitely good looking and I feel like you'll particularly enjoy looking at their face. They may have straight hair with bangs that hide their eyes. They may like to wear hoodies and beanies or caps a lot. I feel like their fashion style is rather genderless. What stands out the most is how clean and tidy it looks all together. They may go for a casual chic vibe more often.

This person has a very romantic vibe. They could mostly show affection through physical touch, acts of service, gift giving and quality time. Though they may be very artistic and don't have any difficulty communicating in their daily life, I feel like in an intimate setting they have a hard time finding their words. They may not say "I love you" very often but their actions will show you without a doubt that they do. They'll bring you your favorite food when you're feeling a bit down, surprise you when you least expect it because you deserve it, anticipate your needs, make significant gestures to help you on your journey. Their love feels slow and steady. They'll build a cocoon around you that you'll never want to leave because of how safe you feel in it. You'll never have to fear this person's reactions or wonder whether they're faking it. Everything they do is very genuine and deliberate. If they tell you they like you, they mean it. If they gift you something, they meant to. They don't have any second thought, any ulterior motive than to take care of you, nurture you and love you wholeheartedly.

Channeled song (s) : Jimin - Lie, BTS - Butterfly Extras : niche interests, book worm, ASMR enthusiast, workaholic, gamer, middle child, ESFP, ISTP, ENTJ

Group 2

Cards : 8 of pentacles, Chrysocolla - Be your own mama, I've got superpowers, The Observer, Sturdy crab, Eternal roots "Guidance is available to me now. I know that angels, ancestors and spirit guides are always at hand. I do not walk alone.

Okay, this is definitely my psychic / healer group. This person is a good mix of Earth and Water energy, especially Taurus, Scorpio and Cancer. This person has a hard time looking at themselves in the mirror. They struggle with their body image and they are not comfortable with showing their body. They are very modest and this could also be because of their cultural background. They are a hard worker to the point that when they're up to something they have a hard time stopping. They may stutter or have a hard time finding their words in public settings but in private they can be pretty elaborate. This person had to grow up very quickly and parent themselves. They could be working in a medical field or a position that requires them to care for others : teacher, paramedic, massage therapist, psychologist and so on. They use their hands a lot or they have the ability to provide healing through touch. They may also do a lot of manual activities as a hobby. They could have the ability to read into energies. This may or may not be a conscious thing. This person is possibly religious and/or interested in the occult.

They have a hard time trusting other people. They have a sturdy shell that not many have been able to see beyond. This person is alone most of the time. They have a hard time making connections. They may struggle with ASD. This person could be neurodivergent. They need a lot of quiet time to recharge. They could also struggle with mental health issues. This person has been through a lot, that's for sure. And despite all of that, they are the kindest and sweetest person you'll ever meet. In group settings, they tend to be like a mother. They cater to everyone's needs exept their own. They encourage and compliment others, make sure everyone's eaten and drunk their water, that everyone's had a proper sleep and is feeling good. But they forget themselves in the process. Physically, they have rather long hair. They can be quite curvy but I feel like what stands out the most about their appearance is that they hide behind a lot of clothing. They wear oversized clothes or clothes that aren't revealing. They may layer clothes a lot. If they wear skirts or dresses, those are quite long and flowy so that it doesn't stick to their body. Even in Summer, this person is covered up. This person masks a lot of their true self in public. This could be litteral in the sense that they wear an actual mask in public, maybe for health purposes for some. But it could also be metaphorical in the sense that they wear things or act in ways that is not relevant to who they are as a person. This is likely a defense mechanism and they may do so because they feel pressured. Of course, it could also mean that this person wears a veil in public.

In connections, I feel like they show their affection in all ways. They have no problem changing love languages to adapt to their partner's needs. This person feels like a chameleon a little. I think this could be related to their ability to mask certain aspects of themselves but also to their high levels of empathy. I am not given many details about their physique but more about their personality so it could also mean that looks don't matter to them. They also feel very balanced in their feminine and masculine. It could be possible that this person is gender neutral. I see a lot of green on the cards which relates to heart chakra energy. So this person has a lot of heart that they put into everything they do. They are a very genuine person that only wishes to love and be loved. Their shell isn't easy to crack but once you've earned their trust, you can be sure that they will treat you like royalty. They are 100% a giver and tend to be on the submissive side. In that sense, they feel a bit similar to group 1's person. Family is important to this person. They may wish to have a family of their own in the future. Like group 1's person, they are not into short term connections. They date for the long run. They look for a partner that can be understanding of their shadows and will not run away when things get difficult. This person is dealing with an abandonment wound. In past connections, they were mostly left out and never chosen. They may have been bullied as a child. This person is extremely loyal and dedicated to their lover. You will never have to doubt about this person's dedication and intentions.

Channeled song(s) : Mario theme, Naruto OST, Saliva - I walk alone (Dave Bautista entrance theme) Extras : words of affirmation, cultural differences, kinky 24/7, first born child, golden retriever vibes, ASMR enthusiast, ISTP, ENFJ

Group 3

Cards : Copper - Energize your whole world, Strength, Hierophant, Do what you love, Cunning fox, Forgotten arch "The more I honor my inner light the more I brighten the world. I choose to shine."

This group gives of fire and earth energy, especially Taurus, Leo and Sagittarius. There are two things that are striking about this person : their eyes and their voice. They are smart AF. If you were to debate with them, you wouldn't be able to win. They are very convincing people. And also very charming. They ooze confidence. This is someone that is very active physically, both for health purposes but also for fun. They are very passionate, bed time included. They are also very funny. They make a lot of snarky comments and sexual inuendos. They speak and type really fast. They cannot stay still. They have many interests and can pretty much do anything. They're an all rounder and a fast learner. They are very skilled and popular among their peers. They have core values that they would defend no matter what. They cannot stand injustice. This stems from past experiences, including romantic ones. They could have been cheated on by ex partners. This person may have been told quite frequently in their life that they were "too much", "too loud", "too noticeable". Which may have birthed a lot of resentment in this person as well as anger issues.

Physically they are quite bulky and impressive. They intimidate people just by their looks. There's something about them that's very warm. It could be because of their fashion style, their shining smile or their incredible charisma. They are intense. Not only because they are constantly on their guards and ready to fight but because their personality is complex and they have a lot of depth. This person may be religious. Or at least they're very traditional. If they define themselves as a man, they may be a bit of a machist. They have a very dominant energy. I feel like they're the type to believe in that alpha/beta/omega dynamic between people. And they want to be perceived as and embody that alpha energy. They come off as very masculine in their energy. So they may struggle with expressing their feminine side more. This person is likely to show affection through actions than words. They are definitely sensual and kinky. They have a lot of stamina. They are stubborn AF. But they're also incredibly uplifting and inspiring. This person is the type that would push their partner to be the best version of themselves and help them embrace their own light. I feel like they would challenge their partner, tease them a lot, bring out the more competitive side of them because they themselves are very competitive. They aren't afraid of depth and shadows so if their partner had any rocky past I feel like this person wouldn't mind. They're the "only matters the here and now" type.

This person has a very curious mind and I feel like that applies sexually. They may like to spice things up quite often. They may enjoy spicy food and boosting their stamina with certain herbs deemed as aphrodisiacs. They could believe in superstitions. Again, I get a very committed vibe from this group. If this person dates someone, they do it with the hope that it will lead to something long lasting. They are the most likely to commit very early on in relationships. They do not like to dwell on the past. I also feel like very early on this person will make you feel like royalty. They definitely pamper their partner and spoil them. Even though they may not be into PDA, I feel like this person will deliberately at times use physical touch to show others you are off limits. They definitely are the jealous and possessive type. They may be a bit rigid at first in connections and they need to be sure their partner is as serious as they are if they want to be able to release the need to control.

Channeled song(s) : The Final Countdown, Doodle - Changbin Extras : book worm, cultural differences, gift giving, kinky 24/7, drama queen/king, INTJ, ENTP, INTP, INFJ

[blueberrybirdsworld]

Collision 20/20

Summary:

Lando always had a type : blonde, models, not ready to settle down. Yet once he met her, all his world is changed and he slowly start to realises maybe he was wrong all this time.

It's a prequel story of The Cat Distribution System, on how Lando Norris fall in love with Ariana. Could be read seperatly.

Pairing : lando norris x original female character

Genre : Fluff, slow burn, enventual smut and angst

Warning : last chapter so pure fluff

Serie Masterlist

CHAPTER 20 : SMAU

BeReal: @landonorris

Shared to: Close Friends Only

Cohabitation update: she brought the cat, the ribbon collection & half a ballet studio. I brought… enthusiasm.

🗯️ Replies (Close Friends Only):

Carlos 

MONACO???

YOU MOVED IN WITH HER??

WE BLINKED AND YOU’RE A HUSBAND.

Charles

I KNEW IT

also tell Ari we expect invites now

Pietra 

I am ACTUALLY CRYING

this is the final boss of the soft boy arc

Max Fewtrell 

“I brought enthusiasm” 💀 bro what happened to you

used to be scared of cats

now you’re living with one and two silk robes probably

Pierre

this man went from “no labels” to “we live together and share ribbon storage” real quick

Max Verstappen

ARIA HAS A BALCONY NOW !

I’M COMING TO VISIT FOR THE CAT

will she let me hold her yet??? I’ve been manifesting this.

Oscar

can you confirm if this also means you now own throw pillows and scented candles?

George

this is the most emotionally evolved I’ve ever seen you 🥹

Kika

i’m actually sobbing. soft girls win again

Rebecca 

also Ari look GLOWY??? is that love or monaco sun, or both???

Alexandra

this is my roman empire

Group Chat: Grid Gossip 🏁

Carlos

so… just to clarify

@Lando did you actually move in with the ballerina and her cat?? 🧐

George

Really enjoying this transformation from “I don’t do feelings” to

“I now live with an emotionally intelligent woman and her suspicious cat”

✨Brilliant arc✨

Oscar

He used to flinch when he heard me say “relationship.”

Now she owns 90% of his apartment

Lando

you’re all SO dramatic

it’s just a flat

calm down

Charles

oh okay

a flat you moved into with your girlfriend

with a cat you used to fear but now call “baby”

Lando

I DID THAT ONCE 🙄

George

And we’ll never forget. 😌

Pierre

How many ribbons is she up to now?

Do you guys have a color-coded emotion chart on the fridge?

Lando

...maybe.

Max Verstappen

okay but more importantly

how is Aria doing???

is she adjusting?

is she happy?

does she need anything??? 😟

Carlos

mate. focus.

Max Verstappen

I AM.

ON THE CAT.

Lando

i hate all of you

deeply and emotionally

George

mate, you’re halfway to adopting a second cat

don’t threaten us with feelings

Charles

congrats tho 🫶

happy for you both

also pls invite us for dinner

Lando

🙄 fine

next weekend. pasta night. bring wine.

Group Chat: Fan club of Ariana

Created by Charles Leclerc

9:12 AM | the morning after dinner

Charles

good morning to everyone except Lando and his fairy-tale domestic life

Carlos

did anyone else feel like they stayed in a boutique spa ?

Oscar

his soap smells like jasmine and stability

I didn’t know that was possible

Pierre

the real question is

why do I feel safer at THEIR place than in my own apartment 🫠

Carlos

and WHY did i walk into the kitchen and find Lando

making espresso

shirtless

with one hand on Ariana’s waist

like a bloody Chanel ad

Charles

he even kissed her temple while she stirred oatmeal

i almost screamed 😩

Max Verstappen

you guys have you saw Aria let me pet her ?

that’s real

that’s progress 🐈✨

Oscar

I don’t think the convo was about the cat, Max

Max Verstappen

Not my fault they have very similar name, I thought it was a group chat about the cat

George

Did you really think we were talking about Lando and the cat all this time ??

Max Verstappen

What could we possibly talk about then ? 🤨

Carlos

The fact Lando have a girlfriend mate

Lando

…can I help you??

What’s the group chat name about ? 😒

George

yeah

explain why your fridge has oat milk, elderflower, and no longer Red Bull

WHO ARE YOU 💀

Lando

we have taste. leave me alone.

Pierre

you said “we.” 😭

WE.

Carlos

so when’s the engagement then? 💍👀

Lando

go home

Pierre

mate

you’re in too deep

it’s been HOW MANY months??

Carlos

someone tell this man the honeymoon phase does end

you don’t have to act like she just invented the sun every time she smiles

George

he’s got “day 3 of knowing her” energy

but it’s been half a year

Oscar

smiling at each other across ravioli doesn’t count as a personality

Lando

okay, yes

but this morning she said “I feel like the sea when I’m near you”

what was I supposed to do??? NOT CRY?? 😭😭

Carlos

she said “I feel like the sea” ??

I’m gonna throw a fork at something

George

my grandma didn’t even speak to my grandad like this and they were married for 47 years 💀

Charles

he’s living in a sonnet

meanwhile i just reheated pasta and got judged by my dog

Lando

slander aside

we’re happy

she’s happy

and I love her

deal with it 😌🫶

Max Verstappen

good for you

but real question is Aria more tuna or salmon for treats ??

i actually need answers I’m in the store rn

Charles

mate stop obsessing over the cat 😭

Max Verstappen

BUT I LOVE CATS

Lando

it’s kinda weird you’re more into a cat than my overly really great love life

but yeah salmon, Aria has standards 🐱

Max Verstappen

great I buy 10

also I���m starting a new group chat about the cat asap

George

the real relationship in question here is max and the cat tbh 💅

This is it, it's the last chapter of this very long and very important series for me. I enjoyed so much writting this story and interacting with everyone of you who commented, liked or reposted this, so thank you so much for your support!

I have maybe an idea for a bonus chapter...so the storie is not completly finish ;)

Until then my request are still open for future stories :)

Taglist : @angelluv16, @httpsxnox, @anunstablefangirl, @chocolatemagazinecupcake, @mayax2o07, @freyathehuntress, @verogonewild, @lilyofthevalley-09, @esw1012, @its-me-frankie, @linneaguriii, @ezzi-ln4, @rlbmutynnek, @actuallyazriel, @sofs16, @thulior, @sltwins, @knivesdoingcartwheels, @henna006, @stylesmoonlight12, @lilaissa, @sideboobrry11, @l3thal-l0lita, @lorena-mv33, @ispywlittleeye-blog, @lesliiieeeee, @sageskiesf1, @adynorris, @curlylando, @rebelliousneferut

Let me know if you want to be add to the taglist !

[greengoblinswifey]

Torn— Drew Starkey x Nicholas Chavez x Actress!Reader

summary— you find yourself torn between your boyfriend drew starkey and your costar nicholas chavez. what starts as a weird dynamic with you feeling guilty turns into passion at a party, leading to a moment where all three of you come together.

warnings— explicit content. threesome, unprotected sex, anal and vaginal sex, double penetration, double creampie, oral, fingering, face fucking, polygamy, praise kink, fluff.

You had been with Drew Starkey for a while now, and your relationship had always been solid. He was steady, reliable, and made you feel secure. But everything changed when you started filming a new movie with Nicholas Chavez. From the moment you met him, there was an undeniable attraction, a magnetic pull that left you thinking about him more than you ever anticipated. It wasn’t just his good looks, there was something about his energy that pulled you in, leaving you feeling conflicted. You didn’t want to hurt Drew, but the connection with Nicholas was impossible to ignore.

As filming progressed, the chemistry between you and Nicholas became more intense. On-screen, your characters shared moments that felt a little too real, and off-screen, you found yourself getting lost in conversations with him. Drew noticed the shift. Instead of being jealous, though, he seemed curious, as if he could sense the spark between you and Nicholas, and, strangely, wasn’t bothered by it which went unnoticed by you. You were scared to bring up your feelings for Nicholas, afraid of what Drew might think, afraid of losing him. So, you stayed silent, trapped in a web of emotions.

Then, at a huge movie premiere party for the movie you filmed with Nicholas, everything came to a head. You had had a few drinks, and the atmosphere was buzzing with excitement. Drew and Nicholas both gravitated toward you throughout the night, their eyes never straying far. You felt the tension rising as they slowly closed in. Before you knew it, they had you cornered, Nicholas standing in front of you, his intense gaze holding yours, while Drew was behind you, his body pressing against yours and grinding, radiating heat.

“You okay?” Drew murmured in your ear, his voice low, but you could hear the underlying heat in it. His hands trailed over your hips, making your breath catch.

Before you could respond, Nicholas leaned in, his lips just inches from yours, his fingers lightly brushing your arm. “You’ve been thinking about me, haven’t you?”

Your pulse raced. The teasing note in his voice, combined with the way Drew’s body pressed against yours, had you feeling trapped in the best way possible.

“I- I don’t know what you mean,” you managed to whisper, though the way you trembled gave you away.

Nicholas smirked. “Don’t play dumb, you know exactly what I mean.”

Drew’s grip on your waist tightened. “You can be honest, you know,” he added, his voice almost a growl. “I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

Your mind was spinning. The music, the heat of their bodies, the weight of their attention, it was overwhelming. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” you admitted, glancing between the two of them. “I didn’t want to hurt either of you.”

Drew chuckled softly. “Who said I’m hurt?” His lips grazed your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “Maybe I’ve been thinking about this too.”

Nicholas’ fingers lifted your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You’ve been stuck between us for a while, haven’t you?” he asked, his voice soft but commanding. “It’s okay, you don’t have to choose.”

Drunk on both alcohol and the intensity of the moment, you, Drew, and Nicholas ended up in your mansion together. The air was thick with unspoken desire, and everything felt like it had been leading to this moment.

Nicholas was the first to act, pulling you into a heated kiss while Drew watched, his eyes dark with hunger. “God, I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he whispered against your lips, his hands roaming over your body. Drew’s eyes flickered between you and Nicholas, revealing that the connection you felt wasn’t just your imagination, it was real for all three of you.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” you breathed, your heart pounding as their hands explored your body.

Drew pressed a kiss to your neck, his voice raspy. “You feel so good,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “You have no idea how much we’ve both been wanting this.”

Nicholas smirked as his hands slipped under your dress, his touch sending electricity through your veins. “I think she knows now.” As their hands roamed over your body, you knew there was no going back.

“I want you,” Nicholas whispered against your skin as Drew's lips trailed down your collarbone. “Both of us do.”

Drew’s hands tightened on your waist as he kissed a path down your shoulder. “You’re ours,” he growled, and the intensity of their words sent your body into overdrive. He shoved you on the bed, his roughness matching with the tension in the air and he did something unexpected. Drew’s hands cupped Nicholas’ cheeks and their lips met in a passionate kiss filled with need that left you throbbing. You never expected this from either of them and it had you wanting more.

“I’ve waited so long to do that,” Drew said, pulling away.

They stared longingly at each other before turning their attention back to you. “Tonight’s about all of us baby, we’re gonna make you feel so good,” Nicholas smirked.

He removed your dress and your lacy undergarments, leaving you bare as Drew kissed you all over, eventually settling on your neck and finding that sweet spot that made you squirm.

“Beautiful isn’t she?” Drew asked, catching Nicholas taking in your naked figure.

“So fucking beautiful, she’s a masterpiece,” he replied.

They removed each other’s clothes, their eyes never leaving each other and you wondered when the dam would break between them. After, their attention was back on you with Nicholas spreading your legs on the bed and Drew hovering over your face, his cock hard and leaking with pre cum.

“I’m gonna make you feel good and you’re gonna make him feel good, is that a good deal baby?” Nicholas inquired. You nodded desperately, the dynamic between you leaving you aching.

Your mouth fell open and Drew took the opportunity to slide his cock inside as Nicholas’ tongue ravaged your pussy. You could barely focus on the cock fucking your mouth as Nicholas sucked and flicked your clit with his tongue, sending shivers all throughout your body. His tongue focused on your clit as he slipped a finger in your sopping cunt, curling it and immediately finding your g spot. You moaned around Drew’s cock, swirling your tongue and taking him as deep in your throat as you could without gagging.

“Fuck,” Drew moaned, “you fucking like that pretty girl? You like having another man’s mouth on your pussy and my big cock in your mouth?”

You tried answering, forgetting he was practically in your throat and he let out a chuckle, thrusting his hips at a steady pace. “Don’t talk with food in your mouth baby.”

Your legs began to shake as you could feel your orgasm approaching. Nicholas slipped a second finger and he engulfed his mouth on your clit, you felt like you were about to explode at any moment.

“I can feel how close you are baby, cum for me, cum for us,” Nicholas demanded, a dark glint in his eye as you looked down. Hearing the demand that you were to cum for the two men that you were insanely attracted to sent you over the edge, you moaned around Drew’s cock and his cum immediately spurted down your throat as your orgasm washed over you all over Nicholas’ mouth. Their moans filled the room before yours finally subsided as Nicholas’ tongue left your pussy.

“Wanna taste our girl?” he asked Drew. He nodded and with a smirk, Nicholas pulled him in, their lips connecting in a sloppy kiss and their tongues fighting for dominance. The scene before you was so erotic, all that was in your head was to have them do that as they were deep inside your holes. You needed them both.

“That’s so fucking hot,” you panted. Your pussy wet from the ordeal, “and now I need you both inside me, we can take it slow and romantic another time, I just want you both to fill me up.”

Nicholas’ cock was rock hard hearing your plea. Though he wanted to cum in your mouth, doing it inside you for the first time seemed more fitting and Drew agreed.

“You can get her pussy tonight, it’s yours now too, isn’t that right baby?” Drew asked, looking at you, his hands slowly pumping his thick cock.

“Yes sir,” you giggled, his words making you swoon.

Drew positioned himself under you, your body weight lying on top of him as his cock was pressed against your puckered hole. Nicholas stood in front of you slapping his heavy cock on your clit making you moan his name. He spat on Drew’s cock to lubricate it so he could enter your ass easier though this was not your first rodeo with Drew. He had a few kinks, something that Nicholas would soon discover.

They both positioned themselves at your entrances, you were about to be penetrated by two greek gods—at the same time.

“You ready baby?” Drew asked.

“You sure you wanna do this?” Nicholas followed up after.

“Shut up and fuck me, both of you,” you begged and your answer was enough.

Simultaneously, their cocks slowly penetrated you, the feeling of being full getting closer and closer.

“Fuck,” you all moaned in unison, the feeling was heaven. You were heaven.

“This ass is so fucking tight,” Drew moaned, steadily rutting into you.

“So is her pussy, fucking wet too,” Nicholas said, his hands moving to fondle your breasts.

The pressure of being filled on both ends left you breathless, every inch of your body trembling from the overwhelming intensity. Nicholas was deep in your wet pussy, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he rocked against you, his movements powerful and unrelenting. Under you, Drew’s deep thrusts sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, each one pushing you closer to the brink.

“You’re taking us so well,” Nicholas murmured, his voice thick with desire as his lips brushed against your ear.

Drew groaned from behind you, his hand trailing up your back as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your neck. “Feels too good, doesn’t it? We’re not gonna stop until you can’t take anymore.”

You could feel both of them stretching you, their rhythm perfectly in sync, making you feel impossibly full. Every time Drew pushed in deeper from behind, Nicholas would thrust forward, their bodies meeting yours in perfect harmony. Your breath hitched with every movement, a moan escaping your lips as the sensation built.

“God, I can feel you squeezing us both,” Nicholas grunted, his hand sliding up your side, gripping you harder. “You like being ours, don’t you?”

Your fingers dug into Nicholas’s back as you tried to ground yourself, overwhelmed by the feeling of being completely surrounded, their bodies pressing into yours, both of them taking you at once. The fullness was almost too much, but in the best way, sending wave after wave of pleasure through you.

Drew’s voice rumbled behind you, low and full of need. “Just let go, baby. We’ve got you.”

Immediately, you convulsed underneath them, a primal moan in response to their filthy words and having their cocks buried deep inside you, you felt like you were on top of the world, having your vision blur and stars filling your head as the feeling of ecstasy overtook you.

After everything built up to a crescendo, your body trembled from the overwhelming sensations that swept through you. Your heart was still racing, breath shallow, as you lay back on Drew, feeling utterly spent. The warmth of Drew and Nicholas surrounding you only heightened the lingering aftershocks that pulsed through your limbs.

You felt so full, emotionally, physically, and mentally—like the weight of everything that had been brewing between the three of you had finally crashed over, leaving nothing but satisfaction in its wake. Your body ached in the best way, as though you’d been completely claimed by them, both in the way they touched you and the way they looked at you.

As they both reached their peak, it felt like the tension that had once existed between Drew and Nicholas dissolved completely, replaced with a sense of unity neither of them had anticipated. There was no longer a struggle over who you belonged to, it was a quiet, unspoken understanding that you were theirs, together, and they could share you in ways that felt right for all of you.

The warmth of their release spread inside your pussy and your ass, leaving you feeling impossibly full, every inch of you claimed in the most intimate way. Drew’s hand intertwined with Nicholas’ as they both caught their breath, chests rising.

The soft, lingering kisses that Nicholas pressed against your shoulder, combined with the feel of Drew’s fingers gently stroking your side, made you melt even further into the moment. It wasn’t just the physical release, it was the unspoken bond that had formed between the three of you, deeper than anything you’d experienced before.

Drew leaned in to kiss Nicholas, the once unexpected passion now flowing naturally between them. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight, your hand instinctively running down Nicholas' back, feeling the warmth of his skin as their lips met in a deep, lingering kiss. The heat of their connection sent a shiver through you, making the afterglow even more intoxicating.

Nicholas broke the kiss, breathless, turning to meet your gaze, his eyes softening. “I never knew it could be like this,” he whispered, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your lips. Drew followed, brushing a hand along your cheek as he nodded in agreement.

“We're all together now,” Drew murmured, his voice a quiet promise, before the three of you shifted, curling up together. The warmth of their bodies pressed against yours as they cuddled you between them, the moment filled with intimacy, not just passion.

Nicholas gently rubbed your shoulder as Drew wiped a cool cloth over your skin, cleaning you up with surprising tenderness. “You’re perfect,” Nicholas whispered against your ear, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. You could feel the weight of their attention, not just on your body but on the connection you all shared.

When they finished cleaning you, they turned to each other. Drew smirked, grabbing the cloth and running it teasingly over Nicholas’ chest. “Your turn,” he grinned, the air between them still charged but with a sweetness that hadn’t been there before.

Nicholas laughed, leaning into Drew’s touch. "Alright, alright,” he playfully relented, allowing Drew to clean him up before returning the favor.

Afterward, they both wrapped their arms around you again, the three of you sinking into the bed, completely content. You felt the lingering warmth of their presence, not just in your body but in the calm, comfortable silence that followed.

“We’re not letting you go,” Drew whispered, his hand stroking your hair gently.

Nicholas pressed another soft kiss to your neck, “Not now, not ever.”

You closed your eyes, letting out a contented sigh as your mind swam in the aftermath, your body feeling weightless and warm, cocooned in their presence. Full, cherished, completely theirs—and nothing else mattered.

[namedaftercommunists]

'Promise? Pt. 2' Daisuke (Mouthwashing) X Reader

[Story takes place after he boarded the Tulpa] [Angst] [Platonic and-or Romantic] [Gender Neutral Reader] [Mentions of Suicide] “Hey.” A voice calls out, slowly rousing you awake, your eyes are heavy -as if they weren’t actually open.

“Wakey -wakey.” The voice calls out again, the hand petting your hair slowly registering on your mind. With a small turn to lie on your back, you’re greeted with the familiar beauty mark-laden face of Daisuke a boyish grin on his face as he looks down on you.

“Mornin’” He jokingly greets with a small chuckle -the open, chilly night sky right behind him. It’s a shame the city lights drowned out the twinkling stars above.

You let out a tired groan at this -burying your face in his lap again, making Daisuke pout as you try to undo his progress in waking you up.

“Oh come on.” Daisuke half-heartedly complains before turning you on your back again. “My legs are asleep -get up.” He whines out a complaint.

You only feign deafness to this though, and it isn’t until he takes off the jacket you drape yourself with do you let out your own whine of complaint - the air pricks at your skin.

“Put it back.” You groan out -too stubborn to take your head off his lap. “Get up.” He repeats with an exasperated tone before threatening to push you off to the rooftop pavement below you with a soft shove.

This finally gets you to move, but not without grumbling your complaints under your breath. He only chuckles at this.

“Your hair is a mess.” Daisuke comments with a laugh, before taming your hair with hands. “Like you didn’t make this mess in the first place.” You say with a scoff and a tired roll of your eyes, knowing full well it’s his petting that got your hair sticking out all over in the first place.

“Give me back my jacket.” You grumble out, snatching the jersey off his shoulder. “‘Your’ jacket?” Daisuke parrots back with a knowing, boyish grin.

“Technically mine. I wear it more than you do.” You say with a cheeky shrug and grin, wearing his old jersey -only a size too big on you. If anything -it just added to the look you were going for.

“Sure it is.” Daisuke sarcastically says with his own chuckle, the feeling on his legs coming back as you sit beside him on the rooftop.

There’s a short comfortable silence between you two -as you both look at the city ‘view’. There’s not much to see really, just the side of other buildings with advertisement boards and flyers pasted over the aging concrete walls. It’s a view you both had long familiarized yourself with and grew to see change over the years.

“I missed you,” Daisuke says, his voice soft as he leans his side to yours. To say you’re confused by this is an understatement. You just saw each other yesterday, right?

For some reason though, you can’t physically bring yourself to ask what he means by that. So you stay silent, leaning back on his slightly taller frame.

That’s weird -why does he feel thinner? You were sure he gained a fair bit of muscle over the years -not lose them.

“Like, I missed you....a lot.” He continues -his hand now slowly creeping up to intertwine with yours. It was cold, his hand was cold. Colder than it should be -even with the chilly night air pricking the both of you.

Something in your gut tells you to not look back at him -to continue looking at the aging city walls and dim city light in front of you. To keep your eyes ahead, and not on Daisuke. Not on the man you basically grew up with. He seems to breathe a sigh of relief at this.

“You were right.” He says once more, and it sounds as though his voice is slowly getting drowned out by the noise of city engines and machinery from below.

Finally, you will your mouth to move and have your voice cut through the air. “About what?” You ask, confused, your hand tightening around his. It feels bonier.

Dread creeps up your spine.

“About me dying up there.”

~

“I told you.” You barely croak out, the words heavy, cracked, and hoarse from all the crying you’ve been doing this week. Your body feels weak. It's a miracle you managed to get up from bed, dress yourself, and even stand right now.

Your mouth reeks of tobacco -and it tastes like it too. You’ve long since gone back to smoking real cigarettes. There’s no one to nag you about it anymore -so what’s the point in sucking on a cleaner alternative when you can get the real thing.

You can’t bring yourself to look down on what you’re holding onto, the hand in yours is bony, cold, and lifeless.

There’s a picture of a younger Daisuke on top of the casket glass. It’s a picture his parents vehemently hated before -despite it being his formal graduation photo.

Daiuke’s cap was tilted, and the tassel was already moved to the other side. He sported an outgrown mullet in the picture -it’s a look he liked but you found stupid. His next haircut was better -at least, by your standards.

Despite his parents hating the picture from before, they can’t help but feel it encapsulated -him- best.

They didn’t want to put up the picture of him in the suit he wore to his aunt’s wedding -looking uncomfortable and out of his element despite looking formal and proper.

You can’t help but agree with the decision.

“Am I being selfish?” You softly ask, and no one answers.

“I don’t want to look at you.” You continue, still holding onto the bony hand you only found by softly patting around the cushion of his casket.

“I don’t want to look at you.” You repeat with a choked sob -tears pricking at your eyes, a familiar feeling now.

From what the other guests, his parents, and yours said -you know it’s not a pretty sight. Not that a dead person was ever pretty to look at.

You know he’s lost weight, that much is obvious with how the bones of his knuckles were protruding from his hand. He barely had any meat, his body was reduced to that of skin and bones.

You didn’t know anything more -not that you want to. You walked away the moment you heard anyone start to describe his body.

You didn’t want to look down. To look down at who is -was- essentially your best friend, your other half, and see something -someone- you don’t recognize.

You were selfish. You wanted to remember him as the cute boy you grew up with all this time, with that lopsided grin and warm brown eyes looking into yours -skin pink and warm with life, with beauty marks on his face that you almost always stared at.

You didn’t want to see him for the dead body that he is now. The last thing you wanted was to replace the image of smiling, laughing Daisuke with the image of his corpse.

“They’re going to bury you in a bit.” You say, and again, no one answers.

“I got you some things to entertain yourself with.” You continue, slipping a catalog of the latest game releases, his vintage mp3 player, headphones, and finally -the notebook you’ve been writing on every day he was up in the Tulpa- next to him.

It’s a thick, bulky notebook -you never seemed to get enough of writing on its pages, not wanting Daisuke to miss out on any details, no matter how small.

“I’m still halfway through yours.” You admit, still rubbing your thumb on the bone of his knuckles.

“I’ll visit your senior sometime. He’s getting buried a few cities away from here.” You say, regarding the bulky, grumpy mechanic -Swansea- he almost always wrote nicely about.

A short silence deafens you, before finally, the dam in your eyes erupts -tears staining your face once more.

“I hope I get to see you again.” You choke out, holding onto his hand so desperately, as if you could squeeze back some warmth, some life, back into his body.

“I -really- hope I get to see you again.” You repeat, hiccuping, and your breath laboring.

“I don't care where or how, but I need to beat you black and blue --for getting on that ship.” You say with a cracked laugh, your breath getting caught in between each sob you let out.

“--for leaving me behind.” You finally cry out, forced to lean on the white casket you had the misfortune and privilege of decorating -per the request of his parents.

You’re allotted a few more moments with him before you’re finally ushered away by your father, the sound of Daisuke’s mother wailing and crying in his casket replacing yours.

It’s cold out, and Daisuke’s ship diary weighs heavily in your coat pocket -but so does the gun on your side. It’s anybody’s guess which one you’ll grab for in your bedroom tonight.

[rika-mmendmethings]

Interdimensional Epiphany l Rafayel

CHAPTER 3

Chapter 2 | Chapter 4

Summary: A fortnight of compensated leave from your company was supposed to be a rejuvenating experience. Things take an unexpected turn when Rafayel, your choice of ML, starts becoming self-aware. His love knows no bounds, not even interdimensional ones.

Warning(s): Subject to change as we progress further into the story. The series has major character deaths, subdued manipulation, heavy angst with a happy(?) ending, slight yandere themes, fluff, did I mention angst? For this chapter, obsession, yearning (I'm so bad at tagging send help)

Word count: 1.7k

Playlist coming soon.

Notes: The schedule for this series and Against Blood & Water has been switched, so new chapter every Thursday from now! This chapter is shorter because I got hit by writing block so forgive me y'all but the next one is about to be BIG big. Keep in mind, that as cute and a total man-child Rafayel is; he can also be vengeful and undeterred from what we've seen in his anecdotes. If you feel that this is too serious for him, then you simply need a better understanding of the red-flag side of Rafayel shown in some parts of the game. This story circles partially around that side of his as well, so I don't feel it should be that much uncharacteristic. Mikayla is the name of the mc in this fic and aside from Rafayel no-one else is aware of being a video game character. Anyways, hopefully you enjoy the read and stay tuned for the series. Lmk if you wish to be added to the tag list for this. ♥

Taglist: @loveanddeephistory @ittybittyfanblog @lyssandraxo @micasosa34 @hyein21 @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @blessdunrest @altair718 @3fg7 @froleineeeee @mikachux3 @aiehtta @beaconsxd @poptrim @animecrazy76 @zackenblacken @rainycreationfart @invaderzia1 @his-ocean-emissary

In a dimly lit studio, Rafayel sits at his easel, brush in hand, but his attention is far from the canvas. The strokes he makes are erratic and disconnected, as though his mind is somewhere else entirely — which it is. The woman he intends to paint — you — the one who occupies his every thought, is not physically there, but your image fills every canvas in the room. He knows your face in the details of his daydreams and in the short time he sees you — the cupid bow of your lips, the way your hair cascades like a waterfall around your face, the rounded curve of your eyes. But today, he’s not interested in accuracy.

The paint smudges onto the canvas, a blur of colors that vaguely resemble a figure, but nothing more. A quick swipe of cerulean blue for a dress, a few scattered strokes of brown for your hair, but nothing to capture the essence of who you are, only the feeling of you. His movements are slow, almost hesitant as if he’s trying to pull you out of his thoughts and into reality but struggling against the weight of his emotions.

His gaze drifts away from the painting, shifting toward the other canvases scattered across the room. Most of them are carefully hung on the walls, and when the walls can no longer accommodate the overflow, he places the remaining canvases on the floor, ensuring that each one remains visible. They all share a single, unifying theme: they are all portraits of you.

He turns his attention back to the canvas before him. It is yet another depiction of you, this time in a flowing cerulean dress, your feet gently immersed in waters that conceal his hidden sanctuary beneath. The image is a reflection of his vision—an idealized representation of the subject that has so recently overtaken his thoughts, dreams, canvases, and heart.

You look like the sparkles of the ocean on an early summer morning.

He raises his hand slowly, still lost in reverie, his fingers lightly grazing your painted figure with a tenderness that has always eluded him. He fantasizes about what it would be like to stand beside you, to kiss the radiant smiles from your lips in the hope of capturing even a fraction of your boundless joy.

There is no urgency in his movements as he attempts to translate the depth of his emotions onto the canvas. You are not meant to be confined within the boundaries of this frame; you are meant to be with him, to be by his side.

His dusky eyes shift to a vivid ultramarine blue, and glowing scales of the same hue begin to emerge along his cheekbones and neck. With deliberate slowness, he leans in and presses a lingering kiss to the canvas, as though the paint could somehow hold the essence of your lips.

He had waited all of yesterday, but not once did you "log in." In the end, he didn’t get the chance to see your face. His longing turned to frustration, which poured itself out onto the multiple canvases now scattered around him. He had painted in a frenzy, driven by a sense of hysteria, but as time wore on and the number of filled canvases grew, his heart sank deeper into an overwhelming sadness. The prolonged distance from you forced him to confront the bitter reality that you existed in a world entirely different from his own, and that he was, at best, a fleeting interest to you.

He yearned to bridge the chasm between your worlds.

Determined, he rose from his seat, deciding to visit Destiny Cafe once more, hoping that today, perhaps, you'd logged in.

He washed the dried paint from his hands and stepped out of his studio. As he opened the door, he was met with the sight of Mikayla standing on the other side, her fist raised mid-knock. He briefly searched his memory, trying to recall if they'd planned something for today, but her voice cut through his thoughts.

"I know you’re surprised, Rafayel. I wanted to surprise you since I didn’t have anything keeping me tied to my desk today, so here I am." She gestured dramatically, flashing him a grin. "Surprise!"

He frowned, replying half-heartedly, "While I appreciate the gesture, MC... I really have urgent matters to attend to right now. Can we do this another time?"

She planted her hands on her hips, her tone tinged with mockery. "What? Since when did you start getting busy?"

His fingers twitched involuntarily, a fleeting desire to draw his dagger against her rising but that’d mean going against his well-laid plans to resurrect Lemuria… He couldn’t afford that.

"Well, since now," he snapped, his words sharp as he pushed past her, his impatience evident. "So if you’ll excuse me, I really must be going." And with that, he made his way toward Destiny Cafe, the door swinging shut behind him.

You tapped impatiently at the loading screen of the game, settling deeper into the warmth of your armchair. As the screen flickered to life, you were greeted by the sight of a clearly frantic Rafayel, who seemed to instantly calm the moment his gaze fell on you. Before you could even blink, he broke the silence.

“Where were you?” His voice carried a subtle edge of barely concealed concern. You noticed that his words didn’t show up in the speech bubble again.

You exhaled a soft, amused sound, mildly impressed by the devs' decision to enhance the game's interactions with features like these to ensure players didn't miss a day. Deciding to humor the thought, you spoke aloud, as though addressing no one in particular, “My friends from college showed up yesterday and whisked me away on a spontaneous girls' trip. I didn't even get a chance to pack. Ended up buying a few clothes while we were there. The whole day was a whirlwind, and I barely had time to log in for my daily rewards or stamina. So, that’s that."

You watched him nod slowly in response, though you couldn't help but chuckle at the thought that he might actually understand what you meant.

Just then, your phone buzzed with a message from him. You quickly opened it and found yourself momentarily stunned by what you saw.

Sushi nom nom: Maybe you could let me know next time...?

You blinked once. Then twice. Your jaw practically hit the floor. Staring at the message, you couldn’t quite process what you were reading. What caught your attention next was the absence of the usual three automated replies you'd get from him. When you tapped the text box to reply, it opened with an actual cursor, something that had never happened before. You briefly wondered if this was a result of recently maxing out his affinity. It was the only logical explanation, after all.

Still dazed, you responded with a simple thumbs-up, then closed his chat window — only to be greeted by yet another unexpected surprise. None of the other characters’ chat boxes appeared in your messages. There were old, programmed messages from Twinkle Toys, Tara, and Linkon City Hall, but nothing from any of the other leads. You switched between the tabs — the calls, then the moments posts — but none of their accounts were visible.

Frustrated, you returned to Destiny Cafe and screamed aloud when you opened the memories tab. There weren’t even options for the other characters in the header. You had wasted so much money to obtain Beyond Cloudfall and rank it up, only for it all to disappear. You checked everything — Playtime, Deepspace Trials — but it was as if the other four characters had vanished into thin air. The only character left was Rafayel.

You went back to Destiny Cafe’s interface, and there he was, sitting on the armchair, inspecting his nails with an air of casual aloofness. A hundred questions flooded your mind: How? Why? Did the game glitch? You shook off the storm of thoughts, taking a deep breath before setting your phone face down on the plush fabric of your armchair. After a few seconds of holding your breath, you exhaled and picked your phone back up. You checked the memories tab again. Nothing. There was no change. The only option available was Rafayel.

Listless, you returned to the home screen, but then Rafayel’s voice sliced through the silence.

“What? You thought putting your phone down for a while would bring them back?”

You froze completely. The only sign that you were alive was the occasional fluttering of your eyelids. Rafayel stood up from the armchair and walked toward the screen, hands stuffed in his pockets. He outright smirked, leaning forward as he stated, “They’re gone for good. All that’s left of them is nothing. Zero. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Niente.”

He didn’t even look sorry as he said it, and right now, that was the least of your concerns. You subconsciously noted the lack of his speech bubble or captions once again. 

This was it. The mod you had downloaded back in your early Love and Deep Space phase, driven by the greed of securing an unlimited supply of red dias and crystals, was finally catching up with you. The consequences were here. Your phone had been hacked.

"Shocker, hm?"

His voice broke the silence, and you instinctively dropped your phone, watching it clatter onto the table. Without thinking, you dove under your blanket, burying yourself in its soft folds, seeking some semblance of comfort, some escape from the growing dread. You stayed hidden for what felt like an eternity, ten minutes at least, before you dared to peek out, your eyes slowly lifting to glance at your phone.

Rafayel’s lips curled into a faint smile as he observed your wide eyes, the disheveled state of your hair sticking out in all directions from the static electricity. He didn’t even bother to mask the amusement in his gaze.

"Adorable," he remarked with a smirk, clearly relishing the flustered expression on your face.

You sank deeper into your armchair, burying your face in your hands in a futile attempt to shield yourself from the absurdity of it all. Here you were, trapped in a situation you couldn't even begin to comprehend, and still, you couldn't shake the fact that you were being charmed by a 2D character — a handsome, fictional man who didn’t even exist... or did he?

Maybe it was better for your brain to get fried every Friday than dealing with whatever this was. And here you thought your compensated leave time was going too good to be true…

Check out my other works if you liked this ♥

[onlyangel4]

change my view. aa23. smau.

sunshine!alex albon x grumpy!reader

synopsis: you’ve built your world around one small, sleepy-eyed human who calls you “mama.” after her father walked out without a second thought, you promised yourself no more mess, no more chaos, and absolutely no more men who think affection is temporary. now you're a sharp-tongued f1 reporter, known in the paddock for your cold takes, unimpressed looks, and strict professionalism. you keep your head down, your heart locked up, and your daughter your only priority. enter alex albon. golden-retriever energy in human form. constantly smiling, endlessly patient, and annoyingly persistent. he’s determined to make you laugh, learn your coffee order, and prove that not every man walks away. but you're not looking for fairy tales. so you roll your eyes, cross your arms, and remind him (daily) that charm isn’t currency here. still, there’s something in the way he talks to your daughter like she’s the whole world. something in the way he treats you like you’re not broken, just guarded. and maybe love doesn’t have to hurt this time.

faceclaim: riley keough

f1updates

liked by user1, user2, user3 and 129,938 others

f1updates: analysts, commentators and reporters have arrived in australia ahead of the first race of the season. it all feels real now, racing is so back

view all 6,393 comments

user1: y/n has chloe maybe that means she will be happier

user2: alex is still on the grid so i doubt that

user3: can't wait for y/n alex content, my fav enemies

user4: despite alex not knowing that they are enemies

user5: this season is so unpredictable i can't wait

y/ninsta posted a story

written: first press day of the season.

f1fan posted a story

written: i just met alex and asked him where he is heading and his answer was, "i'm looking for y/n i need chloe time". that poor woman is going to break something

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you spotted him before he spotted you. well, he was trying to spot you. that much was clear from the way he kept turning in half-circles near the williams motorhome, one hand shielding his eyes from the sun like he’d just stepped into a movie montage and hadn’t realized he was the main character.

"reporter on the run", you muttered to yourself, adjusting the strap of your crossbody bag and trying to duck behind a merch stand.

too slow.

"y/n!"

you winced. there was only one person who could say your name like a question, an exclamation, and a plea all in one breath.

you turned, slowly.

alex stood there, grinning like the sun had personally complimented him this morning. he was holding a small paper cup two, actually. one was undoubtedly for you.

you crossed your arms. "are you stalking me?"

he gasped dramatically, the exact way chloe did when you told her she couldn’t have ice cream before lunch.

"i prefer strategically appearing."

you blinked. "at my exact coffee break?"

alex smiled and held out the second cup. "i figured you'd try to escape around now. routine reporter life and all. besides"

you took the coffee. of course it was the right order. damn him.

"besides?", you asked flatly.

he scratched the back of his neck, looking suddenly shy. "i was hoping to see chloe. If that’s okay. i brought stickers."

you stared at him.

"stickers?"

"frozen-themed. don't ask how i know the characters' names now, it's already too late for me."

your lip twitched before you could stop it.

alex saw it. of course he did. His entire face lit up like he'd won a qualifying lap. "was that almost a smile? i think it was. i think i'm making progress."

you rolled your eyes so hard it nearly gave you a headache. "she’s with my mum right now. i’m interviewing pierre in twenty."

alex didn’t flinch. "cool. i’ll wait."

"you’ll wait…?"

"for you. for chloe", he added quickly, eyes wide with innocence. "mostly chloe."

you looked at him for a long moment. he didn’t fidget under your gaze. he just sipped his drink and looked back at you, patient and bright and utterly infuriating.

"she’s two, albon. she’ll forget about you in, like, a week."

he shrugged. "i'll keep showing up anyway. you know she asks about me now?"

your chest squeezed. unwelcome, warm, dangerous.

"she says, ‘lex go zoo today?’ i don’t even know where the zoo thing came from, but i'm prepared to commit to it."

you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. "you’re so annoyingly good at this."

"good at what?"

"getting under my skin but being good for chloe"

alex just smiled, quiet this time. not smug. not pushy.

"i'm not trying to be pushy. i just know you have walls up he said softly. "i’m just hoping you’ll open a door eventually."

you hated how that stuck with you the rest of the day. even more, you hated how you were starting to check your phone, not just for emails, but for photos your mum might’ve sent of chloe with her sparkly new frozen stickers.

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it was too early for this much noise. too early for the heat rising off the tarmac, the buzz of engines, the snap of camera shutters every time someone half-famous stepped into frame.

chloe tugged at your hand as you walked, her tiny steps out of rhythm with yours, her attention darting between every flash of color and sound. you held her backpack in one hand and her in the other, two-year-olds had the energy of a rock concert and the unpredictability of live television.

she was already pointing.

"look, mama! big tire!"

"yep, very big," you said, adjusting her bucket hat. "don't touch it."

"touch tire?"

"no."

"maybe touch-"

"no, chloe."

a dramatic sigh. she got that from you.

you were halfway between the alpine and williams garages when it happened. one second chloe was beside you, the next she was launching forward with a tiny, high-pitched shriek.

"LEX!!!"

you didn’t even have time to react. she was gone, barreling forward like a determined little meteorite in glittery sneakers.

your heart jumped into your throat. "chloe!"

but she already had her target.

alex turned just in time to catch her, literally, scooping her up into his arms like it was the most natural thing in the world. her tiny hands were gripping his cheeks like she hadn’t seen him in a year. he looked startled for half a second, then he smiled, bright and wide and full of something dangerously soft.

"there she is!" he laughed, spinning her once. "you’re fast today!"

"you said zoo!"

"i did say zoo. i also said hi to elsa on your behalf. she says hi back."

chloe giggled, head thrown back, curls bouncing under her hat.

you finally caught up, a little breathless and a lot annoyed. "chloe, we do not run off like that."

alex turned, still holding her on his hip. "sorry. she ambushed me."

"she escaped", you muttered, hands on your hips. "i should leash her."

chloe looked completely unbothered, patting alex’s cheeks like she owned him now.

"she missed you", you said before you could stop yourself. then, quieter: "clearly."

alex’s expression softened as he looked at you over her shoulder. "i missed her too."

there was a beat of silence. not awkward. just heavy.

you looked away first.

"she’s not usually like this with people."

"really?"

you nodded. "she’s shy. reserved."

alex glanced back at the toddler currently babbling about monkeys and juice boxes. "doesn’t seem like it."

"she’s selective."

he looked at you again.

"then i guess i should feel lucky", he said, voice gentle.

your chest twisted. not in a bad way. just in the way that made you feel like you were leaning over the edge of something you hadn’t meant to climb in the first place.

"she chose you."

alex didn’t say anything for a moment. he just kissed chloe’s temple, held her a little closer.

and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like running.

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paddockupdates posted a story

alex smiling like an idiot because chloe, y/n y/ln's daughter, ran up to him

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y/ninsta posted a story

written: the japanese gp without my little shadow

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the paddock felt different without chloe. quieter. less chaotic. less sparkly.

you should’ve been grateful. no spilled juice, no chasing toddler limbs between photographers’ knees, no judgmental glances when she had a meltdown near the mclaren garage. but you weren’t grateful. you just felt off.

you were finishing notes from a pre-qualifying interview when you felt someone slide into the seat across from you. you didn’t have to look up.

"you’re brooding", alex said.

"i’m working."

"tomato, tomahto."

you glanced up from your tablet. "shouldn’t you be in briefing?"

he shrugged. "had ten minutes. heard there was a journalist in the media centre scaring everyone with her death stare"

you snorted despite yourself. "it’s not a death stare. it’s just my face."

"exactly."

you rolled your eyes and focused back on your screen. but you could feel him watching you, quietly, without pressure, just there.

after a moment, he said softly, "where’s chloe?"

"with my mum. i didn’t want to bring her this weekend. flights are a mess, and she’s been fussy. she misses her routines."

alex nodded, something unreadable passing over his face. "i miss her"

you blinked, caught off guard by the honesty of it.

"she loves you", you said, more quietly than intended.

he smiled. "i love her too."

your chest ached. stupid, warm ache. it made your throat tight.

after a beat, he tilted his head at you. "you’re different when she’s not here."

"how?"

"sadder. sharper. like you’ve got armour on again."

you didn’t answer. not right away.

he leaned forward slightly, voice lower now. "i’ve always wondered. why the cold front? why the black cat vibes? i mean, you’re quick, you’re sharp, but there’s always this wall."

you stared at him.

and maybe it was the jet lag. maybe it was the quiet. maybe it was the fact that chloe wasn’t clinging to your leg, and you were tired of pretending you didn’t feel things around him.

so you said it.

"you don’t get to be soft when you’re left behind."

alex didn’t speak, but his expression shifted, gone was the teasing edge, replaced with something heavy. careful.

"he left before she turned one", you continued. "didn’t want the responsibility. said he wasn’t ready to be a dad. just left. blocked me. no warning. one day we were shopping for baby shoes and the next day I was googling custody laws."

alex’s lips parted slightly, like he wanted to speak, but didn’t.

"i was so in love with him. i thought it would be enough to make him stay."

there was a pause. and then: "it wasn’t your job to make him stay."

you looked down at your hands.

"i know that now. but back then, i kept thinking, what’s wrong with me? why am i not enough for someone to choose?”

alex’s chair scraped softly as he stood. he walked around the table, slowly, like he was giving you time to stop him. you didn’t.

he crouched beside you, one hand resting gently on your knee.

"you are enough", he said, eyes on yours. "you are so much more than enough. and anyone who can’t see that, didn’t deserve you in the first place."

you stared at him, swallowing hard.

"and i know you're not asking for anything right now", he added, voice gentler, “but i just need you to know, i'm not him. i’m not going anywhere. not from you, and definitely not from chloe."

you blinked fast. too fast.

"i hate crying in paddocks", you muttered.

he smiled. "then don’t cry. just let yourself breathe."

you didn’t answer, but for the first time in a long time, you did.

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alexalbon posted a story

written: missed this

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alex had always liked monaco. the glamour didn’t impress him much, but the energy, the tight corners, the danger, the way the city felt like it was leaning in to watch. it made him feel alive.

but this morning, he wasn’t thinking about lap times or tire strategy.

he was thinking about the tiny human currently sitting on the floor of the hospitality suite, cross-legged, methodically peeling the backing off a dinosaur sticker like it held the secrets of the universe.

chloe.

"need help?" he asked, crouching down beside her.

"no", she said, serious. "i do it."

of course.

he watched as she stuck the brontosaurus to the back of his sneaker. "perfect placement", he whispered.

she beamed, clearly proud of her work, before plopping back down and grabbing another.

"is mummy busy?", he asked gently.

chloe nodded. "she say ‘no run off today,’ so i ‘tay here."

he smiled. "good listening."

"i a big girl."

"you really are."

they were quiet for a moment. then, out of nowhere, chloe spoke, soft, almost like she was testing if it was okay to say it.

"lex?"

"yeah, bug?"

"where’s your daddy?"

alex blinked. not what he was expecting.

"he lives in thailand", he said after a pause. "i don’t see him a lot, but i love him."

chloe nodded slowly, like she was filing that away in her little mental cabinet.

"my daddy don’t live with me", she said next, voice even smaller. "he didn’t want me and mummy. but it okay. mummy says we happy now."

alex’s chest went tight. not in a bad way, just in that full, aching way love sometimes feels.

"i’m really sorry he made you and your mum feel that way", he said softly. "but your mummy’s right. you are happy now."

chloe looked up at him. "she’s happy ‘cause of you."

he froze. "what?"

"mummy smiles when you there. she don’t do that for people. she says you got silly hair and talk too much, but i think she likes you."

alex let out a breath of a laugh, completely undone. "she says that, huh?"

chloe nodded, poking another sticker onto his knee. "she pretends she grumpy. but she not. she scared."

that hit harder than anything else. alex looked at her, at this tiny, intuitive little girl with wide eyes and a gummy grin, and wondered how she could read people better than most adults.

"she told you that?"

"nope. but i know. i smart." she leaned in, cupping her hand to his ear like a secret: "she likes you more than coffee."

alex clutched his heart, mock-staggering. "that’s the highest honor, you know."

chloe giggled. "you gonna marry her?"

he choked on air. "whoa, what—"

"you gots to ask me first", she said, suddenly very serious. "i’m the boss of her."

alex gave her a look of solemn respect. "noted, boss."

she nodded, satisfied, and went back to her sticker collection like she hadn’t just flipped his entire emotional world upside down.

alex sat there for a moment, watching her. then he glanced toward the paddock entrance.

and sure enough, you were there. Walking toward them, brows furrowed, eyes already searching for your daughter. until they landed on him.

and just like that, chloe was right.

You smiled.

not the polite one. not the press one. the real one. the one that reached your eyes.

alex felt it like sunlight through glass.

yeah. he was in deep.

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it was too quiet.

you were sitting on the little hotel balcony in montreal, legs curled under you, cup of now-cold tea in hand. chloe was asleep in the travel cot inside, snoring softly, tangled in her tiny bunny blanket. for once, your phone was face down.

and yet your mind wouldn’t shut up.

the problem with letting someone in, even a little is that you notice the silence when they’re not around. you notice how much brighter everything had been the past few weeks. how much lighter you felt when someone else helped carry the weight.

and now?

you missed him.

you missed alex.

a quiet knock pulled you out of your spiral.

you turned, heartbeat quickening, already knowing. only one person knocked like that, gentle, unsure, like he never assumed he was welcome, but always hoped.

you opened the door slowly.

he was standing there in a hoodie, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a small cup of strawberry yogurt.

"she told me it was her favourite", he said softly.

your chest squeezed. "she’s asleep."

"i figured." a pause. "can i still come in?"

you nodded.

he stepped inside, careful not to make noise, and placed the yogurt in the mini fridge before turning back to you.

"i heard what chloe said in monaco" you said quietly.

his smile was crooked. "the marriage proposal, or the part where she declared herself boss of your heart?"

you tried to smirk, but it faltered halfway. "the part where she said i'm scared."

he didn’t tease then. he just nodded, like he knew this moment wasn’t meant for jokes.

"were you mad?"

"no" you said. "she was right."

you crossed your arms over your chest, more out of habit than need. the armour never fully came off, even around him. but it had cracks now. deep ones.

"you scare me, alex."

he blinked, confused.

"not because of who you are. but because of how you make me feel." you looked away. "you’ve been kind. constant. patient. you didn’t run. you didn’t flinch when you saw all the mess i come with. you stayed."

his voice was soft. "that’s what people do when they care."

you looked back at him, eyes stinging.

"i think i stopped believing people could care like that."

alex stepped closer, like he was afraid too sudden a move would make you retreat. "i'm not asking you to promise me forever right now. I’m just asking you to let me be part of your now."

you exhaled shakily.

"i’m tired, alex."

"i know."

"i don’t want to be scared anymore."

he reached out, slow, careful and touched your hand.

"you don’t have to be."

there was a long silence. then you took a step forward and leaned into him, letting your head rest against his chest. he held you gently, arms wrapping around your shoulders, like you were something breakable but not broken.

"this is the part where you stay" you murmured.

he kissed your hair.

"i’m not going anywhere."

and just like that, something shifted. it wasn’t fireworks or grand declarations. it was quieter than that. steadier.

it was the start of something real.

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y/ninsta

liked by alexalbon, lando, oscarpiastri and 433,911 others

tagged: alexalbon

y/ninsta: start this season just the two of us, ended this season just the three of us

view all 9,292 comments

alexalbon: my girls

y/ninsta: thank you for breaking down my walls

lando: when can i visit i miss chloe

y/ninsta: you can come over if you promise to stop teaching her curse words

user6: i am so obsessed with this couple

user7: alex finally got y/n to fall in love with him

[angrythingstarlight]

I can’t imagine this happening but has Bucky ever yelled at Malyshka ?

He did raise his voice once the night she gave her bodyguards the slip, they had a fight and the next morning, they were both a little on edge.

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader

CW: Smut, implied arguments, dom/sub dynamics.

AN: Written on my phone and unbetad.

☆Mafia Masterlist☆Bumblebee Series

"Excuse me?" Your tone is soft, almost curious, it belies the glare you're leveling his way. "Tell me again what I can't do?"

Bucky grits his teeth, the muscle in his jaw ticks. He never meant for this fight to spill over into the next morning. He had planned on apologizing until he saw you packing your bag for your bachelorette party.

A whole day early.

Jealous and an unfamiliar emotion roiling in the depths of chest had his tongue moving faster than his brain. His chance to make things right went up in flames the second his mouth opened and he told you that you couldn't have any dancers at your party.

What he really meant to say was he needed more time with you after yesterday.

Instantly all the progress he made last night was eradicated. Now he's desperately wavering between holding on to his pride and risking making things worse or begging for forgiveness.

"Malyshka—"

"Don't Malyshka me, James." You step up to him, wrapping your hand around his obsidian tie, you yank him down to your level. Taking your phone out of your pocket, you manage to call your best friend without breaking eye contact with him. She picks up on the second ring. Her greeting echoes through the quiet bedroom.

"Hey girl, listen you know how I said I wanted to keep things low key and girls only for my party?" you respond, pulling him even closer so your lips are almost touching.

You don't want him to miss a single word.

"I changed my mind. I want it all. Strippers. Lap dances—"Bucky's brows knit and his deep blue eyes take on a dangerous glint. "Matter of fact, instead of one night let's make it the whole weekend. You think you can still get us into that club?"

"Hell yeah," she exclaims, immediately rattling off all the places she's going to take you this weekend. He nods slowly, murmuring something under his breath.

"Can't wait," you say, grinning wickedly. Taking his bottom lip between your teeth, you bite down and watch his eyes darken. You hang up, letting him go at the same time. Abruptly spinning on your heel, you head back to the bed and open up your overnight bag. Critically eyeing everything you already packed, you toss out the sweatpants. "I won't be needing these anymore."

Bucky watches as you stroll over to the dresser and pull out a handful of lingerie. "These will look much better on me. How touchy do these lap dances get? I never gotten one before so I better get my money's worth."

"Malyshka," he chuckles, his voice deepening to a near growl, the sound sends a pulse of heat down your belly. "I thought I explained to you last night what happens when you don't listen to me."

He catches the way you shiver as the memories of last night replay in your head.

The room fills with your frantic cries of dontstopBucky and mindless pleas for more and more. Sweat rolls down your back, your hands clawing at his shoulders, trying to get a hold of something, anything as he bounces your trembling body on his cock.

He made you promise to never leave without protection, to call him first before acting brazenly, to not scare him again.

He made you promise a lot last night, half of which you don't even remember, so drunk off mind-blowing pleasure that everything became a haze after the fifth, maybe sixth, time Bucky brought you to your peak.

"Guess I forgot." You say, defiantly meeting his sharp gaze and select his favorite pair of panties, deliberately adding them to the pile you're making.

A smirk stretches across his plush lips and he casually walks to you, pinning you to the dresser with his large body. Clasping your chin in his hand, he tilts your face up as his calloused thumb sweeps across your cheek. "I'll remind you."

"Apologize first," you demand, your breath coming out on a shaky exhale. Even when you're mad at him, you still need him. But that doesn't mean you won't make him work for it.

"Do you want me to say it—" Bucky shrugs off his suit jacket and rolls up his sleeves, keeping you in place with a firm press of his hips. He drops his hand between your bodies and gently cups your pussy. "—or get down on my knees and show you how sorry I am? You know what they say about actions meaning more than words."

It's not a difficult decision.

"I want both."

"That's my girl." His lips graze your ear, his bartione rolls across your skin, a heady pulse flaring between your thighs. "And have your little fun this weekend but I swear I'm about to fuck you so good, you're going to feel me inside you the entire time."

We'll explore the bodyguard incident and the bachelorette/bachelor parties in more detail. Do you really think Bucky will let her get that lap dance? 👀

[rik1sberry]

BREWING SOMETHING LIKE LOVE — park sunghoon

synopsis, a sunshine hearted new barista slowly melts the walls of her grumpy coworker… one shift, one smile, and one cup of coffee at a time

paring, park sunghoon

setting, cozy local café

genre, strangers to lovers, slow burn, grumpy x sunshine, fluff

content warning, mild language, emotional vulnerability, soft romantic tension

word count, 2095 words

perm taglist, send an ask to be added

The first thing you noticed about the boy behind the counter was that he didn't smile.

Not when customers complimented his latte art. Not when an elderly regular gave him a handwritten thank you card. Not even when a gold retriever puppy peeked through the glass doors and wagged its tail. He just worked in silence, his movements precise, expression unreadable.

“This is Y/N,” your new manager had said brightly. “She’ll be training here starting today.”

The boy didn’t even look at you. “You’re cheerful,” he muttered, his voice flat, and you couldn’t help but grin.

“You’re not,” you replied, your smile warm and genuine, even though his words barely registered as an insult.

That got a glance. It was the barest flicker of an expression, just a quick glance before he went back to wiping down the counter, but it felt like progress.

You learned his name the next day: Park Sunghoon. It was written in sharp black ink on the staff schedule.

He wasn’t mean. Just quiet. Guarded. Efficient in a way that didn’t leave room for small talk. You’d try, of course. Commenting on the weather, the playlist, the new pastries. He’d respond with a nod or a hum, then go right back to steaming milk or scribbling names on cups with annoyingly perfect penmanship.

But you didn’t give up.

You told him about your failed attempts at latte art, the way you once accidentally served someone an iced espresso with salt instead of sugar, and how your favorite part of the job was the smell of ground coffee beans in the morning.

Sometimes he’d blink slowly, like your energy short-circuited his brain. Other times, you thought you saw the corner of his mouth twitch. You counted that as a win. Maybe it wasn’t much, but it was something.

⸻

A month passed.

You noticed things.

Like how he only drank black coffee. How he always wore headphones before opening shifts, but the music was soft, classical, completely unlike his aloof attitude. How he always made an extra matcha latte on Thursdays and left it behind the counter for the regular who never ordered but always showed up tired. It was the kind of thoughtful gesture he never talked about, and you wondered if he even realised how much it mattered.

You started bringing him snacks. Little things like chocolate covered almonds, rice crackers, a tiny blueberry muffin with a post it that said “You look like someone who forgets breakfast.”

He never thanked you. But he always ate them. His face remained unreadable, but you noticed that his shoulders would sometimes relax, just a little, when you handed him the treats.

One day, it rained.

You came in drenched, dripping from your bangs to your sneakers, and slipped on the floor the moment you stepped inside.

Sunghoon caught you by the elbow before you hit the tiles.

“Careful,” he said, voice flat, but his hand lingered for half a second too long.

Your heart stuttered. “Thanks.”

He let go, like he’d caught you out of instinct. “Don’t drip on the espresso machine.”

That was the first time he made you coffee without asking. It came in your favorite mug, with a foamed heart on top. You didn’t even have to say anything, because his small gestures spoke louder than words ever could.

⸻

The following weeks were a mix of routine and subtle changes. You worked morning shifts together, the café quiet except for the occasional order and the soft hum of the espresso machine. You found yourself in the back room often, taking the opportunity to chat with him about the weather, your favorite books, or just random little things that filled the silence.

Sunghoon still wasn’t talkative, but he stopped giving you one word answers. He’d respond more thoughtfully, sometimes even offering his own opinions. The first time he laughed… really laughed, was when you told him about the time you accidentally made a macchiato with a shot of soy sauce instead of caramel syrup. It wasn’t loud, just a soft chuckle, but it felt like a small victory.

You started closing shifts together. Sometimes in silence, sometimes with music playing low in the background. Always something soft, like he’d chosen it for you.

⸻

Two months into your job, the little interactions became a bit more frequent.

One evening, after everyone else had left, Sunghoon stood by the counter, watching the light rain outside the window.

“You look pensive,” you said, wiping down the counter nearby.

“I’m not,” he replied, but his tone was softer than usual.

“You always look like you’re thinking about something.”

He glanced at you, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Like you’re always somewhere else in your head.”

He didn’t answer, just took a sip from his cup and turned back to the window. You continued with your work, but you noticed the way his shoulders seemed to relax when he thought you weren’t looking. The way he leaned against the counter with an unfamiliar ease. Maybe it wasn’t much, but you felt like you were starting to get to him. Just a little.

⸻

A few more weeks passed, and you started noticing even more details about him.

Like how he always tucked a pen behind his ear when he worked. Like how he hated it when people were late, but was never overtly rude… just more quiet. Like how, on slow days, he’d doodle little sketches on the back of order tickets when he thought no one was watching. It was like his way of quietly letting out the tension he didn’t know how to express.

But one of the most surprising things you learned was how fiercely he took care of the café. He had this way of arranging everything just so, always checking the supplies, making sure nothing was out of place. You started to realize that, just like you, this place was one of the few things he allowed to matter.

⸻

One night, after a particularly busy evening shift, you were both left to close up. The lights were dimmed, the buzz of the espresso machine had died down, and only the sound of you wiping down the counter filled the space.

“You’ve been looking at me a lot lately,” Sunghoon said, voice low but steady.

You raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“You know, whenever I’m near, you always seem to be looking at me.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You couldn’t think of anything to say, so you just shrugged. “Maybe I’m just trying to figure you out.”

He stayed silent for a moment before answering. “What do you think?”

You took a deep breath. “I think you’re not as indifferent as you try to act.”

He shifted, clearly caught off guard. “What?”

“You care. You care about this place, about the people here. And maybe… you care more than you realize.”

His gaze softened. “I don’t know how to care.”

“Well,” you said, walking closer, “sometimes it’s okay to not know. But that doesn’t mean you can’t try.”

You paused for a moment, taking a chance you hadn’t dared before.

“Can I ask you something?”

He nodded, his eyes narrowing in curiosity.

“Why do you always do that? Try to keep things to yourself.”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he set down the rag he’d been holding and looked at you with a seriousness that made your chest tighten.

“It’s easier that way,” he said simply.

“Is it?”

He hesitated. “I don’t know.” He sounded a little unsure, a little vulnerable, and you couldn’t help but feel a strange warmth in your chest.

⸻

A few days later, you both ended up working the closing shift again. The café was nearly empty, the last few customers having left, leaving behind a quiet that only the two of you shared.

You were both cleaning up when he spoke again. “I think you’ve changed the way I see things.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing up at him. “What do you mean?”

He looked at you for a long moment before replying. “I think… I’m starting to care a little too much. And it’s not just about the café.”

Your heart did that thing again, an unexpected skip. “What do you mean?” you whispered, a little afraid of what he might say.

He took a breath, stepping closer. “I think… I’m starting to like you.”

You smiled softly. “I think I’ve known for a while.”

He blinked, surprised by your response. “Really?”

“Yeah. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy,” you said. “Nothing’s easy.”

He reached for your hand, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “It doesn’t have to be.”

⸻

The days that followed were a quiet rush of small moments. You both tiptoed around the tension that had bloomed between you… careful, uncertain, but undeniably there.

There was the moment when he passed you a fresh cup of coffee, his fingers brushing against yours for the briefest instant, and neither of you spoke. Just the soft flutter of that touch lingered in the air.

There was the evening when you both stayed late to clean up, and he surprised you by ordering takeout for both of you. His way of offering something, even though he didn’t know exactly how to do it.

Then there was the night when he looked at you, not with his usual distant expression, but with something softer, something warm. “I think I’m getting better at this,” he said quietly.

“At what?”

“At caring,” he replied, voice so low it was almost a whisper.

You smiled, not needing to say anything else. Because in that moment, you both knew. Something slow and quiet had built between you. Something real.

⸻

The night was quiet when the café closed. The lights were dimmed, and the soft hum of the espresso machine was the only sound, almost like the calm after a storm. The air smelled faintly of coffee and cinnamon, comforting in a way only a café could be.

Sunghoon was wiping down the counter, his movements slow and deliberate. You stood beside him, gathering your things, the soft silence between you feeling… different now. The shift was subtle, but it was there. Something had changed.

You couldn’t help yourself.

You turned to him. “Sunghoon.”

He looked up from the counter, his eyes locking with yours. There was no more hesitation in his gaze, no more distance. Just something warm, something patient.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said softly.

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his words. “What?”

He gave a small, almost shy smile, and for the first time, you saw him open up, just a little. “I’m glad you’re here. I think… I think I’ve needed this.”

Your heart swelled at his admission. You didn’t say anything right away. You didn’t need to. You stepped closer, your fingers brushing against his in a quiet, meaningful touch.

“I think I needed this, too,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath.

And in that moment, standing in the soft glow of the café, you realised something. It wasn’t just about coffee. It wasn’t about the late nights or the small gestures.

It was about something more.

Like a cup of coffee left to brew, slowly and carefully, the warmth that had been building between you over the weeks was finally ready. It had taken time. It had taken patience. But now it was something that could no longer be ignored.

Sunghoon tilted his head, eyes searching yours for something you both knew deep down, but had never quite dared to say. “I think… we’re brewing something.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the meaning behind his words sinking in slowly. “Something like love?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

He nodded, his smile a little crooked, but softer than before. “Yeah. Something like love.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. Something so quiet, so gentle, had been growing between you. No grand gestures. No explosive confessions. Just slow, steady, and real.

And maybe that’s how love was supposed to be. Something brewed over time, warm and comforting, a little messy at first, but finally perfect in its own way.

“You’re not wrong,” you said softly, your fingers brushing his once more.

And as the café’s lights flickered off, the two of you stood there, together, knowing that the quiet, patient love you’d been brewing for so long had finally come to life.

Something like love. Quietly brewing.

Just like coffee.

Just like you and him.

© rik1sberry

[eringobragh420]

-`♡´- BAD HABITS (1/3)

➺ pairing — damian priest ♥︎ f!reader ➺ summary — damian and his best friend help each other come on a regular basis, and as long as they don't touch each other, it can't ruin their friendship. but maybe sometimes friendships need to be ruined? ➺ links — one. two. three. ➺ words — 1.6k ➺ warnings — nsfw. dirty talk, masturbation (m and f), spitting, cum 18+ ➺ notes — spanish translations are at the end of the story provided by google translate.  ➺ taglist — if you’d like to be added, please click here! 

➺ MASTERLIST ➺ DAMIAN PRIEST MASTERLIST

Stretching, she slowly drifted into consciousness, heavy-lidded eyes blinking open. Disorientation consumed her momentarily until she remembered she was no longer home in Florida—no, her best friend had surprised her by taking her with him as he toured Europe with the WWE—but essentially vacationing in (for now) Barcelona, Spain. She smiled with one final stretch before climbing out of bed and heading for the shared bathroom in their two-bedroom hotel suite. She and Damian had crashed in their respective rooms the moment they’d arrived—the more than eight hours of flying, coupled with the time change, easily exhausting them.

Finishing her business, she took one step toward her room and stopped. Her eyes searched the darkness as she listened, unsure if she’d heard anything in the first place. There. The corners of her mouth twitched, her lip tucking itself under her teeth as she waited for one more confirmation sound, which came in the form of a delicious groan, and she pivoted, now bound for Damian’s room. He’d left his door ajar, surely on purpose, and her smile grew while she gripped the knob, inaudibly pushing it open.

The black-out curtains used to shield the only window in the room were now open, allowing the city lights and illumination from the moon to paint her best friend—who also just so happened to be the sexiest man alive—in all shades of blues and grays, as well as hard-edged shadows that made him seem even larger than his six-five frame as he lay with his back to the headboard of the luxurious bed, long legs stretched out in front of him. Shirtless, he had one arm bent, tattooed bicep flexed, his hand cushioning the back of his head. Her eyes followed the colorful map on his arm to his broad chest, to his powerful abs and chiseled V-lines. All the way down to his other huge hand, which was wrapped around his equally huge cock, tugging leisurely, hips rolling to meet each stroke.

As much as she wanted to—and would—join in, she loved to simply watch him please himself. Licking her lips, her own hand slid south toward her already aching pussy. Damian moaned, swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing, and his thick thighs shifted. The tips of her fingers had just slipped beneath her panties, but she halted their progress as Damian’s body came alive—he was closer than she’d anticipated, so her pleasure would just have to wait. Damian needed her. 

“You could’ve called me,” she broke the silence softly. Damian jumped, his hand pausing, and upon realizing who it was, he glared at her. “You know I would’ve answered.” 

“I heard you snoring all the way in here,” Damian replied, eyes closing as he resumed jerking himself. 

“That’s what got you in such a state, huh?”

Damian chuckled. “Yeah, somethin’ like that. Now bring your ass over here.”

She didn’t need to be told twice before practically skipping across the room and hopping onto her knees on the bed beside Damian, though forcing herself to leave at least an inch of space between them. That was Rule Number One: No Touching. And if they didn’t follow the rules, the both of them irrationally reasoned, the friendship between them that they held so dearly would be ruined. She leaned as closely as possible to him, her mouth to his ear, gently ghosting cool air along Damian’s hot skin, and he thanked her with a strangled groan from deep in his throat.

Glancing down at his working hand, she whispered, “Do the thing.”

Damian turned his head to look at her, and it was her turn to feel his breath across her neck. Her cunt throbbed, but she forced herself to ignore it—she didn’t want to lose focus on Damian. She blinked sluggishly as her best friend released the hold he had on his dick, letting the heavy, girthy flesh smack against his lower belly. He made her squirm for several moments before he finally did the thing—flexing muscles deep within to make his cock bounce without assistance from his hands. He did it twice more, resuming his stroking shortly after. 

“I don’t know why I love that so much,” she admitted. 

Oh, but she knew exactly why she loved it so much.

“Now you do the thing,” Damian rumbled.

Smirk expanding on her lips, she sat back on her heels and lifted her shirt over her head, the both of them knowing she never wore a bra if she didn’t absolutely have to. Damian’s blown pupils glazed over as he enjoyed the show of his best friend massaging her tits for him, flicking her nipples until they were pebbles begging to be sucked, licked, worshipped. She even raised her arms and jiggled them back and forth, giggling as she did so.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” Damian sighed, shaking his head. Her heart tingled and her stomach flipped like they did every time he told her she was perfect because sometimes she believed he thought she was perfect, and not just flinging compliments as he neared orgasm.

She placed her fists on the mattress next to him, arching her back, and Damian’s hips were now meeting each stroke of his hand. “Almost as perfect as—” 

“I have to taste you,” Damian breathed.

Her body stilled as she searched his face, his entire body working overtime as he chased his high. Her first instinct was to acquiesce—press her lips to his with no regard whatsoever for the aftermath even if it meant losing her best friend, because at least she would have gotten a taste, at least she would have felt him. But their friendship trumped either of their needs, and since she was the one with the clearest head at the moment, the responsibility fell to her to dash their desires. 

“But it’s against the rules,” she whispered, lacking any conviction. 

“I don’t—” Damian stammered. “I can’t fucking come. Please, angelita.” 

She gulped, knees almost buckling, heart hammering and cracking against her ribcage. Damian panted beside her, abs clenching, biceps flexing, thighs quaking and promising to graze against her own if she didn’t put more space between them. But she couldn’t. Not with the most important person in her life begging her to help him cum. They’d done this many times before, one talking the other to and through their most intimate moments, but Damian had never sounded like this before—so fucking desperate and needy. For her.  She’d never known him not to be able to shoot his huge load all over abs, sometimes even hitting his chest, no matter how exhausted or sore or stressed he was—he truly must have needed help.

She couldn’t be the level-headed one anymore. She should have expected or at least considered that the day would come when talking just wasn’t enough. 

“Open your mouth,” she gently ordered.

Damian did as he was told—a thrill surging through her veins at his instant obedience—as she leaned over him, opening her own mouth and extending her tongue. The drool that had collected from witnessing Damian Priest jerk off dripped off her tongue and onto his, Damian gasping as her flavor coated his mouth. 

“Christ,” he whispered, eyes closing. “You taste … I’m gonna fucking—” 

“Come for me, sweet boy,” she encouraged, fingers itching to scratch at Damian’s heaving chest, to squeeze his bouncing bicep, to slap his hand away and stroke him to completion herself. But she’d already done too much, they’d already crossed a line they’d agreed never to cross. Damian whimpered. The man fucking whimpered, his eyebrows knitting together, hand a blur on his rigid dick. “Come for your precious angelita,” she purred.

The big man’s back arched, and her eyes shifted just in time to witness the first rope of cum land on his abs. More saliva accumulated in her mouth as she watched him virtually douse himself in sticky sweet cream that she dreamt of licking off him, that she wished she could lick off him, that she just knew tasted better than every single other man on the planet. After he drained his balls, and ignoring the rather impressive mess he’d made of himself, Damian’s body finally began to relax, head even dipping closer to his shoulder.

She thought about grabbing a warm, wet towel and cleaning her friend off, but decided against it, trying to convince herself it wasn’t because she knew he’d be pissed when he woke up the next morning with dried cum stuck to his skin, but the idiotic grin on her lips suggested otherwise. Carefully she climbed out of bed, grabbing her shirt—one of Damian’s newer merch shirts; the one that looked like a tarot card, and her new personal favorite. 

“Do you need me?” His voice was swathed in sleep, and he didn’t seem to be fully conscious, but somehow, somewhere, he was aware of the past sequence of events—one helped the other get off and then the other returned the favor. His concern with whether or not she got hers was sweet, and she stopped herself before she read any further into something she knew would only bring her heartache.

Heartache. 

Fucking hell, what was she doing? 

“I need you to go to sleep,” she whispered.

She rushed from Damian’s room, quietly closing the door, all but jogging back to her room and closing that door before collapsing face-first on the bed. Her knees slid under her body, ass raising toward the ceiling, and she spread her thighs as she slid her soaked panties aside. 

“Fuck,” she sobbed, rubbing her heated face along the soft sheets, fingers slipping within her folds, finding her slick clit swollen and throbbing and yes, she did need Damian. “I need you,” she breathed, rolling her hips to meet the circular motion of her fingers, easily bringing herself to climax, biting down on the blanket to refrain from screaming his name. “I need you so fucking bad,” she whimpered instead, spent body crumpling to the mattress.

➺ Angelita — Little angel

TAGLIST: @southerngirl41 @femdisa @riverina69 @rollinssection @paramedicnerd004 @mandmilovehim @brianochka @yourmommyagone22 @sweetmoonlove0214 @partypoison00 @lils2795 @aureliacorvina @magicalbuttertarts @madimcg14 @thealliasylum @lov3rla03 @plaidpajamallama @princesstiti14 @the-whatever-22 @jeypunkk @madhatterbri @atomicskincareeyelinerkid @aceywaycy @riddleebabyy @pittieprincess22 @cyberdejos2 @brideofinfamy @rainbowdreams-x @headcaseproductions1 @bearbutlikeprincessbear @terrortwinunicorn @dontcrykeepyourheaduphigh @loki69zowens @fearlesschimera @rockerfairy93 @misslackey @nichole1989 @hc-geralt-23 @miss-kuki-nz @damianpriestfangirl82 @elaineoneill570 @infamousvampcx @rheasfingerpuppet @gracy09 @lizzycaraballo-blog @rk-ho @bloodline-fanacc @moonlightsinner @skyesthebomb

[mrrharper]

Desperation In College

Mike needed to change his life. With his third year of college beginning, he felt like he was wasting his valuable time on Earth. No friends, no real hobbies, no plan for the future. He was passing classes and progressing through his degree thanks to inertia alone.

So it was no surprise that when he saw a bizarre ad online for a pair of "life changing" underwear, he bought it instantly. 24 hours later a package arrived and he eagerly opened it. Inside he saw a jockstrap with the words Under Armour clearly visible. For a moment he doubted what he read on the advertisement - it was only a pair of underwear, and a type he never bought or wore himself. But he shrugged these doubts off, saying to himself that it wouldn't hurt trying them on.

For the next two days he wore only the UA jockstrap. It took a moment getting used to being so exposed underneath his pants, but... it was fine after a while. As the second full day was coming to an end Mike noted that his life has not yet experienced a "dramatic, 180 degrees turn you need to experience". But it was still a decent pair of underwear.

It was dark outside and he contemplated going to bed, but realized he hadn't jerked off in a while, and thus had some pent up horny energy within him. He sat down on his bed and leaned against the wall. Then he started massaging his member through the jockstrap with his left hand and looking for his phone with his right. But before he did, he felt a weird sensation around his bulge. As his cock got harder, the material around it began moving and after just a few seconds it looked like Mike's jockstrap was rubbing itself against his dick, jacking him off. The waves of pleasure that hit Mike immediately after, completely overwhelming him.

The jockstrap sped up its movements and Mike closed his eyes, experiencing pure bliss. While his senses were on the verge of shutting down he did not see his whole body quickly inflating, bulk appearing everywhere. His arms and legs got thicker, his pecs turned into meaty pillows, his stomach muscles appeared underneath them, veins popped out on his shoulders and neck.

Mike's hand instinctively moved towards his bulge and he began helping his seemingly sentient jockstrap in massaging his cock, which throughout this transformation got at least 3 inches longer.

With this much stimulation it didn't take long before Mike experienced the most intense orgasm of his life, cum covering his dick, which was tightly enclosed by the jockstrap. He slowly stood up, his mind mostly blank. He went into the bathroom and the moment he saw himself in the mirror, a cocky grin appeared on his face and he began flexing his newly acquired muscles.

The thing was, for him they were not "newly acquired" because Mike no longer existed. In his place was MJ, vice president of the Alpha Psi Delta fraternity, known by everyone on campus. He was a star receiver on the football team who never showed up to class. Instead, he spent time banging as many chicks as he could in empty rooms. Then at night, he had his ass pounded by a few of his frat bros, of course after proudly saying the phrase "no homo", which was then followed by some aggressive anal sex. He was dumb as a pile of rocks, frequently violent, arrogant and crude, a cocky grin always on his face.

He was exactly the same as all of his bros, basically a copy of every other jock on campus. And he absolutely loved it.

[inuyashaluver]

if you do start doing player x r x player you could do one with leah and alessia 👀

slice of life - alessia russo, leah williamson

alessia russo x leah williamson x reader

description: in which you and your two girlfriends enjoy life together

warnings: i am not shipping these girls together THIS IS FICTION, LOVES, polyamory, i dont really think there's many warnings?

a/n: another fic for my lovelies and its a THROUPLE?! this was actually so fun to write but it’s SOOO RANDOMMMM, i hope you guys enjoy this because i know its not everyone's cup of tea! enjoy, enjoy, enjoy, and thank you so much for the request!

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

if someone were to tell you in the past that you would be dating two of your teammates, who also happen to be your best friends, you would laugh in their face. 

you didn’t think it would be possible, basically growing up with the two girls and then suddenly finding yourself in a relationship with both of them. 

it was exciting and just worked, it was a mutual understanding between the three of you. there was just something so simple about being with each other, in the beginning it was confusing but it slowly grew to be more comfortable. 

you all played together in the lionesses, as well as arsenal, so the progression of the relationship came naturally.

you originally were dating leah, when you were 23 and her 25. and as the two of you grew closer, so did another certain blonde unexpectedly. 

you and leah weren’t really sure how it happened, but alessia added herself into the equation, and now the three of you have been together for essentially 3 years and you all couldn’t be happier. 

you had your own lives, the relationship not a secret rather private, and that’s how you all liked it. 

—

“baby, i cant find my boots anywhere!” alessia whines from the living room, you could hear the pout laced in her words, alessia was always one to misplace something and come crying to you for help.

“clumsy lessi” leah chuckles from the ensuite bathroom, watching you trudge out the bedroom to help your girlfriend. 

“lessi baby” you laugh, watching her throw the living room apart for her shoes. “yeah?” her head pops up from behind the couch, you’re unable to stop yourself from smiling at her slightly dishevelled appearance, to which she amusingly rolled her eyes. 

“babe, they’re right there” you snicker, pointing to the two neon yellow cleats by the door. her head snaps in the direction of your finger, immediately groaning once she saw her boots in the place she swore she double checked. her head falls back as she lays flat on the floor, you laugh brightly at the curses falling from alessia’s lips. 

“what’s all the giggles in here for then?” leah’s voice fills the space of your giggles, the older girl coming behind you with her arms wrapped around your middle. your head swivels slightly to face your other girlfriend, the blonde quickly closing the gap and placing a kiss on your lips. 

“lessi’s funny” you mumble against leah’s lips, making her chuckle against yours. 

and of course, alessia’s whines pick up again at feeling slightly left out. leah chuckles when she spots alessia scrambling to stand up, she lets go of you for a moment, spinning you gently into the arms of an awaiting alessia. 

alessia without a second thought cradles your cheek, kissing you sweetly. “i get no fun around here, always sharing” leah mocks watching you too, making alessia outstretch her hand to leah, pulling her into an impromptu group hug. 

you were sandwiched in the middle of the two, the girls now sharing a kiss above you before both of them attack your cheeks with kisses, all three of you giggling cheekily. 

“alessia lost her boots and they’re right over there” you chuckle, leaning back into leah when alessia moves past the both of you to get changed, always finding herself running a little late. 

leah laughs with you as you explained the situation, alessia’s groans only making the moment funnier. “don’t be mean to her, she’ll sulk all day” leah whispers in your ear.

you turn to her with a mock look of offence, “she will not” you whisper loudly back, leah mocks your voice with a smile, running away from you as you chased her back into the bedroom. 

—

“(y/n) was so mean to me today, you know? i asked her for help in a life or death situation and she just laughed at me” alessia explained to a laughing vic and kyra, making you stop rolling out your quads in the gym with leah, “i told you” leah says under her breath but you heard it. 

“russo! it was not life or death, it was just your boots!” you exclaim, making alessia snap her head toward you, “who do you think you’re talking to? who is russo?” she scoffs, clutching her heart at hearing her last name fall from your mouth instead of your usual pet names. 

“i’m talking to you” you grumble, feeling leah place her hand on your bicep, giving it a gentle squeeze. “baby, that hurt!” alessia chuckles, playfully winking at your unamused expression. 

you turn to look at leah, looking at her for back up. 

“lovey, she’s mucking around, go kiss and make up” leah pleads with a smirk, clearly teasing you. you give her a slightly shocked expression, the older girl usually backing you up in situations like this. 

“lee-” you pout, leah places a quick kiss on your lips, squeezing your cheeks together to form a pout. “no, darling, go make up with less, i’m not dealing with the bickering all the way home” she says firmly, always the most level headed in your relationship. 

she gives you a hand up before giving you an encouraging squeeze to your hips, pushing you over to alessia sitting on a bench. you huff but sit on the blonde’s lap, her hand immediately placed on your thigh as you sat down. 

“hello, gorgeous” alessia swoons, kissing your cheek affectionately despite your blank stare. “say i wasn’t mean to you” you say simply as alessia tries to kiss your lips before you dodge it. 

“baby, i was joking” alessia smirks, bumping her nose on your cheek. “alessia” you whine, the blonde giggling as she placed more apologetic kisses to your cheek, making a little giggle escape your lips occasionally. 

“you weren’t being mean, baby, i’m sorry,” alessia says earnestly, making you smile down at her cheekily before giving her that kiss she wanted, later talking with her and the other girls back and forth before you made your way back to leah. the younger blonde giving your behind a playful slap. 

“thin ice!” you remind her, walking into leah’s outstretched arms. “good girl” leah croons, giving you a tight squeeze and sending alessia a wink. 

—

“what if she forgot something?” you say to leah anxiously, the blonde watching you pace in front of her with an amused smile on her face. 

“two weeks ago, you were fighting about boots” leah chuckles, you send her a glare and she stops, “she didn’t forget anything, love, you packed her bag” leah reminds you, 

“i know, but i’m worried about her” you say anxiously, thinking about your girlfriend who was currently travelling to australia for a friendly match against the A-league all stars team. both you and leah weren’t selected in the team this time. 

“my girl,” leah coos, “alessia will be okay, baby, i know you miss her” you pout and flop on the couch,  “you’ve got me though, sunshine” leah teases, smoothing the furrow between your eyebrows with the pad of her thumb.

“i know, lee, i love you” you send her a small smile "i love you more", you couldn’t help but miss alessia, the three of you were so used to each other’s company now. when one was away from the trio, it made the other’s a little sad, even if they didn't want to admit it.

leah could tell alessia’s absence was hitting a little harder than normal, she missed the other blonde too but didn’t want to dampen the mood. leah knew, the only thing that you were thinking about was that message from alessia that she had arrived at the hotel.

“how about we watch an episode of our show? i promise i won’t tell less” leah attempts, clearly working by the ways your eyes lit up at her words.

leah immediately grabbed snacks and made the couch more comfortable, cuddling up next to you and pressing play on the tv.

you kept anxiously checking the time, waiting for alessia’s message that she had landed safely. cuddling with leah on the couch, the two of you chatted. 

you felt bad about your mind being preoccupied about your girlfriend when your other one was basically melted on top of you but you knew leah understood your worries about the youngest out of the three.

it was until leah’s phone began to vibrate that you both sat up, seeing the name ‘lessi bear’ on leah’s home screen with a silly photo of the two of you under it.

leah chuckled at the sound of your gasp, shaking her head amusingly before passing you her phone, you answered immediately. "pause the tv" you hiss before pressing the green button.

“8 seconds, williamson, that’s appalling” alessia grumbled, hating when leah was slow with answering the phone, “oh, you're not williamson, hello, baby girl!” alessia says brightly, you smile back at her through the facetime call, ignoring the scoff that came from leah’s mouth.

“i can’t believe you called leah first and not me!” you tease, watching alessia laugh brightly, dressed in one of your hoodies, her hair lightly framing her face with the hood on top of her head. she looked so comfy and cozy, you were really missing her at this point.

“leah told me to call her first” alessia clarifies, smiling at you with pink cheeks, “traitor” leah mumbles, “what was that?” you smile at leah, clearly smitten at hearing the voice of alessia.

“nothing, darling” she smiles, kissing your temple affectionately before reaching out to hold the phone for the both of you to be in the frame.

“how was your flight?” you ask her, weirdly shy for some reason, something alessia caught onto quickly, she chuckles, rustling in the bed slightly adjusting herself to be more comfortable.

“it was good, love, except i dropped my phone during the beginning of it” leah laughs at alessia through the phone, you couldn't help but chuckle as well before your other girlfriend began whining about how you both didn’t love her.

after a room tour and chatter between the three of you, you couldn't help but grow a little drowsy, the time difference proving to be a little difficult for you.

“as soon as she hears your voice, she’s out” leah grins at a dozing you on her chest, alessia chuckles affectionately, “i miss you both” she breathes out, taking a few screenshots of the cute scene playing out in front of her.

“she's been worried about you, less, she keeps thinking you forgot something” leah says quietly, her hand rubbing up and down your back in an attempt to keep you asleep.

“don't tell her, i forgot my phone charger” alessia says sheepishly, leah bites back a laugh, body shaking a little but some miracle keeping you asleep. "the one thing she told you to pack yourself" leah teases, alessia rolling her eyes "shut up, babe"

“i knew it” she whispers, chatting back and forth with alessia, making sure to go captain mode and tell her some tactics. 

“say goodnight to her for me?” alessia pleads, leah nods instantly, kissing the crown of your head before whispering “lessi says goodnight, bubba”.

they exchange a loving goodbye and a kiss to the camera before getting some sleep. you and leah waking up extra early to watch the match.

—

leah sits at the kitchen island of your shared apartment absolutely glued to her computer, the older girl insisting she must be the one to book all your flights for the off-season, not wanting anything to go wrong at all.

alessia was on the way home from her australia trip, having already landed and getting a lift with steph, her house close to yours. you were currently making some dinner, alessia’s favourite that she had been begging you to make for her when she came back home.

leah was extremely focused on her task at hand, offering you simple, ‘mhm’, ‘yeah’ and ‘okay, baby’ when she could. 

you were bored waiting for alessia, only needing to do the finishing touches when the blonde walked through the front door. you wanted to cure your boredom with your other girlfriend but she simply was preoccupied and you couldn’t have that.

“i'm thinking of going to get a new outfit tomorrow” you attempt, “that’s nice” leah offers mutely, barely giving you anything. you frown at the lack of response from the england captain.

“i can’t wait to see alessia” you smile, “mhm, me too” she mumbles, you scoff at her response, you know she’s doing something important but you were just so bored, and alessia was due to come home at any minute. the rapid typing of leah’s keyboard was beginning to get on your nerves.

“you know, alessia is definately my favourite player” you say proudly, hearing the complete silence now filling the room. leah looks up at you with an icy glare, suddenly all her attention devoted to you.

“do you want to say that again?” leah grits out before being interrupted by alessia trudging through the door.

“lessi!” you say happily, rushing over to alessia and pulling her into a tight hug, alessia drops her bag to catch you just in time, chuckling affectionately as you clung onto her. “aw, my love” alessia grins as you peck her cheeks repeatedly.

she places you down with your arms interlocked, “don't look so happy to see me, lee baby” alessia laughs, both of you now looking at a frowning leah, her arms crossed firmly over her chest as she watched you two in your loved up bubble.

“what’s her problem?” alessia whispers to you, you just shake your head and smile up at her brightly, “doesn't matter” you assure, pulling her in for a quick kiss.

“i’ve got a bone to pick with you, russo!” leah complains.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill - pretend it’s you! ily tooney

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alessia: my favourite girls in the world!

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yourname: one more than the other, though, right?

↳ alessia: cheeky baby

↳ leahwilliamsonn: you’re not denying anything?

↳ yourname: oooooo you’re in troubleeeeee

↳ alessia: sigh

↳ leahwilliamsonn: both of you are in time out.

[joelsrose]

Guns and Roses: Chapter 3

Chapter Summary: At dinner with Tommy and Maria, you navigate the awkward tension with Joel, who appears to be displaying subtle signs of change. As the days progress, you find yourself grappling with the complexities of his words and actions, trying to decipher the shifting dynamics of your relationship.

11k words.... no comment No TW, enjoy !!! Lemme know if you’d like to be added to the tag list, thank you so much for your support guysss Previous chapter

It had been a week since that patrol with Joel—a week since you’d carefully stitched up his hand, and those quiet words he’d spoken still lingered, refusing to leave your thoughts. In the days that followed, you’d buried yourself in work—tending the garden, taking on extra watch shifts, anything to keep your hands busy and your mind from wandering to him. You hadn’t seen him at all—not in town, not at the gates, not during the late hours when patrols overlapped. You hadn’t felt the weight of his gaze, that quiet intensity that always seemed to linger when he looked your way. And maybe that was for the best. Easier. Simpler. Less complicated by the tangle of feelings you weren’t ready to face.

You came home late from an extra patrol you’d picked up with Maria, the cold biting into your skin, each gust of wind slicing like shards of glass. Exhaustion clung to you, settling deep in your bones, dragging your steps as you trudged down the empty, snow-covered street. The soft glow of the streetlights flickered faintly, casting long shadows across the snow.

By the time you reached your front door, your fingers were numb, stiff from the cold. Just like clockwork, the knob resisted you—stubborn and unyielding, as it always did. You muttered a string of curses under your breath, the sound carried away by the biting wind as you jiggled the handle. For months, you’d meant to ask Tommy to fix it, but it always slipped your mind—until moments like this, when exhaustion weighed you down, the cold gnawed at your skin, and all you craved was the warmth waiting inside.

But the damn door had other plans.

Finally, after what felt like a battle of wills, the door gave way, and you stumbled inside. The warmth greeted you like a long-lost friend, wrapping around you, instantly melting away the chill that had seeped into your bones. You stood there for a moment, letting the quiet of the house settle over you, your breath escaping in a soft sigh. With a weary kick, you sent your boots tumbling off, shaking the stubborn remnants of snow from your clothes, relieved to finally be home.

Upstairs, you peeled off your clothes and stepped into the shower, the hot water hitting your skin like a balm. It melted away the grime and exhaustion, the day’s weight slowly washing down the drain. You closed your eyes, surrendering to the warmth, the steady hiss of the water drowning out the world. For a brief moment, there was nothing but the soothing heat on your skin, each droplet tracing lazy paths down your neck, over your shoulders, and along your back. You sighed deeply, releasing the day’s burdens with it.

After your shower, you wrapped yourself in a towel and padded quietly across the floor, the cold air biting at your damp skin. You crawled into bed, where the soft sheets welcomed you, their coolness quickly warming against your body. The faint scent of lavender lingered in the air, a gentle reminder of Maria’s sachets, mingling with the earthy scent of the cabin’s aged wood. The weight of the blankets settled over you, grounding you, cocooning you from the chill of the night that pressed against the window.

In this silence, an escape from the chaos outside, you could finally let the world fade away—its noise, its burdens, slipping into the background like a distant hum.

As you lay there, the quiet of the room enveloped you, and your mind began to wander. You thought about life—how everything had shifted, how different it all was now. The past felt so distant, almost like a dream. There was a time, before Jackson, before the world fractured, when the most trivial issues consumed your thoughts—what to eat for dinner, whether to meet up with friends after school, the simple, everyday choices that seemed so important then. Now, those concerns felt like relics of another life, buried beneath the weight of all that had changed. You had learned to live with the loss, to accept that some wounds never fully heal, yet the emptiness still lingered beneath the surface, like a quiet ache that never really faded.

Jackson had given you stability, a sense of home you hadn’t felt in years. It was strange, really, how something so small and unremarkable could offer so much comfort. Tommy and Maria—kind, steady, always there—had become your anchors, giving you a place to belong when you thought that feeling was lost forever. You’d stumbled upon Jackson by chance, after weeks of traveling alone, exhausted and battered by the world outside. You hadn’t expected to stay, let alone find safety, but something about the place, the people, made it feel like a refuge from the constant chaos.

Maria, with her quiet strength, had been the first to welcome you. Her friendship slowly chipped away at the loneliness you carried like a second skin. Tommy, with his warmth and easy smiles, always ready with a joke or quick laugh, made the weight of life feel just a little bit lighter.

Yet, even with Jackson’s security and the friendship of people like Tommy and Maria, you tried to avoid the thoughts that crept in during the quiet moments—the yearning for someone to truly share your life with. But love in this world felt selfish, a luxury you could no longer afford.

All that mattered now was survival.

You buried that ache deep, convincing yourself it was easier this way, after the scars of your last relationship had left you afraid of opening up again. The pain of the past had taught you to keep your walls up, and though you longed for connection, the fear of being hurt again kept you at a distance. Even now, the loneliness remained, hiding in the shadows, always waiting.

Without realizing it—or maybe without wanting to admit it—your thoughts drifted to Joel, just as they did every night, like clockwork.

You couldn’t help but wish things were different between you two. That you could turn back time, undo the awkward silences, soften the sharpness of his words, and erase the coldness in his eyes. The distance between you and Joel felt like an unbearable weight. It wasn’t just his words that stung—it was the way he looked at you, like you were someone to tolerate, an inconvenience in his tightly guarded world. You often wondered what it would take to break through that wall, to have him look at you the way he did Tommy or Ellie—with that rare warmth, the quiet loyalty he reserved for only a few.

But maybe it wasn’t just Joel. Maybe it was you, too. Maybe there was something fundamentally wrong with you, something about the way you occupied space that made you feel like an outsider, always on the fringes, looking in. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but the thought gnawed at you relentlessly. Was it something you’d said? Something you’d done? Or was it simply who you were—always too much or never quite enough?

The echoes of your past relationship still lingered, making you second-guess every word, every gesture. You had been made to feel like you were too needy, too clingy, and that doubt had rooted itself deep inside you. Now, every interaction felt like a delicate balance, as if any misstep might confirm the fear that you were just…too much.

You sighed, pulling the blankets tighter around yourself, as if they could somehow shield you from the weight of those thoughts. But the image of Joel’s hardened gaze clung to you, like a bruise you couldn’t touch without feeling the dull ache beneath. The friction between you had thickened into a wall so impenetrable, you didn’t know how—or even if—you could break through it. With that heaviness pressing on your chest, you let your eyes drift shut, sleep slowly creeping in, even as your mind swirled with memories: his sharp words, the cold bite of snow, and the wide, unbridgeable distance between you.

But then there were those rare moments, like when you had tended to his hand. His fingers, rough and calloused from years of survival, had briefly rested in your own, forming a fleeting connection. For just a second, you thought you saw something softer in his eyes, something that disappeared as quickly as it came. It left you questioning whether it had been there at all, or if it was just your tired mind imagining what you wished to see. That glimpse of warmth was always so brief, it felt almost like a dream, gone before you could even grasp it.

Your eyes grew heavy, the exhaustion finally settling in, and before you realized it, you had drifted off, once again with thoughts of Joel lingering in your mind.

It was becoming a pattern—no matter how hard you tried to push him away, he always found his way into your last waking thoughts, like a shadow you couldn’t shake.

•••

The next morning, you woke with a quiet sense of resolve. The world outside felt different, lighter somehow, as if the weight of the previous days had begun to lift. The snow, once harsh and unrelenting, had softened in the night, its flurries now gentle, drifting lazily through the air. There was something in the crispness of the morning—a quiet, unspoken promise of change. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there, lingering in the air. It whispered of new beginnings, though what those might be, you weren’t sure just yet.

You stepped out onto the front porch, the wooden boards creaking softly beneath your weight. The morning was still, but the world around you was beginning to stir. People walked by in small clusters, bundled up against the cold, their breath visible in the crisp air as they moved through the motions of daily life—talking, laughing, going about their routines with a sense of quiet purpose. Children’s voices carried faintly from a distance, their laughter bright against the otherwise muted morning. There was a peacefulness to it all, an ordinary rhythm that felt comforting in its familiarity.

The garden in front of you lay dormant, a barren stretch of earth dusted with a thin layer of frost, its potential hidden beneath winter’s icy grip. For now, it seemed lifeless—a quiet, desolate patch of ground that mirrored the stillness around you.

But you had plans for it.

You had told Maria and Tommy all about your dream for the garden, how this coming spring, you would finally put it to life. As you stood there, cradling your coffee in both hands, warmth seeping into your fingers, you imagined what it would become. In your mind’s eye, the empty space transformed—bursting with color, vibrant and wild, flowers of all kinds stretching along the fence, breathing life back into the soil. And most of all, there would be roses.

You had always loved roses—their fierce, unapologetic beauty, delicate yet resilient, with thorns that spoke of their strength. You could already picture them—soft pinks, fiery reds, deep purples—spreading across the garden, filling the air with their sweet scent. The thought brought a small smile to your lips, a quiet hope stirring within, as if nurturing the garden might somehow heal something within you too, fill some sort of void you had become too aware of.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the creak of Tommy’s front door swinging open across the street, pulling you from your reverie. He lived right in front of you, and the sound was as familiar as the rhythm of the town.

Instinctively, you glanced up, your eyes landing on Joel as he stepped out alongside Tommy. They were deep in conversation, their breath forming clouds in the cold morning air. You couldn’t make out the words from this distance, but then something caught your attention—Joel’s laugh. It was rare, almost unexpected, the sound soft but carrying across the quiet street. It lingered briefly in the air before fading, like something you almost didn’t catch but somehow couldn’t ignore.

Your eyes lingered on Joel longer than you intended. He looked much the same—his shoulders squared, his expression as unreadable as ever. But something was different in the way he stood next to Tommy. There was a subtle ease to him, a rare sense of relaxation in the way he moved, the tension that usually clung to him seemed to soften, if only slightly. The bandage still wrapped around his hand was a quiet reminder of the last time you’d been alone together, stirring a mix of emotions inside you—uncertainty, regret, and something you couldn’t quite name.

And then he caught your eye.

For a heartbeat, everything seemed to freeze. His gaze locked onto yours, and for a split second, you saw his eyes flicker over you, a subtle once-over that made your breath hitch. His expression remained unreadable, but the way his eyes lingered left you feeling exposed. Embarrassment surged through you as you realized you were still in your pajamas, the thin fabric showing more skin than you would’ve liked. Flustered, you quickly looked away, turning your attention back to your coffee, hoping its warmth might somehow hide the flush creeping up your neck.

It was too much to stay outside any longer, the cold biting at your skin and the weight of Joel’s gaze unsettling you. You were already on your way back inside when Tommy noticed you, his eyes catching the awkward exchange.

As you scurried toward your door, fumbling with the stubborn knob once again, Tommy couldn’t resist. “Everything alright over there?” he called, a teasing lilt in his voice. You felt the heat rise to your face, hastily ducking inside before you had to answer, hoping the door would shut fast enough to hide your embarrassment.

From across the street, Tommy’s laughter rang out, likely at the clumsy spectacle you’d made of yourself. What you didn’t see, as you hurried inside, was the faint hint of a smile pulling at Joel’s lips—a rare flicker of amusement that softened his hardened expression. He watched you disappear, his gaze lingering on the door long after it had shut, as if your rushed retreat had left something behind, something only he could recognize.

•••

The knock on the door interrupted you as you sat reading, pulling you from the pages just as you were starting to lose yourself in them. With a sigh, you set the book aside and opened the door to find Tommy standing there, his usual grin plastered across his face, leaning casually against the frame.

“Hey, kid,” he greeted warmly, his eyes darting to the door handle before letting out a laugh. “Still fighting with this old thing, huh? I thought this morning might’ve been its final battle.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. You loved this about Tommy—the way he could make you laugh, no matter what. He had this duality about him, able to take command on patrols, protect the town, and then switch to being a total clown at the drop of a hat. It was a rare skill, and you appreciated it more than you let on.

You thought back to that one time, when you’d come back from a patrol, shaken up after a close call. The adrenaline had barely worn off, and you couldn’t get your mind to settle. Not long after you made it home, Tommy had shown up with a deck of cards, a grin on his face, and simply said, “Heard you need to learn how to lose at poker.” The next couple of hours were spent with him playfully mocking your terrible hand and telling stories that had you laughing until your stomach hurt. He never once asked about what had happened on patrol, and somehow, that made it better. He had this way of knowing exactly what you needed, even when you didn’t.

“Anyway,” Tommy continued, snapping you back to the present as he straightened up, “You’re coming over tonight. Maria’s cooking up a storm, and we’re not taking no for an answer.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What’s the occasion?”

Tommy shrugged, grinning as usual. “Do I need an occasion to hang out with my favorite people?”

“Uh-huh,” you said, not entirely convinced. “Who else is coming?”

“Just the usual suspects,” Tommy replied, throwing in a playful wink. “You, Joel, and Ellie. Figured we could all use a night to unwind. Besides, we’ll finally get to hear some of those patrol stories now that you two aren’t at each other’s throats anymore.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Right. Because we’re such great storytellers.”

Tommy laughed. “Hey, if nothing else, it’ll be entertaining to watch you try.”

You forced out a chuckle, though it felt hollow, the irony of his words twisting in your gut. The lies you’d fed Tommy were beginning to catch up with you, knotting something tight and uncomfortable in your chest. Just like last week, when he’d casually asked how patrol with Joel had gone, and you’d plastered on a smile, insisting everything was fine—because that was easier than admitting the truth. But now, the thought of spending an entire evening with Joel, pretending like nothing had changed, made your stomach twist. You hadn’t corrected Tommy then, and now you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep up the charade.

Tommy must have caught the flicker of hesitation in your expression because he waved a hand dismissively before you could even form a protest. “No excuses, alright? Six-thirty sharp. Be there. Gotta run!”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving you standing there with a knot tightening in your stomach. The prospect of dinner with Joel hung heavy in the air, a weight you couldn’t quite shake as the reality of spending the evening with him settled uncomfortably on your mind.

•••

That night, a low hum of anxiety thrummed in your chest, your mind racing through every possible scenario of how dinner might unfold. Would Joel sit in stony silence, barely acknowledging your presence? Would his gaze linger too long, sharp with frustration, making you wonder if you’d said or done something wrong again? Or maybe he’d be short with you, his words clipped and cold, each sentence feeling like a subtle reprimand. You imagined accidentally dropping a fork, the clatter echoing louder than it should, and him shooting you that look—the one that made you feel small, like you didn’t belong. The air always felt thick with him there, heavy with unspoken tension. You couldn’t stop replaying his words in your mind, the way his eyes had cut through you, the frustration lacing his voice. You knew he thought you were a burden, and now every little thing felt magnified—every move, every word, overthought and picked apart, terrified that one misstep would only confirm what he already seemed to believe.

For the past week, you’d been silently relieved that you hadn’t crossed paths with him, grateful for the distance. But deep down, you knew that seeing him again was inevitable, not just tonight at dinner, but eventually.

You stood in front of your closet, fingers trailing over the hangers as you searched for something that felt right. After a moment of hesitation, you pulled out a soft, knitted sweater—the pale pink one Maria had once said brought out the warmth in your skin. It was thick enough to fend off the evening chill, hugging you in a way that felt both comforting and flattering. The sleeves draped past your wrists, brushing your fingertips like a quiet, reassuring touch you hadn’t realized you craved. You paired it with a well-worn pair of jeans, something familiar and easy.

As you got ready, the sweet scent of apple-cinnamon pie drifted up from the kitchen, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. It was a soothing contrast to the nerves building in your chest. Standing in front of the mirror, you left your hair down, letting it fall naturally in loose waves, framing your face. There was a simplicity to it all that made you feel put together—nothing overdone, but just enough to feel like yourself.

Pie in hand, you braved the cold night air, the chill biting at your cheeks until they flushed pink. Your boots crunched softly through the snow as you made your way across the street to Tommy and Maria’s. The faint glow from their windows spilled out into the darkness, a warm, inviting light that seemed to pull you in, offering a welcome contrast to the cold night pressing against you.

You paused at the door for a moment, taking a deep breath before stepping inside.

“There she is!” Tommy’s voice rang out, cheerful as ever, breaking the crisp silence that followed you in from the cold. The comforting aroma of roasted chicken and warm spices greeted you immediately, wrapping around you like a blanket, a stark contrast to the biting air outside.

Maria looked up from the table she was setting, her smile as warm as the scents filling the room. “Hey, glad you could make it,” she said, her voice easy and inviting, making you feel at home in an instant.

Ellie popped up from her seat with an exaggerated grin, waving you over. “About time! Thought you’d frozen out there or something.” Her teasing tone, paired with the glint of amusement in her eyes, pulled a soft smile from you, easing some of the tension lodged in your chest.

But then, your gaze drifted almost instinctively to the table, where Joel sat. Your steps faltered for a brief moment when you saw him. He looked different tonight—refined, even. His usually disheveled hair was slicked back, neater than you’d ever seen it, and he had traded his familiar, worn-out jacket for a crisp button-up shirt. The fabric stretched taut across his broad shoulders, making him seem even more imposing. It threw you off balance, and for a heartbeat, you didn’t quite know what to do with yourself.

His eyes flicked up, catching yours for just a second. The look he gave you was unreadable, as if he was holding back something he wouldn’t—or couldn’t—say. He nodded, barely perceptible, a silent acknowledgment of your arrival. The tension from the past week hung heavy in the air, thick and unspoken, settling between you like an invisible wall. But tonight, there was something different about him. A softness, a deliberate effort, though you couldn’t quite pin down why.

You hesitated, your familiar unease creeping back in, knotting in your stomach. It was like Joel could sense it. His gaze lingered, just long enough to make you question everything, the silence between you filled with things you both refused to say.

“You brought pie?” Maria’s smile widened as she took the dish from you, her eyes bright with appreciation. “You didn’t have to, but thank you. It smells divine.”

You managed a small laugh, though Joel’s presence still weighed on your thoughts. “Figured it’d make up for my lousy company,” you teased lightly, trying to shift your focus.

Maria chuckled, giving your arm a light pat as she placed the pie on the counter. “Oh, stop it. We’re just glad you’re here.”

You gave Maria a small smile, though your nerves still fluttered beneath the surface. As you glanced back at the table, you realized everyone had already taken their seats—except for you. The only empty spot left was next to Joel. Your stomach twisted at the sight, and you couldn’t tell if it was deliberate or just an unfortunate coincidence.

Joel’s eyes were back on his plate, as if the brief exchange between you hadn’t even happened. But the tension between you hummed in the air, undeniable, even if no one else seemed to notice. As you reluctantly moved toward the empty seat beside him, you couldn’t shake the feeling of his presence, the quiet weight of it pressing against your thoughts. Sitting down, you couldn’t help but wonder if he felt it too, or if you were just stuck in your own head, overthinking every glance, every silence.

•••

Dinner was awkward, the kind of awkward that lingered like a thick fog, clinging to every corner of the room despite the efforts to keep the conversation light and flowing. The tension seemed to wrap itself around the table, settling between you and Joel like an invisible barrier, palpable even in the spaces where no one spoke.

Tommy, ever perceptive, had picked up on it quickly. His brow furrowed in confusion as he glanced your way, his expression silently asking, I thought you and Joel were fine now? The lie you had told him after that patrol—the one where you said everything was “just fine”—seemed to hover in the air, taunting you, its weight pressing down on the space between you and Joel.

And yet, no matter how hard you tried to focus on the clatter of forks or Maria’s cheerful voice, you couldn’t escape the feeling that everyone could sense it. The tension hummed beneath the surface, thick and suffocating, binding you to Joel in a way that neither of you seemed ready to face.

“Tell us about your hand, Joel,” Tommy said, his voice deliberately light, as if trying to sweep away the thick tension clinging to the room. There was a playful note to his tone, an attempt to soften the atmosphere. “Bet there’s a funny story there.”

Your eyes drifted to Joel’s bandaged hand, watching as he flexed it slightly before lifting his fork to his mouth. The memory of you stitching him up flickered in your mind, and the tension between you felt as raw as it had that day.

Joel barely glanced up, his jaw tight, his focus still pinned on the plate in front of him. “It’s nothing, Tommy,” he muttered, the gruffness in his voice like a wall shutting down any further inquiry. His words were flat, dismissive, a quick brush-off. “Just a scratch.”

Tommy, still blissfully unaware of the deeper currents beneath the surface, pressed on with a grin. “But it happened during patrol, didn’t it?” He threw a playful glance your way, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “And I heard Sunshine here patched you up. Woman of many talents, huh?”

You forced a small smile at the nickname Tommy had given you, trying to match his lightheartedness, but the unease settled deeper in your chest. Tommy always meant well, but he didn’t see the cracks beneath the surface. His playful tone smoothed over something jagged, but it wasn’t enough to shake the heaviness between you and Joel.

Maria, though—she wasn’t fooled. She always had a way of sensing the undercurrents, and tonight was no exception. Her eyes caught yours across the table, a flicker of understanding passing between you. It was the kind of look that said she knew more than anyone else in the room and wouldn’t push, but she was there if you needed her.

You busied yourself with passing plates, focusing on the small, routine tasks as a distraction from the tension that had settled deep in your chest. Ellie, bless her, filled the silence with her usual bright energy, recounting some story about an old man who’d mistaken her for a boy during patrol.

“… and I swear, he didn’t believe me until I had to practically spell it out for him!” Ellie’s voice rang through the room, her laughter contagious. Tommy chuckled, shaking his head, and Maria smiled softly as she listened.

But even Ellie’s infectious spirit couldn’t cut through the knot that had formed inside you. Every word, every glance felt like it was being scrutinized, held under the weight of Joel’s silent watch. You hated it—the way his presence lingered, how the memory of his harsh words still held you captive, turning you into a shell of who you were around the others. It grated at you, that all it took was a few biting words from him to undo everything, to make you doubt yourself.

You kept your focus on the plates, nodding occasionally at Ellie’s story, but your mind was elsewhere. You could feel Joel across the table, the tension between you like a live wire, sparking every time his eyes drifted your way, even if just for a second. It was like the room had split in two—one half filled with light conversation and Ellie’s laughter, and the other weighed down by the unspoken strain between you and Joel.

As Ellie continued her stories, you reached for your glass, only to realize it was nearly empty, and without thinking, your hand hesitated. Before you could pull away, Joel’s hand quietly reached across the table, refilling your glass without a word. The gesture was simple, almost unremarkable, but it stopped you cold. His rough fingers brushed the rim of the glass, and the unexpected softness in the midst of all the tension sent a jolt through you.

For a moment, you froze, your mind racing. Why did he do that? It wasn’t the kind of thing you’d expect from him—especially after the way he’d acted toward you lately. You thought he couldn’t stand you, that he saw you as nothing more than a burden. The words he’d once said echoed in your mind, tightening your chest. You had backed off, kept your distance, because he made it painfully clear he wanted nothing to do with you.

And yet… this. This small, quiet gesture. Was it just habit? Politeness? Or did he feel bad for how he’d treated you? The questions swirled in your head, and you couldn’t quite shake the confusion.

“Thanks,” you mumbled softly, your voice barely audible. Joel gave the faintest nod, never meeting your eyes as he returned to his meal, as if nothing had happened. But you couldn’t let it go. That brief touch, that moment of quiet consideration—it lingered, making you question everything. Did he regret the way he’d treated you? Or was it just you, overthinking as usual, grasping for meaning where there was none?

•••

Dinner came and went, the awkwardness that had settled over the room earlier slowly ebbing away. After that small interaction with Joel, you found yourself subconsciously loosening up. The knot of tension in your chest slowly unraveled, and you began to relax, slipping into your usual self without even realizing it. You laughed at Ellie’s stories, joined in on Tommy’s playful banter, and let yourself ease into the flow of the evening, the weight of Joel’s presence not as heavy as before.

Joel, as usual, stayed mostly silent, his focus on his plate. He only chimed in when Ellie made some snarky comment about their latest patrol, and even then, his words were short, gruff responses. But his silence didn’t feel as suffocating now—it was just… Joel being Joel. You couldn’t help but glance at him occasionally, wondering if that small act earlier had meant anything to him. But he remained distant, his expression unreadable, and you tried not to let your thoughts linger too long.

Still, the evening felt lighter, easier. For the first time in a long while, you found yourself almost enjoying the company, allowing yourself to be present in the moment. The tension that had once felt unbearable had faded into the background, at least for now.

When it came time for dessert, you brought out the pie, your hands a little unsteady as you tried to focus on the simple act of serving it. The warm, sweet aroma of apples and cinnamon filled the room, carrying with it a sense of nostalgia that momentarily eased the tension in your chest. You could feel everyone’s eyes on you as you approached the table, their conversations quieting in anticipation. But as you carried the pie to the table, still hot from the oven, you misjudged the thickness of the towel in your hands. The heat seared through the fabric, and a sharp, instinctive “Shit!” escaped your lips as pain shot through your fingers.

Before you could even react, Joel was there, reaching out without hesitation. His hand wrapped around the dish, and for a second, you were sure he’d burn himself too. But he barely flinched as he steadied it, his fingers brushing yours just as he took the pie from your grip. His touch, rough but steady, sent a jolt through you that had nothing to do with the heat.

“Careful,” Joel muttered under his breath, his voice low and rough, as he set the pie down on the table with a practiced ease, barely acknowledging the burn that would have scalded most.

You stood frozen, staring at him, wondering if he felt the sting—or anything at all. His hand lingered on the dish a moment longer than necessary, and you caught the subtle tension in his jaw, the slight clenching that made you think maybe he did feel the heat but wasn’t about to admit it.

The pain in your own fingers faded, overtaken by the weight of his presence. The unexpected gentleness of his touch still buzzed through you, unsettling in its intimacy. Something about the moment—something beyond the heat—left you feeling off balance.

You looked up at him, startled by the ease with which he’d helped, by the gentle steadiness of his hand on yours. His face remained as unreadable as ever, but for the briefest moment, you felt something shift. It was subtle, barely there, but it was enough to make your heart race, to make you question everything you thought you knew about him.

You just gulped, the words thank you struggling to leave your mouth. To the others, it was nothing more than a simple slip of the hands—an almost-accident, easily shrugged off—but between you and Joel, it was something else. What exactly, you weren’t sure, but you didn’t like the way it left you feeling. That brief touch, the way he’d steadied the pie without a second thought, unsettled you. It was too intimate, too confusing, and you hated how it lingered in your mind.

As you resumed passing out plates, Ellie’s exaggerated enthusiasm over the dessert barely registered. Your mind kept drifting back to Joel, who sat quietly, his eyes fixed on his empty plate. When Tommy offered him a slice, he waved it off, muttering something about being too full.

•••

After dinner, you and Ellie gathered in the living room. Maria was in the kitchen, despite your repeated offers to help, and Tommy and Joel had disappeared into another part of the house, likely fixing something.

Ellie leaned back on the couch, stretching out like she hadn’t a care in the world. Meanwhile, your shoulders tensed under her gaze—you knew she was about to pry.

“Sooo,” she began, drawing out the word in a way that told you this was her attempt at subtlety. “What’s up with you and Joel?”

You felt your heart skip. Of course, she had noticed. Ellie noticed everything. You tried to brush it off, running a hand through your hair to buy yourself some time. “What do you mean?”

Ellie raised an eyebrow, unimpressed with your attempt to deflect. “Oh, come on. You two can barely be in the same room without it getting… awkward. So, what’s the deal? What happened?”

The word awkward echoed in your mind, and somehow, it still felt too simplistic to capture whatever this was between you and Joel. It wasn’t just awkwardness—it was tension, unspoken and unresolved. You shifted in your seat, unsure of how to put it into words. “I don’t know,” you said softly, your voice hesitant. “He said some things, I said some things… it’s complicated.”

Even as you said it, the weight of that truth lingered in the air between you. Complicated didn’t begin to cover it.

Ellie gave you a knowing nod, as if she understood more than she was letting on. “Complicated,” she echoed, her tone almost amused. “Yeah, I get that. But you know… you and Joel? You’re more alike than you think.”

You blinked at her, caught off guard by the comparison. “Alike?” you repeated, the word feeling foreign when applied to you and Joel. “Should I be offended?” you added with a playful smirk, trying to lighten the moment.

Ellie rolled her eyes but smiled. “Sure, when I first met him, he was a total asshole. And I mean asshole with a capital ‘A.’”

“Sounds about right,” you said, your tone light, but inside, something stirred.

Ellie grinned, but her expression softened as she continued, her voice lowering. “But that’s just… how he is. He builds walls, you know? Keeps people out.” She played with her fingers, her usual confidence faltering for a moment. “He’s been through a lot. Lost people. I know we all have, but… I think he just deals with it differently.”

Her words settled over you, heavy and unshakable. You hadn’t known much about Joel’s past—just bits and pieces from Tommy’s passing remarks or whispers around town. But now, as Ellie spoke, there was a deeper layer to it, something that made your chest tighten with a strange, unfamiliar ache.

“Lost people?” you asked softly, a strange feeling coiling deep in your stomach.

Ellie’s expression shifted, a flicker of sadness clouding her eyes. She hesitated, her gaze dropping to the floor as if weighing whether to continue. After a brief pause, she let out a soft sigh, the sound heavy with memories. “Yeah…” She glanced at you again, her voice quieter now. “Before we got here… there was someone else with us.” Another pause, as if the name still carried weight. “Her name was Tess.”

The name hit you harder than you expected, solid and heavy. You’d never heard about Tess, but from the way Ellie said her name, you knew Tess wasn’t just anyone. She had been important—more than important.

You swallowed, your voice hesitant as the question slipped out. “Were they… close?”

Ellie paused, glancing away, her brows furrowing like she was picking through memories, unsure of how much to say. “Yeah, they were close. I think so. It was… complicated, but you could tell she meant a lot to him.” She sighed again, her gaze distant, caught up in a world of memories that didn’t belong to you. “When we lost her, it messed him up. I mean, more than usual.”

The mention of Tess left a bitter taste in your mouth, tightening the knot in your chest. You wondered why it even mattered—why the thought of her knowing him, of softening his rough edges, bothered you at all. It unsettled you, and the fact that you were questioning it only made things worse. You didn’t care, or at least, you shouldn’t. So why the hell were you thinking about it?

Ellie’s voice grew quieter, more introspective. “It’s like… Joel builds these walls around himself. High ones. To keep people out, to keep from getting hurt again. He couldn’t stand me a few months ago, and now it’s like… he worries if I’m gone for too long or if I’m not where he can see me.” She smiled, the kind of smile that was both wistful and knowing. “You just have to keep trying to see it… what’s underneath.”

Her words lingered in the air, tugging at something deep inside you. You weren’t sure if you were ready to try—or if you even wanted to. The thought of breaking through those walls, of seeing what lay beneath, left you more conflicted than ever. Why would you want to with someone who had made it painfully clear he couldn’t stand you? But after the small gestures tonight, you couldn’t help but wonder if that was still true.

The weight of Ellie’s words settled in your chest like a stone. The image of Joel she painted wasn’t just the gruff, distant man you knew; it was someone who had been hurt, someone who had lost so much that he didn’t know how to let anyone in anymore. Maybe that’s why he was the way he was with you—maybe it wasn’t even about you at all. Maybe it was about Tess. About whatever scars she’d left behind.

You sat there in silence for a moment, your thoughts churning with everything Ellie had said. The awkwardness between you and Joel felt different now, less like anger and more like a shadow of something neither of you had the words to explain.

Ellie looked at you, her expression softening even more. “Look, I don’t know what happened between you two, but… Joel can say and do things he doesn’t mean. And, well, I actually like you, so if you two could figure it out, that’d be awesome.”

You couldn’t help but smile at her words, a faint warmth spreading through your chest. “Yeah,” you murmured, the smile lingering a moment longer. I wish we could too, you thought, casting a quick glance toward Joel. He had just come back inside with Tommy and was now standing by the door, talking quietly. You watched him for a moment, noticing how his gaze flickered your way now and then. If only it were that simple.

The evening came to an end, and after saying your goodbyes, you slipped into your house, your mind swirling with thoughts. Ellie’s words replayed over and over, He’s lost people... Her voice echoed in your head, pulling you into a whirlwind of questions that spun relentlessly. Joel never shared much about his past—especially not with you—but Ellie had unknowingly cracked open a door, offering you a fleeting glimpse into the shadows he carried.

Now, for the first time, you found yourself wondering what it might be like to know him beyond the gruff exterior, beyond the walls he’d built so high and guarded so fiercely. The idea unsettled you, the weight of it lingering longer than you expected, tugging at a curiosity you weren’t sure you wanted to explore.

•••

A week later, you found yourself returning from another long night shift with Maria. Patrol had dragged on, leaving you bone-tired, your limbs heavy with exhaustion as you finally made your way home in the late afternoon. The snow had mostly melted, clinging only in stubborn patches, and the biting cold had eased. The air had shifted, carrying with it the faint warmth of the approaching spring. The sharp edge of winter had softened, replaced by a mild breeze that whispered of change. Yet, despite the gentler weather, the fatigue weighed you down, every step toward home feeling heavier than the last.

As you trudged up the steps to your front porch, exhaustion draped over you like a heavy blanket, your mind was already set on the hot shower waiting inside. But something felt… off. The door opened too easily.

You paused, confusion furrowing your brow. Turning back, you pushed it again—this time slower, more deliberate. It moved smoothly on its hinges, without the familiar stubborn resistance you’d grown so used to. Gone was the creak and the nightly battle just to get inside.

Curious, you pushed it open and closed a few more times, realization dawning on you. It had been fixed.

A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “Tommy,” you muttered softly to yourself, shaking your head with a mix of amusement and gratitude. He must’ve finally taken pity on you after seeing you struggle with it the other day on the porch.

A warm shower and a much-needed nap later, you found yourself heading to the famous Jackson pub—something you and Tommy did regularly, with Maria occasionally tagging along. That evening, as the sky deepened into a cool twilight, you made your way through the brisk air toward the bar.

The moment you stepped inside, the warmth of the room enveloped you, the familiar hum of conversation and bursts of laughter offering a welcome reprieve from the cold outside. Memories of this place rushed back to you, woven into the fabric of your time in Jackson. This was where you’d celebrated your last birthday—Tommy insisting on toasting you, and the whole pub joining in with a boisterous, off-key rendition of “Happy Birthday.” You remembered how embarrassed you’d felt but couldn’t help the warmth that settled in your chest when Maria brought out a cake she’d somehow managed to make despite all the supply shortages.

And then there was the night after one of your toughest patrols, when Maria had dragged you in here for “just one drink” to unwind. You’d ended up staying for hours, swapping stories with Tommy and Maria while the pub filled with laughter and the comforting sound of clinking glasses, the stress of the day melting away.

You spotted Tommy and Maria easily, sitting at a small table by the window. Tommy was already nursing a glass of whiskey, his grin widening when he saw you. Maria leaned in beside him, chatting quietly, her soft laughter mixing with the sounds of the bar. The glow from the dim lights above bathed the room in a cozy warmth, making it feel both alive and familiar—a place full of memories and moments that felt like home.

“Hey,” you greeted, sliding into the seat next to Tommy with a grin. “How’s it going? Long day?”

Tommy glanced up from his drink, giving you a welcoming nod. “Always is. Had to sort out some supply issues earlier, but we got it under control. Maria’s been on my case about takin’ a break, so… here I am.” He gestured around the pub with a wry smile.

Maria chuckled from across the table. “If by ‘taking a break,’ you mean half-listening to me while checking in with half the town, sure.”

“Hey now,” Tommy shot back, holding his hands up defensively. “I’m right here, aren’t I?”

You laughed and shook your head. “Well, at least you’re both here, so that’s something. Speaking of which, thanks for fixing my door, by the way. I didn’t even hear you come by. You’re officially off the hook for at least one favor.”

Tommy looked at you, confused, his glass halfway to his mouth. He lowered it and furrowed his brow. “Fix your door? What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

You blinked, surprised. “The front door—remember? It used to stick all the time. You said you’d get to it eventually.”

“Yeah, I remember. But I didn’t fix it,” Tommy said, chuckling as he leaned back in his chair. “Trust me, if I’d finally gotten around to fixing that door, I’d make sure you knew. I’d probably make a whole show of it, to be honest. That thing’s been givin’ you hell for months.”

Now you were the one confused. “Wait, seriously? You didn’t fix it?”

“Nope,” he said with a grin, shrugging. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a mystery handyman.”

A wave of confusion swept over you. If it wasn’t Tommy, then… who? You shook your head, a small laugh bubbling up despite the strange, nagging feeling in the back of your mind.

Maria, who had been listening quietly, raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a teasing smile. “Maybe you’ve got yourself a secret admirer,” she joked, though a flicker of genuine curiosity sparked in her eyes.

“Yeah, or a fucking stalker,” Tommy chimed in with a grin.

“Tommy!” Maria scolded, swatting him lightly on the arm.

He laughed, unbothered. “Or maybe you were just drunk and forgot you fixed it yourself.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head with a smirk. “Very funny,” you said, though the joking didn’t entirely settle the strange feeling gnawing at you. Even as the conversation drifted to other topics, the thought lingered, tugging at the edges of your mind. Who had fixed the door? And why wouldn’t they say anything?

As you made your way home later that night, the streets quiet under the soft cover of darkness, your thoughts kept circling back to the door—how easily it had opened, how it had been fixed without a word, without explanation. A gentle breeze stirred the air, the last remnants of winter whispering through the night, but it wasn’t enough to chill you. You felt light on your feet, a little tipsy from the drinks and the easy company of the evening, but even that couldn’t shake the strange feeling gnawing at you.

When you finally reached your porch, you hesitated, turning the knob once more. The door opened with a soft click, smooth and effortless, as if it had never been broken at all. You stood there for a moment, the faint breeze brushing against your skin, staring at the door as if it might somehow reveal its secrets.

A quiet mystery settled over you, but for now, it remained unsolved. With a sigh, you stepped inside, the warmth of your home embracing you as you closed the door behind you. Maybe you’d never know who had fixed it. Or maybe… you already did.

You just weren’t ready to admit it yet.

•••

The next morning, as you groggily made your way toward the front door, still half-lost in the remnants of sleep, something unusual caught your eye and halted your steps. You blinked, trying to shake off the haze of early morning sluggishness. You had woken up with a mental list of things to tackle—maybe a trip to the market for supplies, finally tackling that patch of overgrown weeds in the garden, or even sorting through the clutter slowly piling up in the house. But all those plans slipped from your mind as you stood there, staring in disbelief.

The snow that had once piled up in your front yard—left untouched and heavy for weeks—was now neatly pushed aside, creating a clear path through the garden. It wasn’t just a quick shovel job either; it was precise, deliberate. You frowned, stepping closer to the window to get a better look.

“What the hell?” you muttered under your breath. You hadn’t even thought about shoveling the snow—not with everything else weighing you down lately.

You pressed your hand against the cold windowpane, peering outside. There were no footprints, no signs of who had been there. The remnants of snow were perfectly undisturbed except for the careful path that had been made. It was as if someone had come and gone without a trace, but with deliberate care.

First the door, now this.

Your eyes scanned the rest of the garden, and that’s when you noticed something else. The pile of firewood stacked by the side of your house—it had grown. You hadn’t even realized it had been running low, but now fresh logs were neatly stacked, perfectly arranged. It wasn’t just a casual pile; it was deliberate, almost too neat to be random. The firewood you had struggled to keep up with all winter had somehow been replenished overnight, quietly and without a word.

You stood at the top of your porch steps, hesitating, your gaze sweeping the street. You half-expected to catch a glimpse of someone lingering nearby, the person responsible for these quiet, thoughtful gestures. But the street was empty, bathed in the soft morning light spilling across the snow-dusted town.

For a brief moment, you wondered if this was Tommy, playing one of his pranks on you. He would be the type to mess with you like this. But no—Tommy wouldn’t have been able to resist bragging about it, he was much too proud to do something this thoughtful and remain anonymous.

Suspicion crawled up your spine again, and your thoughts immediately landed on one person.

Joel.

Yesterday, the mysteriously fixed door. Today, the snow cleared. And now, the firewood. It couldn’t all be coincidence, could it? You chewed the inside of your cheek, weighing the possibility.

The idea that Joel—the man who had barely spoken to you in weeks, the one who had kept his distance—might be behind this felt almost… absurd. But at the same time, you couldn’t shake the thought.

You stood there for a moment longer, staring out at the empty street, your mind racing. The thought of Joel quietly looking out for you, going out of his way without even telling you, left you feeling strangely unsettled. It didn’t make sense, yet a part of you knew—he was the only person it could be.

As you stepped outside, the faint breeze brushing against your cheeks, your eyes instinctively scanned the street, and there he was.

Joel stood by the stables, his back to you, deep in conversation with Tommy. His arms were crossed over his chest, his posture rigid, as though he carried the weight of a world unseen. For a moment, you stood still, rooted to the spot, watching him, your thoughts spinning.

Could it really be him?

You couldn’t help but remember the sharpness in his voice the last time you had clashed—the coldness in his eyes when he’d called you a burden. His words had sliced through you like ice, leaving behind a wound that still stung. It was a moment you hadn’t been able to shake, no matter how hard you tried. That Joel, the one who had made you feel small and unwanted, couldn’t be the same person quietly taking care of you now. Could he? And if so, why?

And yet, there was this. The fixed door. The neatly cleared snow. The replenished firewood. These were acts of quiet kindness, thoughtful gestures that didn’t align with the distant, sharp-edged Joel you remembered. They didn’t make sense—not with the man who had gone out of his way to keep you at arm’s length.

Your gaze lingered on him, the questions swirling in your mind. What was he trying to tell you? Or was he even trying at all? The small, invisible acts felt like whispers of a truth you weren’t quite ready to face. Something about Joel didn’t add up—and that unsettled you more than anything else.

•••

Later that day, you made your way to the stables, seeking the quiet solace that always came from being around your horse—a ritual that had become your sanctuary on days off from patrol. The stable was your refuge, a place where the weight of everything outside seemed to lift, where your mind could finally quiet. The familiar scent of hay filled the air, mixed with the earthy warmth of the animals and the soft rhythm of their breathing. It was calming, grounding.

As you entered, your horse whinnied softly in recognition, his large brown eyes locking onto yours with a familiar sense of trust. You smiled, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly as you approached him. Running your fingers through the rough texture of his mane, you began brushing it with gentle, practiced strokes. The repetition was soothing, and though it was a routine, it felt like something more—a quiet, unspoken connection that tethered you to something steady amidst the chaos of life.

You were so lost in the quiet rhythm of brushing your horse, in the familiar warmth and stillness of the stable, that you didn’t notice someone else had entered. It wasn’t until a voice, deep and familiar, broke through the calm that you realized you weren’t alone.

“Hey.”

The sound startled you, and you turned quickly, your breath catching in your throat. Joel stood a few feet away, his posture relaxed but his expression unreadable. It wasn’t just his presence that surprised you—it was that he was talking to you at all.

“Hey,” you replied, your tone more guarded than you intended. Instinctively, your walls went up, the wariness creeping in like a defense mechanism. This was Joel, after all, and every interaction with him carried a weight, an undercurrent of tension, with so many unsaid things lingering between you, like ghosts refusing to be laid to rest.

The silence that followed felt thick, hanging in the air as you stood there, bracing yourself for whatever came next. With Joel, you never knew if his words would cut, or if he’d just turn and leave, like so many times before.

But something was different this time. Instead of the familiar tension that usually thickened the air between you, there was a quiet understanding, a silence that wasn’t heavy or uncomfortable. It was… calm. The kind of calm that settled over you both as you went about your tasks, tending to your horses in a shared silence that, for once, felt like enough. The sharpness that usually lingered between you was absent, and for the first time in a long while, you didn’t feel the urge to fill the space with awkward conversation or unspoken explanations.

Curiosity tugged at you, and you glanced over at Joel. He was focused on his horse, his hands moving with a practiced care that mirrored your own—a surprising gentleness in the way he brushed the coat, checked the reins, and tended to his mount. It was so natural for him, almost second nature, and watching him like this, in the quiet of the stable, was different. The weight he always seemed to carry, the burden you often felt in his presence, wasn’t as visible here. There was something almost peaceful about seeing him in this light—away from the guarded walls, the harsh edges.

Before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out. “How’s your hand?”

Your voice was softer than you intended, the question carrying more weight than you meant for it to. You held your breath, unsure how he’d respond. Joel glanced over, his eyes meeting yours, lingering there for a moment longer than usual, something unspoken passing between you. Then, almost absentmindedly, he flexed his hand, as if testing its strength.

The bandage was gone now, replaced by a pale scar tracing its way across his palm, a quiet reminder of that day. He lifted his hand slightly, giving you a clearer view of the mark, and for a brief second, you both just stared at it—the silence between you no longer tense, but strangely reflective.

“It’s better,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, but with a softness you weren’t used to hearing from him. There was no edge, no coldness—just a simple, honest reply.

You nodded, your gaze lingering on the scar for a beat longer before you turned back to your horse. “That’s good,” you murmured, and somehow, it was. Knowing that he was healing, that the wound had closed, left you feeling unexpectedly lighter, though you couldn’t quite pin down why.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable like before; something had shifted, subtle but there. Joel went back to packing up his things with his usual quiet efficiency, moving as if nothing had happened. But you found yourself watching him from the corner of your eye, your mind swirling with questions—questions you weren’t sure you were ready to ask.

Just as he was about to leave, his figure slipping into the shadows at the far end of the stable, something inside you stirred—a pull, an instinct you couldn’t shake. Your heart beat a little faster, a sense of urgency you couldn’t explain. You hesitated, the words on the tip of your tongue, unsure if you should let them fall. But the moment was there, hanging in the air, and part of you knew if you didn’t reach out now, it might slip away entirely.

“Hey,” you called out, your voice cutting through the stillness, louder than you intended. Joel stopped in his tracks, turning slowly to face you. His eyes found yours, steady but questioning, waiting for what you had to say.

For a moment, you hesitated, your heart hammering in your chest. You didn’t know why this mattered so much, but it did. You needed to know. The words felt heavier than they should, as if each one carried a weight far beyond the simplicity of the question itself.

“Did you… fix my door?”

Your voice softened, almost uncertain, but the question hung in the air between you. Joel’s expression didn’t shift, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something you couldn’t quite read, yet it felt all too familiar.

There was a beat of silence, the air between you suddenly thick with unspoken tension. Joel didn’t answer right away; he held your gaze, his eyes dark and searching, as though he were measuring the significance of something so small, so seemingly inconsequential. The moment stretched out, loaded with anticipation, making you acutely aware of everything around you—the ground beneath your feet, the faint whinny of your horse in the distance.

After what felt like an eternity, he gave the slightest nod, his posture relaxed but his presence charged with an intensity that unsettled you. “Yeah, I fixed it,” he said, his tone casual, almost dismissive, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world. Yet even as he spoke, his eyes remained locked on yours, revealing a depth that contradicted his easy words. It felt like a quiet admission—like this small act was far more than just fixing a door.

It made sense now, knowing he’d seen you struggling with it that day, his gaze lingering as you wrestled with the stubborn knob, frustration clear in your movements. He hadn’t said a word, but the fact that he’d gone out of his way to help—it tugged at something deep inside you.

His attempt to downplay it only sharpened the contrast between the gesture and the unspoken understanding between you, a bridge between two people who had spent so long pushing each other away. That tiny thread of connection, fragile but undeniable, hung in the air like a promise of something deeper.

You swallowed hard, the tightness in your throat making it difficult to speak, but you pushed the words out. “And... you cleared the snow in front of my house?” As the realization sank in, a faint heat crept up your neck, and suddenly, you struggled to meet his gaze, unsure why the simple question made you feel so exposed. The silence stretched between you for a moment, thick with something unspoken, until he gave the slightest nod.

The acknowledgment sent a jolt through you, though you tried to keep your expression neutral. “And the firewood... you filled the bin?” you added, your voice quieter now, feeling even more aware of his presence than before.

Your voice barely rose above a whisper now, each question adding to the tension building between you, the weight of the realization pressing against your chest. Joel said nothing, but the intensity of his gaze spoke volumes, his silence holding more meaning than words ever could.

There was no grand declaration, no apology, no explanation—just that quiet, wordless acknowledgment. It had been him. Every time. He had been looking out for you, in his own silent, stubborn way, without ever needing to tell you.

“You didn’t have to do that. I don’t... I don’t need your help.” The words came out sharper than you meant, laced with the same defiance you’d thrown at him after that first run-in with the raider. You remembered the tension, the way you’d stubbornly insisted you could handle it, and how he had been just as unwavering, silently reminding you that you couldn’t. Now, as the words hung between you, that same feeling flickered to life—pride mixed with frustration, though this time it felt more complicated.

Now, standing here in the thick, loaded silence, those old wounds hovered between you, threatening to open again. You wanted to reject his kindness, to hold on to that stubborn pride that had become a defense mechanism after all the hurt you’d carried. But a part of you—small, buried, but growing—wanted to accept it, wanted to let yourself lean into the warmth of what he was offering.

Joel’s gaze softened, his rough voice breaking the silence. “I know.” There was something different in his tone this time, something almost gentle, and it made your heart clench in a way you weren’t prepared for.

He looked down, shifting uncomfortably as if he wasn’t used to these moments, these conversations that brushed too close to vulnerability. “I shouldn’t have said… those things.” His words were gruff, awkward, but sincere, and you could tell it wasn’t easy for him to admit.

His hands were stuffed into his pockets, his shoulders hunched ever so slightly, and for the first time, you didn’t see Joel Miller as the man you had sparred with, or the one who had saved you. Instead, you saw him as someone carrying the weight of his own regret—regret for the words he had said, and the way he had treated you.

“I’m not good with words,” he added, his voice rough, and you realized that this—this awkward, halting admission—was as close to an apology as Joel was capable of. It wasn’t grand, but it was real, and it hit you harder than you’d expected. You thought about what Ellie had said—that Joel kept himself walled off, a fortress built to survive, to keep from getting hurt again.

Your eyes held his, the tension between you shifting ever so slightly, as though this small, almost imperceptible gesture was his way of trying to close the distance between you—a distance shaped by the sharp words and cold walls that once stood in your way.

As he turned to leave, something tugged at you. “Joel,” you called softly, your voice almost catching in your throat. He paused, glancing back over his shoulder, waiting.

You swallowed, unsure of what to say, but not wanting to let him go without acknowledging the moment. “Thank you,” you murmured, the words simple but heavy with everything left unsaid.

His eyes met yours, just for a beat, and though he said nothing, the flicker of understanding in his gaze told you he’d heard more than just your words. With a small nod, he turned and walked away, leaving behind the faint echo of something unresolved, but no longer as distant.

You stood there, the warmth of the hay and the soft rustling of the horses grounding you in the quiet aftermath of his departure.

•••

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[yaut-jaknowit]

Back again with yet another idea -🥤

So this could be with any of the beans but I was thinking that the reader got caught by some bad bloods or human and experimented on. One of those being something that slowly transforms them into a yautja. The reader might try to hide this from their mate (like the scales slowly appearing, how sensitive your senses are becoming) but the reader can’t hide much from an experienced yautja

The Wrong Secret to Hold

Pairings: Ahtaal (Male Yautja) x GN!Reader

Warnings: mentions of self harm (needing to rip off skin) (?)

Word Count: 2334

Summary: Ahtaal may no be an enforcer but when he found out you were stolen right off of his ship, he became one. Just for that reason. He tracked you down through the stars until he was able to pinpoint your location. From there, he tore apart the bad bloods who stole you. But it was already too late. The bad bloods had already planted a seed.

Author Note: I love the fact you called them beans! I'm going to refer to them like that for now on. It's always great to see from you Cup Anon!

Masterlist

Ao3

Three weeks has passed since Athaal saved you from a cunning duo of Bad Bloods. He may not be an enforcer but he took upon himself to kill them after they kidnapped you. Right from the safety of his spacecraft. A mistake he has since learned from, increasing the security of the ship’s systems. He had almost lost you, his mate.

After he retrieved you, gaining the two skulls of those who wronged you. Both of them hang nicely above your shared bed. A bed you were curled up in, even after being awake for at least three hours. Three hours of rest you desperately needed. In the end, they were lost.

The nest like bed built into the floor was usually comfort, perfect to curl up in and nap. Everything was too much. The room was too cold. The air too dry. The blankets too scratchy. Then, there was the noise of the engines. They caused a raging headache to pound in your skull, driving away every rational thought in your mind.

Everything was too much.

This had progressed ever since Ahtaal saved you from those Bad Bloods. Your memory of your time with them was foggy, blurry of what they might have done to you. It wasn’t long they held you but they had changed something in you. You blamed it on the trauma they had put you through, part of the reason why you couldn’t recall what happened to you.

Athaal saw an uptick in your heartbeats. Not by much, only ten on average, but called it normal. Fear of a prey animal only reacting. That was that.

Then, the oversensitivity began to grow. Even the clothes Athaal had stolen for you from earth were too much to put on. Yet, your mind warred on the fact being naked was bad or being driving into insanity when you could feel your own skin. You had to reframe yourself from scratching your skin off every time you breathed.

All the blankets had been pushed of out the massive concave bed. They had been touching you, grazing your skin. The feel of them made you want crawl out of your own body and throw yourself into a pit of lava.

As this progressed as well, you refrained from telling Athaal. He’s been stressed since you’ve been napped right from underneath his mandibles. He’s been working hard on the ship, ensuring the same thing never happens to you again. Plus, with the killing, he also had to make a case against his clan’s court about the legal execution of the Bad Bloods. Not that the seem to disagree but it all revolve around the honor code. To keep the balances and checks in their strict system.

The last thing that Athaal needed added to his plate was whatever was affecting you. It would pass. It was just trauma. Your scenes overworking to keep you safe after such an attack.

Until you wondered into the bathroom to relieve yourself only to find… scales?! Your hands grasped the porcelain sink, heart beating at a thousand miles per second. You felt lightheaded, legs ready to give out at any moment. There were scales starting to grow on your chest.

Your fingertips gingerly touched the rough patches and winced since they were sensitive too. Tears burned your eyes, right on the edge of falling. Why was this happening to you? What was happening to you?! There’s no scientific reason for something like this to occur. You didn’t know of any disease in the universe that could cause this to appear.

What strength you had left, you stumbled back to the bed and collapsed onto it. The softness of the bed irritated your skin and made it feel like hot pokers were digging into where the cushion touched you. With an annoyed growl, you climbed back out and laid on your back.

The floor was unforgiving, cool to the touch. Yet, it was an improvement to the bed that made you want to desperately claw at your own skin. You huffed and curled up into a ball, hands covering your head as if protecting you from an attack. Your scenes were still on fire, driving you up the nearest wall. But, the energy to move was gone. Then, you were asleep. A fitful, restless sleep.

Raging hungry stirred you from your wasteful nap. A growl sounded from the back of your throat, sounding deep and dangerous. You stretched out only to bump into something warm. You froze. Then, slowly, you creeped your gaze over your shoulder to find the red form of Ahtaal sleeping at your back, chest facing you. Fear creeped into your heart, pumping into your veins. The lump in your throat was swallowed down thought. He wasn’t awake.

One of his arms was draped over your torso and kept you securely pressed against his body. At any other time, you would’ve enjoyed this soft moment with him. His loving embrace. But his heat, the texture of the scales on his chest. It was overwhelming.

Despite the love for him telling you to endure this discomfort, you grasped his wrist and held it up. It weighed a lot due to the muscles that cord it. But, you were able to roll out from underneath him. You climbed out of the bed then stopped and turned to look down at him for a fleeting moment. He was still, breathing normal, eyes closed. He hadn’t woken up.

A soft sigh of relief left you. You about faced again and snuck away towards the kitchen. Anything to quell this pang of hunger that curled and boiled deep inside of you. In all of your years, you’ve never felt like before. Even if you hadn’t ate the day before, and you had.

The open kitchen was dark as you worked inside of it, not needing light on to see. You worked diligently. Two bowls of fruits and a plate of dried meat was your preparing meal. Even that seemed not to be enough for you in the sight of your eyes.

Unease crawled up your spine. Instinct roared its head. A growl rumbled from the depths of your chest as you leaned over your prepare food, eyes darting out to the open space. Your teeth bared.

Ahtaal stood in the doorway of the kitchen, posture lax but eyes watchful. Your growl lessened until he took a step towards you. One of your hands slammed down on the counter. Part of the warnings that ranged from you not to step an inch closer. This was your food. No one would take it from you.

Through the darkness of the ship, you saw the way his head jerked back and he didn’t move any closer. The whisper of your name rolled off of his forked tongue. Questioning. Your piercing gaze refused to move away from the threat that could take away your nourishment. Food you were desperate to consume but not with him there. Eating would be an opportunity for attack.

His dark form stepped back and eased the pressure his presence seemed to caused to you. Your growled lightened slightly but your eyes didn’t wander. They were pinned strictly on him. His brows furrowed before he slowly knelt down. Anything to appear he wasn’t a threat to you, his mate. Submissive as the position seemed, he did it for you.

Your name fell from his tongue again. That’s when your scenes, this primal instinct started to clear. You shook your head, eyes flickering down to the floor. All of your thoughts scrambled as you attempted to make sense of what you just did.

One of your hands covered your mouth. What was that? Terror overtook every emotion inside of you. Your gaze met his again but as the prey you were. The exit was blocked by his kneeling body. Your heart pounded like a bird desperate for escape. You back away from him and the food, back meeting the wall opposite to him.

“Little one?” he softly called out to you.

Those Bad Bloods. They had done something terrible to you. There was something terrible wrong with you now. Your terrified gaze met his again. Then, you bolted.

Strong arms ensnared around your torso before you could escape. Heat pressed against your back. Your nails raked down thick scales, failing to cause any damage. Your legs kicked and hits his thighs and stomach but did nothing to deter him. Ahtaal traps your back to his chest and stand. Now, you were up in the air as he pinned you to him.

The restless sleep and everyday waking up more tired than the day before caught up to you. The adrenaline couldn’t keep up. You slowly go limp in his hold, chest heaving for breaths.

Ahtaal sets you back down on the ground and spins you around to face him. Those dark eyes of his are scanning every inch of your face and body. They narrowed down on your eyes. His hand pinched your jaw and dragged your head up. “Your eyes… they’re lightly glowing,” he grounded out. You felt his claws digging into the flesh of your cheeks for a moment.

His gaze continued until it notices the rough patch on your chest. The red giant pushes you back until your shoulder blades touched a wall. A hand softly encircling your throat to keep you pinned. He leaned down. His free hand running over the textured skin. You hissed and squirmed in his hold. “Stop, that hurts,” you whined, voice grumbler than usual.

Next, he moved his mouth to the crook of your neck. You felt his tongue rung across the skin there. Ahtaal tensed and growled shortly.

“You smell like a Yautja.” Instantly, you thought he was thinking you were somehow cheating on him or the Bad Bloods scent still lingered on your skin. He pulled back to look you in the eye again. “But it’s your scent.” The words were softly spoken, as if in disbelief.

The hand trapping your neck drifted up to cup your cheek. “What did they do to you?” he snarled but the anger was directed at the two who stole you from him. The question was meant mainly for himself but opened for you to answer.

You swallowed hard, chest still heaving to calm your racing heart. “I-I don’t know,” you cried, tears beginning to fall down your cheeks. “Something’s wrong with me. Everything’s too loud. Everything’s too much. The air is too dry. It’s cold. My skin… I can feel everything!” Even his hand touching you was starting to drive you insane. The texture was rough against your sensitive skin.

Everything went still. But you could easily hear the engines rumbling, his heart pounding. You could smell his concern, his confusion, his anger. You could read him the same way he could read you.

His furrow deepened before his hand softly left your cheek. It was instant relief. Less contact. Less touch. Less everything.

“I keep the ship colder for you. I lessen the humidity for you,” he muttered and returned to his full height, gaze blank. He was working overtime in his mind. The gears spinning quickly to come up with a solution. You stood leaning against the wall, fingers twitching with the need to rip your own skin off again. “And… you can see in the dark, can’tcha?” Your weak sigh answered him, eyes closing to block out everything.

He took a couple of steps back and shakes his head, trying to deny this. Internally, he was attempting to put the pieces together. To figure out what they have done to his mate. Yet, none of it made sense. The site he found you at… those Bad Bloods, they- his mind stopped there. Pausing as the realization dawned upon his form. Experimented. On you. His mate. They had injected something into you to change you from his perfect mate.

A deafening growled tumbled from his chest. Your hands slammed over your ears at the sound. A pained cry leaving your chapped lips. He stopped immediately and even flinched himself. Pauk.

Instantly, his first mission was to find a way to fix this. To fix you. To save you. To help you. A firm, stern gaze passed over his features. He reached out and tilted your head back. Your eyes sliding open to find the dark gaze of your mate on you. “I will find a way to help you. I will scour this entire universe for a cure,” he grounded out, voice low to help ease the pain it may cause to you.

The Yautja was beyond pissed. He wished to go back when he slaughtered those two Bad Bloods and made their death even longer. For all the pain they have caused you that’s currently injuring you. His mandibles clicked against one another in a harsh way.

You believed him. You knew he would. He’s been through thick and thin with you. You are his as much as he is yours. The corresponding marks etched into the backs of your shoulders was physical proof enough. He grunted with a nod then glanced over at forgotten food. “It seems like you have a Yautja appetite,” he stated and pulled away from you. You dipped your head and also gazed at the dishes.

“Come,” he called and strolled over to the plates. Ahtaal picked up all three skillfully and brought them over to the table. “Eat. Eat everything you desire. It will take you time to grow accustom to this new side of you. But I will help you in every step of the way.” If it didn’t hurt, you would’ve hugged and kiss the alien to death.

Slowly, you moved over and gingerly sat down in a seat he designed for your smaller statue. Until your hunger was satisfied, he fed you whatever you wanted and needed. In that moment, you knew you could never want or need anyone else besides him.