#( the new range of content is STUNNING )

[clochanamarch]

okay i'm waiting for my coffee to kick in and then i'll be HERE!!

[ijustmissyouraccenths]

Boyfriends

Based around the song Boyfriends by Harry Styles

Word count: 9,985

Content warning: fighting, cursing, mentions of alcohol and a lot of angst.

A little over two years ago

The concert was electric, every beat of the music reverberating through Y/N’s chest as she moved through the press pit with her camera. She’d already taken dozens of photos—Harry under the spotlight, interacting with the crowd, lost in the music but she knew her best work came from capturing the moments no one else saw.

As the final notes of the encore rang out, she noticed the security team starting to guide photographers toward the exit. Her mind raced. She couldn’t leave yet. Not when there was a chance to get the kind of candid shots that would set her portfolio apart from the rest of her competitors. 

She slung her camera strap tighter over her shoulder and approached one of the large security guards standing near the backstage entrance.

“Excuse me,” she said, her voice steady despite her pounding heart. “I know I’m supposed to head out, but I’d really love to capture some candid shots of Harry as he comes off stage. It would tell such a story.”

The guard raised an eyebrow. “Not sure that’s allowed. Press isn’t usually permitted back there. Private.”

“Please,” Y/N insisted, her tone earnest. “I promise I won’t get in the way. Just a few quick shots, and I’ll be out of there. I promise.”

The guard hesitated, studying her for a long moment before sighing. “Fine. But if anyone asks, I didn’t see you.”

“Thank you!” she said, already slipping past him toward the backstage area.

She hurried down the dimly lit hallway, her sneakers squeaking faintly on the polished floor. The muffled roar of the crowd faded behind her, replaced by the sounds of crew members breaking down equipment and distant chatter. This is what she lived for. 

Just as she rounded a corner, the door to the stage swung open, and there he was towel slung over one shoulder, his face glowing with sweat and adrenaline. Y/N froze, momentarily stunned.

Harry’s eyes landed on her, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Well, aren’t you persistent? Must’ve made a pretty convincing case to the security team.” he said, his voice warm and teasing.

Y/N blinked, her grip tightening on her camera. “I just… I wanted to get some shots of you coming off stage. It’s where the magic happens, right?”

He chuckled, running a hand through his damp curls. “Magic, huh? I don’t know about that. Mostly sweat and bad jokes back here.”

“I’ll take what I can get,” she quipped, raising her camera slightly as if to ask for permission.

Harry tilted his head, his smile softening. “Go ahead, photographer. Show me what you’ve got.”

Y/N didn’t waste another second. 

A few weeks later 

The small Italian restaurant was tucked into a quiet corner of New York, dimly lit with candles flickering on each table. It was the kind of place where conversations were hushed, and the aroma of garlic and fresh bread filled the air. Y/N sat across from Harry, her hands wrapped around a glass of red wine, trying to ignore the flutter in her chest as he leaned back, effortlessly relaxed.

“So,” Harry began, a faint smirk on his lips. “I have to ask, do you always beg security guards to let you backstage, or was that just a one-time thing?”

Y/N laughed, her cheeks warming. “I wasn’t begging. I was persuading. There’s a difference and hey! It worked.”

“Right,” he said, drawing out the word playfully. “Well, whatever it was I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so determined to take pictures of me covered in sweat.”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her amusement. “I was trying to capture the moment—the real you. Not the polished, on-stage version.”

Harry tilted his head, his gaze softening. “That’s what caught my attention, you know. I mean, I’ve had photographers at shows before, but you…  had this fire. Like you weren’t just there for the job, you cared about it.”

Y/N’s fingers traced the stem of her wine glass as she looked at him, surprised. “You noticed all that?”

“Of course,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “You were practically sprinting down the hallway to get the shot. I remember thinking, ‘Who is this girl, and why is she running so fast?’”

She laughed, trying to play it cool. “It’s my job. I just wanted to do it well.”

Harry’s smile widened. “Well, you did. The way you didn’t hesitate to push for what you wanted. Most people don’t do that around me. I liked it.”

 Y/N raised an eyebrow, her confidence returning. “And what about you? Most people would’ve just walked past me, but you stopped. Why?”

He took a sip of his wine, considering her question. “Maybe I liked the challenge. You didn’t seem fazed by all the… ‘Harry Styles’ stuff. You were just yourself. It was refreshing.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered at his words, but she kept her tone light. “So, basically, you’re saying I charmed my way into your good graces?”

“Exactly,” Harry said with a grin. “And now, here we are. A photographer and her subject having pasta in a little New York restaurant. Life’s funny like that.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re crazy.”

“Maybe,” he teased, his voice low. “But I’m glad you begged that security guard. Makes for a good story.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile. 

Present day

The faint sound of an alarm broke the quiet of the early morning, its persistent buzz pulling Y/N from sleep. She groaned, rolling over and burying her face into the pillow, trying to block out the noise. At the foot of the bed, her chubby orange cat, Teddy, stretched lazily, his tail flicking in mild irritation at the disturbance.

The bed shifted slightly as Harry moved beside her. She peeked one eye open to see him sitting on the edge of the bed, tugging on a pair of flare jeans. His hair was a tousled mess, and he was moving with the sluggishness of someone who hadn’t had enough coffee yet.

“Harry?” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. “Where are you going?”

He glanced back at her, already reaching for a hoodie draped over the chair. “Studio,” he said simply, his tone casual.

Y/N sat up slightly, blinking at him in confusion. “The studio? But… we were supposed to go to the market today. Remember? We talked about it all week.”

Harry froze for a moment, his hand paused mid-reach for his phone on the nightstand. Then he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Oh, right. Sorry, love. Totally slipped my mind.”

She stared at him, the sting of his words sinking in. “You forgot?”

“It’s just been busy,” he said, his voice tinged with exasperation—not at her, but at himself. “You could still go, though. Pick up a few things for us?” He gave her a small smile, as if that would smooth things over.

Y/N frowned, leaning back against the headboard. “So, you want me to go alone? After we planned this together?”

“It’s not that I want you to,” he replied, clearly sensing her frustration. “I just can’t get out of the session. It’s important.”

Her chest tightened, the hurt creeping in despite her best efforts to brush it off. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Lately, the studio seemed to take priority over everything else.

“Right,” she said quietly, her tone laced with disappointment. “I’ll go. Don’t worry about it.”

Harry’s brows furrowed, and he stepped closer to her side of the bed. “Y/N, I’m not trying to upset you. I just need to get this done.”

She looked up at him, her expression guarded. “I know. I get it. You’re busy. It just… feels like you’re always too busy these days.”

His face softened, guilt flashing in his eyes. He opened his mouth to respond but seemed to think better of it, instead leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Y/N forced a small smile, watching as he grabbed his keys and slipped out of the room, the sound of the door clicking shut echoing in the quiet.

She let out a sigh, glancing at Teddy, who had barely stirred from his spot at the foot of the bed. “Looks like it’s just you and me today, buddy.”

Teddy let out a sleepy meow, as if in agreement, and Y/N pulled the covers closer, wondering how long she could keep pretending this didn’t bother her as much as it did.

After getting dressed and going solo to the market Y/N sat on the couch in their London apartment, absently scrolling through her phone. The soft hum of the city filtered through the windows, but inside, the space felt eerily quiet. Teddy, her ever-loyal orange cat, was curled up beside her, his rhythmic purring the only sound in the room.

For weeks now, it had been the same routine. Harry would wake up early, leaving the house before she’d even fully opened her eyes, and come home late, exhaustion etched across his features. He was always kind, always apologetic in his soft-spoken way, but the words “I’m sorry, love” were beginning to feel hollow.

It wasn’t that she didn’t understand. She did. Harry was driven, passionate about his music, and that was one of the things she loved most about him. But lately, his determination felt more like a wall between them than something to admire.

She let her phone drop onto the coffee table and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. Every time she tried to bring it up—how distant he seemed, how much she missed him—she felt silly, selfish even. His work was important, and she didn’t want to be the needy girlfriend who couldn’t handle his busy schedule.

But it hurt.

It hurt to feel like she was always the second priority, to have their plans constantly pushed aside for another recording session, another photoshoot, another promotional event. It hurt to go to bed alone and wake up to an empty side of the bed, save for Teddy’s occasional company.

She ran her hands through her hair, letting out a slow breath.

Y/N didn’t need grand gestures or romantic getaways. She didn’t need a fancy dinner or expensive gifts. She just wanted Harry—the Harry who used to stay up late talking with her about anything and everything, the Harry who’d pull her into his arms for a kiss in the middle of the kitchen, the Harry who used to make her feel like the center of his world.

But now? Now it felt like she was living with a ghost of him, someone who passed through their apartment in a blur of schedules and commitments.

Teddy shifted beside her, his big green eyes blinking up at her as if sensing her mood. She scratched behind his ears, her lips tugging into a faint smile.

“I don’t know, Ted,” she said softly. “How do you tell someone you love them, but you’re starting to hate how they make you feel?”

The cat let out a small chirp in response, and she let out a half-hearted laugh.

Y/N shook her head, trying to push the thoughts away. But deep down, she knew it was only a matter of time before everything boiled over. She could only hold it in for so long. She did what any girl would do and called her best friend for a girls night. 

Y/N paced back and forth in the kitchen, her phone pressed tightly to her ear. Teddy watched her from his spot on the counter, his tail flicking lazily as if he could feel the tension radiating from her.

“Addy, are you busy tonight?” Y/N asked, trying to keep her voice steady but failing miserably.

“Not particularly,” Addy replied, the faint clinking of dishes in the background suggesting she was doing something mundane. “Why? What’s up?”

“I need to rant,” Y/N said, letting out a heavy sigh. “Like, properly rant. Maybe cry a little. You free for a sleepover? I’ll bring wine.”

Addy didn’t hesitate. “Of course, babe. Get over here. I’ll grab the blankets and make a snack spread. You know I never say no to wine and a vent session.”

Y/N felt a small smile tug at her lips, a flicker of relief breaking through her frustration. “You’re a lifesaver, Addy. Seriously.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Addy said, her tone warm. “Now hurry up. We’ve got wine to drink and whining to do.”

Y/N laughed lightly, though her chest still felt heavy. “Be there soon.”

She hung up the call and turned to Teddy, who was now licking his paw as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “Alright, buddy, you’re in charge while I’m gone,” she said, grabbing his food bowl and refilling it. Teddy let out a small meow of approval, hopping down to inspect his meal.

Y/N moved quickly, tossing a few essentials into an overnight bag: her favorite pajamas, a toothbrush, her phone charger. She grabbed the bottle of wine she’d been saving and gave Teddy one last scratch behind the ears before locking the door behind her.

The short walk to Addy’s flat was brisk and refreshing, the cold London air biting against her cheeks. She tried to let the walk clear her head, but her thoughts kept circling back to Harry, to the way things had been lately, to how exhausted she felt.

By the time she reached Addy’s building and knocked on the door, she was ready to collapse. Addy flung the door open, already in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie, her face lighting up when she saw Y/N.

“There she is!” Addy exclaimed, pulling Y/N into a tight hug. “Come in, wine queen. We’ve got a couch, snacks, and a whole lot of ranting to do.”

Y/N laughed, the warmth of her best friend’s embrace melting away some of the weight she’d been carrying. “You have no idea how much I need this.”

“Trust me, I do,” Addy said, ushering her inside. “Now, start from the beginning, and don’t leave anything out.”

As Y/N sank into the couch, wine glass in hand and Addy by her side, she felt a flicker of hope that maybe—just maybe—she could figure this out. But for now, she was grateful to have someone who would listen without judgment. Someone who just got it.

The first glass of wine went down smoothly, maybe too smoothly. Y/N poured herself another before Addy even finished her first, and by the time they’d gotten halfway through the second bottle, the conversation had turned raw and unfiltered.

Y/N leaned back into the couch, her cheeks flushed—not just from the wine, but from the surge of emotions she’d been bottling up for weeks. She swirled the last bit of wine in her glass and sighed.

“I don’t even know why I’m so upset anymore,” she said, her voice tight. “It’s not like it’s new. Harry’s been… distant. Detached. Nonchalant, even. Like, I could’ve told him I was leaving tonight, and I swear he wouldn’t have noticed.”

Addy frowned, pulling her knees up onto the couch. “Are you serious? He didn’t even ask where you were going?”

Y/N shook her head, letting out a bitter laugh. “Nope. He probably assumed I’d just be home when he got back—like always. That’s the thing, Addy. He doesn’t notice anything anymore. It’s like I’m… invisible to him.”

Addy’s brows furrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Y/N, that’s not okay. You’re not a piece of furniture. You’re his girlfriend. He should be noticing you.”

Y/N stared at her glass, her voice quieter now. “We barely even talk anymore. It’s all ‘Sorry, love, the studio ran late,’ or ‘Can you handle this for me?’ It’s like I’m his roommate, not his partner. And the worst part?” She swallowed hard, her chest tightening. “We haven’t been… close. Like, at all. No hugs, no kisses, no… sex. It’s been weeks, Addy. I don’t even know if he wants me anymore.”

Addy’s mouth fell open. “You’re joking.”

“I wish I was,” Y/N muttered, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over. “And I’ve tried, you know? I’ve dropped hints, I’ve made plans, I’ve even dressed up when he’s home just to get his attention. But it’s like he’s so caught up in everything else that I’m… I’m not even on his radar.”

Addy put her wine glass down and scooted closer, wrapping an arm around Y/N’s shoulders. “Hey, listen to me. This isn’t about you. Harry is clearly drowning in his own world, and he’s taking you for granted. That’s on him—it’s just what boys do.”

Y/N leaned her head against Addy’s shoulder, her voice breaking. “I just miss him. I miss us. The way we used to be, you know? When we’d spend hours talking, when he’d grab me and kiss me just because. I miss feeling like I mattered to him.”

Addy tightened her hold, her voice firm. “You do matter, Y/N. He’s just too wrapped up in himself to see it right now. But you deserve better than this—better than feeling like you’re waiting around for scraps of his time.”

Y/N sniffed, her tears finally spilling over. “I don’t even know how to talk to him about it without feeling like I’m nagging. What if he’s just… over it? Over me?”

Addy pulled back slightly, looking Y/N in the eyes. “If he’s over it, then he’s a bloody idiot. But you need to talk to him, Y/N. You can’t keep holding all this in. It’s going to eat you alive.”

Y/N nodded slowly, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. “You’re right. I just… I’m scared, Addy. What if I say something, and it doesn’t change anything?”

“Then you’ll know where you stand,” Addy said softly. “And you can decide what’s next. But no matter what, I’ve got you. Always.”

Y/N managed a small smile, her heart aching but lighter knowing she didn’t have to face this alone. For tonight, though, she let herself sink into the comfort of her best friend and another glass of wine, the weight of her worries just a little easier to bear.

The morning light filtered through the thin curtains in Addy’s living room, waking Y/N from a restless sleep. The pull-out couch wasn’t exactly luxurious, but after the wine and emotional exhaustion from the night before, she hadn’t cared.

She rubbed her eyes and reached for her phone on the coffee table, squinting at the screen. A notification from Harry stared back at her, and her heart sank as she opened the text.

Harry:

Would’ve been nice if you told me you weren’t coming home last night.

The words were short and clipped, and Y/N could almost feel the passive-aggressive undertone seeping through. She stared at the screen for a moment, a mix of guilt and frustration bubbling up in her chest.

“Seriously?” she muttered under her breath, sitting up and running a hand through her hair.

Teddy’s bowl had been full, the apartment was clean, and it wasn’t like she had disappeared without a trace. But still, Harry managed to make her feel like she was the one in the wrong.

She typed out a response, her fingers hesitating for a moment before hitting send.

Y/N:

I stayed at Addy’s. I forgot to let you know. Sorry.

She tossed the phone onto the cushion beside her and let out a heavy sigh, leaning back against the couch. Her chest tightened with the familiar ache that had been building for weeks.

“Everything okay?” Addy’s voice came from the kitchen. She appeared moments later, a mug of coffee in hand, still in her pajamas.

Y/N looked up and gave her a weak smile. “Harry texted me. He’s annoyed I didn’t tell him I wasn’t coming home.”

Addy raised an eyebrow as she handed Y/N the coffee. “He’s annoyed? The same Harry who’s been barely speaking to you and blowing off plans left and right?”

Y/N shrugged, wrapping her hands around the warm mug. “Yeah, that Harry.”

Addy flopped onto the armchair across from her. “Honestly, I don’t know whether to laugh or scream. He has no right to guilt-trip you after how he’s been acting. He sure knows how to get under your skin.”

Y/N sighed, taking a sip of her coffee. “I don’t think he meant to guilt-trip me. It’s just… I don’t know, Addy. Everything feels so off between us. Even little things like this turn into a thing.”

“Because he’s not giving you what you need,” Addy said bluntly. “You wouldn’t feel this way if he was showing up for you. Instead, he’s putting all this effort into everything else and leaving you with scraps. It’s not fair, Y/N.”

Y/N bit her lip, staring down at the coffee in her hands. “I know it’s not fair. But I still love him, Addy. I just… don’t know how to fix this.”

Addy leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “You shouldn’t have to fix this alone, babe. He’s your partner. He should be just as invested in making things work. If he’s not, that’s on him, not you.”

Y/N nodded, but the knot in her stomach didn’t ease. She glanced at her phone again, tempted to say more, but decided against it. Instead she got herself together and said goodbye to Addy before making the short trip back to her home. 

Y/N unlocked the door to her apartment, still groggy and in her pajamas, her head pounding from last night’s wine. She stepped inside and was greeted by Teddy, who meowed loudly as if scolding her for being gone.

“Morning, Teddy,” she muttered, bending down to scratch his head before kicking off her shoes.

When she looked up, she froze. Harry was sitting on the couch, legs crossed, his phone in his hand. It was rare to see him home at this hour, and for a moment, she was too surprised to say anything.

He glanced up at her, his expression unreadable. “Nice of you to finally come home,” he said, his voice calm but with a cutting edge. “I thought maybe we could’ve done something today, but you were gone and by the looks of it, hungover.”

Y/N blinked at him, her exhaustion giving way to irritation. “Are you serious right now?”

Harry leaned back into the couch, raising an eyebrow. “What? I’m just saying, it would’ve been nice to know where you were.”

Her frustration boiled over, the tension that had been building for weeks finally snapping. “Oh, you mean like all the times we made plans, and you bailed on me? Is that what you’re talking about, Harry? Because if we’re keeping track, you’ve canceled on me more times than I can count.”

Harry rolled his eyes, his tone dismissive. “Here we go again.”

“No, seriously,” Y/N said, her voice rising. “Do you have any idea how it feels to be constantly put second? To have you forget about us because you’re busy with your career? And then you have the nerve to act like I’m the one in the wrong because I stayed at Addy’s for one night?”

Harry set his phone down, looking at her with a mix of annoyance and exasperation. “I don’t have time for this right now. You’re blowing things out of proportion. I’m working hard and you’re acting selfish.”

Y/N stared at him, her mouth falling open. “Selfish? Are you fucking kidding me? I’ve been here, Harry. I picked up my life and moved here. To be with you. To be close to you. I am here waiting for you, supporting you, picking up the pieces of this relationship while you put me on the back burner. And now I’m selfish because I’m upset that you don’t seem to care anymore?”

He ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tightening. “I never said I didn’t care. But I can’t drop everything just to make you happy. I have obligations, Y/N. I thought you understood that.”

“I do understand,” she snapped, her voice trembling. “But what about your obligation to me? Or does that not matter anymore?”

The room fell silent, her words hanging in the air like a challenge. Harry looked at her, his expression softening just slightly, as if he hadn’t realized how deep the cracks had gotten.

Y/N swallowed hard, her voice quieter now. “I’m not asking you to drop everything, Harry. I’m asking you to show me that I matter to you. That we matter, even if it’s only for a few hours.”

Harry opened his mouth to respond but hesitated, the weight of her words settling over him. For the first time in weeks, he didn’t have a quick answer, and that silence spoke louder than anything he could’ve said.

With that, she turned and walked toward the bedroom, leaving Harry sitting on the couch. 

Y/N scooped Teddy up on her way to the bedroom, the orange fluffball letting out a small chirp of protest before settling into her arms. She pressed her face into his fur, taking comfort in his warmth as she turned back to look at Harry, still sitting on the couch.

“Well,” she said bitterly, her voice carrying just enough to make her point, “at least Teddy will spend time with me.”

Harry didn’t respond, his face unreadable as she turned away and headed down the hallway. She pushed open the bedroom door, setting Teddy down gently on the bed. He immediately curled up in his usual spot, his tail flicking as Y/N climbed in beside him.

Pulling the blankets around her, she stared up at the ceiling, her thoughts swirling. The fight had drained her, but her mind wouldn’t stop replaying everything—Harry’s dismissive tone, the way he had rolled his eyes at her, the frustration and sadness that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in her chest.

She closed her eyes, willing herself to think of something better, something good. Slowly, her thoughts drifted to the earlier days of their relationship, when everything felt effortless and magical.

Like the time Harry had surprised her with a trip to Disneyland Paris.

She smiled faintly at the memory, her heart aching with nostalgia. It had been just over a year into their relationship, and she’d mentioned in passing one night how she’d always dreamed of going but never had the chance. She hadn’t thought much of it—just another drowsy late-night conversation between them—but Harry had clearly been paying attention.

He’d woken her up early one morning, a mischievous grin on his face. “Pack a bag,” he’d said, barely able to contain his excitement. “We’re going on an adventure.”

She’d laughed, confused but thrilled as he refused to give her any details. It wasn’t until they were at the airport, with two tickets to Paris in his hand, that she realized what he had planned.

“You didn’t,” she had whispered, staring at him in disbelief.

“I did,” he’d replied, his grin widening. “What’s the point of dreaming if you don’t make it happen?”

The trip had been everything she’d hoped for and more. They’d spent the days running from ride to ride, indulging in too many churros, and taking pictures in front of the castle. He’d bought her a pair of Minnie Mouse ears, which she’d worn the entire time despite teasing him for wearing his matching Mickey ears.

And at night, under the glow of the fireworks, he’d wrapped his arms around her and kissed her like they were the only two people in the world.

It was one of the most thoughtful, romantic things anyone had ever done for her, and it had cemented her belief that Harry was someone special—someone who truly saw her.

Now, lying in bed, those memories felt like they belonged to a different time, a different version of them. She glanced down at Teddy, who had dozed off at her side, his soft purring filling the silence.

“How did we get here, Ted?” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Teddy didn’t respond, of course, but his presence was steady, a small comfort in the midst of her swirling emotions.

She rolled onto her side, clutching a pillow to her chest as tears silently slipped down her cheeks. She missed the Harry from those days—the one who surprised her with trips, who laughed with her over burnt pancakes, who made her feel like the center of his world.

Y/N stirred slightly when she heard the quiet creak of the bedroom door opening. She kept her eyes closed, her breathing steady, even as she felt the bed shift under Harry’s weight. He laid down beside her, the mattress dipping slightly as he settled in.

The faint scent of alcohol hit her almost immediately, making her chest tighten. Her eyes opened just a fraction, though she remained on her side, facing away from him. Had he been drinking?

Her heart sank further. Of course, he had every right to do what he wanted—he was an adult, after all. And after the way she’d walked home hungover this morning, she didn’t exactly have the moral high ground to say anything about it.

But still.

The thought of him out, drinking alone or with people who weren’t her, only deepened the ache that had been gnawing at her all day. It wasn’t about the drinking itself—it was about the growing distance between them, the choices they both seemed to be making that pushed them further apart.

She lay there in silence, staring at the faint shadows dancing across the wall. Part of her wanted to roll over, to ask him where he’d been or why he smelled like tequila. But another part of her—the tired, frustrated, heartbroken part—couldn’t muster the energy for another confrontation.

Instead, she stayed still, her hand resting gently on Teddy’s fur as he purred softly in his sleep. She could feel Harry’s presence beside her, close enough to touch, yet it felt like there was an ocean between them.

After a moment, she heard him exhale deeply, the bed shifting slightly as he adjusted his position. She wondered if he was awake, if he was thinking about the fight they’d had earlier, if he even realized how much she missed him.

But no words came. The silence stretched between them, heavy and unyielding.

The next morning, Y/N forced herself out of bed despite the heaviness that still lingered from the night before. Teddy trailed behind her as she shuffled around the apartment, gathering her gear for the day’s photo shoots. She threw on a comfortable outfit, pulled her hair into a loose bun, and grabbed her camera bag, trying to shake off the lingering ache in her chest.

Photography had always been her escape. It didn’t matter if she was capturing sweaty concerts or snapping portraits of families; behind the lens, she felt purposeful. Grounded.

The day passed quickly as she moved between locations, her subjects ranging from a young couple celebrating an anniversary to a family of five with a rambunctious toddler. She smiled, laughed, and gave her all to each session, momentarily forgetting the tension waiting for her at home.

When the shoots were done, she wandered the streets of London, her camera still slung over her shoulder. The city was alive with people, the winter air crisp as she strolled past cafés and flower shops. She pretended to savor her independence, stopping to snap a few shots of the bustling streets, but the nagging loneliness in her chest was impossible to ignore.

By the time she returned home, the sun had set, and the apartment was dark and quiet. She dropped her bag by the door, kicking off her shoes as Teddy padded over to greet her.

“Hey, buddy,” she murmured, scooping him up for a quick cuddle. The silence in the apartment felt heavier than usual, and she sighed as she put him down and reached for her phone.

She typed out a quick text to Harry:

Y/N:

Hey, are you going to be home for dinner? I was thinking of ordering Chinese.

She stared at the screen for a moment, willing the typing bubble to appear. But it didn’t. After a few minutes, she gave up and placed the order anyway, opting for her usual dishes.

By the time the food arrived, Harry still hadn’t responded. She ate quietly at the table, Teddy perched on a nearby chair, his curious gaze following every bite.

It wasn’t until later that night that she heard the front door open. Harry walked in, his jacket slung over one arm and his keys jangling in his hand. She turned to look at him from the couch, immediately catching the faint scent of alcohol.

“Hey,” she said softly, trying to keep her voice even. “I texted you earlier. I was going to order Chinese. Thought maybe we could eat together.”

Harry glanced at her, his expression neutral. “I was with the band,” he said, his tone casual as he set his keys on the counter.

Her chest tightened. “I would’ve liked to come out with you,” she said, standing up and crossing her arms. “It’s been ages since we’ve done something together, Harry.”

He looked at her, an edge of defensiveness in his eyes. “It wasn’t a big deal, Y/N. Just me and the guys. You wouldn’t have wanted to sit around and listen to us talk about music all night.”

Her frustration bubbled to the surface. “You don’t know that! You didn’t even ask. I would’ve loved to just… be there with you. Spend time with you.”

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not like I’m trying to exclude you. I just—”

“You just don’t think about me anymore,” she interrupted, her voice quieter now but no less hurt. “Do you even realize how lonely it’s been, Harry? You come home late, you barely talk to me, and now you’re out drinking with the band while I’m here eating takeout by myself.”

He stared at her, his jaw tightening. “I’m doing the best I can, Y/N. You think this is easy for me?”

“No, Harry, I don’t think it’s easy,” she shot back. “But it’s not supposed to be just you. It’s supposed to be us. And lately, it feels like I’m the only one trying to hold onto that.”

The silence that followed was deafening. He looked away, his lips pressed into a thin line, and she felt the familiar ache in her chest grow heavier.

Without another word, she turned and headed toward the bedroom as she had been night after night, and of course with Teddy trailing behind her. 

Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, her head in her hands, trying to steady the rush of emotions building inside her. Teddy rubbed against her legs, offering silent comfort, but her chest still felt impossibly heavy. She heard Harry’s footsteps approaching and tensed, unsure if she had the energy for yet another argument.

When the door opened, she glanced up to see him standing in the doorway, his hand gripping the frame. For a moment, she thought he might apologize—finally acknowledge the hurt he’d been causing her.

But instead, his tone was sharp. “You’re always making this about you, Y/N. Do you ever stop to think about the pressure I’m under? Or is it just easier to sit here and point fingers or bitch at me?”

Her jaw dropped, the sting of his words hitting harder than she expected. “Are you serious right now?” she asked, her voice trembling with both anger and disbelief. “Did you come in here just to insult me?”

Harry’s expression shifted, the fire in his eyes dimming as her words seemed to sink in. His shoulders slumped slightly, and he ran a hand through his hair. “No,” he said quietly, his voice faltering. “That’s not… I didn’t mean it like that.”

“But you said it,” she replied, her tone cold as she stood and faced him. “If you’re under so much pressure, why don’t you talk to me about it instead of shutting me out and turning to alcohol? Why am I the one who has to sit here, waiting, wondering if you even care anymore?”

Harry looked at her, guilt flashing across his face, but he didn’t have an answer. His silence spoke volumes.

Y/N nodded slowly, her mind made up in that moment. She couldn’t keep living like this, caught in the limbo of his neglect and her own heartache. “You know what? I think I need some space. I think weneed some space.”

His brows furrowed, his lips parting as if to argue, but she cut him off.

“I’m going to fly home and spend some time with my family,” she said, her voice steady despite the ache in her chest. “You need to figure out what you really want, Harry. Because this—” she gestured between them—“this isn’t working. And it’s not just on me to fix it.”

Harry hesitated, his expression torn. “You don’t have to—”

“No,” she interrupted, holding up a hand. “I do. And you need to do some real soul searching while I’m gone. Drinking in secret, shutting me out… that’s not going to help you or our failing relationship. You can’t keep running from whatever it is that’s eating away at you.”

He didn’t protest, didn’t argue. Instead, he simply nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor.

The lack of resistance stung more than she cared to admit, but it also solidified her decision. If he wasn’t willing to fight for them, she couldn’t keep fighting alone.

Y/N took a deep breath, stepping past him and grabbing her suitcase from the closet. As she started packing, she felt a strange mix of sadness and relief.

The next morning, Y/N woke up with a knot in her stomach. The decision she had made the night before still felt right, but that didn’t make it any easier. She moved through the motions quietly, packing her suitcase and making sure Teddy had enough room in his carrier. The orange fluffball meowed pitifully as she zipped him inside, his big eyes watching her with a mix of curiosity and confusion.

“I know, buddy,” she said softly, rubbing a hand over the top of the carrier. “We need this. Trust me.”

The cab ride to the airport was quiet, the city slipping past in a blur. She avoided looking at her phone, unwilling to see if Harry had texted or called. She doubted he had.

Hours later, she landed in upstate New York, the cold January air biting at her as she stepped outside the small airport. Her cousin Mia was already there, leaning against her car, arms crossed and a scarf wrapped snugly around her neck.

As soon as Y/N walked over, dragging her suitcase and holding Teddy’s carrier, Mia’s sharp gaze zeroed in on her. “Okay, spill. What the fuck happened? And why did you just up and leave your international pop star boyfriend?”

Y/N sighed, her breath fogging in the icy air as she loaded Teddy into the backseat. “Can we maybe not do this in the parking lot?”

“Nope.” Mia slammed the trunk shut after tossing in Y/N’s suitcase and leaned against the car door, refusing to budge. “You flew across the Atlantic with your cat. That screams big drama, and I need the tea, like, yesterday.”

Y/N groaned, running a hand through her hair as she leaned against the car next to Mia. “It’s complicated, okay?”

“It always is,” Mia replied, her tone both sarcastic and supportive. “But I’m gonna need more than that. Did he cheat? Is he secretly married? What’s the deal?”

Y/N shot her a glare. “No, nothing like that. He’s just… he’s been distant. Forgetting plans, working all the time, barely talking to me. It’s like I don’t even exist to him anymore.”

Mia tilted her head, studying her cousin. “Okay, so he’s an idiot. Got it. But why leave? Why not just, I don’t know, call him out on his bullshit?”

“I did,” Y/N said, her voice cracking slightly. “I tried, Mia. I tried so many times. And last night, he…” She paused, swallowing hard. “He came home smelling like alcohol again, and when I told him I would’ve liked to go out with him, he said it wasn’t a big deal, like I didn’t matter. And then he had the nerve to call me selfish when I got upset.”

Mia’s jaw dropped, and she raised a hand. “Oh, hell no. He did not.”

Y/N nodded, her chest tightening as the memory of the fight replayed in her mind. “So, I told him I needed space. That I was coming home for a bit, and he needed to figure out what he wants. And he just… let me go.”

Mia let out a long whistle, shaking her head. “Okay, first of all, good for you for leaving. Second of all, what an absolute dumbass. Like, I’m sure he’s charming and hot and whatever, but damn, girl, he doesn’t deserve you acting like this.”

Y/N let out a small laugh despite herself. “You don’t even know him.”

“I don’t need to know him,” Mia said with a shrug. “I know you. And if he’s making you feel like shit, then he’s not doing his job as your boyfriend.”

Y/N nodded, her heart feeling a little lighter for the first time in days. “Thanks, Mia.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Mia said, opening the car door. “We’re gonna fix this. Either he pulls his head out of his ass, or we find you a hot new boyfriend who actually knows how to treat you right. Deal?”

Y/N smiled, climbing into the passenger seat. “Deal.”

As Mia started the car and pulled out of the lot, Y/N leaned back in her seat, gazing out at the snowy landscape. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she was exactly where she needed to be.

Over the next few weeks, Y/N poured herself into rediscovering the things she loved, the parts of herself that had been lost in the haze of her strained relationship. She spent her days hiking the trails of upstate New York, taking in the crisp air and breathtaking views, her camera always in tow. At night, she indulged in greasy slices of pizza from her favorite childhood spot, the simple comfort of it reminding her of easier times.

She found herself smiling more, laughing louder, and for the first time in a long time, she felt like she was living for herself again. The weight that had pressed on her chest back in London had begun to lift, replaced with a growing sense of independence and self-assurance.

One night, Mia announced that it was time for a proper girls’ night out. “You’ve been hiking and taking artsy photos long enough,” Mia teased, rummaging through Y/N’s suitcase. “We’re hitting the clubs tonight. You, me, and some dangerously overpriced cocktails.”

Y/N laughed, watching as Mia held up a dress she hadn’t worn in months. “I don’t know, Mia. I’m not sure I’m ready for that kind of scene again.”

Mia rolled her eyes, tossing the dress at her. “Nonsense. You need this. Trust me.”

Hours later, Y/N found herself in a crowded club, the bass thumping so hard she could feel it in her chest. She’d forgotten how freeing it felt to just let go, to dance without a care in the world, the swirl of neon lights and the buzz of tequila making everything feel lighter.

Mia kept her entertained with her usual wit, sharing hilarious, sometimes borderline chaotic stories about her own life. Y/N laughed until her sides hurt, her worries melting away with every sip of her drink.

“Okay, okay,” Mia said, holding up her hands as they stood by the bar for a breather. “You remember that guy I told you about—the one with the weird obsession with his bonsai trees?”

Y/N snorted into her drink. “How could I forget?”

“Well,” Mia continued, leaning in conspiratorially, “turns out he didn’t just have bonsai trees. He had dollhouses. Like, full-on, hand-painted dollhouses. I walked into his apartment, and it was like stepping into a miniaturized version of my nightmare.”

Y/N burst out laughing, nearly spilling her drink. “You’re kidding!”

“I wish I was,” Mia said with a dramatic sigh. “Anyway, that’s why I’ve sworn off dating guys who call themselves ‘artists.’”

The two of them dissolved into laughter, the kind of deep, genuine laughter that made Y/N’s cheeks ache. She hadn’t felt this carefree in months.

As the night went on, Y/N found herself dancing again, her body moving instinctively to the rhythm of the music. She felt alive, untethered, and—for the first time in a long time—free.

Mia nudged her at one point, grinning mischievously. “See? I told you this was a good idea.”

Y/N nodded, her smile wide as she looked around the room. “Yeah. You were right. I needed this.”

And in that moment, as she twirled on the dance floor with her best friend cousin by her side, she realized that she was falling in love again—not with someone else, but with herself.

The morning light streamed through the windows as Y/N stood over the stove, flipping bacon while Mia chopped fruit at the counter. The apartment smelled of coffee and breakfast, the comforting sounds of sizzling and light chatter filling the space.

A sudden knock at the door broke the rhythm.

Both girls froze, glancing at each other. “You expecting anyone?” Y/N asked, eyebrows raised.

“Nope,” Mia replied, setting the knife down. “Probably Amazon or maybe bonsai guy finally returning to plead his case.” She smirked and tossed the dish towel over her shoulder.

“Go see who it is,” Y/N said, flipping the bacon. “And hurry back before this burns.”

“On it.” Mia walked to the door, muttering about early-morning interruptions as she swung it open.

She froze, her hand gripping the door, her mouth falling open. “Holy fuck,” she said, her voice loud and full of shock.

“What?” Y/N called, turning away from the stove, confused by Mia’s tone. “Who is it?”

When Mia didn’t answer, Y/N wiped her hands on her pajama pants and walked toward the door. Her heart started to race, a strange tension settling in her chest.

As she reached the entryway, she saw him.

Harry.

He stood there in the hallway, looking slightly disheveled, his hair messy, his coat hanging open. His expression was a mix of determination and something softer, something that made Y/N’s breath catch in her throat.

Their eyes met, and for a long moment, the world seemed to stop.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice carrying the weight of everything left unsaid.

She froze, her hands still at her sides, her mind racing as she tried to process the fact that he was here—standing on the doorstep of Mia’s apartment in upstate New York.

From the kitchen, Mia called out, “Do I keep the bacon going, or are we about to have a soap opera moment?”

But Y/N didn’t respond. Her eyes stayed locked on Harry, her chest tightening as she waited for him to say something more.

Y/N’s shock quickly gave way to a mix of confusion and irritation as she stared at Harry, standing there like he belonged on her cousin’s doorstep in the middle of upstate New York. Her arms crossed instinctively, and she narrowed her eyes.

“What are you doing here, Harry?” she asked, her tone sharper than she intended. “How did you even find me?”

He shifted on his feet, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat. “You still had your location on,” he said simply, his voice calm. Y/n felt a little dumb for not realizing she forgot to turn that off. Even then, he had connections and could’ve easily found out where she was. 

Y/N’s jaw dropped, her confusion boiling with frustration. “You tracked me?”

“You didn’t answer my calls or texts and your phone went straight to voicemail,” he replied, his voice soft but steady. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

Her heart pounded in her chest, anger bubbling up. “If you’re here to try and convince me to come home. I’m not going back.”

“I’m not asking you to come home,” he said quietly, meeting her gaze. “I just want to talk. That’s all.”

She stared at him, searching his face for any sign of an ulterior motive, her mind racing. Before she could respond, Mia’s voice cut through the tense silence.

“Y/N, for the love of God, if you’re going to yell at him, do it outside,” Mia called from the kitchen, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “I have neighbors, and I don’t want them thinking we’re hosting some kind of reality TV reunion in here.”

Y/N clenched her jaw, letting out a frustrated breath as she glanced back at Mia, who was leaning against the counter, arms crossed with an amused expression.

“Fine,” Y/N muttered, turning back to Harry. She grabbed her coat from the hook by the door and stepped outside, letting the door click shut behind her. The cold air bit at her cheeks, but she barely noticed as she faced Harry again.

The cold morning air hung around them as they walked down the quiet, woodsy street, the crunch of gravel under their shoes the only sound at first. Y/N kept her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her jaw clenched as she waited for Harry to speak. He walked beside her, his hands shoved into his coat pockets, his head slightly bowed.

Finally, after a few minutes, he broke the silence. “I royally fucked up,” he said, his voice low but steady. “I took you for granted, Y/N. I thought… I thought you’d always be there, no matter how much I messed up, no matter how distant I got. And that was wrong.”

His words lingered in the crisp air, but Y/N didn’t respond. She kept her eyes ahead, her steps brisk and determined.

When he didn’t say more, she stopped abruptly and turned to him, her voice sharp with frustration and hurt. “You’re right it was wrong, Harry. Do you even realize how much you���ve hurt me? How lonely I’ve felt these past few months?”

Harry stopped too, his gaze dropping to the ground.

Y/N took a deep breath, her words spilling out in a torrent. “You’ve been more intimate with the studio than you’ve been with me. Do you know how humiliating it is to feel like you’re competing with someone’s job? To watch you pour your passion into everything else?”

His shoulders tensed, but he didn’t interrupt.

“And the worst part,” she continued, her voice breaking, “is that I thought… I thought we were heading toward something real, Harry. I thought maybe you’d propose soon, that we’d start building a life together or a family. But now? Now it feels like we’re just heading for a breakup.”

Her words hung heavy between them, the raw honesty of her pain hitting like a punch to the gut. Harry finally looked up, his expression anguished, but he still didn’t speak.

“You didn’t even fight for me when I left,” Y/N said, her voice quieter now but no less hurt. “You just let me go, like it didn’t matter. Like I didn’t matter.”

“I—” he started, but she held up a hand.

“No. Don’t say anything yet. Just… listen.”

He nodded silently, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard.

“I love you,” she said, her voice trembling. “But I can’t keep doing this if you’re not going to meet me halfway. And if you can’t give me that, then maybe we shouldn’t be together.”

The words came out heavier than she expected, the weight of them settling in her chest as she stared at him. For the first time since they’d started walking, Harry’s eyes locked on hers, a mix of guilt and something else—something she couldn’t quite place—flickering in his gaze.

But he didn’t interrupt. He just stood there, listening, the gravity of her words sinking in. And for once, Y/N felt like he truly heard her.

Harry shifted uncomfortably on his feet, his hands still buried deep in his coat pockets. He looked at her, his jaw tightening for a moment before he let out a long breath.

“I don’t really know what to say,” he admitted quietly, his voice heavy with guilt. “Except that I’m sorry. For all of it.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes slightly, her arms still crossed as she waited for more. She wasn’t ready to let him off the hook so easily.

He looked away, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve been… I’ve been a bloody idiot, Y/N. I didn’t realize how much I was messing this up until you left. And even then, I didn’t know what to do. I felt like I’d already lost you.”

Her chest tightened, but she didn’t speak. She wanted him to get it all out.

“So, I—” He hesitated, his cheeks reddening slightly as he looked back at her. “I talked to my mum.”

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up. “You talked to your mum about us?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t know who else to go to. She called me clueless—which, fair enough—but she also gave me some advice.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching despite her frustration. “Oh, yeah? What’d she say?”

Harry’s gaze softened, his voice dropping. “She told me to stop thinking about what’s easy for me and start thinking about what’s right for us. She said if I couldn’t figure out how to show you how much you mean to me, then I don’t deserve to have you in my life.”

Y/N stared at him, her heart twisting at the honesty in his voice.

“She also told me I’m a terrible communicator,” he added with a faint, self-deprecating smile. “And that I’ve probably made you feel like shit more than once without even realizing it.”

“Well, she’s not wrong,” Y/N said, her voice tinged with both irritation and something softer.

Harry nodded, his expression serious again. “I don’t expect you to forgive me right away, Y/N. I know I’ve got a lot to make up for. But I’m here because I don’t want to lose you. I want to be better—for you, for us. I just… I need a chance to prove it.”

She stood there, the cold air biting at her cheeks as she searched his face. There was something different about him now, something that felt raw and unguarded. She wasn’t sure if it was enough, but for the first time in weeks, she felt like he was truly seeing her.

She didn’t reply right away, letting his words hang in the air as she turned them over in her mind. Finally, she sighed and looked down at the ground. “You’ve got a lot to prove, Harry. And I’m not going to make it easy for you.”

His lips curved into the faintest smile. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Y/N sighed, running a hand through her hair as the tension in her shoulders began to ease. She looked at Harry, his eyes still searching hers with an intensity that made her heart twist. Despite everything, despite the hurt and frustration, she couldn’t deny how much she missed him.

“I really missed you,” she admitted softly, her voice trembling just enough to make him lean closer. “Even when I was mad at you—even when I thought I couldn’t stand the sight of you—all I wanted to do was just… jump on you and kiss you. Hug you.”

Harry’s lips parted slightly, a flicker of surprise and relief washing over his face. “You mean that?”

“Of course, I do,” she said, a small, rueful smile tugging at her lips. “I love you, Harry. That’s why this hurt so much. You’ve always been my person, and for a while there, I didn’t feel like yours anymore.”

His face softened, and he took a tentative step closer, his voice low. “You are, Y/N. You’ll always be my person. I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t.”

The sincerity in his voice melted the last of her defenses, and she let out a shaky laugh, wiping at her eyes. “You’re so lucky I love you. But you better believe I’m going to make you work for it.”

“I’m ready,” Harry said with a soft smile.

Y/N tilted her head, her smile widening as a thought crossed her mind. “You know, I’m a little embarrassed now.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”

“Because,” she said, letting out a laugh, “I have to go back inside and tell Mia that we made up. And trust me, she was rooting for full-blown drama. She’s probably already drafting a speech about why I should dump you.”

Harry chuckled, his first genuine laugh of the morning. “Think she’ll let me stay for breakfast, or is that asking too much?”

Y/N smirked, shaking her head. “Don’t push your luck. But if you charm her enough, she might give you a piece of bacon.”

“Well, I’m pretty good at charming people,” he teased, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around her.

Y/N rolled her eyes but leaned into him, finally letting herself relax in his embrace. She rested her head against his chest, inhaling his familiar scent, and for the first time in weeks, she felt like things might actually be okay.

“Come on,” she said after a moment, pulling back slightly. “Let’s go face the dragon.”

Harry grinned, threading his fingers through hers. “Lead the way.”

As they approached the house, Y/N noticed a familiar figure standing in the window. Mia was leaning against the sill, a mug of coffee in her hands, her face a mix of amusement and curiosity as she stared out at them.

“Looks like she’s already got commentary locked and loaded,” Y/N muttered, glancing at Harry with a smirk.

“Should I be scared?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Always,” Y/N replied with a grin.

When they stepped onto the porch, Mia was already opening the door, one hand still clutching her coffee. She looked them over, her eyes flicking between Y/N’s flushed face and Harry’s sheepish expression.

“So,” Mia began, drawing out the word with a smirk. “I’m guessing you two worked it out, considering the lack of yelling and door slamming.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Yeah, we talked. You’re not getting the drama you were hoping for.”

Mia shrugged, taking a sip of her coffee. “Honestly? I’m kind of happy. As much as I love you, Y/N, I also really love walking around my house in my underwear. Having you here has seriously cramped my vibe.”

Harry stifled a laugh as Y/N gawked at her cousin. “Oh, my God, Mia!”

“What?” Mia said, grinning as she stepped aside to let them in. “I’m just saying, you two reconciling works out for everyone. Love wins, and I get my space back. It’s a win-win.”

Y/N shook her head, laughing as she stepped into the house with Harry following behind. “You’re impossible.”

“That’s why you love me,” Mia said with a wink, heading back to the kitchen. “Now, who’s hungry? And Harry, if you’re sticking around, you better pull your weight. Bacon doesn’t flip itself, pop star.”

Y/N glanced at Harry, who was clearly trying not to laugh as he hung up his coat. “Welcome to the family,” she said with a grin.

“Thanks,” Harry replied, leaning closer to whisper, “I think I’m more scared of Mia than I was of losing you.”

Y/N smacked his arm playfully, but the smile on her face lingered as they followed Mia to the kitchen. 

[scvrgrl]

is this love? | monkey d. luffy x fem!reader

you had caught his attention from the moment he met you, and now he knew exactly why. these feelings were both enticing and petrifying, suddenly filled with guilt for being so unprofessional. although, monkey d. luffy has never been a man of tradition...

word count: 6.4k

tags: fem!reader, a lil angsty (brief mentions of insecurity), best friend!usopp and best friend!nami, shifting perspectives between reader and luffy (most of it in luffy’s pov), some suggestive content but no smut, hardly proofread oops, lots of fluff tho! inspired by ‘is this love?’ - bob marley & the wailers :)

the sun hung high in the sky, it's warm rays spreading across your skin, transforming it into a glistening bronze. it was a leisurely time on the thousand sunny, the chaos of battle behind the crew and a ways away in the new world. you finally had time to yourself, taking advantage of the tranquility that lingered in the air. all morning, you participated in self-care activities — from enjoying a long, steamy bath without disruptions from your male crew mates, to dedicating quiet time on the deck to finish the rest of the book Robin lent you while you tanned in your admittedly-skimpy bikini. however, the peaceful silence become suddenly unsettling, your heart beginning to race as you became increasingly anxious. your senses had been already been deprived, the sun blazing just behind the thin layer of your eyelids, the wind’s pace picking up and swarming into your ears. where is everybody?

as if you had summoned them, the door to the sunny’s common area swung open, slamming so hard against the wooden panels you thought it created a dent. three figures emerged carrying vibrant weapons that sprayed a mysterious liquid. before you could react, the salty liquid covered your entire body, small icy squirts piercing through your skin accompanied by shouts and belly laughter.

“get her, Usopp!!” a high-pitched voice rang, giggling uncontrollably as they swarm around you. Luffy and Usopp surround you, boxing you in while you sat there stunned and helpless in your seat. it turns out that Usopp had manufactured a new weapon — although, it’s sole purpose was to terrorize you and the rest of the crew rather than the foes you’d soon face in the new world. Chopper had made himself comfortable while he rested on the shoulders of the surprisingly sculpted man before you, Usopp’s brown skin glistening with sweat and seawater. Luffy stood beside you, his pronounced abs directly in your eye sight as he gazed his pearly grin upon you. the proximity of his heaving, sweaty body beside you made your cheeks flush, hoping the rubber man wouldn’t notice as you stare a little too longingly into his eyes.

the fondness you’d grown for your captain slowly bloomed into an unrequited crush over time — constantly reminding yourself that he has bigger things to worry about than working his way into your heart. the weight of his effect on you was suffocating at times, almost like “an exhausting burden that sucked the life out of me,” you had described to Nami once. it was unnecessarily distracting the way you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him — sneaking glances at dinnertime as he ravaged his meal, always looking for him during a battle to ensure his safety over your own, fumbling over your words and avoiding eye contact whenever he would approach you. his blissful ignorance to your coy advances didn’t make it any better, he always assumed you were just teasing him.

“hey! what’s the big idea, huh?” you griped, shouting at the group for splashing the crisp pages of the book on your lap. Robin is gonna kill me. “i’m gonna wring your neck for soaking Robin’s book! you know she's gonna my head, dumbasses!”

“awww c’mon [y/n]! it’s just a little water! what are you, scared or something?” Luffy teased, quirking his thin eyebrows.

“just a little water, huh? we’ll see about that,” you retorted, shifting your shocked expression to something more sinister and calculated. The sudden change of your demeanor stunned the young men before you, each of them exchanging quick glances before turning tail to flee. before they could do so, you lean over, clutching onto Luffy’s strong arms to steal the water-gun from his hands. the swiftness in which you moved didn’t give him enough time to react, a surprising feat considering how agile he can be. the slick from the sweat-seawater mixture that coated his body caused your hands to slip, gliding across his firm biceps and feeling every vein and scar that marks his skin. you were able to find dry patch on his wrist, clasping it in your hands and ridding him of the weapon.

“hey what the-!” Luffy exclaimed, arms thrown up into the air, leaving him perfectly vulnerable to your attack. you aimed the gun straight at the area between his eyes, the espresso-colored irises following its barrel. ocean water squirts right where you want it, waves of obsidian becoming soaked and falling over his eyes. Luffy shakes his head to rid his eyes and hair of the salty water, directing its droplets to you when he hears your squeals of shock. a large splash hits your spine as Usopp and Chopper team up against you, firing their “ammo” whilst you were distracted. you turned your attention to them, your initial anger subsiding into an invigorating rush of adrenaline as you charged toward them, laughing and screaming.

“Luffy, grab her!” Usopp commands over his shoulder, shielding himself from your relentless attack. before you could comprehend the command, you’re suddenly swept off your feet, kicking your long silky legs as a pair of strong arm wraps around your waist and hoist you up.

“Luffy! put me down!” you pleaded, giggles being pushed out of you as Luffy presses firmly on your stomach. he shifts your entire weight into his arms, hooking one of his arms under your legs as he carries you bridal-style. Instinctively, you wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your bare chest against his, breathing in tandem as he carries you toward the commotion. your breasts graze against the large “x” scarred into his chest, the textured skin creating a sense of friction that causes your stomach to flutter. you hadn’t noticed, but you had been breathing dangerously close to the crook of his neck as you held yourself close to him. selfishly, you wished this silly quarrel never ended, just so you could hold onto Luffy’s touch for a little while longer…

…

Luffy and Usopp had been scheming all morning — huddled and hushed in the corner of the boy’s quarters as Usopp made the finishing touches to his new contraptions. their sudden bursts of rambunctious laughter had earned its fair share of glares from Zoro, who had been resting peacefully in his hammock. they had been compiling a list of unsuspecting victims to test their weapons on — automatically ruling Zoro out as he had seen the finished product. as Usopp went down the list, Luffy gave his opinion on how he think each person would react, giving amused “oooo”’s and “ahhh”’s with each name. when Usopp made his way to your name, Luffy rolled over on his back, holding his stomach as a sweet melody of belly laughter erupted from his lips. 

“oh man, she’s gonna be so mad!” he exclaimed, riding through his fit of giggles. 

“she's gonna kill you two, you know that right?” Zoro grumbled, peeking at the pair through his dark eyelashes. his arms crossed behind his head, hands cupped in the valley of green tufts to support his neck while he rested. 

“that’s why we have to do it! [y/n] has yet to experience a taste of our pranks. c'mon Usopp, back me up here!” 

Luffy’s gaze fell upon his best friend, who had still been tinkering with the gun’s trigger mechanism. Usopp’s tongue rested between his lips in concentration, briefly returning it back to it’s place as he looked over to Zoro, “he’s right, Zoro. everyone on the crew needs to experience it. it’s like a rite of passage.” 

“whatever. i’m not savin’ anyone’s ass if she bugs out,” Zoro conceded, shutting his eyes for the last time as he finally drifts off to sleep. 

so that’s exactly what they did — stealthily monitoring your every move throughout the morning, lurking within dark corners of the ship to catch you in a vulnerable position. and, unbeknownst to yourself, you set the perfect trap when you decided to bask in the midday sun with your funny little book.

now, Luffy carried you in his firm grasp — cradling you close as he dodged the fire from Usopp and Chopper’s offense. the seawater sprayed upon your exposed body caused you to slip from his grasp, Luffy’s fingers sliding from the slick pooling between the creases in your thighs and waist. with every passing moment, his grasp on you became looser and looser. eventually, you were able to break free — using your freedom to take control and tackle Luffy, fighting him for his weapon. 

the two of you tussled on the warm patch of grass that coated the deck, arms and legs beginning to itch from the constant scratching. Luffy had fought many dangerous foes before, but they were no match for your strength and determination. he felt himself losing, your thighs pinning his waist to the ground as you firmly parked yourself on his lap. you used one of your free hands to pin his wrists against the pillowy grass beneath the two of you, the other hand spinning the toy gun with incredible ease. 

you rested the gun between the small space where his dark eyebrows met, a sly smirk dancing across your lips, “gotcha.”

the air surrounding the two of you abruptly became thick, Luffy’s breath hitching in his throat despite the quickened rise and fall of his chest. why is she so heavy all of a sudden?

the height of the sun once again casted its beaming rays onto you — only this time, you had an unexpected audience. your soaked hair had draped over one of your exposed shoulders, the saltwater accentuating natural waves that ran through it. the suns rays allowed the seawater that coated your skin to glisten, droplets shimmering over the curve of your thighs and boobs and ass and—

wait. 

Luffy found his heart racing against his thoughts, thumping violently in his chest. an unfamiliar warmth pooled at the base of his abdomen, sparking into a living flame that kindled and fluttered throughout his body. the warmth suddenly became overwhelming, his cheeks and neck flushing with every passing moment. the blissful fluttering in his belly transformed into an unbearable wave of nausea, anxiety rising in his chest. what the hell is going on???

without much thought, Luffy abruptly twists his hips from beneath you, causing you to lose your balance. you rolled onto the grass, propping yourself up on your elbows as you watched Luffy briskly walk away, the muscles in his back working as he hurriedly swung his arms back and forth.

“hey, are you okay?” you called out, concern filling your chest.

even the sound of your voice put Luffy on edge, worried that you would catch on to his sudden change in demeanor. he flashed you a quick smile over his shoulder, his pearly teeth shining in the sun as they gritted against each other, “yeah, i’m fine! i think i just ate too fast is all. i’m gonna go lie down for a bit.”

the moment he returned to face the rest of the sunny, his smile fell. Luffy made his way down to the boys quarters, finding his bed and flopping face down into the mattress. he released a sigh that could’ve pushed all the air from his lungs had he tried just a little harder. the weight on his chest made him wish that he could do just that, hoping that such a simple remedy would cure his sudden ailment. becoming so overwhelmed by an unfamiliar feeling unsettled Luffy. he had always been so used to being sure of himself — never thinking twice about challenging emperors and soldiers with bounties that dulled his own in comparison.

the thoughts that raced through his mind caused him to toss and turn, ruffling the already-disturbed sheets from beneath him. falling asleep was always second nature to Luffy — the act of simply resting his head was enough to make him drift off to sleep. but now, he couldn’t stop thinking. images of your soaked body flashed behind his closed eyelids, the droplets of water traveling down your navel burned into his memory. Luffy released a loud groan of frustration, palms digging into his eyes as he pulled at the jet-black hair that draped across his forehead. dramatically, he kicked the sheets that became tangled between his legs, limbs flailing and begging to be set free.

Luffy’s thoughts nearly suffocated him, anxiety rising in his throat as he came to the realization that something was seriously wrong. he hopped out of bed, immediately swinging open the door and making his way over to Chopper’s medical ward. his loud footsteps echoed through the narrowed hallway, large feet slapping against the floor as he charged straight to the familiar door. Luffy lingered a while before knocking, fidgeting with his calloused hands as he worked up the courage to admit that he was sick. he was always used to taking care of his crew that he often felt bad for worrying them about his own problems. 

“hey Chopper, you in there?” he asked gently, lips pressed against the crack of the door. 

a small “hm?” was heard before the sound of hooves scuffling against the wooden floor made their way closer to Luffy. Chopper opened the door, curiously inspecting his captain as he stepped inside. Luffy jumped onto the examination table, the weight of his butt slamming against its surface caused some nearby vials to rattle. 

“what’s wrong, Luffy? did you get into Sanji’s knives again? he told you not to do ‘three-knife style’ anymore!!” Chopper scolded, worried that his friend ticked off the ship’s cook. “if you make him mad again he’ll give the rest of your dinner away to Nami and Robin.”

under normal circumstances, Luffy would have entertained the idea, arguing that mastering such an artistic fighting style would only help in improve his chances of becoming king of the pirates. however, this day had been far from normal — nerves once again bubbling up to the surface, making his mouth go sour as his thin brows furrowed together. “i think something’s wrong with me Chopper. like, seriously wrong.” 

Chopper’s blue nose twitched as the expression on his face shifted from amusement to concern. panicked, he shuffled his way over to Luffy, grabbing his blue medical bag to assess his condition. he noticed the way Luffy clutched at his stomach, fingers lingering over the small tissue that covered his belly button. Chopper tenderly pressed on his abdomen, testing whether or not his friend is suffering from something internal, “does this hurt?”

Luffy shook his head, sighing heavily as he laid down on his back. “it’s not a stomachache i don’t think, it’s something…different. i can’t put my finger on it.” 

“well, what do you mean? maybe if you tell my your symptoms, i can make a treatment plan to help you feeling good as new!”  

Luffy smiled at his generosity, mentally patting himself on the back for choosing such a caring doctor to manage his crew. he chewed on the soft tissue inside his mouth, contemplating different ways to list out his symptoms. when that didn’t work, he just let his mouth run, word vomit pouring out of him seemed to be the way to go. 

“it all started when we were on the deck playing with the water guns. my heart started to race and my cheeks got super hot, like my face was on fire! my palms got super sweaty too — like way more than usual so that made me even more nervous cause i almost never sweat. and then my stomach — oh my god my stomach — it felt like all of my organs did a flip! i haven’t felt that way since Katakuri spun me around in the mirror world, and even then it didn’t feel nearly as bad as it did just now! i seriously thought i was about to yack all over [y/n] if i didn’t get off the floor.” 

Chopper stared at him wide-eyed, his breathing becoming rapid as he worked to piece the puzzle of Luffy’s sudden illness together. as Luffy continued, Chopper became increasingly more nervous, each of his symptoms sounding a little too close to a virus he had done some reading on earlier that week. he had read that the mystery disease came from ingesting a rare bacteria that thrived off of hot, humid climates and the salt from ocean water — which had coincidently been the exact conditions the straw hats had been sailing through for the past few days. Chopper’s “brave doctor” act slowly begins to deteriorate as Luffy continues to list his symtoms, “-and my chest got super tight, like someone was squeezing my heart and wringing out my soul” 

tears welled up in Chopper’s eyes, a small trail of snot running out of his blue nose. the sound of his sniffling pulled Luffy out of his thoughts, returning his attention to his furry friend. “Chopper? what’s wrong buddy? was it something i said!?”

losing the battle of fighting back his tears, Chopper began to wail and turned around to flee the room. Luffy charged after him, puzzled as to why he would suddenly burst into tears. it turned out that Chopper was making his way to the kitchen, seeking comfort from Nami and Sanji, who had been preparing the crew’s next meal. the aroma of chicken and vegetables filled the room, the delicious scent traveling to the rest of the ship as the door swung wide open.

“hey! if the two of you are gonna horse around, then do it outside! i’m cooking here-“ Sanji shouted, cautiously swinging his knife to point in the direction of the deck.

“LUFFY’S GONNA DIE!” Chopper cried, ending Sanji’s sentence short and gaining the attention from the chef and his unexpected partner. bewildered, the pair turned to face the intruders, fear becoming apparent on both of their faces. 

loud, thunderous footsteps had suddenly come to a halt upon entering the room, Luffy caught the swinging door with his large palm before shouting, “I’M WHAT?!”

“i’m sure that’s not true, Chopper. now what’s actually going on?!” Nami asked, her tone soft with reassurance. she had been chopping carrots and celery to accompany Sanji’s dish, the blade coming dangerously close to her long fingers upon the interruption. Chopper had run up to Nami, seeking comfort in her lap as he nuzzled his face into her thighs, wiping his tears on the pair of denim jeans she wore. 

“all of his symptoms line up with a specific virus i was doing some reading on the other week! i don’t have the proper herbs to cure it in my collection! i’m so sorry,” Chopper said, the last part muffled as he hid his face behind his small hooves. 

“well what were the symptoms? maybe you’re just jumping to conclusions buddy,” Sanji soothed, his raspy voice always softer when speaking to Chopper. with that, Chopper turned to Luffy with glossy eyes and snot dribbling down his chin, nodding his head for him to share his symptoms. so much for doctor-patient confidentiality.  

Luffy huffed a deep breath, preparing for his crew to decide his fate, “fine. i dunno…when we were messing around on the deck, my chest just got real tight all of a sudden — and not from all the running around. it was…different, like an aching almost.” Luffy balled his hand into a fist, mimicking the tightness in his chest. “and my stomach started fluttering and burning, like way deep down. i’d never felt anything like that before in my life. and the weirdest part was that it didn’t hurt, but it actually felt kinda good for a moment…” 

the words from Luffy’s rosy lips trailed off as he returned his gaze back to his crew, their faces shockingly calm and…happy? “why are you guys looking at me like that? what’s wrong with me??” 

the door to the kitchen swung open once more, Zoro walking in and holding from a half-empty bottle of sake. “sounds like you’re in love,” he joked, chuckling as he brought the rim to his mouth and taking a long swig. Sanji began to berate him for being so selfish, claiming that the bottle he was so carelessly drinking from was meant for “special occasions only, dumbass!” 

Luffy blew a raspberry through his lips, “yeah right! i’ve never even had a crush on anyone! that’s just gross, plus that’s Sanji’s job!” 

“i don’t know Luffy, what you just described sounds exactly what i feel when i look at my sweet Nami and Robin!” Sanji cooed, his tongue lolling out of his mouth and smooching kisses in Nami’s direction. 

Nami, not even flinching at Sanji’s advances, asked more questions to investigate Luffy’s condition, “well, did it happen when you were looking at anyone in particular..?” despite being known for her independence, Nami was very in tune with romance — always picking up on queues and indulging in romance fiction that Robin would entertain her with. the moment she asked the question, Luffy’s demeanor shifted. 

“well...kinda. it happened when i was holding onto [y/n]” Luffy said, voice unfamiliarly low and shy. the entire room erupted in laughter, teasing Luffy for sweating something so normal. Chopper sighed with relief, glad to know that his friend wasn’t dying. Nami giggled and punched Luffy’s arm playfully, “you do have a crush, ya dope!” 

Zoro slapped his back with an extra-heavy hand, his slight drunkenness causing him to lose control of his strength. something inside Luffy finally clicked, a brief moment of relief soothed his soul before the gravity of the situation came down on his shoulders like a fright train. the cacophonous laughter began to blend into a ringing in Luffy’s ears, overwhelmed with the information. he huffed a quick laugh and turned to make his way back to the boy’s quarters. what the hell?

…

Luffy couldn’t sleep that night, his eyes straining to carve out the grooves inside the wood that lay above him in the dark. everytime he closed his eyes, all he could see was you — the way your hips curved, your pillowy thighs plush across his lap, the small constellation of moles and freckles that sprinkled across your smooth skin. his cheeks flushed just at the thought, thanking every power up above that the room was dark and everyone was fast asleep. the racing of his heart was no match for the speed at which his mind ran, however, disgustingly sweet thoughts flooding his senses. 

the brief moments of sleep he did get were interrupted by dreams about you. he pictured the way your warmth would feel beside him, entangled in his sheets and his arms after a long night of peaceful sleep. the rising sun’s glow landed on you just right, illuminating the soft skin on your bare back. your cheeks were colored with a soft, sleepy blush, the rise and fall of your back as you breathed soothed all his anxieties. your eyes had a softness to them that tugged at his heart as they stared into his own with contentment, your dark lashes still heavy with sleep. your plush lips fixed themselves into a smile, mumbling something that was inaudible to Luffy’s rosy ears. whatever you said didn’t matter, as your lips met his and morphed together into a soft kiss. morning breath be damned, he found himself drinking you in, touching every part of you, attempting to commit it to memory. however, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t remember exactly how you felt, the fuzziness of the dream clouding his senses. the dream felt like a warm embrace, a tight grasp that he wouldn’t mind staying in for just a little while longer… 

when he woke up, Luffy opened his eyes to the empty spot in his bed — you nowhere to be found. your absence led Luffy’s heart to ache, feeling like he was missing a piece of him. this newfound discovery about himself tied loose ends in his life that he couldn’t quite pinpoint — he wasn’t sure why he always made sure you were okay during a battle, why you were the reason behind his motivations for improvement, why he always caught himself sneaking glances at you during meal and leisurely time. you had caught his attention from the moment he met you, and now he knew exactly why. these feelings were both enticing and petrifying, Luffy suddenly filled with guilt for being so unprofessional. although, Monkey D. Luffy has never been a man of tradition. 

… 

the past few days had been a blur for Luffy, constantly lost in his own thoughts. he started becoming hyperaware of every little thing, making sure that every time he saw you he was presentable. Luffy started grooming himself — showering more than once week, spending more time in front of the mirror to tweak his wild hair so it sat just right. with the bouts of self-confidence came insecurity as well, overanalyzing his posture and facial features. the scars on his face and chest suddenly the only thing he could think about — wondering if you thought them to be impressive or gross, seeing them as a mark of failure and weakness rather than a symbol of survival and determination. he traced the rough edges of the scar on his chest with his calloused fingertips, analyzing the fusion of pinks and reds that color his chest. this particular day he decided to cover it up, buttoning his shirt just above his scar to conceal it from the rest of the crew, embarrassment and shame pang in his chest. 

conflicting feelings wrestling in his mind and chest began to take physical tolls on Luffy — deep purple bags weighing his eyes down from the lack of sleep. he decided that he finally had enough of this senseless torture, deciding that today was the day he would tell you exactly how he felt. Luffy’s impatience led him to believe that jumping to confessions would finally allow him to marvel in all the good things love had to offer. he couldn’t wait for you to be in his arms, to carry you around on his back, to kiss you anywhere and anytime that he wanted. he couldn't wait for you to be his. 

Luffy figured he would pay the only person he thought would be the most well-versed in this thing called “love” — his ship’s cook, Sanji. despite having a questionable past when it comes to romance, Sanji could actually be captivating, making suave advances at all kinds of women over their years of travel and succeeding. Luffy wandered into the kitchen, finding Sanji sharpening his knives in preparation for dinner. 

“hey Sanji. can i ask you somethin’? Luffy asked, resting his elbows on the pristine table cloth as he took a seat. Sanji put his knives away and returned his attention to the young man, cautiously approaching him as he wore a solemn expression. 

“sure, what’s up?”

“how can i tell [y/n] i like her? i mean, i don’t wanna scare her away but at the same time, i just can’t stop thinking about her! she’s so pretty I’m worried she wouldn’t wanna be with someone like me...” Luffy trailed off, getting lost in his sorrows once again. 

Luffy’s uncertainty threw Sanji for a loop, scrunching his curly eyebrows in confusion, “since when do you care about what people think? just be yourself, Luffy, you have nothing to worry about. i’m sure if [y/n] didn’t like you she wouldn’t have joined the crew”

“well yeah but what if she doesn’t like like me? what if me telling her i like her scares her away and she’ll never be a part of the crew again?” Luffy threw his face into his hands, pulling at the stretchy skin around his cheeks in exasperation. 

“if that’s the case, then treat her to a huge bouquet of flowers! women love that flashy shit,” Sanji claimed, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “i’ll even help you bake her a cake or something. sound good?” 

“hell no, you’ve got it all wrong!” Nami exclaims, wandering her way into the kitchen for an apple to snack on. “women don’t just want ‘flashy shit’ Luffy, especially not [y/n].” 

“wow Nami, that top looks darling on you!!” Sanji exclaims, scurrying over to her to get a closer look. brushing off the compliment with a simple “thank you,” Nami continues her string of advice. 

“look, since i’m the closest to her i think that you should just be yourself. all [y/n] truly wants is honesty, and if you tell her exactly how you feel, she’ll be understanding no matter what.” 

and it was true. Nami had easily become your best friend the moment you stepped foot on the thousand sunny — the both of you confiding in each other free of judgement. it was Nami and Usopp who had listened to you pour your heart out about how you truly felt about your captain. there were nights where you cried into her lap about how lonely you felt because you thought he would never reciprocate these feelings, believing that he couldn’t afford to make the room in his heart to love you more than just platonically. you believed that you’d be stuck in the friendzone forever, your bottled feelings gnawing at the walls of your heart bit by bit until it was entirely consumed by loneliness. Nami kept these moments in mind, internally screaming as she couldn’t wait to watch this relationship unfold. you idiots have no idea.

“once you’ve gathered your thoughts, then you can tell her how you feel. but until then, i’d lay low for a while — that way you don’t jump her the next time you see her. but don’t completely ignore her!” 

Luffy hadn’t expected to take Nami’s advice, but it made sense as she was the closest to you. he brought her into a tight embrace, squeezing the petite woman’s frame as he chuckled a giddy laugh into her ear, “thanks Nami! who knew you were so good at this stuff?” 

“yeah well, this therapy is gonna cost you about fifteen hundred berr—“

“SEE YA!!” Luffy shouted over his shoulder, cutting Nami off before she could set her price in stone. 

… 

you hadn’t seen or heard from Luffy in a few days, which wouldn’t worry you under normal circumstances if he wasn’t acting so…strange. your captain has always been cooky and silly, but this behavior was different. the times you had seen Luffy, you flashed him a soft smile, a peaceful, friendly greeting. however, his eyes would just go wide and avert your gaze, something akin to fear flashing in his dark eyes. when you tried to confront him about it, he would brush you off and say it was just leftover stress — but the way his lips pursed and how he avoided direct eye contact let you know that he was lying. after that conversation, you resulted to avoiding him as well, embarrassed to seek him out when it was very clear that he did not want to see you. 

the loneliness and shame was eating away at you, every day a piece of you withered away as you mulled over what you could’ve possibly done to receive such treatment. all roads led back to that moment on the deck, where you got too comfortable, too carried away and let yourself do something you knew you shouldn’t have. it was too much, why would you ever think that was a good idea? 

you made your way to Nami’s room, trails of dark grey running down your cheeks from the mascara you had cried off. upon opening the door, you caught a glimpse of Nami and Usopp laughing about something before they directed their attention to you. Nami’s warm smile quickly faded, patting the cushy space next to her as she invited you over. the moment you shut the door behind you, the tears returned tenfold. all the pent up frustration and anger came pouring out of you, strong streams of salty tears surging from your eyes. 

“i think Luffy hates me,” you said, voice strained from choking back a sob. you filled them in on all the gruesome details, spilling the guilt and honest frustrations you felt and how you blamed yourself for his behavior. Nami immediately regretted the advice she gave to Luffy when she saw the state you were in, never imagining that you would’ve been this devastated. her and Usopp exchanged quick glances, warning each other not to reveal too much so they wouldn’t spoil Luffy’s confession plan. 

“oh [y/n], i promise he doesn’t hate you. boys are just dumb sometimes, especially the ones on our crew,” Nami joked, chuckling lightly to ease the tension that lingered in the air. you huffed a breathy laugh as you wiped your nose, tucking your hair behind your ears to avoid getting the trails of snot into it. 

“i think he’s just going through some personal stuff right now,” Usopp reassured, twisting the tiny frills of your shirt between his fingers as he lay sprawled out on Nami’s mattress. “trust me, i know what it’s like to have Luffy hate you for a while, and this just isn’t it. just give him some time and he’ll come back around.” 

their kind words put you at ease, the stream of tears drying out slowly as you collected yourself again. “thank you guys, i needed that.” 

the pair gave you soft smiles, continuing to keep the mood alive by cheering you up with filling you in on the predicament Usopp got himself into earlier that day. 

…

the sunset marked one week since this whole predicament began, Luffy finally ready to confide in you about how he truly felt. he had prepared a whole speech — each line carefully crafted with Nami’s help to describe exactly how he felt, not wanting to miss a beat. he couldn’t afford to forget anything, as one tiny mistake could result in catastrophe. Luffy had never prepared this much for anything, not even when fighting warlords and emperors. you had superseded all of them, your attention and feelings more important than his own. 

Luffy recited his speech over and over again in his head, making his way to your favorite spot on the sunny in hopes of finding you. the second he laid his eyes on you, however, his mouth went dry and the words suddenly scrambled together in his head. his attention was fixated on the way your face glowed against the orange horizon, the breeze blowing your hair behind you and putting every feature on display. you leaned over the railing, resting your elbows on the wooden edge as you drank in the smell of the seawater. your glowing eyes turned to meet Luffy’s, your face stoic and glum as you turned back to face the setting sun. 

“fancy seeing you here,” you stated sarcastically, your words lacking any form of amusement as your frustration returned. 

“can i talk to you about something?” Luffy said, his voice suddenly small and nervous. the tension in his voice had been unexpected, causing you to turn around and meet him face-to-face. you crossed your arms over your chest, nodding your head in his direction as a sign of permission for him to continue. Luffy took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts properly to restrain the word vomit that built up in his throat. although, his nerves made him feel like he was about to actually vomit. 

“first, i want to apologize for the way i’ve been acting these past few days. it was never my intention to make you upset or mad at me or anything. i did it because…” Luffy paused, fidgeting with the hem of his shorts. god, this is so weird. 

“because…?” you asked, the anticipation eating away at you. your heart thumped violently in your chest, throat beginning to sting as your nerves returned.

“because i like you, okay? like more than i should — and if i’m being completely honest, i didn’t even know i could like someone like that. but when I’m with you, i feel like i have a purpose. and of course I feel that way with everyone else, but you’re different!” 

Luffy took a small step forward, gently grabbing your hands and holding them in his. “the moment i realized that i actually liked you, something inside me clicked. it felt like everything suddenly made sense and a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders. i felt like i could breathe again and i was free. hell, i’ve been having dreams about you ever since — but nothing weird though i promise!” 

the way he threw his arms up in defense at that last sentence made you laugh, all of the dizzying stress releasing through your nose. you hadn’t realized it, but tears began to flow from your eyes. but these were tears of joy, tears of relief that everything you had beat yourself up over for the past week was all in your head. all you could do was stare at the man before you with a beaming smile and teary eyes, your brain short-circuiting as you took in every syllable that left his mouth. 

“i’m so sorry, [y/n]. i never meant to make you feel like i was avoiding you on purpose, i was just finding the right things to say. i really don’t wanna screw this up, so — if you’ll have me — i want to be there for you. i want to be the person you wake up next to every morning, the person you can come to and share everything with. i want to be yours and i want you to be mine.” 

Luffy’s thumb grazed your cheek, wiping away the tears that ran down your face. you leaned into his touch, gently pressing your lips into the palm of his hand. the intimate gesture caused Luffy’s cheeks to burn a bright red, a hopeful smile forming across his lips. 

“took you long enough,” you teased, redirecting his hands to your waist as you draped yours around his neck. “i’ve loved you for a long time, ya know? i was just waiting to see if you’d ever come around, dumbass.”

Luffy could no longer contain his excitement, hoisting you up by your waist and spinning you around in the air. your playful squeals were quickly silenced as he brought your lips to yours, drinking you in with every touch and taste.  

many people made the assumption that Luffy was born under a lucky star, attributing his success to destiny and fate rather than the determination and strength he put forth. that claim had always pissed him off as it made him feel like he was cheating the system entirely. however, it wasn’t until he held you in this moment that he finally understood what they had meant. 

i could get used to this.

teehee i’ve been wanting to write for luffy for sooooo long but never knew what to write about. then this idea came to me like an epiphany and im so glad it did!

[theballadofharkness]

Housewarming

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

Summary: At your housewarming party, Agatha becomes overtaken with jealousy when she overhears Jen and Alice talking about how they wished it was them welcoming you into their home, not her.

Word Count: 2.3K

The cottage was buzzing with activity. Boxes were stacked high, the soft hum of chatter filling the air as Jen, Alice, Lilia, and Billy all pitched in to help you move into Agatha’s home. It wasn’t a huge house, but it felt like a world of its own, tucked away from the chaos of the outside world. It was warm, welcoming, and full of the kind of magic that only Agatha Harkness could bring. And now, it was even more of a home with you in it.

Agatha was lounging in the kitchen, a glass of wine in hand, while Billy sat at the counter, animatedly talking about his boyfriend’s latest driving test failure. He was always full of energy, and Agatha let him carry the conversation. For the most part, she was content to listen, her attention drifting from him to you. You were in the living room with Lilia, talking about her newest leggings designs, the quirky side hustle she’d been building. Your laughter rang out in the space, warm and infectious, and Agatha felt something stir in her chest every time she heard it.

It had been a few years now that you and Agatha had been together. You’d been through a lot—dark spells, moments of chaos, and quiet days tucked away in this very house, but now, with you officially moving in, Agatha was feeling a kind of protectiveness she hadn’t quite anticipated. Her feelings for you had always been intense, but living with you was a whole new experience. It made everything feel more real.

Billy’s voice cut through her thoughts. "…and then he showed up at my place holding the steering wheel in his hands, I’m still processing it, but you know how he is!"

Agatha couldn’t help but chuckle. Billy was a ball of energy, and she did enjoy his stories, but she was distracted now. Her eyes flicked back to you. You were sitting on the couch, legs tucked underneath you, looking utterly at ease with Lilia as they shared a laugh over some joke Agatha didn’t catch. You looked so at home here, and that feeling both thrilled her and made her want to keep you close.

Then she heard Jen’s voice from across the room. She had been sitting with Alice, both of them sipping wine and quietly observing the chaos of the move. Jen’s words made Agatha freeze, her grip tightening around her glass.

"She’s absolutely stunning, though, right?" Jen said, her voice light and teasing. "I mean, when I first met her, I thought for sure she was going to be this… intimidating figure, like one of those powerful, unapproachable types. But no, she’s just so sweet and… beautiful."

"Yeah, she’s gorgeous," Alice agreed, the admiration evident in her tone. "And honestly, I don’t get it. How does Agatha, the witch killer, land someone like her? Surely, she’s going to end up walking away one day. I mean, how could she not?”

Jen let out a soft laugh, but there was an edge to it, a kind of flirtation that made Agatha’s blood boil. "When I first met her, I’ll admit it… I was a little jealous. I wanted her all to myself. I could just tell she had that something."

"Same," Alice admitted, her voice light and casual, but Agatha caught the undercurrent of truth in her words. "I was actually thinking about asking for her number, you know? She’s just so easy to be around. But I didn’t. I figured it was too obvious. The way she looks at Agatha, it’s… different."

The words hit Agatha like a slap. She’s mine, she thought, her teeth clenching involuntarily. That sharp, possessive instinct surged inside her, mixing with the jealousy she didn’t like to admit was there. She wasn’t used to feeling like this—this insecure, this vulnerable. It unsettled her.

Her gaze snapped back to you. You were sitting on the couch, still talking to Lilia, completely unaware of the conversation happening behind your back. Agatha’s mind raced with thoughts of you and what Jen and Alice had said. The idea that someone else—anyone else—could want you, that they could see the same softness in you that she did, made her blood run cold. She had to remind herself. You’re hers.

She wasn’t going to stand here listening to this. Not when they were talking about you like that, like they could take you away from her. Agatha stood abruptly, cutting Billy off mid-sentence, her glass of wine abandoned on the counter. Without sparing a second glance at the group, she moved across the room, her steps purposeful, every inch of her body radiating a quiet intensity.

Billy looked up, but Agatha was already gone.

When she reached you, she found you laughing at something Lilia had just said. She paused for a brief moment, just watching you. You were so effortlessly beautiful, so completely hers, and the thought of someone else seeing you the way she did made her chest tighten with that possessive ache.

Without a word, Agatha moved closer, her presence almost overwhelming as she slid onto the couch beside you. She pulled you toward her with a firm but gentle hand on your waist, guiding you into her space. You blinked in surprise, but before you could say anything, her lips were on yours—firm, insistent, but not rough. It was a kiss meant to remind, to claim.

You gasped softly at the sudden intensity, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you kissed her back, meeting her fervour with your own, even as her arms wrapped around you in a hold that felt possessive, protective. Her lips moved against yours, her hands threading through your hair, pulling you impossibly closer.

When she pulled away just enough to speak, her voice was low and thick with emotion. "You’re mine," she whispered, her forehead resting against yours, her breath shaky. "Don’t forget that."

You were breathless, but you didn’t mind. There was something intoxicating about the way she kissed you, something raw, and you could feel the tension inside her—the need to mark you as hers.

"Agatha," you said softly, your hands reaching up to cradle her face, your voice steady despite the rapid beating of your heart. "I’m yours. I always have been. No one else matters."

She sighed, a slow, almost contented exhale, her fingers brushing the side of your face as she gently cupped your cheek. Her eyes were softer now, but the intensity didn’t leave them. "I just had to remind myself," she murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. "It’s just… hard sometimes."

You smiled, your thumb brushing her jaw as you gazed at her, loving the vulnerability she rarely showed. "You don’t need to worry," you said, your voice light but earnest. "I’m not going anywhere, Agatha. I love you." you breathed, your body stilling for a moment as Agatha settled you in, her fingers tracing small patterns along your arm.

"Agatha?" you asked, a soft question in your voice, though you didn’t pull away. You had learned by now that Agatha’s moods could shift quickly, but you knew it wasn’t ever about you. It was always a storm within her that needed quieting.”Are you okay?”

She leaned down, her lips brushing lightly against your ear as she spoke, her voice low but filled with affection. "I just needed to remind myself that you're here. You're mine."

Your breath caught in your throat, the sweetness of her words filling you with warmth. Agatha’s possessiveness was rarely explicit, but when it surfaced like this, it felt like a declaration. You turned your head to meet her eyes, soft and sincere.

"I’m yours," you whispered, your fingers reaching up to gently trace her cheek, feeling the subtle tension in her. "I’m not going anywhere, Agatha. My box of stuffed animals in our hallway are here to prove it” you teased.

She exhaled softly, the tension in her shoulders easing a little as she let her head rest against yours, her lips brushing against the side of your face in a tender, almost apologetic kiss.

"I know," she murmured. "I just… sometimes, it feels like I might lose you. Like someone else could…"

"Agatha," you interrupted softly, cupping her face in both your hands, pulling her attention to you fully. "You won’t lose me. Ever."

She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the words settle in, her hands moving to rest on your waist, pulling you a little closer. She didn’t say anything, just held you there in the silence, the warmth of your presence enough to calm the storm inside her.

Lilia, who had been watching the exchange with a raised eyebrow, finally spoke, her voice teasing but kind. "You two really are a sight, you know that? The way Agatha’s got you wrapped around her finger… she’s got the softest heart, when she lets it show."

Agatha rolled her eyes, though there was a hint of affection in the gesture. "Oh, stop. I’m just making sure everyone knows where they stand," she said, her fingers lightly brushing through your hair as if to emphasise her point.

You laughed softly, the sound light and easy, as you leaned in to kiss her gently on the lips. "I know where I stand," you whispered, your lips brushing against hers. "I stand with you."

Agatha’s hand slid down to rest on your lower back, the possessive streak never fully leaving her, but now tempered by the softness of the moment. She kissed you back, just as gently, a quiet promise between you two that no one else needed to hear.

"Good," Agatha said, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes, her voice steady again. "Because you’re mine. And I’m not going to let anyone forget it."

Lilia snorted from across the room, clearly amused by the exchange, but she didn’t press the point any further. Billy, too, had caught wind of the moment and gave Agatha a playful wink.

"Alright, alright, you two. Enough of the lovey-dovey stuff," Billy called out, his grin wide. "Come on, let’s crack open that bottle of wine, yeah?"

Agatha, still holding you close, let out a small, almost imperceptible sigh of relief, though her fingers lingered possessively on your back. "Oh no, I’m not allowing the designated driver to get drunk," she said, her tone still a bit teasing. "You need to get these women home so I can give my girl a real housewarming."

You flushed red, leaning into her embrace, feeling the softness of the moment between you. "Save the bottle, we can have it in bed," you murmured, Agatha’s eyes glinting with desire, her lips curving into a smile. You kissed her again, this time a little slower, a little sweeter. And Agatha, for all her usual fire, melted into you.

“Well,” she announced, her voice unusually chipper but with a sharp edge that made the coven shift uneasily. “This has been lovely, but I’m afraid the party is over. Let’s wrap it up.”

A collective groan rippled through the group, led by Billy and Lilia, who exchanged knowing smirks.

“Come on, Agatha,” Billy teased, folding his arms. “The night’s still young! Surely we can—”

Lilia cut him off with a laugh, nudging his arm. “Oh, don’t bother, Billy. You know why she’s kicking us out.”

Agatha smirked at them, raising a brow. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh.” Lilia gave you a wink. “Sure thing, Agatha.”

The group began gathering their things, murmuring and chuckling amongst themselves as they filed out the door. Agatha kept one arm loosely around your waist, her body language protective, as she nodded polite goodbyes.

Billy paused in the doorway, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “Have fun, you two,” he said, earning a swat on the shoulder from Lilia as she dragged him out.

The last to leave was Jen, lingering near the threshold with her purse slung over her shoulder. Agatha pulled her into a hug, her hands pressing firmly against Jen’s back as she whispered in her ear.

“Listen closely,” Agatha murmured, her voice low and lethal. “If you ever try anything with her—anything at all—you’ll live to regret it. Understand?”

Jen stiffened in the embrace, her eyes darting nervously to you before nodding quickly. “I wasn’t— I wouldn’t,” she stammered.

“Good.” Agatha pulled back, her smile sharp and unyielding. “Have a safe trip home.”

Jen mumbled a hasty goodbye and practically scurried out the door, her nervous energy almost palpable. Agatha closed the door behind her, locking it with a flick of her wrist before turning to you. The room seemed to settle, the heavy atmosphere lifting as Agatha’s shoulders relaxed.

She leaned against the door, crossing her arms with a smug grin. “Well, that takes care of that.”

You laughed softly, walking over to her and wrapping your arms around her waist. “What did you say to Jen?”

“Oh, nothing important,” she said breezily, pulling you closer. Her grin softened into a fond smile as she pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Now, let’s focus on us, babygirl. Tonight’s all about you and me.”

“Upstairs. Now.” She ordered, swatting your ass playfully making you squeal as you ran upstairs, Agatha hot on your tail.

And just like that, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you in the cozy warmth of your home.

A/N: So I’m thinking of making a part 2 to this including some possessive Agatha smut… let me know if that would be something you guys would be interested in 💜

Masterlist

[sundays-sims]

E V E R G R E E N . (early access, patreon)

This month’s set is extra special because it’s a collaboration with my talented friend Baumgarten ♥ She creates stunning content with incredible textures and details, and we thought it would be fun to team up for November. Just like my previous collaborations, we each created our own sets, but you'll notice they complement each other perfectly! Be sure to check out her set on Patreon. Both parts of the collab will be free by December 20th. My evergreen set includes 14 new meshes, including a cozy sofa with pillows and blanket, rustic surfaces & lighting, some cute clutter like baskets, lanterns, rugs & flowers. I’ve created linen-style fabrics in a range of solid colors, along with a variety of rustic floral patterns for added character. I hope you enjoy & happy simming! ♥

↓ details & download link under the cut ↓

D O W N L O A D  L I N K : [X] (patreon, early access)

S E T   D E T A I L S :

sofa – 23 swatches

coffee table – 6 swatches

end table – 6 swatches

floor light – 8 swatches

lantern – 4 swatches

tall vase – 7 swatches

short vase – 7 swatches

flowers – 4 swatches

hydrangea with glass vase – 4 swatches

rug – 15 swatches

pillow – 22 swatches

pillow & blanket – 22 swatches

basket – 4 swatches

folded blankets (for basket) – 14 swatches

**evergreen will be released (free) on December 20th**

[cupidsworstcrime]

Dad!Simon x Afab!Reader - inspo

I was feeling silly :3

The kitchen was quiet, save for the faint hum of the fridge and the gentle clink of Simon’s mug against the counter as he stirred. You were drying your hands, glancing over at him with a raised eyebrow as he casually rummaged through the fridge, his broad shoulders shifting under his t-shirt.

"What are you looking for?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Simon glanced over, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You know, the usual. Some'in' to add to my tea.”

You didn’t expect the next move, the one that made you freeze mid-motion. Simon pulled out a small container from the back of the fridge, the one labeled with a marker: Breast Milk—Do Not Touch.

Your eyes widened as Simon unscrewed the lid with all the casualness of a man grabbing a spoon. He poured the contents into his tea, without a second thought.

“Simon, what the hell—" you started, your voice a mix of shock and disbelief.

He only shot you a glance, unbothered. “It’s good enough for Tommy, it’s good enough for me.”

You blinked, glancing from him to the baby monitor on the counter.

“That's... not how that works.”

“Oh, it works just fine,” Simon drawled, stirring the tea. He sipped it, making a satisfied sound. “Tastes be'er than the shit they put in those little cans, anyway.”

It was the tone of complete comfort, of something he'd done a thousand times before, that sent a shiver down your spine. You didn’t realize just how comfortable he'd gotten with this until the silence was broken by a familiar voice from the hallway.

“Aye, what the hell is going on in here?” Johnny’s voice rang out as he entered the kitchen. He paused mid-step, his eyes wide as he took in the scene—Simon sipping from his mug, your shocked face, and the container of milk on the counter.

Simon gave him a pointed look, one brow raised. "What's the problem, Johnny?"

Johnny stared between Simon and you, his gaze narrowing in on the container. “You’re... drinking... breast milk?”

Simon gave a nonchalant shrug. “Why not? It's fresh. Tommy doesn't mind.”

Johnny's eyes flicked over to you for a brief second, clearly processing the casual way Simon spoke about it. Then, a grin spread across his face, one of those mischievous smirks you knew all too well.

“Hold on," Johnny said slowly, "can I try it too?”

Your jaw dropped. You knew Johnny was always a little... curious about the weird things Simon did, but this?

Simon didn’t hesitate, not even for a second. “Course you can,” he said with a chuckle, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “It’s good, mate.”

You blinked, utterly stunned as Johnny grabbed a mug, and Simon filled it with what was left of the milk. There was a moment of stunned silence as Johnny took a sip, his eyes closing as he savored it.

“Damn,” Johnny muttered, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. “That’s actually... not bad.”

Simon smirked at you, his gaze filled with something mischievous, like he was getting off on the whole thing. He leaned back against the counter, enjoying the chaos unfolding. "Told you."

There was no way you could hide your amusement—or your curiosity.

Johnny, looking entirely too pleased with himself, leaned against the counter next to Simon. “So, this a regular thing? You two got some... weird milk kink?”

Simon met your gaze for a moment, his expression softening just slightly. “It’s not a kink,” he said simply, but there was a flicker in his eyes, something more than casual now. “But I’ve got no problem sharing.”

You raised an eyebrow. “With Johnny, apparently.”

“Yeah,” Simon replied with a shrug, “he’s a good lad. Likes to try new things.”

Johnny, leaning into the conversation, shot you a look. “Not sure I’d mind trying some of that later, if you’re feelin' generous.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how absurd and... oddly natural this all felt, but the way Simon looked at you, a possessive warmth in his gaze, made it clear that there were far more layers to this dynamic than what met the eye.

"You two are fucking insane," you muttered, shaking your head, though you couldn't deny the rush of heat that spread across your chest.

Simon didn't respond right away. Instead, he just shot you a smile, one of those smiles that always made your heart race. “We’re a family. Ain’t that what families do?”

[shaiyasstuff]

unfold | sylus | epilogue

synopsis : Your husband, once a stranger in your marriage has grown to be a loving man who stays by your side like a quiet anchor. What once felt impossible softens into something steady and deeply personal—a love built not on fireworks, but on the quiet comfort of staying. content : arranged marriage au, non-cannon!au, sylus x non-mc, artist!reader, fluff, just married life i guess?

“It’s been almost four months!” you groan, dropping your head into your arms, voice muffled by frustration—and longing.

A familiar laugh crackles through your phone speaker. “It’ll be over before you know it,” Sylus drawls, his tone as casual as ever.

You lift your head just enough to peer at the screen, where his face fills the frame—messy hair, that signature lazy smirk, and eyes that somehow still manage to look like home.

“I miss you,” you murmur, pouting, your voice cracking ever so slightly as your eyes begin to water.

His smirk softens just a little, the corners of his mouth twitching with something gentler. “Just another three months, sweetie,” he says. “And I’ll be there before you can even blink.”

You sigh, a little dramatically. “Fine. But you owe me. For emotional distress.”

That earns a quiet chuckle. “Whatever you want, kitten.”

You finally crack a smile, blinking back the sting in your eyes. Just hearing his voice has a way of grounding you.

You’re in your music studio, hunched over your editing board, headphones askew and one foot tucked under your chair. You’d been in the middle of fine-tuning a new track when his call came in, and you hadn’t hesitated to answer.

It’s been almost four months since his last visit.

And it had only lasted three days.

He hadn’t warned you. Just showed up.

You still remember the way your breath caught when the doorbell rang. You opened it to find him standing there in his dark coat, suitcase at his feet, eyes tired but warm. Mephisto had padded around your legs, mewling up at him like he recognized him too.

“I only have three days,” he’d said with that crooked smirk. “Make them count.”

You had pulled him into a hug before he could say anything else.

The days passed in a quiet blur.

You stayed in—no grand plans, no flashy outings. Just time.

He’d sprawled across your couch, catching up on work, grumbling about investors while you listened with quiet amusement.

You talked about your upcoming project—a new art museum, something you’d been dreaming of with a group of fellow artists.

He didn’t interrupt.

Just watched you talk, his fingers absently brushing over your sketchbook as you flipped through designs.

One evening, he cooked.

You teased him relentlessly about the over-seasoned pasta and undercooked bread.

He only smirked and told you to be grateful he didn’t burn your kitchen down.

“You’re still going to make me cook when you’re around,” you said.

“Of course,” he replied without missing a beat, “but at least now I can pretend to help.”

You laughed until your stomach hurt.

The night before he left, he surprised you again.

A small, velvet box—held out without a word.

Inside, a delicate diamond necklace, the pendant engraved with your initials in cursive.

You’d stared at it, stunned into silence, until he gently reached around and clasped it behind your neck himself.

“I figured,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from your shoulder, “it was about time I bought you something meaningful.”

“Everything you give me is meaningful.” You smiled—eyes glossy, heart full—while he just looked at you, that familiar smirk still on his lips but his gaze soft, unguarded.

And on the day he left, he kissed your temple and whispered something soft—something you barely heard over the sound of your own heart tightening in your chest.

Now, months later, despite the distance, the bond between you has only deepened.

The texts, the nightly calls, the little packages he sends when he knows you’re working too hard—it’s not just routine.

It’s presence.

It’s him, still finding a way to be part of your days even when he’s half a world away.

“Say,” you begin, lifting your phone as you walk out of the studio, “you’re really lounging around today. Not much going on over there?”

The camera shifts, showing Sylus reclining on his couch, one arm behind his head, the other holding his phone lazily. His expression is relaxed, almost smug.

“Well,” he drawls, “my assistant just informed me that all meetings are pushed back due to a storm. So…” He flashes a half-smile. “I’m free to call you for the next two days.”

You hum in response, setting your phone on the kitchen counter and opening the fridge. “That’s great,” you reply lightly, grabbing a bottle of water. “You get to witness me becoming best friends with Mephisto.”

Right on cue, a soft mewl echoes from somewhere nearby. The little black cat pads into view, red eyes gleaming with curiosity as he hops onto a nearby stool.

Sylus chuckles. “That cat is going to be my undoing.”

You glance at the screen over your shoulder, amusement tugging at your lips. “Maybe don’t be so jealous of a kitten.”

He scoffs. “He gets more cuddles than I do.”

You roll your eyes. “You live in Madrid.”

“Still,” he mutters. “The betrayal.”

You laugh as you twist open the water bottle and take a sip.

The quiet domesticity of it all—the banter, the warmth, the soft hum of your home—settles in your chest like a weight you didn’t know you’d been craving.

Then, a moment later, his tone shifts slightly.

“Oh, by the way,” he says. “Mother called.”

You glance at the phone. “Oh?”

“She wants you to visit,” he adds casually, but his eyes flick to yours on the screen. “Says it’s been too long.”

You blink. “Me? Alone?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Yeah? I can’t exactly fly back right now. Not with the storm.”

You stare at him for a beat, water bottle paused halfway to your lips. “You know your family’s estate is terrifying, right? It’s like walking into a palace haunted by elegance.”

He grins. “You’ll be fine. Mother likes you.”

“That makes one of us.”

Sylus laughs again, but the look he gives you is gentler than before. “She just wants to see you. Talk. Probably show off your last exhibition photos to her garden club or whatever it is she does.”

You groan. “I swear if your father so much as raises an eyebrow at me—”

“I’ll call you,” Sylus says smoothly. “Every second. Every hour. I’ll be your lifeline.”

You glance at him again.

And despite your complaints, despite the nerves curling in your stomach… a part of you is already considering it.

Because this—whatever this is—feels real now.

Storm or not, Madrid or not… he’s still right there.

And maybe that’s enough.

“Fine,” you sigh, though a small smile betrays you. “I guess I’ll pick up a few gifts before heading there. Wouldn’t want to show up empty-handed and risk offending the queen of elegance.”

Sylus chuckles. “She’ll pretend not to expect it, but she’ll be delighted.”

You roll your eyes, moving around the kitchen as you speak. “It’s not generosity. It’s a tactical bribe. Just in case your father decides to interrogate me again.”

“Oh, he definitely will,” he says casually. “But you’ll charm him. You always do.”

You glance at your phone and find him reclining back on his couch, his expression relaxed, gaze soft.

There’s something steadying about the way he’s looking at you—like despite the distance, you’re still here together.

“I’ll arrange the jet to bring you,” he adds, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.

You blink, a little taken aback. “Of course you will.”

“Only the best,” he murmurs, “for my favorite person currently being emotionally blackmailed into visiting my family.”

You snort. “How generous of you.”

He grins, but then his voice dips just a little. “I wish I could come with you.”

The softness in his tone is unexpected—quiet, real.

You glance at the screen again, heart giving a small twist. “I know. But… it’s okay. I’ll survive.”

“Take Mephisto,” he says suddenly, like it just occurred to him. “He’ll protect you from ancestral ghost paintings and stares that last too long.”

You glance down at the kitten curled near your feet, fast asleep, clearly not up for the job.

“I think you overestimate his courage,” you murmur with a smile.

“Well then, I’ll just have to call you every night to make sure you’re still alive.”

You shake your head, but your chest feels a little lighter. “You better.”

There’s a pause, gentle and full, before he adds quietly, “Safe travels, sweetie.”

You nod, voice low. “I’ll let you know when I land.”

He gives you one final look—fond, almost reluctant. “I’ll be waiting.”

And even though you’re the one going away this time, somehow, you feel like you’re still being held.

The jet door opened with a soft hiss, revealing a muted sky dusted in silver clouds. The kind of weather that felt like it belonged to old family homes and quiet memories.

You stepped onto the stairs slowly, the chill brushing against your coat as your heels clicked lightly down each step. The estate came into view beyond the tarmac—grand, familiar, and still somehow a little distant.

A small, uncertain mewl came from the carrier in your hand.

You glanced down.

Mephisto’s red eyes peered up at you through the mesh, wide and wary. His tiny body tensed in the unfamiliar space, ears twitching as the wind tousled your coat.

You softened.

“It’s alright, little guy,” you whispered, kneeling slightly to press your fingers gently to the side of the carrier. “New places are hard. But we’ll be okay.”

He let out a quieter sound, still grumpy, but comforted.

By the time you stood again, one of the estate staff had approached—a woman dressed in neat black, posture crisp, face unreadable in that perfectly trained way.

“Good afternoon,” she said with a slight bow. “Mrs. Qin has arranged everything. May I?”

You hesitated, glancing down at Mephisto again. He let out a soft growl that almost sounded like protest.

“I’ll be right behind him,” you said, your voice gentler now. You passed the carrier to her carefully, fingers brushing the handle for a second longer than necessary.

She gave a small nod and turned toward the sleek black car waiting nearby, Mephisto quietly peering out the window of his temporary prison as he was carried away.

You stood for a moment on the tarmac, your hand drifting instinctively to the base of your neck where the necklace rested, cool and solid against your skin. Your initials were etched into the pendant—a weight you hadn’t expected to miss as much as you had.

The wind picked up slightly, brushing through your hair as your gaze drifted toward the winding road ahead.

You sighed.

Then followed.

—•

The car moved smoothly down the winding road, the estate drawing closer with every turn. The trees lining the path stood tall and still, their branches swaying ever so slightly in the breeze, like they were watching you pass.

Mephisto had finally settled in his carrier beside you, his tiny body curled into a wary little ball. His breathing was soft and even now, lulled by the motion of the car.

You stared out the window for a while, one hand resting lightly on the carrier, the other hovering over your phone.

And then—almost without thinking—you tapped his name.

The call rang once. Twice.

Then connected.

“Well,” Sylus said, his voice smooth and a little smug, “you’re alive. That’s promising.”

You exhaled, the tension in your shoulders softening instantly. “Barely,” you murmured. “Your estate still feels like it could swallow a person whole.”

His low chuckle rumbled through the speaker. “It does have that effect.”

You smiled faintly, your fingers absentmindedly stroking the edge of Mephisto’s carrier. “He finally stopped mewling,” you said softly. “But I think he hates your family already.”

“He has good instincts.”

That made you laugh under your breath.

There was a small pause.

“You nervous?” he asked, voice quieter now.

You hesitated. “A little.”

Another beat passed before he spoke again, gentler this time. “You’ll be fine. Mother already adores you. Probably more than she likes me.”

“She stares at me like she’s cataloging my entire soul.”

“She probably is,” he admitted with amusement. “But if it makes you feel any better, she’s done that to everyone since birth.”

You leaned your head against the window, watching the iron gates grow larger in the distance. “I wish you were here.”

A quiet inhale. “I know.”

Your eyes flicked to the iron gates as they swung open before the car. “The last time I was here, we had dinner. Remember?”

There was a pause on the other end. Then, “Of course I do.”

You could still see it—the long dining table, his mother’s knowing smiles, his father’s unreadable glances, the tension of formality stitched into every fork and glass.

But you also remembered Sylus nudging your knee under the table, brushing his thumb across your hand without a word. The unspoken truce forming between you.

It had been the beginning of something. Quiet. Unassuming.

But real.

“I don’t think I realized back then how different you were with them,” you murmured.

“Different?”

You nodded. “You always feel like a storm when you’re near me. But with them, you were… composed. Guarded.”

He was silent for a moment.

“They don’t get to see all of me,” he said finally. “Not like you do.”

Your heart fluttered at that. Subtle, but undeniable.

“I wish you were here,” you whispered.

“I know,” he replied. And for once, there was no smirk in his voice.

Just softness. Honesty.

You pressed the phone a little closer to your ear, as the car rolled to a stop beneath the grand stone archway.

“I’ll call tonight,” he added, quieter now. “When things settle. Just… let me know how she is.”

“I will,” you promised.

You lingered a moment longer, phone still warm in your hand.

Then the driver stepped out, and the door opened.

The wind swept against your coat, and the estate stretched out before you—familiar, imposing, and not nearly as intimidating as it used to be.

Because this time, you weren’t walking into it alone.

Not really.

—•

You’d just finished unpacking when the knock came.

The room they’d given you—Sylus’s old bedroom—still held traces of the boy he must have been. Tall bookshelves lined with outdated science manuals and worn novels.

A collection of antique model ships, perfectly preserved behind glass. A fencing trophy perched proudly on the windowsill.

It was strange, being surrounded by versions of him you’d never known, and yet… oddly comforting.

You paused at his desk, fingers brushing over a faded photograph half-tucked into a frame—he couldn’t have been more than fifteen, all sharp edges and guarded eyes, standing beside his mother in that very garden.

The knock came again, gentle but expectant.

“Mrs. Qin is waiting for you in the garden,” the attendant said politely.

You followed them down the long, polished hallway, passing tall windows that poured golden light onto the marble.

The estate was as grand as ever, but this time, it didn’t feel as cold.

Not with memories trailing behind you and Mephisto snoozing safely in the corner of Sylus’s room.

The garden looked just like the photo—elegant and wild in all the right ways.

Wisteria hung in soft lavender blooms above a marble table nestled beneath a trellis, sunlight filtering through the leaves.

She stood when she saw you.

“Sylus didn’t tell me he married someone who could disappear for months at a time,” she teased gently, though her smile was wide and real as she opened her arms.

You hesitated only a beat before stepping into the hug, your own smile tugging at your lips. “Apologies. I got lost in the studio.”

“Then it must’ve been worth it,” she said warmly, and you could tell she meant it.

She motioned for you to sit, her hands graceful as she poured the tea.

The table was already set with delicate pastries and fresh fruit, the scent of roses heavy in the spring air.

“So,” she said, reclining slightly with her teacup in hand, “tell me everything. I’ve seen some of your recent pieces. That last gallery installation in Paris—it was breathtaking.”

You blinked, surprised. “You saw that?”

She lifted a brow. “Darling, I have eyes. And a very efficient art advisor.”

That made you laugh, a soft and genuine sound.

“Things are going well. I’ve been working with a few friends to start a new collaborative space. It’s more intimate. More emotional. I think I’m finally learning to let people see the work behind the polish.”

She smiled as if pleased with your answer.

“Art and honesty have always gone hand in hand. It just takes most people a lifetime to figure it out.”

There was a comfortable silence as you sipped your tea, the breeze playing through the vines overhead.

Then she leaned in slightly, a glint of mischief in her eyes.

“You know, Sylus once tried to sneak out through that hedge over there—swore he could scale the side wall with a rope he’d braided out of his school ties.”

You blinked. “Please tell me he didn’t succeed.”

“Oh, he succeeded,” she said, laughing. “And landed straight in a thorn bush. Took five stitches and refused to admit he cried.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “That… actually tracks.”

“I kept the ties. They’re in one of those drawers in his old room. I thought about turning them into a ridiculous quilt.”

You both laughed, the kind that made your chest feel light.

It was easy, sitting there with her—like sharing something sacred. Not just stories, but pieces of Sylus you wouldn’t have found on your own.

And somehow, that made this place feel a little less intimidating.

A little more like something that might, someday, feel like home.

The laughter faded, but the warmth remained. You leaned back in your chair, the delicate porcelain teacup cradled between your hands, the floral scent of the garden settling gently into your lungs. Somewhere nearby, a fountain burbled softly, blending into the sound of leaves shifting in the breeze.

She smiled over the rim of her cup, her eyes thoughtful now. “It’s good to hear you laugh,” she said. “I was worried, you know.”

You looked up at her. “Worried?”

She nodded slowly. “When you two first married… well, Sylus always had a way of keeping people at arm’s length. Even me. I wasn’t sure if he’d ever let someone in.”

Your fingers tightened slightly around the cup.

She noticed.

“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” she said gently. “I just… I’ve never seen him soften for anyone before. Not until you.”

You looked down at the steam curling up from your tea. “It wasn’t easy at first.”

“No, I don’t imagine it was,” she said with a light, knowing smile. “He was always so composed as a boy—brilliant, distant, a bit too sharp for his own good. But underneath all that… he’s softer than he wants the world to believe.”

You met her gaze again, caught off guard by how much she seemed to know.

“I think,” you said slowly, “he’s starting to let me see that part of him.”

She reached across the table and placed her hand lightly over yours. “And I think he’s glad you do.”

You didn’t speak for a moment. Just breathed in the quiet of the garden. The peace of it.

“Has he ever brought anyone else home?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

She laughed softly, almost fondly. “No, dear. Only you.”

You blinked, heart giving a small, startled flutter.

“He always told me marriage was transactional,” she went on. “A matter of logic. Strategy. But then he married you, and now he sends me photos of your paintings and videos of that little cat as if he doesn’t realize what he’s doing.”

You smiled despite yourself.

“I think he loves you,” she said gently. “Not that he’d ever say it in so many words.”

You swallowed, eyes stinging a little more than you’d like to admit.

“I don’t need him to say it,” you whispered.

“No,” she said softly. “But one day, he will.”

The breeze picked up, stirring the wisteria. You sat there for a long moment, just you and her and the ghosts of the boy he used to be.

And for the first time, this house didn’t feel like something to endure.

It felt like something to return to.

Dinner arrived sooner than you would’ve liked.

The sun had dipped low behind the estate walls, casting long shadows across the stone floors as you were led back inside, through gilded halls and hushed corridors.

The dining room was just as you remembered—long table, flickering candlelight, polished silverware gleaming like a warning.

You inhaled slowly as you stepped in.

And there he was.

Your father-in-law stood as you entered, offering a polite nod, not a smile. He always carried himself like a figure carved from granite—stern, unreadable, with eyes that missed nothing.

The kind of man who didn’t need to raise his voice to make you feel small.

You offered a quiet greeting, took your seat.

Right beside him.

Just as you’d dreaded.

Across the table, Sylus’s mother gave you a warm smile, as if sensing your tension and silently assuring you.

At first, it wasn’t so bad.

The food was beautifully prepared, the conversation polite. You answered questions about your recent projects, about the studio and the museum plans.

His mother asked with genuine interest, while his father listened with that usual air of cold curiosity.

Then, halfway through the main course, came the comment.

“Well,” his father said mildly, eyes not quite meeting yours, “at least Sylus had the sense to marry someone with some practical ambition. Not all artists can claim that.”

The words were smooth. Polished.

But they cut just the same.

You blinked, fork paused halfway to your mouth, unsure if you’d imagined the sharpness under his tone. His expression remained perfectly neutral, as if he’d just complimented the weather.

You swallowed back a thousand replies, each one more defensive than the last.

Instead, you reached for your phone beneath the table and typed quickly.

Your father is charming as always.

Remind me why I agreed to this again?

You hit send and placed the phone on your lap, trying to keep your smile in place.

Across the table, his mother’s brow creased slightly—as if she, too, heard the edge in her husband’s words but had long since learned to smooth over the damage.

A second later, your phone buzzed quietly.

Do I need to FaceTime into dinner and cause a scene?

You nearly laughed.

You bit your lip to keep it in, glancing down at the screen.

Please do. Dramatically, with wine.

And shirtless, if you really want to upset him.

Another buzz.

Tempting. But I’d rather save that for your return.

Hang in there, sweetie. You’ve got this.

Your shoulders relaxed just a fraction, the tension bleeding out as you let out a silent breath.

You typed one more message.

I miss you.

And I’m stealing one of your old books from the shelf before I leave.

The reply came quick, like he’d been waiting for it.

You can steal whatever you want.

You’ve already stolen my heart.

You smiled—before you could stop yourself.

A little too fondly. A little too real.

Your fingers lingered on your phone, the screen dimming with Sylus’s last message still fresh in your mind. The warmth in your chest hadn’t faded. It felt like he was right there.

But the moment didn’t go unnoticed.

A quiet cough came from beside you. Sharp. Intentional.

You glanced up and met your father-in-law’s gaze. His eyes were narrowed, unreadable, but the message was clear.

That smile had crossed some invisible line.

He shifted in his seat, posture straightening with the kind of presence that didn’t need to raise its voice to be felt. You knew that look. It was the same one you’d seen across many long, silent dinners.

A warning in polished restraint.

He opened his mouth—likely to comment, to correct.

But before a single word could land, his wife reached across the table and placed her hand gently over his.

“Not now,” she said. Her voice was calm, unwavering.

She didn’t even look at him.

The silence that followed was heavier than any argument.

His mouth closed, jaw tightening. He picked up his glass instead, taking a slow sip as if nothing had happened.

You looked down again, lips pressed together, unsure whether to feel relieved or guilty. Maybe a little of both.

When you glanced up, she was already looking at you. That quiet, knowing smile on her face again.

She didn’t have to say anything. You understood what it meant.

You throw back a small, grateful smile before looking down at your plate, fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of the tablecloth.

The food lost its taste somewhere between silence and formality, each course arriving with delicate precision, untouched more than it was eaten.

You nodded politely when spoken to, offered brief replies, but your mind drifted—back to the message still waiting on your phone, to the man who somehow made you feel steadier from miles away.

Dinner went on, as it always did in this house—measured, proper, and just slightly too quiet.

—•

“You should’ve seen your father’s face,” you groaned into your pillow, voice muffled as your phone sat propped up on the nightstand.

From the screen, Sylus offered you an apologetic smile, one corner of his mouth tilted, “I knew it would be bad…but not that bad.”

After dinner, you hadn’t lingered.

The moment dessert had been cleared, you’d stood with a polite excuse and slipped away.

His mother had met you in the hallway, offering a kind smile and a gentle pat on the shoulder—something wordlessly saying, you did well. It’s alright now.

Now, tucked into the oversized guest bed in his old room, you buried your face deeper into the pillow, letting out another muffled groan.

“At least your mother was gracious,” you muttered. “She always is.”

Sylus huffed softly. “She likes you.”

“Too bad your father looks at me like I personally offended his legacy.”

He didn’t argue.

You peeked up from your pillow and caught his expression again.

Still watching you.

Still trying to make this feel easier than it was.

“How am I gonna survive another four days here…” you sighed, flopping onto your back with dramatic flair.

There was a pause.

“Want me to call every night?” he offered.

You turned your head toward the screen, lips pulling into a reluctant smile. “You better.”

His eyes softened.

“I will.”

And somehow, the room didn’t feel quite so cold anymore.

You yawned, the exhaustion settling into your bones as your eyes began to flutter shut.

From the nightstand, Sylus’s voice came through the screen, quiet and warm.

“Go to sleep,” he murmured. “I’ll stay with you for a while.”

You turned your head slightly on the pillow, catching a blurry glimpse of him through the dim glow.

He looked relaxed, but his gaze stayed on you—steadfast, unblinking.

“You don’t have to,” you whispered, words slurred with sleep.

“I know,” he replied. “But I want to.”

A small, sleepy smile tugged at your lips as your eyes finally closed. The silence between you was soft and full, the kind that didn’t need filling.

You let go, knowing he was still there.

Watching. Listening.

Staying.

Warmth spread through your chest at the quiet realisation—how far things had come, how much had changed.

You hadn’t expected this.

Not the comfort. Not the safety.

And certainly not the ever-growing affection blooming gently in your heart for the man who once felt like a stranger in your home.

Your once-so-distant husband.

Now the one who stayed on the line just to watch you fall asleep.

The next morning, your phone was dead.

You plugged it in right away, watching the screen flicker back to life with a low hum.

The first thing you saw was his message.

You’re very adorable when you sleep.

A smile pulled at your lips—soft, sleepy, silly.

You typed back,

Aren’t you glad you married me?

Setting the phone down, you headed toward the bathroom.

Not long after you disappeared down the hall,

your screen lit up again.

Ever the luckiest man.

—•

Sunlight spilled through the tall windows, stretching in soft golden stripes across the hallway as you made your way past.

Your pace slowed as you reached the staircase, the quiet of the estate broken only by the faint click of your heels against the marble.

At the bottom, a member of the staff stood waiting, hands folded neatly in front of her.

“This way, please,” she said with a courteous nod. “Mrs. Qin has requested your presence on the terrace.”

You paused mid-step, a flicker of nerves rising in your chest.

“Did she mention why?”

The staff member gave a gentle smile.

“She did not. But I do know Mr. Qin is there as well.”

You swallowed.

Of course he was.

You gave a quiet nod and followed her through the winding halls of the manor, the soft echo of footsteps filling the stillness between you.

After a moment, you glanced her way, attempting to lighten the air.

“Is Mr. Qin always so… brooding?”

The staff—an older woman, kind-eyed and composed—let out a faint, knowing chuckle.

“Well,” she said, “he wasn’t always that way.”

Her smile deepened just a little.

“Otherwise, he wouldn’t have married the Mrs.”

You blinked, surprised by the softness in her tone.

And for a moment, the silence that followed felt less heavy.

You pressed on, curiosity outweighing caution.

Something about the way she said it lingered in your mind.

“So… what was he like before?” you asked gently, keeping pace beside her.

The woman hummed, as if dusting off old memories.

“Quiet, yes. But not cold. He was sharp, impatient at times, but he had warmth. Especially around her.”

You tilted your head. “Mrs. Qin?”

She smiled again, a touch more wistful now.

“He was different with her. Softer. Not many people saw it, but we did. That boy followed her like she hung the moon. Still does, in his own way.”

You looked ahead, heart tugging unexpectedly.

Somehow, that sounded painfully familiar.

You fell silent for a moment, her words settling deeper than you expected.

Softer. Not many people saw it.

There was something about the way she said it—like she was letting you in on a secret no one dared speak aloud.

You glanced at her again. “He doesn’t seem like someone who wears his heart so easily.”

The woman gave a quiet chuckle, fond and laced with something like sympathy.

“No, he never has. But it’s not about how loudly he shows it. It’s in the way he stays. Listens. Remembers.”

You looked down, your hands brushing along the hem of your sleeve as you walked.

That did sound familiar.

As you neared the terrace doors, she slowed beside you, her voice softer now.

“This house has a way of swallowing people,” she said. “But he’s never brought anyone here without reason. If you’re here, you matter more than you think.”

You looked at her, unsure what to say.

Instead, you nodded. “Thank you.”

She returned the nod, then stepped aside and opened the door for you.

Sunlight poured through the glass, bathing the terrace in gold.

And there he was.

Mr. Qin, your father-in-law.

Standing at the edge, his back to you, hands tucked behind him in quiet thought.

Waiting.

Mrs. Qin approached with a bright smile, her arms opening to gently guide you forward onto the terrace.

“I’m glad you’re up,” she said kindly, her voice warm with quiet delight.

Just beyond her, Mr. Qin turned at the sound of your footsteps. He met your gaze with a curt nod—formal, restrained, the same unreadable expression he always wore.

You returned the gesture with a small, polite dip of your head, saying nothing.

Then your eyes drifted past him.

There, near the far edge of the terrace, stood an easel.

A fresh canvas was perched in place, untouched and glowing beneath the soft morning sun.

Beside it, a wooden tray held brushes, neatly arranged, and several familiar tubes of paint you recognized by name.

Your steps slowed.

It was quiet. Simple. But unmistakably intentional.

Your fingers curled slightly at your side, drawn to the invitation it offered without words.

It wasn’t just a setup.

It was a gesture. A space made for you.

Mrs. Qin followed your gaze and let out a soft chuckle, her eyes crinkling with amusement.

“He wanted to see you in action,” she said, voice light, teasing. “Your father-in-law, that is.”

You blinked, turning slightly toward her.

She smiled knowingly. “He’d never admit it, of course. But he’s curious. Wanted to understand what you do—what Sylus admires so much.”

You glanced back at the easel, a flutter of nerves stirring in your chest.

Mr. Qin said nothing, standing a few steps away with his hands clasped behind his back, gaze fixed on the horizon as if he hadn’t heard a word.

But somehow, that made the gesture feel even more deliberate.

Even more sincere.

“Ah…”

The sound slipped out before you could stop it, quiet and uncertain.

You glanced at the canvas again, then back toward Mr. Qin—stoic as ever, his expression unreadable.

He hadn’t moved, hadn’t looked your way, but the meaning lingered in the space between you.

It wasn’t just curiosity.

It was effort.

And coming from him, that meant something.

You turned back to Mrs. Qin, offering a small, sheepish smile.

“I suppose I’d better make it worth his time, then.”

She grinned, clearly pleased. “I think you already have.”

You settled in front of the easel, the wooden chair cool beneath you as you adjusted your posture and took in the view.

It was stunning. The kind of beauty that didn’t ask to be captured—only waited patiently until someone finally tried.

Golden sunlight filtered through the terrace arches, spilling across the stone floor and out toward the gardens below.

Trees swayed gently in the breeze, their leaves catching the light like silk. The horizon stretched in soft pastels, blurring where the sky met distant hills.

Something inside you stirred.

Familiar. Restless. Inspired.

Your fingers moved instinctively, reaching for a brush, then hovering over the palette as color choices began to form without words.

You hadn’t planned to paint today.

But the moment asked for it.

And you answered.

They watched quietly from behind.

Neither said a word.

You could sense them there—Mr. Qin’s calm, unreadable presence, and Mrs. Qin’s quiet, reassuring stillness.

They didn’t interrupt.

They didn’t need to.

There was something unspoken in the way they stood, as if they knew this wasn’t just painting to you.

It was expression. Memory.

A piece of yourself offered without words.

So they simply watched, letting you exist in that quiet space between thought and motion, between the rise of color and the sweep of a brush.

And you painted, unhurried, letting the silence hold you.

You finished not long after, laying the paintbrush and palette gently on the small table beside you.

The breeze had quieted, the morning sun now high enough to warm your shoulders.

Turning slightly in your seat, you glanced back at them—at the stillness in their posture, the quiet attention that hadn’t wavered.

A small smile tugged at your lips.

“You finally got to see me in action,” you said, the words light and playful, directed at Mrs. Qin.

She let out a soft, delighted laugh. “I did. And it was even more mesmerizing than I imagined.”

Beside her, Mr. Qin gave a small nod.

And though his expression remained as composed as ever, you didn’t miss the faint shift in his gaze.

It was approval—unspoken, but there.

You held his gaze for a moment longer, surprised by how much that small nod meant.

He didn’t offer compliments. He didn’t need to.

But in his stillness, in the way he remained there without turning away, something had shifted.

Mrs. Qin stepped closer, eyes drifting to the canvas behind you. “May I?”

You nodded, rising from your seat as she approached the painting. She studied it quietly, fingers folded loosely in front of her.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, voice soft with sincerity. “You captured more than just the view.”

You stood beside her, brushing a faint streak of paint from your wrist. “Sometimes it’s not about what I see. It’s about what I feel when I’m seeing it.”

She looked at you then, something knowing in her eyes. “That’s why he brought you here.”

You blinked. “Sylus?”

She smiled. “No. My husband.”

Behind you, Mr. Qin remained by the terrace rail, his eyes turned toward the horizon—but he was listening.

“I think he wanted to understand,” Mrs. Qin continued. “To see for himself what Sylus saw in you.”

Your breath caught just slightly.

“And now?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

Mrs. Qin gave the faintest smile, folding her arms loosely. “Now, I think he sees it.”

You didn’t speak.

You just stood there, the scent of paint and garden roses drifting around you, the canvas behind you still drying in the sun.

And for once, the silence didn’t feel like a wall.

It felt like a beginning.

Mrs. Qin stepped back, giving the painting one final glance before turning to you with that same gentle warmth. “Would you mind leaving it here? I think the terrace suits it.”

You blinked, surprised by the request, but nodded. “Of course.”

She touched your arm lightly, then turned to join her husband, leaving you by the easel.

Mr. Qin didn’t say a word, but as she reached his side, he leaned in, murmuring something only she could hear.

She smiled faintly, gave the smallest nod, and they began to walk back toward the house together.

You watched them go, the way their steps fell in quiet rhythm, how she glanced up at him as if they’d been having the same silent conversation for years.

You wondered if you and Sylus would look like that someday. If you already did, in some unspoken way.

The breeze moved again, catching your hair, your sleeve, the edge of the drying canvas.

You turned back to the painting, eyes scanning the strokes you’d made. There was something different in it. Lighter. Unfiltered. You’d given it more than just color.

And somehow, you felt like the house had given something back.

Acceptance, maybe. Or something close.

You stepped away from the easel, gaze soft as you looked out over the garden one more time, then turned and followed the path back inside.

The terrace, for the first time, felt like yours too.

—•

“I think… your father might be warming up to me.”

You said it gently, unsure, your eyes flicking toward Sylus on the screen as you tucked your knees closer to your chest.

He didn’t speak at first. Just looked at you.

You couldn’t quite read his expression—it was somewhere between thoughtful and amused.

Then, slowly, a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Miracles do happen,” he said, tone light but not unkind.

You let out a soft breath, half a laugh. “He didn’t say much… but he stayed. Watched.”

Sylus tilted his head, watching you a little more closely now. “That’s more than most get.”

You looked down at your fingers, fidgeting slightly. “It felt like… I don’t know. Like he saw me, finally. Not just as someone you married.”

His voice dropped, quieter now. “He did.”

You looked up at him, caught off guard by how certain he sounded.

“He sees it,” Sylus said. “What you’re capable of. Who you are.”

You blinked, heart catching just a little.

“You think so?”

He didn’t smirk this time.

He just nodded. “I know so.”

You raised a brow, a grin tugging at your lips. “Wow. That’s almost a compliment. From both of you.”

Sylus leaned back, his expression lazy as ever. “Don’t get used to it. I have a reputation to uphold.”

You snorted. “Of being emotionally repressed?”

He narrowed his eyes, mock offended. “Of being mysterious and refined, actually. But thanks.”

You laughed, stretching out across the bed. “Sure, let’s go with that. Mysterious. Right. That’s definitely what people say after watching you burn toast twice in one morning.”

“That was experimental cooking,” he shot back. “And the toaster was clearly defective.”

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Just admit it. You’re lucky I didn’t run for the hills after that breakfast.”

Sylus smirked. “Lucky, yes. But I’m also charming. You stayed for the charm.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself. “No, I stayed because of Mephisto. You’re just a bonus.”

He pressed a hand to his chest in mock betrayal. “That cat has replaced me in my marriage.”

You shrugged, biting back a grin. “Don’t worry. You’re still in the top three.”

He huffed, but his smile lingered. “You’ll regret that when I steal Mephisto and disappear into the Spanish countryside.”

“Joke’s on you,” you said sweetly. “He’d come right back for the snacks.”

Sylus leaned in a little closer to the camera, his voice dropping just slightly. “And you?”

You blinked, caught off guard for just a second.

Then you smiled, soft and certain. “Always.”

His smirk lingered for a second longer before it softened into something more subtle.

Something only you ever got to see.

“Yeah,” he said, voice lower now. “Me too.”

You could hear the faint hum of the city behind him, but he was still—focused entirely on you.

“I wish you were here,” you said, barely above a whisper.

A pause.

Then that familiar glint flickered in his eyes. “If I were there, you wouldn’t get any sleep.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself. “Sylus.”

His grin eased, eyes never leaving yours. “I mean it. I’d rather be there than anywhere else right now.”

That pulled something warm and heavy in your chest.

“I’m glad you called,” you murmured.

He leaned back slightly, gaze relaxed. “Of course I called. You think I’m letting you survive that house without backup?”

You laughed quietly, sinking deeper into the pillows.

“I’ll call again tomorrow,” he added, casually—like it was a given.

Like he didn’t even need to promise it.

“Good,” you said, letting your eyes slip shut. “You’re kind of the only thing keeping me sane.”

“I know,” he said. “Rest well, sweetie.”

You didn’t reply. You didn’t need to.

You just smiled, closing your eyes.

And as your breathing slowed, you heard him exhale, low and steady.

Still there.

Still yours.

The days passed in a quiet blur—early mornings on the terrace, soft conversations, brushes dipped in color and silence that no longer felt cold.

And now, it was time to leave.

The car waited near the front steps, bags already packed, Mephisto curled up lazily in his carrier, half-asleep and unimpressed by the movement.

Your in-laws stood just outside the entrance, the breeze gently tugging at Mrs. Qin’s coat, Mr. Qin’s hands folded neatly behind his back.

You stepped forward, wrapping your arms around her in a final hug. She held you just as warmly as before, her touch both graceful and grounding.

When you pulled back, you offered her a small, genuine smile.

“Thanks for having me,” you said softly.

Mrs. Qin’s smile deepened. “You’re always welcome here.”

Beside her, Mr. Qin gave a quiet nod. Not a word spoken, but something in his eyes had changed—less sharp, less guarded.

And somehow, that was enough.

You turned to offer one last smile, your hand already on the car door.

“Thank you again,” you said softly. “Truly.”

You were just about to slide into the seat when a quiet voice stopped you.

“Wait.”

You turned, surprised to see Mr. Qin stepping forward, something deliberate in his movements.

He didn’t say anything right away. Just reached into his coat and pulled out a small, timeworn sketchbook. The edges were slightly frayed, the leather cover aged and softened by years of use.

“This belonged to Sylus,” he said, holding it out to you. “He used to draw in it constantly when he was younger. Never let anyone touch it.”

You looked down at the book in his hand, hesitating for just a second before accepting it carefully.

It was heavier than you expected—not in weight, but in meaning.

“I thought you should have it,” he said simply. “He wouldn’t mind.”

Your fingers brushed the edge of the cover, a quiet awe settling into your chest.

“Thank you,” you said, voice low but steady.

He gave a brief nod, almost a bow, then stepped back beside his wife.

No further words, no grand display.

But as you sat down and closed the car door, the sketchbook resting in your lap, you realized this wasn’t just a goodbye.

It was a quiet welcome.

—•

“You never told me you used to draw,” you said, a teasing lilt in your voice as you flipped another page of the sketchbook resting in your lap.

Sylus’s voice came through the speaker, dry as ever. “Because I’ve seen them.”

You let out a small laugh, glancing at the sketch currently staring back at you—a very abstract attempt at what might’ve once been a horse. Or a dragon. Possibly both.

“These are… something,” you said, trying to hold back your grin. “Bold lines. Strong confusion.”

“I was eleven and angry at perspective,” he deadpanned.

You snorted. “This one looks like it personally wronged you.”

“It probably did.”

You turned another page and found a portrait so dramatically shaded, it looked like the subject lived exclusively under a streetlamp. You tried to keep your expression neutral and failed completely.

“This one feels… intense,” you offered diplomatically.

“Ah yes,” he said. “My tortured soul phase.”

You burst into laughter, curling further into your couch. “I can’t believe you kept this.”

“I didn’t. My mother did. Probably as blackmail.”

“Well, it worked. I’m thoroughly humbled.”

There was a beat of silence, his voice softer now. “And yet, you’re still going through it.”

You smiled to yourself. “Because it’s you. Even the bad sketches.”

“Especially the bad ones,” he chuckles.

You closed the book gently, resting your hand over the worn leather cover.

“It’s good to be home,” you murmured.

“Not for long,” he replied. “You’ll be in Madrid before you know it.”

You smiled, the sound of his voice settling something in you.

“Promise?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Always.”

And just like that, the marriage that once felt impossible—fragile, distant, built more on circumstance than choice—had shifted into something quieter.

Steadier.

Real.

Not overnight. Not with grand declarations.

But with late-night calls.

With paint-stained fingers.

With laughter tucked between silence and the way he always stayed on the line just a little longer than necessary.

You glanced down at your phone, still warm in your hand. His voice had gone quiet for a while now, comfortable in the stillness.

“Say,” you asked, softer than before, almost like a memory brushing against your lips, “how long has it been since you arrived on my doorstep?”

There was a pause—then the faintest sound of a smile in his voice.

“Nine months,” Sylus said. “Two days. Around midnight.”

You blinked, breath catching slightly at the certainty in his tone. “You remember that?”

“I remember everything about that night,” he replied, lower now. “The way you looked at me like I didn’t belong. The way I didn’t know what to say to make you trust me. And the way I wanted to stay anyway.”

You didn’t speak right away. The weight of those words settled gently between you.

“…That’s when it started, didn’t it?”

He let out a quiet breath. “That’s when everything started.”

And somehow, all the time you thought you’d lost—had really been building toward this.

Toward him. Toward home.

You closed the sketchbook gently, fingers brushing over the worn leather cover one last time before setting it down on the coffee table.

A fond smile tugged at your lips, but you masked it with a familiar lilt in your voice.

“Okay, lover boy,” you teased, rising from the couch, “don’t get all emotional on me now.”

From the phone speaker, Sylus let out a quiet scoff, equal parts amused and unamused. “Says the one who cried over a cat video yesterday.”

You paused mid-step, turning toward the phone with mock offense. “It was heartfelt.”

“It was a raccoon hugging a kitten.”

“Exactly. A hug, Sylus.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Go to bed, dramatic woman.”

You grinned, already heading down the hall. “Goodnight, emotionally repressed man.”

“Sweet dreams, kitten.”

And even as you slipped beneath the covers, your heart carried the echo of his voice—calm, constant, and undeniably yours.

You wouldn’t have imagined married life to be like this.

This soft. This steady.

Not when it started with distance and silence, with unsure glances and conversations that felt more like negotiations.

But now, with his voice lingering in your ear, with an old sketchbook resting on your coffee table, and the quiet warmth of your home wrapping around you like a familiar coat.

It felt easy.

Not effortless. But easy, in the way breathing becomes when you stop realizing you’re doing it.

He made space for you.

And somewhere along the way, you made space for him too.

And maybe this was what it meant to grow into love, not by falling.

But by staying.

masterlist

[meowordeath]

A/N: I love Identity V!! especially Eli Clark!! I attempt to make it as gender ambiguous as possible, besides one having the word boob just replace it with pec! i didn’t know a gender neutral term for boob, sorry! :3 btw I'm not sure if someone else has already done this!

Characters | Eli Clark , Ganji Gupta , Naib Subedar and the lovely lady Patricia Dorval

Content warning : fluff , reader with boobs but no specific pronoun, not too inappropriate, jack the ripper And Breaking wheel if those count?

Identity V characters reacting to their s/o clothes getting ripped! :3

Eli Clark

Before the match started Eli got to view your new costume. It looked very ninja like, the clothes were very skin tight. You two chatted while preparing for the match “Remember, just called out and I'll send brooke to your aid, okay?” He whispered to you laying his gloved hand atop yours. “I know, don't worry if I need you I’ll shout”

You smile before pecking him on the cheek. Brooke hoots happily, as Eli gives you one more loving look, before everyone's sight fades.

For first few minutes of the match you had been decoding. Feeling more relaxed as Luca shouted the hunter was on him, making him first kite. Your cipher was a little over half way done, as Luca started kiting toward you. At first you assumed he was just kiting in the area so you didn't bother to get off the cipher.

Your heartbeat started to get more prominent, but you were still very lax, thinking Luca and whoever the hunter was were just getting closer, when a shout rang out through the map. “Beware! Hunter has changed target!” You lifted your head abruptly from your cipher, accidentally messing up a calibration in the process making you shield your face from the explosion.

Soon after you messed it up you felt blades run from your back to your side. You cry out in pain bumping into the cipher as you sprint away, unfortunately the cipher snagged one of the slashes he had made in your shirt. A dark chuckle sounded behind you as you ran.

“This chase is already way more exciting than chasing that decoder,” Jack said licking the blood from his blades. You ran vaulting windows, throwing pallets for distance, you even led him back to Luca. Luca had a flustered look watching you pass him.

Eli knew you were currently kiting and trusted that you’d call out for help, so he didn't want to waste his spectate. “Help me!” Your shout rang out through the map. Eli was quick to send brooke to your aid. Looking through brooke's eyes he was shocked at the condition of your current costume. His face turned a little red.

Jack had only meant to slash your back, but since you messed up the calibration his slash went down your side, slicing open your shirt. It would've been fine with thin slashes, if your crash into the cipher hadn't caused your shirt to snag. It tore and your right boob was pretty much exposed.

You were trying to hold onto some dignity pulling the shreddings of your shirt over to cover it, but vaulting and pulling down pallets. You needed both your hands. Jack definitely had a great view of you each time you pulled down pallets. Eli was quick to find the teams other assist, William, and asking for his help to get The Ripper off you.

William was quick to assist. He stunned Jack allowing you to escape and hide, forcing him switch targets. Eli set brooke to find you, so he could help.

When he did find you, you were crouched behind a pallet, making a pathetic attempt to save your shirt. Eli crouched in front of you, not looking at your chest, instead checking over the wound. “It’s gonna be okay s/o, you can have my trench coat” His voice was slightly flustered, as he shed his coat.

He was left in his white long-sleeve button-up and black tie. You couldn't be more thankful for him wearing his recluse costume. “Thank you, Eli. God, this is pretty embarrassing!” Both your guy's faces have a faint blush, as you button up his trench coat finally covering your exposed flesh.

Eli's nervousness faded as he smiled. Lifting his hand to cup your cheek. “Don't worry, if they say anything, I'll have brooke rose peck out their eyes” he jokes, brooke hoots in agreement.

Ganji gupta

You and Tracy are both hanging out in the manors workshop. She was originally tinkering until you came in, wanting to show off your new costume to her. It had this futuristic theme, and Tracy was quick abandoned her invention to mess with the small gadgets they stuck to you as accessories.

On the front-side of your shorts, you had some sort of tablet with buttons and fun looking controls. It was attached to some belt that had other gadgets, they were all locked to the belt, which was attached to the shorts. Tracy was crouched down messing with them all.

“How mad do you think Miss Nightingale would be if I started taking this stuff apart?” Tracy said with a small grin. You look down and it seems she had already took her screwdriver to a few things. “Well, I guess we will find out” She laughed at your words.

Everything was going fine you were standing as you watch Tracy dismantle each piece of futuristic tech on the belt. Ganji knocked before entering the workshop. He sighed looking at Tracy crouched next to you. “How much longer are you gonna keep my s/o, Reznik?”

Ganji was told this was only gonna be a quick visit to show off the costume. Yet He’d been left waiting out there for at least 20 minutes. “Calm down ‘Gupta’ your s/o came here to show off their costume to me not you!” Tracy taunted, while saying his name is a mocking tone. Ganji scoffed, setting his cricket bat down at the door.

“Who do you think they showed it to first, Reznik.” Ganji sounded like he was subtly bragging, at being the first person to see you in the new costume. Tracy rolled her eyes. “Darn, the screen to this thing just doesn't want to come off!” She said trying to get the screen off, to get the wiring.

Ganji started to walk toward them reaching to pull Tracy off his s/o. “Okay Reznik, I’ve had my fair share of sharing my s/o.” Before He could reach Tracy she had fell back as her force caused your shorts to rip.

Tracy honestly didn't see anything with how fast Ganji was to cover you, He scowled down at Tracy. “I'm sorry...?” She said with a sheepish smile. “Find my s/o something to cover up with Reznik” He said firmly. She was quick to bolt out of the room. “Right! I'll be right back!”

She didn't look back in fear of seeing Ganji's harsh gaze. You could help but rest you forehead against his back laughing. “What are you laughing at? You’re currently in your underwear, if you hadn’t noticed.” He said turning toward you with a slight frown.

“I can’t help but laugh at the silliness of this situation my love. I never expected Tracy to rip my shorts, all so she could get the tablet!” You found this situation pretty funny. Ganjis frown turned into a small smile with your amusement.

“Glad you find this amusing. Though I’d rather be the only one to see my lover without pants on.” His words made your face slightly red. “Okay, perv.” His gaped slightly. “… I’ll remember that the next time your clothes rip. I won’t cover you.”

You smile squeezing his cheeks. “Yes you will, because you love me!” He sighed as you squeezed his face passive-aggressively. “… Yes I will.”

Naib Subedar

You know your lover hates Murro with an burning passion. Mostly because he hates boars, but you thought Murro’s boar was kinda cute.

Unfortunately Murro stayed very far away from you, making it so you barely saw his boar outside of matches.

It was a very nice day at the manor, survivor matches going smoothly, not that you had any matches to participate in today, Naib had about one or tw. With him on the team you didn’t doubt they would win.

In the manor there is an outdoor area, and due to you not having any matches today you want to go walk around in the sun for a bit.

On your way out you were wearing loose fitting loungewear. Not being in a match you didn’t want to put effort into putting on one of your usually costumes.

The sun felt good especially after being inside for most the day, you would take what you can get before Naib decides to ‘lowkey’ glue himself to your side. The outdoor part of the manor was pretty big enough to have a small forest, with a gate surrounding the whole area of course.

In the distance near trees you saw a tail and decided to investigate. Upon getting closer you realized its nust Murro's boar.

“Oh, I wonder why you’re out here by yourself. Is Murro around?” You said crouching down in front of the boar. It kind of just stared at you chewing on grass.

“Right, you’re an animal you can’t talk…” You felt a little awkward as the boar stared you down. “Well… I’m gonna go back that way…?” You stand dusting yourself off. As you stand the boar approaches you. You got back down wanting to pet it.

It did let you pet it for a moment, you got to even rub its stomach. It was fun, until you decided to go back inside and it grabbed ahold of the back of your shirt.

You and the boar had a short staring match. “Hmm, as much as I would love to spend more time with you Murro’s boar i’m sure my boyfriend is done with his match.” You said trying to tug the shirt from its mouth.

The boar refused turning it into a game of tug-a-war. “Let. go!” You huffed out fighting against the animal, you could hear the fabric starting to tear from you two pulling on it.

With one last tug you fell backwards, grunting in pain. It had a good chunk of fabric in its mouth as its trophy. You heard hurried footsteps. looking up you saw Murro. “I’m sorry! I didn't realize my boar had wandered away, forgive me!” He reached out to help you.

Unfortunately Naib had just arrived at the scene to see Murro’s boar with some of your shirt in its mouth, and Murro himself standing over you. In a moment a blade whizzed past, slicing Murro’s cheek causing him to fall on his butt in fear.

Looking behind you, he could see a very angry Naib hauling ass toward you all. In fear he quickly abandoned you. Hopping on his boar he left, running in the opposite direction.

Naib almost ran past you to chase Murro if you hadn’t gotten up quickly to grab the back of his shirt. “Wait, don’t chase after him!” You struggled to hold on to the man.

“I’ll gut him and that boar. How dare he sica damn animal on you.” His voice wasn't a shout but he was definitely furious. He was very strong actually draggjng you as he tried to pursue Murro.

You pull on his ponytail dragging his head back. “Hold your horses, who said anything about him siccing his boar on me?!” You let go of his hair as he stopped for a moment. “What do you mean, his boar was standing over you with some of your clothes in it mouth. How could that not be an attack on you?” He finally turned toward you head tilted slightly in confusion.

Sighing, you lightly pat Naib's cheek. “I wouldn't say it was an attack, I was originally playing with the boar. It only was trying to stop me from walking away, and Murro said he ran over after noticing it was gone.”

Naib’s eyebrows were still furrowed, eyes slightly closed, as of he was trying to see if you were lying for the sake of Murro. “Fine, I won't chase after him, for now.”

You grin pinching your lovers cheek. “Good! Now lets go inside you smell like shit” You say looping your elbow with his to lead him back to the manor. He rolled his eyes. “Whatever dear.”

Patricia Dorval

“Breaking wheel...! That son... sons? Of a bitch!” You say irritated, cursing his name to the sky quietly. He had been chasing you for most of the match before you lovely, kind, sweetheart patricia, took kite.

Inside your head you gushed about your girlfriend as you were trying to remove his spikes from not only your clothing but from your skin, as it had penetrated through the cloth into you.

Pulling them out was a huge pain, It hurt like hell. If only someone could help. You couldn't reach the ones in your back. Your mind drifted to Patricia as you pondered how her kite was going.

“You need help?” A raspy voice spoke out from behind you causing to yell and jump. Quickly turning around your faced wth the sneaky bastard who turned out to be Kreacher.

“Damn it Kreacher, you don't just sneak up on people like that!” You shout at the man hand over your heart. Other one raised as if you were going to hit him.

He back away from your shouts ready to coward out, and run away from your aggression. “Wait! Yes, I need help...” You say embarrassed about having to ask Kreacher of all people, to help you.

He was a little hesitant to come toward you, he had a sketical look toward you as you were just shouting but he did anyways. “Stay still and Ill get them removed” He said hand already painfully pulling one lodged in your back.

You try to hold in your pained shouts, refusing to show that this bothered you in front of Kreacher. They were pretty thin the spikes, but very sharp with tiny barbs that makes sense them hard to get from your skin.

Kreacher doesn't exactly have the gentlest hands while removing these from both your clothes and skin. You couldn't tell if he was trying to hurt you or help you.

“You could slow down damn it! Stop removing them fast you asshole, It hurts!” You hiss pulling away as he pulled another one carelessly out.

“Maybe if you could actually dodge breaking wheel..” You heard him mutter under his breath. “What did you just say!?” You say ticked off. “Nothing!!” He quickly says pulling one out to distract you.

He was pulling out the last one when both your hearts started to beat slightly, though it was barely anything to make you fret, polun didn't even know where you two were.

Coward freaking Pierson on the other hand grabbed ahold of the last spike dragging it down your back as he pulled away, bolting.

The specific spike he pulled was at the top so it tore all the way down, making the shirt go forward almost exposing if you hadn’t held it up with your hands. You grind your teeth slightly, turning to curse out to Kreacher.

As you turned your eyes met Patricia's, who had wacked Kreacher down with her ape skull, making his head bleed as he dizzily sat on the ground.

“Sorry I wasn't here sooner s/o, but at least I crushed this roach.” She said walking past him to you. She pecked you on the cheek getting her lipstick on your face, before looking at your back which was now exposed.

You had some blood drops rolling down from the sprike removals. She cut some more of your shirt so that she could tie a not in the back so it wouldn't fall off.

“I would take Kreachers jacket and give it to you, but I'd rather none of his filthy items touch you” She said as she gently caressed your back, careful of the small wounds.

You blushed at her caring gesture. “I should've warn a different costume one with a jacket, that's my bad.” She put her arms around your neck. “Well, I for one really like this costume, too bad it gonna be temporarily out of commission”

She makes it so hard for you not to swoon when shes this sweet. Kreacher groans reminding you two he was there.

Patricia unhooks her arms from around your neck. “Let's leave that thing and go decode the last cipher. Polun will find and kill it” She says loud enough for him to hear.

She grabs your hand pulling you away toward a cipher, while you follow her happily. Patricia was right about Kreacher as he was found & killed after Ganji led the hunter to him. At least the 3 of them escaped!

PLEASE I REALLY TRIED HARD TO MAKE THEM ALL SIMILAR LENGTH!! Hope you like this :3

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

imagine sanji realizing he loves you

The sound of his boots hitting the pavement rang in the air as Sanji walked alongside Nami; he was holding her shopping bags as a few of the others pressed ahead. Cigarette forever perched in the corner of his mouth, he listened as Nami rattled off a list of things she still needed to purchase. Usually he'd love being the navigator's little errand boy but lately, even that felt flat.

His eyes focused on the back of your head, hair down and unruly as always. You were walking between Robin and Zoro, leaning into the latter a bit as you had just left a tavern. Sanji had kept a close watch out at the bar, cutting you off after a few drinks but he smiled as Zoro brushed you off and Robin steadied you with two helpful hands.

"You're always staring at her, Sanji and not in that perverted way."

The cook stopped in his tracks and Nami smirked, reaching for her bags in his hands. He wanted to feel his heart racing with her so close, looking so beautifully but he felt a familial warmth and it shocked him. "Nami..."

She smiled contently. "It's okay, you know, to just love one woman. I think you picked a really good one! She loves you too, but she won't make the first move. She's too stubborn for that."

Stunned, he could only stand there as Nami hurried along - calling for him to follow. He snapped out of his own thoughts of what he was feeling, what he felt every time you looked at him and he rushed after his friends. He reached the group and casually motioned for Robin to let you go. He gracefully slipped an arm around your waist and when your head moved to see who was holding you, the biggest smile appeared on your face. Nami mentioned loudly that she needed to do more shopping and Robin, wholeheartedly, agreed to join her while Zoro followed with promises of a new bottle of sake.

"Where's everyone going?"

Sanji smiled as you leaned against his body as he adjusted his arm around your waist. "Shopping, but I'm taking you back to the Sunny. You need sleep."

"Sleep sounds nice..." you threw an arm around his neck and your whole body collapsed against his strength. Sanji chuckled as he lifted you up into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest.

Nuzzling your head against his shoulder, you murmured something so quietly he had to ask you to repeat it. You sighed as he continued to walk, effortlessly carrying you in his arms. "I said you are a very nice man, Sanji. Sweet....and the best cook in the world. I wish..."

Sanji stopped, gaze casting down on you; he smiled when he felt that intense thumping in his chest. The beating of his heart in a rhythm that felt like a song he had never heard before and when your eyes met his, it felt like his heart shattered and in its place, a new one formed.

"I - I love you."

The expression on your face softened and Sanji relaxed. "You might not remember this, but when you're sober, I'll tell you again."

"I won't forget," you promised, reaching up to pluck out the cigarette in his mouth. He grinned when you tossed it aside and leaned in for a kiss. He kissed you softly, pressing his forehead against yours.

"I love you too...but I really need to get some sleep."

Sanji laughed, agreeing as he continued down the path back to the ship. You told him you could walk but he refused to put you down - the love of his life wasn't going to walk a step if she didn't have to. He said so with pride in his eyes and who were you to deny him such a thing?

Relaxing in his arms, your eyes remained on him as he talked about what he was going to cook for dinner and as he rattled off different recipes, you realized listening to him talk about cooking felt like a soft lullaby. When he asked what you thought, you could only smile at him.

"Whatever you cook will always be good, Sanji."

The boyish expression of joy and delight painted his face wonderfully against the setting sun, and the two of you continued the journey back to the ship knowing everything had changed in a matter of minutes. Sanji and you were going to embark on the Sunny together, and every time the two of you stepped off the great vessel - it would be together.

"Can we kiss later?"

The question from your unsober mouth brought out a low laugh from Sanji and he nodded furiously, pressing a kiss onto your forehead. "As long as you want, but you have to get sober first."

"Black coffee than, okay?"

The cook agreed, the Sunny in the distance. He inhaled the fresh air and reminded himself to thank Nami later because if it wasn't for her, he'd never have the courage to tell you how he felt. Lemon bon bons, he'd make her that but not before getting some coffee and food in you - because from here on out, you were his first priority.

"Come on, sweetheart," he murmured, eyes smiling down on you. "Let's get you some coffee."

"Thank lots of kissing?"

Sanji grinned. "Oh, so much kissing."

[inkmonster21]

I’m Just Next Door

John Price x Single!Mom

Series Masterlist

2. Being Neighborly

You yawned and glanced at the clock, which read 6:50 AM. Just as expected, your daughter tended to be an early bird.

Your daughter's sweet, innocent voice rang through the room, calling out to you. "Mommy..."

You sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, as you responded to your daughter's call. "I'm coming, sweetheart," you replied softly, getting out of bed and heading toward your little one's room.

You opened the door to your daughter's room, finding her sheets a tangled mess and her hair sticking up in every direction. She held onto her favorite stuffed animal, rubbing her sleepy eyes with her tiny fist.

You smiled at the sight of your bed-headed little darling, and softly greeted her, "Good morning, beautiful."

Your daughter's sleepy eyes looked up at you, a smile forming on her face. She extended her little arms, making grabby hands at you, signaling for you to pick her up.

You chuckled softly, "Looks like someone's still sleepy." You scooped her up, holding her against your chest and gently bouncing her in your arms.

Your daughter rested her head against you, her tiny hand clutching your shirt. She let out a small yawn, still sleepy but content in your embrace. You carried her out of her room, heading to the kitchen.

As you carried your little one into the kitchen, you asked, "What would you like for breakfast, hmm?"

Your daughter yawned and rubbed her eyes, giving you a sleepy grin as she replied, "Pancakes, please."

"Pancakes it is then," you said with a smile, setting her down on the counter and starting to gather the ingredients for the pancake batter.

As you mixed the pancake batter, your daughter quickly ran into the living room to dig through her toybox, rummaging through her collection of Barbies.

You opened the kitchen window, letting in the cool morning breeze, before pressing play on your music playlist. As the music filled the room, you got to work preparing breakfast, flipping pancakes on the stove, and brewing a pot of coffee.

John was an early riser, strict by nature and routine-driven. And, as usual, his alarm woke him up like clockwork.

With a focused determination, he started his usual workout routine, pushing himself to the max as he lifted weights and did his cardiovascular exercises.

Every rep, every lift, every movement was calculated and precise. John's muscles strained, sweat dripping down his face, as he pushed himself harder, always striving to improve and build his strength.

After his intense workout, John headed straight to the bathroom for a much-needed shower. He stripped off his sweaty, damp clothing, before stepping into the shower and letting the warm water soothe his muscles.

It was the same routine day in and day out, familiar and predictable. Wake up, work out, shower. Breakfast was always the same. Uninterrupted, until today.

John paused in his actions, hearing a knock on his front door.

John walked towards the front door with a puzzled expression on his face, wondering who could be knocking at his door so early in the morning.

John reached the door and looked through the peephole, trying to get a glimpse of whoever was on the other side. To his surprise, he saw you standing outside his door.

John opened the door, standing there in his jeans and still a little damp from the shower.

Your eyes widened as you took in the sight before you: The neighbor you’ve never met, standing in his doorway clad only in his jeans, his muscular chest and torso on full display.

You felt your cheeks flush, your gaze lingering on those impressive muscles for a moment longer than appropriate, before you quickly composed yourself, clearing your throat before speaking.

You held your toddler's hand tightly, grounding yourself back in reality as you introduced yourself to the stunning man standing before you. "Hi, I'm your new neighbor," you began, your voice slightly breathless. "I just wanted to introduce myself."

He seemed to recover from his initial surprise, offering a nod and a smirk. "Right. Welcome then," he replied, his voice deep and gravelly.

You managed a small smile, introducing yourself to the tall, muscular neighbor on your doorstep. "I'm (y/n). And this is my daughter," you said, your hand still holding onto your little one.

His gaze flicked down to your daughter for a moment, taking in her sweet, innocent face before returning to yours. "John Price. Nice to meet you both," he said, extending a strong hand to shake yours.

You took his hand in yours, feeling a slight shiver run down your spine at the firm grip and stronghold of his hand. His touch was both gentle and powerful, and you couldn’t help the small flutter in your chest.

This man was attractive, to say the least. Tall, broad, and oozing masculinity. There was something about him, a commanding presence that made you feel a strange mixture of intimidated and intrigued.

You realized your gaze was lingering a bit too long, taking in his impressive physique. Embarrassed, you quickly looked away, hoping that he hadn't noticed the way your eyes had wandered over his body

You managed a smile, your cheeks still flushed from earlier, as you offered a polite farewell. "Well, John, I'm just next door if you ever need anything," you said, feeling a little flustered.

He nodded, a small smirk still playing at the corners of his lips. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you, love," he replied, his eyes still fixed on yours.

The way he called you 'love' made a shiver run down your spine again. It sounded so good coming from him, his deep voice sending a jolt of heat through you.

You quickly turned on your heel and hurried away, your cheeks still flushed a deep shade of red. As you walked back to your home, you couldn't help but steal one final glance back at him, seeing him watching you leave with a smirk on his face.

You shook your head, the image of John Price still vivid in your mind. A tall, broad-shouldered man with muscles that made you weak in the knees. And that voice… That deep, rumbly voice sent chills down your spine, making your body tingle.

It was silly, you thought to yourself. You literally just met the man, and already you were thinking about him in such a way. But you couldn’t help it. John Price was the definition of a man, and you were clearly more affected by him than you cared to admit.

It seemed that since you introduced yourself to your handsome new neighbor, John Price was everywhere you looked.

You were pushing your daughter in the cart down the aisle, shopping for groceries, when a deep, gravelly voice caught your attention. Looking to the side, you spotted John Price, standing a few feet away with his own basket.

"Fancy seeing you here," he said with a smirk, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he took in the sight of you.

You couldn't help it: the man was just too handsome. You felt a flutter in your chest, trying to maintain composure as you responded. "John, hi," you replied, your voice a little breathless.

He leaned against the shopping cart, muscles flexing beneath his tight t-shirt. "Shopping for dinner?" he asked, his eyes never leaving your face.

"Yes, and some strawberries. Since someone can’t live without them," you replied, trying to keep your focus on your basket instead of his chest. "What are you doing here?"

He chuckled, his smirk widening. "Just picking up a few things."

You nodded, forcing yourself to look at anything but him. But your gaze kept flicking back to him, taking in the sight of him in his casual clothes. He looked good enough to eat.

Your little one, sitting in the shopping cart, spoke up, her voice breaking the tension between you and your new neighbor. "I want my strawberries, mama," she exclaimed, her small hand reaching toward the nearby basket of red berries.

You smiled at your daughter, gently patting her head. "We have to wait until we get home, honey," you repeated, your mind torn between your shopping list and the man standing nearby.

John watched the interaction, a small smirk playing on his lips as he observed the way you were with your daughter. It was cute, he thought to himself. He couldn’t help but find you even more attractive, seeing the way you were with your little girl.

John watched you and your daughter for a moment longer before speaking up. "I won’t keep you, love," he said, his voice still low and captivating. "You’ve got groceries to get and a little one to feed. Just wanted to say hello.”

You felt a flutter in your chest at his words, the way he called you 'love' again making you weak in the knees. "Right," you said, trying to sound casual. "It was nice running into you, John."

He smiled, that same smirk that seemed to be permanently etched on his face ever since you met. "It was a pleasure seeing you love," he replied, his eyes roaming over your face for a moment before he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, heart racing and cheeks flushed.

Your little one waved her small hand at your new neighbor, her voice cheerful and sweet as she called out, "Bye!" Seeing your daughter's innocent wave made your heart melt even further, especially seeing it directed towards John.

He paused, looking back for a moment. And he smiled, an actual tender smile as he returned her wave and nodded in her direction. "Goodbye, sweetheart," he said softly, before striding away, disappearing down another aisle.

You had to force your heart to stop thumping. He was just being neighborly.

The next time you crossed paths with him, it was at the park.

You were pushing your daughter on the swings, watching her laugh and squeal with joy as she soared through the air. And then, as luck would have it, you saw him approaching, that familiar tall figure with broad shoulders and muscular arms, making his way toward the playground.

He was dressed in jogging shorts and a t-shirt, sweat gleaming on his skin. It was clear that he had been out for a run, his breathing a little ragged and his muscles glistening with perspiration.

Your daughter spotted him before you did, waving enthusiastically as she shouted, "Hi, Mr. John!"

He smiled, waving back to her as he walked closer. "Hey, sweetheart," he replied, his voice still as deep and gravelly as ever.

You forced yourself to look at his face, trying desperately to ignore the way his sweat-soaked t-shirt clung to his muscular chest and biceps. You could feel heat creeping up your neck and face, a flush of embarrassment filling your cheeks. Don’t stare, don’t stare. Keep it together.

"Afternoon, John." You greeted him with a smile, your voice sounding surprisingly calm despite the way your heart was racing at the sight of him in his workout clothes.

“Afternoon, love,” His casual greeting, the way he always called you 'love'.. It made your heart flutter, a shiver running down your spine.

"Out for a run?" you asked, trying to sound casual and not affected by him.

He nodded, wiping sweat from his forehead with a towel he had draped over his shoulder. "Yeah, just got back, actually," he replied, his breathing slowly returning to normal. "Couldn’t stay in the office today."

"Too much paperwork?" you asked curiously, curious about his job and trying to keep the conversation going.

"You could say that," he said, chuckling. "Got something coming up and just needed a break. Decided to go for a run instead of being cooped up at my desk all day.”

You couldn’t help but wonder about his occupation, your curiosity piqued when the other neighbors mentioned he traveled. So you decided to ask, "What do you do for a living?"

He leaned against the frame of the swing set, his muscles flexing under the sweaty fabric. "Military," he said, his tone casual and vague.

You raised an eyebrow, "Really?" you repeated, curiosity piqued. It certainly explained his fit physique.

He nodded, a slight smirk appearing on his face. "I’m a special forces operator."

Your daughter’s voice suddenly came from the swing, pleading. "Higher, Mommy! In the sky! In the sky!"

You laughed softly, a small huff of effort escaping your lips as you applied some force, pushing your daughter higher in the swing. "Okay, baby," you said, a sense of love and joy filling you as you watched your little one grin and giggle uncontrollably, feeling as though her feet could touch the sky.

John was unable to tear his gaze from you and your daughter. He watched you push her in the swing, a small, private smile on his lips. He took in the sight of you, the way you moved, the way you laughed, the way you cared for your daughter.

You were beautiful, and he could see the love you had for your little girl, the way you made her laugh and smiled at her joy. He noticed your weary expression and tired hands and felt a wave of sympathy. You deserved a break.

You were taken aback by his sudden action, his large, strong hands grasping your waist and gently guiding you out of the way, “Take a break, love.”

Before you could register what was happening, he had taken your place, pushing your daughter higher and higher on the swing.

He was gentle, despite his large, muscular frame, his touch surprisingly light as he skillfully took over.

John looked over his shoulder at you, his eyes sparkling with curiosity as he continued pushing your daughter on the swing. "What do you do? Besides, take care of the little one?" he asked, his voice soft and gravelly as always.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, a small, sheepish grin on your face. "Well, it’s certainly not as important as your profession," you said, admiring the way his muscles flexed with each push of the swing.

He chuckled, "Don’t sell yourself short, love." His eyes flickered down to your arms, taking in the way you wrapped them around yourself, hiding the slender curves of your body.

You felt his gaze on your arms, his eyes lingering for a moment on your figure. "I’m just a mom, trying to keep it together," you said with a nonchalant shrug. “I make things out of clay and resin. Sell them online,” your cheeks flushing slightly as you fidgeted under his gaze.

"Oh, really?" he replied, his eyes darting away from your frame and back to your face. "Is that how you make a living?"

You nodded in affirmation, "It pays the bills." The truth was, it did more than just pay the bills. Creating and selling your art was a true passion of yours, the act of crafting things brought you joy and fulfillment. But, you didn’t want to bore him with the details.

You could feel a pang of trepidation creeping in, your experience with your ex-husband's dismissive attitude towards your hobby still fresh in your mind. You had been dismissed time and time again, your ex-husband making it clear that your interests and creations were nothing more than childish, useless hobbies in his eyes.

John sensed the shift in your mood, the way your shoulders tensed, and a slight sadness seemed to wash over your expression. He spoke up, his voice soft and quiet, "You have talent, don't you?"

You were taken by surprise by his words, looking up at him in shock. You weren't used to hearing such words of genuine praise for your creations. Most people didn't seem to take your work seriously, so hearing the compliment from this large, muscular man with a gravelly voice felt unexpected.

As you shrugged, a small smile curved your lips, "Well, business is good, but I wouldn't say I'm talented." You still couldn't shake the feeling of self-doubt, your ex-husband's voice replaying in your mind, his disapproval towards your work like a constant reminder.

John could sense your hesitancy, that hint of insecurity in your words, like you’d been told time and time again that your art wasn’t good enough.

John shook his head, his gaze fixed on you with a serious expression. "I bet you’re more talented than you know," he said, his deep voice sincere and honest.

You were taken aback by his words, not expecting such a genuine compliment from this stranger. You felt a small flutter in your chest, your heartwarming at his words. "Thank you," you replied softly, trying to keep your voice steady.

John smiled a small, pleased smile that lit up his face. "Just being honest, love," he replied, his voice still as gravelly and deep as when you first met.

You had to ground yourself in the mulch. He was just being neighborly.

As you stood in line at the cafe, your daughter by your side, a gust of air came from the suddenly opened door. You looked up and your eyes caught sight of him, tall and broad, his presence filling up the entire space. His gaze locked onto yours, and you saw a small smile play at the corners of his lips, his eyes softening.

Judging by his appearance, it was clear that John had come directly from the base. He still wore his typical work attire, t-shirt and cargo pants, his muscular physique still on full display.

Your little one spotted him almost immediately, her tiny voice calling out with excitement, "Look, Mommy! It's Mr. John!" She waved enthusiastically, her childish glee at seeing him again obvious on her face.

His eyes turned toward your tiny daughter, his features softening even more as he gave her a gentle wave and a warm smile, "Well, look who it is."

Your heart fluttered at the sight of his sweet interaction with your daughter. The way his face relaxed and his eyes softened made him look even more attractive than usual.

With a slight chuckle, you remarked, "We just keep bumping into each other." Your tone was playful, a hint of amusement in your voice as you shook your head in disbelief.

"Seems like fate, doesn't it?" he replied, his eyes still fixed on you, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as he spoke, his comment struck a chord within you. Fate. You'd never considered it before, but there was something about the way your paths kept crossing with his that made it seem like...something more than just a coincidence between two neighbors.

Your voice was soft as you replied, "Seems that way." The words hung in the air between you, your eyes locking onto his. There was something almost magnetic about his gaze, the way he looked at you like he could see beyond your exterior and straight to your soul.

Time seemed to slow down for a moment, the world around you fading into the background as you held his gaze. You could feel your heart racing, your pulse pounding in your ears, a strange mixture of anticipation and desire coursing through your body.

The cafe worker's voice suddenly snapped you out of the moment, breaking the spell. "Can I help you, ma'am?" the worker asked, bringing your attention back to reality, and you realized you were still waiting in line.

"Oh, um... yes," you managed to reply, your voice still a bit breathless from your earlier interaction with John.

You took a moment to order, still a bit flustered by your interaction with John, but managing to gather yourself enough to give the worker your order. Your little one seemed blissfully unaware of the tension between you and John, happily chattering away as you ordered both of your meals.

Just as you were about to take out your wallet, John quickly stopped you, his voice deep and confident as he said, "I’ve got it, love." He effortlessly pulled out his wallet, paying for your order before you could even protest.

You tried to protest, "John, no, I-"

But he cut you off, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Nonsense. Let me do this." His tone was commanding, but there was a softness in his voice, and you found yourself unable to argue further.

He finished paying the worker and then turned to you, his eyes still holding that intense gaze that seemed to make your heart race. "No sense in arguing with me, love, won’t get you anywhere," he said with a slight smirk, gesturing for you to pick up your lunch.

You gave him a small smile, "I owe you." You replied, a mixture of gratitude and something deeper behind your words. It was more than just being grateful for him paying for lunch. It was the fact that he had taken charge, taken care of you in a way you weren't used to, but found yourself surprisingly drawn to.

John shook his head, that small smirk still on his face, "You don’t owe me a thing, love." His voice was confident, the deep timbre sending tingles down your spine.

John didn’t just look confident, he oozed it with every movement and every word out of his mouth. He was everything you had been searching for in a man. Strong, capable, and undeniably attractive.

You managed a small smile, your cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude. "Thank you, John," you murmured, your gaze still locked onto his eyes.

Your daughter looked up at him, her sweet little voice chiming up, "Thank you, Mr. John!" Her words were sincere and innocent, completely oblivious to the tension between you and John.

John’s face softened at the sound of her voice, his tough exterior softening in an instant. He crouched down to her level, giving her a gentle smile. "You’re very welcome, sweetheart." He ruffled her hair gently, his eyes flickering up to meet yours for a moment.

You bit your lip for a moment, a little hesitant to say goodbye, but knowing you had to move on. "I’ll see you around," you said softly, your voice betraying a hint of reluctance.

John nodded in acknowledgment, a knowing look in his eyes. "I'm sure you will, love," he replied, his voice a little huskier than usual. He stood up straight, his height nearly towering over you once more.

But you needed to remind yourself… John is just being neighborly.

You had made dinner, and unfortunately, you had greatly overestimated how much food was needed. You didn't usually eat leftovers yourself, always preferring fresh meals, but you hated to see food go to waste.

Your gaze drifted to John's house. You wondered if he would be home if he would mind the interruption. You felt a little silly at the idea, but the thought of the wasted food bothered you.

You made a decision, gathering up the leftovers and packing them into a container. "Come with me, honey," you said to your little one. She looked up at you, curious, but obeyed without question.

Your daughter's voice was filled with excitement as she realized where you were headed. "Mr. John's house!" she squealed, her little footsteps picking up pace almost immediately.

You laughed as your little one darted forward, eager to get to John's house. "Wait, wait," you said, gently tugging on her hand to slow her down.

You stood a few steps behind your daughter as she knocked on the door, calling out for John. "Mr. John! You in there?" Her voice was excited and high pitched, echoing through the late night air.

Before long, the door opened, revealing John on the other side. He looked surprised to see you both standing there, but his expression quickly softened as he looked down at your little one.

"Well, hello there," he said, crouching down to her level with a small smile. "And what are you doing here at this hour?"

You stepped forward, trying to justify your presence at his door. "I clearly underestimated my portion size tonight. I don't know if you'd even like it, but I hated it to go to waste." Your voice was soft, almost shy as you held out the food container.

John's eyes flicked from you to the container, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He took the container from you, his fingers briefly brushing against yours, sending a shiver up your spine.

John couldn’t help but smile. You had made too much food, and your first thought was to bring it to him. He couldn't help but think that you’d make a damn good little housewife. Just like the one he dreamed of.

Your daughter looked up at him with a wide, innocent smile, the sweetness of her words tugging at John's heartstrings. "It's really good, Mr. John," she repeated, her little voice full of genuine sincerity.

John looked down at your daughter, his expression softening even more. "I don't doubt it, sweetheart," he said gently, ruffling her hair. Then his gaze shifted back to you, his eyes lingering on you a moment longer than necessary.

John looked up at you with a small smile, taking the time to study your face. "Thank you," he said, a mixture of sincerity and appreciation in his voice. It wasn't just the food. It was the gesture, the fact that you'd cared enough to bring it to him.

You smiled back at him, feeling a warm sense of fulfillment in his gratitude. "You're welcome," you replied softly, your gaze meeting his for a moment, a silent connection passing between you.

You knew you should go, but you didn't want the moment to end just yet. Your daughter seemed comfortable, and John's gaze was fixed on you in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

You scooped your little one up into your arms, her tiny body light and easy to hold. "I got to get this little bug in the bath," you said with a smile, looking down at her, then back up at John.

John nodded, a hint of disappointment in his eyes as he realized you had to leave. "Of course," he replied, his voice a little rough with something you couldn't quite put a finger on.

Your little one looked up at John, her tiny hand waving, "Goodnight, Mr. John." Her voice was enthusiastic and cheerful, completely oblivious to the undercurrents of attraction and tension between you two.

John waved back at her, his expression softening again. He couldn't resist the innocent charm of your daughter. "Bye sweetheart," he replied, his voice still gravelly and deep. Then his gaze shifted back to you, a hint of lingering desire in his eyes.

You shook your head, trying to convince yourself that it was just a friendly gesture. John was just being neighborly, just like he always was. He was a Good Samaritan, that's all. Maybe some hero complex.

There was no way he'd want you.

Divorced mother. Wannabe artist. Raising her kid alone.

Once you and your daughter left his porch, John carried the container into his kitchen. He opened it and was met with the pleasant aroma of your cooking. He took a spoonful up to his lips, the taste of it sending him into utter bliss.

He couldn't help it. Your cooking was something else, truly incredible. He took a seat at the table, continuing to savor each bite, each bite making him almost sad he couldn’t have this every night.

As he continued eating, he came to a realization, one that felt like a punch to the gut. He had to marry you.

He could see it all. You, in the role of a traditional housewife, have a space to call your own for your art. Your little girl - would have everything. She’d never want for anything. Maybe in the future, he’d even be blessed with another, a child of his own blood.

Just the thought of you, round with his child, wearing a wedding ring, made his heart race and his mind dizzy with longing. It wasn’t just a want, it was a goddamn need.

[vivid-ink]

'The Love Shack' Part V - The Fault Is Ours

Relationship: Neteyam(23) x fem!Omatikaya reader(21) x Lo'ak(22) Warnings: Adult content 18+ MDNI

Part V Summary: You'd prepared for Neteyam's upset, prepared for his anger, but what you hadn't prepared for or even anticipated was his complete and total disregard for you... Word count: 13.7k

Series content: Mentions of group sex, MMF threesome, smut, sex toy play, squirting, anal sex, kuru play

Read Part I, II, III and IV in my Masterlist HERE

Author's Note: My darling lovelies, I present to you the finale Chapter 5 of this series. 🥰 I never thought I'd write anything else after 'Violet Eyes', but lo and behold, here I am at the end of my fifth series. And it's honestly all thanks to you wonderful folk in this community who have supported me & brought me so much enjoyment. Without further do, enjoy this finale!

***~~~***

 “I could ask you the same thing! What the fuck are you playing at?”

Lo’ak’s words rang in your ears and looped over and over in your stunned mind. Shaken and upset by Neteyam’s abrupt exit, your words had forsaken you and you’d been unable to offer immediate any answer to Lo’ak’s question apart from meekly muttered apologies.

It had very quickly dawned on you that whilst Lo’ak appeared as confused as you were, he and you were not at all confused about the same thing. You were reeling at his brother’s upset, whereas he appeared to be upset with you and confused by your actions.

You were alone in the play area currently. Lo’ak had gone into the shack’s main area to find some space and presumably warm some water for clean-up. You’d always had one of the brothers, usually Neteyam, to burrow against and snuggle up to while the other prepped the necessary things for clean-up and aftercare. The solitude tonight was new and it was unpleasant.

With Neteyam’s heated departure and Lo’ak’s apparent irritation, you felt cold, confused and abandoned.

Fat teardrops squeezed from between your lashes where you sat on folded legs on the bed, hunched over and hugging yourself. Your kept your snuffles as quiet as possible. You always felt vulnerable and frazzled after a session with the brothers. Once the extreme highs of sex and pleasure play had diminished, you were often thrown into a hormonal slump that left you feeling exposed and in need of comfort. There was no comfort today.

Neteyam had stormed off and now Lo’ak was angry with you too… You’d just wanted a parting kiss from each of them…

Your arms were crossed over your front and your fingernails dug into the flesh of your upper arms as you cried. The entire space still smelled of the activities you had engaged in with the brothers, and the scent was suddenly suffocating.

Eywa, tonight’s session had ended in disorientation and disaster… You should’ve listened to your mind’s cautioning earlier… You should’ve just said your piece and left…

Deciding it was probably best for you to leave, you crawled to the edge of the bed and stood on wobbly legs. Finding your chest covering on the floor, you secured it again over your breasts, fingers fumbling clumsily with the ties. Eyes still blurry from your tears, you swiped a hand over your face and continued to look for your loincloth.

Lo’ak re-entered the space with some cloths and a bowl of warm water. He took in your trembling and tearful state as you attempted to dress yourself again, and he sighed, “Hey, where are you going? Stop.”

“I think I should go. “You mumbled. You refused to meet his eyes, keeping your head downturned with your chin tucked against your chest, “I didn’t mean to upset you both.”

Setting down the things he was carrying, Lo’ak stopped you trying to pull your loincloth up your legs, “No, lie back down. We still need to get you cleaned up. I’m not letting you leave like this. Eywa, look at you.”

The sticky mess between your legs was trickling down your thighs. Your skin was damp with sweat and your nose was running from your tears. When you ignored his words and twisted out of his gentle hold, the remainder of Lo’ak’s patience snapped. With a growl, he took hold of you by your waist and hauled you back onto the soft bedding despite your rueful cries to leave you be.

Lo’ak watched as you curled onto your side, sobbing into your hands. He was still annoyed at what you’d done earlier, but he also recognised the emotional mess you were in after their play session. It was also obvious to him that you didn’t understand what had caused Neteyam’s upset. With another bone-weary sigh, he wet several small cloths in the bowl he’d brought in and wrung them dry.

“Shh, sweet thing. Come on, let me clean you up.” Lo’ak coaxed, gentling his voice.

He crawled onto the bedding next to you and tenderly parted your knees to sweep the cloth up your thighs and between them. Taking the other warm cloth, he folded it and placed it over your core, knowing the warmth of it would soothe the temporary swelling from their session. He wiped you down with a third cloth, the moist warmth of it smoothing over your belly, back and upper arms. He gently pried your hands from your face and he cleaned them too before dabbing at your face last.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice was an unhappy squeak.

Putting the cleaning cloths aside, Lo’ak tucked himself behind your curled form, spooning you. He tucked an arm around your waist and pulled you to him, “Do you even know what you’re apologising for?”

“For upsetting you both.”

“Do you know why Neteyam took off and why I’m upset too?”

You considered his question. Great Mother, Neteyam had been furious… Things were strained enough already between the two of you and now it felt like things had broken down even further. And you’d simply kissed Lo’ak… You didn’t understand his recoil either…

You shook your head, fighting back another swelling bout of emotion, “No.”

Lo’ak cursed softly. He kept his arm around you though, wanting to soothe you still despite his frustration with you, with his brother, with the whole situation. He began measuredly, “I’m going to say my piece and I’m only going to say it once, because this whole thing, this we-don’t-talk-about-feelings shit, that you and Neteyam have going on is getting ridiculous.”

You sniffed softly, pawing at your eyes again when more unwanted tears poured forth, “Feelings can’t come into this. This arrangement was physical only.”

“Does that change the fact that they exist?” Lo’ak asked. Knowing you wouldn’t see as you were facing away from him, he gave an emphatic roll of his eyes, “Look, I know you have feelings for my brother, and I don’t think I’m speaking out of turn here because I feel like you know this already, but Neteyam returns those feelings.”

You shifted, rolling onto your back so you could scowl at him, “Where are you going with this? What does it matter?”

Lo’ak propped his head up on his elbow, responding with a glower of his own, “It matters because the bond that you share is sincere! There’s meaning there. What you and I share? That’s purely physical; just sex and body play. If you kiss me it’s because you enjoy the sensation, but there’s no meaning there.”

“So that’s why you’re angry? Because I kissed you and it doesn’t mean anything?”

An exasperated hiss left Lo’ak, his irritation rising again, “No! I’m upset because Neteyam is upset! You upset my brother, you upset me. That’s how this works.”

You could match his rising temper, however. Sick of the confusion you felt and just wanting Lo’ak to speak plainly, you spat, “So why is Neteyam upset? Things were going fine and then he decided to throw a tantrum!”

“Because you kissed me!” Lo’ak howled, frustrated by how something so simple in his eyes was so oblivious to you. Fine, he’d spell it out for you, “You said no kissing. That was the boundary that you set. You’ve denied my brother’s attempts to cross that line for weeks now. You denied him again tonight even when he asked to kiss you, and then you suddenly decide after it all to kiss me?!”

Realisation flooded you at how your actions had appeared and you were quick to refute the misunderstanding, “No! It’s not what it looks like! I wanted to kiss both of you one last time. You just happened to be closest. I was facing you so I kissed you first! But I would’ve kissed Neteyam next!”

Lo’ak emitted a miserable groan and flopped onto his back, pressing the fingers of one hand into his eyes, “Fuck, you should’ve kissed my brother first.”

You groaned and your hands flew to your face again in distress, “Great Mother, what a mess. Tell him for me when you see him? Tell him I wasn’t doing it intentionally to spite him?”

Peering through your fingers, you saw Lo’ak fix you with an incredulous expression, “I won’t be telling him anything. You’re going to explain yourself to him and the both of you are going to talk. Properly. Honestly.”

“I’ll apologise and explain what happened, but there’s nothing else to talk about.”

With a scathing laugh, Lo’ak rounded on you again, “You know that’s such bullshit, Neyomi. I know you’re in love with him.”

It was the truth. You knew it within yourself, had known it for so long now, but to hear it called out so openly by Lo’ak was a shock to your psyche. It felt like his utterance of the words had willed it into a truth so solid that no matter how much you wanted to deny it to salvage what was left of your heart, you couldn’t.

“He told me what happened that night at the hot spring, about how you denied his affection and pushed him away after. That really cut him deep.” Lo’ak added, and his tone was woeful.

Bitterly, you moved to sit upright so you could look at Lo’ak square in the eyes. You glared at him, cursing the tears that pooled in your eyes and threatened the spill, “So, what? You want me to tell Neteyam how I feel. Apologise for pushing him away, pour out my soul, and break my heart over a man I can never have?”

Understanding washed over Lo’ak at your words. There it was. The reason that had prompted your sudden change in behaviour over the last couple of moons. He’d known it wasn’t because you’d had a change of heart. You were only trying to protect yourself. Lo’ak thought of his brother’s stubbornness then, of Kiri, and their grandmother’s approval of the proposed arrangement. He chuckled.

You frowned at Lo’ak’s quiet laughter, feeling indignant and wondering if he really was cruel enough to be laughing at you right now. You hissed harshly, “It’s not funny.”

“No, no! I’m not laughing at you. It’s just this whole situation could be so easily solved if you and Neteyam actually put your egos aside to talk.” Lo’ak quickly reassured and he shook his head at you mildly with a final huff of laughter, “If there was a chance you could be with my brother, would you take it?”

Your face was still pulled deep in a frown, but the points of your ears twitched in sceptical interest, “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

Lo’ak licked his lips and ground his teeth together. It wasn’t his place to say. The arrangement was a formal one and until it was officially announced by the tsahìk, it was not to be spoken of. Clan formalities had to be observed by all and Neteyam had technically broken the rules by telling him about it.

“My grandmother is going to make a formal announcement to the clan tomorrow night at communal last meal.” Lo’ak said, and there was a particular note in his inflection that urged you to listen, that told you what he was telling you was significant, “If you truly care for my brother, you’ll speak to him afterward and you’ll tell him the truth of how you feel. Because he’s a stubborn skxawng who’s been stung one too many times now and the he won’t be honest with you unless you make the first move.”

***~~~***

You sat with Tula and some of the other female warriors, all gathered for last meal in the central gathering space of the village. You’d barely eaten anything all day and yet, as you stared at the assortment of stewed, roasted and fresh foods on your food mat, you didn’t feel even an ounce of hunger. Your anxiety had made sure of that.

It’d been a typical day of rest for the clan; families enjoyed each other’s company; friends spent time catching up over fun hobbies; children squealed and ran amok the village grounds, glad for a day off from lessons and chores. However, you’d been a tense knot of nerves all day awaiting the tsahìk’s impending proclamation.Ordinarily, you wouldn’t have been bothered. The tsahìk made all sorts of announcements all the time, but tonight’s announcement would supposedly be bringing you an opportunity, or so Lo’ak had assured.

You’d sought Tula out first thing in the morning, brimming with emotion and nerves after the mishap at the shack last night. The olo’eyktan’s family had passed you at communal breakfast and while Lo’ak had graced you with a genial grin, Neteyam had avoided acknowledging you entirely. Everything came to a head at that point.

You’d told Tula everything then about how Kai had ended things, how you’d confronted Neteyam at the shack and what came after. You’d cried in her arms over how you’d inadvertently slighted Neteyam and told her of what Lo’ak was urging you to do. To your surprise, Tula had sided with Lo’ak’s view on things.

What followed was a day of forced, but blessed pampering from your best friend. Tula had taken you down to the bathing springs, where she’d treated you to one of her wonderful back rubs with sweet oils, before she helped you to undo your tightly braided hair for washing. She had cooed and clucked over you, slathering you in all sorts of balms and creams that would help reduce the puffiness of your eyes, relax you and smoothen your skin.

Your hair fell loosely around your ears and shoulders now, luscious and silky from Tula’s various herbal conditioning treatments. Your skin felt smooth like baby’s bottom and she’d dowsed you in a scented oil to help promote calmness. She’d plucked several sun lily blooms from their stems on the walk back to the village and threaded them through your locks, remarking with a flourish that the vivid indigo hue of the flowers set off the rest of your more casual look perfectly.

“You’re quiet this evening, Neyomi. You look beautiful by the way.” Silwey observed, smiling at you from across the gathered circle of women.

The other female warrior’s smile was polite and you forced as genuine a smile back at her in return. Silwey was beautiful too, very beautiful. She had the kind of classic beauty that all the old women harped on about. The kind of loveliness that would make most men drool and gawk.

“Thanks, Tula did a fantastic job on me, as always.” You replied, picking at a small morsel of meat and popping it into your mouth.

“Not that you don’t always look beautiful though, but there’s just something about today’s look that really flatters.” Another female, Kanoa, added brightly.

“Kai is a lucky man.” Silwey chortled. You nearly choked on your food.

Clearing your throat gently, you shrugged self-consciously at Silwey, “Ah, Kai and I aren’t seeing each other anymore.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t realise.”

“It’s alright. The split is fairly fresh, but it was mutual.”

Clearly feeling bad for catching you out on an awkward subject, Silwey attempted to cheer you up, “Well, whoever catches your eye next will be a very lucky man.”

The women all murmured in cheerful agreement. Even Tula, who was doing a great job of pretending that she was unaware of the real reason for your disquiet. You mustered up a kind smile at Silwey to reassure her you’d taken no offense. You wondered if she would’ve been as kind if she knew that the man who’d caught your eye was Neteyam…

Absently, you wondered if Neteyam had sought Silwey out on her own again in the weeks you’d stopped going to the shack. You were well aware of Silwey’s romantic interest in Neteyam, especially after her last bold proposition to him all those weeks ago on the very day that had led to your evening spent with Neteyam at the hot spring. The thought of him with Silwey pained you, and you forced the thought from your mind.

A chorus of soft hushing and murmurs rippled through the gathered Omatikaya then and you saw the tsahìk step up onto the raised platform by the bonfire. She raised her arms and the clan fell obediently into silence.

“Brothers and sisters! I thank you all for gathering this night, may Eywa bless us in our communion.” Mo’at called out, her voice carrying strongly over the crowd, “A proposal was brought to me for consideration not long ago, by our olo’eyktan, regarding the traditions our people have long held about how our clans are led. Tradition has always decreed that our peoples be led by a mated pair, olo’eyktan and tsahìk, unified and blessed in the eye of Eywa.”

Your heart was beginning to pound in your chest, impatient for the tsahìk to get to the crux of her proclamation.

Mo’at continued, “But in recent generations, this has not always been so. Indeed there are other clans where the leading pair are not mated to each other, instead leading their people through an agreed partnership. Even for us Omatikaya, things have changed with the coming and subsequent defeat of the Sky People.” She turned astute eyes at her family, at Jake and Neytiri in particular, “I have retained my position as tsahìk because my daughter chose a warrior’s path, while my son-in-law Jake leads us as chief. But I am getting old now.”

Muted murmurs of curiosity were rising within the crowd, all keen to hear what their tsahìk was about to say.

Mo’at raised her arms again and she gestured this time for two others to join her on the platform. Neteyam ascended at her beckoning closely followed by his sister, Kiri.

Mo’at smiled warmly at her two grandchildren, placing a hand on each of their heads in blessing before addressing the crowd again, “Our line of succession has not changed. Neteyam will still succeed his father as olo’eyktan in time to come. However, I have prayed to our Great Mother recently and she has shown me who is to walk the path of tsahìk after me. As many of you have experienced for yourselves, our Kiri is gifted and Eywa’s voice has whispered to her since she was barely more than a babe. Our Great Mother has chosen and Kiri will fulfil the role of tsahìk when my time comes to pass!”

A current of emotion washed through the clan, all susurrating and murmuring, some excitedly and others confusedly.

“Wait, what?” Kanoa breathed, “Kiri will lead with Neteyam?”

“Yes.” Silwey affirmed, “She will be tsahìk and Neteyam will be olo’eyktan alongside her.”

Mo’at’s voice rang out again and she continued, “I hereby declare Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan and Kiri te Suli Kireysi’ite our Omatikaya successors! They will choose their own respective mates, but they will lead this clan in time, brother and sister in partnership!”

Neteyam and Kiri clasped hold of each other hands then and they raised their arms in affirmation of their partnership before the people. The Omatikaya roared their approval, clapping, howling and ululating their joy.

They will choose their own respective mates… Mo’at’s words rang in your ears amidst the din the clan was making around you. Tula clutched at one of your knees, beaming at you happily at what the proclamation meant for you: A chance to love, truly and freely.

Your gaze drifted to the rest of the Sully family standing by the foot of the platform. You caught Lo’ak’s eye and he smirked at you, his eyes twinkling with meaning. This was what he’d meant last night. You recalled his question to you: If there was a chance you could be with my brother, would you take it?

You knew your answer: Absolutely.

The thrilled yammering of the warrior women around you brought you back to the present.

“So he can choose any woman he wants now. Not necessarily one of the healer women.” Kanoa’s voice was an energised whisper and she giggled girlishly at her words.

“Yup, sounds like it.” Another warrior, Neneka said, “Great Mother, have mercy on my soul for saying this, but I’d love to get under Neteyam, you know what I mean? He watches and plays around a bit at the old outpost, but he’s not as unreserved as Lo’ak is.”

You froze when you realised what the topic of the conversation had turned to among the women. Eywa, you didn’t want to hear about other women’s experiences with him…

“Yeah, he’s picky.” Kanoa sighed dreamily, “I bet he’s a generous lover though. Someone here is lucky enough to know.” She elbowed Silwey and burst into another fit of kittenish giggles.

“Hey, stop it. I’m not going to kiss and tell.” Silwey replied, laughing and swatting lightly at Kanoa. She pursed her lips sassily then and she gave a sly narrowing of her eyes, “But he’s an incredible time. That’s all I’ll say.”

The warrior women crowed with laughter at their gossipmongering and your food looked very interesting all of a sudden. You picked at the offerings on your food mat, eating a few mouthfuls and concentrating hard on the burst of savoury flavours on your tongue in a bid to drown out the awful conversation around you. You could feel Tula’s concerned eyes peering at you, but you kept to yourself.

“Well, I’m going to go and congratulate Kiri.” Tula pronounced, trying to change the subject. She pushed off her heels to stand, “Kiri is the one who’s been formally confirmed into her role tonight. It’s not all about Neteyam.”

“That’s true. Good idea.” Silwey agreed, rising to her feet along with the other women. She tittered boldly and then added, her tone brazen, “I’ll congratulate Kiri and then perhaps see if Neteyam would like some private company tonight too.”

The women snickered and began making their way towards the platform to offer Kiri their felicitations. You shook your head at the mob of them as they left. Eywa, the women were as bad as the men were with their egging and bragging of sexual conquests…

Tula lingered behind, staying with you. She crouched down next to you and reached out to squeeze your shoulder, “Don’t pay any attention to them. Eyes on the prize. You have a meaningful conversation that you need to have with Neteyam tonight. And it could change everything.”

“I know.” You sighed, looking over your shoulder where Kiri and Neteyam stood by the front of the platform, surrounded by a throng of well-wishers, “It’s just- I think I really hurt him last night.”

“There are two sides to every story. He’s not exactly been forthcoming with you either. You both need to just clear the air and get everything out in the open.”

“Thanks for everything today. Thanks for listening.” You shot Tula an appreciative smile, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Tula’s answer was a smile and a wink, but her face twisted into an unimpressed grimace when she looked to the front of the platform again, “Better work fast, babe. Silwey’s got dessert on her mind tonight.”

Sure enough, you saw Silwey whispering into Neteyam’s ear when you cast another glance over your shoulder. It was now or never. You needed to get Neteyam alone and you were going to swallow your pride and tell him everything. Dusting your hands off, you rose to your feet, intent for the throng of people gathered at the front.

Politely excusing yourself as you stepped past families and groups of friends, you weaved through the crowd and passed the crackling bonfire on your way. You made for Kiri first, wanting to congratulate the other woman. You had never spoken much to Kiri, but you were acquaintances through her brothers. Being a warrior by profession meant that you had more to do work-wise with Neteyam and Lo’ak than with Kiri, who was of course a healer and spiritual leader by trade.

Finally making it to the newly appointed tsakarem (tsahìk in waiting), you greeted Kiri politely, making the appropriate gesture with your fingers splaying out from your forehead, “Oel ngati kameie, Kiri. Congratulations on your appointment. The clan rejoices and thanks you for your service.”

Kiri’s answering smile at your greeting was enigmatic, her large golden eyes bright and perceptive, “Ngati kameie nìteng (I see you also), Neyomi. Thank you for your kind words.”

You mused quietly to yourself that Kiri already seemed to have the piercing look of a tsahìk down perfectly. The other woman was unfazed as she openly eyed you from your face, down your torso and legs, and then back up to your face again. She cocked her head at you then, eyes in a slight squint, “The tsawksyul blooms are a nice touch in your hair. Beautiful.”

“Irayo (thank you).” You thanked her, realising awkwardly that you really didn’t know what else to say to Kiri. You were also wilting a little under her penetrating gaze, so you spluttered a parting blessing, “May Eywa bless you and keep you always.”

Kiri nodded, the short and wispy ends of her short hair swaying where they framed her lovely face. Her eyes flitted to Neteyam who stood several paces to her right, surrounded by what could only be described as a gaggle of fawning women. Your own eyes followed Kiri’s, taking immediate note of the fact that Silwey was closest to him and that she’d curled a covetous hand around one of his biceps, her side pressed against his.

“I expect you’ll want to get my brother’s attention now that his pool of choice has widened.” Kiri began, moving closer to you so she could speak into your ear, “Like the rest of these eager vultures.”

Her disdain was clear in her tone and you shifted uneasily on your feet. You shook your head to refute her statement, not wanting to be reduced or likened in any way to the notion of a shallow, insipid woman, lusting after a man of high standing.

“I do need to speak to Neteyam, but it’s important. An apology actually.” You replied, hoping your candour would prove your sincerity to his intimidating sister.

With one last cock of her head and a piercing stare that made you feel like she could see you inside and out, the warm smile that Kiri graced you with next was unexpected, “My brothers speak highly of you, as do the warriors in your platoon. Eywa ngahu (May Eywa be with you), Neyomi.”

You dipped your head in acknowledgement and Kiri’s attention was quickly pulled away by another clan member wishing to congratulate her. With a deep breath, you refocused on your objective.

Neteyam was speaking to four women, all smiles and laughter as they conversed. You managed to place yourself in a gap between two of them, just big enough for you to slip into without needing to push anyone. It placed you directly in his line of sight, but if you thought he was going to acknowledge you, even out of courtesy given there were others surrounding him, watching him, you were wrong.

Mild irritation flared in your gut and you continued to look at him, trying to catch his eye. However, Neteyam’s gaze studiously avoided yours while he spoke in turn to the others, even quirking a small smile at Silwey when she leant her cheek against his shoulder. Your distress was sharp behind your sternum at the sight, but you were determined.

You cleared your throat audibly, causing a lull in the conversation as the women turned to look at you. You seized the opportunity, “Excuse me. Neteyam, can I have a moment? I need to speak to you.”

Finally, for the first time that day, his amber orbs clashed with your own. There was no warmth in them though, no emotion. Just pure impassiveness that sent a dreadful shudder through you.

“If it’s about work, it can wait until tomorrow morning.” Neteyam’s response was clipped.

His icy demeanour was cutting. You’d expected him to be upset, but not like this, not cold and unfeeling. “It’s not work-related, but it’s important.”

“Sorry. I’ve got plans tonight.” More callous brusqueness.

This was an unexpected hurdle. You hadn’t anticipated his refusal to speak to you. You’d prepared for his upset and for his anger, but not for his complete and utter disregard. A painful lump was forming in your throat and you swallowed it down tightly.

Keeping a tight rein on the brewing storm of your emotions beneath the surface, you maintained your careful mask of composure and tried again, “Neteyam, please. I only need a few moments.”

“No, I’ll catch you another time.” It was a clear dismissal.

You weren’t going to beg, not in front of everyone. You would swallow your pride, but not to the extent of abandoning all of your dignity.

Silwey was frowning at you, puzzled displeasure colouring her features, and the other women appeared equally uncomfortable at the awkward exchange. The telltale hot flush of humiliation was beginning to tingle and burn on the skin of your face. You regarded Neteyam’s hard gaze one final time before you turned and excused yourself from the group.

The world around you became surreal, the noise of the gathered clan becoming a dull hum as you ambled on numb feet back the way you came. You could feel your composure beginning to fracture, the turbulent storm within you threatening to spill, and with the first breath that hitched painfully in your chest, you broke into a sprint in the direction of your home shelter.

You needed somewhere safe and away from prying eyes for the dam to burst… For the upheaval of your emotions to come pouring out…

Your eyes stung and your vision blurred with the uncontrollable arrival of your tears. An onslaught of sobs besieged you next and you tore the sun lily blooms from your hair as you ran, pawing at the wetness streaming from your eyes. Evidently what had happened last night at the shack had been the last straw for Neteyam. You cried at the unfairness of it all.

You finally had a chance, but now it seemed that Neteyam was unwilling to grant it to you…

Someone was calling your name, the thud of heavy footfalls catching up to you. You ignored their calls, pumping your legs harder to increase your speed.

A strong hand hooked around your elbow, slowing you with a jolt and you attempted to spiral away, “No! Leave me alone!”

Another hand clasped hold of your other arm and your pursuer spun you in their arms to face them. Your forearms collided with a muscled chest and for a split second your mind tricked you into believing that Neteyam had come after you, but as your blurry gaze lifted to the man’s face you recognised who it really was.

Wrong brother. Lo’ak.

Lo’ak’s expression was cross, but you knew his irritation was not directed at you as he shushed you softly, “Hey, it’s alright, sweet thing.” He gave you a brief but tight hug before pulling away and fixing you with determined eyes, “Listen to me, OK? You have to keep it together. Go to my family’s shelter and wait there. Let yourself in, no one is home. They’re all still eating.”

Only half paying attention, you stammered, “W-What? Why?”

“Because I’m sick of this back-and-forth! You and Neteyam are going to talk. Tonight.” Lo’ak pressed insistently. He squeezed your arms gently in reassurance, “Go wait in my family’s shelter. I’ll get my brother.”

“He’s got plans.” You had meant to sound unpleasant, had meant for your voice to be a grating rasp, but what came out was an unsteady warble of words.

A harsh scoff left Lo’ak and he was already turning to jog back towards the crowded throng, “Nope, trust me. He doesn’t. Not if I have anything to say about it. Go! And stay there!”

***~~~***

A cacophony of grunts, thuds and slaps filled the woodland air as the brothers brawled off the main village pathway behind some shrubbery.

Neteyam hadn’t appreciated Lo’ak’s brisk interruption just as he and Silwey had been making their way to a quieter spot for the evening. He’d refused his brother’s ‘urgent’ request to return home at first, until Silwey had sensed the quickly rising strain between the pair and had grudgingly excused herself with a plea for him to seek her out later once the ‘emergency’ had been resolved. Neteyam had known exactly what his brother was doing, had known that there wasn’t a ‘family emergency’ at all, since their entire family could still be seen enjoying their dessert of fruit by the bonfire.

Spiteful comments were exchanged, hissing taunts were made and in the end, it was Lo’ak who’d thrown the first punch out of frustration.

The pair of them tussled, no longer upright on their feet, but wrestling on the moss-covered ground instead. It was a violent tangle of arms and legs. Neteyam had almost succeeded in his attempt to pin Lo’ak, when his younger brother threw a stinging punch, his fist colliding painfully with his jaw. A wounded groan left him and Lo’ak seized the opportunity, rolling to flip his brother onto his back in a pin.

Neteyam’s eyes were scrunched closed and his face was contorted into a pained grimace. Their bodies were robust with strong bones and tough skin, but the pain was always sharp and the bruising would show.

“You done, bro?” Lo’ak snarled, spitting a build-up of saliva and blood on the ground to his side.

Breathing hard, Neteyam fought a throbbing jaw to crack open his eyelids.

Lo’ak could see his brother was still angry, but the vehemence of Neteyam’s ire had dissipated after their brawl. He felt his brother pat his thigh in a gesture of submission and he shifted his weight so Neteyam could sit upright. Lo’ak rose gingerly to his feet, his hip aching a little from a rapid roll that Neteyam had executed earlier. He extended a hand out to his older brother who took it, pulling himself to his feet.

Fisticuffs had never been a regular occurrence between them. Not even when they’d been young boys. Lo’ak had always excelled at being the problematic, troublesome younger brother, but Neteyam had kept hold of his maturity and patience most of the time. They’d only ever had a handful of fistfights in their lives and they’d all been over significant issues. And it was fair to say that tonight’s issue was significant.

“I won’t let you run from this.” Lo’ak declared, wiping the stray dribble of blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of a hand, “I’ve always been the stupid, reckless one, and you’ve always looked out for me. Well, I’m returning the favour. She’s worth it, bro.”

Reminded of the reason for their brawl in the first place, Neteyam gritted his teeth and closed his eyes with a deep exhale through his nose. He didn’t want to talk to you… He figured that you felt bad, that you wanted to apologise… but he was past simple apologies now… He didn’t want to face you if you were just going to seek forgiveness and then go back to your life without him…

“There’s nothing to be said. She’s made herself clear that she isn’t interested.” Neteyam muttered severely, massaging at his own tender jaw with cautious fingers.

“I’m fucking done hearing that from both of you!”

“And I’m fucking sick of saying it! She won’t kiss me but she’ll happily kiss you! Things are pretty damn clear to me!”

“That was a misunderstanding, and she’ll explain it herself if you let her! For once in your life, can you just trust me on this?!” Lo’ak exclaimed, exasperated, “I’m not the one being the skxawng ass right now! You and Neyomi have tiptoed around each other for weeks! So I’m staging an intervention. Forced discussion!” The blood continued to build-up in his mouth and he cursed again with another spit to his side. He’d taken an elbow in the teeth from his brother at some point and he was quite sure that one of his teeth had loosened.

“Sorry.” Neteyam mumbled somewhat contritely.

“It was a good move with your elbow, very fast.” Lo’ak conceded, huffing out a laugh. However, his face returned to its sombre expression then, “Maybe you and Neyomi will both find it in yourselves to apologise to one another tonight too.”

Neteyam’s only response was a bitter snort. He was aware Lo’ak had spoken to you last night after he’d fled the shack. His brother had been scant on the details this morning, but he’d insisted that what had happened was a misunderstanding and that he needed to speak to you. Still smarting from your denial the previous night, Neteyam had promptly let Lo’ak’s words in through one of his ears and out the other, not intending at all to follow through.

When Neteyam didn’t say anything more, Lo’ak inveigled him, “Look, she wants to talk and clear the air. You both have some serious shit you need to say to each other and I’m not going to keep playing messenger between you.”

An image of you from earlier in the evening flitted to the forefront of Neteyam’s mind. He saw you with your hair loose and un-braided, the long strands falling to frame your face and trailing to tickle your shoulders and upper back. You had three tsawksyul blooms threaded into your locks behind your ears. You’d looked so beautiful... The next image was of the wounded look on your face when he’d denied your request to speak him in a callous dismissal in front of the others. The hurt that flashed in your eyes had been plain to see, and it had felt good to know that he’d hurt you, that he’d given you a taste of your own medicine.

“Where is she?” Neteyam queried quietly.

“Back at our family’s shelter. I asked her to wait there.”

Moistening his lips, Neteyam took a deep breath and set off back towards the main village path. He felt rotten now for upsetting you. Yes, you’d hurt him, but it didn’t make things any better for him to have hurt you in retaliation.

“Bro,” Lo’ak called out, making Neteyam stop in his tracks, “Don’t make things so hard, OK? Be honest. Open up to her. You might be surprised at what you find.”

With a sideways glace at his brother, Neteyam nodded, “Yeah.”

***~~~***

You sat on your folded legs on the floor of a smaller alcove in the Sullys’ home, waiting anxiously to see if Lo’ak would succeed in his endeavour to persuade Neteyam to speak to you. It hadn’t been a very long while, but it had certainly been long enough that you were starting to worry that perhaps Neteyam had remained unyielding.

You’d let yourself into the Sullys’ home shelter like Lo’ak had instructed and you’d proceeded to drift about awkwardly as you took the space in. Their shelter was much bigger than the standard ones most families lived in. Perks of being the chief’s family, you supposed. It had a much more spacious living area and the alcoves branching off the main space, that served as each individual’s private area, were also bigger than usual.

Trinkets and decorations both of Na’vi and human origin adorned the shelter, speaking to the mixed heritage of the family. Tinkling wooden chimes hung from the joists that held the shelter up. Homely furniture and utensils were set about the space on thick woven rugs, and little paper images of the family (which you’d come to learn were called photographs) were displayed here and there.

You’d ambled about, quietly admiring the place but too nervous to touch anything out of respect. Your nose had led you to one of the alcoves in particular, Neteyam’s familiar scent wafting from it like an appealing perfume that called to every nerve and cell in your body. A sense of comfort had washed over you and you’d settled yourself on the floor rug in his alcove to continue your wait.

Everything about the alcove screamed Neteyam, from the neatly made bedding to the well-ordered layout. His elegant bow and weaponry were systematically arranged against one side, long knives, spears and daggers hanging from a sturdy looking frame. Tidy piles of fabric and clothing sat nestled in a wooden chest, and a small but ornate dresser sat on the far side with his personal jewellery and knick-knacks. Your own alcove looked like a haphazard hovel in comparison, but whenever your mother complained of the mess, you always maintained that you found comfort in your chaos.

As another wave of apprehension consumed you, you inhaled deeply through your nose and let your breath whistle out from between your lips. Your gaze fell to your clasped hands in your lap. You knew what you wanted to say. You’d rehearsed the words over and over in your mind the whole day. You just needed a chance to say them. A pang of hurt lanced through your chest at your recollection of Neteyam’s callous dismissal. You hoped that you’d get that chance tonight.

The draping flaps at the entrance of the shelter swished apart then and your head snapped upright with a gasp to see Neteyam enter the space. Another gasp left you when you took in the few purpling bruises on his ribs and jawline, visible even in the lambent glow of the firelight in the central hearth.

You were on your feet and marching up to him in an instant, concern in your voice, “What happened?” You raised a gentle hand to his face, wanting to examine his jaw, but he flinched away from your touch.

“Lo’ak said you were waiting here to talk. He was very persuasive with his fists.” Neteyam replied and his tone was harsh and tight.

Your lips settled into an unhappy line. Your gaze dropped to Neteyam’s clenched fists by his sides and you spotted the telltale cuts on his knuckles that indicated the fight certainly wasn’t one-sided. You felt another sharp pinprick of hurt that the brothers had gotten into a physical disagreement over your request to speak to Neteyam. Did he really loathe you that much now that he’d fought with Lo’ak over this?...

Neteyam stood motionless while he watched your various emotions flit across your face. He noted the absence of the sun lily blooms from your hair, noted the downturn of your ears, the stickiness of your cheeks and the shine around your eyes. You’d been crying... Guilty regret bloomed in his gut, but his pride was quick to quash it. He was hurt too, hurt by your previous denials. Tears may not have left his eyes but that didn’t mitigate the fact that you’d hurt him too with your rejections.

Your heart thumped in your chest, blood pounding in your ears as you watched Neteyam wait for you to say something. His gaze was cold and the impatient swish of his tail was telling.

Now, in the moment, with the chance you wanted presented to you, the words you’d repetitively rehearsed earlier seemed to have abandoned you entirely. Desperately trying to tamp down the panic that was rising, you heartened yourself. Now or never, Neyomi!

“I’m sorry.” The words were a sticky croak in your throat and you cleared it softly before continuing, “I didn’t mean for last night to end like it did. The truth is, I wanted to kiss you both one last time. Lo’ak just happened to be closest to me. I would’ve turned to you after.”

“Uh huh.” Neteyam’s response was sceptical and he felt his irritation beginning to rise. It was certainly a very convenient explanation on your part… You’d wanted to kiss him too? After all your rebuffs and refusals, he found it incredibly hard to believe.

You sensed his disbelief and you pressed your point further, “I’m not just saying that, I mean it. I didn’t do it to mock you or hurt you. I was so spaced out and I wasn’t really thinking things through. I’m sorry, really I am.”

“Yeah, OK. You’re forgiven.” Neteyam said with a shrug, feigning insouciance in a bid to disguise his hurt. He didn’t really forgive you. He felt far too wounded to excuse your actions so easily, but he was growing more and more uncomfortable in the thick tension that surrounded you both and he wanted out of there. If what you wanted was to apologise and seek his forgiveness then you’d done that. Conversation over. “If that’s all you needed to say then you’ll need to excuse me. Someone’s waiting for me.”

The nonchalance Neteyam was displaying made you feel equal parts sad and angry. Here you were being sincere, wanting to start an honest discussion and he wasn’t even trying. It felt as if he was here just so he could tell Lo’ak he’d spoken to you, when nothing about his manner or his words was genuine. Neteyam’s frame was already turned halfway away from you, his intention to leave clear.

Your annoyance spiked, emboldening you and you hissed, “No, I’m not done. Don’t walk away from me.” Especially not to run back into Silwey’s arms…

Pausing in his steps, Neteyam gritted his teeth and his injured jaw throbbed painfully. He turned to face you again with pinned ears and unimpressed eyes, “What else?”

He watched your as your breaths began to deepen and a frown marred your lovely face. You were so impossibly beautiful even when you were angry, and the thought only further infuriated him in that moment. Lo’ak’s words echoed in the recesses of his mind; be open, be honest. But what did his brother expect him to do? Pour his heart out to you? He’d done that once before the night of the hot spring, and you’d thrown his affection back in his face.

Your next words were uncanny, as if you had somehow read his thoughts.

“I’m sorry also for how I reacted that night at the hot spring.” You stated, making a conscious attempt to stop your irritation from colouring your expression. You wanted to appear sincere and you didn’t think an apology delivered with a scowl would achieve that. “It wasn’t my intention to hurt your feelings then either, and I’m sorry if I did.”

Neteyam wasn’t making the same effort though and his words were muttered through clenched teeth, “Again, you’re forgiven.”

Your tail hung low between your legs and you frowned at him, upset, “You’re just saying that. I’m trying to tell you that I’m genuinely sorry and you’re just going through the motions!”

The monster of his pain that Neteyam had spent the last couple of moons trying to restrain reared its ugly head in full force. He didn’t want your apologies. He wanted you. But just as he couldn’t force you to feel for him what he felt for you, your apologies couldn’t force his earnest forgiveness from him either.

“Well, a genuine apology doesn’t always earn genuine forgiveness, especially when forgiveness isn’t ready to be granted on the forgiver’s part!” Neteyam cried in a bitter shout. He saw you gulp and recoil slightly at his raised voice, but he’d uncorked the bottle of his tumultuous emotions now and after being pent up for so long, his words poured from him in an inexorable stream, “Do you know what it’s like to want someone, to be around them every day, to be so close to them and know what their body feels like, tastes like, and yet have to live with the fact that they don’t want you the same way?! You know, if all you wanted from me was the pleasure of my body, then so be it! I’ll accept that and I’ll get over my feelings in time. But don’t expect me to forgive you now when I’m not ready to do that!”

His shouting startled you at first, but you were quick to recover. He wasn’t the only one who could be loud.

“It’s not just your body I want!” You shrieked in return, and it was Neteyam’s turn to wince. You advanced on him and he took a few steps back as you gained on him until he was backed against one of the shelter’s support beams. “And yes, I know exactly what it’s like to want someone and feel like you can’t have them because that’s how I’ve been feeling too, you skxawng!”

You were so close to Neteyam now that your chin was tilted up defiantly while you held his gaze. He was glaring down at you in return, his broad chest heaving with his own resentment. You were both reeling from each other’s words, both your brains working frantically to process the situation. However, rationality was hard to find when emotions were running high, especially when what felt good in the moment was to spew blame and point fingers.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the tsahìk’s arrangement with Kiri?” You demanded hotly.

“What difference would it have made?” Neteyam snarled, “Besides, you avoided me for weeks! You were impossible to get hold of and then you went and started fucking Kai!”

“It would’ve made all the difference!” You screeched, “And don’t bring Kai into this! I never put any restrictions on you or Lo’ak while our agreement was in place. I never stopped either of you from carrying on with your other play nights with the other women!”

“I haven’t been with anyone else since you! Despite everything, all I want is you!”

“Me too!”

Both his words and yours were shouted and the sound reverberated in the hollow confines of the shelter. You sagged as if suddenly tired from the emotional tirade of the last while, and you saw the remnants of Neteyam’s ire gradually seep from his own furious expression. The truth of the situation struck you both with such stark clarity that it stunned you both into deafening silence.

Neteyam was the first to break the silence. He gave a slow shake of his head and he closed his eyes, trying to make sense of it all, “Wait, what? So why did you pull away that night at the spring? And then you avoided me and stopped coming to the shack when you start seeing Kai.”

“Because I was scared.” You murmured, and the memory of your sleepless nights filled with heartsick despair brought unbidden tears to your eyes. You blinked wet eyes up at him and your tears escaped at the action.

Neteyam hated the sight of your tears, especially now that he was the cause of them. He sighed wearily. Tenderness swelled in his chest and he cupped one of your cheeks with a gentle hand, smoothing away the rolling bead of moisture with his thumb. His deep voice was soft and gentle when he spoke, a direct contrast to his harsh bellows from before, “Scared of what?”

“Of falling for you.” You gave a wet laugh and continued your explanation, “You will be olo’eyktan of this clan one day. By tradition your mate must be worthy of being tsahìk. That was never going to be me. I ran because I was in too deep already. I wanted to keep what I had left of my heart, but I realised after that it was too late anyway.”

Neteyam stifled a curse under his breath. The arrangement of Kiri becoming tsakarem hadn’t been confirmed yet at the time. His grandmother had still been deliberating and praying about it when the night at the hot spring had occurred, but the decision had been made not long after. Perhaps if he hadn’t been so wounded by your actions, if he’d listened to his brother and been more persistent in getting hold of you, this current situation may not have spiralled so out of hand.

“Fuck, I should’ve said something.” Neteyam lamented with a groan, tilting his chin down to rest his forehead against yours, “I was just so convinced that you didn’t feel the same way and that telling you would just result in another rebuff. Especially since you still came to the shack to play for but refused to kiss me.”

“I wanted to, so much.” You whispered with a sniffle, your nose brushing his lightly, “I tried with Kai, but there was no spark there. All I could think about was you. How could I not want all of you? You’re everything I want. I wanted to protect my heart but it broke anyway trying to stay away from you.”

Your words ended in a mewling sob and Neteyam enveloped you in his arms, crushing you to him. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, the comforting warmth of his body only seeming to make you cry harder.

“Shhh, I’m sorry too.” Neteyam soothed, running a large hand up and down your back while the other cupped your head against him, “I’ve been a fool and I’m so sorry.”

Remorse and shame flooded him as he reflected now on the past while. Hindsight was always 20/20. Great Mother, you’d both been so stupid... You’d both been on the same trajectory all along, except you hadn’t seen a conceivable way forward and while he had, knowing of the arrangement with Kiri, your fear and your avoidant behaviour had caused him to misunderstand and unwittingly hide the solution from you.

He pressed a kiss to your temple, loosening his hold when he felt you shift to peer up at him.

Dabbing at your nose and eyes with the back of your hand, you apologised for your appearance, “Sorry, I probably look a mess.”

Neteyam emitted a scoff and graced you with a warm smile. His hands framed your face, thumbs caressing your cheeks, “No, you’re beautiful even when you cry, paskalin. I’ll claim that kiss that you owe me now, if that’s alright?”

With a giggle, you agreed.

Sliding your palms up his chest to wind your arms around his neck, you pushed up onto the balls of your feet to meet his lips in a smooth and plush meld. It was different to how you’d imagined it would be last night, in your dazed state of overstimulation and arousal. When you’d decided on sharing one last kiss with Neteyam and Lo’ak, you’d been dejected and you’d expected the kiss to be filled with an air of sad finality. But your kiss with Neteyam now burned bright with hope and promise.

Pulling away gently, Neteyam’s smile was wide and you could see your own happiness mirrored in his golden orbs. He nuzzled your cheek affectionately, rubbing his cheek along yours while you did the same. You felt lighter than you had in a long time, the blooming warmth of your joy radiating from your heart out towards your limbs and extremities. After so many miserable nights and awkward days, the relief and thrill of knowing that feelings were requited on both sides was wonderful.

Neteyam pressed a chaste kiss to your lips and he declared, “I want to court you, openly. I want every man and woman in this clan to know that you and I are seeing each other. No one else, no more shack visits with Lo’ak.”

You couldn’t help the beaming grin that danced across your cheeks, and you chased his lips with your own as you spoke, “Yes, I accept, and it wasn’t Lo’ak that I came to the shack for.”

You felt Neteyam’s strong arms embrace you again while his lips and tongue danced passionately with yours. When you felt his large hands move to your upper thighs to hoist you against him, you instinctively twined your legs around his slender waist, locking your ankles behind him. He manoeuvred both of you into his alcove, messily pulling the cloth drapes at its entrance closed to cocoon you both in the privacy of the space.

Lowering you gently onto the softness of his bed, you moaned quietly with delight at how everything smelled of him. The heavy weight of him settled beside you and he stretched out alongside the length of your body. You both turned to lie on your sides, facing each other. It was darker in the alcove with no lamps lit in the space, the only source of light being the glow of the main fire behind the draping cloths at the alcove entrance. But Na’vi eyes acclimatised quickly and soon you could clearly make out the contours of Neteyam’s handsome face.

Your eyes trailed his form slowly from head to toe, following the vividly glimmering constellations of his tanhì (bioluminescent freckles) on his face, down his chest, abdomen and his legs. You were unhurried as you drunk in the sight of him and he appeared to be doing the same, his eyes performing a similar trek over your own body. Eywa, he was so gorgeous… His body was just perfect, every defined muscle encased in warm, smooth skin that smelled of masculine virility.

You reached out to trail your fingers over his ribs and his toned abdominals, relishing the shudder you earned from him as your fingertips traced the sensitive skin of his hip.

One of his hands stroked across your cheek and he leaned in to kiss you gently, whispering a beloved declaration against your lips, “I love you.”

Your lips stretched wide and he felt your smile against him, “I love you too.”

“Shall I show you just how much?” Neteyam’s voice was a mischievous rasp.

You tittered and sighed desirously, “Yes, make love to me, you stubborn man.”

A dark chuckle from him, “You’re going to have to be quiet here though. Think you can do that?”

You nodded soundlessly, eagerly reaching to undo the ties of your chest covering and flinging it aside to bare your breasts to him. Neteyam’s groan was almost inaudible, but you felt the rumbling growl of it with how close you were to him. His hands were immediately on your breasts, the heat of his palms searing against your soft mounds. He kneaded your breasts, thumbs stroking sensually over your incredibly sensitive nipples that hardened under his attentions. The sensation made liquid heat pool between your thighs.

Your hands made quick work of your loincloth and the fabric was flung to join your top. You felt one of his hands snake around your hip to pull you closer to him, front to front, and when his legs tangled with yours you noticed he was bare against you too, devoid of his own loincloth. You smoothed a hand over his strapping chest, fingertips testing the hard muscle there before your hand meandered towards his neck and you clutched his head towards yours.

You kissed him languidly, tasting him and smelling him, marvelling that you could love him now, truly. No more pretending. No more holding back. After so long without his lips against yours, you could quite honestly say that if the pair of you did nothing but kiss all night, you’d still wake up satisfied.

Neteyam pulled back from the kiss then and you whimpered in complaint, but he hushed you with a thumb against your lips. He murmured to you, “Shh, I love you here,” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Here,” A kiss to each of your eyes, “Here,” A kiss on your nose… And on he continued downward, your shoulders, a suckling kiss to each nipple, over your heart, your navel…

You lost count after that, just getting lost in the amorous bliss of his lips paying worship to every inch of your bare skin down to your toes. He didn’t disappoint though and when he parted your thighs to settle himself between your legs, and licked a full stripe from your pussy up to your clit, you jerked with a stifled cry.

“I love you especially here.” Neteyam growled. His mouth got to work, licking and suckling at your soon throbbing core while you watched him through hooded eyes.

His golden eyes locked with yours and the intensity of his gaze made your pussy clench, pouring with slick. Your fingers played absently with his beaded braids while your hips rocked against the moist paradise of his mouth. Your eyes could barely stay open as you enjoyed the building pleasure.

Something slid down one of your thighs then and you cracked open an eyelid just in time to see Neteyam trail the thick braid of his kuru (neural queue) over your hip towards you. It was a very intimate thing, to touch another’s kuru. The intimacy of the action was surpassed only by the making of tsaheylu between two people, but Neteyam’s invitation to you to touch his was clear.

Slowly, you reached for the meticulously braided length with one hand, gently running your fingers over the smooth hair around it. Neteyam let out a small sigh that puffed against your core and he closed his eyes, enjoying your caress. You trailed your hand closer towards the end of his queue where you knew the delicate pink tendrils of it were housed. Tenderly, your fingers delved past the ends of the hair around the sheath and a sharp jolt of pleasure raced through you as the tendrils enveloped your fingers.

Neteyam whimpered, his lips and tongue ceasing their work momentarily as pleasure shot down his queue and straight to his stiff cock which gave an excited spurt of pre-cum. It was new sensation to him and a thoroughly erotic one. He couldn’t describe it, but as your fingers played with the tendrils, it was almost as if he could feel your fingers touching him at every single erogenous zone simultaneously. He resumed his feasting of your core, tongue lapping at your slick folds that only seemed to moisten further with each lap of his tongue.

His name was a whispered sigh on your lips as your clit pulsated and your inner walls squeezed. The addition of a couple of his fingers came next and he sealed his lips over your nub to suck intently at it. The tendrils of his kuru fizzled pleasantly in and around your fingers. You didn’t know what made you do it, instinct perhaps, but you brought it up towards one of your breasts then, letting the squirming tendrils attach and wrap themselves around your areola and nipple.

The pleasure was instantaneous and Neteyam’s groan against your flesh told you he felt it too. A wave of ecstasy flushed through you from your nipples to your core, throwing you into the inescapable clutches of an orgasm. Mindful of your surroundings, your mouth formed a silent ‘o’ and your fingers twisted in his hair while you writhed in bliss. Neteyam’s hand gripped onto the flesh of your hips, keeping you still enough so he could continue to drink from your core.

Your desire burned feverishly within you despite the shattering climax you’d just experienced and you were impatient to have more of him against you. Tugging at his braids to get his attention, Neteyam lifted his face, licking his lips while his cheeks glistened with the evidence of your arousal. His expression was almost feral as he crawled up your body on all fours, and you spied his straining erection, watching it bob as he made his way up to you.

You shot him a slow smile as he settled himself alongside you again and the mess on his face didn’t deter you from kissing him. You murmured, “Thank you.”

“I’m enchanted by you, paskalin. I’ll do anything you ask for as long as I live.”

A hot blush stained your cheeks at his romantic words and you didn’t know whether to kiss him again or hide your face. You saw him look at the end of his kuru where it remained attached to your breast and you urged him, “Leave it. This might sound strange, but it’s as though I can feel you better. And it feels good.”

Neteyam smirked at you and nodded in agreement, “What would you like now? I’m impatient to have you though.”

His shifted his hips, his drooling erection slipping against your lower belly. You chortled softly at him and you took pity on his aching flesh, reaching down with a hand to greet his cock with a familiar stroke. A loud grunt left Neteyam and you hushed him, ears twitching and listening to the surroundings of the shelter. No one had returned yet, you were quite sure, the both of you would’ve heard them. Though it paid to be cautious.

Getting caught in a compromising position with the olo’eyktan’s son in the olo’eyktan’s home was not a misdemeanour you wanted against your record.

You continued your teasing stroke and squeeze of his cock, revelling in the sound of Neteyam’s strained panting by your ear. You paused by the swollen tip, running your thumb back and forth over his frenulum, which drew a very vulgar curse from him. His free hand was stimulating your other nipple while the tendrils of his kuru undulated over your other. The stimulation made your pussy ache and your clit throb longingly and you rubbed your thighs together to try and ease the pressure.

“Let me help you with that. You know I can fill you up so good.” Neteyam purred, thrusting his hips so his cock slipped faster in the grasp of your hand as if to press his point.

You smirked at him and licked sensuously over his parted lips with your tongue, “No, I think I’ll tease you a bit more for being so mean to me earlier. Besides, I want to try something.”

Your introduction to Neteyam’s neural queue made you eager to return the favour. Reaching behind you with your other hand, you brought your kuru over your shoulder and carefully held its end out between you, the twisting pink tendrils greeting Neteyam with their rippling dance. Already breathing heavily from the pleasure you were giving his cock, he lifted his hand to meet your tendrils, and both of you gasped as they twined around his fingers.

The sensation was unlike anything you’d ever experienced. Heat flushed over your skin and you prickled everywhere that you were sensitive; your nipples hardened and your pussy gushed with more slick. An unbidden erotic image came to you of your kuru’s tendrils wrapped around Neteyam’s cock and you shivered with delight at the thought.

Gently pulling your kuru from Neteyam’s fingers, you gradually inched it down towards his midsection, wanting to make the image your brain had supplied a reality. You watched him for any sign of discomfort or uncertainty, but his pupils were blown so wide with arousal you could hardly see the gold of his irises, and he looked on with as much eager anticipation as you did. Releasing his cock where you held it in your right hand, you brought left hand with your kuru towards it. The tendrils eagerly wrapped around their new target, coiling around the head and upper shaft.

You felt Neteyam’s body lurch at the same time that a wave of immense gratification shot through your neural queue to your own core.

“Fuck, Neyomi.” Neteyam keened and you saw his cock pulse, emitting a viscous string of pre-cum. It continued to throb and you swore your clit was throbbing in time with it.

Neteyam groaned aloud again, evidently struggling to keep to his own rule of being quiet. You rolled onto you back, pulling him atop you and silencing him with a deep kiss. You drowned in the moist heat of his mouth, lips and tongues waltzing in-between the twist and turn of your heads. He was rocking his hips against yours, his cock trapped between your bodies while your kuru still remained coiled around his sensitive flesh.

He broke away from the kiss with a sharp hiss of pleasure, “Wiya (damn), I’m going to cum like this if I can’t have you soon.”

“Yeah? Does that feel good?”

“Too good. Please, I need you.” Neteyam pleaded with a whimper, and he continued to ramble, “I know you must be aching for me. Let me make you squirt on my cock. You must have missed that right? All those weeks you didn’t come to the shack.”

You paused. It was true, you had missed him and missed his body, but you’d technically managed to squirt too with the dildo you’d poached from the shack…

When you didn’t answer, Neteyam stilled in his movements and he turned questioning eyes at you, “What is it?”

You bit your lip sheepishly, wondering if you should fib your way out of the situation or tell him the truth and make him feel a little less special. You didn’t want to start your new relationship off with a lie, so you resolved to be truthful, “I did manage to squirt whilst I wasn’t with you.”

His eyes widened and he looked rather taken aback.

“N-Not with someone else!” You quickly amended, “I pinched one of the toys from the shack a while ago when you and Lo’ak weren’t looking. It ah- It does the trick.”

Neteyam’s face suddenly morphed into a very smug smile and he leaned down to nibble at the point of your ear while he drawled, “Oh the dildo. We wondered where it had gone. Did you enjoy it, you little snitch?”

You shivered against him and rubbed your cheek against his, “Yeah, so your cock’s not the only one that can make me squirt. Sorry.”

Neteyam’s answering chuckle was deep and self-assured, “Don’t be. I’m not sorry about that.”

Confusion coloured your face and you pulled your head back to look at him, “You’re not?”

Neteyam’s expression was still incredibly conceited when he shook his head. He reached down and gently removed your kuru from his cock, keeping hold of it still though and letting its tendrils find purchase amongst his fingers instead. Sliding his knee between your thighs, he urged your to part your legs for him, which you did without hesitation. Balancing over you on his forearms, he settled his hips against yours and began a tantalising rub of his cock against your folds. You moaned with want and hooked your ankles behind his lower back.

“Why would I be upset about you squirting on that dildo,” He taunted huskily, “When that dildo was made from a mould of my cock?” His last words were punctuated with a sharp thrust of his hips, his long length penetrating you suddenly and fully to the hilt.

You threw your head back against the bedding with a guttural cry, uncaring at that moment if anyone heard you. Well that explained a lot about why that dildo had felt so good inside you… You didn’t have time to ponder on that thought. You clutched at Neteyam’s body, arms wrapped tight around his torso, your legs locked around his hips as he settled into a rhythm of rocking thrusts.

“You’re mine, paskalin.” Neteyam vowed and his lips found yours again in an all-consuming meld that set your heart and soul alight with elation.

You couldn’t get enough of him. He was all around you, over you, in you, and yet you still felt like you needed him to be closer. Your fronts were pressed to each other’s and your tails were twined; if you died like this you knew you would die the happiest you’d ever been. Your mouths remained fused, pausing only for short intakes of breath before finding each other again.

Neteyam’s thrusts were slow, but they were deep and you could feel every last ridge and outline of his cock inside you. The depth of his movements was delicious and the intense and pulsing throbs of your pelvic muscles signalled an impressive climax on the horizon for you.

Neteyam broke away from your kiss, tucking his face into the side of your neck to stifle his own reflexive moans of enjoyment. You knew he was close too from the shudder of his torso with each of his thrusts, and you could somehow feel his pleasure too, from his kuru at your breast and your kuru within his grasp.

Great Mother, you could only imagine how breathtaking it would feel when two people mated and made tsaheylu…

The winding spiral of pleasure twisted tighter and tighter in your lower belly, and your fingernails scored Neteyam’s back whilst you teetered on the brink of oblivion. You felt suspended in time, the only sounds you could hear were the pounding of your hearts and Neteyam’s harsh groans as he too hovered on the edge. He lifted his head and his gaze locked with your own, each of your pleasure-filled reflections mirrored in the dark pupils of each other’s eyes.

It was the only reflection you ever wanted to see in his eyes, your own face staring back at you. You never wanted to be without Neteyam again and as your heart shattered with the depth of your love for him, so did your core. Your climax swept through you like a tidal wave, your pussy clenching down and pulsing rhythmically as the wetness of your squirt gushed between your bodies. Your face twisted into what you hoped was a silent scream while the pleasure consumed you.

The squeeze and clench of your walls around his cock, as always, was nirvana for Neteyam. His entire frame tensed and went rigid, and he gritted his teeth hard to keep himself from shouting out his pleasure as he ejaculated. Your body milked him for every drop he had and your pussy continued to flutter around his swollen length pleasurably.

“Neteyam… Neteyam…” You whispered his name in a blissful chant and though your arms and legs shook from exertion, you kept them wrapped about him, not wanting to let him go. You mewled in complaint when he tried to roll his weight off you, so he deftly rolled you both so you could lie on top of him, still intimately joined.

Neteyam clasped you to him, on arm draped over your back while his other hand made soothing strokes over your hair. He could feel your breaths puffing gently into the crook of his neck where your cheek rested against his collarbone. His kuru and yourshad detached at some point and they trailed alongside your bodies, but it took nothing away from the intimacy you were both still wrapped up in.

“By Eywa, you’re it for me, you know that?” Neteyam affirmed with a hoarse chuckle, “Without a doubt. I’ll never look at another woman again.”

Your heart soared at his words and you knew, if you could see yourself, that your tanhì would be glowing bright with your immeasurable joy and contentment, “I guess we’re both ruined for each other then.”

“Will you be mine, formally? Will you accept this offer of betrothal?”

You gasped softly at his request. Your heart screamed your answer, affirmative without any hesitation, but the cogs in your mind began to turn. His betrothal request was unexpected. You’d agreed earlier to be courted openly by him, but a betrothal was serious. It was an engagement to be mated for life and while your heart danced for joy, your conscience questioned, not his fit for you as a mate, but your fit for him as mate to the olo’eyktan.

“Neyomi?” Neteyam queried quietly at your silence. His apprehension was clear in his tone.

You raised your head to regard him, blinking wide eyes at him, “I want to accept, but what if I turn out to be wrong for you? What if I’m not fit to stand by your side as wife to the olo’eyktan?”

He laughed at you then, relief sweeping over his face when he realised why you were hesitating, “You stand by my side every day already, paskalin. You’re my second-in-command and you’ve partnered with me, challenged me where I needed to be, and supported me for years. You already hold the position without the formal title.”

Tears sprang to your eyes as your emotions began to gain the upper hand. You murmured wetly, “You really want me like that? Forever?”

Neteyam craned his head upward to brush his lips against yours, “I want you every way that I can have you. As my second-in-command, my wife, mother of my children…”

His words trailed off, interrupted by you as you pulled him against you to claim his lips in another searing kiss, “Yes! I accept.”

There was commotion then in the main space of the family’s shelter. Hushed whispers and soft chatter sounded, indicating the return home of the other Sullys.

A very loud and contrived coughing fit sounded from Lo’ak, who cleared his throat dramatically several times, apologising repeatedly for his noisy fuss. You and Neteyam grinned at each other in the darkness, chortling to yourselves, knowing full well that Lo’ak was wanting to ensure the both of you knew that you were no longer alone.

You settled your head against Neteyam’s chest again, closing drowsy eyes and basking in the afterglow.

Neteyam murmured a bedtime prayer and pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, “Sleep, my love and I’ll rise to kiss you again in the morning.”

***~~~***

You were awoken by the sound of soft knocking against wood and a feminine voice calling out gently.

Neteyam stirred beneath you, his shoulder shifting beneath your cheek. You’d slept pressed against each other the entire night and were it not for the corporeality of the situation currently, you would’ve sworn it was all just a wonderful dream.

More knocking sounded and you were grateful to see the cloth drapes at the alcove entrance remained shut. Neither of you was decent yet.

The feminine voice called again and you recognised it to be Kiri’s, “Good morning, you two. The day has long begun.”

Part of you sighed in relief. Better Kiri than Neytiri. Great Mother, you didn’t want to face Neteyam’s mother right now after a sensual night with him, under their roof…

Neteyam’s smile was debonair and he blinked sleepy eyes at you. You squinted back at him, the harsh daylight outside obvious even in the confines of the shelter. You startled with a gasp. Daylight! By Eywa, what was the time?!

Scrambling for your clothing, you smacked Neteyam’s thigh, “Neteyam! The hunters! We’ve got patrol this morning!”

Kiri’s laughter sounded like a charming peal of shell chimes from behind the drapes, “Mm yes, I daresay it caused quite the stir when both the commander of the warriors and his second-in-command didn’t turn up for work today.”

A long and grumbled curse hissed out from Neteyam as he pressed the fingers of one hand into his eyes.

Kiri was quick to chastise, clucking her tongue in reprimand, “Language, brother. Besides, there’s no need to fret. Dad and Lo’ak stepped in to lead today’s patrol. There isn’t any urgency for you.”

Dressing quickly nonetheless, you shared a chaste kiss with Neteyam before he drew back the alcove drapes. Kiri stood with her arms folded, looking mighty amused as her eyes flitted sagaciously between the pair of you.

Kiri’s shrewd eyes took in your form, trailing you from head to toe again, but there was a teasing glint in them when she spoke, “That was some apology you had for my brother.”

Flushing a deep shade of violet, you greeted the young woman meekly, “Good morning, Kiri.”

“Where’s Mum?” Neteyam asked, glancing around the empty shelter with nervous eyes. He threaded his fingers through yours to hold your hand. His mother wouldn’t have been pleased by what the both of you had done. Yes, you were both grown adults and intimacy was not frowned upon amongst the people, but there was a certain respect that one had to have for their parents’ home.

Kiri giggled again with a polite hand over her mouth, “She’s out. She left early this morning to help Grandmother gather some herbs.” She snorted when she saw Neteyam visibly relax, and she couldn’t help but take another jab at him, amused by his discomfiture, “Oh don’t worry, Mum definitely wanted to throw you both out earlier this morning, but I think the Great Mother had something to say about that.”

You frowned, not understanding Kiri’s meaning. Neteyam’s ears too pricked in curious interest and he cocked a questioning head at his sister, “What do you mean?”

Kiri padded to the main archway of the family shelter and she pulled one half of the entry cloths aside, motioning with her head for both of you to step outside, “Come see for yourself.”

Following along a little behind Neteyam, the warmth of daylight greeted your skin as you both stepped out into the open. You heard Neteyam suck in a breath and halt in his steps. Blinking against the intense daylight, your eyes took a few moments to acclimatise. However, when they finally did and you took in the spectacle before you, you gave a loud gasp of surprise.

All around the Sullys’ family shelter, littering the ground and hovering about the structure, were dozens of atokirina (seeds of the sacred tree). The feathery seeds undulated about the place, sprinkling the shelter in a dusting of blessed white.

Kiri stepped out after the both of you, grinning, “Evidently Eywa thought all was right with the world.”

You felt Neteyam pull you to his side and he nuzzled your cheek tenderly. Your answering smile was bright and you placed a shy kiss on his shoulder.

“Do I need to tell Grandmother to make another formal announcement?” Kiri asked, smirking at the tender display of affection between you.

Neteyam’s beamed at his sister and his response was full of affectionate confidence, “Yes. Neyomi and I are both spoken for. We’re betrothed.”

And all was right with the world indeed…

Epilogue - Silwey's Reaction HERE

***~~~***

Author's Note: The end! THANK YOU again to all of you wonderful folks for your awesome support. I absolutely love interacting with everyone and it's because of you that this series became a reality. It was only ever meant to be a oneshot! I hope that you've relished Neteyam & Neyomi's (reader) journey to love. Let me know your thoughts, scream to me in the comments! Reblogs, likes & comments are always very appreciated. 😘

Tag list: @teymars @eyweveng @leaveitbythewave @luvteyams @akiras-key @bajbr @qcswrites @reggiesslut @neteluvr @savvysscandles @dasaniix @emery-333 @vintaqestar @live-laugh-neteyam @itssomeonereading @strawberry-vamp0 @delacruzyari @bluecooki3 @aalex561-blog @frustrated-kitten @innercreationflower @wolf12thsworld @wheneclipsefalls @iameatingmyhair  @ele-sme @investedreader @oasiswithmyg @daeneeryss @pandorxxx @anonka01 @hunbomb @pandoraslxna @adrianarose7 @sunghoonmyluv @notnat02 @getthisoverwith33 @simp4myself @spicymayyo @animehoe1-800 @daddysmurfslefttoenail @iman-lu @creepytoes88 @flyingspacewhale @neteyamswifesworld @lostress101 @nilsavatar @cloudyw1ndzz @itsjazzsworld @solemnlover @asweetblueberry2 @blue-slxt

[reidmarieprentiss]

Short Shorts & Long Hair 2

Summary: Spencer and his physical therapist enjoy their new relationship.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x PT fem!reader

Category: fluff, smut (18+)

Warnings/Includes: smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, suggestive content & conversation, alcohol consumption, feelings talks, trying on clothes in front of spencer, drunk sexual advances (not acted on)

Word count: 9.7k

a/n: i am so so so sorry this took me forever to get out -- honestly it has been done for over a week i just couldn't decide if i wanted to add more or not :/// i like where it leaves off though!

main masterlist part one

Additional warnings: oral (male receiving)

Spencer was immersed in his work, his focus completely on the files spread out in front of him, when a familiar voice cut through the usual hum of the bullpen.

“Can you point me to Doctor Reid, please?”

His head snapped up instantly, the sound of your voice pulling him from his thoughts. There you were, standing just a few feet away, looking absolutely stunning in your work attire that was professional yet irresistibly appealing. Spencer’s heart skipped a beat as he took in the sight of you, his surprise evident on his face.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, a mixture of delight and shock coloring his tone. “What are you doing here?”

You smiled warmly, holding up a couple of bags filled with what looked like takeout containers. “Bringing my two favorite geniuses some lunch,” you said as you walked over, the easy confidence in your stride making Spencer’s heart race just a little faster.

Before Spencer could respond, Derek Morgan’s voice rang out from across the room. “Reid, you gonna introduce us?” Derek asked, his trademark smirk firmly in place as he leaned back in his chair, clearly amused by the unexpected visit.

Spencer felt a flush creep up his neck as he turned to face Derek. “Uh, yeah, of course,” he stammered slightly, trying to regain his composure. “Derek, this is Y/N, my—well, she’s… she’s a physical therapist.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening as he caught onto the hesitation in Spencer’s voice. “A physical therapist, huh?” he said, clearly intrigued. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. Any friend of Reid’s is a friend of mine.”

You chuckled, extending a hand to Derek. “Nice to meet you too, Derek. Spencer hasn’t mentioned a thing about you.”

Derek laughed loudly, clearly amused. “I like you already. I hope you give him a hard time.”

You smiled, relishing the easy banter. “Every chance I get, but for now, I’m here to make sure he’s well-fed and not skipping any meals.”

Spencer, still a bit flustered, managed a smile as he glanced between you and Derek. “Thanks for the lunch, Y/N,” he said, his voice softer now, filled with appreciation. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” you replied, your eyes meeting his with a warmth that made his heart flutter. “Besides, I needed an excuse to see you.”

Derek let out a low whistle, clearly enjoying the interaction. “Reid, you’ve been holding out on us,” he teased. “How come you never told us about your very generous, very attractive physical therapist?”

Spencer’s blush deepened, the rosy hue spreading across his cheeks, but he couldn’t help the small, shy smile that tugged at his lips. “I, uh… she’s not my physical therapist anymore,” he admitted, his voice faltering slightly.

Derek’s smirk widened, sensing an opportunity. “No? Then what is she, pretty boy?” he asked, his tone teasing but curious.

Spencer paled at the question, his mind racing for a response, but before he could stammer out an answer, Penelope’s voice cut through the tension, saving him from the awkwardness.

“Y/N! What are you doing here, gorgeous?” Penelope exclaimed as she entered the bullpen, her vibrant presence instantly lightening the mood.

You turned to greet her, grateful for the timely interruption. “Just bringing some lunch for my favorite geniuses,” you replied with a bright smile, embracing Penelope as she reached you.

Penelope grinned, giving you a quick hug before turning her gaze toward Spencer and Derek, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Well, isn’t this a delightful surprise! You boys better be on your best behavior—Y/N’s practically family now.”

Spencer let out a quiet sigh of relief, silently thanking Penelope for diverting the conversation. He wasn’t sure how he would have explained what was happening between you two—mostly because he was still figuring it out himself.

—

At your regular wine and painting night, you and Penelope had indulged a little more in the wine and a little less in the painting. The vibrant colors on your canvases were more the result of playful brush strokes than any serious artistic endeavor, and the conversation had turned increasingly lively.

“So… how is the good doctor between the sheets?” Penelope asked, her eyes sparkling with a mix of curiosity and wine-fueled boldness.

“Penny!” you admonished, feeling your cheeks flush as you playfully swatted at her arm.

Penelope pouted, clearly unbothered by your reaction. “I need details! He won’t tell me anything.”

You sighed, trying to figure out how to navigate this without giving too much away. “There’s not much to tell…”

Penelope’s face fell, her concern evident as she leaned in closer. “Oh no, are you two not doing well?” she asked, her tone suddenly serious.

“No, no, nothing like that,” you quickly reassured her, waving off her worries with a small laugh.

“Then what?” Penelope’s intoxicated brain wasn’t quite catching the subtle signals you were sending. She looked at you expectantly, waiting for an explanation.

You hesitated, biting your lip before finally mumbling, “We haven’t even kissed…”

“WHAT!” Penelope’s outburst was loud enough to draw the attention of the entire room, heads turning to look at you both.

You quickly reached out, grabbing her arm and whispering urgently, “Penny, shhh!”

Penelope clamped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide as she realized she had caused a scene. The other attendees slowly returned to their own conversations, the moment passing, but not without a few lingering glances in your direction.

Penelope leaned in closer, her voice lowered but still insistent. “How have you not kissed yet?” she whispered, her curiosity undeterred by your attempts at discretion.

You sighed, feeling the weight of the question. “It’s just… complicated,” you explained softly. “We’ve been trying to figure things out, and we haven’t rushed anything.”

Penelope’s expression softened, her earlier excitement replaced by understanding. “You know, there’s no need to rush,” she said gently. “But when the time feels right, just go for it, okay? Spencer’s a good guy, and he really likes you.”

You nodded, appreciating her support despite her earlier outburst. “I know. I really like him too.”

Penelope smiled, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Then it’ll happen when it’s meant to. But if you need a little push, you know who to call.”

You laughed, the tension easing as you clinked your wine glasses together. The conversation shifted back to lighter topics, but the words Penelope had spoken stayed with you, a reminder that sometimes, it’s okay to take the first step.

—

“Knock knock, doc,” you called out teasingly as you knocked on Spencer’s door. It was your first time at his apartment, and you could feel a mix of excitement and nerves bubbling up inside you. You’d seen him in so many different settings—at work, in the PT room—but this felt different, more personal.

On the other side of the door, Spencer was trying to calm his racing heart. He had never had a woman in his apartment who wasn’t a family member or a coworker, and the thought of you being in his space made him both anxious and thrilled. He took a deep breath before opening the door.

“Hi, Y/N,” he greeted, his voice soft, a shy smile playing on his lips.

You couldn’t help but notice the way he still managed to be a little shy around you, even after all those months of physical therapy and now a month of casually seeing each other. It was something you found endearing, a reminder of just how sweet and genuine he was.

“Hello, Doctor,” you replied with a warm smile, stepping inside as he moved aside to let you in.

Spencer’s apartment was exactly what you’d imagined—cozy and filled with books, papers, and little pieces of his life that reflected his brilliant mind. There was a slight scent of coffee lingering in the air, and the space felt inviting, even if it was clear he hadn’t had many visitors.

“Sorry if it’s a bit… cluttered,” Spencer said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously as he watched you take in your surroundings.

“Are you kidding? It’s perfect,” you reassured him, turning to face him with a genuine smile. “It’s very… you.”

Spencer chuckled softly, his shoulders relaxing slightly at your words. “I’m glad you think so. Can I get you something to drink? Tea? Coffee?”

“Tea sounds great,” you said, following him into the kitchen area, where he began to fuss with the kettle and tea bags.

As he busied himself with the tea, you couldn’t help but feel a warm sense of contentment. This was different from any of your previous encounters—more intimate, more real. It wasn’t just about seeing each other in public or sharing a meal; this was about being in each other’s space, learning more about each other in a way that felt deeper.

“So,” you said, leaning against the counter as he waited for the water to boil, “how come you’re still a little shy around me after all this time? I thought we were past that.”

Spencer glanced up at you, his cheeks flushing slightly as he shrugged. “I don’t know… I guess I’m just not used to this kind of thing,” he admitted, his honesty making your heart flutter. “I’ve never really done this before—having someone I care about in my home. It’s… new.”

You smiled, touched by his vulnerability. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m really glad to be here. And there’s no need to be nervous.”

Spencer’s smile grew a little more confident as he poured the hot water into the teapot, the steam rising between you. “I’m glad you’re here too,” he said softly, meeting your gaze with those warm, earnest eyes that had drawn you in from the beginning.

You settled into the couch beside Spencer, the two of you sinking into a comfortable rhythm as you sipped your tea and chatted about everything and nothing. The atmosphere in his apartment was cozy and relaxed, a perfect backdrop for the easy conversation you were sharing. 

But there was something on your mind, something that had been lingering ever since your talk with Penelope. And now, sitting here with Spencer, the time felt right to bring it up.

“So, Doctor,” you began, a teasing lilt in your voice as you turned to face him more fully. “Can I ask you an awkward question?”

Spencer froze for a split second, his cup of tea hovering just below his lips. He glanced at you, a mix of curiosity and trepidation in his eyes. “Oh no,” he replied, trying to keep his tone light despite the slight edge of nervousness creeping in. “I suppose you can.”

You took a deep breath, deciding to just go for it. “You like me, right?”

Spencer blinked, clearly caught off guard by the directness of your question. His cheeks flushed slightly, but he nodded. “Ye—yes,” he stammered, his voice a little higher than usual.

“As in,” you continued, keeping your tone playful to ease the tension, “think I’m pretty, want to date me, take me home to meet your mom?”

Spencer’s eyes widened, and you could see the color rising in his face, turning his cheeks a deep shade of pink. “Uh huh,” he managed to mumble, his gaze flickering between you and his cup, as if he was trying to find a safe place to look.

You smiled, feeling a rush of affection for him, but also a bit of frustration at the unspoken distance that still lingered between you. “Then why haven’t we kissed?” you asked, your voice softening as you leaned in just a little closer.

Spencer’s face turned so red so fast that you almost laughed, but you held it in, not wanting to make him feel more uncomfortable than he already did. He set his cup down carefully, his hands suddenly feeling very empty and unsure of where to go.

“I, um…” Spencer started, his words stumbling over each other as he tried to form a coherent sentence. “I just… I didn’t want to rush things… or make you uncomfortable… I wanted to do it right…”

You could see the earnestness in his eyes, the genuine concern that he had been holding back, and it melted your heart. But you also saw the nervousness, the self-doubt that had kept him from making a move, and you knew you needed to reassure him.

“Spencer,” you said gently, reaching out to place a hand on his knee. The touch seemed to ground him, and his gaze finally settled on you, his expression softening as he realized you weren’t upset—just curious.

“I appreciate that you’re trying to be careful,” you continued, giving his knee a gentle squeeze. “But I want you to know that you don’t have to be so afraid. I like you—a lot. And if you want to kiss me… well, I’m ready whenever you are.”

Spencer swallowed hard, his eyes searching yours for any hint of hesitation or uncertainty. When he found none, he let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, his shoulders relaxing just a bit.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while now,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just didn’t know if… if you felt the same way.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection for this man who was so brilliant, so caring, and yet so unsure of himself when it came to matters of the heart. “I do,” you assured him, your voice just as soft. “So maybe we should stop overthinking it?”

Spencer’s lips quirked up into a small, tentative smile, and he nodded. “Maybe we should.”

And with that, he leaned in slowly, his eyes never leaving yours as he closed the distance between you. When his lips finally met yours, it was gentle, almost tentative at first, as if he was still worried about getting it right. But as you responded, kissing him back with all the warmth and affection you’d been holding onto, Spencer relaxed into the kiss, letting himself finally savor the moment he’d been waiting for.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were smiling, the awkwardness and uncertainty from before completely melted away. Spencer’s face was still a bit flushed, but now there was a light in his eyes—a confidence that hadn’t been there before.

“Wow,” he breathed, his voice filled with wonder and a touch of amazement. “That was… that was really nice.”

You laughed softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “Yeah, it was,” you agreed, feeling a warm glow in your chest. “And you know what? We can do that again anytime you want.”

Spencer grinned, looking like a kid on Christmas. “Really?”

“Oh, doctor. You’re too sweet, really,” you replied, your heart warming at the sight of his pure excitement.

And with that, the two of you settled back into the couch, this time with a newfound closeness that made the night feel even more perfect than before.

—

After you left that night, Spencer couldn’t shake the new sensation that had taken root in his gut. It was different from anything he’d felt before—intense, almost overwhelming. Of course, he’d been aroused before, but never by the thought of someone he could actually touch whenever he wanted, someone who had explicitly told him so.

As he lay in bed, replaying the evening in his mind, the memory of your kiss and the warmth of your body next to his fueled that unfamiliar feeling. It wasn’t just the physical attraction—it was the knowledge that you wanted him too, that you were there for him in a way no one else had ever been.

His breath quickened as the sensation grew, spreading through him like wildfire. Without fully realizing it, Spencer found his hand sliding down his body, reaching into his own pants. The touch sent a shiver down his spine, a thrill of anticipation building as he prepared to explore this new, intoxicating feeling.

For the first time, it wasn’t just about curiosity or need—it was about you, and the desire that had ignited between you both. And as he began to indulge in that sensation, he allowed himself to get lost in the thought of you, embracing the closeness he had longed for and now had the freedom to explore.

—

Penelope had extended an invitation to you for a team night at the bar that Friday, and you couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. Meeting all of Spencer’s close friends felt like an important step, one that you wanted to approach the right way. But before accepting, you decided it was best to check with Spencer first.

You dialed his number, feeling a flutter in your chest as you waited for him to pick up. It didn’t take long.

“Hello?” Spencer’s voice came through the line, a hint of warmth already in his tone.

“Hey, doctor,” you greeted, smiling to yourself at the familiar sound of his voice.

“Y/N,” he responded, and you could hear the smile in his voice too, making your own grin widen. 

“So… Penelope invited me out for drinks with your team this weekend. Is that okay? If I come?” you asked, a touch of uncertainty creeping into your voice.

“Oh, yeah. Of course,” Spencer replied quickly, his tone reassuring. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well, you know, I don’t know,” you admitted, feeling a bit silly for even asking but needing to be sure. “I didn’t want to intrude or make things awkward.”

“Y/N, it’s totally fine,” Spencer assured you, his voice gentle. “I’m really glad you’re coming. The team will love you.”

“Okay,” you said, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. “I’m excited to meet everyone. And to spend more time with you, of course.”

“Me too,” Spencer said softly, and you could practically feel his smile through the phone. “It’s going to be a great night.”

—

Spencer wasn’t expecting a knock at his door after work on Friday, so when he heard it, he was momentarily confused. But he answered the door anyway, curiosity getting the better of him. When he opened it, he was surprised to see you standing there, looking a bit flustered.

“Y/N?” he said, his voice laced with surprise.

“Hi,” you greeted, offering a small, apologetic smile. “I’m sorry to just show up, but…”

“But…?” Spencer prompted, his concern quickly shifting to curiosity.

“I don’t know what to wear tonight,” you admitted, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound light and full of affection. “You didn’t want to ask Penelope?”

“Oh god,” you groaned, suddenly self-conscious. “Do you not want me here right now? I’m intruding, aren’t I?”

“No! No, you’re not intruding,” Spencer quickly reassured you, shaking his head. “I just… I don’t know how much I can help you with that.”

“You can help me plenty,” you replied, your tone more confident as you stepped inside.

Spencer closed the door behind you, still smiling at the unexpected turn of events. “Okay, well, what are your options?”

You sighed dramatically and dropped a large bag onto Spencer’s floor with a thud, causing his eyes to widen in shock. “I have a few things to try on,” you announced, your tone light but your expression determined.

“I see that,” Spencer replied, still processing the sheer size of the bag. His mind was already spinning with the thought of you modeling different outfits in his apartment, a scenario that both thrilled and unnerved him.

“Should I change in your bedroom?” you asked, already heading in that direction.

“Mhm, yeah, that’s fine,” Spencer managed to say, though his voice was a bit distracted, his thoughts lingering on the image of you stripping down in his bedroom, even if he wasn’t going to be in there.

But then a sudden realization hit him, and he panicked. “Wait!” he yelled, his voice more urgent than he intended. But it was too late. You had already disappeared into his bedroom.

Spencer rushed down the hall, his heart pounding. When he reached the doorway, he found you standing there, holding up the one thing he had desperately hoped you wouldn’t see: a framed photo of you.

“Where did you get this?” you asked, turning to him with a curious smile, the photo held gently in your hands.

Spencer felt his face flush with embarrassment as he looked at the floor, his hands fidgeting nervously. “Penelope gave it to me…” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.

You studied the photo for a moment, recognizing it as one from a team event Penelope had captured—a candid shot of you laughing, completely unaware of the camera. It was one of those moments that felt so genuine, so full of life, and it surprised you to see it framed in Spencer’s room.

“Spencer,” you said softly, your voice filled with warmth rather than the teasing he had expected. “It’s so sweet that you kept this.”

He finally looked up, his expression a mixture of shyness and vulnerability. “I didn’t know where else to put it,” he admitted, his voice still quiet. “I just… I like having it around. It makes me think of you.”

Your heart melted at his honesty, and you stepped closer, still holding the photo. “I’m glad you kept it. It means a lot to me.”

Spencer’s eyes softened as he met your gaze, relief washing over him. “It does?”

“Of course it does,” you replied, setting the photo down carefully on his dresser. “It’s nice to know you were thinking of me.”

He smiled, the tension easing out of his shoulders. “I think about you a lot.”

You returned his smile, feeling a wave of affection for him. “Good. Because I think about you a lot too.”

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, then, with a playful glint in your eye, you broke the silence. “Now, how about you help me decide what to wear tonight?”

Spencer chuckled, the earlier awkwardness dissolving completely. “Okay,” he said, his voice lighter now. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

And with that, you returned to your bag of outfits, searching for the first look. Spencer tried his best to focus on giving you his honest opinion, but with every outfit you modeled, the room seemed to grow warmer, and his pants became more uncomfortable with every bit of skin you revealed.

Each outfit was stunning, and Spencer found himself more captivated by you with each one. But when you finally emerged in the last outfit, he was sure he had died and gone to heaven.

Spencer’s breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight of you. The outfit was perfect—elegant yet bold, with just the right amount of allure. He could barely find the words as he watched you give a playful spin, the fabric hugging your curves in all the right places.

Spencer coughed, trying to regain his composure. “That—um, that’s the one,” he managed to say, his voice a little strained.

“Really?” you asked, a pleased smile spreading across your face as you noticed the effect you were having on him.

Spencer nodded, his mouth suddenly dry as he watched you. “Yup,” he thought to himself, "I’m dead."

You laughed softly, clearly enjoying his reaction, and Spencer couldn’t help but think that you were more than ready to meet his team—looking as stunning as you did. But what he hadn’t expected was just how much he wanted to keep you all to himself, if only for a little longer.

—

“Woah! Pretty boy found himself a pretty girl,” Derek exclaimed as soon as you and Spencer walked into the bar, arm in arm. His voice was full of good-natured teasing, but there was genuine admiration in his eyes as he took in your appearance. “You clean up nice, Miss Therapist!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling both flattered and a little bashful under the attention. “Thanks, Derek,” you replied with a smile, feeling Spencer’s arm tighten around yours in a subtle but protective gesture.

Spencer’s cheeks flushed slightly, but there was a small, proud smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He still couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have you by his side, and seeing his teammates’ reactions only made it sweeter.

“You’re not looking too bad yourself,” you teased back, your voice light and playful as you settled into the lively atmosphere of the bar. It was clear that you were comfortable, quickly warming up to Spencer's team. 

But Spencer, who had been enjoying the moment just seconds before, suddenly felt a pang of something he wasn’t accustomed to—jealousy. He stiffened slightly, the green monster of jealousy rearing its ugly head as he watched you banter so easily with Derek. Rationally, he knew there was nothing to worry about, but seeing how well you clicked with everyone else made him momentarily insecure.

As you continued introducing yourself to the rest of the team, you must have sensed Spencer’s unease because you glanced back at him, catching his eye. When your gaze met his, the jealousy that had been bubbling beneath the surface started to fade. You gave him a warm, reassuring smile, your eyes sparkling with affection.

“Can we get a drink, doctor?” you asked, your voice sweet as you directed your attention back to him.

“We?” he teased, raising an eyebrow, though he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips.

You blushed, leaning up to whisper in his ear, “I don’t want to leave your side,” your breath warm against his skin.

And just like that, the jealousy was gone. Spencer felt a wave of relief and affection wash over him, the insecurities he’d felt moments before dissipating. You didn’t want to be anywhere else but with him, and that realization made him feel more confident and secure than ever.

He smiled, his heart swelling with a mix of gratitude and happiness. “Then let’s get that drink,” he said softly, wrapping an arm around your waist as the two of you headed toward the bar, ready to enjoy the night together, side by side.

—

As the night wore on, you found yourself listening intently to the team, who seemed all too eager to share some of Spencer’s more memorable, and perhaps a bit embarrassing, moments. Spencer sat beside you, a slightly apprehensive look on his face as the stories began to flow.

“You know, Spencer’s come a long way,” JJ started with a grin, her eyes twinkling as she glanced at him. “But I’ll never forget the time he tried to impress us all by downing a whole shot of whiskey in one go. He spent the next hour trying to convince us that he didn’t hate it, even though his face was bright red, and he looked like he was about to pass out.”

Emily burst into laughter at the memory, adding, “Oh, and then there was the time we had that karaoke night. Spencer swore up and down that he wasn’t going to sing, but after a few drinks, he got up there and belted out the most enthusiastic rendition of ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ I’ve ever seen. The best part? He knew every single word.”

Spencer groaned, covering his face with his hands. “I was coerced,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by his hands.

Rossi chuckled, giving Spencer a good-natured pat on the back. “We’ve all had our moments, kid. But remember that time you went undercover at that poker game? You were so nervous, you almost gave yourself away because you kept quoting statistics about the probability of certain hands.”

The group erupted into laughter, and you couldn’t help but join in, imagining Spencer trying to maintain his cover while rattling off numbers. Spencer, though clearly a little embarrassed, was also smiling, appreciating the camaraderie despite being the center of the stories.

“Hey, it was relevant information!” Spencer protested, his cheeks still tinged with pink.

You leaned into him, grinning as you said, “I think it’s cute. You just wanted to make sure they were all well-informed.”

Spencer sighed, but there was a smile on his face as he looked at you. “I guess if you think so, then it’s not all bad.”

Everyone exchanged knowing looks, clearly pleased with how much you seemed to appreciate Spencer’s quirks. 

JJ leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “Just wait until you hear about the time he got locked in the evidence room with nothing but a box of donuts and a rubber chicken. Now that’s a story.”

Spencer’s eyes widened, and he quickly cut in, “Okay, that’s enough! No more embarrassing stories for one night!”

You laughed, squeezing his hand under the table. “Don’t worry, Spencer. I’m enjoying every minute of it.”

Spencer smiled, feeling a sense of warmth and acceptance from you and his team. Despite the teasing, he was surrounded by people who cared about him—and knowing that you were part of that made the night feel all the more special.

—

Emily, her tongue loosened by the liquor, leaned in with a mischievous grin. “So, do you ever get super hot patients?” she asked, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the question, glancing over at Spencer before replying, “I mean… I got Spencer, didn’t I?”

The group erupted in laughter, but none louder than Spencer, who blushed furiously at your response. His face turned a deep shade of red as he buried it in your hair, trying to hide from the playful teasing. The sight of him trying to disappear was met with even more amusement from everyone at the table.

“Ohhh, pretty boy,” Derek chimed in, grinning from ear to ear. “What did you two get up to during those private sessions?”

Spencer groaned, clearly mortified, while you simply chuckled, enjoying the lighthearted moment. “Just some very professional physical therapy, of course,” you said with a wink, playing along with the teasing.

Emily laughed, raising her glass in a mock toast. “Well, whatever you did, it seems to have worked wonders. Spencer’s never looked better.”

The group continued to joke and laugh, the atmosphere full of warmth and camaraderie. Despite the embarrassment, Spencer couldn’t help but smile, feeling incredibly lucky to have you by his side, even if it meant enduring a little teasing from his friends. 

You leaned closer to him, whispering softly so only he could hear, “Don’t worry, Spencer. I think you’re the hottest patient I’ve had.”

Spencer’s blush deepened, but the smile on his face showed just how much your words meant to him. The night continued with more stories, more laughter, and a growing sense of connection that made Spencer feel more at ease than ever before.

—

As the night began to wind down, the lively atmosphere in the bar was gradually giving way to a more subdued, tired vibe. The laughter had softened, and the conversations were growing quieter. You noticed Spencer leaning in closer to you, his presence warm and familiar, but there was something different in the way he moved this time—something more deliberate, more intimate.

His hand, steady yet gentle, found its way to your inner thigh, just beneath the edge of your dress. The touch was subtle, but the electricity it sent through your body was anything but. You felt his fingers dance dangerously close to your panties, a teasing reminder of the tension that had been building between you all night.

He leaned in even closer, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “Do you want to get out of here?” he whispered, his voice low and laced with desire and anticipation.

The combination of his touch and the way his words sent a thrill down your spine made your heart race. You could barely think, barely breathe, and without a second thought, you found yourself nodding—perhaps a bit too eagerly, as you felt like a bobblehead. But you didn’t care. All you knew was that you wanted to leave, to be alone with him, to let the night take you wherever it was meant to go.

Spencer smiled, clearly pleased with your response. He gave your thigh a gentle squeeze before pulling back just enough to catch your eyes, the look he gave you full of unspoken promises. He didn’t need to say anything else—the two of you were completely in sync.

You both quickly made your excuses to the rest of the team, who were too absorbed in their own conversations to notice much. And then, with Spencer’s hand still resting on your thigh, you slipped out of the bar together, leaving behind the tired vibes for the promise of what was to come.

The night air was cool and crisp as you stepped outside, but the heat between you and Spencer was undeniable, crackling with anticipation. He kept his hand not on his cane on your hip, guiding you through the quiet streets, and you knew that whatever happened next, you were more than ready for it.

—

The moment you stepped inside Spencer’s apartment, the door barely clicked shut behind you before he was on you. His hand found your waist, pulling you close as his mouth captured yours in a kiss that was as urgent as it was deep. It was as if all the tension, all the unspoken desire that had simmered between you all night, finally erupted in this single, intense moment.

You responded just as eagerly, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pressed yourself against him. The world outside his apartment seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of you, lost in each other. His lips moved against yours with a fervor that made your knees weak, and you found yourself clinging to him, needing to feel every inch of his body against yours.

Spencer’s hand roamed from your waist to your back, pulling you even closer as he kissed you like a man starved. He broke away just long enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours as he whispered, “I’ve wanted to do this all night.”

“Me too,” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper, your heart pounding in your chest. Without waiting for a response, you captured his lips again, this time with even more intensity.

You barely made it past the entryway, stumbling together toward the living room, neither of you willing to let go long enough to think about where you were headed. All that mattered was the feel of his mouth on yours, the warmth of his body pressed against you, and the electricity that crackled between you with every touch, every kiss.

Spencer’s hand slipped beneath your dress, his fingers tracing the curve of your ass, sending shivers down your spine. You moaned softly into his mouth, the sound spurring him on as he backed you up against the wall, his lips never leaving yours.

“Spencer,” you murmured between kisses, trying to catch his attention as his lips continued to explore your neck. “Mmm, Spencer—wait.”

He finally pulled away, panting, his eyes dark with desire. “Yeah?” he asked, clearly trying to understand why you’d stopped him.

You took a deep breath, your heart racing for reasons other than the passionate kiss you’d just shared. “I just—well, we’ve been drinking,” you said, your voice hesitant.

Spencer nodded, his brow furrowing slightly in confusion. “I know.”

You bit your lip, searching for the right words. “Don’t make me say it,” you whispered, not wanting to dampen the moment but needing to address the concern that had surfaced.

Spencer really pulled back then, his expression shifting from desire to confusion. “What?” he asked, genuinely puzzled.

You met his gaze, feeling a mix of vulnerability and care for him. “Are you a virgin?” you asked softly, the question hanging in the air between you.

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, realization dawning on him. “Is that what this is about?”

“No!” you quickly reassured him, but then added, “Well, yes. I don’t want your first time to be when we’re both intoxicated. Especially with your leg—I don’t want to hurt you.”

Spencer’s expression softened as he began to understand the depth of your concern. He reached up, gently cupping your face in his hands, his thumb brushing your cheek in a soothing gesture. “Y/N,” he began, his voice filled with warmth and understanding, “I appreciate that you’re thinking about this… about me. But I want you to know that I’m not rushing into this without knowing what I’m doing.”

You started to protest, your worry still gnawing at you. “But—”

“Just listen,” he interrupted softly, his voice steady as he leaned in to kiss you, a kiss filled with reassurance and longing. “I’ve been thinking about you for so long,” he continued, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. “I know what I want.”

“Spencer…” you whispered, your heart aching with how much you cared for him. “I can’t have sex with you when we’re drunk. Not now.”

He held your gaze, his expression unwavering, and nodded slowly. “Okay,” he said, his voice gentle and full of respect. “I understand.”

You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the way he valued your feelings just as much as his own desires. It was in that moment you realized just how much this man meant to you—how much you both meant to each other.

“I want it to be right,” you said softly, your voice carrying the weight of your emotions. “For both of us.”

Spencer smiled, a tender, loving smile that made your heart swell. “And it will be,” he promised. “When the time is right. I can wait, Y/N. We can wait.”

You nodded, feeling a profound sense of relief and gratitude. “Thank you,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him again, this time with the knowledge that you were both on the same page, both willing to take your time.

Spencer wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, and for the rest of the night, you simply held each other, content in the knowledge that what you had was special—something worth cherishing and protecting. There was no rush, no pressure, just the comfort of being together, knowing that when the time came, it would be perfect.

—

Spencer woke up the next morning to the gentle light of the early sun filtering through the curtains. The first thing he noticed was the comfortable weight on his chest—a soft, warm presence that made his heart swell with contentment. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he looked down to find you curled up against him, your head resting on his chest, your breath soft and steady.

A smile tugged at his lips as he took in the sight of you, your hair slightly tousled, your face relaxed in sleep. He couldn’t help but notice the small spot of drool on his shirt where your mouth rested, but instead of feeling anything but affection, he found it endearing. The fact that you were so comfortable with him, so at ease, made him feel a deep sense of warmth and happiness.

Careful not to disturb you, Spencer shifted slightly, realizing that his leg was properly elevated, a pillow supporting it in just the right way. He hadn’t remembered doing that, but the thought that you had taken care of him, even after everything, made his heart swell even more.

His gaze shifted to the glass of water sitting on the nightstand beside him, another thoughtful gesture that you had left for him. It was such a simple thing, but it spoke volumes about how much you cared.

For a moment, Spencer just lay there, savoring the feeling of having you in his arms, of waking up to this kind of peaceful morning. It was new, and it was wonderful, and he realized that he could get used to this—waking up with you, taking care of each other, sharing these quiet, intimate moments.

Gently, he brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch light so as not to wake you. You stirred slightly, nuzzling closer to him, and Spencer couldn’t help but chuckle softly. Even in sleep, you sought him out, and that simple act made him feel like the luckiest man in the world.

“Spence?” you whined quietly, your voice still thick with sleep as you shifted slightly against his chest.

“Yeah?” Spencer replied softly, his hand gently rubbing your back.

“You’re so comfy… so warm,” you mumbled, your words slurred as you burrowed deeper into him.

“I’m glad,” he chuckled, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the blanket covering you both.

A moment of quiet passed before you asked, “Did I drool on you?”

“Yes, you did,” he answered, a teasing lilt in his voice.

“Ughh, that’s embarrassing,” you groaned, trying to hide your face against him.

“I think it’s cute,” Spencer reassured you, a smile playing on his lips as he held you closer.

You sighed, your voice softening even more. “I really like you.”

“I really like you more,” Spencer replied without missing a beat, his heart swelling at the simple honesty of the moment.

“Nuh uh,” you mumbled, your sleepy defiance only making him smile wider.

“Yuh huh,” he countered, his voice light and teasing, feeling a sense of giddy, light-hearted joy he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

You let out a small, contented sigh, your hand resting on his chest as you settled back into the warmth and comfort of his embrace. “We’ll have to settle this later,” you whispered, already half-asleep again.

Spencer smiled, his heart full as he whispered back, “I’m looking forward to it.”

And as you drifted back to sleep, Spencer lay there, feeling lighter than air, the weight of the world replaced by the simple joy of having you there with him, in this perfect, quiet moment.

—

Later that morning, you found yourself in Spencer's kitchen, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. You leaned casually against the counter, watching him as he focused on making your cup just the way you liked it. There was something so endearing about the way he moved, so intent on getting it right, that it made you smile.

“Do you remember last night?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Spencer glanced up at you, a small, knowing smile on his lips. “All of it,” he replied confidently.

“Seriously?” You raised an eyebrow, half-impressed, half-incredulous. “You drank a lot.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he poured the coffee into a mug. “Eidetic memory,” he reminded you, his tone light. “It doesn’t just go away.”

You couldn’t help but grin, leaning in a little closer. “So you remember trying sooo desperately to get in my pants?”

“Y/N,” Spencer groaned, his face flushing as he turned away from the coffee pot. He shot you a look of playful exasperation. “Do not say it like that.”

You laughed, delighted by his reaction. “But it’s true!”

Spencer shook his head, his lips twitching with a smile despite his embarrassment. “I was trying to… be intimate with my… lady friend,” he said, the words coming out a little stilted as he tried to sound casual.

“Lady friend?” you laughed, raising an eyebrow at his choice of words.

“Yup,” he replied, trying to muster up some false confidence, though his cheeks were still tinged pink.

“Is that what I am to you?” you teased, leaning in closer, your grin playful.

“Special lady friend?” he suggested, his voice laced with a hint of nervousness.

“You scared of something, Doctor?” you grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him just a bit closer.

“Not right now,” he admitted, the sincerity in his voice matching the way his eyes softened as he looked at you.

“Then ask me,” you prompted, your voice dropping to a gentle whisper.

Spencer took a deep breath, his hand coming up to gently cup your chin, his touch tender. He looked into your eyes, trying to muster the courage to be vulnerable. “Y/N, will you be my bestest friend?” he asked, his tone light but serious.

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his words, and the humor drained from your face. “No, jerk,” you said, pushing him away, your playful mood evaporating as frustration and anger bubbled up inside you.

Spencer’s eyes widened, confusion and concern flashing across his face. “Y/N, I didn’t mean—”

But you were already stepping back, feeling hurt by the way he had sidestepped what you thought was going to be a genuine, heartfelt moment. “I thought you were going to ask me to be your girlfriend, Spencer,” you said, your voice tight with emotion. “Not just your… your ‘bestest friend.’”

Spencer’s face fell as he realized his attempt to be cute had backfired. “Y/N, I’m sorry,” he said quickly, reaching out to you, his eyes full of genuine remorse. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

You allowed yourself to be pulled back into his arms. “I shouldn’t have joked in such a serious moment,” he continued, his voice soft and sincere. “I’m sorry.” Then, with a hopeful glint in his eyes, he asked, “Y/N… will you be my girlfriend?”

You tried to keep a grumpy expression, but it was hard to resist his earnest gaze. “And your bestest friend?” you asked, your voice carrying a hint of playful irritation.

“Ideally, yes,” Spencer replied, his tone gentle but hopeful.

You couldn’t hold back a smile any longer. “Yes, Spencer. But you’re on thin ice in the bestest friend department.”

“Noted,” he nodded seriously, a smile tugging at his lips. “How am I doing in the boyfriend department?”

You pretended to think for a moment before leaning in closer, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. “Well, I have an ache I need looked into. Can my doctor boyfriend check it out?”

“Of course,” Spencer said, his voice taking on a playful tone as he leaned in as well. “What hurts?”

You smiled, letting the moment linger before you pointed at your lips, your eyes sparkling with affection. Spencer grinned, closing the distance between you, and pressed a gentle, tender kiss to your lips.

“Anything else hurt?” Spencer asked, his lips barely brushing against yours, his voice low and filled with teasing and tenderness.

“Nuh uh,” you murmured, enjoying the closeness. Then, with a mischievous glint in your eye, you added, “But I might need to give you a physical. It seems like there’s something I missed in our last one.”

Spencer pulled back slightly, a puzzled expression crossing his face as he glanced down. The moment he noticed the tent forming under his sweats, his cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, realization dawning on him.

“Uh,” he stammered, clearly flustered, his eyes flicking back up to meet yours. You couldn’t help but giggle at his reaction, finding his innocence utterly adorable.

Spencer chuckled nervously, trying to regain his composure. “I guess it’s a good thing that wasn’t there during my last physical,” he said, his voice tinged with playful embarrassment.

You threw your head back in a laugh, the sound filling the room. “You’re right, that would have made things a little awkward.”

“And now?” Spencer asked, his voice softening, a hint of shyness creeping in as he looked at you with a mix of anticipation and curiosity.

“Now…” you murmured, dragging a finger down his chest, feeling the way his breath hitched at your touch. “You should get off your leg; you’ve been standing for a while.”

Spencer couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of disappointment at the change in direction, but he knew you were right. “Right, yeah,” he agreed, using his cane to walk over to the table and sitting down carefully. “Can you bring me my coffee, please?”

You smiled, taking in how sweet he looked as he tried to hide his disappointment. “Hmm, in a minute,” you replied, your voice holding a hint of something more.

Before Spencer could process what was happening, you were lowering yourself to your knees between his spread legs, your hands gently rubbing his thighs. The careful, tender way you touched him made his heart race, and he found himself holding his breath, unsure of what to say or do.

You were generously careful not to put too much pressure on his bad leg, your touch light but purposeful. Spencer’s pulse quickened, the intimacy and tenderness in your actions overwhelming in the best way possible.

“Y/N…” Spencer breathed, his voice full of awe and desire as he looked down at you, his heart pounding in his chest. 

You met his gaze, your eyes filled with warmth and affection as you asked softly, “Is this okay, doctor?”

Spencer’s breath hitched, and he swallowed hard before admitting, “I’ve never done this before.”

You nodded, your voice gentle and reassuring as you pressed a soft kiss to his knee. “I know, I know,” you whispered, giving him the space to decide. “Do you want to? We can stop right now, no pressure.”

His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, overwhelmed by the care in your voice and the sensation of your lips on him. “I want to so badly,” he finally breathed out, his voice shaky with desire. “If you stop right now, I might cry.”

“Mmm,” you hummed with a playful smile, “you’d make a pretty crier.”

Spencer’s eyes snapped open, and he felt a sudden rush of heat in his stomach at your words, the unexpected compliment sending a thrill through him. “Jesus, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice filled with surprise and longing.

“Can you lift your hips, lover boy, or do you need to stand?” you asked, your voice light with teasing affection.

Spencer hesitated for a moment before admitting, “I think I need to stand…”

“Get up then,” you instructed, a playful glint in your eyes.

As Spencer stood up, you couldn’t resist giving his butt a gentle smack. The action made him gasp, and he turned to playfully glare at you, his eyes wide with surprise. “What has gotten into you this morning?” he asked, amusement and bewilderment in his voice.

You grinned like a devil, your expression full of mischief. “Nothing yet,” you replied, your tone suggestive and lighthearted, leaving Spencer both flustered and intrigued.

His mouth opened and closed for a moment, caught off guard by your boldness. But he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips, the warmth in his chest growing as he realized just how much he enjoyed this playful side of you.

You pulled down his sweats slowly, your fingers brushing against his skin as you went, and you couldn’t resist placing soft kisses along the newly exposed flesh. As the fabric fell away, you realized there was nothing underneath, just bare skin.

“You sleep commando, Doctor?” you asked with a teasing lilt in your voice, raising an eyebrow as you looked up at him.

Spencer’s face flushed a deep shade of red, clearly embarrassed. “I had been drinking,” he stammered, trying to explain away the situation.

“Mhm,” you hummed, your lips curving into a playful smile as you continued your gentle ministrations, enjoying the effect you had on him. The sight of his blush only made the moment sweeter, knowing that he was letting you in, vulnerability and all.

Once the offending material was pooled around his ankles, you took Spencer’s hand, guiding him back to the seat with a gentle but firm touch. He followed your lead, his breath hitching as he sat back down, his eyes locked onto yours. The room seemed to hum with the tension between you, every movement deliberate and charged with anticipation.

“This is so unsanitary,” he muttered, a flicker of his usual nervousness cutting through the haze of desire.

You paused, a small smile playing on your lips as you looked up at him, your fingers still resting lightly on his thigh. “Do you want to stop?” you asked, your voice low and steady, giving him every opportunity to back out if he felt uncomfortable.

“God, no,” Spencer breathed, the words escaping him before he could even think. His eyes were wide, pupils dilated with longing and vulnerability, and you could tell that despite his nerves, he was fully present, fully committed to whatever came next.

With that reassurance, you leaned in closer, making sure to hold his gaze as your hand traveled up his thigh. The connection between you was electric, each second stretched out, full of unspoken promises. You kept your eyes locked on his as you slowly lowered your mouth, the heat of your breath teasing his skin.

Spencer’s breath hitched again, his hand instinctively tightening its grip on the edge of the chair. The vulnerability in his gaze was matched by the trust he was placing in you, and you could feel the weight of that trust in the air between you. 

You moved deliberately, never breaking eye contact, letting him see every intention behind your actions. As your lips brushed against his skin, you could feel the shiver that ran through him, the way his muscles tensed in anticipation.

And then, with a slow, deliberate motion, you pressed a kiss to his head, your touch soft but charged with all the emotion that had been building between you. Spencer’s breath caught, his body responding immediately to the intimate contact. His eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment before he forced them open again, wanting to see everything, to remember every second of this moment.

The sensation was overwhelming for Spencer, a powerful blend of pleasure and intimacy that he had never experienced before. The way your tongue traced patterns up his cock before your lips sucked him down sent Spencer spiraling. His mind, usually so sharp and focused, was spinning, struggling to keep up with the flood of emotions and sensations coursing through his body.

He couldn’t help the deep whine that escaped his lips, his breath hitching as he felt your lips move against his skin. The feeling of your tongue swirling around his head when you pulled up while your hand kept the pace was so intensely real. He had read about intimacy, studied the science of it, but nothing could have prepared him for the actual experience, the way it felt to be so completely vulnerable and yet so utterly safe.

His thoughts raced, a thousand ideas and feelings swirling in his mind, but they all came back to one simple truth: he wanted this. He wanted you. More than he had ever wanted anything in his life. The logical part of his brain was still trying to process it all, trying to make sense of the overwhelming flood of sensations, but the emotional part of him had already surrendered, fully immersed in the moment.

“Y/N…” he breathed, his voice trembling slightly with the weight of everything he was feeling. He wanted to say more, to express how much this meant to him, how much you meant to him, but the words seemed to get stuck in his throat. 

You looked up at him, your eyes full of mischief and your lips stretched around his girth as you bobbed your head. You could see how much this was affecting him, how deeply it was resonating within him. You held his gaze, your touch firm and stimulating, letting him know that he didn’t have to say anything—he just had to feel.

And feel he did. Every nerve in his body seemed to be on high alert, each one attuned to your touch, to the way your hand moved with your mouth, the way your tongue pressed against his skin. It was intoxicating, overwhelming in the best possible way, and he found himself leaning into it, letting go of the need to analyze or understand, and simply allowing himself to experience.

“Y/N…” he said again, his voice louder this time as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable peak, Spencer’s mind went blissfully blank. There was nothing but the sensation, nothing but your mouth and hand on his cock. Licking, slurping, rubbing. 

Spencer let out one final cry before he was filling your mouth with his warm, salty cum. You hummed around him in appreciation, the vibrations making him whine pitifully. Spencer thought it was over when you pulled off, but then you stuck your tongue out, showing him his milky release sitting there before you closed your mouth and swallowed. 

“You’re insane, woman,” Spencer whispered, his voice still shaky from the intensity of what he had just experienced. His chest rose and fell as he tried to catch his breath, his mind reeling from the sensations still echoing through his body.

You grinned up at him, your eyes sparkling with mischief and affection. “I’m your insane woman,” you replied, your tone playful yet filled with a warmth that made Spencer’s heart swell.

He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips, the combination of your words and the aftermath of what you’d just shared making him feel like he was floating. “That you are,” he murmured, his hand reaching out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from your face. 

There was something about the way you looked at him, something that made him feel more grounded, more connected than he ever had before. It wasn’t just the physical connection, though that was incredible—it was the emotional bond that had deepened between you, the way you seemed to understand him on a level no one else ever had.

Spencer chuckled softly, still processing everything. “I don’t know how I got so lucky,” he said, his voice filled with sincerity. 

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, the gesture full of affection and promise. “We’re both lucky,” you whispered against his lips, and in that moment, Spencer knew it was true.

There was no rush, no pressure. Just the two of you, together, in a moment that felt like it was just the beginning of something even more beautiful.

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

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[thehughesbrotherslover]

Could I request a Hughes!sister (who’s basically Sabrina carpenter) and the family goes to one of her shows (most likely Michigan) and they are just super proud of her

Yessssss I love this one

Short n' Sweet tour Sabrina Hughes

The lights in the arena dimmed, and the crowd fell into a hush. The giant screen at the front of the stage flickered to life, showing a luxurious bathroom scene. Sabrina Hughes, her bright smile radiating through the screen, was sitting in a bathtub filled with bubbles, clearly enjoying a moment of relaxation before her big show. Her hair was styled in an elegant updo, and her laughter echoed softly through the speakers as the camera zoomed in on her contented expression.

A soothing female voice began to narrate, "A performer’s morning routine is the most important part of their day. It’s the time to relax, reflect, and prepare for the energy they’ll bring to the stage."

Sabrina nodded along, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she soaked in the tub, clearly enjoying the playful nature of the skit. The audience chuckled, sensing that something was about to happen.

Suddenly, the female voice faltered and added, "Uh-oh, looks like Sabrina’s forgotten she has a show to perform."

Sabrina froze. Her smile faded as she glanced at the clock on the bathroom wall. Her eyes widened in shock. She jumped out of the tub, water splashing onto the floor. Wrapping a towel quickly around herself, she hurriedly ran out of the bathroom. The camera followed her as she dashed down a corridor, water still dripping from her wet skin.

Sabrina turned back to face the camera, pulling the towel off her hair to reveal her signature curly locks cascading down her shoulders. The audience laughed as she rushed through the backstage area, clearly flustered.

A male voice suddenly cut through the laughter, "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Short and Sweet tour!"

The audience erupted into applause, excitement building as the camera zoomed out to reveal the stunning set. The stage was designed to look like a modern penthouse, complete with sleek, minimalist furniture and neon lighting. The walls of the stage reflected the cool vibe of Sabrina’s new album, Short and Sweet, and it was clear the night would be one to remember.

Sabrina, still wrapped in the towel, sprinted across the stage. Her heart raced as she clutched the towel tightly around herself, trying to maintain composure while clearly in a panic. She dashed across the top of the penthouse stage, her bare feet slapping against the cold floor, eyes darting around in search of her next move.

She ran down the penthouse stairs, her heart pounding as she realized she was running late. The audience cheered, enjoying the spectacle, while Sabrina’s face flushed with both excitement and embarrassment.

Finally, reaching the stage, she took a deep breath, dropping the towel to reveal a form-fitting light blue bodysuit that shimmered under the stage lights. The crowd let out a collective gasp at the sight of her, the elegant yet playful look showing off her natural confidence.

Sabrina quickly scanned the stage, only to see her microphone lowering from the ceiling. But it was just out of her reach. She jumped, trying to grab it, but her short stature worked against her. She stretched her arm higher, her fingers grazing the mic but falling short. Frustrated, she shot the crowd a playful look, motioning with both hands for the mic to be lowered just a little more.

The mic descended until it was at the perfect height, and Sabrina grinned, mouthing a quick "Thank you" to the crew before taking a confident step forward. The crowd cheered again, ready for the show to officially begin.

With a deep breath, Sabrina held the mic to her lips and began to sing the opening notes of her hit song, Taste. The beat dropped and the music surged, sending the audience into a frenzy. Sabrina’s voice rang out clear and powerful, effortlessly capturing the attention of everyone in the arena.

"Got a taste, yeah, got a taste of you," she sang, her voice smooth yet bold, perfectly matching the sultry, energetic vibe of the song. Her body moved rhythmically with the music, every step, every sway, a perfect match for the electric energy coursing through the venue.

In the VIP tent, Sabrina’s parents, Jim and Ellen, sat proudly with Luke, Quinn, and Jack. They all exchanged smiles and nods of admiration as they watched their sister and daughter light up the stage. Luke leaned over to Quinn, a grin plastered across his face.

"She’s got this," Luke said, his voice full of pride. "She always does."

Quinn nodded, his eyes locked on Sabrina as she performed with a mix of power and grace. "She’s incredible. I can’t believe how far she’s come."

Jack gave a chuckle. "She’s been blowing us away since she was a kid. I’m not surprised at all."

Their parents exchanged proud glances, their hearts full as they watched their daughter perform with such passion. They knew the road to this moment hadn’t always been easy for Sabrina, but seeing her on that stage, with the crowd in the palm of her hand, made it all worth it.

Back on stage, Sabrina was in full control, her energy magnetic as she moved from one song to the next, her presence commanding the room. She was at home on stage, and her family could see that with every note she sang. The entire venue seemed to be hanging on her every word, every lyric.

The song that was next on the setlist was her latest hit, "Juno," a sultry track that had earned a lot of attention for its bold lyrics and suggestive themes. Sabrina had always been a confident performer, but tonight, she felt a special energy in the air, knowing her family was there. She had always written songs that conveyed her raw emotions, and "Juno" was no exception. She’d poured her heart into the lyrics, balancing sensuality and playfulness, but when she took the stage, it was all about the performance.

The lights dimmed, and the crowd erupted into cheers as Sabrina stepped onto the stage, glowing under the spotlight. The music began, and her voice soared with the opening lines, drawing everyone in. The stage was set with a heart-shaped platform, glittering in the spotlight, and Sabrina moved towards it, her hips swaying to the rhythm of the song. Her outfit sparkled under the lights, the crop top hugging her curves, and the short skirt drawing eyes with every movement.

Sabrina’s eyes swept across the crowd, but her focus was on her brothers and parents in the VIP tent. They all waved enthusiastically, and she gave them a wink before continuing with the performance. As she reached the chorus, the crowd sang along, and Sabrina felt the rush of adrenaline. But it was when she reached the lyrics:

“You make me wanna make you fall in love / Oh, late at night, I'm thinking 'bout you / Ah, ah, ah / Wanna try out some freaky positions?”

that she knew it was time to unleash her signature pose. With a confident smile, she climbed onto her heart-shaped platform, striking a seductive pose, one leg bent, her hands running through her hair as she gazed into the crowd. She went down on her knees, holding her hair back, and the audience cheered.

Sabrina’s movements were deliberate, sultry, and mesmerizing. She leaned into the microphone, her voice dripping with playful seduction as she sang:

“Have. You. Ever. Tried. This. One?”

She moved the mic up and down with a teasing rhythm, her breaths coming in short, controlled bursts, adding to the tension. The crowd screamed, and her brothers laughed in disbelief at the boldness of the pose, especially since their parents—Ellen and Jim—looked a bit shocked. Jim’s jaw dropped as he glanced at his sons, who were trying not to burst into laughter at their dad's reaction.

Quinn leaned over to Luke, whispering with a grin, “Well, that was definitely a bold move.”

Jack, sitting next to their parents, smirked. “She’s definitely got her own way of doing things. I think Mom’s still processing it.”

Ellen, eyes wide, shook her head but couldn’t help but chuckle, proud of her daughter’s confidence, even if it was a bit outside her usual comfort zone.

Sabrina’s playful energy continued through the song, her body moving with the rhythm as she hit every note with precision. The crowd was completely captivated, and when she hit the final lines:

“Adore me / Hold me and explore me / Mark your territory / Tell me I'm the only, only, only, only one”

The audience roared, singing along with her as if they, too, were part of the fantasy Sabrina was weaving on stage. The intensity of her performance built, and Sabrina felt a sense of exhilaration. She was in complete control, and the connection with her fans felt electric.

As the song came to an end, the spotlight shifted to Sabrina as she took a dramatic bow. The crowd erupted into applause, chanting her name. She waved and blew kisses before exiting the stage, her heart pounding in her chest from the rush.

Backstage, her family was waiting, and Sabrina quickly changed into a cozy sweater and jeans to meet them. Luke was the first to pull her into a tight hug. “That was insane, Sab,” he said with a grin, his eyes sparkling with pride.

Quinn chuckled. “You definitely gave the crowd something to remember.” He gave her a playful side-eye. “And I think you gave Dad something to process.”

Jim, who had just come to his senses, smiled sheepishly at Sabrina. “I don’t know how you do it, but I’m proud of you, kiddo.”

Sabrina laughed. “I know it’s not always easy to watch, but hey, it’s part of the show.” She gave her dad a wink. “You’ve always taught me to do things my way.”

Ellen, standing beside Jim, wrapped her arms around Sabrina. “You’ve worked so hard for this moment. We’re so proud of you. Just... maybe dial it down next time?” she teased with a smile.

Sabrina laughed and playfully rolled her eyes. “No promises, Mom.”

Jack gave Sabrina a smirk. “Well, it’s official. You’ve definitely earned your place in the spotlight, sis. Not everyone can pull off a performance like that.”

Sabrina grinned. “What can I say? I like to keep things interesting.”

The family gathered around her, and Sabrina felt a warmth in her chest. Their support meant the world to her. She had worked so hard to get to this point, and as much as her career was a solo journey, it was moments like this, with her family by her side, that made it all feel worth it.

As they headed out of the backstage area to grab dinner, Sabrina looked at her brothers and parents, feeling incredibly grateful. It was moments like this—after the highs and the lows, the glamorous performances, and the everyday struggles—that she knew her family was the one constant she could always count on.

And as the applause from her performance echoed in her ears, she knew there was more to come.

[dianawinchester03]

Season 2, Episode 20 - What Is And What Should Never Be (Part Two)

Series Masterlist

Authors Note: Part Two!!! If you haven’t read part one yet, go here. You’ll need to read it to understand this and the series. Hope everyone likes!❤️

_______________________________________________

Y/N had gone to work and Dean was lounging in their living room, finishing off Y/N’s beer as he flipped through channels on the TV set. Dean let out a content, “Ahhh” as he clicked the remote, landing on a news station. “And today marks the anniversary of the crash of United Britannia Flight 424” The newscaster said.

Dean’s heart dropped, his eyes widening as he leaned forward, instantly recognizing the flight by name. “Indianapolis residents held a candlelight vigil in memory of the victims” Dean could feel his fear growing, “No no no. We stopped that crash” His mind going back to that day they had to exorcise a demon on a plane.

-

Dean was now in front of Y/N’s laptop, running his hand over his face as he stared, eyewide at the headline on the article. ‘Flight 424 Crashes. 108 dead’ the headline read. He began skimming the internet for all their previous hunts within the past two years, the words ‘nine children comatose’, ‘parents mutilated’, ‘girl drowns in hotel pool’ rang through his head.

Dean felt sick to his stomach as he read about all the people they saved over the years were now gone, as if all what they did was for nothing. This reality was too much for him, he desperately wanted a normal life but seeing this…it didn't sit right with him.

At the corner of his eye, Dean saw the figure of a woman drift in the hallway. His eyes snapped up to see no one there, he knew it couldn't be Y/N. He knows her figure like the back of his hand, so immediately he got up and rushed into the room. The seemingly empty room.

Dean heard something move in the closet, his head snapping in the direction. He attempted to reach for his gun he keeps in the back of his jeans, only to pat air. Forgetting that he's a civilian and not a hunter. The instinct came naturally. Dean then swiftly opened the door to see the skeletal remains of a man and a woman, hanging by their wrists from the ceiling.

Dean stared at it in shock and fear, before he could do anything, he sensed a presence behind him. He quickly turned around to see the young girl he saw outside the college and in the restaurant, a bleeding wound was prominent on her forehead. Her spirit then diminished out of sight. Leaving Dean stunned.

He spun around to see the skeletal remains he saw just a few seconds ago were now gone. "What the…" Dean muttered under his breath, his eyes darting around the room where the skeletons had been not a moment ago. "What the hell is going on?" He repeated to himself, trying to make sense of everything he had just witnessed.

Frustration boiled within him as he ran a hand through his messy hair, feeling utterly helpless. He took a deep, shaky breath before quickly exiting the room. "Screw it. I need a drink" Dean mumbled, grabbing his keys and heading out the door.

____________________________________________

Thunder was rolling as lightning filled the dark sky where Dean stood in the cemetery. He looked down at the headstone that read ‘John Winchester’ with anger, sorrow, pity and a bit of hatred. “All of them. Everyone that you and F/N saved. Everyone that Sammy, Y/N/N and I saved. They're all dead”

The anger in his voice was palpable, as he looked down at the grave with clenched fists. "Everyone!" he repeated, his voice hoarse with emotion. The rain that fell from the sky did little to soothe his anger as he continued to glare at the headstone.

For a moment, he was silent, the only sound being the pattering of rain on his jacket and the distant rumble of thunder. Then he spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. "And there’s this girl that's haunting me. I don’t know why. Y/N can’t even feel her, I mean, how can she not see her? The chick feels everything, it's annoying sometimes!”

He sighed frustrated, leaning against a neighboring headstone, not even caring if he got mud on himself. "I don’t know why. I don’t know what the connection is." he muttered, raising the bottle of whiskey to his lips. The alcohol burned down his throat, but he welcomed the sensation.

It was a distraction for the moment, a way to numb the pain and anger that churned within him. But as the liquid coursed through his veins, it also made his head feel fuzzy and he soon found himself slumping against the headstone, his eyes growing heavy.

He knew he should probably get up and get out of here, but the weight of everything seemed too heavy, too much to bear. He sighed and took another swig of whiskey, hoping that it would bring him closer to unconsciousness.

“Its like my old life is coming after me or something, you know? Like it doesn’t want me to be happy” Dean rambled in frustration before glaring at his fathers headstone. “Of course, I know what you and f/n say. Well…not the two of you that played softball, but…” Dean’s throat constricted as he held back tears.

“You guys would say, ‘Go hunt the djinn. Hey, it put you here, it could put you back’” Dean said bitterly. “‘Your happiness for all those people’s lives. No contest right?’” Dean further quoted his father and F/N. Dean took a shaky breath, his vision growing hazy as the alcohol continued to take its toll on him.

He knew he was rambling, but the words just kept pouring out of him, fueled by the mixture of anger, sadness and confusion. "I just... I just don’t get it" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, “But why? Why is it my job to save these people? Why do I have to be some kind of hero?!” Dean exclaimed, his heart clenching as the tears flowed freely down his cheeks.

“What about us, huh?! What? Mom’s not supposed to live her life. Me and Sammy aren’t supposed to get married? Why do we have to sacrifice everything, Dad?! It’s-” The words died in his throat again, so he brought the bottle to his lips.

The whiskey burned as it traveled down his throat, but he didn't care. The pain from the burn dulled the emotional pain that threatened to consume him. He slouched further down against the headstone, the bottle clutched tightly in his hand.

His gaze fell on his father's grave again, his eyes narrowing faintly. "Why can’t I just have a normal life? Why does it always to come back to this?" he let out a bitter laugh, "It’s like I’m cursed or something" He took another swig from the bottle, his grip loosening as the alcohol took effect.

Dean let out a deep breath, feeling the world spin slightly as he attempted to push himself up. His legs felt weak and shaky, but he managed to stand. "Yeah." He muttered, stumbling forward a few steps. He didn’t even look back as he made his way out of the cemetery and towards his car.

-

Dean woke up the next morning in bed, his head was still fuzzy, a nauseous feeling in his stomach. He groaned, his hand moving to cover his eyes as he slowly sat up, blinking groggily to adjust to the light in the room. He rubbed his temples, trying to ease the throbbing headache that had taken up residence in his head.

His eyes glanced over to see the time on the clock, 6:30 a.m.

He heard the sound of the toilet flushing in the bathroom and saw a tall glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol was placed neatly on the nightstand. Dean grimaced slightly as he reached for the Tylenol and popped a few pills into his mouth before washing them down with the water.

The coolness of the liquid helped to soothe his raw throat, and he exhaled heavily. He heard footsteps approaching from the bathroom, but before he could turn to look, Y/N swung the door open, a slight frown on her face.

Y/N leaned against the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest, "Hey." she said, her voice gentle but with a hint of concern. Dean looked up at her, guilt hitting him as he saw the look on her face. He knew by the look on her face that this wasn’t the first time he came home late and drunk, he could see the disappointment in her eyes.

But that wasn’t it, she was nervous. Y/N moved over to the bed and sat down beside him, reaching out to take his hand in hers. Her thumb rubbed soothingly over the back of his hand, trying to offer comfort despite the obvious worry she was feeling.

"You okay?" She asked softly, studying his face intently. He nodded slowly, looking down at their clasped hands. He squeezed her hand gently, meeting her gaze. "Yeah, I’m fine," he mumbled. A lie. “I-“ Y/N tried to tell him what she just found out while she was in the bathroom but her tone was shaky.

Seeing the hesitance on Y/N's face, Dean's heart dropped. "What is it? What's wrong?" He asked, concern etching his features. He squeezed her hand again, silently encouraging her to speak. Y/N took a deep breath before meeting his gaze once again. Her free hand was buried in her robe pocket, clutching the positive pregnancy test in her hand.

“I know we talked about it before… we spoke about doing it after our wedding. I’m ready to do this and I know you are too but-“ She sighed before slowly retracting it from her pocket, placing it into Dean’s hand. Dean's eyes widened as he stared down at the pregnancy test in his hand, his heart skipping a beat when he saw those two pink lines.

His hand trembled slightly as he held it, his mind spinning with a mixture of shock, joy, and trepidation. He looked back up at Y/N, his gaze intense and full of an array of emotions. "You're... pregnant? We're having a baby?" Tears welled up in Y/N’s eyes as she nodded, “After I left for work last night, the beer made me sick and I puked my life out. My boss sent me home early, then I realized my period was late…really late”

A flood of emotions coursed through Dean like a tidal wave. He gently set the pregnancy test down beside him and brought Y/N into his lap, wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace.

"We're gonna have a baby," he repeated, his voice full of awe and love. He pulled back slightly to look at Y/N, his eyes glimmering with happiness. "I can't believe it. This is..." He trailed off, too overwhelmed to find the right words to express his feelings.

This wasn't real. Is what his mind screamed at him.

Y/N was more than pleased with Dean’s reaction to her positive pregnancy test. Clinging to Dean for dear life as she sobbed, “We’re gonna be such bad ass parents” She chuckled through tears. Dean chuckled softly, holding Y/N tighter against him. He buried his face in her hair, taking in her scent and relishing in the feeling of her in his arms.

"We definitely are," he agreed, his hand stroking her back soothingly. "We'll be the best damn parents our kid could ask for." All while saying this, he knew what had to be done. Desperately trying his hardest not to cry, because this is all he wanted, but he knew he couldn’t have it.

“Do you have to work today?” Dean asked her tenderly as he traced circles on her back. Y/N shook her head, feeling the comforting touch of his fingers tracing her back. "No," she murmured, "I have today off, thankfully." She snuggled closer to him, relishing in the feeling of his warmth.

"Why? What’s up?” She asked curiously, tilting her head up to look at him. "Just asking," he said lightly, trying to keep his voice steady. "I have some stuff I need to take care of today.” He explained. "I’ll be gone for a bit, but I’ll be back in a couple of hours, okay?” He placed a kiss on her forehead, attempting to mask his pain with a smile.

Y/N nodded against his chest, feeling a slight sense of unease but not wanting to push the matter. "Okay, baby, I’ll be here," she replied. "Just be careful, alright?" He nodded, pressing another kiss to her temple. "I will," he reassured her.

Reluctantly, he gently eased her off his lap and rose from the bed, grabbing a shirt from the dresser. "I should get going though. I love you, princess." Those words struck Dean to his core. Y/N watched him get dressed, her heart heavy with worry and confusion but she plastered a small smile on her face. "I love you too, charming," she told him.

Once Dean was gone, Y/N sat quietly on the bed, her heart heavy with confusion. It was as if something was off about him, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She tried to push the thoughts aside, knowing he probably had something important to take care of, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss.

With a sigh, she laid back on the bed, trying to find comfort in the soft sheets and the familiar scent of the man she loved.

Once out in the garage, Dean leaned against Baby, his shoulders slumping as the weight of what he needed to do hit him all at once. With a sigh, he got in his car and started the engine, the only thing on his mind was the decision he had to make.

____________________________________________

Sam jolted awake in his bed to the sound of the door opening downstairs, it was way early in the morning, he instantly clutched the baseball bat he had under his bed. Gently padding over to the door.

Sam slowly opened the door, his grip on the baseball bat tightening as he strained his ears to listen for any sounds. Hearing the faint sound of movement downstairs, he cautiously made his way out of the room, keeping the bat raised just in case.

He saw the figure of a man in the dark house rummaging through the China cabinet as he peered from the corner. Sam's eyes widened as he saw the figure in the dark. He stayed hidden behind the corner for a moment, his heart racing as he tried to decide what to do.

He gripped the bat tighter, launching himself at the ‘intruder’. Dean swiftly dodged the attack and tackled Sam to the ground, pinning him down with his body. “That was so easy, I’m embarrassed for you?” Dean quipped. "Dean?" Sam exclaimed, breathing heavily, "What the hell are you doing here?" Shoving his brother off of him to push himself to his feet.

“I was looking for a beer” Dean joked, patting Sam on his shoulder. A wave of nostalgia washed over him at the interaction. “In the China cabinet?” Sam questioned, his brows furrowed as he padded over to the wall to flick the light on. His eyes glanced over to the table to see a box of their mom’s expensive knives.

“That’s mom’s silver” Sam pointed out, “Sam-” Dean sighed but his brother cut him off. “Wait, you broke into the house to steal Mom’s silver?!” Sam lowly exclaimed. “It's not what it looks like, okay? I didn't have a choice” Dean tried to defend. “Oh really? What's so fucking important that you gotta steal from your own mother?”

Dean grimaced, raking his fingers roughly through his hair as he tried to find the right words. "You want the truth?" He grumbled. The disappointment in Sam's voice was evident, and it cut deep. But he knew he couldn't tell him the truth. At least not yet. "Yeah. Yeah I do," Sam urged him as he nodded, Dean sighed before coming up with a shitty excuse.

“I owe somebody money.” Sam rolled his eyes. Typical Dean, he thought to himself. “Who?” He asked. “A bookie. I lost big on a game. I gotta bring him the cash tonight” Dean lied. “I can’t believe we’re even related” Sam mumbled, shaking his head. Dean’s face dropped, his heart aching in his chest.

“Sam, I’m sorry” Dean apologized sincerely, “Yeah” Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry that we don't get along. I’m sorry that you and y/n/n aren’t friends anymore because of me. And I wish to hell that I could stay and fix it, fix everything.” His voice cracked. “I wish I could stay and be a father….but I gotta do this” Dean said, his voice filled with determination.

“People’s lives depend on it” Dean sighed heavily before picking up one of the silver knives from the red box. “What are you talking about, Dean?” Sam asked lowly, confusion clear in his tone. “Nothing. Forget it. Just…uh…” Dean said as he turned back to his brother. “Hey. Tell Mom I love her. And tell my princess that I’m so sorry” Dean said with a sad smile.

Sam's confusion turned to alarm as he watched Dean pick up the knife. "Dean, what-?" he started to say, but before he could finish his thought, he saw Dean's sad smile and his stomach dropped. Dean turned on his heels to walk out of the room. “Dean” Sam tried to stop his brother from leaving.

“I’ll see you, Sammy” Dean said tenderly, pulling the door open. He gave the house one last sorrow filled and painstaking look. Then he stepped outside and closed the door behind him. Sam stared down the shut door for a few seconds, his mind spiraling. “What the hell, Dean?” He muttered to himself.

He couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in his gut as his worries about Dean only increased. Sam was left standing in the doorway, his heart heavy and his mind racing. He couldn't understand what had just happened. Why had Dean been acting so strangely? Why had he stolen the silver, and why had he talked about people's lives depending on it?

Sam's mind raced through possibilities and worst-case scenarios, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make sense of it. Immediately, Sam fished his phone out of his pocket to call the one person he knew would get through to Dean.

Dialing Y/N’s number, he waited anxiously for her to answer. The seconds felt like hours as he held his breath, silently praying for her to pick up the call. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, her voice came through the speaker. “Hello?”

"Y/N," Sam blurted out, his voice filled with urgency. "Something's up with Dean" he told her, pacing around the room in agitation. There was a beat of shocked silence on the other end before Y/N spoke, her concern evident in her voice. "I knew it” She grumbled, gripping her steering wheel.

After Dean left the house when she broke the news of her pregnancy, Y/N didn’t shake the feeling of something being wrong as much as she wanted to. So after over an hour of it nagging her, she hopped into her truck and went all over town looking for him.

“Is he still at the house?” Y/N asked Sam quickly. "Uhhh…" Sam hummed as he peeled back the curtain. The Impala was still outside with Dean sitting in the driver’s side, seemingly lost in thought. “He’s still outside” Sam answered, still trying to wrap his head around what had just happened.

"But he was acting strange. He said something about owing money to a bookie and people's lives depending on it. I don't know what to make of it, Y/N" There was a short pause on the other end as Y/N absorbed this information. "That doesn't sound right at all,” she said, her voice filled with worry.

“Yeah, I know,” Sam agreed, his anxiety growing by the minute. "And then… he told me to tell you and mom that he's sorry and that he loves you" he relayed, his voice filled with a mix of confusion and concern. Y/N's heart sank at the mention of Dean's message, a knot forming in her throat. There was an undeniable feeling of dread in her gut.

Sam looked back out the window, his eyes falling on Dean who hadn’t shifted from his spot since earlier.

Her mind was racing, wondering if this was because of her unexpected pregnancy. So she tried her best to formulate a plan, even in this stressful time. “Okay, listen to me very clearly, Samuel. You go outside and keep him there for as long as possible. I’m on my way” Y/N instructed him sternly.

"Got it. I’ll keep him there," Sam assured her, his tone set with determination. “I’ll even pretend to be mad or something.” Y/N’s instructions were clear and concise, giving Sam a sense of purpose and a small hint of optimism, which he desperately needed at this moment.

-

Meanwhile, Dean was sitting in the Impala, lost in thought for God knows how long when suddenly his passenger side. Sam plopped into the front seat with a heavy sigh, causing Dean’s head to snap in his direction. “Get out the car,” Dean exclaimed sternly. “I’m going with you.” Sam insisted.

“You're just gonna slow me down." Dean growled. “Tough!” Sam sassed. "This is dangerous and you could get hurt!" Dean shouted. “Yeah. And so could you, Dean!” Sam shouted back. Dean was still trying to find a comeback when they suddenly heard the sound of screeching tires.

Their heads whipped around to see Y/N's truck coming to a stop a few yards back from the Impala. Y/N quickly jumped out and sprinted over to them. "What's going on?" Y/N asked breathlessly as she yanked the backdoor open, her wide eyes fixing on Dean with concern.

Dean was taken aback by her sudden appearance, feeling a mixture of relief and guilt seeing her there. "You shouldn't be here," he muttered, struggling against his own desire to reach out and hold her close.

"I don’t care. Sam told me everything. Whatever stupid thing you’re about to do, you’re not doing it alone. And that’s that," Y/N asserted firmly. Sam exchanged a knowing glance with her, silently impressed by her determination. Dean’s eyes narrowed as he looked at her, a mix of annoyance and affection.

He knew better than to argue with her once she had her mind set on something. Whether this was really her or not, he’s pretty sure every version of her would fight his stubbornness if she needed to.

His eyes glanced between Sam and Y/N with shock, he could understand why she would be so stubborn, but not Sam. If they weren’t close here, if Dean was so horrible that Sam wanted nothing to do with him, why would Sam stick his neck out for him?

“I don’t understand. Why are you doing this?” Dean asked Sam in confusion. He sighed deeply, tearing his eyes away to face the windshield. “Because you’re still my brother,” Sam muttered. A small smile tugged at Y/N’s lips as she placed a hand on her stomach.

The two words stung Dean, cutting deep into his heart. ‘Still my brother.' His eyes glanced down to Y/N's stomach as she subconsciously placed her hand on it. His heart thumped painfully in his chest, knowing that he would never get to experience that with her.

"Bitch." he smirked at the two, Sam’s brows furrowed in offense as Y/N smiled. “What are you calling me a bitch for?” Sam stuttered, Y/N let out a snort of amusement. “You’re supposed to say, ‘jerk’” Sam’s brows furrowed again. "What?” Sam muttered under his breath as Y/N snickered, Dean rolled his eyes before putting the Impala in drive.

“Nevermind” He huffed. Y/N placed her hand on his shoulder from the backseat, “Asshat” She shot at with a grin. Dean chuckled under his breath in amusement, his chest swelling with the familiarity, “Nutcase”

____________________________________________

Y/N was half asleep in the backseat, her hand resting right over her stomach, lazily tracing circles around the navel through her shirt. She tried to focus on getting a somewhat proper rest having been on the road for more than 12 hours. The hum of Baby’s engine was the only sound that echoed through their ears.

Dean’s eyes landed on Y/N through the rearview mirror, the painful ache in his chest resurfaced as he watched Y/N trace her navel, gently caressing her own stomach, almost as if she was comforting their unborn child before it was even in this world yet.

He wanted so badly to just reach over and do the same, he always knew she’d make a great mother, even if y/n wouldn’t admit it to herself. But he had to pull himself away from that nagging feeling. The voice at the back of his head that was begging him to be selfish for once. He had to focus. He had a mission.

“What’s in the bag?” Sam broke the silence, pointing to the brown paper bag laying next to Dean. Y/N cracked open one of her eyes, “Nothing” Dean huffed, focusing his gaze on the empty dark road. “Nothing?” Sam sassed, “Yeah, nothing” Dean snapped back. “Just open the damn bag, I don’t wanna hear any bickering” Y/N grumbled in annoyance.

Sam scoffed before picking up the back. “Fine” He said, “Fine” Y/N mocked back, earning a glare from him. “You don’t wanna do that” Dean snorted. “Oh, really?” Sam sassed again as he reached into the bag, pulling out a container of lamb’s blood. Y/N gasped theratically as Sam did this, his own eyes widening with shock.

“What the fuck is that?!” Y/N exclaimed, pushing herself up in the backseat. “Blood” Dean shrugged, both Sam and Y/N’s eyes twitched at him. “Yeah, we can see that it’s blood, Dean! What the hell is it doing here?!” Sam shouted. Dean’s smirk widened, “You guys really don’t wanna know” He snorted.

“No, we really do wanna know! We really really do wanna know!” Y/N yelled, crossing her arms over her chest. Dean sighed, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, y’all are gonna find out sooner or later” He sighed, “I needed a silver knife dipped in lamb’s blood” Dean explained casually.

The car fell silent, he craned his head to see Sam and Y/N staring back at him with wide eyes, jaws practically touching the floorboards. Dean had to hold back himself from laughing at their faces, the look they had was hysterical.

“You needed a silver knife dipped in lamb's blood, why!?” Sam exclaimed. “Because there’s this creature, a djinn, and I have to hunt it” Dean stated. Sam and Y/N’s faces dropped, “I let an insane man impregnate me” Y/N muttered to herself, her voice going up and octave as she threw herself back into the seat, looking around in disbelief.

“Okay…stop the car..” Sam began calmly, “I know how it sounds” Dean shot back. “Great. Just….stop the car” Sam tried again, y/n was still staring out the car in disbelief, her jaw hanging. “It’s the truth, guys. There are things out there in the dark. There are bad things. There are nightmare things” Dean insisted, Y/N’s eyes snapped over to him as he continued.

“People have to be saved, if we don’t save them, then nobody will,” Dean said determinedly. Sam and Y/N could feel their heads spinning, trying to make sense of what Dean was saying while still trying to process his previous statement about the silver knife. "You're telling us there's some monster out there you want to hunt?" Y/N asked disbelievingly. "Yeah" Dean said as if it was obvious.

"And you need a silver knife dipped in blood to do it?" She continued, her eyes never leaving his. "Uh-huh" Dean confirmed nonchalantly, his focus still on the road. Sam and Y/N shared a disheveled look. She decided she had had enough, pushing herself over from the backseat and into the middle of the two Winchester boys as Dean drove.

“You’ve gotta be losing it,” Y/N declared, her voice filled with a mix of frustration and disbelief. “And you can’t just go and hunt some ‘djinn’ that supposedly exists, you have no business getting yourself tangled up in something crazy like that!” She cried.

Dean shot her a quick side glance before returning his focus back on the road, “It’s not a ‘supposedly’ thing. These things are real” He stated matter-of-factly. Y/N shook her head in disbelief, her eyes wide, “You’re insane” she muttered.

“Look, man, we wanna help you, alright. We really do but you’re having some kind of psychotic breakdown so…” Sam chimed in, attempting to fish his phone out of his pocket. “I wish” Dean muttered. “Baby…” Y/N said to him tenderly. Dean’s hands tightened around the steering wheel at the soft tone, the nickname making his chest ache with yearning.

He briefly closed his eyes, trying to calm his racing thoughts. “Save the pet names…you don’t mean it like that” he huffed under his breath, opening his eyes as Sam dialed a number on his phone. Y/N physically flinched at his harsh tone as he rolled down the window and snatched Sam’s phone out of his hand before tossing it out of the window.

“What the fuck was that, Dean?! That was my phone!!” Sam exclaimed, whipping his head around in shock. Y/N’s mouth dropped, “You just threw his fucking phone out of the window!” She gasped. Dean ignored them both, his gaze fixated on the road ahead, “I’m not going to a rubber room Sammy and y/n/n, and we got work to do” Dean said calmly.

“We were just trying to help you out, Dean!” Sam shouted. “We don’t want you to get hurt!” Y/N added, tears brimming in her eyes. That made Dean know for sure this wasn’t his girl, because as much as she was a crybaby for sad movies and cute animal videos, she wasn’t so easy to break. “What, you two protect me?” Dean snorted in amusement.

“Yeah!” Sam and Y/N exclaimed in unison. “Oh, that’s hilarious” Dean chuckled sarcastically, turning back to face the road. “Why don’t you twojust sit tight and try not to get us all killed?” Dean demanded before turning on the radio. Lynyrd Skynyrd’s ‘Saturday Night Special’ began booming through the Impala’s deck again.

Sam and Y/N sat back in their seats, speechless after being chewed out by Dean. They exchanged a look before facing the windshield again, both of their minds swirling with thoughts as Dean’s music blared through the stereo. Y/N’s hands slid down to her stomach, gently caressing the skin where their unborn child was growing inside of her.

____________________________________________

The Impala pulled up to the familiar warehouse, Sam was passed out in the backseat, snoring rather heavily. After almost accidentally punching Y/N in his sleep, once again, she shunned Sam to the backseat, leaving an unconscious Y/N in the front seat. Her head was nestled in Dean’s lap, using his thighs as a makeshift pillow.

Dean’s hand moved down to Y/N’s hair, his fingers gently stroking the strands. The aching feeling in his chest increased every time he looked down at her sleeping form. His eyes scanned each detail on her face, the curve of her lips, everything.

It has been a long time since he had seen her look so peaceful, she seemed so relaxed and calm as she slept. It was a sharp contrast the way she usually was; stressed, anxious, worried and overthinking about everything.

Dean sighed heavily before fishing his flashlight from his jacket, shining it in both Sam and Y/N’s faces. A wide grin playing on his lips. Sam’s eyebrows crinkled together as the light shined in his face, his eyes fluttering open as he groaned. “Wha—” He muttered, confusion written all over his face. Y/N on the other hand, let out a loud whine.

Twisting in Dean’s lap to face his stomach before shoving her face into his shirt in order to block the bright light. “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty and sasquatch” Dean chuckled, shifting in the seat. Sam grumbled incoherently, rubbing the sleep out from his eyes. “Where are we?” He mumbled, still trying to wake himself up.

Y/N remained pressed against Dean’s stomach, trying to fall back into her semi-comprehensive state of sleep. “Well, we’re not in Kansas anymore,” Dean replied with a light chuckle. This made Y/N shoot up from her place in his lap. Dean chuckled again at her reaction, a smirk on his face as he turned off the flashlight.

She narrowed her eyes at him before glaring at Sam, who in turn, gave her a small sheepish smile. She huffed in annoyance before looking out the window. Y/N’s eyes flickered over to the warehouse, the air of the cold night wafted through the open windows, Dean’s body heat couldn’t keep her warm anymore. She shivered slightly, bringing her hands up to wrap her arms around herself.

“We’re in Illinois” Dean answered Sam’s previous question. “And you think something’s there?” Y/N’s voice was thick with sleep as she asked. “I know it is” Dean said firmly, his eyes narrowed at the building with determination. Sam and Y/N exchanged a nervous look before turning back to him.

-

The trio all held their own flashlights up, the abandoned warehouse/ruins Dean remembered he was attacked by the Djinn was exactly the way it was. Thunder clapped outside, bellowing through the dark hall as lightning filled the sky.

Dean led the way, his footsteps echoed through the abandoned hallway as they walked. Y/N stuck by his side while Sam followed behind them. She was starting to get a bad feeling, the warehouse was dark, cold and damp. So instinctively, she reached for her fiancé’s hand, interlocking their fingers together.

“See? There’s nothing here, Dean” Sam insisted. “Look, our parents are gonna be worried sick about us, babe. Come on, let’s just go” Y/N pleaded with Dean. Dean gritted his teeth, his grip on Y/N’s hand tightened slightly. “Shh” he hissed. Sam and Y/N exchanged another nervous look, stopping in their tracks when they heard the sounds of a girl crying. “What the fuck is that?” Sam gasped.

“Both of you, stay behind me and keep your mouths shut” Dean instructed them, his voice laced with authority as he let go of Y/N’s hand, using his body to cover her. His free hand instinctively went to shield her belly. They both nodded, falling behind him as he moved forward. The crying got louder with every step they took.

Sam and Y/N’s eyes went as wide as saucers when their eyes landed on the decomposing corpses of a man and a woman. The same ones Dean saw back at his ‘house’. Y/N brought a hand to her mouth, a sick churning in her stomach at the sight of the dead bodies. The urge to puke was poking at her as Dean kept his face stoic, the confirmation that none of this was real was creeping up on him and it devastated him.

“What the fuck?” Sam gasped again, swallowing thickly as Dean’s eyes flicked over to a young girl who was tied up by her wrists. She had a large gash in her throat, her skin looked dirty, as though she hadn’t bathed in months. But she still looked somewhat alive, his eyes piercing into Dean’s.

It was the girl that was haunting him. Dean moved closer to the girl as Y/N reached over to grip Sam’s shoulder, trying to hold up her balance. The urge to puke was growing stronger. “Dean, wait…” Y/N mumbled, her words almost incoherent with the bile threatening to rise up her throat. He didn’t listen, only moved forward.

The girl was staring back at him, her eyes bloodshot and dark. “Dean, don’t” Sam spoke up, watching the scene unfold. But Dean still didn’t listen, he went straight up to the girl, crouching down to her. She tilted her head to the side, as if to study him. “It’s her,” Dean gasped as the realization hit him.

It confused them how Dean knew this girl, but they still felt the need to help her. For Y/N, seeing the young girl in such a state brought out the maternal instincts she never knew she had. “Dean, what’s going on?” She asked urgently, attempting to reach over to untie the girl, along with Sam. But Dean stopped them, “Shhh” He hushed them when he heard footsteps.

Quickly and quietly, they all hid behind a large tank as the Djinn entered the room. The young girl was shaking as the heavily tattooed creature padded over to her, “Where’s my dad? I don’t know.” The young girl sobbed, her voice absolutely desperate and broke. The Djinn didn’t answer, he just inched towards the girl whose feet were hanging slightly off the ground.

“No. Don’t. No. Where’s my dad?” She pleaded weakly as she tried to shuffle away but it was no use. The djinn brought his hand up to her face, placing his fingertips to the sobbing girl’s face, “Sleep” He said, his fingers lighting a small glow of white before fully expanding into a large dark blue light. The girl shivered in his touch, “Sleep…” He said again, caressing her cheek.

The girl soon fell unconscious as the Djinn placed a sickening kiss on her cheek before unhooking the saline bag that was hanging on an IV stand. He then brought the bloodied thin clear hose to his mouth, ingesting her blood.

Y/N felt sick to her stomach, her throat closing up at the scene unfolding in front of her. She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t, it was like she was completely frozen, not able to move or break her view from the girl.

Sam wasn’t faring much better, a visible shiver shot through him at the sight. His head felt like it was spinning when the djinn started feeding off the girl, his eyes were wide and his mouth was slightly parted.

Dean, on the other hand, had never felt so angry. His body was tense and his jaw clenched.

Y/N couldn’t hold it back anymore, the bile in her throat built up and she immediately let chunks blew all over Sam’s shoes, causing the younger Winchester to gag in disgust as both the scene unfolding and the sight of the djinn drinking the girl’s blood.

“Agh, Jesus!” Sam hissed, lowly. But it seemed like the djinn didn’t notice, it’s back was turned and it was still in the middle of feeding. But Dean caught the sound of Sam’s gag and Y/N’s heaving, he shot the pair a glare and held his finger up to his lips, signaling them to stay quiet.

The djinn finally finished feeding, letting out a satisfied moan as it pulled the hose out of its mouth. A chilling smile crept across its lips as it left the room. “This is real? You’re not crazy?” Y/N began to hyperventilate along with Sam as she wiped her mouth, buckling over as a pain struck at her stomach.

“She didn’t know where she was. She thought she was with her father” Dean muttered, the wheels turning in his head. The boys then stepped out from behind the tank, moving closer to the girl. Sam held up a weak Y/N, his arm draping around her midsection as Dean clenched his fists.

“What if that’s what the Djinn does? It doesn’t grant you a wish. I just- it makes you think you has” Dean swallowed harshly. He was hoping that somehow, someway, it could’ve just been a super fucked up wish. And he could’ve fixed his relationships with his family. Finally get on F/N’s good side. Be a better brother, be a better fiancé….be a better father.

“Look man, that thing can come back, alright? And we need to get Y/N to a hospital, she’s weak” Sam pleaded with Dean as Y/N’s head tumbled on his shoulder. But Dean didn’t hear him, all he heard was a ringing in his ears, his head snapping to the other side of the room where a light shone over head.

Dean slowly stepped closer to the light, flashes of his own body hanging from a ceiling filled his vision. Causing the elder Winchester to choke on his own spit, his throat constricted as air refused to enter his lungs. “Dean, baby. Please” Y/N’s weak voice pleaded with him. “What if I’m like her?” Dean finally let himself say out loud. “What if I’m tied up in here some place? What if all this is in my head?”

Part of him knew, that voice nagging him at the back of his head knew. “I mean, it could, you know…maybe give us some kind of supernatural acid and then just feeds on us slow,” Dean muttered as he studied the girl’s face. Sam’s jaw dropped at Dean’s words, his brain going into overthinking mode, he was about to say something but stopped when he heard a low whimper come from Y/N.

Her head was heavy on his shoulder. “No, Dean, that doesn’t make sense, okay,” Sam gaped. Y/N’s weak eyes flickered to Dean once more, her breath was slightly ragged and labored from when she had puked. “Please” Y/N croaked, clinging onto Sam. Dean turned to face them.

“What if that’s why she keeps appearing to me? She’s not a spirit. It’s like more and more I’m catching reality flashes. You know? like I’m in here somewhere, I’m catatonic. I’m taking all this stuff in but I can’t snap out of it” Dean put the pieces together.

Y/N, weak as she was, peeled herself from Sam and forced herself to walk over to Dean, her legs were shaking and it was hard to keep herself standing upright But she reached out for him, her hand landing on his arm. “Dean” She gasped. “Look, you’re right. We were wrong, you’re not crazy. But please, we need to get out of here. Fast.” She pleaded, her words coming out thick and choked, trying not to puke again.

Y/N ran her hands up the back of his neck but it made Dean feel sick rather than safe. Dean narrowed his eyes at her, clenching his jaw before roughly pushing her off. Luckily, Sam caught her before she could hit the ground. Y/N and Sam both went wide-eyed at Dean’s sudden roughness. Y/N’s face crumbled, her expression filled with hurt as her eyes began to water. “Dean?” She whispered, her voice so fragile.

But Dean’s face was hard and emotionless, his eyes darkened as he stared back at her. “What the fuck man?! She’s pregnant!” Sam exclaimed as he carefully helped Y/N back onto her feet, his arms held protectively around her. “I don’t think you’re real” Dean gaped, feeling as though he had been shot in the heart. “I don’t think either of you are real.” Dean shook his head, slowly backing away from them.

Y/N let out a choked sob, her bottom lip quivered, the urge to keep herself together was getting weaker. Her head fell into her hand while Sam looked ready to punch some sense into his brother’s head.

He gritted his teeth before helping Y/N to lean on something before storming over to his brother, shaking his roughly. “Did you feeling that? You feel this? I’m real! Y/N is real and so is your goddamn baby! This is not an acid trip! We’re real and that thing is gonna come down here and kill us for real. Now please” Sam pleaded with Dean, his tone filled with desperation.

Dean’s face remained stoic, “There’s one way to be sure” He clenched his jaw before retracting the silver knife from his jacket pocket. He then raised the knife towards Sam. “Woah, Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah! Stop!” Sam cried, his hands shot up into the air, as if to surrender. Scuffling over to shield Y/N who was still clutching her stomach, writhing in pain. But Dean didn’t believe it for one second.

“Dean, what are you doing, man? What are you doing?” He pleaded with Dean, his eyes widened in panicked confusion. “It’s an old-wives tale. If you’re about to die in a dream, you wake up” Dean stated. Sam’s face fell, he knew exactly what Dean was going to do. “No, no, no, no. That’s crazy, alright?!” He protested. “Maybe” Dean shrugged.

Y/N’s head perked up, her eyes widened at Dean’s words as she finally understood what he was about to do. “Dean, no, don’t!” She shouted as Sam used his arm to stop her from approaching Dean. “You’re gonna kill yourself- Okay!” Sam exclaimed when he tried to apprehend Dean but he drew the knife on them in a warning manner. “Or I’m gonna wake up” Dean shot back.

“One or the other” Dean breathed heavily. “Look, this isn’t a dream, alright? We’re here, with you, now, and you are about to kill yourself, charming” Y/N pleaded with him, her voice sounding suddenly stronger. Dean narrowed his eyes at her, “No, I’m pretty sure” He growled, “Like….90 percent sure” He blinked before turning the knife on him, ready to stab himself.

“Wait!!” Sam bellowed. Dean’s head snapped over to the side when he saw the figure of two women, one in a white nightgown and the other in a black. Mary Winchester and M/N L/N approached Dean with sweet smiles on their faces. His heart dropped in his chest as he watched from all corners. Jess appeared, then F/N from another corner.

Y/N was suddenly healthy and well again, slowly walking up to Dean. “Why’d you have to keep digging? Why couldn’t you have left well enough alone?” She asked, her voice wasn’t sounding much like her own. “You were happy.” Sam added as Mary and M/N moved and began walking besides Y/N. “Put the knife down, honey” M/N said gently.

“Listen to her, Dean,” Mary added just as tenderly. Dean was frozen in place, his eyes wide, shifting from side to side as the women in this nightmare, his nightmare, advanced towards him. His heart was hammering in his chest, he looked like he was ready to have a panic attack. The knife loosened on his grip as he looked over to Y/N, his eyes wide like a frightened child.

This wasn’t real… this couldn’t be real. It’s not real.

“You’re not real” Dean’s lip trembled, tearing welling up in his eyes to say this to his mother and M/N, subconsciously tightening the knife in his grips. All three women frowned, “None of it is” He spat. His eyes glancing down to Y/N’s stomach, he felt as thought he had been shot, once again.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s still better than anything you had” Mary said encouragingly. “What?” Dean gasped. “It’s everything you want. We’re a family again” M/N added, offering Dean a small smile. “Let’s go home,” She urged him. “But I’ll die,” Dean’s voice broke.

“The djinn’ll drain the life outta me in a couple of days” He shook his head, part of him wanted to be selfish and take the offer but his conscience wouldn’t let him. “But I’m here with us, it’ll feel like years…” Y/N chimed in, taking Dean’s hand into hers to place it on her stomach. “…like a lifetime”

Dean’s breath hitched at Y/N’s words. He was torn between selfish temptation and morality, his mind was fighting with itself. The feeling of his child under his hand was so real and it was making him falter.

The tears began to fall down Dean’s pale cheeks, he looked absolutely heartbroken. He didn’t know what to do, the women around him had everything he ever wanted but it wasn’t real. None of it was real. His throat was tight, he could feel the bile rising from his stomach but he tried to hold it in.

Mary brought her hand up to caress Dean’s cheek and M/N took Dean’s free hand in his. “We promise. No more pain or fear.” Mary said sweetly as Dean nuzzled his cheek into her hand and tightened his grip on M/N’s hand. “Just love, comfort and safety” M/N added in an urging tone.

Dean’s eyes reopened, still trained on his palm that was resting on Y/N’s stomach. Both mothers stepped back, allowing Y/N to wrap her arms around Dean, running her fingers through the nape of his neck. “Dean. Stay with us. Let’s go home and get some rest” Y/N pleaded.

Dean’s eyes met with Y/N’s, staring into those gorgeous (e/c) irises that he’ll never get tired of looking into. She looked so beautiful, so healthy. It was too good to be true. The idea of her bearing his child, them being parents together, the idea of her actually loving him back was all too good to be true for Dean. His lip quivered as he reached to cup her cheek, caressing his thumb on her soft skin.

“You don’t have to worry about Sam anymore. You get to watch him live a full life” Jessica chimed in. Dean’s brows creased as his chest ached. Y/N leaned up to capture Dean’s lips into a gentle slow kiss. The kiss was long and tender, it felt so real, and it was making this so much more painful for Dean.

He could feel his heart breaking as tears continued to fall down his face, a strangled gasp escaped from him. But Y/N didn’t let go. Her arms were wrapped around his neck and his hand remained firm on her stomach. She pulled away for a breath, her bottom lip trembled as she leaned her forehead against his, “We can finally have a future together. Have our own family. I love you, charming” She whispered.

“Please” Y/N pleaded, the look of desperation in her eyes was enough to bring Dean to a puddle, it took all in him not to crack right there and give in. He stubbornly shook his head, “No you don’t….at least, not like that” Dean whispered back, his voice hoarse as he once again denied Y/N’s love for him.

A frown took over Y/N’s beautiful face, her eyes watering up as the words stung her. “Yes, I do” She insisted, her hands moving up to cup his face so he wouldn’t look away, to look her in the eye. “Dean, I do, I love you” Her voice was pleading, she wasn’t lying. The words were written all over her face, her heart was laying bare for him.

This wasn’t real… this couldn’t be real. It’s not real.

It was Sam’s turn, the younger Winchester stepped forward and Y/N released her loose grip on Dean. “Why is it our job to save everyone?” Sam asked in a calm voice. “Haven't we done enough?” He added, the look of despair on his brother’s face was extreme to the point where Sam was willing to do anything to keep Dean here.

“I’m begging you. Give me the knife” Sam begged him. Dean’s eyes trailed the room. They went to F/N, who was yet to say a word, but he had an encouraging look on his face. “Give him the knife, son” He finally said. Dean’s eyes then went to Jessica, before trailing over to Mary, M/N, Sam and finally Y/N. He gave her stomach one last look before leaning down to press a kiss to it.

Y/N’s lip curled into a small sad smile as he pressed a tender kiss to her stomach before drawing back to stare solemnly into her eyes. They were glossy with tears, she didn’t say anything, afraid that her voice would betray her. Dean’s eyes softened slightly as he stared down at the woman he loved.

His throat was as tight as it was before, but it felt more painful now. His heart ached, it hurt to say what he was going to say next. “I’m sorry, princess,” He murmured. With that, Dean reared the knife back before driving it into his stomach. A chorus of cries filled the room. “DEAN!” Sam and Y/N screamed.

Reality, 2007

Joliet, Illinois

“DEAN!” Sam and Y/N screamed when they stormed the ruined warehouse with Jo, guns blazing, all armed with silver knives dipped in lamb’s blood. Y/N’s stomach dropped, suppressing a scream when she saw Dean tied up from his wrists, a bag of his blood that was being drained was propped on an IV stand. He looked as pale as ever.

Y/N, Sam, and Jo advanced into the room further, eyes locked on Dean. She felt her stomach twist painfully as she took him in; bloody, bruised, pale. He was unconscious, most likely from the blood loss, he was too weak to lift his head.

“Dean” Y/N whispered, her voice shaky as her mind ran a mile a minute. Just staring at him was making her want to break down and cry. “Oh, God. Come on” Sam pleaded as he reholstered his gun and began shaking his brother.

“Dean, sweetie, please” Y/N begged, placing both her palms to his cheeks, gently tapping him as his eyes fluttered open. Jo reached down into Y/N’s boots to take out the butterfly knife she had stored there, flickering it open.

“Oh, Auntie Em. There’s no place like home” Dean moaned and groaned from the loss of blood. “Thank God, I thought we lost you for a second” Sam breathed out in relief, the pain clear in his voice. “Y’all almost did” Dean grunted, his face creasing with pain as Y/N yanked the IV needle from his neck.

“Come on, let’s get you down” Jo said quietly as she began to cut away at the ropes. Sam and Y/N held Dean up, not seeing the Djinn that appeared behind them. “Sam! Y/N!” Dean screamed, warning them. The sound of Dean’s voice, screaming their names, made the pair of them whip their heads around in horror.

The sight of the djinn made them both freeze for millisecond, stunned. The two instantly kicked into action, attacking the Djinn while Jo desperately tried to cut away quickly at the stubborn roping, bounding Dean’s wrists.

Both hunters tried to stab the Djinn with their knives but it was faster and stronger than them, it dodged their attack, gripping them by their wrists.

“Come on, hurry up!” Dean yelled at Jo, yanking at his wrists. “I’m trying!” Jo screamed back, quickening her pace, the two were horrified.

Y/N raised her foot, high kicking the Djinn across his face (thank you cheerleading) dazzling the creature. He backhanded Sam into a railing, the hunter went headfirst into it, also dazzled. The Djinn suddenly grabbed hold of Y/N’s throat, a gasp left her at the unexpected attack. It yanked her backwards, holding her in its grip.

Y/N struggled in his grip as he picked Sam up by his throat, attempting to squeeze the life force out of the two. Y/N reached her hand out in an attempt to summon her discarded knife on the ground with her mind but it was no use, the lack of air was causing her to grow light headed, her focus was minimal.

She was losing her touch as darkness slowly crept into vision, her eyelids grew heavier as she struggled to keep eye contact with Sam, who was equally as dizzy. She could see Sam flailing about, his lips moving but Y/N couldn’t hear him through the loud, continuous buzz that was ringing in her ears.

Suddenly, Dean and Jo appeared behind the Djinn, the younger huntress buried the knife in the Djinn’s spine. A sickening pierce echoed through the room as the Djinn groaned, gargling on his own blood. Her face contorted with anger as she twisted the knife for good measure.

They watched as the Djinn collapsed to the floor with a strangled moan, his grip loosening on the two, allowing both Sam and Y/N to break from his grip. Y/N let out a strangled cough, filling her lungs with oxygen and trying to regain her breath.

Dean turned his head to look at Y/N and Sam, who were both slumped against the flooring, both dazed. “Hey! You two okay?” He asked urgently, placing his hands on both their shoulders. “Yeah” Sam croaked, his voice hoarse when he swallowed. “Fine” Y/N nodded, reaching up to her neck to feel the aching skin where he gripped her.

Jo breathed out in relief as she crouched down to place her hand on Sam’s cheek. Sam winced as he leaned his cheek into Jo’s warm gentle touch on his face. The pair stared at each other for a moment, both glad the other was okay.

Sam was the first to break eye contact, he forced himself up from the floor, letting out a sigh, his legs felt like jelly. His eyes shifted over to Y/N, he extended his hand out to her, silently asking if she was okay. Y/N looked at him, letting out a shaky breath and nodded, taking his outstretched hand in hers.

Dean then suddenly remembered the girl from his dream, his head snapping behind him to see her tied up the same way he was. His face fell with instant sorrow when he saw her bound state, she was in a gown that was torn, her hair was messy and disheveled, her face was pale and lifeless.

Dean felt anger as he began to approach the girl, his legs stumbling as he attempted to stand up. His legs were still weak and wobbly from the Djinn venom. Dean brought his fingers up and pressed it to the side of her neck. His eyes widened when he felt the light thumping of a pulse, “She’s still alive, guys!” Dean exclaimed with relief as Jo reached up and cut the girl down and Dean retracted the IV needle from her neck.

Dean cradled the almost lifeless girl in his hands, “I got you. I got you. We’re gonna get you out of here, okay? I got you. I got you” Dean breathed out, even though weak, he held her up in his hands. Y/N smiled to herself as she watched Dean cradle the girl, his voice was soft and gentle as he murmured soft little reassurances to her.

Shushing her as if he was trying to soothe a child. She and Sam shared a concerned look however as Jo frowned. All fearful and unwilling to imagine what Dean went through in just a span of a few hours.

____________________________________________

Dean was sitting on his bed in the motel room, reading one of Y/N’s playboy magazine’s while Sam was on the phone with the hospital and Jo was lounging on Sam’s bed. Y/N was making a cup of tea for Dean, per her request, to bring his strength back up.

“Okay, uh, thank you so much for the update. Okay, bye” Sam said into the phone before hanging up. “That was the hospital. The girl’s been stabilized. Good chance she’s gonna pull through” Sam informed Dean, who just nodded in return. “That’s good,” Dean grunted. “Yeah” Sam sighed, settling in the bed next to Jo.

Y/N returned to Dean’s bed, handing him the cup of tea. “How about you? You alright?” She asked gently. “Yeah, I’m all right, thanks” Dean cleared his throat, unable to keep eye contact with her as he accepted the cup of tea. Sam, Jo and Y/N shared an unconvinced look.

“You should’ve seen it, guys. Our lives…” Dean sighed. “You were such a wussy” Dean shot at Sam jokingly, making the room erupt in chuckles. “You weren’t there man, sorry” He said to Jo. “No worries” Jo chuckled, shaking her head. Dean took a small sip of the warm tea, making sure to not burn himself.

“So we all didn’t get along then, huh?,” Sam asked. Dean’s brows raised suddenly, “Well- Nope” He replied bluntly, shaking his head. Y/N sat down next to him on the bed. “At all?” She asked, raising a suspicious brow. “Yeah nope” He chuckled dryly, lying through his pearly white teeth, taking another sip of the drink.

“Man, I couldn’t imagine us not getting along” Sam muttered, the look of disbelief on his face matched the other two. “I thought it was supposed to be this perfect fantasy” Y/N sighed, crossing one leg over another. “It wasn’t- It was just a wish” Dean cut her off, his eyes trained on his tea.

“Yeah, I wished for Mom and M/N to live. If they never died, F/N would’ve never told dad about hunting. And we all just never…uh…you know” Dean said sadly. The other three had frowns on their faces, feeling the pain they all could relate to in him. It was a hard life they led, full of loss and suffering, they all felt it.

“Well I’m glad we do” Sam said, “And I’m glad you dug yourself out Dean” Jo added, both meaning their heartfelt words. “Dean,” Y/N said quietly, placing her hand on his leg. “Most people wouldn’t have had the strength. They would’ve just stayed.” She assured him.

Dean lifted his gaze from the tea, meeting Y/N’s comforting eyes. “Yeah, well. Lucky me” He replied with a small dry smile, his eyes scanning her face. Dean’s eyes flickered over to Jo and Sam, both were staring at each other deeply. He cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “I gotta tell you though, Sammy. You had Jess, you were gonna give mom grandkids. And Y/N…your dad was alive and you were gonna get married to Xander” Dean lied.

Sam’s head snapped up, an uncomfortable look instantly appeared on his face. “Yeah,” He replied awkwardly, rubbing his face. This wasn’t exactly a topic he enjoyed talking about. A frown set on Jo’s face, she knew about what happened to Jess after Sam gave her a deep dive of his life and she did the same with him.

Y/N saw the frown appear Jo’s face, immediately coming to her defense. “Yeah, but, Dean, it wasn’t real. Nothing that happened in your head was real, nor will it ever be” Y/N told him gently. Dean paused for a minute, feeling as though he had been shot for a third time.

His heart was practically ripped from his chest at her words. Dean clenched his jaw, “I know….but I wanted to stay.” He confessed gruffly before gulping down a mouthful of tea. His eyes glanced down at Y/N’s stomach, memories of the Djinn’s world were still fresh in his head. “I wanted to stay so bad. I mean, ever since F/N and Dad….all I could- all I could think about is how much this job’s cost us”

“We have all lost so much..w-we have sacrificed so much” All three of them stared at Dean, surprised at his confession. “We know,” Y/N affirmed gently, her eyes staring at him with a mix of understanding and sadness. Sam nodded in agreement, the pain and suffering was something they all had. “But people are alive because of you. It’s worth it, Dean” Sam countered.

Dean scoffed, shaking his head. “It is, man. And- it’s not fair. And- you know- it hurts like hell” Jo chimed in, scoffing dryly. “But like Sam said, it’s worth it” She assured him. “And you’ve got us” Y/N reminded him softly. All three hunter’s eyes were on him, their faces were sincere.

Dean swallowed deeply, his eyes glanced back down at his tea. A small part of him wished he was still in the dream. Y/N nudged him gently, “Hey” She whispered, bringing up her pinky. “I pinky promise” She smiled softly.

A small smile cracked on the corner of his mouth, a small chuckle left his lips. Dean gently raised his hand and linked his pinky with hers. “There, you can’t break a pinky promise” She winked, earning a quiet chuckle from him.

____________________________________________

Authors Note: “yOu CaNt BrEaK a PiNkY pRoMiSe” oh sweet summer child, just you wait until the next episode💀 (as someone who takes pinky promises very seriously, I’m already in tears)

ANYWAYS, did I break your heart? Did I make things better? Or are you plotting my demise?😂😂😂

I hope everyone loves this one! Be sure to tell me what you loved or what you hated, I can’t wait to hear your feedback🥰

Thanks for reading and have an amazing day loves!

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@deangirl96 @bitchykittenconnoisseur @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @mrsjjkwinchester

@juwu-theliciosa @magiccliopleurodon @nesnejwritings @karrah89 @whattheduckisupkyle

@iloveyou2mia @thelittlelightinthedarkness @lmhf1 @littletomboy2 @zigzoggy

@hey-its-zoe @modiddys-blog @thvxr @tommysaxes @cookiemonstermusic258

Xoxo

[emeraldbloodcrown]

ONCE MORE

Chapter: Prologue - Nostalgic Fires Pairing: Poly; Tattoo Artists!141 x Baker!Female Reader Summary: You arrive in your hometown after over ten years of being gone, jobless but with your best friend and a letter from your grandmother asking for your help. Content/Warning: Don't think any yet. Lots of talk about a better past, unfair treatment at work and having someone's life work destroyed by a fire Word Count: 3k+

Childhoods had a way of making our past seem magical, both secluded and free-ranging, like finding an entire world hidden in your backyard. It seemed so colorful, so joyous, that the adult life you had been anticipating so much at the time, had no chance but to feel bleak and grey next to it.

You assume that it was like that for everyone but it still felt more so for you. Growing up had felt so much more fulfilling than anyhting after your 16th birthday, and it wasn't just due to being a child. No, your grandmother had a big part in that.

The one thing you remembered the most about her was how hardworking she had been through all of your time with her but she had never been unkind towards you or rejected your need for attention. No matter how busy she got, she would simply dust off her flour covered hands on her apron, bent down and lift you up with a smile, telling you off what she was preparing and how she was doing it.

Or she would sit you on the counter behind the display of her delicious smelling goods, while she chatted with her customers, often using you to charm them into buying more than they had planned to, and her sneaking you a Brezel or a muffin as thanks.

When you got older, she let you help her in the kitchen while you talked her ear off about whatever you liked, her humming occassionally but when you felt unheard and stopped, to which she always said the same thing.

'Now don't get shy on me, dear, keep talking.'

Often being able to ask you a question about a specific detail, surprising you when you had been so sure, she was too busy with her own tasks to listen to you at all.

You loved being with her, loved the hard work she shared with you and with what ease she was able to pull it off; her smile ever present on her red-painted lips, with a happy tune falling from them.

As a child, she looked breath-taking to you.

As an adult, she looked downright impossible.

You couldn't recall a single day she was not wearing an luxury suit or dress with heels and expensive jewelry, makup on her face and her hair in an extravagant updo. She was stunning every day, but her work demanded she be on her feet for long hours, so everything about her, seemed so impractical now.

Of course, some people say that they feel more comfortable in heels, especially after years of use, and while you liked to wear them too, no money on this world could ever make you wear them to work, so you were especially glad that you also weren't allowed to wear them.

After your 16th birthday, your grandmother and her bakery had only been a distant memory. Your parents choosing to exchange the quiet and homey small town life for the big city, bustling with people and always so busy.

The change was drastic and even after all these years, felt a little traumatic: to be ripped away from your home, from your friends and familiar circles, being forced to start new and find a place among strangers who have known each other for years.

It was hard and you still felt a little bitter that you weren't allowed to stay the year and couple months it would've taken for you to graduate with your friends. But as much as you disliked it at first, being in the city offered you an easy way into your adult life, finding your place as a worker and after some struggling lead you to what would be your job for the foreseeable future.

Three short but also long and hard years later, you're employed as a nurse for elderly, certificate under your belt, new best friend from your training by your side, and ready to provide for your residents as best as you could.

But the excitement and vigor you had started your job with, soon fizzled out, killed off by the reality of what seemed to be expected by everyone working in that particular nursing home.

Sure, treating patients was always a hard, often very thankless, job but checking in with your former classmates proved that your facility was eager to take the cake.

The staff crisis, that had already existed when you and Anna got hired, had only gotten worse and resulted in quality and nursing management almost begging you to make the impossible choice of either leaving your colleague alone for a full night shift or going against the law and covering when you've already been working more than half of the late shift of the same day.

With that crisis, naturally, also come the vicious cycle of the few people they had on staff being severely overworked. That made them more prone to accidents or falling ill, which added onto the stress of nurses needing to cover the shifts of the sick person, of management trying to keep the ship afloat, and of residents who grew unsatisfied because they didn't receive the care they paid so much of their hard-earned money for. Not to mention that the sick person often had to deal with some backlash and the accusations of whether or not they really had it as bad as they said.

All of that fostered a horrible environment, which brought you and Anna to make a pact one night after too many wines: both of you would be checking in with each other when either one of you was stressed, using 1 - 10 to gauge the severity, and as long as one of you was alright, the other would be supportive. But should both of you arrive at a 10, you'd immediately go looking for a new job.

Now there had been many occassions where you both were angry enough to throw the towel but that was mostly blowing off steam than being serious about it. Until, after 7 years of working in this 'hell hole', as Anna called it, you got serious.

Coming to work, both of you had already been chewed out for things beyond your control: Anna for not treating a resident who vehemently, and often violently, denied the care, and you for trusting that colleagues twice your age were doing their jobs right and didn't need to be supervised.

And it only got worse from then on.

To Anna's already high work load, came several more tasks; predominately tasks that routinely had been the early shift's responsibility and now all of a sudden were demanded to be done by her and finished in this shift, if she didn't want to face repercussions.

While you were greeted with a bunch of paper work, most so poorly documentated that you had to hunt down residents and family to actually get an idea of what happened, chaining you to the computer and growing increasingly frustrated with your colleagues for letting you walk into the knives of management and relatives because, apparently, they had been told that you were in charge of these things all along, when you were just the idiot picking up after them.

By the time, Anna came to the office, her scrubs were clinging to her body, both from water and sweat, her face was flushed and her hair a mess from all the times she must've run her fingers through - a nervous habit she never could stop when she was stressed.

On the other hand, you were surrounded by all of your resident's medication, checking to see if it all was up to date with their plan. Which was something that should've happened weeks ago but got pushed because it was boring work, until it hit you to get it done before the inspection in two days.

So when Anna came to you, you were sitting on the floor, plans and medication, both valid and expired, caging you in, cussing harshly under your breath as you tried to get control of the situation.

She watched you for a moment, exhaustion delaying her thinking before she snapped out of her perplexion.

"I need a check-in."

"Huh?" You questioned brashly, too caught up in your thoughts before your brain actually understood what she had said, and your angry expression sobered up. You put the papers to the side and turned to her, giving her your full attention.

"Alright. On three. One. Two. Three."

"Ten"

"Ten"

Registering what you both had said, you looked at each other with a mixture of shock and sorrow. Seven years of hard work, of enduring things, and taking care of people who didn't want your help. But also seven years of improving or maintaining life quality, of presents from relatives to somehow show their gratitude after their loved ones' passing, and of residents treating and caring for you like family.

There had been so many days that had made every bad one seem worth, but lately they had become a rarity. The stress you took each shift too great to be relieved after work or good sleep and going to work had your steps filled with doom, instead of the purpose and pride they had when you both started.

"So it's time?" Anna asked, her voice too timid for her usual demeanor. You both knew this day would come but to see it arrive, see it drop down onto your conscious with its heavy finality and seal this chapter of your lives? That was something else.

You took a shaky breath, casting your eyes down to your hands, a small tremor in them.

"I guess so.."

"And what now?"

Yeah, what now, indeed.

The answer came faster than you had expected. As loving as your upbringing with your grandmother had been, with your parents taking you to the big city and their divorce that followed soon after, the contact to your grandmother slowed immensely until it fully stopped just a couple years ago.

The more surprising it was for her to reach out all of a sudden, asking for your help after a fire had claimed most of her pride and joy, and she needed your help trying to get it back to its former glory so it could be sold before her body gave out on her.

You felt like there was more to it, asking so directly for your help didn't sound like her but it seemed only right, with your and Anna's notice signed and sent to the personell manager, to take this change of scenery and see what it's all about.

With as hectic as your work had been lately, you had only been able to spend money on your essentials, leaving you with some savings. Not enough to last for a long time, but enough so that you didn't immediately have to go job hunting but could take a little while to recharge.

Once your colleagues heard about what you had done, they grace you both with the reaction you had expected: a little bit of guilt tripping, some manipulation to get you both to stay and ultimately with a heavy dose of superiority once they found out what your plan was, as if you’d fail and crawl back to them within the next month.

Actually leaving your key and name tag, like you had wanted to so many times, was freeing, saying goodbye to your residents less so, but you tried to focus on what was ahead of you.

Spending some time back home would do you good, as would seeing your grandmother. After her initial letter, you had written her back, still adamant about not needing a phone, and told her about your plans to come visit with Anna, and her response had been ecstatic.

The drive had been largely uneventful, both of you deciding to take the scenic route, turning it into a road trip and making a few memories along the way, safely stored away in your phone.

Coming back after more than a decade felt weird. Closer to a deja-vu than an actual memory. There were several corners that you still remembered like the back of your hand, but then there were others, which felt familiar, but they had changed so much over the years, they were unrecognizable.

And the worst offender for that was your grandmother's bakery. You hadn't expected it to resemble your memories at all, knowing that most of it had probably fallen victim to the fire's destruction but even those parts that had remained untouched, looked like they had been victim to the decay of time.

Instead of feeling broken nostalgia, you were filled sorrow and sadness. A part of you wishing you had stayed all those years ago, when you knew full well, it had never been your decision from the start.

You heard repeated clacking behind you, recognizing the familiar melody of your grandmother's steps after all these years, and they put an involuntary smile on your lips.

Turning around, ready to hug her, you faltered in your step when you took her appearance in. She was still the tall and proud woman from your memories but it was terrifying to see how much her age had caught up to her.

She had a wrinkly, boney hand clasped around a cane you would've bet money on wasn't hers. It looked too ordinary, too run of the mill for your grandmother's extravagant tastes. Not to mention, that she hardly used it as a walking aid, the way she put her body on it, more akin to a crutch.

Her face was papery, devoid of any color despite her use of makeup, with sunken in eyes and sharp cheeks that could only be explained by an insufficient diet. Which was only supported by the clothes, several price tags too cheap for what she used to wear, hanging limply off her shoulders and her elbows seemingly poking out of her skin.

“What happened here?” You asked, fully meaning her state but if your grandmother was aware of that, she chose to ignore it.

She heaved a heavy sigh, her eyes turning distant. “Life, I reckon. People are so busy now, a place like this is not meant for that. And I'm not getting any younger, complaints started to pile up, and,” she paused for a moment and you instinctively knew there was something she wasn’t saying, “it’s in the past now.”

Watching her stuttering motion as she took the couple steps towards you and Anna, you had to keep the nurse inside of you on a short leash, wanting to call for a wheelchair just in case, as you felt the same caution clutch your heart your accident prone residents did. Sharing a look with Anna, you knew she felt the same way.

Your grandmother pulled out the keys, the little muffin pendant reflecting in the sunlight as she put them in your palm with a tremor in her hands.

“The door’s pretty tricky, so it’s best one of you tries,” she said, acknowledging Anna for the first time and giving her an exhausted smile.

You had to use quite a bit of force to get the key to turn fully and throw your weight against the door for it to open. The smell from burnt wood was still in the air as you and Anna walked in, turning to get an idea of how big the damage was.

"Do you know how it started?"

Your grandmother flinched, too caught up in her thoughts as she looked at her shop with sad eyes. For years, she had been able to keep this dream of hers a well-lived reality, but now it had all been ripped away from her in an instance.

"Apparently, I had the stove on when I left some papers on it…"

Even without looking at her, you heard the pain and confusion in her voice. You knew that she didn't believe that, and surely, it didn't sound like the person your grandmother was. Or rather, the person she once was.

If your line of work had told you anything, it was that age had a habit to either be your constant companion, resulting in people being able to age 'with grace', or it sneaked up on them, leaving them clear-headed for a very long time until it slammed into them, and seemingly sudden, things that were no problem just a few weeks ago, had now gotten impossible.

The latter could very well be the case for her. She was an old woman, who had been married to her work more than to her husband all her life, and most likely was very lonely whenever she wasn't at the bakery. These bouts of forgetfulness could be a result of that.

But whatever it was, you doubt she would be able to rest easy, knowing how she had lost her pride and joy, so restoring the bakery was among your top priorities now.

"Don't worry," you said as you held your grandmother's frail hand, squeezing them gently, "we make it good again, okay?"

The sadness left your grandmother's face for the first time and even her body seemed to straighten by the positivity in your words as she returned your action.

"I know, love. Never doubted you. I'm just sorry I had to bother you both, I know how busy you two are."

A white lie already on your lips, Anna beat you in her attempt to reassure her: "Oh don't you worry, we quit anyway."

Noticing your glare, she quickly realized what she had done and slapped a hand over her mouth but it was too late. Your grandmother pinched the skin of your hand as she threw an unimpressed look at you.

"We talk about that later"

You nodded to her parting words and watched her slowly make her way back to her own house down the street, before you punched Anna in the shoulder.

"Thanks for that."

"I didn't know!"

Rolling your eyes, you looked back at the charred remains of the bakery, and your task for the foreseeable future. Still rubbing her arm, Anna joined you and asked the most important question:

"Where should we start?"

[cerastes]

OKAY, Reclamation Algorithm 2.

The first RA was a more arcade experience with meta progression: You had runs lasting only a few days, and you'd have to defend against a final boss horde in a much smaller overall map. Likewise, your resource acquisition was also much more explosive, such as getting a couple of Clash of Clans and other such resource-rich maps almost every run. You could only carry a few items other than what you had built on your base between runs, meaning that blowing up everything and saving a couple of things between runs was the way to go.

I think RA2 is easier overall than RA1 simply because it's a continuous, full-on mode that doesn't have an arcade, short-run based format. It goes on for as long as you play. Resource acquisition is slower because of its longer form nature, but it also does not at all pressure you with Linebreaker day 14 for example. Plus, the Energy System this time is much easier to manage, since you need Two Pops or Three Pops of Energy Drink to field an entire squad of 6 and under or 7 and above, respectively, whereas RA1 needed you to feed individual units from a Fountain of Energy Drink. That's not to say everything is easier; the Priestess and the Troubadour are much more challenging than anything RA1 threw at you -- Linebreaker, Ruinbringer, and Al-Rafiq --, and while the new horde bosses are fun, they are on about the same difficulty as those three, who are more or less tests of RA mechanics and if you are using them or not more than anything.

Make no mistake, this is ENDGAME endgame, especially in regards to Priestess and Troubadour, since you have to beat them in one Day -- two attempts at the map in which your progress is saved between attempts, BUT in which you can only use each unit once, so if you want to use 12 units per attempt, that'd be 24 units you think are up to par -- and they bring mean gimmicks that can be curbed somewhat by the season in which you fight them, but not entirely, and are still quite formidable even with the counter season. They were some of my favorite parts of the mode, personally, because not only is it a big, harsh challenge, it also reinforces the World Of Adventure nature of Terra: Even though they are unaligned with any of the big factions, you still have REALLY strong individuals roaming the land.

I think the main difficulty for a lot of people will come from choice overload: Arknights is already a game with a lot of player expression and a focus on gameplay, both aspects not at all the norm with gacha games and thus not what a lot of gacha gamers are used to, and while main content is kept very accessible to all skill levels, they do provide truly endgame challenges that can be quite demanding in terms of skill, for players that do dabble in the depth of player expression and team building that Arknights offers, such as High Multiplier (Waves/Natures) Integrated Strategies and 26+ Risk Contingency Contract.

This preamble is to say, Reclamation Algorithm has even more player expression and thus potential options for you to use. You have so, so many more tools other than just your Operators that a lot of people just don’t know what to do with them, hence why I think so many people find it so much harder than it truly is. Food for a myriad of different stat boosts and perks, structures to mold maps and enemy routing at your will, the ability to create your own ranged tiles or throw 5-block fridges at your enemies, purposefully overpowered tools like stun mines and supply stations at your beck and call, you can do so much in RA, and for some people, maybe it’s too much. Like an open world game does for some people, the sheer vastness of your options in RA2 might just blind and overwhelm some, especially since the average gacha player is very casual (and that’s not in the slightest an insult), and the average AK player watches clear guides without really understanding why the strat in the guide worked. Thus, in a mode in which player expression is king, the player that barely interacts with the baseline mechanics of the game, let alone those exclusive to RA, is not even part of the kingdom. For me personally, RA1 clicked the moment I realized just how nightmarishly strong the player is if they use food and structures, and after that, it was a non-stop streak of wins (unbroken in RA2 since RA1, too).

My advice to anyone trying to seriously get into RA2 is to just experiment as much as you can with anything that even remotely calls to you: Is there a unit you like a lot, like say, Bibeak? Well what if you give her insane attack, bulk and infinite SP to spam her skills? Food that buffs ATK, 2 shield generators and 2 supply stations on Bibeak makes this a reality. You wish Yato Kirin had no DP cost whatsoever? There’s food that makes her DP cost 0 no matter how many times you deploy her. You wonder what it’d be like for Eunectes to have 3 Block? Food does that. You think a particular map would be much more manageable if you could just have a Corrupting Heart-buffed 5-Block Mudrock in a particular chokepoint with no ranged tiles? You make your own ranged tile and then give Food to Mudrock to get her to 5 Block, or maybe 3 Block is enough, and you’d rather she has 75% extra Def and 35 more Res instead to make her truly unkillable, well, food does that too.

You just need to dabble into the possibilities a bit before it becomes crystal clear just how insane you can get.