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chronicbeans · 8 months

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Platonic Alastor x Maladaptive Daydreamer Reader

Hehe not me self-projecting again! Anyways, these are kinda based on my own experiences, but I'm trying to make them more generalized.

TW: Maladaptive daydreaming, escapism, dissociation, mentions of depression and anxiety, brief mentions of compulsive behavior/OCD, invasion of privacy, manipulation, peer pressure, yandere-ish behavior (I believe he defaults to those behaviors, no matter the type of relationship), mention of cannibalism (this is Alastor we're talking about...), Alastor is a shitty toxic friend in this

• He's absolutely fascinated by the way your mind works. Even before he knows what is going on, or begins to get close to you, he can tell you are an interesting person. The way you look so distant, like your mind is checked out and flying to far off places without you, is something he hasn't seen before. He wants to pick and prod at your brain to see what's going on.

• He doesn't want to do so the easy way, though. No. Instead, he wants to drag out this process for as long as possible, and make sure you twist and squirm all the while. He loves to make people uncomfortable, after all! That's his specialty, in his opinion, besides his radio show.

• He'll start off with introductions, of course, which is probably when he first got interested in you. That dreamy look isn't so easy to see from a distance, after all. The second he looked into your eyes while shaking your hand, though, it became obvious. How hadn't he seen it before? If he saw this look when he first entered, he would've talked to you first out of the crew at the Hazbin Hotel. Well, besides Charlie... But, that's just because she owns the place.

•The uncomfortable prodding starts in an instant. One of his first questions after getting your name is not "What made you want to come to the hotel?" or "What can you provide to help the hotel?" It's more like "How did you die?", "What are your major vices?", and "What sin have you committed to be brought to Hell?" He wants to test the waters. See what he can get away with without completely scaring you off. If you run away and avoid him, it'd be harder to learn what he wants, and make you uncomfortable while doing so.

• Regardless of whether or not you answer, you are probably a little put off from him. Not enough to completely avoid him, since you can see how some of those questions might help him help the hotel, but enough to be uncomfortable... Which, in his opinion, is perfect!

• He's great at hiding, so if you start noticing him mentioning things you thought were private, you really shouldn't be surprised. He can, quite literally, hide in the shadows at times. He quickly takes notes of your little habits, including ones you might be embarrassed about.

• He may watch you pacing around your room, mumbling to yourself as if you are playing pretend all alone. Or, maybe, he's hiding over your shoulder while you're writing down some elaborate storyline. Perhaps he's watching you in plain sight, seeing you make a bunch of odd facial expressions at seemingly nothing. He may not know why you do this, but he wants to. He would've suspected some sort of substance use, considering it's Hell. Lots of people do so. However, he's never seen you near anything that would cause such behavior. So, that's off his list, for now.

• So, step 2 of his plan begins! As his good ol' pals Husk and Niffty to try befriending you! Or, at the very least, get information from you that you aren't comfortable telling him. Then, have them report back to him with their findings. Of course, Husk seems agitated by the request, but obliges. Niffty seems more than happy to do as he asks, though. A happy worker is a good worker, so he has more hope in Niffty getting the big story than Husk.

• Surprisingly, though, he's proven wrong. The most Niffty got was your fashion sense, favorite types of stories, and that you are very "quiet". Yes, the fashion and types of stories were new to him... But what he seems important, the reason you act so oddly, isn't there. Husk, however, was able to get a lot more out of you, somehow.

• Husk mentions you talking to him, one night, after he saw you skipping oddly down the hall and pass the bar where he was cleaning the glasses before closing it for the night. You seemed extremely embarrassed to have been seen, mentioning that you thought he was asleep already. He then just, politely asked a few questions...? And got answers? How?

• Alastor immediately demands answers, only for Husk to reply "I don't know how to describe it like they did! Most I understood is that they daydream too much. Seems like it's a constant thing going on. They like to pace and prance while doing so, sometimes, but don't like getting caught."

• Now it begins to make more sense... the writing, the talks about stories with Niffty, the prancing and pacing... and most importantly, that dreamy, distant look you have. He can even see why you'd make odd expressions. You're reacting to your own thoughts... He doesn't understand it. He's never heard of anything like this before, especially during his time as a human, but he can tell one thing for certain: You must be his friend, now. Whether you like it or not.

• You are so different from everyone else he's met, you see, and he loves things that go against the norm. Now, while you may or may not be considered normal or not too different by others, you're different and abnormal to him. You somehow succeed in both being polite, smart, and funny to mess around with, while also barely being able to pay attention to the world around you. He's always thought that those two things were mutually exclusive. How can you learn when you can't stop being in your own head? How can someone be polite and not listen? The funny part, though... He can kind of see that. He finds surprising you be sneaking up behind you and tapping your shoulder funny every now and again. Nevertheless, you are going to be his friend.

• Soon enough, you notice his behavior changing, a bit. Less following you around, less vaguely threatening words, and more... quiet. It's eerie, coming from him. However, you also notice him trying to talk to you about stories and books he's heard and read. Even things he's heard during his human life, such as Creole folktales and other stories he's heard in New Orleans, Louisiana back in the 1920s-1930s. It's a bit like a completely different side to him you never expected to see, and never really wanted to, but you aren't really complaining. It's better than him deciding to terrorize you for fun and him asking invasive questions...

• A little more time passes and he decides to ask about small habits, disguising them as him just now noticing those habits, when he's probably noticed them while spying on you months prior. Nothing too extreme. Mostly just your expressions, how it seems like your attention is somewhere else... Nothing like your pacing, prancing, or acting. He wants to establish that he knows about these tiny little things, and now that you're more comfortable with him, you're much more likely to answer. That way, once he moves onto the bigger, more personal questions, you'll already have been eased into feeling comfortable with it.

• Eventually, you get to the point where you feel comfortable calling him a friend. He's already considered you one since that conversation with Husk, but it's a start. Now, he's gotten the lovely privilege of being able to know more about what's going on in that lovely little brain of yours... well, "little" brain is definitely an understatement. From how you describe your imagination, he'd be led to believe your mind must be as vast as the Library of Alexandria.

• Vast worlds, complicated plotlines, complex characters... you talk of odd tales you've created, all in your brain. Ones you've had in your mind for years, some you came up with on a whim, and others, still, that are still being developed. Stories that have been being created over the span of real life years, ones you started then dropped... All of which are being held in your head, with only a miniscule fraction of it being written onto paper. He's truly impressed, genuinely respecting your odd talent, as he sees it. You've perfected the craft of creativity, while he's perfected the art of talking to an audience. Even better, is that he got to learn whether or not his theory of you taking inspiration from stories you've heard was right. Which explains his sudden mentions of stories he's heard in life.

• Now... if only you'd let him tell some of your stories on his radio show! If you wouldn't like that, then he'd probably ask you to write something for his show. That way, it isn't as personal to you, and you wouldn't even need to be credited if you're embarrassed by it! He could just say a random listener sent it in, and he thought it'd be great to read, to show his appreciation for his adoring fans. The world simply must hear the greatness of your mind, dear, and he is not going to stop annoying politely asking you to write something until you do.

• Another thing he might try is to see if he can figure out why you partake in this little habit of yours. He's never heard of it, though he has asked some sinners and demons if they have. Be it Charlie, Angel Dust, some of the other overlords, or a friend of his we haven't seen or heard of, before. More modern sinners keep mentioning a thing called Maladaptive Daydreaming, describing it as a symptom of other mental health diagnoses... but that's the problem. That fits you, you've mentioned that you know of that and it fits you... but that's also just a symptom. Well, a few argue that it may be its own thing, but it is not an official diagnosis yet. So, for now, he wants to figure out why you do it.

• Is it depression? Anxiety? Do you really want to escape from something, and you're doing so by hopping into that little dream land of yours? Is it some sort of compulsion? You seem to not really be able to control it that well, after all, and others have mentioned links to OCD, as well as other disorders that can cause compulsions. Is it sheer, absolute, chronic boredom? Speak to him, dear! What is it? Do you even know? If not, he'll assume it's the boredom option... for now.

• He's obsessed with you, really. You're his friend, and he's very obsessive over them, in his own way. He is as far away from normal when it comes to showing real affection for others, which wouldn't be bad, if it weren't for the fact that a main part of it is him being absolutely suffocating when he's around. That, and he can be terrifying... He's the Radio Demon, after all! It's just worse for you than his other friends, though, because you are different. Being different is a really important thing for him, really, alongside being polite, smart, and funny. Not required, unlike the last three traits, but it makes you more likely to be his friend. You hit the lottery by achieving being all four, but it must be the worst lottery prize in the world.

• He holds the thought that you should just be friends with him. Now, you don't have to be... but, he'd prefer it. If you really want outside friends, sure! You just can't be friends with his other friends. He claims they'd "taint" you with how violent they can be. Plus, since he's friends with other cannibals, some of which do serve sinner and demon meat to others without telling them, he genuinely does worry about your safety and wellbeing if you met those specific friends of his. For your friends, he wants to meet them. He needs to in order to deem them worthy of being your friend, and to make sure it's not someone he knows and is friends with. You deserve perfection, and who knows perfection better than Alastor, yes? After all, he can see that you're perfect. That is more than enough evidence, dear.

• You're one of the few people who he doesn't mind having your attention not on him. Part of your charm, in his opinion, is your lack of attention. All he asks is that you tell him about a story of yours. What is going on in your head that's so important? Oh, a great war between this and that? A psychological horror? Cities beneath the sea? Tell him about it. He finds it fun! Especially if he can see any possible inspiration from events or other stories. He likes to hear your voice almost as much as he likes to hear his own, which you'll realize is more of a compliment than it might sound like, once you truly get to know him.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor the radio demon #maladaptive daydreaming #alastor x reader #platonic headcanons

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home-of-renn · 2 years

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Getting to know the Addams family is complete whiplash for Danny.

Growing up with ghosts being treated like parasites and vermin to being welcomed into a family where spirits are actually treated with respect and empathy is mindboggling. The Addamses even have a deep understanding of ghostly customs and compulsions, yet still treat them as individuals and not mindless, Obsession driven entities.

Speaking of Obsessions........ It's honestly surprising that Danny's Obsession hadn't gone berserk from the sheer amount of weaponry mounted on the walls. He's core remained comfortable even when he'd found out about Wednesday's collection of pet spiders, the family lion that guards the vault, even Pugsley's pair of red-bellied piranhas, and the drawers filled with poisons situated right next to the spice cabinet in the kitchen.

He once walked in on Wednesday trying to embalm her brother and his Obsession hadn't made so much as a peep.

(He later realises that it's because none of them actually intended to seriously harm one another. It's nothing but fun and games and they all have each other's best interests at heart).

But one afternoon, Danny is sitting at the kitchen table working his way through a mountain of overdue homework while Morticia sits at the other end stitching what looks like a onesie with too many arms.

He's got his nose inches away from the pages in front of him when Morticia lets out a soft hum. It's enough to break his concentration and he lifts his head. Bright red drips from her finger, running down the length of her bony knuckles. The world comes to a screeching halt and for the first time since stepping foot into the Addams' residence, Danny's Obsession flares to life.

His chest is suddenly too tight and he leaps from his chair. Grabbing the nearest rag, he flings himself across the table and presses it against Morticia's bleeding fingers with shaking hands. His laboured breathing echos around the room and it all comes crashing down.

His eyes zero in on his left hand and the imprints it leaves on Morticia's pale wrist. He comes back to himself all at once. Awareness and rational thought finally pierce through the forefront of his mind and has him jerking back. His chair is toppled on the ground with paper and pens scattered about. The table's been pushed askew and he's still holding Morticia's wrist.

Morticia is silent. Her eyebrows are raised but she's calm and composed. His eyes finally catch sight of her sewing, no longer laid gently in her lap but tossed to the ground and crumpled.

Danny flees before she can even rise from her chair.

He skips dinner and hides in his room. Embarrassment burns under his skin. He hadn't lost control like that since he first turned ghost - not since he'd made the harrowing discovery that he had an Obsession. Danny lies awake that night, invisible in his bed, ignoring the quiet knocking on his bedroom door.

He waits until everyone's finished their breakfast the next morning before finally making his way into the kitchen. He freezes at the sight of Morticia sitting in the empty room, in the same seat as before. The table has been pushed straight and his homework has been piled neatly on the kitchen counter. He almost runs for it, but Morticia offers him a smile and pulls out the chair next to her. On the table in front of the offered seat is a plate piled high with eggs, bacon and sausages. He slowly makes his way to the table and takes his seat. He eats with his head down and Morticia doesn't offer any conversation. The room is silent except for Danny's chewing and the soft rustle of fabric as Morticia continues her sewing. Danny's grateful for the quiet.

He's focused on shovelling down fork fulls of greasy potatoes when he catches a glint of something metallic in his periphery.

Morticia sits, poised and graceful, sewing something Danny thinks might be a hat. On her thumb, she wears a thimble.

He stills with his fork halfway to his mouth and carelessly looks up and meets her eyes. She smiles, the same way she always does, with blood-red lips and not a hint of teeth or a crinkle of her eye, but somehow it's gentle and reassuring. His neck flushes and he continues his breakfast in silence while Morticia continues her sewing. The air is comfortable and Danny feels his Obsession settle.

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lesbianoms · 7 months

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Hihi love your writing and was wondering (if you took prompts) to do more werewolf endo stuff?

Anon I am SO SORRY this took 80 YEARS TO WRITE 😭

It Started with a Sandwich

(Includes soft vore, f/f vore, kink, safe vore/endosoma, gentle/caring pred, werewolf pred, same-size) minors dni!!!

I didn’t know her that well, but she knew me. At least, knew of me.

My college had recently implemented a new kind of "supernatural studies abroad" program; currently, they only offered it as a J-term with limited spots. It served to both teach us about the history of other countries, and to satisfy anyone who was super into fantasy and folklore.

On the night of the deadline, just 5 minutes before midnight, I typed up a rushed essay on a whim... now, here I was, studying old European legends in Romania. It couldn't be helped. I'd always loved the strange.

The woman I watched from across the cobblestone street was our guide. She was not a professor at my school, or a fellow student, or anything like that. Born and raised in Romania, she had shown our small group around, pointing out the tall churches and the intricate, weaving designs of stone atop old castles. Crumbling structure. Old structure. Yet the way she spoke of the past somehow endeared me to it.

I won't deny it. As I looked at her— sitting in the empty outdoor seating of a deli, eating her sandwich— I felt really attracted to her. She was older than me, much older, I'd say about 35 or something like that. Early 40s maybe. Just from her deposition she seemed the type to have kids. A husband, a family.

Not that there was anything wrong with that, because my heart was all too familiar with the stupid, stupid tugging pulse of heartache. It came with the territory of being in love with women who were an entire lifetime away from me. But still, I wondered... would she see me?

My thoughts drifted to the sandwich in her hands. Another perk of being a college student is forgetting that you need to eat to keep your energy up. I thought about the places I’d seen along the route to the hotel: there was a ramen place, a burger joint… hm, “Romanian Ramen” had a nice ring to it. Maybe-

I froze as she looked up at me, and with an embarrassed turn of my head I realized that I’d been spacing out and staring at her the entire time. Ugh, I’m such a dork.

But when I glanced in her direction again, I was confused (and admittedly, a bit intimidated) when I saw her waving me over with a smile. I slowly slid off of the wall I was sitting on and walked over, compulsively brushing at my hair with my fingers.

I hope I looked good.

“Hello!” she said. Her voice was sing-songy, with a soft yet prominent Romanian accent. It radiated warmth. “Would you like to have lunch with me?”

~~~

I don’t remember how long we both sat there in that Deli, talking and laughing. As the time went by and the world around us changed from bright to dark, we seemed to be lost in ourselves.

She was easy to talk to. At first I’d felt like a bit of a geek sitting down and rambling on about whatever was currently on my mind, but she just sat still and listened. She would nod and look at me with interest, as she continued to devour her sandwich. I’ve never been the best at making eye contact with people, so while I talked, I found my eyes wandering down to her mouth as she chewed…

watching her throat bob as she swallowed…

It’s at this point in the story I need to confess something. I have a bit of a… strange “interest.” This is kind of embarrassing, but a necessary detail to the story-

-Oh who the hell am I kidding? Vore. It’s vore. I’m into vore.

So now, as you can imagine, watching her eat made me feel a bit flustered. I was ready to just ignore the feeling and continue on, but ohhh boy… I had no idea what was coming next.

Somehow, we got back on the topic of the program.

“So? Are you enjoying your stay in Romania?” she asked, licking her fingers. The sandwich was completely gone.

“Yeah! It’s a really cool place, with a lot of history. I thought the stuff you were talking about yesterday was really interesting.”

She giggled. “Real spooky, hm?”

“Oh, definitely.”

“The legends, they are my favorite part of living here. I’ve had an interest in the supernatural ever since I was young. When I was 18, my mother took me to Transylvania— it was a difficult trip to make, but I begged her to go— and, ultimately, I’m glad I did. Some of my best and worst memories come from that trip.”

I leaned back in my chair, a slight chuckle in my voice. “Did you want to go to Transylvania because of the vampires?”

There was a sudden shift in her demeanor after I said that. Her eyes looked sad as she smiled and continued her story.

“Well, yes and no. There was something needing to be done there. I had studied vampires before, and…”

She looked left and right, as if making sure nobody was listening to us from the shadows. I blinked in confusion, then watched her lean in and heard her voice drop to a silky whisper.

“Do you know why Transylvania is the vampire country?”

I shook my head. She licked her lips and continued.

“It is because they need a place to roost. They like old things. Old castles. They need a place to hide, yes. But they can't have Romania, because someone is already here.”

“Who?” I asked, my brow furrowed in confusion.

She grinned, and in the rising moonlight, her teeth shimmered like fangs. “The werewolves.”

~~~

It had been hours since I’d let her give me a ride back to her place; the full moon, in that time, had been tucked away behind the clouds. Still. She kept all the curtains closed.

She could tell I was nervous. Even though we’d both been very clear about boundaries and terms, my anxieties were not quite put to rest. I felt stupid for asking, but I also felt like I had to.

"So you're not going to kill me?"

She gave me a warm smile as she stood across from me. "I understand your concern. But I can safely say that no, I'm not in the business of taking any lives. I'm no loup-garou, darling."

“…But you are a werewolf.”

Something dimmed in her eyes, and I felt a little bad for being so pressing with all my questions. But if this was true, and it was all real… I needed to be sure that I wasn’t in any danger.

“In Romania, werewolves are protectors,” she said putting a hand to her chest, “I swear on my life that I will not harm you.”

My fingers drummed along the bed that I sat on, and I took a deep breath before responding with, “Okay. I trust you.”

An excited look lit up her face, as she began to take off her clothes.

I watched, enchanted. Enthralled, by the swiftness of her movements as she pulled her shirt off, revealing her bare belly to me. Even mostly empty, it still sported a bit of a round shape. She had a little paunch that just hung over the waistband of her underwear, straining against the elastic. I stared.

When I heard her giggle, I hurriedly averted my gaze from her stomach and tried, unsuccessfully, to make eye contact with her.

"You like what you see?" she teased.

I stuttered, "Wow... um, I dunno if this is a weird thing to say but your belly looks so... soft..."

"Years of good hunting will do that to you, love."

I didn't really want to think about what she meant, so I slowly shifted my position on the bed, fiddling with the trim of my shirt. Quietly, I asked, "Have you ever done this before?"

She smiled and shook her head. "No, never. But you're so small, I should be able to get you down easily. You're like a baby deer."

A hot flush spread across my cheeks as I hummed in satisfactory embarrassment.

"Do you look for baby deer when you go out hunting?"

"No, no! Of course not. That is... not for me. I prefer not to go after fawns. They are in the prime of their life, no? And it feels, for me at least, that it would be cruel to snuff them out at such a tender age."

“So, I guess I'm your first, then..." I chuckled.

A wide, warm grin spread across her face as she approached and sat by me. I felt her strong hands on my thighs. Her voice was sweet, and I shuddered at her hot breath on the side of my face as she leaned in to whisper her melody to me.

"My sweet, sweet fawn," she purred, "these lips and jaws will be so honored to have your small form pass between them, squeezed so snugly into my depths…”

She sniffed at me, licking her lips.

“You smell delectable. Oh, dear, if you could only know how hungry my belly is for you… mmm, yes~ I am quite looking forward to wolfing you down, and keeping you warm during this cold, blustering night.”

"Oh god," I squeaked. I was smitten.

The heat of her round stomach touched my skin like the sun. Tentatively, I reached up a hand. My fingers curled into hers as she took it, grasping it gently. She led my hand over to the soft swell of her belly and I felt goosebumps break through on my skin as I made first contact.

Much like her, the resonance of her stomach made me feel safe. It talked to me with a low and constant grumbling, the groan of a hunger aching to be satisfied. I felt her belly growl against my hand. Oh god, I could only imagine how it must feel to be in there. It actually made me lightheaded.

"Wow…” I whispered, pressing the palm of my hand into her skin. "Your body sounds beautiful."

She flashed a coy grin at me. “The moon is up now.”

~~~

I watched in a mix of fear and admiration as she transformed. Bones shifting and cracking into place, ears and jaw muscles elongating… despite the awful noises, it didn’t look painful. I’m sure she was used to this.

The top of her wolf head and the tips of her ears just barely scraped the ceiling, and she stared down at me with a lustful glow in her eyes. A sharp-toothed smile curled across her muzzle, but instead of being scary, the expression actually made me feel kind of warm inside.

She licked her chops and beckoned me over with a clawed finger. My eyes widened as I watched this movement; her beastly demeanor, infused with all the graceful nuances of a human woman. Even now, it makes for a pretty picture in my mind.

Looking into her eyes, I knew that I was safe with her. I stared up, now pressed against her furry, somewhat swollen belly. The noises coming from inside were downright monstrous. I felt my core heat up, the sensation delving lower all throughout my body, as I slowly began rubbing my legs together. In sure she must have seen how excited I was, because at that moment, she opened her jaws wide and lowered them down onto my head.

Her tongue curled against my face as I entered the slimy cave, whimpering at the feel of so much warm and gooey saliva assaulting my senses. It seemed that first taste was all she needed for instinct to take over.

The gulps were loud and thick, occurring in rapid succession, and I didn’t have any time to think as I was swallowed up by the undulating movements of her gullet and sent down into her powerful stomach. She slurped on my body and growled as the last of me disappeared into her. I’m sure that, despite my size, I made a prominent bulge in her throat…

I could hear only my own breathing for a few seconds as I curled up in the fetal position— welcomed into my new snug home for the night— and then a meaty squelching from underneath me caught my attention, bubbling up into a series of digestive groans. I felt them echo all around my body, and I moaned, all inhibition drowned in that pool of warm acids.

I felt my sleeping bag shift, heard a big slosh of fluids as she flopped over on her side. She was panting and whimpering… I assumed with pleasure. A shrill bark left her jaws and she rubbed at me, pushing against my form, being sure not to hurt me even as she kneaded her prized catch. Me… a prize… I’d never felt so honored to be won as the shifting walls of her belly began to claim me. And as her stomach squeezed me, I came.

I have no idea how long we stayed like that, me and her. Her wolf gut made for a comfy pillow as I yawned and drifted off to the sounds of indigestion I was giving her. She moved towards her bed and tenderly squished me against the mattress, which made me wriggle and squirm. No harm came to either of us as we snuggled together in the most intimate way I know.

I think that overnight, my clothes melted. Or at least, most of them. I remember receiving a text from her days later that my panties were stuck in her intestines. I still don’t know how that happened, but admittedly, it was kind of hot. I got a little wet while I was responding to her.

I’ll never forget my trip to Romania, for several reasons… though if I had to pick one, I’d say that it was because of that stunning tour guide, and her beastly appetite that I had the honor of sating. And to think, that it all started with me watching her eat a sandwich… 💖

#v.ore #v0re #soft vore #vore writing #vore story #endosoma #safe vore #vore kink #werewolf pred #f/f vore #vore talk #asks #vore asks #female pred #sorry if the ending feels a bit rushed!#but i hope you like it #minors dni

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gin-juice-tonic · 1 year

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Hey there! I have a friend who wants to write a character with OCD, but I'm worried that she might not have a fully accurate image of what it is. I don't really know many people with OCD, but if you could could you give some tips to pass on to her? Sorry if this is weird, and you don't have to answer this if you don't want to. I just thought it would be better to get information from someone who is affected by OCD than skim an article about it. Thanks again (p.s. I really love your comics!!)

This is going to go under a cut cause i wrote more than I really intended. It's very long. I put a video clip of a character who I think is a good representation in media at the end if you decide you dont want to read all of that and just skip down there.

The thing is that OCD varies a lot from person to person. My experiences arent gonna look the same as someone else's who also has it. Some people have very visible symptoms, some people have things that are still obviously ocd symptoms but would only be recognized by someone who knew what to look for, some people only have mental symptoms - you wouldnt be able to tell unless you were a mind reader. And just like any other disorder it has a range of severity.

Also not everyone's triggered by the same things. I know you said you'd rather hear from a person than an article, but I think she should look at articles that detail what typical obsessions are (Though she should go in knowing these thoughts are beyond people's control. They're sometimes extremely upsetting, and theyre of course upsetting to the person who has them. They may be very hard to read if you arent well-versed in this stuff.) In fiction I usually see perfection and contamination, but there are wayyyy more than that. Some triggers come and go even. One day I can be completely fine about something and encountering it a different day it might take me 3 months to stop spiraling about it.

An important thing that IS spread across everyone who has it is that giving into compulsions makes things worse. They are a feeling of momentary relief that can fade incredibly quickly, which is what leads people to do them over and over and over again much to the detriment of the person doing it.

There is not a lot of rhyme or reason to it. And it cannot be logic-ed with. You could be the smartest, most level headed, logical person in the world, but you cannot logic your way out of obsessive thoughts. (This usually creates an obsessive thought spiral even, which is bad and can be dangerous...)

Adding onto that, she should think hard about whether the character would know they have OCD or not. The public perception of OCD is not great. Most people dont understand what it looks like, including people who have it. And the people who do have it often feel like they cannot talk about it. (I was encouraged by a psychiatrist to never! talk about the intrusive thoughts I have to ANYONE. She sucked, but it shows the attitude that surrounds the disorder.) And whether they know or not will make a big difference in how they view themself and their mental health. Personally when I did not know I had it I was doing a lot worse mentally. A lot. Frankly it very nearly drove me to suicide. And then I found out what it was, and it helped. It didnt magically make things disappear of course, but it helped.

She also might be tempted to make the characters symptoms manifest in ways that are comedic or silly. I am not bothered by this necessarily, I think a lot of the things I do are silly and would be perceived as funny by an outsider. But if she is going to do this I ask that she makes sure she shows how frustrating and embarrassing it is for the character. If you want an example, there is a character in the show Scrubs with OCD. (Side note, Scrubs is rated TV-14 so turn back now if youre too young but)

His name is Dr Kevin Casey, though you could probably just find his scenes from looking up Scrubs OCD. He is played off as a jovial man whose disorder makes him quirky, but he is given a scene in which you can really see the toll it takes on him. One line he says "Nobody's supposed to see this" hits especially hard.

So if that was too long and you didnt read most of it the number one important thing I'd personally ask is however inconvenient this characters OCD is going to be to everyone else Id like her to make sure she shows that its a million times more inconvenient to the person who has it.

#suicide mention #tw suicide mention #ask stuff #cw ocd #long post

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melanieph321 · 1 year

Text

Ruben Dias - Lost in Sardinia Part 7/8

Summary - Ruben is on a getaway in Sardinia. There he meets a girl named Fiorella. She starts to wonder why Ruben won't tell her what exactly he is getting away from, or even what his real name is.

Enjoy!

There was a cluster of rocks overlooking the white beaches of west coast Sardinia. It's where Fiorella took Ruben. A peaceful place to watch the sun go down to the sound of ocean waves.

"The pressure was getting to me. I was aware that the team was bringing in new players for the upcoming season, players that could replace me if I didn't perform well."

Ruben told her everything. Everything that Chiara had mentioned and more, like the reason he punched his coach.

"And that made you want to punch your coach in the face?" She asked.

"No, I never intended to do that. That was just a result of all the pressure I put myself under. It's normal in football to buy and sell players. But I play for arguably the best football team in the world, with arguably the best football players. If I were to get replaced by another player it would essentially mean that I'm not good enough to..."

"Play with the best?"

"So you get it?"

"Why you punched your coach?" Fiorella snorted. "No, no I don't get it. But feel free to tell me what led up to the event."

"I was just so fucking tired." He sighed.

"Tired of what?"

"Mostly from working overtime. I'm always the first one to arrive at the teams training grounds and the last one to leave. I never give less than 110% during games and I've always remained on a strict diet to stay healthy and fit. I've missed so many family occasion because of training, birthday's, anniversaries, holidays, you name it. Worst part is that I've ruined so many relationships with people I love." Ruben chuckled. "Just ask my ex girlfriends who've ended up hating everything about me, from the way I brush my teeth to the way I comb my hair."

"So you have many compulsive habits?" Fiorella interrupted, forcing Ruben to stop talking about the many women he had been with before her.

"Yes." He nodded. "I guess you can't say that I have a few compulsive habits. Good habits, but compulsive."

Fiorella nodded, taking it all in. "And the reason for punching your coach?"

Ruben was avoiding the altercation, however, Fiorella wasn't gonna let him. From now on Ruben would have to be completely honest with her even if it hurt. That's what Fiorella's mother once told her was the foundation of love, honesty.

"Right, that." Ruben ran a lazy hand through his hair. He was smiling softly, as if the memory wasn't all too painful.

"Pep, is the name of my coach. For somone who knows football they'll know about Pep and the peculiar way he likes to coach his teams. Don't get me wrong, he's definitely one of the best coaches out there, however he can be very blunt and harsh with his critic."

"What did he say?" Fiorella gasped.

"Nothing I've never been called before, the difference this time is that I was so mentally exhausted that I couldn't see past the critic he was giving, resulting in me loosing my cool and....well....you know."

Fiorella nodded, releasing the big chunk of air that compressed her torso. She still had so may questions, one question in particular, however, Ruben beat her to it.

"Why did you bring me here?" He asked, his eyes shimmering with the distant sunlight.

"Oh, I..." Fiorella crumbled with embarrassment. She had never wanted to bring someone to The Kissing Rocks until now. When she was younger her friends would tease her for running home after school. Fiorella would rather run down to the docks for a swim or play on the farm with her dog, than spend an evening shoving her tounge down somebody's throat. The thought of kissing had never amused her, more so disgusted her. That is, until she met Ruben.

"Can I ask you something first?" She said, feeling like he owed her that.

"Of course."

"Why come to Sardinia of all places?"

It was a question that had been itching her scalp. His decision to come to the island, her island, had certainetly changed the course of Fiorella's life and so she curiously wanted to know what drew him here.

"Well, although it's a tourist attraction there's not so many people here, especially during late summer. I needed privacy, a place to think and stay out of the spotlight, Sardinia was the perfect place to get that. Besides, I used to come here with my family during summer vacations when I was younger."

"Really?"

He nodded. "Every summer for the first twelve years of my life."

Fiorella couldn't fathom the idea. If Ruben had spent his childhood summer's in Sardinia the two of them must have crossed roads before. Perhaps when Fiorella was a young girl, roaming the streets with the puppy she received from Nonno for Christmas.

"My family used to rent an apartment on the island, it was actually at the complex that I'm staying at now..."

"Wait, so you're telling me that you don't live in your boat by the docks?"

Ruben eyes widened in suprise. "Why would you think that?"

"I mean...it's where I first met you, where you always told me to meet you. A person could comfortably live in your boat which is practically a smal yacht."

Ruben chuckled.

It was nice to hear him chuckle.

"No i don't live on a boat, but an apartment. It's where my friend Bernardo is waiting for me. His parents are lawyers and has been helping me with my case against my club. If things go well I'll be able to return at the end of the summer, just ahead of the start of the new season."

"Right." Fiorella nodded. Return....We should probably return you to your friend then." Fiorella would be returning to the flower shop where a fuming Nonna would be waiting for her.

"I remember this place."

Fiorella had risen to her feet, wiping dirt of her shorts when Ruben spoke. He was looking up at her, his head tilted back.

"You do?"

"Yeah, a girl brought me here once. She was also Sardinian."

"Was she?" Fiorella felt a slight beat appear in her chest.

"Yes. She called this place the Kissing Rocks. I don't know why, but she told me that we couldn't leave until I'd kissed her."

"Huh, funny." Fiorella muttered.

"Fiorella?"

"Yes Ruben?"

"Can I kiss you?"

The soft light from the sun made the shape of his face look smooth. Fiorella stepped forward, placing a hand on his cheek. She bent down her head, stopping when their foreheads came together.

"How would you like to kiss me Ruben, soft hard or a bit of both?"

He smiled. "Whichever way you like it."

Fiorella was brought back, eyebrows furrowed. "What does that mean?"

Ruben looked up at her, his expression serious. "It means whatever you say goes, okay? "

Fiorella nodded. "Okay."

Ruben's hands on her waist drew her back in, still, it was Fiorella who was running the show. She bent down to softly kiss his lips. They took their time exploring, finding new depths of thier kiss. Fiorella brought both of her hands to Ruben's face, letting his rough stubble tickle underneath the palm of her hands. Ruben released a deep groan from beneath his throat, indicating that whatever she was doing he liked it.

To any starnger passing by the kiss looked soft and sweet. But it was far from it. It was overwhelmingly passionate, a desire for one another that could not be transmitted into words. Fiorella wanted more and Ruben wanted more but somehow a silent agreement was made between the two, an agreement that from now on they would take things slow, real slow. All on Fiorella's terms.

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

Leaving The Kissing Rocks behind Fiorella and Ruben returned into town. As they walked, their fingers intertwined, Fiorella felt a sense of happiness that she hadn't experienced in a long time.

"Look, there she is!"

They were approaching the town square when unexpectedly, Fiorella's heart sank as she spotted her entire family standing there, including her beloved Nonna.

Confusion washed over her as she saw the worried expressions etched on their faces. Seconds later, her mother rushed towards her, engulfing her in a tight hug. "Fiorella! We've been searching everywhere for you! We thought something terrible had happened!"

Fiorella's eyes widened in surprise, still trying to comprehend what was happening. She exchanged a bewildered look with Ruben, who squeezed her hand reassuringly. "I'm sorry, Mama. I lost track of time. I didn't think anyone would worry."

Nonna approached, a mix of relief and sternness in her eyes. "How could you just disappear without a word? We were so concerned, Fiorella. And who is this man?" She gave Ruben the evil eye, all of her family members did.

Ruben, sensing Fiorella's predicament, stepped forward introducing himself "Ciao. I'm Ruben Dias. I'm sorry for causing everyone to worry. It's my fault we lost track of time."

Nonna studied Ruben intently, her eyes softening. "Well, young man, you had us all half out of our wits. But since you seem to bring a smile to my granddaughter's face, I suppose we can overlook this slip-up. Just don't let it happen again."

Fiorella's family, their initial worry transforming into a mixture of curiosity and amusement, surrounded her and Ruben. They bombarded them with questions about who Ruben was, how they had met, and what their plans for the future were.

"She's not married you know."

"Nonna."

"Her sister is getting married though, the day after tomorrow."

"You should come...Fiorella wants you to come."

"Chiara." Fiorella frowned. They were embarrassing her.

"Ruben Dias...aren't you that football player that punched Pep Guardiola in the face?"

"Dad please." Fiorella said, clenching her teeth. Ruben only smiled, answering each question thrown at him with genuine warmth and sincerity.

Fiorella felt a sense of relief wash over her. Despite the unexpected circumstance, her family had embraced Ruben as part of their lives with open arms. The initial panic had quickly turned into a joyous reunion.

"...no really, it would be an honor to have you at my wedding." Chiara was clearly fangirling over Ruben, however her fiance didn't seem to mind, the opposite really. To have Ruben, a professional footballer, come to their wedding would simply be the coolest thing.

"And bring Bernardo!" Enzo shouted. As he and the rest of Fiorella's family returned ro their respective car's.

"I'm sorry about them." Fiorella sighed.

"You have alot of people that care about you, that's good."

"I guess, sometimes I wish they didn't care so much."

"Don't." He said. "Your amazing Fiorella, if anyone gets the honor having you in their life I understand why they would be so afraid of losing you, I am too."

"Ruben." She lost for words. Nothing needed to be said though, the way Ruben bent down and kissed her siad it all.

"I have some things to take care of tomorrow." He pulled back from their kiss. "But if you'll have me I'd love to accompany you to the wedding of your sister."

Fiorella shook her head, trying to hold in the tears. What a day, she was so overwhelmed with love.

"Is that a yes or...?"

"Of course you idiot. Yes, I'd love for you to be my date for my sisters wedding."

He grinned. "It's a date then."

Ruben bent down and stole another kiss. He spoke against her lips. "Buonasera Fiorella Costa."

She smiled. "Buonasera Ruben Dias."

Taglist:

@christianpulisic10

#fanfiction #football imagine #man city #manchester city #ruben dias #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias imagine #footballer imagine #footballer x reader #football angst

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cosmictyto · 10 months

Text

Concept/headcanon - Cicero with Trichotillomania

(Is this self indulgent? Yes, yes it is. Am I doing this silly, minimally edited, free-writing exercise to keep myself from pulling? Yes, yes I am.)

Obligatory warnings since this mentions hair pulling, anxiety, obsessive & repetitive compulsions, balding, damage to the scalp, embarrassment from said balding, etc.

In this hypothetical o’ mine, this all flared up during his time in Cheydinhal. But, before that, I could see him being the kind of guy who’d run his hand through his hair or tug slightly as a self-soothing mechanism when stressed. His scalp is generally sensitive and he enjoys the feeling of someone touching it either by combing his hair or running their fingers through it.

The plucking didn’t start immediately. While, yes, he was upset to lose the Bruma sanctuary and his siblings, he could manage that. It was all the pressure that came after.

Other sanctuaries were being destroyed. The active listener was being threatened. He botched his contract. Their communications were cut off. The listener was dead. The Night Mother forced out of her crypt.

More and more.

He’s elected to be in this revered role. He also has to learn how to DO said role via old books and just kinda… have faith that he’s doing it right. Probably with the constant nagging feeling that the lack of any new listener might be his fault (since the NM’s corpse is her conduit to speak with mortals, and if she’s not taken care of properly her connection is severed.)

Even more pressure as the Cheydinhal sanctuary is crumbling around him. One by one the remaining members die and more and more pressure is put on Cicero. All the while he’s also fretting over why the NM won’t just speak to him instead.

With Garnag left MIA, Cicero is just left completely on his own. Stuck (presumably) underground and unable to really leave the sanctuary.

All the while, he’s been rubbing his scalp and tugging at his hair to just get even the slightest feeling of peace, pacing all throughout the halls waiting for Garnag to come back with supplies. Being overwhelmed with laughter. Until, one day, while rubbing his head he feels something off. A single hair with some odd texture. A wrong texture. He plucks it, feeling the sharp sting fade into a wave of soreness, pulls the strand taught between his fingers. Investigating it. His hair is normally smooth and silky. But this one wasn’t. Something… clicks.

It started with one… Then another, and another, and another.

If his hands weren’t busy preparing oils or tending to Mother, he was plucking. Sometimes he’d feel the length of the strand, other times he’d touch the root of the hair to his lips (something about the sensation was pleasant. Blissful even.) But as soon as he tossed the strand aside, his hands were back at his crown foraging for similar threads.

It became a pattern. A frantic rhythm. Pluck, feel, touch, toss. Over and over. His hands hasty and shaking slightly. Part of him knows that this isn’t right, but he. just. can’t. stop.

The halls of Cheydinhall are dusted with shed ginger strands from where Cicero would pluck as he paced, muttering and laughing to himself to fill the empty air. And as he ran out of “bad hairs” he started targeting the “good ones.” But, of course, it wasn’t the same. It didn’t scratch that same itch. And that was just as maddening as the silence. His plucking grew more and more intense and rough.

It eventually gets so bad that the crown of his head starts to bleed and scar. But, then the scabs give him something else to futz with.

Later, after he makes his jester outfit and sends out the letters to Astrid, he finally notices just how much damage he’s done.

There was only one mirror in Cheydinhal. In the liar Rasha’s room. So, he used it to get a good look at his new outfit. He’s dancing about, humming. And then he finally notices the massive bald spot, pale white and covered in maroon scabs, on the crown of his head.

The humming stops. His heart sinks. His stomach twists. The immediate wave of panic and shame stung at his eyes. What you were doing never fully clicks until you’re staring at the consequences of your compulsory actions head-on.

Instinctively, his hand claws its way through what little remaining hair he has left back there. And he pulls it back with a yelp, gripping his wrist with his other hand. His fingertips tingle with pressure as he forces himself to not try and pluck or pick. And something in his mind burns at the thought.

Before anything else happened, he grabbed his hat and pulled it taught against his head. Out of sight, out of mind. Like it never even happened. He still had enough hair on the rest of his head, so everything looked fine. He could feel the itching feeling fade as he tried to even his breathing and just… forget everything he just witnessed.

And it worked. As long as he kept the hat on, the habit was temporarily broken. Plus, he was so busy trying to move mother across the continent, there wasn’t any time to fret, or pace, or pluck.

He did have a slight flare-up with his eyebrows and eyelashes while on the long, long boat ride to Dawnstar. The rolling waves made him nervy and nauseous. And the very thought of his mother, stuck in the cargo hold, being constantly surrounded by ship crew made his skin crawl. He just couldn’t help himself. But, that never felt “as right” as it did with his head hairs.

Then, things got better. A new, true Listener was found. His life was spared. The pretenders who dishonored the name “Dark Brotherhood” felt the wrath of Sithis. And now, there was an opportunity to start anew!

Post-DB-questline, I imagine his plucking would slow down significantly. For the first time in a long while, things are stable. He’s not alone. Mother is happy and actively talking to someone. Things are looking up. He still falls into old habits here and there, since you never fully stop with these sorts of things, but he feels the urge way less. And when he catches himself doing it, he’ll try and redirect instead to something that needs both hands. There’s always something in the sanctuary that needs cleaning or mending. He’s even working on a new jester’s outfit (because it’s too damn cold in Dawnstar for his current one) and he’s doing all the embroidery work himself.

He did too much damage to his scalp, though. Some of the hair has grown back. But, it’s patchy and thin. Baby fuzz mixed with old, long strands. And, yeah, this is a sore spot of his. He knows it looks odd. He wears his hat almost 24/7 because he’s so self-conscious/embarrassed about it. It’s an unfortunate reminder of his lowest point. So, he tries to keep it covered and to not think about it. (And if you dare try to take his hat “as a joke” you’re dead. No warning, just stabbing.)

Maybe, just maybe, if you’re close enough with him he’d be fine taking the hat off. But that’ll take a lot of trust before you get to that point. And it’ll take even more than that before he’d even let you touch his head/hair. (However, when you get to that stage, he will 100% melt into a puddle of goo if you comb his hair.)

Anyway, if you got this far, thanks for reading! I only edited this lightly so apologies if anything’s worded weird or if there are any mistakes.

#yeaaaah this is a lot of projection #gotta get that representation somewhere #trichotillomania #bfrb #headcanon #cicero headcanons #skyrim #tes headcanons #skyrim headcanons #tes #tesblr #cicero #cicero skyrim #skyrim cicero

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why-do-we-do-this · 7 months

Text

After several days of slowly translating, here's my version of Cellbit's pdf, translated into English.

I've included a brief summary under the cut for anyone who might not want to read the whole thing or who are wary of the warnings.

This was my personal method of processing, and I encourage all of you to do what you need to do so as well, whether that be stepping off of the internet and letting the moss reclaim you for a while, drawing, crying it out, comprehending the beautiful insignificance of existence for as long as you need to, or talking this situation through with somebody else.

tws for:

sexual assault, aphobia, suicidal ideation, manipulation, victim blaming

Chronological Event Summary

At age 9 Cellbit had an awkward and very violating encounter with a neighbor girl who was older than him which left him traumatized. He questioned his sexuality as he was growing up, and thought things would make sense once he actually lost his virginity, which he did to his first girlfriend at age 18. Since then, he's been sure of his asexuality. However, this girlfriend was aphobic and constantly pressured him into having sex with her or urging him to seek medical help for his lack of interest in sex. She would embarrass him in front of his friends, gaslit him into thinking that no one else would ever accept him for who he is, was physically violent towards him, and cheated on him. Once he was finally able to pull away from her, she started making incessant posts about Cellbit being abusive, mean, and jealous, which caused backlash against Cellbit and his content, and she even used his depressive period and suicide attempt as reason to incite hate against him. Cellbit remained in silence in response to this, fearing what might happen if he tried to fight back, but, with the recent new allegation that this ex made accusing him of sexually assaulting her, Cellbit had enough and broke his silence with this document. He's said that he doesn't want this to affect him and his loved ones any longer, and he doesn't want to speak about all of this any more than he already had to.

Cellbit's pdf

MY RESPONSE, 7 YEARS LATER

7 years ago I was in a relationship with a person who lied compulsively, cheated on me, tricked me and has tried to ruin my life up until the present, though I've always tried to stay silent.

This week, she accused me of sexual assault.

This is a complete lie.

It's time to finally tell everything that I have lived through.

[A messaging string between Cellbit and his ex-girlfriend, dated 22nd May, 2018]

(ex-girlfriend) "There's no normal way to ask this / I'm just curious / but are you actually asexual? / or something?"

(Cellbit) "as in, not enjoying sex? / I am"

This relationship began in 2015. I had just turned 18 and she was 20. 9 years ago. I broke up with her in 2017, two years later.

After we broke up I never responded to any of the allegations that she publicly made against me. I didn't want my followers going on a witch hunt, and even less to expose a personal relationship which used to bring me so much pain.

The only statement that I made was related to me doing therapy, I never mentioned her name and never spoke about anything that she did to me. I NEVER attacked her nor encouraged any kind of hate towards her during all of these years.

And, despite her always claiming that "she doesn't want to revive that subject", she is literally the only one who keeps talking about it, inventing and distorting more things every time, even 7 years later. And I have always maintained my quiet, always held on to my silence. But this week, she has made the worst accusation so far, and there is no more silence to hold on to.

This is a document directly relaying all the facts of what I lived, with any evidence that I could get in order to confirm things. This is not me asking for forgiveness. I am not here to try to convince anyone that doesn't like me to change their opinion.

I've learned after all these years that in this situation I always am going to be seen as the one at fault. It doesn't matter what I say. Any kind of defense or argument is going to always be accused of "silencing" her.

And, if I keep quiet, like I did for all of these years, that would be interpreted as me "keeping quiet because it confirms the truth". And she'll continue accusing me of more and more absurd things.

So then, like I said, this is not an apology, it's clarification. A report detailing everything that happened, point by point, about all of the events that were "exposed" by my ex-girlfriend. And from there, you all can draw your own conclusions.

I know that even after everything that I write here, many people are still going to refuse to consider the other side of things. There is an image that has been constructed of me, where I am a psychotic monster, which is difficult to erase. But this document isn't for the people who believe in that. This clarification is for those who have always been willing to understand.

I just want people to finally hear my story and take away what they will from it. I am no longer going to let this destroy the lives of the people that I love in the same way that it destroyed mine.

ASEXUALITY AND THE SEXUAL ASSULT ACCUSATION

I am going to begin by directly responding to the accusation that is making me publish this report after all of these years of silence. I have never been accused of something as absurd as this, and I am completely certain that I can PROVE that it is IMPOSSIBLE that this claim is real.

After years accusing me of countless things, for the first time my ex-girlfriend has decided to accuse me of an unforgivable crime. She posted a tweet that mentions me by name, implying that I sexually violated her.

Without any proof, after years of making one exposure after another, trying to destroy my image and my life, she's finally decided to call on a lie about the worst thing that she can:

[A tweet from a fan and a reply from the ex-girlfriend]

(Fan) "I'm never going to forget the details she gave about how insane it was to give pussy to Cellbit because his dick was thick"

(Ex-girlfriend) "I really want you guys to stop reviving the sexual assault that I sufferered without having any understanding of things, as if it's funny. Unfortunately, I thought it was normal to feel pain and suffer a shitload of pressure to feed into his self-esteem publicly, and so I said shit that I thought would please him. You all should be embarrassed, bunch of assholes."

I am asexual.

All of my personal friends have known for many years that I am asexual, and I had mentioned it before in some different places publically. My sexuality was never a subject that I spoke much about, but was also never something that I tried to hide.

[A messaging string between Cellbit and an unnamed individual, dated 27th July, 2020.]

(Cellbit) "[Fans on YouTube] made a compilation of all the times I've shown being asexual on the internet"

(unnamed) "afkahfkhfks amazing / people are talking about that / you're fine with it?"

(Cellbit) "It doesn't matter to me, I won't have to suffer prejudice for it if I don't reveal it directly / despite wanting to eventually, only for those who are able to comfortably accept it as is"

(unnamed) "I understand / If one day you want to, you should speak about it. I think that it's more of a positive thing than a negative tbh lmao"

To be brief, this doesn't mean that I cannot have sex, but I simply don't have interest or desire to.

[An image of a youtube video thumbnail and title. The thumbnail is of Cellbit with a quote that says "I don't like to have sex," the title is "Cellbit, are enigmas better than sex?" the video is dated to four years ago. A link to this is included in the original document]

I've always been like this, ever since I was a child. And, despite being interested romantically in people and falling in love normally, I do not feel the desire to have sexual relations of any kind.

I always grew up feeling that there was something different about me in contrast to other people. I questioned my sexuality a lot, not understanding if I was gay or if there was something physically wrong with me, and I thought that maybe I would understand everything once I lost my virginity. This happened with my ex-girlfriend, and ever since that first time I had sex, I knew that this was really just the way I am. I began researching, reading about asexuality on the internet and talking with a psychologist about it.

Despite this, I can have and have had sexual relationships in my life. I just don't feel any desire or physical need to have sex.

Including, actually, that I have a healthy sex life with my current girlfriend.

My ex-girlfriend is now accusing me of sexual assault. We had sexual relations consistently, always when she wanted, it was always her who initiated, and she always told me that there was something wrong with me. It was a topic that she repeatedly brought up to humiliate me around friends, as well. Sometimes as little jokes, but other times in much more exposing ways. On one occasion, for example, we went out with some friends and she asked for one of them to give me a "lesson on sex" so that I "do things more enthusiastically."

She also constantly would tell me that I should go to be examined and get medical treatment to try and "fix" me. All of the sexual relations that I had with her went until she felt satisfied, and then she would tell me to finish up alone.

I talked with her numerous times about being asexual when we were together. I mentioned that I'd spoken about it in therapy and that I was reading more about it in online communities. She didn't believe that it was possible, and insisted that I had something wrong with me.

[A messaging string between Cellbit and his ex-girlfriend, dated 22nd May, 2018. This is a repeat image of one that appears earlier in the document]

(ex-girlfriend) "There isn't a normal way to ask about this / I'm just curious / are you actually asexual? / or something?"

(Cellbit) "As in, not enjoying sex? / I am"

Even after we ended our relationship, when we spoke again in 2018, she still invalidated my sexuality.

I lost count of how many times she made me feel obligated to have sex with her, even when I clearly didn't want to, just so that she would feel satisfied, because of the fear that if I didn't do it, she would cheat on me.

Even knowing that it was a matter I didn't want disclosed, she still spoke publicly about our sex life just to make me feel more pressured to "go and see what's wrong with me sooner."

[A screenshot of a video with the thumbnail most of the way cut out, titled "Cellbit's girlfriend talking about his dick", dated 6 years ago. A link to this is included in the original document]

I couldn't understand exactly why she decided to lie about something that she knew I would never have had the capacity to do.

THE ABUSE THAT I SUFFERED

In addition to all of that, I had been sexually abused when I was 9 years old by my neighbor when I lived inland in the countryside, and she knew about this. This is a story that I avoided speaking about the most that I could, I never had the courage to even tell this to my mother, and my ex KNEW that I NEVER wanted to disclose this to the whole internet, no matter what happened. It was something that left me with massive trauma that is still very difficult to talk about.

Very few people in my social circle know about this, because it's something that pains me greatly to remember. In 2019, I also told part of the story to some mods and people in my off-stream chat community that I trusted.

[A series of chat history messages from Cellbit, dated to 19th May, 2019.]

"The older person wasn't a man / ...... / The story starts in the chicken coop / when I, my neighbor [redacted], who was the same age as me, and his older sister were playing wedding / I was the groom, she was the bride, and [redacted] was the minister / Their parents had left the house and it was just us three in the chicken coop of the abandoned train station house / After the ceremony, we didn't kiss, but me and the girl went into their parent's bedroom to have a "honeymoon" / but, I was only 9 years old and didn't know what sex was / I just knew that people got naked on a bed / so [redacted] stayed outside of the room, and me and his sister got naked on the bed, rubbing against eachother pretending that we were having sex. I thought that that was actually real sex and was mortified, she was a lot older and I didn't know why she was doing that"

And now, YEARS AFTER living that hell, being humiliated different times by her, questioning my own sexuality, feeling used, she makes a post implying that I committed the worst and most disgusting crime that exists. A crime that I suffered through.

A person that she KNOWS would never be able to commit that. But she feels free to accuse me because until today I have always kept silent.

Accusing me of something that was literally never mentioned by her before, suddenly, on the week that I am going to participate in an international award ceremony. It's something that comes up in a new story that she deletes soon after giving people just enough time to take a screenshot, like she always does.

She always alleged that we had a toxic relationship, but now, in 2024, she accuses me of sexual assault, without any kind of proof, and never having spoken about that before in all these years.

Even after 7 years, she continues controlling my life, forcing me to publicly humiliate myself and talk about the most intimate side of my life, making me expose my sexuality and the fact that I was abused when I was a kid, just to be able to prove that I would never do something as terrible as that.

For me, this is the limit.

I have always had empathy and concern for her, and she never stopped. I just want to live my life in peace.

THE BEGINNING OF THE RELATIONSHIP AND THE OTHER ACCUSATIONS

I met my ex-girlfriend in 2015, at an event called XMA 2015. I had a panel to talk with some followers and take some photos after. During these events, all of the guests stayed separated in some rooms where we could talk. There, I met her for the first time and we very quickly began to flirt with eachother.

[An article heading titled "XMA Mega Arena 2015: Event assembling champions and stars of e-sports" the subtitle reads "Fans of the main e-sports titles are able to watch the championships of the major Brazilian gaming teams," dated to the 1st of May, 2015]

[A video thumbnail titled "XMA - day 1," dated to 8 years ago. It is set 6:48 into the video, a woman can be seen on camera from waist to chin]

My ex-girlfriend present at the event in a video:

[A link to the above described video, which is included in the original document] - Video proving that she was at the event.

[An article headline with the title "XMA Mega Arena 2015 | Youtubers are a big attraction in an e-sports event," the subtitle reads "On the first day of the event, content creators call more attention than the champions", a quote at the top of the article reads "Man, do you guys know if Cellbit is going to leave to give autographs?" dated to 1st May, 2015. A link to this is included in the original document]

An interview that I gave at the event, proving that I was there.

We chatted for around 30 minutes, I had just turned 18 and had never had a partner. She was older, 20, and had already had various boyfriends before. We got eachother's numbers on WhatsApp, and I left to do my panel. At the end of the event, we encountered eachother again and continued talking a bit more.

During that night, I went to send a message to her and noticed that her WhatsApp profile picture was a selfie of a man, not her. I thought that she had given me the wrong number, but I sent a message and in a few seconds saw her changing her avatar to a photo of her and responding to me soon after.

I asked who it was in that photo, and she said that it was a joke that she was doing pretending to be a friend. We continued flirting and exchanging messages for some time, until someone informed me that she apparently had a boyfriend.

She was dating a professional LOL player, and had gone to the XMA event as his companion. His team was participating in the championship of the event.

[A low quality image of an information page about XMA 2015, including the location and date of the event, and some teams]

The LOL championship at XMA that her boyfriend was playing in

When I asked about this, she told me that he was just a fling (he wasn't, they were dating), but that she was going to end the relationship soon because she claimed that he "was rude to her." She said that she was just waiting for the right moment to be finished with him because he "was in a championship and she was going to affect his career."

While this was happening, she asked me to travel to her city so that we could meet. It was there that, a few days later, we found ourselves in Monte Alto, a small town in the countryside where she lived, and we stayed together in an inn.

[An image of a travel ticket for Cellbit, dated to 13th May, 2015]

Fare to Monte Alto, 10 days after meeting her at the event

[A post by the ex-girlfriend, dated 28 May, 2020. A link to this is included in the original document]

"I lived in Monte Alto"

It was in this inn that she cheated on her boyfriend with me, and was then that I lost my virginity, believing that she already wasn't speaking with him anymore. As it was my first time, she was constantly complaining and making jokes about me being inexperienced.

That was the day that I started to understand that I am asexual, something that would become important later on in our relationship.

We continued our relations for a few more weeks, where she would always give excuses for the reason she had not broken up with her boyfriend yet, saying that she was almost finished, that there was just one more game of his, it was just one more weekend.

Eventually, she asked me to help her write a breakup message for her boyfriend in a skype call, and finally we could have a "real relationship." But, the damage was already done, and I just hadn't noticed yet. I still didn't have any idea what I was getting into, and she was my first girlfriend. I was in love with a person who was manipulating and lying to her previous boyfriend, while she did the same thing to me.

Some of the people in the LOL scene who had met her informed me that she used to "switch boyfriends quite frequently" and that they had heard stories about cheating before.

That whole situation left me extremely traumatized and paranoid, but this was only the beginning.

A few months passed, we dated long distance for some time, and afterwards the two of us moved to São Paulo into different apartments. She was living with her sister and studying at college, and I moved in with some friends into an apartment.

All of this initial context is important for what came later.

HER ACCUSATIONS

In the accusations that she made after we broke up, the events have always been distorted and described in an ambiguous manner, using words like "abuser" and "aggressor" in order to give the understanding that what happened may or may not have been some kind of assault.

Among other things, she said that: "I kicked her out of the house," that she "was locked in a bathroom," that I called her names and that I "threw her things away."

All of these stories are distortions of one singular event.

On the contrary from what she insinuated when she said that "I kicked her out of the house," we never lived together. She was 20 minutes away from me, though she slept at my house sometimes, because we were dating.

During our relationship, she was constantly telling stories about a specific ex-boyfriend. An abuser who did cocaine, sexually harassed her, broke into her house, threatened to kill himself to stay with her, and that she'd had to call the police on him before. She said that she had him blocked everywhere, but that he still tried to talk with her after years, and had even followed her back to her house one time.

Eventually, in a moment where we were together, she was using her phone beside me and a Facebook Messenger notification appeared on the screen. It was a message sent by this ex, who I'd heard numerous stories about being a psychotic abuser, apparently responding to a message from her. I have never in my life seen someone swipe a message off the screen as fast as she did in that moment.

That was that day I discovered it wasn't just that she hadn't blocked him, but that they were talking about possibly getting back into a relationship. All of those messages were from the same week, as she was still dating me.

I confronted her for cheating on me, then, and told her to leave my apartment and go home. She began to scream and cry, shoved me, slapped me in the face, and locked herself in the bathroom saying that she wouldn't leave.

She used to hit me constantly, which back then I believed was "normal" because it was my first relationship. I thought that all girlfriends must hit their boyfriends, and even more so because she was a woman and smaller than me. At that time I didn't consider it to be "actual assault," even if it did hurt me.

Even with her slapping me and shoving me more than once, I never fought back or laid a finger on her.

I knocked on the bathroom door saying that she needed to gather her things and leave my house, and she refused. This is the story that she turned into "I locked her in the bathroom"- since, because the bathroom key was kept inside the bathroom, it would have been impossible for this, and illogical to lock a person outside of the bathroom while I was trying to break up with them for cheating on me.

As she'd refused to leave, I said that I would leave her things at the exit of the apartment and when she decided to go she could look for them there. I then put her bag in the building's garage. This was what she made into "I threw her things away."

[A tweet by the ex-girlfriend]

"He woke me up, angry because I warned a friend not to talk to him anymore because my ex was jealous, so he kicked me out of the house without shoes and threw my things in the apartment's garbage."

And yes, I did call her names when I discovered that she was cheating. And she called me just as many as I called her, if not even more. She'd make me feel like a monster no matter what'd happened, literally inventing things that I never said and making me believe I said things that I don't remember saying.

After that, we stayed apart for some months, but still kept in contact and saw eachother a few times. She invented dozens of different excuses, from "It wasn't exactly that and I understood wrong" to "She was just talking to her ex then because she was scared that he would do something to me."

She always knew exactly what to say and how to manipulate things in a convincing manner. Eventually, we went back to dating again, but obviously my psyche was already completely destroyed.

With the passage of time, our relationship kept getting worse and worse. I would catch her lying about little things compulsively and all of the time. I noticed that she would always change some details in stories she told, she constantly talked shit about all of her friends and mainly about her best friend at the time, or other specific things that didn't make sense like saying she'd never felt attraction for any man besides me.

At events, she would say that other streamers were hitting on her, just to see my reaction, and in one situation in particular, she flirted with another influencer so much that he tried to kiss her in front of me. Then when I confronted him, he justified it by saying she'd implied that we had an open relationship.

Besides this, she continued having more and more violent outbursts, often in public over small things, such as yelling at me in the middle of a restaurant with my friends because I put ketchup on the side of the fries plate without asking for permission from her, and then calling an uber and leaving.

Or even to the point of creating situations to blackmail me with, like hiding the notebook I was using for work and refusing to give it back to me until I'd done what she wanted.

Another one of her stories included a party where I "abandoned her and left"- at this party, we had a fight after I saw her giving her number to a guy she'd just met while I was in the bathroom. She justified this with "He looked sad so she went to talk to him and let him know that if he needed anything he could send her a message." After that, I went to the other side of the party, and when I came back, I could not find her anywhere. I looked everywhere for her and nobody had seen or knew where she was. I had her phone with me, and searched the party for almost an hour without finding her. I thought that she'd maybe gotten a taxi home or hitched a ride with someone. An hour later, a friend of hers dropped her off at my apartment and she said that she had been on the second story of the party (which was a closed off section, there was no party there, I never would have thought of going up to the second floor to look for her) venting and talking with a friend.

She also claimed that I wasn't supportive and that I tried to hinder her from creating content on the internet, when all of the first edited vlogs on her channel were recorded on my camera, and I was also the one to teach her to edit her own videos.

She made me believe that I was dependent on her, that I would never find someone who really loved me, that all of the others would only stay with me for the interest and the followers. And I believed her.

Eventually, after two years of an extremely toxic relationship, I finally decided to break up with her in 2017.

Even after we ended our relationship she continued her behavior of compulsively lying and manipulating. In the same month that we ended our relationship, she got together with another influencer that she had been talking with for a while. In 2018, while she was still dating him, she would secretly talk with me and say that she still loved me.

[A messaging string between Cellbit and his ex, dated 9th July, 2018]

(ex-girlfriend) "You were enough [text that is cut off on the screenshot] / just for understanding who I was / or laughing at my jokes / or staying with me / etc"

(Cellbit) "I love you / sorry that's fucked up"

(ex-girlfriend) "I love you too / eh, [I'm] equally fucked up JFDKSJKA / It's too intense to ignore"

(Cellbit) "But I could never stop fucking loving you, Flavia"

(ex-girlfriend) "Okay, look, I already knew this / IQ of 220"

(Cellbit) "And I know that you have a boyfriend and I never wanted to intrude or say anything because I know how unfair that would be for you"

Including, we had NUMEROUS conversations about our relationship where we asked for forgiveness from one another. Even with her publicly saying that "we'd never resolved it" in her livestreams, we talked normally as if everything was fine.

This is literally the last interaction that we had before she blocked me and did the streams claiming that I was a psychopath who destroyed her life:

[A messaging string between Cellbit and his ex-girlfriend, dated 4th August, 2018]

(Cellbit, in English) "Hey / ummm / I love you and think you are [incredible] okay. Maybe today is a normal day but I want you to remember that when you are feeling down or anxious or sad. I dunno, okay bye sleep well / Also this really looks like a drunk message but I swear I'm sober / [audio message] Here's Tingrinho being a little engine as proof"

(ex-girlfriend) "WHAT A CUTE PURR / and really, thank you / c:"

The last interaction before all of the exposures in which she claimed that "we'd never resolved it" and never talked about it.

After everything, she still had the capacity to use my depressive period and exposing my suicide attempt as a way to VILLAINIZE me. It was the worst time I went through in my life. I couldn't work, I started doing drugs for some months, and could only think about committing suicide every day. I only made it through alive because my BEST FRIEND went rushing to my house to save my life.

It's something that I am always going to be grateful for, something that I am never going to be able to forget, and something that he also never spoke about because he knew that it was something I was trying to forget. It was an extremely traumatic period in my life and I promised that I would never relive it.

Another story that I NEVER wanted to have to tell, and one that she EXPOSED on a livestream of hers, like somehow me trying to kill myself was proof that I am a monster.

And even after all of this, I continued my silence, watching her distort everything that we'd lived and transforming me into a monster for all of the internet, scared that if I responded, everything would become 10 times bigger and worse, and the internet would make both of our lives hell.

When I gave an interview on the program of another influencer and was asked what the reason was for the breakup, I tried not to start a war or create gossip, giving a generic answer, saying that we went our ways and that everything was fine, because we really were talking normally. My ex used this to villainize me, saying that I was trying to lie about our relationship in the interview in order to "erase my wrongs."

[A messaging string between Cellbit and the interviewer, dated 4th August, 2019]

(Interviewer) "Man, this bullshit is all exploding, do you want to speak about this with me?"

(Cellbit) "Hey, [redacted] first off I'm very sorry that you got stuck in the middle of this without having any relation to it / So, about your video, this is by far one of the most unfair things in this whole story, because she made it out as if it was a lie, but everything I said was 100% true. / Or at least that was what I thought at the time, that we had everything resolved and were both fine on our own. / Considering, she and I used to talk just fine on WhatsApp"

(Interviewer) "Magical. I imagine that she was insulted by me because of the video"

Explaining to the interviewer that what I said was true and that we were speaking normally, like the screenshot above proves, despite her not believing it.

I was always scared that everything would become a circus, everyone watching as two lives collapsed, when all that I wanted was for her to be fine and leave me in peace.

After we broke up, I spent years without being able to have a relationship of any kind with anyone, holding on to numerous traumas, believing that I would never be able to trust other people again, and that I was never going to find someone who would accept my asexuality.

It took more than 3 years to be able to finally trust in someone again, and today I am in a new relationship of almost 4 years. An extremely healthy relationship that showed me what it really means to be able to trust in someone, and has made me into someone who becomes better every day.

But, once again, like has happened many times every year, my ex-girlfriend continues reviving and creating new stories every time something relevant happens. If I'm canceled for being an asshole and banning a guy playing Tetris, if another creator is canceled for an abusive relationship, or if I'm a participant in an important international award ceremony, she appears once more, posting something about the subject, and deleting the tweets some time later to remain in the role of someone who is being attacked and "not left in peace." Just like she's probably going to do again now.

With the passage of time, she has gone from distorting events to inventing completely new things, until at this point even the public is starting to question her motive for bringing up the same topic again and again, like saying that I "controlled what she ate" or that I "tracked her location with GPS" which are complete lies.

She also enjoys blaming me for things that I don't have the smallest relation to, like saying that my fans made her lose her Instagram and "lose job opportunities," when in reality her Instagram account was reported when she was canceled for a post complaining about an event and was mocked by various influencers and sites.

[An Instagram post by the ex-girlfriend]

"I did an event with them, two days to earn 1500 reals. They gave me the cheapest room in the hotel. IT DIDN'T HAVE ROOM SERVICE- dinner options were risotto or lasagna (both microwave meals) and I had to get it downstairs. I have half a million followers and I seriously felt like a nobody."

The post of hers that resulted in the mass report that deleted her Instagram

Another thing that keeps being said incessantly on the internet is that I "never suffered any consequences even after she exposed all of that"- I lost dozens of contracts from all of the publicity agencies and producers that closed their doors on me and never invited me back to events or ads. But, I never publicly complained or disclosed this, because more than once that has resulted in a war involving the public.

All that I could do was keep working and keep believing that at some point this would all end. But everything that happened caused a surge of hate against me which generated accusations of various very serious and unacceptable crimes that random people on the internet all believed I'd committed, even without having any proof at all.

And I will not stand this any longer. I cannot put up with this knowing that my mother receives threats and terrible DMs, seeing people telling my girlfriend to kill herself or cheering for her to be abused in order to confirm the theories and accusations of my ex-girlfriend and see "Cellbit exposed once again"

[Three tweets from fans, all responding to one tweet made by Cellbit's girlfriend addressing the ex's allegations]

"In a max of 2 years she's going to post that Cellbit ruined her life with psychological problems, that he was abusive and forced her to post this"

"I hope you get fucked a lot!!! You and your shit boyfriend"

"Guys, remember when he attacked his girlfriend? Go fuck yourself Cellbit, kill yourself you piece of shit"

And I'm going to continue prosecuting everyone who continues to invent lies about me on the internet, it doesn't matter how much the engagement. If you have something to say, it's best to have proof you can take to court. It took me too long to understand that I didn't need to stay silent in the face of the atrocities that were said about me, and I am not going to stop again now.

They have already destroyed my image and my life on the internet, but I am not going to let this continue with the people close to me. I want to be happy with the people that I love, and I am not going to accept being treated like a criminal any longer.

She accused me of sexual assault, something that could end me publicly, believing that I would likely not respond because I have never responded before. She was not accusing me of being a mean, jealous or possessive boyfriend like she always used to, she accused me of a serious crime.

And now, she's going to set herself back into a position where this document is an attack on her, when all that I am doing is defending myself from the worst false accusation that has been made against me, of a crime.

I want to make it CLEAR: this document is NOT an attack or an attempt to induce hade against anybody. I am simply defending myself and giving my statement of the facts that happened. I DID NOT WANT TO BE DOING THIS, but it was the only way to be honest and true to all of the people who have supported my projects and my community.

I know that people who already disliked me, whatever their reason, are still not going to believe me. Like I said, I am not here to try and change anyone's opinion.

In the end, here in this document is the proof of a pattern of lying and manipulative behavior that has happened with many people before me and that continues to happen with me repeatedly. I just want to live in peace knowing that I finally accounted for all that I experienced, and leave the space for people to draw their own conclusions.

#cellbit #qsmp #I put everything under the readmore but I don't know if I still should tag all the triggers or not? theres probably a lot #this is a shit situation all around but to my fellow aces and my beloved brazilians lqm we'll all get through things together #also if there's any massive translation errors I've made please let me know I checked over everything like five times and cross referenced #with Cellbit's english translation afterwards but You Never Know. it's wild that a year ago I knew absolutely zero portuguese #took me like 10 hours total to fully translate this but I feel better now I think 👍#shoutout to my sibling for helping me english when I got so deep in Language Mode that I couldn't understand sentence syntax anymore

13 notes · View notes

harryforvogue · 2 years

Note

omg yes please write this !!!

also i can just picture lucia apologizing profusely for like being late or something because of her compulsions and then also having compulsions during their date and harry’s just sitting there completely enamored and fascinated like: no it’s okay :D :D

just a quick lil something <3

***

Harry can’t help but be annoyed. And he thinks, as he sits in the restaurant, eyes trained on the door, that it’s totally fair for him to be.

Lucía, the girl he’s meeting up with for the first time, is the one who chose the restaurant and set the time. And she’s the one who hasn’t shown up yet. He peeks down at his watch. It’s nearing 6:30 and the reservation was for the top of the hour. Not a sight of her and not a single text from her.

So, yeah. He’s annoyed. And getting increasingly so as the minutes tick on.

The waiter has come by twice asking for his order and by the third time, Harry’s too pissed off to waste more time. He goes to stand, telling the waiter he’ll be leaving now.

And that’s when Lucía comes into the restaurant, her hair coming loose from her ponytail, her cheeks red from the cold air, and her eyes apologetic. She catches Harry’s gaze and takes a deep breath, walking briskly to the table.

“Hi,” she says. She’s breathless, unable to get more than a few words out. “I’m sorry. I’m so…late. I’m so…sorry.”

One look at her face makes all the irritation built up in his chest dissipate. He looks at her curiously, taking her in. He’s seen her pictures from her profile, but seeing her up close is different. She’s, well, absolutely beautiful. And in shambles.

“Hi.” Harry shuffles back into his seat. He might be staring a little bit. “Er, it’s all right.”

“Were you… uh, were you leaving?”

“Well, I honestly wasn’t sure if you were just late or if you were standing me up.”

Lucía’s eyes go all wide and embarrassed. “No! No, I wasn’t standing you up. I got out of work really late and had to drive someone home and I couldn’t say no to them even though their house is, like, the opposite way.” She makes a show of her hands to show directions though. Then, she takes a very deep breath, falling into her seat when Harry sits down again. “Listen. I’m sorry. I really am. Is it too late now?”

She looks so genuinely worried, Harry doesn’t have the heart to tell her how long he was waiting. So he doesn’t. He fixes his hair behind his ear and shakes his head. “It’s all right. It’s not too late. I think we may have to order quickly though.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” She starts removing her scarf and then her jacket. Harry pours her some water and slides the glass over. She thanks him softly and takes several seconds to drink all the contents. “Okay. Uh, well, I’ve been here before so I know what to order.”

“Okay.” He peeks at his menu even though he already knows what he’s getting too. Spending nearly half an hour here has led him to glance through the menu at least three times, figuring out what exactly he would like.

The waiter, far more impatient now, comes by with a notepad. “What drinks would you like?”

“Just water for me is fine,” Harry says. Lucía agrees.

They order their food and then are left in silence.

“So,” Lucía says, fixing her blouse. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Harry.”

“It’s nice to meet you. You look really great, Lucía.” She’s in professional clothing. A dark blouse and equally dark pants. She’s wearing a gold necklace and elegant gold hoop earrings.

“It’s my work outfit. I was fully planning on changing before getting here.” She swallows. “I apologize again.”

Harry’s momentarily distracted by the way her hair tumbles out with graceful curls as she undoes her hair tie. It’s a new sight since all her pictures online are with her hair up. She quickly scrapes all her hair back into a ponytail again, lacing her fingers neatly in on the table before her.

“Don’t worry about it. I wasn’t waiting for long.”

“Good. Did you have work today too?”

“I did. I work both in person and remotely, but today I was in the office. It’s about half an hour from here.”

“Oh, nice. How was your day?”

“Good.” Harry blinks. “It was busy. We’ve got some new hires for the new season so it’s been a lot of training. Always reminds me of what I had to go through when I first started working there.”

Lucía drinks her water again. When she’s done, she gently wipes the corner of her mouth. “I had some new hires too, except thankfully I don’t have to train them. I can confidently say I’m good at my job, but having to explain every little part of it is just impossible for me. They’d learn nothing from my rambling.”

Harry smiles. Her voice is quiet and careful. Her face is tired, either from the long day or from lack of sleep, which he assumes due to her dark circles. Still, she’s very pretty.

“I hope they don’t kick us out early,” she continues, looking around the restaurant nervously. “I mean, there’s usually a time limit on restaurants, right?”

“I think we’ll be fine,” Harry assures her. “And even if we get kicked out, we’ll go someplace else for dessert. If you’d like.”

She nods. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

“Do you live far?”

“Not exactly. I’m pretty close to my job, which is great. Especially in the winter since it snows like hell. I think there’s a snowstorm coming over the weekend.”

“Right. Honestly, it’s new to me. I went to college down south so I’m honestly not a big fan of this weather.”

“When did you move to America?”

“Around 6 years ago. Coming up on 7 in a few months.”

“You still have a very prominent accent.”

“Do I?” Harry smiles. “Well, you have a Boston accent.”

Lucía laughs softly. “Nobody’s ever said that to me before.”

“No? It definitely comes out in certain words.”

“Am I hard to understand?”

“Not at all. It’s really nice actually.”

Lucía moves her fork over to her other side and lays it neatly down on the napkin. She smoothes out the edges of the napkin and then shifts her knife over just a centimeter to put distance between it and the fork. She does it to her spoon on her right side and the tablecloth, and Harry assumes she’s a little nervous.

“So do you use the app often?” he says, to distract her. She glances up at him, a little startled. It seems like she was totally engrossed in herself.

“Not really. If I’m honest,” she laughs a little bit, pink in the cheeks, “I downloaded it so I could tell my parents that I was really trying to find a boyfriend.”

“They ask you about it?”

“They want me to start a life with someone.” She’s back to flattening out the napkin, even though it’s already perfectly flat. “They live in Ecuador, so they’re real worried about me being alone here.”

“Ah. Do you live with roommates?”

“No, it’s just me. Do you?”

“I did until about 3 months ago. He moved out so now it’s just me in the apartment. It’s a little lonely.”

“For me, I don’t always think it’s lonely.” She picks up her glass and sets it down near the edge of the table. “Sometimes I think it’s nice to be alone.”

“I agree. But I don’t think I’d like to be alone all the time.”

“Yeah.” She’s looking across the table at his napkin now, frowning. She’s biting her lip, cracking her knuckles. Three on one hand, three on the other. Harry doesn’t think it’s nervousness now. “I’m so sorry. I’m about to say something really weird but I can’t help it.”

Harry shakes his head. “No no. What is it?”

“Um, can I take that?” She points at his unused napkin. Confusedly, he pulls it out from under his glass and hands it to her. “Thanks.”

He watches, fascinated, as she begins to flatten it out with her fingers. “Do your parents live in England?”

She’s having a conversation like it’s normal. “No, I moved with them here. Well, they came first and I stayed back to finish up the year I was in. Then I transferred here. I don’t think I could live here alone without them at such a young age.”

She nods. “That’s very true.” She begins to refold the napkin.

“Yes, it’s just a really big change and I think– okay. I have to ask. What are you doing?” he says laughingly.

She glances up at him, stopping her fingers. “Folding your napkin. I’m sorry. That’s really rude of me.” It seems to dawn on her that she’s being odd. “Sorry. Here.” She hands the napkin back to him.

“No it’s all right,” Harry grins. “I was just curious.”

“Sorry.”

“No really–”

“Oh, the food is here.” Judging by her tone, she really doesn’t want to talk about it, so he doesn’t bring it up.

The waiter sets down two plates on the table, telling them to “enjoy” and then leaving them alone. Lucía looks at her plate and then hesitates on her utensils. She picks up the fork and takes a careful bite.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” she asks him after swallowing. “I often come here with coworkers.”

“Yes, it’s lovely.” He’ll have to make a note to remember it for future nights out.

He also thinks she’s lovely. She’s very pretty with her warm eyes and her long eyelashes. Her lipstick is a little less pigmented from drinking so much water. Harry usually doesn't feel nervous on dates, but for some reason, he does now. He finds himself wiping his hands on his pants, bouncing his knee under the table, and thinking about her first impression of him.

Does she like him? Did she instantly feel something when she saw him too?

“So, on your profile you said you like to stay in often. Is that mostly because of how busy you are with work?”

“Kinda. And also, I really don’t like waking up so early in the morning so I use my weekends to sleep in and recuperate.” She looks timid. “I like being in the comfort of my bed after work too. But sometimes I just fall asleep.”

Harry’s eyebrows raise. “You just go back to sleep after work?”

She smiles as she takes a sip of water. “I fall asleep really easily.”

Harry is immediately endeared.

“You must be a nightmare to watch movies with.”

“Oh, yes. I rarely finish movies because I fall asleep during them.”

“So it would be an awful idea for me to take you to the cinemas for our next date?”

She continues smiling. “Terrible.”

“Well, I’ll have to come up with something better then.” He likes teasing her. She’s cute.

She finishes drinking her water and then reaches for her napkin. After wiping her mouth, she begins flattening it again.

This time, however, she catches Harry’s eye as he watches her. She pulls her hands quickly into her lap and apologizes.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Harry jumps in. “I wasn’t–”

“Sorry. I just have a thing,” she says quietly. “It can be a little distracting.”

“No, really, Lucía. It’s all right. Whatever makes you comfortable.”

She nods, reaching for her fork, though Harry sees her eyes flickering to the crumpled napkin repeatedly. Harry strikes up the conversation again to give her a break from the attention, and once it’s off of her, her hands fly to her napkin, refolding it carefully so the corners meet perfectly.

He doesn’t bring it up. He decides at that moment to never bring it up until she decides she’s ready to tell him about it. He doesn’t watch her hands as they rearrange her cutlery or mess with her napkin again. He lets her do what she needs to to feel more at ease and it works because she relaxes into the conversation again.

When she rubs her eye for the second time, 45 minutes into their date, Harry laughs and calls for the waiter. He pays, politely declining her attempt at paying for herself. He helps her into her jacket and then walks her to her car.

“So no movies for next time, but let me make sure there will be a next time,” Harry says, leaning against her car.

She smiles brightly up at him and despite it, he sees the tiredness in her eyes. Something strikes his heart. Why does he want to hug her? Give her his jacket so she’s not shivering because of the wind.

“We can get the dessert we missed out on today,” she says, reaching for her keys. “Friday at 7?”

“Friday at 7 is perfect. I had fun tonight.”

“I did too. My faith in dating apps has been restored.”

Harry laughs. “I’m glad I could do that for you.” He searches her eyes for a moment and then bends down, kissing her cheek. As he’s pulling away, he draws up the hood of her winter jacket onto her head so far that she’s barely peeking up at him from under the faux fur. She giggles, fixing it. “Text me when you get home.”

“I will,” she promises, biting the inside of her cheek as if to hide a bigger smile.

She keeps her promise. She texts him 23 minutes later: Just got home. Looking forward to Friday!

And Harry decides that he likes Lucía. He’s interested to see where this goes.

#harry and lucía #harry styles fic #harry styles blurb #harry styles x oc #harry styles x woc #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff

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booburry · 1 year

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Echoes in Time Chapter 4: A Star is Born

Chapter Summary: A day of hot and cold between Mallory and Sam leaves them with a clearer path forward and a renewed determination from Sam. WC: 9,988 - sorry (not sorry?). But hey! I managed to keep it under 10k lol

CW: Accidental nudity, emotional angst, they be smoochin', game spoilers

A/N: Thank you all for your patience with this one! As you see it's a long one, but I couldn't cut anything out and I didn't want to end it abruptly either, for the sake of keeping it shorter. I will try to keep chapters within the realm of 6.5k to 8k but sometimes the words just roll. I hope you all enjoy

The idea that Mallory’s mood could have gotten worse from the moment she admitted to ‘outing’ herself as a time-travelling ‘alien’ would seem improbable to impossible.

Unfortunately, as if struck by bad luck, it did.

It’s those damn Coes and their stupid book. Mallory grumbled within herself as she put on her socks before getting out of bed to get dressed for the day. She laid out some clothes on her bed, her sheet and blanket messily bunched up from her active sleeping—she never stayed still.

She was pondering over two options when, unexpectedly, there was a light knock on the door.

“One moment!” Mallory called out, upset and anxious that she suddenly felt rushed to decide what she was going to wear.

“Yup, no problem...” Sam called out, elongating his ‘o’. Mallory instinctively grabbed a blanket to cover her exposed parts despite there being no way he could see her.

It would also be a lie if Mallory claimed the idea of only a panel of wood standing between Sam and her didn’t also excite her—her mind compulsively jumping into the deep end of that fantasy, losing herself until she heard Sam clear his throat from the hallway.

“I just put on my socks!” Mallory called out, rushing to pick an outfit and frustratingly finding that now knowing he would be the first to see her left Mallory wishing to put more…effort into her choices.

It also just made her anxiety rise and her executive function vanish.

“Okay,” Sam called out, Mallory smiling as she just pictured him slightly rocking back onto his heels with his hands in his pockets.

Naturally, she reached up to grab Sam’s necklace only to realize it wasn’t there. Without hesitation that became Mallory’s next goal, but she couldn’t seem to find it. Clothes were flying, pillows, blankets and sheets were tossed off the bed, drawers and cabinets dramatically being opened and shut.

“Hey, you okay?” Sam asked with a great amount of concern, probably at the sudden, and loud, sounds from within her room.

Mallory immediately felt as if her stomach was about to fall out of her ass as she realized, before being able to fully act, that Sam was about to walk in and see her wearing nothing but a pair of fuzzy socks.

“Sarah is wa—"

And boy did he.

“aaaaauuhh…mn.” Sam let out a prolonged, strained, sound that Mallory—if she were not frantically leaping over her bed to grab the sheet she threw to the side—would have teased him for relentlessly.

“Would you—” Mallory started to speak as she almost fell to the ground to roll herself into some amount of fabric. “Close the door!?” She called out to him, expecting him to walk out but the man, either in his confusion or boldness, stepped in and closed the door behind him.

His eyes were firmly on the floor.

“So…you, uh, put your socks on first, huh?” He slowly asked, obviously calculating a million things in his head as he sputtered out the words. Mallory felt her toes curl in as she stood up to tightly wrap the sheet around herself, ensuring it had zero chance of falling off.

“I don’t like the feeling of my bare feet touching things, okay?” Mallory defensively stated, feeling embarrassed by her quirks before immediately reminding herself of the complete invasion of her space, flashing a scorching glare at Sam. He didn’t see, of course, as his eyes were still glued to the floor. “Since when do you just walk in?”

“I—” Sam still wouldn’t look at her, which Mallory told herself was good, but god she also desperately wished he would. “You said socks…and then the noises…I, uh, I—” He tried to continue but still fell short. “I panicked.” He finally admitted, causing Mallory to feel a sudden urge she couldn’t resist.

“We’ll have to work on that.” She told him, mocking the words he had just used yesterday when she admitted she similarly panicked in a moment of high stress. But, despite the tone Sam may have used in themoment before, Mallory decided to say it with a slight, completely unfair, adjustment.

She pitched her voice deeper, making an effort to sound breathy while ensuring her words flowed together like silk and honey. She saw Sam’s chest pop out with a sudden and short exhale but the rest of his body was like stone.

“That’s…so cruel.” He told her, a light shake to his head, his face hidden behind his hat but Mallory knew how wide his smile was and the exact shade of crimson present on his cheeks from the tone he spoke in.

“You subjected yourself to this torture when you walked in here,” Mallory informed him with a matter-of-fact tone, losing herself in the moment. “It’s only fair I get even.” Sam chuckled.

“This is even?” He asked, suggesting as if what she was doing to him was much worse than what he just did. Maybe he said it because he did his by accident, while Mallory was, enjoyably, torturing the man intentionally.

But still…he should learn to never walk into a lady's room.

“Do I need to remind you what you saw?”

“No.” Sam quickly said. “No, no no.” He repeated yet Mallory saw his hat slowly lift. “Uhm—” Immediately back down. “Yeah, no.” He confirmed.

“So, I’ll take that as a ‘no’.” Mallory laughed, finding it both endearing and irresistible how he was right now. “Now, turn around and don’t look—please.” She quickly added the last request, her other part becoming present and in contention with her bolder self, reminding her to not come off as bossy, impolite or being too demanding.

Sam just deeply chuckled.

“I would have preferred it if you just demanded me to.” He slowly glanced up at Mallory, who became immediately self-conscious about how tightly she had wrapped her sheet around her body. His eyes lingered, but at least he didn’t try to hide it, and he ensured to give Mallory a smirk and a playful, pronounced, wink.

“Turn.” She said with a laugh. “Around.” And continued with a teasingly annoyed tone while raising an eyebrow at Sam—a suppressed smile pushing its way forward as her heart beat against her chest. Sam just smiled and closed his eyes.

“Mmmn,” he hummed as he immediately obeyed, “yeah…that’s much better.” He encouraged her, the rumble of his voice more pronounced, his tone taunting.

It seemed that Sam had decided to fight just as dirty in the game Mallory had started. His eyes looked towards the ceiling, Mallory’s gaze immediately being drawn to the pronounced curve of his strong neck.

“You’re so bad!” Mallory said with a laugh before realizing how the words she chose would be easily used against her when said to a person like Sam Coe.

She heard him hiss in a sharp inhale, a moment of silence and then…nothing.

“You alright?” She asked, with a small amount of concern that she had broken his ‘witty bone’.

“Yeah—well…no, but,” Sam paused another moment, Mallory truly starting to worry she had broken the man, “I wouldn’t change a thing. I just…can’t…really think, right now.” He slowly stated as his head leveled out and he awkwardly adjusted his posture. Mallory smirked.

“Blood rushing elsewhere?” She quickly asked.

“You could say that, sure.” Sam quickly responded, his head flinching for a moment, as if to look at her, before remembering her request—or as he, apparently, preferred: command. “Are you getting dressed, or are socks and a sheet your outfit for the day?” He asked, Mallory smiling as he seemed to regain his composure.

Leaning into the mischievousness Sam brought out in her, Mallory planned to drop her sheet at Sam’s feet, but something caught her eye that pulled her right from this moment.

The book of Solomon Coe laid open on her desk, on the page with the photo that had completely shattered Mallory’s world last night, and did once again in this moment.

“Just a moment.” Mallory responded, all of her cheek and tongue erased from her being.

“You alright?” Sam immediately asked, dropping the back-and-forth exchange they were enjoying for a tone of concern. “I’m sorry if I went too far—”

“It’s not you, Sam.” Mallory reassured him but she knew the way she spoke would only cause for more concern, but she couldn’t help it.

She threw on the closest things, the patterns and colours clashing but she couldn’t give a care in the world as she flashed another glance at that cursed book before walking towards the door.

“You said Sarah is waiting?” Mallory asked as she walked in front of Sam and grabbed onto the door.

“I tried to, yeah.” Sam calmly stated, no doubt watching Mallory closely to understand her sudden switch off. Mallory didn’t respond as she opened her door to see Sarah waiting in the hallway.

“You two aren’t making it entirely discreet, are you?” She asked, her voice and tone sending only one message: disappointment. “I’ll make it quick then.” She added, pushing herself off from the wall she leaned against. “I’ve thought about it a lot and I agree with your plan Mallory—I will leave it for you to execute and bring me the final review of the questions. If anything changes from what you originally proposed, I need to know immediately—do you understand?” Mallory nodded vigorously, having previously experienced being spoken to like this from a boss but there was something about Sarah’s delivery that just made everything seem more…stern. “Good, I will go speak with this…Nada and arrange a meeting with you two within New Atlantis to arrange the terms.”

“You can’t be serious.” Sam’s stated, the rough edges to his voice more noticeable than usual.

“Oh, but I very well am, Sam.” Sarah retorted, her gaze challenging him to continue to protest.

Which he did without hesitation, stepping through the door frame to stand between Mallory and Sarah.

“It’s not a good idea.” Sam continued his protest despite Sarah and Mallory seeing eye-to-eye on the matter.

“I think it’s for the best.” Mallory tried to reassure him but as soon as he looked at her, she immediately knew her words could not penetrate whatever it was that was blinding him in this moment.

“It’s not safe, you will put yourself in more danger than it can help any of us.” Mallory shrugged, no longer having the words to try to convince him he was wrong and feeling deflated from the moment prior to this conversation.

Besides, she would never feel unsafe around him, and by doing this interview she could control the narrative of what is told about her life and who she is. Sure there were risks, but there were risks with everything within this world—and truthfully this seemed a heck of a lot more tame than other things Mallory had learnt about.

“You can’t—” Sam huffed at Mallory’s nonchalant attitude and turned to look at Sarah. “She can’t do this!”

“I can make my own decisions, thank you very much!” Mallory snapped, finally over Sam relentlessly trying to stop this from moving forward. He turned to her, his fire tempered and his expression deflated.

“You won’t be safe.” He told her, almost begging her. It took a moment of just looking at him to realize Sam was acting a bit clueless to, what should be, the obvious truths. She smiled.

“I’m learning how to defend myself—”

“That won’t be enough!” Sam interjected, despite having praised her for her progress yesterday. Mallory knew it was his protective nature getting the better of him and keeping him obtuse.

“I also have you.” Mallory continued, seeing Sam’s body language and expression immediately change. Being acutely aware they were in the presence of Sarah, Mallory scrunched her nose in an attempt to suppress the stupid grin she felt approaching.

“Oh.” That was all he managed to say. “Um, well…” Sam drifted off, his eyes staring deeply at the floorboards again. It seemed like, for the second time today, and since she had met him, Sam was speechless.

“I’ll excuse myself.” Sarah said, having already backed away from the two of them, and promptly leaving their vicinity before they could even think to say something.

Silence lingered between them.

“Do I, uh, do I really make you feel that way?” Sam hesitantly broke the silence between them. “Safe, that is.” He quickly added, his awkwardness and uncertainty showing in his tone and body language—if not by the sudden redness on his face.

“And here I thought cowboys don’t blush.” Mallory teased him with a smile.

“No, stop it.” Sam said with a laugh, not being able to help himself before his smile thinned into a serious frown. “I’m being serious here…for once.” He took a slight step forward towards Mallory, but to her, it felt like he leapt a mile. It was her time to gain crimson cheeks. “Do I?” He asked again, his voice sending a shiver through her shoulders and neck.

“I—” She felt her head tilt upwards, to look at the man who stood above her. “I, um…” Her eyes closed as she saw Sam do the same, the rim of his hat blocking out the light above her, his breath lightly batting against her face. Mallory hated herself for the thought and words that came next. “Cora, Sam.” She warned, reminding them both of the reason they knew they couldn’t act on the obvious feelings they had for each other.

“Right.” Sam softly agreed, stepping back quickly. “You’re right.”

“I’m meant to go back—”

“Yeah…no, of course.” Sam quickly said, obviously trying to recover from that moment but doing so horribly.

“We can’t give her hope that I will stay, that the three of us could be…more than what it has to be.”

Sam looked up at her with a mix of emotions swirling around in his expression—pain, surprise, joy, anger—before he looked away just as quickly.

“Right…of course.” Sam quietly agreed, repeating the same words, again, that he had just said.

However, something in his tone made Mallory feel like he wasn’t thinking of Cora’s hopes being crushed at that moment. It hurt Mallory too, she had been feeling nothing but fury slowly build within her once she learnt how this would end.

But she couldn’t change fate, a fact Mallory knew even before this bizarre experience. She had been nothing but a victim of the damn thing her entire life. Or so it felt like, to her.

The silence returned to the hallway they stood in, Sam’s face twisting as his mind obviously raced despite speaking nothing. It deeply pained Mallory to see it, the pain she caused him and when she thought of the pain to come…well, the idea of that nearly brought her to tears.

“You do, for the record, make me feel safe.” Mallory decided to break the silence this time, wishing to soften the moment. “Being with you, and Cora, is the only sense of normalcy I find within this…world—time—whatever.”

Beyond that, the only thing that has given me a sense of purpose and belonging; ever. Mallory thought to herself, knowing speaking those words would not only be cruel to Sam but also to herself, for she knew she had to return to her time.

“You can’t say all of that now.” Sam gave a small huff from his chest, a slight tone of disbelief hidden under his light teasing.

“I could say a lot more, but it wouldn’t be fair.” Mallory replied, finding herself wanting to be honest—for once—with her feelings for Sam while also wanting, needing, to distance herself from him.

But he was so intoxicating to her, so essential, that it felt like an impossible feat to be apart from him.

“No, it wouldn’t be.” Sam whispered, his arm hesitantly reaching out to lightly pinch her chin and raise her eyes to meet his. “Although, for you? I may endure a little unfairness.” Mallory felt herself melt at his touch, but it was the way he watched her when he said such inviting words that did her in. It took every bit of willpower to turn her head from his ocean eyes. “I’m sorry…” he began but Mallory immediately cut him off.

“No, it’s not you Sam.” She reminded him again followed by a deeply strained sign. “I just…I have to go back, with no way of returning. This is it—nothing else. We can’t…I can’t—” Mallory shook her head as her words failed her again. He was, in every way, the man she wanted to be with.

Not because he was from the future, or a man in front of her that happened to be interested in her, but because of his morals and actions—everything that made Sam Coe himself…that is what had taken hold over her heart.

It truly made her feel broken, and nauseous, at the thought of losing him. Or Cora.

“You don’t have to go back.” Sam tried to softly remind her but Mallory just shook her head.

“I do.” Mallory simply said through a clenched jaw, the fact that she found solid proof of something that all but confirmed what she was saying never leaving her present mind. She had to return to that miserable existence where there was no way for her to achieve her dreams.

Yet here she was now in space, in the presence of a good and caring man, whose daughter Mallory was incomparably smitten with—every goddamn dream or goal she had wanted in life.

How bitter that tasted.

“You can’t prove that.” Sam tried to fight her but Mallory gave out an angry, fed-up, seething exhale.

“Yes, I can!” She exclaimed storming back into her room while Sam slowly and cautiously followed. When he came into her room, she closed the doors before pointing at the open book on her desk.

It was the book of Solomon Coe, opened to an image of the ‘First Coe in Space’—the guy Cora had talked about yesterday.

That image was a NASA faculty photo…and in the front row of that group photo was Mallory.

“I don’t remember taking this photo, Sam.” He peered down to look closely at it before turning to look at Mallory with confusion.

“So?” He said, genuinely seeming not to understand the significance of the photo, and it just ignited Mallory’s anger and pain further.

“So!” She almost yelled, a flash of worry flying across Sam’s face. “It means that I go back, Sam. I haven’t taken this photo yet, but here it is in this book about the past—so I have to go back. It…” The rampant panic that had forced Mallory to ramble at an unnatural speed suddenly halted as a flood of pain and resentment crashed into her.

It felt like all of her anger and frustration from her constant back and forth between wanting to stay in this world and feeling obligated to go back had finally come to a boiling point within her. Steam rising, pressure building, until she finally snapped.

One, powerful and unhinged, punch to the wall released enough of that pressure.

But Mallory had forgotten, blinded by her pain and rage, that Sam was there.

“Woah!” He exclaimed. “Mallory, what’s…talk to me, please.” She felt Sam gingerly grab a hold of her trembling fist before he guided her to sit down before she burst into tears.

“It’s—it’s j-just my luck that…” Mallory managed to get out between heavy, irregular, breaths before her body tensed further at the pain ripping her apart. Not just Sam but pain from…everything.

Just…fucking…everything.

Her entire life trying to live for other people—live to garner approval from her mom, live to make her dad proud. All while also always doubting herself, limiting herself, cause she always ran from what she wanted most—too afraid to fail, to be unwelcomed or abandoned.

So instead Mallory had made a small box for herself. She had a steady, easy, and overlooked job. Enough friends to fill most of her time with their problems and life events, and a few hobbies to fill the rest, as she just…floated through life. Endlessly aimless. Endlessly hopeless at finding something fulfilling.

All of her life, she was told to be small, to take little and finally, finally, when she was actually taking the steps to go for what she wanted—that hope was mercilessly shattered, too.

Mallory tried to force her breath to steady, exhaling a lungful of air while tears continued to stream down her face. Sam took the moment to sit next to her, taking tissues to her face to help dry her cheeks. Mallory couldn’t help but give a small, hopeless, laugh at how much sadness his compassionate gesture brought her.

Slowly, she brought her sad, swollen, eyes to look at him—Mallory immediately seeing how much the sight of such a visual deeply hurt him.

“Just my luck,” She managed to continue with a steady tone, “that I would—” Mallory’s lips curled into themselves as she bit down hard, trying her best to use the physical pain to subside her emotional pain. “I would find a man like you in a place, and time, like this.”

Mallory felt her neck and shoulders tense as she finished her thought, her inner tormentor relentlessly repeating how she was always meant to be unlucky, that this is what she gets for reaching outside of her box—her role.

“Funny…” Sam slowly said, Mallory feeling his hand wrap around hers. “I would say the same thing about you.”

He paused only a moment, his tone soft and gentle to ensure it helped soothe her. Mallory, absent-mindedly with her free hand, reached up for the necklace again, only to remember it was still missing.

“I’ve been told countless times how lucky I am—absurdly lucky, unfairly so to a degree. But I never really believed it. At least…not until you.”

Naturally, Mallory’s gaze fell to his and she both loved and hated how calming he was for her. Sam gave a small half smile before his lips tensed for a moment, his eyes searching Mallory’s for something unspoken.

“I still can’t wrap my head around what the chances of our paths crossing would be, not even considering how…uhm, well, how we feel about each other.” Sam stumbled over his words, something Mallory had noticed usually only happened when he was talking about her, or how he felt about her. “I’m so lucky to have you in my life Mallory, I really mean that.”

He squeezed her hand before bringing his free one up to cup her wet cheek.

“I can’t have you thinking this is bad luck.” He softly added, his thumb gliding along her skin lovingly.

“But it’s different, Sam. Your position and mine.” Mallory corrected, pulling herself away from his embrace to crawl onto her bed and sit cross-legged in the center. “You have Cora, and Constellation and the whole galaxy to explore! I have…” Mallory trailed off, unable to mutter the words ‘nothing to go home to’. “I appreciate what you are trying to say, Sam, I really do, but it’s not comparable. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” He softly told her before standing up. “I’ll, uh, return the book to Cora.” He added, walking over to the desk and snapping the book closed with, Mallory noticed, more force than he would normally use with one of Cora’s prized books. Mallory did not look up as she heard Sam move around her room, only slightly turning her head when she heard the sound of him opening her door. “Just…let me know if you want to talk at all, okay? This,” Sam stressed the word as he raised the book slightly into the air, “doesn’t change anything for me. My feelings are still the same.”

Sam stood still, watching Mallory who peered at him from the far corner of one eye, until she gave a short, soft, nod of acknowledgement. He didn’t wait and expect more, and promptly left Mallory to her privacy.

“My feelings remain the same, too.” She whispered to herself, clutching a pillow to her chest, as she curled up into herself, prepared to cry herself to sleep.

But then there was a prominent knock on her door followed by the door opening. She sat up to see Sam rushing in, looking bothered but determined.

“You said this is all you ever wanted, being in space, seeing the stars, right?” He asked her, out of breath from him rushing back in. “Mallory.” He called out to her, forcing her brain to process the moment.

“Y-yes.” She stammered, as Sam immediately marched towards her at her response.

“Good, then let’s go.” He told her, reaching down to grab her hand. Despite the dominant nature of his actions and demands, his touch was still very much gentle.

“Sam…where are we going?” She asked as she struggled to get her footing while being, practically, dragged by Sam.

“To take you to the stars.”

--//--

Mallory was unsure how long the walk to his ship was, her mind wasn’t really focused on her surroundings or the speed at which they walked. She was mostly focused on how he still held her hand as he walked through New Atlantis, how strong his grip was, how large his hand felt compared to hers.

Then there was the intent on which he walked ahead of her, the focus he had, that even he managed to be silent was saying something. It made Mallory wonder what it was that kept him so silent or had him barge back into her room and decide to do this.

Her mind was so focused on him that it wasn’t until Sam took off and into orbit that she remembered where they were heading.

Mallory was slowly inspecting the areas of his ship while he was preparing for take-off. He ensured to tell her, immediately upon getting into the ship, to make herself comfortable and feel at home. The notion had given Mallory a smile, although almost every interaction with Sam these days left her with a smile.

The ship itself wasn’t large, by any means, but slightly bigger than the only other spaceship she had been in. Mallory wasn’t the best judge for the expected or appropriate size of a spaceship. What was interesting about Sam’s ship was the cockpit, as there were two pilot seats.

The only other custom thing she suspected was the multitude of mismatched shelves full of books.

It felt very much like their space, or home…and it was incredibly comforting to be in.

Mallory spotted the only bed in the single living area, and it was very obviously decorated for and by Cora. A mixture of plushies, science sculptures and horse figurines rested on the shelves; between the books, of course. She even saw some photos of people, but before she could take a closer look, Sam called out.

“Hey, come up here when you can.” He called out to her, Mallory not shying away from wanting to be close to him and walking towards the cockpit without hesitation.

She walked up to the side of the pilot seat he occupied, resting a hand on the top of the headrest and standing to the side of Sam. He looked up at her with the biggest, stupidest, most inviting grin, before turning back to look out into the dark blanket of space.

“So, where you taking me, cowboy?” Mallory asked, smirking as he looked back up at her.

“You keep calling me that, I might start calling you darlin’.” He warned her, his voice lower than usual, Mallory’s eyes flicking to his hands tightening around the controls. Realizing that, no matter if he either had to hold onto them, or was firmly stuck holding them, she wished to take advantage.

“I don’t think I would complain about that.” She told him, lifting his hat from his head and placing it on hers. “But if I’m the cowboy, do I get to call you my darlin’?” She asked, hearing and seeing Sam chuckle with such a deep husk, it did numbers to her body and senses.

“Let’s set a course first.” He told her, a wide smile and heavy dose of amusement ever present in his tone. “I wanted to take you somewhere specific.” He continued, pausing as if to wait for Mallory to tell him no, or that they were to do something different.

“You think I’m going to ‘know a place’?” She laughed, Sam lightly chuckling along with her.

“Yeah, fair point. Alright...” Mallory watched as Sam seamlessly interacted with the panels in front of him, setting coordinates and adjusting the power supply within the ship. It was fascinating to watch and Mallory found herself excited for what came next. “Buckle up and hold onto your hat, cowboy.” Sam told her, turning around to look at her to ensure she was buckled in, his eyes flitting to his hat before returning to look forward.

Mallory swore she saw him purse his lips but, even if it was true, she wouldn’t be calling out that observation.

Very slowly she heard a resounded hum from the ship, a sound she related to that of an electric vehicle or the THX intro before movies. It was calming, and if it wasn’t for them being launched into FTL travel, she probably would have fallen asleep.

Her eyes went wide as the world around them turned into a tunnel of light.

“Well, it’s going to be about 20 minutes,” Sam informed her. “Gotta stay here thought, got nothing fancy on this ship.” He gave a small laugh but Mallory heard a small sense of pain, guilt or self-judgement behind those words.

“Do I need to stay buckled?”

“No.” He quickly answered, their previous playful exchange simmering. “It’s just for the initial jump and for when we arrive—the force just has a very good chance of knocking you over and…well, we can’t have that, now can we?”

There it is. Mallory thought to herself, a small laugh huffing out of her chest as she unbuckled herself to stand up and walk back to Sam. Gingerly, she placed his hat back on his head.

“You seemed deflated without it.” She teased him again, finding herself not thinking of anything else but the present moment, of feeling like she was meant to be where she was. Sam chuckled loudly.

“I hate to ask, but out of, uhm, morbid curiosity…what’s gotten into you?” He asked her with another laugh.

“It’s quite simple really,” Mallory began with a smile, “I saw your gorgeous hair and it was too much!” She teased him, half because she wanted to and the other because she wanted to avoid talking about herself or her true feelings. “I understand why you keep it hidden—it’s a very powerful weapon.”

“Heh, you don’t know the half of it.” He joked back before clearing his throat. “But uh, seriously, tell me.” He asked of her, his voice like velvet and with her being so calm, Mallory felt herself immediately drop her guard.

“I don’t really know,” Sam opened his mouth but Mallory cut him off before he could do it to her, “I’m going to tell you, shut up.” She wined at him, Sam chuckling again, his smile so wide his cheeks had to of hurt a little by now.

“Alright, alright.” He surrendered, Mallory taking a few steps forward before sitting down on the ground cross-legged and looking toward Sam. He quickly glanced down, his eyes joining his lips in a smile.

“I know it sounds crazy, but then again I time-traveled 300 years into the future, so what really is crazy?” Sam quickly laughed, a light shake to his head.

“You,” He told her with a smirk, “and me.” He added, Mallory smiling before curling in her bottom lip.

“At the Lodge, it’s nice but it only feels peaceful when I am with you or Cora. I thought that was just because of you two and that the rest of this time was just always meant to feel wrong. But…” Mallory paused a second, her legs naturally rising upwards to tuck against her chest. It terrified her to no end to be vulnerable or to share matters that were close to her heart.

Always in fear that when she would, they would crumble.

“Then I walked onto this ship, and then I was,” Mallory gave a small laugh of disbelief as she looked above her to the panel of glass that revealed the FTL tunnel they were in, “doing this. Seeing…your home.”

“Heh…it’s, uh, not much.” Sam tried again to dismiss his true emotions behind a self-deprecating joke—although Mallory wasn’t much better of an example in that category.

“I think it’s perfect,” Mallory told him lightly, providing him an honest and kind smile, her eyes softening as she gazed at him. “Oh, and then that hum—”

“Of the grav drive?” Sam quickly interjected with a sudden excitement returning to his expression and voice.

“Is that what that was before we, uh…whatever this is.” Mallory looked up before back at Sam, who was now revering her how she had just him. He then, reliable as ever, gave a short, single, laugh.

“Yeah, that’s what does ‘whatever this is’.” He teased her.

“I’m being serious!” Mallory immediately defended herself, her body immediately unfolding from her chest until she was on her knees looking intently at Sam before immediately softening and plopping her butt onto her feet to sit. “C’mon teach, don’t make me rat you out to your daughter for not educating me on something.” She gave him an empty threat, and he knew it. Sam just smiled at Mallory, his expression not showing all she saw moving behind his eyes.

“Traitor.” He teased her, pausing a moment before continuing. “One of the parts to a ship is a ‘Grav Drive’.” He started to inform her, using a tone she only heard during the lessons they had back at the Lodge. “I think at the beginning of space exploration it was called a—and confirm this with Cora—a…Gravitat—no. Uh…I got this.”

“Careful, don’t want your brain to burst.” She warned with a smirk.

“Uh, huh? You wouldn’t want that?” He asked her, slightly annoyed but Mallory knew he enjoyed it. The small smile cracking through his expression only proved it.

“I like your head,” she told him, “especially when it’s attached to your body and, specifically, intact.” Something about what she said caused Sam to burst with laughter, yet he was able to quickly compose himself.

“An important detail.” He noted, lightly chuckling, before raising an arm to deeply scratch his head—Sam letting out a groan of pleasure that sent shivers down Mallory’s spine. The way he looked at her shortly after didn’t help things. “You…” he started but didn’t continue. Mallory half smiled, amused with his most recent dialectical habit that only occurred when speaking to, or around, her.

“Me.” She said, flashing a smile while he just shook his head and looked forward again.

“You should buckle up.” He told her. Mallory immediately trusted his instructions and did so, but found it weird how that much time had already passed.

“Has it really been almost 20 minutes?” She asked him, feeling a bit excited to see their destination.

“No,” Sam said with a distinct chuckle, Mallory’s excitement bursting. “You were just too distracting—I’m pretty sure it constitutes as a flying hazard.” Mallory found herself tucking her chin to her chest at his words, smiling broadly and finding herself to be speechless. A comfortable silence filled the room, along with the hum of the grav drive.

“Is this all it does?” She asked him. “The grav drive.” She added, wanting to distinguish what she was asking.

“No, they also control the gravity we have in the ship. Also, I remembered—they used to be called Graviton Loop Array’s, but everyone thought it was too long and just slowly called them ‘Grav Drives’.”

“Cause they give you gravity and drive you through space?” Mallory clarified.

“Uh, yeah…pretty on point actually. Man, you are way better at explaining things.” Mallory laughed into a sigh.

“You get good at giving key details when your boss only ever has a few minutes between meetings,” Mallory advised.

“Well, Cora for sure could have used your help. I stopped being useful in that department when she was 7.” He joked, as he did, but he didn’t see how his words affected Mallory.

Firstly, she didn’t like how frequently he put down his job at parenting Cora. It was always backhanded or self-deprecating comments. She knew Cora thought the world of him, which begged the question: where did all this self-doubt come from?

Secondly, just the fact that he said that they would have benefited from her presence, even if it wasn’t what he actually believed, struck Mallory in a way most unexpected.

She took a deep breath, going slowly in order to stay quiet and allow enough time for her to prevent the tears from coming forward.

“She’s a wonderful girl, Sam. You’ve done right by her.” Sam hummed into another comfortable silence. “I think you’re a wonderful father and Cora’s just as lucky to have you as you are to have her.”

That garnered a light laugh after a large exhale is air.

“Thank you.” That was all he managed to verbally say but his tone was rich in depth and emotion. Another small silence. “Just a few more minutes now.” He let her know, a slight strain in his voice, as if he was putting a lot of effort into keeping his voice level.

“Where are you taking me?”

“It’s my little spot in paradise,” Sam told her with an audible smile. “I always found myself coming here when times were hard and, well, it’s a beautiful sight.”

“I’m excited.” Mallory told him, feeling a buzz in her chest knowing he thought to bring her to such a sacred place of his.

“There’s, ah, there’s one thing I wanted to ask you before we arrive.” He slowly informed her, that his nerves were immediately present and noticeable.

“Yes?” Mallory asked, to encourage him to continue speaking, as he had gone completely silent.

“When we get there, can we just…for a moment, forget about everything else? Like, everything. All outside pressures and expectations and just…I dunno…ahh, never mind.” Sam finished with a grumble, Mallory hearing quiet mutters under his breath shortly after.

He, of course, didn’t see how wide she smiled.

“I think I would really like that.”

“Wait, really?” He almost stammered in surprise.

“Yes, silly.” She laughed as they finally came out of FTL travel.

The sight was like no other. Never before, even in books or from the advanced telescopes for deep space, had something so marvellous been captured by image.

Mallory found herself practically running up to the glass, pressing her face as close as she could as she stared at a Nebula far in the distance—a new star being born.

“How old is it?” She immediately asked. “Do you know?” She quickly followed up, her eyes not leaving the visual of cosmic dust and gas shimmering against the sparkling black background.

“No,” Sam noted, pausing a short moment, “but I do like to think of when it will; it’s sometimes fun.” Another pause as Mallory tried to press her face further into the glass. “Careful, you may crack it.” Sam joked, Mallory immediately stepping back with concern. “I joke, I—is that what you want to look at?” He softly asked her, Mallory immediately turned to look at him.

He had one corner of his mouth curled, a teasing twinkle in his eyes yet they watched her with such softness that it left Mallory’s throat feeling dry.

It was unfair how he unravelled her, how he just commanded feelings within her to surface or demand recognition. She liked to think she had the same effect on him, but it was hard to believe she could ever muster such a reaction.

Suddenly remembering his question, she just nodded before turning back to the Nebula, so she didn’t see Sam’s expression suddenly change to one that betrayed his feelings—he was scared, terrified even, of how she had a hold over him, while also wishing to give in to her every wish and whim. To see her this excited? Over something as common as a Nebula? It was beyond endearing.

Sam tilted the head of the ship downwards, Mallory looking at him in confusion before looking up at the ceiling of the cockpit to continue to look at the Nebula.

“I may get a kink in my neck looking like this…” She muttered, slightly annoyed that Sam would do something silly like this. He just chuckled as he got out of the pilot seat.

“Not your delicate neck.” He commented, feigning concern but Mallory knew it was there. She watched him, cross-armed and intrigued, at what he was doing.

From a locker, he pulled out a thick wool blanket only to lay it on the floor beneath the ceiling glass panels of the cockpit. He gestured for her to lay down. Mallory flashed a scrutinizing squint at Sam, causing a short, surprised, laugh to escape from him as he threw up his arms.

“Not trying anything, it’s just…trust me?” He asked her two words she could not resist or deny. Mallory slowly kneeled down onto the blanket, straightening out her legs and leaning back on her arms. Her head tilted upwards and…well it was even more beautiful than before.

The Nebula was perfectly centred within the frame of the ship, everything else blocked out seemed to make the colours of the swirling gas and dust brighter and more pronounced. Mallory heard Sam chuckle as he got down onto the blanket himself, she could feel his presence next to her, his hand lightly brushing hers as he took the same position.

“Just tell me I was right.” He smugly asked of her, finally pulling her attention to look at him, the brightest, happiest, smile in her expression.

His head fell to meet her gaze, and she saw how relaxed he was and how much the stress of his life bore onto him. It almost felt like she was looking at a different man.

It also felt like a warmth was spreading through her body, her heart beating as he let out a breathy smile, his eyes dancing between hers.

“I like to think you’ve gotten lost in my baby blues.” He continued with a light chuckle, the crinkle in his eyes pronouncing his smile and amusements. Mallory just pursed her lips, feigning annoyance while she fought every urge to kiss that smug smile off his lips. She turned to look back up.

“You were right.” She admitted, snorting a small laugh as she heard Sam let out a long and exaggerated sigh. Instinctively she reached out her hand to lightly tap his stomach. “You’re so mean sometimes.” She, unconvincingly, complained.

“Oh, and you aren’t?” He quickly became playfully defensive as he turned to prop himself up on one elbow to fully face his body towards her. She glanced down at him, knowing she had no good defense to his question, and instead just flicked off his hat and looked back to the stars. He just laughed while reaching behind him to grab his hat, laying down in the process and placing his hat over his face. “I just can’t with you.” His muffled words lightly escaped from within the top of his hat.

The motion, and visual sign of his defeat, had a gravitational pull on her. Mallory found herself rolling over so her body was close to his, almost laying over him, as she slowly raised his hat off his face.

“You can’t, huh?” She asked, her voice naturally becoming sultry and strained as she reached over his body to place his hat beside him. Perhaps taking advantage of her positioning, or finding himself letting go of the same inhibitions Mallory was trying to, Sam pulled her close to him before rolling them over so that he was overtop of Mallory.

However, unlike when she had gingerly placed herself beside him, his body was directly over hers. The proximity of Sam along with his position made her forget how to breathe for a moment, before Sam smiled, his gorgeous thick hair slowly starting to fall away from its well-structured position.

“You keep this up and I may have to break my earlier promise.” Mallory smiled, honestly not being able to recall anything prior to the moment he caged her within his frame.

“What promise?” She asked him, curious but also feeling a desire to get lost in this moment.

Sam just softly smiled at her, leaning his weight onto one arm so he could reach out to delicately tuck a few strands of hair behind her ear. Mallory felt herself blush deeply and fight every urge to not look away, as she had promised to do before they arrived here. His fingers continued from her ear to trail down the curve of her jaw, his thumb brushing her cheek until he lightly pinched her chin—his gaze, when Mallory had mustered the courage to look at him, was full of care and desire.

He smiled before starting to lean forward.

“This one.” He whispered against her lips before pressing his firmly against hers. Mallory, leaning into this instead of out, wrapped her arms around his neck and placed her hands on the top of his back, pulling him towards her.

All of the pent-up tension between them, the constant flirting and teasing, culminated into this single kiss and they both would be lying if they didn’t claim that they desperately craved a full release of that built tension.

Mallory moved her head, deepening their kiss, the both of them pressing their faces firmly against the other, dramatically inhaling through their flattened noses between each hungry kiss. Slowly they moved back into a seated position, neither allowing a disconnect from the other. Sam slowly removed his leather jacket, either from the heat of their actions or in preparation for something else.

Mallory smiled up at him, the middle of his torso at her eye level. Slowly she snuck her fingers under the fabric of his shirt, running her hands along his stomach while lifting his shirt only to reveal a small trail of hair along his stomach and then along his pectorals.

However, once she raised his shirt to that point, Sam had to take over due to where he kneeled over her as it limited her ability to reach that far—but she was where she wanted to be. As Sam lifted his shirt over his head, Mallory lightly kissed his stomach, just above his belly button. It immediately recoiled as he let out a small smile of surprise before relaxing.

Lightly, and slowly, she kissed below his belly button, and then lower, following the thin line of hair until she was far closer than she ever would have travelled if she allowed herself to have any sense of responsibility in this moment. But she didn’t—they had promised to remove all responsibilities they held in their life, to suspend them as they were suspended in space.

It was, truly, the only way they could ever allow themselves to be this close, this intimate. Or at least that was the case for Mallory.

Sam reached down to cup her chin once more, his eyes squinting as he smiled at her, light flickers within his expression giving away to the many things he was thinking of saying at this moment. Mallory let her head fall back as she left out a deep laugh of amusement and anticipation at whatever quip he would settle on. He smiled, obviously having decided on one.

His hand swept to the back of her head, lifting it into a comfortable position, as he leaned back into her.

“Can’t hurt that delicate neck of yours.” He whispered, a sickly grin spreading across his expression before he tucked his face between her shoulder and chin to firmly kiss her there, and again, and again. His lips travelled down to her collarbone and up to her jaw, each touch deliberate and hungrier than the last. Mallory felt Sam slip a knee between her legs, a fire burning between them yet a sudden jolt ran through her body, unable to—even with her promise—go further at this time.

Sam immediately sensed her hesitation, sitting back up and releasing his grip on her. His eyebrows pinching together in a silent concern, Mallory knew he was waiting for her to speak. Not wanting to burden the mood or moment, she forced a smile but it only lasted a moment as Sam lightly shook his head, telling her he would accept her as she was.

It was a gut punch of acceptance she could never anticipate from anyone.

The tears that welled beneath her eyes were immediate and unstoppable, a hand rushing to cover her mouth as it quivered uncontrollably at the foreign but desperately craved feeling.

Sam shot back, immediately panicked that he had been too forward but Mallory shot out a wide and open hand. She couldn’t manage to even muster a sound, but she shook her hand to try to say ‘no’ before pointing at herself as if to say: ‘It’s me’, ‘I’m the problem’... ‘I’m the crazy one’.

Sam’s expression softened as he rested into a kneeled position, effortlessly reaching out to grab her free but shaking hand, softly running lines of comfort over her skin. It honestly distracted her from her upset and emotions and found herself slowly calming down.

“Down there.” She croaked with a flick of her head, motioning for Sam to lay back down onto the blanket—that now required a bit of re-arranging in order to do so. Mallory swallowed the lump in her throat as Sam, still shirtless, rested against the floor with his hands on his stomach. “God I hate how you make me feel.” Mallory complained as she grabbed the arm closest to her and stretched it towards her, creating a gap for her to place herself against his body and arm.

“I like to think that’s a lie.” He chuckled as Mallory rested her head against his muscular arm, tucking her chin and face against his skin. Sam’s arm adjusted as he reached up to soothingly run his fingers through her hair. “You going to tell me what that was?” He asked her softly, the thought of expressing the reason for that overwhelming feeling had her lips fidgeting.

“Do I have to?” She asked, the final residual tears falling onto Sam’s chest. He immediately strained his neck to look at her face, Mallory sheepishly smiling while wiping the salty liquid off of him. “I’m fine.” She reassured him, but he just cocked an eyebrow and rested his head back down, this time placing his free hand behind it to offer some support.

“You mean you aren’t crying.” He corrected her, not even asking. “I don’t think you count as ‘fine’.” He softly advised, Mallory letting out a small laugh before the two of them laid in comfortable silence, Mallory’s hand naturally running up and down his chest. “Okay,” Sam started, the rumble in his chest present against her fingers, “how about a different question? Why is it that you are terrified of opening up?”

Mallory opened her mouth to give another deflection but Sam continued before she could speak.

“And before you try to be smart about this one too, let me provide my evidence on how I know this is true.” He paused, waiting for Mallory to try to fight him on this, but she just pressed her body further against him as if bracing herself for some rush of force. “I see how your body tenses, your fingers twitch, whenever I even get near a personal topic, but when I finally do manage to crack through your ironclad defences you are immediately relaxed—almost like a different person.”

Those were the five words he needed to say, as it immediately reminded her of the exact moment tonight when she felt the same about Sam. She remembered how elated and calming it felt to see him like that, and had to imagine he must have felt the same.

It was also an upsetting truth to face that she had no ability to relate to how she shut down his inquiries because he never did that to her. Sure there were some things he was hesitant to share, but he still did.

But Mallory, at least in her mind, had a justified reason to not share her thoughts or enjoyments of life.

Sam just didn’t know that…and with realizing this Mallory immediately, to her great discomfort, knew she had to tell him. She took a deep, shaky, breath.

“There are two reasons, really, that I don’t share things about myself. The first is because my life, Sam...my life just makes people sad. I don’t know how else to say it.” She paused, biting her bottom lip as she felt him stop playing with her hair and move his hand to provide some amount of embrace. “The other reason,” Mallory gave a self-deprecating laugh, “which will make you sad, is because anytime I would share things, I was never given a response of acceptance. As an adult, it was pity and ‘woe is you, you’re so strong for being so normal despite all you went through’. Every time. Then as a child, I—”

Mallory let out a gasp of air as if it was sucked out of her, terrified to be this vulnerable yet Sam had shown her no pity or false, surface level, compliments. He was just listening, softly breathing, his hand lightly running along her back.

“You sure you want to know?” She asked again, giving Sam another chance to not see her for how broken she truly was. Sam shifted his whole body so that he could face Mallory, his arm still a place for her head to rest, his whole body embracing her as if to shield her from the emotional pain she was burdened by, smiling at her as if to wash it all away.

“Without a doubt.” He told her, his expression soft but his tone determined and final. Mallory just pressed her face against his skin, his chest hair tickling her face a bit, slightly pulling her out of her ‘doom and gloom’-y mood.

“My mom.” Mallory managed to get out the two hardest words of this story. “She was, uh...a leading neurosurgeon around the world. I don’t know if you guys have those now but they are the top surgeons in the medical field and...not surprisingly, a good handful of them were narcissists with god complexes—something ‘dear old mum’ wasn’t safe from.” Mallory paused, swallowing and taking a breath in an attempt to take out the sharp edge in her tone. “It also meant she had...that I had to be just as great, if not better. Which...to a woman who thought she was the best thing on the planet, was a detrimental goal to put onto any child.”

“I’m so sorry,” Sam said, a thick layer of sadness blanketing his voice. Mallory just smiled—she had expected those words.

“Anytime I had an interest in something...if she didn’t think it would propel me forward in life, she would destroy it or take on the hobby herself and do it better than me so I would lose interest. So... eventually I just learnt to keep everything close to my chest. If you don’t reveal anything...if you aren’t vulnerable, then you don’t open yourself up to your hopes being crushed.”

“That, uh...that has to be incredibly lonely for you.” Sam slowly said, the same sadness still present.

“I have nothing to go home to, Sam.” Mallory finally admitted to him, knowing that this information would only make his will to fight for her to stay here stronger—his demand that she throw all caution to the wind at the probability that very action would cause a splinter of multi-versus and cause unknowing destruction on a calamity unfathomable to any human mind.

Yet, despite all of that, she truly, desperately, with every fibre of her being, hoped he would manage to convince her to before the end.

He paused for a long moment, his embrace remaining strong and firm.

“I hope you know that...” Sam hesitated a moment, taking a deep breath before letting out a larger sigh, “that you will always have a home here. At the Lodge or...even here with Cora and I.” Sam paused again, Mallory hearing how quickly his heart was beating, before he let out an awkward chuckle. “Not that I’m asking you to move in or anything, I just...”

“You don’t want me to go.” Mallory clarified for him, summarizing his jumble of words as neatly as possible for him. He gave a sigh of relief as he squeezed her tighter.

“I really don’t.” He told her, planting a soft, delicate, kiss on top of her head before resting back against the floor, pulling Mallory with him so she rested more on top of him rather than beside him. He peered down at her, tucking his chin against his neck, looking absurd and causing Mallory to naturally laugh at the silly sight. He smiled, resting it back once again. “Although my experience was nothing like that, I can sympathize with having a parent force you into a role you don’t want.” He added his own sharp edge in his tone.

“I’m so sorry—” Mallory began but Sam immediately cut her off.

“Don’t be, what you went through...” He voice petered off, Mallory thinking that he caught himself starting to say the one thing Mallory hated hearing when explaining her horrible and sad childhood. “Sorry.” He quickly added, confirming Mallory’s suspicions, but the fact that he was so quick to remember and be that thoughtful, well...that was everything to her.

She squeezed him tightly.

“Don’t be.” She reassured him, Mallory hearing him audibly smile.

“I’m going to convince you.” He told her, warned her ever, his voice and words serious and defiant. “I know you found a photo in a book but, and no offence Mallory, your memory sucks and I won’t accept that as the proof you aren’t meant to be here, meant to be...with me.” Mallory smiled into his chest at the hopeful and determined way he said those two words. “And when I do?” He paused for dramatic effect. “I will tell you that I told you so.”

Mallory chuckled.

“I wouldn’t expect anything else, cowboy.” She murmured against him, them both finding unknown and unfamiliar comforts in the other's presence and embrace.

They continued, after that, to lay there on the floor of his ship, changing glances up at the stars and then at each other. Sam mostly shared more facts about himself, how he had left home, how he had gained his skills as a pilot, and how he ended up meeting his ex—a point in the conversation Sam immediately realized Mallory was not a fan of and made a point to quickly skim over to when he had Cora on his own.

They laid in each other's arms for a few more hours until they both managed to, and quite unintentionally, fall asleep.

#sam coe #coemancer #starfield #starfield fanfiction #starfield sam coe #I love them so much #I hope you all do too #booburry writes

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