#these two are connected through time and space

[bullet-prooflove]

Together: Jack Abbot x Reader x Michael "Robby" Robinavitch

Tagging: @kmc1989

Just because it's my birthday and it's been a while since I've played with a throuple.

Summary: Jack comes home to find Robby in the kitchen and you sleeping the morning away.

It’s late when Jack gets in, or early depending on how you look at it. The morning sun is starting to filter in through the blinds and he can already hear Robby ambling about the kitchen as he hangs up his jacket on the coat stand by the door.

His footsteps are quiet as he pads towards the doorway, he lingers for a second watching the other man as he sets out three mugs, one for each of the people he loves. He’s wearing his faded Penguins t-shirt this morning, the one you usually like to sleep in. The blue is faded and the fabric pilled but it still looks like a million dollars clinging to his form like a second skin.

“Sleeping beauty still resting?” He asks as he pushes off the door frame. His palm comes to rest on Robby’s lower back, thumb rubbing a soothing circle to alleviate some of the tension the other man’s carrying in those broad shoulders of his.

“Yeah.” Robby responds, spooning in the decaf into Jack’s Bob Dylan mug. “It was a tough one for her last night, the smoke was still clinging to her skin when she got in.”

This is the problem with falling in love with a firefighter, they have an entire bathroom full of expensive products that help get rid of all the hazardous shit you end up coming into contact with. The good smelling stuff costs an arm and leg but their girl, she’s worth every penny. He knows that Robby would have taken good care of you when you stumbled through that door. His cock twitches in his combat pants as he imagines the two of you in the shower, Robby washing the soot from your hair as you made that contented little noise of yours.

He doesn’t remember the last time he showered with you or the last time he braided your hair.

“She’s got a shift in a couple of hours if you wanna go wake her up.” Robby informs him, his lips brushing over Jack’s temple. “She’s covering for Casey so the three of us can take that trip to the cabin next weekend.”

“Christ that can’t come quickly enough.” Jack murmurs, his cheek coming to rest on Robby’s shoulder, his arm encircling his waist, giving him a squeeze. “I want nothing more than three uninterrupted days with the two of you, fucking in front of the fire, making smores, bathing in the lake…”

That’s Jack’s idea of paradise right now. The shifts you all work, it can make it hard sometimes to catch enough of that quality time together, but when it does happen, that shit is magical.

“I’m feeling it too.” Robby assures him. “It doesn’t feel like there’s been much time to connect recently and I miss…”

He trails off, busying himself with the coffee but Jack knows what he means. There’s a sense of completion when the three of you are in the same space together, it makes his world feel full, happy. It’s been lacking over the past couple of weeks because you’ve been floating between firehouses.

“Why don’t you come with me?” Jack murmurs, his fingers threading through Robby’s as he tugs him towards the bedroom. “Why don’t we wake her up together?”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[just-your-average-cryptid]

The White Rabbit was a joke. That's what everyone thought - some rando in a cheap mask and an impeccable suit doing corporate sabotage for kicks. Sure, they left a trail of explosions in their wake (or fried servers, or pockets of space where physics had taken a bribe and a day off), but they didn't kill people. They couldn't be that strong.

Not like Knifepoint.

The guy was as unsubtle as his name suggested, and equally deadly. He'd kidnapped 10 people as his opening number, leaving an obscure trail of clues to their supposed location. Some of the best people on the Hero Force roster had spent harrowing weeks tracking him down, praying they would get to the victims before he did.

They were good people, she thought. Good people that deserved better than what he did to them - to that poor kid, barely out of high school and already being sent on a case like this.

Someone had to do something. Someone he couldn't pull apart like a tiger with a pumpkin full of meat, toying with their food before sinking their teeth in. Someone he wouldn't expect.

Then again, when had anyone expected what the White Rabbit would do next?

The old slaughterhouse was a bit on the nose. Plenty of tools for his torture routines, but not very creative. For a guy who could come up with killing methods out of other people's nightmares, she expected more than the red lighting and excessive hooks that seemed straight out of a budget shlock horror flick. Glancing up, she could see a maze of catwalks above the work floor. They would be useful in a moment.

"Little rabbits shouldn't be in a place like this..."

"Oh dear, you must think I'm here by accident. I assure you—" she said, yanking him by the collar through the darkness, "—I know who I'm dealing with."

"Do you?" he rasped, grinning with bloodstained teeth. The knife was already in his hand, swinging to her side. He collapsed when it should have connected, and she was gone.

"Yes. A little child who thinks making himself big and scary will frighten the other children, so he can tell them what to do. A dog who's been surrounded by foxes so long, he's forgotten what a real wolf looks like."

An overhead light chnnked on, the White Rabbit sitting casually on the cone above it. The building had been disconnected from the grid for decades, but that was nothing. Things never quite worked the way they should around her.

"A wolf in rabbit's skin, eh? Why don't I peel it off and see what kind of teeth I find?"

She laughed from two feet to his right. "You can certainly try."

He lunged, stabbing in the direction of her voice only to knock into a pillar. Clutching his head in frustration, he threw the knife to the ground and watched it bounce and jiggle like a rubber toy.

"Awww, is someone feeling upset? Do you need a time-out?" The world lurched to the side and over as he scrabbled at the concrete, tumbling to the ceiling-floor. She waited for him to notice her, sitting cross-legged with a tiny mug. "Tea?"

He scrambled on all fours, leaping as the world tossed again before comfortably settling right-side-down. He plummeted into the dark and never hit the floor.

The White Rabbit strolled up beside him, just out of reach as he continued to tumble endlessly. There were no walls, no floor, nothing in all directions but the endless dark. He would keep "falling," as much as one could call this suspended descent falling, until she decided he wasn't.

"They always say it's the stop that kills you. 'Course, that's assuming you will stop. I do wonder, if you and I stayed here for a brief eternity, if you'd keep falling forever. Nothin' to eat, no way to drink, but nowhere to fall to. Normal is a distant dream here - you're not really breathing, either, did you notice that? Probably not. You're too busy believing you can kill me if you reach just a little further." She watched him strain towards her, sipping her tea. Perfectly warm, a hint of lavender, as always. Quite pleasant. "Could just leave ya here. Finish my tea and be on my merry way. But that's too boring, you know?"

He landed upright, somehow (she imagined that "upright" was starting to feel less stable, now), breathing hard despite not really doing much for the last few second-hours of this dance. Granted, all time was now and forever for her. Maybe eternity really was that long for someone like him.

"What... the hell... are you?" he rasped, hand to his throat as he gulped in air like a man in the desert gulps down an oasis.

She loomed over him, red lights flickering and blinking out around them. "What shall I leave you with?" Her hand pushed through his chest, felt the electric tingle of nerves pulsing against her fingertips. "What's it feel like, to have all your alarms going off at once? Pain and heat and cold and hunger, clawing and writhing under your skin?" Knifepoint shuddered as she wrenched her arm back. "You want to cut people open, see how they tick, poke and prod them like lab rats. Why bother? I can show you everything there is inside you - every blood cell running through your veins, every breath of air in your lungs, every point of light pinging your eyes." He fell to his knees, convulsing, scratching at his arms and neck. A flick of her hand and it stopped.

She crouched in front of him, a smile creeping across her face from behind the rabbit mask. Few every saw it from this close; it was far more ornate than it appeared, but more importantly, it had holes instead of eyes. The swirling cyan glow his gaze eventually met was her own.

"You asked what I am. Let me teach you."

Knifepoint was found in his hideout after an anonymous tip, though Deputy Martinez had seen enough "anonymous" packages to know this was their work. The White Rabbit, as usual, was nowhere to be seen, and had left surprisingly little evidence of their presence. The extract team had come heavily armed after what happened to Owlet, but he was just... sitting there, on the floor, muttering to himself on loop. One of his knives was found several feet away, seemingly altered by the Rabbit's powers into a floppy mockery of the weapon that had terrorized the city for weeks.

"Report in."

"Knifepoint's bagged, though you won't get much out of him. Looks like he finally snapped - the rest of him, at least."

"Any sign of the White Rabbit?"

"Not a one. No explosions today."

"Is he still conscious?"

"We're not sure. Eyes are open, body moves normally, everything works like it does when you're awake - but he's not responding to anything. Extract carried him out and it's like he didn't even notice, just keep repeating the same phrase."

"Well... what was he sayin'?"

"Everything is nothing is now is forever is nothing is everything is now is forever is everything is nothing is now is forever... on and on with hardly a breath."

"The hell does that mean?"

Martinez glanced up at the roof. For a moment, she thought she'd seen someone up there. She'd been having a lot of those moments since she started this chase. "I don't know, but... if they could do this to him now..."

"You think it's an escalation?"

"I think it's a warning."

You pretend to be a small-time villain. At worst, you annoy the local supers but your crimes never hurt anyone. All fun and games until things change when a truly sadistic super villain invades your turf and murders a few of the supers. No one has seen the extent of your true powers until now.

[askkaneethi]

How’s the first meeting between you and your fs going to be? (where)

Pick a card reading 🤫

Hi lovesss consider booking a “who’s your fs?” reading with me for more personal details!!! Also check out my ko-fi for more readings!! 🫶🏻

Pile 1- 👩🏻‍🍳

Pile 2- 🧁

Pile 3- 🍀

Pile 👩🏻‍🍳:

Your first meeting with your future spouse will come at a time when you or them are going through a lot of change. Something in your lives could’ve ended and emotions might be high and uncertain. You could meet them through school, work, or during a time you both are rebuilding your life. You might not expect to meet your fs and it will feel very random. There will be a magnetic pull between you two, perhaps eye contact that lingers longer than expected, a strange feeling of deja vu, or an intense familiarity. The meeting will be genuine, respectful and maybe one of you or both could be feeling a bit shy. The convo will start about something small or practical like asking for help, talking about work, etc. it will feel fated, like everything that happened somehow led to this meeting/moment. There will be a moment that will stay stuck with you, a positive one. I’m seeing both of your eyes sparkling while looking at each other.

Pile 🧁:

The emotional connection between you and your future spouse will be instant. There may be share laughter, soft touches like touching your knees, not moving their hands from your tight, etc. Eye contact will also be prominent Your heart will feel full and fluttery. You and your fs will instantly connect and feel seen by each other. Expect a powerful conversation, maybe a share belief or sharp wit that instantly connects with you. You might meet at an event, party or social gathering. You guys will feel like you’ve known each other for years, if you saw 11:11 recently that is confirmation! This meeting will be at divine timing, and you’ll immediately feel pulled towards them emotionally and spiritually. There’s a sense that you two just fit. The attraction will be instant and you guys could even go away at the event and find a place to talk alone together, the sparks will be flying between you two.

Pile 🍀:

The moment you meet your future spouse will be the moment you know your manifestations have been heard, you’ll know that this is your person. The chemistry will be strong in every aspect and it will feel like the universe aligned everything perfectly. One or both of you might appear confident or mysterious. This meeting will not be a coincidence. You guys will instantly get each other, it’s like you won’t even have to explain what you think because they’ll immediately know. The meeting will feel important and it will show up when you’re becoming a new version of yourself. The vibe of the meeting will be calm, private and intimate. You guys could meet in a quiet or healing place like a bookstore, cafe, or spiritual space. When you guys meet it will feel like a breath of fresh air. One of you could be at a low point in your life and this meeting will be like light at the end of the tunnel. They will admire your independence, your vibe and vice versa. The meeting will be emotionally raw but comforting. I’m seeing playful banter between you two.

Thank you much guys for reading! Please check out my page/masterlist for more and consider booking a reading with me through ko-fi!!

Love yall 💗🫶🏻

[lonely-ey3s]

Heartlines | Chapter Seven

pairing: harry castillo (materialists) x f!reader

chapter summary : You arrive in the Maldives with Harry and his family. Sunny beaches, beautiful, dreamy bungalows, and time with Harry? What more can a girl ask for?

chapter warnings: fluff, Harry speaks Spanish (translations will be there), old money rich castillos, anxiety, SMUT (18+ MDNI), mentions of a child having health issues, soft!harry, flirting, if I missed anything, lmk!!

word count: 10.4k

a/n: just a reminder! chapters will be every other sunday alternating ride or die !!

your feedback is very important to me, and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments, and likes. I secretly hope you like this story. 🤍

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics and @cafekitsune

Masterlist

The door creaked open with a soft whoosh, letting in the salt-sweet scent of ocean air and the faint sound of waves lapping the shore just beyond the bungalow’s shaded porch.

Harry stepped inside first, rolling both of your suitcases in behind him. You followed, your bare feet sinking into the cool, smooth wood floors, eyes wide as you took in the space — all warm neutrals and soft linens, with billowing curtains framing wide glass doors that opened to a private deck and the turquoise water beyond.

“Wow… I see why your parents chose this place,” you murmured, smiling.

Before Harry could answer, Lucia’s voice floated in from behind the still-open door.

“—and don’t forget, dinner’s at seven sharp, so you’ll want to unpack or nap before then, not after the beach,” she called sweetly.

Harry turned and braced one hand on the doorframe, head tilted toward his mom, who was still standing on the wooden walkway that connected all the bungalows. “Got it, mamá. Beach in two hours, dinner at seven. No napping after five. Bedtime snack approved. Full itinerary downloaded.” he said sarcastically. 

Lucia gave him a faux-glare. “I’m serious! No desaparezcas en tu burbuja de amor.” (Don’t disappear into your love bubble)

“We won’t, Mama. We’ll be on our best behavior,” he said with a grin.

You came over and peeked around him. “We promise...”

Lucia softened immediately. “I’m just so happy you’re here, cariño. Encajas perfectamente.” (You fit in beautifully.) 

You felt your cheeks warm. “Thank you, that means a lot.”

Harry gave her one last cheeky salute and nudged the door. “Okay, we’ll see you later. We love you...”

“No olvides el protector solar!” (Don’t forget sunscreen) she called just before the door finally closed.

Silence fell, thick and wonderful.

Harry let out a long breath and leaned back against the now-shut door, head thudding gently against the wood. “Finally.”

You giggled and looked at him before lightly pulling on the lapels of his shirt towards you, “I know we said we wouldn’t, but wanna desaparezcas en tu burbuja de amor?” You attempted to repeat what his mom said, not knowing exactly what it meant. 

He leaned in and put his hands on your waist, pulling you close, his lips chasing yours, “Mhmm, yes please…” 

He picked you up, making you giggle and lightly squeal. Your hands threading through his hair as you leaned in to kiss him — gently at first, then gradually getting more intense and passionate. 

He walked you through the living room area to the bedroom, lips crashing over each others.

The soft cotton of the duvet met your back as Harry lowered you onto the bed, never breaking the kiss. The breeze stirred the curtains as his body pressed into yours, his weight grounding, his touch was everything you had been needing.

You hummed against his lips, tugging lightly on the curls at the nape of his neck. “You gonna keep kissing me like that or actually do something about it?” You teased.

He chuckled low in his throat, pulling back just enough to look down at you — eyes dark, mouth curved into a smirk. “Someone’s impatient.”

You arched a brow. “Can you blame me?”

His hands skimmed beneath your dress, rough palms sliding along your thighs. “Oh, I know you’ve missed me,” he whispered, voice going husky as his lips brushed your jaw. “I could feel it the second you hugged me at the airfield… the way your body molded to mine like it’d been starving these last few days without me.”

You tried to fire back with something clever, but the heat of his mouth on your throat stole your breath. He kissed you just below your ear, his teeth grazing the skin.

“Harry…” you gasped softly.

“Say it again,” he murmured. “Say my name…”

You whimpered his name as his fingers teased higher under the hem of your dress, brushing just beneath the lace of your underwear. His voice deepened, still low and tender but with more of that dangerous edge you rarely heard.

“I’ve been thinking about this for days,” he muttered against your skin, his hand finally cupping you through the lace. “How wet you’d be the second I got you alone.”

You gasped, fingers clenching in the fabric of his shirt as he kissed his way down your chest, nudging the neckline aside.

“I missed your mouth,” you confessed breathlessly, your thighs parting slightly under his touch.

He groaned, slipping a hand behind your thigh to hook your leg around his hip. “I missed the way you melt for me… the way you tremble.”

You grinned, blushing, tugging him up so your noses were brushing. “You talk like that much longer and you won’t get to see what I brought.”

He stilled, eyes narrowing playfully. “Oh? What’d you bring?”

You bit your lip and whispered, “New bikinis. A few dresses I know you’ll like…”

His gaze flicked to your mouth, hungry now.

“…and lingerie to match each one. But only if you behave.”

He growled — actually growled — then rolled his hips into yours. “I’m not the one misbehavin’...”

You smirked and rolled your hips along with his, watching his body tense.

He groaned, “Mmm, if you tease me like that again, I’m not letting you leave this bed until dinner.”

You let out a little gasp as he pinned your wrists gently above your head, his other hand slipping your panties to the side.

“And if I told you I don’t want to behave?” you whispered.

He smirked, dragging his lips back down your body, voice low and certain. “Then I’ll have to remind you exactly who you’re misbehaving for.”

Your breath caught as his mouth found the inside of your thigh. Slowly dragging kisses against your skin — the kind that made your back arch even before he touched where you needed him most.

He looked up at you, curls falling over his forehead, lips already swollen from kissing you senseless.

“I’ve missed having you like this,” he murmured, voice gravelled with desire. “All spread out for me… already so wet.”

You whimpered as his tongue finally traced a path through your folds, slow and deliberate. He groaned softly at the taste of you, hands holding your thighs open, grounding you with the pressure of his grip.

“Fuck, baby… you taste like you’ve been thinking about this too.”

“I have,” you gasped, your fingers slipping into his hair as his mouth worked you expertly. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you all weekend…”

He moaned into you, tongue flicking in circles that made your thighs tremble.

Your hips bucked, but he held you down, his voice muffled but firm, “Mmm, not yet, baby. I’m not done with you.”

You were already close — embarrassingly fast and he knew it — he loved it.

He pulled back just before you tipped over, lips wet, jaw flushed, and looked up at you.

“Turn over,” he whispered, breath heavy.

Your chest heaved as you obeyed, flipping to your stomach slowly, feeling the cool air hit your damp thighs. He sat up and pressed a kiss between your shoulder blades and leaned down, dragging his fingers up your spine.

“God, look at you…” he groaned. “You’ve got no idea what you do to me.” He said as he lifted your hips up to place a pillow under you, propping you at the perfect angle.

You felt him shift behind you, his hand guiding himself as he lined up and slowly pushed inside you from behind — deep and steady, both of you moaning as your bodies finally fit together again.

His hand gripped your hip, the other bracing near your shoulder as he thrust into you with a rhythm that was firm, sure, and unhurried.

“I’ve wanted to take you like this since that night at the ball,” he muttered, voice hot against your ear as he leaned over you. “Dress hiked up, legs shaking on that table… you look so fucking good when you’re wrecked and proud of it.”

You gasped at the memory of the pool table, your body clenching around him.

“You’re mine,” he breathed.  

“I’m yours,” you whimpered.

“Say it again,” he groaned.

“I’m yours, Harry—please…” you mewled. 

“Good girl,” he growled, his hand slipping between your legs to circle your clit with practiced strokes. “Now come for me. Let go. I’ve got you.”

Your vision blurred as everything rapidly unraveled — heat crashing over you, your cries muffled in the pillow you laid your head on, body shaking as he rode you through your climax, whispering how good you felt, how perfect you were.

Moments later, with a strangled moan, he buried himself deep and came with a shudder, breath stuttering against your back as he collapsed gently over you.

Silence stretched between the soft drag of your breathing, your bare skin hot and damp, bodies tangled together in the warm golden light that filtered in through the curtains.

Harry nuzzled into your neck, still catching his breath, his voice low and gravel, “Fuck… we’re not gonna make it to the beach are we?”

You giggled breathlessly, moving to lie down on your back, easing him off to lie next to you. “Perhaps not.”

He turned on his side and kissed your shoulder, then your cheek, and finally your lips — slower this time. Sweeter.

“I missed you,” he murmured.

You smiled, brushing your thumb along his jaw. “I missed you, too.”

He pulled you close, wrapping you in his arms, and for a long moment neither of you moved — just breathing each other in.

Finally, he whispered against your temple, “Did you say a lingerie set to match each outfit?”

You smirked. “I did...”

His soft laugh vibrated through you. “Fuck, I’m in trouble...”

The walk down to the beach was short, but it felt like stepping into a dream. The late afternoon sun painted the water in golden streaks, the waves lapping gently against the shore. The air was thick with salt and something slow and easy — vacation energy, the kind that makes every breath feel deeper, every touch more electric.

Harry’s hand gripped yours loosely as you followed the path of wooden planks through swaying palms, his thumb brushing your knuckles. 

He wore red swim trunks that were low on his hips, his bare chest catching the light, skin already kissed with a beautiful olive tone — one that made him already look sun–kissed. His curls were messy from the breeze and slight humidity, and a pair of light brown aviators sat perched on the bridge of his nose.

You couldn’t stop staring as you walked side by side. 

“You’re drooling,” he murmured without looking at you.

You bit your lip and looked forward, trying not to grin. “I am not.”

He turned slightly, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Then what’s that look?”

You turned your head back and gave him a long once-over, making sure he saw. “Can’t a girl swoon over her hot boyfriend? Plus, it should be illegal for you to look that good in sunglasses and swim trunks…”

He laughed. “You’re the one in that bikini.”

The red suit clung to your curves just right — minimal, flattering, tied at the hips and behind your neck, a gold dainty chain hung around your waist to add a little bit more. All of it was covered only slightly by a sheer black wrap that floated as you walked. You gave him a look over your sunglasses. “Bought them with the intention of us having matching sets. Plus it’s hot.”

“Oh, I know,” he muttered. “You in that thing… It’s going to be the death of me today.”

You leaned into him, voice low, “That’s the point, handsome...” then pecked his cheek.

Harry groaned under his breath, muttering something about suffering in silence as you reached the stretch of beach where the family had already set up their towels, umbrellas, chairs, and snacks. Rafael waved, beer in hand, while Lucia called out, “Did you grab sunscreen, mijo?”

Harry saluted her lazily, but as you dropped your bag and started spreading out your towel, he leaned down to whisper, “No promises that I’ll behave today.”

You tilted your head. “Not even if I said I brought another bikini for tomorrow? A smaller one?”

His eyes flared. “You’re evil.”

You smirked. “You love it.”

You spread out the towel and settled beside him, pulling a paperback from your bag. He followed suit, grabbing the book you’d mentioned to him weeks ago and hadn’t expected him to actually bring, let alone read it.

After a few minutes, the beach faded around you, books in hand, shoulders brushing. Every few minutes, Harry’s hand would shift — to your thigh, your knee, the inside of your wrist. Sometimes he’d lean over and kiss your shoulder without a word. There was something oddly romantic about sitting side by side in matching red, legs tangled slightly beneath the shade, fingers occasionally brushing, both of you reading in peaceful silence.

At one point, Harry reached for your hand and kissed the back of it without looking up from his book. You didn’t say anything. You didn’t have to. That little gesture lit that soft, flickering warmth in your chest.

“Want me to reapply your sunscreen?” he asked innocently as he closed his book.

You raised a brow. “Do you even have sunscreen on yourself?” you teased.

“I’ll survive.” he leaned over and kissed your cheek.

You turned slightly and untied the sheer cover-up from around your waist, baring your back as you tossed your hair over one shoulder. “Try to keep it PG, Castillo.”

“Impossible, mi amor.” he moved to sit behind you, gently kissing your cheek.

His hands were warm and careful as he rubbed the lotion into your back, but you could feel the shift in him — the restraint. His fingers lingered on your lower back a beat too long. When he leaned forward to kiss your shoulder, you felt him smile against your skin.

“Mmm, you’re doing this on purpose,” he murmured.

“Doing what?” you looked over your shoulder at him. 

“Looking like that. Smelling like coconut. Moaning every time I touch you.”

“I am not,” you gasped, laughing.

“You are,” he whispered, nosing your neck. “You’re killin’ me.”

You turned more, meeting his eyes over your shoulder. “Then suffer, handsome.” You teased.

Harry sat back, jaw clenched playfully. “You’re going to regret that later.”

“I’m counting on it.”

Before he could respond, Savannah came sprinting over. “Uncle Harry! Come swim! You promised!”

He stood, brushing the sand off his thighs with a groan. “You’re lucky I love them and keep my promises.”

You winked. “I’m lucky you look that good...” you sat back on your hands and trailed your eyes down his body slowly. 

His cheeks bloomed light pink, and he playfully threw a towel at you, making you squeal and duck, then jogged off toward the waves.

You laid back down, watching him splash into the water with Savannah and little Harry clinging to each arm. He ducked beneath the surface, lifting them above the waves as they shrieked with laughter.

The three of them were in their own little world, completely wrapped up in the joy and fun of each other.

You went back to reading for a few more pages before you heard the kids squeal as they ran to their dad who was sitting with Lindee making a sand castle. 

You looked up from your book to find Harry and that’s when the breath was stolen from your lungs, your heart started racing and a warmth bloomed straight between your thighs at the sight in front of you. 

You tossed your book aside and moved to sit up on your elbows, your sunglasses sitting at the bottom of your nose to get a better look as he walked out of the sea in what felt like slow motion. 

Soaked. Hair dripping. Sunglasses pushed up on his head. Water sliding down every inch of toned, sun-drenched muscle.

Your mouth may have dropped open, followed by a small, quiet groan.

Liv, reclining nearby, glanced at you and smiled knowingly. “The Castillo boys always know how to draw attention.”

You grinned, cheeks flushed. “Oh, he knows exactly what he’s doing.”

She chuckled, eyes on her husband. “They don’t show off for just anyone...”

As Harry reached you, toweling off his hair, yourself to sit up, looking up at him with a dangerous glint in your eye.

“If you strut out of the water like that again, I’m going to be forced to start a scandal on this beach.”

He smirked, looking down at you. “What kind of scandal?”

“The kind where I forget we’re surrounded by your entire family and jump you right here.”

He leaned down and kissed you — just a brush of lips, playful and quick. “Tempting me’s going to backfire, cariño.”

You rolled onto your side, brushing sand from your thigh. “If it hasn’t already, you’re not paying attention.”

He looked like he might actually explode.

“Jesus, I’m not going to survive this trip,” he muttered.

You laughed and handed him a water bottle, your cleavage accentuating. 

He shook his head, eyes glinting, knowing exactly what you were doing. “Lo juro por Dios, baby…” He said, grabbing the bottle and chugging half of it.

And even as the kids screamed and splashed and conversations drifted all around, the two of you stayed in your little bubble — sun-warmed skin, flirtation, and enjoying each other's company.

The sun had dipped just below the horizon as you and Harry walked up the gentle slope to the outdoor dining terrace, hand-in-hand, the sea breeze tugging lightly at your light blue sundress. Lanterns flickered along the railings, casting golden halos over the family already gathered around the long table under twinkling lights.

Harry leaned in as you approached. “You doin’ okay?”

You nodded, lips curved gently. “You’re right here, right?”

He smiled and squeezed your hand. “Always.”

You leaned your head against his arm for a moment, “Then I’m perfect.” 

As you approached the dining table, Lucia was seated at the far end, already deep in conversation with Simon and Rafael, but when she saw the two of you approaching, she lit up. “¡Finalmente! We were about to send someone to find you.”

Before you could sit, a new voice piped in from your left.

“Well, well… so this must be the famous girlfriend.”

You turned toward the sound, and there she was — Anne. 

You’d seen pictures of her before, but there she was, in the flesh. She looked like the kind of woman who never had to try hard to turn heads — polished, put together, luscious dark brown hair swept into a bun, not one strand out of place. Her gorgeous light brown eyes were already scanning you. She dressed in head-to-toe name brand, even her makeup you assumed was a luxury brand. She was everything you expected and yet more. 

She stood to greet you with a tight smile, flanked by her husband, Spencer. He was tall, kind-eyed, with a quiet steadiness along with their two kids: Anthony, already digging into the bread basket, and Esmerelda, a tiny bundle of curls clinging to her father’s neck, babbling.

Before Harry could speak, Anne offered her hand.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Rebecca, right?”

You blinked — just once — and smiled softly, your fingers sliding into hers with a polite shake. “Actually, it’s Y/N” you said lightly, letting out a small laugh. “You must be Anne...”

Anne didn’t flinch, only raised an eyebrow slightly. “Oops. My mistake…”

Harry cleared his throat beside you, giving her a clear warning, but you gave his hand a subtle squeeze, silently telling him not to make a thing of it.

“It happens,” you said easily. “Happens all the time at the hotel, actually. I’ve answered to everything, from Emily to Bianca.” You lightly chuckled. 

Spencer chuckled under his breath and offered you a genuine smile. “Well, Y/N, it’s so nice to meet you. I’ve heard the kids haven’t stopped talking about you since the aquarium…”

You greeted him warmly and waved at the little one perched on his hip, gently tickling the bottom of her foot, making her giggle. 

Harry kissed your temple and stuck by you, introducing you to Anthony as well.

Anne slinked away, and you did the same after speaking to her husband for a few more moments. 

You sat down beside Harry as everyone gathered to start eating. For a few minutes, things settled — food started arriving by the wait staff, drinks passed, and the hum of overlapping conversations filled the space.

That was until Anne leaned forward, spearing a piece of grilled pineapple with her fork.

“So, Y/N… what is it that you do again? I can’t remember if you’d said...”

You swallowed your sip of water and smiled. “I’m a hotel manager at the Ritz. I’ve been running operations there for about 8 years — it’s a lot of moving gears, but I love it.”

“Ah,” Anne said, with a soft southern lilt and a sugary smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “So you’re just in hospitality. That must be… exhausting. Dealing with people all day?”

You tilted your head just slightly, reading between every single word.

Harry sat forward and clenched his jaw, making eye contact with her, “She’s not just in hospitality, she’s one of the best.”

You put your hand on his and softly cleared your throat to refocus her onto you.

“It can be,” you said, still smiling, “but I enjoy taking care of people. Ensuring they feel welcomed and looked after. I’ve met some of the kindest people — and the most complicated ones too. But I like the challenge either way.”

Anne sipped her wine, keeping her eyes on you. “Sounds like you must have a lot of patience.”

You met her gaze evenly. “I do. Especially with people who come in assuming they know more than I do.”

Harry let out a quiet cough beside you, like he might choke on his water.

You kept your tone gentle, unbothered. “Turns out patience and empathy go a long way. Most people just want to feel seen.”

There was a pause — not long, but just long enough — before Spencer jumped in, clearing his throat to ease the tension.

“I’d love to hear how you two met,” he said, glancing between you and Harry. “From your side, Y/N. We’ve only heard Harry’s version about a million times,” he joked.

The rest of the table lightly chuckled, and Harry smiled, clearly pleased at the redirect. “Go ahead, mi vida,” he murmured, nudging your knee under the table, moving his hand to rest on the small of your back.

You gave a small laugh, leaning forward in your seat, eyes drifting to him before meeting Spencer’s.

“Well,” you began, “We met at my sister’s wedding. She married Harry’s best friend, so we were paired up as best man and maid of honor to walk down the aisle together.” You smiled softly.  “First time I saw him, he was the one to direct me to where the florist was. He won’t say this, but I think I looked like a bat out of hell running around looking for them…”

The table chuckled. Even Anne cracked a reluctant smile.

“And?” Spencer asked, eyes gleaming.

“And,” you said slowly, smiling at the memory, “After a night of me trying to avoid his big brown eyes and charm… he finally got me cornered and asked me to dance — and didn’t allow my excuse that I didn’t know how to dance slide. Isn’t that right?” You looked back at Harry with a loving smile. 

Everyone laughed at that.

Harry hummed softly. “I knew one dance would crack ya open to the idea of me…”

You leaned into him just a little. “Well, it worked as we danced at least once more that night, in the…” You suddenly couldn’t remember what it was called. 

“In the vineyard,” he finished, taking your hand in his, then bringing it to his lips to kiss your knuckles. 

You found his eyes and nodded, gently squeezing his hand, “That’s right, the vineyard.” 

It was like it was just you two for a moment. He rubbed your knuckles with his thumb gently, as he lightly chuckled. “I found you out there all sad and mopey after that idiot said somethin’ to dim your light at the bar.” 

You nodded and turned him more, “That’s right! Diego…” you tsked. 

His eyes were nothing short of warm and filled with pure adoration as he watched you reminisce about that part of your relationship, mentioning the jacket of his that drowned you down to the song that played while you two danced together. 

After the table shared a small chuckle at Harry mentioning how you practically fell into his arms when you both stumbled over each other’s feet, you glanced at Lucia and Rafael — who were both watching you with quiet pride.

“To be honest,” you continued, “I didn’t expect it to turn into anything. But Harry… he’s persistent. And kind. He continued showing up. He’s even gone to the lengths of showing up with a different bouquet every time we see each other. All just to figure out which flower is my favorite.” 

You looked back at him and blushed. “No one’s ever done anything like that for me before.”

Harry leaned over and gently kissed your cheek before vowing in front of anyone, “I’d give you the world: the moon, the stars — anything you ask, it’s yours, mi vida.”

You couldn’t help the smile and blush on your face as you looked down shyly. 

“I didn’t know that you did that with the flowers, Harry…” Liv said softly, clearly touched before looking at Simon — who just nodded and smiled knowingly at how his brother was with you.

You looked up at the table, lacing your fingers with his under the table. “It’s told me everything I needed to know about who he is.”

Rafael stood and smiled as he raised his glass. “To showing up — and to flowers! It’s now clear that Simon, Spencer, and I need to learn a lesson or two from Harry on how to treat our women.”

Glasses clinked, and everyone chuckled at that.

After a few moments and the conversation switching, you could feel Harry’s thumb brush over your hand, and when you looked at him, the affection in his eyes told you everything else you needed to know:

You handled that perfectly.

After a night of delicious food, laughter, and sharing memories of past family trips — the music drifted across the sand. A light laughter mixed with the low thump of bass as a few couples — including Spencer and Lucia — swayed near the glowing bar setup under a canopy of string lights. You sat for a moment alone at the edge of the long table, watching Harry jog off toward the path back to the bungalows.

“Just grabbing your sweater, I’d gettin’ cold out here…” he’d said, brushing a kiss to your forehead. “Be back in five.”

Your eyes scanned the terrace, looking for a place to sit where you wouldn’t be awkwardly loitering. That’s when you spotted Anne, sitting a few seats away with little Esmerelda in her lap, holding a spoon and gently feeding her bites of mango sorbet while murmuring soft encouragements to her with each bite.

No one else was nearby, no distractions, no sharp edges. Just a mother and her daughter in the warm hush of evening.

You stood slowly and walked over, heart fluttering with quiet nerves.

“Hey,” you said gently, stopping beside her. “Mind if I sit for a second?”

Anne looked up, surprised — not cold, just wary. But then she nodded toward the chair beside her. “Sure.”

You sat, folding your hands in your lap, glancing down at Esmerelda as she wiggled in Anne’s arms and reached for another bite.

“She’s got the family eyelashes,” you said softly, nodding toward the little girl. “Like Harry’s.”

Anne blinked, caught off guard again, then smiled. “She does. Got my husband’s temper, though.”

You both laughed — a real one, not a forced one.

“She’s beautiful,” you said honestly. “I can tell she’s very loved.”

Anne nodded slowly, tucking a loose curl behind Esmerelda’s ear. “She is.”

For a moment, the only sound was the waves and the soft clatter of a spoon in a ceramic bowl.

“I wanted to say…” You exhaled. “I know we got off to a weird start.”

Anne’s lips pressed together, her gaze unreadable. But she didn’t speak. So you continued.

“I know I’m… new. And I know how much Harry means to you. I can see that — how close you are with him. I’d be protective too.”

Anne’s posture didn’t soften exactly, but it shifted — like a thread had been loosened in the invisible tension between you.

“I’ve got a sister,” you added, “and I’d take anyone’s head off if they hurt her.”

Anne looked at you then — really looked at you. You let the words linger before finishing softly, “But I also know what it means to support someone you love by trusting who they choose.”

There was a pause. Then Anne’s voice came low, honest. “He’s been through a lot. He doesn’t talk about it, but I know. I’ve seen what certain relationships took out of him.”

You nodded slowly. “I’m not here to take anything from him.”

Anne looked down at Esmerelda, then back at you.

“He said you don’t want anything from him except who he is,” she said, surprising you. “Said you make him feel like he can breathe again.”

Your throat tightened. “He said that?”

She nodded once. “So… If that’s really true, then I want to know you better. For his sake.”

Your chest eased slightly, your hands unclenching in your lap.

“I’d like that,” you said quietly.

Anne hesitated. Then she glanced across the terrace toward Lucia, who was mid-laugh at something Simon said.

“Lucia, Liv, and I are doing the spa day on Thursday,” Anne said. “You should come. Girls’ thing. Low-key. No weird vibes.”

You smiled, warmth blooming across your chest. “I’d love to.”

Just then, Esmerelda let out a squeaky giggle, kicking her feet against Anne’s legs as she reached for the last bite.

Anne chuckled. “She’s just a little spoiled, can you tell?”

“She’s two,” you grinned. “Spoiled is in the job description.”

You both laughed again, not as strangers this time. 

Harry’s POV

He reached the edge of the terrace again, sweater slung over one arm, the breeze just beginning to cool the back of his neck. He scanned for you first, automatically, eyes landing on you. Sitting next to Anne. Talking. Smiling. Laughing?

Harry stopped in his tracks.

It wasn’t tense or awkward — in fact, Anne looked more at ease than she had all evening. Her body was turned slightly toward you, and Esmerelda was wiggling on her lap, sticky with mango sorbet as you leaned in to help clean her little face with a napkin, gently teasing her in a high voice that made the toddler giggle.

Anne… smiled as she watched you with her daughter. And not the fake polite kind she always had on standby, it was genuine and warm. 

Harry’s chest filled with something slow and quiet — awe, maybe? Gratitude. A soft ache in his ribs, realizing you’d gone out of your way to find common ground with the person who, hours ago, barely gave you a chance.

He walked back toward the table, steps quiet, not wanting to interrupt. He stopped a few feet away, just watching for a moment — the two most guarded women in his life, sitting together, finding a way through.

You looked up, sensing him before you saw him, and smiled — that warm, private smile that made everything else fall away.

He stepped forward and set the sweater gently on your shoulders, hands brushing your skin.

“Miss me?” he murmured in your ear.

“Always,” you whispered back.

Anne didn’t say anything, but when she met Harry’s eyes, she gave a small nod. Just enough to say: I see it now.

The moonlight bathed the shoreline in silver, the waves gentle as they rolled across the sand with rhythmic ease. The warm glow from the resort’s outdoor terrace faded behind you as you and Harry strolled along the quiet stretch of beach, your shoes in hand, his other hand laced tightly with yours.

Dinner had ended with laughter, dessert, and full hearts. The way his thumb was brushing yours as you walked told you he wasn’t ready to call the night over just yet.

“Tonight felt… big,” you murmured softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

Harry looked over at you, his profile lit by moonlight. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Meeting your sister. Holding my own. Watching your family — they’re so loud and loving. It’s a lot. But in a good way.”

He smiled faintly, bumping his shoulder against yours. “They’re definitely a lot.”

“I can see where you get it from,” you teased.

“Oh?” he asked, smirking. “My charming wit? My devastating good looks?”

You grinned. “I was going to say your sarcasm.”

He chuckled, then quieted for a moment, his tone softening. “You were incredible tonight. I know Anne can be… a lot.”

You didn’t respond right away, letting the sound of the waves fill the space between you.

“I could tell she was testing me,” you finally said. “But I also get it. She loves you. She doesn’t want to see you hurt.”

“She has a way of hiding a dagger in a smile,” he muttered, squeezing your hand. “But you saw through it. And the way you handled it — it meant a lot. To me. To my mom. Even my dad pulled me aside after dinner and told me that you were ‘someone he could see being a part of the family.’” He paused. “He doesn’t say things like that often.”

You felt your chest warm, a quiet kind of glow spreading across your ribs. “He was sweet. And your mom? She hugged me more times than I think my own mother has in the last year.”

“That’s her version of a royal decree,” he joked.

You laughed, and he stopped walking, tugging you gently toward him so you faced him.

Up ahead, where the beach curved around a bend, you could hear soft music drifting from the open-air bar of another resort — faint piano notes and a voice you instantly recognized.

Frank Sinatra’s smooth croon melted into the night air, nostalgic and romantic:

“Some day… when I’m awfully low… when the world is cold… I will feel a glow just thinking of you… and the way you look tonight.”

Harry’s lips twitched into a grin. “They’re playing our song...”

“Oh, I didn’t know we had a song?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Just decided,” he said, reaching for your waist. “Dance with me?”

You hesitated, only for a second, before nodding and dropping your shoes to the sand. “Always.”

He pulled you close, your bodies fitting easily together in the moonlight. You looped your arms around his neck, his hands resting low on your back. The music carried gently over the sand as he swayed with you — slow, steady.

Then he began to sing — softly, just for you.

“Lovely… never ever change… keep that breathless charm. Won’t you please arrange it? ’Cause I love you… just the way you look… tonight.”

His voice wasn’t perfect — a little raspy, a little too quiet — but it made your heart ache in the best way. Because it was real. Unfiltered. Utterly sincere.

You leaned your forehead against his, smiling through it. 

“And that laugh that wrinkles your nose… It touches my foolish heart. Lovely, don't you ever change… Keep that breathless charm. Won't you please arrange it? 'Cause I love you… A-just the way you look tonight.”

He took a small step back and spun you gently under his arm, your hair catching the breeze as you laughed, then pulled you close again, holding you tightly to his chest, forehead gently touching yours.

His voice dropped, deep and reverent after a few moments.

“I love you.”

Your feet stilled slowly as you began to register what he’d said.

The world slowed. The tide, the stars, your breath — everything paused.

He didn’t pull back. He just held you tighter, as if the words had been pressing at the walls of his chest for weeks, and now that they were out, he didn’t want to take them back.

“I love you,” he said again, quieter. “I don’t know when it happened. Maybe somewhere between watching you with Savannah and having breakfast with my mum. Or maybe back in that kitchen at Lila’s wedding. But I know it now. I feel it.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him fully, and he let you.

Your hands came to frame his face, and when you smiled, it was soft and sure and entirely his.

“I love you, too,” you whispered. “It scares the hell out of me… but I do.”

His eyes searched yours, something deep and unguarded flickering in his gaze. “I’ve been scared too.”

You nodded. “But I’m not anymore.”

He rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as you both still gently swayed together again. “I’ve been wanting to say it,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “Since that night, we had the kids over… I almost said it then.”

You laughed gently, your fingers brushing through his hair. “You kind of did. In your sleep.”

His eyes opened, and he pulled back to look at you, surprised. “I did?”

You nodded, smiling. “You called me ‘my love.’ Thought maybe you were dreaming...”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “Wasn’t dreaming. I just didn’t know how to say it when I was awake.”

“Well,” you said, lifting your lips to kiss his softly, “now you do.”

He kissed you — slow, tender, the kind of kiss that spoke of promises without words.

The music faded behind you, the only sound left was the sea, the wind, and the two of you — tangled together under a canopy of stars, hearts bare and open.

“Let’s stay like this for a little longer,” you murmured against his lips, smiling.

Harry rested his forehead against yours, smiling.

“Nowhere else I’d rather be, my love.”

By the time the door to your private bungalow clicked shut behind you, the air had shifted entirely.

Gone was the teasing, the light flirtation of the day that happened this morning. What replaced it was something deeper. Heavier. Richer.

Harry turned the lock, then turned to you — his expression unreadable at first, except for the fact that his eyes were fixed on you like he couldn’t believe he was lucky enough for you to be his.

You didn’t say anything — you never had to.

You stepped toward him slowly, and he met you halfway, his hands automatically cupping your face, his mouth meeting yours in a kiss that started soft — reverent — but deepened in a breath.

It wasn’t rushed, not at all. It was hungry in a different way — devotional, like he wanted to memorize how it felt to love you like this, now that he’d said it out loud.

Your fingers slid into his hair as his hands moved — down your sides, across your back, curling into the soft fabric of your dress. He pulled away just long enough to whisper, breath hot against your mouth, “I’ve been wanting you all night…”

You smiled, brushing your lips across his jaw. “Thought we agreed you’re the one who looked illegal today.”

He let you lift his shirt over his head, his hands instantly returning to you — palms skimming your waist, up your ribs, reverent like he was still in awe he was allowed to touch you like this.

Harry’s hands skimmed your hips as your dress slipped off, but something made him pause — his breath catching the moment he saw what was underneath.

“Fuck…” he whispered.

You stood there for a moment in matching pale blue lace — delicate and sheer, hugging your curves like it had been sewn directly onto your skin. The straps were thin, the cups soft and just daring enough to leave little to the imagination. The panties dipped low on your hips, the lace trim matching the soft blue of your dress perfectly.

His eyes dragged over every inch, slow and reverent.

“You weren’t kidding…” he rasped, thumb brushing lightly over the line of lace at your hip, “All of this is for me?”

You gave a coy smile, stepping in between his legs as you gently pushed him to sit on the edge of the bed. “I told you… a different one for every dress.”

His mouth quirked, but his eyes were dark. “You tryin’ to kill me on this trip?”

“I like keeping you on your toes,” you said innocently.

Harry’s hands slid up your thighs, thumbs grazing the crease where your legs met the lace. “This color…” he muttered, lips brushing the underside of your breast as he kissed his way up your ribs. “This body… mi cielo, I worship you.”

You blinked — stunned and turned on in equal measure. “Worship me?”

“Oh yes baby,” he muttered, eyes dragging down your body again as he stood, gently pinching your chin in his grasp before his eyes found yours. “You wore this for me, right? Let me show you what that earns you.”

He kissed you then — all tongue and heat and hungry intent. A careful burn that stoked between every pass of your mouths, every warm breath that mingled, every quiet gasp that built as he walked you backward toward the bed.

He didn’t rush. He didn’t fumble. He took his time. Every movement was deliberate, made with intention. 

By the time your back hit the bed, you were aching for him — your heart and your body entirely in sync in a way that felt almost too much. But he didn’t let it become overwhelming. He soothed and steadied — kissing your collarbone, your ribs, whispering things that made your whole body ache in the best way.

“You’re everything,” he murmured against your skin, hands sliding down your thighs. “Don’t even know if I deserve to love you like this.”

You cupped his cheek, voice barely a breath. “You do, you always will.”

He leaned forward and captured your lips. You two kissed like it was something you’d both spent years waiting for. And when he finally sank into you, it wasn’t rushed or frenzied — it was slow, deep, full.

You softly moaned against his lips, arching up against his chest, “Harry…”

Harry moved inside you slowly — deeply — his body completely aligned with yours like he couldn’t bear a single inch of distance. Your fingers threaded through his curls, your other hand splayed over his shoulder blade, holding him close. And he let himself be held, let himself melt into you.

He kissed your cheek. Your jaw. The side of your mouth. “You feel like home,” he whispered, his voice raw, his rhythm never faltering. “Every part of you, cariño.”

You cupped his face, eyes glassy but steady. “I never thought I’d feel this safe with someone… and then you happened...”

His hand caught yours against the pillow, intertwining your fingers as his hips rolled deeper. “I want you to know,” he murmured, lips brushing your temple, “I’m never going anywhere. Not unless you send me away.”

You swallowed against the lump in your throat. “Don’t joke like that.”

“I’m not,” he whispered. “This is it for me. You’re the one I’m spending the rest of my life with.”

The way he said it — low and reverent, like a vow — made your heart ache and your body shudder.

Your legs wrapped tighter around him as your hips tilted up to meet his rhythm. “Then stay. Promise me you’ll stay through it all.”

He slowed for a moment, just to still his body against yours. His forehead pressed to yours, noses brushing.

“I promise,” he said. “When things are messy, hard, complicated. When you spiral and forget how loved you are — I’ll remind you. I’ll stay. I’ll always choose you.”

There was a quiet moment between the two of you before he cupped your cheek and lifted your head a touch to meet your lips, kissing you deeply.

A soft whimper escaped you as you lifted your hips again, guiding him deeper, your body clinging to his with a kind of desperate need that wasn’t lust — it was love. Love, aching and vast and finally spoken aloud.

Your eyebrows pinched in ecstasy as you pulled back for a moment, whispering, “Say it again,”

He kissed you hard — deeply — like he could push the words into your skin. “I love you.”

You whimpered at the sound, at the truth of it. “I love you.”

His rhythm picked up slightly, each stroke purposeful, controlled. You gasped as he shifted the angle, your back arching beneath him as his hand moved down, steadying your hip while his mouth moved and brushed across your shoulder.

“You’re everything I never knew I needed,” he whispered into your skin. “I didn’t even believe in this before you. Now all I want is you — every version of you. The soft parts. The loud parts. The scared parts.”

“I want to give them to you,” you breathed, your voice catching as pleasure began to pool low in your belly. “I want to give you everything.”

“You already have,” he murmured.

You pressed your forehead into his neck, moaning softly as his thrusts grew more intense — not rushed, but deeply felt, every motion like it was made to prove a point.

And the words didn’t stop.

“You’re perfect,” he breathed.

“God, you feel so good,” you whimpered. “Don’t stop,” you pleaded. 

He continued, “I think about you constantly. Sueño contigo. Te anhelo.” (I dream about you. I crave you.)

“Te anhelo…” You repeated as a whisper, gasping as you tipped toward the edge.

“I’ve got you,” he said, his voice strained, his hand tightening on your hip. “Just let go, baby. Let go for me.”

And you did — with a cry and a quake that shook through your entire body. The world fractured around you, pleasure cresting and crashing like the waves outside, sharp and all-consuming.

Harry followed, moaning your name as he buried himself as deep as he could go, every muscle in his body tensing as he spilled into you, whispering against your skin, “I love you, I love you, I love you…”

When the tremors faded and you lay tangled together, breathless and undone, he never let you go.

He pressed kiss after kiss to your damp skin — your shoulder, your neck, the tip of your nose — whispering sweet nothings through the fog.

Eventually, you found yourself curled into his side, your fingers tracing lazy shapes across his chest.

Neither of you spoke at first. The silence wasn’t heavy — it was full. Full of everything you’d said, everything you didn’t need to.

He kissed the top of your head and pulled the covers higher around your back. “Still with me?”

You nodded against his skin. “Still here.”

Harry exhaled like he’d been holding his breath since the moment he told you he loved you.

And then — quietly, in the hush of the room — you spoke softly, “When we get back, I want to introduce you to my family — officially.”

Harry stilled beneath you, like those words struck something deep. His hand, which had been idly tracing your spine, paused.

Then, slowly, he smiled.

“You do?” he asked softly, voice low and filled with something almost reverent.

You nodded against his chest, your voice steadier this time. “Yeah. I want them to meet you. All of you. Not just the guy who walked me down the aisle at Liv’s wedding and Ben’s best friend. I want them to meet you as mine — my boyfriend.”

Harry chuckled, kissing the top of your head again. “You sure? That was a damn good impression with the whole ‘walking down the aisle’ thing...” he teased.

You looked up at him with a soft, teasing grin. “I’m serious.”

He met your gaze, his own eyes crinkling at the corners with something quiet and sincere. “Then I’d be honored.”

You shifted up slightly, propping yourself on your elbow so you could see him better, your fingers trailing lightly down his chest. “It means something to me. Introducing someone like this. Bringing them home.”

“I know,” he murmured, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “And for the record… I’ve never wanted to meet someone’s family more.”

Your heart thudded at that. There was no hesitation in his voice, no teasing in his smile. Just pure affection. Certainty.

“Just a warning,” you whispered, brushing your nose against his as you giddily smiled. “My dad’s going to grill you. He was nice to you at the wedding, but now you’re my boyfriend… that’s out the window. And my mom will pretend she’s not crying when she meets you, like the drama queen she is. Liv will probably corner you with photos from the wedding and tell you her version of our love story. Oh, and don’t even get me started on Grizzly — he’s got opinions.”

Harry laughed softly, his hand sliding gently up your back, anchoring you close again. “Sounds like I’ve got my work cut out for me then.”

“You’ll charm them,” you said, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “You always do.”

He nodded and smiled warmly before he leaned in and kissed you again — slow and sure — before the two of you eventually fell asleep in each other's arms. 

The sun was already stretching golden fingers across the whitewashed walls of the bungalow by the time you stirred. Your legs tangled with Harry’s beneath the thin sheet, his hand resting at the small of your back, warm and steady.

You blinked sleepily, then shifted just enough to look at him.

He was already awake — barely — blinking at you with a crooked grin and sleep-rough curls falling into his eyes.

“Buenos días, mi corazón,” he whispered, voice low and soft.

You smiled at the words, even if you only half-understood them. “That means something sweet, doesn’t it? Corazón?”

His hand brushed up your spine, anchoring you closer. “It means… my heart.”

You exhaled a quiet, happy breath. “Speaking like that first thing in the morning… criminal behavior.” you teased. 

He chuckled, tucking your hair behind your ear. “You’ve no idea how many things I almost say to you in Spanish. But I don’t want them to get lost in translation.”

“Then teach me,” you said, propping your chin on his chest. “I want to learn. I want to be able to talk with your mom, your dad — with you — in the language that shaped you.”

Harry paused, like your words hit a part of him he hadn’t expected. Then he smiled and brushed his lips against your forehead. “You really mean that?”

You nodded. “Start small. Give me something to learn today.”

He thought for a moment, then cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin gently, saying slowly. “Cada día te quiero más.”

You repeated it, stumbling a bit. “Cada…Cada… día… te quiero… más?”

He grinned. “Perfect. Again.”

You said it again, a little stronger, then smiled brightly. “Okay, now what did I just say?”

His eyes warmed. “It means… each day I love you more.”

Your lips parted, and something fluttered in your chest — not just from the meaning, but from the look on his face when he said it.

You kissed him then — slow and lingering — telling him exactly that with each day you do love him more.

The poolside cabana was already humming with the gentle noise of morning: chairs scooting across tile, the low clatter of dishes, laughter rising and falling in waves.

Savannah spotted you first and dashed toward you in her pink flip-flops, already in her swimsuit. “Uncle Harry! Auntie Y/N!”

You gave Harry a wide-eyed look. “Did I just get a promotion?”

Harry chuckled and ruffled her curls. “Sounds like it.”

“Come sit!” Savannah tugged your hand, pulling you toward the long, shaded table beneath the billowing cabana. The breakfast spread was dreamy: tropical fruit, golden toast, fresh juices, and hot coffee in clay mugs.

Liv passed you a plate, already sipping her cappuccino. “Eat fast. The kids are two bananas away from a sugar high.”

Little Harry, in a shark-themed swimsuit, was stacking croissants and watermelon slices like building blocks on his plate.

Simon eyed him suspiciously. “That tower’s gonna fall, bud.”

“No, it’s not,” little Harry insisted.

But as he reached for more fruit next to the pitcher of juice, his tiny elbow bumped it, sending the bright orange liquid cascading right into Simon’s lap — and Liv’s.

You gasped, hand flying to your mouth, trying not to laugh. “Oh no—!”

Simon stood immediately, drenched. “Well… is it wrong to say ‘I told you so’ to a 4-year-old?”

Liv was already dabbing her legs with a napkin, laughing more than anything else. “That settles it, we’re going back to the cabana to change before the rest of the day starts...”

She looked at you and Harry. “You two good to hold down the fort?”

Harry gave a mock-salute. “Uncle Harry reporting for duty.”

You nodded, softly giggling at Harry. “We’ve got it covered.”

Liv grabbed her bag, squeezing your shoulder on the way out. “We won’t be long. Try to keep the towers under six stories.”

Little Harry beamed. “Mine’s gonna be ten!”

With Simon and Liv off to change, the chaos settled into a rhythm. Rafael fetched more napkins to clean up the table, Lucia stepped inside and could be seen chatting with a staff member, and you and Harry slipped out of your chairs to watch the kids closer.

Savannah and Lindee were already in the pool, paddling and laughing. Little Harry dove in with a cannonball that sent a splash all the way up to your ankles.

“Come watch us!” Savannah called, waving you over. “You too, Uncle Harry!”

You sat on the edge of the pool, ankles dipped in, your hand resting near Harry’s. He brushed his knuckles along your thigh.

“This feels… nice,” he said quietly — almost to himself.

You looked at him. “It is nice, isn’t it?”

His gaze softened. “You, in my world like this? Watching you laugh with my family. Eating breakfast with my mom. Speaking Spanish to me in bed?”

You chuckled. “You taught me one phrase.”

“It’s a good one,” he teased.

You leaned your head against his shoulder. “Say it again?”

He turned to kiss the top of your head. “Cada día te quiero más.”

And for a while, you let yourself just exist in the moment — the heat of the sun, the scent of saltwater and mango, Harry’s fingers brushing yours, the kids’ laughter echoing through the pool deck like music.

It felt like everything had finally quieted around you.

That was until you looked over at the edge of the pool, Lindee’s giggle started to fade, and something in the air changed. 

You watched as her movements slowed and her hands gripped the edge of the pool, face going pale, lips parted slightly.

You saw the shift instantly — the fear blooming in her eyes. Your heart stopped.

Without hesitation, you dove in.

You reached her just as her fingers slipped from the pool ledge and her knees gave out making her sink below the water. She was conscious—but fading—panic widening her eyes. You got an arm under her shoulders, another under her knees, holding her like a baby.

“Harry! Call for help!” Your voice cracked as you treaded through the water towards the steps.

He hit the water a heartbeat later, strong strokes closing the gap. “I’ve got her—Sav, scoot back, baby girl…” He slipped an arm beneath Lindee, the two of you levering her carefully onto the deck.

The sudden quiet shattered: Savannah and little Harry froze, eyes huge. Then both began crying—high-pitched, frightened sobs that echoed under the cabana roof.

“Oh no, it’s okay,” Harry soothed, voice shaking but gentle. He pulled the dripping children to his chest, holding them close even as tears streamed down their faces. 

You angled Lindee onto her side, sliding a nearby folded towel under her head. Her body jerked violently—first stiff, then shaking—small whimpers caught in her throat.

“It’s all right, sweetheart,” you murmured, fingers sweeping her hair back. “You’re safe. We’re right here.”

Harry rocked the two little ones, murmuring reassurances in English and Spanish:

“Estás bien, chiquitos. (You’re ok, little ones.) Lindee’s going to be all right. Breathe with me—uno, dos—”

Your eyes scanned the area for Rafeal but couldn’t find him. Instead, you saw a nearby cabana boy gathering the used plates at the table, oblivious to the chaos just feet away, “Excuse me! Can you call Mr. Castillo and cabana 3, please? Tell them it’s Lindee…” 

He saw what was happening and nodded before running back inside to do what you asked.

Their crying quieted to sniffles as they watched you keep Lindee’s airway clear, watched Harry rub her shoulder and whispered, “Estoy aquí, pequeña. (I'm here, little one.) It’s almost over. Just breathe. Good girl.”

The seizure eased, jerks turning to tremors, then stillness. She blinked, dazed, clinging weakly to consciousness.

Moments later, Rafael pounded up the path, barefoot, eyes wide. 

He dropped to his knees, scooping her against his chest as Simon and Liv skidded in behind him, half-dressed, panic on their faces.

“It’s okay, baby—we’ve got you,” Liv whispered, tears sliding off her cheeks. Simon swallowed hard, pressing a kiss to Lindee’s damp curls.

Only when the parents knelt between you did Savannah and little Harry shuffle forward again—still clinging to Harry’s legs. You opened your arms; they piled onto you, small hands gripping your shoulders while Lindee’s parents wrapped her in towels and Rafael phoned the on-call doctor.

Lucia came out and took Savannah and little Harry inside to distract them with some ice cream. 

You turned—and found Harry a step away, eyes glassy, shoulders tight, water still dripping from his curls. The steadiness he’d shown was cracking at the seams.

“Hey,” you whispered, pressing a hand to his chest. His heart pounded hard beneath your palm.

“I—” He swallowed. “I knew it could happen, but actually seeing it—she looked so scared. She’s just a baby… she—”

You guided him to a nearby lounge chair, nudged him to sit. He did, elbows on his knees, breath shaky.

“Look at me.” You knelt between his legs, both hands sliding up his arms. “You kept every kid calm. You helped Lindee breathe. She’s getting care because you moved so fast.”

He closed his eyes. “I just… I felt so — God, I felt so helpless.”

“You were anything but helpless,” you said, voice firm. “You were her anchor, Harry. And right now the kids, your parents, Simon and Liv—they’ll remember that.” You brushed your thumb across his cheek, watching how his breathing was uneven. “Breathe with me, sweetheart. In… two… three… Out… two… three.”

He mirrored you—one breath, then another. The jitter in his shoulders eased. His hands came up to cradle yours where they framed his face.

“Thank you,” he whispered, voice raw. “I don’t think I could have done that without you.”

“You never have to,” you answered, pressing your forehead to his. “Cada día te quiero más, remember?”

He managed a soft, damp laugh, closing his eyes. “Cada día te quiero más.”

Later that evening, the sun was low over the horizon, its golden light dipping lazily over the water like honey. You sat curled up on the porch of your shared bungalow, one leg tucked beneath you, a glass of chilled white wine in one hand and your book balanced on your lap.

The ocean whispered just beyond the deck, waves stretching and folding against the shore. The air was warm and lazy with the scent of sea salt and hibiscus, your skin still sun-kissed from the day you’d spent poolside with the kids and Harry’s family.

You hadn’t planned anything else for the evening.

Not after everything that had happened with Lindee earlier.

But now, with the quiet finally settled around you and your heart no longer racing, it felt good to be still. To feel safe.

The sliding door behind you creaked softly, and you glanced up to see Harry emerging, freshly showered and shirtless, curls damp and towel-dried. He leaned over the railing beside you, one hand coming to rest on your shoulder.

He pressed a kiss to your temple. “Hey, hermosa.”

“Hey,” you said softly, smiling as you turned your face to nuzzle against his.

“You okay?” he asked, reading your expression with those warm, watchful eyes.

You nodded. “Just decompressing.”

“Good.” He paused, then added casually, “Hey, I’ve gotta make a quick work call. Just something Clarkson needs a quick call about, but it shouldn’t take long.”

You tilted your head. “Work? On vacation?”

He gave a small shrug, eyes twinkling. “Just a quick call...”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “Well, don’t let him steal too much of your evening.”

“Oh, I won’t.” He grinned and gently pecked your lips. “Just do me a favor and head inside in a few? Maybe check the bed.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “Check the bed?”

“You’ll see,” he said, already backing away with that maddening smirk.

You watched him go, curiosity blooming in your chest.

A few minutes later, wine glass in hand, you wandered back inside with your book tucked under your arm, only to stop short just inside the bedroom.

Laid across the bed was a dress.

The dress.

The one you’d tried on for Harry’s masquerade ball— the dark brown dress with a very deep bust and dangerously high slit up the thigh, the one that had made Harry stare at you like you were wearing moonlight itself. You’d loved it too. But it had felt too bold for the ball. 

You never mentioned still wanting it after that day, but apparently, he knew how much you liked it, as he bought it without you knowing.

Beside it sat a sleek black box containing a pair of elegant heels and a matching clutch, along with a delicate gold necklace you’d admired when he took you jewelry shopping that day as well, but you never mentioned it again.

And on top of it all, a folded ivory card with Harry’s handwriting.

Be ready by 6, my love. –H

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[francislangdon]

10, 29, or 31

10. things you said that made me feel like shit / 31. things you said right before goodbye

Mel doesn’t mean to— she doesn’t want to— she’s not this type of person, usually— But right now…

She’s just so horribly envious.

She has learned, in twenty eight years, that most of her desires are out of her reach. Usurious things that need to be tamped down, deep, before they impede her ability to function. If she had to bear the weight of everything she wants and can not, can not, have— It would be crushing. She would fold underneath it all.

Frank Langdon fits right into that box. He’s the latest in a line of things that are decidedly not Mel’s. She can work with him, and stare, and pine, but there’s— distance.

They’re friends, she would say. Good friends, even. Close enough that they’re out for lunch on a day off. You’ll like this place, he’d said, when he brought it up at work. He likes forcing her to do things she wouldn’t normally, like karaoke with their coworkers, or impromptu mini golfing on a weekend, or taking her to hole in the wall restaurants because They have the best street tacos, Mel.

Frank moves like a whirlwind, picking her up and leaving her unsteady and untethered, floating in the air until he decides to bring her back down. It’s unfair, sometimes. He slots so nicely into her empty spaces, all warmth and understanding, the type of connection she’s always yearned for and never quite been able to grasp. She still can’t grasp him.

Frank slips right out of her hands at all the wrong times.

He’s here with her, eating too many of her tortilla chips, probably because she always lets him, leaning into her personal space like he wants— wants it too, like they’re on the same page— and then he’s, all of a sudden, very far away from Mel.

His phone rings and Frank’s attention snaps like a rubber band, harsh against her wrist, a welt in its wake. He answers immediately, and Mel doesn’t have to wonder who it is. She can tell from the soft tone in his voice.

“Hi, baby, what’s up?”

Mel bites hard on the inside of her cheek, expression neutral. Or maybe he’ll mistake her grimace for concern.

“Oh fuck, are you okay? Are the kids— Okay, okay, calm down, Abs, tell me where you are…Alright, I’ll be there, okay, love you too. I’ll be right there, baby.”

Mel sucks in a breath when he hangs up the phone. “Is…is everything okay?”

He flicks his eyes towards her, a little vacant, like he’d forgotten she was there. He shakes his head, “Abby was gonna take the kids to the mall, but they got a flat tire on the freeway. I’ve gotta go change it for her.”

“Oh,” Mel says, carefully. “Of course. I’m glad she’s alright.”

“Yeah, she’s close by at least. Last year she was taking a trip to see her sister in New York. On the way back her engine stalled right outside of Shippensburg and I had to drive, like, three hours in the middle of the night to pick her up,” he says this half laughing, fond in retrospect.

Mel’s going to be sick with jealousy. The last time she had car major problems, she was moving across the country with Becca. Her father had just died, and Mel had to take care of the dregs of his estate. It was going to take a full two days to drive all the way from Lansing back to Seattle, where she was going to school. They broke down somewhere halfway through. Becca had a melt down, crying and screaming at Mel while she desperately tried to figure out what was wrong with the car, smoke coiling out of the hood. Mel had nearly broke down herself, hot tears slipping down her cheeks, with no one to call.

The thought of Frank, willing and capable, a phone call away—

Not for the first time, Mel thinks of Abby Langdon and resentment brews in her stomach, all the way up her chest until she’s sure it must be all over her face.

Frank pulls away from their table, patting down his pockets for his wallet and keys, absently tossing a twenty down for their meal. Mel wants, avariciously, to tell him not to leave. It’s ridiculous.

“Hey,” he says, catching her eye, like he sees all the way through her, “You good?”

That’s the worst part, the one that really leaves her self piteous, riddled with greed. Frank is a perfect friend, really, but— for all that she wants him— is not hers.

“Yes,” Mel murmurs, “Just… worried for Abby. Let me know how it goes.”

He smiles at her, “I’ll tell her you were worried. Sorry we had to cut this short, by the way. Rain check?”

“For sure.”

“You’re the best, Mel. I’ll see you.”

She waits until he turns out of the building to press her head pathetically against the sticky table.

Wanting is a horrible thing. Mel would cut it out of herself, surgically, if it meant she didn’t have to feel like shit every time Frank says goodbye.

[writeslikeanaria]

GLITZ & GLAMOUR & GLOOM

chapter two — mr castillo

boss!harry castillo x assistant!reader

synopsis — during your two week break, harry takes you out shopping, forcing you to get new clothes, and just insisting on getting them for you. additionally, harry sorts out some of his own business. sugar daddy!harry AU

word count — 6k

warning tags — 18+ for eventual smut, some misogynistic dialogue, reader is described as feminine, kinda perv!harry but not really, references to cum and masturbation, references to vomiting

series masterlist | read on ao3

previous chapter | next chapter

The sun had set hours ago, allowing the moonlight to seep through the cracks within the dusky curtains, illuminating Harry’s office with a dim aura. The rest of his employees had dissipated out of his office, leaving just Harry, hunched over his desk, pouring over his work.

A looming headache had erupted against his forehead, continuing to bloom in pain, refusing to disappear, even after he had thrown back painkillers like it was nothing but water. Nothing had worked. His anxiety was through the roof, reaching new levels he hadn’t felt in years.

He felt dirty. He had done something bad and was struggling to deal with the consequences of his actions. 

On his desk, your CV sat, sitting on top of other paperwork, seemingly more important paperwork. However, he couldn’t bring himself to actually fill in any of the contracts, spaces blank as his mind remained distracted on you. 

Job no. 12. It had been a while since he had had a bright, young girl enter his office, shining smiles as they queried about his most elusive position within the company. A role completely paid for by himself, that was solely talked about in his office. Outside of the two floors that belonged to him and his crew, no one was allowed to discuss job no. 12.

It wasn’t regular to keep a girlfriend on the payroll, but desperate times had come to desperate decisions.

Last “relationship” had disintegrated quickly. Too many demands, too many maxed out credit cards, too many arguments that just left Harry feeling worse about himself than before. This job was supposed to take a weight off his back, to keep his parent’s eyes and nose out of his personal business. With a beautiful lady clutched onto his arm, able to be shown off at important events, and to be brought to every family dinner, he felt stronger, more secure. He could almost feel normal, like his brother, able to date successfully, and give his heart over to a woman of his choosing.

Except he messed up.

Harry continues to stare at your CV, his eyes gliding carefully over your name, memorising every letter. He had re-read this singular piece of paper more times than he could count, feeling himself connect with this condensed version of you. His head spun. Were you actually like these seven hundred words in front of him? He desperately tried to analyse your personality through your written tone, but it was no use.

He wished he had just talked to you when you were here, instead of immediately handing over a job, and a bonus. There hadn’t even been a proper interview process. He just looked into the eyes of the woman sitting before him and crumbled. 

Maybe it was just pity. Maybe it was something more, but he had a desire to keep you by his side.

A sharp knock at his door knocks Harry out of his reverie, his eyes flicking up to his doorway. He thought that everyone else was done for the day, leaving him as the last remaining employee on the floor. However, he must’ve been mistaken. Shoving your CV underneath some important contract that he really should just fill out, he coughs, clearing his throat. “Come in!”

A shrewd figure cracks open the door and emerges out from the doorway. Sanders’ mousy head appears through the crack, followed by his scarlet face. He looked out of breath, his eyes bloodshot from stress. Harry’s head fell into his hand, a sigh escaping his lips as he took in Sander’s evidently stressed exterior. 

Sanders’ voice escaped his lips in a squeak. “Are you busy, Mr Castillo, sir?”

“Not anymore,” Harry’s finger beckons Sander’s into his office, inviting his poor assistant into the unorganised chaos that encases him and his work. “Please, come inside. Is there anything you need from me?”

Sanders wasn’t a bad assistant, per se, but he certainly wasn’t up to Harry’s standard. He constantly rushed his work and looked as though he was about to cry whenever anyone pointed out a mistake. To Harry, it felt like walking on eggshells just to get anything done properly. He needed to break the news soon and without completely stressing out the poor man, whose blood pressure was surely already through the roof.

Harry needed to break the news to Sanders that he had hired a new assistant. It was an accident, not trying to fill Sanders' position with a new hire, however, something happened. 

He had looked into your eyes, eyes so desperate for a job, and created a new position for you on the spot. Sanders was replaceable anyway.

“You wanted to talk with me today?” Sander’s voice was too small–it freaked Harry out, “You never fetched me, so I waited unti–”

“You’ve been just waiting for me to call you in?” Harry expresses, his hands flailing around in surprise, “You should’ve gone home. It’s late.”

Sanders gulps, searching for something to stay. Yet, he keeps quiet, waiting for Harry to continue. The older man sighs, rubbing his temples, wishing his headache would just ebb away. He did not desire for this conversation to happen tonight, but it had to happen soon. Reaching for his drink beside him–a whiskey that had been mulling in his glass for over an hour–and shooting back the fiery liquid in one gulp, he built up as much courage as he thought he needed.

“Sanders, I’m letting you go.”

The colour from his face disappears in an instance, with a ghostly white sheen spreading across his cheeks. After a pause, his eyes begin to water, tears threatening down his cheeks. He rushes to Harry’s desk, crouching at Harry’s side. There’s something pathetic in the way he begs that makes Harry scrunch his nose up. Displeased, he attempts to push the ex-assistant away from his desk.

“Please, sir, whatever I’ve done, let me apologise.” Sanders’ words come out in a word vomit, piling into Harry’s ears. The grovelling affects Harry too much, forcing him to turn his body away, unable to make eye contact. “If I’ve done something wrong, let me fix it–”

“There’s nothing that could change my mind.” Harry’s voice was clipped, not allowing himself to feel any emotion, certainly not towards Sanders. “You’ve been underwhelming in your work performance for months now. Forgetting items, running late, always never neat and tidy. It lets the company down, and you are constantly letting me down. I’m not changing my mind.” He ponders his next words for a second, before they slip from out of his lips. “Besides, I’ve already hired someone new.”

Sanders mulls this over, suspiciously quiet. His hands shake at his side, a fact not unknown to Harry, who watches Harry like a hawk, anticipating an explosion of emotion. However, Sanders stays calm, until he finally brings himself to speak again.

“It was that girl who came in the other day.” Sanders sneers, his voice laced with venom, completely void of any warmth. Any expression of fear has been wiped from his face. “I thought she was supposed to be the hired whore you keep around–”

“Out!” Harry points at the door, unable to find the courage to continue this conversation. However, Sanders continues with his hurt words.

“–but oh no! She’s taken my job. Does she even have any experience? Did you just get sick of staring at me all day and needed someone to lust over–”

“I said, out!” Harry feels the fury build inside of him.

“–some stupid girl, who’s just going to make this worse for you. She came in to be your fake girlfriend, why is she stealing my job–”

Harry’s fist encloses around his phone, dialing the number to the front desk, and barking “Security!” through the phone speakers, before directing his attention back towards Sanders. “You have been incompetent and your standards have slipped. I no longer have the need for you anymore. That is all.” Harry frowns deeply. “And that is no way to talk about women. If I knew you were such a misogynist, I would’ve thrown you to the curb months ago.”

Just as Harry’s words had left his mouth, two tall security guards burst through his door, taking in the scene in front of them. Immediately, they zone into the anger filled Sanders, looping their hands around his arms and dragging him away from Harry’s office.

Desperately attempting to zone out any words coming from Sanders, Harry turns his attention back to his paperwork. Yet, anger still pulses through his blood. He’s boiling over. 

He thinks of you at this moment. Your soft face, your kind voice. You appeared so organised and ready, such a stark contrast from Sanders. It didn’t matter that you weren’t fully aware of what you had signed up for. You were going to be the perfect personal assistant, and he hoped in time, you were going to be the perfect girlfriend for hire.

––––––

The weekend couldn’t come fast enough. 

After nearly a week of being out of a job, you have realised that you were not made for a life of spontaneity and freedom. You had anxiously paced your apartment all week, drilling holes into the floor with your furious footwork, pain-stakening performing every and any household chore you could think of.

Currently, you were practicing your new hobby of choice for the day, which involved deep cleaning every inch of your kitchen. With your hands furiously scrubbing the linoleum behind your fridge, which was caked in a thick layer of grime and what you hoped wasn’t mold, a buzz at your apartment speaker caught your attention. Begrudgingly, you stand up from your hands and knees, trudging over to the speaker.

Without any caution to politeness, you speak into the microphone, your finger pressing at the stiff button. “Who is it?”

“Hey babe!” Marlene’s voice rings through the speaker, taking you aback. You were confused as to why your ex-coworker was at your door, but lethargy was the dominant force in your head, and you no longer had the energy to care.

You sigh into the microphone. “You wanna come up, Marlene?”

“Well duh,” her voice calls back, her giggling muffled by the static of the speaker, “it’s cold out here. Do you want me to freeze to death?”

Without responding to her cheeky remark, you buzz her up to your apartment, unlocking the door, and heading back into the kitchen. If you were to have company, you should really put the fridge back to where it belongs.

Just as you manage to move the fridge about two inches, your front door bursts open, and Marlene hurries into your warm apartment, peeling off layers of clothing. Her scarf goes first, flinging it to what you suppose was the hook on the wall. Unfortunately, you walk into the living room just as the scarf becomes airborne, allowing the string of fabric to make a safe landing on your head.

“Hey Marlene,” you peel the scarf away from your face, letting your eyes land on Marlene’s sheepish expression, laced with embarrassment, “Having a good day so far?”

Marlene grins, her cheeks pressed tightly to her face. Clasping her hands together, she darts to sit on the couch, inviting you along to join her. Rubbing your eyes to fight off any sleepiness that threatened to seep into your upcoming conversation, you made your way to sit beside Marlene, sinking into the comfort of your couch.

“I’ve been missing you at work.” Marlene says quietly. That doesn’t surprise you. Other than Marlene, you weren’t that friendly with your other coworkers, always keeping your distance to not overstep. You were quiet, not antisocial, but you struggled to converse with those around you, opting to keep conversation with Marlene instead. Similar age group, same gender, it was just simply easier to have Marlene as your only friend, never having the energy to start a friendship with your male coworkers. You assumed it was the same with Marlene. While she was most certainly more sociable than you, she too kept her distance. It was very rare to see her sharing words with other coworkers, outside of work conversations. You frowned at Marlene’s words, feeling a hit of guilt for leaving her alone, something that Marlene noticed.

“No, no, no, don't feel bad,” Marlene wraps her arms around you, pulling you tightly into a firm side hug, resting her head against your shoulder. “I don’t fault you for leaving. I’ve been thinking of doing the same, y’know? Maybe you’ve become a trendsetter.”

You laugh at Marlene’s words, your body heating up at her friendliness. “You shouldn’t leave just because I did. You’ll end up in the same position as me–jobless.”

Marlene furrows her brows at your statement, her head tilting downwards as she considers what you said. After a moment’s pause, she looks back at you. “So I’m assuming that the job I referred you for didn’t end up going anywhere?”

You pause. Oh, right. “Nevermind. Not jobless.”

A gasp leaves Marlene’s lips as her face lights up in excitement. Her hands leave your body as she repositions herself in front of you, staring you dead into her eyes. Her eyes have an incredulous expression, unable to fully believe you.

“You never told me you got the job!” Marlene shrieks, clasping her hands together in a string of sharp claps. “Have you started yet? I’m assuming not, looking at–” she gestures to the mess of your apartment, and the bucket of dirty, soapy water, perched upon your bench, “–all this.”

You smile, your next words spoken calmly. “I start next week. I have a couple things I need to do before I start—like buy new clothes apparently—”

“Well, naturally,” Marlene says, flipping her hair behind her shoulder smoothly, “I assume he gave you money for clothes?”

You pause, unable to answer. It was a strange thing for her to say, something she shouldn’t have known. You glare at your friend for a moment, confusion in your eyes. 

You are unable to respond to Marlene, as your phone buzzes in your pocket, breaking you out of your conversation. Quietly, you slip your hand into the fabric and pull out the vibrating brick. Flashing across the screen is HARRY CASTILLO BOSS, a sight you have yet to see. 

Anxiously, you raise your pointer finger to your lips, forcing Marlene to stay silent. She looks at you with wonder in her eyes, unsettled by your irrational behaviour. Hissing at your friend, you take yourself into a different room, not wanting to be overheard.

Carefully, you press the ‘accept’ button on the screen, pushing the cool phone against your hot ear. Taking in a deep breath, you hiss out a small word of acknowledgment. “Good afternoon, Mr Castillo. How can I help you?”

On the other end of the phone, you can make out the sound of someone laughing, a fact that makes you slightly uncomfortable. You gulp, waiting for a reply which, in your opinion, is taking too long. Through the phone speaker, you impatiently wait for Harry to begin speaking.

At last, he replies. “Please, Mr Castillo is my father. I want you to call me Harry—we are coworkers and we work together. Try not to think of me as someone above you.”

You cock an eyebrow at Harry’s word, unable to process his strange command. “But, sir, you are above me. You are my boss. It’s a sign of respect to call you Mr Castillo,” you purse your lips together, “Mr Castillo.” You pace around the room, keeping your body busy.

Another laugh seeps through your phone speaker. “Not so obedient now, are we? Careful there, I might have to get rid of you before you’ve even started.” Harry says it with a tone of amusement, yet the colour drains from your face, unable to distinguish his humorous jab from the actual threat of termination.

“No, no, no, wait—” your voice escaped your lips in a frantic prayer, desperately looking for a moment’s pause to express your apologies. “I’m so sorry, Mr Cast- Harry. There’s no need to get rid of me.” You inhale a sharp breath, bringing your thumbnail up to your lips, and biting down. “You’re the boss, I’ll call you whatever you want. Mr Castillo, Harry, hell- I’d even call you da—”

You cut off your ranting. Too far. 

Harry didn’t seem to notice, his laughter continuous and stretched over the phone. At least someone was finding this exchange funny. You frown at his amusement. What a strange man. 

Eventually, Harry speaks again, breaking his streak of chuckles. “I must apologise.” He speaks your name delicately, as if it were poetry. “I didn’t mean to cause any panic. Please, call me whatever you want. Whatever makes you comfortable. Mr Castillo is entirely acceptable, I’m sorry for my teasing.”

His end of the phone goes quiet as you patiently wait for his next sentence. You can tell that he’s searching for the next words to say. 

Harry’s next words take you by surprise, his tone flipping back to his professional voice. “Have you prepared yourself for work next week?”

You blink twice. “Yes, Mr Castillo. Well, I believe I have.” You begin your ramble about your previous day’s adventure. “I had a call with the IT department yesterday, and I have been added to the company’s system. I, also, have been granted access to your calendar. Everything should be smooth sailing from Monday forward.”

Harry hums on the other end of the phone, his deep timbre sending goosebumps up your spine. After a short cough, he speaks. “Did you find time to get yourself some new clothes?”

Your blood runs cold. Fuck. You had forgotten that important task, the one thousand dollar cheque still sitting on your cabinet, waiting to be cashed at the bank. It was haunting you, dread filling you every time you thought about the sheer amount of money Harry had dropped on you after five minutes of knowing you.

You gulped. “I haven’t had time, yet.”

You hear a disappointed sigh on the other side. Before you can present another excuse to Harry, he beats you to it, speaking first. “You haven’t had time?”

Cringing, you shake your head, despite knowing that Harry can’t see you at this moment. “I’m sorry, Mr Castillo, it just hasn’t been a priority to me.”

“Well, it’s a priority to me.” You hear commotion over the speaker, which sounds like movement. On the other end of the phone, Harry checks his calendar for tomorrow’s schedule, frowning as he looks at the basically filled out day.

Sighing, he mutters a couple short words to himself, beforing speaking up to talk to you. “I have an hour break over lunch tomorrow. I will send a limousine to pick you up from your apartment. There’s a nearby boutique that I’m friendly with. I may be short on time but I believe I should be available to help pick out some work appropriate attire.” He pauses. “I’m assuming you’re available?”

“No prior plans for me.”

“Well, naturally.” He chuckles over the phone. Rude. “Right, send me your address and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The phone clicks off without any goodbyes. Turning around, you notice Marlene lurking at the door frame, eavesdropping on your conversation. Smiling innocently, she bats her eyelashes at you, like she had done nothing wrong.

“Trouble in paradise?”

You scowl at her. “You already know what that phone call was about.”

Marlene giggles. “Have fun shopping!”

––––––

As the limousine pulls up to the boutique, an overwhelming sense of dread is thrusted upon you. Anxiously, your eyes flick over your surroundings, searching for something, anything, to ground yourself in this moment. The boutique reminds you of Harry’s workplace immensely. They both share similar architecture, with beautifully tall windows, inviting wandering eyes indoors. Displayed on the other side of the panes are mannequins, dressed in the most high quality outfits you had ever laid your eyes on.

You are unsure of Harry’s expectations of you at this moment. Without a sense of determination, you wander through the large doors, letting your eyes trail over racks and racks of clothes, shoes, and accessories. 

Naturally, you let yourself be drawn to one mannequin in particular. Her wig is pulled back, dark hair thrown in a messy, but slick bun. It’s stylish, but also casual, in a way you could never replicate. The mannequin’s form was dressed in a simple blouse, with the pearlescent white silk reflecting off the bright store lights, and a dark, sexy pencil skirt. It was so unimaginably tight at the hips that you wondered how the poor sales assistant must’ve put the skirt on. Clutched onto the mannequin’s arm was a bold handbag, with a price tag that made you uncomfortable to just be in the presence of.

You reach up to the silk blouse, feeling the softness of the material between the rough pads of your fingers. It was soft, and you were positive that it was the most comfortable feeling blouse you had ever come across. You were so enchanted by the feeling, that you didn’t notice the sales assistant standing behind you.

“Can I help you, dear?” You spin around, eyes locking with the tall lady behind you. She reminds you immensely of the ladies in Harry’s office, polished and perfect, that could trade their office lifestyle for a modelling career anyday. You blush under her gaze, as a realisation runs through your head. Had Harry taken the other office ladies shopping as well?

You imagine Harry, hand in hand with Liza, pulling out the tightest outfits he could find, forcing her to dress how he pleases, just like a real-life Barbie doll. You imagine the way she would preen at Harry, offering a sickly giggle at one of his poor jokes, her sweetly manicured hand pressed against his firm chest, that little portion of touch and intimacy sending sparks between the two of them. You cringe at your imagination.

However, the sales assistant’s steady gaze pulls you out of whatever daydream was being forced upon you. She’s studying you, looking at you like you are one of her mannequins, ready to be made up, dressed, and presented to the world. 

“I’m just waiting–”

“For Mr Castillo, yes.” The sales assistant smiles, taking your arm in her hand, and pulling you to the back of the store. As you walk through the rest of the boutique, you can’t help but gape at the sheer amount of designer clothes that decorate the walls. The sales assistant follows your gaze and smiles. “Is anything taking your fancy?”

Before you can reply, you notice a figure appear from a separate door. Harry emerges into the room, his phone pressed against his shoulder and his ear, a fury of words slipping from his lips in an effortless rant. His eyes press together, stress radiating from his body. His shoulders are currently holding an egregious amount of tension, visible from where you stand. However, as you enter his eyeline, his body softens in an instant, a small smile spreading onto his lips.

You can hear a small, “I’ll call you back,” before Harry removes the phone from his ear, shoving it far away in his back pocket. His body opens up, no longer tense, but welcoming to his surroundings. To you. You can’t help but feel special. 

Harry speaks your name softly. “It’s good to see you.” His hands clasped in front of himself with excitement. “I was severely concerned when you had informed me you had yet to buy yourself a new wardrobe for your new job. I’m surprised this wasn’t easier for you–how could you not be ready to reinvent your wardrobe?”

You turn away, desperate to hide the scarlet flush rising onto your cheeks. “I apologise, Mr Castillo,” you take notice at the way Harry rolls his eyes at your formality, “I had been busy, preparing for my new job in other ways–”

Harry dismisses your words, appearing to only be taking in half of what you were saying. “I told you that you needed new clothes.” His eyes scan your current choice of outfit–bleach wash jeans and a cotton shirt that was beginning to pill at the edges. “Appearances are very important in my office. You are to work close by me, which means I expect you to be presentable at every moment of the day. Understood?”

Nodding, you return his eye contact, offering a shy tilt of your head in an understanding gesture. “I understand, Mr Castillo. I will put appearances first over my work. I am allowed to slack in my productivity and efficiently, but god forbid I wear socks with sandals.”

Your attempt at a joke was met with laughter–thank god. Harry chuckles, heading towards the fitting rooms. Proud of how well your joke was taken, you hold your head up high, following Harry to the draped curtains. The fitting room area was comforting, with a soft couch, smothered in cushions, looking out at the rooms. Harry sits himself right in the centre, finds himself a nearby table, and places his phone away from his person. “Where would you like to start?”

Awkwardly, you stare at the sales assistant for some assistance. In all honesty, who have no idea where to start. Luckily, the sales assistant recognises your hesitation, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. She smiles. “I saw you interested in the mannequins near the front of the store. Should we start there?”

Dry mouthed, you nod, struggling to formulate words through your anxiety. As the sales assistant walks away, it leaves just Harry and you, alone together. You bite your lip, taking in the way Harry watches you, like he’s studying a work of art.

You speak up first. “I’ve never been here before.”

Harry nods, affirmatively. “I figured.” He looks around, his eyes trailing the sales assistant, watching to see when she is coming back. You both look on in slight amusement as the sales assistant attempts to take the blouse of the mannequin, unfortunately, in a less than graceful manner. “I would’ve taken you somewhere more,” he struggles to find the word, “high-end, however I didn’t want to stress you out anymore than you already sounded on the phone.”

You let out an unknown sound. “Mr Castillo, I say this earnestly, but this is genuinely the most high-end clothing boutique I’ve ever been to.”

You don’t miss Harry’s smirk. After a moment’s pause, you hear him speak once again.  “I know. I’m enjoying this.”

Biting your tongue, you fight the urge to argue with Harry as the sales assistant appears once again, clothes draped over her arms and shoulders. She had taken off the blouse you were admiring, emerging with the white colour, with the additional black and mauve shade as well. On her other arm, the matching pencil skirt lounges, the velvet texture appearing divine against the lights.

You squeal. With the invitation from the sales assistant, you take the clothes off her body, and make your way into the fitting rooms. Hurriedly, you throw off your current shirt, allowing it to fall somewhere. You feel like a kid in a candy shop, not worried if any dirt or dust bunnies rubbed against your personal cotton shirt.

As you pushed your arms through the holes, you nearly moaned at how good the shirt felt. It was softer than you had ever imagined, leaving you rosin feeling healthy, a stark contrast to the itchiness you are used to. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you gawk at how you look. Sophisticated, sexy, and professional. Sure, you had worn “office” clothes at your previous job, but none of those items of clothing made you feel special. Not like how you felt in this blouse.

Putting on the matching pencil skirt, you gasped at how it all worked together. You had never looked so good. The thick material hugged all your curves in the most perfect way, accentuating the femininity of your soft body. For once, you felt comfortable within the clothes you wore, allowing the material to feel like an extension of yourself, rather than just a way to hide yourself from the world.

A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. “And I found some appropriate heels for work!” The sales assistant calls out to you, pushing a pair of slick, black kitten heels under the curtain. You had never worn something like this before. Slipping on the heels, you push down your discomfort, trying to picture yourself as someone different. What if you were a successful CEO yourself? Would you wear this every day? Would you have your own personal assistant? Would the boutique workers know you by name?

“Are you going to show us, dear?” The sales assistant’s voice interrupts your daydreams. Begrudgingly, you muster up the courage to rip open the curtains, stepping into the limelight.

Your eyes catch Harry’s gaze, drinking in the way he stares at you. With a single hand movement, he commands you to spin, and you do so, unable to fight you submission. You put on a show for your boss, laughing and giggling as you show off the way your body moves in these clothes.

“They fit well.” Harry says, sipping at a drink that he must’ve been offered. You try to ignore the way his eyes trail down to your arse, believing that it must be just a trick off the light. However, his presence doesn’t last long, as he stands up, turning his eyes away from you. 

You try to ignore your disappointment. However, it is short lived, as you watch Harry reappear with a dress clutched within his hands. It’s a flowy teal dress, seemingly floor length, with a soft sweetheart neckline. Almost invisible ruffles border the edge of the dress, adding a layer of texture. It’s utterly gorgeous. 

“In three weeks, I have an event.” Harry begins to monologue. “It’s a gala, and as my personal assistant, you are expected to attend with me. I’m assuming you have no ball gowns yourself, so I have pulled a couple options myself.” His arm points to a rack beside you, and you realise where he got the dress from. Next to your dressing room, someone–you’re assuming both Harry and the sales assistant–had pulled three dresses from the store, all in your size. “I expect there will be more events in the future, so I have picked out a couple dresses that I expect you to wear to these events.”

You sigh, taking in the masterpieces of gowns in front of you. Unfortunately, there's one looming thought creeping your way in the back of your remind. You force out a pressed smile. “Thank you, Mr Castillo, for the options. However, with just normal work clothes, I don't think I can afford all these dresses.”

You don’t miss the way Harry stiffins, like a shockwave rippled through him. He chokes on his own spit, before sputtering out a short response. “I will pay for all of this. Do no worry.”

You step back, aghast. Surely, not everything. “Mr Castillo, don’t be ridiculous. I appreciate your continued generosity, but you have already given me an allowance of one thousand dollars. I don’t expect you to spend even more money on my wardrobe.” With the way Harry’s body reacts, you are beginning to believe he likes the way you talk about his money. How rich he is. 

Harry reaches for his wallet, taking out an elusive black card, and handing it to the sales assistant. You swear you could hear a soft gasp fall from her lips. “Everything goes under this card. Get her every colour in the blouse, and two additional skirts. Plus, the dresses I had picked out.” His eyes trail to your feet. “And those heels. Multiple pairs.”

You wouldn't believe your ears. All these clothes have already added up to well over triple your original allowance, and the idea of making such a dent in Harry’s wallet stresses you out. You whimper gently, unable to find the proper words for the situation.

“Now, if you don’t mind, I have to use the bathroom.” Harry excuses himself, walking back through the door he originally appeared through.

In a daze, you follow the sales assistant up to the counter, helping her out with the mountain of clothes that were now yours. At the till, you purposely stare away from her screen, refusing to look at the ever growing numbers, closing your eyes, and taking in the continuous sound of beeps sounding out from her scanner. 

Luckily, she notices your uncomfortable posture, and does not read out the total, electing to just simply swipe the card, and bag up the items. She does it like it's an art, folding each item as if it could break at any moment, and wrapping the individual item in tissue paper. It didn’t matter to you, however, you appreciate the extra level of luxury. It isn’t every day you receive new clothes.

Eventually, Harry reappears, heading straight to the counter. Effortlessly, he takes an ink pen from his shoulder pocket, and removes the cap with his teeth, scribbling a signature on the receipt sitting on the counter.

Harry turns to you with a smile on your face. “Happy?”

You aren’t sure that’s the correct word. “Overwhelmed.”

Harry hums in agreement, but doesn’t press further. Reaching his hand out, he invites you to take his hand in a shake. You oblige. It feels strange but you don’t press it any further. Harry continues. “I will see you Monday morning. I hope to see that you have prepared for your first day correctly.” He softly says your name. “Goodbye, for now.”

You watch as Harry exits out the main doors, studying the way he leaves. It hasn’t quite hit you yet that he has been a ghastly amount of money on your wardrobe. However, a sick feeling creeps up on you.

In an instant, you feel sick, overwhelmed with the weight of what had just happened. It wasn’t just dread though–you actually felt like you were going to throw up.

The sales assistant seemed to recognise it immediately, pointing to the doors behind you. With a thanks on your lips, you push your way through the swinging doors, and into the nearest unisex bathroom, locking the door and crouching onto the cool tiles.

Luckily, nothing comes out of your throat. After a short period of dry heaving, the sick feeling that rumbled inside of you, dissipates. Potentially, just stepping away from the franticness of the boutique was enough to calm you, but as you settle amongst the tiles, your stomach returns to normal.

Realising your eyes are clenched tight, you open your eyes, taking in the room around you. It’s clean–exactly how you imagined a boutique bathroom. 

Turning your head, a shiny substance catches your eyes, so small you could almost miss it. You don’t even realise what you’re looking at at first. Squinting, you crawl up to the towel bowl, analysing the ceramic. 

There’s something streaky on the side of the bowl. 

You are certain your eyes aren’t playing tricks on you. There is a sticky, white substance, still wet, dripping down the side of the toilet bowl. It drips to the tiled floor in an abundance, yet to have dried up fully. You can tell a haphazard attempt to clean it up had occurred, with a certain smudge around the toilet rim, but it wasn’t good enough.

Someone’s cum was dripping down the toilet.

You didn’t want to believe it. You knew who had just been in these bathrooms, the thought making your head spin.

Had Mr Harry Castillo just masturbated in these toilets?

——————

a/n — i need a nap. i wrote this and forgot to post this for a couple days. it’s been a long week. but yay new chapter yippee !!!

tag list – @joeldjarin @moyavsemoya @glitterspark @ro-nahime-things @throttlepascal @umadirectioner @roslynsworld @morganlolitta @isa942572 @ccisneros444 @ilovefictionallmenn @he-is-the-destined @tanyaherondale @wecanbepiratez @thebeautytoyourbeat @fandomunite2107 @tinyleia @lilipads @lumbiiii @jxvipike @nicholedraghoes19 @brinapedroswife @crazysouthernlady @thefalseapp @melsunshine @ultrav10l3nce @reidswifeyyyyyy @zofirellas @terrence1ovesyou @behomewhenthestreetlightscomeon @thefalseapp @or-was-it-just-a-dream @okyeeaaahhhh @sinarainbows @dotyoureyez @cynic-spirit

[thy1quitcentral]

K pop demon hunters

Huntrix vs Saja boys

X Honmoon!NB oc

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

.................💗...................

"leave us alone for a second boys" Jinu looked to the other demons.

"aw man" they all whined but went further down the alley way giving them space.

Honey pursed their lips, they shouldn't be talking to demons. At all, all they did was try to take them from the hunters, who have been caring for them for hundreds of years.

"it's.....good to see you again" Jinu smiled looking at honey with a genuine smile. Not a fake one and not a sinister one either.

"look at you" Honey spoke up and smiled weakly "you haven't changed at all huh star boy?" The deity observed him.

"why are you here?" Honey asked looking down the alley where the other boys waited quitely. Demons were probably up to no good at all, honey wasn't bound to let them get any souls.

"we were tired of down there......we escaped" Jinu explains. The other blinked in shock "I wasn't aware that you were able to do that" they admit, who could they be aware, keeping of the surface and keeping demons below was their job, not watching what they were up to in the demon world.

"I wanted to see you again Honey moon" Jinu hummed, lying through his teeth. The deity blinked and smiled softly at that "I did miss you.... unfortunately" they crossed their arms.

"oh ho ho we playing that game now?" Jinu laughs.

"hm?... game? What game?" Honey looked around stupidly but only giggled and broke their lil act.

Felt almost like old times, warm and friendly.

From afar

"damn, Jinu is good at that" Abby comments leaning on romance. Romance hummed "it's whatever, more souls for us if he gets rid of it quickly" he shrugged. "They are so cute, it's disgusting" Baby smiled brightly.

Mystery only watched and observed Jinus interaction. He definitely looked happy with honey, unlike other times in the demon realm.

That just looks like a mixture of pure failure if Jinu got too close.

***

The two wondered

Rumi was still out and not home, it worried Honey.

"hey what's with the frown?" Jinu asked, lifting Honeys chin up gently. "I'm only worrying for my Core voice" they explain but huffs "but I am not to tell you more" they crossed their arms and looked away.

Jinu rolled his eyes "you know you can tell me anything"

"noooo not really, as much as I knew you, you are a demon and I haven't known you in like 400 years? So nope" walking into the air and Jinha jumps from building to building to follow them.

"let me prove it to you, that I am here to follow the passion I once felt like a lost" jinu said in Ernest. "Give you a true connection that no hunter has ever bothered to form with you" Jinu whispers.

One pause and looked to Honey "music?' their eyes sparkled. They frowned "no....I have my core voice with me and we are making a beautiful process, all my past core voices were my dearest friends" they explain and smiled.

"and somewhat, you aren't golden" Jinu counters, that made Honey quiet.

Jinu smiled then glanced at honeys threads, purple to magenta, their eyes glowing that same color for a moment before turning blue.

Honey flinched at the sudden wave and yelps as he falls. The demon boy jumps down and catches Honey "woah what's wrong?"

"I don't know....I have to go" honey spoke urgently.

"wait but-"

Honey was gone.

The demon sighed softly and looked down. So close wasn't he?

******

Honey had gotten home, both Zoey and Mira making some food this time.

"honey!" Zoey gasped "did you find her?" Mira asked in worry. "No, she told me not to follow her" they held their arm and frowned softly.

"I will respect that"

Mira and Zoey frowned for a second "did you sense a disturbance? Your looking at little...purple" Mira spoke as she put her hand on their cheek and checked.

"I am fine, just need a lil lullaby to soothe me" Honey grinned softly. Mira chuckles softly "of course" she rolled her eyes.

"ooooo yes please, it's always so great to hear you sing Mira" Zoey bounced on her heels then took Honeys hand, pushing them into her pile of fluff.

Blankets and pillows placed all together.

Zoey soon joined and sat on Honeys lap. "Oh! Sorry!" She tensed up and got off, bowing slowly and smiled.

There it was again, ya try to make a connection with physical touch and the humans react how they were told to.

'never touch the Honmoon so casually'

They all danced to Mira's song.

"throw it BACK HONEY!" Zoey yelled out.

They all laugh, Honey smiled and felt shy all of a sudden but paused. "Rumi" they turn to the door. Both Zoey and Mira stood up straight, finishing up setting up the table.

Rumi walked in and looked up, seeing the food then her friends...then Honey.

She immediately felt guilty, she was angry....and she lost control. She didn't mean to hurt them.

Honey only smiled "come on the food will get cold.

******

The girls ate and the deity sat and kept them company.

"I'm really sorry about the show" Rumi sighed "hey it's okay....we can reschedule" Mira states. They had called Bobby but it sounded like he had his hands VERY full.

"that human needs a raise" Honey hummed in thought.

"I don't know if that'll be possible...my voice it's..... something is wrong" Rumi admits. Honeys looked at Rumi with concern

"why would you move the single up then Ru" Honey asked gently. "Because we were so close and this is important" Rumi looked at the other two.

"for you too" she turns to Honey. "You'll be your truest you and your destiny would be fulfilled, humans won't have to die anymore from demons. All the demons would be gone" the girl fixed her shoulder sleeve.

The deity pursed their lips and nods "I appreciate that Ru, but all human are fragile, you should've waited."

"but thats the thing, hunters are not meant to show their flaws or fears. Especially not in our Honmoons precences"

Mira and Zoey both joined in at hunters, they both roll their eyes and giggled

Honmoon rolled their eyes with a small huff and crossed their arms. They say up straight, all high and mighty to please their friends.

Rumi giggled gently.

"but yeah we have to fix it"

"definitely"

They conjured up ideas and settled with Zoey's idea.

******

Late at night, Honey doesn't sleep, they didn't need to. They sat on the rail of their balcony.

"Give you a true connection that no hunter has ever bothered to form with you"

Why did that stick to their mind?

They had connection, they had for many generations.

Rumi and Honey were so close to building it. Honey turned gold ever so slightly

They disappeared, no memories of the rest of the concert, they felt....gone.

Part of Honey

A very small part

Didn't want to turn gold

[pastryfication]

pretty world — chapter one

her move to london was supposed to be her fresh start. an opportunity to find herself anew in a place where nobody knew her name. but just as she finds herself settling in, ollie bearman happens. and despite her reservations, he barrels past every one of her well-built walls and ruins her plans.

playlist | series masterlist

The professor was droning on and on in front of the screen. The principle he was enthusiastically explaining had made perfect sense when she learned about it in her native language, but in English, the words seemed to jumble together, and she had given up in following along already at the beginning of the lecture. Now, she was just doodling away in her notebook, trying to look interested in what the elderly man was rambling on about.

Her first week in London had been good. Quiet and uneventful, but good. A few girls from her class had invited her to eat lunch the other day, and just like that, she was starting to grow her social cycle in the British capital.

She had been good at adapting, at figuring out all the new, unfamiliar social cues. All her years of quiet, polite smiles seemed to finally be paying oL in a way that gave her fruition.

When the professor finally started packing up his things, signalling the end of the lecture, she was quick on her feet, moving out the room quicker than anyone else.

The building was busy, students lining all the hallways as she made her way out. She had study hall later, but until then, she was completely free.

For a minute, she considered texting one of her new friends to get a coffee, but she was afraid to push, to overstep in the still new connections, so instead her finger found way to her saved favourites and tapped her brother’s name.

Lorenzo picked up after two rings, a smile evident in his voice. “Hello,” a bit of shuLling was heard on his line. “Did my little sister finally decide to call her favourite brother?”

“Hi, Enzo.” She laughed softly. “Sorry I haven’t called earlier.”

“I was just joking, don’t worry. I’m taking the lack of contact as a good sign. Are you settling in good?”

“Yeah, I think I am.” She hesitated for a moment, looking around her at the grey skies threatening overhead the big park area. “Everything’s so diLerent from home ... and yeah, I don’t really know anyone, but it’s also nice.”

Lorenzo’s voice was soft through the line, and she could almost imagine the overbearing big brother smile he was wearing. “It’s okay to find it hard at first.”

“No, it’s not hard.” She looked down at her worn out sneakers. The tops were getting wet from the damp grass. “I just have to find my place here, I guess.”

He sighed good-naturedly in a way that made it easy to imagine his facial expression. “If you say so... just remember, you don’t have to prove anything. Not to me. Not to anyone else.”

She sucked in a deep breath at his words, but her resolve remained the same till the subject inevitably changed.

-

She chatted with her brother all the way back to her room, revelling in the company, before they said their goodbyes and she promised to call both Arthur and their mother before long.

She was the kind of person who enjoyed her own space, but the silence in her tiny student apartment felt so overwhelming that she almost regretted not signing up for a roommate, just to have someone, no matter how unfamiliar, to fill the silence that threaten to strangle her every time she stepped inside.

As the unwelcome feeling overwhelmed her, the small slip of paper sitting on her kitchen counter seemed to suddenly be the only thing she could focus on. It was a small slip, ripped oL the corner of a napkin and crinkled from being carried around in her pocket. On it was a scribbled number so crooked that it could only have been written by a teenage boy.

Ollie had handed it to her with a crooked smile and a “Call me if you ever get lonely or need a tour guide.”, paired with an awkward scratch at the back of his head.

She was originally going to throw it out as soon as she came home, but something in her had stopped, and put it there instead.

Ollie had been nice. Welcoming and open, but still a bit shy and held-back in a so charming way that she hadn’t been able to stop smiling throughout the night. Had he been any other guy, she would have been over the moon to get his number after such a great evening. But he wasn’t. He was everything she was trying to avoid. Everything she was desperately trying to escape.

It wasn’t his fault that his job and everything it brought was so sensitive for her. It wasn’t his fault that she had been so exposed to the spotlight that she had grown to resent every innocent photographer and fan who just wanted to feel close to their idol.

She hadn’t chosen that life, and maybe because of that, because the only conscience choice she had made was to get away from the high speed, over exposed life of Formula 1, it felt so much more wrong to contact a boy who stood for all that. (No matter how cute he looked with his messy hair and goofy grin)

But still, despite that, she didn’t throw out the slip.

—

Ollie was waiting for a call. He tried to pretend he wasn’t, but he couldn’t stop the way his thoughts kept drifting back to her; to her soft smile, the way she nervously twisted her hair and most importantly, the way he hadn’t stopped smiling the entire night.

He thought they had connected, thought she had felt the same, but apparently not.

Wouldn’t she have called or texted him if she did?

He had never been very caught up in the idea of love or crushes, no, karting had always been his entire life, but this was as if destiny had handed him the perfect girl on a silver platter.

What were the odds of him connecting with the sister of one of his coming colleagues—and on top of that one that had been nothing but welcoming to him? It seemed almost too good to be true. She would be able to understand his world like none of his former girlfriends had.

But it was too good to be true. He was getting ahead of himself. He knew that. But wasn’t that better than not giving it a chance at all? It seemed to be what she was doing, and he would be lying if he said it didn’t make him a bit frustrated.

He was driving to Haas’s location in Oxfordshire with his dad a few weeks later to prepare for the season, but until then, he was staying with some friends in London to get the teenage experience before he started his real grown-up job.

Maybe that was what his frustration stemmed from. Stress. Insecurity.

Why wouldn’t she just call him?

[illbearound]

MOST WANTED MAN

Hiiii!! Here’s the second chapter for you!! 🤍 — a little glimpse of the past. Their first meeting.

I hope you enjoy it !! Once again, thank you so much for the kind words and love I’ve been receiving 🥹🧡

Chapter Two - The Gallery

BEFORE

Paris , September 2023

Anna slips quietly into the warm glow of the gallery, the light fabric of her dark-blue dress brushing softly against her skin. The space hums with low conversations, the occasional clink of glass, and the faint scent of dry champagne mingled with polished wood. Paintings hang with deliberate spacing, as if each needed its own quiet to breathe. The lighting is moody, minimal. Everyone here knows how to stand just far enough apart to seem interesting.

She lingers near the entrance a moment too long, eyes searching for a familiar face. Faces blur together, linen jackets, softly laughing voices, the glimmer of delicate jewelry catching the light. This isn't her world. She's here as moral support — colleagues of Julie's, friends-of-friends thing. Anna has the feeling that this evening is goint to feel like a delicate performance she didn't have time to rehearse.

Julie spots her quickly, halfway through a conversation with a girl Anna vaguely recognizes. Without breaking her smile, Julie waves her over. Anna moves toward her cautiously, a shy smile on her lips.

"Sorry." Anna says, slipping into the circle "My date with Margaux ran longer than expected."

She'd spent most of the afternoon in the university library, surrounded by stacks of books and essays for her thesis research that already felt too vast, too demanding. The weight of it settled on her shoulders, a quiet pressure she couldn't shake. Later, she met Margaux for coffee, a classmate she hadn't seen all summer, Their conversation slipped easily back into place, as if no time had passed at all. It was grounding, a small thread of familiarity in a week that felt crowded with new expectations and unsettled rhythms. The semester was just beginning again, and these small reunions carried something both comforting and strange. Old connections reframed by what was to come.

"It's fine. You're never late for these kind of things." Julie replies, pulling her into a quick hug and kissing her cheek. "I'm just glad you made it. You look beautiful, by the way," she adds , in that effortless way Julie always did.

Anna stays for a few minutes in their circle, standing politely in the orbit of Julie's charisma. The conversation twists around gallery gossip, an artist's mysterious "emotional collapse" and art exhibions she never heard before. Nonetheless, Anna nods, smiles when appropriate, listening to names she half-recognizes and stories she can't quite follow.

When the conversation drifts to someone's internship in Berlin, she touches Julie's arm lightly "I'm gonna do a loop, check out the actual art."

Julie nods mid-laugh "Go, go. I'll rescue you in twenty."

Anna gives a soft smile and slips away, not rushed, just gentle. The kind of exit no one would really question.

She moves slowly through the room, letting the din of voices blur behind her. The exhibit is beautiful, in a cold sort of way. Sparse paintings and sculpture pieces spaced intentionally around the room, each demanding quiet admiration. It's not that Anna doesn't care for art, she does, but tonight, the swirl of unknown faces and the weight of trying to seem interesting makes her feel like a misplaced comma.

A man in a suit kindly offers her a drink as he passes, asking what she'd prefer: water or champagne. She chooses sparkling water. She hates champagne.

She pauses by a painting near the far window. Swirls of blue and bone-white, like someone trying to paint grief with a soft brush. She doesn't understand much, but once Julie told her, "It's not about understanding . It's about how it makes you feel."

So she tries. She lets the quiet in. For the first time this evening, her shoulders relax.

It's only then, in that stillness, that someone bumps into her. Not hard, just a gentle bump against her shoulder.

"Ah, pardon!" His voice is soft, sincere, not rushed. "Je suis désolé."

Anna turns, ready to smile politely, a quiet way of saying it's okay, but her brain hesitates. She recognizes him. Not from any intimate knowledge, but because some faces, especially his, carry weight beyond headlines. You don't have to follow football to know his face. But in person, he looks softer somehow, less like a headline, more like a boy who just walked into the wrong conversation and is trying to be polite about it. It takes a second for her brain to register him outside of context.

He looks at her like he thinks he might know her. She knows that's impossible. Her hand tightens slightly around the stem of her glass.

He scans her again, the recognition failing to land. Then a faint smile curls his lips. "Good hiding spot," he says quietly, nodding around the room. "You get a view and silence."

It sounds more like an observation.

Anna lets out a breath, a quiet laugh escaping her "Exactly what I was going for."

"Too many people pretending to love art they don't understand?" he offers, a teasing lilt in his voice.

She tilts her head, amused "You're assuming I'm not one of them?"

"No–" he shakes his head quickly, still a bit nervous, a small smile tugging at his mouth. "No, that's not what I–" He stops, hands lifted in surrender.

Her smile softens. "It's okay. You're not wrong. I came with a friend. I don't speak fluent art-world, so I figured I'd admire from a safe distance." She hesitates, then adds, "Also heard there'd be free canapés. That sealed the deal."

He laughs, genuine and warm. "That's the only reason I go to things like this."

He leans slightly against the wall, keeping respectful distance. There's an ease about him now, like the kind of person who doesn't need to pretend.

Her gaze flicks up, smiling at him, "And you?" she asks, almost without thinking.

"Work, socializing." he says. "I don't really understand art, to be honest." he admits. "Don't know what half of it's supposed to be. The ones with the squares confuse me."

Anna smirks. "They're... conceptual."

"I think my five-year-old niece made one of these once. With glitter glue."

"Don't say that too loud. You might offend the entire gallery." She stifles a laugh.

He leans in slightly. "I think I already did. I almost accidentally knocked over one sculpture earlier. Caught it just in time."

She laughs, a real one, not the kind she gives out of politeness. They stand quietly, the noise of the party falling away. He watches her with an easy attentiveness that surprises her.

He hesitates for a second, then a shy smile tugs at his lips. "Water at a party? That's rare." Eyes twinkling. "Scared of hangovers? Or the designated driver?"

She shrugs, feeling a blush rise. "Neither, I'm just not a big fan of champagne.." Then, almost shyly, she admits, "And I don't actually drive. Too scared I'd hit something or someone. I think I'm just built for walking."

To her surprise, he nods knowingly. "I don't drive either. But I have a driver." he explains "Life of luxury, you know?"

Anna laughs, the sound light and genuine. "Lucky! I've got to stick with metro stations and Ubers. But, it's not that bad."

He nods. Doesn't press. Just stays in the space beside her like it means something.

The buzz of the party fading into the background. He looks at her for a moment. A flicker of something thoughtful passes across his face, but it fades into a smile. There's something easy about him. Something quiet beneath the surface.

"So what do you do, if not hiding at parties and catching Ubers?"

Anna shrugs lightly, the words coming easier now "Studying. Staying at home. Observing, occasionally. I'm a little boring."

He shakes his head "You seem pretty interesting to me so far. "

Her cheeks warm. She looks away.

Minutes slip by unnoticed, quietly folding into each other. The kind of time that feels stretched and delicate, like it might dissolve if you looked at it too closely. Anna's aware of the shift, how quickly her nerves have softened into something easier, something calm.

They stand together a little longer, and she's struck by the quietness of it all. How effortless it feels. No performance. No angles. Just a low, winding conversation in a room curated for appearances.

She doesn't know how long they've been talking — twenty minutes, maybe more — but it's long enough to notice and too long to be accidental. The kind of time that slips when something feels unexpectedly good. She doesn't try to name it. It's just this: the strange comfort of talking to a stranger. No pressure, no backstory, no expectation.

Just the magic of strangers. One night. One moment.

Across the room, Anna notices a blur of motion. Julie, with a glass of wine in one hand and a knowing smile playing on her lips. She's standing with two other girls, one of them clearly telling some over-animated story, but Julie's attention has found Anna. Her eyebrows arch. Her eyes dart to the man beside her, then back to Anna. And then: the smirk.

Anna knows that look. She's been spotted. Not just standing alone, but worse — smiling. Giggling, even. She instinctively straightens, but the moment is already sealed. Julie lifts an eyebrow from afar, her expression more amused than judgmental.

Julie raises her glass, a subtle cheers from afar, and gives a wink so quick it could've been imagined. Anna rolls her eyes and fights the little smile, looking away.

Back at the art, Kylian, she thinks, though they haven't exchanged names, stays present, making fun remarks about the weird paintings. He's funny, casually quick-witted, and fully there. Like he's not waiting for someone better to talk to. Like she hasn't just been a polite bump-in. The conversation slipped easily into one of those winding, meandering rhythms.

"I think," he says, examining the abstract piece in front of them, "this painting is either about heartbreak... or a blender explosion."

Anna laughs. "The best art does walk the line."

He turns to her again, clearly pleased with the response.

"Have you ever thought about making anything like that?"

She shakes her head. "God, no. I can barely draw a star without it turning into a spider."

He nods, thinking "Well, I can't even draw those intentionally." He snorts, and she does too.

But then comes the inevitable.

A voice calls out to him, one of the louder ones from the other side of the gallery. Sounds familiar, someone he knows, maybe his friends, teammates or family even. They wave him over, one lifting a brow like they already have a joke lined up. He looks over his shoulder, the spell momentarily broken. Anna instinctively steps back, giving him space without thinking.

"Looks like I've been found. " he says, flashing her a crooked smile.

"Duty calls." she says, playing it cool.

He gives her a brief, apologetic look "Yeah, I should meet them before they come here and embarrass me." He lets out a small laugh. She smiles.

"Yeah..." she gestures loosely, toward nowhere specific. "I should go find my friend too."

But neither of them moves, not at first. There's a strange comfort in the space they've created. Two strangers orbiting gently, neither rushing to close it.

He finally steps back, "It was really nice meeting you." he says. And it sounds like he means it.

"You too." she says, smiling. "Unexpectedly nice."

He smiles, dimples deep in his cheeks. He tilts his head a little, as if about to say more.

"Maybe one day we'll see your star-shaped spiders hanging in one of these." he teases softly.

"Oh gosh." she groans "If we're lucky, that day will never come."

Kylian laughs under his breath. Then he smiles once more before turning away, slipping easily into the crowd with a few friendly slaps on the back and a burst of laughter. He moves through people like he always belongs, but as he drifts away.

Julie finds her a few minutes later, looping an arm through hers, her voice low and curious. "So... who's your friend?"

Anna gives her a knowing look "I don't know what you're talking about."

Julie snorts. "You were giggling like I've never seen you giggle before."

"You're reaching. I was being friendly." Anna says, sipping her water to hide her grin.

"You were being charmed. There's a difference."

"He was just being polite."

Anna glances over her glass, pretending not to look for him again, but her eyes find him anyway. He's still deep in conversation, laughing with his friends, but she catches the way he scans the room again. His gaze skims past the paintings, the guests and finds her. He smiles, subtle and slow. Anna smiles too. Small. Barely there. The kind that doesn't ask for attention, just acknowledgment.

Her phone buzzes in her bag. She glances down, a calendar reminder. Early meeting with her dissertation tutor tomorrow morning.

She sighs, "I need to go." she tells Julie softly. "Got an early meeting." then says "See you at home?"

Julie nods, clearly holding back another round of teasing, but not for long. "Not saying goodbye to your friend?"

Anna rolls her eyes. And then smiles, just a little. She hesitates. Her gaze flicks back toward the corner where he stands. Surrounded. Engaged. A little out of reach. Should she? It feels like too much to walk across the room just for goodbye.

So she doesn't.

Instead, she waits for the right moment. And when he turns his head again, she lifts a hand in a soft wave from across the gallery. His smile changes, still warm, but tinged with something like disappointment. Like he hadn't quite wanted the night to end. He raises his hand too. No words. Just a shared, quiet exit.

Anna slips on her coat at the entrance again, heart still beating somewhere behind her ribs like it isn't sure how to behave. The city air outside is sharp, a touch too cool for the first days September but her face is still flushed from something warmer.

As she steps into the night, she thinks about her evening and then him.  She doesn't know if she'll ever see him again. It was just a nice moment with a charming stranger.

Deep down, she hopes to.

———

tags: @nowrosesaredead

[waywardxrhea]

Wait For It - Bucky Barnes

Chapter 3

Bucky Barnes x fem!medic!reader

installment list / previous chapter / next chapter

word count: 4,689

story content warnings: 18+ MDNI! war, violence, loss of limb, mental illness, medical talk and treatment, language, drinking, tense family situations, eventual smut, pregnancy scare, explosives. there’s fluff too, i swear!

Looking around, you saw the table the Commander had been on, overturned with half of the wood missing, decimated by the explosion. “Commander Walsh!” you shouted as loudly as you could into the burning hellscape that surrounded you. 

“Over here!” came a choked up voice on the other side of the table. 

As you dragged yourself in an army crawl toward the voice, you tried to look around to see the other men, but could only barely see an outline of their figures on the outskirts of the room, unmoving. Shit. Gritting your teeth, you moved faster, getting to the Commander and quickly looking him over to see if he needed stabilization before moving him. “My leg. Can’t move it. Tourniquet.” 

“Come on, then,” you said as you positioned yourself beside him and hauled him onto your back. As you got to moving, you saw the snake-looking thing again behind a bookshelf that began to collapse, but this time there was more than one. You blinked again, and it too was burning away in the fires that were enveloping the house. Using what was left of your strength, you made your way to an opening in the side of the house that wasn’t there before, gasping for fresh air when you made it out. 

Barnes woke up on your couch with a start, his light slumber being interrupted by the sound of something crashing to the ground in your bedroom. He quickly jumped up, grabbing the knife he kept on the coffee table when he slept as he started toward your room. His steps were quiet and calculated as he navigated the now familiar living space. Two steps this way, then take one to the left or else the floor board would creak. Three more steps and then he was outside of your bedroom door, silently turning the knob before lunging in, ready to take on any HYDRA member who had the guts to come after you.

Darting his eyes around the room, Barnes checked the space for safety. The window was closed and latched shut, the door connecting to the bathroom was ajar with the lights out inside, and the closet door was closed. No figures stood in any of the corners or behind the bedroom door. Quickly making his way to the bathroom, he opened the door and peered inside, not seeing anything out of the ordinary in the room or shower. The closet was cleared too when he swept through it to ensure no one was crouched down inside, ready to ambush either of you.

Coming back into the room, he saw that the sound that woke him up was the lamp on the ground beside your bed, having taken out a few other things on the way down. Once that was off of his list of concerns, he finally was able to turn his attention toward you. You were sat up with your head in your hands, shoulders moving up and down as your chest heaved with anxious breaths. "You okay?" he asked softly as he approached, crouching down to pick up the lamp and turn it on.

Light illuminated the space and as you took a deep breath while leaning back onto your headboard, Barnes saw a glint on your cheeks. Tears catching the light of the lamp that calmed your panic. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you…" you managed to whisper after a few more beats of silence as your racing heart began to slow down.

"It's okay," he replied, his voice soft and soothing to your ears as the cotton feeling started to clear out from them. "What…what happened?" he asked tentatively as he crouched back down to pick up your phone and an empty glass that had fallen with the lamp.

"Nightmare. Of the IED. I���I haven't had one that bad in a while…" you told him, wiping away at the tears on your face with the back of your hand. "It all just…it all felt so real. It was like I was there again. I could practically feel the heat of the fires. Smell the smoke." A deep breath was let out of your lungs as you came back to reality, your head still lulled against the headboard as you whispered, "Thank you for checking on me."

Barnes nodded in reply, a glance at the time on your phone telling him it was around 4:30 in the morning. "Wanna go for a run?" he offered, knowing it was something that helped calm your nerves when you were stressed.

"I think that would help a lot," you said, a soft smile on your lips as you pushed the covers off of your legs. While you adjusted yourself to the side of the bed, he walked over to the closet and grabbed your running leg and handed it to you so you could start getting ready for the run. "Thanks," you told him, ducking your head down to get the prosthetic on while hiding the flustered look on your face.

Ever since that first night he stayed in your apartment, Barnes had become protective over you, and you couldn't help the butterflies it had started to ignite in your stomach. You tried to ignore them, though. He was just being polite, you told yourself.

He was starting to remember more of his past before enlisting into the war, and he had really started leaning into the charming mannerisms that were routine back then. Holding doors, moving chairs in and out from tables, carrying groceries into the building, and keeping a protective hand near the small of your back in crowded spaces had become routine during these weeks of living together.

He hadn't told you what the HYDRA officer had said to him that morning he went back to the bank to deal with them, he just couldn't bring himself to. You had a stressful enough job on top of tirelessly reading through HYDRA files and taking all sorts of notes that would help him clear his name. With all of that on your plate already, he didn't want to worry you even more with the threat of the organization that was no doubt rebuilding under everyone's nose.

So he protected you, even if you didn't truly realize it.

Every night while you were getting ready for bed, he did a sweep of the apartment to ensure that nothing was out of place and that every entry point was locked. When the two of you went out on runs, he opted for the early hours so there were less people - less threats. He insisted on going to the grocery store with you, even if it was after he had been working long hours on the latest no questions asked construction site. A suspicious glare was sent in the direction of every person who looked at you the wrong way - for all he knew, they were HYDRA.

Today's run followed this routine to a T. Early morning on a secluded running trail on the outskirts of the city, just the two of you. Even though he could run laps around the trail before you got one in, Barnes stayed loyally at your side, the occasional conversation breaking up the silence of the quiet morning. By the time the two of you had made it back to your car, the smile on your face from the endorphins was contagious, and he couldn't help but crack his own as you rambled on about how nice the park was that morning.

As you drove back to the apartment so the two of you could have a hearty breakfast after that run, you said off-handedly, "I think I'm gonna go to a meeting today at the VA. It's been too long since I've been to one, and I think the nightmare this morning was a wake up call. Literally."

Barnes nodded before telling you, "I'll be at the construction site until supper time. Foreman said he needed extra man power today."

"And by extra man power he definitely meant just you," you joked.

A quiet chuckle rumbled out of his chest at the joke before he said, "I do the work of ten men and he doesn't ask questions. That was the deal when I signed on."

"I'm glad you found something to take up your time. I'm sorry it's taking so long to figure all of this out," you told him. "I've got a bunch of evidence gathered, but finding the right lawyer that isn't gonna cost an arm and a leg is gonna be the hard part."

"Well, seeing as we could both get a new arm and leg to replace the cost…" he said, the smirk audible in his voice.

You couldn't help the laugh that poured out of you, the fit lasting the greater part of a minute before you finally were able to say, "I think that's the first joke you've told me. Didn't know you had a sense of humor, Barnes."

"Don't get used to it," he said, although the smirk remained on his lips as he stared ahead at the road leading to your apartment.

"Now just where the hell have you been?" Sam asked as you wandered into the room where his VA meeting was being held. "Was thinking about making a welfare check if you didn't show up within the next week!"

"Sorry, I've just been busy," you told him as you made your way to the stacks of chairs to start setting up.

"Busy enough to not come to a meeting for over a month? Man, they were really getting their money's worth for those last contract days," Sam said as he joined you in setting up the chairs. "Did you end up re-signing for another thirteen weeks?"

Shaking your head, you replied, "No, I'm taking some personal time right now before I decide on what to do. Sign back with the same company, sign on with Walsh, go somewhere else completely… Lots to think about that I didn't have time to before."

"Well, wherever you decide to go will be lucky to have you." Sam turned his head toward the sound of a knock on the door frame and the smile was evident in his voice as he called your name before saying, "Case in point, a man you saved!"

"So this is the paramedic you told me about," the voice said as he entered the room and came face to face with you. "Steve Rogers," he said, sticking out his hand for you to shake.

"Nice to meet you, Captain," you said as you shook his hand.

"Likewise," he said, an award-winning smile being flashed your way before he helped with setting up chairs.

The three of you fell into silence as the room was set up. As you were coming back from filling a container of coffee, you could hear the two men having a conversation in hushed whispers. It stopped abruptly when they heard your footsteps approaching the room, and the super soldier gladly took the load off of you, lifting the heavy container like it was nothing. "Thanks!" you told him before heading back to the small storage area to grab the chips and cookies that had been bought for the meeting.

The topic of the meeting was greatest fears after coming home from deployment. There was the standard gunfire and explosives, of which you were averse to as well, but when it came to your turn you had two things to offer up.

You told the group your name and branch of service before telling them, "One of my biggest fears after coming home from Afghanistan is snakes." This got a bit of a chuckle out of some people, so you elaborated, "I was a medic, and when I went in to patch up a Commander's leg after a firefight, an IED went off. Lost part of my leg in the blast. I don't remember everything from that night, and I don't know if I ever will, but I do remembering seeing snakes. If they were real or not, I couldn't tell you. All I know is that they scare the hell outta me now."

While thinking about your fears, a memory flashed through your mind as you took a moment to gather your thoughts.

Your body was still wracked with pain from yet another failed surgery to try and salvage what they could of your leg. It ended with a below the knee amputation, and you were not only dealing with physical pain, but phantom pain as your nerve endings tried to adjust to your new reality.

The door to your room bursting open distracted you for a moment as your mother flooded into the small space, coming to a halt beside your bed as the door slammed shut behind her. There were no balloons or flowers or stuffed animals or get well soon cards in her arms. Instead, she stood with her arms crossed and a scowl on her lips before she began pacing.

"Mom!" you said, relief evident in your voice to see her after so long.

"I hope the next words out of your mouth are 'you told me so,' young lady!" your mother snapped. Your brain didn't even have time to process what she was saying before she barreled forward, nearly shouting, "What did I always tell you? Become a doctor! A PA! Even a nurse! But what did you go and do instead? You joined the Army and got yourself blown up!" There was a look in her eyes that you couldn't place, and didn't even get the chance to as she said, "All I wanted for you was to have a respectable career and to make a life for yourself! I had your name on lists to get into the best medical schools in the country! I threw around my name and risked my career to get your opportunities that you wasted!"

Your already erratic emotions clutched at your chest and your felt your throat tighten with emotion as you tried again, "Mom, I-"

"'I'm sorry' better be next!" she spat. "I don't even know who I'm looking at anymore! You're a shell of the person you were! What happened to my happy little girl who was full of life? I don't even know you anymore…"

That was the last time you had heard more than ten words at a time from your mother. And it was at a time when you needed her support the most.

You shook the memory from your head as you came back to reality, not sure how long you spaced out while the memory hit you. Tears pricked the backs of your eyes as you told the meeting attendees, "My greatest fear, though, is abandonment. I…I've made it my personal mission to never abandon anyone in their time of need." That same tightness began to squeeze at your chest, and you knew that there wasn't much more time before your emotions got the better of you. So, you cleared your throat once more and managed to choke out a quiet, "Thanks for listening," and hurried back to your seat.

For the rest of the meeting, you did your best to pay attention, but your anxiety was putting in the work to keep your mind occupied. The only thing that was able to yank you out of your tumultuous thoughts was when you heard Captain Rogers say, "My best friend. Bucky Barnes. He was the reason I wanted in so badly. He saved me more times than I could count, and I just wanted to have the chance to do the same for him. And I did. Until I couldn't. I guess my greatest fear is not being able to save the people I love. Thanks."

After the meeting had concluded, you got all the way to your car before realizing that in your anxious spiral, you had forgotten your water bottle in the room. It kept your drink cold or hot for hours on end, so you didn't want to lose it.

The building was practically empty for the evening, with Sam's having been the last meeting of the day, and you made sure to keep your footfalls soft as you walked back to the meeting room. You were trying to be as small as you felt, and your quiet steps reflected that.

When you got close to the room, though, you heard the now more open conversation happening between Sam and Captain Rogers. "I just think we need to be cautious about this, man," Sam said warily.

"I know, but I think we have a sure shot at getting to him with what we know now," Steve told him. What he said next made you freeze in your tracks. "Bucky's spent years evading capture. If we don't act while he's still in the city, I may lose him again."

"How much do you trust the intel Nat gave you?"

"With my life," he said seriously.

Your body went into autopilot as you turned around and just as silently exited the building. That familiar roaring that accompanied your anxiety filled your ears, and you barely heard the honk of a car horn as you dashed out the door and into the parking lot. With that jolt back into reality, you gave the driver a sheepish wave before continuing on to your car. The drive back to the apartment was rushed, and you were so lost in your anxious thoughts that you weren't sure if you had run any red lights or not.

Rushing into the apartment as fast as you could, you pulled out your phone and dialed the burner phone Barnes had been using since he started staying with you. "Come on, come on, pick up!" you grumbled as you listened to the ringing of the line. When he didn't pick up, you dialed again, desperate to get a hold of him. If someone else knew his whereabouts, surely it wouldn't be hard for the government to track him down and take him in for the crimes he had no choice in committing.

It was a long ten minutes of pacing the living room of your apartment, feeling like your brain was a spinning tire without traction. Anxious thoughts sent you spiraling and unable to piece two coherent thoughts together to even start to come up with a plan on what to do if Sam and Captain Rogers were coming to get Barnes. You were blank, running into wall after wall as executive dysfunction wrapped around you like a vice.

The opening of the apartment door and Barnes' heavy backpack hitting the floor made you jump as you were abruptly thrown out of the anxiety spiral by the noise. "We need to get you outta here," you blurted once you turned to face him.

"What's going on?" he asked, sensing the anxiety rolling off of you in waves.

"Someone has intel on you. Overheard at the VA meeting. If they can find out where you are, then-"

"HYDRA can too…" he muttered, running a hand over the beard on his chin. "Shit…" he whispered as he started moving around the living space, grabbing odds and ends to throw into his backpack.

With the visual queue prompting you to start gathering things too, you went to your room and closed your curtains before starting to grab some basics you needed if you had to flee. As you did, though, the thought crossed your mind that what if Barnes had no intentions of you going with him? What if his frantic gathering of his sparse belongings was just to get himself out of there and away from the hands of anyone trying to track him down? What if-

As Barnes was partway through shoving a box of granola bars into his bag, he heard it. The faint sound of voices outside. He focused his hearing further and could barely distinguish the sound of tools scraping on metal. Right outside of your bedroom window. Without a second thought, he yanked his backpack on one shoulder and dashed to your room, lifting you off of your feet and slinging you onto his shoulder before bolting toward the front door of the apartment.

You were so shocked at the sudden upheaval and fast sprint outside that you didn't even realize that as Barnes had you over one shoulder, he had also picked up the motorcycle he had been using to get around in the other, taking you and it a few blocks away before jumping on and starting the engine. Everything felt robotic and automatic as you threw your leg over the back of the bike and grabbed a hold of Barnes' bag so you wouldn't fly off the back when he tore off down the road at breakneck speed!

"Did you hear that? The motorcycle starting?" Steve asked Sam as he worked on getting into the window of the apartment Natasha reported she had seen Bucky go into.

"Dude, that was blocks away. Focus!" Sam said, tossing a look over his shoulder for any onlookers. "We just barely got off the hook for what happened with SHIELD, I'm not looking for a breaking and entering charge if we get caught."

"That'll be the least of our worries if he's hostile once we get in here," Steve said as he heard a satisfying click before he gently pushed the window up so they could climb through.

Steve held a finger up to his lips to silence Sam before gently grabbing the curtains blocking the window so he could peer inside. His heart rate climbed into his throat as he slowly opened the curtain up, the reason being anticipation to see his friend again or adrenaline to prepare for a fight, he wasn't sure. He was met with a bedroom with no one inside as far as he could tell, so he gave Sam the signal that he was heading in and for him to follow.

The room was neat, with a properly made bed and shoes lined up by the closet. A glance into the bathroom revealed neatly racked products and brushes, with everything having a place on the counter or shelves. Everything seemed to be in order besides a few shirts tossed onto the ground, which seemed odd for such an orderly looking room. It was clearly a woman's apartment, but he trusted that Natasha had told them the right place to look.

Steve had begun quietly making his way toward the bedroom door as Sam finally made it through the window, and peeked out into the living space before he began to sweep the area for evidence of his friend. He didn't give Sam time to look around the space before moving into the rest of the apartment, quickly clearing the living room and kitchen, as well as the linen closet. His heart sank at the fact that Bucky wasn't there, but there had certainly been a quick getaway from the place. There was a dropped and abandoned box of granola bars, a pocket knife, and ball cap on the ground around the living room. Again, a sharp contrast to how neat the rest of the space was.

A quick glance at the wall revealed why the space was so organized. "Whoever's housing him is military. Purple Heart," Steve announced to Sam as his friend finally made his way out of the bedroom.

"Yeah, and I know who it is…" Sam deadpanned as he showed Steve a picture that had been on the nightstand in the bedroom. It was of you and your medic partner, Manny, standing outside of Walter Reed after you had recovered from your amputation. He ran a hand over his head as he muttered, "Man, what's she gotten herself into?"

He placed the picture down on the coffee table before asking with a bit of sharpness in his tone, "Why didn't we know about who was housing him? If Nat knew about which apartment he was staying in, then surely-"

"If she knew, she would have told us," Steve interrupted.

"Seems like a big thing to not know!" Sam snapped. "Now she's out there with one of the most dangerous assassins in history, with HYDRA breathing down her neck, along with the entire US government and the FBI!"

"Sam, he isn't-"

"We don't know that! What we know is that there's a book of trigger words out there to activate him into a killer, and guess who's right there with him!"

"I have Natasha working on tracking down the book as we speak, Sam! As long as she finds it before they do, then we'll have the upper hand when it comes to deprogramming him!"

"And what if she doesn't find it? Huh? What if one of those HYDRA agents we have no idea the identity of gets their hands on it first? What if someone who knows the words finds him before we can?"

Sam's eye caught a glimpse of another picture you had on the wall, one of you with your EMTs at your last birthday party. Seeing your smiling face reminded him to take a moment, so he paused, a deep breath following to calm himself. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap. She's like a sister to me and she's been through enough already. I don't want her getting hurt."

"If she's with Bucky, she isn't getting hurt," Steve said quietly. He gestured to the clearly slept on couch and the extra pair of boots sitting by the door as he said, "He's been living here. I can assume since we took down HYDRA. If there's one thing I know about Buck, it's that he'll protect the people he cares about until the end."

"Steve…" Sam said warily.

"I know you don't trust him because of what he did as HYDRA's puppet, but that isn't him. The man I knew back in the '40s wouldn't do those things. And I could see it in his eyes that day. He was starting to remember. If he's had that much time and has been living here with her since…"

"Then maybe he has control again… Man, I hate when you're right…" Sam muttered. "So, what do we do now? Since we know who he's with, track her down and find him? As much as I hate to say that…"

Steve shook his head, saying, "No. I think we wait 'til Nat has what we need…"

During this conversation, he had spotted a manila folder on a bookshelf and pulled it out, opening it to reveal file after file of HYDRA documents with sticky notes all over. The notes were on how Bucky wasn't to blame for what he did as the Winter Soldier. He showed Sam the folder and said, "She's gotten a lot of research done to prove his innocence, but a lot of it's classified. If we work with Nat, I think we can get everything we need to clear his name. If we wait until then, maybe we'll have a better chance of him not bolting."

"What's stopping HYDRA from finding them?" Sam asked.

"Call me when your girlfriend works in the intelligence community," Steve said with a quiet chuckle as he picked up the files. "One false tip on his location that looks like it's from a reliable source and HYDRA is across the globe on a manhunt for a ghost. Nat knows what she's doing."

"Fine, but I think we're gonna need more than just the three of us to pull this off," Sam pointed out.

"Well, good thing I got a call from Maria about joining her at Stark Industries. They're wanting to start up the Avengers to deal with HYDRA, and I think they could use all the hands they can get," Steve told him. "We have a common goal here, even if they might not see it at first."

"Like I said, I hate when you're right…" Sam muttered as they started to make their way out of the apartment.

a/n: ahh! it's been so long since i updated this, whoops! but! guess who has a whole house and a mortgage now?? me! so exciting! we drove three and a half hours yesterday for lots of free house things and i have zero regrets about it! now for a registry and then housewarming party once the floors and walls get done! then graduation in 47 days and i'll have so much more free time!

anyways! i love going back and reading the early parts of this story! i'm currently plotting for and writing book 2 chapter 5 and it's gonna be an exciting one! i didn't have much time to write the last few weeks and now that i do (at least a little bit) i feel very happy!

as always, likes and comments are greatly appreciated!

until next time! xo!

[xenonmoon]

From the tags:

Sure thing!

These pics are a bit old because the village is a bit bigger now but the temple hasn't changed much since then, the structure is pretty much finished (save for some redecorations I will probably do in the future to make it more vibrant)

ah yes, it's all made in survival mode and took several months (for the main structure, the rest of it is still ongoing)

More info and pics under the cut

Courtyard view

IRL this was the only space of the temple where the general public was allowed to enter. It was decorated with depictions of the king Doing Stuff (presenting offerings to the gods, slaying enemies etc) and filled with statues of various gods, so the common people could use them for their offerings and devotional acts. There is a baboon statue still standing in the IRL temple of Khonsu, it was the sacred animal of lunar deities. No statues yet in the minecraft version, but it's on the roadmap

Hypostyle hall view

During recent renovations I've added a bit of colour to the columns, plus sculk blocks because usually these type of places had starry roof decorations to symbolise the sky (but the patterning of the block was a bit meh when in large areas so I limited it to between the column rows)

IRL, temples have a lot of symbology thing going on and this hall with its columns (usually multiples of 3 or 4) symbolised the primordial forest within the waters of the Nun, the primordial ocean of chaos where the first mountain of creation emerged.

Pronaos view

disclaimer: this was the first part of the building I did, back when the original plan was a replica of the temple as seen in the tv series. Halfway through I started researching stuff about IRL temples and then started changing the build from a replica of the tv-temple to a replica of the IRL-temple of Khonsu in Karnak. So the resulting room has its creative licenses and a big-ass statue of TV Khonsu

The little table in front of the statue there is a hopper connected to an underground set of mod stuff that gives you different effects upon food being dropped in (intended to be healing effects as it was one of Khonsu's domains, but it currently gives out fly mode and saturation that helps consistently more with the building process) (kinda got tired of having a perpetually low hunger bar and using scaffoldings for everything)

IRL this room contained the sacred boat that was used during processions and was used by priests to do all their worship duties.

The real-life counterpart of this part of the temple is destroyed, but the one in the temple of Horus in Edfu is still standing and has a replica of the boat:

I was pondering to add a change to this room on the roadmap for renovations since with time I fell in love with the ancient architecture and this room kinda is the odd thing out of an otherwise faithful replica. We shall see when the time comes

Now, the sanctuary:

This is still WIP and contains mostly a mockup with stuff I need to store for the build so the inside will probably look a bit different when I will get back to work on this.

IRL, this was the most sacred part of the temple and only the highest-ranking priest (and the king) was allowed in here. It contained a naos (aka kar in egyptian) with the golden/golden-plated/silver statue of the god to whom the temple was dedicated, which was considered as a living vessel containing a part of his/her divine essence.

There is only one known cult statue (most likely Horus) that survived to the present days and it's gorgeous despite the damage

Aaaaand that's it! I learnt and am still learning a lot with this build, it's really being a lovely journey and I always cherish the time I spend working on this and the memories it gave and is still giving me, also helping me decompress and stay focused through some hard times across these two years.

100% worth it starting in survival mode and savour the process block by block instead of going in creative mode and being done in 3-4 days tops

This is so like me that one time I dreamt Khonshu telling me I had to build him a temple in Minecraft because he wanted to go fishing there

[princekaiofstars]

The room was warm and bright as Rosa’s eyes fluttered open. She couldn’t remember getting there, nor did she remember fainting on the steps of the cloud palace before making it to the door.

“There you are moon beam; you gave mother quite a scare.” Hikaru chuckles, “Did you enjoy the nap?” He teased.

Rosa felt heat travel up her neck, blooming across her cheeks and nose as a nervous smile crept across her lips. “W-well…i-i didn’t exactly…..I…”

He arched a brow. “You didn’t…..what?” He leans closer, draping an arm over her waist and propping her up more with his leg, “I’m listening.”

The young nymph couldn’t believe this was happening, clutching her hands to her chest and the blush on her cheeks grew deeper. “I slept well Hikaru….thank you.” Her eyes still locked on his.

The cozy, warm glow of the room surrounded them, lost in each others eyes. Because surely, nothing else could matter in these sweet, tender moments.

—————————

ANYWHOOOOOOS Enough of that sappy love story nonsense (jkjkjk, I actually love these two. They are cross dimensionally intertwined and these are their base base forms lol) I love this sketch sm it’s so cute

Anyways this is Rosa and Hikaru(also known as Reese and Micha in other world/their human forms) ive been working on these two for years and they give the best brainworms second to Frigga

Hikaru is a sun god. Living in the CloudPalace with his mother and 13 sisters; he’s the youngest and often treated with kid gloves to an unhealthy degree. He’s set to take the throne after 1000 years or when he’s finished his JourneyTM, whichever happens first.

Rosa is a nymph(or is she?) born from pond under a wisteria tree, the night of a Full Moon to a poor farmer. The only child of the elderly man, she’s treasured dearly; though she knows soon she’ll be leaving due to her approaching 19th birthday/ “Wedding Party”.

This picture is a few months before her leaving, having stumbled upon a Golden Hare and following him the first time; the young god revealed himself and they started a friendship in secret. Rosa was shocked to win the companionship of a god, while Hikaru(Hiki for short) enjoyed the quirks of humans he’d never seen before.

These two were originally designed(redesigns but you know what I mean) by @aj-thegreatest and given to me(aka I ran her pockets with that blickysticky ❤️❤️) but she’s free to work with them as well AKAMAKETHEMGAYASF

Rosa and Hiki/all versions of them belong to me @princekaiofstars / @princekaistar

If you wanna draw them or know about em, feel free to ask lol.

[liam-summers]

"Every time they come together, it has enormous power, enormous meaning."

[vertia-the-green]

You weren't sure how long you were there. Time didn't even seem to be a thing until a piece from another broken ship slowly drifted from its origin point. The cold vacuum of space was nothing compared to the eerie silence.

The view of the stars was gorgeous beyond description. You wanted to drift closer but were tied in place by that awful cable. You pulled. It didn't budge. You tried again.

Small adjustments were all you could manage, it was frustrating. Mild annoyance bubbled into slowly rising anger at being trapped in a lonely void. Was this really meant to be your existence now? You groan in frustration and let off a slight glow.

Huh. That's different. You let out a hum in curiosity. You glow a bit brighter. As memories of your old life play in your mind, you miss your old home. You absentmindedly begin humming a song from your youth, some old song about sitting by a creek.

Small bits of broken ships float in space as your quiet melody plays from you. It doesn't go unnoticed that they're drifting towards each other. Fascinated, you keep humming that song. It seems the longer you sing, the more pieces start to drift together.

With nothing better to do, you begin creating something.

With time, bigger and bigger pieces come together. The places where they join and connect have a faint glow. The ships around you break apart, bit by bit, and come back together into something just for you.

The battleship is massive, and the inside is like a labyrinth. After the pride of your creation wears off, you begin to miss seeing the stars. While your curiosity had been sated, it seemed that it had come at a cost. While the constellations were all alien to you, they were no less beautiful.

Quiet footsteps pull you out of your thoughts as small beings enter the ship. You can hear them all the way from the room you are tucked away in. There are atleast three of them. Their voices speak in an alien tongue, and you can't decipher a word of it.

After some exploring, they reach where you are and you finally get to see them. The tallest one is leading the small group. Their lanky form is holding some kind of light source. They point at you while speaking to the others. The medium sized one is bulkier than their taller counterpart and easily climbs the structure that you're strapped to. They begin trying to cut you free.

The smallest one seems nervous. Their tiny frame matches their demeanor, and they speak quietly to the others in hushed tones. They seem to be arguing about something. You can't fathom what it could be.

You don't have much time to ponder that, as you are finally freed. You fall unceremoniously with a clang against the metal floor. The creatures gather around you to get a better look. After some more conversing, it seems the smallest one is chosen to carry you. They strain to lift your crystal form as the others look around for the way out.

You are brought onto their ship. If you could sigh, you would. The company was nice, but you couldn't even understand them. At least they let you sit near a window so you could see the stars again. As their ship drifted away from the one you built, you saw the remnants of a broken planet in one of the windows.

The smallest looked at the pieces in a way that you understood far too well. In a desire for something that you couldn't remember the word for, you begin to hum again.

Their ship begins to faintly glow. The two that had been arguing suddenly stop, and look around in surprise. You could hear the engine of the ship start up, and the others cheered. Ah. That's why they wanted you.

You kept humming that song about sitting by a creek. Memories of your old home played in your mind. The gentle rain of summer, the soft breeze, sunlight filtering through the leaves. If you ignored your surroundings, it almost felt like you were there again.

‐----

Soru had been stuck in a ship with her brothers for what felt like years. They were lucky to have escaped, but there was a pit in her heart that couldn't be filled anytime she saw the remnants of her home. The chunks hung lifelessly in space as their ship slowly drifted away.

Their ship didn't have enough power to get out of their solar system, so they were forced to scavenge battlefields for scraps and ship parts. The war atleast left that for them. Her brothers were arguing again after finding some strange crystal. One was sure that it was the solution to their problems, the other thought their time had been wasted.

Soru just wished they would stop fighting. They never fought back home. She closed her eyes and thought of her old house by the forest. There was a small stream that gently ran through where it was easy to find pebbles and flowers. She thought of the soft drops of rain, of the gentle wind, and faint hints of sunlight reaching through the canopy.

Suddenly, her brothers stopped fighting. She opened her eyes and saw the ship was faintly glowing. Before she could ask what was going on, the engine came back on. The crystal in her hands was letting out a faint hum as the ship was finally given the power they needed to find a new home.

She didn't know why, but it sounded like a song.

When you died to a vehicle accident, you expected to become an adventurer in a high-fantasy world. Instead, you were a crystal tied to a broken starship, one out of many in a field of barren space. Undeterred, you start to turn the wrecks into a Dungeon, becoming a powerful battleship as well.

[ahalliance]

qantoine’s coping mechanism to feeling left behind being both self-isolating and becoming possesive of those he cares for is so juicy as a concept . like yeah you go you funky creachure, manifest those complicated and sometimes contradictory emotions

[mikurulucky]

What canon says: He's unattractive. He's ugly. He's weird af. What I say: He's cute. He's lovely. 10/10 would kiss. uwu