#try it out— make sure it’s clear and not confusing without using tags for every line

[sheltershock]

I’ve been working on and off on a little fic for nearly two weeks now(what? It feels longer that that) but I heard some great advice that if you really want to take your craft seriously you’d use the correct professional formatting. In this case, novel format.

And it’s admittedly very strange to look at! But I’m getting used to the format. Double spaced lines used to feel so large, but now it just looks normal. It still tickles me a bit whenever I open the document though.

[kuntprodukt]

REAL MUSOR

Leon S. Kennedy x reader | 18+ MDNI. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, NON CONSENSUAL SEX, STALKING, SOMNOPHILIA, SMUT, female reader, Leon is a cop and a little bit obsessive, breeding, he is icky, mutual masturbation (reader isnt aware of it btw), unprotected sex, creampie, vaginal sex, fingering, oral sex, entering and breaking, forced exhibitionism I guess?, dirty talk, pet names, light gaslighting, non consensual voyeurism, use of spycams, police corruption, non consensual drug use.

Summary: dating isnt really Leon's thing, to waste his precious time and money over a woman that may refuse to have sex with him at the first date isn't worth it. Sure, putting cameras in your apartment to jerk off of your body and breaking in to fuck you are considered much better ways to get what he wants - quicker too.

notes: Musor is a derogatory slang term for a cop (=pig), also it means "trash" :3 I don’t condone anything here in real life. :3 uhm, reblogs or comments and any kind of feedback are really appreciated!

tags: @withonly-sweetheart

Leon has a problem and it started many years ago. Not his alcoholism, no, that can be put aside as something to indulge when life hits hard. Guilty pleasure one would call it. Not his job too, he likes being a cop - it comes with its own advantages. His problem is much simpler and it also got nothing to do with his dick.

Dating apps. They aren’t his cup of tea; meeting new people is hard and nowadays most of them try to find someone on dating sites or apps. Wasteful, he is an employed man with a big responsibility so to court a woman that may be a gold digger would be foolish. Also, unluckily for Leon, one date is not enough to bring most women into bed and the prices are already too high so risking to find a parasite without any payback isn’t something straight out of his dreams.

Also, women don’t get wet if you are a cop unless they have a cop fetish. Apparently, uniforms and handcuffs are only cool in the bedroom. Not like he minds that, cause with time Leon found other ways to enjoy his women. Much more preferable ways.

Two or three knocks on the wooden surface with his knuckles, fingers ran through his blonde locks so they wouldn’t dangle in front of his eyes. Your door opens wide with your confused eyes set on his frame, not expecting any guests, especially a cop. A bad omen.

“Good afternoon, I am here to check. Someone complained about noises coming from your apartment at this hour, miss” Leon explains, showing a pearl-like smile. Too perfect, too cheesy, but attractive appearance always soothed people’s worries, being easy on the eyes makes things uncomplicated. Who doesn’t trust beautiful people? “It won’t take too long”

A pensive hum escapes from your tensed lips, but there is no other choice other than accepting this - you nod, letting him enter inside without any additional questions. Like taking candy from a baby. And you were dumb, which ended up playing nice for him.

The apartment is a studio one, not expensive too. That was expected, you look young, but not enough to have your own place. Renting at a cheap price in not notoriously good neighborhood suits you better.

When the checkup is finished, you seemed so worried to hear his eventual words or clear bullshit. Not every person is used to a cop’s presence in their own cozy little place. Suspicions are natural reactions, but not for you, still believing in that little story that he told you before. A blatant lie, only the dumb bitch would have believed that. You.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry—“ you were apologizing almost every time he would appear in front of you. And even now. Annoying, but also hearing your words filled with so much anxiety made him feel good. Really good. And any wrong word would make you cry easily. Which would be nice to see. He cut your quick rambling, waving a hand mindlessly as his eyes travel to shelves.

“Yeah,“ Whatever. Leon nods absently, finally crumbling to the urge to glance into your almost glossy eyes - with great pleasure enjoying his own reflection in them. His mind wanders to possible images of your face filled with tears underneath him, easily making his pants feel tight around his cock. He can’t help himself. “Maybe someone holds grudges against you, be careful”

Another bullshit, but still you appeared unsure and at the edge of his presence until he was out of your apartment. There should be kept a count of his successful lies. As a respectful man, it was hard not to thank you and wishing well-being before leaving. After all, it would be a bad touch to leave without a gift, right? Leon hadn’t actually thought these little cameras would be used today, but fate had other plans for you. In his defense, it was really hard not to set those little cameras in your apartment while he was ‘doing’ his job. Especially when you were so sweet to him. Weirdly enough, installing them was an easy and quick task, even simpler was to find crannies or shelves to put in these little cameras he had bought or confiscated. After all, it would have been a big waste to throw them away, right?

So sweet. You were asking for it.

An easy target too. And now many rooms were under his watchful eye; bathroom (the best view is there), bedroom and also in living room too. In a little time, Leon got to know your schedule, it wasn’t hard to remember - a simple routine, even a kid would be able to memorize it. Like a little TV show, he enjoys watching after work or during his rare vacations. Whatever you do on Friday morning, when you return home, and when you usually go to sleep. Or when you have your private time, masturbating in bed alone and filling his ears with your moans. Or even better, showering or resting in the hot tub, your tits and body exposed to him - like a nicely wrapped present that he needs to open one day.

The best part is - you aren’t aware of this.

You aren’t aware that many evenings when your fingers creep their way down to your pussy to part its lips and rub slow circles on already swollen clit under the sounds of cheap-acted porn actress’ moans - these evenings were shared with Leon. There is that arousing wet sound when your fingers stroke your leaking pussy. His attention easily glues to the screen, out of habit freeing his hard cock from the pants - it bobs and twitches in the air with already formed beads of pre-cum on his aching tip just begging for any kind of attention. Your lips would be nice, but a tight pussy even better. His fist cups it in a tight grip, slowly pumping his cock while watching the sight of your trembling and parted legs. And your moans, little breathless whimpers - his favorite. Sadly, this gets muffled by his moans, as his own strokes become rougher and quicker trying to keep up with your fingers. Leon knows the signs of your approaching orgasm, he knows everything about you too well. Watching like a possessed man as your toes curl from the growing pleasure, thighs snap closed around your wrist as your back arches while making more sweet noises.

He cums with you too, at the same time. His body tenses and his hand grips tighter around his hard cock. Eyes rolling back. Mind blank, intense orgasm hits him hard as usual. No other thoughts other than how good you are for him. And pretty. His breathing is hard and heavy, feeling his cum sticking to the skin of his hand and stomach.

The best porn he can ever see - special too, only for him. Putting such a show for him to enjoy after a hard day of work.

Feeling the stickiness of his cum on his palm and not being able to avert his eyes from your spent body. This brings him to his senses like an apple falling onto his head, a sweet idea. He needs more of you.

It has become a routine at this point.

Did he abuse his authority? Yes. Does he care? He doesn’t, because in other circumstances he would do that again.

Watching your body and getting off from this little show isn’t enough anymore. Doesn’t hit the same. Like a drug addict, searching for another dose and something stronger one can offer. He needs his hands on you. Going further, exploiting every opportunity his job gave him - it wasn’t hard to start breaking in without any traces.

Leon can’t be reckless nor impulsive, but to keep his hands to himself and not give in to a sweet fruit was hard.

Your sleep is short, he noticed that soon. You wake up at every little noise coming from different sources. That won’t do. This is not good and can’t be healthy for a young woman. On one of many visits to your empty apartment, to take a little present for himself or to adjust cams, an idea popped into his mind: why not put something in the bottles of water? The dose would be light anyway, this drug can easily knock out a big, burly man and Leon is here just to take care of you, in a boyfriend-like way. Not to overdose you.

Your apartment feels homely to him already, kicking off his shoes before walking freely around the place. He may be a cop, but not a pig. The anticipation was insupportable, months of waiting for your body, many concerns - not being really sure about the method and the dose. What if it wasn’t enough, what if it wouldn’t work, and many-many ‘if’. Leon had waited enough, there was a limit to his patience and it was already tearing apart with every passing second.

The mattress beneath you dips softly with his added weight, in the dark room the outlines of your figure are still visible, and the edge of your shirt is rode up and shamelessly exposes the flesh of your stomach - what a tease you are and you don’t even realize it. Your unconscious body, deep in the sleep, and he probably has all night to enjoy you. This heightens his arousal, not daring to touch you for a solid minute - not believing how lucky he is right now. Blood buzzes in his ears, hearing his own thoughts now: you, fuck you dumb, and need to cum in that pussy.

“I know you so well,” Leon whispers, his voice comes out shaky. What a man wouldn’t do to stuff a pussy. His lips carefully kissed yours, not being able to pull away his eyes from your peaceful face. Tracking out every little twitch in your features, but you are in a deep slumber. “like a book that I learned to remember. By heart. Inside… and out”

His hand lightly touches your neck, giving a brief squeeze, watching you gasp when he lets it go. Still asleep. Leon is testing the waters here.

“Oh, it’s alright, sweetie ” Leon whispers, not being able to hide his fascination towards your state. Cupping your jaw and tilting it to the side, like a doll to play and move around as much as he wants. “We are on camera, this is so important for both of us. Something to remember, right?”

This is wrong, of course, in the back of his mind someone whispers that Leon shouldn’t enjoy this so much - you are unconscious, not aware, but that’s the thrill. In any other circumstances, he could pull out a gun to force you, but the idea was pulled aside as the sight of your malleable state is much better. His fingers rubbed your thighs, pushing them apart easily so he could position himself in between. So soft, he can’t help but enjoy the sensation of your skin, his hand impatiently slips to push away the fabric of your underwear, to get a real glance and close of your not-so-aroused pussy. Too bad, but this is easy to fix. A mouthful spit of saliva would be quick and nice, a way to avoid a headache, but he changed his mind - your pussy is shaved. Leon whistles lowly, what a good girl you are. To bury his face in your pussy would be a nice start, after all, you have shaved for him, no? He is nice enough to reward you for this.

Shifting a little bit, easily manhandling your legs and placing them on his shoulders. Leon spits down a mouthful of saliva on your cunt, before leaning down with a long and broad stripe across your pussy, parting the lips with his tongue, groaning against your slit. Tongue glides across the folds, slowly warming your body up, like a hungry man trying to relish in the taste of your pussy so sweetly lingering in his mouth.

“Such a good girl, letting me play with you like that” Leon groans against your clit, it sends a pleasant vibration across your limp body. His hands grip tightly the flesh of your thighs, a normal person would have woken up to push him away, right? His mouth sucks on the clit, giving light bites with his teeth and your hips naturally try to ride him, messily bucking into his face with every rapid lick of his tongue across your sensitive bud.

Fuck, your reactions are cute, he wants more. His two digits push inside your hole, starting to move in and out of you shortly - making your body flinch again and a soft moan draws from your lips. He kept lapping across your slicked folds, his teeth nibbling on the sensitive nub, but not enough to hurt - his tongue laps away that bite anyway, not forgetting to suck your clit in between his lips too.

Your cunt gushes wetly around his fingers, they curl up against your walls, with the rough pace pumping and press on the velvety and wet skin, until he finds the spongy, sweet spot that made your hole clench tighter around his fingers. Soft and weak moans escape from your now parted lip, chest raises up and down rhythmically with every thrust. That’s a good sign. The taste of you and your natural body reactions entrances him, making his cock throb more in his pants, straining so hard and uncomfortable against the fabric. Leon pulls away from your now-soaked slit, impatiently freeing his cock from the jeans. It would be a waste to finish this so quickly after just getting a taste, fingers pull out of your hole roughly with a wet pop, your cunt left dripping, wet, and cold now like he took all the heat with it. Frankly, Leon does not care about your pleasure. Unlikely he will any time soon.

“Huh, you like this” Leon mumbles out slowly to himself, his hand gripping his cock and it twitches in his fist as Leon began slowly stroking it. Thumb presses on its tip, stimulating more pleasure through his body and letting out a breathless moan as his blue gaze surveys his work; your warmed-up pussy, more aroused than before. It glistens with your slick and his saliva on it. What an addicting sight. A light feeling of pride rose in his chest, as his hand flexed again and more beads of pre-cum formed on the tip, quick strokes smeared it along his sensitive and hard flesh. His cock throbs and aches to be inside you. Hell, Leon needs to stop before he cum over your unconscious state. Impatiently not noticing his own heavy breathing filling the air, he positioned his cock to your pussy.

“Who would have known you would be so fucking wet for me” he cooed huskily, rubbing his cockhead against your slicked folds, bumping against your clit. Your arousal is mixed with his saliva, it spreads easily on his veiny and hard cock - to use it as a lube. Easy and free, he doesn’t bother to buy one after all. His free hand grips your hip tightly, angling it to finally guide his cock into your neglected hole. “you really waited for me to use you, right? Just dying for more.”

Deep down, like every man, Leon prioritizes his pleasure. Who doesn’t actually? Good women should be eager to please and look nice for him. Attractive even. Unfortunately, your state isn’t the one to expect the eagerness. But there are advantages to this too: unconscious girls are much easier to enjoy. But still, giving a free pass to you isn’t something that will please him, no matter how good your pussy is. His pleasure has been always the most important element in the sex. Would not be fair to his former lovers too. He is so nice after all, any other man would have pulled out a gun to threaten you after breaking in to fuck you without putting a substance into some of your drinks. That’s an idea to keep for next time.

Your pussy feels so nice, your walls stretch around his length slowly. Leon imagined it differently, not so tight, but tighter it is, better for him. Warm heat envelops him almost in a vice-like grip, forcing a low groan coming from his throat. Maybe this wouldn’t be pleasant for you if you were conscious. But also, aren’t you so sweet and nice? Of course, you would have let him do that over and over. And if you wouldn’t - again, Leon doesn’t care. Your pussy engulfs him in so addictingly warm and to make this even better, your walls clench ridiculously tight around his cock. For a moment, Leon was not sure he would have been able to last long enough for him. Your pussy makes him dizzy, so much that he needed to take a pause, keeping his cock halfway through.

Leon slowly pulls out, leaving inside you just the head of his cock, his gaze is not on you anymore. He couldn’t care less about your state, but the sight of your pussy stretching around his tip is the one he can get drunk on. Popping it in and out, over and over until all he can hear are wet and filthy noises - and his own moans mixed with heavy breathing, while more slick gushing and now sinking his cock into you deeper and so easily. That didn’t last long, he hates denying himself what he needs. What he craves and now he craves to fuck you. And cum. Inside you. And he will.

“Taking me so right… fuck” Leon groans, burying his cock deep inside you, his hips meet flat against your ass. Slowly starting to roll his hips back and forth, deep and slow thrust, hitting his cockhead against your cervix.

This is addicting to him, worse than any kind of drug. Mindlessly mumbling out senseless praises, while his hips rock into you in quick thrusts, heavily breathing and not being able to look away from your leaking cunt. God, the images of you waking up and begging to stop fill his mind in a suffocating manner - his cock throbs inside you, another slam of hips. A hard gulp.

A man should be careful with his own wishes. Nails weakly dig into his biceps, not enough to leave half-moon marks. Even a kitten would have been able to leave a deeper scratch on his skin. But still, Leon’s hips stutter, realizing you shouldn’t move. In the dark, your eyes are half open, clearly fighting with the grogginess of the drug in your system and trying to orientate.

“Shhhh… easy there, sweetie. Be a good girl, get back to sleep” The tone of his voice is sweet and whisper-like, but the breathless lilt is still there. Your back aches weakly again, feeling him hitting your g-spot in slow and agonizing thrusts, but this isn’t enough to pull you out of your state. God your head is dizzy and the man in front of you is so blurry too. Heavy breathing escapes from your lips, swallowing hard the excessive saliva pooling in your mouth. It is hard to squint, hard to focus on anything. A side effect he didn’t know about, still not his fault.

“Not real, just a bad dream” Leon adds, his breath fanning across the side of your head, watching how your expressions shift weakly and eyelashes flutter as he slowly drags his cock out to bury it back in the same pace into your pulsing pussy.

“No…uhh…-not a dream…” your voice is so weak, meek, his dick fills your pussy entirely, every drag of it makes your body tremble and tighten around it more. You are easy to play though, mind is so fogged by the drug it would be easy to convince you.

Blue eyes almost spark in the dark, looking down at your confused and groggy state, his hand covers your mouth - he doesn’t need any noises other than moans and whimpers coming from you. Too distracting. You are clearly not aware of what’s happening, feeling the heaviness of your body dragging you back into the intoxicated slumber.

“…Just a dream. ” Leon repeats, enjoying watching you trying to push him away, your hands ghostly pressing against his chest in a weak protest. “Be a good girl, nothing bad will happen”

And these struggles make his cock throb in your pussy. So addicting to watch how the drug in your system is still kicking strong making your limbs return to being limp again, God, he was so close to just busting a load in you.

His pace quickens, becoming more ruthless and messier than before. He can’t stay here forever, unfortunately, but god he wants to fall asleep on you with his cock and cum buried inside you - to watch your reaction in the morning. All he can hear right now is the flesh-hitting sounds mixing with wet ones too. Your lips twitch, heavy pants and whimpers drawl out of them, while your pussy clenches tightly in a silent plea to fill it, not only with his cock, but sperm too.

God, and if you aren’t on the pill? What a nice present he may give you after this night. Getting you pregnant was enough for his hips to stutter in their pace for the last time, before shooting a hot load of sperm inside you. Burying deep inside, the warm cum fills your pussy almost to the brim, his mind is blank - focused how his cock pumped rope after rope inside you. When he is all spent, Leon slowly pulls out of you, and a disappointed whimper escapes from you too - too bad, he is not going to let you get your high. Too much work. His blue eyes watch how the cum oozes out of your hole for the last time.

The lights of the morning are particularly blinding, you’ve never noticed that before. Dryness in your throat. Like needles pressing inside every time you swallow down, aching for a gloss of water. The urge to throw up and to hide away from the rays of sunlight is overwhelming, not stronger than the heaviness in your body though. You force yourself out of the bed, dragging yourself to the bathroom was so hard, like a heavy bag instead of your body - it is already almost impossible to wake up and get your things done. Washing away the exhaustion from your face with the chilly water from the faucet. Your mind is foggy and not catching on to sticky feeling in your panties. Nonetheless, your body screams at you - your stomach feels turned inside out, messy, and used. And unsatisfied. Like you had the worst sex in your life, without getting your own high.

Your memory tries to flash out the sight of the dark room and blue eyes, being filled and hearing his voice whispering heavily, but you shake your head - pushing it away in your mind. Hiding it in imaginary drawers, - just a dream. Nothing more, you check your door every night. It is always locked.

Yes, a bad one, explains your state too. The nightmare does exhaust you easily after all.

[pretzel-box]

I need Sebastian's reaction to some divers flashing little octo boy🙏🏼🙏🏼

SQUIDDLE ME THAT

words: 2,1k

tags: octopus hybrid reader, platonic relationship with sebastian, sebastian gets protective

authors note: I wrote the part before the flashing scene yesterday and had to add your request at the end, hope you don't mind some extra content!

Having a little octopus hybrid running loose was a challenge on its own. God forbid that Sebastian take his three eyes off you for even a second—you'd either wilt from loneliness or start creating a mess in a bid to reclaim his attention.

One such instance involved you folding his newly sorted files into funny little paper boats, which you then gently rocked over a random puddle that had started to develop in the corner of his shop. The first time you did this, Sebastian was initially impressed that you'd found something to do on your own. He even joined in, taking a sheet of printed paper and folding it into a rather shoddy boat, chuckling until he realized—these were his important assets!

Sebastian learned quickly from that incident. He made it his mission to keep you occupied, providing you with paper and pencils to draw pictures instead. Soon, his shop was filled with your artwork, pinned up on every wall. He couldn’t help but find your efforts endearing—most of your drawings were of the two of you, and they filled his heart with a warmth he wasn't accustomed to feeling.

“You know, I think you're starting to develop an eye for ar—” Sebastian began to say, but as he turned around, you were gone. You had simply vanished from sight. However, the trail of suction-cup marks on the floor was a clear indicator that you'd slipped through the vent and were now somewhere outside the shop.

Panic surged through him as he quickly made his way out, calling your name and checking every room. You were small and had a short attention span—surely, you couldn’t have gotten far.

And then he saw it. You were standing face-to-face with a Squiddle. The scene was bizarre: the Squid Monster hovered slightly above the ground, its ‘eyes’ locked onto you with what could only be described as confusion. You, on the other hand, were trying to mimic the creature, leaping up and attempting to hover in the air, only to be defeated by gravity each time.

Sebastian froze for a moment, his panic shifting to a mix of concern and disbelief. The Squiddle seemed more perplexed than hostile, perhaps unsure of what to make of this smaller, more enthusiastic "squid" that was now mimicking its every move. You, in your innocent curiosity, were completely absorbed in your game of imitation, oblivious to the potential danger.

Sebastian approached cautiously, not wanting to startle either of you. “Hey, buddy,” he called softly, trying to get your attention without alarming the Squiddle. “What are you doing over there?”

You turned to him, eyes wide and full of excitement, as if proud of your new friend. Sebastian's heart skipped a beat seeing how happy you were, but he knew he had to get you away from the creature before anything went wrong.

“Come on,” he coaxed, holding out his hand. “Let’s leave the big guy alone, okay? We’ve got plenty of drawing to do back at the shop.”

Reluctantly, you took his hand, casting one last curious glance at the Squiddle before allowing Sebastian to lead you away. The creature watched you go, still floating in place, before it finally drifted off, no longer interested in the odd encounter.

Back at the shop, Sebastian let out a deep sigh of relief. He knelt down to your level, ruffling the top of your head gently. “You’ve really got a knack for finding trouble, you know that?”

You gave him a sheepish grin, and he couldn’t help but smile back. “Alright, how about we stick to drawing for a while, huh? Maybe we can work on some more pictures of us. Just... let’s keep the paper boats on hold for now, okay?”

You nodded eagerly, and Sebastian led you back inside, silently vowing to keep an even closer eye on you from now on.

Sebastian! You there?” a male voice called out as a customer clambered through the vent. Sebastian, already familiar with the type of people who usually wandered into his shop—rude pricks deserving their prison sentences—acted quickly. Without a second thought, he wrapped you in a blanket and gently but hurriedly stuffed you into a spacious locker, hiding you from the potentially mean human.

“Ah, welcome~” he greeted the customer with an air of nonchalance, shifting into his usual role as a shopkeeper. He led the man through a small conversation, maintaining his outward calm even though his thoughts were with you.

Meanwhile, inside the locker, you pressed your arms and tentacles against the metal walls, trying to push your way back to Sebastian. The dark, cramped space fueled a growing sense of anxiety. You didn’t understand why he’d suddenly hidden you away like this. Did you do something wrong? Did he stop liking you?

Fear and confusion spiraled in your little head until they became too much to bear. The only logical response, as far as you were concerned, was to scream. Tears streamed down your face as you wailed loudly, feeling abandoned and terrified. The darkness was cold, and being alone felt like the worst punishment imaginable.

Sebastian, who was busy trying to offload some junk onto the prisoner, froze when your piercing scream cut through the conversation. The customer blinked in surprise, glancing toward the sound. “What the hell was that?”

Sebastian’s mind raced as he tried to think of a plausible excuse. “Uh, faulty alarm system,” he lied, forcing a smile. “This place is falling apart, you know? I’ll get it fixed. Now, about that flashlight you were interested in…”

But the scream came again, louder this time, filled with pure distress. Sebastian’s heart clenched with guilt. The customer raised an eyebrow but seemed more annoyed than concerned. “You might want to take care of that. Sounds like something’s dying in there.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll handle it,” Sebastian muttered, barely containing his irritation as he hurried the man toward the exit. “Thanks for stopping by, and don’t forget to tell your non-existing friends about the shop!”

As soon as the customer was out of sight, Sebastian practically “sprinted” back to the locker. Your cries were breaking his heart—he hadn’t meant to scare you, but in his haste to protect you, he’d overlooked how you’d feel being stuffed in there.

He flung the locker door open and immediately pulled you out, wrapping you in his arms. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, holding you close as you continued to sob. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You clung to him desperately, burying your face in his chest, your tears soaking into his shirt. Sebastian felt like the worst person in the world for making you feel this way. “I was just trying to keep you safe,” he explained softly, rubbing your back in soothing circles. “I didn’t want that guy to see you. But I shouldn’t have locked you up like that. I’m sorry.”

Gradually, your sobs began to quiet, though you still held onto him tightly, afraid he might push you away again. Sebastian continued to whisper apologies and reassurances, promising that he would never do something like that again.

Finally, you lifted your head, looking at him with tear-streaked eyes. “You’re okay,” he said gently, wiping away your tears with his thumb. “I’m not mad at you. I could never be mad at you.”

Your grip on him tightened, and Sebastian could feel the tremble in your small body slowly subside. He stood there for a long moment, holding you close, letting you know through his actions that you were safe and loved.

After a while, he carried you over to a cushioned seat, sitting down with you still wrapped in his arms. “You’re my little partner, okay?” he said, his voice softer than usual. “I’m always going to take care of you. Just… no more screaming like that, alright? You almost gave me a heart attack.”

You nodded weakly, sniffling but feeling a bit better now that you were back in his comforting embrace. Sebastian gave a small, relieved smile, brushing your hair away from your face. “That’s better,” he said, rocking you gently. “Let’s just stay here for a while. No more hiding, I promise.”

——

It was an unusually busy day in the shop, with a steady stream of prisoners coming through the vents, all of them more obnoxious than the last. Sebastian had been on edge, keeping a close eye on you as you busied yourself with drawing on a scrap of paper behind some boxes to hide you out of the sight from the visitors. He didn’t want a repeat of the locker incident, so he made sure you were always within arm’s reach.

But even Sebastian couldn’t anticipate everything.

As a particularly rough-looking prisoner stomped into the shop, his eyes darting around suspiciously, you instinctively curled a little closer to Sebastian. The man was big, with a scarred face and a sneer that made your skin crawl. Sebastian noticed your discomfort and subtly shifted his body to block the prisoner’s view of you.

“What do you want?” Sebastian asked, his tone curt and to the point.

The prisoner didn’t answer right away, his gaze flicking over the various items on the shelves. “Just browsing,” he muttered, though there was a malicious glint in his eyes that set off alarm bells in Sebastian’s head.

Sebastian’s grip tightened on the counter. “We don’t have all day. Either buy something or get out.”

The prisoner’s sneer widened, clearly enjoying the tension he was causing. As if on a whim, he suddenly reached into his pocket and pulled out a small device—a flashbeacon. Before Sebastian could react, the prisoner activated it, directing the blinding flash of light straight at you.

You let out a terrified yelp, your sensitive eyes overwhelmed by the sudden burst of light. Instinctively, you tried to shield yourself, curling up and covering your eyes with your tentacles as best as you could. But the damage was done—the intense flash had disoriented you, leaving you scared and vulnerable.

Sebastian’s protective instincts kicked in instantly. Without a second thought, he lunged forward, shoving the prisoner hard against the nearest wall. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” he snarled, his voice dripping with fury.

The prisoner barely had time to register what was happening before Sebastian’s hand was around his throat, pinning him to the wall with a strength that belied his usually calm demeanor. “You think you can just walk in here and pull something like that?” Sebastian growled, his three eyes narrowing dangerously. “You’ve got some nerve.”

The prisoner, now realizing he’d severely miscalculated, struggled to speak, his face turning red as he choked out, “It… it was just a joke!”

Sebastian’s grip tightened, making it clear he wasn’t amused. “That ‘joke’ could have seriously hurt them,” he spat, nodding toward you. “You don’t mess with my shop, and you sure as hell don’t mess with them.”

With a final shove, Sebastian released the prisoner, who staggered back, clutching his throat and gasping for air. “Get out,” Sebastian ordered, his voice low and menacing. “And if I ever see you here again, you’ll regret it.”

The prisoner didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled for the vent, shooting one last fearful glance at Sebastian before disappearing as quickly as he’d come.

Sebastian took a deep breath, trying to calm the anger still coursing through his veins. Then he turned to you, his expression softening as he saw you huddled on the floor, still reeling from the flash.

He rushed over to you, kneeling down and gently pulling your tentacles away from your eyes. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he said softly, his heart aching at the sight of you trembling. “It’s over now. You’re safe.”

You blinked up at him, your vision still blurry, but you could see the concern etched on his face. Slowly, you uncurled from your protective ball, reaching out for him. Sebastian didn’t hesitate—he scooped you up into his arms, holding you close against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice filled with regret. “I should’ve protected you better. But I promise, I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”

You clung to him, your small body still trembling slightly, but his warmth and the steady beat of his heart began to calm you down. You knew Sebastian was strong, and as long as you were with him, you felt safe.

[russellsppttemplates]

I want this every day (Charles Leclerc)

Charles has been frustrated with the team's strategies and the results he's been getting lately so you find a way to cheer him up

Note: english is not my first language. I was going to write it earlier on the week, but then I felt like I a jinxing it so I stopped... but after today, I think it's a good place to start...

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions Jules Bianchi

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

Another race weekend where he was out qualified by his team-mate left Charles with the feeling that if it came to it, he was almost one hundred percent sure they would ask them to swap positions.

Points for the team would be important anyway and they came away with a good amount and the car showed to be competitive enough considering the RedBull dominance on the grid, but the frustration was still there.

With the team and with himself.

They told him they'd keep him - there wasn't a quesion put down about his contract -, Il Predestinato wasn't something he carried lightly but often times it was confusing. Without the support and appreciation from inside the team, it was proving difficult to achieve their goals.

His childhood dream was driving for Ferrari and Suzuka always carried a heavier weight for him. As he took off his helmet and was faced with the number 17 on the side, he apoligised. To Jules, who he wanted to make proud every day but even more on this particular track. To his fans, who deserved better than this. To you, who were there for him, arms open for a hug and a shoulder where he could cry and let his feelings out on, to hold him and remind him every single time that all of the nonsense commentators and the media still had the audacity to say about him despite his continous shows of intelligence, skill and talent, and to love him.

The way you loved him was something he had never felt before and had never thought he deserved.

The face you were giving everyone in the garage that dared look at you wasn't unfortunately a rare occurrence, hence the fact that so very few team members approached you, "Charles is just finishing his interviews, he should be here soon", Silvia said before excusing herself from the garage.

You walked to your boyfriend's driver room, knowing he would end up in there soon enough after greeting the mechanics and engineers.

He stepped inside the room less than fifteen minutes later, finding your embrace immediately as his arms wrapped around your waist, "it's not fair that this keeps happening", he mumbled.

"I know it isn't", you kissed his stubbly cheek while rubbing his back soothingly.

"I thought I could've done so much better, for the fans, for you, for Jules", he hiccuped, letting himself be vulnerable after bottling up everything he was feeling.

"You did us proud, Charles - he is always so proud of you", you cupped hisface in your hands as you hoped the words got through to him, "okay?".

The flight back home had Charles sleeping most of the time, the whole rush of the weekend catching up with his body as he slept with his head on your thighs, your fingers playing with his locks while you arranged your schedule for the week ahead.

"I was thinking we could spend some time together today", you said over the phone, hoping he hadn't booked anything since you made sure that Andrea and Joris had cleared his schedule so you could make this happen without a hitch.

"You don't have work?", Charles asked, "no, I arranged a few things and a meeting got cancelled", you explained.

"Good, I don't have anything to do either, I was just going to stay home, but being with you sounds much nicer, my place or your place?", he wondered.

"My place, please", you replied immediately, "I just want to change my clothes and I'm feeling like spending the afternoon in", you tried, hoping he would catch on and not mess up your surprise.

"Okay, amour! Do you need me to pick you up from work?", Charles asked and you heard a small smile on his face. You weren't sure why, but Charles really got a kick out of dropping you off and picking you up from work, so you felt bad for the answer you were giving him, "it's okay, you can meet me there, I'm already walking", you said as you drove out of the shop and headed home. It was an inoffensive lie but you kept telling yourself it was for a greater good.

"Okay, I'll meet you there in twenty minutes or so", he said, "Je t'aime, mon amour".

Riccardo seemed to have parked the car at the front of your building, making you get the bag out of your car trunk and join him and his family, "hey guys! Thank you for coming to this", you smiled, touching Chiara's foot softly and getting a giggle out of the little girl.

"No worries, this is such a nice idea and we're happy to help!", Marta said, letting you walk up to the door so you could get to your apartment.

"For the first time in my life, I'm the first one somewhere, and then they showed up too!", Joris said as the rest of the group you invited stood up from the hallway floor.

"I'm sorry for making you wait, but I had to pick these up and then the call with Charles had to be done at the precise time so he wouldn't get here before I did!", you explained, unlocking the door and letting them in.

"So we're fine to wait, but Charles can't wait for you?", Joris teased, making kissing noises as you shook your head, "privileges of being my boyfriend - it is what it is!", you chuckled.

Delegating the small tasks you left for the last minute, Charles' text saying he had just parked the car was enough to capture you attention, "quick quick, go hide in the living room - careful with the board game boxes! He's coming up!", you ushered your friends to the living room before your boyfriend knocked on your door.

"Hello, my love", you said, kissing his lips and pulling him inside the supposedly quiet apartment.

"Hey, gorgeous girl - I missed you", he squeezed you tight once you closed the door, "I was getting in my he - what's that?", Charles asked as a noise came from the living room.

Chiara squealed loudly enough for him to hear, so in part your surprise was not such a surprise, "you're not alone?", he mused.

Lacing your hand in his, you pulled him to the living room as everyone jumped out of their places to greet him!

"Surprise - ish!", you waved your hands as if you were announcing some great show, "I gathered all your favourite people - Lorenzo is coming with Charlotte in a bit, he just picked her up from work and your mother also had a cliente so she'll arrive a little later. Arthur is in the bathroom?", you wondered as you saw him walk out and pat his brother's back, not missing the truly surprised look on his face as he pulled you closer to him, kissing your temple, "you're the best, amour, thank you", he whispered.

You had food laid out in the coffee table and drinks in the kitchen where everybody could serve themselves so you could have your dining table available for the board and card games you were playing along with some building blocks for Chiara who was immediately stolen from her parents once your boyfriend saw her.

"Do we want to make a castle? Or maybe a rollercoaster?", Charles mused with the little girl sitting on his lap, still keeping an eye on his Monopoly game to make sure no one was missing any of the payments on his properties, "Good job, chérie!", he congratulated her, kissing her chubby cheek.

"Do you want me to get you guys anything? I'm already going to the kitchen", you wondered, "can you fill this up for us, please?", Marta asked as she handed you the orange juice jug, "yes, of course!", you grabbed it.

"This was a great idea, Y/N", Lorenzo said whole he poured himself a drink as you stepped into the kitchen, "he's been in his head a lot recently", he began.

"It's not much, really, it was quite easy to put everything together and you being here was very kind", you brushed it off.

"Y/N, gathering his favourite people to do something he loves apart from racing may seem simple but it's what he needs right now - don't underestimate yourself or the ability you have to bring him back to a good mental space", he rubbed your shoulder before going back to open the door, "it's our mother", he excused himself.

You set the jug on the table and took Chiara from your boyfriend's arms, volunteering to change her nappy in your bedroom.

Charles hugged his mother tight, "Hello, mon petit", she cupped his face and kissed his cheek, "I'm not little anymore", Charles blushed, "you and your brothers will always be my little boys, I don't care how old or how tall you get", she smiled, greeting everyone else in the room.

His favourite people were all in the same place, Charles thought. Some were playing cards, some were just chatting and you just picked his friends' daughter to change her nappy like she was your own.

"Do you have room for one more? I'm usually pretty good at this!", Lorenzo said as he sat at the dining table, "you take my game - it's not too bad, just make sure Marta pays up what she owes me - two hotels in my blue cards", Charles raised his eyebrows, "I know you were counting on your daughter's cuteness to distract me, but I have excellent vision", he smirked.

Charles walked to your bedroom, seeing you close the diaper bag as Chiara kicked the air, layed on top of your comforter and giggling at the story you were telling her, "and then I had to tell the lady 'that won't do, because I have my boyfriend's family and our friends over for dinner and I can't have too little food! Even if I have left overs for weeks!' because that's what's right, right? She also had this very fluffy bread that was still warm from the oven so I asked her if she could add that because I knew you'd like it - bread is the best, isn't it, cutie?", you spoke.

You were it, he had known that for a long time.

You were the one he wanted to grow old with and go through every challenge life wanted to throw at you, because he knew you both could face them if you were there.

"And who is that spying on us, hm? It's Charles! Let's go and give Charles a big hug and many kisses!", you smiled, picking her up and approaching your boyfriend, cuddling into his chest as you kept the little girl on your arms, kissing his chest while Chiara palmed his face and giggled when Charles pretended to eat her fingers, "yummy fingers, nom, nom, nom".

"I need to get started on dinner - I'm doing that roast you really like", you offered, "I already prepped most of it, just need to cut up the veggies and then put in the oven, simple as that".

"C'mon, Chiara - I bet my mother is wondering where you are because she'll want a cuddle", Charles took her from your arms, "I'll be back for you", Charles slapped your butt playfully.

You were seasoning the food on the trays, making sure you weren't forgetting anything when your boyfriend walked up to join you, wrapping his arms around your waist, "thank you for this, I really needed it", he kissed under your ear, turning you around to face him and kissing your lips properly, "it's fine", you scoffed.

"No, I really needed it - it's easy to lose sight of these things and these moments", he began, "I was home and getting way too much into my own head and I wouldn't got to anyone unless they asked about it", he admitted, squeezing your body closer to his.

"I'm glad you liked it, it's truly nothing but I'm glad you're happy", you smiled, "I can't control what goes on your mind all the time but I'm going to make sure that whenever you're near me and say silly things about doubting yourself, I will always help you see the truth and work it out with you - no down talking about yourself when you're with me, understood?", you stated firmly almost like you were lecturing him.

"I know, amour", he giggled, kissing your forehead and then littering some more kisses on your face and making you break out in laughter loudly.

The dinner was great and everyone seemed to enjoy themselves as they ate the meal and spoke about whatever came to mind, summer plans already in discussion.

Charles was helping you put away the plates when he decided he would voice the thoughts running through his head. Usually at this time of the day he was already knee deep into strategies and failed attempts, but this time was different.

"I want this every day", Charles said with a big smile on his face.

"Well, not all of us have your schedule, it would be lovely, but maybe making it a weekly thing? Monthly maybe with your schedule?", you tried, not wanting to kick his idea straight to the trash.

"I don't mean that - I've been thinking about this a lot lately, and I was wondering if you'd like to move in with me", Charles clarified, "there's no point to keep two places when realistically, we spend most times at eachother's place - you're down to what? Sleeping two nights here per week?", he noted as you smiled.

"You want to move in together?", you checked and he nodded, "yes, I do - honestly, I've thinking we keep my place since you're renting here and that way you'd be closer to work, too", he suggested.

"Sounds good to me", you smiled, kissing his lips, sealing the deal.

"I don't want to be far away from you when we don't have to be, and this way you can save on rent, too!", he added and before you truly lectured him, he caught you ahead, "I know you won't let me pay for things on my own and we will find some arrangement for that, I was just saying you won't have to keep paying your landlord", he smiled.

"I mean it when I say I want to split expenses, okay?", you argued, "unless you start going with expensive caviar or any of that crazy expensive stuff - my salary can't take that", you joked.

"When have you ever seen that in my fridge?", he threw his head back as he laughed.

"I'm only joking, handsome - I can't wait to move in with you", you hugged him, "I love you, Charles, can't wait to be your new roomie".

[causenessus]

cold kisses

part 0.3. USER 7193

PLAYING FROM KODZUKEN'S STREAM . . . feels by calvin harris

maybe he should have expected this. 

nearly all of his posts have been overrun with questions about y/n in the comments. the comments range from simple “who was the girl in your cooking stream??” demands to extremely specific ones detailing her exact hair color, height, and voice pitch as if he’s had another mysterious girl on a stream that he’ll confuse her for.

he’s been doing his best to avoid questions about her but it could only work for so long. now there’s only questions about y/n left in the chat and he’s not sure what to do. it was easy to ignore the questions when he wasn’t doing an entire question and answer live stream but he’d promised to do one soon and he thought having shoyo with him was going to help. 

it did for the most part, and everything seemed normal but he was at a loss for words when the chat started to flood with questions about y/n.

shoyo leaned closer to read a question outloud, “‘girl from the cooking stream?’ i keep seeing that, do they not know–”

a reflex kicks in and he slaps a hand over shoyo’s mouth, pushing him away from the screen again before removing his hand trying to act normal.

the ginger looks at him, a mix of surprise and confusion on his face. “sorry,” kenma apologizes quickly, shocked by his own actions. “no, they don’t know anything about her,” he answers, trying to make it clear that he wants to keep it that way.

but the chat is already too far gone, using this one mention to run wild with theories. he can’t blame them, really. sometimes they’re a little over the top and unnecessarily pushy as if they have no sense of respect but in this scenario what else could they talk about besides a mysterious person that just entered the picture? but that didn't mean he enjoyed dealing with it.

messages transition quickly from asking what they “don’t know about” to inferring that he has a secret girlfriend. he groans, looking away from the screen. his mind working fast to try and come up with an excuse or explanation; a single mention of her and they already think he’s dating someone. he’s sure that the internet would go crazy with this information as well, fabricating stories, scandals, and everything in between.

his phone starts to buzz.

speak of the devil.

it’s a notification from twitter, some unofficial update account that’s tagged him about having a secret girlfriend.

he needs to think.

he can see shoyo eyeing him out of the corner of his eyes and he knows he’s been silent for too long on camera.

god, someone was going to find out who she was soon, right? weren’t fans supposed to be good at doxxing each other?

but how does he play off being roommates with an olympic athlete? an olympic athlete whose currently being shipped to the max with the most typical copy and paste guy everyone has the hots for?

maybe it’d be better for him to leave it to a random fan to find out who she is and announce it to the world–no, then he’ll just look bad for hiding things after so much has already come to light. it’s best for him to come up with an excuse right now. if he said she was his girlfriend maybe he could ask them to leave her alone. maybe they’d listen to him.

it sounded like his best option but he couldn’t just make that decision on his own without talking to her.

but he also couldn’t stand up and the leave the room for an unprecedented amount of time after keeping quiet for so long.

he looks at the chat one more time, seeing the word girlfriend in nearly every message. if they already think they’re dating it can’t be that bad, right?

“kenma…?” shoyo breaks him out of a trance, touching him on the back.

kenma looks at him, unsure of what to say. he feels dizzy and his mind won’t stop whirring with thoughts and worries.

“you’ve been really quiet,” shoyo lowers his voice so that only kenma can hear him, “i think you need to say something.”

he glances at the chat again. still stuff about y/n.

she’d be okay with it, right? maybe if she isn’t he’ll just tell twitter that his girlfriend broke up with him because his fans are pushy little shits and he’ll agree with her word for word and then his fans will cancel him and he can move to another country and live a happy little life working in a cat shelter–

no. he likes his life the way it is now. he’s winged everything so far but he’s grown quite a small community for himself this way. he can do this. if y/n doesn’t agree, he’ll figure something out later.

“okay,” kenma finally speaks, dropping his hands that he’s been running through his hair absentmindedly. “since none of you guys are gonna leave this alone, yes. the girl from that last stream is my girlfriend, happy?” he watches his chat run wild with numerous exclamations. he thinks finally about his poor moderators. he’ll definitely have to give them something after this stream. “i’ve been trying to lay low about it because i didn’t want the world to freak out but now it’s out. just try and be respectful, okay? i love her a lot.” the words aren’t hard to say when they’re about her. he can say them honestly and play them off as a joke later, but for now he enjoys how nice it feels to say it.

he can see that shoyo has frozen up out of the corner of his eye. he needs to end this stream before either of them say something else they shouldn’t. he’ll answer a few more questions and slowly ease into a goodbye so that he can end the stream and debrief shoyo.

prev. | m.list | next

extras <3

this is a long chapter i'm sorry 💀 literally there's more but i tried to split this evenly into two chapters

kenma was literally just going through some random person's account who made edits of ice skating partners to self sabotage himself

yn wasn't sure when they'd be releasing partner pair ups and really freaked out when they were announced

she was texting everyone and tweeting a ton

she messaged her media girl like "hey i'm not comfortable with people sending me writing shipping me with atsumu can we please do something about it" and the girl replied, "what do you want me to do?? report them?? write you a message that you can tweet about your boundaries?? (yes) if that's what they want to write deal with it at least they like u"

and they wonder why she just posts whatever she's feeling on her main unless iwa tells her otherwise

noya has gotten distracted from the main topic of a chat to reply with a <3 to something nice y/n says multiple times

they're fr just best buds holding hand in the middle of a warzone where iwaizumi reigns over all

(the only two soldiers are suna and tsukishima)

suna's a lot softer without tsukishima around

he just feels like he needs his guard up around such a salty person

do not ask me why i made rofltropper an antagonist for no reason

kageyama was really just trying to finally do his english homework while waiting for hinata to come home and then he heard kuroo and oikawa start to yell

he was a little scared but then was like "if they can't reach me i'm safe" and they they slammed the door shut and his room shook a little

someone on the floor probably wrote up a complaint about them

taglist: @rinheartshyunlix @kettlepop @eggyrocks @cr4yolaas @httpakkeiji @keioover @does-directions @calx-bdo @staygoldsquatchling02 @cherrypieyourface @iluv-ace @kitty-m30w @h3xi2g0n3 @mylahrins @thechaosoflonging @momoriii-i @localgaytrainwreck @a-pastel-edgelord @bugglesboop @polish-cereal @osakis-gf @whykirbo @phoenix-eclipses @faesix @ryeyeyer @starxq.zip @skylarkalchemist @kunimix @sereniteav @kodzubaby (form to be added to taglist! <3)

[ghoulsverse]

Chapter Four: Genetic Input

4.2k words | [Tags] Slow burn Wanda/Nat | Mentions of Hydra PTSD

Chapter Index | Ao3 Link

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“She's not just a weapon, she’s a kid trying to understand what she is.”

The first thing Wanda noticed when she woke was the weight of the quiet.

Not quiet in the sense of sound, but stillness.

Her body protested as she shifted under the worn blanket draped over her. The couch was too small, the cushions too thin to properly rest on, and yet she didn’t regret it. The ache grounding her was easier to hold onto than everything else waiting in the back of her mind.

She stayed still for a moment, keeping her eyes closed, letting the familiar, muffled sounds of her favorite show play on the TV.

The hum of the faulty coffee maker sputtering to life. The muted clatter of mugs against counters. Low voices carrying from somewhere down the hall, careful and subdued as if they knew too much noise might unsettle something delicate.

When she finally opened her eyes, the first thing she noticed was that it was dark out and Natasha and Aliah were both gone from their spots on the floor.

She shifted upright, pulling the blanket more securely around her shoulders. The old fabric smelled faintly of dust and soap, a smell she hadn't realized she missed until now.

In the kitchen, Natasha moved with a loose, deliberate grace that made it clear she was paying attention without making a show of it. She poured herself a mug of coffee, her posture casual, her movements lazy enough to be non threatening, though Wanda knew better.

Nothing Natasha did was ever truly careless.

Aliah was perched on one of the chairs at the counter, just watching. A mug sitting in front of her with what smells like Natasha’s own coffee blend.

It was the way her shoulders stayed too tense, the way her body flinched subtly with every noise from the hallway. She was listening, every nerve wound tight, ready to bolt if anything shifted the fragile peace they’d managed to build before.

“You’re giving her coffee?”

Natasha just shrugged. “She asked.”

Wanda looked at Aliah and just smiled softly. It seems the girl is only comfortable speaking to them. Small victories.

“Did you want something to eat, sweetheart?” She asked, sitting down in the seat next to the young girl. Natasha hands the witch her own cup of herbal tea.

Aliah looked between the two, her gaze both questioning and confused.

“Are you hungry? You must be.” Natasha watched Aliah with caution before making the decision for her. “I know, I’ll make you something I used to make for my sister. If you like it, I’ll make more. Sound okay?”

She only gets a nod in response.

It’s only grilled cheese.

But it’s enough. The slightest of smiles graced Aliah's face when she took the first bite.

It made Nat chuckle. “So you like it?”

The young girl nods her head, happily.

It’s calm. Safe. Comfortable for the moment. 

By the time the sun stretched fully across the skyline, the tower had shifted into a new rhythm.

Not normal. Not yet.

But busier. Louder. The kind of noise people made when they weren’t sure what else to do.

Elevators whirred softly down distant halls. Somewhere two floors below, someone was dragging a heavy box across the marble, the sound scraping faintly through the vents.

It should have made things feel alive again.

It only made the quiet around Aliah sharper.

Breakfast was a delicate balance no one seemed eager to tip.

They decided to let Aliah get accustomed on her own time. Not changing their routine of having breakfast together on the main floor when they are all available for it.

Aliah can get a feel for them and join in when she feels rather than them making her feel like she’s a bomb waiting to explode.

Steve lingered near the kitchen counter, pretending to scroll through his phone. Sam busied himself finding plates and forks no one really needed. Bruce hovered near the coffee maker, pouring and repouring a cup he barely touched.

The Avengers, Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, reduced to awkwardly dancing around a girl who had barely spoken five full words.

Wanda sat closest to her, instinctively positioned between Aliah and everyone else.

She hadn't planned it.

Her body had simply... moved that way.

Aliah sat at the table near the door, a little nook in the corner of the room. She picked at a piece of toast Natasha had left on a plate for her, nibbling the corner mechanically but never eating enough to satisfy anyone's nerves.

Her head stayed down, but her eyes flicked upward constantly.

Watching. Measuring.

Wanda could feel the weight of her stare, could feel the way Aliah’s energy hummed just beneath her skin like static building against a storm.

It prickled along Wanda’s senses in a way that set her teeth on edge, not because it was violent, but because it was so familiar and yet... wrong.

A mirror with a crack running straight down the middle.

Aliah’s magic signature wasn’t natural.

It vibrated too sharply, like a string tuned too tight. Where Wanda’s chaos magic moved unpredictably, breathing and bending with her emotions, Aliah’s felt contained, coiled like something caged.

It scared Wanda more than she wanted to admit.

Not because she thought Aliah would hurt them.

Because she thought Aliah might hurt herself. The girl was too similar to herself.

When the breakfast plates had been quietly cleared and Aliah had migrated back toward the couch, still close to Wanda, still keeping the rest of the room at careful distance. Wanda caught Bruce’s eye across the space.

He understood immediately.

In the kitchen, under the cover of washing dishes, he leaned in close enough for her to speak without anyone else hearing.

“She’s not like me.” Wanda murmured, keeping her eyes on the sink, hands busy scrubbing a plate already clean.

"Not completely."

Bruce’s brow furrowed. “How so?”

“She feels like me." Wanda said, voice low. "But twisted. Like when you see photos of your past. It’s you and you remember it but you don’t recognize it."

Bruce tapped a spoon lightly against the counter, thinking.

"Chaos magic replication would be impossible through normal genetics." He said after a moment. "Unless…"

"Unless someone taught it to evolve." Wanda finished for him.

Neither of them said the words out loud.

Hydra. The Red Room.

Ghosts neither of them wanted to summon into the conversation yet.

“She trusts me." Wanda said quietly. "And Nat. But not them."

Bruce nodded once. “She has good instincts.”

Wanda exhaled slowly, feeling the ache behind her ribs settle in deeper.

“I want to help her.” She admitted. "But I don't want to… push her anymore."

“Become one of the people who used her." Bruce said.

Wanda nodded.

Exactly that.

Bruce straightened, glancing back toward the common room where Aliah sat perched, shoulders stiff, the blanket Wanda had given her the night before still wrapped tight around her like armor.

“I can run a DNA panel." He offered. "Simple. It'll tell us what we’re dealing with. If she’s... willing. Only if she’s okay with giving blood. Not a lot, just one sample"

Wanda hesitated, scrubbing the edge of the plate harder than necessary.

“She has to agree." She said finally. "No tricks. No forcing."

“Of course." Bruce said, almost gently. "We ask. And if she says no, we leave it alone.”

Wanda set the last plate down and wiped her hands dry.

Her gaze drifted back toward the girl on the couch.

Aliah was sitting with her knees tucked up against her chest, as she sat close to Natasha. Small enough to almost disappear, but her eyes stayed locked on Wanda’s every movement.

Trust wasn’t something they could demand from her.

It would be built one breath at a time.

And if they were lucky, if they were patient…

Maybe she would let them stay close enough to protect her when the pieces of her broken world started falling apart again.

Aliah felt she’d run up her battery. She could feel the energy and emotions of the Avengers, calm, comfortable with each other, but still cautious, wary of Aliah.

It was too much for her. They way she could feel how they wanted to go out of their way to make her feel welcome.

She looked at the widow sat next to her, not willing to speak out loud.

Natasha felt a cooling sensation in the back of her mind. It was comforting in a way.

��Can I go back upstairs?”

She looked at the girl sitting by her side and gave her a soft smile before nodding her head. “Want me to go with you?”

Aliah shook her head and rose from her spot, taking the elevator to Wanda and Natasha’s floor. The two women had made sure to show her how to get back in case she ever wanted to leave somewhere.

It wasn’t hard to find her.

The movie Wanda had put on earlier that morning still played in the background, muted and forgotten. Something colorful and silly, flickering quietly across the room like it was trying too hard to be harmless.

Aliah sat on the floor in their living room, back resting against the couch

Wanda approached slowly, not bothering to mask her steps.

No sudden movements. No surprises.

Just the soft scuff of socked feet against the floor and the low hum of the tower around them.

Aliah watched her come closer. Wide eyes. Tense shoulders.

But she didn’t bolt. She didn’t pull away.

She just waited.

Braced for whatever came next.

Wanda sat down cross-legged on the floor next to the young girl, leaving plenty of space between them.

Close enough to talk. Far enough that Aliah didn’t have to feel trapped.

She folded her hands in her lap, letting the silence stretch until it settled like dust between them.

“I wanted to ask you something.”

Aliah didn’t respond. Didn’t nod. Didn’t flinch. She just kept her hands buried in the blanket, watching with the wary stillness of a cornered animal but her magic stayed calm.

Wanda kept her voice low.

"Bruce, the nice guy who made sure you were okay…" Wanda said gently. "Well, we’re trying to understand... why your powers feel the way they do."

Aliah’s fingers twitched under the blanket. Not violently.

But Wanda noticed.

She noticed everything now.

"You feel like me." Wanda continued. "I bet you’ve noticed it too."

She paused, letting the words settle. Letting Aliah breathe.

"I want to learn about you, so I can help you. So I know how to keep you safe. I know you don’t like needles, but he needs a little bit of blood." She says again, cautiously. “You can say no. It is only if you want to.”

The young girl looks at Wanda, her gaze analyzing. Testing the truth behind the words, if she truly has the power to say no.

Aliah lifts her hand, palm open, white mist and energy flowing around it. She pushes it towards Wanda and waits.

The older witch smiles softly, lifting her own hand with her own red magic flowing around it. She presses her hand against Aliah’s and gasps. A memory flashing behind her eyes, but it’s not her own.

It’s Aliah’s.

Hydra Base: Hemlock - 7 years ago

The hallways in Sublevel Six were always colder than the others.

Aliah had learned to walk them with her arms tucked in close to her sides, her feet soft against the tile, her eyes alert for red lights and locked doors.

She wasn’t supposed to be down here.

She knew that.

But the nurses upstairs had been busy, and she’d been bored. She didn't have training today, usually she would train every other day so that the doctors could see her magic.

So she’d waited until the lights dimmed for shift change.

And she’d gone looking.

The file room smelled like old air and antiseptic.

Thin metal drawers lined the walls, each labeled with strings of numbers she didn’t understand. The lights flickered softly overhead, casting a yellow haze over everything.

She wasn’t sure what she was looking for until she found a drawer marked with a word she was familiar with.

[GENESIS]

Her fingers hovered over the handle.

She glanced back once, just in case.

No footsteps. No alarms.

Only her own heartbeat, thumping high in her chest.

She opened it. Inside were stacks of files, all crisp and neatly labeled.

Some were marked "Failed". Some said "Terminated".

And one, near the middle, was stamped with red ink.

[SUBJECT 00-113 – ACTIVE]

The number on the tag inside matched the one on the bracelet she’d worn her entire life. The exact number she had associated as herself. 

She pulled it out and flipped it open, her fingers trembling slightly.

There were pages of data she couldn’t read… graphs, blood work, cellular breakdowns. But one line near the top caught her eye.

[Donor Genome Source]

She didn’t know what the letters and numbers next to it meant.

But she understood what it was saying. She came from somewhere.

From someone.

“I wondered when you’d find this.” A voice said behind her.

Aliah flinched and turned, clutching the file against her chest.

Doctor Enez stood in the doorway, one hand resting on the edge of the frame, the other tucked into the pocket of his coat. He didn’t look angry.

He never did.

That was the thing about him, his voice was always calm, his smile always patient.

Even when he lied.

Aliah straightened her spine, lifting her chin slightly like she'd seen Agent Lyova do in training.

“You said I was made special.”

“You are.” Enez said gently. “You’re the only one who didn’t break.”

He stepped into the room, slowly, like she was a frightened animal instead of the one with sparking hands and eyes that sometimes glowed in the dark.

She didn’t back away.

But she didn’t lower the file either.

“What does it mean?” She asked. “The letters and numbers.”

Dr. Enez’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“It means you were made from the best.” He said simply. “From people who changed the world.”

“Who are they?”

“A question for when you’re older.” He replied, kneeling down to her level, chuckling when the little girl pouted. “What matters is this… you were created for something important. Something only you can do.”

Aliah’s fingers tightened around the file.

“What if I don’t want to be important?” She whispered. “I just want to know.”

Enez reached forward slowly, lifting her chin to look him in the eye with practiced tenderness.

“There’s strength in not knowing.” He said. “The truth can be... messy.”

He took the file from her gently. Not ripping it away. Not scolding. Just... reclaiming it, and when he stood again, he gave her that same soft smile. “You’re not ready yet.”

He placed his hand on her shoulder and guided them both out of the file room, leading her to the playroom where she could openly practice her magic on little toys that they had for her.

She didn’t cry.

Didn’t scream.

But she had a question no one would answer.

A name she didn’t have.

Wanda’s eyes began to water, she slowly removed her hand from Aliah’s and just looked at her.

She could only nod.

She knew what the girl was showing her, what she was trying to say through memories.

Aliah wanted to know what she was made of too. She was putting her trust in Wanda, letting her see a moment of vulnerability where she had wanted the same thing. Answers.

The young girl put her hand back in her lap, sliding it underneath the blanket. “Will it hurt?”

Wanda shook her head, a single tear falling. “Only for a second… but I will be with you the entire time.”

Aliah just nodded.

It was over in seconds.

Bruce was gentle about it, and Wanda had stayed near her side the entire time like she had said. Natasha had stood on the other side.

Both women had kept the young girl’s gaze on them when the needle went in and kept her grounded. Only a flicker of white found its way around her closed fist before it disappeared just as fast.

Bruce placed the vial gently into the kit, sealing it.

Done.

No betrayal.

He set the kit on the table, far away from Aliah’s reach, and she went and sat back on the floor, folding her hands in her lap again. Wanda taking a seat on the coffee table in front of her, as a comfort.

They didn’t speak.

There wasn’t anything left to say.

But Wanda caught the smallest shift in Aliah’s body language… the faintest easing of her shoulders, the way her hands relaxed a fraction under the blanket.

Nervousness. Not the kind that comes from being around people you're unfamiliar with, or the kind that you feel when you are in an unsafe place.

The kind that comes from the unknown.

Across the room, the elevator dinged.

Wanda glanced up, heart skipping.

A ripple of tension immediately cut through the air.

The doors slid open with a soft mechanical sigh and Aliah jumped up, feeling a threat and an energy she can’t place. Someone she didn’t know.

Her eyes glowed bright white.

Wanda felt it before she even turned… the shift in Aliah’s posture, the quickened breath, the faint static crackle beneath her skin.

The blanket slipped from her lap as she pushed herself deeper into the couch cushions, hands clenching the fabric like it might dissolve if she let go.

Vision stepped onto the floor with all the quiet poise he always carried, his hands loosely clasped behind his back, posture straight, expression neutral.

He had the look of someone entering a home, not a battlefield, but Aliah didn’t see it that way.

To her, he wasn’t a guest.

He was unknown. Tall and unfamiliar.

He was a threat.

“Ah.” Vision said, pausing just inside the room. His voice was calm, edged with its usual eerie precision. “I wasn’t aware we had company.”

Wanda rose from the coffee table, positioning herself carefully, not shielding, exactly. But close.

She caught the moment Vision’s eyes settled on Aliah.

The moment Aliah’s fingers twitched, a flicker of white energy danced along her knuckles.

Wanda stepped between them gently.

“She’s staying here for a while.” She said softly. “This is Aliah.”

Aliah didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just stared.

Like she was waiting for the room to change around her, to become the cage she was used to.

Vision inclined his head politely. “A pleasure to meet you.”

Wanda turned slightly, watching Aliah’s eyes… wide, calculating, afraid.

She could see it. The wheels turning, the questions behind her eyes faster than she could sort through them.

Vision didn’t flinch. He rarely did. “I am an artificial construct.” He stated as if that would answer anything.

Aliah’s voice was low and dangerous. “I can’t feel you.”

Silence fell hard and fast.

Natasha, now sitting in the armchair near the window, finally stirred. Not speaking, just shifting forward slightly in her seat.

Ready.

Aliah’s eyes didn’t move from Vision. Her hands were glowing now, soft white pulses trailing her fingers like smoke.

Not aggressive.

Not yet.

Wanda stepped forward, lowering herself slowly between them.

“It’s okay.” She said, voice steady. “He’s not here to hurt you.”

“How do you know?” Aliah asked. Not angry.

Just terrified.

Wanda’s heart ached at the weight of it.

“He’s just leaving.” Natasha said with finality.

The words hung heavy in the air.

Wanda and Natasha shared a look, nodding to one another.

Wanda looked over her shoulder at Vision.

He was still standing perfectly still, watching, analyzing, waiting for instruction.

She just nodded to him.

There was no judgment in his gaze.

Just the smallest nod.

“Of course.”

He turned and left the same way he’d come… Silent, composed, never turning his back on the room until the elevator doors closed behind him.

The moment he was gone, Aliah exhaled like she’d been holding her breath the whole time. The glow in her hands faded, her shoulders sagged just slightly.

Not relaxed.

Just... less ready to explode.

Wanda didn’t say anything.

She just sat beside her again, close but not too close.

Aliah didn’t look at her, but she didn’t flinch when Wanda reached for the blanket and laid it gently back across her legs.

Across the room, Natasha stood slowly, walked to the kitchen, and poured herself another mug of coffee.

She didn’t comment on what had just happened.

She didn’t have to.

This wasn’t going to get easier.

Undisclosed Location: Germany - 18 years ago

The room was colder than it should have been.

Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, washing the cracked concrete walls in a pale, sterile glow.

A thin metal table stretched between two chairs bolted to the floor, a single folder placed carefully at its center.

The Hydra insignia, faded, but unmistakable… was stamped into the folder’s corner.

The room smelled of old wiring and disinfectant.

And something sharper beneath it.

Old blood, maybe.

Dr. Andreas Riechner sat first. Dr. Nikolai Enez stood nearby.

His lab coat was so crisp it seemed to catch the light, and the silver Hydra pin gleamed sharply against the white fabric.

Dr. Riechner adjusted the papers before him with the kind of care only men who had never touched their own violence could manage.

Across from him, Madame Vorskaya entered without announcement, her steps silent. She wore black gloves, a long fitted coat, and an expression so carefully blank it bordered on cruelty.

No words passed between them as she sat. There was no need.

Everything important had already been decided elsewhere.

After a long moment, Riechner slid the folder toward her with two fingers.

"Your terms…" He said, voice clipped and precise. "And ours."

Vorskaya didn’t touch the folder.

She let it sit between them, as if it might stain her.

"You want new weapons." She said, her accent wrapping tightly around every word. "Weapons born loyal."

Riechner inclined his head slightly. "Our enhanced programs have proven... unstable. We require purer stock."

"You require control." She corrected, the faintest shadow of amusement slipping into her voice.

He didn't argue.

Vorskaya reached into her coat, producing a slim black case the size of a paperback novel.

She placed it carefully atop the folder, then folded her hands in her lap.

A small click as the case unlocked.

“We will provide samples as necessary for your little project. On one condition.” She said with a smirk that could bring fear to anyone. “We take the successful females for training once they are ready.”

Riechner's gaze sharpened, the kind of hunger that could strip skin from bone. “And the samples? We may require multiple to assess their compatibility with our own.”

"All samples we have are from our original genetic experimentation. Each has different coding from different… enhancements we’ve tested." Vorskaya said softly.

Riechner smiled. Cold.

Final.

"The Genesis Project will proceed immediately." He said.

"I expect exceptional results, Doctors."

Medical Lab: Avengers Tower

The lab was quiet.

Not the kind of quiet Bruce preferred… focused, methodical, but the kind that felt like the tower itself was holding its breath.

The DNA sample lay sealed in its tray, the scanner already humming softly as it finished its final pass. The results were uploading onto the secure terminal in front of him, line by line.

He didn’t expect anything out of the ordinary.

Not really.

Maybe elevated cortisol, irregular energy markers, a few unexplained anomalies.

This wasn’t his first time studying Hydra’s messes.

He’d learned not to be surprised.

But this…

This made him stop breathing.

[CONFIRMED HYBRID GENOME MATCH]DNA ALLELE GENETIC ANALYSIS:40% MATCH - WANDA MAXIMOFF40% MATCH - NATALYA ROMANOVA

Bruce stared at the lines of code like they might rearrange themselves if he blinked hard enough.

But they didn’t.

The numbers were archived in his nightmares.

He reached for his mug out of habit, then stopped… His hand hovering inches from it, trembling slightly.

Wanda Maximoff.

Natasha Romanoff.

He blinked again.

The screen didn’t change.

His stomach turned slowly.

This wasn’t just an accident. This wasn’t luck.

This girl was built from two of the most dangerous, powerful people he had ever known. Genetically created and modified from samples taken from Hydra and from samples given by the Red Room.

No wonder her energy signature didn’t make sense. No wonder she flinched like a soldier and pulsed like a storm.

She was chaos and control fused together in skin too small to hold it.

Bruce exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair, eyes never leaving the screen.

He should tell someone.

He should call Steve. Or Wanda and Nat.

But the words sat like stones behind his teeth.

They weren’t ready.

Did they even know that Hydra had taken samples of Wanda's DNA before she left? Or that the Red Room had taken samples from Natasha before she defected, or maybe even after she was given the serum that they made?

Instead, he reached for the terminal and entered a single override command, locking the file under Level Ten encryption.

Only available to Fury if he went looking for it and himself.

Bruce closed his eyes.

And for the first time in hours, he wished they hadn’t asked for the sample at all.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @seventeen-x @tobiaslut

[choccorin]

domestic things they do ! ft. isagi , rin

tags. fluff , isagi / rin x gn! reader (separate)

a/n. i love them both so so much :(

— isagi yoichi

makes breakfast for you every morning

every time he sleeps at your place, he makes sure to cook you breakfast before you wake up so that he can surprise you. he always changes the recipes so that you don't get tired of eating the same thing.

this happened because you mentioned to him one time while you were both cuddling in your bed, you said that you would love to experience breakfast in bed sometimes and that it's a really romantic gesture that you've always loved.

he always makes sure that his cooking is good, he also calls his mom sometimes to ask for her help (the call doesn't end without his mom teasing him about how a good boyfriend he is to you).

you also make breakfast for him too! and everytime you do, it puts a big smile on his face which makes your whole day.

you told him that he didn't need to make you breakfast but he said that he wanted to, and that it's his way of showing you how much he loves you.

— itoshi rin

does his skincare routine with you

before you started dating rin, it was obvious just how clear his skin is. you assumed that he used one or two products, but you were surprised to know that he has a whole skincare routine.

you found out about his skincare routine when you stayed at his place, you were confused about why he's been in the bathroom for about 15 minutes now so you decided to check on him, and caught him applying some kind of moisturizer on his face.

ever since you caught him doing his routine, you've both been doing your skincare routines together. you'd try some of the products he uses and he'll try some of yours, you also try new products together. for example, when you buy a new facemask, you always make sure that you buy two for both of you. <3

since you're always doing your skincare together, when he's in another country for a game, he calls you or you call him, just so that you can do your skincare together. these calls sometimes go on without the both of you speaking but it's okay since silence with rin is comfortable.

he wouldn't admit it but he definitely grew to love doing his routine with you, he loves it so much that you've become part of his skincare routine.

[prodagustd]

Can we get a drabble of what happens at the bbq?

✧ this is a drabble of the road not taken, set during summer before chapter one.

—pairing: lawyer!yoongi x actress!reader

—rating: none

—genre: brother's best friend, one sided pinning (or both?), slow burn

—warnings/tags: maybe a bit of jealous yoongi?

—series: the road not taken

—words: 886

—a/note: hii this is short but i had fun writing it, thank you for requesting it!!! btw this is a bit unedited ... as always...

Four years ago

Yoongi wiped the sweat from his forehead and turned to see you at the edge of the pool, trying to dodge Fred’s attempts to throw you back in.

Your hair was damp and wavy, your cheeks were slightly rosy from the sun and your bikini was still glistening from the pool. The tiny strawberry pattern made his stomach turn. 

Suddenly, he understood why your brother didn’t want you around with his friends. 

He snapped his fingers at you, trying to get your attention. Fred was his friend, sure—but he didn’t need to watch him trying to get his hands on you. And he definitely didn’t want to hear you laugh unless it was at something he said.

Yes, that was an actual thought that crossed his mind. He’d been having all kinds of confusing thoughts since he came back this summer, and the weird dream he had about you during that ten-minute nap under the sun this morning hadn’t helped clear his head at all. 

This had been going on for the past hour. It wasn’t just Fred—it was also Mike, and of course, it was him too. All three of them trying to get your attention like you were a completely different person, like you weren’t Simon’s sister anymore.

He’d be lying if he said it didn’t bother him. He was used to having your attention without even trying—now he had to fight for it like he was just another guy trying to make you laugh.

The feeling dissipated a little when your eyes found his. He motioned for you to come back to the grill. “What are you doing?” he scolded you, “You said you were helping me.”

You didn't hesitate to run back to him, leaving Fred hanging.

“Grumpy,” you murmured, grabbing your shirt from the lounge chair and tugging it on again.

“Hand me the tongs,” Yoongi said, not looking at you.

You leaned against the side table, where bottles of sauce and a pack of sliced onions sat waiting. “Say please.”

He glanced at you, squinting against the sun. “I’m holding raw meat. Do you really want to do this right now?”

“Desperately,” you said, but handed him the tongs anyway, your fingers brushing for a second too long. He didn’t comment on it, but his grip faltered slightly.

He was grateful that you put that damn tshirt on again. 

Turning back to the grill, he pressed his lips into a thin line. He felt like he had a fever. Maybe it was the sun, maybe it was that stupid dream he’d had. He shook his head, trying to push it away, but every time he tried to forget it, it came back worse.

It hadn’t been a full dream, more like the kind of images that came slowly when he was on the edge of sleep, soft and in waves. It was just you, looking at him as he lay on the lounge chair. You were on your knees, and just when he was sure he was awake, you kissed the tip of his nose.

Even his mind was betraying him.

“You’re burning those,” you said, snapping him out of his thoughts.

He turned around the sausages, realizing you were right. “That’s because someone got distracted and abandoned me.” He defended himself.

You tossed an onion ring onto the grill. “Please. You can handle a couple sausages on your own.”

He didn’t respond—just poked at the grill, a little too forcefully.

You tilted your head, watching him. “What’s with the face?”

“No face,” he said quickly.

“Uh-huh.” You nudged his elbow with yours. “Is this because I left you for Fred?”

He let out a small sound, more breath than laugh, close to a sigh. 

“Don’t worry,” you added, tone light. “You’re still my favorite.”

Yoongi’s grip tightened around the tongs.

There was no reason for that to hit the way it did. It was just words. Tossed out like nothing. But they hooked under his skin anyway.

He didn’t look at you right away. He kept his eyes on the meat, even if his mind had already gone somewhere else.

“Favorite?” he repeated, tone even. “Didn’t realize we were being ranked.”

You laughed, leaning your hip against the table. “Don’t act like you don’t know.”

He shook his head, biting back a smile “What’s earning me that spot, anyway?” he asked, voice light as he pretended it didn’t phase him.

He glanced at you, and maybe he should’ve looked away quicker. You were close enough that he could smell the chlorine and sunscreen clinging to your skin.

You tapped your fingers against the table absently. “It’s a secret system, I can’t tell you.”

Yoongi scoffed, flipping one of the ribs and forcing his focus back. “Seems biased.”

“I’m wildly biased,” you said. “But it’s working in your favor, so shut up.”

He laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “You’re lucky I like you.”

You turned just enough to glance at him. “Yeah?” you said, casual, too casual.

He didn’t answer, he didn't know how to. That was the thing, it was too dangerous to put it into words, so he pushed it down. But in the back of his mind the thought was impossible to erase, that dream he had was impossible to chase away. He was doomed. 

[golden-loona]

found you | chapter two

summary: jungkook finds a pink diary in his drawer that connects him to another timeline. where will it take him?

pairing: jungkook x oc

tags: slight college au, sci-fi(ish), fluff

words: 2026

no warnings needed / this is not fully proofread

this is not to be copied or translated. thank you!

the diary plagues jungkook's mind throughout his classes the next day. his professor talks but the words are muffled, the noise in his head disturbing everything else. scattered, mindless notes typed onto a word document on his open laptop, completely out of focus.

whats worse? today is september 1st. his birthday. what did he do to deserve this mess on his birthday? of ALL days. he can’t even think straight, any plan he had in mind is void. the only light on in his brain being that pink fucking diary. 

the one question that invades his mind the most, is how is this possible? how is he able to communicate through a diary? how is he seeing entries when the diary never leaves his room? it feels like the universe is playing a joke on him, if thats the case then jungkook wants out.

still, he can't help but be curious about the diary's owner. from what he's read of the other entries, she loves dawson's creek and listens to a lot of early 00's music. her most recent song on repeat apparently being "so yesterday" by hillary duff. it confuses him.

when jungkook thinks about it, but not too deeply, his mind wanders to that one marvel movie. doctor strange the multiverse of madness. because that's exactly what its feeling like. a multiverse. the concept is fun, sure. if jungkook saw all this in a movie he would eat it up, but in real life? the idea of being able to talk to someone from a different timeframe frightens him.

is the diary owner from his current time? or the past? the future? is he supposed to keep quiet about things happening in his time? what can he tell her? what can’t he? is there a chance him and this girl can meet? every question races through his mind, over and over like an anxious knocking.

the idea of a rip in time and space, that rip being a pink diary? out of everything on earth, it terrifies him and excites him at the same time. there's the potential for him to have an insight to whatever year this girl is currently living in, he just has to convince himself whether its a good idea or not.

the students around jungkook in the hall all stand up, pulling him out of his deep thought. he naturally stands with them, closing his laptop and shoving his things into his backpack without care. throwing it over his shoulder, jungkook steps to leave the lecture hall. his mind still stuck in a daydream, the endless possibilities and theories of his current situation. 

when jungkook gets home, he notices the “birthday boy” banner taped to his door. a small smile spreading on his lips, he mentally thanks his roommates and steps into his room. he can almost feel the drawer of his desk staring at him. jungkook lazily drops his bag onto his bed, trying to ignore the desk drawer. he swears its glowing in the corner of his eye but thats impossible.

he also used to think multiverses were impossible until now, so he guesses maybe anything is possible. jungkook gives in, slowly opening the drawer with a defeated exhale and of course. the diary is still there.

he knew it would be and yet he kind of hoped it wouldn’t, this just confirms everything he’s been overthinking about today. the mess of science and make-believe thats ran through his mind like its running in circles. 

opening the diary, there sits a new entry. scribbled gently in dark pink gel ink, neat and clear. nothing compared to jungkook’s rushed handwriting at all. honestly, this girl’s pen-game makes his handwriting look absolutely appalling. 

september 1st

first of all, that kiss was a dare. this is a judgement free zone, diary stealer. and i have a name, idiot. my name is yn and i’m 19, i live in itaewon with my mom and my brother. 

can you stop reading my diary now? 

jungkook can’t help but crack a smile at the sassiness written in the ink, he can almost hear it in his head. that attitude, that tone. 

this is what’s pulling him in.

this sassy, funny, mysterious stranger is who’s pulling him into all this. the one who’s magnetic. the one that’s been sitting in the back of his mind all day. 

she lives in itaewon and she’s 19, surely jungkook knows her? surely she goes to the same university as him? maybe they’ve bumped into each other? all these questions fill jungkook’s mind as he begins to daydream. 

jungkook sits comfortably on his desk chair, the wheels squeaking as he shuffles closer to the desk. he holds the diary open, grabbing a black bic pen and popping the cap open to scribble his own entry. 

september 1st 

it’s my birthday, yn. be nice! i’m jungkook, 28 (today) and i also live in itaewon. can i ask you what year it is for you? 

jungkook sighs and leaves it at that, closing the diary and placing it back into the desk drawer. an exhausted sigh leaves his lips and he spins gently on the chair. 

the concept of speaking to someone in a different timeline scares him, either he’ll be the one keeping secrets of the future or he’ll be speaking to someone who knows something he doesn’t. it sends shivers across his body.

“happy birthday to you,” jungkook’s thoughts are interrupted as his roommates step through the door, cake with lit candles in hand. they sing, out of tune of course, but it makes jungkook smile like an idiot. 

“you guys didn’t have to-” jungkook begins but his roommate, taehyung, shakes his head. he sets the cake on jungkook’s desk as their other roommate, hoseok, takes a seat on jungkook’s bed. 

“here, we got you this” hoseok says brightly, a shining smile on his face as he hands jungkook a carefully wrapped gift. jungkook opens the present with hesitancy but he can’t help but chuckle like a kid once he sees them. 

socks with his friends faces on them.

jungkook breaks into laughter, holding the socks with their faces on it. “seriously, guys?”

jungkook wakes up to a buzzing sound, its 4am and he is not in the mood. he sleepily sits up in bed, rubbing his eyes as he searches around the room for whatever is buzzing. following the sound, he’s lead to the desk drawer. an old, small clock he used to use for alarms is buzzing away. one without batteries. what the fuck.

jungkook smacks the side of the digital clock, hoping it shuts up and it does. his eyes glance for a second at the diary and he feels that pull again, his heart naturally racing. a gentle sigh leaves his lips and he grabs the pink diary. 

jungkook shuffles to his bed, clicking his bedside lamp on as he opens the diary. he flicks through the pages as he finds the last page he wrote on and of course, there is a new entry.

september 1st

happy birthday diary stealer! i hope you did something fun for your birthday, there is lots to do around here so i hope you enjoyed it. we went to the skating rink for mine! they played lots of backstreet boys and nsync songs, it was a whole party. 

its september 1st 2003! goodnight xo

jungkook feels his chest tighten and he swallows harshly. 2003? this is a fucking joke. surely it is. 

he rubs his forehead, feeling even more stressed about the situation. jungkook gets out of bed, the diary in hand as he steps out of his room and out to the hall. barging into taehyung’s room, he turns the light on and throws the pink diary onto the bed.

“enough, taehyung” jungkook says frustratedly, his exhuastion present in his tone. a sleepy taehyung stirs and covers his eyes. “i didn’t mess with the toilet, i promise” taehyung responds with a tired whine.

“no, this! this! its a sick joke, taehyung!” jungkook argues loudly, picking up the diary and holding it. he again throws it onto taehyung’s bed. “i know you love your pranks, tae” jungkook begins, rubbing his eyes, “but this is sick.”

“i’ve never seen this diary in my life,” taehyung murmurs, inspecting the diary tiredly. jungkook’s eyebrows furrow, confusion contorting his face. “who’s is it then? hobi’s?” he questions, taehyung shakes his head. 

“you really think hobi would own a pink y2k ass diary?” taehyung remarks, chuckling lowly. jungkook can feel himself going slightly more insane, his mind twisting and his chest burning. even more frustrated, he grabs the diary back and stomps back to his room. “well goodnight to you too, kook,” taehyung says dryly.

jungkook closes his bedroom door a little too hard, the walls shaking gently. tossing the diary onto his desk, he sits on the edge of his bed and clenches his fists. the irritation of having zero answers to his own questions sends surges of annoyance through his veins, an exasperated sigh coming from his chest.

then, he thinks back to the girl in the pages. the girl who loves dawson’s creek and listens to britney spears on her cd player. the innocent girl who also has no idea whats going on, the only one who currently understands him. a hint of guilt sits in his chest, its not her fault. she didn’t do anything wrong.

acting on his guilt, jungkook gets up and sits at his desk. he fumbles the pages of the diary and grabs a pen, tapping it back and forth against the page as he prepares to write a response. finally formulating the words in his brain, he rushedly writes a new entry.

september 2nd

2003? i’m in 2025. this feels surreal and my head is all over the place, diary girl. how are you feeling? are you a mess like i am? are you struggling to comprehend this too? 

from, jk. 

jungkook closes the diary, stuffing it back into his desk drawer and popping the cap back onto his pen. he exhales heavily and slumps back into bed, getting comfortable under the covers. maybe tomorrow, the diary will be gone.

it's not gone. it's not gone. jungkook feels defeated, the universe is supposed to send you signs isn't it? maybe this is meant for him. maybe this journey is meant for him. jungkook holds the diary in his hands, sitting on his bed with a sullen look.

the only person he has to talk to about this is yn herself, she's the only one who won't truly think he's crazy or going insane. jungkook gently turns the pages, one after one. he gets to last night's entry and finds a brand new one.

september 2nd

i told you i have a name, dummy. use it! you HAVE to tell me about 2025!!! are there flying cars? can we download our dreams onto cd's like movies yet? YOU NEED TO TELL ME! and yes. i am freaking out, it makes no sense. there's no science about this and i hate geeky things like that. do you have any theories?

lighten up, diary stealer. yn xo

this entry makes his heart warm, a toothy grin appearing on his face. the excitement in her written words, it makes him feel something that he can't quite name. diary stealer. jungkook kind of loves this nickname.

jungkook grabs a pen from the metal holder on his desk, clicking it and holding the diary steady. for the first time, the words come to him with ease. his hand moving as the pen moves naturally against the page. a small smile curving on his lips as he writes.

september 2nd

but i prefer your nickname, yn. 2025 isn't as futuristic as you may picture, we have ai if that counts? we have robots but they don't exactly do much. we do not have flying cars and no we cannot download our dreams. i also hate geeky science stuff, so i guess we're both screwed. the only theory i have is that the multiverse does indeed exist.

i'm lighter now, diary girl. jk.

a/n: i'm hoping that each chapter i will write more words hahaha. hope you enjoyed it!

previous chapter // next chapter // fic masterlist

golden-loona 2025

[bellarkeselection]

His Compass of Harrenhal part 4

Part 3

- do y'all want one more part to this mini series???

Tag list - @only4thefics @superintenseart @universallyrascaldreamercookie @uniquecroissant @vavafaure1994

Daemon and I silently stood there just staring at the old caretaker of the crumbling castle.  The weight of the words that had just come from his mouth was very clear in the forefront of our minds.  I knew that this day would come, but I never imagined that it would be as sudden as this.  This visitor was not simply us meeting a friend for a chat. No, this was the Dragon Queen Rhaeynra Targareyon.

She is a fierce dragon and I am simply a fish out of water.  She could kill me probably without even blinking and walk away if she wished to.

She is also Daemon's former wife or maybe in her eyes they are still together.  There's no possible way that she knows about me.

"Daemon, what do you think she's going to do to me?" I mumbled lifting my head up slightly with a very nervous expression crossing my features.

He squeezed his fingers into my hips where his hands were resting on my body. "I don't know.  But you shouldn't worry your head about it."

"But she's your wife."

His bright purple eyes meet my gaze. "Y/n, don't worry about it because I will make sure she doesn't touch you or the baby in any capacity."

"Daemon! She's your wife. She needs you to get the support of the lords of the realm. I don't help give her any assistance-"

He covered my mouth with his right hand closing most of the gap that was still between us.  His voice went deeper yet remained in the gentle side that he only showed around me.  "Listen to me, little fish.  You are important to me.  I wouldn't have the support of the Riverlands if it wasn't for you.  So I never want to hear you say she doesn't owe you anything when she does owe you some grattitude."

"I'm still afraid, Daemon." I whispered to him under my breath.  The dragon prince nodded his head wrapping his strong arms gently around my waist, bringing me in closer.

Simon, who was standing in the doorway spoke up once before announcing his presence.  "My king, my lady, we should address the princess before she wastes anymore time."

"You should go.  I'll stay back-"

"You won't dare do any such thought.  We're in this together you and I.  I want you by my side."

"I wasn't expecting you."

Rhaenyra eyed her husband then the crowd of men behind him. "Seems rather a lapse in foresight.  I see you have done well here."

"They are sworn to me and not a moment too soon." Daemon admitted to her proudly, knowing she needed this army to have any chance of getting the Iron Throne.

Rhaenyra lifted her head up slightly to send him a deep glare asking the question.  "And to whom are you sworn?"

"The world is not what we thought it was.  This war is just the beginning.  Winter is Coming with darkness and doom.  ( Se vys iksos daor skoros īlon thought ziry istan. Bisa vīlībāzma iksos sepār se beginning. Sōnar māzis rūsīr darkness se vējes.)"

Rhaenyra made a confused expression.  "You sound like my father. ( Ao sound raqagon issa kepa.)"

"I saw that we cannot withstand it..and yet, somehow we must. ( Nyke ūndan bona īlon daor withstand ziry. Se yet, somehow īlon līs.)" Daemon clicks his tongue glancing over his shoulder at me for a brief second before looking back at her.  He lowered himself down onto one knee catching her by slight surprise. "The realm's only hope is a leader who can unite it.  And my brother chose you.  You are the true Queen.  Rhaenyra, the first of her name, Protector of the Realm.  I am meant to serve you and all of these with me until death or the end of our story."

Slowly every single lord around me bent down on one knee to address her properly as their Queen.  I placed one hand on my swollen stomach and did the best I could to be down on one knee like the others. Squinting my eyes I was still trying to understand what they were saying in High Valyrian, I was still learning the language from Daemon. "Leave me again at your peril. ( Henujagon issa arlī rȳ aōha peril.)"

"I could not. I tried. ( Nyke could daor. Nyke sylutan.)" Daemon rose from the stone ground addressing her before her dragon made a noise.  "My Queen."

"For every one of us who falls a hundred of them.  There will be no mercy." Daemon put his back to the two of us, drawing his sword out and declaring to the massive crowd of men.  "We fight for our Queen!"

The crowd drew their swords and cheered alongside him till Rhaenyra noticed me standing at the front of the crowd with my hands resting on my stomach and I was only really looking at her husband.  "Daemon, who in the realm is the pregnant woman standing before me?"

"You're grace..." I nervously bowed my head down to address the dragon queen before me.

The queen slowly walked forward scanning her eyes down my body and held her eyes solely on my pregnant belly.  "What is your name, my lady?"

"Y/n Tully, your grace." I simply responded to her.

She questioned back softly.  "Who is the father of the babe in your belly, Lady Tully?"

"Um.  I must admit I am not comfortable sharing that information, your grace." I lowered my gaze from hers and accidentally took a few steps away from her showing I was afraid of her next response.

Rhaenyra bites her lip in a tight line.  "Daemon, I demand to know what else you have been doing here while working to secure me an army of Riverlands men and I demand to know now!" 

"Rhaenyra, she's my - the baby growing in her womb belongs to me." Daemon placed his sword back inside its holder coming over to the two of us.

The dragon queen clicked her tongue.  "There's more you're leaving out.  Tell me now."

"She's my wife." Daemon finally mutters under his breath.  This caused everyone else in the crowd to gasp and take large steps backwards in utter shock.

Rhaenyra whipped her head around glaring at me and I shut my eyes thinking she would lay a hand on me.  Yet when I heard a harsh smack where I peaked one eye opened seeing Daemon holding his cheek with one hand.  "You promised me you'd be loyal to me.  You led me on when I was a child and I believed you and yet you still do this.  You betray my trust by marrying and bedding another woman!"

"I now see what my brother saw in you when he named you heir.  I see that you will be the realm's protector even if you no longer are the object of my desire." Daemon made his way past his former wife stopping directly in front of me.  He cupped my face in his hands resting his forehead against his.  "I've never thought that a woman would change me, make me truly care about her safety, want to bear her children and not simply to further my house.  She brings out the best version of me."

"And where does your loyalty stand, Y/n Tully?" The black Queen questioned me after we had broken away and I was standing beside my dragon husband.

"My loyalty will be to your cause, my Queen." I gave her the best curtsy I could, sending her a weak smile.

Rhaenyra glared at me and her former husband but bravery pushed her jealousy aside knowing we had bigger problems if she wished to take her throne back from her half brothers.  "Our focus needs to be on getting my throne back from the Greens.  But don't think for a moment that this conversation is over between the three of us." She spun on her heels being escorted into a separate room by Simon leaving me, Daemon and the lords behind us all thrown for a loop by how she ended the conversation.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[raayllum]

gonna keep this 'brief' for once in my life:

blanket statement i think it's crappy to publicly post private DMs clearly sent to you in confidence In General. this is true no matter the person or situation! i think it's deeply shameful that anyone would think that having personal DMs publicly shared is remotely okay, let alone something to be supported or sympathized with and not like, a huge violation of trust, privacy, and feelings of personal safety. even if i hadn't broken away from OP for other reasons, this alone would've been enough to make me go wtf is wrong with you and, provided they couldn't be convinced to treat the other party like a human being deserving basic respect, block them flat out. it's absolutely abysmal behaviour towards anyone, but but especially private DMs of someone having a breakdown and being so overwhelmed they couldn't stop shaking (both things you were explicitly told after the fact but well before posting). that's not to say everything was expressed perfectly, but i think we can all agree that having a breakdown does, generally, impact your ability to communicate.

with that out of the way, more under the cut bc i also don't put my weird fucking personal bullshit in the main tags

moreover, shaming people with a social communication disorder asking for social communication accommodations (i.e. can you tell me what i did wrong with specific examples so i can have a model to base future interactions off of in terms of doing better, esp since when i've guessed/tried on my own in the past i've gotten it wrong? something i've often been too scared to do with people bc i don't know them well, and asked you bc even if i no longer self safe with you, i thought i owed it to you to try) you then refused to do and said i was using my autism as an excuse (which partially triggered the breakdown in the first place because then i couldn't explain, ask for help, or advocate for myself in any meaningful way) is also not great. especially when what happened is pretty goddamn textbook autism vs everyone else communication in the first place.

assuming that every time someone blogs about a relationship on their own tumblr blog after blocking you everywhere is vagueblogging is also like... weird to assume you're the only relationship i have in my life that could be in conflict (another friend recently had some conflict, so i was commiserating) and also weird to circumvent and step over a block boundary on a routine basis to begin with bc we've definitely never had a troll do that to harass us on a regular basis, no sir. i came This Close to not seeing the post at all bc i've insulated myself so well and don't have people running to tell me the second someone maybe breathes wrong in my direction, and i honestly feel bad you've spent a Lot more time thinking about me than i have you. or that when calling ppl stupid you've also told them to shoot themselves in the foot but sure. it was silly to feel like your behaviour was contradictory and confusing and to ask for clarification, or to assume you'd leave me and my blogs the fuck alone after i'd made it clear i wanted nothing to do with you; i honestly wish you'd done the same, i can't imagine anyone going into the fandom tags wanted to see any of our shared crap.

last but not least: i think it's slightly bananas to look at someone who left a space because they realized they weren't a good fit for it because their best efforts weren't good enough at keeping things smooth, which was entirely on me, and then a relationship, where it wasn't entirely, bc they realized you really struggled with communicating things in a mature manner (ie. ghosting my partner who was also friends with you despite them not being involved at all and without a word because you just Assumed we were shit talking you, i guess, when in reality i was asking them for advice about how to apologize and they had to point out to me you were being mean because i was still taking everything in good faith) and figured out that whatever i did you wouldn't take it well so it was better to cut my losses and block (after days/weeks of agonizing over what, if anything, to say to you that wouldn't possibly make things worse)... only for you to then not take any of it well and do This?

This, from nicely saying i needed more space from you (only telling you so you wouldn't think i was ignoring you bc that would be cruel out of nowhere to just not respond to messages at all), and then you took it poorly (the way you apparently take everything) and then when i apologized/clarified that it was to work on myself and not an ask of you in any way, you were still aggressive if not downright cruel. even Before doing this, which is really the cherry on top.

if i had a nickel for everyone time someone 1) lost their shit about me blocking them, 2) routinely checked my blog or had had someone keep tabs on me on a regular basis for them (bc that's not creepy or invasive at all) even on my non tdp related blogs, 3) posted a callout post while not actually naming me but making it exceedingly evident that it was about me and 4) publicly aired personal dirty laundry in all the main tags so hard 5) that you couldn't have played the victim more, i'd have two nickels. this is a playbook i have seen before from someone who in some ways did far worse to me (it was an emotionally abusive relationship) and far less in comparison, but it's the same playbook of someone who cannot and does not respect boundaries & cannot handle feeling any negative emotion without lashing out for... what? the last laugh? to make someone a pariah or to punish? i can't imagine being that cruel. i can't imagine being that petty and disregarding another person as a person so deeply. after all, i withheld sending any messages because with each one i drafted, i asked myself it was to help or to hurt, and realized if i couldn't do the former, i shouldn't be sending anything at all.

it's safe to say that not sending more messages was the right decision made to protect myself from accidentally giving you more ammo. in some ways i'm admittedly relieved bc this exact sort of thing was something i was anxious about for weeks, but was entirely keeping to myself bc it was 1) nobody else's business and 2) wanted to believe OP better than that as someone i once loved and trusted; surely, they'd be a mature reasonable adult and while we'd both wounded each other, they wouldn't twist the knife; i certainly wouldn't. in many ways, though, this was even worse than whatever nightmare scenario i'd come up with. i've never had my privacy so directly violated, and i wouldn't wish it on anyone. i still wish i'd been wrong about my inclinations when i stepped away after facing repeated aggression no matter how much i apologized or betrayed myself till i couldn't anymore, and had a select few loved ones reaffirm to me that you were never going to see that maybe you'd made some, even one, mistake along the way, like sitting on your resentment i was unaware of till it reached a boiling point. clearly, they were right.

that said, i hope publicly humiliating someone and violating the trust and privacy of another human being, a friend who trusted you, who never would have done this to you, got you whatever you needed. at least one of us should get something productive out of this, and for me it was shreds of certainty that you've chosen to behave exactly as awfully and pettily as i feared, and honestly that's really unfortunate. you were/are really talented. i'm sure, despite our history, you can be an amazing friend to others. i'm sure you can incredibly understanding and kind; you just chose to be cruel and defensive instead, and i hope you never burn a bridge you regret being unable to repair

cause fuck, while i am far from perfect and am the first to admit i've made plenty of mistakes i have sometimes been unable to adequately atone for (i'm sure plenty of people will rightfully unfollow and/or block me and they absolutely should — whether they find me unsavoury, annoying, condescending, or anything else i've had thrown at me — in order to make their internet experience a better, more positive place) i sure as hell have never done and will never do you've done to me, and i can find a solid ground in that if nothing else.

[lightdancingwords]

Second Chances - Part Fifteen of ?

Pairings: Beau Arlen x Y/N Female reader Series Summary: A chance meeting in a grocery store brings a second chance for you and for Beau. The only thing standing in your way are your respective pasts... and a tiny little roadblock. Word Count: 5,172 Tags/Warnings: I actually don’t think there is any beyond SO. MUCH. FLUFF. And I guess babies and kids. Implied smut. A/N: Comments, Likes, Reblogs, Kind feedback are always highly appreciated. Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Note: I've several of you comment this, so here's official statement: I am likely to never end this story at this rate! I'm loving Beau and his relationship with Y/N! So until I'm burnt out on Beau or run out of ideas... consider this story ongoing! Additional Note: I feel bad. Emily somehow slipped my mind—probably because she’s in a whole other state, full grown, in her own life. But that made Beau look bad because she’s his firstborn, his daughter. So any errors in not mentioning her is on me and I apologize for that. I was called out on it and it’s a fair thing to do. I’ll try to incorporate her more often in his thoughts and story. Too late to edit this chapter but in the future I will be sure to include her.

Divider: credit to @sweetmelodygraphics

Chapter Fifteen: How To Love

The days following Caleb’s birth were a blur of healing, adjusting, and overwhelming gratitude. Y/N remained in the hospital under the careful watch of the doctors, recovering from both the accident and the emergency C-section. Beau barely left her side.

He took paternity leave without hesitation, knowing there was nowhere else he needed to be. The department could manage without him for a while—his family couldn’t. Jenny, though initially skeptical that he’d actually take time off, had practically forced him out the door with a smirk. “Don’t even think about checking your email, Sheriff.”

Meanwhile, Y/N’s mother had been taking care of Eliza, keeping the little girl busy and making sure she didn’t feel left out with all the excitement surrounding the new baby. But Beau knew Eliza missed them. Every time they video called, she would grab at the screen, squealing “Mama! Bo-Bo!” in delight before her little brows furrowed in confusion, clearly wondering why they weren’t coming home yet.

Finally, after five days in the hospital, Y/N was cleared to go home.

Beau wheeled her down the hospital hallway, his hand on her shoulder, the other carrying Caleb’s car seat. The tiny baby was bundled up snugly, sleeping peacefully, blissfully unaware of the life waiting for him outside those hospital walls.

Y/N sighed, tilting her head back slightly to look at Beau. “I’ve never been more ready to be home.”

Beau chuckled, squeezing her shoulder. “Darlin’, I don’t think I’ve ever been more ready to take you home.”

Outside, the truck was already waiting—Jenny had dropped it off for him earlier in the morning, making sure the car seat was properly installed. Beau helped Y/N into the passenger seat, buckling her in gently before carefully securing Caleb in the back. He checked the straps twice, his jaw tightening with focus.

Y/N smiled softly, watching him. “Beau, he’s not going anywhere.”

He exhaled, glancing at her. “I know. I just…” He hesitated before shaking his head with a faint smile. “Can’t help it.”

She reached out, squeezing his hand. “I know.”

With one last check, he climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine, pulling out of the hospital lot and heading home.

Y/N’s mother was waiting on the porch when they arrived, Eliza in her arms. The moment the truck pulled up, Eliza’s little hands clapped excitedly, and she wiggled to get down.

Beau barely had time to unbuckle his seatbelt before Eliza was racing toward him, her tiny feet pattering against the wooden porch. “Bo-Bo!” she shrieked.

Beau laughed, scooping her up in one fluid motion. “Hey there, wolf-child,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her curls. “Did you miss us?”

Eliza nodded enthusiastically, her little hands patting his face before she turned her big, curious eyes toward Y/N. “Mama?”

Y/N smiled, carefully stepping out of the truck. Beau was already there, offering his arm to steady her. She sighed happily as she stretched, then crouched down to Eliza’s level.

“Hi, my love,” Y/N said softly, reaching out for her.

Eliza practically leaped from Beau’s arms into Y/N’s, wrapping herself around her mother with surprising strength. Y/N winced slightly, but her laugh was full of joy as she held her daughter close. “Oh, I missed you so much, sweetheart.”

“Baby?” Eliza asked, looking around, her little nose scrunching in confusion.

Beau chuckled, moving to the truck to carefully unclip Caleb’s car seat. “Right here, kiddo.”

The second he lifted the car seat out, Eliza’s eyes widened. “Baby!” she gasped, her tiny hands clapping again.

Beau set the car seat down gently on the porch, kneeling beside it as Y/N shifted so Eliza could see.

“Meet your baby brother, Caleb,” Y/N murmured, her voice thick with emotion.

Eliza peered into the car seat, her face filled with fascination as she took in the tiny bundle inside. Caleb stirred slightly, his little mouth forming an ‘o’ as he stretched his fingers.

“Baby,” Eliza whispered reverently before glancing up at Beau and Y/N with a huge grin. “Mine?”

Beau let out a deep laugh, ruffling her curls. “Not just yours, wolf-child. Ours.”

Eliza nodded solemnly, as if accepting her important new role in the family.

Y/N’s mother chuckled softly. “Looks like you’ve got a little protector already.”

“Good,” Beau said, wrapping an arm around Y/N’s waist. “Caleb’s gonna need all the love he can get. And this family? We got plenty to give.”

Y/N sighed, leaning into him, her head resting against his chest. “Yeah. We do.”

Beau pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his grip tightening around her. For the first time in what felt like forever, everything was finally as it should be.

Home. Whole. Together.

And as he watched Eliza gently pat Caleb’s tiny hand, introducing herself in her own little way, Beau knew with absolute certainty—this was the life he had always wanted.

And he wasn’t letting go of it for anything.

Life with a newborn was both beautifully fulfilling and utterly exhausting.

Days blurred together in a mix of diaper changes, sleepless nights, and the soothing lull of Beau’s deep voice murmuring to Caleb in the early hours of the morning. The baby had a strong set of lungs, that was for sure. Every few hours, he let the entire house know he was awake, demanding food, warmth, and comfort with the kind of relentless determination that made Beau both admire and fear how much like his mother he already was.

Eliza was adjusting, too—curious, excited, and sometimes a little frustrated when her baby brother took up too much of her mama and Bo-Bo’s attention. But Beau made sure to keep their special time, setting aside moments where it was just the two of them, whether it was playing in the backyard or letting her “help” him cook breakfast in the mornings.

Y/N, meanwhile, was running on fumes, and Beau saw it.

She handled Caleb like a natural—her love infinite, her patience unwavering—but there was a heaviness in her, too. The exhaustion weighed on her shoulders, the sleepless nights dimming the light in her eyes. She barely had time for herself, always putting their children first. And Beau? He refused to let her forget that she wasn’t just a mother—she was his, too.

It was a particularly long night when they both found themselves collapsing into bed, barely able to keep their eyes open. Caleb had finally settled after what felt like hours of rocking, feeding, and humming softly to him. Eliza had gone to sleep without a fuss, blissfully unaware of the symphony of cries that had kept her parents up.

Beau groaned as he flopped onto the mattress, running a hand over his face. “I think my back’s gonna give out.”

Y/N chuckled, though it was weak, her body sinking into the bed beside him. “You and me both.”

He turned his head to look at her, taking in the sight of her—her hair a tangled mess, her body wrapped in one of his old T-shirts, her skin glowing despite her exhaustion. She was so damn beautiful, and she didn’t even realize it.

He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “You okay, darlin’?”

She let out a slow breath, rolling onto her side to face him. “Yeah,” she whispered. “Just tired.”

He nodded, understanding more than he could put into words. He scooted closer, wrapping an arm around her waist, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “You’re incredible, Y/N,” he murmured. “You know that, right?”

She let out a tired laugh. “I don’t feel incredible.”

“You are,” he insisted, his voice steady. “The way you love our kids, the way you take care of everyone—hell, the way you still manage to laugh even after the longest days. I don’t know how you do it.”

Her gaze softened, her fingers tracing small patterns on his chest. “Because I love you. Because I love them. That’s how.”

Beau swallowed past the lump in his throat, his grip on her tightening. “I love you, too, darlin’. More than I got words for.”

She sighed into him, their bodies molding together as exhaustion pulled at them both. It wasn’t just about sleep—it was about feeling safe, wrapped in the warmth of each other, knowing that no matter how chaotic life got, this was home.

It was a couple of weeks later, in the quiet of the night, when things shifted between them again.

Y/N had just finished putting Caleb back down after a late feeding, her body moving on instinct now, even though she was half-asleep. She climbed back into bed with a soft sigh, stretching out beside Beau.

He turned, watching her in the dim glow of the nightlight from the hallway. “C’mere,” he murmured.

She hesitated, but he reached for her, pulling her into his arms.

“You don’t have to,” she whispered, her voice laced with uncertainty.

Beau frowned, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her temple. “Don’t have to what?”

She swallowed, shifting slightly in his embrace. “I know I don’t look the same,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know I’m different now.”

Beau’s heart clenched. He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at her, really look at her. The soft curves of her body, the faint traces of exhaustion in her face, the quiet vulnerability in her eyes.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice gentle but firm, “you think I don’t want you?”

She looked away, her fingers gripping the edge of the blanket. “I just… I don’t feel like myself yet. And I don’t know when I will.”

Beau reached out, tipping her chin up so she had to meet his gaze. “You gave me a family,” he murmured. “You gave me Eliza. You gave me Caleb. You gave me a reason to come home every damn day. And I swear to you, there ain’t a single thing in this world that could make me love you less.”

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “Beau…”

He kissed her then, slow and reverent, his lips moving against hers like he was rediscovering her, like he was reminding her of everything they had. His hands roamed gently, no rush, no urgency—just love, just worship.

“You’re still my Y/N,” he whispered against her lips. “You’re still the woman I fell in love with, the woman I’m gonna marry, the woman who drives me crazy in the best damn way.”

She let out a shaky breath, her fingers tangling in his hair. “I love you, Beau.”

“I love you more,” he murmured, kissing her again.

And as they melted into each other, the world outside faded. It didn’t matter that they were parents now, that their lives had changed, that exhaustion still clung to them.

All that mattered was this—Beau and Y/N, their love as fierce and unshakable as ever.

And as they lay together, wrapped in each other’s arms, Beau knew with absolute certainty that nothing—nothing—could ever come between them again.

The last few weeks had been the best of Beau’s life. Days spent holding his son, laughing with Eliza, stealing quiet moments with Y/N—they had settled into a rhythm, one built on love, exhaustion, and the small joys that came with having a newborn.

But now, his paternity leave was coming to an end, and Beau hated it.

He sat on the edge of the bed one evening, rubbing a hand down his face, his jaw set in a deep frown. Y/N was in bed beside him, their bedroom cast in soft, golden light from the bedside lamp. Caleb was already asleep in the bassinet beside their bed, Eliza down the hall in her own room, and the house was wrapped in a rare, peaceful quiet.

Y/N glanced up from where she had been running lotion over her arms, her eyes catching the tightness in his expression. “What’s wrong, cowboy?”

Beau sighed, running his hands through his hair. “Tomorrow,” he muttered, like the word itself left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Y/N tilted her head. “Tomorrow?”

Beau looked at her then, his green eyes filled with something vulnerable, something rare. “I gotta go back to work.”

Y/N softened, setting the bottle of lotion aside as she shifted closer to him. “Oh, Beau.”

He exhaled sharply, looking down at his hands. “I know I have to. I know the department needs me. But damn, Y/N… I don’t wanna go.”

She reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers. “I know.”

Beau swallowed hard, his jaw tensing. “Feels like I just got you back. Just got time with my boy. With Eliza. And now, I gotta leave for most of the day, every day, and—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “What if I miss somethin’? What if I miss his first word? His first step? What if—”

Y/N squeezed his hand, stopping him mid-spiral. “Beau.”

He met her gaze, his breath unsteady.

She smiled, soft and knowing. “You are not missing anything. We are right here. Waiting for you every single day. We’re not going anywhere.”

Beau let out a slow breath, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I just love you so damn much,” he murmured. “All of you. And I hate the thought of leavin’ this.”

Y/N reached up, cupping his cheek, her thumb brushing lightly over the beard he had let grow in during his leave. “Beau Arlen,” she whispered, her voice thick with love, “do you know how much we love you?”

His breath caught, and she leaned closer, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“You have taken care of us so well,” she murmured against his skin. “You are the best father, the best partner. And just because you have to go back to work doesn’t mean that changes. Doesn’t mean you stop being ours.”

Beau closed his eyes briefly, exhaling as she kissed his cheek next, then his jaw, then finally his lips—soft, lingering, full of reassurance.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered against her mouth.

“I love you more,” she breathed, pulling him down with her as they sank into the bed, their bodies molding together.

The house was quiet, the only sound the occasional soft coo from Caleb’s bassinet. Beau lay on his side, Y/N tucked close against him, his hand tracing slow, lazy circles over her hip. The earlier tension had melted away, replaced with something tender, something deeper.

Y/N rested her head against his chest, her fingers absently playing with the hem of his T-shirt. “You are so loved, Beau,” she whispered.

His fingers stilled for a moment before tightening around her waist. “Yeah?”

She lifted her head slightly, enough to meet his gaze in the dim light. “Yeah.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “You sure?”

Y/N smiled, shifting so she was straddling his lap, her hands pressing against his chest. “I have never been more sure of anything in my life.”

Beau’s hands slid up her thighs, gripping her like she might disappear. “You always know exactly what I need to hear, don’t you?”

She leaned down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to his lips. “Because I know you,” she whispered. “I know your heart. And I know that you are everything to us.”

Beau exhaled sharply, pulling her down into a deeper kiss, pouring every ounce of love, of gratitude, of devotion into it. His hands moved up her back, fingers mapping the shape of her, rediscovering every inch of her in the dim light.

Y/N pulled back just slightly, her breath warm against his lips. “We’ll be waiting for you every day, Beau. I promise.”

He cupped her face, his green eyes filled with nothing but love. “And I promise I’ll always come home to you.”

She smiled, resting her forehead against his. “Then I guess we have nothing to worry about.”

Beau chuckled, rolling them over so he hovered above her, pressing kisses along her jaw, down her neck, whispering between each one, “Damn right, we don’t.”

And as the night stretched on, wrapped in warmth and love, Beau knew—no matter where life took him, no matter how many hours he had to spend away, his heart would always belong here, in this home, with this woman.

And that was all he would ever need.

Life had finally settled into something steady, something warm. Caleb was growing fast, filling out with chubby cheeks and strong little legs that kicked with excitement whenever he saw his parents. Eliza had adjusted beautifully to being a big sister—sometimes a little bossy, sometimes a little jealous, but always full of love.

Beau had never been happier. His days at work were structured, his evenings filled with laughter and bedtime stories, and his nights spent wrapped around the love of his life.

Y/N, meanwhile, had thrown herself into planning their wedding. She had lists, swatches of fabric, guest counts—things that overwhelmed Beau but made her light up with joy. He let her take the lead, offering his opinions when needed, but mostly just soaking in the happiness she radiated whenever she talked about the future.

But even in all the joy, Beau noticed the way Y/N would sometimes grow quiet when she thought no one was watching. He noticed the way she avoided certain dresses when trying things on, the way she hesitated before letting him see her fully unclothed, as if she was waiting for him to notice something wrong.

And tonight, he caught her.

The house was still and quiet, the soft hum of the baby monitor the only sound filling the air. Caleb was sound asleep in his crib, Eliza curled up in her bed with her stuffed rabbit. Beau had just finished locking up for the night when he paused outside their bedroom door, catching sight of Y/N standing in front of the full-length mirror.

She was wearing only her slip, the dim glow of the bedside lamp casting gentle shadows over her skin. She poked lightly at her belly, smoothing her hands over the soft curves that hadn’t been there before pregnancy. Her expression was unreadable, her lips pressed into a faint frown as she traced the faint lines on her stomach.

Beau leaned against the doorframe, his heart tightening at the sight. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, watching her, memorizing her—the way she bit her lip, the way her shoulders slumped slightly as she exhaled.

Then she caught him in the mirror’s reflection.

Her gaze lifted, meeting his, her body tensing slightly. “What are you looking at?” she asked, her voice hesitant.

Beau pushed off the doorframe, stepping closer, his green eyes never leaving hers. “Just thinkin’,” he said softly.

Y/N turned slightly, her brow furrowed. “About what?”

He stopped behind her, his hands sliding over her arms, wrapping her in his warmth as he rested his chin on her shoulder. “How damned lucky I am,” he murmured against her skin.

She let out a breathy laugh, but it lacked conviction. “Beau—”

“No,” he interrupted, tightening his grip around her, his voice gentle but firm. “Let me say this, Y/N.”

She swallowed hard, but she didn’t pull away.

Beau leaned down, pressing a slow, reverent kiss to the side of her neck before meeting her eyes in the mirror again. “You carried our babies here,” he whispered, sliding a hand over her stomach, his fingers splayed wide. “You gave me our family. And you think for one damn second that I’d ever see anything less than perfection?”

Her lower lip trembled slightly. “I just don’t feel like myself anymore,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I love them, I love what my body did, but… I look at myself, and I don’t know who I am.”

Beau turned her in his arms, his hands cradling her waist as he met her gaze, his green eyes filled with nothing but love. “Then let me remind you,” he murmured.

His lips found hers, slow and deliberate, his touch gentle but firm as his hands slid up her sides, memorizing every curve, every change. He kissed her like she was something sacred, something precious, something irreplaceable.

When they broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers, his breath warm against her lips. “I love you, Y/N,” he whispered. “Every single inch of you. Then, now, always.”

Her eyes shimmered with emotion, and she exhaled shakily. “Beau…”

He pressed another kiss to her forehead, then trailed soft kisses along her jaw, his hands never leaving her. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmured against her skin. “And I will spend every day of my life makin’ sure you know it.”

Y/N let out a soft laugh, though this time, it was real. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

He grinned, his fingers brushing over the curve of her hip. “Nah, darlin’. I just tell the truth.”

She sighed, melting into him, her arms wrapping around his neck. “I love you, Beau.”

He kissed her slow and deep, pouring every ounce of his love into her. “And I love you,” he whispered against her lips. “Always.”

And as they sank into the quiet of the night, wrapped in each other, Beau made good on his promise—to love her, to remind her, to make sure she never doubted just how perfect she was in his eyes.

Now and always.

Beau had spent the past few weeks planning the perfect evening for Y/N. He wanted to give her a night that wasn’t about the kids, wasn’t about exhaustion, wasn’t about adjusting to life as parents of two. No, tonight was about them—just the two of them, the love they had built, and the future he was ready to cement.

He had it all arranged—Y/N’s mother would be watching Eliza and Caleb overnight, giving them an evening free of responsibilities. The reservation was set at the finest restaurant in town, a place neither of them had taken the time to visit before. And in his pocket, tucked securely in a velvet box, was a ring—a ring that had once belonged to his mother, resized and polished, now meant for Y/N.

He planned to propose to her again—not because he thought she needed a third proposal, but because he did. Because the first time had been in a hospital room, after she’d told him she was pregnant. It had been emotional, sincere, perfect in its own way, but this time? This time, he wanted it to be something just for them.

He wanted her to feel cherished.

Y/N stepped out of their bedroom in a fitted emerald dress that took Beau’s breath away. The fabric hugged her curves in a way that had his fingers twitching to touch, and the way she smiled at him—nervous, flattered—made his heart thud in his chest.

“Damn, darlin’,” he murmured, his green eyes raking over her. “You tryin’ to kill me?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “I should be asking you that. A fancy dinner? A date? What’s gotten into you, Beau Arlen?”

He grinned, stepping forward to press a slow kiss to her lips before whispering, “Just want to spoil my girl.”

And spoil her, he did.

The restaurant was elegant, dimly lit with candles flickering on each table, the soft hum of a jazz band playing in the background. Beau pulled out her chair for her, ordered a bottle of wine, and made sure she didn’t lift a finger all night.

He watched her as they ate, admiring the way her face lit up when she tried the dishes, how she laughed easily when he cracked jokes, how she kept stealing glances at him like she was trying to figure out what exactly he was up to.

Halfway through the meal, she set her fork down, tilting her head at him. “Okay, cowboy. Out with it.”

He smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Out with what?”

“This,” she gestured vaguely around them. “The fancy dinner. The wine. The lingering stares. You’ve been romancing me all night, Beau. And not that I’m complaining, but…” Her voice softened, her eyes searching his. “Why all the effort?”

Beau’s heart swelled at the way she looked at him—like he was her whole world.

He reached across the table, taking her hand in his. “Because you deserve it,” he said simply. “Because I love you. Because I want to remind you just how damn lucky I am.”

Her lips parted slightly, emotion flickering in her gaze. “Beau…”

He stood then, reaching into his pocket. Y/N blinked, watching him in confusion as he moved around the table. Then, realization dawned as he slowly lowered himself onto one knee.

Her hand flew to her mouth, her breath catching. “Oh my God.”

Beau flipped open the velvet box, revealing the most stunning vintage ring—a delicate band with a diamond nestled in intricate filigree. It was timeless, classic, perfect.

“This ring belonged to my mama,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I had it resized, polished, made new again—because that’s what I want for us, darlin’. A fresh start, a lifetime together.”

Y/N let out a soft, choked laugh, her other hand clutching her chest as tears welled in her eyes.

“I asked you twice before,” Beau continued, his green eyes never leaving hers, “but I didn’t do it the way you deserved. And after everything we’ve been through, I wanted to do it right. So, Y/N…” He took a deep breath, his grip steady on the ring box. “Will you marry me?”

Y/N let out a half-laugh, half-sob, nodding frantically before she even found her words. “Yes,” she whispered, then louder, “Yes, Beau. Yes.”

A grin split across Beau’s face as he slid the ring onto her finger, his hands shaking slightly with relief. The moment the band was secure, Y/N launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing him fiercely as the restaurant erupted in soft applause.

He laughed against her lips, his hands firm around her waist as he held her close. “I love you, Y/N,” he murmured.

“I love you too,” she whispered, her voice full of joy, of love, of absolute certainty.

Beau kissed her again, deeply, fully, sealing the promise between them.

This was it.

Their forever was just beginning.

Beau wasn’t done spoiling Y/N. Not even close.

After their unforgettable dinner, he drove her to a luxury hotel in the heart of Big Sky, one of the finest in Montana. The moment Y/N saw where they were, she let out a surprised laugh, glancing over at him as he parked the truck.

“Beau Arlen,” she teased, raising an eyebrow. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

Beau smirked, turning off the engine. “That depends. Is it workin’?”

She bit her lip, pretending to think. “Hmm… jury’s still out.”

Beau leaned closer, his lips grazing her ear. “Well, darlin’, let’s see if I can win you over.”

With that, he stepped out of the truck, coming around to open her door like a true gentleman. He held her hand as they walked inside, checking them in under a reservation he had made weeks ago. When Y/N saw the suite he had booked—complete with a fireplace, a massive bed draped in silk sheets, and a grand marble bathroom—she turned to him with wide eyes.

“You really did go all out,” she whispered.

Beau shrugged, grinning. “You deserve it.”

She reached up, running her fingers along the edge of his jaw, her voice soft with love. “You are something else, Sheriff.”

He kissed her knuckles, his green eyes filled with adoration. “Come on, darlin’. Time to unwind.”

Beau had already thought of everything. A warm, luxurious bath was drawn in the grand soaking tub, bubbles and fragrant oils turning the water into something truly decadent. Y/N let out a slow, happy sigh as she sank into it, closing her eyes as the warmth enveloped her body.

Beau knelt beside the tub, rolling up his sleeves, his hands skimming lazily along the water’s surface as he watched her.

“You’re starin’,” Y/N murmured, her eyes still closed.

“Can’t help it,” he said, his voice thick with admiration. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she let out a soft laugh. “Smooth.”

Beau chuckled, dipping a washcloth into the water and slowly dragging it over her shoulder, down her arm. His touch was gentle, reverent. He washed her with slow, deliberate care, massaging her shoulders, kneading the knots from her back. Y/N melted under his hands, her body sinking deeper into relaxation with every stroke of his fingers.

“Beau,” she sighed, tilting her head against the edge of the tub. “If you keep this up, I might fall asleep on you.”

He smirked, pressing a kiss to her damp shoulder. “Not yet, darlin’. I’m not done spoilin’ you.”

After the bath, he wrapped her in the softest robe he could find, guiding her to the bed. He sat behind her, his strong hands working their way down her spine, massaging every inch of tension from her body.

Y/N let out a breathy moan, her head lolling forward. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

Beau chuckled, his lips ghosting over the shell of her ear. “That’s the plan.”

His hands roamed lower, kneading the small of her back, then down to her hips, tracing the curves he loved so much. As he turned her to face him, his eyes darkened, filled with something deeper than desire.

“Let me love you, Y/N,” he murmured.

She smiled lazily, stretching like a cat beneath him. “That’s how we ended up with Caleb, you know.”

Beau grinned, leaning down to kiss her neck. “No regrets.”

She laughed softly but quickly lost her breath as his lips traveled lower, his hands following, mapping every inch of her body. He took his time, exploring her with slow, reverent touches, as if memorizing her all over again.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured against her skin.

Y/N shivered, running her fingers through his thick hair. “Beau…”

He worshipped her, loving her through the night with a tenderness that spoke volumes. He made sure she felt adored, cherished, his. Every touch, every kiss was a promise—a reminder that she was his whole world.

And as they lay tangled in the sheets, her body still humming from the love they had shared, Beau pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice hoarse but full of warmth.

She smiled sleepily, snuggling against him. “I love you too, Beau. So much.”

He held her close, breathing in the scent of her, feeling the steady rhythm of her heart against his. He had everything he had ever wanted—his woman, his family, his forever.

And he wasn’t letting go. Not ever.

Tag List: @spxideyver, @deadlymistletoe, @bitchykittenconnoisseur, @aarpfashionvictim, @stoneyggirl2

@foxyjwls007, @katastrophicmind, @globetrotter28, @deansimpalababy, @daisychaingirl

@nancymcl, @deans-baby-momma, @kickingitwithkirk, @kmc1989, @ozwriterchick

Want to be a part of this tag list or others? Comment here and I'll add you! And check out my other stories that are currently being written!

[whatthebodygraspsnot]

“I went to the gym, so I will be able to hold you up even longer” 🙌🏾🙌🏾🙌🏾

“I went to the gym, so I will be able to hold you up even longer” additional tags: (wrongly) assumed infidelity, miscommunication that gets resolved, this must be an au bc mickey would obv never interrupt his own sleep to leave the apartment

Mickey steps carefully into their apartment, taking great care to shut the door without being too loud. He closes it with barely a click. But nothing can prepare him for what happens next.

When Mickey turns, it’s like he’s stepped right into a 90s romantic drama, the single floor lamp clicking on to shine in a perfect spotlight, revealing where his husband is very much awake, and very much waiting for his return.

He’s sitting on the couch. Tucked up in his bathrobe and the most unimpressed frown.

“Fuck.”

“Who is he?”

Mickey glances from left to right. Behind himself. Looks at Ian again, his heart still pounding in his chest from the startle. “Who’s who?”

“Don’t gimme that.” And now Ian’s standing up, gathering his robe around himself as he prepares to fire off The Chin. “You disappear every night - yes, I noticed,” he states before Mickey can interrupt. “Bring a bag with you… Come home sweaty… I know you think you’re sneaky, but you’re fucking bad at hiding this, Mickey.”

It takes a second for everything to sink in. For the endorphins from the last couple hours to start pumping upward into his brain this time. 

And… Damn.

Ian caught him.

To be perfectly honest, Mickey thought he was getting away with this shit - was being real cagey and everything too - even getting a shower in before sliding back into bed with him.

“Two hours. That enough to meet up with him and do what you gotta do?”

Meet up with who? Yeah right. “You think I can get somebody out at this hour?” Mickey asks, his confusion starting to put him on edge. “Been doing this shit all on my own. Well-... I mean ‘cept for the other handful of guys who show up sometimes…”

And the way Ian’s eyebrows rise is almost as startling as how he stops in his tracks, repeating the words back to him with dragged out intensity. “‘Handful of guys’...?”

It’s got Mickey slugging his bag off his shoulder, the dramatics of it all really killing his high. “Christ, Ian. What’re you bein’ so bitchy for-”

“What am I being bitchy for.” There he goes again, repeating shit. Like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Mickey are you fucking serious?”

“Yeah - what - I was doin’ this shit for you, anyway. Thought you’d at least be excited about it.”

Oh. Fuck. Ian does not like that. “Excited?” Off comes the robe, in a flurry of angry movements. He’s running hot, and not in a good way. “Why the fuck would I be excited about my husband cheating on me!”

And it’s-...

He’s-...

Wait a second.

“What?”

“You thought you could go out every night and meet up with a ‘handful of guys’ and I’d be jumping for joy?” He sure is using air quotes like he’s having a good time with it, but no no no-

“What the-...” Mickey shakes his head, trying to clear the air because holy fuck, “I ain’t fuckin’ cheating on you, Ian - the hell?”

“You just said-” 

“Christ, you think I’m out bangin’ other dudes?”

“Wuh-...! You-...!”

Mickey rubs a hand over his mouth, everything suddenly making a whole lot of sense. The dramatics. The theater of it all. Ian was catching him coming home from the act, but ‘the act’ ended up being two very different things in their respective heads.

“Holy shit,” Mickey breathes out, going for his bag so he can put that thought immediately out of Ian’s head. “Look.”

He tugs the zipper open. Starts dumping out its contents on the floor right between them - his gym shoes - his old-ass iPod - a workout shirt - socks that stink so bad that they’re all he really needed to avoid all this. One whiff would’ve immediately made things clear.

But it’s enough now. Ian is slowly putting all the pieces together, the worry in his brow evening out and his chin returning to normal pointedness. Finally.

“You…” you says, hope returning. “You’ve been…going to the gym…?”

Mickey gestures to the pile of clothes in between them, his tone evening into something honest. “Yeah, man. Thought you wouldn’t notice once you knocked out…”

Ian eyes over everything one more time. Then slowly, his lips pull into a small pout, those eyes flicking away. “I notice every time you’re not in bed.” ‘Bitch.’ He wants to add it so bad. Mickey can practically see it trying to break through.

But he doesn’t. And there’s something so sheepish and honest and vulnerable about it, that Mickey can’t help but smile, peace returning as he stuffs his clothes and shoes back into his bag. “Fuck would I ever cheat on you for, ya dummy?”

A beat passes. Thoughts lingering. “I dunno… I just thought-...” 

“Well stop.” It sure makes a lot of sense, though. Now that he sees it through that lens. Fuck, he’d probably think the same thing if their roles were switched. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to getchya all riled up…”

“S’okay…” Ian watches as Mickey gets himself sorted. Still has a lot of questions trying to get out - he can tell. And it starts with this one. “What do you mean you were doing this for me?”

It’s the correct one - right away. And Mickey’s glad he asked, actually. Because if he must know…

The floorboards creak beneath his shoes as he steps up into Ian’s space, his muscles warmed up and ready enough to finally show off his skills. 

And when he does it - when he wrangles his giant-ass husband in and hauls him up until he's got those thick thighs straddling his waist, Ian’s startle and wide eyes say it all as Mickey slots him up against the wall - all two hundred pounds - keeping him held up in his arms.

“Been goin’ to the gym so I can lift ya,” he preens, impressed with his own strength.

Because he’s been working for this moment. For the look of sheer shock in Ian’s eyes from the rush of it - how it simmers into delight and pride and something much, much steamier the longer he holds him up.

And damn, that little breathy, impressed laugh that huffs out between them. “Fuck, Mick…”

Oh yeah. This is what all that 2am weightlifting has been for.

“You like that, huh?” Mickey grins, the atmosphere shifting familiar and fun - heavy in a good way. “This do it for ya?”

From his arms, Ian nods, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he takes a second to eat Mickey up with his eyes, those big arms wrapping around the back of his neck. 

He probably thought he was doing a decent job at hiding how hot he gets with this - when Mickey can make him feel small and moveable. 

They’re both absolute dogshit at keeping secrets, it turns out.

[ send me a smutty one-liner ]

[yyaktayak]

Chapter 4💌

Happy Valentine’s Day!

tags : @charmed-dreamssss @uceyliyahh @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @prettypink-princesss

keoirthescientist has posted a story!

"Stream always & forever💘"

Kemani Keoir August

-Kemani

Valentine's Day had arrived, and I was still caught in the haze of confusion Damian had left me in. His casual invitation to be his Valentine had been lingering in my mind for days. I hadn't given him a firm answer, but it was clear by the way things had been between us that something was brewing.

I had agreed to the "friend date," not expecting anything extravagant, just a simple evening out, no expectations. At least, that's what I told myself.

But, of course, Damian had other plans.

I stood in front of my mirror, adjusting the little black dress I had picked out for the night. It was understated but elegant something I felt comfortable in. But there was a strange flutter in my chest, the kind I hadn't felt in a while. I took a deep breath, reminding myself this was just two friends going out.

I grabbed my purse and slipped my phone into the side pocket before heading out the door, the cool February air hitting me immediately. As soon as I stepped out, I spotted Damian's car parked by the curb. My breath caught as he stepped out, looking every bit the opposite of casual in a sharp black suit and a deep red tie that matched the tone of the evening. He leaned against the car, a smirk on his face when he saw me.

"You look... beautiful phat," he said, his voice smooth, yet there was a hint of nervousness in his eyes.

I couldn't help but blush. "You- look good yourself bubba" I said, trying to play it off.

Damian laughed, his usual cocky demeanor slipping for just a second as he stepped toward me. "Let's go, Phat. I've got plans."

I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "Plans? I thought this was just a casual night out?"

He shrugged, his smile widening. "That was the plan, but I thought we'd make it a little more memorable."

I didn't have time to protest before he opened the door for me and helped me into the car. The drive was short, and every minute I spent with him, the more my mind spun. His mere presence was disarming. It wasn't just his charm or his confidence. It was something deeper, something I wasn't ready to face.

We pulled up to a luxury restaurant, the type that had an air of exclusivity. It was a place I never expected to find myself at, and yet here I was. The valet greeted us immediately, and before I knew it, Damian had taken my hand as we made our way inside.

As we sat at a candlelit table for two, the ambiance was so perfect it felt surreal. It wasn't just the setting; it was Damian's attention to every detail. He made sure I was comfortable, laughing at my jokes, and listening intently. It wasn't how I imagined a "friend" date would go this was something else entirely.

And then the paparazzi arrived.

Out of nowhere, flashes exploded around us as we made our way out of the restaurant, and I could hear the hurried whispers of the photographers. "Damian  and Keoir" "Is this the new couple of the year?" "Are they dating?"

I blinked, still processing what was happening as Damian quickly placed his hand on the small of my back, guiding me toward the car. He was calm, collected, and a little amused by the chaos.

"Let's get out of here," he muttered, leading me to the car, where the valet had just returned with it. But as we were about to get inside, one photographer called out, "Are you two dating? Is she your Valentine?"

The question hung in the air, and before I could even answer, Damian smiled. "We're just two friends, enjoying the night, now if you'd excuse me and phat move."

The flashes continued, but we drove off without looking back. The rest of the night went by in a blur, but every moment felt like it was drawn in vivid color. Damian made me laugh, made me forget about the uncertainty that had been plaguing me.

Lyke Kaien Martinez

-Damian

As soon as I'd invited Kemani, I knew the night would be different. But I hadn't anticipated how much I'd feel in this situation. I couldn't stop thinking about the way her eyes lit up when she laughed or the way her hand felt when it brushed against mine.

It was just supposed to be a casual night out, nothing special. But as I sat across from her at that candlelit table, I knew. This wasn't just some Valentine's date. It was something I'd never experienced before.

When the paparazzi hit, I wasn't surprised. That was part of the package when you were in the public eye. But the fact that they saw us together... it made me realize how much more this could be. The way they were snapping photos, asking questions it made everything feel... different.

I didn't want to give anything away, but the way she held herself, the way she looked at me it felt like she was thinking the same thing.

It was only when we were alone again, after the chaos settled, that I allowed myself to breathe. She hadn't said no. She hadn't said yes either. But the way her smile softened when I looked at her she didn't seem as unsure as before

Kemani Keoir August

-Kemani

By the time we reached home, I was exhausted, but not in the way I had expected. The night had been anything but casual. It was clear that Damian had pulled out all the stops to make this special. The flashes from the paparazzi, the questions—they didn't feel as intrusive as they usually did.

As I got out of the car, Damian stopped me with a hand on my arm.

"Phat," he said, his voice low, almost hesitant. "About tonight... it wasn't just a date, was it? It's something more.."

I shook my head, unsure of what to say. "It wasn't, but you've got a funny way of keeping things casual."

He grinned, looking more at ease than he had all night. "I'm trying, but I can't deny that I want more , phat I-."

My heart skipped a beat, but before I could respond, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out to see an alert from The Shade Room. I mentally rolled my eyes

Liked by @Michinn_ , @uceyjucey , @WWE and others .

@TheShadeRoom: Damian Priest spotted out with a Physical Therapist / Upcoming singer #KeoirTheScientist on Valentine's Day! Could this be the start of a new romance? Stay tuned

I blinked at the screen, then looked up at Damian, who had an amused grin on his face.

"Well, that's one way to put us on the map," I said dryly.

Damian laughed, leaning in a little closer. "Guess we'll just have to make sure they get the right story."

I didn't know where this was going this... whatever it was between us. But tonight, I'd learned something important: Damian was more than just the guy who made my heart race. He was someone I could picture in my future, if only I could figure out how to get past the uncertainty.

But for now, I smiled, letting the night take its course.

A/N: Things between Kemani and Damian are only just starting to heat up. What do you think about their night? Do you think they'll figure things out, or is the pressure from the public too much? Let me know your thoughts! Happy valentines Day!!💘

[marys-little-cringes]

Too sweet Pt.1

Pt.2 - Pt.3

#too sweet clex

Fandoms: Smallville

Relationships: Clark Kent/Lex Luthor

Additional Tags: Bromance, Bromance to Romance, Pre-Slash, AU, Slice of Life, Songfic

Editor: @nigthwingsleftbuttcheek

Summary:

The events take place after "Let me start with a clean slate". Lex's trying to make sense of himself after the merger and discovering its frustrating consequences.

Part 1

Clark admired the sunset, sipping his soda. Not so long ago he made an epic catch of this can — Lex threw it to him so sloppily that it almost flew off the balcony.

“Lex, I know, this is none of my business, but... Why a medically induced coma? Isn't that too much?”

Luthor sighed.

“This man is dangerous, Clark. Dangerous to everyone without exception, even to himself. I’ve seen his thoughts, desires...” Lex looked at the young man for some time, then shook his head and continued: “He is smart. Even paralyzed, shackled hand and foot, he will find a way to get out, if only he remains conscious. I’ve always appreciated your kind heart and desire to help everyone around you, but I'm afraid this is not the case.”

Lex smiled sadly into the approaching night, and Clark looked down. The nature of his interest was far from kind-hearted, and he was damn ashamed of it.

***

Lex was about to think that he was going crazy again. Wide-open blue eyes, and dark, untidy hair, and an elusive smell were everywhere, chasing him... After his month-long "falling apart", Lex had a lot to catch up - Luthorcorp was a mess, and he tried to drown himself in work, and after that - in other dark curls, generously doused with perfume and hairspray with super-strong fixation.

This how he handled things many times before, but now  the dreams  came along. Vague, confusing, these were sensations rather than clear pictures, but they didn't let him get distracted. At night, he was haunted by a storm of pure, unclouded emotions that Lex, he thought, had long since learned to suppress.

Lex jumped up in bed, as if from a nightmare. Yes, Lex Luthor, driven by his dark selfish desires, could indeed become a nightmare for many, even for himself, but what was happening to Lex now was not fear at all.

He rubbed his face with his palms, driving away the remnants of vague heady images, and went to the table with a whiskey. They appeared in every room where Lex spent enough time lately.

Bright moonlight spilled over the perfectly smooth lawn outside the window.

An image of him looking through a telescope in the Kent’s barn suddenly appeared in his mind. Lex shuddered. Every now and then he caught these random flashes, each time they caused by some new trigger. They disappeared almost instantly, Lex didn’t always even have time to understand what he was seeing, but they left behind this warmth in his chest and a completely unusual peace. He gulped down the rest of the whiskey and winced.

What haunted him in his dreams was different. Primal, proprietary, savage.

Lex had long since forbidden himself to feel strong emotions. He had been good at it for many years. Even that day when he had almost certainly hit a farm boy off a bridge, and saw him again when he was leaning over him, trying to resuscitate him - even then he had been able to suppress himself. The one he had decided for sure: the boy too young, too pure and naive, he is in love with a pure and naive girl, and he, Lex Luthor, damned by all the gods, should not ruin his life. He had even almost managed to convince himself that friendship with Clark Kent was the most he ever wanted.

It was an obvious and shameless lie, and Lex was used to lying to himself. God knows, it had even worked for him. Until now.

Now Lex avoided the younger Kent as best he could, but it didn't make him feel any better - he began to see him everywhere, even where he  shouldn't  and  couldn't  be.

A red spot flashed on the periphery of his gaze, Lex stared at the lawn, but - nothing. Only the wind swayed the bushes. Luthor rubbed his eyes, poured another half glass of whiskey and went to bed. He had to get up early today.

Clark's heart was pounding wildly. Somehow he didn't expect to see Lex himself in the window of his room.

[blacklesbothatlovestowrite]

On My Mama Pt. 4

Tags: @mixedfandxms @shurislover @sweetalittleselfish-honey @desswright29 @cutttteeee @onyxstones-world @katymae12344 @doramilaj233 @sweetalittleselfish-honey @6-noir @khara876 @she-is-my-unrequited-love34 @teadah18 @un-deniable-me3

So I took a bit of a hiatus but I’m back. I started a new story on Wattpad under my username NeomaMona (QueenNeoma) called You & Me. It’s a Jamaican fic with a straight main couple and Lesbian/gay side characters. Remember I write for everyone so no one is left out. Original characters w/ pics. This update is a bit of a roller coaster but I hope you guys enjoy. 🤎

A few weeks went by with you ignoring Shuri and Riri. You didn’t acknowledge their presence, you were either locked in your room when they were home or you were out.

While you felt slightly guilty for ignoring Riri as she didn’t do anything besides befriend an immoral person. You couldn’t bring yourself to talk to her. You hated to admit after the talk where you’d both shared such private and painful memories; you liked her.

You didn’t like anyone. Well, except Shuri before you’d found out what she’d done. However that didn’t count. As you never met her when you were crushing on her. You were just another girl behind a screen, admiring her while she knew nothing of your existence.

Riri’s words constantly played in your head. You scrutinized Bria’s every move and action, but so far she hadn’t done anything. She seemed genuine.

She kept you in a constant state of bliss. She loved making you cum in your room, whilst the duo were home. And while you knew she did it with the motivation of getting under their skin. You were sure at this point you liked fucking her but that was it. Your crush had worn off after the first two weeks.

In the past few weeks, Riri made it harder for you to ignore her. She brought you breakfast and iced coffee, she did your laundry and folded it, she waited up for you each night with dinner despite not receiving any thanks.

Each interaction made the guilt grow stronger. It was obvious she was trying. You’d never had anyone pay you any mind continuously, that felt genuine. She did things without being asked to. If you felt frustrated about something, she was quickly finding a way to help you. It was unspoken. She seemed to pay close attention to you. She noticed the small things.

One of the things that warmed you up to her slightly was when you’d fallen asleep in your room with the door open as you worked on your assignment. She placed your bonnet on your head and removed your makeup. You’d woken slightly when she placed your comforter over you, and whispered goodnight.

You couldn’t ignore how much she seemed to care about you.

-

“Hey.” You looked up from your textbook to see Riri in your doorway. Her hair was freshly braided back in cane rows styled into two space buns. She seemed nervous as she fidgeted with her hands.

“Hi.” You replied, biting your bottom lip. You felt just as nervous as she looked.

“I want to show you something. If you have the time?” She seemed unsure and you could hardly blame her. You’d said nothing to her in weeks despite all she’d done for you.

“Sure.” You nodded, closing your textbook and placing it on your nightstand before standing. You followed her out to the living room, your brows furrowing as she stopped in front of a canvas.

“I’m not sure how you’re going to take this but I remember when I lost my dad how much keeping his memory alive helped me.” Riri cleared her throat as she looked at you. Her eyes sparkled as you raised a brow, confused.

She turned the canvas around and you gasped. She’d painted a picture of your father and you. You were 3 in the portrait, sitting on your father’s shoulder as you cheered. A look of love on both of your faces. You swallowed as you recalled exactly where the picture she’d used had been taken.

Your mother was walking for the House of Woo. She was the first dark skin woman of color to ever grace the big stage. She single-handedly paved the way for dark skin women in the industry before the Woo show, however Woo was a coveted event for any black woman as they kept to lighter complexions only.

You remember being so in awe of her, seeing her walk. The only model who looked like you, not because of features but skin tone. All the other models were European, Latin/Hispanic, Biracial or Lightskin. You remember your father whistling and cheering loud as she sauntered on.

“Thank you.” The words were hard to release. You felt tears prick your eyes as you stared at the portrait. You wondered why she chose that picture of the many of your family online. If she’d known the backstory of the picture. Regardless you were grateful for it nonetheless. It captured your father in one of his happiest moments.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry, Y/n.” Riri frowned but you shook your head.

“You didn’t.”

“How about some food? You’ve been studying all day.” Riri suggested.

You nodded.

Riri took you to her favorite diner. There were a few students you knew from your college in the packed diner. As you were seated, Riri broke the silence. Her fingers playing with her gold necklace.

“I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.” Riri muttered, her voice low.

“I’m okay. I love it, really.” You said slowly. Hoping you conveyed just how much you enjoyed her gift.

“Why’d you do it ?” You asked.

“Everyone should have something of importance in their home.” She shrugged. “You had no pictures in your room. Yet your IG is full of pictures of you and your dad.”

“I locked away my photo albums.” You admitted. You’d even locked your album in your photo’s with picture of your dad.

“I hope you don’t think I overstepped.” She swallowed, you watched as she swiped her tongue against her bottom lip. You noticed she did that a lot when she was nervous or she was concentrating. 

“I appreciate it. I’ve been trying to pretend like if I don’t see things that remind me of him that I’ll stop being sad. But It hurts more.” Your eyes were watery.

“We aren’t the same. I know that but if you ever want to talk, I’m here. Even if it’s just to listen. Keeping things bottled inside won’t help you. I know that from experience.” She emphasized. She placed her hand over mine on the table.

“I’m sorry for ignoring you.” You changed the subject.

“You’re good.” Riri waved you off. “Shuri was out of line. And I pushed you too much.”

“You didn’t.” Your assured her.

“Thank you for everything you did. I should have said that before now. You didn’t have to do-“

“I wanted to.” She smiled.

“What are you getting?” A girl with a puff and laid edges said as she walked over. She was full of attitude. You looked her up and down, before rolling your eyes.

“What do you want, mama?” Riri asked.

“Whatever you get is fine.” You shrugged. You knew you and Riri liked the same food, after all the takeout she’d gotten you and the meals she’d made for you.

“We’ll have two medium well provolone mushroom burgers, with the thin fries and strawberry milk shakes.” Riri ordered. The girl hissed her teeth before writing it down.

“April, drop the attitude. I’ve never led you on, we were never together so I don’t appreciate your energy.” Riri lowered her voice so only you, her and the waitress heard.

“Good luck with that.” April directed towards me, tilting her head towards Riri.

“Friend of yours?” You smirked.

“No. We messed around but I told her what I tell everyone. I wasn’t looking for anything serious. I’m single. I have no need to lie, cheat or play with people’s emotions. I’m straightforward.” Riri clarified.

“Wasn’t?” You raised a brow.

“No one has captured my attention like you.” Riri admitted, her eyes locked with yours.

“Bold.” You giggled.

“I never lie. I have no reason to. No girl has ever made me like them enough to want to do anything for them beyond sex.” She shrugged and you bit your lip to keep from smiling. As hard as you tried not to like her, she was getting under your skin. While Bria had you hooked sexually, Riri was able to get under your skin with just her actions, her words.

You knew she was being honest because you’d heard stories of how she was never interested in going on dates with other girls. How she ‘loved them and leaved them’ she was solely focused on school and making her money.

“Why’d you get strawberry milkshakes.” Deciding to change the subject again.

“You hate chocolate and you think vanilla is too plain for a milkshake unless there are things added but you love strawberry milkshakes like you love strawberry cake.” Riri noted. “I know you only drunk the shakes I bought you because you were being nice. I saw the cringe on your face when you drank them so I deduced you had to like strawberry since you’d said you loved milkshakes on your snap one day.”

“Uhhhh.” You were shocked she paid such close attention to that.

“How cozy…” You look up to see Bria walking towards you. You could see her friend from the day in the courtyard sitting at a nearby table with her phone in her hand and figured she’d alerted her to where you were and with whom.

“Bria.” You warned. The more you got to know her, the more you realized while she despised both Shuri and Riri; she absolutely hated Riri. You were all for her being rude to Shuri but Riri didn’t deserve it.

“I missed you, babe.” She smiled, leaning down and kissing me. She thrusted her tongue into my mouth and sucked on it, as she moaned out. The kiss wasn’t like her usual ones. You could tell she was angry underneath the sweet demeanor. You pulled away, staring at her in confusion.

“What are you doing her?” You asked.

“I could ask you the same question, babe.” She narrowed her eyes at you.

“Riri and I are hanging out.” You informed her, watching as her eye slightly twitched.

“That’s interesting. I thought you hated her.” She swung her eyes towards Riri, before looking back at you.

“I never said I hated Riri.” I stared at her in shock that she’d so blatantly lie.

“Y/n, you said you hated her. That your skin crawled every time you were around her.” Bria gloated and you scowled. You couldn’t believe she was lying. Sure you’d said that about Shuri but never about Riri. Sure you found her annoying in the beginning but you were starting to like her. “You literally said she needed to go back to Chicago where her pops and Natalie were buried because you couldn’t stand the sight of her.”

“Bria!” You couldn’t believe she’d say something so heinous.

“That’s how it is?” Riri scoffed, her eyes showing how hurt she was. You felt sick at the way her voice cracked and her eyes got glossy.

“Riri I did—“

“Stop lying Y/n. Be honest, tell her how you planned on telling the whole school how she’d gotten her father and friend killed by going to that park.” Bria grinned.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” You shouted, as the whole diner got quiet.

“You told her what I told you…” Riri rasped, as tears fell down her cheeks. You looked at her with empathy. She wasn’t one to cry.

“I promise you I didn’t…” You swear.

“How would she know? I’ve never told anyone besides you and Shuri. And Shuri would never tell anyone that. I know that for a fact!” Riri hissed.

“I may be a bitch. But I’m not heartless I didn’t tell her that. I swear.” You pleaded.

“I thought you weren’t. I told myself you were hurt and angry and lashing out, that you were a good person but who was I kidding. You talk about Shuri being a horrible person but she did what she did with a willing participant that did not let her know she was married or in a relationship. You two are NOT the same.” Riri declared before getting out of the booth and storming off.

You sat in silence as you stared. Watching her leave, feeling like you wanted to throw up. Having people dislike you was one thing but Riri was different. She was sweet, caring, generous.

“Oops.” Bria smirked.

“I never told you about her father or Natalie… And I never said those disgusting things.” You hissed. “Why would you lie?”

She moved close until her lips were by your ear and you tensed. You felt disgusted by her. Having her near you was too much.

“You think you’re all that because you had Riri’s attention? Riri was mine first. You’re nothing compared to me.” She hissed, before standing and flipping her hair in your face.

-

What the fuck?

You hadn’t seen Riri since the night before. She was nowhere to be found. You’d spent the whole day texting, calling and looking for her. She’d missed all her classes. You were frustrated. Shuri was no help as she came in drunk again and passed out on the couch.

You made your way over to Bria’s apartment, and banged on her door. You wanted to know what the fuck she was on. From her words it was clear she wanted Shuri and Riri which made no sense since she’d left them.

And if she was so jealous of you why did she fuck you? She clearly was obsessed with you to be eating your pussy as much as she did.

You had your phone recording from your pocket because you planned to clear your name to Riri. You couldn’t stomach her hating you.

“What?” She snapped as she flung the door open.

“What the fuck was that?” You matched her tone.

“Y/n, aren’t you a genius ?” She mocked.

“Why did you lie to Riri?” You demand.

“The questions should be why did she believe me? Why was she so quick to believe me over you?” She smirked.

“You had details not many people know I don’t blame her for not believing me. But I never told you any of that.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “Where did you hear about her Dad and Natalie?”

“Who cares?”

“I do, now tell me you classless hating ass bitch.” You barked, your tone conveying just how much you wanted to play ‘Whack A Bitch’.

“I saw you two when you were talking. I heard her tell you about them.” She rolled her eyes.

“Why do you hate her so much?” You wondered.

“I wanted Riri.” She snapped. “I’ve always wanted Riri. It’s the only reason I became friends with Shuri and fed her the idea of us being a throuple because they were close. Riri never seemed into it and at a certain point she decided to drop me like I was nothing when I told her I loved her and wanted to be with just her.”

“Are you serious right now? I can’t believe this shit!” You wanted to beat her ass so bad.

“Don’t act like you didn’t like me eating your pussy and fucking you while Riri listened.” Bria gloated. “You and I both know you wanted to get a reaction out of her.”

“Riri was right. You are a manipulative bitch.” You scoffed, walking away. She wasn’t worth your energy. You ended the recording and headed towards the only place you hadn’t looked. The lab.

After demanding to be let in, you were disappointed when you saw that Riri wasn’t there. You had no idea where else to look. You sighed before sending the recording to Riri’s number, her snap and her dms hoping she didn’t block you.

As you opened your apartment door you heard moans. You furrowed your brows as you locked the door behind you and headed towards your room, figuring Shuri had a girl over. Neither She or Riri had ever had anyone over so it was off putting but not surprising.

You tossed your keys and bag on the kitchen counter before seeing two people in the couch going at it. You couldn’t believe your eyes at first. But the longer you stared the more real it became.

You froze as you saw Riri fucking Nina on the couch. Your eyes were wide as you took in the scene in front of you. Nina was face down in the couch while Riri drove her strap into her. She was moaning and wailing as Riri pounded into her.

You couldn’t move as you watched in horror. You thought Nina was your friend. How could she fuck with someone she thought you ‘disliked’ and Riri? Of all the people she had to choose your ‘friend’.

“Fuck, you have the best pussy.” Riri groaned as she yanked Nina’s hair. “Look how you’re creaming for me mama.”

You cringed as she called her the nickname she only called you. You felt hurt. Bria turning out to be a fucked up person was one thing, but Riri? How could she go so low without even talking to you and letting you explain yourself or even defend yourself?

“Ay, mami! I love how you’re fucking me!” Nina cried out as Riri thrusted harder. You felt disgusted, angering building in you.

“Cum for me, mama.” Riri demanded, smacking Nina on the ass. And as if on command, Nina came. Her annoying ass voice screeching.

You crossed your arms.

“Are you done?” You asked.

“I mean not really but we probably should take this to my bedroom.” Riri smirked, as she moved away from Nina and stood. You narrowed your eyes as Nina got up and stared at you.

“I hope you don’t mind Riri invited me over? I couldn’t say no…” Nina smiled, and I bit back the urge to yell. I was about to turn to go into the room when Riri grabbed something from off the couch. Your heart dropped when you realized it was the canvas of your father and you.

“You’re disgusting!” You cried, as she walked it over to you with a smirk.

“It was fuck me, Natalie and my dad right?” Riri scoffed. “Well fuck you and your daddy.”

You watched as she took a lighter from off the nightstand and lit the canvas stained with their juices on fire. Your body shook as you watched her burn the canvas.

“Riri! That’s so mean.” Nina laughed.

“Never speak to me again. I will never forgive you for this. You were right. Shuri wasn’t to blame for anything. She was an uninformed willing participant. But you…” You sobbed. “You’re so much worse. Go to fucking hell Williams!”

You grabbed a vase with flowers and dumped the water into the burning canvas before grabbing your keys and bag and heading back out the door.