#was trying to get a feel for how to make her face distinct

[pyjamaenzel]

a bunch of random Fia sketches (and a Rogier) I never posted.

[toytulini]

if you draw enough monster ocs, when you go back to drawing a human character, it feels like "sameface syndrome" everytime, by virtue of their face being. human.

[ittybittyfanblog]

Only You, Darling (Only You, Babe)

Summary: There were orders for your abduction. You were made to be the bait by a rival gang to get to the elusive head of Onychinus. Sylus doesn’t take it too well. Word Count: 4.8k Tags: mc x sylus, fem!reader x sylus (use of she/her pronouns), depictions of violence (it gets a little graphic), reader gets abducted and injured, strong language, protective!sylus, he’s a little unhinged here, self-indulgent! A/N: I can’t believe this game pulled me out of a three-year creative rut LMAO. I’ve been doing fanarts, now I’m writing again?? The power these pixelated men hold over me, man.  Anyway, enjoy!  This version of Sylus is probably a little OOC idk idk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

It was close to midnight, and you're being followed.

On your six, a stocky man in an unassuming dark suit has been tailing you since you left the dingy bodega a little over a mile away from your apartment for about, three? five minutes– no, maybe even longer.

Shit, you mouth silently. Sloppy. You should’ve noticed him sooner, and the two other lackeys now closing in from up ahead. They’re armed too, if the hands hidden inside their jackets were any indication.

As if things aren't looking bad enough, you’ve decided tonight would be the perfect night to go weaponless, deciding against bringing your handgun with you since it was supposed to just be a quick run to the store for supplies. Namely, the late-night cravings sort of supply.

You clutch the wrinkled paper bag containing your coveted jalapeño Cheetos tightly.

This is what greed does to you, a mocking voice echoes in your head. Since when did your inner voice of reason sound masculine and oh-so-familiar? 

Exhaling quietly, you try to calm the rising beat of your heart and appear to be clueless of your surroundings. Walk at a normal pace. Look unaware of the men with the intention to… What even was this? An ambush? Good, old, regular robbery? No, it doesn’t seem like they were in it for something that insignificant. They wouldn’t even bother to be this cautious if it were. 

But then, what were they here for? The dangers you were more familiar with are of the monstrous kind in the literal sense of the word; entities that you face on a daily basis as a Deepspace hunter. Not the regular threats posed by mankind – which in this particular situation, suddenly feels more foreboding.

While racking your brain for ideas on how to slip away from their sight without escalating the situation, you fail to notice a fourth person hidden behind the dumpster inside the narrow alleyway on your left until you feel the cold, hard edge of a pistol gun hit your temple.  

With a shout, your hand shoots up in an attempt to yank the gun away from the hand holding it but the sudden burst of pain from the impact has left you feeling dizzy and off-kilter. The moment you throw your fists up to block your face, heavy fists strike you directly in a flurry of hits, colliding with your forearm and your unguarded ribs.

You let out a pained grunt as you stagger backwards, trying your hardest to keep yourself from falling back on your ass and ward off the next incoming attack. 

A sinister laugh alerts you of the others, now surrounding you in a circle. Shit!

You hastily shift your legs into a crouching position, bracing yourself as you attempt to sidestep the one in front of you before making a run for it. You spring into action, but before you can even take another step, an arm shoots out and coils tightly around your neck like a noose. A cloth that reeks of something distinct is slapped over your mouth and nose, rendering you unable to do anything but struggle. 

“Now, now– the boss wants her in one piece, John,” The stocky man, who’s apparently larger and more jacked up-close, pipes up. John tightens the limb circling your throat, preventing you from breathing, before slightly loosening his grip. 

 “I’d advise you from struggling too much, sweetheart. But if you insist on making this harder for yourself,” the man talking suddenly grins, revealing rows of crooked, silver teeth. “He ain’t said nothin’ about a couple of bruises.” 

You give him your dirtiest glare, trying to pull away from the death grip the burly man called John had on you, but you feel your muscles slowly becoming heavier and your vision starting to blur. 

Ch-chloroform?

You make a muffled shout, a scurry that earns you a heavy hit on the stomach, one last futile move to free yourself, but the inevitable effect of the potent substance starts to overpower you. 

“After all, we need to make sure that the big bad boss of Onychinus actually comes for his bitch, don’t we?”

Rendered completely useless, the men start to make quick work to restrain your arms and legs in a hogtie before carrying you down the street, to a shaded corner where a large, gray van is parked.

The barn doors open, and you’re tossed in carelessly to the back, landing painfully on the cold, hard floor. An involuntary whimper escapes your lips, feeling like one big bruise; splotches of red and blue start to form like a violent watercolor on your skin. 

The engine revs. Before completely losing consciousness, you think you hear a faint caw.

The car drives off the beaten path, into the night, leaving not a trace of evidence of what transpired mere minutes ago aside from a discarded brown paper bag and a deflated bag of chips. 

-

-

-

From a distance, flying towards the hazy skyline, a mechanical bird crows a bad omen. 

_____

In the dead of the night, the head of Onychinus sits as a spectator; a towering presence at the head of a table inside a private room, obscured in plain sight, in an unremarkable establishment far east of Linkon City. 

Unassuming as it may be, the room’s occupants are men of great renown, both in influence and notoriety. The CEO of a chain business in Azure Square, a regional manager of a well-known bank in Linkon, the head of a weapons trade representing a faction in the N109 zone… All held significant power, all held ulterior motives.

A meeting of minds; the type held only in the secrecy of the night, gone in the break of dawn. 

Sylus has half the mind to listen in on the droning exchange of fake pleasantries and plastic smiles as the men deal trades in nature that of weapons and favors. A number of hungry, beady eyes cast him furtive glances, fearful yet devout. Some cautious in the hope of earning his approval. 

“–the package will be en route to the agreed-upon address by the end of the week,” a stout man in spectacles finishes off, clearing his throat. Beads of sweat start to form at the back of his neck as red eyes bore into his, assessing. Deliberating. “O-or if Richard’s able to give me the go-ahead in advance, I’ll make sure it arrives by Friday,” a gulp–then, “sir.” 

All in reverence. 

He hums, his switchblade dancing idly in his hand, deliberately stretching the tension that hangs heavy in the air. He delights in this power to unsettle, savoring the authority that his mere presence commands—a demand for absolute deference. 

“Make it half that time, will you, Raymond?” Sylus responds amicably, not as a question. The man, Raymond, sputters. 

“That won’t be pos–” Sylus tilts his head, eyes shifting into something more dangerous. “Please, I’ll try to cut the time shorter but there won’t be any assurances.” 

The pale-haired man sighs in acquiescence. “I guess that will have to do.” Raymond lets out an exhale of relief, but catches his breath as Sylus continues, “Any later than Wednesday, and I’ll come to claim it personally.” 

Raymond, more nerves than man, starts to blabber something in response–but stops when something black suddenly appears in a blaze of dark energy, near the shoulder of the intimidating man he’s trying to appeal to. 

Sylus raises a hand, and a large crow lands on his pointer finger. 

He caws, once. Twice. And shows a projection. 

The inhospitably cold room suddenly went glacial. 

All conversation halts to a stop as an overwhelmingly suffocating aura starts to emanate from the man–no, the being at the head of the table, making all that are in the vicinity freeze in fear. 

The devil posing as the leader of Onychinus abruptly stands up, and Raymond thinks, Oh I’m going to die here.

Without a word, the man disappears in a Stygian haze.

_

Five minutes later, only after they felt like death was no longer looming over their heads, did anyone dare to move a muscle.

_____

Your head hurts, and your mouth tastes of rust. 

Having been awake for longer than your captors were aware of – two (?) of which bickering near a barred slate of metal that you assume is the door after taking a quick peek from beneath the mess of hair concealing your face – you try to get your bearings together without arousing the suspicion of your present audience. 

“–bet it’s gonna take a while ‘fore that guy arrives. You think she’s enough to get him to show his face?” 

“Damned if I know. In any case, we got a pretty, li’l plaything on our hands,” a snort. “Make her worth the effort.” 

Where were you? From what it looks like, you’ve been transported into a nondescript underground bunker of sorts, dank with a hint of mildew and rot in the air; a rumbling air vent on your left masking any noise that escaped your mouth when you woke up. The area is poorly lit, save for the flickering bulb hanging precariously above your head as your main source of light – good for casting shadows to hide your bruised face, bad for the pounding headache you’re pretty sure is a concussion. And with your back seemingly close to a wall, you arrive at the conclusion that there are no other entryways, no way to leave, but the guarded door in front of you. 

In short, you have no idea where you are. 

Fuck–this is bad, you swear to yourself internally, trying to control the rising panic swelling up your chest. You never thought your nightcap would lead to this mess. Nobody knows about your current predicament, and it’ll take more than a day before your absence raises any alarms, so right now, you’re on your own. 

Think, think! What can you do?

What can you do? You have nothing on you, nothing you can use as a makeshift weapon to defend yourself with, and your hands are tightly bound behind your back by a thick, heavily twined rope with no give. The situation is slowly turning bleaker by the second, and it isn’t even your fault that you’re here in the first place! You were made a pawn, a mere bait in this messed-up dick-measuring contest between a crazy, sadistic, self-proclaimed head honcho and Onychinus’s own crazy, sadistic–

Wait a minute. Sylus. 

You send a strong prayer to anyone above that’s listening, and an angry telepathic shout for good measure to the one who’s unaware of his involvement – but nonetheless the source of your ruined night – in this attempt at kidnapping a perfectly law-abiding citizen of Linkon.

Sylus, as much as I hate your unfortunate tendency to stalk me through means that, honestly? Eludes the hell out of me, I really, REALLY hope that you’ve been keeping tabs toni–

“Hey, boss! I think this one’s awake!”

Fuck. No use pretending anymore. 

You hear heavy footsteps from outside the room before the corroded metal door swings open to reveal a large man, easily standing above six feet, sporting a neatly trimmed beard and an unsettling smile. His arms are covered in tattoos– overlapping, almost undecipherable. A gnarly scar runs from the side of his mouth to just above his brow bone; his right eye a cloudy gray, most likely a morbid souvenir from the sustained injury.

His functional eye zeroes in on your pitiful form, and his smile widens into a hostile grin. 

“Well, well. It seems like our esteemed guest is finally ready to join in the fun,” His voice sounds like gravel, with a mocking intonation. “I hope my men weren't too rough with you on the way here.” 

You let out a breath through your teeth, blinking a few times to try and rid the blurring in your vision. You have to bide your time– “Why am I here? What do you want from me?” 

The man cocks his head to the side, smile still in place. “I assume you already know. But I’ll indulge you your little questions, why not?”

He crosses the space separating the two of you with just a few, languid steps before he’s in front of you. He leans forward, brushing the messy locks of hair – dried with blood – away from your face in a deceptively calm manner. “The devil needs to pay his dues, but it’s been rather difficult to get a hold of him, you see,” he sighs in exaggerated disappointment. ”I intend to collect, so I waited patiently for the right moment, for an opening. For an opportunity. 

And here, the opportunity presents herself.” 

You sneer, moving your head back to let your hair fall from his creepy hold. “I’ve no clue what you’re talking about, mister, but I’m pretty sure you’ve got the wrong idea.”

He barks out a laugh before gripping your chin tightly between his fingers. “You’ve got a smart mouth on you. Maybe we can find a better use for it.” 

You feel it before you hear it. 

“Perhaps not.” 

Something vicious saturates the air, something intense and terrifying and wrong. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and some sort of primordial response deep within your brain is telling you to get away from it.

But then, the paralyzing fear melts away to something akin to hope when you realize the source of this new disturbance.

Relief washes over you when familiar ink-and-red tendrils materialize behind the man in front of you. The dark wisps dissipate like smoke as soon as it comes and in place, your savior – sporting an expression that could only be described as downright murderous – stands before you, all six feet of unadulterated rage.

Several things happened so fast, it was almost simultaneous.

A cacophony of shouts came loudest from the two men who had been on guard duty but screams also echoed from outside the room. You saw flashes of red, twin laughter, and blood spurting from the necks of the now headless guards, and then a symphony of bullets and a lot of things breaking rang across the room. 

Suddenly– 

Deafening silence. As if something has put an abrupt stop to the noise. 

Amidst all the chaos, the scarred man in front of you had no time to make a move before savage whips of crackling energy engulfed him, leaving only his head free from the smothering darkness. 

His expression betrays something wild and manic as he tries twisting around to look at the figure behind him. “You–”

Sylus pays no mind to the breathing, dead fool – lower than dirt on his feet, with the nerve to harm what is most precious to him – as he keeps his gaze solely on you; his eyes darting up and down as if taking inventory of all the bruises and scrapes you sustained from the abduction. 

You meet his eyes. “You came.” 

An indecipherable look passes his face, gone as quickly as it came. “A little too late. I apologize.” 

You weakly huff out a chuckle, wanting to shake your head but decide against it lest it aggravates your concussion. A prickling sensation, then the rope around your wrists falls off with a quiet thud. 

“Luke. Kieran.” 

“Everything’s all accounted for, boss,” Kieran announces, suddenly appearing beside your right, along with Luke who’s on your left. Both look no worse for wear.

 The latter gives you a sympathetic look. “Oh, man. They got you good, little crow.” 

“Caught me off-guard, s’all,” you insist half-heartedly. 

A sigh. “Transport her directly back to base. Attend to her critical injuries once you arrive, and keep her awake. I’ll handle the rest once I get back,” Sylus instructs the twins in a tone that brooks no argument.

They nod in sync and start making a move to carry you out, but you protest.

“Wait, you’re staying behind?” For some reason, the thought of being separated from him, even for a short amount of time, makes you feel ill. Well, worse than your current state at least. 

Sanguine eyes soften when he hears the tremble in your voice. The offending man in front of you, reduced into something less threatening than a cowering dog in comparison to your rescuer, is forcibly pushed aside to make room for Sylus as he steps closer. 

He crouches low so that you’re looking down on him instead of up. One large hand covers both of yours, mindfully avoiding the fresh rope burns on your wrists, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the unmarred part of your skin. 

“This will be quick, sweetie. I’ll be back by your side before you know it,” he exhales, closing his eyes for a moment. “I swear to you.”

You swallow, but nodded reluctantly. “Come home soon.” 

“I will.”

With that, you let yourself be carried out of the claustrophobic space you were confined to, into a larger room littered with unmoving bodies that you're frankly too tired to care about at the moment, up three (rickety) flights of stairs where you exit into what looks like the inside of an empty shipping container, before finally, finally getting out. 

A gust of salty wind hits you and you ask, “Are we near the docks?” 

“Yeah,” Kieran answers, carefully putting you down on the backseat of Sylus’ car. “Mephisto trailed after the van they stuffed you in before reporting back to the boss. We followed soon after.” 

Luke frowns as he inserts the key in the ignition. “We weren’t aware that they had eyes on you for a while now. An oversight on our part, won’t happen again,” he assures you. “Gotta give them props for that, at least.” 

Kieran, now getting in the passenger side of the vehicle, shoots him a look. 

“Anyway, we’re glad we got to you before they did anything… worse,” Kieran continues, then winces in a show of mock sympathy. “Can’t say the same to that fucker back inside. Haven’t felt Sylus’ bloodlust this strong in a long while.” 

You try to focus on their words, but you feel yourself nodding off as the remaining adrenaline slowly leaves your body. You know you should feel more worried about what the two were insinuating, but your mouth still tastes like you swallowed a bunch of coins and you just want a soft bed to sleep in for an entire day. Or three. 

“Oi, no sleeping. Doctor’s orders,” A snapping finger in front of your face forces you awake. 

You blink your tired eyes open in an attempt to stay lucid, the pulsing pain in your head becoming more prominent as soon as the threat of danger has passed. 

“This is gonna be a long night,” you sigh, wishing that Sylus will keep his word and be quick about… whatever he’s planning to do with your abductor. 

–––––

There hasn’t been much left of the man who proclaims to be the new head of an arms syndicate Sylus had dealt with in the past. He recalls the history of his relationship with the cartel being less than cordial, but nothing that would warrant his ire. Except for tonight.

He usually doesn’t leave a trace when doling out punishments; no, not anymore. Not in recent years. He prefers to be efficient about his killings, dissipating any evidence in thin air after reducing them into fine paste, rather than make a big show out of it. Quick and precise.

Except today… Someone had the arrogance, the absolute audacity to steal directly from the dragon’s nest.

The contents of which have always been kept in strict confidentiality. What is known, only chosen individuals bound to secrecy are privy to, and a lot of people would kill for. 

But unbeknownst to anyone else but its owner, only one thing in this hoard of secrets truly matters to the dragon. One solitary treasure alone he would burn planets for – and someone has tried to steal it.

Harm. the treasure. To get to him. 

It seems as if the new bloods needed a reminder of who, exactly, they’re stealing from. 

One who dwells deep within the underbelly of the cities both monster and men inhabit, that even the most heinous of sinners seeking solace in the dark, are afraid of. 

And what retribution tastes like to those who are foolish enough to bite more than what they can chew.

The poor soul unfortunate enough to be the first one to discover the carnage will witness that what was left of the man that had wronged the Onychinus kingpin is stuck on the walls, the floor, and the ceiling of a basement where the treasure was held captive. They will find that the man’s innards are deliberately hung in a haphazard fashion, in all corners of the room like bloody, sinewy tinsel. 

And the centerpiece of this bloodbath is none other than the man’s decapitated head, forcibly attached to the hanging light in the middle of the room. A bulb crudely drilled past his cranium, while blood dripped down the floor in slow, ominous rivulets. 

They will understand in dawning horror that the one responsible for this... gross butchery, has left the head swinging. That the man’s mouth will forever remain agape in an eternal scream to immortalize the exact moment he realizes the gravity of his sin.   

Yes, Sylus is more than glad to remind them. 

_____

You arrive a quarter past four AM. 

Barely taking a step past the foyer, the twins immediately whisk you inside to perform an ‘emergency patch-up.’ Luke’s words, not yours.

“We’re your personal CNA while waiting for the head nurse to take over,” he explains cheerfully, wrapping another layer of gauze around your wrist. You hiss when Kieran dabs a cotton ball on the gash on your temple, peroxide fizzing as it comes in contact with the dried-up blood. Muttering out a “sorry!” Kieran does quick work in cleaning the injury and covering the affected area.

In no time at all, all visible wounds are bandaged and disinfected. The worst of your head wound had to be stitched up, but other than that, nothing seems to require immediate medical attention. There’s nothing left for you to do but to bear the aches that came along with the bruises – especially on your tender midriff – and to pop a tylenol for your throbbing headache.

You offer them a sincere, “Thanks. No, really.” before they leave you in Sylus’ room, after multiple reminders to “not sleep before the attending nurse arrives for the final diagnosis.” 

(You think they might have enjoyed playing caretaker a little too much.) 

With a lot more effort than you care to admit, you painstakingly remove your bloodstained clothes until you're down to your underwear, before draping yourself in a large, red, silk robe. A hot shower sounds heavenly to your sore muscles, but the soft mattress is calling to you more so you head straight to bed. 

With nothing else to occupy yourself with, you prop your head on a mountain of pillows – to keep yourself relatively upright – and let out a sigh. 

Tonight had been a shitshow. All you wanted was something to snack on while you binge through the last season of the show you were watching back at your apartment; you never thought a late-night run to the store just a few blocks away would result in… this. If not for Sylus’ intervention, you’re sure you'd be leaving with a lot more than a couple of scrapes. If not worse.

You're lost in your own thoughts when short, successive raps on the door catch your attention. It swings open before you have the chance to pipe out a, “come in!”

Speak of the devil.

Sylus enters the room, not a hair out of place. You notice that he’s changed into a casual, brown sweater and a pair of dark-washed jeans. His eyes meet yours, tightly-controlled expression relaxing as he crosses the room towards the side of your bed, wasting no time. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Still pretty sore, but Luke and Kieran already handled the worst of my injuries,” you answer, making a move to sit up. Sylus tuts disapprovingly, gentle as he puts a hand on your chest to prevent you from moving any further. He sits gingerly on the edge of the mattress, careful not to jostle you. Once fully settled, he let out a deep sigh.

“You had me worried for a moment there, kitten.” He admits, a slightly rough edge to his voice as emotion seeps into it. He regards you intently, like he’s trying to convince himself that you’re here, safe. 

Your hand reaches out towards his face. Without missing a beat, he leans in to nuzzle your palm, eyes closing shut. He reminds you of a big wolf, unbridled fire simmering beneath the surface, yet tame in the presence of his handler. 

“I’m fine now, thanks to you,” you assure him with a lopsided smile. “Give my thanks to Mephisto, as well. Tell him he gets a pass on the stalking this time.” 

Sylus opens his eyes, a hint of amusement and something else you can’t identify flickering through. “Oh, sweetie. You’ll be lucky if that bird gives you the privacy to bathe alone after tonight,” he jokes. 

He’s joking. Right?

You eye him for a moment before deciding to let it go. You're too tired to argue.

Instead, you cautiously ask a question you aren’t sure you even want the answer to. “What happened after we left?” 

Sylus expression doesn’t change except for the upward tick on the corner of his mouth; the same peculiar glint in his eyes coming across a little stronger. “They won’t be bothering you anymore. You don’t need to worry about anyone coming for you.”

“That’s not what I asked.” 

He hums. “Do you really want to know?”

You stare at him, and he stares back at you placidly. 

You purse your lips and look away. “Maybe not.” 

Sylus breathes out a laugh. He gently grasps your chin between his forefinger and thumb, guiding your head to meet his gaze once more. A softer look on his face, inching closer to yours.

Your heartbeat slightly picks up. In your vulnerable state, you feel a welling desire to bare your feelings to the man in front of you. You want to tell him how relieved you felt when you saw him in that cursed basement, how he was able to quell your fears with just his presence alone the moment he appeared in a familiar haze of black and red. Like your own, personal, vindictive guardian. 

Instead, you close the distance between the two of you, your lips meeting his. 

Sylus groans quietly, a hand cupping your face as he leans closer to deepen the kiss. Your eyes flutter shut, savoring the feeling of contentment from being this close to him. You feel, more than you see, how his taut body loses the remaining tension from the events that transpired just mere hours ago, how he finally relaxes as he loses himself in you.

Very carefully, he eases you further down, cradling your head with one hand until it rests on a pillow. His lips drift to the corner of your mouth, trailing soft kisses up to the apples of your cheeks, your forehead, then to your nose. 

He pulls back slightly, chuckling when you make a sound of discontent. When you open your eyes, you see him looking at you– half-lidded and tender. 

In a low voice, he instructs, “Rest. You need it.”

The feeling of exhaustion pulls you in, but before you surrender to it, you remind Sylus, “I’m not that fragile, you know. You don’t have to worry too much.” You poke his cheek and he catches the offending digit to bite it affectionately. “I’ll be up and running in no time.”

He doesn't speak for a minute, considering your words. His mouth sets into a thin line before letting out a sigh.

“And if you get hurt again? What then?" He whispers so quietly, seeming as if he's talking to himself.

"I'll get hurt again, that's for sure," You tell him, matter-of-factly. "But really, that’s just an occupational hazard. I’m sure you realize."

“Love — what a terrible, little thing,” he muses, half-forlornly, half in jest. "I’d rip this cold heart out and throw it in flames if I could.”

While speaking, his hand finds its way into the tangles of your hair, gently running his fingers through the strands in a lulling manner. His lips landing on the crown of your head softly. Reverently.

You hum sleepily.

“Of course you would, Sy.”

_____

“You’ll be glad to know that the artifact you had your eye on back at the auction will be arriving this Wednesday.” 

“Huh? But I thought it was already sold to someone else?”

Sylus shrugs. “I made a counteroffer.” 

“You didn’t have to. I told you it was fine.” 

“I know. But I also recall a certain someone telling me how much they wished they had placed a bid on it on our way back,” he pinches your cheek fondly. “Don’t worry about it, kitten. It’s yours.”

“Oh. Well– thank you,” you yawn in response, leaning your head to rest against his palm.

His thumb strokes your cheek. “Anything for you.”

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Six

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4k words - AO3 Warnings - tags: 18+ MDNI. No smut but this fic contains mature themes. Nurse reader, hospital setting, medical inaccuracies. Reference to past domestic violence. Angst. Alcohol. Crying, anxiety, panic. Johnny in distress. Johnny is still a menace. Soft dads. POV switches. Note: Safe sleep for infants always. I do not endorse sleeping with your baby in your bed. This is a fic not real life. Simon does some digging.

“Shhh now, ye’re alright.”

Johnny coos, Penny cradled up to his chest. He’s not wearing a shirt, eyes still half sealed shut with sleep, and she squalls in his arms, screaming as loud as her little lungs will allow. “What is it, mah wee lamb? Are ye hungry? Do ye need a change?” He checks her nappy, efficiently looking for a mess or something to clean up and is nearly disappointed when he finds her still dry. If it’s not her nappy, then maybe her stomach? Could she be hungry again? He thumbs through the notes on his phone to find Simon’s last entry: 23:20 – 50 ML. 

That was only an hour ago. 

He frowns, walking in a circle, bouncing her gently, trying to settle her back to sleep. She’s so tiny, and still has grown so much in just the short time since they brought her home. It amazes him. It terrifies him. 

“What is it, sweet bairn? What’s got ye all upset?” He touches his lips to softest skin he’s ever felt, his thumb trying to swipe away the tracks of tears on her cheeks. “Please dinnae cry. I-“ 

“You okay?” Simon clears his throat behind him, and Johnny tenses. 

“We’re fine. Ye’re supposed to be sleepin’.” 

“Heard the two of you in here fussing. Thought I could help.” Simon’s trying to be supportive, trying to be a good partner, Johnny knows, but all he can feel is irritation, a defensive reaction making his hackles rise. 

It’s not fair. He’s so good at it. He’s a natural. And Johnny… Johnny feels like he’s failing his own kid, when she’s not even a month old yet. 

“I dinnae need-“ 

“Hey.” Simon touches his elbow, and then his chin, tilting his face upwards. “I know you don’t, love. You’re doing a great job. It’s not your fault she’s having a rough go.” He soothes him, fingers kneading into the top of his spine, squeezing the nape of his neck and pulling him into his arms. Penny is still crying, but softer now, a low-pitched tone of misery that makes his heart ache, and he feels so overwhelmed, so helpless, staring down at her as she tries desperately to tell him what's wrong, the only way she knows how. He rests his cheek against Simon’s chest, melting into his hold, letting him wrap his arms all way around his waist. 

“She hates me.” Johnny grumbles, and Simon presses his mouth to Johnny’s temple in short, succinct kisses. 

“She doesn’t. She’s brand new. She can’t hate anything, yet, and certainly not her Da.” He strokes her cheek. “Let’s bring her to bed, see if we can get her down and then one of us can put her back in the crib, alright?” Johnny sighs. 

“Alright.” 

“What’re you doing after this?”

“Going to bed?” What else would you be doing?

“I’m thinking about going to Jackie’s for a drink… wanna come?” Nia untucks her scrubs, pulling the top up over her head.

“Jackie’s, huh?” You chew on your lip. You shouldn’t. You really, really shouldn’t. But… Jackie’s is a dive. It’s dark, and dingy, with black walls, black floors, no window in sight. And... it’s a hospital haunt. 

“It’s my birthday.” She whispers, casting a glance around the rest of the room. “I’m not… it’s not a thing, I just want to go, have a few to celebrate.” You take a deep breath. “Please?” She tacks on at the end, and your shoulders dip down in defeat.

“Okay. One. And then I gotta go.”

“Yes!” She cheers, excitement smashing her palms together.

Nothing like a seven am beer. 

Jackie’s is a distinct place. It’s one of the only twenty-four-hour liquor licenses left in the city, or so you’ve been told, and has been frequented by hospital staff for decades. It’s dart boards and dark wood floors, cheap beer and rail vodka, a worn to hell pool table, and an old, disabled juke box that someone broke intentionally, years ago. It’s an institution, and reminds you of some old places you used to frequent, when you weren’t… who you are now. Years ago, before, you used to love a good dive bar. Didn’t mind the way the floor stuck to your feet, and you considered yourself nearly tactical at darts. It was a source of pride, the accuracy, the rate at which you could make a bullseye, even when you were a few sheets to the wind.

“Coulda been a surgeon.” You’d tease, a smirk growing across your boyfriend’s face.

“If you were a surgeon, sugar, who’d be at home waitin’ for me after work?” He’d push back, coating the warning in an adoration, giving whoever was undoubtedly watching a slick smile before snaking an arm around your waist and tugging you close. “You don’t need to be surgeon. You don’t even need to work. You have me.” 

You thought you knew, then. Knew how to handle it, how to navigate the ever-present, ever-growing threat… but you were wrong.

You were so, so wrong.

“So, heard there’s a spot opening up on days.” Nia chucks her purse at the bar top, climbing onto the stool next to you. “You’ve got the seniority… you givin’ it any thought?” The bartender walks by with a hello, and you nod at him.

“Old Speck please. And no, I like nights.” She raises an eyebrow.

“Didn’t know Americans liked Old Speck.”

“We have it in the states. I didn’t live under a rock.” You quip, and she laughs before ordering her own poison, a choice that makes your own eyebrows shoot up in question. “Vodka on the rocks?”

“I’m a straight to the point kind of girl.” She explains. “So, no days?”

“No days. You?”

“I might. Night shift is kicking my ass.” She complains. “Don’t even know what day it is half the time. My rhythm is off.”

“You need like, at least six months to fully adjust.” You put a note down in exchange for your beer, and then the bartender scuttles away, distracted by some insistent woman at the other end of the bar.

“Six months?!” You’re about to launch into your spiel about how it’s not that bad when your phone vibrates in your pocket.

>Make it home from work alright? 

>It’s Johnny, by the way :) 

The two texts are the start of a new group chat with your number, Johnny’s number and the number you put in your contacts just yesterday… Simon’s. Your head jerks back on instinct, confused.

“You okay?” Nia asks, and you nod.

“Yeah, fine just…uh-“ She peeks over your arm, and giggles.

“Is that your patient? Two sixty-eight?”

“What?”

“Your patient. The military hottie. The one that’s always lookin’ at your bum.” Your face burns, and she tsks. “Ah, don’t be embarrassed. He’s smokin’. Wish he looked at me the way he looks at you.” You’re surprised at the flare of irritation that starts up in your stomach at her, a hot streak of jealously simmering there, burning away indignantly. “Aren’t they… I mean… isn’t the scary mask guy his partner?” He’s not scary, you scowl inwardly. He’s just… protective. The butterflies in your stomach startle, and you drift back to last night, in the stairwell, in the car.

“You’re doing great, sweetheart.” 

“If you ever need anything, Johnny and I… we’re here.” 

Nia says your name, dragging you back to earth, and you shrug. “Yes… they… they’re together. It’s just been hard on them, so I think there’s a bit of an attachment growing there. You know, it’s not unusual.” She bites her lip, mouth pushing up into a smile.

“They’re quite fit. Wouldn’t mind if they formed an attachment to me.” She pauses, delicately sucking her gasoline on ice up through a straw. “Gonna text him back?”

“Nia.” You hiss, and she barks out a laugh.

“Oh, come on, just a bit of fun. I don’t mean anything by it.”

“It’s not appropriate.” You remind her, and she rolls her eyes.

“You’re such a stick in the mud sometimes. Remember when Marshall was fucking his brain cancer girl? Now that, was not appropriate.” You do remember- Marshall’s sudden absence, the whispering, the HR investigation that spanned weeks, interviews with everyone on the floor.

Your beer goes sour in your stomach.

“I gotta get home.” You wrap an arm around her shoulder with a squeeze and a whisper. “Happy Birthday.” You feel bad for abandoning her, and maybe in another life you might even consider her a friend, but you’re already too exposed here as it is, and staying any longer would be too indulgent- not to mention, incredibly stupid.

You pass another nurse on the way out and him know that Nia’s at the bar, alleviating your guilt just a tad before you hike up your hood and make a beeline for the train.

By the time you get back to your hotel room, get showered, and collapse on top of the far too big bed, it’s nearly been an hour. You plug your phone in, unlocking the screen to flick on do not disturb, and realize the group message is still open, cursor blinking, waiting for your response.

It’s fine. You can tell you got home okay, that’s not crossing any lines. 

>Yeah, just got settled for bed. See you later!

A text from Simon chimes back within a minute, and you squint at it, one eye open.

>Get some rest.  

The floor is dead silent at the beginning of your shift.

Nothing beeps or whines or cries, no noise echoes around the corner to where you’re scrolling through Johnny’s chart, getting caught up on his day, triple checking that his levels and vitals are all within normal range. He passed his follow up for the liver procedure with flying colors, and the relief you feel is not unexpected, the weight of worry lifting free from your shoulders without another thought.

He’s fine, he’s better than fine, he’s… too healthy for the ICU.

Reality hits you like a truck, and you stop short, sneakers squeaking along the floor.

He won’t be your patient anymore. 

He won’t… be your patient anymore. 

The thought twists you into a mess of complicated emotions. A snarled, tangled viper's nest of unknowns, uncertainties, things you're desperately trying to tuck back behind your heart, hide them away so no one, not even yourself, can see them.

This is a good thing. This is what you want. Stable patients, on their way to recovery. 

So, you’ll miss them, that’s okay. There’s a little bit attachment, that’s alright. 

This is the best case scenario. You’re making a mess of things. You’re getting too involved with your patient and his family. You let Simon drive you home, for fucks sake. 

They’re getting confused, because you’re the caretaker. It happens all the time. As soon as Johnny steps down, they’ll forget all about you. 

You’re risking too much. You’re risking their safety, their child’s safety, your own. 

It’s for the best. 

You put your best work smile on when you approach his room, pulling as much air into your lungs as you can manage.

Focus on your job. Your patient. You’re a professional. 

Johnny is alone. No Simon, no visitors, nobody keeping him company. It’s a strange sight, and he looks almost uncomfortable, creased brow lowered down over his eyes. That’s… odd. Worse, there’s a heaviness in his gaze, sadness pulling his mouth downwards, usual playful demeanor nowhere in sight. Even sad, he’s a marvel, and every day, he gets stronger, he gets healthier, he gets closer to leaving this room, amazing you with his tenacity, his will. 

“Hey, you on your own tonight?” You casually knock on the door frame, and then pull it shut behind you, cocking your head.

“Aye.” He’s sullen, his despair tugging you closer to the bed, an urge to try to comfort him too strong to deny. 

“How are you feeling?” You try the subtle question, hoping he'll be forthcoming, and you keep yourself composed as you wait for his answer. 

“’m alright.” You tab through his chart, glancing it over once more, if only to assuage your own anxieties, and then tap into his vitals. Everything looks good, last labs look great… so what’s going on? 

“Just alright?” His fingers flex in the blanket, tanned skin against white linen, picking at fibers and threads, unable to hold himself still. He looks like he’s going to burst open at the seams, explode inside this room, a ticking time bomb, just waiting for the end of the countdown.

A tear tracks down his cheek. “Johnny?” You step closer, close enough so your fingers graze his, trying to delicately let him know, you’re here. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. What’s going on?” The monitor beeps steadily in the silence, his chest depresses with a gust of air.

“It’s… it’s nothin’ bun. I’m jus’… I’m havin’ a bad day.”

“Want to talk about it? I hear I’m a pretty good listener.” You encourage, and his face twists.

“No, I- Ach. Aye, alright.” He shifts in the bed, and you hover in case he needs help, but he waves you away. “It’s… bein’ in here. I want to be wi’ my family. Penny turned one, before I left for this assignment. Was only supposed to be two weeks tops, but then it turned into a month, then two. And now, I’m home… but ’m not really home, and I-“ His voice cracks, raw thread of agonized emotion separating his words, and he swallows it, forcing it back. “I’m blown to bits and cannae even see my own daughter. I’m missin’ out on everything.” Oh, Johnny. Your heart is heavy, and it hurts for him, bleeds as he wipes his face. 

“You’re not blown to bits, just a little banged up.” You give him a soft smile, and when he shakes his head, your fingers find his on instinct. You don’t even stop to second guess yourself, fully sinking into the contact with a gentle squeeze. “Hey, look at me.” His lashes are wet, sticky with tears, and he sniffles. “You’re making great progress, Johnny, going to be out of here in no time. You won’t even be in the ICU much longer, and then once you’re downstairs, Penny will be able to come visit all the time. After that, it won’t be too much longer until you’re back home with them.” He nods, and you stroke your thumb across his knuckles.

“Ye think so?”

“You’re the toughest patient I’ve ever had, and I’ve had a fair amount, you know. Traumatic injury recovery takes time, it takes patience, but you’re doing a great job of it so far. You just have to take it one day at a time. Before you know it, you’ll be at home on your own couch, bossin’ Simon around all day instead of me.” He laughs at that, a throaty chuckle capable of spreading heady warmth through your veins, and then gives you one of those stupidly stunning smiles.

“Shouldnae be cryin’ in front of ye.”

“You can cry in front of me any time you want. That’s what I’m here for. Besides, it’s not the first time.” You tease and he rolls his eyes.

“Doesnae count. I was high.”

“Uh huh. Sure.” The untouched dinner tray on his side table catches your eye, and chilling worry reappears in the back of your mind. “You didn’t eat?”

“Didnae have an appetite until ye showed up, pretty girl.” Okay. You can remedy this easily, if he's interested in eating. Lack of appetite is alarming, but if you can get him to eat now... 

“You hungry? I haven’t eaten yet. Want me to grab you something?” He brightens, indulging in a spectacular smile, and you take it as a yes with a small laugh. “Alright. Let me run down to the café, yeah?”

“What’s that saying, about how I hate to see ye go, but love to watch ye leav-“

“Okay!” you practically shout, cutting him off, fire racing across your skin, and he snickers, palm pressing against his heart like he’s wounded. “I’ll be right back.” You give him a serious look, and and he rubs his palm through his hair, mirth sparkling in his eyes. Holy hell. How is he so attractive? And how is it still so blinding, every time?  

You get two of the only option left this late in the evening, chicken soup and some sourdough, balancing the bowls carefully on their trays until you’re placing them down in the room, swinging the little table over Johnny’s lap and settling in beside him, perched on Simon’s recliner. The soup is warm, spiced with herbs and thick with noodles, and you're pleased that it's better than you were expecting, happy that Johnny seems to like it as well. 

"Wanted to take ye out properly for our first date, but this will have ta’ do. Simon’s gon’ be so bloody jealous.” He masterfully hums between your bites, and your eyes go wide, trying and failing to swallow your soup instead of choking on it.

“Johnny, we… this… I- this isn’t a date!” you squeak.

“Why not?” He asks, inflection innocent, and your brain rattles around inside your skull, splitting down the middle, falling apart in bewilderment. Why not? What does he mean?

“You… you have a partner. Simon? You know, your family that we were literally just talking about?” He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you with this look on his face, one you can’t interpret. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“What did Simon tell ye, the other night. When he took ye home?”

“What? He… I don’t remember.” Does he know that Simon gave you his phone number? 

Of course, he knows, he started that group text. 

Does Simon know what Johnny said, about you coming into their lives? About-

“Didnae he tell ye, we’re here for ye?”

“Y-yeah.”

“We, bunny? We.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand.” He sighs. What is he trying to say? What is going on?

“We like ye. Like I said, we think ye’re really special. Simon, and I. Together, bun.”

“Wh-what?” Puzzle pieces snap together and then break apart, like a landscape jigsaw that you spent days completing once before it was promptly ruined. Does he... does he mean... Oh. Oh no. Oh no no no. You have to squash this. Now. Just explain it, he’ll get it. He’s smart. “No… no, Johnny it’s just… it’s this thing, that happens. Patients get attached to their nurses or doctors sometimes, it’s normal. You d-don’t like me, I promise. There’s nothing even to like.” He blinks, jaw grinding under stubble. If Simon’s stare feels like he’s reading your mind, then Johnny’s is like being pinned down in one place, unable to move. You’re paralyzed, and powerless, lost in the icy blue sea of his eyes, drowning with a hand sticking out above the crest of the surf, reaching for him.

“Why would ye say that? That there’s nothin’ about ye to like? Nothin’ could be farther from the truth.”

“I don’t… there’s not. It’s… I’m your nurse, Johnny. That���s all.” Sweat glosses the small of your back, slicking upwards to cover your spine, and your heart hammers, it beats, beats, beats- so loudly you’re sure the pulse point in your wrist is visible. “Johnny.” His name shakes from your lips, and he relaxes, gentle concern replacing the relentless intensity in his gaze.

“Shhh, hey. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didnae mean to upset ye.” You're still frozen, a statue, and he reaches for you, trying to grab onto your hand. The heat of his skin breaks you from the spell, and you force a robotic, bedside smile onto your face, scooping up your half empty bowl.

"It's okay." You need to get out of this room. Now. The walls feel too close, Johnny feels too close, everything is compounding on top of you, threatening to derail your entire life, ruin your plan. They cannot like you. They cannot care about you. They cannot show interest in you. You can’t let this happen. “I’ve gotta check on some other patients, okay? I’ll swing back your way in a bit.” You promise him, guilt eating you alive about running away, and when he gives you a sad smile, you almost lose your resolve.

“Alright, pretty girl. I’ll see ye later, then.” He murmurs, and you try not to trip over feet during your hasty exit.

Fuck. You’re so fucked. 

Simon and Johnny’s house is finally silent.  

Penny is down, safely tucked into dream world, her grainy grey-scale image flickering on the video monitor at Simon as he pours two fingers worth of bourbon into a glass.

Poor baby girl. His stomach twists. She put up such a fight tonight, hollering at the top of her lungs, standing up in her crib, working herself into an absolute state. He hates leaving her alone to cry, and on nights like this one, the only way she’ll close her eyes is if she’s being held, snuggled in Johnny's arms, or against Simon's chest. 

He’s a sucker, he knows. Doomed from the day she was born, but he can’t help it. Neither of them can. She’s their baby.

So, he doesn’t blame her for being so out of sorts. She always sleeps better when her Da is home. They both do.

His phone vibrates with a text, a short message from Johnny, and he scrolls through it, settling on the couch with his laptop, unopened email from Laswell blinking impatiently.

>She’s jumpy. Tired. Looks like she hasn’t gotten any sleep. Simon frowns.

> She manage to find a pair of panties for work today?

>Unfortunately. He can practically see the pout on Johnny’s lips, can hear the way he probably huffed and puffed when you first came into the room this evening, your hips swishing side to side, pretty smile on your face for him.

>I think I made her upset. Simon pinches the bridge of his nose. Johnny, love. Why can’t you listen? He takes a deep breath, trying to relax the worry that’s creeping up the back of his neck. 

Disagreements aren’t for text messages. They’ve learned that the hard way. 

>Take it easy for the rest of the night, then. She’s skittish. He shoots off the recommendation, and then pulls his laptop across his knee, clicking open the email from Kate.

Simon,  Your girl is a ghost. This kind of wipe work is professional level… are you sure she’s a nurse?  I’ve attached everything I could find, but it’s pretty scarce. The name you provided pulled a copy of her NHS nursing license, her taxes, an award she won at work last year, and a COVID vaccination record. No birth certificate, state identification, or public records of any kind, even after a global hand search. Nothing that even proves she exists or is an American except a sealed record from years ago in the states. It’s not accessible, even for me, which means it could be WITSEC, or a court ordered name change in relation to a domestic violence case. There are 18 states that seal those records to protect the victim, so she could be from anywhere. My gut says it’s probably the latter, which is why she doesn’t exist prior to.  You’ll notice on the vaccine record, she marked ‘unhoused’, and I couldn’t find any lease/rental agreements, sale records, or mortgages in her name.  I wish I had more for you, but she really is a bit of a puzzle. I’ll keep digging.  -K.L. 

There’s an unsettling rattle going off in the front of Simon’s skull. It’s a siren, a smattering of warning bells, and he swallows the rest of the bourbon in one go, embracing the burn that slides down the back of his throat.

Who are you, little bunny? And who are you running from? 

[just-aake]

All’s Fair in Love and War

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha has some summer fun with you and the Barton children at the beach.

Warnings: fluff, hints of suggestive themes

Words: 1479

The sun hangs high in the sky, its beaming rays shining directly on you. A bead of sweat trickles down your face as you move toward your target, trying to be quick but also as quiet as possible.

However, your advance is slowed as your feet sink further into the hot sandy ground with each step forward.

Approaching your target, you pause behind a large boulder, using it for cover. Silently, you adjust your grip on the weapon in your hand, preparing for the impending attack.

Releasing a tiny breath, you swiftly maneuver from your hiding spot, vaulting over the boulder and landing with your weapon raised and ready.

Your arm lowers slightly when you find yourself facing an empty beach towel, its owner nowhere in sight.

That’s strange. You could have sworn she hadn’t left this area.

Just as you begin to turn around, a distinct pressure against your lower back makes you freeze. The plastic muzzle of a water gun presses into you, and a moment later, an arm snakes around your midriff, pulling you close.

You feel her bikini-clad body press against you as Natasha whispers in a low, teasing tone into your ear.

“You didn’t think I wouldn’t know you were sneaking up on me, did you, detka?”

A light chuckle escapes your lips as you raise both hands in surrender.

“You’ve caught me. What happens now?”

Natasha presses a light kiss against your shoulder before releasing her hold on you and backing away.

“It’s only fair that I do the same thing you were about to do to me.”

Turning around with your hands still raised in surrender, you raise a brow at her in amusement when you see the water gun in her hand pointed at you.

“How did you even get yourself one? Clint literally just came back with them while you were lying here.”

Natasha smirks and shrugs lightly. “I have my ways. Now…”

She gestures pointedly with her head to the water gun still in your hand and then towards the ground.

You huff lightly before letting it fall from your grip to the sand.

“Are you really going to shoot an unarmed person?”

Natasha’s playful smirk widens, giving you a teasing wink.

“All’s fair in love and war, detka.”

She presses the trigger on her gun, shooting a series of water shots that hit you squarely in the chest, immediately soaking your body. When she doesn’t stop, you laugh and rush at her, your hands raised in an attempt to block all her shots.

“Hey! I was only going to shoot you once!”

Natasha’s laughter rings out, clear and joyous, as you wrap your arms around her waist and pull her to the ground. The two of you tumble together in a flurry of limbs and laughter.

Rolling to a stop, Natasha ends up on top of you with a playful smirk. She leans in close, her breath warm against your lips, and whispers suggestively, “You know how I love to get you wet.”

“Nat!” you exclaim in reprimand, glancing around quickly. “Clint’s kids could be nearby.”

Realization dawns in Natasha’s eyes, followed by a thoughtful hum.

“Oh, now I understand, so you were the distraction.”

She begins to move to look around and locate the Barton children, but you swiftly trap one of her legs in yours and wrap your arms around her body, locking her in place with a smug look.

Natasha squirms slightly, but you know she’s not using all her strength to escape. And even though she lets out a small huff of disbelief, there’s still a gleam of amusement in her eyes.

“This is cheating,” she mutters, a tiny smile playing on her lips.

You grin up at her, tightening your hold just a bit.

“All’s fair in love and war, detka,” you playfully mock before shouting, “I got her!”

Immediately, Cooper and Lila emerge from their hiding spots with excited shouts, rushing towards you two with water guns aimed at Natasha.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Natasha says, twisting her body from your grasp and rolling you above her just as the two children begin their onslaught.

Cold water hits you on all sides, soaking you once again.

“Wait, wait! Friendly fire! Friendly fire!” you shout, holding out your hands to block the streams of water as Natasha rolls away from under you.

The shots stop at your exclamation, and the kids give you a confused look, realizing they are not shooting the red-haired spy.

Wiping your face, you turn to where Natasha escaped, only to find her holding two new water guns, both aimed at the three of you.

“Wha–how do you have more guns hidden around here?” you exclaim in disbelief.

“I told you. I have my ways,” Natasha remarks with a triumphant grin. Her stance is firm as she steps closer, her fingers moving to the triggers.

The three of you exchange quick glances, realizing your predicament, and slowly back away from the highly trained agent.

“What do we do now, Auntie Y/n?” Cooper whispers, his eyes wide with anticipation.

“Umm,” you glance at their water gun tanks. “Do either of you have enough to take any more shots?”

Lila presses on her trigger, and a tiny drizzle of water flows out of the nozzle. She looks back at you and shakes her head.

“I see,” you say, nodding slightly with a grim look. “Then there’s only one thing we can do.”

With hands on your waist, you take a deep and determined breath before looking back at Natasha, who is patiently waiting for you to make a decision. Then suddenly…

You begin sprinting away in one direction, shouting, “Run!”

The two children scramble to follow your command, darting in separate directions. They laugh as Natasha begins to chase and shoot water at them.

Her shots are precise, and within moments, you’re all soaked.

After a lively chase, you all gather together again, breathless and laughing. The three of you are drenched with water while Natasha stands dry with a victorious smirk.

“Well, that should teach you all not to try and ambush me,” Natasha says, lowering her guns.

Cooper and Lila giggle, shaking off the water.

“You got us good,” Cooper admits, smiling.

“Yeah, Auntie Nat, you should join our team,” Lila exclaims excitedly. “We’re going after Dad next.”

“You could teach us where to hide the extra water guns for when we run out,” Cooper adds.

“Sure, that sounds fun,” Natasha nods in agreement.

Before she can move to follow them, you wrap your arm around her waist, stopping her, and call out to the other two.

“How about you two do some scouting first and gather information about the area for the plan? We’ll join you soon after.”

Patting her arm, you give Natasha a playful glare as you declare pointedly.

“Auntie Nat here needs to help reapply sunscreen on me after using me as her shield, isn’t that right?”

Natasha’s smirk falters slightly, a sheepish look crossing her face as she chuckles lightly.

“Oooh, you’re in trouble,” Lila teases her, giggling.

Rolling her eyes playfully, she waves the kids toward where Clint probably is.

“Alright, alright, off you go.”

Once the kids disappear from view, Natasha pulls you close by your waist and leans in, resting her forehead against yours.

“Was the sunscreen just a fake excuse to get us a moment alone?” she asks suggestively, her thumb drawing small circles against your bare skin, teasing the lining of your swimwear.

You give her an amused smile, leaning in slightly and almost capturing her lips in yours before pulling away and pressing a bottle of sunscreen against her chest.

“No, nothing like that,” you answer as you lay down on her previously abandoned beach towel. Leaning on your elbows, you raise a brow at her with a knowing smile.

“Though, let’s see whether you can control yourself as you reapply the sunscreen on me without sneaking in any of your not-so-innocent touches.”

Natasha’s eyes gleam with playful defiance as she kneels down on the beach towel, one of her legs settling between yours. She presses her hand against your stomach, spreading the sunscreen there before sliding her hand up across your skin to your chest while also guiding you to lie down so that she can hover above you.

You feel the heat rise to your cheeks as her touch becomes more insistent, her fingers brushing just a bit more intimately than necessary.

“Nat…” you murmur, trying to sound disapproving but failing as a smile tugs at your lips.

A smirk plays on Natasha’s lips as she leans close to yours, her body shifting so that her leg between yours presses lightly against your swim bottoms.

Her breath is warm against your skin as she whispers in a low tone, “All’s fair in love and war, detka.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

A/n: This was just a little short fun piece that came to mind. Thank you for reading!

[natalievoncatte]

Kara stared between her feet, as if the hardwood floor between her socks had answers. She was wearing mismatched SpongeBob and Hello Kitty socks. The Hello Kitty ones were Christmas gifts from Lena. Lena had admitted she didn’t know anything about Hello Kitty except that the design was cute, and Kara liked cute things. Kara treasured those socks as though they were a kingly gift.

There was a cold beer in her hand. She turned the bottle this way and that, wondering what the point was. She didn’t like the taste. Alcohol wasn’t strong enough to dull her emotions or make her laugh or cry the way it did for her humans. It just tasted mostly pretty bad. She took a drink anyway, doing what she always did: trying too hard to be something she’d never be.

Alex had offered the beer and Kara had accepted, taking one from the six pack she’d brought over. Alex was on her second, sitting back in her chair and nursing her beer.

“Kara,” she said.

Kara gave her head a listless shake.

“I’m just not in the mood to cheer up.”

Alex took a pull of her beer. “Maybe it wasn’t meant to be.”

“Our friendship meant something,” said Kara, the last word coming out strained, pushed past its breaking point but holding on.

“To you,” Alex said. “It meant another thing to her.”

“You weren’t there. You didn’t hear what she said.”

“There’s nothing she could say that would justify abusing you like that.”

Kara looked at her. Alex was clearly on a mission here- to get Kara’s head turned around right, to help her see the truth, and to help her process it and move on.

The bottle in her hand shattered.

“Jesus!” Alex yelped.

Kara didn’t want to process it. She didn’t want to see Alex’s truth. She didn’t want to fucking move on. She moved on too much. Her world died and she moved on. Her foster father died and she moved on. Her aunt tried to kill her and she moved on. Her boyfriend turned out to be a galactic conquered and she moved on. She got her back broken and her skull fractured and she moved on. She was beaten to death by a literal clone of herself and came to back to life, and she moved. On.

She didn’t want to move on from Lena. She wanted her back. She wanted to be like it was.

She wanted…

She wanted things she couldn’t say, because she couldn’t want them.

“She said she killed her brother for me,” Kara choked out.

Alex frowned, eyes flicking between Kara’s face and the suds on the floor.

“You’ve got to see she’s bad news.”

Kara shook her head and stood up, moving to grab a towel and clean up the mess. She plucked the shards of glass from the floor and soaked up the suds. Alex didn’t offer another brew or take one. She just held the empty bottle in her hand.

“Kara,” she finally said. “You need to come to terms with this. I don’t think you’re being healthy about how you feel about-“

“Lena,” Kara gasped.

“Yeah, I mean, the way you two have been behaving is more like a-“

Kara tuned her out. Lena was approaching, and her heart was racing. Kara heard the distinct sound of her footsteps as she ran up the stairs and down the hall to the loft and had the door open as Lena stumbled to a stop in front of it, wide-eyed and panicked.

“Luthor!” Alex snapped. “You’ve got some balls showing your face here. Give me one good reason not to arrest you. Now.”

“Alex,” Kara warned.

Lena was looking at her with a shocking blend of fear and relief, tears streaming freely down her cheeks.

“Oh God,” said Lena. “Oh thank God you’re alive.”

Alex started to speak but Kara put up a warning hand. She didn’t move, standing fixed in the doorway as Lena stood there shaking, wrapped up in her coat like a drowned rat.

“Let me in, please let me in.”

“Kara,” Alex warned.

“Take this!” Lena blurted.

A jolt of shock ran through Kara as Lena produced the Myriad module and thrust it at her in both hands, almost dropping it in the process. Kara had taken it before she realized what she was doing.

“Take it, take it, take the fucking thing! I don’t want it anymore.”

Kara hit her lip. Lena’s eyes were full of silent appeal, heavy with… knowledge, or something like it.

“Why are you doing this?”

“You won’t believe me,” Lena said, her voice trembling.

Kara flinched. Lena’s heart was racing painfully, dangerously fast, and she was staring to hyperventilate. Instinct took over, and she pulled the other woman inside, gently tucking her into a firm hug.

“Kara!” Alex snapped.

“Alex,” Kara said, firmly. “Out. Now.”

“But you can’t just let her back in!”

“Trust me, Alex.”

“Fine, but I’m not going far, and if I even think I smell a trap, Luthor, I swear, I will bring the wrath of God down on your head. I will destroy you.”

Lena said nothing, turning her face into Kara’s shoulder. Alex glared fury at her as she passed, and Kara pushed the door shut.

“Lena, tell me what happened.”

It took Lena at least a minute to get her breathing under enough control to even talk.

“I was in my lab when this man appeared inside. That should be impossible. My lab is a fortress. Not even you could get in.”

“Wait? What man?”

“He looked like a funny little man with a bowler hat, but he’s not. It’s some kind of illusion or trick. He told me some incomprehensible name and told me he was there on your behalf. His name was just gibberish, Mix-something.”

She was finally calming. Kara guided her to the couch and set Myriad on the table, sitting beside her. Lena stared at it.

“I know his name,” Kara said, coldly.

“Did you send him?”

“I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“He told me he was there to give me what I wanted, a life without you. Before I could say anything he just snapped his fingers, and I was on the helicopter, the day you saved me from Lex’s drones, but you weren’t there. I screamed for help but you didn’t come.”

Kara felt the sour taste of beer and vomit rising to the back of her throat.

“I remember the crash and it was real, it was like it was really happening and it hurt so much, and then I woke up and Lillian was there with her doctors and she was cutting. Cutting me up and carving me apart with scalpels and putting machinery in me and Kryptonite, she put Kryptonite in my chest!”

“Easy,” Kara said, “Easy, Lena. Take a breath.”

Red-faced and breathing too quickly, Lena ignored her. “Then you were there and I couldn’t stop myself, it was burning you alive, like in the Fortress but worse and I couldn’t stop, I couldn’t even scream, and I felt this hate inside me, and I just wanted it to stop. Then I was back in my lab and he was there.”

“So you came here?”

“No! I told him that wasn’t what I wanted. I told him I wanted a world without lies, without conflict or hate or deception. I told him what I wanted to do. I don’t know why, it was like he was forcing the words out of me, and he told me fine, he’d give me what I wanted.”

Lena hugged herself, sinking back into the couch.

“It was real, Kara. It all happened. I mean, it actually happened. I finished Non Nocere. I pacified the entire world, made everyone calm and peaceful and truthful. I lived this. For years.”

Kara swallowed. Mxy… could do that. He was that powerful. Kara has suspected as much. He’d been toying with her before, like a cat tormenting a mouse. Her blood ran cold and she suppressed a shiver.

“Oh my God. You’re scared of this thing, aren’t you?”

“Lena…”

“You should be. It got worse. It got worse, Kara. Non Nocere worked. The world became a place of peace. You came to me and you were furious, but I asked you, was it better the other way? Were you angry because of what I did or were you angry because I made a world that doesn’t need superheroes?”

Kara swallowed. “Lena, it wouldn’t be right to control everyone like that. You can’t just-“

“I know! I learned my goddamn lesson already, will you just listen to me?”

Kara took a deep breath.

“Okay. I’m listening.”

“You were the only one not affected. You stayed for a while, tried to reason with me, but then you left. You went back to Argo and rejoined the Kryptonian survivors.”

Lena went quiet, staring at nothing.

“Lena? Lena, what is it?”

“I gave him the world on a silver platter. I just handed it over and I didn’t even realize it. I wasn’t fixing the world, I was ringing a dinner bell. He came.”

“Mxy?”

“No, Kara. Something worse. From the stars. He came in a ship… his ship was as big as the sky. They came from cracks in the air, these… these portals started belching out these things, demons, I don’t know, and he came from the sky.”

“Who, Lena?”

Silence. Lena pulled her knees up and rocked in place, staring.

“Lee?”

“Darkseid,” said Lena. “He called himself Darkseid. He took Non Nocere from me. He used it. On everyone. On me, too. He made us worship… he made us love. He took something from my mind, from everyone’s mind, some kind of weapon, and you came back. You came back to stop him.”

“Of course I would,” said Kara.

“He made me watch. He said it was a gift for delivering him his prize. I saw you die.”

Kara’s stomach dropped. Tentatively, she reached for Lena’s shoulder, found it and grasped it softly. Lena hid her face in her arms and began to whimper.

“The things I saw. The things we were made to do. The things I was made to do. I can’t. I can’t get it out of my head.”

“It wasn’t real. You’re safe. I promise.”

“It was real. Then that Mixylwhatever came back and asked me if I wanted out. I almost said no, Kara! I almost said no!”

Kara closed her fists, arms wrapped around her self.

Great Rao, what happened to her?

I said yes and I was just… back in my lab. Like none of it happened. There with that thing in my hands. I did the only thing I could think of. I ran here.”

Lena is was still shaking.

Hushing her softly, Kara guided her to lie down on the couch, throwing a blanket over her. Lena shoved her face in the pillow and sobbed as Kara knelt beside her, trying to soothe her by stroking her back and sweeping the hair from her eyes.

“It wasn’t real.”

“It felt real.”

“I won’t let it happen.”

“You couldn’t stop it. Not even you, not even you and Clark.”

Kara leaned closer and looked her in the eye.

“I won’t. Let. It. Happen.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

Lena closed her eyes and let out a long sigh. Finally she seemed to calm, at least a little.

“Listen to me, Lena. Please.”

She nodded.

“I’m sorry.”

“Kara,”

“I’m sorry. I should have listened to you. I should have respected you. I should have let myself be vulnerable and let you in the way you did for me. I only thought about what I wanted and I let my fear control me. I will never do that again. I will never run off to Argo or wherever else as long as you need me. I will always protect you, Lena. Always.”

“I know, Kara. I saw it in your eyes when you… when he… your last word was my name.”

“Rest, Lee. I’m going to destroy Myriad. I’m going to get Alex and and Brainy and Nia ans J’onn and we’re going to figure this out.”

“Okay,” Lena choked out. “Okay.”

Kara knelt beside her until she finally fell asleep, then paced the loft for a while.

She turned to look at Lena as she slept and then it hit her. It was like suddenly becoming aware of a new color, a hue that shaded the whole world but had been previously invisible. It was just suddenly there, and she understood.

Kara was in love with her.

She would forgive Lena any trespass, and she would do anything to protect her.

She called Alex. Told her what happened, leaving out nothing Lena said. They decided, after their earlier interaction, that it would be best if J’onn watched over her.

When he arrived, Kara went to the roof.

“Mxyzptlk,” said Kara.

In a blink he was there.

“Well then,” he said. “You’re welcome. Killed two birds with one stone, showing your Lena the error of her ways and-“

Kara didn’t let him finish. When she slammed him into the brickwork, cracks spread from the impact and her eyes blazed with all the fury of her long lost sun.

“Leave her alone. If you ever go near her again, I’ll break every bone in your body. I don’t care what I have to do. I don’t care what I have to sacrifice. If I’m not powerful enough now I will find a way.”

“You can’t do that.”

“When it comes to my Lena, I have no rules. Now get the fuck off my planet.”

She let him go and took a step back. He regarded her for a moment, looking rather pale for a fifth dimensional imp, and then vanished without another word.

Kara went back to Lena.

[moonstruckme]

It is I, person who asked about the bad car crash one. I have read the one you said! And while yes I think the car crash you described is bad I was wondering if you could do one that's... Worse-? Idk 😅 if not I totally understand lmao.

No I think I get you, thanks for requesting and hope you like it!

cw: car accident, concussion, mention of blood, I already know this is not very accurate, but I did not have it in me to do all the research when I wrote this. Sorry and hope it doesn’t hinder your reading experience </3

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

Your own breaths are the loudest sound, which can’t be right. Surely there should be alarms, or screaming, or something. Up until a second ago, the screeching of tires and metal was loud enough to deafen you. 

Your car door squeaks brokenly, a sad echo of the racket from before. The air around you shifts as it comes open, and a moment later there are cold fingers pressing into your jaw. 

You make a low whining sound. “Hey,” you complain. Your lips move oddly, murmuring where you mean to speak. 

“Hi,” a voice behind you replies smoothly. “I’m Sirius, I’m with NHS. Is your neck or back hurting at all, gorgeous?” 

“No. You’re cold.” 

“Lovely. This is my friend Remus, he’s going to push on your hands.” 

A head appears in front of you, upside down and shooting an exasperated look towards the disembodied voice. You don’t understand how these people are moving around so quickly, without you noticing them coming. 

“Hello.” The other man’s—Remus’—gaze softens as he meets your eyes. “Can you tell me if you feel this?” He prods at your hand. 

“Yeah,” you breathe. Your heart is starting to move in your chest, thudding against your ribs like it wants to hurt you. 

“Alright. Can you try pushing up on my hands, please?”

You do. He nods approvingly, giving you a little smile. 

“Good girl. We’re good, Sirius.” 

The cold hands release your face, and you breathe a sigh of relief. It makes your chest ache dully. 

“Beautiful. We ready to move?” 

“Yup.” That’s a third voice, distinct from the others and somewhere you can’t see it. “We’re all set.” 

“Let me just—” Remus’ hands come up around your waist and back, his grip firm, near to bruising. “Okay, I’ve got her. We’re going to unbuckle you and lift you out, okay? Just stay nice and still for us.” 

You’re confused as to what he means, but apparently your silence is consent enough. You feel the buckle of your seatbelt click, and then you’re falling up, Remus’ hold tightening further as he stops your ascent to lift you sideways. 

It’s not until you’re out of the car that you realize you were upside down. Your head feels better, though not by much, and the sun glares at you like it’s punishing you for a wrong you don’t remember having committed. Your arm, suddenly and to your horrified surprise, is in agony. 

A pitchy scraping sound tears from your throat, what would have been a scream if you had the air for one. 

“Here we go, just—yeah—” the third voice speaks as something comes up under your back. “There we are. It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re fine.” 

“We’ll get you on pain meds in just a second, doll,” Sirius promises. Someone adjusts your legs so they’re both on the cot, careful of your searing arm, and then you’re moving, the sky shifting above you until you’re looking up at a gray ceiling instead. Time is an odd, fluid thing, marked only by actions and various pains. 

“When did you get here?” you mutter, to no one in particular. 

The third voice is the one to answer you. It’s accompanied by a thick pair of glasses and a sweet face, eyes flickering between you and some equipment he’s messing with. “Just a few minutes ago.” 

“I don’t…I didn’t hear the sirens.” 

He smiles like you’re funny. “Yeah, I think you might’ve been unconscious for that part.” 

You wrack your brain. You don’t remember falling asleep. Only the screeching on the road and then being in your car. Then again, you feel half as though you could be dreaming right now. 

Something sharp bites into your hand. You whimper, the pain small but only adding to every other hurt that’s already far over your threshold. 

“I know,” Sirius shushes you, sticking something to your hand. “I know, babe, but this is going to help soon. You’ll see.” 

“So far I’ve got a concussion, open fracture of the wrist, several lacerations to the face and chest, and bruising around the knees.” Remus’ voice is an odd combination of soft and businesslike. You have a creeping sensation he’s talking about you. “Am I missing anything?” 

“Possible bruising around the chest,” Sirius says. “She was breathing funny earlier.” 

“Right. Hey, love,” Remus voice gentles as he addresses you, “I’m going to move your shirt down to see if your chest is hurt, alright? I’ll be careful, it won’t take long.” 

“Okay,” you manage weakly. 

“Thank you.” He uses both hands to stretch the collar of your shirt, tutting quietly to himself at whatever he sees. He lifts a stethoscope from around his neck, rubbing the metal on his hand for a moment before setting it to your chest. 

You don’t know what he’s listening for, but you’re distracted when the third paramedic—the one with the glasses—starts running what feels like a wet wipe over your forehead. 

“Just cleaning you up a bit,” he says brightly. “Figure we ought to have you looking your best for whoever ends up stitching you up, yeah?” 

“James.” Sirius’ tone is somewhere between chiding and joking and fond, an entanglement of meanings you quite can’t wrap your pounding head around. “Don’t talk like she’s not already stunning. You can hardly improve upon perfection.” 

“Too true,” the other boy agrees readily. 

“Take a breath in for me, please,” says Remus, seemingly ignoring the other two and seemingly also used to doing so. “Just as deep as you can.” 

You try. You do your best, and as your lungs expand the dull ache worsens and worsens until a sharp pain pierces your middle. The air whooshes out of you in a dry sob. 

The stethoscope leaves your skin, and Remus fixes your shirt collar, putting it back in place. Your chest radiates a terrible, throbbing hurt. 

“It’s okay,” James says. His finger brushes your cheek, swiping at wetness you didn’t realize was there. “Oh, honey, it’s okay.” 

“At least a couple of broken ribs,” you hear Remus mutter to the others. Somehow, impossibly, it makes the pain worsen. 

“What’s happening?” you choke out. 

“You’re in an ambulance,” James tells you kindly. “You were in a car accident, and I know you’re in a lot of pain right now, but we’re here to take care of you. We’re going to make sure you’re okay, and then get you to the hospital so they can finish fixing you up. You’ll be alright.” 

The explanation takes you a while to process, but even then your tears don’t seem to want to slow. Your chest pangs with each hitch in your breathing. Eventually Sirius starts talking you through taking slower breaths, trying to calm you down. 

Someone wipes at your face with a small square. It stings, and it comes away light red with your blood and tears. 

“I know it’s scary,” Remus murmurs, “but you’ve already done so, so well. We only have to splint your arm so it doesn’t move and clean some of your bigger cuts, and then we can go to the hospital. Can you let us do that, please? Will you be okay?” 

You take in a ragged breath. “Yeah,” you reply. 

“There we are.” James takes your head between his hands. Something about his grip reassures you. He touches his lips to your forehead, like it’s natural, like it’s nothing. “You’ve got this, sweetheart. Just need you to be brave for us a little while longer.”

[justauthoring]

GENSHIN IMPACT - WHO DID THIS TO YOU?

includes: kaveh, diluc, alhaitham & childe all x fem!reader

a/n: i couldn't decide who to write for between these four so i did all of them :)

warnings: asshole boss in kaveh's, asshole stairs in dilucs, (not a) asshole cat in alhaithams and assholes (plural) in childes :) also not spell checked!

Kaveh:

You try to sneak in without being noticed, but it seems the fates are against you.

The door squeaks loudly the second you push it shut, a grimace falling on your face as you let out a soft curse. There's instantly a distinct sound of footsteps heading your way, so you give up trying to be quiet and let the door slam shut behind you.

Not without childishly sticking your tongue out at the inanimate object though.

"Darling?" Kaveh's voice carries through the house, soft and light with that twinge of warmth that's always there when kaveh is speaking to you. "Are you home?"

You brace yourself mentally for what's about to happen, back turned towards kaveh as he reaches the entrance.

You can feel his eyes on you and his growing presence as he steps towards you, still oblivious to anyhting wrong as his hand falls on your shoulder.

"Y/N? Is everything okay—"

With a gentle tug, he turns you to face him. not one to ever be able to deny kaveh of anything, you easily let him maneuver you, meeting his eyes apprehensively as you try to attempt to smile up at him.

His face instantly falls. "What's wrong?" He rushes, hands reaching for your cheeks where he cups them, gently, brushing the stray tears from your eyes as he takes in your puffy, red eyes and paled complexion.

You wrap your hands around his wrists; "nothing, Kaveh," you assure gently, finally finding your voice. It's still hoarse from the crying you'd been doing before, cracking at the end which mentally makes you wince. "Just a rough day."

"Did something happen?" He rushes to ask, shaking his head. "Did someone do something to you?"

You swore to yourself you wouldn't tell Kaveh – it wasn't that you didn't trust him, but when it came to anything concerning you, Kaveh tended to get overly protective. It was endearing, honestly, but you didn't want to dump all your problems on him. Especially something as silly as this.

At least, that was the plan. The second Kaveh asks if someone upset you, you're reminded of events that happened just minutes prior and kaveh's always been good at understanding you without you even having to say anything.

Your face twists, just faintly, and Kaveh's eyes harden.

"Who?" He asks, voice uncharacteristically low and sharp. "Who did this to you?"

"Kaveh—"

"Y/N," he cuts in, not leaving any room for you to argue. It stuns you, pulling your eyes on him with a blink as you take in the serious expression in his eyes. "What happened?"

So, you explain. you explain how awful work had been that day – how your boss had had it out for you all day, berating you and borderline harrassing you. How you'd tried to be strong and not let him see how much his actions and words were effecting you, but you'd ended up leaving work early because it all became too much.

By the end of it you're a sobbing mess once more, incoherent and deeply upset.

Kaveh holds you through it, brushing your tears and rubbing your back and not once interrupting you or making you feel silly for how upset you'd gotten.

You ask him not to do anything, especially because it seems it's taking everything from Kaveh not to – and he promises, says that he won't and instead gently shushing you with the promise that he'll get you a hot bath and some dinner and the two of you can spend the night together doing what you want.

And he means it. Kaveh won't do anything.

Tonight, at least.

Diluc:

"M-Master Diluc!"

The distressed voice of one of his maids gives Diluc pause, halting in front of the door to his home only to see Adelinde rushing towards him. There's a wild, panicked look on her face and instantly Diluc is turning towards her.

"What's happened?" He asks, "are you alright?"

"I-I'm fine," she breathes, out of breath from racing down the stairs the second she'd heard Diluc making his way in. "It's Mistress Y/N!"

That's all Diluc needs to hear. Adelinde lips part to explain more, but before she can even get a word out, Diluc is already at the top of the stairs and quickly making his way to your shared room. There's the distinct feeling of his heart racing madly with worry against his chest and Diluc's vision closes around him, focused on only you, until he finally reaches you.

You're sat in the bed, propped up by a couple of pillows but Diluc's attention is quickly shifted to your leg; more specifically, your ankle. It's wrapped up in bandages and propped up by a few more pillows.

The second you meet Diluc's eyes, you're sighing; "honestly, Diluc, I'm—"

Diluc is beside you in seconds.

"Who did this to you?"

The question is uttered with a sharp, dark tone and you blink, lips left parted as Diluc reaches for you. His heart is still poundly madly against his chest and it physically pains him to see you in any sort of discomfort or pain.

The only logical thing he can thing is that someone hurt you. One of his enemies, maybe... Diluc was careful about keeping his life private, especially when it concerned you, but he supposed villains had their ways and he absolutely crushes his heart to think you'd been attacked because of him—

He's pulled from his thoughts at the feeling of your hand in his, your fingers threading through his own as you squeeze reassuringly.

"Diluc, honey," you call softly, a smile on your lips that confused Diluc. "No one did anything to me."

Frowning, Diluc eyes your ankle and then meets your gaze. "Then...?"

"I tripped," you explain with a slight flush, obviously embarrassed by your own clumsiness. "I was helping Adelinde with something when I tripped over my own feet. We were walking down the steps so I sort of tumbled down... I think I sprained my ankle. I told Adelinde not to bother you with it because really, I'm fine."

Diluc hesitates; "no one hurt you?"

"No one," you smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I promise."

Relieved, Diluc feels his body ease at the assurance that you weren't attacked. Still, he sees your wrapped up ankle and frowns. "Still," he calls out a moment later. "You're hurt."

"A little," you shrug, glancing at your ankle. "The throbbing has stopped. I just can't walk."

"Then I'll carry you."

You let out a soft giggle that flutters Diluc's heart; "I don't need to go anywhere."

"When you do."

Alhaitham:

"Who did this to you?"

You're surprised by how angry Alhaitham sounds. A quick glance in his direction tells you he looks just as angry, and you have to pause for a moment, trying to think about just what the hell he was talking about.

Conclusion? You have no idea.

He's looking straight at you — practically burning a hole through you with his glare. But you have no idea what he's staring at.

"Haitham..." You mumble apprehensively, baffled. "Who did what to me?"

"That," he presses, stepping towards you and nodding.

Just... nodding.

"What?" You ask, exasperated as you try to glance at yourself and see just what Alhaitham is talking about.

Huffing, short of patience as always, Alhatham grabs you by the wrist, grip gentle but pressing as he shifts so your palm is upwards. Then, his thumb swips lightly across a long, red and somewhat angry scratch across your inner forearm.

"That," he repeats, frowning at you.

"Oh," you calls with a laugh, stunned for a brief moment before a smile curls onto yourself. "I found a stray cat yesterday on my way home. It looked hungry so I fed it and then, I thought that it deserved a home so I tried to take it with me..." You grimace faintly, rubbing the back of your neck bashfully. "The little guy didn't seem to like that idea as much."

You expect Alhaitham to... well, not laugh, because he rarily did that, but you expect him to at least ease somewhat. But he doesn't. The frown remains heavy on his face, eyes set into a nasty glare as he stares at the scratch.

"Where?"

"Hmm?" You call, raising a brow as you meet his eys.

"Where was this cat?"

There's something about the way he asks it that makes you hesitate. "...Why?"

Alhaitham just lets your hand go, huffing as he crosses his arms across his chest. "So I can teach it a lesson for hurting you."

He says it so seriously because it's Alhaitham, but it's still the most ridiculous statement you've ever heard so the laugh that bursts out of your lips is truthfully beyond your control.

"Haitham!" You giggle, "it's a cat!"

"And?" He raises a brow, looking at you like you're the crazy one. "The cat hurt you. That's not okay."

You bite your lip, holding back your laughs as you take in how serious Alhaitham is — he looks genuinely bothered and upset that you were hurt. And honestly, despite the fact that his anger was now directed towards a random stray cat, is care for you is endearing.

Stepping towards him, you press a kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you for defending me," you say genuinely. "But it's just a cat. I shouldn't have tried to pick it up."

Alhaitham frowns and it looks like he wants to argue, but he lets it go. "Fine," he says, "but if you see the cat, let me know."

You let out a snort, nodding up at him; "I definitely will. I promise."

Childe:

"Who?"

"Ajax—"

"Who did this to you?"

Sighing, you try to turn your face away, finding Childe's never wavering gaze intimidating but his grip on your chin keeps you in place. His face is inches away from your own, eyes narrowed and face set with barely contained rage as he waits for you to answer.

You don't even know why you were arguing. Maybe it was because you were jsut tired and wanted to sink into your bed and forget any of this had even happened. But it was impossible with Childe.

The second you'd come home with a black eye, bruised cheek and over all just dishevelled, Childe had been on you. He'd been his usual happy self up until he saw the state you were in, taking in your ripped clothes and injuries.

"I don't know," you sigh, sinking into his touch as he reach for him. Your body hurts and you're exhausted; honestly, you're still scared. "It all happened so quick. There was a whole group of them and they came at me, pulled me into this alley or something and just..."

Your voice trails, hands shaking.

Childe lets go of your jaw then, arms shifting to wrap around you as he pulls you into an embrace. He holds you tight, pressing a hand to the back of your head as you let yourself break a little in his grasp.

"I was so scared, Ajax..." You breathe, pressing your face into his chest so your words are muffled.

"I know, Y/N," he calls softly, voice gentle and soothing. It had lost that dark edge it had had before, Childe finally coming to his senses and realizing how you needed him more than he needed to get revenge for you. That would still come, of course, but right now he needed to be here for you.

Pulling back, Child pulls your eyes on him; "where does it hurt?"

"...Everywhere," you whisper, wincing as a shoot of pain travels across your body. "I think my ribs might be broken."

Childe's heart breaks and he swears he see's red, but the pressing matter is you. He can find the idiots who hurt you later and he'll make sure they pay in full for what they did to you. Right now, he needs to help you.

"Here," he calls gently, "we'll get you in the bedroom."

You nod up at him, weakly, letting him wrap his arm around your waist and the other under your knees to bring you into his arms. The movement jostles you slightly, and Childe lets out an apology but you brush him off, knowing he didn't mean to.

"I'm sorry," you whisper a moment later, head bowed into the crook of his neck.

"You have nothing to be sorry about," Childe shakes his head adamantly. "I'm gonna take care of you. And I'll make those bastards pay for ever laying their hands on you."

[periprose]

Arachnid Anxiety

You're Spider-Woman, and you've been tasked with babysitting Mayday. Maybe you have a bit of stress that you need to vent about, and Hobie comes along quite conveniently for that purpose.

Genre: Fluff, reader having anxiety, Hobie giving her advice, very cute, reader is a Jessica Drew variant, perhaps mutual pining if you squint, takes place during the movie but before Miles arrives to the Society, terrible british slang attempts (sorry Hobie :'))

Word Count: 2.4k

Babies are hard to wrangle when they’re crawling up walls.

Of course, Peter B. Parker said that he needs a nap, just this once, and he needs someone to watch over Mayday while he sneaks away into the sleeping pods in the Spider-Society-System. Sometimes he and MJ don’t get sleep for days at a time, so you get it.

But Mayday is so curious, and you find yourself having to pull her prying hands away before she inadvertently tampers with things around Miguel’s labs and causes either a mass outage or a explosion or Miguel’s wrath. You understand why Peter is a little exhausted.

She’s a very cute baby, though, and you can’t help but coo at her as she clambers off the wall into your arms. 

“Who’s a good Spidey? Who’s gonna be the best of us?” You shake her up and down and she giggles, wrapping her arms around you. 

You instinctively flinch, feeling your Spider-Sense go off.

“Large statement to make. But I see where you’re coming from.” Spider-Punk comes up from behind you, and you turn to him. “She’s definitely punk.”

“Hey, don’t go claiming someone else’s kid as one of your own.” You joke, and Hobie scowls as he pulls off his mask.

“Don’t believe in claims. Or labels, for that matter.” He scratches his hair, looking effortless as he ever does, and you roll your eyes. “She is… who she is. Forgive me for using a descriptive word, Spider-Woman.”

“I get it.” You hold Mayday as she squeals at the sight of Hobie, and she motions in an uppy-uppy motion. She wants to be held by him, but he ignores her.

You never quite know how to feel about Hobie Brown. The Amazing Spider-Punk is revolutionary, known for being better than just his words– he holds himself to the very essence of anarchy. He practices what he preaches.

But you can’t quite get a read on the guy. You don’t know if he’s pulling your leg– or taking the piss as he would say– when he gives his bouts of advice while somehow simply being amazing through it all. He somehow knows what to say but he also isn’t the most comforting, and that in itself makes you drawn to him. He just happens to be kind of rough around the edges, and it’s because of that you know he truly means what he says. 

No sugar-coating, ever.

But you hate yourself, because you’ve somehow managed to fall for him. 

It’s not uncommon for Spideys to fall for each other. Peter Parker and Cindy Moon, Miles Morales and Gwen Stacy. But you know this is the one time it just wouldn’t end well for you.

You can already hear Hobie’s comments if he ever found out. He’d probably rebuke you even though you’d never try anything. Tell you he doesn’t feel that way and you’re delusional for potentially thinking that he would ever tie himself down. Spiders are meant to be swinging free and all that.

Even worse, he just happens to be beautiful. You’re positive that if Hobie wasn’t so anti-everything he would have stuck with being a runway model. His face is molded in a distinctive way that has you trying to catch his glance, even if he only looks at you with nonchalance, completely unbothered, not a hint of chemistry in his eyes.

It is with great displeasure that you find yourself wanting his bored attention anyways.

And so you’ve been swallowing your crush for the greater part of a year now. You’re sure it will pass like all things do.

Pavitr, as much as you love him, has told you many times about the “chemistry” between you and Hobie– and you have told him every time to fuck off. Not in an actual harsh way, because again you can’t help but love the guy, but because you don’t need false hope.

You’re just Spider-Woman. Another red-and-yellow suited variant of Jessica Drew, you might as well just be another Peter Parker. You know that’s not how you’re supposed to think of yourself, but it’s just how it is. Canon events brought you here, and according to Miguel, it’s not something you chose– you just happened to be there at the right time and place. You’re no Jess, who comes in on her motorcycle, raging heat and excitement on her toes– you are one of the many, instead of being exceptional like the few.

You’re not like Hobie, who is as far as you know, one of a kind.

“What’s on your mind, Spider-Woman?” Hobie asks as he picks through random tech on the desk in Miguel’s lab, taking what he feels is useful for whatever it is he does with the stuff. He’s never used your name, because he doesn’t know it.

You and a few other Spider-People have chosen to stay anonymous, for different reasons, and only Miguel and Margo know who you really are. Hobie has told you before that that’s pretty cool– he only chose to give up his name because it was easier to get along with people that way. Hobie knows there’s power in people.

“Just babysitting. Obviously.” You motion to Mayday, who takes this moment to thwip out a web and swing away from you– but you’re faster and you grab her back into your arms, and she pouts.

“Nah, nah. I mean that sour expression upon your lovely little visage, imbecile.” He pokes your masked cheek, and you find yourself blushing but pulling away from him. Hobie is like that– overly familiar and no real sense of space because he doesn’t care.

“It’s not lovely.” You retort, fully convinced of it because he has never seen your face, only your incredulous expression through the eyes of your mask. 

You think that Hobie is again being sarcastic about your unknown appearance, and because his back is facing yours as he searches through random shelves now, you don’t catch how his face frowns at your response.

“Disagreements about your anonymous-but-surely beautiful face aside– not that looks matter, mind you– you’re clearly miffed about something.” Hobie turns and crosses his arms, and it’s with a little embarrassment and comfort that you want his advice. Even if it’s kind of to do with him.

“Well, I guess, uh… lately I’ve just been feeling kind of down. Like what’s the point of all this?” You bite your lip, knowing Hobie’s feelings on nihilism. “I don’t mean like nothing in life matters, Hobie. I mean more that I don’t matt– I don’t… anyways, I feel useless. I don’t have anything special about me, I don’t really bring anything to the Spider-Society that wasn’t already brought.”

"Whoa whoa whoa. Nah, lady, you've got your priorities all twisted." Hobie pulls your arms, bringing you kind of closer to him, and rests his hands on your shoulders, making you listen. "This inner hatred stuff– that sick urge to feel shame and then blast it inside of yourself, all that repression, yeah? It's a crock of shit."

"Huh?" You and Mayday both peer up at him. You behind your mask, and she with her crocheted one. 

Hobie picks up Mayday, finally giving into her wishes to be held by him, and she immediately giggles. There’s a subtle smile on his face that warms him to you a little.

"It might feel good in the moment. It might even feel revolutionary." Hobie scowls, and scratches his jaw. "It's worthless. Notice, Spider, I didn't call you worthless. The very action is garbage, a visceral thing that brings no productive value– that's what they want you to feel."

"Ah, because then I'll never fight against the establishment, right, Hobie? I'll be too busy fighting myself." You say mockingly, taking on a fake-pretentious-Cockney accent, mimicking him, but Hobie gives you a chill look and nods.

"Now you're getting it."

"Aw." You slump and slouch and sit on the counter full of gadgets and gizmos next to him. "I know you're right, but… don't you ever get people getting mad at you?"

"You've lost me."

"Like… being so responsible." You roll your eyes as Hobie snickers and whispers the spider-mantra you all know so well. "Or just living by your own ideology so… efficiently. It's almost like a slap in the face to the rest of us Spiders. We don’t know how to cope, and here comes along Spider-Punk with all his personal assurance that even if things aren't alright, he'll make it alright for himself."

"Oi, trust me, it wasn't all that easy." Hobie sniffs and sits down next to you, holding Mayday close and then letting her go as she crawls onto the wall in front of you. "You really think I haven't had a bad day? I haven’t had my moments of self doubt, huh?”

“Uh… well. When you put it like that, it does sound kind of crazy.” You admit, and nudge him with your shoulder. “I didn’t mean any harm, Hobie. I just feel so… inadequate.”

“Just stop.” He crosses his arms and closes his eyes, and you feel that yet again, he’s somewhat unreadable. “Don’t think those things. You’re not inadequate.”

“But I–”

“Stop.” He grasps your hands, and squeezes them tightly in his own, and you wonder if Hobie has ever looked this seriously at you, his eyes soft yet firm with affection.

You’re in trouble, you think. Your heart is pounding and you’re really glad he can’t see your face.

“I don’t think you know how important you are.” He utters so quietly, in that very deep voice that has you leaning in to hear him better. “You’re not nothing, Spider-Woman. You’ve done a lot of good for your Earth-257, I’m sure, and that makes you something special. Like the rest of us– you’re kind of irreplaceable, right?”

“I guess.”

“Not ‘I guess.’” Hobie punches the side of your arm and you pretend to say ow, laughing a little. “If you didn’t exist, we’d all be poorer for it. Peter couldn’t ask you to chill with his baby, and I couldn’t be here talking your ear off.”

“But I’m not– I don’t really compare to her, you know?” You say without thinking, and then immediately squint at your own stupidity. 

“Who’s her?” Hobie is wary of how your expression is shifting. “Stacy?”

“Uh, no.” You inhale, exhale, and then decide it’s time to get it over with. “Jess.”

“Jess? Jessica Drew, huh?” Hobie smirks a little. “You don’t want to be adopted by her, do you?”

“More complicated than Gwen’s weird fantasy.” You shift on your spot on the counter, and pull off your mask after a minute of tribulations. “I’m… also Jessica Drew.”

You feel incredibly shy as Hobie takes in your face, wary of his every move as you feel yourself sweating, and he grasps your face gently, peering into your eyes and taking a look at your features, as if he’s really trying to remember them.  

“Huh.”

“What is it?” You say a little too defensively, and he shrugs. 

“You do have a lovely visage, you silly little sod. Even if it’s completely different from Jess’ face.” He laughs as you shove him away, covering your face in your hands. “No, don’t do that.”

He’s tracing your jaw, and he murmurs. “Maybe you could use a few piercings… a tat or two… ever thought about it?”

“No.” You shut your eyes. “I’m not cool like you.”

“Oh, shut it.” He leans in imperceptibly closer, and you blink, eyes open. Maybe Pavitr had a point that Hobie and you have something, because there’s not really another explanation for that look in his eyes. “You’re plenty cool, Jessica Drew. It was just a shit suggestion of mine.”

You think Hobart “Hobie” Brown is sweeter than you previously thought. You have half a mind to tell him about your feelings.

You and Hobie both look up, Spider-Senses tingling, and sure enough, Mayday is cooing from the ceiling– she leaps into your already waiting arms. She giggles at your expression.

Oh well, you think. There’ll be some other time to work up the courage to tell him.

Hobie half-smirks at her. “Way to interrupt us, Mayday.”

She looks at him all confused, tilting her head in a “huh?” motion, and you feel the same way, not entirely sure what Hobie meant by that and not willing to assume either.

He answers you by pulling your face in a sudden, swift motion, connecting his lips to yours, and in between the two of you, Mayday shrieks and laughs. She crawls off to the side of you, no longer smothered between your torsos.

Hobie is weirdly insistent– you feel like he’s been wanting to do this for a while, maybe longer than the length of your conversation (you don’t know if this is just a funny little fling for him, but you’re fairly sure it isn’t) and he’s a lot taller and lankier than you, so he really has to tower over you to reach your mouth better. He’s grasping your jaw and neck and the back of your head with a lot of intensity– you feel wildly dizzy when he pulls away.

“Uh.” Peter B. Parker is standing in front of you both, mouth wide open, and you look back at Hobie and he grins rather coolly, not really giving a damn. It’s enough to make you snort. “Wait, who are you?”

“Oh. Spider-Woman from Earth 257.” You remember Peter has never seen your face, either. “Jessica Drew?”

“Right, right.” Peter raises his hands in a whoop-de-doo motion, like he should’ve known that. “Nice to know what you look like behind the mask. Not nice to know that you’ve been avoiding your babysitting duties. Why are you two fooling around like prepubescent children? What happened to responsibility?”

“Ahhhhh, please, Peter. Live a little.” Hobie stands up, his full length of height drawing him to about the same height as Peter if not an inch taller. He picks up Mayday and hands her off to him. “Let’s not act as if you and MJ weren’t shacking up in the sleeping pods last week, yeah? Does Miguel need to know about how irresponsible you were?”

You think he’s kidding, but Peter pales and you clap your hands over your mouth, trying not to laugh. Miguel would absolutely throw a fit if he found that out.

“Uh…” Peter swallows. “At least that’s not an interdimensional tragedy-in-the-making like you two.”

“There’s no rules against that, I don’t think.” Hobie shrugs. “And if there are, fuck them. Miguel doesn’t know it all.”

“He really is punk to the very end.” Peter groans and leaves out to the hallway with Mayday. 

Hobie flashes a smile at you as he sits back down, ruffling your hair.

[luveline]

is it too late to request a Father’s Day request for kbd steve?🥹

KBD —Steve starts his Father’s Day. mom!reader, 1k

“What does that mean?” 

Steve leans back, baby toothbrush in hand, baby toothpaste dripping down Dove’s chin. “What does what mean?” 

“Father’s Day.” She licks her lip. 

“Dove, don’t eat it.” He rinses her toothbrush and beckons her carefully on her stepping stool to the sink. “Come spit, honey.” 

Dove spits her toothpaste. Steve grins, leaning over her, turning on the faucet and grabbing a handful of warm water to wipe her face. She spits again into his hand, but he’s unphased, wiping her down and turning off the water. 

She turns expectedly for a towel. Steve brings it to her face and dabs her dry gently. “Father’s Day just means a day for dad’s.” 

“Day to do what?” 

“It’s sort of like a birthday. Like, a day for children to show they love their daddy’s.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “So if you really love me, Dove, today’s the day to show it.” 

Her lashes kiss her eyebrows as her eyes widen. “Today?” 

“It’s today, yeah.” 

Steve looks down on her, his little baby with her mom’s surprised face and his everything else, give or take. She’s getting so smart, but she’s still so small, Steve can pick her up like a couple of cans of tinned pears. She’s never heavy, just whiny. She looks up at him and he can see a few cogs still turning. 

“Babe,” he says, holding her face softly, “it’s not a big deal. Every day we spend together is a good day, so you don’t have to worry. I love my girl, I love all my girls, and I’m just excited for mom’s big breakfast.” 

“I love you, too,” she says seriously. 

He smooths the temporary wrinkle from between her eyebrows. “I love you more. Are we all done in the bathroom? Do you need to pee before we go have breakfast?” 

She doesn’t need a pee. Dove offers her hand and he takes it, helping her down from the stool, and guiding her out of the bathroom back to the master bedroom. You’re sitting on the made bed with Wren laying down beside you, freshly changed and dressed for what feels like the millionth time. 

“Hey. Did you brush?” you ask him. 

“We both brushed, duh.” Steve leans down behind Dove to frame her shoulders proudly. “Show mom your pearly whites, baby.” 

Dove beams. You pick Wren up and prop her, smiling and quiet, on your knee to see Dove’s teeth. “Woah, look at that, Wren. Look at Dove’s clean teeth, aren’t they perfect?” 

Wren gurgles with a distinct sense of sisterly love. Wren and Dove get along well, all the girls do, but Steve believes there’s been a faction forming between Beth and Avery, so he’s glad for Dove’s fondness as she steps away from him to try and give the baby a hug. Wren doesn’t know enough to hug back yet, but you do. 

“Come on, let’s go have breakfast,” Steve says, sparing a glance behind you for the spoils of Father’s Day. There are some clothes, some candies, and a favourite tray of crafts made through teamwork for Steve to display at his discretion. He couldn’t be any luckier. 

You’re smiling too as you follow him out of the bedroom. You usually are, to be fair to you, you’ve always smiled around Steve because you’re both remarkable idiots in love with one another after everything, because of everything. Steve can’t believe he gets to be in one of those marriages that get stronger each year, and occasionally you return the sentiment aloud, whispering something kind in his ear when you’re both almost sleeping. They don’t have a word for how much I love you, H. 

He catches you for a quick kiss pressed to your cheek as you reach the bottom of the stairs. 

“Oh, thanks,” you mumble, rubbing your cheek against your shoulder in a mock demureness that actually makes his heart skip a beat. If he does it enough times, your faking it will become real. 

He kisses you again. “Beautiful,” he says. 

“Thanks,” you say again, your tone tipping into shyness, just a touch. 

“I’m beautiful,” Dove says. 

She paws at Steve’s leg. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, ushering her forward to make room for everyone to keep walking. “Dove, I think you’re the most beautiful three nearly four year old in the whole wide world.” 

“Am I the most beautiful…” Bethie pauses, standing on a chair at the table, her nightie creased but her hair done and out of her face. “How old am I?” she asks. 

“Six!” Steve says. “You don’t remember how old you are?” 

“I forgot.” She frowns, and then she shakes it off. “Daddy, we’re setting the table.” 

“And you’re doing such a good job!” He turns his head one way and the other, searching their tired kitchen for his eldest girl. “Avery, where’d you go?” he asks. 

She pops up in front of him with a roar. “Got you!” she declares, wrapping her arms around his legs. 

“You think so?” He grabs her under the arms and lifts her. She’s much heavier than the rest of her sisters, but she’s his big girl, so of course she is. Steve isn’t too old as to carry her yet, letting her torso fall forward, her back to his chest as he hangs her upside down. 

She bursts into terrified laughter. “Dad, put me down! You’re dropping me!” 

“How many times do we have to go over this, Ave? I have never dropped you. I will never drop you.” He chuckles nonchalantly. “Looks like I’m the one that got you.” 

“You’re not funny, dad!” 

“I’m very funny.” He manages to get her the right way round again, and puckers his lips for a kiss. She doesn’t kiss him. “Avery, it’s Father’s Day. You can’t be mad at me ‘cos that’s illegal.” 

“You’re illegal.” 

“Just one little kiss?” he asks softly. 

“You have to!” Dove says, attempting to climb onto the chair with Beth, your hand behind her back. “Avery, it’s Father’s Day.” 

“I know, Dove, he just said that!” 

Still, Steve gets his kisses and a good hug, too. He lets his voice go all melty and corny as he rubs his nose into her cheek, “Thanks, my little nugget. You give the best kiss in the world.” 

“I am not a nugget.” 

“Are you sure? How do we check?” 

You put the baby in her padded high chair, convince Dove and Beth that they’ll be happier sitting in their own chairs on their booster pillows, and then slide behind Steve and Avery to push at them. “Come on, I’m making breakfast.” 

“What are we having?” Steve asks, smiling over Avery’s shoulder as she nuzzles her face against his neck. She used to fit in one arm, but he doesn’t mind wrapping both of them around her as he sits down, his long girl tight to his chest. 

“Everything,” you promise. “The whole works for my guy.” 

“Whole works,” he says, kissing the top of Avery’s ear. “Can you believe that?” 

[appocalipse]

RIGHT WHERE I WANT TO BE : ̗̀➛ SIRIUS BLACK

summary: it's only when lily accidentally spills amortentia on you and all you can smell is cigarettes and dog fur that you realize you're in love with sirius — probably the only person in the world you shouldn't be in love with.

"Oh, crap!" Lily seems on the verge of panic as she stares at the fresh stain on your clothes. "I'm so sorry!"

Somewhat shocked, you reach your hand to the front of your uniform and try to rub it away. It's no use. "It's okay," you assure her gently, relieved that the liquid didn't spill on the clean set of clothes you were folding instead, "it was an accident."

You put the clothes safely away in the trunk near your bed. They still have the fresh and clean scent of lavender. Your uniform, however…

Lily points her wand at your chest, and the stain quickly disappears. She had rushed through the entrance of the dormitory fast as lightning, crashing right into you and spilling…

Well, what exactly?

"Lily," you bring a hand to your own face, sniffing, then sniffing again. "What is this? It smells like a wet dog and-"

Your eyes meet and you immediately dislike the look on her face. Too much restrained excitement slowly bubbling up...

"-cigarettes…" you trail off, some sort of realization dawning on you way too late.

It can't be.

Lily bites her lower lip as if trying to hold back a smile. "Is that what it smells like to you?"

You also catch the scent of quill ink and freshly brewed coffee, so it can only be…

You put your hand away from your nose as if it's on fire.

"Tell me this is not what I think this is."

"If you're not thinking of Amortentia, then yes."

"Why would you brew Amortentia?!"

"For Professor Slughorn," she sees the confusion etched on your face and looks positively horrified. "Not for Professor Slughorn to drink! Ew! I said I'd like to try brewing one because it's, you know, a bit complicated and I've never tried before. He said he'd give Gryffindor some points if I succeeded. I didn't know you would… you know, smell Sirius."

"I never said I smelled him!"

"Okay! Okay," Lily raises both hands in surrender. Then, quieter, she adds, "You can pretend all you want."

You sigh. "Did you only have this vial?"

"Well, there should be some potion left in the cauldron, I think."

Great. An opportunity to escape this beyond strange situation. "I'll go get it for you."

"But I-"

You're out the Gryffindor common room before Lily has a chance to question your offer. The need to get away from that impending conversation is stronger than anything else right now.

Your heart is racing as you walk through the corridors of the castle, heading towards the dungeons, where Potions class usually take place. Each step is an effort to calm your turbulent mind and find some peace.

Upon reaching the Potions classroom, you welcome the silent space as you enter. The characteristic smell of magical ingredients and herbs fills your nostrils, bringing a familiar and almost comforting sensation… until you catch that smell. Amortentia.

You look around, searching for Lily's cauldron, which she mentioned leaving behind.

It's not hard to find; the smell is quite distinct, enchanting, all the things you love most in the world somehow united in a single aroma.

The cauldron is sitting on one of the workbenches. You approach cautiously, making sure not to knock anything over. Then you rummage through the shelves for an empty vial and pour some of the potion into it, feeling like you're doing something wrong even though Lily had Slughorn's permission.

The door opens, and you almost drop a row of glass bottles as you turn to look.

"What are you doing here?" he asks.

It's Sirius. Of course, it's him.

He closes the door behind him, and your heart skips a beat as it usually does whenever he's around. He's wearing the Gryffindor uniform, the first two buttons undone, revealing a patch of delicate skin just below his neck.

You don't need to wonder how he got there or why. Chances are, he extracted every piece of information he needed from Lily with little to no effort.

"What are you doing?" he asks calmly. You, on the other hand, don't feel calm at all.

"Nothing, just..."

"Just?" He takes a step closer, and you instinctively move away from the workbench, trying not to show the nervousness you truly feel.

"I just came to get something," you say.

Sirius gives a suspicious glance at the cauldron. "Is it a love potion?" He's a skilled wizard. Skilled enough to know the answer to that question, yet he waits for you to respond.

"Lily made it," you say defensively, holding up the vial containing the potion to illustrate your point unnecessarily.

"And what scent do you smell?" he questions, with a genuine curiosity in his tone that catches you off guard. "What does the potion smell like to you?"

"Lily told you," it's far from a question.

But Sirius has a knack for playing games.

"She told me what?"

"You know what."

This time, you step back as he advances, unable to help yourself, swallowing hard and Sirius notices. He takes another step forward, and you take another step back.

"Sirius," you warn.

In return, Sirius says your name, his tone lighter, more playful, soft as a feather. Then, another step.

You nearly bump your hip against one of the workbenches as you take another desperate step back. Sirius, being Sirius, raises an eyebrow, making no effort to hide his amusement.

It's unfair. It's simply unfair that he's so good-looking, starting at you without feeling the need to averting his gaze. "You don't have to do this," you find yourself saying.

Sirius seems genuinely puzzled.

"Do what?"

You steal a glance in your peripheral vision. The room won't go on forever; you need to say something to get out of this situation before he gets too close. You don't trust yourself near Sirius.

"Turn me down. Be all nice-" you stutter. He keeps advancing toward you. Back almost against the wall, you dodge another workbench and turn to the left, trying to prevent him from cornering you.

Sirius chuckles. "Is that what you think?"

"I'm a big girl. I can take rejection."

He glances in the direction of the cauldron. "Do you want to know what scent I smell?"

"No."

"Leather-"

"Sirius-"

"Gasoline," he raises his chin, nose in the air as if enjoying one scent after another. "Apple pie."

For a moment, you close your eyes. "Stop it."

"And lavender."

Your heart is pounding in your chest. He's not being serious, a little voice in your mind insists. It can't be serious. He's just teasing you... or maybe just being a good friend. Too good a friend.

It would be easier if he wasn't. If he were less kind to you, less handsome, less charming.

It's not easy.

You're breathless, trying to keep your distance from Sirius as he sets a slow advance, a constant tease. It's an internal battle between the desire to give in to the attraction you feel for him and the need to protect yourself — but the latter wins, for now.

"Sirius," you plead, your voice quiet, "stop"

He pauses for a moment, his gray eyes fixed on yours. "You think I'm joking, don't you? You think I'm just being nice?"

"I... I don't know, Sirius. It's so...confusing."

He takes yet another step towards you, his lips curling into a challenging smile. Always challenging. "Confusing or scary?"

The tension between you two is palpable, and you wonder if he can hear the rapid beating of your heart, threatening to break out of your rib cage any given moment. You know you're fighting your own feelings, afraid of surrendering to something that may - and probably will - end in heartbreak.

"It's not fair," you whisper, trying to keep your voice steady. "It's not fair that you're so... so-"

"So what?" he teases, closer. "So handsome? So charming? So... irresistible?"

You can tell he's somehow having fun. You don't understand how he can maintain a playful tone in a moment like this.

You catch a whiff of his cologne, feel the warmth of his body, and your heart races once again. If there's a way to prevent Sirius from getting what he wants, you don't know what it is. "So confusing," you finish, almost in a whisper. "You confuse the hell out of me."

Sirius pauses for a moment, his eyes locked with yours, and you momentarily catch a flicker of something deeper in this playful gaze. He slowly raises a hand and gently, gentler than ever, caresses your face, his fingers tracing a delicate path along your skin.

"I don't see how I could be confusing you," he murmurs, his voice soft and husky. "I thought I was being pretty clear..." It's teasing, of course it is; when it comes to Sirius, few things aren't.

But there's something else behind it, too.

The air grows heavier.

"You're not clear about anything, Sirius," you reply, your voice faltering slightly. "I never know what you're thinking. I never know what you really mean."

"Maybe you're just not paying attention."

You furrow your brow, confused by Sirius' response. He's playing with you, as he always does, but this time it feels more intense, more meaningful. You struggle against the temptation to give in completely, to say something you might not be able to take back.

"I do pay attention, Sirius," you respond, your voice showing determination you're not entirely sure you feel. "It's you who likes to make everything more difficult than it needs to be."

He moves closer once again, so close now that you can feel his breath against your skin, the tip of his nose an inch away from touching yours.

"Do you want me to be clearer?" he whispers, voice laced with a hint of his usual mischief. "Make it easier?"

You swallow, feeling your heart race. You know you can't admit your feelings for him, you can't let your defenses down. Not when he makes a point to hide comfortably behind a facade, away from anything that makes him feel vulnerable.

You need honesty.

"Yes," you whisper, your voice almost faltering. "Yes, I do."

Sirius pauses for a moment, eyes searching yours, and you can feel your breath catch in your throat. Then, slowly, he moves closer and closer still, until his lips almost touch yours.

There is a feeling that you can't quite put into words.

"I want you," he murmurs, an admission that hangs in the air like a charged electric current. "I want to be with you. I want you to be happy– I'll even accept your awful taste in music," he adds with a playful smirk, teasingly referencing your occasional guilty pleasure for a particular genre of music that he often mocks.

A laugh escapes your lips, a combination of relief and affection. His sincerity is pretty close to melting away any remaining doubts that linger in your heart. "I have great taste in music," you state playfully.

Sirius brushes the side of his nose against yours affectionately. "Sometimes," he gives in, voice filled with genuine warmth.

You lean into his touch, savoring the tenderness and intimacy of the moment. It's as if the world around you has faded away, leaving only the two of you in this bubble of shared emotions.

"Sometimes?" you raise an eyebrow, pretending to be offended.

He chuckles, a low and melodic sound that resonates deep within your chest, a sound you don't get to hear as often as you'd like. "You're lucky you're pretty," he teases, his voice filled with affectionate playfulness.

"Oh?"

"I have a soft spot for pretty girls."

You roll your eyes but can't help the smile that forms on your lips. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Black."

Sirius leans in and presses a soft kiss to your cheek, pulling away with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Who said I was trying to get anywhere?" he whispers, fingers trailing along the curve of your waist, drawing you closer. "I'm already where I want to be."

Your heart swells with warmth, and you can feel a blush creeping up your cheeks.

"Smooth talker."

It doesn't sound like an accusation when you're about to kiss him.

[seospicybin]

TOO HOT TO HANDLE.

PART I

Felix x reader. (s)

Too Hot To Handle Masterlist

Synopsis: You and Felix become contestants in a reality dating show, Too Hot To Handle. (15,4k words)

Author's note: It's kind of experimental turning this into a fanfic but hope you enjoy it. Part II will be out next week x

Content warning: This is entirely a work of fiction and not affiliated with real Too Hot To Handle show.

YOU: I think physical appearance is not that important. It's all about confidence. [flips hair] I think all women should carry their self with confidence, stand tall, and always strive to be better. 

But when you look at me, I'm pretty much a smoke show [laughs] I'd date myself if I could [laughs]

My ideal type is someone with a distinct charm. I'd love to see a tattoo or two on a man and someone who knows how to keep it exciting, cause I get bored easily [blows kisses to the camera]

-

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

That's why you accept your cousin's offer in exchange for money that would save you from getting kicked out of your apartment and from dropping out of college.

She was in a desperate time too when she reached out to you as one of the contestants decided to drop out of the reality show she worked in as the casting director.

Guess desperate times reached out to each other.

But you, as a nobody with less than a hundred followers on Instagram and you believe half of them are bots, have no experience of being in front of the camera, doubting that you'll do well in it.

Other than that, you think reality shows are just a waste of time, they have no educational value but dumb people down.

But what option do you have? You're broke, jobless, and a week away from being homeless when the offer came.

"What's the reality show about again?" You ask your cousin, Sara.

She rolls her eyes at you, it's probably the umpteenth time you asked her about it again. "It's on the description."

It's on the pile of papers she gave you but you're too lazy to read that many pages written in small fonts with single spaces.

You have to bring it close to your face to read it.

A group of determined singles visit paradise to meet, mingle, and remain celibate for their chance to win $200,000.

"So..." you stop reading after seeing the amount of money you can win from it, "it's basically a dating show."

"Yes," she answers, "but... you will not be allowed to kiss or touch or have sex."

"Oh, thank God!" You let out a long sigh of relief.

Yes, you need the money but knowing that you don't have to do such things for a reality show makes you feel relieved. At least when one of your peers knows, you wouldn't have to be embarrassed about it. You can say you did it for the experience, but spare the part that you did it for quick money.

Another question pops into your head, "But then... how are we going to date each other if we're not allowed to kiss or touch and whatnot?" 

Sara smiles at you, "See? That's the catch!"

She gets all excited in a second, "you have to resist each other from going at it," she further explains as her eyes turn a little loopy.

"Oh, so they'll be sex in it?"

She chuckles, "Maybe yes. Maybe not. Who knows?"

That's a vague answer and you still don't get how she would make money from making a reality show but doubtfully giving people what they want.

It's not like you're in it to actually find someone to date. You agree to join because she promised you more money once the shooting is done.

You're going to stay at a gorgeous villa on an island with a few people and try not to be in each other's pants, which is not what you intend to do in the first place.

What's so hard about it anyway? 

-

Wow!

You might have missed the part that you have to be dressed in provocative swimwear and show as much skin as possible in the papers Sara gave you.

However, there's this one motto that always works to make you through the day.

Fake it till you make it and you have no other option but to fake it.

Your hair is styled into loose waves to make it look like you've been spending time at the beach and thankfully, you're allowed to do your own make-up. You put on a simple one, put a little blush on your cheek, and a layer of shiny gloss over your lips.

You changed into a two-piece bikini and look at yourself in the mirror.

Damn, you don't even have to fake it anymore. You look hot and you think that's why they still passed you as a contestant despite knowing that Sara is a relative of yours.

The first segment of the reality show is contestants entering the villa one by one, but in your case, you have to do it with another gorgeous girl.

"I'm Maeve," she introduced herself in a cute Irish accent.

You might or might have not just checked her out from head to toe before shaking her hand back to introduce yourself back.

You're taller than her but that's what makes her cute. She has that pretty dirty blonde hair and a nice smile, exuding a very positive vibe. You like her already.

The staff gives you the cue to start walking into the gravel path that leads to the villa while the cameras take you from every angle possible to capture your best features.

By best features, you mean your breasts and boobs, anything that possibly makes people think that's how a perfect body should be.

You are against female objectification but again, what other choice do you have? Giving up your principles just so you can live another day in this capitalist world.

Cheers welcoming both of you as the other contestants that have made their entrance before you, watching you step into the scene.

You can feel their eyes on you, either in envy or lust or things in between. You introduce yourself around with hugs and kisses, which is not how you usually introduce yourself.

Once they handed you a welcome drink which is a glass of warm champagne from being under the sun too long, it's when you see each one of them better.

Your confidence deflates in an instant because they're all way hotter and sexier than you. They look good in their bikinis and their hair is perfectly tousled like they rolled out of bed looking that gorgeous.

You're not just talking about the female contestants, the male too are incredibly stunning, their abs are on display since they're only wearing swimming trunks, their skins glowing under the sun.

You find yourself fanning your neck just from stealing glances at it.

"Hot, huh?" The other girl asks you, one with a perfect bone structure and full lips.

You lightly chuckle, "Everyone in here is hot," you carefully with what you said, aware that a mic is attached to your body.

"I know right?" She says with a flirty smile.

After a moment, you learn her name is Laura and she's the epitome of a hot girl. She has the perfect hair, perfect body, perfect nails, and even the way her hair parted is perfectly in the middle. Other than that, Laura, like other pretty girls, has it easy in her life, she's a social media influencer with 300k-something followers and said she's here for 'shit and giggles', her words, not yours.

A lot more male contestants enter the villa and everyone refills their champagne flutes as the temperature raises. You can't tell if it's because you're so close to the beach or there's just a lot of heat in here, or it could be that you're panicking inside and try not to show it.

Your cousin Sara is wrong about one thing.

There's not just one catch, they're all a catch and you can't do anything about them.

-

YOU: I feel like I'm in an ice cream shop and they have all of my favorite flavors. Vanilla, chocolate, salted caramels, cookies, and cream... [bites thumb] I just can't wait to have a scoop of each flavor [chuckles]

-

After the introduction and draining six bottles of champagne in the process, everyone is allowed to explore the place, get familiar with each other, and mingle.

Well, of course, you have to do your part, be flirty with them but you don't intend to go into that yet. Not when your confidence level is at its lowest that you can't even fake it anymore.

You sit by the lounge chair by the beach, enjoying the view of the beach while trying to ignore all the cameras filming you.

One of the cameramen suddenly got closer to get an angle when you notice that one of the male contestants is coming to the beach and you see no one else there but you.

Suddenly, you feel alarmed, immediately check your appearance, and got you wondering why that is your first reaction. This never happens in real life.

"Hi," he says, sitting on the other lounge chair next to you.

You raise yourself from the longue chair, supporting the back of your head with a cushion.

"Hi," you finally say back, trying to sound calm yet sultry like how Laura speaks.

You notice that he speaks in an accent that you can't quite decipher its origin, "may I know what accent is that?"

"It's French, but I do speak German as well," he says.

"And English," you point out.

He chuckles, "That too!"

"I learn that everyone has an exotic accent while I'm here with the most basic accent," you say and it surprises you how well you're doing at being an obnoxious reality show star.

He smiles, showing his perfectly good teeth, "Nah, I think you're cute."

And surprises yourself again at how receptive you are, smiling at his compliment. You laugh to yourself as you try to remember his name, everyone introduced themselves too quickly earlier and gave you no time to memorize them.

"I'm sorry. What's your name again?"

"Alex," he says, taking another step towards you as if he wasn't standing close enough.

Alex is super tall, super attractive, muscles in all the right places and you have never cared about such things in a man before. Alex has nice brown skin and soft curly hair, he's charming in a way that subtly grows in you.

"Well, Alex, how come you're so tall?" You playfully ask him, holding your champagne flute close to your face.

"I play basketball," he answers.

You click your tongue in awe and at the same time, feel afraid that Alex has raised your standards of men to a whole new level.

-

YOU: Alex is hot. Isn't that obvious? That French accent ooh... [whistles] and he plays basketball. He's like a tall glass of water and I'm super thirsty.

-

He's hot, he's tall, he speaks three languages, and he also plays sports. What else can he do? You wonder...

"What about you?" He asks.

You think for a moment, "Well, I only speak English," you answer with giggles.

He leans forward and puts his elbows on his knees, looking at you with an intense stare.

"I can speak cat language too if that counts," you add.

He raises an eyebrow at you, "So you're a cat person, huh?"

"Yes, I am."

"I see..." he says, looking at you with an even more intense stare, "you like to be spoiled, huh?"

You turn to lay on your side to show him the curve of your body and bite your lower lip as you bravely stare back at him, "who doesn't like to be spoiled?"

Alex licks his lip as you catch him glancing at your lips, he thought of kissing you for sure but has no idea what stops him.

"What animal person are you?" You ask as the conversation starts to dry up.

He props a hand under his chin, "Why don't you guess?"

You tap your lips with your index finger to subtly tease him, "A puma?" You wildly guess.

He laughs, "Why?"

"I got the impression that you're wild, can't be tamed," you say whatever it is crossed your head at that moment.

You don't think Alex would care anyway with what you're saying because all he can think about is whether he should kiss you or not.

"Am I right? Or am I not wrong?" You dare him by closing the gap a few inches short.

Yet he remains in his seat and you're getting bored of waiting already. You retreat from keeping this going and sit up on the longue chair.

"I think I have to start getting ready for the party," you excuse yourself.

You're not proud that you're back to being such a bitch who plays with men but gosh, something about this reality show that brings out the bad girl in you.

-

YOU: Perhaps it's too early for him to get his move on someone. I think he wants to keep his options open and that's what I'm doing as well, I want to get to know a few of them and see if I... uh can have some fun.

-

The males are already waiting at the beach for the party.

The females are taking longer time to get ready because there is so much to do, hair, make-up and even putting fake acrylic nails.

You have lived as a woman for twenty-three years but only realized now how exhausting it is to be one. Not that you don't like it but people oftentimes don't give women enough credit for it.

"Come here, you sexy!" One of the males says.

Wow. What a way to impress a woman!

Everyone is sitting on the benches set around a bonfire and drinking cocktails with umbrellas in them, sipping and talking, checking each other out in secret or not so secret

A player recognizes another player so there's no use for all contestants to play naive, pretending that they're just here to sit around bonfire and make friends.

Everyone knows that they're here to get wild and becomes famous by doing it on a reality show. Except you thought, you don't want to go that far.

"Icebreaker time!" Says the girl with brunette hair and rosy cheeks. You believe her name is Heidi.

"Each one of us will take turns to stand in the middle with a blindfold on and anyone can do anything to that person. In the end, they have to guess who did it," she explains but more like babbling around the words while seductively chuckling in between words.

You don't get what she's saying but try to learn the game by watching as she takes the first turn to set an example. Heidi is a total babe, it's impossible if no one wants to have a piece of her.

A male comes up to her and has a deep kiss that put everyone to shame. One look and you can tell that it's one hell of a kiss. You sip the drink you've been holding in your hand.

Your heart is drumming the closer it gets to your turn, afraid that someone does things with you but it would be more embarrassing if no one does things with you.

So far, everyone at least has a kiss or a smooch, Laura even lets a guy touch her ample bosoms. You haven't made a move yet and it's kind of a requirement that you show your wild side because that's the idea of the show.

It's Jamie or that's what you remember his name is. He's taking his turn and putting a blindfold on, he looks gorgeous wearing a white shirt and short pants.

Jamie has glowing tan skin and six-pack abs, his hair must have skipped months of a haircut but rocking it all right. He keeps brushing his hair to the back, knowing that it looks better when it's messy.

You take a glance at everyone and none of them seem to make a move on him, impulsively, you get up from the stool and come up to him.

It's when you stand in front of him you have no idea what to do with him or more like, you have tons of ideas of what you want to do but can't choose one.

Everyone else is watching from their seats in anticipation, you shut down your brain from thinking and just go with it. You stand on your tiptoe and kiss him on the neck, covering your lips once you're done to not give him any clue that it's you who kissed him.

You run back to your seat and see what his reaction is once he takes his blindfold off. Next, Jamie has to guess who is it and to avoid looking suspicious, you calmly sip your drink and watch him guess who did it.

After taking too much time observing, he gives up, "I don't know. But whoever it is, I kind of want more," he says.

You try to remain calm and take another sip, looking anywhere but not in his direction.

It's finally your turn, your heart is beating faster and you wonder if the audio guy can hear it too with the mic resting around your neck.

Taking a quiet deep breath, you tie the blindfold over your eyes and around your head. You can only hope for the best now and block every insecurity that tries to reside in your head.

"Ooh..." everyone coos in unison and that only means someone is coming or about to do things to you.

Nervous, you clench and unclench your fists to calm yourself. Then a pair of hands gently cup your face and tilts your head upward.

Not ready for it, this mysterious person kisses your open mouth and proceeds to kiss you more, using his tongue in the most pleasurable way to taste you.

Damn! He's a good kisser and you reflexively respond to his kisses with your hands holding theirs. For a split second, you forget that you're in the middle of shooting a reality show and everyone is going to watch it.

You gasp the second they let go and have you fixing your lipstick because there's no way that phenomenal kiss not smudging it.

"Whoa. Can barely think after that kiss," you shamelessly tell everyone as you act drunk as you walk back to your seat.

Sipping your drink, you secretly assess everyone and try to guess which one of them kissed you. They're all hot anyway, it's not a loss to kiss one of them and you didn't know why you were fussing about it earlier.

Since Laura is taking the last turn and everyone seems to be whipped by her, you can see that all the male contestants anticipated this. You bet they're lining up to get a kiss from her.

It takes only a few seconds for anyone to make a move, the first one to have it is Daniel with half of his body covered in tattoos. He has a lean body and that bad boy attitude, he confidently strides to kiss Laura on the lips, so hard that she gasps in surprise.

You find yourself clapping at two people doing lewd things in front of a group of people. When you think Daniel is the only one succeeding in having a piece of Laura, another one takes his turn.

You almost scoff seeing Alex holds her by the neck and kisses her so deeply. Instant turn off, all those charms he has seems to be wiped off your head in a second.

-

YOU: Well, now we all know why Alex didn't kiss me [laughs] He likes someone else and that's good, I'll stop chasing him from here [sucks air through teeth] and on to the next one! [Raises hand triumphantly]

-

Moving on to the next segment, you prepare yourself for your act.

Sara is nice enough to let you know what the show is really about. When you ask everyone else, they believe that they're on a dating show and are here for partying and having fun and such.

Well, until... the cone-shaped talking pops out of its hiding and stops the party and the fun altogether.

"Hi, I'm Lana, and welcome to Too Hot Too Handle!"

Everyone stops talking and turns serious while deep inside you will find pleasure from their pain.

"You have been specially selected because you are all choosing meaningless sex over genuine relationships."

"That's true, though!" One of the males says and the other chuckles along.

"The purpose of this retreat is to help you gain deeper emotional connections in your personal relationships."

Daniel seems to be taking the news badly, "I'm not here for that!" He comments.

"As always, there are conditions to your stay here. You must abstain from sexual practices for the entirety of your stay."

Everyone is groaning in frustration, covering their eyes as if not having sex will make them die.

"No kissing. No heavy petting. And no sex of any kind."

More groans are spilling out of everyone's mouth.

"This also applies to self-gratification."

Wait! You didn't know that you'll not be allowed to touch yourself. Your body and you can't do anything about it.

-

YOU: The second I saw Lana, I know it's bad. But I didn't know it's that bad. Can't even touch myself? What?

-

"However, to aid your development, I've increased the prize fund to $200.000."

That one gets everyone hyped and jumping in excitement, including you. Thinking of that much money, you can shrug all your financial problems away. 

"Each time the rules are broken, money will be deducted from the prize fund."

But this one gets you down immediately, there's a possibility that no money will be left with all these horny people locked in a villa together.

"Everyone, welcome to the retreat!"

"Ugh!"

-

YOU: Everyone is pissed off, including me. But you know, something about being told not to do something only makes me want to do it [bites lip]

-

No, you're not pissed off about it. Sex is something you can easily avoid doing, you just need to keep it in your pants and that's what you're going to do.

You want the prize so much and want to put your focus solely on that.

"How do you feel, babe?" Maeve asks while putting her wavy hair into a messy bun.

You're cleaning up your make-up with her with Heidi in the room, "I'm super bummed!" You lie.

"I'm here to have fun so... I'll continue to do that," Heidi eggs on the conversation.

Maeve nods in agreement, "Right!"

Going to the bedroom, you see the next struggle and that is choosing your bed. A few of them have chosen partners to share the bed with. You don't want to choose yet so you nudge Maeve's elbow, "Want to share a bed?"

She smiles at you, "I thought you'd never ask," she answers.

Everyone else is on the bed and you look around, catching someone staring at you from across your bed. It's Jamie.

"It's you," he points at you.

You raise an eyebrow at him and mouthed, "What?"

He turns his head to the side and shows his neck, "the kiss."

Instead of answering, you slump down the bed and giggle behind the duvet. You bet he can tell from the color of the lipstick mark.

However, from all the males you see, you can't guess yet which one of them kissed you. Alex can't be it, he's sharing the bed with Laura and looking comfortable there.

That leaves Jamie, Daniel, Cole, and Felix. It could be Jamie but...

"Goodnight, babe!" Maeve says as the lights are turned off for the night.

"Night, beautiful!" You greet back and you silently thank her for stopping you to think about boys when you should be thinking about the money.

Eyes on the prize.

-

The first day and you wake up feeling so disoriented. It's the timezone, the weather, and the blinding sun that greets you the moment you get out of the bedroom.

They provide swimwear in the closet for everyone to wear besides your own clothes. You pick a pair and put on your make-up after with Laura and Alex, not sure if either of them is trying to make you jealous.

It's the first day of the rules applied and you already need to remind yourself of the prize fund.

"Who do you like?" You curiously ask Maeve as you're in the pool together with Jamie.

"I like Felix," She answers without a beat.

It's an obvious answer. If this show has two main characters they would be Laura and Felix. The males go for Laura and the females for Felix. You haven't had time to speak to Felix in person then again, everyone in here is attractive. 

"I think he's just so hot and cute," Maeve adds.

Jamie splashes her with water, "you're blushing!"

Maeve giggles and splashes water back at him, "what about you? What is your type?"

You didn't expect she'll turn the table at you and that you're like a rabbit about to get hit by a car.

"Come on, you can say it. Brunette with a British accent, nice smile, nice hair," Jamie playfully says with a grin at you.

Maeve chuckles then comments, "I think you two look cute together!"

-

YOU: I think Jamie is cute, he's a goofball. We share a vibe and he always smells so good [laughs] I can't say anything yet but yeah, let's see.

-

There are five males and five females, everyone can pair up and be a couple but things don't work out that way. There are so many things to consider like chemistry and connection, etcetera. However, you believe everyone is just waiting for someone to break the rules to go further.

That seems to be plausible with Lana throwing a party tonight.

"We're matching!" Jamie says.

You chuckle seeing that the only matching thing you have with him is the color of the pants you're wearing.

"You look beautiful," he compliments.

You tease him by jutting your ass at him and looking over your shoulder while batting your eyes at him, "Thank you!"

Doesn't want to be tempted, he turns your body around and puts his arm around you to lounging outside. You bet that he will use the opportunity to tell you about his intention.

You haven't been in relationships for so long that you forget how nerve-wracking it is.

"Cheers!"

"Cheers!" You clink your glass with him before taking a sip.

The sky is so pretty and clear tonight that you can see the stars like pinpricks on the night sky. The breeze is warm and salty, it's not good for your hair, you spent almost an hour straightening your hair and it's ruined in ten minutes.

"So do you have anyone you like?" Jamie asks.

You put your glass away and shake your head, "Nah, not yet."

He stares deeply into your eyes, "well, I like you," he suddenly admits.

"Like it isn't obvious," you jokingly say.

He laughs and licks his lips which makes you glance at his lips, it's round and full, glistening wet. You look away before it gets too creepy.

"You're gorgeous and easygoing and so fun to be around," he starts by complimenting you.

You don't know how he can have that conclusion when you only know each other for one day, you go along with him and nod, "Yeah, I agree."

He shifts on the seat and leans in close, putting his arm on the back of your head, "You're the first that caught my eyes when I came."

It's hard to know if Jamie said that in all honesty or to merely impress you. You saw how Alex jumped from one girl to another in a span of a few hours so you can't just trust his words.

Remember that they're all here for a reason, they're horny and emotionally unavailable. Sadly, that's what your types are for the last few months.

"I was hoping you'd compliment me more," you joke.

He throws his head back as he cracks a laugh, "I think it's your time to compliment me back."

You fold your legs on the sofa and put a cushion on your lap to play with the lint to keep your brain stimulated, to prevent you from zoning out midway.

You look at him as he looks back at you with hopeful eyes, "I think you're absolutely fit, you have a nice smile and are tall enough—"

"Tall enough?" He asks, a little offended.

You chuckle at his reaction, "In the best way. I hate when a guy is too tall," you explain.

"Okay, continue..." he allows.

"And you always smell so good," you lean in to take a whiff of his perfume.

"Good, yeah?"

"Tell me the perfume you're wearing," you playfully ask.

He shakes his head, "Not when there's the chance to make you take a whiff of it from me."

Jamie places his hand on your knee and the gust of wind makes his hair tousled and makes him look double attractive. His light brown eyes pierce right through you with the gaze he locked you in.

"What is there not to like about you?" You conclude.

He props a hand to support his head as he looks down at you, "what do you think about us?"

To be honest, it's too early to say something about this relationship. Not only that you barely know him, you don't have the intention to have a relationship at all.

"There's something there but I don't know, not sure about it yet," you honestly answer.

The hand on your knee moves up to your thigh now. Damn! Jamie is smooth.

"Maybe once I get to know you better, I'd know," you hurriedly add before he gets the wrong idea.

The next thing you know, you get yourself in a pickle as you find him leaning closer to you and his hand that was on your thigh, now resting on your waist.

"Maybe if we kissed, we'd know each other better," his eyes are centered on your lips.

"You want to kiss?" You lower your voice, afraid that there are other people around you.

Jamie leans in closer until his nose meets yours, "So bad," he answers.

Is it why he smells so good? That his perfume isn't just perfume, but it's also pheromones? You hold his chin, unable to choose whether to turn him away or bring him close, finding it hard to resist him.

-

YOU: Jamie looking so good tonight. He's literally too hot to handle [dramatically rolls eyes]

-

Jamie leans in closer and an inch away from your lips when you put your hand on his lips, stopping him from kissing you.

"Stop!" You mewl at him.

Jamie looks a little taken aback, thinking that he can seal the deal tonight.

"I want to kiss you," you tell him with your thumb brushes over his lips.

"But..." You cup his jaw and slowly speak to him so your explanation is not lost in the middle, "I don't want us to be the first to rule break."

If you were out there in the wild, you'd be all over each other by now. However, you think about the money, and spending money this early in the show isn't worth it, well, for you. Other than that, being the first to break the rules will only get you so much shit from everyone.

-

YOU: If we were outside, I would have ripped his clothes already by now [laughs] [facepalm] Lana, you should be proud of me.

-

Jamie sucks air through his teeth and laughs this off, maybe he feels a little rejected, you bruise his ego. Men are fragile like that.

"It's hard for me too," you sincerely tell him and throw your arms around him, consoling him with a hug.

"I'll just give you another kiss on the neck, okay?" you proceed to do it, placing a soft kiss on his neck right below his ear.

You hear him lowly groan with eyes closed, "That's not... uh, make it better."

He puts a hand around you, keeping you close next to him, "what about sharing a bed?"

You laugh at how relentless he is. Not only it means putting you at a bigger risk to break the rules but also, he's being haste about this.

"I'd like that," you answer, earning a grin from him.

"But not tonight," you hurriedly add.

His hand slides down your head to play with the end of your hair, twirling it around his fingers. 

"Why not?"

The player recognizes the player and Jamie is giving you the eyes right now. You look away and snug to his side, "I hump in my sleep and I think you'd like that too much."

He cracks a laugh with his hand drawing you closer to him, "More reason to share a bed!"

-

YOU: It's too early to share a bed with anyone. I still want to get to know the other and... [shrugs] keep my options open.

-

The party is far from over but you feel tired from socializing, and worse is, you can't escape them since you're sharing a house with them for the rest of the month.

You decide to excuse yourself, going to the make-up room and powdering your nose, then staying there to sip your drinks in silence.

There are nine other people to get footage from so you don't have to worry about making it interesting for people to watch.

"Hey, I've been looking for you!"

You turn on your seat to see Maeve entering the room, "what's up, babe?"

She drags the chair next to you, then sits on it. She checks her hair in the mirror and brushes the end with her fingers.

"I'm thinking of talking to Felix," she finally answers.

You sip your drink before talking, "And why are you here?"

Maeve laughs at your playful response, she leans back on her seat and sighs, "I don't know I'm so nervous to talk to him," she says.

That should be your question but you know that Maeve doesn't seek an answer from you, she needs some encouragements.

"You're gorgeous and fun, I think he'll like you," you tell her with a gentle squeeze on her shoulder.

She warmly smiles at you and checks herself again in the mirror.

"But if you intend to break the rules, I suggest you apply matte lipstick," you poke fun at her.

"I should do that," she searches for her make-up bag from the cluttering mess on the long vanity table.

After sending Maeve out of the door with another encouragement in a form of a cheeky slap to her butt, you bring your drink with you to the bedroom, feeling so ready to end the day already.

The first thing you see are two bodies going at it on the bed in the corner. You don't know why but you stay there standing in the doorway of the bedroom, watching them kissing on the bed.

After a minute of observation, you're positive it's Heidi and Daniel.

You hear someone coming from behind you, you hurriedly turn around to find Jamie there.

"Get me more drinks?" You immediately ask him, trying to sound natural.

"Sure, yeah, been looking for you," he says, more than eager to take you back to the party.

It's the only right thing to do. He doesn't care about the rules and if he knew that someone has broken the rules, he will be more relentless than he already is.

-

Thankfully, Lana doesn't announce any rulebreaking behaviors for today, the party ends on a good note and everyone has their happy ending, at least for today.

But for you, you're just happy to finally get on the bed.

As Maeve climbs onto the bed after you, you can't wait but ask her about how the talk went. 

"So, how's the talk?"

From the lack of her usual radiance on her face, you can tell that it didn't go well. You regret asking about it.

Maeve scoots closer to you on the bed and leans in, keeping her head turns away from Felix's bed.

"I talked to him and he was nice, said he finds me cute and funny," she keeps her voice low.

"Well, that's great!" You comment, a little louder than you intend to.

Maeve puts on a thin smile, "yeah so I asked him if he has eyes for someone," she says.

"Yeah and?"

"He said he likes someone," she answers.

You playfully bump her shoulder, "and it's you."

"Else," she finishes her words, "he likes someone else."

She rests her head on your shoulder and you put your arm around her, comforting her with gentle squeezes on her shoulder.

"Does this mean you're going to stop trying or...?"

"Not sure," she shortly replies.

"He said you're beautiful and funny, you should focus on that and work your way from there," you comfort her.

Men are not only stupid, they're all short-sighted, and that's why they like everything big. Maybe at first glance, Felix didn't see Maeve clearly and that's why you encourage her to try once again so he can take another good look at her because who knows?

-

The morning alarm is ringing.

They set a time to let everyone know when to start their day even though a few of us have woken up earlier. The lights are on and greeting each other, barefaced with eyes still sleepy.

Jamie jumps onto your bed and gets between you and Maeve on the bed.

"Good morning, girls!" His voice is muffled by the pillow underneath.

Maeve gently pats his back, "Cuddles only!" She reminds him.

He lifts his head and looks at you, "Not going to lie but I was about to kiss her until you said that," he tells Maeve.

Jamie looks so fine with a bare face and his bedhead looks extra fluffy when it's tousled.

-

YOU: Good morning! It's a good day, clear sky, nice weather with no chance of sex. [Snorts]

-

When everyone is called to the cabana, you know that it's judgment time.

You feel calm knowing that you successfully refrained from breaking rules but you know that everyone is not going to be pleased that a few people spent a few thousand dollars last night. Including you.

So far, you only knew about Heidi and Daniel but there's a big chance that other people break the rules too. It's a big place, you can't keep track of everyone.

This secret you've been keeping is getting too hard to bear yourself. The only person you can share it with is Maeve and you're positive that she didn't break any rules, not that you know of.

"I walked in on Heidi and Daniel kissing," you whisper to Maeve.

"My Gosh!" She lowly gasps.

The sound of Lana's cone-shaped head chiming and your heart leaps. You're not ready to lose money, not when you have your credit card bills spilling out of your mailbox as you speak.

"I regret to inform that there are several rule breaks."

Several? So that means there's more than one rule break? You're doomed, everyone is doomed.

"Everyone better be telling the truth right now!" Cole says as the resident's sex cop.

Everyone is looking at each other and a few are looking very suspicious right now. You bet that Laura and Daniel broke the rules from the way they avoid everyone's eyes.

Heidi raises her hand like she's in a classroom, "So..."

And everyone groans, knowing that they are about to hear a piece of bad news.

"Daniel and I, we kissed in the bedroom," she admits.

It's good that Heidi decides to come clean but it's a bit upsetting that Daniel just sits there like he didn't take part in it.

"But that was it. Just one kiss!" She assures everyone.

Welp, that's $3000 down the drain. However, Lana continues to press everyone to confess.

"Let's just get it over with, guys!" Cole adds with gritted teeth.

Can't hold it in yourself for long, you call them out by the names, "Laura? Alex? Have anything to say?" You ask with a piercing gaze.

"We uh... we kissed," Alex may have a buff body and the tallest of the bunch but he's bad at being honest like all men are.

"But it's because we're sure we have a connection. That's why we kissed," Laura is, of course, backing her man and ready to claw people with her super-long acrylic nails.

"I don't care what all of you are saying. We—"

"You kissed for how many times?" Cole cuts her off with the most important question of all.

There's a moment of silence and that means it's bad.

"Twice. On the bed and the beach," Laura answers with no apologetic expression whatsoever.

"That's so selfish!" Maeve exclaims next to you and lets out a big sigh after.

The worst is Lana is still here and asking if anyone wants to own up to their shit. You don't even want to count the most you've lost, it's a lot.

"You've got to be kidding!" Jamie groans from the end of the sofa.

Not only that the truth costs everyone money but serves the juiciest drama needed for TV broadcasts.

"Daniel kissed me," Aly finally confesses.

Everyone's eyes dart at Daniel, he kissed two girls yesterday and put them in a fight after this. Heidi looks furious sitting next to him.

"I'm pretty sure he kissed me first then he kissed Heidi," she adds, her eyes throwing daggers at Daniel.

"This is a mess!" You quietly comment and plant your face in your hands.

"These rule breaks have cost the group a total of $12.000," Lana announces.

You groan into your hand thinking that much money can cover a couple of months of your rent and here these fools spending them to satisfy their wild desire.

-

YOU: From now on, I'll be thinking of a Chanel handbag every time I get the urge to kiss someone because that's how much it costs.

-

"There are a total of four rule breaks in the last 24 hours and the fine on any further rule break will be doubled as of this moment," Lana announces another shocking news.

-

YOU: Great! A kiss equals two Chanel handbags now. [Hand against forehead]

-

It was one hell of a way to start the day.

Everyone's mood turns sour after that and Cole, being the sex cop he is, doesn't stop preaching to everyone to not break any rules.

What you fear the most with rules has been broken more than once now, it's allowed everyone else to take their turn and that includes Jamie.

It's only about time that he'll start demanding a kiss from you. Don't get fooled, men are just as insecure as women but they mask it well with their huge egos.

You try to avoid him and hang out with Maeve instead, chilling by the pool.

"I heard Irish people are a great drinking buddy," you want to distract yourself from the reality show you're in.

"I wouldn't call myself a 'buddy' but yeah, we're good drinkers," Maeve answers with her playful laughs.

You dip your fingers in the pool water and mindlessly splash it around.

"Come to Ireland and I'll show you a good time," she says.

You snort thinking that with the debt you have, you can't afford to travel out of the country right now but you can't pass on the invitation.

"Okay, I'll just go there with my winning prize," you jokingly say.

"Oh, yeah, totally," she responds with giggles but her eyes are nowhere in your direction.

Following her line of vision, she is watching Felix working out with Alex and Cole at the beach. You take it that she hesitates to make a move on him after knowing that he likes someone else.

"You're going to talk to him again right?"

Considering that the outside world is off-limits, leaving all of you with no choice but to interact with each other. This also means that Maeve will have to get a move on him or try not to be awkward with Felix walking around the house for the next three weeks.

"Who do you think it is?"

"The one he likes?" You guess.

She nods, glints of curiosity filled her eyes, "yeah."

"Certainly not you," you joke and break into laughter.

"Ouch!" She splashes water at you.

-

YOU: Maeve thinks a lot when she has nothing to worry about. She should just do it.

-

The house is huge even for ten people living in it but you can't keep avoiding Jamie.

After dressing up to hang out in the firepit, you sit next to Jamie at ease with the presence of other people there. But that doesn't stop him from touching you, putting his hand around you to play with your hair and whatnot.

"We should have kissed yesterday," he suddenly says.

You lowly chuckle, "When it was cheaper?"

The wind keeps blowing your way, sending your hair flying around and making it messy. Jamie attentively puts the stray hair away and tucks them behind your ears.

"Do you still want to break the rules?" You ask out of curiosity.

"If you want to," he answers.

He fixes the collar of his shirt and looks at you, "what about you?"

You crinkle your nose at him, conflicted. On one side, you want to kiss him and see if there's a spark between you and him but on the other side, it costs two Chanel handbags.

You rest your head on his shoulder, "I just don't think we should be selfish by spending money recklessly," you honestly answer.

"Yeah..." he agrees but the sigh he lets out at the end tells you otherwise.

-

YOU: Jamie sounds a little disappointed that I don't want to break the rules. I mean, don't hate the player, hate the game!

-

The make-up room is crowded with the girls cleansing their faces and doing their bedtime routine. You decide to take the last turn, lounging on Jamie's bed to make up for not sleeping with him tonight.

"Are you guys going to sleep together tonight?" Aly asks from the bed across the room.

Jamie turns his head with an eyebrow raised at you, asking you the same question.

"Yes, we are," you finally answer.

Jamie can't hide his triumphant smile and it looks adorable on him, you can't help but smile along.

-

YOU: I don't want to feel pressured to do it but I owe it to Jamie to at least try and see if this relationship is going somewhere.

-

It's understandable for them to be nosy, it's what the viewers need, a little drama, a little action but what they need are the juicy details.

Before anyone else gets nosy, you start getting ready for bed. Wipes clean your make-up and go to the bathroom to wash up, someone else is showering inside the stall.

It's a normal occurrence. Honestly, everyone else is just so calm about seeing each other's body at this point.

However, the glass wall is blurry so you don't have to worry about seeing someone's naked body inside. You head to the sink and mind your own business.

As you're brushing your teeth, the shower door opens and a hand reaches out for a towel hanging by the handle. In the mirror, you see Felix steps out of the shower and your eyes eventually meet through the reflection and you reflexively smile with a toothbrush tugged between your teeth.

"Hey," he greets.

It surprises you that the deep voice belongs to him, "Hi," you greet back.

He walks toward you and you scoot to the side knowing that he needs to use the sink.

"You don't mind, right?" He asks, taking his toothbrush out of his toiletry bag.

You shake your head, "not at all."

It's hard to not see his body when he stands close next to you. Everyone in here has a nice body but on the first impression, you see him as this thin and dainty guy.

Now, you've seen him up close, he has one of the best bodies in the house, his muscles are perfectly toned and it shows that he diligently worked on his body.

"How's your day?" He casually asks with the towel hanging low around his hips.

"Alright, I guess," you answer.

"You?" You ask back while washing your toothbrush under the running water.

He looks at you and smiles, "just got better, actually," he answers.

Felix is definitely flirting and you immediately fill your mouth with water before stupid things come out of it. You decide to quickly wrap it up before someone else enters the space even though you're doing nothing.

-

YOU: Felix and I are just talking. There's— [inhales] he's low-key flirting with me and I freaked out, there I said it.

-

Maeve is already on the bed when you enter the bedroom and so is Jamie with a space prepared on the bed for you.

It would be rude to say nothing to Maeve that you'll not be sleeping with her, so you come to her first.

"I'm sleeping with Jamie," you tell her.

She slyly grins at you, "Should I give you the sex talk?"

"No, thank you, mom!" You grab your pillow and walk to Jamie's bed still laughing.

Jamie's smile grows wider the closer you get to his bed, he opens his arms to welcome you.

"Come here, sweet thing!" He playfully says.

You hit him with your pillow before coming into his hug. As you settle on his bed, Felix walks past your bed and flashes you a smile, a little different from the one he gave you earlier.

You forget that he sleeps on the bed next to Jamie's and you don't know how it suddenly feels awkward to you.

"Be good, you two!" Cole warns with a piercing glare.

"Not going to break any rules. You can have my words," you assure him despite Jamie nuzzling his nose onto your shoulder as you speak.

-

YOU: At least, that's what I hope. Being in bed with Jamie and try not to break rules will certainly not going to be easy. Ugh!

-

Once the lights are out, Jamie spoons you from behind with his arms wrapped around you. Not going to lie but it feels nice to be with someone.

"You smell so good," he whispers into your ear.

You don't respond, afraid that it will only encourage him to do more.

"You're so soft," he says again with his hand splayed on your bare stomach.

"Night, Jamie," you put an end to the talk.

That doesn't stop his hand from cuddling you and nuzzling his nose in your neck.

"No goodnight kiss?" He asks.

You take his hand and kiss it as a substitute, earning a low laugh from him.

Jamie kisses you on the neck in return, "Night!"

-

YOU: It's getting a little hot in here [fanning your neck]

-

The first thing Cole does when he wakes up is ask everyone an important question.

"Did anyone break any rules last night?"

You shake your head because as much as it's been hard to refrain from touching Jamie, you didn't do anything but cuddle under the cover.

"I can promise you we've been good in here!" Jamie confidently states and puts his arm around you.

Aly as Maeve's new bedmate, points at Laura and Alex's bed, "I definitely heard noises coming from their bed," she snatches on them.

Alex may have a good poker face but you can't say the same with Laura, she's looking guilty but the kind that tells she's not sorry for doing it.

"You may as well spill the truth now," Daniel eggs in.

Laura nonchalantly shrugs as if she's not been acting selfishly when it's only about time that Lana announces how much money we've lost because of them.

-

YOU: I'm proud that Jamie and I managed to not break any rules last night. I hope that proves that we do have a real connection.

-

It's too late for you to walk out as Felix sees you coming into the bathroom.

You walk to the sink to grab your toiletry bag you forgot to take with you, "I can't believe our meet cute is in the bathroom," you say.

He laughs hearing your words while struggling to put sunblock on his back.

"Need help?"

He considers it for a moment then nods, "Yes!"

You take the tube of sunblock from him, pressing a big dollop of the cream on your hand and slowly lathering it on his honey skin. His skin is smooth and warm with muscles that make his back the perfect spot to lean on.

"So, you and Jamie, huh?" he suddenly asks, looking at you through the reflection in the mirror.

The question snaps you out of your daze. You're thankful that he can't see your face as you're busy making sure the sunblock is covering his back evenly.

"Yes," you shortly reply.

He hums while subtly nodding his head, "And what do you think?"

You play dumb but it's also because your hands wander to his lats and they're distracting, "of what?"

Felix leans forward with hands resting against the sink, "is it serious?"

You silently gulp air because his question only means that he has an interest in your relationship which also means that he has...

"We're still figuring each other out," you settle with a diplomatic answer for him.

You glide your hands back up to lather the sunblock down his shoulder blades.

"I see," he responds with a smile.

And not just a smile, a smile that tells he got the answer he wants.

You slide your hands down his arms and playfully squeeze his biceps, "there! Done!"

He takes the sunblock back from you and checks himself in the mirror, "thank you."

Felix raises his hands for a high-five with you, "Let's have a great day!"

You smile at him and return the high-five, "Let's do it!"

-

YOU: Maeve likes Felix and I'm obviously team hoes before bros. Always!

-

"Blue looks good on you!"

It's another day of Jamie's endeavors to kiss you, starting the conversation by complimenting your bikini. He joined you sunbathing by the pool in the afternoon, sharing a sun lounger.

"Thank you!" You reply with a smile with your eyes squinting under the bright sun.

His hand is squeezing your arm, "you got some muscles here," he says.

"I played volleyball in high school," you share.

Propping a hand under his head, he looks down at you, "I want to see you play volleyball."

You chuckle, "That was years ago. I forgot how to play."

"Must be looking sexy serving ball in tight shorts," he lowers his head into your neck.

You burst out laughing and slip your hand in his soft locks, "that sounds so wrong."

Not only that you're out in the open, it's rather dangerous with how close he is and his lips looking inviting as he plants it on your shoulder.

It's only right that you distract him by giving him a little taste but not too much, enough to make him crave more.

"Do it for me?" You ask with a bottle of sun spray in your head.

"I'd love to," he eagerly says.

Jamie sprays on parts of the body he wants to touch, all over your back as you lay on your stomach and down to your asscheek, excessively kneading on them.

You laugh at how he can't stop himself that you eventually have to turn over so he can continue, spraying your shoulders.

You take off the straps around your neck so he can spray your chest and sneaks his hand on the valley between your breasts.

"Yeah, get in there!" You playfully encourage him.

Jamie grins like a child who got caught taking a cookie out of the cookie jar. He then continues to spray on your abdomen and evenly rub them down your thighs next while glancing into your eyes once in a while.

To say that you don't enjoy teasing him would be a lie.

-

YOU: Jamie becomes more relentless by the day but am I wrong to not want to rule break? Isn't that the purpose of this retreat?

-

As the day turns to night, it's only about time until everyone got called to the cabana.

You feel sick listening to the sound of Lana's cone-shaped body chiming, especially with Laura and Alex acting so suspiciously.

Lana is a computer but she sounds not pleased as she greets everyone. Cut to the announcement, she informs that Laura and Alex did break the rules last night.

You glance at Cole who got speechless that he's just looking at Alex in disbelief.

"These rule breaks cost the group $18.000."

-

YOU: For three kisses? Really? Lana, please, be reasonable with the prices.

-

"That's not the only rule break they committed," Lana spills more truth.

This is what you fear the most, getting riled by the whole group for breaking the rules. Everyone looks at both Laura and Alex waiting for them to confess.

"I touched his willy under the cover," Laura confesses.

Everyone groans in unison.

You don't know how Laura is okay being so selfish and can keep a straight face, but that's probably why her make-up is super thick.

"This rule break costs the group a further $4.000."

"Why would you do that?" Maeve asks and she rarely gets this mad.

"It's not a big deal!" Laura nonchalantly responds.

"Yeah but not for $4.000!" Heidi snaps at her, as furious as everyone.

"Now the prize fund stands at $166.000."

-

YOU: I can use that money as a deposit for a house and here we are, spending it on kisses and a hand down a guy's trouser.

-

The night gets darker not only on the outside but inside the house as well.

Lana sends Laura and Alex to the suite to test if they're building a true connection but everyone is skeptical that they'll pass the test.

You sit on the bed with Jamie resting his head on your lap, brushing his hair to relax you now that you've lost a chunk of money.

"Alex is like the horniest people and Laura is the biggest teaser, it's a recipe for a disaster," Aly comments, lying on her stomach on the bed opposite yours.

"They will rule break once or twice at least," Jamie adds his opinion.

The night ends early but you see that Maeve and Felix haven't returned yet to their respective beds. You hope that things are going well with them.

You nuzzle your head into Jamie's chest and murmur, "We haven't broken any rules," you tell him.

"Yet," Jamie continues your words clasping your hand with his.

You look at him and smile as he looks back at you, "We've been good and I'm proud."

He foolishly smiles and opens his arms to invite you for a hug. You jump right into his embrace and those muscles on his body feel pillowy under you.

Jamie pulls the duvet to cover both of your bodies even though the lights aren't out yet. You squeal as he starts to glide his hands down your sides.

-

YOU: I appreciate Jamie for being so patient because I know, it was hard for me to not throw myself at him.

-

"We don't need another rule break tonight!"

Cole pulls the duvet down to reveal that the two of you are just tickling each other under the cover.

At the same time, Felix makes his way to his bed, seeing you straddling Jamie on the bed which sends you to get off of him immediately.

It's unclear why you do that but your eyes go straight to Maeve's bed, it's empty even when the lights are already out.

You nestle your head in Jamie's neck as he lightly touches up and down your arm and kisses your hand once in a while.

You plant a soft kiss on his neck and whisper, "Night."

He kisses you back on the head, "Goodnight!"

-

YOU: I start to believe that maybe Jamie and I do have a genuine connection [smiles]

-

Everyone is looking restless from the moment they woke up and looks in shambles once they gathered in the cabana, ready for that time of the day.

After a while, Laura and Alex are returning from the suite. You recognize the glow on Laura's face right away but you could be wrong.

God! You hope you're wrong and they didn't do anything selfish last night.

You're spacing out as Lana comes with her anxiety-inducing ping sounds and all you can think about is how much money Laura and Alex spent last night.

"They're looking suspicious," Aly whispers at you.

Indeed, they are, and looking very guilty as well. Everyone waits in anticipation as Lana takes her time to announce whether they pass the test or blow all the money in one night.

"I must tell the group that Laura and Alex did..."

You hold your breath for the worst outcome.

"Not..."

It's getting harder to breathe now.

"Break any rules!"

Everyone shoots up from their seats and congratulates the couple in turns. You got so far in life that you get to celebrate people for not having sex.

-

YOU: So they can keep it in their pants! I'm proud!

-

Lana has another announcement after everyone settled in from the celebration.

"To motivate everyone to grow genuine feelings of connection as opposed to lust, I've prepared gifts for all of you."

You take the box in front of you and open it to reveal a watch inside.

"When I observe two people forming genuine connections, they will be given a green light like this."

Everyone's watch chimes and turns green at the same time.

"While the lights are green, the rules do not apply for a limited amount of time."

Cole claps his hands together to get everyone's attention, "There's no more excuse for anyone to break any more rules!"

-

YOU: This [shows the watch] motivates me to build a connection with Jamie. Hope we get to be the first to get the green light.

-

After a very stressful morning that thankfully ends with a happy ending, you can have the room to breathe since the boys are out of the house to do a workshop at the beach.

The girls are hanging out in the bedroom and with the drama going on earlier, you forgot to ask Maeve why she went to bed late last night.

To get a little privacy, even though you can't get any with cameras placed in every crook and nook of the villa, you take her to the make-up room. You sit next to her while fixing your make-up in the mirror.

"Is everything okay?" You ask.

Maeve sits with both feet up on the chair and looks down at her nails, "not okay, honestly," she answers.

You stop looking at the mirror and turn your chair to face her, "why? What happened?"

Maeve hugs her folded legs and looks at you, a sad smile on her face.

"I just don't know what I'm doing here..."

You place your hand on her knee, "hey, don't say that!"

"I'm not making connections with anyone and I tried, but it's not working. I-I don't know why I'm here," she says with a heavy sigh at the end of the sentence.

It seems like things aren't going well between her and Felix, and Maeve is someone with low self-esteem, which makes her somewhat dejected that things didn't go well.

"You don't have to be a couple to make progress, you know," you comfort her and it's true, Cole is proof that he's fine not being in a pair and dedicates himself as an avid protector of the prize money instead.

"I'm not pretty. No one wants to be with me," she breaks into tears and buries her head in her hands.

You get up from the chair to hug her, "First of all, everyone here is pretty and it's not a beauty pageant, okay?" You comfort her while slightly bending down with your arms around her.

"It's not about look. It's about chemistry, attraction, and stuff," you awkwardly explain.

You have no talent in comforting someone but you try your best. After a moment, Maeve lifts her head and looks at you.

"No one is attracted to me," she says with her fingers carefully dabbing the corner of her eyes to avoid ruining her make-up.

You scoff and turn the chair to face her before sitting on it, "you are so beautiful, Maeve," you assure her with both hands holding hers.

Maeve puts down her feet and your clasped hands dropped onto her lap, "I know," she half-heartedly agrees.

"For you, I'll fly to Ireland and come see you, we'll get drunk and have so much fun," you cheer her up with nice thoughts while shaking her hands.

Maeve cracks a laugh and you can see that she starts to get hopeful again. She's a genuinely kind person which is not someone you expect to meet here, you think of her as a friend despite it happening because you both are in a reality show.

A crazy idea crosses your head, "you know what? We can be a couple and win the money," you tell her.

-

YOU: I'm bad at comforting people and the only thing I know how to comfort someone is through actions [slyly smiles]

-

She laughs at your wild suggestion that it takes her a while to reply to you, "I'd love that, yeah," she jokingly answers.

An even crazier idea crosses your head, "come here then," you tell her, pulling her close until your heads meet in the middle.

Maeve senses your intention but not doing anything to stop you, instead, she leans in first to kiss you.

You kiss her back as she softly brushes her lips on yours over and over again. She tastes so sweet and warm, she knows how to use her tongue and not overdo it, and overall, one hell of a good kisser.

You pull away first as the reality that someone might walk in on you dawns on you.

"Did we just break the rules?" Maeve asks while wiping her smeared lipstick.

"You'd better have a good poker face!" You warn her.

-

YOU: Goodness! Maeve is a good kisser and that kiss... I think that was the best $6.000 I ever spent. No regret at all.

-

The boys are back just in time for another party Lana is throwing tonight.

The theme is Saints and Sinners and there's a box of costumes for everyone to wear. You choose to be an angel with wings even though you've been behaving badly after breaking the rules earlier.

He sits you on his lap even though the sofa is spacy enough for another two persons but you feel safe since Alex and Laura are there, cuddling in the smaller sofa across from yours.

"So, what did you do in the workshop?" You ask Jamie.

He takes a deep breath and his chest heaving along with yours, "we learned how to be more open with our feelings."

You nod along and leer over at him, "And how did it go?"

Jamie rests his chin on your shoulder with a hand resting on your stomach, "Well, I'm never good at it but I think I did alright."

He doesn't sound so convincing but you appreciate the effort.

"You look beautiful, babe!" He compliments you along with a gentle squeeze on your thigh.

You're immune to sweet nothings like this but a compliment is a compliment. You smile and mutter, "Thank you!"

You slip your hand into the opening of his shirt, "I like your shirt," you compliment back with a seductive smile.

He sees your hand slide in further into his shirt, "should have let another button open."

Jamie keeps checking his watch hoping that the light turns green soon.

You doubt that a few compliments can do it and silently laugh at his fruitless effort. 

-

YOU: I'll always be physically attracted to Jamie but I don't know. I can't tell if I doubt myself or him, or us, entirely [clicks tongue]

-

The time for doom is here.

You exchange nervous glances with Maeve knowing what we've done would damage the numbers on the prize fund. You doubt that it's what Laura felt when she broke the rules because what you're feeling is a sense of guilt but that's solely because you behaved selfishly, not for the kiss.

"Hours after receiving the gifts of my watches, a couple of you decide to break the rules by kissing," Lana announces.

Everyone's eyes land on Alex and Laura since they're the regular rulebreakers. Just know that they'll be surprised once they found out who did it.

"You know the routine. Just spill it!" Cole sounded so done at this point.

You hate to break his trust but you don't feel bad for breaking the rules, not when you have a good intention. Your heart is pounding for how much shit you'll get either from admitting it or don't, you choose the former.

"It was me," you blurt out with a hand raised.

Jamie snaps his head at you, eyes wide filled with confusion because he knows for damn sure you didn't kiss him or vice versa.

"I'm not going to name names who I did it with and why," you quickly add and it's the only right thing to do, you don't want to force Maeve to speak out unless she wanted to.

"I'm sorry," you apologize.

Jamie looks even more confused but his eyes are scanning the guys one by one even though it isn't any of them you kissed.

"I'm sorry, Cole," you apologize to him personally since he's the one who gets sensitive the most about the money.

Maeve raises her hand and decides to admit it as well, "she did it with me."

They let out a collective gasp, laughter, and sneaky eyes going on after. Jamie squeezes your shoulder but not saying anything to you.

"Another $6.000 has gone from the prize fund, leaving the group with $160.000," Lana furtherly informs.

Funny that you didn't about the money at all when you kiss Maeve. Probably because you know that you intend to rebuild Maeve's confidence, so she's not giving up on herself and continues her journey here.

However, when it comes to Jamie, you're still not sure if you want to spend $6.000 on a kiss with him.

-

The rule break doesn't seem to leave that much impression on everyone.

Maybe because they give you a pass because it's your first time breaking the rule and the night ends in peace or that's what you thought.

You're chatting with Aly in the firepit to avoid the crowded make-up room when suddenly Felix comes behind you. You didn't notice until Aly sends you a signal with her eyes.

"Can I talk to you?" He asks.

Aly gets the hint and decides to leave, "I'll excuse myself then."

You've spent a couple of times alone with him even though they only last for a few minutes, but this time is different, no one is around except for the filming crew lurking in the bushes or somewhere you're not aware of.

The sofa could fit a couple of dozen people but Felix decides to sit next to you.

"Hi," he sweetly greets.

"Hi, how are you?" You ask with a smile.

His legs are spreading wide and he has gaping holes in his jeans, exposing bits of his thighs that you found are surprisingly muscular.

"I'm good," he answers, doing the classic move of putting his arm on the headrest of the sofa, "how about you?"

Your body somehow responds by putting your leg over the other and leaning towards him, "Never been better."

Felix gets quiet but his eyes are deeply looking into your eyes as if he found something fascinating in them. A while later, he clears his throat as he slightly slouched on the sofa, legs spreading wider, sending the holes in his jeans to stretch and expose more of his skin.

"During the workshop, we were taught to open up about our feelings and I–" He pauses to scratch his small nose and continues with an uneasy glance at you, "I know what I want and I want to do it. I know I'll regret it if I don't."

"Okay," you respond while nodding along and at times, getting distracted by the holes in his jeans.

"I know you're with Jamie and I don't mean to break things between the two of you but I feel like... I need you to know that I like you."

Felix talks without a beat and with the intense stare he's giving you, you gulp air feeling nervous but in an exciting kind of way.

"I like you," he says again.

Your heart starts to race because you can feel how much he meant all of his words.

-

YOU: Oh my God! The hottest man in this retreat likes me?!

-

"You don't have to do anything about it," he casually says as if he didn't just put you in a predicament since you're with Jamie.

Felix retracts his hand and accidentally or not, brushes his hand on your shoulder. He gives you the faintest of physical contact but enough to send a shiver down your spine.

Still speechless by his sudden confession, but you know you should have said something to him to avoid him getting the wrong idea.

"Thank you for letting me know," you begin.

"You're very welcome!" He excitedly responds with a wide grin.

"But let me know if you want to do anything about it," he adds with a playful grin.

Something about him makes you warm inside, you can feel your cheeks heating, flustered with his eyes never straying away from yours even for a second.

The night is late and the fireplace is laying low, swaying with the gentle breeze coming from the sea, Felix's lips suddenly look so inviting, enticing you like a forbidden apple.

This is dangerous. 

"Let's head inside," he says, thankfully being the one putting a brake on the imminent danger.

-

YOU: This is honestly what I seek with Jamie, that excitement, that sparks and it's a problem that I got it from someone else without any sort of physical contact whatsoever.

-

"So, Maeve, is she a good kisser?" Jamie asks as he sits with you on the bed.

Maeve sips water from her tumbler before answering, "The best!"

She takes another sip before talking again, "You're in for a treat, Jamie."

He glances at you with an impressed smile, "Too bad that I can't confirm that," he says.

That's his way to dig at you for what you did. You understand that he feels betrayed by what you did, you refuse to kiss him but easily kissed someone behind his back.

You put your hand across his chest and look at him, "Are you mad?"

"Nah," he coyly answers.

You bring your mouth close to his ear, "are you jealous?"

Jamie chuckles as your breath tickles his ear, "A bit, yeah."

You kiss his cheek and deliver your apology with a heartfelt whisper, "I'm sorry, baby."

-

YOU: I, of course, feel bad for not giving Jamie the heads up about the kiss I did with Maeve. He looks rather upset but I know I deserve it.

-

It's probably luck that follows you throughout the times you spent in the retreat.

Everyone forgot about your rulebreaking as Daniel decides to get a new bed partner. He used to sleep with Heidi but tonight, he decides to sleep with Aly.

You nudge Jamie who's sleeping with his head nuzzles in your neck to witness the drama happening in the room.

His mouth opens in surprise while you look at Heidi who's slumped down on the bed.

"You okay?" You mouth at her.

"No," she mouths back.

You turn to look at Jamie, "Oh my God!" You lowly gasp.

"I feel bad for Heidi," Jamie whispers.

"Me too," you say back behind the duvet at Jamie.

-

YOU: Let's say we never know what's going to happen next [shrugs]

-

The mood the next morning has been set to gloomy with the drama that happened last night.

The good news is there's no sign of anyone breaking any rules and the bad news is that Jamie seems to not moving on from your kiss with Maeve yet.

Jamie is usually chipper whenever he's with you, except for today, he seems distant even though you're working out together by the beach.

"Tighten your glutes," he instructed.

You play dumb since that's the most successful way to win a guy's heart, "tighten my what?"

Jamie chuckles and enthusiastically shows you the parts of your body you need to work on, the back of your thighs and legs. His hands don't skip the chance to rub over the curve of your ass.

"Can you feel it?" He asks as he guides you to do a proper squat by standing right behind you.

You intentionally nudge his crotch with your ass, "oh yeah, I can feel it," you answer with giggles.

By working out, you hope that it would help to release tension between you and Jamie, it worked but in the process, you're getting that tingling down there with his hands constantly touching you.

You collapse onto the yoga mat from doing a plank and groan, "Ugh... I'm so horny."

Jamie laughs as he helps you get up from the mat.

-

YOU: I realized now that maybe Jamie needs validation, he needs more than just words from me. Maybe I have to do something about it [raises an eyebrow]

-

Before you can set a plan, Lana calls everyone to the cabana.

Not sure if anyone breaks any rules but you feel sick in the stomach whenever you sit down and face her cone-shaped body.

Cole is getting ready to put his laser eyes on anyone who breaks the rules.

"No one break any rules last night," Lana announces.

Everyone seems to be letting out a sigh of relief and you feel guilty just from thinking about doing a rule break later for Jamie.

"With the couples seeming to form deeper bonds, it's time to establish how committed to each other you really are," Lana states.

Couples? You are positive you and Jamie are included in it.

"By sending some of you on dates..." Lana continues.

-

YOU: The question is... Who's going on a date? I would love to go on a date with Jamie.

-

Now everyone starts to hold their breath again with Lana dragging each piece of information just to torture all of you.

"With new arrivals," Lana finally finishes.

This is not a good time for Lana to intervene, not when you plan on taking things further with Jamie. Also, new arrivals mean that they're not adapted to the rules yet, they'll be uncontrollable, horny babies like... well, everyone here a week ago.

"The first arrival is... Mia," Lana announces.

The guys snickered in joy, excited even just from hearing the girl's name.

"I have given her a choice of dating one of the boys currently in couples."

Your mouth hangs open in surprise, you're wrong to underestimate Lana's power and that she owns this game, she's the mastermind.

"She has selected..."

-

YOU: I hate to think about it but I have an inkling that this Mia girl is going to choose Jamie [leans back on the sofa]

-

"... Jamie."

The timing is impeccable.

Things are going well between you and Jamie, then Lana, being the girl boss she is, decides to ruin all of that.

You look at Jamie and he looks slightly pleased that he got chosen.

You're spacing out the rest of the time Lana announces another arrival, a boy who chose Laura to be his date.

It's unclear whether you're jealous about him going on another date or you regret holding yourself back from him all these times.

Jamie rubs his hand up and down your arm, briefly kisses your cheek, then says, "You have nothing to worry about."

How come you trust his words when you've witnessed all these bed hoppings and jumping ships happened overnight?

-

YOU: What Jamie said only makes me even more worried. Lana said it's a test so this Mia girl must be sexy, and speaks three languages or something. You know, like a girl version of Alex.

-

Maeve is helping you style your hair for tonight.

"How do you feel about Jamie going on a date with someone?" She asks.

You shrug and sigh, sending the powder you're holding flying around your face.

"I just hope she's ugly," you jokingly answer.

"Hate to break the news but I think she's hot and a potential rulebreaker," Maeve decides to pour salt on your wound instead of soothing it.

"It's not that I don't care but I decide not to care," you explain.

You finish your make-up with a setting spray and check yourself again in the mirror, "but you know, deep down, I'm scared, shitless," you admit.

It's getting more nerve-wracking waiting for Jamie to come back from his date. Maeve keeps you occupied with happy thoughts, telling you fun things you can do in Ireland with her.

The other girls low-key comfort you by complimenting your looks. It's a nice gesture except that no one died and you're not in mourning, you just want this to get over with.

Laura is the first one to come back, guiding the new arrival by linking her arm with his.

She introduces Killian around, an Irish man who's just the perfect match for Maeve.

Killian is a great distraction, his accent is attractive and so is his smile. You keep nudging Maeve's elbow to send her hints.

Maeve replies by elbowing your side and you thought she was being playful, then turn your head around to see Jamie has came back from his date.

"Oh shit. She's hot!" Aly exclaims.

You bite your tongue and put your lips together, not wanting to lose your calm easily. There are only two possibilities, Jamie stays with you, or not.

As Jamie pulls you to the make-up room, you know it's time for him to decide.

"How was the date?" You ask with a smile.

"It was nice. We had champagne and fruits and cheeses," he gives you an answer that you don't expect.

You silently gulp air and keep on putting on a smile for him, "Sounds lovely!"

The moment passed in silence is deafening and you need to burst it. You clear your throat and hold the hand on his lap.

"So... are you here to tell me I was right for not worrying you?" You joke.

Jamie awkwardly laughs at your question and that you're right for worrying him. A part of you is in denial that you're not chosen but another part of you decides to shut him out right here, right now.

"I want to tell you that Mia and I... I think we have something going on between us and I want to get to know her more," he slowly explains.

This heart is fickle, you decided not to care but you feel a sting in your chest when he told you that.

"You're saying you chose her?" You ask for confirmation.

Jamie takes your other hand, afraid that you run away before he can explain.

"No, I'm staying with you and openly telling you that at the same time, I want to get to know Mia," he refuses your words when it's exactly what he wants.

Other girls would give him the chance but not with you, if Jamie chose her then he should stay with her. There's no use for you and him to stay together if he wants to get to know someone that isn't you.

"Jamie you can't do that. You either stay with me or be with her, you have to choose!" You insist on him settling on a decision.

-

YOU: Apparently, Jamie wants to have his cake and eat it too [shakes head]

-

You get it that Jamie is conflicted because he still likes you but the other girl offers him something that you don't give to him.

"I like you. I still want to be with you," Jamie persists.

His words are not aligned with his action. You shake your head and put his hands away, "it sounds like you're asking me to wait for you while you're getting it on with someone else."

That seems to put the nail in the coffin that he got speechless. The disappointment got to you that you and if you stayed longer, you're afraid you would say something you didn't mean to him.

"You've made your choice, Jamie," you tell him.

-

YOU: To say that I'm disappointed is an understatement. I'm livid, I'm... I was planning to take things further but yeah... [brushes hair to the back] Mia happens.

-

Can't believe that you'll be the one serving drama tonight.

You stall in the make-up room, not wanting to get to the bedroom yet. You're drying your hair after a shower and sitting there for a minute, just taking everything in and trying to let it go.

Taking a deep breath, you keep a straight face as you push the door into the bedroom and have no choice but to share a bed with Heidi since Maeve is sharing the bed with Killian.

"You alright, babe?" She quietly asks.

You hold your forehead and slump down on the bed, "it's shitty."

She gently squeezes your elbow, "yeah."

You lay down on the bed and avoid the eyes looking back and forth between you and Jamie. You may decide not to care but seeing him sleeping with another girl right in front of your eyes, hurts.

You cover your eyes with your hand and mumble, "I just want to get this day over with."

-

YOU: Jamie has decided so he has to live with that decision. Good luck, I guess.

-

If it weren't for her, Jamie would have stayed with you and you wouldn't be waking up to Heidi lowly snoring next to you.

Mia might have seduced him but it wouldn't happen if Jamie remained faithful so you decide to blame him, not her.

This is probably what Maeve felt that day when she cried, defeated, and dejected.

But Jamie has to try harder if he wants to see you cry.

 "How are you feeling, sexy?" Maeve asks as she waddles in the swimming pool.

You sit on the edge with your feet dipped in the sun-warm water, "I don't know, really," you shrug.

She holds onto your leg, clinging to it to stay afloat, "You're better than her, trust me, she's not that attractive if you looked at her long enough."

You know that she's not saying that out of spite, she said all that to make you feel better.

"Saying unkind things about her doesn't make me better, Maeve," you tell her with a glare.

"I'm sorry but it's true," she says with a subtle shrug.

-

YOU: Jamie and I [sighs] We hugged, we cuddled, we slept in one bed together. I don't want to care but the truth is... I care.

-

The day drags on and you're more than happy to get to your bed except that you're not ready to see Jamie and Mia cuddling on the bed you used to sleep on.

You're hanging out with Maeve in the make-up room while she's braiding your hair to pass the time.

"We can sleep together. I'll just tell Killian—"

"And risks Heidi stealing him from you?" You cut her off with a joke.

Maeve laughs as she tied the end of your hair with an elastic band and fixes the loose hair on the back of your head.

"Enough about me. How about you and Killian?"

Maeve plops down on the chair next to you and takes a hairbrush from the table, slowly combing the end of her hair.

"We chatted a lot but not sure if we have that connection," she answers.

"But don't worry, we're getting along just fine," she assures you in response to your concerned expression.

"Is it perhaps because you haven't moved on from Felix?"

Asking her that is like walking on eggshells and you're doing it carefully. Mostly because Felix confessed that he likes you that making it seems that way to you.

"Oh come on! I've moved past that," she answers while twirling her hair around her fingers.

You consider telling her about Felix's confession that night but it comes to no use, the retreat has come halfway to finish and you're not sure if Felix still likes you.

It's close to lights out and you step into the bedroom with Maeve.

Heidi is already taking half of the bed with her long legs that you have to scoot close to the edge to lie down.

"Goodnight, everyone!" Aly says to everyone in the room and getting sleepy mumbles in return.

-

YOU: When I think about it, I'm seeing Lana more than my therapist [uneasy smiles]

-

This is not how you want to start the day.

You don't want to hear what Jamie and Mia did or how they spent $20.000 last night. He probably has pent-up tension and finally got to release it with her.

"You got the watches, man!" Cole is coming at him.

You sit back and watch it from the end of the sofa on how Jamie is trying to explain himself.

"I know you won't believe me but Mia and I, we have a connection," he explains.

"Why not act right and get rewarded?" Cole is jabbing him with words.

"You won't understand," Jamie says with a defeated sigh.

-

YOU: Maybe that's why I doubted Jamie. I can see it now, the bright side [smirks]

-

Nothing says a fresh start than doing yoga with Heidi.

Apparently, she is a licensed instructor and you feel a whole lot better after stretching your body to the limit.

You share the shower with Maeve to cut the time and get ready to dress up.

As you're applying your lipstick, Lana chimes in and makes you jolt in your seat.

Maeve's mouth drops open and she stops curling her hair altogether.

"Hello, ladies!"

"Hi, Lana," you nervously answer and push your chair away from the table.

Then she calls your name and you almost choke on air.

"Y-yes?"

"I'm offering the chance to go on a date with Felix " Lana informs out of the blue.

"Me?" You ask in disbelief.

"Would you like to attend?" Lana asks.

You turn to look at Maeve to remind yourself to be a good friend and a good friend avoid hurting her friend's feelings.

"Shouldn't we make them wait for at least 48 hours for an answer, Lana?" You playfully respond.

Maeve kicks your feet under the table, "what are you doing? Say yes!"

"Then how about you?" You blabber, not expecting that she gives you the blessing to go on a date with her former crush.

"What about me?" She asks in pure confusion.

"Don't you like him?"

Maeve excessively sighs, "I told you I've moved on!"

She kicks your feet again, "Hurry! Say yes!"

You turn to look at Lana in her mixed purple-hued lights and hesitate to say yes. Not only it means you have to start it all over again, but also letting yourself open for another heartbreak.

"Would you like to attend?" Lana asks once again.

-

YOU: I'm not sure if I'm ready to try and restart [sighs]

-

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[itneverendshere]

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18) - four

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛"

warnings: angst; gun violence; blood;

word count: 7.1k

You woke up confused staring at the oddly familiar ceiling, filled with posters ripped from the old magazines you’d gotten at a second-hand store. When you were sixteen is sounded like a great edgy idea. 

You were home.

What the—? How? 

Sitting up, the room felt stifling, the air thick with the stale smell of old wood and the faintest hint of your father’s cigarette smoke, a scent you had hoped never to encounter again. The heavy feeling in your chest wasn’t just the dread of being back; it was the memories flooding back, threatening to drown you.

The sound of a muffled argument seeped through the thin walls, pulling you back to the present. Your heart pounded in your ears as you recognized the angry, slurred voice of your father.

He was shouting at someone, probably your brother, just like he used to. The familiar clinking of bottles and the crash of something being thrown sent a shiver down your spine.

No. This wasn't real. This couldn’t be real.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed, feeling the rough crappy carpet under your feet. You stood up shakily. The hallway stretched out before you, longer than it should have been, and the flickering light cast eerie shadows on the peeling wallpaper.

As you approached the living room, the noise grew louder, more distinct. Your father’s voice, filled with venom and rage, scared the living hell out of you.

You reached the doorway and peered in, your breath catching in your throat. There he was, towering over your JJ, his face twisted in anger. Your little brother was cowering, trying to make himself as small as possible, his eyes filled with fear. The scene was a haunting echo of so many nights you’d tried to forget.

“No,” you whispered, fear bubbling up inside you. “This isn’t happening.”

But it was.

Your father, with his disheveled hair and red-rimmed eyes, swung the bottle in his hand dangerously close to JJ’s head. Each wave of the bottle sent droplets of amber liquid flying, dotting the floor like gruesome confetti. JJ flinched with every movement, tears streaming down his cheeks, and the sight made your heart ache.

“Get out of my sight, you worthless—” your father roared, his voice a terrifying growl.

“No!” you screamed, stepping into the room before you even realized you were moving. “Stop it!”

Your father turned, his bloodshot eyes narrowing as they focused on you. For a moment, he only stared, probably to drunk to realize it was his own daughter.

Then, recognition set in, and his scowl deepened.

“You,” he spat, disgusted by your sight, “You think you can just walk back in here and tell me what to do?”

You couldn’t back down, not now. Not ever again.

“Leave him alone,” you said, your voice trembling, “He’s a child!”

Your father took a menacing step toward you, the bottle still clutched in his hand. “You’ve got some nerve, coming back here and talking to me like that. Looking exactly like her!”

Every instinct screamed at you to run, but you stood there. “I’m not afraid of you Luke,” you lied through your teeth.

His eyes flared with rage, and he raised the bottle, ready to hit you. You tensed up, waiting for the blow.

“Dad, please!” JJ’s voice broke through the tension, “Don’t hurt her.”

JJ’s plea just hung there, like this thin, fragile thread barely holding things together. For a second, your dad froze, his hand twitching, eyes darting between you and your brother.

And then, with this pissed-off roar, he chucked the bottle at the wall. It exploded into a million pieces, glass flying everywhere. The sound echoed through the house, loud and final, like it was the last brutal note in this nightmare that felt way too real.

“You’re a coward, you know that? Hitting your own children. You’re trash.” you spat out, the words flying from your mouth before you could stop them.

His face twisted, “What did you say to me?” He lunged at you, his hands going straight for your throat.

Panic hit hard as his grip tightened around your throat, stealing your breath. You clawed at his hands, desperate to break free, but he was way too strong, too determined.

Dark spots started creeping into your vision. You gasped, fighting for air, but he only squeezed harder. The room blurred and started spinning, and just when you thought you were about to pass out, his face began to change, shifting right in front of you. You blinked, trying to clear your head, and when you opened your eyes again, it wasn’t your dad choking you anymore.

It was Rafe.

Rafe's face, with a sickening grin, loomed over you. His eyes, filled with a cold, calculating malice, bore into yours. “You thought I’d be any different?” he sneered. “You signed your death sentence, pogue.”

The fear was paralyzing, like ice-cold dread flooding through your veins.Your heart hammered against your chest, but you couldn’t scream, couldn’t shout for help. His grip was solid, unbreakable, like he had no intention of letting go.

You struggled with everything you had, but it was like fighting through quicksand. Every move felt slow, heavy, like you were trapped in molasses.

As the edges of your vision began to fade, a new sound cut through the suffocating haze – JJ’s voice, calling your name. “Sis! Please, wake up! Wake up!”

With a final, desperate burst of energy, you tore yourself away from Rafe, his grip suddenly gone. You were falling, tumbling through darkness, and then–

You jolted awake, gasping for breath, your body drenched in sweat. The familiar ceiling of the motel room came into focus. The terror of the nightmare clung to you, and it made it hard to breathe.

Your hands went to your throat, feeling for bruises that weren’t there. It was just a dream, you told yourself, trying to calm your racing heart. Just a nightmare.

As your breath began to steady, you turned your head, feeling the sheets rustle against your skin.

The dim light of the room cast long shadows, and your heart sank when you saw Rafe lying next to you, his chest rising and falling in a deep, peaceful slumber. He was naked, his body partially covered by the sheets, a reminder of what you’d done hours ago.

A wave of nausea hit you, your stomach twisting with disgust — at him, at yourself. The nightmare still clung to you, the image of his hands around your throat fresh and terrifying, making it hard to process how he could sleep so soundly. You slipped out of bed as quietly as you could, not wanting to wake him, and hurriedly grabbed your clothes, dressing in silence.

Standing in the cramped bathroom, you splashed cold water on your face, hoping it would wash away the nightmare. The coolness gave you a quick moment of clarity, but the dread still clung to you, heavy and unshakable. You stared at yourself in the mirror — pale, tired, and haunted.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm down. You needed to leave, clear your head, figure out what the hell to do next. Quietly, you slipped out of the bathroom, grabbed your keys from the nightstand, and took one last glance at Rafe. He was still asleep, completely clueless about the fear swirling inside you.

The motel hallway was dark and dead silent, except for the low hum of the vending machine down the hall. You made your way to the exit, and the cool night air hit your skin like a slap of reality. It was like stepping out of one world and into another — the difference so harsh, it almost felt unreal.

You walked a few more steps, but suddenly everything started spinning. Your vision blurred, and you felt lightheaded, your legs giving out as you slumped against the wall, struggling to breathe.

The panic attack hit you full force, your chest tightening, and your mind racing. You couldn't let Rafe see you like this. You couldn't let anyone see you like this. You sank to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest, trying to focus on something, anything, to calm yourself down. You started counting your breaths, focusing on each inhale and exhale, trying to slow your racing heart. You thought of JJ, of how much he needed you to be strong.

You couldn't fall apart now.

You kept counting, kept breathing, the cool air helping to clear your head. Slowly, the tightness in your chest began to ease. The world started to come back into focus, the shadows in the hallway retreating.

You wiped away the tears that had slipped down your cheeks and stood up, feeling a little more in control.

Sleeping around—no, not just sleeping, practically baring your soul to one of the people that had destroyed your life? That had taunted and beaten your brother? Your friends? That killed a cop and got away with it? The thoughts circled in your mind. You were a dirty traitor.

The cold didn't couldn’t wash away the shame eating you alive. How did it come to this? How did you go from hating Rafe to being tangled up with him like this? 

You thought of JJ, of your friends, the people who had been there for you through everything. They’d never understand.

Hell, you didn’t even understand it yourself. You stopped and leaned against a lamppost, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. You had to sort through this mess, had to figure out what was real and what was just the lingering effects of captivity and longing. Maybe you were holding on to the only person who managed to pull you out of Ward’s grasp, fooling yourself into finding some good in someone who had caused so much pain. 

An hour later, you made your way back to the motel, the guilt and self-doubt threatening to consume you entirely. You couldn't ignore the feeling that you'd betrayed everything you stood for by letting Rafe into your life, even if it was just for a moment of weakness.

As you got closer to the entrance, you spotted him at the front desk. He looked a mess — worried, disheveled, like he’d just woken up and thrown on some shorts in a rush. His face was tight with tension as he talked to the front desk guy, hands moving wildly, gesturing around like he was freaking out. 

Your pulse pounded as you walked in, not sure of what to say, what to do, how to approach him. The nightmare was still fresh.

Rafe's voice cut through the air, his tone urgent, "How the fuck did you not see her leave? Did someone take her?”

The front desk guy shook his head, his expression apologetic.

"Sir, I haven't seen anyone come through here."

With a deep breath, you stepped forward, revealing yourself, "I'm here," you said quietly, voice rough from not speaking since you woke up.

Rafe's head snapped up, his blue eyes widening in relief as he caught sight of you. "Thank God," he breathed, his shoulders visibly relaxing, “Fucking hell, Maybank.”

His arms were around you in an instant, his warmth enveloping you. You should feel repulsed.

His hands rested gently on your back; fingers splayed wide. For a moment, you allowed yourself to lean into his embrace for the last time, the tension in your shoulders easing ever so slightly. And then, you pushed him away, your movements sharp. His hands fell away from you. The hurt in his eyes cut through you like a punch, but you couldn’t bring yourself to think much of it. It was you or him.

You took a step back, putting some distance between you and Rafe, needing the space to breathe, to think, to figure out what came next.

Your gaze flickered to the floor, unable to meet his eyes, unable to face the consequences of your stupid actions, "Just needed some air," you muttered, “Sorry for not leaving a note.”

Rafe's expression shifted from relief to concern as he watched you, his brows furrowing.

"You okay?"

You still couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze, "I'm fine," you replied, your voice lacking conviction even to your own ears. "Just felt a little nauseous.”

His hand reached out tentatively as if he wanted to comfort you, but he hesitated, letting it fall back to his side. “I just woke up and you were gone, and I...I panicked."

You hated the fact you could pinpoint the sincerity in his voice so easily. It nearly killed you. 

“We should go back.”

"Will you... will you be okay?" he asked, his voice hesitant.

You nodded, trying to muster up a reassuring smile, but it felt hollow and insincere. "I'll be fine," you lied, the words tasted bitter on your tongue, “Just need some rest.”

“Okay. Okay, yeah, let’s go back.”

As you stepped inside the room, he watched you carefully, as if he was afraid you would’ve disappeared again at any given moment. He tried to reach out and grab your arm, but you moved too quickly, and he was left grasping air.

You offered him a weak smile, ignoring the look on his face.

"I'm sorry for leaving like that," you said, your voice tinged with genuine regret. "I’m fine.”

You didn’t think he believed you. He was watching you so closely. He took in how disheveled you looked. The mess of your hair, and barely laced-up shoes so you could get out the door faster. He was smart enough to read your bullshit, but he only took a deep breath to calm himself.

“Is this about last night?”

Your body froze instantly. What were you supposed to tell him? Lie? Tell him the truth and make him hate himself even more? Keep your pain down to hold his?

“It was a mistake.”

You went straight to the chase.

He stalked closer to you, and you took a step back reflexively, “A mistake?” he echoed between labored breaths, “A mistake?”

“Yeah," you stammered, trying to articulate your thoughts, "It's not right. We, we're just lonely."

You despised yourself for even hinting at it, but the tumultuous month spent with him had been bewildering, to say the least. You questioned whether you were truly good for each other. You couldn't be.

"I thought..." he began, his voice trailing off. The vulnerability in his voice pierced your skin, a consequence of your actions. But you needed to put yourself first.

“I’m sorry.”

Rafe's face contorted, his features tightening into a mask of disbelief. And you couldn’t blame him for whatever he was about to unleash on you. You probably deserved it.

“So, what? You're just gonna walk away?" He tried to bark, but his voice quivered from grief, “Stop looking at me?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” He scoffed, lips twisting into a sneer, as he started to pace around the room, his movements restless and agitated. “That’s funny.”

Rafe could act cold and stoic all he wanted; you could hear the hurt in his voice and sense the sadness in the words. He sounded broken.

"You're angry,” Your mouth ran dry, your heart lurching into your throat. "I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” he seethed, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine, “Angry? You think you mean enough to me to make me angry?”

His words struck you like a physical blow, a slap to the face. You recoiled instinctively, even though you knew he didn't mean it.

"I don't know what I mean to you," you admitted quietly as you struggled to maintain your composure. "I just know that I can't keep doing this."

Rafe's laughter was bitter and mocking, "Can't keep doing this?" he repeated, his voice laced with derision. "And what, exactly, is 'this'? Fucking? You can’t even say it.”

“You’re being an asshole.”

"An asshole?" he spat, "Is that what you think of me?"

You held his gaze, refusing to back down despite the hurting coursing through your veins. "You're acting like one.”

“Maybank,” His voice was still harsh as he lowered his head to try and meet your eyes. He was close enough that you were able to smell him, "You don't know anything about me, remember? Maybe the fucking really did confuse you.”

“Stop it,” Your voice broke a little, fighting the waterworks that were threatening to run down your cheeks, “Stop making it sound like it meant nothing to you.”

His eyes shut tightly, “Why are you doing this?”

“Because it’s wrong! Rafe—don’t you see it? I can’t do this, not with you of all fucking people, okay?”

He looked down at the carpet, a look of shame falling over his features as he ran a hand over his face, “You knew who I was since the beginning.”

You felt so much frustration rising within you, "Yeah, and every time I look at you now, I see everything that's wrong with me."

“And whose fault is that? Hmm? You said you didn’t want to stop. You wanted it, you wanted me.”

You staggered back, feeling as if the ground beneath your feet was unsteady.

"I wanted it," Rafe repeated, fingers digging into his chest, "I wanted you."

You wanted to reach out to him, hug him as you had just hours ago, but you knew you couldn’t.

“We can’t.”

His eyes were slightly dewy, a somewhat defeated look to his gaze as he walked towards the door.

“Well, congrats Maybank. You won.”

The sound of the door slamming echoed through the room, the finality of it hitting you like a punch to the gut. You stood there, motionless, as the silence enveloped you. Why did it feel like this was going to crush you?

You sank to the floor, your back against the wall, and the tears came in a torrent, for the second time that morning. Sobs wracked your body, each one more painful than the last, as the reality of your situation became clear as day. You had pushed him away, and hurt him, but what other choice did you have? 

The quiet without him was almost eerie. You weren't used to being alone anymore. You couldn't deny that you had felt something for Rafe, something more than just anger and resentment.

But it was twisted, born out of shared trauma and desperation, wasn’t it? It had to be. It was the only explanation that made sense.

Wiping your tear-streaked face with trembling hands, you tried to gather yourself. You still needed to get home. In five days. How the fuck were you going to live in the same room with Rafe for five days after what went down?

You sat on the motel room floor for what felt like hours, the silence driving you up the walls. Eventually, exhaustion won out, and you crawled into bed, your mind too restless to allow for more than fitful dozing.

It was around 4 a.m. when the door to the motel room creaked open, startling you awake. You sat up, your heart pounding, straining to see in the dark. The figure that stumbled through the door was unmistakable: Rafe. His movements were unsteady, his clothes disheveled, and the sharp scent of alcohol hit you even from across the room.

“Rafe?”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned heavily against the doorframe, his eyes unfocused. He looked lost.

The anger that had driven him was gone, replaced by a hollow, almost haunted look. You had done that to him.

You got out of bed, approaching him cautiously, “What are you doing?”

He finally looked at you, his eyes bloodshot, “I... I couldn’t stay away,” he slurred, his words thick with the effects of too much alcohol. “I tried, but...”

You sighed, “Rafe, you’re drunk. You need to sit down.”

He let you guide him to the bed, his body heavy and uncooperative. Once he was seated, you grabbed a bottle of water from the small table and handed it to him.

“Drink this,” you instructed.

He took a sip, his hands shaking slightly. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, staring down at the floor. “For everything.”

It was the first time he ever apologized to you.

You didn’t know what to say. Part of you wanted to comfort him, to tell him it was okay, but another part of you was still reeling from earlier.

“You need to sleep this off."

He nodded but didn’t move.

Instead, he reached out, his hand brushing against yours. “I don’t want to be like him,” he confessed, “I can't."

If you allowed him to keep sputtering out his drunken thoughts you would’ve ended up crying your eyes out again, so instead you squeezed his hand, “Let’s just sleep, okay?”

He nodded again, his eyes drifting shut as the exhaustion and alcohol finally took their toll. You helped him lie down, covering him with the sheets. As you laid back down, you watched Rafe’s breathing even out, his face softening in sleep. 

That night? It never happened. It felt like everything was happening all over again.

Rafe didn’t spare you a glance from the moment he woke up, choosing to care for his hangover by himself. You and he moved around each other like ghosts, the motel room becoming a prison. You barely slept, the nightmares coming back, leaving you exhausted and on edge.

Every time you closed your eyes, you saw your father, Rafe, or the hauntings of your past, blending into a tiring cycle of fear. You knew he’d been having nightmares as well, but you pretended to be asleep every time he woke up, chest heaving. He never asked for you help.

He seemed so caught in his torment. You could see it in the way he clenched his jaw, the way his hands would flex into fists and then relax as if he was battling some inner demon. He avoided you, constantly, and when he did speak, his words were clipped and distant.

Your shared meals were silent, the clinking of cutlery the only sound breaking the oppressive quiet. Even the TV stayed off.

On the fifth night, you lay awake in the dark, listening to the rhythm of Rafe's breathing from the other bed. It was uneven, indicating he was also awake. Maybe you should've kept quiet, but his druken monologue was still very much killing you inside.

“You’re not gonna end up like him.”

Rafe's breathing hitched, and you could almost feel his eyes on you through the darkness.

"I mean it," you continued, turning slightly to face his silhouette. "You're not your father."

He didn't respond immediately, but you sensed a subtle change in his posture. Finally, he sighed, "How can you be so sure?" he murmured.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "Because I've seen you. I've seen the parts of you that fight against becoming him. The parts that want to be better. And that matters."

He let out a bitter laugh. "I'm not sure it’s enough.”

“It is.”

“It’s not, Maybank. I’ve done enough damage for a lifetime. It’s the reason why you’re sleeping on the other side of the bed instead of right next to me.”

You wanted to reach out, to reassure him that he wasn’t alone, but you knew it wasn’t that simple. 

“I’m still here,” you said softly, “I’m not leaving.”

“You already did.”

Ouch.

Before you could utter a single word, he turned his back to you.

“We’re leaving tomorrow. Sleep.”

“Rafe—”

“Goodnight.”

It took you hours to fall asleep. You lay in bed the events of the past weeks replaying in your mind. You thought of Rafe, of the hurt in his eyes, the way he had looked at you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. That didn't matter anymore to him.

The next morning, you didn’t bother much with packing, only shoving the pieces of clothing you’d collected in a backpack. It felt torturous, to be so close to Rafe yet so far away. He didn’t speak a word as he packed his things, his movements stiff and mechanical. You wanted to break the silence, but every time you opened your mouth, the words seemed to stick in your throat.

The taxi drive to the port was just as unbearable. You stared out the window, watching the landscape blur past, your mind racing with thoughts of what could have been, what should have been. 

Once you arrived, you and Rafe stepped out, the silence between you as impenetrable as ever. It was over. He took the lead, heading towards the ticket booth with his shoulders hunched, and you followed.

You were still scared shitless of those men. They were only helping you because at some point Rafe had helped them smuggle drugs into the States, and that did not leave you the least bit reassured over their intentions. 

Finding a spot on the deck, you both settled into a tense silence, the hum of the boat’s engine and the cries of seagulls filling the void between you. The beauty of the scene did little to ease the anxiety tightening in your chest.

He leaned against the railing, his gaze fixed on the horizon, his face still void of any emotion.

You watched him for a moment, torn between wanting to reach out to him and the fear that doing so would only make things worse.

Finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, you cleared your throat.

“Rafe,” you began hesitantly, “I—”

Before you could finish, he turned to you, his expression weary. “We don’t have to talk about it,” he said, his voice flat. “Not now.”

Not ever, that's what he meant.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Okay.”

“Just stay low, stay quiet. My dad got eyes everywhere.”

From the corner of your eye you spotted one of the men. Tall, burly, with a scar running down his cheek. He simply nodded towards the cargo boat and for a minute you’re taken back to your first day stuck with the Cameron’s, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to go terribly wrong.

Rafe walked in front of you again, entering the ship, rounding his way through the halls behind the sketchy guy, only stopping when he knocked on a door, after a moment, it swung open to reveal a bald shot man, eyes way too big for his face, which flicked over you and Rafe, a predatory smile curling his lips.

“Well, well, look who decided to show up,” he drawled, his voice laced with mockery. “You’re late.”

“Had some complications,” Rafe replied curtly, his posture tense.

You didn't like it one bit.

“Complications, huh? Well, come on in”

You followed Rafe inside, heart racing. The interior of the room was pretty dark, the air thick with the smell of smoke and something you couldn’t quite identify. Nor did you want to. 

“Rafe,” the older man announced, his voice cold and commanding. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten about our arrangement.”

“Never,” Rafe replied, his tone clipped. “I brought the money.”

He handed over a thick envelope, and the man behind the desk took it, flipping through the bills with a practiced eye. After a moment, he nodded, satisfied.

“Good,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Now, let’s discuss the other part of our deal.”

Rafe stiffened. “I told you, I’m out. I’m not running anything for you anymore.”

The man’s eyes narrowed, his smile turning dangerous. “I don’t think you understand. You don’t get to just walk away.”

You felt a chill run down your spine. This wasn't the plan. Right? The man behind the desk stood up, his gaze shifting to you.

“And who’s this?” he asked, his tone menacing.

“No one,” Rafe said quickly. “She has nothing to do with this.”

The man chuckled, a low, sinister sound. “Oh, I think she has everything to do with this.”

He took a step towards you, and instinctively, you backed away, Rafe moving to place himself between you and the older man, “Leave her out of this.”

“You see, your daddy dearest called in last night. Told me about a loose piece he had to get rid off…a pretty one. Guess this is her?”

"That's none of your business," Rafe growled, his voice filled with a warning, body still shielding yours.

The older man laughed, the sound grating against your nerves.

"Oh, but it is my business, Rafe. You see, your daddy and I, we go way back. And when he asks for a favor, I don't say no."

You knew this had to be a trap.

"Rafe, we need to go," you whispered urgently, tugging on his arm.

He didn't move, his eyes locked on the man before him. "We're leaving."

The man smirked, his gaze shifting between you and Rafe. "You think you can just walk out of here? You're in deep, Cameron. And now, so is she."

Rafe's jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists. "We're not doing this.”

The older man took a step closer, his eyes gleaming with malicious intent. 

"You have two choices, Rafe. You either do as I say, or she pays the price like Ward asked.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, fear coursing through your veins. You couldn't let Rafe get pulled back into this world, but you couldn't think about what might happen to both of you if you stayed.

"Rafe, please," you pleaded, your voice trembling at that point.

Rafe’s gaze flicked to you as if he was memorizing your features, from your eyes down to your lips. Oh hell no. You could see the gears turning inside his brain and it made you sick to your stomach when he took a deep breath, his eyes hardening with resolve.

“Run.”

Before you could protest, Rafe launched himself at the older man, tackling him to the ground. The suddenness of the movement caught everyone off guard, but you knew you had to act quickly.

Heart pounding, you turned and bolted out of the room, dropping your backpack in the process, your footsteps echoing down the dimly lit corridor.

Behind you, you could hear the sounds of struggle—grunts, crashes, and the thud of bodies hitting the floor. You didn’t dare look back, knowing that every second counted. Rafe had told you to run.

The ship's layout was confusing, with identical-looking hallways and doors leading to who-knew-where. You sprinted through the maze of metal and dim lights, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The distant sound of shouting and commotion indicated that the fight wasn't over. You turned a corner and collided with one of the burly men from earlier.

He grabbed your arm like you were some kind of animal, “Where do you think you’re going?” he snarled.

You stomped on his foot and jabbed your elbow into his ribs, wrenching your arm free as he grunted in pain. Without wasting a second, you continued running, your legs burning.

You burst onto the deck, the cold, salty air hitting you like a slap. The early morning light was just beginning to brighten the horizon, casting long shadows across the deck. You looked around frantically, searching for any means of escape. Your eyes landed on a lifeboat secured to the side of the ship. Without hesitation, you made your way towards it, fumbling with the ropes that held it in place. Your fingers were shaking, but you managed to free the boat. As you were about to lower it into the water, a rough hand grabbed your shoulder and spun you around. It was the man with the scar, his face twisted in anger.

“Going somewhere?” he sneered.

You tried to fight him off, but he was too strong.

Just when you thought all hope was lost, a loud bang echoed across the deck. The man with the scar froze, his grip loosening. You took the opportunity to break free, scrambling away from him.

Rafe stood at the entrance to the deck, a gun in his hand and determination in his eyes. The man with the scar raised his hands slowly, backing away.

“You okay?” Rafe asked.

“I think so.”

“Come here.”

Without thinking, you ran to him, your heart pounding with relief. He was okay. You were okay.

His arms wrapped around your lower back tightly, and gently pulled you back, his eyes searching your face to make sure you were okay, but before you could assure him you were fine, he kissed you.

It felt so…real, it nearly brought you to your knees. As cheesy as it sounded, it felt like time stood still for you, the rest of the world ceasing to exist. 

Until reality broke you again.

Rafe's body tensed suddenly. You heard a muffled sound, like a distant pop, but it took a moment for your mind to register what had happened. His grip on you loosened, and he staggered, his breath hitching in pain. No, no, no, no.

"Rafe?” You caught him as he fell to his knees, eyes darting around, searching for the source of the shot. Your eyes nearly popped out of your head as you watched a showdown between the so-called human traffickers and the fucking police. This had to be a fucking nightmare, no way, were you getting caught in a crossfire. 

Rafe clutched his side, blood seeping through his fingers, staining his white shirt. His face was scarily pale, and he struggled to stay upright.

"You need to...get out of here," he managed to say, his voice strained, “Right now.”

“I’m not leaving you, you fuckin—Shit, Rafe. Fuck!” You looked around frantically, your heart pounding in your chest. "Can you walk?" you asked, trying to keep the panic from your voice, you didn't want to scare him.

“Does it look like I can walk, pretty Maybank?”

A sob broke through you, “Don’t try to be fucking funny, you got shot!”

“Baby, you—“ he coughed, blood seeping through his teeth, "You gotta go home.”

"Stop talking!" you repeated, your voice trembling with desperation.

You looked around again, trying to find a way out, a way to save him, anything. But the chaos around you was too much. The police and the traffickers were in a fierce shootout, bullets whizzing through the air, ricocheting off metal, and splintering wood. There was nowhere to run.

Rafe's hand tightened weakly around yours.

"Listen to me," he said, his voice just a whisper. "You have to...Go gome."

Tears streamed down your face as you shook your head. "I can't leave you here."

You knew you had to move, had to find help, but leaving him there felt like tearing your heart out. As you turned to peek around one final time, you heard a shout from behind you.

"Freeze!" a police officer yelled, his gun trained on you.

You stopped, your hands raised, your mind racing. "Please, help him," you begged, pointing to Rafe. "He's been shot."

The officer's eyes flicked to Rafe, then back to you. "We need to secure the area first," he said, his tone firm but not unkind.

"Please," you repeated, your voice breaking. "He's dying."

The officer hesitated, then spoke into his radio. "Officer down, need medical assistance immediately."

Another officer approached, his gun drawn, and you saw his gaze soften as he took in Rafe's condition. "We'll get him help," he assured you, "but we need to get you out of here safely."

“I’m not leaving without him,” You made the mistake to glance back one last time, your heart breaking as you saw Rafe's eyes close, his body slumping against the ground, “No, no, no! Keep your eyes open, I swear to god—” Your hands trembled as you tried to staunch the flow of blood with your already stained clothing, "Stay with me," you pleaded, your voice cracking. 

His eyes fluttered open briefly, a weak smile touching his lips, "Go."

Before you could tell him off, you felt hands grip your shoulders, pulling you back. "We need to get you to safety," one of the officers said firmly, trying to drag you away from Rafe.

"No! Let me go! I can't leave him!" you screamed, fighting against their hold.

"Ma'am, we need to get you out of the line of fire," the officer insisted, his grip tightening as he pulled you to your feet.

Through your tears, you saw more officers surrounding Rafe, their voices urgent as they called for medical assistance. You watched helplessly as they began to administer first aid, their movements efficient and hurried.

As the officers dragged you away against your will, your eyes never left Rafe. "Please, don't let him die," you sobbed, your voice breaking with despair.

"We're doing everything we can," one of the officers reassured you, guiding you towards the edge of the deck where a police boat was waiting.

You stumbled, your legs weak with fear and exhaustion, but the officers held you steady. As you were helped onto the police boat, you turned back one last time, your heart breaking at the sight of Rafe lying on the deck, surrounded by officers and paramedics. You clutched the railing, your knuckles white, as the boat pulled away from the ship, the distance between you and Rafe growing with each passing second.

The journey back to shore was nothing but a blur of sirens, flashing lights, and the distant sound of helicopter blades cutting through the air. The police officers tried to reassure you, but you wouldn't rest until you saw him again. Alive.

When the boat finally docked, paramedics rushed forward, checking you for injuries, while police officers asked you questions about what had happened. You answered them mechanically, your mind still focused on Rafe, praying that he would survive. Hours seemed to pass in a haze of questions, medical checks, and statements. You told them everything. Finally, you were allowed to sit down and a police officer approached you.

"Rafe Cameron is being taken to the hospital," he said gently. "He's in critical condition, but the paramedics are doing everything they can."

You nodded numbly, "Can I see him?"

“’No visitors will be allowed, kid. We checked your backgrounds. If he survives, he’ll be taken into custody, his father is Ward Cameron, the feds are going to need him.”

You nearly threw up at how easily he said, “if he survives”. There couldn’t be no fucking ifs, he wasn’t dying. Not like this. Not after everything. 

Your knees buckled, and you had to sit down again. The officer helped you to a bench, his face sympathetic, “I understand this is hard, but we need to follow protocol. He’s a key witness and suspect in multiple ongoing investigations.”

You nodded. The world felt distant, and surreal. “Can I at least know which hospital?”

The officer hesitated for a moment, then relented. “St. Michael’s. But you won’t be allowed to call until we clear things with the authorities.”

“Call? I want to visit.”

He sighed, taking a seat next to you, “Kid. I’m really sorry, but you won’t be here. You’re a kidnapping victim and there’s a direct order to take you back home, you’ve been reported missing for over a month now.”

Your mind reeled, struggling to process the officer's words.

Missing? For over a month? It felt like a lifetime and no time at all had passed since you'd been caught up in this nightmare.

"I can't leave him. Not like this."

The officer's expression softened. "I understand, but this is out of my hands. We need to get you back to your family. They'll be worried sick."

What family?

You wanted to shout in his face. JJ was still missing for all you knew and Luke hadn't stepped foot home in months. You felt so helpless.

“I can't just leave him."

"We're going to get you home safely. You'll be able to follow up on Rafe's condition, but right now, you need to come with us."

The officer stood up, motioning for you to follow. Reluctantly, you got to your feet, without another option, every step feeling like a betrayal to Rafe.

As you were led out of the station and into a waiting car, you could only imagine him lying in a hospital bed, fighting for his life, by himself. You couldn't bear the thought of him waking up alone, without knowing that you were there for him.

If he ever woke up.

[ambrosiagourmet]

Did Laios have a plan

... when he made his deal with the Lion? How much of it was intentional and how much of it was out of his control?

Well. If I'm being honest I don't really want to try and provide a definitive answer to that question, because I think the ambiguity is, itself, part of the story. I've gone back and forth a few times myself, and I don't think either category - "fully intentional" or "fully coincidence" - is entirely true.

That being said, I would like to point out a few things that I've seen taken for granted as true. Things that, imo, are much more about the character's perspective, or about what the character WANTS people to think (well, that's really just the Winged Lion).

Consider this not exactly an argument for "Laios masterminded everything from the start and saved the world with his cunning," but more... "Laios considered what he was doing more than people give him credit for." Make sense?

Alright then, let's go:

So to start with, I want to show every time (that I could find, at least) that the question of 'does Laios have a plan' gets brought up. This is specifically after his Ultimate Monster Form is revealed, to be clear - the question isn't about if he has a plan in general, it is if he has/had a plan when he made this specific deal with the Lion.

Here they are:

-

-

You'll notice, in all of these instances, there never really is an answer given to the question. Either because there is no way to get one, or, with Kabru at the end there, because he explicitly doesn't let Laios answer. There's even a bit of an arc here: we start with a sort of desperate 'I've mostly given up but maybe this isn't as bad as it looks,' then get a more optimistic 'maybe we really are saved,' and finally end on 'it all worked out in the end, so we maybe don't need to know.'

But, as much as there is some genuine growth in Kabru's 'accept the outcome, rather than dissecting the truth,' I also think it says a lot more about him than about Laios. Kabru is the one trying to handle his questions and his uncertainty - as he said, he wants to confirm his judgement of character. He wants to feel like he had control over things.

And he lets that go! But he also doesn't actually get the truth, either, and his implied assumption here (that Laios, the wide-eyed monster-lover, probably just followed his desires), still relies on his judgements and assumptions about Laios.

But okay, these bits are all focused on the characters theorizing about Laios. How about we look at the character who actually tells us the facts ("facts"): the Winged Lion.

The Winged Lion has quite a bit to say about Laios and his monster form.

He says that Laios hates humanity, and would rather be a monster

I've talked about this a bit already, but the Lion makes a lot of claims and assumptions about Laios that aren't necessarily true.

First of all, let's just make sure we clearly establish that the Lion is being manipulative here. That may seem obvious, but it's important to understand that there is a difference between 'the truth' and 'a version of the truth specifically framed to prey upon your deepest shame and insecurities about what you really want.'

To point out a few quick-and-dirty contradictions here:

If Laios really hated all other humans, then the Lion wouldn't hinge so many of his other arguments on Laios' love for Falin and his friends.

the Lion claims that Laios "[doesn't] even care enough about the future of [the] world to express an opinion about it," even though Laios has literally expressed opinions on what he wants for the world, to the Lion's face.

In general, the Lion does not make a distinction between urges and choices (see, for instance: him using Marcille's subconscious fear of the canaries as a way to keep her from stopping the monsters from attacking in chapter 86).

I'm not saying there is not a piece of truth here, but also... we are not our darkest thoughts, and we especially are not those thoughts as defined by someone who wants to hurt and control us.

But let’s move on to the stuff the Lion claims about Laios once he has been turned into his monster form.

2. He says that (or rather, acts like) Laios is under his control

The Lion really enjoys grandstanding about how Monster Laios is an ultimate tool he has control over. He gloats about making Laios fight the others, and has him smash through the magical barrier.

But smashing the barrier is kinda the only thing that Monster Laios actually does for the Lion. He doesn't attack anyone. He doesn't hurt his friends, despite Chilchuck thinking that Laios has "turned completely into a monster." And he certainly doesn't simply let the Lion go through with his plan to eat everyone.

This barrier smashing is actually an interesting and odd thing for Laios to have done specifically, so remember that one. I'll come back to it later.

But, yeah, to the original point... despite the Lion's dramatics, all that Monster Laios does is pose, smash up a magic barrier, and then eat him. Not exactly under his control.

AND SPEAKING OF EATING THE DEMON...

3. He frames Laios attacking and eating him as thoughtlessly violent

This one is pretty funny to me, and the Lion keeps it up for the whole scene. I'm not sure how much of this is his genuine understanding of the situation, and how much is him intentionally framing things in the most insulting manner, but like... truly. The ego involved in this. To see someone who has, multiple times, tried to stand against you - someone who has literally wished for your non-existence, to your face - to see this person attack you, specifically, and have your first reaction be 'huh, I guess he's a reckless weirdo to the core???'

Incredible stuff.

And this part, too:

He claims that Laios can't recognize anyone, that he's out of control. And yet, the Lion is the only person that gets eaten here. He is Laios' singular target.

Hell, Laios even specifically attacks one of the bodies that is actively hurting Chilchuck. I don't know if that was entirely intentional on Laios' part, but I do think it's notable.

The Lion torments Laios' friend, and when Laios does something that interrupts that action, the Lion reframes it as unhinged violence. I don't know, there's something here about the way that cruel people only talk about the things people do to resist them as violent, and ignore the violence that causes such resistance in the first place.

In any case, the main point is that the Lion insists on treating Laios like an unthinking animal during this fight, despite the fact that Laios is clearly trying to accomplish something here.

And what exactly is Laios trying to accomplish? Well, the Lion isn't entirely wrong. Laios is trying to eat something. He tells us as much.

And truly, everything Laios does as a monster points to this. He had a goal. And he accomplished it.

Let me back up a moment. I need to explain smashing the barrier.

So, Laios first starts considering how to kill the Lion when he is confronted with the fact that his only other choice would be to kill Marcille. Immediately and entirely discarding that solution, because of course he does, he tries to wrap his head around what defeating the Lion would even look like.

He clearly continues thinking about this, as a nearly identical conversation happens a few chapters later, when Laios is once again told that killing Marcille is the only way forward.

Only, this time, he's started to come up with an idea for how to do this impossible thing.

Harkening all the way back to the Living Armor chapter, Laios draws on the same lesson - if the Lion has made itself part of the world, if it has made itself into something alive, that means he can kill it. And eat it.

But there's an important extra detail to this. If he's going to try and kill (and eat) the Lion, he needs to strike when it’s vulnerable. He needs to strike when it's eating.

This is why he smashes through the barrier. Again, nothing else he does as a monster really benefits the Lion. He doesn't attack anyone else. The only command he obeys is to smash the barrier. Because the Lion has to think he has won for Laios to be able to eat him.

Beat him. For Laios to be able to beat him.

The question of why Monster Laios wanted to eat the Lion is, I think, the most ambiguous part. Was he curious? Hungry? Did he fight for his own life, for his friends, or for all of humanity? Did he know how to win because he had planned everything from the start, or because he was driven by an unquenchable instinct to do whatever it took to survive?

I don't know that it is possible to say for sure. But I do know that the Lion underestimates Laios, through it all. He underestimates Laios as a human, and he underestimates Laios as a monster.

And in the end, after he is bested, even then I don't think the Lion ever gets Laios. I don't think he understands how much Laios means his words about the Lion being burdened by hunger...

or what Laios cares about most...

or what meaning there is in life, for him.

So I don't buy what the Lion is selling about Laios, generally speaking. I don't buy that Laios didn't ever know what he was doing, and I don't buy that he was nothing more than a hungry beast.

Well. I mean. He was a hungry beast. But he was a more than that too. He was the Devourer of All Things Horrible. And he didn't just happen into that title by chance.

[kennedyhateskanye]

Across the ellieverse

An: you guys ate up my horny looser!ellie??!!??? I’ve been silently consuming Ellie Williams smut fan fiction for like a year now and it’s so silly and fun that I wrote something that made people horny. Swear I’ll write another one once I perfect the concept in my little Neanderthal mind.

Concept: there are so many distinct versions of Ellie on here that you guys write about, and I am so attracted to each and every one of them. This is kind of a conglomerate of some of my favorites.

STRICTLY 18+

—————————————

Hockeyplayer!ellie who calls you a puck bunny and smacks your ass when you ride her thick strap, she’s got that hockey accent and it comes out stronger than usual when she’s inside of you. She pumps hard cause sports have turned her into someone so cocky and vain. It makes it feel even better when she gets off the ice after a rough game, yanking jerseys and shoving players to protect her goal tender. she takes her mouth gaurd out and pumped full of the pride from her fresh win, she fucks you doggy style in the locker room with her jersey between her teeth exposing her flexing abdominal muscles. Insists on you wearing something cute, but not too slutty to her games because she doesn’t need her teammates getting a peak up your skirt while they’re waiting in the box by the stands.

Looser!ellie who whimpers when she pushes her fingers inside you for the first time, practically drooling while she heavy breathes. She’s got a shocked look on her face the whole time, taking in the smell and taste of pussy since shes never experienced it before. Her plaid boxers are soaked when you let her play with your cunt. she whispers things like “oh my fuck” under her breath as she whines from the sight of your sloppy pussy swallowing her fingers. The first time you two properly made out and she got to grope your tits, she was literally eyes blown wide mouth open. Her voice cracked as she said “mm is this okay” whimpering as she smooshed your tits together, SALAVATING at the sight. That night while you kissed sloppily she found herself rutting and against you in her jeans, she was so embarrassed but she just couldn’t help it.

Toxic!ellie who wants you to know she could have anyone she wants, when you argue she sends you the old photos she has in her my eyes only, of her fucking girls like they were an expendable commodity. She knew you’d be too jealous not to forgive her, afraid she’d go out and fuck some girl if you carried on pouting. While she pounds into you she presses down on your tummy, leans into your ear and sternly says “take it bitch”. You two were constantly on again off again, you’d make it a couple days without talking to her after your friends finally convinced you she was horrible for you, and to block her. then you’d get a text from a ‘text now’ number saying simply, “let me the fuck in, I’m at the side door.” She knows how addicted to her you are, and she makes sure to bring it up when she’s slamming you into the mattress, ass bent over the bed, and ripping your skirt up over your legs. “You know you can’t go without this dick, can you?” Of course, you give into her mind games “n-no! Fuck, mmmm I can’t go without it”

Pornstar!ellie who knows your the real star of the show, makes sure the livestream gets a good view of your pussy as she rubs your clit, smacks it, and asks the chat a series of questions. “Isn’t this pussy so pretty” “what should I do to it ?” “How long do you think she’d last if I tied and vibed her today, I know you guys fucking love that” “she won’t stop squirming, what should i do to make sure she sits still and shuts the fuck up, I’m trying to film”

[woo-wahhhh]

[ too much energy ] "kaji..."

"what?!"

"did you seriously just walk into my shop, before class, and already injured?" you scowled back, rolling your eyes as you regarded his relaxed figure in the doorway. a part of you marvelled how he looked perturbed by your disbelief than he was of the blood freshly running down his arm. "you have way too much energy this early in the morning, dude."

"look, clown me all you want, but let's get one thing straight," he grit out. he jabbed a finger vindictively at you, followed by the insanely loud clacking of his stupid lollipop against his teeth. "i didn't get into a fight."

"colour me impressed," you couldn't help but quip sarcastically, though you motioned him to come closer to where you were rummaging under the counter. you were grateful that being so early, no one had come into buy flowers yet, since it would be a bit of a jump scare to find a man bleeding out.

"shut up," he hissed, glaring perpetually while he took a seat behind your counter, and sticking his arm out. it was amusing, how someone could look annoyed yet so charming in the same action. you almost wanted to comment on the his childish appearance, but you had a feeling he'd slap his headphones on and dash out if you did.

"well?" you prompted, pulling out a first aid kit and setting it on the counter. "what happened to your arm then?"

you could feel his hawkish gaze trail after your every move, scrutinizing each action with such intensity, you couldn't tell if he was pissed off or if he was under an enchantment.

"that granny lost her cat again," kaji said simply.

this boy, you cursed internally as you pulled out disinfectant and bandages. "and?"

"what do you think happened?" he scowled, canines flashing as he grit his teeth at the sting of the ointment. "it fucking scratched me when i caught it." he shook his fringe out of the way, perhaps to properly express his annoyance.

"you look much more handsome when you're angry," you blurted out, reaching up to push his hair back without thinking too much– after all, he was your boyfriend. but more importantly, it was much to his incredibly visible chagrin– by habit, he flinched, automatically trying to grab at his headphones, but he couldn't shake off your grip on his arm, leaving him to clutch one side like a damsel in distress, eyes wide and horrified.

but he calmed down quickly enough when you didn't pay him mind, too accustomed to his shenanigans, humming lightly as you focused on the bandages and keeping the heat from dancing up your spine. there was a simmering tension between you; unspoken, though his eyes were dead set on your nimble movements, the distinct weight of his gaze telling you he wouldn't look away, or more properly, he couldn't.

once you finally looked up from your finished work, you noted his eyebrows were knit together, the permanent glare on his face still written in stone, but his tone was somehow gentler than he let on. "look me in the eyes if you're gonna say stuff like that."

silence ensued, of course, your eyebrows quirking up as the obvious dangled from your tongue.

"kaji, you just looked like you were about to bolt outta here,"

"well, yeah, how else am i supposed to act when you say that?"

"i- i don't know," you stammered, suddenly hyperaware of how he wasn't looking away, how his eyes were practically tracing over every contour of your face with the intensity that could burn. "maybe- maybe act a bit more touched?"

"touched?" he echoed, a bit of incredulous sneer in his voice as he hopped off his seat. the abruptness of it all startled you as your back unwittingly hit the counter, and before you could make your own grand escape, he placed an arm on each side of you, effectively caging you in.

the sudden change up from the incredibly flustered kaji to this steamrolling behaviour made your head spin as you gaze up at him with wide eyes that were only met with a grey, smouldering gaze with the intensity of a storm.

"here," kaji swiftly popped out the lollipop from his mouth, holding it to you. you hesitantly took it from his hand, the question of "what the hell, dude?" bubbling at your lips when without a warning, he grabbed your face and kissed you.

short and sweet, but somehow still awfully fierce for that early in the day– you expected nothing less from ren kaji.

"now what was about?" you giggled as you pulled back, dotingly reaching up to smear your lip gloss onto his chapped lips. an act of giving and receiving, one could even say, since he'd left you with the sickeningly sweet taste of caramel on your tongue. "do you like it when i call you handsome?" you teasingly chimed.

"shut up," kaji grumbled once again, pushing his hair back and pressing his forehead against yours. "you looked cute and i just felt like it, that's all." maybe to someone else, that wasn't a fulfilling response, but you knew how straightforward kaji was, and that he wouldn't lie about something like that.

"well, if you're feeling like it then," you whispered, your lips bumping into his as you spoke, "you should kiss me again."

"demanding," kaji huffed out, though he hoisted you up onto the counter anyways without breaking a sweat, a small, but cocky smile on his face when you grabbed onto his shoulders for dear life.

"oh my god, at least warn me!" you complained. maybe you really should have kept an eye on the door, but with his figure before you, and slotted between your legs and the his hand gently coaxing you forward by the nape of your neck, it was hard to care.

"you have way too much energy to yap in the morning," he chided indignantly, but the way he was already leaning up suggested otherwise.

"hey, you're the one who–!"

"morning, (name)! did kaji already pop by– oh,"

"w-w-we'll just– uh– s-see you at school, k-kaji!?" enomoto managed to croak out before they both scurried away with mildly red faces, reminding you less of the teenage gang members they were and more of children.

you almost fell off the counter, had it not been for kaji's reflexes, but the damage had been done, and the lollipop he'd entrusted you with fell to the floor with a dull thud as enomoto and kusumi blinked at the two of you with horrified expressions.

"hey boys," you greeted casually with a wave.

"oh my, we've made a scandal, darling," you joked– regrettably, or so you thought later in the day when the rest of the tamon team's second years started cooing at at poor kaji. perhaps it was a lesson to not be so energetic in the mornings from then on.