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ghoulsbounty · 7 months ago

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The Unexpected pt 1

DBF! Wade Felton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+), car sex, cowgirl, semi-public sex, heavy flirting, p in v, bad dates, mutual pining, angst, age gap (reader is early 30's, Wade is 48)

Word Count: 6.3K

A/N: Anon! ALL the love for Wade Felton! There isn't enough for him and I've loved writing this. Yes this gif did inspire the first half. Here is the first part, I hope you enjoy! I’d love to know what you all think to this, and feel free to send me more requests 💌

The anticipation had been building all day, excitement bubbling up within you like a shaken soda bottle ready to burst. You'd meticulously chosen your outfit, practiced your smile in the mirror, and rehearsed witty conversation starters in your head. After weeks of chatting online, you were finally meeting him in person—the man who seemed to check all the boxes, the one who promised to sweep you off your feet and make your heart race.

But as you sat at the cozy table near the window of the trendy restaurant, watching the world outside blur by in a flurry of raindrops, you couldn't shake the sinking feeling in your stomach. Time ticked by slowly, each passing minute punctuated by the clinking of cutlery and the murmured conversations of other diners. You checked your phone for what felt like the hundredth time, hoping for a message, a sign that he was on his way. Yet, there was nothing.

When he finally walked in, you tried to mask your disillusionment with a forced smile. He shrugged off his navy sports jacket with casual indifference, his eyes darting around the room as he muttered excuses for his lateness—a familiar refrain of traffic jams and inclement weather that did little to appease your growing unease.

As he settled into his seat opposite you, his gaze flickering over the menu without so much as a glance in your direction, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. This wasn't how you had imagined your first meeting—a whirlwind of laughter and chemistry, a spark igniting between you from the moment your eyes met. Instead, there was only awkwardness, an intense strain in the atmosphere between you.

You tried to make conversation, to salvage what little remained of the evening, but his responses were curt, his attention already drifting elsewhere. The giddiness you had felt in suspense of this date had long since dissipated, replaced by a sense of defeat and heavy regret. As he snapped his fingers to get the waiter's attention, you realized with a sinking feeling that this was not the beginning of a grand romance, but rather the end of a fleeting fantasy.

Your mom had been relentless in her encouragement to dip your toes into the dating pool. "You need to get out more," she'd insist, her voice a blend of exasperation and eagerness. "Don't spend every weekend holed up with your old folks." Though her intentions were good, her words often felt like a gentle push tinged with a mother's anxious plea.

At first, the idea had appealed to you—a chance to break free from the familiar routine, to explore new possibilities, to embrace the thrill of romance. The thought of being wined and dined, engaging in lively conversations with potential romantic interests, had sparked a sense of excitement within you. It all seemed infinitely better than the quiet evenings spent at home.

However, what you hadn't bargained for were the rollercoaster rides that awaited you in the tumultuous world of online dating. Each date often began with high hopes and slight apprehension but ended with you feeling more disheartened than before. The profiles rarely matched the personalities, the conversations fell flat, and the chemistry was frequently non-existent. The thrill of romance quickly turned into a series of awkward encounters, leaving you longing for the predictability of Scrabble nights with your parents.

Throughout your twenties, your focus had been singular: advancing your career. You'd packed your bags and moved across the country, chasing opportunities that promised to elevate your prospects. Along the way, there were relationships, some fleeting, some more substantial, and your fair share of dates. But whether it was the adjustment to life back in your hometown, or the distinct pool of available men in Raleigh, dating since your return had been anything but smooth sailing.

As you swept your gaze across the bustling restaurant, a familiar figure caught your eye. There, perched on a stool at the bar with an air of casual confidence, sat your dad's best friend. His presence seemed to command attention, and when his eyes met yours, there was a knowing glint that passed between you. With a hesitant lift of his fingers, he offered a greeting, and you responded with a subtle flick of your hand before discreetly returning it to your lap. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you acknowledged him, a wave of nostalgia mingling with a hint of embarrassment.

Memories flooded back—summer barbecues filled with laughter, late-night advice sessions during tough times, and the unspoken bond that had grown over the years. It had been a while since you'd seen him, since you'd returned to your hometown. Despite the warmth of these memories, you'd kept your distance, declining invitations to join your parents at his recent back-yard cook-outs. A sense of failure and shame had held you back, the weight of unmet expectations and dreams unfulfilled lingering in your mind like a stubborn shadow.

Wade Felton sat at the bar, his casual confidence an anchor in the sea of strangers that surrounded you. His eyes, a mix of concern and curiosity, held a spark of recognition that sent a ripple of reassurance through you. It felt oddly comforting, the familiarity of his face amidst the unfamiliarity of the restaurant.

As you glanced his way, Wade raised his glass of bourbon in your direction, a subtle quirk of his eyebrow accompanying the gesture. It was a small but significant moment. Was it an invitation to join him in a drink, or perhaps a silent acknowledgment of the less-than-ideal situation unfolding at your table? You couldn't be sure, but the gesture warmed you nonetheless.

The evening had not gone as planned. Your date, Tom, was self-absorbed, endlessly droning on about his workout routines and expansive vinyl collection, without so much as a pause to engage you in conversation. You felt trapped, a prisoner of your own politeness, listening to him with feigned interest while your thoughts drifted to the man at the bar.

But now, with Wade's gaze fixed on you, you felt a spark of defiance. You'd had enough of enduring dismal dates out of sheer courtesy. His mere presence ignited a desire to reclaim your evening.

Summoning your courage, you interrupted Tom mid-monologue. "Can I stop you?" you said politely but firmly. "This isn't going well, I think you'd agree."

Tom looked taken aback, his expression shifting from confusion to resignation. He nodded slowly, his eyes dropping to the table. He reached for his wallet, extracted a few notes, and placed them on the table. "You're right," he admitted bluntly, "you were much more interesting when we talked on the app."

You seethed inwardly but maintained your composure, offering a tight-lipped nod as you retrieved your share of the bill from your purse and placed it on top of his contribution.

"I'm taking this," Tom declared, grabbing the bottle of wine as he rose from his seat. Snatching his jacket, he glanced back at you. "Good luck," he added curtly before exiting the restaurant, leaving you alone at the table.

With a heavy sigh, you gathered your purse and the plate of food you had ordered. Determination fuelled your steps as you navigated the crowded restaurant, heading towards the bar where Wade sat, his sturdy frame dominating the space. As you approached, the soft glow of the overhead lights cast a warm halo around him, illuminating him like a beacon in the dimness of the bar.

Setting the plate down on the polished counter, you pushed it towards Wade with a gentle yet purposeful motion. With practiced ease, you hoisted yourself onto the stool beside him, the worn leather creaking softly beneath you. Leaning in, you met his amused gaze with a playful twinkle in your eyes.

"Did you order the Korean tacos with a side of a woman who is apparently more fun on a dating app than in real life, Mr. Felton?" you quipped, your words laced with a touch of self-deprecation. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as Wade's laughter filled the air, his easy-going demeanour a welcome contrast to the tension of your failed date. With a casual grace, he turned to face you, one arm resting on the bar as he met your gaze with genuine warmth.

His laughter was like a balm, soothing the sting of the evening's earlier disappointments. "I don't like to pry, but it didn't seem like you were getting a word in edgewise," he remarked, shaking his head in amusement. He signalled to the bartender and ordered you a glass of white wine. "White, right? If I remember, red gives you headaches," he added with a knowing smile.

You nodded appreciatively, a wide smile spreading across your face at his thoughtfulness. The way he remembered such a trivial detail about you struck a chord, touching you in a way you hadn't expected. It wasn't just the wine; it was the recognition, the familiarity in the gesture that made you feel seen.

As you brought the glass of wine to your lips and took a sip, a sense of calm washed over you. The crisp, cool liquid steadied your nerves, the taste familiar and soothing. The ambient noise of the restaurant faded into the background, leaving just the two of you in this unexpectedly intimate bubble. The warmth of the moment wrapped around you, making this unfamiliar yet oddly comforting situation feel like a safe haven amidst the chaos of your evening.

This felt like a decisively grown-up situation, and while you knew you were perfectly capable of handling it, there was still a sense of novelty to the experience. Normally, around your dad's friends—people you had essentially grown up with—you couldn't help but feel like a child, forever relegated to the role of the kid tagging along. But here, sitting at the bar with Wade, it felt different. Two adults, sharing a drink and engaging in conversation as equals. You couldn't help but wonder if he felt the same way, or if perhaps this was just a figment of your imagination, a fleeting moment of perceived maturity.

"Are you waiting for someone?" you asked, your curiosity piqued as you tried to manoeuvre yourself gracefully through the conversation with the older man.

Wade's gaze drifted for a moment, his eyes flickering briefly to his phone before returning to meet yours. "I was," he admitted with a sigh, the faintest hint of disappointment colouring his tone. He lifted his phone from the bar to check a message. "But not anymore. Seems like I got stood up."

You noticed a flicker of frustration in his eyes, a brief moment where his façade faltered before he shrugged it off with a nonchalant gesture. The soft glow of the bar lights bathed his face in a warm, amber hue, accentuating the contours of his features and the subtle lines that spoke of a life rich with experiences.

"That's rough," you sympathized, your voice soft as you raised the glass of wine to your lips, offering a brief reprieve from the tension in the air. You savoured the taste, allowing it to linger on your palate as you considered the shared sense of defeat you felt with him. "Seems like we're both having a night of disappointments," you remarked, the words carrying a weight of understanding between you.

Wade chuckled, a deep, reassuring sound that made you feel at ease. His eyes crinkled at the corners, reflecting the light. "Yeah, it looks like it. But hey, at least we can keep each other company now."

You couldn't help but silently thank the woman who hadn't shown. Since you were old enough to appreciate the opposite sex, you'd harboured a secret admiration for the older man. In your awkward late teens, you likely made it painfully obvious, your infatuation spilling over in clumsy gestures and stammered words, until your first experiences with boys taught you the nuances of approaching them with an air of sensuality.

But even as you matured, your admiration for Wade remained steadfast, a silent longing that lingered beneath the surface. You'd often caught yourself stealing glances at him during family gatherings, marvelling at the way his laughter seemed to fill the room and the easy confidence with which he carried himself.

Now, as you sat beside him at the bar, you couldn't shake the thought that fate had intervened in the form of a missed date. The anticipation of what could unfold between you hummed in the air, mingling with the soft murmur of conversation and the clinking of glasses. Despite the unlikelihood of him ever seeing you as anything more than his best friend's daughter, you couldn't resist the urge to inch closer on your stool until your knee brushed his, a subtle yet deliberate gesture that spoke volumes of your unspoken desires.

"So, what were you looking forward to more, the company or the food?" you asked, your tone light and playful.

He leaned back slightly, the leather of the bar stool creaking under his weight as he considered your question. "A bit of both, I suppose," he said, his voice low and thoughtful. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that betrayed a hint of vulnerability beneath his usually composed exterior. "But if I'm honest," he continued, his gaze softening as it met yours, "good company always trumps good food."

There was a sincerity in his words that made your heart flutter, a comforting heat enveloping you you at the genuine sentiment behind them. With a thoughtful expression, you pursed your lips, considering his response. "I agree," you finally replied, a playful glint in your eyes, "but you haven't tried these tacos yet."

With a mischievous smile, you slid the plate over to him, the aroma of the savoury dish filling the space between you. Wade chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that reverberated through the air, his laughter infectious as it mingled with the ambient noise of the busy bar.

"You're right," Wade agreed, his tone light as he picked up a taco and broke it in half with a satisfying crunch. He held out a piece to you, a twinkle in his eyes as he willed you to accept it with a smile. "I can't be too quick to judge, can I?" he added, his expression teasing.

You accepted the taco from Wade, feeling a rush of excitement as his fingertips brushed against yours, sending a shiver down your spine. His eyes remained locked on yours, a silent exchange of understanding passing between you as he brought the food to his lips and took a bite, a soft hum of appreciation escaping him.

Following his lead, you savoured the explosion of flavours from the taco, each bite a delightful symphony of spices and textures that danced on your tongue. "Damn, that's a good taco," Wade remarked, a satisfied smile spreading across his face as he turned his attention back to you. His eyes held a warmth that matched his smile, and there was a subtle yet unmistakable longing in his gaze. "Still prefer the company, though," he added, his words laced with sincerity and a hint of something more, leaving you with a fluttering sensation in your chest.

The moment felt unexpectedly intimate, the simple act of sharing food creating a connection that seemed to transcend the confines of the respective roles you held in each others lives. With each bite, the initial awkwardness of the evening melted away, replaced by a growing sense of ease that you hadn't felt in a man's company in a long time.

When Wade finished with a lick of his fingers, a jolt of electricity shot through you, igniting a flurry of thoughts and emotions. You inwardly scolded yourself, urging restraint and reminding yourself of the countless reasons why anything beyond what you had with Wade was impossible. After all, there were too many factors to consider: your dad, the significant age difference, the intricate web of familial and social dynamics that bound you both.

"So, tell me," Wade continued, pulling you from your thoughts as he leaned back slightly against the bar, his expression relaxed yet curious. "What have you been up to since coming back to town? Besides enduring disastrous dates, of course."

"Well," you began, fingers idly tracing patterns on the stem of your wine glass as you mulled over your response, "besides dodging the pitfalls of modern romance, I've been navigating the murky waters of post-grad life and a floundering career." You paused, allowing the weight of your words to settle before continuing. "Moving back home has been... an adjustment, to say the least. But I'm slowly finding my footing again."

Wade nodded, his gaze gentle and attentive as he listened to your words. "I can imagine," he replied, a hint of empathy in his voice. "Transitioning back to small-town life after being away for so long must be quite the challenge. But it sounds like you're handling it with grace."

You couldn't suppress the smile that tugged at your lips, appreciating his understanding and the fact that he always knew what to say. "Thanks," you murmured, feeling a heat rise to your cheeks. "And what about you? What's been keeping you busy these days?"

"Work, mostly," he chuckled, his eyes gleaming with a hint of amusement as he reflected on his daily endeavours. "And trying to keep up with my girls. I was not prepared for teenagers," he confessed, shaking his head with a wry grin, "but your dad's been a real help, keeps me on my toes."

"I bet he does," you replied, the mental image of your dad as the lively and enthusiastic accomplice in Wade's parenting adventure brought a smile to your lips. "He's always been good at that."

Wade nodded, then with a playful wave of his hand, he dismissed the topic. "Enough about him," he added with a laugh, and you felt a wave of relief wash over you, grateful to steer the conversation away from your father. It felt odd, almost wrong, to talk about him while your leg was pressed against Wade's under the bar, a contact he made no effort to break.

"So, what are your plans now that you're back?" he asked, his eyes searching yours with genuine interest. "Any grand ambitions?"

Resting your chin on your palm, you observed the dance of light on the surface of your glass, captivated by the intricate patterns it wove. "Honestly," you began, your voice soft yet tinged with a hint of vulnerability, "I'm still figuring it out." You glanced up, meeting Wade's gaze with a mixture of uncertainty and resolve. "I had these grand plans for my thirties, you know? But I guess the universe had different ideas."

The weight of your words hung in the air, yet, despite it all, a small, determined smile graced your lips. "But hey," you continued, a flicker of energy lighting up your eyes, "if I'm a grown adult now, living under my parents' roof, I might as well make the most of it, right?" You chuckled softly, the sound carrying a hint of conviction. "So, I'm getting out and trying to have a little fun, seeing what else the universe has in store for me. I guess I'm just taking it one step at a time."

Wade's eyes gleamed with a sense of prideful understanding as he listened intently, nodding along in affirmation. "That's a good approach," he remarked, his voice carrying a comforting resonance. Each word seemed to wrap around you like a reassuring embrace. "Sometimes, taking it one step at a time is the best thing you can do. And hey," he added, a smirk tugging at his lips, "there's nothing wrong with a little fun along the way."

The seemingly innocuous exchange between you in the intimate ambiance of the bar carried implications that sent shivers of excitement down your spine. With his gaze locked onto yours, brimming with sincerity, you felt a newfound boldness surge within you. "Sometimes, the best things can happen when you least expect them, right?" you posed, your voice laced with a hint of playfulness, yet underscored by a genuine curiosity, eager to explore the depths of this burgeoning connection.

He chuckled softly. Glancing down at his drink, he lifted the glass and met your gaze once more. "To the unexpected," he said, his voice low and inviting.

You brought your glass to his, the crystal clinking together in a toast that felt like a promise. "To the unexpected," you echoed, a smile spreading across your face as the moment hung between you.

As you both took a sip, the background noise of the restaurant seemed to fade even further, leaving just the two of you in your shared bubble. The possibilities of the evening ahead had your heart pounding against your chest, your mind reeling with the idea that perhaps your fantasies were about to come true. You glanced at Wade, noticing the way his eyes sparkled with a mixture of amusement and curiosity.

The buzz from the wine spread through you, mingling with the excitement of the moment. You set your glass down, your fingers grazing his on the bar top, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. He didn't pull away; instead, he leaned closer, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

"Can I take you home?"

The drive was silent except for the blues that crooned lowly on the radio, the tension between you palpable. Each glance, each accidental touch, only heightened the anticipation. When he finally pulled into his driveway, the reality of what was about to happen hit you with full force.

Wade turned off the engine, and for a moment, the only sound was the rain tapping softly against the roof, creating a cocoon of intimacy around you. He turned to face you, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and uncertainty. "I think I should walk you to your door," he conceded, his voice laced with sincerity.

A wave of disappointment washed over you at his words, the excitement you previously felt now ebbing away as you contemplated the end of the evening. Your gaze shifted to your house, standing in quiet solidarity beside his under the silvery glow of the moon. Every window remained veiled in darkness, the roar of the engine hadn't woken your family or his.

You hesitated, reluctant to let the evening come to such an abrupt end. With a fleeting glance back at Wade, you searched his eyes, hoping to uncover any clue about his true desires. The unspoken tension between you seemed to thicken, casting a heavy, almost suffocating atmosphere around you. Summoning your courage, you finally voiced your question. "Is that what you want?"

Wade sighed deeply, his hands sliding over his jean-clad thighs in a gesture of frustration. He looked up at the ceiling, the muscles in his jaw tightening. "No, it's not," he admitted, his voice a hushed murmur. "I want you, but I can't have you."

Your heart soared at his confession, a thrill coursing through your veins. Your fingers tingled as you unbuckled your seatbelt, turning inwards to face him. "Says who?" you challenged, your voice soft but steady.

He looked at you then, truly looked at you, as if seeing you for the first time. The rain outside intensified, drumming a steady rhythm on the truck roof, making the interior feel even more intimate. The raw intensity of his gaze made your breath catch in your throat. The dim light from the streetlamp cast a soft glow over his rugged face, highlighting the conflict warring within him.

"Says everyone," he finally replied, shaking his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. "Your dad, our families... It would be wrong."

"Does it feel wrong?" Your question hung in the air, charged with uncertainty. With a tentative touch, your fingertips traced a path along Wade's thigh, the fabric of his jeans rough against your skin. His breath caught in his throat, a flicker of surprise dancing in his eyes, mirrored by the vulnerability in your own. In the dim light of the truck cabin, every detail seemed magnified—the furrow of his brow, the intensity of his gaze, the subtle quiver of his lips. "Does it feel wrong?" you repeated, your voice steady, yet laced with a newfound determination. "I know what I want, and I think you do too."

His eyes darkened with a mix of desire and hesitation as reached out, his hand trembling slightly as it cupped your cheek. His thumb brushed lightly over your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. You leaned into his palm, closing your eyes for a brief moment, savouring the warmth of his touch.

When you opened your eyes again, the uncertainty in his had given way to resolve. He leaned in slowly, his breath hot against your lips, filling the small space with an intoxicating air. "If we're doing this," he whispered, his voice filled with raw emotion, "we're doing it right."

You weren't sure what he was alluding to but nodded regardless, your heart pounding as his lips finally met yours. The kiss started tentative, sweet and gentle as if testing the waters, but quickly deepened into something more urgent and demanding. His other hand released him from his belt before finding its way to your waist, pulling you closer. The rain outside continued to pour, but all you could feel was the heat of his embrace and the electrifying connection that surged between you.

His lips were soft but insistent, exploring yours with a hunger that mirrored your own. The taste of bourbon lingered on his tongue, mingling with the sweetness of yours. You threaded your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer, losing yourself in the moment. You slid the hand still on his thigh higher until your palm laid flat over the growing bulge in his jeans. You gave him a firm squeeze, and he tore his lips from yours as he eyed you warily.

"We can't, not here," he said, glancing behind you, his eyes flitting between your house and his.

You followed his gaze over your shoulder, taking in the proximity of both houses, each window still dark and quiet. Turning back to him, you asked softly, "Are the girls home?"

"Yes," he sighed in defeat, his body still tense under your touch. "I can get us a room."

You shook your head. "I don't want to wait any longer," you told him, voice laced with persuasion as you leant in to plant a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth. "I've needed you long before tonight," you told him.

"Gotdamn," he breathed, hand leaving your waist momentarily to adjust his seat, sliding himself back to make more space between him and the wheel. "Hop on, baby," he commanded, his voice rough with need as he pulled at you towards him. You climbed over the console, your dress hitching up as you straddled him, knees pressing into the worn leather seat on either side of his thighs.

His hands settled on your hips again, fingers digging in slightly as he looked up at you, his breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts. The raw hunger in his gaze sent a thrill through you, his need for you evident from the hardness pressed between your thighs. You leaned in, your lips finding his once more, the kiss deep and consuming as your tongues battled for dominance.

The sensation of his hands roaming over your back, holding you tight to his firm chest, was exhilarating. His touch was both demanding and gentle, a mix of urgency and care that made your pulse race and nerves fray as he explored your body.

He kissed down your neck, his lips trailing hot and wet against your skin, leaving a path of shivers in their wake. His tongue flicked out, teasing the sensitive spots that drove you wild. When he reached the dome of your breasts, you hooked a finger around the fabric of your dress and the bra underneath, pulling them down to expose yourself to him. The sudden rush of cool air made your nipples harden instantly, standing erect in anticipation. Wade's eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight before him, and a soft growl escaped his lips.

He took one nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it with expert precision, each flick sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. The delicious graze of his teeth added an edge to the sensation, making you gasp and arch your back, pressing yourself even closer to him.

His hands roamed over your back and sides, exploring every curve and contour, as if he couldn't get enough of you. The combination of his mouth on your breast and the possessive grip of his hands on your body was overwhelming your senses with a heady mix of pleasure and lust.

As he switched to your other nipple, giving it the same exquisite attention, you tangled your fingers in his hair, holding him close. The cabin of the truck seemed to shrink around you, the rain outside a distant, rhythmic backdrop to the heat building between you. The world outside ceased to exist, leaving just the two of you in this moment of raw, unfiltered passion.

Your hips began to move of their own accord, grinding against the roughness of his jeans, seeking more friction, more contact. Every nerve in your body felt alive, tuned to the frequency of his touch and the sensations he was eliciting from you. The tension that had been building all evening was finally coming to a head, and you hoped that this was only the beginning.

His hardness was unyielding against your thigh, the heat of it sending a thrill through to your core. You smiled, the excitement electrifying as you slid a hand between your bodies, fingers deftly working to unbuckle his belt. The metallic clink echoed in the confined space of the truck, adding to the charged atmosphere. You released him from the constraints of his jeans and underwear, feeling the weight of his cock in your hand, heavy and pulsing under your touch.

Wade's breath hitched, his teeth grazing down on your swollen nipple with just enough pressure to make you gasp. The flat of his tongue followed, soothing the bite with a heavenly lick that prickled your skin with goosebumps. He kissed up your jaw, his lips soft and warm as he grinned against your neck, mumbling a promise not to leave any visible marks on you this time.

Before you had a chance to contemplate the significance of his words, you shifted, aligning yourself over him and using the leaking tip of his cock to slide your panties aside. The feel of his smooth head against your wet folds made you both moan softly. Wade's hips pushed upwards instinctively, seeking more of you, but you held back, teasing him by running his sensitive tip through your slickness.

His eyes were dark with lust, the intensity of his gaze almost too much to bear. "Please," he murmured against your skin, his voice raw with need. The sound of it made you ache for him and you felt your wetness seeping down your thigh as you dragged him back and forth.

You couldn't resist any longer. Slowly, you lowered yourself onto him, the head of his cock parting your folds and sliding into you with delicious resistance. He filled you completely, stretching you in a way that felt both familiar and new. Wade groaned, a deep, primal sound that resonated through his chest and into yours, his hands gripping your hips as if to anchor himself.

You started to move, setting a slow, deliberate pace that allowed you to feel every inch of him. Each thrust, each slide, sent waves of pleasure through your body. Wade's hands roamed over you, caressing and squeezing, his fingers digging into your flesh with every rise and fall as he guided you expertly on top of him, your own fingers gripping at the meat of his shoulders.

"W-Wade," you mewled, eyes rolling into the back of your head as he hit that sweet spot inside of you over and over.

The car was filled with the lurid sounds of your fucking —the soft moans, the wet squelches of your cunt taking him as began to bounce you on his cock, the occasional squeak of the leather seats. It was raw, it was real, and it was everything you'd secretly desired.

"You feel so good, baby," he murmured, pausing to tenderly nip at your chin. "So unbelievably good, wrapped around me like this." His words, laced with admiration, echoed in the intimate space between you.

Wade's lips found yours again, capturing them in a searing kiss that conveyed everything words couldn't. His tongue danced with yours, the kiss deepening as your pace quickened, the need to reach that ultimate crescendo becoming overwhelming. You rode him harder, faster, the friction building, the tension coiling tight within you.

When his hand slid down to where your bodies were joined, his finger pressed against the tight bundle of nerves that had you seeing stars. You tore your lips from his, seeking solace in the crook of his neck. Inhaling his bewitching scent—pine mingled with a faint hint of tobacco—your mind numbed, surrendering to the overwhelming sensations as you gave yourself to him completely.

Your body tensed, every muscle locking as waves of ecstasy washed over you, leaving you breathless and trembling under his touch. He muffled the cry of his name from your mouth with a fiery kiss, continued to use his grip on your waist to bounce you on top of him as he fucked you through your orgasm and chased his own. When he followed, he groaned into your mouth as he pumped his load inside of you, bit your bottom lip as your greedy pussy took all of him.

You broke the kiss and collapsed against his chest, feeling his strong arms envelop you as his chin rested gently on your head. He traced soothing patterns on your back, and for a moment, you stayed like that, intertwined, with the aftershocks of pleasure still rippling through you. Slowly, you ran a trail of soft kisses along his jaw before resting your forehead against his, both of you struggling to catch your breath. His large palm caressed the exposed skin of your ass, sliding back and forth between your behind and your thighs in a tender attempt to soothe and comfort you.

"Well," you breathed, your eyes gleaming with a teasing light, though a hint of vulnerability still shone through. "Did it feel wrong?"

He chuckled, leaning back against the seat as he considered you. "No, darlin', it did not," he said, his smile matching yours.

You rose on shaky legs, took him from you and tucked him back into his jeans before reluctantly moving away from him. The ache for more of him already tugged at you, but you knew your time together was limited tonight. As you shifted back to return to your seat, you misjudged the space and accidentally pressed against the horn of the truck. The sudden blare shattered the night's silence.

You jumped in surprise, and Wade's hands immediately grasped your hips, steadying you both. His gaze quickly scanned over your shoulder, looking for any sign that his daughters had been awakened by the noise. You mirrored his concern, your eyes darting to your parents' home. The windows had fogged with the tell-tale signs of your act, but you managed to peek through a clear spot to see. After a few tense moments, you sighed in relief when everything remained still.

Looking at each other in disbelief, you both laughed as you sat back in your seat, adjusted your dress to cover your breasts and thighs as you smoothed the down the fabric. A wave of nerves washed over you, unsure of your next move until Wade turned to you with an endearing smile. "I'm gonna walk you to your door now, before you wake the whole neighbourhood."

He left the comforting warmth of the truck, and for a brief moment, you felt adrift, alone and lost. But then your door opened, and there he stood, extending a hand toward you. You smiled, placing your hand in his as he gently helped you down from the truck.

As he walked ahead, he kept your hand clasped behind him, positioning it between you both as if to shield you from any prying eyes that might intrude on your moment. The gesture touched you deeply, a silent reassurance that he was still connected to you even after leaving the intimate cocoon of the truck.

You followed him up the steps to your porch, the familiar creak of the wooden boards beneath your feet grounding you in the present. When you reached the door, he reluctantly let go of your hand, allowing you to rummage through your purse for your keys. The rain had stopped and the night air was cool against your skin, filled with the subtle fragrance of blooming flowers and the distant hum of nocturnal creatures.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his gaze brimming with worry as he peered down at you. "You'd tell me if you weren't, wouldn't you?"

Your lips curved into a smile, moved by his genuine concern for your well-being. You held you keys in your hand, the metallic clank loud in the silence of the night. "I'm perfectly fine," you reassured him, warmth infusing your words. "Actually, more than fine. Thank you for turning a disastrous evening around, Mr. Felton," you quipped, a smirk tugging at your lips.

Grinning, he casually leaned against the porch banister, hands snugly tucked into the pockets of his jeans. A mischievous glint in his eyes, he winked, reigniting a spark of need within you. "Hope to catch you at the next cookout," he teased, before pushing off the banister and descending the stairs with easy confidence.

You nibbled on your bottom lip, silently watching as he made his way to his own porch. Pausing at his door, he cast a lingering glance your way, offering a final wave before disappearing inside.

Entering your home, you kicked off your shoes and dropped your purse, leaning back against the door with a contented sigh. Your heart overflowed with joy, and your mind stubbornly refused to dwell on anything but the exciting possibilities awaiting you with Wade. You weren't quite sure what this was between you yet, but one thing emerged crystal clear: your dad was to never find out.

#wade felton #wade felton x reader #wade felton x you #x reader #the unicorn #walton goggins #wade felton smut #fic request #smut fic

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cinnaleaf · 22 days ago

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ESSENCE OF US - CH 16: TIME WILL TELL

Please read responsibly. This fic will get hot and heavy as the story progresses, 18+ only MDNI | CH 15 | MASTERLIST | CH 17 (soon)

summary: a fleeting encounter with a mysterious Trent leaves you wondering if fate is playing a bigger match. your paths continue to cross in unexpected places as the fragrances around you mirror the growing tension between you. maybe it's just a coincidence..or maybe its destiny in the making.

warnings: angst, fluff, language, therapy representation, mentions of mental health, scenes inspired by serendipity the movie, writer/reader inside joke wc: ~11.9k (sorry) 💌: idk how slot got in here but im rocking with it song inspo: The Sun x KYLE ft. Bryson Tiller & Raphael Saadiq

The first year after your break up with Trent went just how you would expect it to go – terribly.

It felt like trying to unspool a stubborn thread that wouldn’t come undone. The breakup coupled with Les Notes d’Amour no longer existing due to sabotage and betrayal left you feeling emptier than ever. You spent weeks replaying the sequence of events trying to pinpoint the exact moment your dreams turned into ash. Ember was nothing more than a pawn for Aaron’s game. She became a vehicle for him to drive his petty vendetta into the heart of your life. Her misguided attempts at gaining his approval quickly backfired and left her a jobless criminal.

Tara on the other hand, was nothing more than a girl who loved a gossiping yap session, though she was more careless than malicious. None of it mattered anymore though. You already lost everything, including the one person who may have been able to help you navigate it all. You figured it would be easier to cut ties in order to protect him from the wreckage you became.

The tears came first – there were enough of them that you were genuinely surprised you were somehow still hydrated. They started off as silent tears that soaked into the plush folds of your pillow at night, but then they turned into loud ones that made your chest heave in the shower when no one else was around. You thought the tears would stop as time went on, but they never really did. Instead, they settled into an ache that you became used to.

The first few months of the year were spent in bed, trapped between the walls of your apartment while the rest of the world passed by. Your days blurred together into one endless loop of doom scrolling, ignoring calls, and deleting messages. Trent’s messages came frequently at first. He went back to the simple texts he used to send when you first started dating, but each notification alert struck you like lightning.

I miss you.

Talk to me Y/N. Please.

I don’t understand why you’re shutting me out.

I love you. I always will.

You couldn’t bring yourself to open any of them, or even read the previews for long. If you let the words sink in for too long, you knew you’d let the warm cadence of his voice play in your head…and you knew you would cave. You couldn’t afford to cave.

So you blocked him – his number, social media, email, everything.

You thought that would be the end of it, but then an account by the name of ‘scentimental’ followed you. You wanted to relock your account after your break up but never got around to it. The instagram follow made you take a second glance, almost as if your intuition knew something you couldn’t quite place just yet. You weren’t in the mood to entertain any random accounts, but you tapped on the profile anyway. It had one post featuring a blurry picture of a perfume bottle on a window sill with a caption:

Some things don’t fade, no matter how hard you try.

You stared at it for a long time as your finger hovered over the profile. The bio was empty, the follower list was suspiciously small, and the account only followed you and a few random fan accounts. You immediately received a DM, sensing that same magnetic feeling you always felt with Trent. That feeling was something you missed, so you opened the DM, chasing the feeling one last time.

Hey, Y/N. Love your work! I saw something that reminded me of you the other day. You’ve been really quiet lately. Wondered if you were still out there making the world smell better?

The messages were vague, but not vague enough for you not to peep what was going on based on the phrasing and timing. This wasn’t a random account at all; it was Trent’s burner account. You stared at the messages for a while, hovering your finger over the block button.

“Seriously?” you muttered while shaking your head. He couldn’t possibly believe you wouldn’t notice, the man wasn’t subtle at all. He could have at least followed a few more accounts and pretended a little better, but it was clear he would do anything to get even a small snippet into your life now that you had locked him out. You let out a deep sigh, pressing the block button without bothering to send a reply as you tossed your phone on the bed.

As more months went by, the twins had become your lifeline to the outside world. Ezzie made it her personal mission to pull you out of the pit you sunk into. One day, she showed up with her hands full of groceries as the sound of the door opening broke through the silence of your apartment. She didn’t bother knocking anymore because she knew you wouldn’t answer.

The soles of her trainers stamped against the hardwood floors as she cut through the silence with her voice. “You should really start locking the door properly. What if it wasn’t me? What if I was some random person here to steal all your stuff and murder you?”

Your body was buried underneath a weighted blanket and you didn’t bother looking up. “They would be doing me a favor honestly. I don’t care anymore.”

Ezzie set the bags down on the kitchen counter with a huff, scrunching her face up in frustration. “You’re really dramatic. Just lock the door, okay?” You let out an irritated sigh as she started unpacking groceries filled with ready meals, snacks, and fresh fruit. She knew you probably wouldn’t eat any of it, but she bought it anyway – every week.

“You really shouldn’t spend your money on me” you mumbled as your voice muffled through the thick layers of the weighted blanket you were huddled under.

“I shouldn’t have to, but here we are. Someone has to take care of you if you won’t.” She rolled her eyes, leaning against the counter while crossing her arms. “I should charge you an inconvenience fee. Do you know how hard it is to carry all of this every week? I hate manual labor.”

“Maybe you should’ve stayed home then.” you shot back very weakly.

“And let you rot in here?” she quipped. “No way. Ziggy would’ve sent me up here anyway. He’s downstairs by the way. He didn’t want to deal with your sulking today.”

“I’m not sulking.”

“You’re literally sulking right now.” She motioned toward you huddled underneath the blanket, toying with the remote because the episode of Grey’s Anatomy you were watching had just ended in Derek’s death. That episode usually made you cry, but all you could do this time was shake your head and change the show to something else just as equally depressing.

“Before you tell me to leave, I’m not. I don’t want to hear your ‘woe is me’ speech. I brought snacks and I’m staying until you eat something that’s not depression air.”

You peeked out from under the blanket, squinting at her like you were seeing daylight for the first time in weeks. “I don’t need you to babysit me, E.”

“Umm. Clearly, you do.” She walked over to the couch, plopping down next to you. “You’re acting like life ended when Love Notes burned down. I get it was really bad and you’re torn up about it, but you’re still alive Y/N. You have people that care about you. You can’t just give up like this.” Your sister’s voice softened at the end. She wouldn’t say it outright, but this was a lot worse than last time and your behaviour scared her.

“You don’t get it” you muttered, pulling the blanket back over your head.

“No. I definitely don’t” she admitted frustratingly. “You can’t keep hiding from the world. It’s not a healthy way to cope.”

You sighed and pushed the blanket off as you sat up. “What do you want me to do then, Ezzie? Pretend everything is fine when it’s not? My career is gone, my shop is gone. Trent’s gone. Everything I’ve ever cared about is just...gone.”

Ezzie frowned. “Trent is not gone. You pushed him away.. there’s a difference. Love Notes may be gone, but that doesn’t mean your career is. You’re acting like this is the end of your story when it’s not. You can still keep going and rebuild something.”

“No. I don’t want to rebuild.” you snapped as your voice cracked. “I’m tired. I’m really so fucking tired.”

Ezzie pouted her lip and reached out to give you a hug. “But you can’t stay here forever. I won’t let you.”

Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed from the hall and Ziggy appeared in the doorway with an unreadable expression. “Can I come in or is this intervention for girls only?” he asked dryly.

Ezzie rolled her eyes. “Come in. Maybe you can knock some sense into her.”

Ziggy walked over and dropped a bag in front of you. “Brought some food,” he said casually. “I thought maybe you would eat it if it was something you like.”

You looked at the bag, shaking your head as your stomach knotted. “I’m not hungry but thank you.”

Ziggy gave a disapproving look but didn’t push it. He sat on the floor next to the couch, sprawling his long legs out in front of him. It seemed like he had the growth spurt of a lifetime as soon as he started academy. He took his hoodie off, revealing the Liverpool emblem stitched on the corner. You froze as you eyed the crest – it sent a pang straight through your heart. You looked away, pretending to adjust your blanket, but in reality, you wanted to cry. You hated that something so simple made you feel this way, but it did.

Ziggy was on his phone, rapidly tapping his fingers to fill in the awkward silence. “You know…” he started casually, not looking up. “Trent asks about you.”

His name made you stiffen instantly as your hands clenched the blanket. “Ziggy..”

“What?” he asked innocently, as if he didn’t just bring up the person’s name you were desperately trying to avoid. “Just saying he’s concerned. He’s not doing so well either.”

“Ziggy. Stop.” Ezzie said, leaning over to grab his hoodie. She flipped it over so that the emblem was hidden, then she shot him a death glare. “Don’t bring him up right now.”

“I’m not bringing him up” Ziggy voiced defensively. “I’m just saying he cares. He asks how she’s doing every time I see him. That’s all.”

You exhaled, feeling extremely guilty about how you ended things with Trent. “You don’t have to tell him anything. He’ll get over it eventually.”

��Yeah, I know. But he’s really persistent. I don’t think he’s doing it to be annoying. He just really –”

“Isaac.” Ezzie cut in, so irritated that she used his legal name. “Let. It. Go.”

He sighed, scratching his head. “Okay! Damn. I’ll drop it.”

The room went silent aside from the chatter coming from the tv and the sound of Ezzie unloading groceries in the kitchen. Ziggy picked at a loose thread on his joggers as he glanced up at you before quickly looking away. “It’s hard to see you like this Y/N. You don’t even leave from here.”

“I do leave. Sometimes.” you retorted.

Ziggy arched his brow, not buying your statement at all. “When? When do you leave? Because you’ve been in the same spot every time I come over here. And I’m here a lot.”

You slumped further into the couch, rolling your eyes. “I go places. I don’t need to announce when I go somewhere. I’m not a child.”

“Yeah? Where did you go last?” he challenged, putting his phone back in his pocket.

You opened your mouth, but the brain fog had gotten to you so bad that you couldn’t think of something plausible quick enough. “The shop down the street” you muttered, not sounding convincing at all.

Ezzie popped her head out from the kitchen with a box of cereal in her hand. “She’s lying. I have her location on and the little circle never moves from here. She doesn’t even check for mail.... I do.”

You let out an irked sigh. “Okay. I don’t leave that often. Happy now?”

“No.” Ziggy replied flatly. He gestured toward the untouched takeaway bag. “And you don’t eat either. Y/N you look...bad. Like a sad Victorian child. You need to eat something.”

“Wow. Thanks.” You glared at him, taking all offense.

Ezzie walked over setting water in front of you. “He’s trying to say we’re worried about you...but in his own way.” she said gently, pointing toward the takeaway. “Maybe just take a bite? At least try it…”

You stared at the bag. You wanted to eat, but your brain wasn’t connecting to any of your hunger or thirst receptors and you just felt numb the majority of the time. The thought of eating anything besides crisps here and there made your stomach churn.

“I’m not hungry.” you repeated the same as earlier.

Ziggy threw his head back, groaning dramatically. “Y/N come on. We’re not leaving until you eat something. I got pad thai.”

You sighed, pulling the bag towards you. The smell of the food was comforting, although you still weren’t all that hungry. You grabbed the container of pad thai and pulled the lid off. Ziggy and Ezzie eyed each other as you took a bite, doing the twin telepathy thing they always did since they were little.

“See? Not so bad, right?” They spoke in unison eerily.

Them speaking in unison always freaked you out a bit and you found yourself frowning while lazily chewing a mouthful of noodles. “It’s really creepy when you both do that...but the pad thai is fine. Thanks.”

After an unplanned but filling dinner, Ziggy tilted his head, watching you carefully as you wrapped your blanket around yourself again. “What’s your game plan?”

“My game plan for what?”

“To get better,” he said simply. “You can’t stay like this.”

You recently scheduled an appointment for a therapy session, but no one else knew besides Camille. You fidgeted with the edge of your blanket and sighed, finally admitting you were at least trying to be better. “I have an appointment with a therapist in a few weeks.”

Ezzie’s face lit up with excitement. “Really?!”

Ziggy looked skeptical and eyed you to see if you were telling the truth. “Forreal? You’re actually gonna go?”

You glanced between the two of them. They were 17 now, and the tables had flipped. Instead of you trying to take care of them – they were taking care of you like you were their kid, and it made your heart hurt. It wasn’t fair to them and you knew it.

“Yes Ziggy.” you replied in annoyance. “It’s just one session so don’t get too excited. But I’ll see where it goes.”

“That’s just the first step,” Ezzie smiled softly. “I’m proud of you.”

Ziggy nodded, agreeing with his twin but he tried to play it cool. “Yeah, same. Just don’t cancel. Gotta see it through.”

You sighed, scrolling through your phone while cuddled into your blanket. “I’m not going to cancel. Promise.”

The day of your appointment, Camille’s car glided through morning traffic while soft R&B played in the background.

“Nervous?” she asked, glancing over at you from behind her Loewe sunglasses. You were staring out the window, nibbling on your fingernails as the buildings blurred past you.

“No. Not really.” you lied, feeling your stomach knot together.

Camille knew you better than that and was skeptical, but not pushy. “Dr. Ali is good...like really good. She won’t sit there and make vague comments like ‘How does that make you feel?’ She’ll push you but not in a break you down type of way. She’ll build you up with what’s already there.”

You arched your brow up, pulling your gaze from the window. “How do you know so much about her?”

Camille smirked. “I do my research, babe. Never underestimate my sleuthing skills. You think I’d let my bestie walk into a dodgy therapist’s office? Not a chance. Dr. Ali went to Harvard, has years of experience and will probably be able to read you with just one look.”

“That sounds terrifying actually.”

“She’s not terrifying” Camille replied, making a sharp turn that made your body tilt a little. “She’s just real. You honestly need someone like that. I can only do so much. Just let her help you..even if it’s just to unload.”

You felt a pang in your chest and tugged at the hem of your jumper. “Maybe..”

The car pulled into a building with glass windows that reflected against the bright morning sun. Camille turned off the car and turned to you. “I’ll wait here. If you go in and decide you hate it, that’s fine. But at least try first.”

You nodded, swallowing hard as you stepped out the car with your emotional support water bottle, clutching it in your hand as you entered the building.

The waiting area was pretty minimalist and didn’t have anything that was overstimulating. There were a few plants scattered around to add greenery to the muted calming space. You checked in at the desk and sat down, fidgeting in the chair as you waited for your name to be called.

“Y/N?” a soft voice called out.

You looked up and saw a woman who looked like she was in her early 40s standing at the door. She had warm brown skin, curly medium length hair and wore trousers paired with a tailored blazer. You were imagining some old, decrepit lady, but this woman seemed very approachable from the start.

“I’m Dr. Ali” she said with a welcoming smile. “Come on in.”

You followed her into her office, which was just as inviting and warm as the waiting room. Her office had a large window that let in natural lighting, shelves lined with trinkets and books, and plush seating that could make anyone feel comfortable. As you sat down, she settled in the chair across from you.

“So, Y/N. Tell me what brings you here today.”

You didn’t know where to begin as you searched for an answer. “Umm....I guess....everything?” you said in a weak voice.

Dr. Ali nodded. “That’s okay. We can take it one piece at a time. Start with whatever you’re comfortable with.”

You sighed, taking a drink of water from your water bottle, though you weren’t really thirsty. You were carrying the water bottle around more as a coping mechanism than anything. “I really don’t know where to start. My relationship ended, my career went up in flames..literally. And my family…” You trailed off, shaking your head. “Everything just feels fucked up and broken.”

Dr. Ali’s expression didn’t change, but she eyed you with calmness in her eyes. “Sounds like a lot of loss,” she said gently. “What was your relationship like?”

“Good. Really good for the most part, actually. His name is Trent. He’s a footballer. You’ve probably heard of him before.”

She didn’t confirm or deny, instead gesturing for you to continue.

“He’s amazing,” you admitted quietly. “He was always supportive and everything I wanted a boyfriend to be. But being with him meant attention. People started lots of rumours and just spewed utter nonsense. And when my shop burned down because of someone I thought I could trust…it felt like too much. It felt like I would just be dragging him into my mess.”

Dr. Ali leaned forward, keeping a curious but non judgemental tone. “So you let him go to protect him?”

You nodded, staring at your hands. “It felt like the right thing to do at the time. But now I really don’t know. I don’t know who I am anymore, honestly. I feel really lost.”

“What about your family? You mentioned them earlier.”

You laughed dryly, no humour laced within. “Well that’s super complicated” you muttered. “My parents are more focused on appearances than the people behind them. They only care about me being the perfect daughter so they can parade me around for their own gain. They don’t really know me. They don’t even know my favorite color and it’s right in front of their face.”

Dr. Ali tilted her head with a calming expression that invited you to continue. “That’s a heavy burden to carry. Do you think that influenced how you approach things in life?”

You nodded, feeling a lump in your throat as you swallowed. “It’s not just me though. My brother and sister feel it too. They’re twins..only 17 but my parents are the same with them. They pretty much treat us like trophies waiting to be displayed. And I have to make sure they don’t end up like me.”

Dr. Ali quickly wrote something down before she spoke again. “So you feel responsible for protecting them too?”

“I’ve been responsible for them since they were born” Your voice cracked. “My parents cared more about grades and achievement. The love and support was all on me. I helped them with their homework and packed their lunches most times. Sometimes it feels like I’m more of a parent than a big sister.”

The therapist kept her eye on you and the silence encouraged you to open up more. This woman was good as hell and you had barely been in there for 10 minutes.

“Now it’s like the roles are flipped” you continued, fiddling with the opening of your water bottle. “Since my shop burned down they’ve been taking care of me. Ziggy brings me food and makes sure I haven’t died off somewhere. Ezzie tries to get me out of bed or make me laugh. It’s like they took everything I taught them and turned it back on me.”

“That sounds like a testament to how much you mean to them. But I can see how it feels strange to have the roles reversed. Especially when you’ve never experienced those roles from your parents before.”

You felt tears begin to sting and fill your lash line as your throat tightened. “It does and I hate it. I hate that they feel like they have to take care of me because I can’t take care of myself right now. I should be the one doing that for them..not the other way around.”

“What about your parents?” Dr. Ali asked gently.

You let out a sharp exhale feeling bitterness rise within you. “They don’t give a fuck. They only call when they want something or to ask about Trent. My mum’s never even met him but was so interested because of who he is. Being with him validated me in their eyes and now that I broke up with him and have nothing they can capitalize on I’m back to being the invisible daughter. I’m only worth something if I make them look good.”

Dr. Ali made another note, keeping her voice steady and calm as she spoke. “It sounds like you spent a long time trying to fill a role they created for you. Have you ever been allowed to figure out who you are outside of that role?”

Her question made you freeze and you thought about it for a second, but you couldn’t answer. Dr. Ali’s question was forcing you to confront something you really never allowed yourself to think about.

“I don’t know,” you whispered finally. “I don’t think I have.”

For the rest of the session, you talked about the destruction of Les Notes d’Amour and how it left you feeling like you lost a piece of yourself. You also talked about Trent and how letting him go was the hardest thing you ever did. When the session ended, Dr. Ali walked you out and gave you reassurance.

“Healing isn’t linear Y/N” she said as you reached the door. “But you’re here and that’s a good start.”

Camille glanced at you as you sat in the passenger seat of her car. “Well?”

You leaned back with a deep exhale. “She’s good.”

“Told you” Camille smirked, starting the car. “So you’re going back?”

You nodded, giving her a small smile back. “Yeah. I think I will.”

For Trent, the first year without you was just as brutal. Trent didn’t expect the breakup to hit him so hard, but it did. At first he thought he could push through the pain by burying himself in training, matches, partying, or anything else to avoid the emptiness he felt in his heart without you – but it never worked. Everywhere he turned, you were there. He could see you in the way Ziggy smiled. Sometimes he would hear someone laugh and the faint sounds of your laugh would come resurfacing back to his memory. He heard your name in the most unexpected places. He felt you in the soft floral notes of Enchantée – your very first creation and his mother’s favorite perfume that filled the air whenever she hugged him.

You were in the bed he couldn’t sleep in anymore due the void of warmth from where you used to lay. When he did sleep, he would reach out for you out of instinct at night, only to be met with cold sheets instead of the softness and warmth of your skin.

He tried everything to feel close to you again. His texts went unanswered, his calls you never picked up. He sent thoughtful gifts but they always came back marked Return to Sender. On Instagram, he still had your profile saved under his recent searches. He knew your posts by heart because it was the only connection he had to you outside of Ziggy. When you blocked him there, it felt like he had been punched in the gut, but he didn’t give up. He created a burner account – scentimental – a little nod to what brought the two of you together. He thought he was subtle enough leaving a simple message, but you preed it immediately and blocked him there too. He logged in a week later and saw the dreaded User Not Found when he tried to search your profile again.

“How did she even know it was me? Is she psychic or something?” he muttered to himself, staring at the screen in frustration. He threw his phone on the couch and sank into it, covering his face with his hands. He spent the majority of the year chasing after someone who felt like a ghost, knowing he would never catch up.

That night, Trent found himself slouching on the couch, trying to distract himself with the latest season of Love Island. It wasn’t really the same binge watching it without you. You always made watching it more fun from your commentary. He loved that you mocked the drama, laughed at the crazy flirting, or yelled at the screen whenever someone made a questionable decision.

On the screen, an islander named Cassie was crying in the corner of the villa while a boy named Logan was pacing in front of her, furious.

“So you’re just gonna do this now after everything? You’re pulling the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ card?” Logan shouted with his overly groomed brows arched in frustration. “That’s real fucking cliche. Play it up for the cameras, yeah?”

“I just need time!” Cassie wailed with mascara running down her cheeks. The girl looked a hot mess, honestly. “I can’t give you what you want if I don’t know who I am right now!”

Trent tilted his head at the tv in disbelief. He shoved a handful of crisps into his mouth to keep from yelling at the screen. Logan groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “You said you cared about me Cassie. It was all bullshit?”

“I DO care about you but I need space!” Cassie countered, breaking into another sobbing spell.

Trent grabbed the remote to turn the volume up. He could hear it just fine, but the parallels were striking and felt eerily familiar. The universe was funny in that way. He leaned forward, staring at the screen like it was going to give him the solution to his real life problem.

“Fucking hell” he muttered as Logan stormed out of frame. The scene then shifted to a confessional where Cassie started sobbing about how much she wanted it to work but needed to protect her peace first.

“Protect her peace?” Trent repeated out loud to no one in a sarcastic tone. “What the fuck does that even mean?” He turned the volume back down, staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t bear to hear it anymore when it felt so eerily similar to what happened the night you broke up with him. “This is fucking stupid. I hate this show. Cassie’s a fucking producer plant, no shot this isn’t scripted.”

A few weeks later, disappointed chatter from the crowd was heard at Anfield after a terrible match. Trent was bent over with his hands resting on his knees. He was exhausted more than usual. Sweat dripped down his face, mixed with tears that weren’t quite visible to the naked eye. The score was 1-2, mirroring a devastating loss. Trent misplaced a pass during the last crucial minutes of the game, basically handing over a winning goal to the rival team. He walked off the pitch, avoiding eye contact with everyone else as he made his way down the tunnel. Slot was waiting near the changing room with his arms folded.

“Trent!” Slot called out in a sharp tone. “Need to talk. Now.”

Slot stood off to the side, piercing his gaze on Trent. “What the hell was that out there?” It was clear Slot was frustrated with Trent’s performance.

Trent shifted around uncomfortably. “It was a mistake. It happens.”

“A mistake?” Slot repeated in disbelief. “This hasn’t been a one time thing Trent. It’s been going on for weeks. Your focus is shit out there, your passes are sloppy as fuck and your energy is damn near nonexistent. You think you’re on holiday or something? People are starting to notice. You’re supposed to be a leader on this team and you’re not acting like it.”

“I’m trying,” Trent muttered with a tight jaw.

“Not good enough,” Slot snapped, stepping closer. “I can’t afford to put someone on the pitch who’s not mentally there. Pull your weight. Whatever you have going on in your personal life needs to be sorted out. Because if this continues, you’re going to find yourself benched. I didn’t plan on bringing Ziggy on this early, but the kid’s good at multiple positions. I’ll put him in your spot if you don’t fix it.”

The thought of being benched and replaced with Ziggy while he watched from afar made his stomach knot. He nodded stiffly. “Understood. I’ll fix it.”

Slot patted Trent on his shoulder, giving him a small smile. “You’re a great player Trent. But you need to think about what brought you here. For your own sake and the team’s.”

When Trent walked into the changing room, the usual post match banter was replaced with mostly silence. Trent sat down, staring at the floor while still in his kit. He felt a familiar presence and looked up to see Mo standing in front of him with his arms crossed in concern.

“You alright, brother?” Mo asked, low enough so no one else could hear.

“Nah. Not really.” Trent admitted with a heavy sigh. Mo sat down next to him, concern still etched on his face.

“What’s going on? You’re not yourself.”

Trent debated brushing Mo off, but the deep concern in Mo's eyes made him decide against it. “It’s a lot. The games, pressure...personal stuff. Don’t even know where to start.”

Mo nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe you should talk to someone. I’m not going to get all up in your business but it could help if you talk to someone professionally.”

“Like who?” Trent asked, frowning. “A therapist or something?”

“Yeah” Mo said, shrugging. “No shame in it. Everyone’s been there. Another perspective could help you get out of your own head..”

Trent leaned back against the wall with his legs stretched out in a manspread. “Nah..I don’t know about that. Feels like I’m admitting I’m weak.”

Mo chuckled lightly. “It’s not. I can give you a contact. She’s a family friend – Dr. Ali. She’s very good.”

Trent stared at Mo, weighing the suggestion. “You think it’ll help?”

“Inshallah. It’s worth a shot. You never know.”

Mo gave Dr. Ali’s contact details to Trent discreetly. Trent saved the number, staring at it before he put his phone back up in his bag. It could be the first step to getting back to where he needed to be.

Or at least figure out where the hell he went wrong.

When Trent arrived at therapy, he expected something a lot more clinical and overly sterile, but Dr. Ali’s office wasn’t any of that. There were no blaring fluorescent lights making his eyes hurt or making him feel like he was being interrogated like a prisoner. She had a diffuser that filled the therapy room with a lavender scent. It would usually be comforting, but it made him uncomfortable because it reminded him of you.

“Trent” Dr. Ali greeted in a professional tone, extending her hand. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Trent wasn’t sure if comfort was an option given how he’d been feeling lately, but he nodded and sat in the chair, leaned back enough to look relaxed but not like he wanted to be there any longer than he had to. The therapist watched him carefully, waiting to see what he would do next. She wasn’t in any rush, and it threw him off.

“Ever been to therapy?” she finally asked while sitting in the seat across from him.

Dr. Ali’s lips quirked, but not in a patronizing way. “Fair enough. The first time isn’t easy for most, but no pressure. Start with whatever you want to. Or we can just talk and get to know each other.”

Trent’s knees bounced restlessly while he sat, shifting around nervously. He couldn’t believe Mo had somehow talked him into this. He felt a bit stupid to try therapy. In his mind, it was too formal for what he was going through. He felt like he overreacted by even showing up to the place at all.

“Not sure what to say really. Feels pointless.” he muttered while frowning.

“You’re not the only one who says that. It can feel like that at first. But you’re here and that’s something.”

Trent’s jaw clenched as he looked up at her. “Yeah? So what’s it mean then?”

“That you want things to be different.”

He huffed and looked away, knee bouncing harder. “Maybe but I don’t know. My mate, Mo, gave me your contact. Said you were really good or something.”

Dr. Ali hummed softly. “Mo Salah, right?”

“Yeah..he said I should talk to someone.” Trent tugged at the string on his joggers, feeling exposed all of a sudden.

“And why do you think he said that?” she asked.

Trent exhaled. “Because I’ve been playing like shit on the pitch. I haven’t been right since…” He trailed off, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Since??” Dr. Ali prompted him to continue, gentle with her tone.

“Since my ex. Y/N.”

Dr. Ali paused her pen over her notebook before jotting down a note. “Tell me about her and your relationship.”

Trent’s throat suddenly went dry. He rubbed his hand down his face, staring at an area on the floor. “I’ve never met anyone like her. She’s smart...but stubborn as hell. She ran a shop called Les Notes d’Amour and made fragrances. It was her dream.”

“So you met her through her work?” Dr. Ali asked.

“Nah...well..sort of. We kept running into each other like it was serendipity or whatever. It sounds mad but that’s what it felt like. We met on a train, then at some café, and again at her friend’s launch. Next thing I knew I was walking into her shop asking for a custom scent. After that I was done for.”

Trent smiled faintly but then it disappeared just as quickly as it appeared. “Her shop burned down because of her ex and an assistant. Then everything fell apart from there.”

“And you blame yourself for that?”

Trent’s head shot up. “No but at the same time, yes. I promised I’d protect her and I don’t feel like I did a good job of doing that. Feels like I could’ve done more, y’know? It’s been a year and I still think about her every day.”

“And thinking about her everyday...what does that look like for you?”

Trent looked at his hands. “It’s stupid stuff. I’ll hear someone that has her name on tv and my heart sinks for a second. My mum wears this perfume Y/N made. It’s called Enchantée and every time I smell it, I think about Y/N. I see her brother in training every day and I want to ask about her, but I can’t anymore because I know he’s trying to protect her.”

Trent went quiet for a while but then he continued. “And then at night..I’m always reaching for her and she’s not there. It sucks because I’ve tried to reach out and it’s gone nowhere.”

“What happens when you try to reach out to her?”

Trent laughed bitterly. “I’m blocked everywhere. I made a burner Instagram account just to check her page. I thought I was incognito and sent a simple message but she blocked me there too. Don’t even know how she figured out it was me behind it.”

Dr. Ali lifted a brow. “Why did you send that message?”

Trent scratched his head, embarrassed. “I just wanted to see how she was doing. We went from talking everyday to nothing. Feels like quitting something cold turkey and I hate that. It’s like I lost her forever.”

“What do you think stops her from contacting you?”

Trent shrugged in frustration. “I guess she didn’t want to drag me down with her but I didn’t see it that way. I would help her through anything..even now I still would.”

The therapist’s pen tapped against her notebook as she watched Trent. “You carry a lot of unresolved feelings about your breakup with her. And a lot of guilt too.” Trent didn’t respond and bounced his knee more.

“Let’s switch gears and talk about football for a minute. How’s that been going?”

Trent scoffed and shook his head. “Going like shit. I can’t focus at all. I replay every mistake in my head and I can’t let it go. I’m letting everyone down.”

“What happens when you make a mistake on the pitch?” she asked in a curious tone.

“I think about it for the rest of the game. Then it just spirals and one mistake turns into a lot more. I can’t get my head back in it and it used to be my escape.”

Dr. Ali leaned forward. “In therapy, I typically teach people how to break those cycles. We can’t change the past, but...we can change how we react to it and replace those thought patterns with healthier ones.”

“So what? You’re saying I need to let go?”

“I’m saying I can help you understand and process those feelings” she corrected in a soft manner.

Trent leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms. “I still don’t know if this therapy thing is for me.”

“That’s okay, you don’t have to decide today.” she said with a smile. “We’ll work on it and see where it goes.”

“Yeah. Okay, sure.” he nodded with uncertainty, but felt less resistant than before.

“Same time next week?” she asked.

Trent stared at the floor longer than he needed to, and then sighed before nodding. “Yeah..same time.”

The second year without Trent wasn’t as bad as the first. You weren’t fixed, but you weren’t broken down either. Therapy helped you alot, and you began to move forward, even if it was just little baby steps. You had a new house, a new routine, and a new normal.

When you started packing your apartment up for the move to Manchester, it felt bittersweet. It was painful, but necessary. The last room you packed was your bedroom. Ezzie and Ziggy helped in their own way, which barely involved any packing. Ziggy was sprawled across your bed scrolling through his phone while Ezzie sat on the floor putting clothes into a box you tossed her way.

“Are you gonna miss living here?” Ezzie asked, looking up at you.

“Maybe a little..but it’s time” you said in a low voice, crouching down to pull out the drawer in your vanity. You reached behind it to make sure you weren’t leaving anything behind, and you felt something hard against your fingers. You tugged at it, revealing your old and dusty perfume diary. The diary had all of your old formula notes and ideas in it. You sat on the floor, staring at the cover like you had just seen a ghost.

“What’s that?” Ziggy asked, giving a quick glance and then going back to his phone.

“Nothing” you answered quickly, flipping it open. It wasn’t nothing. The pages still smelled like bergamot as you flipped through. You landed on a page that had Trent’s handwriting on it. It wasn’t something you saw before, and it made you take a second glance.

I want you for as long as the stars shine.

You scoffed, laughing before you could stop.

“What?” Ezzie looked at you, curiously.

“Nothing. Just a reminder of how stupid I am.” You snapped the notebook shut and tossed it to the nearest box. Ezzie stared at you, but then she decided to let it go.

Ziggy still had his face in his phone but suddenly spoke up with perfect timing. “Trent’s still with his new girl by the way. Alannah.”

“I don’t think I asked.”

“Yeah but I’m telling you.” He flipped onto his back with a groan, his muscles still sore from training. “She’s leng but boring as fuck.” Ziggy propped his phone on his chest, trying not to laugh while he continued to spill the tea. “Forreal though. She’s got no aura. She’s fit, yeah, but she reminds me of mum’s chicken.”

You raised your brow, trying to hold in your laugh. “Mum’s chicken??”

“Dry. No flavor.” Ziggy emphasized, motioning like he was trying to season a chicken breast with something other than salt and pepper. “She’s fucking weird too. She won’t drink water unless it’s a certain temperature and she swirls it first like she’s in the movie ‘Get Out’ or something.” He mimicked her, twirling his fingers in an invisible glass. “Then she won’t sip it unless there’s a straw.”

Ezzie cackled loudly from across the room. “Shut up! You’re lying.”

“Swear down!” Ziggy held up his hand, completely serious. “Watched her do it at a team dinner and Trent just sat there like it was normal. Like bro..say something. Blink twice if you’re in the sunken place.”

You pursed your lips together, trying not to burst out laughing. “And what does she look like?”

Ziggy shrugged, dramatically. “Exactly like you would expect. She looks like a walking Lululemon advert.”

Ezzie snorted, tossing a pair of jeans in a box. “So she looks like every beige aesthetic girl on Tiktok then?”

“Yeah! Exactly that!” Ziggy pointed at his twin like she cracked a code in his mind.

“Leng, but boring beige girl who swirls her water while wearing Lululemon, huh?” you snickered while shaking your head. “Perfect match if that’s what he wants.”

Ziggy scoffed, sitting up. “Nah, he looks miserable. I asked him about her and guess what he said?”

“What did he say?”

“He said.. she’s nice.” Ziggy mimicked Trent’s voice, void of any enthusiasm. “Not she’s amazing or that’s the girl of my dreams. Just.. nice.”

A tiny smile cracked through your expression, but then it left. Dry chicken or not, she was there and you weren’t. Ziggy noticed your shift and he stopped teasing. He scratched his jaw, briefly stroking the facial hair that had grown on his face.

“Anyway she’s not that great. She’s boring. You’re–” He stopped mid sentence, looking at Ezzie for help.

Ezzie shot him a look that told him to shut up, then she finished his sentence for him. “She’s not you Y/N.”

And maybe that was the problem.

When you finally arrived at the house in Manchester, it felt like you were closing one chapter and opening a new one. The new house had enough room for the three of you now that you all had officially gone no contact with your parents. It was in a comfortable neighbourhood, where neighbors said hello but didn’t pry too much.

It was a place to breathe...sort of.

Most of your breathing now consisted of Rêveur wafting through the air wherever you went. Thanks to Camille’s ability to persuade you into continuing to sell the scent at department stores through her manufacturer, the fragrance had spread in popularity over multiple continents. It was surreal to smell something that used to be so personal to you on strangers. Men walking past you on the street were wearing it. People’s husbands were wearing it on a simple shopping trip to Tesco. Even teenagers who were way too heavy handed with their sprays were wearing it. It followed you everywhere – almost like the universe was taunting you. You didn’t love the idea of smelling your past on a stranger’s skin, but it brought in a lot of money. Rêveur used to be you and Trent’s creation, but now it belonged to the whole wide world.

“You gotta stop frowning when you smell it” Ezzie told you one morning while lounging on the couch in one of your old hoodies. “It’s iconic now. You’re a fragrance legend.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “It literally feels like it’s haunting me. It’s meant for my footballer ex, but now Steve from accounting is wearing it to Piccadilly station on his morning commute so I can afford to live.”

Ziggy walked in mid rant, dropping his bag on the floor after training. “You didn’t have to keep selling it. I would’ve made sure you were good.”

He was right. Ziggy had been grinding through the academy the past two years and started training alongside the first team. Ezzie’s calendar was filled with castings, campaigns, and now New York Fashion Week. You were proud of them, but you couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing for the life you had before Les Notes d’Amour burned down. Including the life you had with Trent – especially now that Camille was engaged to Jules. She Facetimed you religiously during her wedding planning. You could see the huge diamond ring on her finger sparkling at every angle of light every time she called.

“I can’t deal with him right now” Camille sighed one night, pacing around her living room. You could see Jules in the background, quietly scrolling through his phone and wisely pretending he didn’t exist. Camille had become a bit of a bridezilla since the engagement.

“He thinks sage and laurel are the same color Y/N.”

You held back your laugh, not wanting to set Camille off. “Maybe he just doesn’t care which colors you choose?”

“Of course he doesn’t care. He’s a man.” she responded flatly, tearing up. “I can’t have sage at my wedding Y/N.. it’s sooo tacky. It has to be laurel.”

“So we’ll do laurel then. It’s not that deep.” you reaffirmed her, still not trying to laugh at Camille’s new bridezilla persona.

“It is that deep,” she snapped. “I really can’t deal with this right now.”

You nodded, letting her spiral in the same way she let you when you were worried about something miniscule. As you listened to her ramble about the difference between the shades of green, you started zoning out. You wanted to tell her about your decision to sell your formulas to a fragrance house during NYFW since you hadn’t told anyone else yet, but you couldn’t find a way to bring it up. So you kept it a secret – from everyone.

Little did you know, Trent was headed to New York too – but with Alannah.

The week of NYFW, Trent was in a quiet hotel room with Alannah as she tapped her nails against her phone screen. She sat on the bed in another Lululemon set that was void of any color besides neutrals while her hair was held up with a claw clip. The girl really had no fashion sense at all – not like you did. She looked like she was ready to head to pilates at any given moment. They matched at least – Trent wore his tracksuits as always, while she always wore Lululemon. Alannah irritated Trent though. Everything about her was aesthetically curated, clean, and so devoid of anything interesting or chaotic that it was extremely eerie. He didn’t want someone perfect, he wanted you.

Trent stood near the window, staring at the city traffic and people watching. New York was a lively city that moved fast, but in the hotel room it felt like life had been sucked out of him.

“Babe?” Alannah said suddenly while looking up from her phone.

“What?” Trent answered with agitation in his voice, his back still facing her.

“I didn’t want to say anything but...I found the ring.”

“Huh?” For a second, Trent thought she was joking. “What ring?”

“Don’t be daft Trent.” she giggled. “The little velvet box in your drawer? Are you planning something?”

He turned all the way around now, blinking. “Planning what???”

“Babeee. You know what. We’ve been together a while so it makes sense to head that way. I’ll pretend to be shocked when you ask” she winked.

The silence was awkward…very awkward. Trent looked at her like she was an idiot. “Alannah, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“The engagement RING. I’m not stupid. I saw it.”

Trent ran a hand over his face, trying to process how he wanted to continue, but then he gave up. “Yeah, no. That ring isn’t for you.”

Silence.

Alannah looked as if the perfection in her had short circuited, clearly the girl wasn’t used to being told no. No matter how hard she tried to force it.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“It’s not for you” he repeated more clear this time, painfully obvious to him but not to her.

Her face contorted into a mix of embarrassment but also anger as she processed his words. “Then who the hell is it for Trent?”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s just not for you.” he muttered while turning back to the window.

“It doesn’t matter?” Alannah’s voice went higher. “You’re serious? I’ve been with you for almost a year. Met your mates, travelled, pretended to care about football. And I’m just some placeholder?”

“I’m not about to argue with you right now.” Trent turned back to her, his tone flat. “Not in the mood for it.”

“Oh, we are” she shot back, ready to put on the performance of a lifetime. This was the most personality she’d shown since meeting him at the club one night. “You don’t want to have sex anymore, you barely spoke on the plane ride here, and now I’m finding out there’s a ring that’s not for me? You’re wasting my time!”

“Then leave.” Trent said in an unbothered tone.

Alannah’s mouth fell open, caught off guard. “Are you serious?”

“Full stop” he shrugged. “I’m not marrying you. Never planned to, never will. I don’t feel that way about you.”

He didn’t mean to be that harsh about it, but there was no point in keeping up with the charade anymore. Alannah fumbled with her bag as she stormed out the room in tears. “You’re such a dick. And you’re not that cute by the way. Let’s see who’ll put up with all your bullshit like I did.”

Trent didn’t answer and instead watched her as she slammed the door so hard the empty hangers rattled in the hotel’s wardrobe.

“Glad that’s over with.”

A few minutes later, Trent headed outside with his hands shoved in his hoodie pockets as he walked through the Lenox Hill area of Manhattan. He had no idea where he was going, but he needed to breathe in something else that wasn’t stuffy hotel air or Alannah’s suffocating perfume that he never liked. He wandered aimlessly past the people of New York City, letting the noise of the city drown out his thoughts. He really only dated Alannah to keep the other side of his bed warm, but she could never compare to the way he felt with you. He was checked out of that relationship from the moment it started. She couldn’t be you – no one could.

Eventually he stopped. Looking up to see he was at 225 East 60th Street

Serendipity 3 was a cozy spot he never heard of before that was known for selling frozen hot chocolate and had grown in popularity because of a 2000s rom-com film. He could see a couple sitting off to the side, sharing a hot chocolate at a small table with twinkling lights. They looked like they were on their first date, but he saw the way they looked at each other. It reminded him of the first date he had with you.

Then he smelled something. Vanilla and amber. Vanille Étoilée.

The nostalgic scent of you made him freeze on the spot. He whipped his head around, eyes darting through the crowd. He saw a familiar silhouette walking a bit further ahead, just turning the corner. He thought it was you, but he couldn’t be for sure.

“No shot…” he whispered, heart racing. He started weaving through people in a speed walk with the smell guiding him like a thread. When he reached the corner, he looked down the street but he didn’t see anyone who looked like you. There were nothing but taxis, Uber Eats bike couriers, and faceless strangers walking by. He stood there, looking around in a dazed state, staring at everything but also nothing at all as the noise of the city became the soundtrack of his confusion.

In a city like New York, you had to be a fast walker. You were a few blocks away now, but you smelled him too when you turned the corner. The faint scent of Rêveur enwrapped you, bringing back a flood of memories. That wasn’t out of the ordinary for you now that the scent had become a bestseller. You shook your head, laughing to yourself. You figured it was just another stranger wearing a scent you once created for the love of your life. Nothing more.

You couldn’t be any more wrong, but neither of you turned back.

“I’m losing it” Trent whispered to himself, dragging his hand across his face.

Maybe he was, but the universe had other plans.

An hour later, you found yourself inside Bergdorf Goodman on 5th Avenue. The marble floors reflected the ambient lighting of the circular chandeliers above. The department store was filled with luxury goods like Gianvito Rossi, Moncler and Saint Laurent. You weren’t looking for anything specific, just window shopping and killing time before your big meeting. The fragrance section immediately drew you in. You looked at them all until you saw one single bottle of Rêveur sitting on display. It really was a bestseller.

You walked over to it, reaching out for the bottle instinctively as your fingers brushed the cool bottle. Another hand met yours at the same time and you froze, smelling the scent of bergamot, lavender, sandalwood and apple drifting into the shared air.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to–” Trent’s voice stopped mid sentence. His familiar voice threw you for a loop in the sea of American accents. You felt your heart drop as you glanced up, trying not to give away how rattled you were. Trent’s hand pulled away a bit, almost like he wasn’t sure whether to back away or stand his ground.

“Oh.” The word slipped out before you could think of anything else. “It’s you. Hi.”

Trent tilted his head, a small smile appearing on his lips. “It’s me. Hi.”

The silence stretched longer than it needed to as the magnetic tension you used to feel reappeared. You were painfully self aware of everything – how the bottle felt, how good Trent looked, how fast your heart was beating, and how Vanille Étoilée and Rêveur were enwrapping to create one intoxicating scent.

“I didn’t know you shopped at Bergdorfs…” you said finally, looking him in the eye as you pulled away from the bottle of Rêveur.

“I don’t” Trent shrugged, stepping closer to you. “Was just walking by and something pulled me in.” He eyed the bottle, grabbing it and resting it in the palm of his hand as he smiled back at you. “Guess I know what now. It’s the last bottle.”

“And here I was thinking I was special,” you smiled back.

“You are.” The words slipped out so naturally you weren’t sure if he meant to say it out loud.

You glanced back at the bottle of Rêveur in his hand and cleared your throat, trying to find anything to talk about to settle the awkwardness.

“So..um..you still wear it then?” you finally asked.

“Never stopped.” He tilted his head, searching your face for something. “Can’t bring myself to switch but it’s getting harder to find nowadays.”

You bit your lip, trying not to show your widening grin. “A number one bestseller will do that.”

“I guess so” Trent’s gaze drifted to your left hand and you clocked it instantly. He was checking to see if someone else had scooped you up.

“Looking for something?” you teased, cocking your brow.

He laughed, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh..nah. Just checking. You’re not all that easy to keep up with these days. You even blocked my burner.”

You blinked, surprised he brought it up, but then you smirked. “...Scentimental. Really Trent?”

“I thought it was a good name” he defended himself with a sheepish grin. “How did you know it was me?”

“You were following a JudeTrent fan account and then you sent me a DM that sounded exactly like you. Didn’t take much. You’re not that subtle.”

“Ah, damn. I thought I was incognito enough” he muttered with a soft laugh.

“You weren’t. But A for effort.”

Trent’s gaze on you softened and he felt an itch to reach for you, but he couldn’t – you weren’t together anymore. He hesitated during a pause of silence, then spoke up. “So how have you been?”

You shrugged, trying to be nonchalant even though you were everything but. “Busy…”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting.” You glanced down at your phone, your pulse spiking as seconds ticked by. You needed to go but you didn’t want to be the one to leave first.

“You free? To catch up, I mean..”

You heard the vulnerability in his voice and it immediately made you want to say yes, but you forced yourself to keep it together. “I have a meeting. I’m already cutting it close.”

His jaw tensed, but he nodded. “Right. No problem.”

You took a deep breath, searching for the right words. “But maybe if it’s meant to be, we’ll see each other again?”

“You think so?”

You nodded, giving him a bittersweet smile. “Yeah. It’s worked before, right?”

“Guess so.” Trent smiled just enough to make your chest ache. You stepped back, walking away before looking over your shoulder. “Bye Trent. Nice seeing you again.”

“Bye Y/N…”

The further you walked away from him, the harder it was to breathe. You didn’t look back again, but you could feel him watching you leave. As you disappeared into the crowd, Trent stood there – frozen in place as he inhaled the faint remnants of your scent in the air.

“If we’re meant to see each other again..we will.” he said to himself.

After you left Bergdorf’s in a hurry, your heart was racing. It felt like no time had passed between you, even if it was somewhat awkward. You had no time to think about that though. You had an important meeting to get to.

Or so you thought.

By the time you arrived, you were already running a bit late. You glanced at your phone, sighing heavily as the lift dinged with each floor. When you finally arrived, you bolted to the receptionist’s desk.

“Hi. I’m here for the meeting with the fragrance house.” you said, a little breathless.

The lady at the desk gave you an apologetic smile. “Sorry Miss L/N, but that meeting ended over an hour ago.”

Your stomach sank. Thanks to jetlag and a five hour time difference, you miscalculated the time of the meeting. You fumbled for your phone, scrolling through the calendar. The meeting time was clear as day – an hour earlier than what you originally thought.

“Would you like me to reschedule?” the receptionist offered in a kind voice.

“No.” you muttered, pinching the bridge of your nose. “It’s fine. Maybe it’s just not meant to be. Thank you though.”

You walked back to the lift with your shoulders slumped. When the doors opened, you barely noticed the person already in there until they spoke up.

“Y/N right?”

You turned to see a girl in head to toe athleisure, swirling a straw around in the drink she was carrying.

“Yes?” you replied hesitantly.

She smiled a bit too knowingly. “I’m Alannah. Trent’s ex.”

You were confused, but you kept your expression neutral. “Oh. Hi.”

As the lift descented, an uncomfortable silence filled the tiny space. You could feel Alannah’s gaze on you and it made you feel weird. Something about this girl was strange – Ziggy was right. Her perfume wasn’t a vibe either, it smelled awful.

Coco Mademoiselle, you thought to yourself. In this day and age??

“He’s mentioned you before,” Alannah said in an eerie tone, cutting through your internal judgement. “I mean..obviously not to me directly but..”

You scrolled through your phone, avoiding the awkwardness as best as possible. “I’m sure he has.”

She tilted her head, studying you. “That ring is for you, isn’t it?”

You stiffened, unsure of what she was getting at. “What ring?”

Alannah scoffed in disbelief. “Cut the bullshit Y/N. I know why you’re here. Me and Trent broke up today and all of a sudden you’re here too? I’m not fucking dumb.”

You gave her the nastiest side eye, putting your phone back in your pocket. “I don’t know who you think you’re talking to..but it’s definitely not me. It feels like you’re projecting. Maybe sort that out before you come for me babe.” You stepped out of the lift and into the lobby before she had a chance to say anything back, and before you had a chance to give her the filthiest read of a lifetime.

When you got back to your hotel room, you flung yourself on the bed with a groan, rubbing your temples. Trent, Alannah, and the missed meeting. It all felt like some lame, poorly written story on wattpad, but this was your real life.

It was supposed to be easy to get lost in a big city like New York, especially during NYFW, yet somehow you kept running into the past. You didn’t understand it at that moment, but the universe was slowly resewing the loose thread that connected you to him – waiting for the perfect moment to sew the final figure 8 knot in place.

A few months later, you were back at Anfield and it felt surreal. It had been over two years since you last set foot in the stadium. But now you were wearing your own surname on a shirt instead of Alexander-Arnold. The number 16 was displayed on the fabric, representing your brother’s first team debut. Ezzie was beside you, documenting everything on Instagram with her phone.

“This is so weird” you admitted as you sat in your seat.

“So don’t make it weird. We’re here for Ziggy, not Trent.” Ezzie affirmed, sitting beside you. “You probably won’t even notice he’s there.”

She couldn’t be more wrong. The entire game it seemed like him and Ziggy were attached at the hip, mirroring each other alongside the pitch. During the second half, Trent had a near perfect assist and Ziggy was able to score a goal on his debut night. Both of them were obnoxious as hell when they celebrated – they were still doing their crazy handshake that had somehow become even more ridiculous.

Although the game ended in a draw, Ziggy and Trent’s performance was the highlight of the night. The crowd dispersed from the stadium and you found yourself looking up at the sky – tonight there was a full moon. You decided to stay behind, letting Ezzie head home without you so you could process all the happenings of the night.

The last time you were here your heart was full of love and chaos, but now it was filled with remnants of the past and the newfound pride you felt for Ziggy. It was nice seeing him live his dream, but it was bittersweet at the same time because every time you saw a smile on your brother’s face...Trent was right beside him.

You made your way down to the pitch, walking to the center. You sighed, crossing your arms to shield yourself from the chill of the night as you tilted your head back, taking in the moon in all its glory.

“I didn’t think you would stay.”

His voice startled you. Mostly because of how much you missed hearing it. You turned around and Trent was standing at the edge of the center with his hands in his jacket pockets. The view of him alone nearly knocked the wind out of you. You had no idea he was still watching every full moon with you while you were apart for two years.

“I just needed a minute,” you replied softly.

Trent walked toward you slowly, trying to figure out if he was welcome or not. You didn’t move, so he continued to bridge the gap.

“Hell of a debut, yeah?” He nodded toward where Ziggy scored his first goal.

You nodded, smiling shyly. “He really thrives under pressure.”

“Nah, that’s all you.” Trent replied in a warm voice. “He’s lucky he has someone like you to keep his head on straight.”

You glanced away from him, taking in the view of the moon again. “Just doing what I need to do. He’s too young to handle it alone.”

Trent sat next to you, but kept a comfortable distance. He looked up at the moon, and then back at you. You found yourself instinctively scooting toward him. You convinced yourself it was because you were cold, but you knew better.

“I missed you,” Trent said, breaking the silence. His guard was fully down, emotion in every word.

“Trent…” you began, but he shook his head.

“Just let me say it Y/N” His eyes searched yours and you felt goosebumps appear on your skin. “I miss you every single day. I tried to move on..I really did. But I can’t. I miss you so much it hurts.” You felt a lump in your throat as tears welled in your eyes. You were trying so hard to keep it together, but you were crumbling fast.

“I thought I was doing you a favor.” you admitted in a trembling voice. “I was really depressed Trent…I didn’t want to drag you with me.”

“I would’ve stuck beside you through it all.”

“I know,” you whispered. Tears started spilling down your face. “I didn’t mean what I said to you that night. I was angry..hurt..really scared. And I only blocked you because hearing about you or even looking at you hurt so bad. I couldn’t be what you needed me to be.”

Trent moved his hand and brushed them over your knuckles lightly. He searched your eyes and you could see the pain of all the months he spent wondering.

“Never needed you to be anything but yourself, Y/N. I don’t care if you’re not perfect. I fell in love with you because you never tried to change yourself for me. I fell in love with every bit of what makes you, you. I just wish you would’ve given me a little longer. Been lost without you ever since.”

You glanced down as your tears fell more quickly now. Trent cupped your face, forcing you to look at him. His eyes were glossy, filled with tears threatening to overflow. “You don’t get it Y/N. I’ve never seen you as someone that needs fixing. I love you the way you are. Through the good and the bad I’ll always love you no matter what.”

“I– I love you too....I’m sorry” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to do you like that. I honestly just didn’t know what to do. I–”

A faint crack of thunder made you pause. Trent’s thumb traced over your cheek, wiping away the tears that kept falling no matter how hard you were trying to keep them in. His gentle touch felt just as familiar as the moon hanging above you both.

“I didn’t know how to come back to you.” you murmured in a soft tone.

“I’d wait forever for you baby” Trent replied, barely audible over the soft drizzle starting to rain over you. “I only want you.”

“Trent..” You said his name like it was the only word you ever wanted to say again. Another clap of thunder broke from the sky as Trent pulled you into him, placing his hands on your waist. You couldn’t hold back anymore and found yourself wrapping your arms around his shoulders. The moment you kissed him, it felt like you were kissing him for the first time all over again. Every part of you felt like it was being stitched back together with each movement of his lips against yours – like a stitched figure 8 knot.

When the rain began to fall harder, Trent pulled away breathlessly to take off his jacket, holding it above you to shield you from the rain, then he smirked at you.

“If it’s meant to be, we’ll see each other again.”

“What?”

“That’s what you said to me in New York” he reminisced. “You looked me dead in the eye at Bergdorf’s and told me that. Then you walked away like it was nothing.”

You let out a laugh. “And here we are..seeing each other again.”

“After two, long and miserable years.” he chuckled sarcastically, walking you toward the tunnel. You felt guilty, so you didn’t say anything back, but Trent sensed it immediately.

“I’m not saying that to guilt you.” he added. “I just don’t want to waste any more time wondering if I’ll see you again. I don’t want to leave it up to fate or serendipity or whatever we’ve been calling this.”

You didn’t want to leave it up to fate either. Not anymore.

“Trent..I really don’t want this night to end..” you admitted quietly. “I missed you so fucking much.”

He gave you a big grin, making your heart skip a beat. “Then let’s not let it end, yeah?”

“What do you mean?”

“Come with me” he said, very matter of fact while smiling. “Anywhere. Right now.”

“Anywhere?” you asked softly.

“Anywhere.” he repeated, leaning in closely to kiss you again. “As long as I’m with you.”

thank you readers ily 🫶🏽

#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold x you #trent alexander arnold angst #footballer x reader #footballer x y/n #taa x reader #trent alexander arnold fanfiction #trent alexander arnold fluff #fem!reader #footballer fanfic #footballer imagines #trent alexander arnold imagine #Spotify

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scarletwinterxx · 1 year ago

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sunshine and midnight rain - mark lee scenario

hello! so i'm back and yes i'm still on my mark lee brain rot era😅 it's like whenever i see this guy i completely forget about the rest of male population haha anyways I hope you like this one🤍

if you have a request or scenario you want me to do, just send me a message I'll see what I can do😊💌

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

and if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2023 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

"Why are you so mad right now?"

"Because I asked you to do one thing and you didn't" Mark says, still avoiding your gaze.

This was not how you envisioned your morning, when you woke up Mark's side of the bed was already empty. When you went to look for him he was gone, no note, no text of his possible whereabouts. And when he got back, he was clearly and very obviously mad at you.

"I got home just fine" you say with your arms out. Mark still hasn't look at you and it's bugging you. You follow him out the living room. He's going round and round, trying to tidy the place just to avoid having a conversation with you.

"Mark, can you please look at me" you tell him, this made him stop and look over at you. A clear look of disappointment on his face, "I swear I was going to call you but the girls and I were talking and drinking. It slipped my mind, I already booked a cab home when I remembered"

"You went home, way past midnight alone and drunk. Do you know dangerous that is?"

"But I got home safe"

"And what if you didn't? What if something happened? God forbid I get upset about that, I was worried I'm sorry. Is that what you want to hear?"

You say nothing for a while, thinking of something to say back. You really are at fault here, you should be the one saying sorry right now.

"I'm sorry, I should've called" you tell him, now avoiding his eyes just as you feel the tears fill yours. Mark sighs, crossing the room until he's right in front of you. He hooks his finger under your chin, making you look at him.

"I'm mad because I care. I don't trust the world when it comes to you, I just want you to be safe always. I'm not going to stop you living your best life, but I want to know you're safe" he whispers, anger already disappearing.

He wipes the few tears that escaped, cradling your face between his hands.

"Are you still mad?" you mumble, this made Mark smile and shake his head.

"We're okay. I'm sorry for raising my voice at you"

"And I'm sorry for making you worry"

He kisses your forehead before pulling you in for a hug, "I don't like arguing with you, but I'd do it in every universe as long as we make up and end up like this. I love you, always. Okay?"

You hug him tighter, answering him without saying any words.

Just like that you're okay again.

Bless this universe for giving you such an understanding, loving, mature man to love. You'd be stupid to ever let him go which is why no matter what argument, the two of you always make sure to solve it together.

Mark never lets you go to sleep upset, he'll ask you what's wrong or if he's done anything to upset you. At first it was hard for you to admit your feelings that easily, you learned that you don't like being vulnerable, you don't like sharing your true feelings. You bottle it up. But ever since you started dating Mark, all of that changed.

He's there to listen, even when words aren't being spoken. He knows when to give you space, he knows when to chase after you and hold you tight. He knows you in a way you didn't want to know yourself, you used to be scared of these feeling but not anymore.

It's obvious who's the serious one and the jokester in you and Mark's relationship. The best thing about it is the fact that your boyfriend, no matter how serious he is, will always play along.

"Mark, you busy?" you ask, walking inside the office to see him on his computer

He looks over at you with a smile, "No, what's up?"

"I was wondering..." you say while walking towards him, he waits for you to continue. You got to where he was sitting, smiling cheekily at your boyfriend

He knows you're up to something, he grabs you by the waist sitting you squarely on his lap.

"Do you know how to whistle?"

"Do I know how to whistle?" he asks back,

"Yea like you know, like this" you pout, but before you can whistle Mark closes the gap between the two of you. Kissing you gently, he grabs the back of your head to deepen the kiss. Suddenly you forgot what you were doing in the first place.

After a few minutes of exchanging kisses, you broke apart. Looking dazed and in love, "Hey! I was suppose to do that! Did you know I was going to do that?" you asked

"Maybe" he mumbles, looking at you with pure adoration

"I'll pretend I didn't know" he adds, making you roll your eyes.

"You just want to make out"

"You're not wrong there, now come here I need your kisses"

The first time it happened, Mark thought it really was just coincidence.

You just started to decorate around the house, the tree was halfway done and a few other decorations scattered here and there. He was just walking to the kitchen doorway when suddenly you stop him

"What?" your boyfriend blinks back at you confused, instead of answering him you just point up making Mark look at where you're pointing. There hanging by the doorway was a mistletoe.

"When did you put that there?" he asks with a smile, finding the tradition cute. Even cuter when you're looking at him with the biggest smile, ready to receive your kiss

"I just put it up today, now where's my kiss" you say, pursing your lips at him making Mark chuckle. He grabs you by the waist, leaning down to kiss you. It was short but sweet, enough to leave you smiling like an idiot.

A few months ago, the two of you finally decided to move in together. It's been years since you got together, and most times you spend your nights together whether his place or yours. At some point you realized that it would make more sense to just move in together, so you did.

"Love, did you do laundry last time?" you asked him, walking inside your shared bedroom to see him resting on the bed

"I did"

"Oh thanks, love the fabric softener you used. Now all my clothes smells like you" you smile at him, jumping on the bed to cuddle him. Immediately he hugs you close.

"Then will you stop stealing of my clothes now?" he asks

"Negative, I like your hoodies better"

He chuckles at your answer, "Knew it"

"What were you doing?"

"Just checking my phone, I wanted to order this pan for making omelet. Should we get one?"

You love how his sentence now say "we" or "our" instead of his and yours. Of course you still respect each other's boundaries and individuality, but on things like deciding what to paint your home or what furniture to buy or groceries to stock up on it's always the two of you.

"Should we? If we're using it then why not, I love eggs for breakfast" you tell him, looking at his phone screen to check

"I know, that's why I'm getting it. Okay, I'll order it now then" you watch him as he do so.

"This is fun" you mumble

"Hm?"

"This, buying things for our place. I like it" you smile

"Me too"

"Do you want to marry me?"

Your question took him by surprise. Not because he didn't want to marry you, it's just when he thinks of that big question he's the one doing the asking and not the other way around.

"Mark? Sorry forget I said anything" you mumble, moving to rest your head on the pillow instead

"Remember when we first started dating or way before that?" he asks you

"Huh?"

"I was shy, I wasn't as confident as the other guys. People think I'm aloof and too serious. You never thought of me that way, you entered in my life like you were meant to be there all along and maybe you are. Scratch that, I know you are. You're meant to be in my life. When I knew I was falling in love with you I didn't know how to say it without scaring you away, so I did it slowly. I did it in a way that won't overwhelm you. Because to you it doesn't have to be a loud confession or a grand gesture. i loved you they way i knew you would understand. i loved you the way i know how. i just loved you. I know you, your mind is a wonder. You doubt, you question and you worry your pretty mind to no ends. I didn’t want to disrupt that"

By now you're face to face again, he's speaking so softly like he's afraid you'll float away of he's too loud.

"You said I was your peace, and back then that was more than enough for me. By some miracle, you fell in love with me too. And now we're here. So to answer your question, yes I want to marry you. One day I want to get down on one knee and ask you that question, I'm still working on being the man worthy to ask that" he continues, and you soak each and every word he speaks like he's already saying his vows.

Because you know, you know he is a man of words. If Mark says it, then it's true. He will never say such things to deceive you.

"Do you have any more questions for me, pretty girl?" he whispers, waiting for you to speak

You shake your head, scooting until you're on his side again. Tucking yourself as close to him as you can.

He tilts your head so you're looking at him, leaning down to kiss you on your nose, your cheeks and last your lips.

"I'll love you over and over again, just like when we met"

#fic #nct #story #tag #nct dream #nct 127 #nct mark lee #nct scenario #nct oneshot #nct au #nct fluff #mark lee imagine #mark lee au #mark lee boyfriend #mark lee oneshot #mark lee fluff

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stylesispunk · 10 months ago

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"The not so invisible string" | part 7

Not outbreak!Joel Miller x f! reader

previous chapter | next chapter | series masterlist

summary: you and Joel were made right for each other at the wrong time. Now, thirteen years later your paths crossed when both of your daughters get in trouble at school. Would be the right time for you now?

word count: 7,8k>

warnings: none but, angst, mentions of bruises, and FLUFF

a/n: Hello, hello! chapter 7 is here! The next one may be the last since it's time to say goodbye to this silly fic, by the way, I hope you like this one because I added everything I could and it's kinda cute. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading 💌 Remember my dm and asks are always open for you if you wanna talk.

dividers by @/saradika.

Joel

I miss you; I haven’t seen you in a week!

You thought that by now, Joel would have begun to behave very differently from the teen boy trying to win your heart back in time, that in your 30s he was going to find different ways to show affection, but he still got the boyish smile on him all the time he saw you, as if you hang up the moon. He still got the dirtiest jokes about salad dressings, and most importantly, he still got your heart in the palm of his hand, but this time he was taking care of it as if it were crystal, and you were so grateful for his actions, talking louder than his promises.

You loved him; he still made you feel like the only girl in the room.

You

Well, sorry for being on a job trip.

I miss you too, but I’m back tomorrow!! Don’t be so needy.

Joel

A delicious dinner will be waiting for you at my house when you arrive.

And well, me.

You

I have a daughter to go see first!

Joel

I will be waiting for the both of you then.

You chuckled at Joel's response; his enthusiasm was evident even through text messages. Despite being apart for just a week, you found yourself eagerly anticipating the moment you would be reunited with him.

You adored the way he always had the time to make you feel special, but he also made his time to include Tara too, as if she were a tiny extension of you to love and take care of as if she were his own daughter.

He was behaving like the father Tara needed.

And you didn’t know this, but Joel was starting to love Tara as if she were his daughter. He knew you and her, plus he and Sarah will become a family soon.

When you arrived again on Tuesday, you made your way to your mother’s house. You couldn’t wait to see Tara. She had been staying with her grandmother while you were away, and you missed her terribly after seven days apart.

As soon as you stepped through the door, you were met with your mother’s smile, welcoming you to enter the house; however, she stopped you for a second.

“Tara seemed to be bothered by something.” Your mom warned.

“What do you mean? Did Dwight do something?” Of course, Dwight was the first person to put the blame on him since he was going to have a day with his daughter because you allowed him to see her once this week while you were away.

“I don’t know, but she was really upset today, and she doesn’t want to talk to me,” she said, her voice tinted with worry.

“Don’t worry, I’ll fix it,” you assured her, with determination in your voice. You knew that Tara often kept her feelings bottled up, especially with all the drama between you and her father.

Heading towards Tara's room, you knocked softly on the door before gently pushing it open. Tara was sitting on her bed, her gaze fixed on the floor, lost in her own thoughts.

"Tara, sweetheart, hey!"" You greeted her, approaching her carefully.

“Mom, you’re back,” she said, stepping up from her bed and welcoming you in a tight hug. You knew her so well that you noticed something was off with her.

You held her close, feeling her warmth and the familiar comfort of her embrace. "I missed you so much," you whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Is everything okay? Your grandma mentioned you seemed upset."

Tara pulled away slightly; her expression was troubled. "It's nothing, Mom," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. But you could see the sadness in her eyes; the weight of whatever was troubling her was evident in the way she held herself.

You reached out to gently cup her face, tilting it up so you could look into her eyes. "You can talk to me, Tara," you reassured her, your voice filled with love and understanding. "Whatever it is, we'll figure it out together."

“Shouldn’t you be at Joel’s by now?” she mentioned, dismissing the topic.

You sighed softly, recognizing Tara's attempt to divert the conversation. "I was planning on going there, but you're more important to me right now," you replied, giving her a reassuring smile. "If you want to talk about what's bothering you, I'm here. But if you'd rather not, that's okay too. Just know that I'm always here for you."

Tara's expression softened at your words, a hint of gratitude shining in her eyes. "Thanks, Mom," she said quietly, leaning into your touch. “But you should go; he must miss you by now.”

“He actually wanted both of us over for dinner,” you mentioned, studying her face, which shone at the mention of Joel’s invitation, but it faded soon.

“I just... I don't feel like going out tonight," she admitted softly, avoiding your eyes.

Your heart sank at her words, knowing that Tara's reluctance to go to Joel's house was a sign that something was truly bothering her. "Okay, sweetheart," you said, trying to hide your own disappointment. "We can stay in tonight and talk, just the two of us."

“No, you must go,” she said.

You could sense Tara's insistence—her desire for you to go and spend time with Joel—conflicting with her own reluctance to join. It was clear that she was trying to put on a brave face for you, but you couldn't ignore the underlying sadness in her eyes.

"Tara, if something is bothering you, I want to be here for you," you said gently, reaching out to grasp her hand. "Joel will understand if I need to stay with you tonight. Your well-being is my priority."

Tara squeezed your hand, her gaze meeting yours with a mixture of gratitude and apprehension. "I know, Mom," she said softly. "But I'll be okay. And I don't want you to miss out on time with Joel because of me."

You sighed, torn between your desire to comfort Tara and your longing to see Joel. But ultimately, you knew that Tara needed you more in that moment.

"Okay, Tara," you conceded, offering her a reassuring smile. "I'll go to say hi to him, but I'll be back later, and we can talk more then, okay?"

Tara nodded, her expression filled with understanding. "Okay, Mom," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

With one last squeeze of her hand, you rose from the bed and made your way to the door, feeling a pang of guilt as you left Tara behind.

As you made your way to Joel's house, your heart raced with anticipation. Despite the conflicting emotions stirring within you about leaving Tara behind, the prospect of seeing Joel filled you with a sense of excitement and longing.

Finally, you arrived at Joel's doorstep, your heart pounding with nervous energy as you raised your hand to knock on the door. The sound echoed through the quiet night, and you held your breath, waiting for Joel to answer.

Seconds felt like an eternity until you heard the sound of footsteps approaching the door. And then it swung open, revealing Joel standing before you, his eyes lighting up with joy at the sight of you.

"Hey," he said softly, a smile spreading across his face as he pulled you into his arms. "I've missed you."

"Hey," he said softly, a smile spreading across his face as he pulled you into his arms. "I missed you,” he whispered, placing a kiss on your lips.

You melted into his embrace, feeling a rush of relief and contentment wash over you. In that moment, all the worries and uncertainties faded away, leaving only the comfort of being in Joel's arms once more.

“I missed you too,” you replied, your voice filled with warmth as you leaned into him and into his embrace, where you belonged.

“Where is Tara?” Joel asked after noticing the absence of the teen behind you.

“At my mother’s. She said she didn’t feel good, and I know she is lying, but she insisted on me coming to see you,” you said to him.

Joel's smile widened at Tara's thoughtful gesture, his eyes softening with affection but still showing worry. "She's always looking out for you," he remarked, his voice filled with warmth.

You nodded, feeling grateful for Tara's care and concern. "Yes, she is," you agreed, feeling a surge of love for your daughter. "I'm lucky to have her, but she is my priority, so I just came to say hi.”

Joel pulled you closer, his arms enveloping you in a comforting embrace once again. "Maybe you could ask Sarah," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Maybe she knows something.”

“Are you sure?” You mumbled against his shoulder.

“Yes, she is inside; come on.” Joel took your hand, leading you inside his house.

As you entered the house, Sarah greeted you with a warm smile, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Hey," she said, stepping forward to hug you. "It's good to see you."

"It's good to see you too, sweetheart," you replied, returning her embrace. "How have you been?"

Sarah shrugged with a hint of mischief in her eyes. "Same old, same old," she said cryptically, her gaze flickering towards Joel before returning to you. "What brings you here?"

“Your dad is her boyfriend, and he missed her terribly,” Joel answered to his daughter for you.

You glanced at Joel; a smile creeped on your lips at his words.

A mischievous grin spread across Sarah’s face. "Is that so?" she teased, shooting a playful look at her father. "You must really like her."

Joel chuckled, giving Sarah a mock glare. "She wants to talk to you about Tara."

Sarah's grin softened into a more sympathetic expression as she turned her attention back to you. "Is everything okay with her?" she asked, her tone serious.

You sighed, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders at the opportunity to discuss your concerns with Sarah. "I'm not sure," you admitted, your voice tinged with worry. "She seemed upset earlier, and I can't shake the feeling that something's bothering her."

“Dad, can you let us alone for a bit?” Sarah asked Joel.

Joel nodded, but before heading towards the kitchen, he placed a soft kiss on your forehead as a sign of affection and love for you, saying he was there for you whenever you needed him.

As Joel left the room, Sarah turned her attention back to you, her expression filled with concern.

"What do you think could be bothering her?" you asked gently.

“Well, she seemed off this morning at school. I knew she was with her dad yesterday, so I guess it has to do with him,” she confessed, carefully not to say beyond what she knew; it was Tara who should tell you once she feels ready for it.

You nodded, understanding Sarah's hesitation to delve too deeply into Tara's personal affairs. "That's what I was thinking too," you admitted, feeling a knot of worry tighten in your chest. "But I don't want to push her if she's not ready to talk about it."

Sarah nodded in agreement, her expression sympathetic. "I get it," she said softly. "But maybe knowing that you're here for her, whenever she's ready, will give her some comfort."

You smiled gratefully at Sarah, touched by her insight and understanding. "Thank you," you said, feeling a sense of relief knowing that Sarah was there to support Tara too.

Sarah returned your smile, her eyes filled with warmth. "Of course," she said. "Family looks out for each other, right?"

Your heart warmed at those words, and you looked at Sarah, driven by pure adoration, and found Joel was there spying on the both of you. You couldn't help but laugh at the sight of Joel peeking in on your conversation with Sarah; his expression was genuine adoration. You couldn’t help but admire the girl he had raised on his own all this time.

As Sarah caught sight of Joel, she grinned mischievously, clearly enjoying the playful moment. "Dad, you're such a spy," she teased, her tone filled with playful banter.

Joel chuckled, stepping fully into the room and wrapping an arm around your waist. "I can't help it if I'm curious about what you two are plotting," he replied with a wink, his gaze shifting between you and Sarah.

You leaned into Joel's touch, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you at the warmth and love radiating from your little family. "We're just talking," you reassured him, exchanging a knowing glance with Sarah.

With a smile, Joel pressed a kiss on your temple, his love for you evident in the gentle gesture. "Well, don't let me interrupt," he said, his voice filled with affection. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need me."

As Joel made his way out of the room, you turned back to Sarah, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "He's something else, isn't he?" you remarked, feeling grateful for the man by your side and the daughter who had grown up under his loving care.

Sarah nodded, her eyes sparkling with fondness. "Yeah, he is," she agreed, her voice filled with warmth. "But we wouldn't have it any other way, would we?"

You shook your head, feeling a surge of love for your family. "No, we wouldn't."

As your conversation with Sarah came to a close, you felt a sense of resolve settling within you. It was time to return to your mother's house and check in on Tara, even if you didn't have all the answers yet.

Turning to Joel, you reached out to take his hand, a gentle smile playing on your lips. "I think I should head back to my mom's house now," you said softly, your voice filled with determination. "I want to see how Tara's doing."

Joel nodded in understanding, squeezing your hand gently. "Of course," he replied, his gaze filled with warmth and support. "Let me know if there's anything I can do."

You leaned in to press a soft kiss to his lips, feeling a rush of affection for the man who had stood by your side through thick and thin. "Thank you, Joel," you murmured against his lips, savoring the closeness between you.

With a final smile, you pulled away, reluctantly releasing his hand as you approached the door. As you stepped outside, you paused momentarily, casting one last glance back at Joel, looking back at you with bright eyes and mouthing “I love you”.

You made your way back to your mother's house, your mind buzzing with thoughts about Tara and what could be bothering her. When you arrived, Tara greeted you at the door with a warm smile, ready to go back home with you.

Since you and Dwight ended your marriage, you stayed at your mother’s house for a day until you found an apartment that was perfect for you and Tara to live together.

"Hey, Mom," Tara said, wrapping you in a quick hug before grabbing her bag. "Ready to head back?"

You returned her hug, giving her a reassuring smile. "Yes, let's go."

As you drove back home with Tara in the passenger seat, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease about her. Finally, you turned to her, breaking the silence that had settled between you.

"Tara, sweetheart," you began, your voice gentle. "I know something's been bothering you. Can you tell me what's wrong?"

Tara glanced out the window, her expression troubled. "It's just... I don't know, Mom," she admitted, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "I guess I've just been feeling really confused lately."

You reached out to gently squeeze her hand, offering her a reassuring smile. "It's okay to feel confused, sweetheart," you said softly. "But I want you to know that I'm here for you, no matter what. You can talk to me about anything."

Tara nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Thanks, Mom," she whispered, leaning into your touch. "I love you."

"I love you too, sweetheart," you replied, feeling a surge of love and gratitude for your daughter. "We'll figure this out together, okay?"

She nodded. “You know you deserve all the best in the world,” she said to you, her voice cracking a little bit.

“Do you think so?” You asked playfully, your eyes still focused on the road.

“Yes, and my father never deserved you,” she finally said.

You felt a pang of sadness at Tara's words, knowing the pain she must have been feeling about the situation with her father. But you also felt a sense of pride in her strength and honesty.

"I appreciate you saying that, sweetheart," you replied, your voice soft with emotion. "But he's still your father after all. What’s between us is just between us; don’t hate him just because he wasn’t a good husband.”

And hating him won't change the past or make things better. It's okay to feel hurt or angry, but holding onto that resentment will only weigh you down."

Tara nodded, her expression thoughtful as she absorbed your words. "I know, Mom," she said quietly. “I just see Sarah and Joel, and sometimes I wish he was my father.”

Your heart ached at Tara's words, understanding the longing she felt for a stable and loving family dynamic. You reached out to gently squeeze her hand, offering her comfort and reassurance.

"I understand, sweetheart," you said softly, your voice filled with empathy. "But “what you have left to say was interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing as if Joel sensed his name being mentioned; he was the one calling, “Oh my god, I’m going to dump him.”

Tara laughed at your words, encouraging you to answer the call, so you put your phone on speaker.

You glanced at Tara, sharing a laugh with her before answering the call. "Hey, Joel," you said, trying to hide the amusement in your voice.

"Hey, Doe," Joel replied, his voice warm and familiar. "I was just thinking about you. How's everything going?"

"We're on our way back home now," you replied, glancing at Tara as you drove. "I just had a little heart-to-heart."

"Everything okay?" Joel asked, his concern evident in his tone.

"Yeah, everything's fine," you reassured him. "Just some family stuff. How about you? How's your evening going?"

"It's going well," Joel replied. "Sarah and I just finished dinner. She's upstairs doing homework now. I miss you, though.”

You smiled at the warmth in Joel's voice, feeling a surge of affection for him. "You just saw it like an hour ago.”

“I know, but still,” he said. “However, I was calling you for another reason.”

“Oh?” you questioned, furrowing your eyebrows.

"I wanted to ask if Tara would like to join Sarah and me for lunch tomorrow after school; I’m taking the afternoon off," Joel said, his voice carrying a hint of anticipation.

You glanced at Tara, who perked up at the mention of her name. Tara's eyes lit up with excitement. "Yes, I would love to!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with a tint of enthusiasm.

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at Tara's eagerness. "You heard her," you confirmed to Joel, a sense of gratitude washing over you for his thoughtful invitation.

“Great!" Joel replied, his tone filled with genuine pleasure. "I look forward to it. See you tomorrow, then.” He paused, “Please tell your mother she is pretty and that I love her.”

“Bye! I love you,” you said on the phone.

You loved the way he had been including Tara in his life since you had returned to his, making an effortless attempt to make her feel loved and included in every single aspect of your now-joined lives.

The next day, Joel led the way to their table, his smile infectious as he engaged in playful banter with Sarah and Tara. The three of them seemed to hit it off effortlessly, their conversation flowing smoothly as they shared stories and jokes.

Throughout the meal, Joel made sure to include both girls in the conversation, asking about their interests and sharing stories from his own life. Sarah and Tara seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely, their laughter ringing out amidst the bustle of the restaurant.

Tara hadn’t felt this loved by a paternal figure since she was nine, and she couldn’t help but feel the beating of her heart increasing, knowing that this may be her reality for the rest of her life.

Tara found herself opening up to Joel in a way she hadn't with anyone else since her parents' divorce. His kindness and attentiveness made her feel seen and valued, filling a void she hadn't realized was there.

Unbeknownst to them, Dwight was nearby, observing the scene from a distance. His heart clenched with jealousy and bitterness as he watched Joel bond with his daughter. He had always believed that he was the only father figure Tara needed, but seeing her smile and laugh in Joel's presence made him realize that he had been wrong.

Dwight's resentment toward Joel only grew; the man hasn’t only kept the hold of his heart in the palm of his hand, but now he is stealing his daughter from him, and his mind is swirling with thoughts of how to regain control over Tara's affections. But little did he know, Tara's heart had already begun to open up to Joel, and there was no turning back.

As Joel led the way back to his truck, Sarah and Tara chatted animatedly behind him, their laughter ringing out in the crisp afternoon air. But their jovial mood came to an abrupt halt when Joel suddenly stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing as he examined the side of his truck.

"What's wrong?" Sarah asked, her brow furrowing with concern.

Joel crouched down, inspecting one of the truck's wheels. "It looks like we've got a flat tire," he said, his voice tinged with frustration.

Tara peered over his shoulder, her heart sinking as she saw the damage. "Is there anything we can do?" she asked, feeling a sense of helplessness wash over her.

Joel sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'll need to call for a tow truck," he replied, his tone resigned. "It looks like we're going to be here for a while."

As Joel pulled out his phone to make the call, Tara glanced at Sarah, her mind racing with thoughts of what could have caused the flat tire.

But a few seconds later, Joel came back. “I called Tommy; he is going to take the both of you home while I stay here waiting for the tow truck, okay?”

The teens nodded as Joel made the arrangements, and Tara and Sarah exchanged glances, silently communicating their concern. Despite the unexpected turn of events, they knew they could count on Joel to take care of the situation.

"Thanks, dad," Sarah said gratefully as Tommy's car pulled up beside them.

"Yeah, thanks," Tara echoed, offering Joel a reassuring smile.

Joel returned their smiles, though there was a hint of worry in his eyes. "No problem, girls," he said. "Just make sure to get home safely, okay?"

"We will," Sarah promised, giving Joel a quick hug before climbing into Tommy's car.

Tara followed suit, offering Joel a hug of her own before joining Sarah in the car. As they drove away, Tara couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for Joel's kindness and reliability, even in the face of unexpected challenges.

After the girls were out of sight, a voice interrupted Joel’s solitude.

“First, now, are you trying to steal my daughter too?”

That voice. Joel knew that voice that damn well, and he was getting exhausted from hearing it.

Joel's jaw clenched as he turned to face the source of the voice, his expression a mix of frustration and irritation. "Dwight," he said evenly, his voice tinged with disdain. "What are you doing here?"

Dwight's lips curled into a sneer as he approached Joel, his eyes flashing with anger. "I saw you with your little girl and my daughter," he spat. "Don't think I don't know what you're up to."

Dwight scoffed, his gaze cold and accusatory. "Right, like I'm supposed to believe that," he retorted. "You've been trying to worm your way into their lives ever since she came back and got to know my daughter.”

Joel's temper flared at the insinuation, but he forced himself to remain calm. "I care about Tara,” he said firmly. "And unlike you, I actually want what's best for her." He accused,” You saw her here, and you waited for her to go instead of saying hello to her, just to come up at me just like the pathetic loser you are.”

Joel's words struck a nerve with Dwight, his face contorting with anger. "You think you're better than me, huh?" He snarled, taking a menacing step closer to Joel. "You think you can just waltz in here and take over my daughter's life?"

Joel stood his ground, refusing to back down in the face of Dwight's aggression. "I'm not trying to take over anything," he said, his voice steady. "I just want to be there for Tara, to support her and care for her like she deserves."

Dwight scoffed, his fists clenched at his sides. "You don't know the first thing about being her father."

“And you do?” Joel asked, but the answer he received was Dwigth’s fist directly in his face.

As Dwight's fist connected with Joel's face, the impact sent a shockwave of pain through him. Joel stumbled backward, his hand instinctively reaching up to touch his throbbing eye. Anger flared in his eyes as he regained his balance, his jaw clenched tight.

"Is that how you fix your problems?" Joel growled, his voice laced with defiance. Despite the pain, he refused to let Dwight intimidate him. "You think you can just throw a punch and scare me off?"

Dwight's expression twisted into a snarl as he lunged forward again, this time hitting on Joel's jaw, causing him to bleed, but still, with a swift motion, Joel sidestepped Dwight’s attack, grabbing his arm and twisting it behind his back.

“I’m not going to hit you, not because I can't, but because I have respect for Tara,” Joel said, letting Dwight go from his hold.

Dwight's expression softened slightly, though suspicion lingered in his gaze. "You think you're some kind of hero, huh?" He muttered, rubbing his sore arm.

Joel shook his head, his expression serious. "I'm not a hero," he said.

Dwight regarded Joel for a moment longer before finally turning away, his footsteps heavy as he retreated. Joel watched him go, his jaw still throbbing from the impact of Dwight's punches on his face.

After receiving a call from Tommy about the altercation between Joel and Dwight, you knew you had to go check on Joel. Despite the late hour, you made your way to his house, your heart heavy with worry.

When you arrived, you felt an uneasiness before knocking on the door. When Joel appeared behind the door, you took a look at his appearance. His purple eye and swollen jaw made your stomach twist in pain.

His eyes softened at the sight of you, but the tension on his shoulder told you he wasn’t pleased at all.

“Who told you?” he asked, not a greeting, nor a hug, nor a kiss.

"Tommy,” you replied carefully, studying his subtle behavior.

As you spoke, Joel's expression tightened, mixed frustration and resignation crossing his features. He didn’t step aside, and he didn’t invite you into the house. He just stood there with a weary expression.

“Are you okay?” You asked again.

“Let’s see. I look like an idiot with this on my face; I can’t go to work like this, and I feel tired of your ex-husband.”

You winced at Joel's words, feeling the blame on his words. You couldn’t help but feel guilty; after all, Dwight had appeared in his life because of you. You wished you could take away all this, but you knew that wasn't possible. Instead, you feel small in front of him.

Feeling the weight of Joel's frustration, you took a step closer, wanting to offer him comfort despite feeling somewhat responsible for the situation. "I'm sorry," you said softly, your voice filled with genuine remorse. You lifted your hands to cup his face delicately, but Joel grabbed your wrists before you could feel his face on your palms.

Your breath left your lungs, and your heart sank.

You could feel the tension radiating from him; his eyes were dark and unreadable as they bore into yours. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of the situation hanging heavily in the air.

"I appreciate your concern," Joel finally said, his voice strained. "But right now, I just need some space."

His words stung, a sharp pang of hurt shooting through you as you withdrew your hands from his grasp. You nodded silently, feeling a lump form in your throat as you struggled to contain your emotions.

"Are you putting the blame on me?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. You needed an answer before breaking down in front of him.

Joel's expression softened slightly at your question, his eyes flickering with a mixture of emotions. He hesitated for a moment before responding, his voice tinged with regret.

"No, I'm not blaming you," he replied, his tone softer now. "I just... I need some time to process everything that's happened."

You nodded, understanding his need for space but unable to shake off the hurt that lingered within you.

“Go home, Doe,” he whispered.

With a heavy heart, you nodded in response to Joel's words. His request for space was clear, and though it pained you to leave him in such a state, you knew that respecting his boundaries was crucial in this moment.

"Okay," you whispered back, your voice barely above a murmur. "Take care of yourself, Joel."

Turning away, you walked slowly back to your car, the weight of the situation settling heavily on your shoulders. As you drove home, the silence of the car mirrored the heaviness in your heart, your thoughts consumed by the turmoil of emotions stirred up by the encounter with Joel.

It felt like the night he didn’t fight for you when you left him.

Arriving home with a heavy heart, tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you stepped through the door. Tara, ever-perceptive, noticed your somber expression immediately.

"Mom, what's wrong?" She asked, concern evident in her voice as she hurried to your side.

You tried to offer her a reassuring smile, but it faltered as the weight of the day's events pressed down on you.

"It's nothing, sweetheart," you replied, your voice trembling slightly. "Just a long day."

Tara studied you for a moment, her gaze searching yours for any sign of what was truly bothering you. Seeing the unshed tears in your eyes, she wrapped you in a gentle hug, offering you the comfort of her presence.

"Is it about what dad did to Joel?” She asked, waiting for your answer.

Your heart ached at Tara's question; her perceptiveness never failed to astound you. You pulled back slightly from the embrace, meeting her concerned gaze with a mixture of surprise and admiration.

"How did you know?" you asked softly, impressed by her ability to see through you.

Tara sighed, her expression filled with empathy. "Sarah”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you nodded, grateful for Tara's understanding. "Of course,” you said. “Yes, it's about that," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just feel so helpless, Tara. It’s all my fault for thinking we could be together again.”

“I don’t want you to say that ever again, mom,” Tara said, her tone clear enough.

Tara's words struck a chord deep within you, her unwavering support providing a glimmer of solace in the midst of your turmoil. You looked at her, your eyes brimming with tears, and felt a surge of gratitude for her strength and wisdom beyond her years.

"I'm sorry, Tara," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "I just... I thought I could make things right, but instead, I've only caused more pain."

“I bet Joel wants space tonight, but that doesn’t mean anything bad.” She reassured me, “The way he looked at you, mom, He wouldn’t lose you over the prick of a father I have.”

Tara's words brought a small glimmer of hope to your heart; her unwavering faith in Joel's feelings for you offered a sense of reassurance in the midst of your doubts.

"Thank you, sweetheart," you said, your voice soft with gratitude. "I hope you're right. I just... I hate seeing him hurt because of me."

“He is not hurt because of you.”

Tara's reassurance was like a balm to your wounded soul, her unwavering belief in Joel's love for you providing a beacon of hope amidst the darkness of your doubts.

"You're right," you said, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. "Thank you for reminding me of that, Tara. I needed to hear it."

As the night wore on, you found yourself tossing and turning in bed, unable to shake off the nagging feeling of unease that lingered within you. The thoughts of Joel consumed your mind, his bruised face haunting your thoughts.

Despite Tara's reassurances, you couldn't shake off the guilt that weighed heavily on your heart. The urge to reach out to Joel, to check on him and apologize for everything, gnawed at you relentlessly.

You glanced at the clock beside your bed, its hands ticking away the seconds of the sleepless night. With a heavy sigh, you reached for your phone, the temptation to call Joel becoming too strong to resist.

But as your fingers hovered over the dial button, doubt crept in. What if he needed space? What if he was still angry?

With a frustrated groan, you set your phone aside, resigning yourself to the torment of your thoughts. Sleep remained elusive, the weight of guilt and uncertainty pressing down on you like a leaden blanket.

Just as you resigned yourself to the torment of your thoughts, your phone vibrated with the arrival of a notification. With a flutter of anticipation, you reached for it, your heart racing with hope.

The message was from Joel.

Your breath caught in your throat as you read his words, a mix of relief and apprehension flooding through you.

“Are you awake?”

You typed out a simple "yes,” and just seconds later, he was calling you.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you answered Joel's call, the sound of his voice washing over you like a balm. "Hey," he said softly, his tone carrying a hint of weariness.

"Hey," you replied, unable to mask the relief in your voice.

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before Joel spoke again, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "I just wanted to hear your voice," he admitted, his words sending a shiver down your spine.

A rush of warmth flooded through you at his confession, dispelling some of the tension that had been coiling in your chest. "I'm glad you called," you said softly, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "How are you feeling?"

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I just want to say sorry for the way I acted, and I wanted to remind you that I love you so much, Doe.”

"I love you too," you replied, your voice filled with tenderness. "More than you'll ever know."

“Go to sleep now, love,” he said, knowing you finally felt at ease. He would never repeat the same mistakes with you again.

The next day, you found yourself standing in front of Dwight's house, your heart pounding with a mix of apprehension and determination. You took a deep breath before raising your hand to knock on the door.

After a moment, the door swung open, revealing Dwight's girlfriend, his mistress. Her expression hardened when she saw you, and she spoke with a hint of disdain in her voice.

"My daughter is here," she stated bluntly, her tone bordering on hostility.

You held your gaze, refusing to be intimidated by her. "I didn't come for her," you replied evenly. "Where is Dwight?"

Her eyes narrowed at your question, and for a moment, she seemed to consider whether to answer. Finally, she stepped aside, allowing you to enter the house. "He's in the living room," she said tersely.

“Can you tell him to come outside?” you said, not showing emotion.

“Okay”

As Dwight stepped outside, closing the door behind him, you couldn't contain the surge of anger that coursed through you. Without a word, you lifted your hand and delivered a sharp slap across his face.

"Ouch, what the hell is wrong with you?" Dwight exclaimed, his hand instinctively rising to his stinging cheek.

"You know damn well what's wrong," you retorted, your voice laced with frustration and indignation.

Dwight's expression darkened, his eyes flashing with defiance. "I don't have to listen to this," he snapped, turning to walk away.

But you weren't finished. "Oh no, you're not getting away that easily." You grabbed him by the neck of his shirt.

As Dwight attempted to walk away, you couldn't let him escape so easily. Fueled by anger and frustration, you moved swiftly, grabbing him by the neck of his shirt to prevent him from leaving.

His eyes widened in surprise as you held him firmly, your grip tight and unwavering. "Let me go!" he growled, struggling against your hold.

You tightened your grip, refusing to back down. "No," you replied firmly, your voice dripping with determination. "We're going to have this conversation, whether you like it or not."

“Listen to me now. Joel didn’t press charges against you, but I will if you don’t stop acting like this.” Your grip on his shirt left him speechless. “I’m tired of you trying to ruin my happiness when you know damn well what you did, and not only that, but acting like a bully when you’re pushing your 40s is pathetic; you may be older than me but not wiser.”

Dwight's eyes narrowed as he listened to your words, a mixture of anger and resentment flashing across his face. Despite his attempts to break free, your grip remained firm, holding him in place.

“Are you threatening me?” he spat.

You met his glare with steely resolve, feeling fury and disgust towards that man. "I'm not trying to dictate anything," you replied, your tone unwavering. "I'm simply telling you how it's going to be if you don't change your behavior."

He didn’t say a word, inviting you to continue.

“Tara doesn’t want to see you, but I told her you’re her father, and what happened between us should define her relationship with you, but if you ever pull a stunt like this again, I’ll make sure you will never see her,” you stated firmly, your voice leaving no room for argument. "I won't hesitate to protect myself and my family from your toxicity, so you will take a step away for a while; you will change your behavior and start acting like a man; and once you’re ready to be a father, you call me, and we can arrange a meeting with Tara.”

He gulped. “Okay.”

His shoulders slumped slightly, and he averted his gaze, seemingly unable to meet your eyes.

"Fine," he muttered, his voice lacking its usual bravado. "I'll stay away... for now."

You nodded, not entirely convinced of his sincerity but determined to hold him to his word. "Good," you said firmly. "And remember, this is your chance to make things right. Don't waste it." You paused, “Now I want you to get on your knees and promise me you will never go for Joel like that.”

As you waited for Dwight's response, he hesitated for a moment, his expression conflicted. But eventually, he let out a heavy sigh and slowly sank to his knees before you, a begrudging acknowledgment of your authority in this situation.

"I promise," he muttered, his voice strained with reluctance. "I won't go after Joel like that again."

You watched him carefully, your gaze unwavering, as you waited for him to finish his vow. Once he had spoken the words, you nodded, satisfied that he understood the gravity of his promise.

"Good," you said firmly, your tone leaving no room for doubt. “Go to be happy with the family you choose; you have the chance to be a good father for that little girl of yours. And you will let me be happy with a daughter and the man I love.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, ashamed for the first time, but you didn't want to buy his act so easily yet.

You observed him silently, your resolve unwavering as you awaited his apology. When he finally spoke, offering a half-hearted sorry, you shook your head.

"Say sorry when you mean it," you replied firmly, your tone leaving no room for ambiguity. "And remember your promise."

With that, you turned on your heel and walked away, leaving Dwight kneeling on the ground behind you, you were determined to protect your family and ensure that Dwight stayed true to his word.

When you returned to your apartment, your heart skipped a beat as you noticed Joel standing by the door, a concerned look etched on his face. His eyes softened when he saw you, and he took a step forward, his expression filled with worry.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, stepping back at the sight of him, still carrying the colored traces of Dwight’s fist on his face.

“I wanted to see you, but nobody opened the door, so I was leaving,” he said, his voice laced with concern as he noticed a somber demeanor on you.

“Yes, Tara wanted to spend the day with my mom, so she left earlier and I was doing something,” you informed, stepping forward to open the door.

Joel followed you inside, his gaze lingering on your face with a mix of concern and curiosity. You could feel the weight of his gaze, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what was troubling you.

"Is everything alright?" he asked softly.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal about your encounter with Dwight. But seeing the genuine concern in Joel's eyes, you knew you could trust him with the truth.

"Not really," you admitted, your voice tinged with frustration. "I went to Dwight's.”

Joel's expression darkened at the mention of Dwight's name, his jaw tightening with anger. "Did he hurt you?" he asked, his tone low and dangerous.

You shook your head, offering him a small smile to reassure him. "No, nothing like that.” You paused, “It was actually me who slapped him on the face.”

Joel's eyes widened slightly in surprise at your revelation. "You slapped him?" he echoed.

You nodded, feeling a surge of empowerment at the memory of standing up to Dwight. "Yeah," you confirmed, with a hint of pride in your voice. "He had it coming."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Joel's lips. "I wish I could have seen that," he said, a touch of amusement in his tone.

You laughed softly at his comment, “Well, we also talked, mostly me, and I think it's all okay.”

Joel's smile softened at your words, his eyes reflecting his relief. "I'm glad to hear that," he said sincerely, pulling you into a comforting embrace. "You're incredibly brave, you know that?"

You leaned into his embrace, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. “I’m not”

“Yes, you’re. You stood by yourself, and that’s always brave,” he reminded you, pulling back slightly. He cupped your face in his hands and met your gaze with all the love dancing in his eyes.

You smiled at him, lifting your hand to caress his face, where his eye was still bruised as a violet. Your heart ached for him, for love, and for the memories he always brought with him.

"This reminds me of something,” you murmured softly, your voice filled with a tint of amusement at the memory.

He chuckled softly, a fond smile playing on his lips as he recalled the same thought in his mind. “And I always get the girl,” he said.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips as Joel's words echoed the sentiment you were about to share. "Yes, you do," you replied, your voice laced with affection. "But don't think you can use those puppy eyes to get out of trouble every time."

He stole a kiss from your lips and pressed his forehead against yours. "I still have the ring," he whispered.

Your heart skipped a beat at Joel's words, a rush of warmth flooding through you as you gazed into his eyes.

“Then, ask me,” you whispered back, your voice filled with love and certainty. You didn’t care about rushing things anymore; you knew that, for a marvelous reason, what had made you separate for thirteen years was the same reason that brought you back together, this time older and wiser, and you wanted to dive in, not hold back anymore.

Joel's eyes widened slightly in surprise at your words, his breath catching in his throat as he processed the depth of your request. But beneath the surprise, there was a glimmer of joy and a spark of hope that ignited in his eyes.

"Are you sure?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he searched your eyes for any hint of hesitation.

You nodded, a smile playing on your lips as you met his gaze with unwavering determination. "I've never been surer of anything in my life," you replied, your voice filled with conviction.

“Well, I don’t have the ring with me right now,” he warned, embarrassed.

Your smile widened at Joel's words; his concern about the ring only added a touch of genuine joy to this. "That's okay," you reassured him, reaching out to gently squeeze his hand.

“I’m doing this anyway,” he said, getting on one knee and causing you to chuckle, hiding the emotion in your throat.

As Joel kneeled before you, your heart fluttered with a mix of excitement and joy. Despite the playful chuckle and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over, you allow him to continue.

"Will you marry me, Doe?"

a/n part 2: Before someone says the last part may be stupid, let's clarify this is fiction.

tags 💌: @joeldjarin @missladym1981 @yomiyasxx @aliengirl99 @lola8888673 @nottodaysattan @picketniffler @violinchick @sadgirlcheesecake @caitlynsixxx @luvwanda @sarahhxx03

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softspiderling · 4 months ago

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elle's beachy birthday celebration

it's my birthday! say happy birthday elle 🫵🏼😔

to celebrate i thought i'd do a lil celebration and since it's starting to look like im not gonna be able to make it to the beach this year, i said why not bring it to me??? i invite all of you to celebrate with me!! i invite you to my inbox, pls be kind and let’s just have fun🫶🏼

⚜️hidden treasure - send me a word and ill answer with a sentence of a wip that has your word in it👀 OR ask me anything about my wips!! check out my wip list for reference!

💚the heart of Te Fiti - moots only! send me this and ill make a moodboard inspired by you

🎶mermaid’s lullaby - moots only! send me this and ill tell you what song reminds me of you/your blog

🔱 atlantis - ask me about one of my long lost wips… maybe you’ll re-inspire me🤭

🦪pearls of an oyster - ask me anything about my favorite pairings! (rafe x precious, modern!jace x reader, rafe x singer!reader)

🏖️sandcastles in the sand - world building! send me a character x reader (rafe, jj, jace and cregan) and a word/trope and i'll write a drabble!

💠 seaglass shimmer - send me a character and a scenario and i’ll make you a moodboard!

🧜🏼‍♀️song of a siren - send me a song and a character and i’ll tell you what kind of fic i’d write for it

💌message in a bottle - tell/ask me anything! tell me about your crush, ask me about my exes, tell me what you want to do to jace/rafe/cregan!

you can send multiple things but please send it one per ask so I can answer it individually! the event will take place until 9/19, so please please come into my inbox, send me a thing or just yap with me! I'm looking forward to celebrate my birthday with you!! ily🤍🫶🏼

tagging special people: @eldrith @dipperscavern @hxtd @earth4angels @zyafics @katcoquette @inthelibrarybtw @divinesolas @bryscorner @benjinotes @astrxq @v3lary0ns @housetargaryenloyalist @shameanon

(had trouble tagging some people😔)

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #rafe cameron x reader #cregan stark x reader #jj maybank x reader #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon #rafe x reader #rafe cameron #jj x reader #jj maybank #cregan x reader #cregan stark

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floylia · 2 months ago

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# MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾

13. In shades of orange and blue 💌

Comfort hides behind the monsters under our bed, the gust of afternoon wind, the giggles of playing hide-and-seek, and the vivid blue sky locked behind childhood memories.

You watch these scenes play out in front of you at the orphanage you visit every year. The house stays the same, while the kids get older.

“Am I the asshole for laughing at that kid falling face-flat on the pavement?” Lyney asks with a lollipop in his mouth. Your friend is dressed up in his magician costume, adorning a red top-hat, polka-dot tie, a mask that covers his right eye, and a deck of cards he uses to impress the children.

“Did it cry?” You say, emphasizing the “it” in your response.

“Almost, but I gave it candy,” Lyney shrugs, playing along.

“They’re not dogs,” Lynette mumbles.

While the other twin accessorized himself in red hues, Lynette, is wearing light blue in the same magician theme–only she’s wearing a skirt with the back trailing along the floor. Nonetheless, she wears it with class.

“One of them was barking at me.” You declare.

Freminet sneaks around the corner in a blue shark onesie, hugging a large pumpkin with two eye sockets in mismatched carving, “Father wants us to set up the pumpkin carving and face painting station out here, while someone needs to keep an eye in the cafeteria.”

Lyney grabs the pumpkin from Freminet, “Me and Freminet can start with the pumpkin, while [Y/N] can take over the face painting station and Lynette… you can go inside.”

“Finally,” Lynette whispers as she begins heading inside–her small celebration earns you a chuckle.

You trail the group’s footsteps, scanning the backyard of the orphanage, “I thought there were more volunteers coming,”

Lyney exhales a vulgar whine, “Supposedly, but I’m not sure where they are.”

“The event is starting soon though, and there’s still a lot to do,” Freminet reminds.

You arrive inside. Kids are chasing one another and helpers are going in and out the kitchen. It’s an overwhelming view–the type of chaos you should be able to handle after working with children for so long–but this is different.

A kid in a witch costume holding her basket bumps into you without forgetting to say a soft, “sorry.”

Another child wearing an inflatable dinosaur slips next to you.

“I like your bunny ears, Ms. [Y/N]!” One of them shouts from behind.

“Are you supposed to be Judy Hopps?” You blink once, and twice–and the asker is gone.

You do your best to follow Freminet and Lyney’s voices and tune out the screaming and screeching of voices and footsteps.

It’s distant–everything is.

Far away like the pair of eyes staring at you, in shades of orange and blue

NOTES:

another cliffhanger mb

things will start picking up again - next chapter is childe’s pov

SYNOPSIS: There’s a line Childe knows he shouldn’t cross; A line built on years of friendship; A line that happens to cross you, his best friend’s younger sister, grieving her first love; A line where he plays savior, wears a halo, then feign ignorance, because love is a game for fools—and he happens to be the biggest idiot when it comes to love.

When a new stranger invades your life and an old poet writes back

CHILDE x FEM!READER

masterlist | previous | next

TAGLIST (OPEN!): @thegalaxyisunfolding @stratusworld @tiramizuloz @miy-svz @trulyylee @batatinhafriita @scaradooche @yuminako @m1njizzie @mtndewbajablasted @fadedpinkpen @vavrin @kioffy @kokoomie @ashveil @tired-jaz @nia333 @riabriyn @kyon-cherri @kitsunetori @morgyyyyyyy @kazumiku @ichorstainedskin @hanilessa @s4ikooo1 @matolka @appy-slicez @monocerosei @mostlymoth @heathnyfangirl @meigalaxy @x-hihihi-x @lunaavity @ladyofpandemonium @coffeeisbehindyou @mentallyunpresent @wrangleanangel @littlesliceofcheese @ell1e2010 @vi0let-writes @strawbyan @blupi02 @eccendentesiast-sapphic @aixaingela @fo-love @mickey-d-luffy @nanfufu @cryoarchoness @li-x1nyu @crucnhice @jayzioxx @lumineskies @scalyalpaca @saechiro @tojisball @lulumallow

#—message in a bottle 💌#genshin impact x reader #genshin modern au #genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin fluff #genshin smau #tartaglia x y/n #childe tartagalia #tartaglia x you #tartaglia smau #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact childe #genshin x female reader #genshin childe #genshin x f!reader

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toonheartz · 1 year ago

Note

Idk how to tell you this but Mick is a derogatory name for Irish people ..

i mean it was a reference to oswald's nickname for him but like

mickey/mick is used as a slur because it's a stereotypical irish name

mick is just...a nickname for mickey/michael. it's also a surname

...what am i supposed to call him if mickey is also considered a slur

tl;dr i'm using a name in the context of it being a name, not in the tone of an insult

#message in a bottle 💌#ironically my family has irish roots #tw slur #just in case though

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chuuyrr · 11 months ago

Note

chuuya is so bbg

i love him with all my heart, i'm not even joking 😭 us chuuya stans are another species but we have amazing taste. his only flaw is that he's not real

- message in a bottle anon

ikr !! i so so want to experience reputation and lover era with my bbg chuuya nonnie. like, what is this unfairness !! ૮꒰ つᯅ⊂ ꒱ა ՞ˎˊ˗

#⋆ ˚ 💌 love letters #from message in a bottle 🍾 anon !

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marwhoa · 1 year ago

Text

request: fem! reader, romantic, one shot. so the idea was the rise! boys (individual.) with a s/o who has thick unruly hair that curls after being wet. (like.. if their hair was at their shoulder blades it would curl to above their shoulder.. speaking from experience) the reader always straightens their hair bc they find the curls kind of ugly?? and in some turn of events the readers hair gets wet and curls in front of em and get all embarrassed but they are consoled or sumthin!! very fluffy idea and it's not super deep :^( soz!

🝮 “ errand day ”

rise!boys x curly-haired!y/n

author’s note: no need to apologize, love :33 but wow this one took me a bit. I didn’t know if I wanted to do it cause I have straight hair, so this required investigation, interviewing, and research! Hopefully my findings resulted in a relatable read 😎 the request was for a fem!y/n, so there are some tidbits indicating feminine identity :))

word count: 4.9k

The schedule for today was nothing special, just a couple of errands and a visit to some oddball friends of yours. Going over the to-do list for today, you hummed under the warm water and scrubbed shampoo through each layer of your thick curls. Dread washed over you through fatigued arms, tired from hovering over your head and getting to work.

With a huff, you plopped conditioner into your hand, thudded the bottle down onto its shelf, and then worked the conditioner from the middle and end of your hair. How much easier would this whole thing be if your hair was straight—quicker, too. No need to walk through layers, ensuring each section got ample cleansing, just a simple touch and go. 15 minutes flat, and you’re out!

But no, here you were, having passed through more than enough songs in your shower playlist to constitute well over an hour.

“ What a bother.. ”

You mumbled, turning the nozzle for the shower straight to off and tugging down a shirt to scrunch your hair dry with. With a towel wrapped to dry the rest of you, you stepped out onto the bath mat, stared at the products, blow dryer, and straightener eagerly awaiting your daily routine, and felt your shoulders get even heavier.

Look at the bright side, surely you’ll grow muscles eventually from this, right? Having your arms up all the time, getting to work on such an unruly, mind-of-it’s-own head of hair?

Right?

After almost two hours of working your magic of taming the beast into straight, silky locks, you finally were released from that lab of a bathroom, ready to venture out and begin your errand run. First on the list, groceries! Your fridge was running pretty dry, and that just wouldn’t do, now would it?

┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Mikey 💌

It wouldn’t truly be Mikey if you weren’t given periodical check-ups, messages asking how it’s going—and it definitely wouldn’t be Mikey if responding to these messages didn’t instantly open the door to any old conversation in the book.

♡ MICHEL

how successful is the grocery run

YOU

they were somehow out of bread? How is that even possible? The whole bread aisle, gone?

♡ MICHEL

ohhh…

ur not going to like this

[sent an image]

You gawked at your phone upon being sent a selfie stating your dearest, Mikey, and some sort of… giant loaf? Behind him?

YOU

Dang

Can you save me some bread off him?

♡ MICHEL

Gross

But tempting…

Maybe! ᗡᗡ:

You shook your head and pocketed your device, continuing to rummage through the aisles for the last items on your list. At least they have everything else. Unless some sort of “ Milk & Eggs ” monster intends to turn its head in your direction. With a cart full and a list fully crossed out, you went on forth to pay, bag, and head back to base to drop off the goods! Next on the list was going to b—

“ Y/N! ”

There was no chance to respond or even look before you were swept up in familiar arms. Grip tight on the plastic bags, a scream got caught in your throat as your eyes locked with Mikey’s. Why hadn’t he told you the battle closed in on where you were? Not a text or a call? He placed you down a couple streets later, flicking his nunchucks to return to the battlefield—but, not without planting a kiss on your cheek.

“ Sorry, didn’t want you to become toast! ”

With a wink, he shot off, and your hand dove for your phone to send a text.

Of course, that’s when you saw the incoming messages.

NOTIFICATIONS

You have four new messages!

———————————————————

♡ MICHEL 1m ago

I SEE U, GOING 2 GET U K?

♡ MICHEL 3m ago

Aw man, Savers Saturday, look, Doughy’s made it … (expand message)

♡ MICHEL 4m ago

You’re at Anchor’s Market, aren’t you?

♡ MICHEL 4m ago

Are you on Fourth and Avenue?

… Alright, so maybe he won’t get chewed out. You laughed lightly, continuing home to drop off groceries when suddenly a blur zipped straight past you and completely drilled through the wall beside you. Stunned silent, you slowly followed its aim of trajection to see none other than “ ♡ Michel~ “ getting launched down Fourth street, taking parts of the street with him.

So much for not becoming toast, huh?

“ Mikey! ”

You rushed to his side after he hadn’t popped straight up like usual. He was a bit dazed, staring at the sky when you approached.

“ Whoa.. what a pretty Angel.. ”

“ Why you—shut up, you flirt, are you okay? ”

“ I am now.. ”

He groaned, taking your hand as you helped him up. Leaning against you for a second, he inhaled sharply then jumped up.

“ Alright, I’m ready! Oh, but you’re too close to the fight, Y/N, I should—“

You shushed him with your index against his lips, shaking your head then pointing at the rather large… behemoth… Breadhemoth? No? Okay.

“ I’ll be fine, just focus on thaaAAHH! ”

Your eyes trailed up to yet another projectile, this time zeroed in on Mikey, and he was quick to pull you close and turn with his back to the bullet.

With a heavy THUNK, the bread ammo bounced off his shell and managed to pulverize a fire hydrant right beside you both. Right as the water spouted out, the creature neared. Alongside it came Mikey’s brothers, whose attention zeroed in on the geyser shooting from the damaged hydrant.

“ Michael, you genius! ”

Shouted his brother, Donatello, as he gestured to the water. The brother in red, Raph, followed his point and nodded, slamming his fists together with a grin.

“ Right, water will make this big guy all soggy! ”

Just as they instantly went along with this plan, Mikey was a step away from joining before all his boyfriend senses shot off at once. Subtle sniffling reached his ears, and he was quick to whirl back around to make sure you hadn’t been hurt.

While physically intact, you were sopping wet, and it was then that his attention trailed straight to your hair.

“ St—Stop LOOKING, Mikey! ”

Your hands rose to feebly hide the growing lion’s mane, your straightened curls frizzing like an aggravated cat’s fur. All those hours of work, ruined by some run-of-the-mill New York trouble—and in front of your boyfriend of all people, who had yet to see your hair’s natural state. Before that sight, you expected disgust or, or insults—something! Anything, along the same caliber as you thought when you would see such thick curls in the mirror.

Instead, the opposite came. A soft voice and delicate touch, grasping for your wrists and gently bringing them away from your face. You flinched, jerking them back, but his motions remained. Soon, you relented and let him move your hands back to your sides.

“ Hey, Y/N, it’s okay. Did that scare you? ”

Picking up on what might’ve actually upset you, he danced around it, and you simply averted your gaze.

“ Your hair—“

“ Don’t. ”

“ No, it’s—I love it. ”

You stiffened, taken aback beyond belief. It was a reaction unlike any you had expected. Many people before him had less than savory words to say, like “ fix that rats nest before you go out! ” or “ wow, you’re not even going to try? ”, or even “ wow, bad hair day? ”.

Never love, though. He loved your hair? Even, even in such a sopping, frizzy state?

“ You’re fibbing.. ”

Your lips quivered into a pout, and inadvertently you tugged for your wrists to be free.

He let go, but only to wipe clear your rolling tears. Mikey leaned in to place a kiss on your forehead, tucking and brushing some unruly clumps of hair out of your face.

“ Of course I do, just look at it? There’s a bit of heat damage, but for the most part it’s so long and healthy! What’s not to love? You should wear it like this more, in fact! ”

With such a genuine, beaming smile, there was no doubt in your mind whether he was telling the truth or not. Through in and through out, he loved your hair..

Maybe..

Maybe you could learn to love it, too…?

┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Raph 💌

Would it really be an errand run without Raph jumping to the opportunity to tag along in some way, shape, or form? Albeit out of the public eye, down winding roads with narry a soul in sight, Raph accompanied you on the trek to Silver Market. Partly to spend whatever time he could with you, partly to protect you from whatever threats lurked down New York streets—no matter the hour!—, and partly because he just didn’t fancy the idea of you carrying heavy groceries home alone.

Not like you minded any of these things. His time was always appreciated—so, you snuck a kiss on the cheek just before the Market’s street.

“ I’ll try to be quick, okay? ”

“ Take ya time, Y/N, ‘m in no rush. ”

He returned the kiss, stepping back to meld into the shadows in a way that never ceased to amaze you. … or scare, if even just a teensy bit, because how the hell?

But whatever, you turned on your heel and ducked into the air conditioned market to begin going down your list.

At the same time, Raph waited outside, watching the people pass by, none the wiser of his presence. His eyes trailed to the sky above, noting the diminishing sunlight. Odd, considering the hour, but as his eyes caught the darkened clouds, it made total sense. It must’ve been bad weather moving in.

Raph turned to the alley’s entrance, searching for you. As a smile crept on his dreamy, dazed expression, he couldn’t help but think of how much happier he was when you were brought up. Without fail, the thought of your cute li’l self brought smiles for days. And who would he be, if he didn’t fight to protect you?

See, he and his brothers used to fight for the sole purpose of protecting the New York people, but after meeting you?

Well, he couldn’t help but be driven to clear the streets of crime just so that you would have a safe place to be. Evil-doers should always beware of a hero with something to protect, because he would stop at nothing—

Nothing. He thought, watching you finally peek the corner and rush over, to ensure you stayed safe.

You trotted down the alley, looking every which way for him. Assumedly he would have stayed here, right? Unless something happened? You fished out your phone, two seconds from shooting out a text to get his attention when a shifting of shadows caught your eye. Of course, you smiled as your beloved hero stepped out with a toothy grin, you should have known he was staying there.

“ I finished! ”

“ Raph can tell. Let me help—“

He bent down, slipping the bags from your hand with ease, and purposely leaving you with the lightest one. You rolled your eyes playfully and began walking the way back. It wasn’t long before you noticed the dark overcast, not the distant rumbling as you looked over your shoulder towards its direction. It’s going to rain soon, you thought, twirling your straightened locks in your fingers.

“ Yer nervous. Scared o’thunder? ”

You shoved Raph away, laughing, as he neared you with that goofy grin of his.

“ You could say that. More like I just don’t want to get wet. ”

He nodded thoughtfully, picking up the slack.

“ Then let’s get movin’ ”

Despite the quickened pace, the rain was faster and eventually caught up with you both right before you reached the steps of your complex. Both of you rushed in, slamming the door behind you and breathing heavily from the sprint. Slouched over with your hands resting against your knees, you couldn’t help but notice the cascading locks that were curling up. Grocery bags thudding against the floor as your hands made quick work to push the hair behind you, out of your face in a feeble attempt to hide it behind you. As lighting illuminated the room, it’s loud KAKOOM echoing, Raph noticed your uncharacteristic quietness.

“ Y/N? ”

Raph rose to full height once he caught his breath, watching you with a confused look as your face flushed with embarrassment. Tears welled up and fell down your cheeks in large globs, immediately startling him.

“ Wh—! What’sa matter, Suga’? ”

Just as lightning flashed outside, Raph was right in front of you with his forearm resting against the door. Leaning down, his hand held your face delicately and wiped away the tears.

“ Is it the storm? ”

You shook your head, pushing him away. Realistically you could never move him, but of course he wouldn’t do anything to upset you, thus letting himself be knocked aside. Raph watched your frame retreat deeper into the apartment, likely to your room, and waited a couple moments before he pursued.

It wasn’t hard to pick up the soft sobs over the rain, but soon a gentle knock on your door roused your attention.

“ Go away, Raph.. ”

You slurred your words through tears, rubbing them away while cursing your ruined hair.

“ Y/N, suga’ please, can Raph come in.. ”

No fair, you thought as your hand reached for the door knob, he knew using a voice that gentle would always get to you.. With a subtle click, the door would creak open until finally the green and red peeked in. He found you on the floor and sat.

“ Oh.. Is it ya hair? ”

Cocking his head curiously, you couldn’t help but sneer and avert your gaze. That was answer enough, apparently, since he seemed to exhale and mutter “ thank pizza supreme ”. Confused, you stared at him with enraged sadness. He was thankful? Glad you were upset about your hair? You opened your mouth to chew him out, only to be tugged into his lap and hugged.

“ I was worried it was sum worse. Why’s ya hair the problem, ‘cuz ‘s not so straight no more? ”

The gentleness with which he twirled his finger in your hair had quelled your anger if not just a teensy bit.

“ Yeah, it’s… It’s hideous, unruly, I hate my curls! ”

Your hands rose to yank on the curls that dared rear their heads from the rain, but big warm hands caught yours before they could.

“ Ya hate ‘em? But suga’, they’re a part a’ya, and I love all o’you. What’s to hate? ”

Sending it wasn’t a question but rather a statement, you held your tongue and watched him.

“ The way they frame ya face, how they have no single direction, well I’d be damned to not love ya in any form, Y/N. Ya hair makes ya look like some cute vixen, and they, well.. ”

He seemed a bit bashful, escaping your gaze and shifting his view to all over the room instead.

“ I like ‘em cause they remind me a’my spiky shell, what with how they jump out atcha! ”

With a beaming smile that big, you couldn’t help but snort and bury your face in his chest.

“ You goof.. ”

┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Leo 💌

Leo wasn’t one to let you go long without hearing from him, but as you ran your errands and eventually made it back home, the silence on his line had been a bit unnerving. So, with the produce shuffled into your fridge, cabinets restocked, and every inch of the house replenished to all its glory, you swiped up your phone and gave him a ring.

“ Alright, tough guy, what’s the deal? ”

You playfully growled, tapping your fingers along the counter as he sputtered confusedly at the end of the line.

“ All day, and not a word from you? What am I, chopped liver? Doesn’t the sweetest girlfriend to New York’s hero deserve even a little bit of ‘phone blowing-up’ treatment? ”

The laugh on the other side was enough to enliven you. Leo continued talking, so you straightened up and made your way to the couch before stopping to almost a skidding halt.

“ Wait, you’re where—?! ”

Looking to the window behind your TV, the silhouette on the fire escape made a scream catch in your throat. It was none other than Leo, who hung up and came in after sliding open the window.

“ I said I’m here, now get on your finest swimsuit, mi amor, for I have found the world’s greatest spot! ”

“ Wh—Leo, What?! It’s—“

You whirled around, staring at the clock displayed on your oven.

“ It’s 8 pm, Leo, can’t it wait til tomorrow? ”

“ Nonsense, now hurry and change before I change you myself. ”

His hands grab your shoulders, tugging until you’re at the door of your room. He taps, faking as though he’s wiping dust off, then gives you a push into the room. Leo winks before closing the door, likely waiting right outside for you, so you kick away an imaginary rock and start to change.

“ NoNsEnSe, he says.. ”

Grumbled under your breath, you adjust the straps on your top while in the mirror. Once done, your focus settles on your hair, still in moderately good condition from this morning’s straightening. Better safe than sorry, you conclude, as you neatly pull your hair up with a bandana that just so happened to match your top. Strands are tucked away before you give a curt nod and go to open the door.

“ I heard that, by the way. ”

Leo looks down at you with a side eye, grinning as you roll your eyes.

“ Whatever, lead the way, bully. ”

One second, you’re standing in the hallway of your New York apartment, the next second you’re staring across an inky lake that’s captured the sky’s likeness, with stars rippling like fish on it’s surface. A gentle breeze rolled by, tugging at your hand, beckoning you forwards to greet the water. Stress, fatigue, even fear slip off your shoulders, as though the lake itself were taking the uncomfortable coat off to hang up on a hook.

“ Leo… ”

Your voice was meek, paling in comparison to the sight laid out before you.

Leo smiled, letting you take in the view a bit longer. He stepped down the dock, it’s creaking catching your ear as he neared its end. Even the groaning wood under the weight of its visitors was charming.

“ I’m waiting.”

Leo smirked, standing in his signature “ go on, applaud me—PRAISE me ” pose. You simply rolled your eyes and approached him, dropping down to sit at the dock’s edge. Your feet dipped into the abyss, met by a crisp temperature that begged your immersion into the depths.

“ Fine, this is pretty good.. YOU did good, though I could’ve been spared the on-the-spot forced dress-up. ”

The water was disturbed by Leo leaping in, to which you shielded yourself from the splash back. He was greeted by you scolding him for not giving a warning, brushing it off with laughter.

The night air was filled with banter between two lovebirds, with Leo trying his damndest to coax you in with him, and you’re dodging each with yet another quip. As the minutes melted into hours, the stars couldn’t help but focus on you both. Their lights reflected in your eyes, blinding Leo into a lovesick haze as he couldn’t do anything but just..

stare…

“ What, is there something on my face? ”

Confused, your hands searched your face, tucking aside a strand. Inspection complete, nothing out of the ordinary, you looked back to Leo and found his expression had shifted to a more devious one.

Uh oh.

You somehow knew what was coming next.

“ Leo—Leo, no, don’t you dare—-“

His hand shot out, grabbing yours.

“ LEO—NO, NOOOOO—!!! ”

Yanked forth, the world seemed to slow down as you screamed out, plunged under. Your eyes peeled open, stinging slightly, but catching a glimpse of the purest enjoyment painted across your boyfriend’s face.

As you both resurfaced, with his laugh now audible, you gave a huff and wiped tears and dripping water from your face.

“ You play too much, Leo, I said no! ”

His expression dimmed, dropping like a fallen curtain as he watched you grab the floating bandana. Enraged, hurt eyes glared at him, but he couldn’t focus at all on them as your hair began curling into the most gorgeous display he had ever laid eyes on. This was the first time he saw your hair this way, not straightened, but rather..

“ And stop staring, I know it’s ugly! ”

“ Stop that. ”

“ Wh—? ”

Stunned, you looked to him. There was no hate in his eyes, no disgust or repulsion. Your frizzy curls were there, bright as day, yet here he was staring at you as if your beauty never faltered…

“ Stop calling yourself ugly—frankly it’s an insult to me, the king of gorgeous faces who would never dare date an ugly woman—but even worse, it’s an insult to the most beautiful girl I’ve ever had the pleasure of calling mine. ”

Leo’s hand cupped your cheek, pulling you in to plant a kiss on your lips.

“ But, how—why aren’t they ugly to you? ”

“ Uh, because I said so, that’s why. ”

“ That’s n—LEO! ”

Definitely done as a move to win this argument, Leo’s arms wrapped around yours firmly. Your body lifted straight out of the water before being dunked unceremoniously.

While your hair was already wet, he didn’t have to make it more wet!

┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Donnie 💌

By the time your errands adjourned, it was a quarter past 4, and you were heading home. The walk had been rather tame, as quiet as it could be for a city regularly wrecked by mutants, aliens you name it. Today would have gone down in the books as the most normal, had you not gotten a message from your beloved requiring your presence at the soonest available time. Something about a new project coming to its end?

Whatever it was, you shot off a response that said your company would come once groceries were up. The other errands planned for the day could wait, especially since you were just itching to see whatever it could be that had him so needy for you to be in the lab.

“ Bags empty, trash cleared away, house—“

You gave a once-over to your living room and kitchen countertops before nodding with a hum of approval. It would appear that Donnie’s chariot would arrive, post-haste, without a second to spare.

Thus, keys in pocket, jacket donned, and shoes tied, you left your apartment complex and made your way towards the least shadiest alleyway to simply “ disappear into. ”

In record time, you were approaching the lair from the winding underground pathways, and giving quick hellos to each brother you passed. Your being in the lair wasn’t exactly a rare sight, but whenever you were here, it was usually always for Donnie. So, none of the brothers would really hold you long—lest they wanted to risk a brotherly wrath.

“ Donnie~? ”

Your sing-songy call was accompanied by a rapping upon his lab’s doors, which slid open shortly after with a “ fwssh ” and gust of smoke. You coughed, wafting it away as you stepped into the room.

Unbeknownst you you, your hair had already began reacting to the rather humid lab, lifting into the curls they so dearly longed to return to.

“ Ah, Y/N, your timing is much appreciated! ”

While his voice came from god knows where, your eyes landed upon his figure emerging from curtains that you were sure had to have been a new addition to the lab. Maybe his experiment was behind there? His greasy hands were rubbed into clothes, leaving behind oil marks as he pushed up his goggles and shot you his characteristic grin.

“ Just behind this curtain is a contraption that shall better the lair, an update to my previous ‘betterments’—a betterment to the betterments, so to say! ”

Whatever point he was trying to make went straight over your head as you simply nodded affectionately, trying to follow as best you could.

“ Right, right, Donnie. But, dear, can you please enlighten me with what was sooooo important you had to interrupt errands day? ”

Without a word, it seemed as if a lightbulb went off in Donnie’s head as he nodded and reached for the curtain.

“ So, it should come to no surprise to anyone how much the new lair has needed robot assistants! ”

“ It really doesn’t—“

“ Nonsense, so of course you are the first one I thought of when I felt Odie should be introduced to someone! ”

“ Oh you’ve named him already? ”

You leaned your weight on your left leg, hand perched neatly on your hip as you waved your hand. Donnie shushed you as he reached for the curtain to reveal his newest creation!

“ Ta-da! ”

Behind the curtain stood the blocky silhouette of a robot—one made with parts you were sure you recognized from a certain animatronic, but never mind that. There was something a tad bit weirder.

“ Why Odie? ”

“ I show you my genius, and you linger in the name? ”

To your eager nod, he could only give a loud sigh, literally labeled aloud as “ loud sigh. ”

“ Odie, otherwise known as 0-D-1-3, his model number. Now—“

Before he could turn back to the bot, a loud clanking sound got both of your attentions.

“ Oh, that’s not good—“

“ What’s not good?! ”

Both of you stared directly at the bot after it took a hefty step forward, clattering down a hammer to hit the floor. Its oculars shifted mechanically around the room before settling in you and Donnie. An unsettling smile began to grow on the analog mouth it had, but just before it spoke, its foot stepped on the fallen hammer. Slipping immediately, the creation slammed into the lab’s hard floors, buzzed and circuited, then promptly stopped.

“ … Dam—“

As though censored by an otherworldly being, the bot exploded, sending Donnie diving for you instantly to shield you from harm’s way. The sprinklers caught on shortly after the smoke reached the ceiling, and he simply exhaled annoyedly into a recorder as he went on about “ attempted 26, failed ”. He continued to look over you, free hand resting right beside your waist as he detailed this outcome.

You, on the other hand, were both spooked by what happened in a matter of seconds, and also the water raining down in you. There wasn’t even a chance of you processing how close your boyfriend was, nor the precarious position, all paling in comparison to the heaviness waying over your chest at the way your hair was gradually lifting off your shoulder. Shrinking from the long silky locks, you were sure that unruly mess of curls were all coiling up into their snakelike appearance that you cursed every morning in the mirror.

Whilst speaking, Donnie’s eyes wandered until they caught your teary, paled expression. He had noticed the new hair style, but the importance of that was far below the importance of ensuring you were okay.

“ Dearest, what’s the matter? ”

He searched your body for wounds, calling Sheldon to bring a towel as the sprinklers halted. Once brought, he wrapped you in it, but flinched when you tried to push him back.

“ Hey—“

“ Don’t touch me—don’t look at me! ”

Baffled beyond belief, all Donnie could do was slouch back and watch you with analyzing eyes. His gaze scanned and scanned, searching for what might have caused such a reaction, but all he could come up with was: cold & wet, hair no longer straight like usual, shoved to the floor after robot exploded. He could only hope you wouldn’t blame him for struggling to figure out the problem.

“ I… I’m sorry if that spooked you.. ”

“ It’s not that. ”

You answered, flinching when he suddenly rose his voice and asked “ then what is it? ”, a statement leaking with desperation and a tinge of fear. You scrunched your eyes closed, closing in on yourself with a tight hug, balled up beneath the towel.

“ It’s… My hair, I.. I spent so long on it, just for it to turn into this ugly mess.. ”

Donnie was confused, something you couldn’t blame him for. After all, you were diligent in your hair-straightening or concealing the curls, so this just might have been the first time he’d seen them in their true nature. What you didn’t account for, though, was the hurt expression he shifted into. Silence lingered for a bit before his gaze shifted to the device on his arm.

After a bit, even you were curious. He had nothing to say? Was he just going to let you sit there and cry?

“ What’re you doing? ”

“ Checking my data. ”

“ Huh? ”

Donnie looked up, scooting to sit beside you and showed some sort of pie chart projected. He twirled a stylus and used it to slide the projection, focusing on certain parts.

“ Mhmm… so, this is the breakdown of your identity—this aspect, ”

He points to personality, glancing to you to make sure you’re watching.

“ See that is a huge chunk of who you are, and this part, intelligence? Obviously that is high as well. ”

You wiped your eyes, trying to figure out why any of this was important. He continued on, pointing to bits and then pointing out how integral they were to your being.

“ What’s your point, Donnie.. ”

Defeated, you sighed out. Tears dried, heart heavy, curls..

Unfurled.

“ My point is, Y/N, that ‘ugly’ has no place in your data. I for one am a genius who speaks in strictly facts, so your insistence on false information? Highly insulting. ”

His hand cups your cheek, and you welcome the touch with a scrunched, pained expression. Tears threaten to spill once again.

“ You’re beautiful, my dearest, every bit of you. That does not exclude your curls, which are also you. ”

Donnie leans in, placing a soft, lingering kiss upon your forehead. You grip his hand, which then turns into interlocked fingers, and sob softly into his chest. He rubs circles on your back, and you can’t help but begin to hear the seedlings of thought in your head say nice things about your natural hair.

“ I love you, Y/N. ”

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