#'He's been waiting outside for me to find him'

[poguehearted77]

Just Another Cliché

Summary: Rafe has been asking to take you out for years and you always shoot him down, after a particularly bad day, you decide things can't get much worse.

<<Here's some fluffy angst for those who need it>>

Shitty was an understatement for the day you had. This day will go down in history as the worst day any soul has ever lived through.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me." The murmur is bitter on your tongue as you stuff your hands deeper into your warm pockets. The breath of your words were visible in the crisp winter air as you were about to pass by Rafe Cameron who waited patiently outside of your apartment building with a single rose just like he always did.

Since your senior year of high school, every year on the fourteenth of February, he would wait outside your complex, asking you out, then you say no, then he goes home. That's the tradition.

Well, technically you never said no. You'd always make up some excuse. 'I don't have time for a relationship right now' or 'Now's a bad time' are just a few of the examples you've used over the last five years.

It's not that there was anything wrong with him. You actually did find him attractive. Aside from the sketchy reputation he had going for him back in high school, he was still a relatively nice guy.

You just didn't have the time for a relationship, or at least you didn't before.

A small smile forms on his face as he sees you, already knowing what to expect. Another excuse like "Fine," yup, just as he thought- Wait.

"Say that again?" His head shakes in disbelief, blue eyes bulging slightly. Your shoulders shrug under your heavy-duty winter jacket. "My car was towed, then I lost my job, so why not lose my dignity too? Let's go out." You say and his heart begins to bounce off the confines of his ribs.

Not sure if it was the frosty air nipping at his cheeks or his lifetime wish finally unwrapping before his eyes, his cheeks flushed and he blinked a few times. "You won't regret this, I promise." he holds out the rose for you to take, and you finally do. For the first time in five years. You bite back a scoff, not in the mood for empty promises.

"Why haven't you given up yet?" You ask and now he places his hands in his pockets as a chilling breeze sweeps past you. He's rocking back on his heels slightly, "Life's too short to give up." The tiny smile on his face does make you scoff this time but he moves past it, "I'll text you later," is the last thing he says before he walks off.

You look down at the rose, then at his shrinking figure as he heads for the distance. A little pep in his step and you shook your head, immediately regretting your decision.

Great, this is exactly what you needed, another cliché.

-

Just another cliché is exactly what it was. On the lowest day of your life, you finally gave Rafe a chance. Of course, he changes your life in ways you couldn't imagine and leaves you with a dead weight of regret for not giving in sooner.

Your first date wasn't anything out of the ordinary, but it was fun. The two of you were inexperienced skaters failing to skate in the middle of the town square during the heart of winter. With festive lights outlining the rink where you laughed every time one of you fell.

There was even a point in time when you'd both embraced the cold connection with the ice floor and had a deep conversation on the sidelines, watching the other skaters circle the rink.

"Why me?" The question slips out before you can catch it and he licks his lips. He anticipated the query would arise eventually. "You remember that party Hailey Vanderbilt threw back in senior year?"

You hum with a nod, that was a party you'll never forget. Pool toys ended up in the trees, broken windows, jello in the hot tub, fights in the front yard and gambling in the back. "You and a few of the girls were playing truth or dare and they had dared you to start a rumour that I'd shaved my head because my family had joined some cult or some shit."

It took you a second, but the memory came back to you. "You don't know this, but I was fucking wasted behind the couch, but I'll never forget the way you stood up for me to them and refused to do it, and I dunno, I jus' think that was really cool of you." His head turns to you, his gaze softening when he looks at you.

At that moment, you felt the butterflies flap around in your stomach for the first time. He clears his throat, expression becoming more sombre as he continues. "My mom," He starts, taking a difficult swallow to get the words out.

"She was really sick. I got caught up with the wrong crowd to deal with it. Doing anything people said would get me distracted, even for a little, but she got worse and me being high every day didn't help so I quit. Her chemo was taking everything from her and eventually, she just shaved it off, she hated looking in the mirror and it killed me."

Your chest tightened at the story, having a sneaking suspicion of where this was going, "So when you shaved your head..." You trail off and Rafe nods along, turning away from you as a stray tear falls. "It was for her. You sticking up for me meant so much more than you know."

So there you both sat, on the ice with your backs against the wall in silence while the faint Christmas music chimed in the background. The date had taken a sad turn but you're glad it did, it sparked the beginning of your forever-evolving bond.

That was only the first date of many. Dozens and dozens of dates had flown past you and with each one you hated yourself a little more for letting him stand outside of your complex for five years rather than invite him inside.

"This is a nice place." He compliments as he takes a look around before settling himself on the couch with you beside him. "Thanks, it used to be a lot nicer when I could afford it. Had to sell some stuff to keep it after I lost my job."

He chuckles, "That explains why we're facing a blank wall and no television." and you pinch him. "Sacrifices had to be made. Who needs a TV anyways when there's so many other things we could do to keep ourselves busy." Your wandering hand gently runs down his firm thigh and you can feel the muscles in his leg tighten.

This was unchartered territory for you. You'd been dating for almost three months now and have never been intimate in that way, but Rafe knew the kind of person you were. A perfectionist, you need to be sure of everything before you try it.

Based on how fervently you were currently kissing along the length of his neck he could assume he had a pretty good idea of where your head was at. "Baby, baby--" He struggles to keep you at bay so he can lock eyes with you. "Are you sure about this? We don't have-" You silence him with the passionate attack of your lips against his.

Nearly tackling him onto his back, your hips straddling his as you demonstrated your certainty to him.

-

The months went on and sleepovers became more frequent. Even when Rafe had that tired look in his eye which was more often these days, you kept him up with your bright eyes and wide smile as you explained to him the newest conspiracy that intrigued you.

He tried his best to listen to what you were saying but he'd often lose himself in the labyrinth of his own mind. You were just so cute when you were talking about what you were passionate about. Especially when you wore the glasses you cursed so much, opting for contacts during the day.

"Why don't you wear your glasses more often?" He asks and you frown, "Rafee, did you hear anything I just said?" He nods, "Of course I did. I heard every last word.... up until about five minutes ago." You whine and he hugs you tight as an apology, placing a sweet kiss on your forehead.

You couldn't stay mad at him. That was proven time and time again when even your biggest fights would be resolved within 24 hours. Rafe insisted on talking things out, no matter how hurt the both of you may feel. He never wanted to go to sleep without making things right. "Life's too short," He would say.

You both had your shortcomings, but that goes without saying. Rafe was short-tempered and you were stubborn, a bad combination for an opinionated conversation. Things can quickly spiral out of control but when it came to apologies, Rafe outdid you every time. Flowers, or a small gift to show his feelings.

Even now, as Rafe leant against your kitchen island as you transferred the flowers he'd gifted you 'just because'. A weak smile graced his lips as he noted the way you did everything with such intensity, putting your all into everything you did.

Leaning forward onto his crossed forearms he watches you. "You're staring, babe." You say and he can only hum. "Can't help it. I like what I see," His words elicit a soft warmth to radiate in your chest.

"I love you, y'know that?" You're startled as you feel his arms wrapping around your waist from behind. "You tell me only every day, Rafe." He comes down to peck your cheek before you're rotating in his hold to face him. "But I love you too." You're unable to contain your smile as you say it.

It wasn't the first time but every time the words left your mouth, it gave you a little bubbly feeling. Security blossomed within you anytime your eyes grazed over his features.

"Let's go out tonight, yeah? Let's go dancing." Rafe declares without thinking and you laugh, tilting your head to look at the time over the stove. "It's almost midnight, nothing's open at this hour." You reason, but he doesn't back down.

Holding you by the hand, he twirls you. "Not a problem, we'll just do it here." That night your apartment was filled with laughter and soft jazz. Rafe hardly ever had this much energy so late but you loved it.

Two days after that night of dancing, you woke up to an eerie silence that felt too heavy for the morning. You went about your routine, still buoyed by the memory of Rafe's laughter filling your apartment. You checked your phone—just the usual notifications, a missed call from an unknown number, and a message from Sarah that simply said, "Call me."

You barely had time to press dial before she picked up, her voice trembling. She tried to speak, but only the sound of soft, choked sobs came through. Finally, she managed, "I’m so sorry…"

The words hit you, but you didn’t understand them. You wanted her to stop, to say something else—anything else. She kept speaking, her words blurred and distant, as though you were underwater, drowning. Somewhere in her explanation, you heard the words, "peacefully… in his sleep." But it didn’t feel peaceful. Your mind raced, demanding answers. Why hadn’t he told you? How long had he known?

Over the days that followed, Rafe's family gently filled in the pieces: he’d been sick for years, silently enduring, doing everything he could to hide it. Every date, every moment spent laughing with you, was a deliberate choice he made to live his last days fully, in love and joy, with you.

He hadn’t wanted you to know because he couldn't bear to see you suffer for him the same way he was once familiar with in his senior year. Even in the end, he kept the truth locked away, shielding you from the loss he knew was coming.

The weight of his choice tore you apart. You wanted to be angry, to hate him for leaving you out, but in his silence, there was also a strange kind of love. A love that had given you a few precious, unburdened moments together. Still, the pain settled deep within you, refusing to ease.

The anger, hurt, and ache became constant companions in the days that followed. But in his absence, you began to understand just how much he’d given for you.

He'd shared with you how hard it was for him to deal with that eerie state of loss. The stage where the person isn't gone but you know you'll lose them. It alters you in a messed up kind of way and he wanted you as far from that reality as possible. He was protecting you from his own condition till the very end.

Helping his family to clear out his apartment was easily the hardest thing you'd ever done. You couldn't do it without tearing up with every belonging of his you touched.

His favourite hoodie that he never let you wear but loved when you did. The polaroids in his drawer that you took from your first date, taken from the floor of the ice rink.

You noticed he'd scribbled writing on the back of the photo.

She finally said yes.

That was all it took. The last bits of your composure were stolen from you and you wept on his bedroom floor. Everyone always told you it would get easier but it never did. How could things get easier when the other half of your heart was buried six feet below the ground?

You learned to live with the loss, forcing a smile when in the company of others and taking deep breaths every morning when you woke up. Mildly disappointed the realm beyond the living hadn't reaped you during your slumber.

Very slowly, you begin to adjust to this new reality. It’s not the life you imagined, but you learn to live with the loss, carrying him with you in the smallest, most tender ways. His favourite hoodie becomes your comfort on cold nights, wrapping you in his memory and his scent.

Just because he was gone doesn't mean you'd end all of your traditions. Each year on the fourteenth of February, you visit his grave, placing a single red rose on the stone as a quiet tribute.

Though the ache remains, you hold his spirit close, carrying him forward into every milestone and memory yet to come, honouring the love you shared while finding the strength to continue onward.

In some ways, your love story turned out to be just another cliché—until it ripped your heart out from your chest, leaving you with the unbearable ache of everything he left unsaid, every unfulfilled promise, and the haunting silence of a future that will always belong to him.

Somehow, even in the quietest, most heart-wrenching moments, you never gave up on finding the silver lining, because life’s too short.

[sirenedeslily]

it’s late—so late, almost 3 a.m., and you’re both wrapped up in the stillness of a room where candlelight flickers shadows onto the walls. the low, warm glow casts an amber haze over everything, painting you both in soft, melted hues. outside, the world sleeps, leaving only the soft, steady hum of the record player filling the room, the quiet strum of guitar notes tracing through the silence like a whisper. the song is slow, thick with longing, and you feel it sinking into your bones, the way music sometimes does when the night is soft, and time stretches out like it’ll last forever.

matt’s sitting close, so close that you can see the delicate lines of ink woven across his arms, intricate designs that tell a thousand quiet stories. his tattoos blend into the soft shadows of his skin, his arm resting around your shoulders, fingers tracing light patterns down your back, almost absentmindedly, as though he can’t help but touch you. his hair’s messy, soft like he’s been running his hands through it all night. those blue eyes catch yours, and he smiles, just a little crookedly, like he’s been waiting for this moment all his life.

“you know,” he murmurs, voice low and gentle, a kind of reverence in it that you’ve only ever heard him use with you, “i could stay like this forever. just—us, right here.”

you can feel his breath, warm against your cheek, and his lips brush yours in a way that’s barely there, so light that it feels like he’s memorizing every tiny moment. he cups your face, his thumb tracing slow circles along your cheek as if you’re something precious, something he’d never want to let go of.

“you’re so perfect, you know that? like, how is it possible that i get to have you like this?”

his words are soft, sincere, threaded with that slight rasp in his voice that you adore. he keeps kissing you, slow and unhurried, like he’s got all the time in the world. each kiss feels like a promise—like he’s trying to tell you all the things he feels but can’t put into words. and you know him well enough to understand it; every kiss speaks volumes, a silent confession of all the love he holds in that heart of his.

between kisses, he pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, eyes half-lidded, the faintest smile on his lips. his fingers brush through your hair, and he chuckles, low and warm.

“god, i love this,” he whispers, voice barely audible, almost like he’s speaking to himself. “i love you.” his hand moves to cup the back of your neck, pulling you in, his lips finding yours again. it’s gentle, yet there’s something deep and unyielding behind it, a kind of desperation like he’s scared this might all be a dream.

the song shifts, the guitar fading into a soft, distant refrain, and for a second, you’re both quiet, breathing in sync as you hold each other. the world could be crumbling around you, but here, with matt, it feels like nothing else matters. the room’s filled with the scent of autumn—clove, cinnamon, a faint hint of something woody. he pulls you closer, his arm tight around your waist, his lips pressed against your temple.

“can i just…keep kissing you?” he whispers, almost like he’s asking permission, and you feel the smile pull at your lips.

“matt,” you say, and he leans back just enough to look at you, blue eyes catching the candlelight. “you don’t have to ask, honey.”

a smile breaks across his face, a bit bashful, and he shakes his head. “just—you don’t know what you do to me.” his fingers brush over your jaw, tracing every line, and he presses another lingering kiss to your lips, softer this time, more tender. you lose yourself in him, feeling his warmth, his steady heartbeat, and the way his touch seems to melt away everything else in the world.

as the song fades, the room slips into silence, and he just keeps holding you, keeps kissing you like you’re the only thing that matters. it’s simple, beautiful, and as you both sink into that quiet, you realize you don’t need anything else. just him, just this moment, and the way he makes you feel like forever might just be real.

𝒢𝜚 💭 ࣪ ✸ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ∿ lil comfort blurb, i love slow dance by clairo :p

❝ 𝟐𝟐𝟐 ❞ 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻, @carvedtits @et6rnalsun @wovenribbons @flouvela @eternaldecisions @elizabebabe @ncm9696

❝ 𝟑𝟑𝟑 ❞ 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻, @l34n @sturniolossss @lovingregulusblack @cl1tlover3000 @mattslolita @mattssgf @le4hsblog @brvtall @mattscoquette @chratts-left-ball @jetaimevous @angelesqve @starlace111 @starkeyszn @etherealval @slut4chriss @star-yawnznn @nickmillersn1gf @sturnsmia @tastesousweet

© sirenedeslily

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: Your relationship was all a lie and the confrontation about it happens in front of everyone, including a certain lieutenant that has a secret. Seeing you so upset has him following after you with a need to help and after a confrontation, there is a confession that happens that changes everything.

Word Count: 5 k

Warnings: Feelings of worthlessness, Slight violence, Confessions, Kissing, Fluff and angst

Lt. Riley looks up from his plate of dinner as a commotion across the mess hall grabs his attention away from his thoughts. The noise rings out above the droll evening conversations that surround him as he sits in solitude eating dinner and his eyes dart around until he finds the source. He can see you over at your table sitting amongst a couple of fellow sergeants, one of which you were involved with, and he watches as you shove your chair back and launch up onto your feet as a flurry of angry words spew from your mouth.

“You’re fucking serious?” you shoot the accusation to the sergeant in front of you as he and a few of his friends look as if they’re trying to hide their smiles and laughter behind their hands. 

The chatter in the hall dies down to almost nothing as faces turn to watch. You can feel the staring eyes from all around you, but you are too furious to care who sees or hears what as the only thing you can focus on is what you had just been told. 

“Answer me!” you yell, not caring about anything other than getting a response.

The sergeant straightens his face as he looks around to see he has all eyes on him. “Well, yeah,” he answers as if it should be obvious. “You didn’t really think I was serious…” 

You don’t let the stupid boy finish his sentence before you heatedly cut back in, the redness in your face matching the indignation in your voice. “So, it was a fucking lie. All of it? I can’t…” you take a deep, rushed breath, as if struggling to intake enough air to finish, “you goddamn bastard!” 

Reaching back towards the table you pick up your cup full of water into your hand and fling the contents directly into his face before flipping his plate of food into his lap. He too jumps to his feet as he curses your name, calling you a fucking bitch, but nothing he says now can touch the pain of what he had just revealed.

Lt. Riley waits anxiously on the edge of his seat as he watches this unfold, ready to jump up in a flash and intervene if needed, but before the sergeant can even think about making a move you toss the empty cup to the ground with a reverberating clang and turn to storm past tables filled with whispering military personnel.

You pass by Lt. Riley’s table on your way to the doors of the mess and in that split second as he looks into your face he can see that your eyes aren’t just cold and sharp, but that there is a shine to them that he recognizes; you aren’t just angry, this is something more.

Without a second thought Lt. Riley is situating his mask back down over the lower half of his face, leaving everything else behind on the table to swiftly follow after in your footsteps. Night is just beginning to fall as he makes it outside, but it’s still light enough that he can see you up ahead and he takes off in your direction. Your rage-fueled steps have already carried you a good ways ahead of him and he has to book it to even get close enough that you’ll hear him try to get your attention.

“Sergeant, stop,” Lt. Riley calls out after you once he gets within range.

Your heart skips as you recognize the voice of your lieutenant behind you. Please, no; why does it have to be him? Why now, in one of your lowest moments? You’re no fool, you realize your confrontation drew a lot of attention back there, but you are on the verge of losing it and there is one person that you desperately don’t want to see you like this - at your worst. 

You have to get to the safety of your room before he has to see you fall apart.

You defy his order and keep the pace fast. “Not now, sir,” you return over your shoulder, choking back the tears burning your eyes and blurring your vision as your chest feels too tight to breathe.

The lieutenant’s still hot on your tail as you quickly walk through the base determinedly headed towards the barracks. He can’t recall a time in the past two years where you’ve ever been this upset and something about that tugs violently on his heartstrings so that he won’t stop till he is certain that you will be okay. 

The buildings pass one after another in rapid succession, the lines from their shadows growing longer by the second, until he tries to call out once more. “I said stop, private. Tha’s an order,” he returns, putting the authority into his voice so that you are forced to slow out of policy for your commanding officer. It’s the last resort he has at his disposal, but he hates to see the way you bristle at his words.

He wants to be a comfort, not another source of stress.

You plant your feet firmly into the ground and grit your teeth behind your closed lips. The tears are welling at the rims of your eyes and it won’t be long before they breach the barrier and roll down your cheeks. You need to make this fast; you’ve already been made to look a fool today, you don’t want it made worse by letting him see you weak about it.

“Yes, sir?” you say cold and clinical as the crunch of Lt. Riley’s boots get closer and closer until he makes his way around the front to come face to face. 

It is obvious from the way your eyes glisten and your face twitches as you desperately try to control it that you are in distress something terrible. He can only imagine all the things you must be feeling in this moment after just having witnessed that public display: you’re probably embarrassed and feeling vulnerable. If it was him, he would not want anyone to see him like this and he knows he needs to get you out of the way of any prying eyes and fast, but where? 

Looking behind you he realizes that you’ve come to stop right in front of the rec center; perfect, it’s still vacant for the moment. You can talk without having to worry about anyone skulking about. Pointing a finger towards the door he gives you a brief “come on, follow me inside” and you do as you’re told, praying that this will be swift.

An electrical buzz rings out through the stillness inside as Lt. Riley throws the switches to illuminate the space and as he tends to that you walk off into the interior in a huff. He makes sure the door is secure behind you both and satisfied with how you’re locked in, he follows and finds you leaning against the far back wall, kicking it with the heel of your shoe over and over, harder and harder.

Your ears pick up his approach, but that isn’t the only thing they catch. You heard that click as the lock was latched; now there is nowhere to hide from those dark, discerning eyes… the same ones that make your pulse race. All the emotion coursing through you gives rise to old feelings that you buried and now that you are alone again all at once you’re back to those days when you would get butterflies whenever you knew he would be around.

And that makes this ten times worse.

“Care ta tell me what the hell that was about?” he asks as he comes to stand in front of you. His voice is firm, but not unkind.

In your sensitive state you mistake his tone as a reprimand rather than concern and you’re sure you’ve done it now. He’s here to simply discipline you for the infraction you’ve broken that will get you a week’s worth of firewatch or worse for causing havoc in the mess, but you don’t care. That bastard deserved worse and your superior should be glad that you restrained yourself from actually doing something harmful like bashing his stupid fucking face into the table. 

You answer straightforwardly, but avoid his eyes to stare at the floor as you start to pace back and forth, your hand brushing along the wall as you walk to distract yourself from the emotion tearing at your insides. “Nothing of concern, sir.” 

He takes another few steps towards you to close some of the distance. “I think it is. That was quite tha display.”

You inhale deep, trying to keep your voice from shaking as you give a short summary that will hopefully get him off your back… or at least get him to issue you your punishment faster. “Personal matter, it’s over now. It won’t happen again, sir.”

He knows that isn’t the whole truth, otherwise your eyes wouldn’t be shimmering and your cheeks flushed. It’s killing him to see you suffering and not be able to do anything about it, though he doesn’t know how to say he cares without giving away a secret he’s been keeping hidden for a while now; a reason that causes him to be here trying to comfort in his own strange way. 

A reason that makes him keep a close eye on you more and more recently, that makes his heart skip a beat whenever you are near, a reason that had made him jealous of your relationship with that no good sergeant in the first place. 

So he stays silent for a moment, unsure of what to do here; he doesn’t want to make things worse than they already are for you, but he needs to know how to fix this and that won’t happen until you talk. The longer he stands quietly, the more that truth that was just revealed to you gnaws away at your composure until the pacing isn’t enough to stop the emotion welling up inside and it slowly starts leaking out so that before he can speak again, you start to talk. 

“I-” you hesitate “I’m just a fucking joke, that’s all,” you say, a lump forming in your throat that causes your voice to waver. “I should have known better, that a guy like that would never want to be with someone like me.”

“Tha’s not true,” Lt. Riley interjects, but you shake your head, the pacing getting faster as everything spills out.

“Oh it is,” you say as you grit your teeth, unable to hold back the words. “The only way someone like that would ever be with me is through something as fucking stupid as a bet.”

The lieutenant’s brow furrows under his mask at your oddly specific statement.  “What do ya mean?”

You bite your lip as a tear too engorged to keep contained rolls engorged down the side of your cheek and onto your shirt as you make another pass along the wall. A heavy sigh of defeat breaks from your mouth; you’ve already said more than you should have, you guess you can keep going. 

Why not let your whole life fall apart?

You clear your throat. “You see, that bitch and his so-called friends made a bet amongst themselves to see how long he could fool me into dating him. And it worked.”

The emotion is so intense that you hang your head in shame as more tears start to fall like rain onto the tips of your shoes, leaving a trail along the ground as you continue to make your passes back and forth. “Apparently I’m pretty fucking gullible it seems. I just thought someone could actually like me, but it wasn’t real, none of it…all of it was a goddamn lie. And I fell for it like a fucking lovesick idiot.”

“Oi.” The lieutenant’s intense interjection makes you stop in your tracks and look up at him. “Don’t ya ever fuckin’ say that ‘bout yourself,” he says heatedly. “Those fuckin’ boys are the ones that’re the imbeciles. Ta think that anyone’d ‘ave ta make a bet ta be with ya is ludacris.”

You divert your gaze again. “That’s not true. Do you know how many times I’ve been asked out since I was transferred here?”

He shakes his head even if you aren’t looking to see it. “No.” 

“Twice. Just twice,” you admit sheepishly. “And one of those was by a drunk down at the bar off base so I don’t think he really even meant it. I’m a fucking joke.”

“Stop,” he says, but you ignore him.

“Why? Why deny the truth?” you ask. 

The flood is released and the tears fall even heavier as you hurriedly try to rub them away with the back of your arm, but they can’t be stopped now. It’s all too much: knowing that you weren’t even liked and having to reveal all of this to the only other person you ever desired in this hell hole. A sharp, stabbing pain pierces your stomach so that you have to wrap your arms around yourself to keep it together as if at any moment you will break apart.

You swallow hard. “I mean…” you have to clear you throat “fuck, I just want to be someone’s first choice, you know? The person that someone would do anything to be with. But no one ever chooses me. Maybe I’m just meant to keep making a fool of myself chasing something I’ll never have.”

The lieutenant is furious now not with you, but with the fact that no one has ever made you feel like the amazing person you are. How dare anyone make you think such things about yourself like that. Just because one stupid boy can’t see the whole entire package you are doesn’t mean that no one can… that he can’t see it. A brilliant mind, a gorgeous face, a tough fighter, and a firm leader, there is so much in you to admire and adore.  

It makes him burn with rage that that jackass should get away with this type of destruction without consequence. 

He can’t do it, he cannot stand here and allow that piece of shit sergeant to ruin your self-esteem. The anger is visible in his gaze and he is breathing heavily as he struggles to contain it. Now that he knows the truth about what was done to you he isn’t going to sit idly by and allow anyone to hurt you. He is going to make sure that he makes that bastard pay.  

“Look at me,” he says suddenly and you do. “Wait here. I need ya to wait here till I get back. Can ya do that?”

There is such fury in his voice that it nearly chokes him and without waiting for your reply he swivels around and rushes back to the front of the rec in a flurry of anger with only one objective in mind: find that son of a bitch that ever thought he could hurt you and make him fear for his pathetic life.

“Wait, where are you going, sir? Lieutenant?” you call after him, but he doesn’t answer and the door slams shut so that you are left standing alone in utter confusion.

Lt. Riley knows exactly where to start and sure enough the lieutenant spots the sergeant making his way from the mess, laughing with his friends like he doesn’t have a care in the world and his blood begins to boil over. After having to watch those pained tears fall from your eyes, seeing this asshole so cheery makes him murderous.

There is no warning, no call out or any sound to give the sergeant a heads up until a force like a freight train is dragging him behind the next building over, further into the shadow even as night is now almost completely set in, and he is suddenly pinned to the brick wall by his throat. He struggles against that grasp, but can’t break free and finally he decides to look into the face of whoever it is that has launched this assault. What he is met with are those piercing dark eyes glaring at him through a gap in a black balaclava.

A shiver runs up his spine, making him unable to speak. His friends intercede with their pleas on his behalf, but the lieutenant is having none of it; he has no more patience for anything anyone has to say right now. His mind is too focused on what he feels he must do. 

“Unless ya want the same, I suggest ya fuck off,” he growls at the group as he stares them down with a monsterously terrifying glare, the venom in his voice enough to make them shiver in fear. The threat is intimidating enough that they immediately realize the weight of the situation and are quick to disperse, leaving their friend to whatever fate is his.

Alone now, he turns his attention back to the sergeant who looks as white as a sheet even in the dark and he shoves him harder into the wall to make the rough surface dig into his back through his t-shirt. “I d-don’t know what’s going on, s-sir,” the sergeant says feebly.

“Don’t know?” the lieutenant scoffs as his hand tightens around the boy’s neck before easing only enough that the bastard can still breathe. “Ya must be quick ta fuckin’ forget.”

The sergeant stares up into that masked face disoriented by the sudden hostile confrontation. 

“S-sir?”

Lt. Riley gets into his face. “Ya think ya can just use people and get away with it, do ya? Ya think nothin’ will happen to ya?” he asks in a snarl and he can feel the boy swallow hard under his hand. 

“I…what…” the sergeant stammers.

Again that gloved hand tightens around the sergeant’s neck. “Ya heard me, boy. I heard ‘bout what ya did to your fellow sergeant. People like you fuckin’ disgust me.”

“It was… j-just a prank…” the sergeant tries to backpedal, but the lieutenant is quick to cut him off. 

“I’m only gonna tell ya once and take this as a final warning. Ya ever even look at Sgt. Y/N again and I’ll be sure there ain’t a piece a ya ta fuckin’ identify. Do. You. Understand. Boy?”

A shiver runs through the sergeant at those threatening words and his entire body begins to shake in the lieutenant’s grasp like a leaf in the breeze. “Answer,” Lt. Riley barks.

“Y-yes, s-sir.”

The lieutenant gives one last hard squeeze, trying to make that miscreant think that he isn’t going to let go, before he quickly releases him and the sergeant stumbles as he takes a step to the side to get out of harm’s way. “Now, get outta my fuckin’ sight ‘fore I change my mind and drive ya through this fuckin’ wall.”

He watches as the now terrified sergeant trips over his own feet trying to scurry away like the vermin he is and only once he is out of sight does the lieutenant start his adrenaline-fueled trek back to the rec, mouthing silent pleas behind the mask that you are still there and hadn’t decided to slip out because he won’t let this day end without making sure that you know how much you are wanted.

You jump as you hear the door open harshly, breaking the silence of the building, and it makes your heart leap into your throat as you watch as the lieutenant makes a beeline straight for where you stand. He doesn’t stop until he is standing just a few inches from your body, his chest heaving up and down laboriously from his hurry to get back. 

You want to ask what is going on, why he left so abruptly, but he interjects before you can even get your question out.

“I want ya ta tell me why ya think ya can’t be someone’s first choice?”

The question seems so strange after being left alone randomly as the lieutenant went god knows where and it makes you pause out of confusion. 

“...what?” you ask.

He rephrases. “Who said you weren’t someone’s first choice?”

What the hell is happening? Disoriented and still upset, you aren’t sure what he is trying to say. All you can guess is that this is some sort of weird feel good speech opening and going off that, you answer. 

“Sir, if this is some strange way of saying that there are plenty of fish in the sea or another meaningless platitude that people spout whenever someone gets hurt, you don’t have to say it. I’ve heard them all thousands of times and they’re not actually helpful.”

Those stark eyes shadowed inside his disguise soften as he speaks, though his breath is still fast, but not from exertion anymore. “ ‘s not what I’m sayin’,” he returns.

You look at him and he stares right back at you, his gaze unwavering as the thought hangs heavily in the air while he waits for you to recognize the intention behind the phrase. Your eyes linger on one another, no words being said as the last bit of your tears dry on your cheeks, until understanding begins to slowly wash over you like a wave.

“Sir?” you ask quietly, not sure if you believe what your thoughts are trying to tell you. “Areyou saying…”

Your sentence is cut off as the lieutenant moves in and he gently places his gloved hands on either side of your face. Lt. Riley can hear the hitch as you struggle to catch your breath; never has he shared such an intimate connection with you like this before and all you can do is peer up into his masked face while your mind reels and your pulse quickens under his palms.

“Ya are someone’s first choice,” he murmurs before stopping. 

No, this isn’t right and he needs to do this right. The lieutenant removes his hands from your face to pull off those bits of cloth keeping your skin apart before coming back to cup his hands around your cheeks. Your face is so soft, so warm, everything he always thought it would be to caress and you seem to melt into his rough touch.

A charged tension fills the space around both of your bodies; it is so thick that it’s suffocating and you hold your breath waiting for what will cause it to break. The lieutenant must be overwhelmed with it too as he inhales sharp and shuddered. There is an electricity in his touch and it makes his hands shake slightly against your skin even as the rest of him stands still as stone.  

He can say it, he has to. You need to know that you are wanted, desired, and he has to be the one to do it before someone else can come along just to break your heart again. He has put this off longer than he should have and he isn’t going to waste another second or make you shed another tear.

“You’re someone’s first choice,” he repeats. “Mine.”

You’re not aware of your body until you realize that your hand has cupped over top of one of his on your cheek. You need to know that this is real, that he is real, and you press his hand down firmer onto your face while you shut your eyes, just for a moment to test that you aren’t dreaming. As they flutter back open, he’s still standing before you with his hands lingering around you. 

It’s suddenly a struggle to find your voice, but you push through. “I-I didn’t even think you noticed me; I thought I was always invisible to you, sir.”

The lieutenant shakes his head. “Never. Jus’ never seemed the right time to say it. But I can’t let ya stand ‘ere and think that no one knows what a fuckin’ catch you are.”

Is he still breathing heavily now or is it you? Maybe both? You can’t tell where you end and he begins anymore, yet it doesn’t seem enough to satisfy; you want to get closer to him and something in the tone of his voice makes you trust his words. You step all the way into him, reducing the distance between your bodies to nothing and the tension immediately escalates.

Lt. Riley has craved you from afar for so long now that he can hardly believe what is happening. Your advance leaves him reeling, his skin tingling, and now his tongue feels weighted in his mouth. He should say more, but he’s never been too good with words and it’s made worse because he’s lost in the ecstasy of your presence. Instead of talking, he leans his face in closer.

Only millimeters of space and a thin piece of fabric keep your mouths separated and yet for how near you are it still makes him burn in agony to be this far apart. The tip of his nose brushes against the tip of yours over the mask, foreheads nearly pressed together, mouths ghosting so near and yet so far; it’s torture, but he won’t let himself take anything that isn’t given to him freely, no matter how desperate your little gasps makes him. 

His eyes flutter closed, absorbing every second of your presence while you still allow him to have it. “Please, luv,” he groans the words, the warmth from his breath making your lips tingle even filtered through the mask, “tell me I can fuckin’ kiss ya. Cause I really want ta do it now.”   

You inhale sharply as an ache settles itself in your chest at his request, an ache for him to let you feel that desperation on your lips. Your mind is spinning in circles as the warm tension gathering between your bodies becomes unbearable and everything else falls away; it’s like you are the only two people left in the world.

You nod in his hands. “Kiss me,” you whisper as you barely have enough breath to get the words out. 

There is not a moment more of hesitation as he has his consent; his mask is ripped up above his lips to rest over the bridge of his nose and in a flash your back is being braced against the wall behind you as the lieutenant pins you to it, the bulk of his chest crushing into you as he leans in and breaks the space between your mouths with enough passion that you could choke on it.

The lieutenant can taste the salt still lingering on your mouth, all that sadness you had just endured giving your lips a briny flavor, but he is determined to kiss it all away and erase the memory of that bastard from your skin if it’s the last thing he does. He bombards your mouth with his unrelenting yearning, open-mouthed kisses overtaking your lips until you can taste the need across your tongue

“Anyone with half a brain would kill for tha chance to call you theirs,” he gasps against your lips. “And I want ya more than anythin’, before another bastard can take ya away from me.”

Your entire body feels weightless like you are floating the longer he takes your mouth. To be embraced like this, being devoured as if he has been starved of your kiss, is overwhelming and suddenly you’re lightheaded as time passes uncounted. All the pain and sadness that just had you in a chokehold evaporated from your mind as if it was never there and it is replaced by the emotions shared between two sets of hungry lips. 

“And stop calling me sir,” he says, “when it’s me and you, it’s Simon now.”

Kisses like fire pepper your lips, his entire mouth enveloping your own with noses pressed into cheeks so that neither of you can breathe and yet pulling away feels like torture. You know the type of man the lieutenant is, know that to be so vulnerable about what he wants is not something he has displayed much before, and that for him to be so open is important. 

He doesn’t just want to say the words, he wants to prove them true.

Simon’s large hands release your face to wrap themselves around your hips, touching you in such a way as if he is trying to write promises on your body through your clothes with his fingertips. “Jus’ want tha chance ta show ya that someone can fuckin’ choose ya. Tell me ya fuckin’ want that too,” he implores in a desperate whisper.  

His request is met without words at first, but your smile is against his mouth and the way you kiss him back harder, meeting his lips in feverish bursts as you tangle your fingers into the hair at the back of his head to push him tighter into you is answer enough.

“I do,” you whimper, only breaking from his lips long enough to spit the words out. 

His voice is calm, yet firm, quiet, yet powerful as he murmurs the words into the small gap between your mouths. “Then you’re under my protection now, got it? I won’t let any manky bastard mess with ya again.”

Something about the way he says it makes you suspicious of where he was just minutes ago, though you don’t ask the question. Let that chaos rest for another time, right now you are going to let yourself enjoy this.

Heated lips connect again as if he is trying to make you swallow his vow. “No one’s gonna hurt ya, not while I’m ‘round.”

There is a pause as Simon breaks the kiss and pulls back, dark eyes lingering on the beauty of your flushed face and hazy eyes. More gentle than you could have thought possible from the intimidating lieutenant, his fingertips caress your cheek as his lips upturn into a smile. “Cause from now on, you’re gonna be my first choice.”

[reidmania]

slow it down | s.reid

summary; when life feels like its moving too fast and you feel like you're falling behind, spencer is there to slow it down.

warnings; i kind of feel like this is occ.. fem reader, established relationships, feeling like your falling behind in life, overwhelmed, insecurity, comforting wise spencer, i lowkey feel like this is kinda cringe but IDK.. self reflection

an; um.. so i am so sorry for neglecting you guys lately.

You’re sitting on the edge of your bed, fingers tracing over a stack of old photos from years that somehow feel closer and farther away than they should. The soft morning light filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room, but you can’t seem to feel it. It’s like you’re living in fast-forward, like everyone around you has figured out the secret to living, and you’re just scrambling to catch up. There’s a constant hum in the back of your mind, a quiet sense of urgency that keeps telling you, You’re falling behind.

And then there’s Spencer. Reliable, steady, intelligent Spencer, with his endless curiosity and his warm, steady gaze. Sometimes, you think he sees the world at a slower pace. He notices the way the trees change color in the fall, the way the clouds drift lazily across the sky, the way your breathing hitches when you’re overwhelmed. You’re not sure how he does it — how he lives in a world where time is patient, gentle even.

“Hey,” his voice breaks the quiet as he steps into the room, soft but firm, pulling you back to reality. “I noticed you didn’t sleep much last night.”

You give a small shrug, brushing the hair out of your face. “Just… thinking. That’s all.”

He sits beside you, close but not overwhelming, his presence grounding. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You’re not sure where to begin. There’s so much tangled up inside — the worry about where you’re going, the guilt of not doing enough, the fear that everyone else is moving forward while you’re stuck in place. It’s all too big, too heavy, and it clings to you like a second skin.

“Sometimes,” you say, staring down at your hands, “it feels like I’m watching everyone else live their lives at this… impossible speed. Like they’re running ahead, and I’m trying so hard to keep up, but I just… can’t.”

He watches you with that familiar look of quiet understanding, as though he’s absorbing every word. “I know it feels like that. But you’re doing more than you think, even if it doesn’t feel that way. Life isn’t a race, no matter what it seems like.”

You smile a little, but it’s strained. “Easy for you to say. You’re Dr. Spencer Reid. You’ve got three Ph.D’s.” It was unfair, you knew life wasn’t easy on him. He didn’t mind, he didn’t take offence at your insecurity.

His laugh is soft, a bit self-conscious. “It’s not always about how much you’ve done, you know. It’s about… what’s meaningful to you. And the world can feel fast because it’s busy and loud, but that doesn’t mean it’s moving faster than you can handle.”

You let his words sink in, wanting to believe them. He’s always been so good at that — seeing things in a way you can’t, finding meaning in moments you’d overlook. You think back to all those quiet mornings with him, sipping coffee while he reads, or the way he’ll point out little details in the most ordinary things. He lives with intention, like every second holds something worth noticing. “Teach me how to do that,” you murmur, almost to yourself. “How to… slow down, like you do.”

He shifts a little closer, his arm draping over your shoulders. “We can start now, if you’d like.”

“Here?” you ask, a little surprised.

“Why not?” He gives a small shrug, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on your shoulder. “The world outside can wait a little. Right now, it’s just us.”

So, you close your eyes, focusing on the warmth of his hand, the even rhythm of his breathing beside you. He begins to talk, softly, almost to himself, about the small things that make up the moment — the softness of the sheets, the faint sound of birds outside, the warmth of the sunlight coming through the window. It’s strange, hearing him describe the world like this, like a piece of poetry instead of a rush of responsibilities. And slowly, something shifts within you. You’re not sure if it’s because of his voice or his hand on your shoulder, but the weight on your chest starts to ease.

“Sometimes,” he says, “I think we get caught up in thinking life has to be monumental, or it has to mean something big. But there’s value in the small moments too, even the ones where you feel like nothing is happening.”

You open your eyes and look at him. His gaze is soft, steady, like he’s known this all along but has been waiting for you to see it too. “You really believe that?”

“More than anything,” he nods, his hand slipping down to intertwine with yours. “And maybe if we slow down, even just a little, we can find that there’s more here than we thought.”

He suggests you both go for a walk. At first, you resist — it feels like there’s no time for that. But then you see the gentle insistence in his eyes, and you let yourself give in. Outside, the air is crisp, and the leaves are beginning to change, painting the trees in vibrant shades of red and gold. You wouldn’t have noticed it on your own, but Spencer points it out, marveling at the colors like it’s the first time he’s seen them.

The path winds through a quiet park, and he takes his time pointing out things you’d usually ignore: the sound of a squirrel rustling in the bushes, the faint smell of pine, the way the sunlight filters through the branches. You begin to feel your mind quiet, your worries slipping away as you take in each small moment.

“See?” he says, smiling as he catches you watching a butterfly flutter past. “The world doesn’t have to be rushing by. We just have to choose not to rush with it.”

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel yourself relax. You’re not falling behind. You’re not racing to catch up. You’re just here, in this moment, with Spencer beside you, and that’s enough.

After the walk, you both settle into a quiet cafe nearby. There’s no agenda, no rush, just the simple joy of being together. You sip your coffee slowly, tasting it in a way you usually don’t, letting each sip warm you from the inside. Across the table, Spencer is reading a book, but every now and then, he glances up, meeting your eyes with a quiet smile. It feels easy, natural, as though the world outside the cafe doesn’t even exist.

The afternoon stretches on, a lazy, unhurried thing, and you find yourself wishing that every day could be like this — free from the pressure to be something, to achieve something. Just… peaceful.

“I think I could get used to this,” you say, looking out the window, watching people stroll by without a care in the world.

“Then let’s make it a habit,” he replies softly, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand. “Slow days. Just us. Whenever you need it.”

“Really?” you ask, a little surprised. “Even with your job? With everything you have going on?”

He nods, his gaze steady. “Life doesn’t have to be all or nothing. I want to be there for you. To be here, with you. No matter what else is going on.”

For the first time, you feel a sense of calm settle over you, like maybe — just maybe — you don’t have to keep running to be enough. That there’s space in this world for you to slow down, to take things one step at a time. And knowing that Spencer is by your side makes it all feel possible, in a way it never has before.

You lean across the table, resting your head on his shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent. “Thank you, Spencer. For… reminding me.”

He smiles, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “Always. Just remember, you’re not alone in this. I’m here, and we’ll figure it out together. One slow day at a time.

As you sit there, nestled against him, you let yourself believe that it’s true — that life doesn’t have to be a race, that you’re allowed to live at your own pace, to notice the small things, to savor each moment as it comes.

For the first time in a long time, you feel yourself slow down, the endless rush in your mind finally quieting. And in that silence, you find something you didn’t even realize you were missing: a sense of peace, of belonging, of knowing that right here, in this moment, you are exactly where you’re meant to be.

[revelboo]

OOOO! Yes yes yes! Please more of the Lost Light crew! I love them all so much!

And more Shockwave (any gen) PLS PLS PLS he is my absolute favorite!!!

Your writing is amazing! All of it! I love every update! Every story is such a treat and the way you write is delicious!

Thank you!

Invisible Monsters Pt 5

Lost Light Megatron x Reader

• “What’s going on?” You mumble as he reaches up to curl his servos around the warmth of you where you’d apparently draped yourself against his neck while he recharged. Hates moving you, but his data pad is lit up. Carefully cradling you to him so he can sit up and reach for his data pad as it dings again. “Megatron?” The worry in your sleepy voice makes him slow down, tracing the curve of your cheek with a servo. Wanting nothing more than to just lay back down with you, because he’s rested better feeling the beat of your heart against him than he has in forever. How long has it been since his recharge wasn’t haunted by nightmares? Somehow, having you there, feeling you, banishes them.

• “Everything’s well.” His words are reassuring, but there’s the faintest hint of a growl in his voice that contradicts him and you’re wide awake now. Whatever that alert was, it’s bad. That feeling strengthening as the former warlord shutters his optics for a moment as if gathering himself. Or praying for strength. Rodimus maybe? “I’ll be back,” he adds, lowering you onto his berth as he stands, hesitating to drape a blanket around you before leaving.

• Stiffening when the finds Ultra Magnus waiting outside his quarters, he falls into step beside the other mech, heading for the bridge. “How many?” And how had no one realized what idiocy Brainstorm was up to? Preceptor is supposed to be watching him, reining him in.

• “Aside from the one currently in your possession?” The look Magnus shoots him clearly giving away his opinion on leaving a human in his care. And it’s not that he doesn’t understand the other mech’s concern, but it still bothers him that Magnus assumes you’re in danger with him. That he’d hurt you. “Three more have been found so far, but Brainstorm isn’t exactly being forthcoming. If that device has been randomly pulling humans here since the first one appeared, there’s no telling how many there are. It doesn’t help that we keep finding new areas of the ship or rooms that were walled off.”

• Primus, what a mess. “The others?” He asks servos lifting unconsciously to touch his throat where your warmth was before he realizes what he’s doing and drops his hand. “Who has them?”

• “Rodimus has one that he tried to pawn off on me. Drift has another that seems to be having some sort of lingering issue with being transported. And Whirl.” Venting tiredly at him as Megatron’s steps falter, Magnus holds up a hand. “I know, but considering their immediate instinct when faced with him was to punch him? I’m not too concerned. I’m more worried that Brainstorm said there’s likely more not on the ship.”

• Running his servos over his face, he swallows a growl, because this mess just gets better. Because how to tell you that they’d figured out what had happened to you, but that you’d been one of the lucky ones? That you might not have been is an uneasy feeling twisting through his spark. He’d never have known what he was missing, never have felt the touch of those trusting, little hands on his much bigger ones. Hands that before had only been used to hurt. “Dead, then?” He hazards as they enter the bridge and he spots Rodimus and Drift both cornering Brainstorm, the scientist appearing bored with them.

• “Or on another ship or world we passed too near. From what Brainstorm and Preceptor have volunteered, humans were only shifted to places where Cybertronians were.”

Previous

[they-call-me-whiskey]

Promise

pairing: JJ Maybank x Marie Routledge (oc)

summary: the secret relationship isn't a secret anymore.

warnings: a bit of angst, a bit of fluff; English is not my first language.

author's note: this is my first completed fic, and I know it's not good, but let me know what you think anyway.

when Marie arrived at the Chateau, it was suspiciously quiet. usually she could hear noise from several meters away, but now, she didn't hear anything, even when she opened the door. she headed straight to the kitchen and let out a sigh of relief seeing JJ rummaging through the fridge. she leaned casually against the counter a playful smile spread across her face.

“looking for something?” she asked, giggling as he jumped a little.

“you scared me,” he said back, sliding the fridge door shut and stepping closer to her with sly grin growing on his face. “but you’re exactly what I wanted to find.”

she let out a soft laugh, and JJ took her hand, tugging her closer, his eyes dropping to her lips. it has been a while since they'd had any time alone together, as if everyone conspired to keep them from any time just the two of them, and it was starting to seriously piss him off.

“where's the others?” the question was haunting her since she got there. it was almost sunset, and by this time everyone was usually at the Chateau, either watching a movie, playing cards, or whatever else they usually did. but she hadn't seen anyone except JJ.

“they're at Hayward's. needed help with something,” he answered, kissing her neck as his hands slid to her hips.

“they left without the Twinkie?” she asked, remembering seeing the car parked outside.

“they took the HMS Pogue,” JJ said, then suddenly picked her up and sat her down on the table. she squealed out of surprise but the squeal quickly turned into a laugh, making him smile. looking at her sitting before him made his heart beat as if it was ready to leap out of his chest.

“why did you stay?” she asked after a minute of silence. she raised her hand to fix his hair.

“I thought maybe we could have some time for ourselves.” his grin returned, and he leaned in closer. she smiled and met him halfway.

“what the hell?!” a voice broke through the silence, snapping them both back to reality.

JJ pulled back as if he’d touched a hot stove, and they both turned to see John B standing in the doorway, eyes wide with disbelief. Marie jumped down from the table.

“John B—” she started, but he wasn’t looking at her.

“out of limits, man!” John B practically exploded, pointing at JJ. “my sister, JJ? are you kidding me? We’re like brothers, and you… you betray me like that?”

JJ looked stricken, hands raised defensively. “John B, it’s not—just listen for a second—”

“are you serious right now?” John B cut him off, his voice raising with every word. “you went behind my back with Marie, of all people? And I had to find out like this?!”

Marie, caught between anger and embarrassment, raised her voice, “hey, stop acting like I’m not here—”

both boys ignored her, too caught up in the heat of the argument. John B couldn't believe it. his best friend was kissing his little sister. in his own kitchen.

“look, I swear it wasn’t like that,” JJ tried again, his voice desperate, “it’s been a real relationship—”

the word relationship hung in the air, stopping John B cold. his face went through a range of emotions—shock, confusion, then something more intense as the realization hit.

“wait.” He turned fully to Marie now, his eyes sharp. “you guys have been doing this… this whole time? what else have you—?”

JJ winced, bracing himself for the reaction. “John B, listen, I… I know it sounds bad, but… it’s serious.”

John B gave a hollow laugh, clearly too angry to hear any of it. “you… out,” he ground out, grabbing JJ by the arm and dragging him toward the door. JJ barely got a chance to dig his heels in as John B shoved him out onto the porch, only for everyone else to wake up at the noise.

“what’s going on?” Pope mumbled, appearing on the porch, with Kiara right behind him. they'd just gotten back from Hayward's, and while Pope and Kie was tying up the boat John B had run to the Chateau to check if Marie was back.

“JJ’s a dead man,” John B snapped, shoving JJ onto the front steps. “and he’s staying away from Marie.”

JJ, catching his balance, held his hands up in exasperation. “John B, man, just listen—please, it’s not—”

Marie had followed them outside, her voice cutting in, “John B, stop! just let him explain!”

but John B wasn’t having it. he took a threatening step toward JJ. “you say one more thing, and I swear—”

JJ shook his head, running his hand through his hair, looking right back at his best friend. “fine, hit me if you need to, but I’m not staying away from her. I love her, alright?”

a stunned silence fell over the Pogues as they processed what he’d just said. Kiara, squinting at JJ in disbelief, was the first to speak. “wait… you do?”

then Pope echoed, “you do?”

finally, John B, arms falling limp at his sides, just stared, a mix of anger and confusion on his face. “you do?”

JJ, glancing back to Marie, nodded, his voice soft but resolute. “yeah… I do.”

the words hung heavy in the air, tension slowly melting into an awkward silence. Marie looked at him, her expression tender but a bit surprised. they'd never really talked about this; she didn't even know if they were a couple. but what he said — the way he said — made her think that it wasn't just to save his ass. she couldn't help but smiled, her heart doing a somersault.

John B sighed, running a hand through his hair, still looking frustrated but maybe just a bit less angry. “this… this is just a lot to process,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, you and… my sister?”

JJ looked at him, dead serious, almost pleading. “I wouldn’t mess around with her, John B. I swear. she means too much to me for that.”

Kiara stepped up, putting a hand on John B’s shoulder. “look, it’s obvious he’s serious,” she said softly. “and maybe… maybe that’s not such a bad thing?”

Pope nodded, shrugging, “yeah, I mean… it’s JJ. if there’s anyone you can trust with her, it’s him.”

John B finally met his sister’s gaze. though she was smiling like an idiot, he could still see the worry in her eyes. he let out a long breath, shoulders slumping. Pope was right—it was JJ. his best friend. he could trust him. maybe. “fine,” he said at last, looking between them. “but don’t you dare break her heart, JJ, or I swear…”

JJ nodded, looking back at John B with the same promise in his eyes. “you got it, man.” His gaze shifted to Marie's smiling face, and he couldn’t hold back his own smile. “never.”

[nanamimizz]

𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝚬 𝚩𝐈𝐑𝐃, 𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐃𝚬𝐃 𝐂𝐀𝐆𝚬

author's note: thank you so much @rabbbitseason for commissioning this piece as well as your patience and understanding <3 ! reader's features (fem reader, pale skin) are described as requested by commissioner. 4.1k words.

tags: 18+ minors dni // kidnapping // isolation (mentioned)// manhandling // size difference // overstimulation //penetration // mating press // let me know if i had missed something.

synopsis: 4 months ago the stellaron hunters had come knocking at your door - they had work for you, they had said. you don't think fucking your charge was the work they had in mind.

When you had first been approached by the Stellaron Hunters, it had been with an elegant woman dressed in a fine black coat. She was in your living quarters lounging away in your chair drinking from a wine glass that most definitely wasn’t yours. On your coffee table was a bottle of red wine, the label in a language you didn’t recognize. You heard a quiet laugh one that you imagined the cat would make when it has cornered the rat. Your heart raced in your chest, panic nigh high as you gazed at the woman’s empty pink eyes with her voice deep and hypnotic on your head.

“Listen to me. Close the door,” You were obeying with your heart racing in your chest as your hand went to input the code that locks your quarters from the inside rather than the outside. She finishes the last of her wine the tint a red so deep it was almost black, tinged her lipstick darker that it once was. She had praised you for your compliance as if it was voluntary and then - the world went back.

“Listen to me - go to sleep.”

The world turns dark.

You awake with the same woman next you, sitting on a plain chair like the kind you see in hospital shows the IPC likes to push. Your head pounds but you soon realize that you are fulled dressed and you let out a exhausted sound.

“Good thing you are awake - I thought I might have used too much force on you.” The woman speaks voice slow and measured like she’s talking about something so mundane like the weather rather than the concerning topic of your kidnapping. Her coat rests on the back of her chair rather than her shoulders like when you first saw her as if she was trying to add an air of causality to the conversation.

“You’ll have to grow out of that for the work we brought you here for little bird.”

“What have you brought me here for?” You ask finally finding your voice that you thought was lost to you. The woman merely smiled and explained it all to you in a soft and measured words like priceless silk on your ears. You had been picked with handler work for a specific team member. One who often loses himself to his madness to the point he poses a threat to others on the team. Which is where you come in as a one that has caught the gaze of the Harmony you would prove useful in subduing this particular member. That was 4 months ago - that you know off. You aren’t taken out to the field, and all you do is wait for your charge to return from his missions. Your world is limited to the well furnished 2 bedroom suite you share with him.

Blade - wanted for a bounty of 8.13 billion stands before you soon enough. He is tall and broad, standing a full head above you looming with great muscled mass. Saffron colored eyes burn through you like you are a mere dying ember rather than the one that is made to control him. The first few times you are with him where quiet affairs, merely extending your power to him when something too dangerous would glint across his eyes when returning from a mission with the others. A mere touch of his shoulder and an incantation had his eyes dimming and muscles uncoiling.

They were quick and quiet affairs - you find yourself quickly growing attached to the routine of comforting your charge after missions. You think you can you live like this for some time, longer thought you would before this became your new reality.

Until today.

He comes back from the mission bloodied and wild, freshly healed jagged line glowing pink among the pale palor of his skin visible by the long cut going down his dark shirt. You are docile and naive when you first see him spoiled rotten by routine that you merely approach him frowning at how long it will take you to fix the tear going down his shirt to notice his hand coming out to grip you by the back the neck.

The same way one would do so with an unruly kitten.

Your hear races and you look up at him with eyes dilated with fear and to him in his haze only makes him growl at you. He picks you up and your feet dangle off of the floor like that - with merely the strength of his fingers on the back of your neck and he has you on the bed bouncing on the mattress with you looking up at him with wide eyes. Your heart beats wildly in your chest and you swallow when you feel something hot run through your veins at the show of brute strength. You tremble like an animal caught in a steel trap when you feel the heat of his calloused hand gripping your ankle entirely, fingers meeting as drags down to the edge of the bed where like always he looms over you.

A shadow that scares you, that frightens you that - bewitches you. He looks into your dark, blown out eyes that aren’t as scared as they should be and the way his lips twitch at the glimmer of timid lust peaking through makes him rumble in his chest. You squirm in his grip, hiking up your leg in an attempt to pull away but even you find that lacking, as you look up at his handsome face and burning eyes. You find that you don’t mind this, not when it ties into all your fantasies you have - all from being left alone for so long with nothing but him.

“Say you want me too.” It’s the first time he speaks, voice deep and rough with desire so deep you almost couldn’t bear it. You gulp, pulling your leg up futility as your mind races. It would be dishonest to say no you admit yourself. You have always found Blade attractive, the sight of him shirtless an often occurrence would be the material of your fantasies at night when you think he’s asleep in the other room separate by thin walls. When you try to pull your leg up again you fail because he instead tugs it up to him, settling your heel on his shoulder and placing a surprisingly tender kiss on your calf. Something in you wobbles, and you can’t help but notice how the small gesture makes your legs relax and open up to him.

“Okay.” It’s whimpered out, said with enough force that is makes the dark strands of hair stuck to your face blow in the soft breeze from your lips. A word so simple and so small makes the villain above you tremble from his wanting and you can’t even catch your breath in time when he lunges forward to press a kiss so deep to your lips you worry Blade wants to consume you. Like a snake with a mouse, a wolf to a rabbit, him to you. The kiss is so violent you gasp when you feel the nipping of his teeth at your bottom lip and Blade is no different here than he is in combat. Your mouth is open and he presses his tongue into the soft cavern of your mouth, letting it flow past your own in a seductive waltz that’s enough to make you moan for him. The sound makes him purr, you feel the rumbling in his exposed now healing chest and you feel so helpless when one of his hands goes to grip your thigh, fully wrapping around its softness to pull it up and away so he can press the whole of himself against you.

It’s enough to make you blush, warm and vivid as you squirm from the feeling the weight of him pressed against the most intimate crux of your thighs - you can feel the swell of his bulge stiff and hard against your aching cunt. Blade pulls away from your lips not without nipping at them one last time to make you whimper and you can see the same thrill-sick smile he wears on his handsome face when in a fight leering down at you.

“Tastes sweet, give me more.” You feel lost in a haze, his words lulling you just like Spirit Whisper does - so you nod your head emptily your eyes dilated and wanting for him. Your mouth is relaxed, letting out sot whines when you feel his calloused hands go to grip your body, they sink and squeeze the soft flesh of your breasts his thumbs finding the peaking tips of your nipples to pull and play with at his leisure. You remind him of any sort of small, soft furred pet so easily pleased by gentle little touches that it makes Blade chuckle into your lips.

“So easily pleased, I will enjoy having my way with you.” He rumbles voice so deep it lulls you deeper into the searing heat in your belly as your chest gets played with more and more until you squirm beneath him. Desperate and keen to have more you let your hand sneak down to the bottom of your top and begin to try to take it off, desperate to feel his skin on your own rather than be groped through your clothes.

“More - please more, I want to feel you please.” You plead, lifting your top until your soft stomach is revealed and your hand is taken over his own that grip the sides of your thin shirt and rip the material away from you in a show of pure strength.

“More?” he laughs like your pleas deeply amuse him, like the thrill of debasing you is enough to make him break from the fog of his mind to smile at you with glinting fangs in the dark of your room. “Very well then, I will give you all that you ask for and more.”

Your flesh is no different then you spirit - both belonging to him now that you feel the bare skin of his hands gripping at whatever is available to him. His hands pass over the softness of your stomach the touch almost ticklish until you feel how his hands grope at your chest. His hands are warm and rough - their touch against your breasts makes you sing the soft cry of your pleasure. Blade watches you faithfully, keeping his eyes on your flushed face even as his own face descends to where his hands are pinching and pulling at your supple flesh.

The peaks of your nipples are hard against his fingers and the ache in his jaw is too much to bear. You have no warning to his touch - you are so deep in it now, pleasure is like the waves of the coast’s on your home planet you think dazed. His mouth comes to seal around one of your nipples and like a torrent the heat buzzes down to your stomach from how good it feels. You are whining, squirming from beneath him your hips grinding against his form having your chest played with. You can hear him grunt faintly from below you, and you flinch when you feel one of his hands go to your bottoms and tug at them until you hear another haunting rip. The cold air of the ac is felt on your bare skin, making you shiver from the difference of temperature. His hot mouth that moves from one nipple to the other, the cold air on the heated, sticky flesh of your cunt that flutters at the attention your nipple gets as the other one fizzles from the stimulation. Your hands go to Blade’s hair, lost in the dark blue tresses and you whine weakly at the peaceful look of serenity on his face.

“You enjoying yourself?”You ask, mind addled by the lust and your hips settling in a rhythm against his own crotch as your rub your own need against the bulge in his pants. Saffron eyes open and the burning red is so consumed by the inky black of his pupil that it alone answers your question. He answers you with not with words but with actions, the feeling of his fingers at your the wet seam of your cunt. He merely rests them there, letting the pads of his fingers touch the leaking slick like honey that drips out of you so sweetly.

“I think we both are.” Blade says pulling way from you, strings of spit following him as this fingers cautiously press into you. It makes you gasp, arching into the touch as his fingers find the glistening pearl of your clit that wants for pressure, to be touched and to be used. Whining into the air between the two of you it makes you tremble the dexterity that Blade shows as he beings to twirl his sticky fingers around your pearl.

“I am glad Kafka sought you out,” Blade mumbles to you, pressing a final kiss to the peaked nub of your nipple before bringing his attention to your lower half , “You deserve to be rewarded for your work.” Any though you might have had is gone as you feel his finger press into the entrance of your cunt - his fingers are long, longer than your own and it make you break out in shivers at just how full only one feels. Your hands that have hanged at your sides uselessly curled into weak half fists, now come to clutch at his broad shoulders with dull nails leaving the skin red as you feel his finger pump in and out of you.

“Are you really that happy I am here?” The question comes out wobbly and more pathetic than you would have liked but your heart soars when you hear his deep hum of agreement. It makes your cunt flutter, the needy thing it is and you feel him shift to press another finger against you. You are a whimpering little mess, squirming and gasping at how good it feels when he curls the two fingers that have made their way inside of you. He does it rhythmically, on sound counts of one, two, one, two that make you leak down to his broad palm.

“Yes, I am,” the words come out breathless and your thigh aches where it is held in place so Blade can watch how your flushed cunt takes his fingers like it never wants to part with them. Your wanting makes you a mess and the bits of praise he gives you clearly make you want for more as you twitch up against at his admittance.

“Always so very helpful, even now - you are a true gift brought to me. A small pleasure to spoil myself with.” Blade speaks to you and it’s almost too much. He never says much but each word spoken in that deep voice you would dream about at night is making your chest ache after spending so much time alone. The pleasure of having his fingers feel around that special bundle of nerves in your cunt. Your fingers dig deep into the muscle of his shoulders and your back arches like a bow about to be released as you cum with a half breathed gasp for the first time this night.

His fingers keep moving, prolonging the pleasure until it comes out in rivets - sticky and messy now at your thighs that cools off immediately when exposed to the air of the room. You are watched ever presently, and burning black eyes watch you like prey at how your tilt your head back to gasp into the pillows bearing the gentle slope of your neck to him. His lips brush against the soft skin and you are so lost in the sea that you don’t feel him there until you bear the stinging of his teeth digging into the skin there.

You gasp, tensing up and stiffen until he pulls away - with a dark mark blooming the fairness of your skin with the perfect indents of his teeth imprinted on your skin.

“There.” Blade states simply as if it was the most common thing in the world to do. You don’t even have time to react before you feel two strong hands lock around your thighs and twist you around, laying you on your back with your knees pressed to your chest. You feel exposed and meek like this, trembling beneath the weight of him as Blade fluidly like a panther upon the weak rolls his shoulders a mere show of how easily he can overpower you.

You let out a squeak - a sound so thin you are surprised he even heard as you how he smiles vaguely at you from above you. But you find that you can’t even meet his gaze when as you feel something hard pressed against you. The length and girth from the touch alone paints it in your mind as impressive but you squirm when feel it’s leaking head press against you. It is futile however, a rabbit can not rum from the trap once it’s leg is caught and there is no where left for you to turn too as Blade presses the length of himself into you slowly, deliciously. You feel like a fish out of water, failing to catch your breath at just how big it feels ; your fingers or your fantasies could have never prepared you for this, the real long, hard and hot thing between your legs.

Your nails are racking down the muscle of his arms, leaving trails of fire in their wake that quickly heals over leaving his skin like porcelain while your own figure it stained with bruises in the shape of his finger tips. Blade fairs no better than you, mouth agape and brow beaded with sweat at your tightness despite it being lax and wet from his fingers your poor pussy struggles to accommodate him. Spreading your legs to have both placed on his shoulders he’s pressed against you completely. Skin against skin and he is quick to press his face against yours - to press kisses into your gasping mouth as he continues to drive his length into you.

“Good - you are doing very good, just take what is left.” He murmurs in between tugs on your bottom lip and you nod your head emptily whining vaguely at the prospect of there being more. You don’t even know when it is you started to weep - messy and noisy little bleats of it being too much for you when you can feel his hips flat against yours. He rest inside you, full and pulsing in your walls and you can feel Blade’s heartbeat dancing at the same pace as your own.

You open your mouth to speak but find nothing comes out as you moan with how good the drag of his cock feels against your walls, stimulating every part of your being to your innermost self to your core. Your eyes water with fresh tears and you stutter out gasps of his namesake, making him shiver down to the marrow of his spine as he drives further into you. His form crowds yours on the bed, bending you in half completely as Blade has his way with you. The sound between the two of you grow louder and louder - the smacking of his hips against yours, the endless moans between the two of you and the wet shucking noise your messy cunt makes from how good he fucks you fill the room in a degenerate orchestra.

You make the mistake of peering down at where you connect and let out a withering gasp that Blade matches with a thin laugh. You see it - strings of your slick cling to the flushed sides of his cock in a creamy mix and you let out a cry as Blade feels you clench on him.

“Do you like that? Do you enjoy watching yourself get fucked? He asks you, voice heated and breathless as he gazes at you from above. He takes in your flushed face and half lidded eyes and the way your mouth hangs letting out soft and needful little sounds. Your confession comes out tumbling from your lips - wet and pathetic little babbles of mindless “yes.” Your hands that clung to his shoulders go to wrap around his neck and lace through his hair to pull and tug. Blade moans, back arching and angling his hips to hit you deeper, another scant few inches sinking into you.

“Fuck me - please, please.” You whimper into his lips that brush against yours, flushed and kissed raw. He nods, obediently and the pace picks up and you blush bright red when you hear the beat of the headboard beating against the wall. Gasping, your clit aches for more attention and you find your own hand coming down to folds of your cunt to rub wet little circles to the needy nub. You cum just from that, having the pearl of you clit petted a little and with every inch of Blade buried so deep inside of you feel him in your stomach. You don’t even have the strength to tell him, just letting out a wailing cry as you cunt turns soft around him.

Blade grunts from above you, brows burrowed and set as he sneaks his own hand down between the two of you and presses the rougher skin of his fingers against your twitching pearl. He rubs at the sensitive thing, even if it makes your thighs tremble and your hips buck from it being too much - he does not stop. You already came and in a desperate attempt you try to pull your head out of the water without knowing that Blade is the one who will tell you when to breath.

“One more, give me the one.” He murmurs into your lips, taking your bottom one in between his teeth letting it grow red from the bite before pressing his tongue into your mouth. Your eyes are rimmed red and crossed as you feel another orgasm coming, the rubber band begging to be snapped again on his cock but it grows too hard too fas and you don’t even recognize the pitched and whiny noises you make. Everything is a blur of sensation, everything too much yet you yearn for more and more. You let your mouth drop and slide your tongue against his mindlessly as it becomes harder and harder for your to think or to try to speak. You only murmur helplessly to him,

“I can’t - can’t come again, it’s too much.” Blade shakes his head at you, giving you harder thrusts that makes you feel the head of his cock against your limits, the wall of your cervix and you tremble beneath him.

“You can, give it to me. I won’t ask again.” His voice is clear but you catch how it wavers at the end and it feels like seeing the arms of the titan Atlas wavier under the weight of the sky. His strokes go from hard and deep to shallow and fast as your cunt flutters around his weakly. Leaning up with your last piece of strength to lift your neck you press your forehead to his, eyes close in bliss as you whine your warnings to him about the end of your rope. With a final touch to your clit, you cum with a pained squeal of his name. An orgasm so strong it makes your pelvis ache and burn as your own hips circle and jut out to try and match his.

Blade does not falter, stamina endless as he fucks you through the waves of your orgasm that make you wither, legs limp on his shoulders as he pulls away from you - hissing at how his cock catches against the seam of your cunt. Blade rests his length on your stomach, flushed a dark pink and leaking onto your soft skin as he pumps himself to completion over your stomach. His cum paints your pale skin into a translucent pearl and he shudders with the notion of more - more of you, more of this, forever.

But for now, you will rest prettily beneath him, as he gently takes your legs off his shoulders - if you were more lucid you would think it’s funny. You never would have thought a man like him would be capable of being gentle. But you see it, in the way his hands rub against your thighs and you are being tucked in. Your eyes are almost shut completely before you feel a gentle touch to your cheek. Groggily you open your eyes, and Blade gazes upon you with an unreadable expression despite the red on his face and his messy hair.

His touch is careful and delicate as his brushes hair away from your dewy cheeks. Weakly, you lean into his touch eyes closed and relax as your hoarse voice asks,

“Is this…how it will be?”

“Would that please you?” He asks back, hand stilled on your cheek as your eyes struggle to open. His face unreadable but open. You fight back a small smile as you realize that he wants to know, to know if he can make you happy.

“Yes.” You utter as you relax into his touch, fulling closing your eyes and settling into the bed more comfortably. You don’t see it but you hear his amused huffed all the same and the way he rubs his thumb against your still blushing cheek.

“Then it will be this way.”

[itacats]

2 Lines Means Positive (mini-series)

FT: Simon Riley x reader

Warnings: pregnancy, worries of repeating the past/being a bad father, please let me know if anything else should be here!🙏

A/N: Baby fever is in full swing this last little while, and I thought why not plague you all with a mini-series! There will be more to come for some of the other TF141 gang, but they'll just have to wait their turn.

SUM: Simon, a man haunted by a turbulent past, finds an unexpected moment of peace in a quiet Manchester evening. When you call him into the kitchen with life-changing news, he’s forced to confront the shadows he thought he’d left behind.

Whispers of Hope

In the heart of Manchester, the rain poured steadily, creating a rhythmic backdrop that seemed to wash the world in a muted symphony. The room was bathed in a cozy, golden glow from the dim lamps scattered around, their light reflecting off the dark wood accents and worn leather couch. Shadows flickered gently, forming a mosaic of memories on the walls—memories that Simon Riley could never quite leave behind. These walls had seen him at his most vulnerable, his most broken, but they had also held the echoes of laughter, soft conversations, and the comfort that you both had woven into this place over time.

From his seat on the couch, Simon watched you glide through the kitchen with the kind of ease and grace that he found both foreign and comforting. There was an air of simple beauty about you as you moved, your sleeves rolled up, strands of hair slipping down past your ears, framing your face. You didn’t need to look up to feel his gaze; the warmth of his presence filled the room like a tangible force, blending with the aromas of herbs and simmering vegetables. It was these small moments—your content hum, the sizzle of food in the pan—that painted the portrait of a life he never thought he’d be part of.

You had pieced together a life of quiet sanctuary from the fragments of two turbulent pasts. Here, the ordinary became sacred: the unhurried evenings, the lazy weekend mornings, the feeling of safety that had been so hard to come by. It was fragile yet profoundly resilient, like the ivy that grew stubbornly through cracks in the cobbled streets outside. Every meal, every tender moment shared was a testament to your joint determination to build something out of nothing, to push back the darkness with a relentless light.

As he rose from the couch, crossing the worn wooden floor toward the kitchen, Simon felt a swell of emotions that had taken him years to understand, much less articulate. In the delicate frame of the person he loved, he saw a reflection of his own transformation—a man haunted by wars, scars, and regrets, now finding himself on the cusp of something he never believed he deserved: hope. The shadows in his mind receded a little as he approached, drawn forward by your voice.

“Simon! Can you come here for a second?” Your voice held an edge of anticipation, soft yet weighted, as if bracing for the impact of the moment. He quickened his pace, heart drumming in sync with the rain outside, a mixture of curiosity and unspoken worry bubbling beneath the surface.

“Sure, love. What’s up?” His words were casual, but his heart pounded as he watched you, a small plastic stick in your hand, held with the care and fragility of a message that could alter everything. Your eyes flickered with something unreadable—a mix of wonder and anxiety—and it was a look he’d come to know well: the way you gathered strength before sharing something you held close to your heart.

As you looked up, drawing a breath, the world around Simon slowed. All the battlefields, all the sleepless nights, all the walls he had built around himself felt oddly insignificant. He could feel the gravity of this moment settling over him, seeping into his bones, as the words left your lips:

“I’m pregnant.”

The words reverberated through the kitchen, hanging in the air like an incantation. For Simon, it was as if time had splintered. A swirl of thoughts collided within him—visions of childhood, flashes of solitude, echoes of a life filled with struggle and survival. But above all, one thought loomed larger than the rest: Could he be the father this child would need? He had always thought of parenthood as a distant, almost impossible concept—a role reserved for men without his past.

His gaze flickered to yours, searching for the strength he suddenly felt slipping through his grasp. “Wow…” he whispered, the word barely escaping. Simon could feel the old fears creeping in, familiar and unwelcome. His own childhood flickered in his mind like a reel of dark images, a life marked by pain and isolation. How could he, someone so steeped in darkness, nurture a life so fragile and innocent?

You stepped toward him, your hand reaching for his arm, grounding him with a gentle pressure. “Simon? Are you okay?” The tremor in your voice softened as you met his gaze, unwavering, clear—a lighthouse guiding him back to shore.

He closed his eyes for a moment, sighing as he combed a hand through his dark hair, trying to gather his scattered thoughts. “I just… I don’t want to screw this up. I’m afraid, love. Afraid of what I carry inside—afraid that I’ll let you both down.” His voice trembled, each word revealing cracks in the armor he’d worn for so long.

You held his gaze, firm and sure, your hand rising to rest over his chest, right above his heart. “Simon, you’re more than your past. You’ve faced so much, but you’ve never faced it alone, and you won’t now. We’ll do this together.”

In that moment, Simon felt an indescribable warmth—a kind of healing light that began to seep through his defenses. Here, in the heart of your small kitchen, surrounded by the comforting scent of dinner and the quiet rain outside, he felt something rare: hope. His world, once defined by battles and shadows, was now tinged with the promise of something softer, something worth fighting for in a different way.

“I want to be there for you—and the baby,” he confessed, feeling the weight of the words settle like an oath in his heart. It was a declaration, one spoken not from fear but from love.

“And you will be,” you whispered, a tear slipping down your cheek, the warmth in your eyes a mirror to his own. For once, Simon wasn’t haunted by the ghosts of his past but guided by the love in your gaze.

He pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you, feeling the reassurance and strength of this newfound purpose. Together, you stood amidst the rain’s gentle rhythm, a silent promise lingering between you. For the first time, Simon Riley felt a light within him strong enough to break through any darkness—a light he would carry forward, forged not by fear, but by a love that would lead him into the unknown.

Here's the current post schedule with some upcoming stories to look forward to!

[planetpedri]

this is gonna make me sob into my pillow but #2 angst thingy with pedri 😣😣😣😣😣😣😣😣

Peace — Pedri González.

Pairing: Pedri González x Fem!Reader

Summary: Breaking up after a a three year long relationship had hurt you tremendously, but when Pedri had texted you that he got injured and wanted you to come to the hospital… well you couldn’t say no.

Word count: 1.47k+

Disclaimer/s: Based off the prompt ‘Hold me, please?’ , angst to comfort / fluff.

A/N: hi im on an angst kick don’t expect much happiness coming out of bea’s blog.

You reread and reread Pedri’s text. Over and over and.. you get the gist. You couldn’t help the pity that built in your heart, but you also couldn’t help the anger that arose along with it.

It had only been a week, for God’s sake. You’d broken up a week ago and the wound was still fresh. Angry thoughts clouded your mind the whole drive to the hospital, all the way up the elevator, to the door, but the second it opened and your eyes landed on the man you had folded.

Every rage filled feeling disappeared, replaced by the overwhelming urge to comfort him. You hold back, cautiously poking your head through the door. “Uh, can I come in?”

At one side of the bed was Pedri’s mother, only furthering to the awkwardness of it all. Seeing your ex and his mother a week after you’d broken up was not something you imagined happening, yet, here you were.

María stood, her eyes darting between her son and the woman she’d grown to adore so dearly. She had to fight the smirk threatening her lips when she saw the tension in her son’s shoulders depleting.

“I’m going to the cafeteria to find your father.” She says, patting Pedri’s head, “it’s nice to see you again.” She offers you a kind smile before rushing out of the room.

“You too..” You begin, but she was already long gone. Left alone in the depressing hospital room, you find your gaze drifting to his leg. “Jesus..” You mumble.

Pedri doesn’t say anything, simply letting out a quiet hum of acknowledgment. He watches you carefully as you make your way to the side of his bed.

“I don’t.. I don’t really know what to, uhm—“ You were grasping at straws for something to say. Nothing came to mind, causing a flush to spread across your cheeks along with a nervous laugh.

The tan man couldn’t help the way his eyes softened and the small, barely noticeable smile of his lips. He’d missed you. Everything about you, he had missed. The breakup of course, was his fault. He been so stressed with football that he’d taken it out on you, saying things he didn’t mean but couldn’t take back.

“You don’t have to say anything.” He speaks, wearily. He wanted so badly for you to just look at him, he didn’t blame you for avoiding it, though.

“I feel like I probably should, I mean.. this is..” You were once again, at a loss for words. “I’m so sorry, this sucks.” Pathetic. That was pathetic.

Pedri was unfortunately, very injury prone. You’d been in this position many times, but this was different. You couldn’t rush to his side, you couldn’t shower him in apologetic kisses, you couldn’t do the things you used to. And those were the only ways you knew how to comfort him.

Your legs brushed against the hospital bedsheets, when you remember. “Oh! Shit, I almost forgot, I set them down outside the door because I wasn’t sure if they would be appropriate right now.. Wait, I’ll be right back.” And just like that, you were gone, leaving Pedri completely and utterly confused.

When you returned, you had a blanket and, what you’d called the ‘designated hospital hoodie’ in your hands. He recognized them instantly. Your favorite hoodie of his, and the blanket you’d used specifically on the nights he’d stay over and the two of you would fall asleep on the couch.

“I figured it would get cold in here, it always does.” You gingerly hand him the items, freezing when his fingers brushed against yours.

Pedri froze as well, his eyes snapping up to you. “Sorry, uhm, thank you. Seriously.”

“It’s no problem.” You cough, “so! How are you? How bad is it?”

Shaking his head with a tired sigh, Pedri winced as he scoots over on the bed, his jaw clenching as he does. “Joder. [fuck] ” He hisses in Spanish, taking a second to speak again, “you can.. sit down y’know?”

Hesitantly sitting onto the uncomfortable mattress, your eyebrows furrow, “you shouldn’t be moving so much.” You scold, easily slipping back into your old concerned girlfriend mode. “How many times do I have to remind you there are plenty of chairs I can sit on?”

“And how many times do I have to remind you, that I prefer you closer?” He rebutted, the both of you pausing when you realize you weren’t allowed to do this back and forth anything.

But, you shrug the feeling off. Despite how things had ended, you loved Pedri. You cared for him. He was hurting, and you were not about to make him hurt any more by opening up the wounds that were still fresh.

“Well, your comfort is a bit more important than your wants.” You crack a small grin, “how did surgery go?”

Pedri huffs through a painful exhale. “I don’t want to talk about medical shit anymore. I’ve had to deal with my families badgering all day…” He hesitates before continuing, “I know this is overstepping, but could you just.. lay down? You don’t have—“

“I’d lay down if you weren’t hogging all the pillows.” You tease, “move your big head.” Shifting around to a sitting position beside him, you wiggle around till the thin blankets were out from under you and on top of you.

He laughs, the sound sweet and welcoming to your ears. You turn your head to the side, meeting his eyes directly for the first time since you stepped into the room. “This is only mildly weird.”

“Yeah.” He agrees, taking the blanket you’d brought and spreading it out over the two of you. “Another boundary crossing question…?”

“I don’t see why not.” You swallow, not knowing what was about to come out of your ex’s mouth.

“Hold me?” He asks with the saddest eyes, “please?”

Listen, you were no fool. You knew your actions would have consequences. This simple act was going to either lead to your heart breaking even more, or potentially causing you to go against your morals and allow forgiveness.

You couldn’t get yourself to speak, instead, you lift your arm to wrap around the back of his neck and your hand came up to rest on his head. Pedri automatically relaxes against your shoulder, letting out a long breath of relief.

You stay like that for a while, your fingers threading through his soft hair while the other hand occupied on his cheek, it’s fingers rubbing smoothly back and forth along his cheekbone. It had always been the way you calmed him down when he was upset. The familiarity tugged at your heart strings and in that moment you didn’t care how badly this was going to hurt you, you only cared it would make him feel better.

Plus, he always told you how much peace he felt when he was in your arms, and thats all you wanted him to feel in the moment.

“Pedri?” You quietly beckon him to look at you, which he does. His eyes fluttered open and a small hum leaves his lips. “You know I can’t stay..”

He tries to hide his disappointment, but you knew him too well. “I understand. Sorry, I shouldn’t have even asked you to come, I know I hurt you.”

“Hurt is one way to put it.” You quirk an eyebrow, hiding the genuine words behind a teasing grin.

His eyes flicker around your face, noticing every crack in your expression. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean the things I said. I can do better, I will.”

“That’s not enough. The things you said.. Pedri, I can’t just forget them.” Exasperated and ready for the conversation to end, you tap his head. “Just lay back down.”

Pedri shakes his head, “no, we need to talk—I need to talk about this! I don’t want you to forget, just hold me accountable and give me another chance.” His tongue darts out, wetting his lips. “Please, cariño.”

That stupid, stupid, stupid pet name. The only one you ever really loved when it left his lips.

“Can we talk about this when you’re not suffering from an injury? Like, what, two months? When your head is clear, and i’ve had time to get over what you said.. you call me. Then, we can talk about it.” You push his head back onto your shoulder and rest yours against his hair.

“Okay. Two months?” Pedri’s hand that had wrapped around your waist, dips under your shirt, rubbing slow circles. “I can do that.”

Pressing a short kiss to his hair, you hum. “I’ll leave when your mom comes back. Don’t text me or contact me till those two months are up, got it?”

Pedri groaned, “nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“Fine.” He rolls his eyes.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in any pedri posts.

DTS , @halfwayhearted @sakashq @hrts4havertz @joaoflms @spidybaby @gadriezmannsgirl @unx100to !

[gotta-winwin]

2019 debut year <> first meetings - maknae line

word count: 2.1k TW: a bit of swearing, cyana is sad for some reason italics are in english and bolded words are in Mandarin this is a continuation from the hyung line fic, so please read that for continuity's sake!

౨ৎ ─── ─── ──౨ৎ─── ─── ──౨ৎ─── ─── ──౨ৎ

MINGHAO:

Although he had been all but ready to make fun of Jun when he was nervous and shy, Minghao found himself suffering just the same as Cyana approached him. Being the final member to meet her officially, he had the gruelling process of waiting as she slowly made her way through members before finally reaching him. "Hi. Nice to meet you, I'm Xu Minghao." He opted for a hug rather than a handshake, smiling when Cyana wrapped her arms comfortably around his waist. Parting, Cyana shot him a bright smile. "I'm so glad you and Jun speak Mandarin. I haven't met anyone besides my parents who knew the language." Minghao was glad to have brought her a sense of comfort. "We're just as happy. It's always nice to meet someone connected to home. Where in China are you from?" "My parents lived in Shenzhen before moving to Vancouver." Minghao's eyes widened and he glanced at Jun, who was lazily stretching, warming up for practice. "Jun's from Shenzhen too." Cyana followed his gaze, frowning when she saw the boy. "He's very quiet." She gathered. Minghao nodded, chuckling. "He's shy around strangers. He'll warm up, don't worry. He was quiet around me too, when we first met." He turned to look at her, studying her before continuing. "You're quiet too though, a little bit." Cyana flushed. "I don't really speak much, yeah. Prefer to listen most times." Honestly, Minghao didn't mind. He enjoyed the peaceful nature that seemed to radiate off her even within the short time they'd met. It was a change from the usual chaotic energy SEVENTEEN oozed of that Minghao accepted gratefully. "If it ever gets too much, Wonwoo and I are usually quieter company. We don't like doing too much outside of work." He didn't miss the way her face soured when he brought up Wonwoo's name. Cyana took his advice and invitation gratefully, promising to tell him if things ever got too much and to come find him whenever necessary. He savoured the look on her face, one of pure innocence and blissful unawareness of the tumultuous waves idol life could be. He distinctly remembered entering Korea with the same wide-eyed look on his own face and made a quiet promise he'd help keep that glow in Cyana's face as long as possible.

DK:

"Hi hi~" DK bounced up to Cyana, shaking her hand vigorously. He had heard Seungcheol's warning in the beginning -- to be calm and not to overwhelm the girl -- but he just had so much excitement to share! This was a day of celebration, having a new member join them, and it irked him a bit that the others were not treating it as such. "I'm Dokyeom, nice to meet you!" He sang, smile widening when Cyana moved to match his energy. "Hi, Dokyeom~" Cyana giggled at the boy's actions, unconsciously matching both his tone delivery and his movements, hands in his as they both jumped with excitement. She found it endearing, how energy seemed to spill out of him uncontrollably. "I wanted it to be a big celebration," He explained, pausing for Joshua to quickly translate. "I was going to order a cake, put up decorations, maybe some gifts-" Cyana protested profusely. "No, no- that's too much work." Deterred from his original train of thought by her sudden Korean, DK cooed, shaking her as he died at how cute it was. "Ah~ so cute!" Cyana blushed, unsure of what to do with the amount of attention DK was giving her. She was also hyperaware of the fact that he was still clutching her hands from before. Noticing how stiff her posture had gotten all of a sudden, DK immediately took a step back, unlatching himself from her and apologizing. Cyana shook her head. "No, no, it's okay. Just caught me off-guard." She sent him a warm smile. "This is nice." She admitted after a pause, enjoying how comfortable she was around him. She felt as if she had known Dokyeom for ages. DK sent back a blazing smile of his own. "Yes." He agreed happily, "So nice. So amazing. So unbelie-bubble." Cyana let out a loud laugh, startling everyone, including herself. It had been the loudest sound she'd made since entering the room. DK grinned, proud. Her laugh was really pretty, he realized. It made him want to make her laugh again just to hear it, to bathe in the warmth of it. Hell, he'd bottle it up if he could.

MINGYU:

Mingyu knew Wonwoo was hiding behind him. A coward, he mused, as he watched Cyana make her way slowly towards them. He couldn't understand why so many of them were nervous to meet her, Cyana was just a girl like so many others they had met before. "Hello~ I'm Mingyu." He opened his arms tentatively for a hug and felt both pride and relief when she had accepted. Okay, maybe he was a little nervous. He was scared she'd find him intimidating because of his sheer height and size. "You're- so tiny." He said, gesturing with his hand how short she was compared to him. Cyana gave him a look. "We've only just met and you're making fun of my height?" Mingyu spluttered, backtracking. "I- um." He pointed wordlessly at a cackling Vernon. "He teach me- to say." Vernon had insisted the line would be a good icebreaker. Now she seemed more amused then offended. "Ah~ I see. It's okay, I was only joking. You are very tall." He nodded, agreeing. "Yes. The most tall." He thought she seemed quite impressed by it all. "Your English is good!" She complimented, happy that they were able to carry a decent conversation on their own. He grinned. "Practice." He pointed at Vernon again. "Vernon." Cyana smiled. He liked making her smile, it brightened her face and the hint of sadness within her eyes disappeared when she did. Mingyu wondered what on earth could have made her so sad so early in the morning, but figured they were not close enough to directly ask. He didn't really know how to say all that in English anyways.

SEUNGKWAN:

Seungkwan found it both a bit endearing and amusing, the way Cyana was following behind him as they toured SEVENTEEN's floor. He likened her to a confused and intrigued cat, running her hands across the wall as he led her down the hallway towards the main lobby. Her eyes shone, and she was listening with full attentiveness at whatever he was saying. "This is- uh, recording studio, three recording studio, here." He pointed to the hallway to the left of them. "And here-" he paused, doing his best to recall the English word for 주방. "Here is kitchen. Eating~" He mimed eating food as Cyana nodded. He'd noticed that Cyana was very quiet and only ever talked if it was to answer a question. He didn't mind of course, many members had been like that too when they'd first met, but it confused him why a child actor would be so shy. "You are actor?" He asked, stopping in the lobby to get her response. He could almost feel the shift in the atmosphere the moment he asked the question. Cyana's shoulders tensed and she nodded. "In LA, yes." "That's cool." He offered lamely, not really knowing what else to say. Getting the sense that she didn't want to talk about the topic, Seungkwan gestured over to the large screen that overtook one of the lobby walls, currently displaying scenes from SEVENTEEN's music videos. "Seventeen." He said, still at a loss of words. It was rare for him not to know what to say, he prided himself in being good at filling silences, but this particular silence felt heavy and sad. He glanced at Cyana, who had her neck craned up as she watched the bright screen flash. The lights reflected against her irises and Seungkwan could swear she was holding back tears. Perhaps it was the homesickness, he deduced, scolding himself for bringing up her acting career. She had probably found it hard to leave everything behind. She turned to him and the heavy silence was gone. "These are all you guys?" She asked, pointing at the screen. Seungkwan nodded. "You guys are amazing." She marvelled. "So synchronized and captivating." "You." He pointed at the screen, having only understood the first compliment. "Soon." She smiled ruefully. "Hopefully. I wouldn't want to let you guys down." He wanted to let her know that he was sure the company had told her that everything was on her shoulders and that their success depended solely on her but the members wouldn't think that way. They'd all been there before, moments before debut and wondering if they'd somehow fail and disappoint the others. He wanted to tell her not to think like that. That she should be performing and working hard for herself and not because she had to. If he could say it in Korean and have her understand, he would have.

VERNON:

"Wassup, I'm Vernon." He shook Cyana's hand, confused when the girl seemed to be fixated on his face. "Is there something on my face?" He asked, reaching up to pat it. Cyana blinked out of her stupor. "Sorry. No, it's just-" She pointed at his sunglasses. "Why are you wearing sunglasses indoors?" "Oh." He took them off sheepishly. "I don't really know." Cyana let out a tiny laugh, gesturing for him to put them back on. "Keep them on, I didn't mean it in a judgemental way." Vernon placed them back on and Cyana couldn't help but laugh at how he seemed to just listen to her without thinking. Maybe it was the tie-dye tshirt or the terribly ripped jeans as well, but Vernon just seemed like a walking meme to Cyana and she found it incredibly funny. "Well, now I just feel like you're laughing at me." Vernon complained, although he was sporting a similar grin. Cyana shook her head, still laughing. "No, no, I swear I'm not." "Don't lie~ You so are." Vernon found that he liked the easy banter that seemed to flow seamlessly between them, realizing just how fast they seemed to click. "No, I'm laughing with you, not at you." "Right. You're going to tell me you actually enjoyed watching Birdbox next." Cyana's jaw dropped. "I actually really hate Birdbox." Vernon's eyes lit up. He'd tried using that line once on Joshua before, but the older boy hadn't understood what Vernon was getting at. "No fucking way." Vernon couldn't contain his excitement. "No one ever gets that reference." "You watch movies too then?" She asked, smiling when he said yes. If Seungcheol hadn't called everyone in for a group huddle before practice, Vernon would've whipped out his letterboxd to compare with hers right then and there. As if having a new member couldn't get any better.

DINO

Dino thrummed with anticipation as he patiently waited for his turn to speak with Cyana. She was really pretty, Dino observed, and she was really shy too. She seemed to interact with most of his hyungs with a sort of apprehension, as if secretly a little bit terrified. Dino couldn't blame her. He supposed they probably did look a little terrifying, all 13 of them when there was just 1 of her. "Hello~" He said, nervous when she approached him. "I'm Dino. And Chan. We're same, uh- old? age. Same age." His ears turned pink at his little stumble. Thankfully, Cyana didn't react to his mistake. "Really?" She said instead, lighting up. "I didn't know that. I've always wanted a friend my age." He thought for a little bit before replying. "Me too." He gave her a bright smile, praying that it'd make up for his poor English. Something about the fact that they were both the same age seemed to have soothed Cyana, as she took a step closer to Dino and held at her phone. "I- um, could you," She flushed as she tried to explain. "do you have the wifi?" Dino's shoulders relaxed, thankful it was a question he could answer. Taking the phone, he recognized her wallpaper to be a view of the Han River. Upon pointing it out, Cyana explained that she had passed by it on her way here and had fallen in love with how peaceful the waters were. He could understand what she meant. He often visited the Han River just to watch the current when he was a trainee. It served as a way to both relax and clear his mind. Handing the phone back, now connected to wifi, he mustered up the courage to ask her something before she could leave to say hi to someone else. "I- Han River. We can go, uh- together?" Cyana smiled and nodded. "Of course."

author's note: thank you so much for reading! thank you for all the love you've given this series and i'll be updating as much as possible. i've fallen in love with this universe and cyana lol.

[vanesycho]

f!reader x bf!vernon | m.list | wc:0,8k

request:hii can i please request a vernon imagine where svt doesnt believe theyre dating reader because hes so nonchalant but svt finds them either in a sweet or sexual position or something? its up to you! thank you <3

a/n: I apologize to the person who wrote the request. your request was deleted because the tags did not work in a way that I did not understand and I have to repost it...I hope it works this time.

I added a little texting at the end to make it a little more fun, enjoy reading!

"From the world to Vernon." Vernon looked up at Seungkwan's call "Oh sorry, were you saying something?" Kwan rolled his eyes, turned to the front and started muttering to himself "Oh really...What's wrong with this kid, his mind has been elsewhere lately." Jeonghan who entered the room answered him "Don't mess with him, he's probably texting with his girlfriend." It was obvious that the sentence he said was in a mocking tone and a few members laughed at this but Vernon didn't care and continued texting you. He didn't feel the need to prove to anyone that he was dating you because he didn't want to deal with it, and deep down he knew that they were all wrong and he was going to continue this as long as he could.

The rest of the day was spent both texting you and chatting with the others. When it was evening the next day, you were going to his house to surprise him because you missed him. In the meantime, a few members were gathered at his house watching a movie, unaware of everything. Dino, who was bothered by the notifications on Vernon's phone, whined "Yah! Either turn that sound down or answer." Vernon picked up his phone and smiled when he saw that the message was from you.

'I'm outside the door.'

'I missed you...can I see you for a few seconds?'

He cleared his throat and stood up, drawing attention to himself for a moment. "Go on without me, I have something to do, I'll be back." When he realized that they were continuing with the movie without questioning it, he went to the door. You ran to him as soon as you saw him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His arms that had been waiting for you found your waist and pulled you closer, burying his head in your neck and breathing in your scent. "I missed you." He mumbled, you chuckled and when you pulled away, he kissed you on the lips. "Did I come at the wrong time?" You knew the others were home so you didn't want to disturb them, but your longing for him got the better of you.

Vernon shook his head, one hand moving to your cheek, feeling him stroke it with his thumb. “It’s okay, after all, they wouldn’t believe me even if I said my girlfriend was here.” You laughed at that, he would send you a few voice recordings when they talked about Vernon lying, and it was definitely worth listening to. “So..When are we going to prove this to them?” you asked, although you didn’t mind it, you were curious about how far he would go. Vernon closed the gap between you again, his hand on your cheek moving to your neck, slowly pulling you closer to him as he murmured “I don’t really care if they believe me or not. All I care about is you right here with me, so just let me take care of you.”

His lips brushed gently against yours, and you couldn’t wait any longer because of your longing for him, and wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, kissing his lips more passionately. He laughed at how hungry you were in between the kisses, and didn’t hesitate to respond. He sucked your lower lip gently and his hand started to roam your body to feel every part of you that he missed. You opened your mouth and brushed your tongue against his-

"WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING??" Hoshi's shout echoed in the dark street, you backed away in fear and turned to the owner of the voice. His shout must have caught the attention of the other members because some of them opened the door and moved towards you while others settled at the window. "I think it's time they believe us now." You looked at the eyes looking at you as Vernon spoke as if nothing had happened. Dino was the last one to leave the door and complained "The movie is half-finished, can't you be surprised by this later?" When the others ignored him, he muttered a curse and went back to watch it alone. Kwan pursed his lips and folded his arms "So you weren't lying the whole time?" Vernon frowned in disbelief "Why would I lie about this?" And you guys tried to understand what he was saying by stealing glances at each other as Kwan continued to rant.

Once the strange event was over, you were invited to watch the rest of the movie. You were curled up on the couch with Vernon, your head on his chest. His hand was on your shoulder, he kissed your head, and still unused to this situation, the others exchanged strange glances. At least he wouldn’t be made fun of anymore, even if it was in a strange way.

[atalldrinkofcaprisun]

Don’t Wait For Me After I’m Gone (pt. 2)

silco x gn!reader - he didn’t die AU - tw: canon compliant violence, drug use - 18+

howdy!!! reposted and edited again! I’m having trouble with all of the links so sorry they’re not super functional right now. But anyways, I MISS MY WIFE TAILS!!

also on ao3 xx masterlist

The screaming was the worst part. You had been posted outside of The Doctor’s underground laboratory/cave for three hours now, under the orders not to enter unless you wanted to be sedated until the procedure was over.

When the Scientist arrived at the factory, he had started work immediately. The bullets nimbly extracted and quickly stitched, his hand feebly squeezing your own when he could. You had pressed kisses to his damp temples and pushed hair out of his face, back into his rumpled style. He’d even notice sometimes but it was clear he was in agony.

“It is good you kept that with you,” The Doctor nodded his head towards the injector lying cracked on the floor towards the far wall. You had thrown it off as soon as it had emptied, “He would have been unreachable if you had not administered the medicinal serum. It gave him just enough to hold on.”

“So, he’s going to be okay?” You asked, trying to give that little flame of hope in your chest something to fuel itself.

“He will survive, yes. Survival at least.” the bandaged man replied cryptically before returning his full attention to Silco, “I suggest making plans to move him to safety. Your opponents will be hunting for you soon if they haven’t started already.” He’d put a hand on your shoulder, “I know where they will not find you.”

Shortly afterwards, you had sprinted all the way back to The Last Drop. Exhausted and shaking, you’d only managed a stammering, “Silco. He’s- the warehouse…” before promptly passing out into Ran’s arms. You’d woken up in your bed, apparently you had only been out about 20 minutes.

Now, here you stood, arms crossed and leaning against a rough stone wall. Your nails dug into your skin, trying to center yourself. You couldn’t leave, not when he was in pain. Jinx had been permitted in. Whatever had transpired between Jinx and The Doctor had created a new trust. You had wanted to protest but when Jinx set Silco down on the examination table and sat quietly in a chair in the corner, her eyes not moving from Silco, you had surrendered. Jinx needed to know her father wasn’t going to be one more thing to haunt her. You could keep watch this time.

Sevika was elsewhere getting her arm fixed once again, and keeping all of the intelligence open for signs of what had been happening in Piltover. She’d headed back to The Drop. Running Zaun directly or alone had never been something you wanted. Especially now, with the love of your life still in danger of being lost forever, and your child being the cause on top of whatever had been done to her-

There came another string of rambles, ranging from terror to agony to anger. Occasionally you would hear The Doctor muttering. You could feel the wave of emotions settle between your shoulders, winding up the muscles like snakes tensing to bite. You needed a distraction.

Threats were going to be coming from all sides. Jinx had officially crossed the carefully toed line of impertinent interference that Silco had perfected. You didn’t know what the aftermath of the missile had been, and it didn’t take a genius to guess. A part of you didn’t care. Fuck the Topsiders for needing to be brought to the battlefield. Still, you couldn’t ignore the stiffness setting in your arms and neck, your hands clenched into fists as tears began to resurface.

Another moan of pain, this one low and mournful… your name again. You covered your ears and tried to fight the urge to bust through the door.

Fuck it. You’d rather be sedated then hear one more second of this without being able to help. Hands flew to the door handle of their own accord, but were met with the empty air as the door opened first.

Jinx’s pink eyes bore into your own, flat, “Doc say you can come in. Apparently he’s though the worst. Dad’ll- be okay.” She sounded completely drained.

You gathered Jinx in a tight hug, wanting to offer any sort of comfort you could, “He’s going to understand. We’ve been so worried about you, Blue.”

“I killed him.” She mumbled into your shoulder, “I almost-”

“But you didn’t,” you pulled back to look in her eyes, your hands pushing her bangs off of her forehead to finally get a good look. She was so pale now, worse than before, almost spectral. Her freckles and dark makeup only making her appear more sickly, she was smeared with dirt and blood and crusted tears. Her eyes weren’t glowing anymore, but their pale blue had been consumed by the eery magenta of Shimmer. “He knows how much you’re struggling. He isn’t dead. It was an accident. He knows that.”

Jinx didn’t look convinced, only lifting your arms off of her and pushing past into the fissures beyond, “I just need to be alone.“ She turned before she crossed behind the faint lantern glow, “You know where to find me,” and then she was gone.

You waited, letting the compulsion to run after her and comfort her dissolve for a later time. If anything would be able to get through to Jinx it would be Silco himself. In order for him to get the chance, however, you needed to make sure Silco would stay alive. Jinx was smart, and knew when and how to lay low. She would be alright for a few hours. With a deep breath and you headed into the attached cavern.

“Doctor, Is he-“ your gaze mimed fixated on the disheveled and miserable man strapped to the gurney. At the sound of your voice Silco’s eyes landed on you, relief washing over his expression the moment he processed what he was seeing. “Thank Jannah, Sil,” you sighed, stepping and crossing the space. Your hand fell into his, fitting perfectly into his palm, warm and alive and responsive. With a smile you took your free hand and pushed the strands of charcoal and ash hair out of his face, “Hey there, handsome.” You beamed.

The once bright orange iris, now matching his daughter’s pink hue, was scanning along your features, relief washing over the face you had come to love more than you had ever thought possible. His pale blue eye was just as intently looking at you, but his eyelid hung heavy with exhaustion, “What’s a creature like you,” his voice was strained and low, rumbling out of his chest more than his throat, “doing in a place like this?”

Your mind played the first time he had said that to you as you grinned, “That line is still too cheesy to work.”

“Better than the look you gave me when I said it then.” He hummed as your hand moved from his hair to brush his cheek, “Did I ever tell you it was Jinx’s idea?”

“To try and hit on me after saving my life or?” You laughed lightly.

“To tell you,” he wheezed for a second as a flare of purple raced up his skin and into his damaged iris, “ah, how pretty you looked.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek and the pain seemed to become just a little less.

“So you settled on calling me a creature?” You scoffed teasingly.

“Is now the time for such, frivolous things?” The Doctor’s tone was annoyed as he cut in. He started undoing the straps holding Silco down, and he motioned for you to help him.

You looked at the scientist with one brow raised as Silco sighed, “I’ve nearly died today. It makes a man think about things… differently,” his gaze didn’t move from your face, like he was studying it for the first time. You were used to his staring habit, but this felt different. Maybe it was the drugs, “so beautiful,” he muttered so low, he probably hadn’t even noticed he’d said it.

“Shut up, old man,” you smiled, “Save your breath.”

The Doctor moved to your side of the table, batting you away as he began to unstrap his arm and head. Which was only fair since you hadn’t even started to undo the buckle. Your hand slipped away from Silco’s and you immediately missed the feeling. The anxiety that boiled in your stomach was vicious and your skin seemed to itch with the need to continue to make sure Silco was truly alive and real, on the mend and going to survive. Once the kingpin was free, the Doctor took his pulse, then gently helped him rise to a sitting position. His face contorted with the pain but eased as he breathed through it. At last, Doc looked towards you and nodded, giving his permission, you could fully take in your paramour.

Silco’s left arm was protectively hugged around his bandage wrapped torso, his smoldering eye still pulsing pink as was it’s seafoam counterpart. His hair was haphazard and his makeup smeared away long ago, the ashen skin of his scar visible in large smudges. You wrapped your arms around him as gently as you could manage, still causing him to hiss ever so slightly. His heartbeat thumped away under your ear, protected in his rib cage, fast and a little irregular. His smell was tainted with blood and sweat but it was still him. His free arm pulled you closer, his nose resting on top of your head. Together you breathed. Just for a moment that to you, felt like the exact eternity you needed to find your voice.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

He chuckled deep in his chest, “I promise to try and not make it a habit, my lovely.”

You only burrowed further into his arms in reply. Your home was here. Safely by Silco’s side, in his arms, breathing and basking in the gift of having more time. Just as the tension had begun to ease from your shoulders Silco spoke again, “Where is Jinx? Is she alright?”

You met his gaze, “She’s… upset. She didn’t mean to kill you. I think she’s headed back to her lab. I wanted to go with her but…”

“But you needed to make sure I would be alright first.” He gently finished and ran a hand through your hair, “Thank you for saving me. Now we’re officially even.” He let his fingertips stroke your cheek, “We need to get to Jinx. I need to tell her I forgive her.”

“You won’t be able to walk on your own yet, old friend.” The Doctor spoke up again from his desk across the room, apparently he had returned to his more important projects, “Your body is still processing the serum. You don’t have your daughter’s vitality.”

Silco frowned over at the old scientist, “I think I can manage. And anyways,” he looked down at you, “I won’t be alone.”

You nodded, and stepped out of his embrace to help him down and onto his feet. As he touched the stone floor however, his legs seemed to buckle and he fell onto you heavily with a grunt of pain. You caught him and let him get his grip on the edge of the gurney. His teeth grinding as he pulled himself upwards, “Sil? Are you-?”

“It’s fine.” The ever stubborn Eye of Zaun commanded. The Doctor and you shared a quick look.

You knew he was lying but he had more pressing concerns than his own comfort at the moment, “Can you?” he gestured vaguely around himself. Asking for help was still not something he was completely comfortable with, but you knew what he meant.

You shifted around him, so one of your arms was around his midsection, the other was holding his hand as his own arm swept over your shoulders. Jinx’s Lab and The Last Drop were a bit of a walk away. The Doctor, grumbling all the while, retrieved a cane from some depths of his caverns and gave you what doses Silco might need if he took a sudden turn. With measured steps you began to lead Silco to the door. Just before you crossed the threshold, Silco tugged and stopped, “Thank you, Doctor. My family owes you a great debt.”

A stiff and matter of fact “I know.” was the only reply he received.

Silco pressed a kiss to your temple and together you set off.

[sweetbunpura]

Rollo tries to propose to Yuu but everyone tries to sabotage him 😈

LMAO, Rollo has to get through so many people just to propose to Yuu!

Rollo vs NRC

The fourth year had come, gone, and they NRC students had returned to the school to graduate. Rollo had spent his apprentice in Fleur city, learning about all he could with his new found interest in volunteer work and planning for his future... in more ways than one. He had purchased a ring, intending to propose to the love of his life at the graduation. Him and Yuu had only grown closer in the time apart, which was a surprise to Rollo, for he had heard how many couples had struggled with long distance relationships.

Outside of phone calls, Rollo had not see her for a year, so had had no idea how much she had changed. Taking a deep breath, he stepped through the portal and into the Mirror Chamber. Other 4th years were in there and chatting among one another, most paid him no mind....but he halted as a call of his name sounded.

"Roll-kun!" Cater waved him over.

Rollo approached him and took in the ginger's new looks. Cater had stayed the same height but his hair was different, he had dyed red locks on top of his longer hair. He wrapped him up in a hug and smiled.

"Look at you! Your hair has really grown out! Yuu-chan's gonna love it."

Rollo gave a soft smile and dragged his fingers through his long gray hair. "Thank you, Cater."

"And a smile too? She really changed you~"

"Indeed." Rollo patted his pocket and felt the box against it. "Now if you'll excuse me-"

"Going to see Child of Man with that ring?"

Rollo jolted and sighed as he turned around to see a smiling Malleus. "Malleus...."

"Hello, Flamme." Malleus gave a small bow. "Am I right in assuming you plan on asking her to marry you?"

"Wait, no kidding!?"

Rollo sighed and nodded. "I am. Now, I'm off to go find her. Farewell."

He left, complete unaware of Malleus and Cater smiling at each other. From there, Rollo could not find Yuu anywhere, and everyone he had asked had pointed him in various opposite directions. Idia and Ortho had straight up lied to him, stating that Yuu wasn't even here to begin with. Silver and Sebek just shook their heads and said that she might be else where, just not on campus. And yet everywhere else had wielding the results of "I don't know"

He was getting frustrated at this point, but before he could even think of where else to go, the announcement for the graduation started. With a sigh, he went to the podium and waiting for eveything to start.

Once the ceremony ended, he departed the stage and was about to start looking for her again, he got tackled.

"Enough of this!" Rollo glared at Deuce, Ace, and Grim. "Why is everyone so hellbent on stopping me!"

"You can't ask her to marry you." Ace grumbled.

"Yeah!" Grim added in. "She's my henchhuman and I don't want you macking on her!"

"By the sevens... We're already dating!" Rollo growled and pried the three off of him. "This is getting absurd!"

"You can't blame us..." Deuce said. "She means the world to us."

"I understand that, but she means the same to me." He sighed. "And I haven't seen her all day. We've only been communicating through calls... And I miss her terribly."

"Aw."

Rollo jolted and turned around to see Yuu standing behind him with Cater and Malleus in a headlock. She smiled warmly at her and her hair had gotten longer, they were worked into brains with hair ornaments in them.

"Love."

"Heard you been looking for me and everyone sent you on a wild goose chase." She shook Cater ad Malleus. "Thanks to these two."

"Guilty as charged~" Cater laughed.

"It was all in good fun." Malleus huffed.

"Now." She dropped them as they landed on the ground face down. "What's up?"

"I wanted to ask you something." He reached into his pocket and before he could get down on one knee to begin, the others started gathering around.

"Aw~ Snapping Turtle's gonna propose~" Floyd.

"How beautiful!" Rook.

"I'll be the one designing the dress no doubt." Vil.

"About time." Leona.

Rollo sighed as the chatter started up around him, Yuu tugged him forward by his robes.

"I know you had this all planned out, but you know how these guys are." She kissed him. "Put the ring on, the answer's gonna be yes no matter what."

Rollo opened the box and slipped the ring on her before placing his forehead on her shoulder.

"I hate them."

"No, you don't.

[pjomakesyourkidsgay]

one man orchestra | p. jackson

synopsis: you have an unexpected audience apart from your bunk and your dirty laundry.

warnings: fem!reader, persephone!reader, violin player!reader, bf!percy

wc: 618

being a demigod is hard.

it's not just the supernatural stuff, like monsters, godly feuds, prophecies and unwelcome dreams. there's the fact that you're just different from many kids your age when you're outside camp — you have to deal with studying through your dyslexia, seeing stuff that no one else would believe was real if you'd told them, fighting off beasts that seem to sense you no matter where you were.

although, to be honest, being in camp wasn't any easier.

just being the daughter of persephone, a virgin goddess, set you aside from the other campers. it's too time-consuming to explain your origins, so you end up just distancing yourself from every one else.

nobody reached out, nobody bothered you. so you find solace in a hobby that kept you indoors. you stand in your cabin, hands on your hips as you glare at the pile of burned or shredded clothes on the floor. weeks ago you'd agreed to reuse them with the demeter and aphrodite cabins, perhaps remake new items like bags or hats, but the smell of the burned material was stinking up your whole room!

you decide that it's not suitable for human use, ever, not even any other living organism, so you threw it out into the overflowing camp trash bin, already full of broken arrows and bent swords.

looking around at your empty cabin, no boyfriend or siblings or friends resting inside, you take out the battered case from beneath your bed. not battered because of misuse, no. battered because of age.

your precious violin lies inside in velvet lining, like a corpse waiting for you to take it out to see sunlight once more. you take it gently in your hands, handling it like an infant before assuming a comfortable position and gliding the bow against the strings.

eventually you lose yourself in the melody and rhythm of your own, fingers moving on their own as you play a song you've memorized by heart. eyes closed, your ears take in the music as your lungs take in air, as if it were part of you now, necessary to keep living.

if flowers were not in your veins, you would've been certain that sunlight ran through it.

you go on playing for a time that felt so long but so short, and as you let the last note ring, a different sound grabs your attention.

"you never told me you played."

the smooth sound of your boyfriend's voice wraps around you, flesh hitting flesh in an action of praise. a slight blush in embarrassment of being caught spread out on your cheeks.

percy's clapping draws to a close. he walks forward to you and sits down by your side, grinning. "were you just escaping from playing for me?"

you roll your eyes, bumping him softly with your shoulder. "no, silly. i just wasn't sure i could play in front of an audience."

"why? you're amazing at it."

"i don't know." you shrug. "nerves. anxiety. that i might mess it up."

percy puts a comforting hand on your shoulder, rubbing circles into the cloth of your shirt. "well, i'm hoping i can be an exception. i'm a great hype man, you know."

that brings a smile to your lips. "yes, i know you are."

"you wanna grab something to eat?" he asks, offering a hand as he stands. you follow suit, interlacing your hands with his. "and then you can teach me how to play."

you smirk. "you sure you're up for violin, jackson?"

"as long as you're the teacher," he grins, pulling you out and close to him.

a fist hits his chest soon after. "great hype man but horrible flirt."

"hey!"

[knottedhearts]

Argument Pt 2: M.S

The cold air hit your face as you stepped outside, the quiet of the night wrapping around you like a blanket. The tension in your chest began to loosen, but the knot in your stomach remained. The whole argument with Matt had left you feeling exhausted, like your body was at war with itself between the physical pain and the emotional toll of the fight. You hadn’t meant to storm out like that, but you didn’t know how else to handle it.

You didn’t even know where you were going, just walking, letting the cool night air clear your mind. The city was quiet, the streets empty save for a few passing cars and distant voices, nothing but the occasional sound of your footsteps against the pavement.

You found yourself at the nearby park, sitting on a bench beneath a streetlamp. It wasn’t much, but it was a place to breathe, a space to think. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and for a moment, you considered ignoring it. But you couldn’t. It was Matt.

You hesitated before pulling it out. There was a message: "I'm sorry. I didn’t mean it. Can we talk?"

You stared at the screen for a moment, the apology almost feeling too little too late, but something inside of you softened. You knew Matt’s pride was as big as his voice, so for him to admit that much meant something. The frustration in your chest ebbed a little, replaced by a mix of confusion and the tiniest shred of hope.

You typed out a quick reply: "I need space right now. I can’t talk."

You sat there for a while, the screen of your phone glowing in the dim light as you waited for a response. When the buzz came again, you opened it to find a single sentence: "I understand. I just want you to be okay."

For a moment, you just stared at the words, not knowing how to feel. Was it genuine? Did he really understand? You wanted to believe it, but your heart was still heavy with everything that had been said. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this fight had dug a deeper divide between the two of you.

You exhaled slowly and looked up at the stars, letting the chill of the night ground you. The silence was a comfort, though it didn’t completely take away the lingering tension. You weren’t sure how to fix things right now, but you knew you couldn’t stay angry forever.

After a while, you felt your phone buzz once more, this time with a call. It was Matt.

You debated for a moment before answering, your thumb hovering over the screen before finally accepting. "Hey," you said, your voice quieter than before, the tension still not fully gone.

"Hey," Matt’s voice came through, softer than usual, almost hesitant. "I know you’re pissed, and I know I messed up. I shouldn’t have been so loud, and I should’ve listened when you said you weren’t feeling well. I… I get it now."

You sighed, rubbing your forehead as you leaned back against the bench. "Matt, it’s not just about the noise. It’s about not feeling heard. I need you to see when I’m struggling, not just assume I’ll get over it."

He was quiet for a moment, the sound of his breathing coming through the phone. "I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t realize how bad it was for you. I just… I didn’t know how to tone it down, you know? It’s like I’m stuck in my own head sometimes, and I forget that there are people around me who need something different."

"Yeah, well," you paused, your voice steady but tired, "maybe it’s time you start noticing."

Another silence passed, but this time, it wasn’t heavy. It felt like he was reflecting, trying to understand, really trying.

"I get that," he said eventually, his voice quieter than before. "I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want to make it worse. I’ll do better. I just… I care about you, and I didn’t mean to make you feel like your needs didn’t matter."

There was something in his words that made the anger in your chest loosen a little more. It wasn’t perfect, and the fight was still fresh in your mind, but you knew this was the start of something. The start of him learning how to be more considerate, how to see when you were struggling instead of barreling through with his own world.

"I know you didn’t," you said softly, your fingers tracing the edge of your phone. "But you have to hear me next time, Matt. I don’t want to be the one always having to ask for peace. I need you to understand that."

"I do," he replied quietly. "I’ll make sure of it."

You leaned back, your shoulders loosening just a little, the tension still present but not as overwhelming. "Thanks," you said, your voice a little more even now. "I just… need a little time to cool down."

"I get it. Take all the time you need," Matt said, his voice gentle. "I’ll be here when you’re ready."

The conversation ended shortly after, and as you sat there in the quiet park, the cold air wrapping around you, you realized that maybe this wasn’t the end. Maybe this was the start of a bigger change, one where both of you learned to meet in the middle, to understand each other better.

You didn’t know when you’d be ready to go back, but for the first time that evening, the idea of heading home didn’t seem so daunting. There was still work to do, but things would get better. You had to believe that.

As you stood up from the bench, the weight on your chest felt lighter. With each step, you felt a little more like yourself, a little more hopeful that the space and time would help Matt understand, and that maybe, just maybe, you could find a way to make things work between you two.

[milfhunter6698]

Star girl

Synopsis: You were a talented but underappreciated actress lands a dream role in a highly anticipated romance film directed by a well—respected filmmaker. Your cast opposite Victoria Neuman, an industry icon known for her powerful performances and magnetic screen presence. As you work together, unexpected feelings develop between you, you find yourselves drawn to each other in ways you didn’t expect.

Warnings: 18+ eventual smut, no use of (y/n), cursing, no describing reader’s appearance, explicit language, fluff, suggestive themes, a lot of angst, teasing, hollywood AU, slow burn, Acting, friends to lovers.

AN: Hello hellooo!! happy tuesday everyone, guess what? yep another Victoria Neuman fic because I ain’t gonna even lie and just say that I got over that crazy bitch, I’m missing her like crazy baddd. Anyway this is just something that’s been on my mind, heh… I dunno I mean who wouldn’t love a good Hollywood love storyline. It’s just something short, while I work on a few requests I’ve gotten, I’m gonna also be posting this on ao3 If you’re interested go check it out. Now as always have fun, and lmk what you think because I kind of have mixed feelings about this.

wc: 4.1k

You moved between tables at the cafe, balancing a tray loaded with coffee cups, sneakers squeaking faintly with each step. The place was buzzing with late-morning chatter, filled with the smell of fresh coffee and fried eggs. You’d perfected the art of pretending to be completely focused on your job, but every spare second, your mind wandered back to the idea of acting—your true passion, the career you were chasing even if you were currently only known as “the girl with the tray.”

On your break, you slumped into a corner booth with your phone, scrolling through casting calls, your eyes landing on headlines you’d read a dozen times. Your finger hovered over an audition listing when your phone suddenly vibrated. You barely recognized the number, but your manager’s name popped up on the screen.

“Hey, it’s really not a good time, I’m—”

“Sit down,” he interrupted, his voice breathless with excitement. “Are you sitting down?”

You raise an eyebrow glancing around. “Yeah, I’m sitting. What’s going on?”

“You know that big casting call I sent you on last week?” His voice was buzzing with excitement, a little smug.

“The one you said was a ‘long shot,’ right? Look don’t mess with me. You said they wouldn’t even look at—”

“They looked. And they loved you. You got the part.”

For a second, the noise in the cafe faded to nothing. You blinked, trying to make sure you’d heard him right.

“You’re not serious,” you said, your voice barely a whisper.

“Dead serious,” he said. “This is the role. You’re going to be in a movie with Victoria Neuman. The Victoria Neuman.”

Your heart started to hammer. “Wait, Victoria Neuman? That Victoria Neuman? The one who—”

“The one who’s headlining the Oscars, the one whose face is on every billboard on Sunset Boulevard, yes. I told you it’s big.”

You gripped your phone so tightly your knuckles turned white. “But… how?”

Your manager laughed. “Because you’re good, that’s how. Look, they want to meet you this Saturday for lunch. The director wants to give you the rundown himself.”

You could barely process it. You’d spent so many nights pacing around your tiny apartment, rehearsing lines for auditions that led nowhere, wondering if you’d ever break through. And here it was, your shot.

“I swear… if you’re messing with me, I’ll never forgive you.”

“Trust me, kid. I’d never mess with you on this. So you better get your best outfit ready.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing, a small, breathless sound. For the first time in months, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Saturday afternoon you stood outside an upscale restaurant, your heart thudding as you stared up at the polished glass doors. You’d spent nearly an hour choosing an outfit, finally settling on something simple—a black dress and a vintage jacket you’d found in a thrift shop. You tugged at the sleeves nervously, feeling a strange mix of excitement and intimidation. Your manager had reassured you repeatedly, but the idea of meeting with a famous director and talking about your role felt surreal.

Inside, your manager waved you over, standing beside a man with sharp, discerning eyes and a warm, easy smile. He was younger than you’d expected, dressed casually in a way that somehow made him look more important.

He greeted and you reached out, introducing yourself and trying not to let your nerves show. “Thank you so much for… I mean, this is just…”

He grinned, shaking your hand. “Take a breath. We’re all just people here, no need to be so formal. Grab a seat. Let’s talk.”

You slipped into the seat across from him, trying to play it cool as the waiter poured sparkling water into your glasses. He leaned back, studying you with a quiet intensity that made you feel both exposed and encouraged.

“So, I saw your audition tape,” he started. “You’ve got something—an authenticity that I want in this role.”

You couldn’t help but blush. “Thank you. I’m really honored you thought of me.”

“Now, I’m not going to lie,” he continued, “this project is demanding. The story centers on two women, past lovers who come from very different backgrounds, but they find solace and understanding in each other. It’s raw, emotional. We’re looking for chemistry, vulnerability. That’s why Victoria Neuman is the co-lead.”

At the mention of Victoria’s name, your eyes widened. You tried to hide your reaction, but he noticed, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah, the Victoria Neuman. She’s a big personality, but she’s focused. And demanding. Don’t be surprised if she challenges you—she does that with everyone.”

You took a deep breath. “I’ll… I’ll do my best.”

“Good,” He said, nodding approvingly. “I have a feeling you’ll do more than that.”

You spent the rest of the lunch discussing the film, the script, and his vision for your character. Your excitement grew with each detail, feeling a spark of confidence you hadn’t known you had. By the end of the meal, you couldn’t believe you were about to step into a project like this.

The morning of the table read was overcast, the gray sky adding to your nerves. You arrived at the studio early, clutching your script as you walked into the bustling room. People were milling around, flipping through scripts, chatting casually. Your heart thumped as you found your seat, glancing nervously around the table.

Just as you were trying to steady your breath, you heard a small hush ripple through the room. You looked up and felt your pulse quicken. Victoria Neuman had arrived.

She moved gracefully, exuding a quiet, confident presence. She was dressed simply, yet she looked every bit the star she was, her gaze sharp and focused. She walked over to the table, catching your eye for a brief moment before giving a polite nod.

Your breath hitched. Act normal, you reminded yourself, pretending your palms weren’t sweating. You managed a small smile in return, trying to look calm.

The director greeted everyone and launched into his vision for the film. “This isn’t just a love story. It’s about connection, about finding something real in the chaos. We want to capture those quiet, vulnerable moments, the ones that people don’t talk about but feel every day.”

When it was time for the read-through, you and Victoria shared your first scene together. You focused on your lines, but your heart was pounding as you read opposite Victoria. Her voice was smooth, effortlessly slipping into character, and her eyes stayed locked on you all throughout the scene, intensifying each line.

By the end of the scene, you could hardly breathe. She leaned back, nodding slightly, and then you offered a small, approving smile. It was just a flicker, but it felt like an acknowledgment—a silent promise that you belonged here, too.

After the session ended, you lingered at the edge of the room, replaying the moment in your mind. You were about to leave when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

Turning, you found yourself face-to-face with Victoria, your name escaping her lips softly. “Is it?” she asked, her voice calm but with an unmistakable warmth.

You nodded, trying not to let your voice shake. “Yes. I… I just wanted to say, I’m a huge fan of yours. I’ve watched all your films.”

She gave a soft laugh. “Thanks. I know it must be overwhelming, jumping into something like this. But you were great today.”

Your heart lifted. “Thank you. That really means a lot.”

She nodded, her eyes lingering on you just a moment longer than necessary. “I’ll see you at the next rehearsal.”

As she turned and walked away, you felt a flutter in your chest. You knew this role was going to be life-changing, but you hadn’t expected Victoria’s presence to affect you so deeply. For the first time, you wondered if this film might change your life in more ways than one.

Your apartment was a mess. Scripts were scattered across your small, worn coffee table, along with half-empty coffee cups and stacks of notes. You had highlighted every line, each margin filled with scrawled thoughts and questions. Late into the night, you practiced alone, your reflection in the mirror staring back with the intensity you hoped your character would convey.

The role wasn’t simple. Your character, Lauren, was a guarded, impulsive complex woman burdened by loss. She had loved deeply once but had lost it all, and as you read through the lines, you felt yourself peeling back her layers, finding the pain and resilience hidden beneath.

You practiced your lines over and over, speaking them softly, then with anger, trying to understand the character’s emotional range. You kept Lauren’s experiences in mind, dissecting every reaction and choice she’d made, wondering how you yourself would react in such moments. You hadn’t had much in life, but you knew about chasing dreams, about feeling that endless mix of hope and fear. There was so much of yourself in Lauren—and that scared you. You wanted to do this right, not only for yourself but for the chance you’d been given to stand on this stage.

You arrived on set early your first day, your nerves a steady thrum under the excitement. The studio was a blur of movement—crew members rolling carts stacked with equipment, actors adjusting their costumes, assistants buzzing around the director with notes and coffee cups. Cameras and lights stood like sentinels around the set, wires coiled across the floor in intricate patterns you had to carefully step over.

You spotted your director in the middle of it all, standing beside the cinematographer, discussing the shots for the day. His voice was calm yet energized as he gestured toward the mock-up of the first scene. This was where the magic was happening, the place you’d dreamed of being. And now, you were here, not as an extra or a bit part, but as one of the leads. The weight of that realization pressed down on you, but it was also exhilarating.

“Hello there! Good to see you,” he called, waving you over as he noticed you lingering at the edge of the set. “Ready for the big day?”

You smiled, hiding the nerves that knotted in your stomach. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Good, good. Remember, this isn’t just about the lines. It’s about Lauren’s silence, her glances, her gestures. Don’t be afraid to let the camera see that,” He said, his eyes filled with encouragement.

You nodded. Feeling the director’s words sink in, you needed to live the character—not just act her. You weren’t sure if you would be able to pull it off, but you were at least ready to try.

The first few days on set went by in a haze of new faces and whispered directions. You and Victoria had only one brief exchange about your first scene together. She had approached you with a warm yet reserved smile.

“Hey, I thought maybe we could run through this scene together. Just to get a feel for each other’s rhythms,” she suggested, her tone calm and professional.

“Absolutely. I’d love that,” you replied, your heart racing. You kept your voice steady, but you couldn’t shake the nervous flutter you felt deep in your chest.

Victoria read the lines with such ease, her delivery flawless, yet subtly different each time as if experimenting with nuances. You watched her, trying to keep your focus, yet every word from her seemed to pull you in deeper.

As you wrapped up, she nodded approvingly. “You’re good. I can see why they’ve picked you.”

You flushed, stammering a quick thank-you, and then watched as she walked off, her steps graceful, her confidence effortless. Just keep it professional, You told yourself. But as the days passed, it became harder to ignore the warmth you felt whenever she looked at you, a lingering gaze that seemed to see more than just your role.

When the day came for your ever first scene, you arrived on set early, going through your lines one more time. The scene was intense—a reunion between Lauren and Helene, two people who had shared a complicated past and were bound by emotions neither of them could entirely let go. You had thought you were prepared, but now, with each beat of your heart, you felt a new nervousness you hadn’t anticipated.

As you walked on set, you saw Victoria standing at the other end of the room, speaking with the director, who animatedly explained his vision for the scene. She caught your gaze and gave you a nod, her usual professional demeanor in place, though something about her expression felt unreadable—guarded, maybe, as if she was bracing herself for what was to come.

He turned toward you, breaking you out of your thoughts. “Hey, come on over. Let’s get you in place. So, here’s the setup: Lauren is paying an unexpected visit to Helene at her office, and she’s there because… well, that’s up to you. She has her reasons, but the scene hinges on that ambiguity, the push-pull between them. Lauren is bold, maybe even a little reckless, but we need to feel that Helene is barely holding herself together.”

You took a steadying breath and nodded, your nerves slowly morphing into a focused determination. This was Lauren’s moment to push, to test the waters with Helene. And in a way, it felt a little like you yourself were testing something—feeling your way through the strange pull you’d somehow begun to feel around Victoria. You couldn’t explain it, but it was there, like an undercurrent humming just beneath the surface.

Your director called for quiet on set, and as the cameras rolled, you transformed. You were no longer you but Lauren, striding into Helene’s office with a calm confidence, a hint of mischief in your gaze as you found Helene at her desk, pouring over stacks of papers.

“Hello, old friend. Long time, no see,” you said, your voice low but carrying a hint of hesitation, as if unsure of the reunion.

Helene looked up, startled, and for a split second, the cool facade she wore slipped, allowing a flicker of surprise and maybe even a touch of longing. Then it was gone, replaced by her usual detached, slightly exasperated expression as she leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Lauren,” she said, her voice edged with a mix of wariness and familiarity. “Not that long. Maybe a year?”

You tensed, responding instinctively. “A year’s a long time when you’re left wondering.”

The words hung in the air, and the silence that followed was thick, charged. You could feel Victoria’s eyes on you, not just as Helene but as herself, watching you, assessing you.

You let a slow smile spread across your face, the kind that was both playful and just a bit dangerous. You crossed the room, closing the space between you until you were just close enough to lean down slightly, your gaze intent.

“What, I can’t just stop by for a friendly visit?” Lauren’s voice was light, teasing, but there was an unmistakable intensity in her eyes that made Helene shift, visibly uncomfortable yet rooted to the spot.

Helene rolled her eyes, but her hands, you noticed, clenched slightly on the arms of her chair. “Last I checked, we weren’t exactly on friendly terms.”

Your smile softened, and you tilted your head, a touch of vulnerability breaking through. “Maybe that’s something I wanted to change.”

For a long, charged moment, you held each other’s gaze, a silent conversation happening in the space between you. Helene’s jaw tightened as she looked away, a hint of pain flashing across her face.

But Lauren wasn’t one to let go that easily. She stepped closer, until she was close enough to reach out, to touch, though she didn’t. Her presence was all-consuming, and you could feel your own pulse quicken, blurring the line between yourself and Lauren.

“Come on, Helene,” Lauren murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know I hurt you. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about you… that I haven’t missed this.” She let the words hang, raw and intimate, before adding softly,

“Missed you.”

Helene’s cool facade cracked just slightly, a flash of pain and frustration in her eyes as she stood up staring back up at Lauren, her composure barely holding. “You don’t get to say that. Not after all this time.”

The line struck something deep within you as she spoke it, feeling Helene’s hurt and resentment like a living thing. But Lauren your character, ever defiant, only leaned in closer, her hand coming up to brace against the wall beside Helene, effectively trapping her.

“Tell me you don’t feel the same,” Lauren challenged, her voice a low, urgent whisper. The tension in the room thickened, and you felt the weight of Victoria’s gaze, a spark of something intense and undeniable in her eyes.

Helene hesitated, her resolve wavering, her breath catching as her gaze flickered from Lauren’s eyes to her lips, the charged air between them pulsing with all the words left unspoken. But just as the moment seemed poised to tip over into something more, the director called, “Cut!”

You snapped back to yourself, blinking as you released the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. Your heart raced, your skin tingling from the lingering tension of the scene. You let your arm drop from the wall, stepping back to give Victoria space.

Victoria straightened, her expression unreadable as she adjusted her jacket, her gaze sweeping the set before finally settling on you. There was a flicker of something in her eyes—something that looked almost like… admiration? Or was it something else?

“That was intense,” you said, trying to keep your tone light as you offered a small, slightly self-conscious smile.

Victoria nodded, a faint smile playing at the edges of her lips. “You have a way of bringing out the worst in Lauren,” she replied, her tone laced with irony but also something warmer, softer. “It’s… refreshing.”

You laughed, a little relieved but also thrown off by the words. “Well, she’s complicated. Keeps me on my toes.”

Victoria tilted her head, studying you for a moment. “Complicated is good. Makes it more interesting.”

The look you exchanged held a spark, something you couldn’t quite name but was beginning to recognize more and more each time your eyes met. It was as if you were both playing a game, one where the rules were unspoken, yet unmistakably understood.

Before you could say anything else, your director clapped his hands, calling everyone’s attention for a quick break before the next setup. You caught one last look from Victoria before she turned away, feeling the remnants of the scene still thrumming in your veins.

As you headed back to your trailer, your mind swirled with a mix of emotions—excitement, nerves, and the undeniable pull you felt whenever you and Victoria shared the screen. You’d always thought the hardest part of acting was embodying someone else’s feelings, but now, for the first time, you wondered if maybe the hardest part was keeping your own at bay.

You rubbed your temples, fatigue and excitement mingling as you gathered your things in your trailer. The day had been intense, the charged energy between you and Victoria in that last scene still humming under your skin. Just as you were about to head out, you swung the door open—and nearly collided with Victoria, who stood in front of the trailer with her hand mid-air, ready to knock.

“Oh!” you stammered, stepping back in surprise. “I didn’t expect—”

She chuckled, lowering her hand. “Neither did I, apparently.” There was a slight pause as you stood there, your heart beating just a bit faster, the exhaustion from the day melting away in her presence.

“I was actually going to suggest grabbing a drink. Somewhere quiet to unwind after…” She gestured vaguely, but you knew exactly what she meant.

You blinked, caught off guard but strangely thrilled. “A drink sounds… perfect,” you said, a smile slowly spreading across your face.

You ended up at a dimly lit, tucked-away bar, the kind of place you would never have noticed on your own. Victoria seemed to know it well, however, leading you inside with the ease of someone who valued privacy.

You settled into a booth near the back, ordering drinks and sinking into the quiet atmosphere. For the first time all day, you were free of the cameras, the lines, the lingering tension of your roles. Here, you were just you and Victoria, sharing a drink like two colleagues winding down after work.

“So,” she began, raising an eyebrow over her glass. “How was your first day of intense romantic drama?”

You laughed, taking a sip of your drink. “I have to say, it was… exhilarating. But definitely a bit intimidating.” you glanced at her, a little more openly than you might have dared earlier. “You make it seem so effortless. I keep wondering if I’m doing it right.”

“Trust me, you’re doing it right.” Victoria leaned forward, her expression earnest. “Acting isn’t about ‘right’ or ‘wrong,’ anyway. It’s about trusting yourself. You get lost in the moment, and… well, you did that today.”

You felt your cheeks warm, feeling simultaneously grateful and a little self-conscious under her gaze. “Thanks. Coming from you, that actually means a lot.”

You fell into an easy rhythm, talking about the movie, then drifting into lighter topics—the absurdity of long filming days, the occasional mishaps on set. Victoria shared a story about an elaborate costume mishap during a period drama that left her frantically trying to fix her dress just seconds before a big shot. You laughed so hard you nearly spilled your drink.

“Is this your secret weapon?” you asked with a grin. “Getting everyone to laugh so they forget their lines?”

“Ah, you’ve caught me,” she replied, a playful glint in her eye. “It’s all part of my master plan. Throw them off just enough so I can look that much better.”

You chuckled, and then, in a moment of pure spontaneity, you blurted, “Well, I don’t have your number. So if you ever need a partner in crime… or just someone to grab a drink with…”

Victoria’s eyebrows rose, a hint of mischief in her smile. “Is that your idea of subtle? Or is that just how you are with women?”

You felt your cheeks go warm again, though you grinned, refusing to back down. “Maybe a bit of both.”

She held your gaze for a beat longer than necessary before reaching for her phone. She tapped a few times, and your phone buzzed in your bag. “There. Now you have my number,” she said, her tone playful, yet her eyes held a trace of something deeper. “Just… don’t go spreading it around. I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Oh, wouldn’t dream of it,” you replied, matching her teasing tone.

You finished your drinks, lingering for a few more quiet moments before you finally decided to head home. Outside the bar, you shared a quick, almost shy goodbye, both of you staying just a bit longer than needed. You watched as she disappeared down the street, a strange blend of exhilaration and confusion swirling inside you.

When you finally returned to your small apartment, you lied awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling. The day’s events replayed in your mind, your thoughts wandering from your intense scene to the quiet, easy comfort of the bar. Every moment with her felt like an uncharted path you were just beginning to explore.

A smile crept onto your face as you thought of her teasing remarks, her gaze, the effortless way she seemed to fill every space she entered. You couldn’t quite pin down what was happening between you, only that something had started, and you were more than ready to see where it would lead.