#I hadn’t even thought about this the first time it happened because I was so busy sobbing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

oceanicwriting · 3 days ago

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black book.

summary: falling in love with lorenzo berkshire was totally forbidden, but... what kind of story would your life be if you don't end up madly in love with him? although there is much more hidden under his sexual practices that end up releasing a part of you that he had never seen.

pairing(s): lorenzo berkshire x fem!reader

a/n: this ended up being so long that i didn't check it twice... sorry if there are errors, at some point i will give it another go, promise. btw, this was inspired by a tiktok i saw two days ago about this black book thing. hope you like it!

+18 smut (a little), oral sex/sit on my face (f!receiving), masturbation (f!receiving), fingering, teasing, mention and use of drugs, smoking, fuck buddies, cursing

ㅤㅤㅤ every woman knew, from the first moment they accept lorenzo berkshire between their legs, that everything that will happen would be strictly sexual and no more than one night. many had tried to change that, but he was a man of his word. at least he was with all the other girls who have been under his domain because you were too special for that. how could he even think about forgetting the best sex he had ever had in a closet in the hallways?

ㅤㅤㅤ since then, you've met more times than you can count, under the strict law of not crossing the romantic. at first, a little biased by the disgusting rumors about him, you thought it was a safe plan. and it was... for a while. when he started asking you to spend the nights with him, send you surprise notes, talk in the moonlight and all kinds of things, your heart became an incurable weakling.

ㅤㅤㅤ are you in love with lorenzo womanizer berkshire? of course you are.

ㅤㅤㅤ —what do you think of this one? —you look at your friend's dress, who walks around the room, swaying her hips—. i feel like it's not that short...

ㅤㅤㅤ you look at the end of the dress almost certain that if she sit down anywhere her ass would be exposed to the world.

ㅤㅤㅤ —of course, i forgot that the shorter the dress, the faster zabini fucks you, —you mumble with a hint of sarcasm in your voice.ㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤ your friend throws a piece of clothing from the floor, laughing nervously at the comment and insulting you between murmurs.

ㅤㅤㅤ when she turns her attention back to looking for another dress, you let yourself fall on the bed, releasing all the air that you have trapped since last night. in your mind, you had repeated the events over and over again, trying to connect some things but failing miserably in the attempt.

ㅤㅤㅤ —what's wrong with you? every time we go to a snake party, you're jumping on one leg. did something happen with berkshire yesterday?

ㅤㅤㅤ the mere mention of his name sends a chilling wave through your body. you deny it, but your friend knew something had happened. the last few times you hadn't come back from being with him until the next morning, and last night you had come back early, slamming the door in your way in.

ㅤㅤㅤ —liar. —she comes over to sit with you on the bed—. come on, tell me.

ㅤㅤㅤ lorenzo was a boy from another world in bed. he knew perfectly how to use a woman's body to please her desires, taking advantage of the situation to satisfy his own pleasure. he was fully aware of how to squeeze, bite, lick, or caress so that anyone could bend to his charm. and he had bent you in every way, body and soul.

ㅤㅤㅤ —you have to promise not to tell your crush about this —you say, lifting a pinky that your friend wraps around hers in a promise—. i found a black book in lorenzo’s room yesterday. it was a small leather notebook with a silver L on the front. i hadn’t really given it much thought, but he got so weird when he saw it in my hands. he was… tense like never before.

ㅤㅤㅤ —you couldn’t see anything inside?

ㅤㅤㅤ you shake your head and say—: i just wasn’t interested. i thought it was a notebook for class or something, but he got so mad that i doubt it.

ㅤㅤㅤ —that’s weird…

ㅤㅤㅤ your friend doesn’t want you to think about it too much and tries to make you forget about it with drinks straight from the bottle of alcohol she hides under the bed. that was the only fun you had all night because lorenzo disappeared with one of your classmates, and your friend got lost among the crowd.

ㅤㅤㅤ the next day, right after you wake up, your friend walks into the room, looking disheveled. when she notices you're awake, it seems like a memory hits the back of her mind, and her green gaze looks like it's about to explode.

ㅤㅤㅤ you laugh and ask—: what hap...?

ㅤㅤㅤ she shushes you, throwing her bag onto the bed and searching for something amongst the makeup that falls against your messy sheets.

ㅤㅤㅤ —what the...? —in her hands is that black leather book with the shiny silver L sending out sparkles from the morning light reflection—. what did you do?

ㅤㅤㅤ —when blaise and i wanted to find a place to... —she trails off, painting her cheeks red—. you don't need those details, got it. the thing is, we went to the wrong room, and before we left, i saw the book on the desk. no one knows i have it, i swear on my parents.

ㅤㅤㅤ the book has a lot of full pages, losing the neatness of the empty ones at the end. there are entire minutes when you doubt whether to open it, but the curiosity running through your body is inevitable to feel.

ㅤㅤㅤ —so? —your friend asks, forcing you to look up at her—. are you going to open it or not?

ㅤㅤㅤ the first page has black book written in capital letters and lorenzo’s initials just below it. the next page has a small table that takes you two seconds to understand.

ㅤㅤㅤ —what is that?

ㅤㅤㅤ —they look like scores —you say, showing your friend the table.

ㅤㅤㅤ —scores? scores for what?

ㅤㅤㅤ and right below it, there was a list with three points, but the most important one was the one that gets stuck in your mind.

ㅤㅤㅤ —scores for sex.

ㅤㅤㅤ your friend looks at you, noticing the terrible mistake she made by bringing the book to you. she tries to take it from your hands, but you don't let her, and you start to slowly turn the pages. there were names of classmates, girls who have talked to you once, girls you don't know, and others girls you could remember in the back of your mind. and there was your name crossed out, but still visible with a five next to it. in that book, you were either a regular muggle or the worst of them all.

ㅤㅤㅤ —this was a terrible idea —your friend says, finally taking the book from you—. a horrible idea.

ㅤㅤㅤ but you can't speak because your heart has tightened so much that it leaves you breathless and unruly tears fall down your eyes. all you can think about is how pathetic you must look, crying over a man who made it clear from the first moment that you shouldn't fall in love.

ㅤㅤㅤ it had been a week since you discovered lorenzo's big secret. you could have chosen many paths to destroy him, but you made the cowardly decision to avoid him at all costs. he had tried to communicate with you through notes, appearing in the bedroom at any time of the day or chasing you through the halls. and yet, you didn't feel like facing him.

ㅤㅤㅤ when the night came, you always had the three same questions. hadn't he searched your body more than once? did you hear wrong when he repeated between grunts that you were doing perfectly? why did he cum so fast when you wrapped your mouth around his cock? it was strange and disgusting that, after seeing all those names, your concern was centered on the small detail of a score.

ㅤㅤㅤ now you were sitting between a couple of people at a party that your friend had insisted you should be at. you felt calm, comfortable, and were having a great time. until the fun in your eyes fades when, walking through the door with a triumphant air, he appears. lorenzo berkshire would be your downfall for a long time, and you knew it very well.

��ㅤㅤ —hey, no. —you hear your friend's voice behind you, but your body is on autopilot, designed to escape—. enough of running away, okay? the girl i've known since i was ten never runs from jerks because she wears that skirt well and makes them suffer.

ㅤㅤㅤ you look at her, then at the crowd. if lorenzo was any other selfless boy, you would have taken revenge as you well know, but he was not that. he had removed any sanity within your loving heart, and you were not sure about playing with something as fragile as that.

ㅤㅤㅤ —no. i...

ㅤㅤㅤ —no, you do —your friend says, pulling your arm to get onto the improvised dance floor with a big smile—. you and i are going to have the best night of our lives.

ㅤㅤㅤ you drink alcohol, dance among people, smoke marijuana, and laugh with faces you can’t remember. you were having such a good time that you can only now sit down laughing out loud at a joke your friend had told.

ㅤㅤㅤ —oh, let me get more alcohol —she says, losing her balance as she gets up from her chair—. oops.

ㅤㅤㅤ you follow his figure from your seat, and there he is. lorenzo is dancing close to a girl in the middle of the crowd. just seeing him ignites a wave of rage that feeds off of all the toxins you’ve taken up until that point. and you think in the midst of lucidity that maybe you could do your thing to make him angry... just a little.

ㅤㅤㅤ you look for some boy who can get your attention so you don't feel repulsed by his touch and you find him. in a corner, smoking a joint on his own, is a boy with fine features. it was the perfect moment, perfect man and perfect opportunity.

ㅤㅤㅤ when you get up, walking among the people, you purposely bump into the body of the girl who clings to lorenzo's shoulders. you apologize with a soft smile that doesn't fade from your face when you feel the boy's eyes linger on your figure contouring as you walk.

ㅤㅤㅤ when you arrive with your prey, you greet him with a more seductive voice than you expected, but it has the effect you wanted. it doesn't take you any time to have the boy in the palm of your hand, between jokes and white lies, you manage to have his fingers on your legs with a delicacy that could melt you.

ㅤㅤㅤ —do you want to go somewhere else? —it's the voice of the boy sitting next to you, speaking close to your ear. you look at the crowd in search of lorenzo, but you can't find him—. i don't think i can hold back the urge to touch you under that dress anymore.

ㅤㅤㅤ you laugh and, the truth is, you didn't dislike the idea of rolling around with this cute stranger either. of course, if he wasn't violently attacked by lorenzo's friends, starting a fight that no one can stop. it's impressive how screams, pushes, or swear words take center stage so quickly.

ㅤㅤㅤ —walk. —even though it's just one word, you know exactly who that voice is, pulling you towards the bedroom stairs.

ㅤㅤㅤ lorenzo's quick steps blur your vision, but you try to stay awake with the soft scent of his cologne hitting your nose. when you reach your room, you can't help but sit up in bed, trying to catch your breath and clear your mind to become aware of what will happen now.

ㅤㅤㅤ when you can lift your head, lorenzo is standing right in front of you. he has his arms crossed on his chest, dark gaze, and waits for you to start some kind of conversation. a wave of heat hits every part of your body, uneasy from the gesture of his tongue pushing the inside of his cheek. oh, he was so angry.

ㅤㅤㅤ —what? —you ask, getting up from the bed, trying to avoid him noticing the stumble you've made in your own steps.

ㅤㅤㅤ —aren't you going to say anything?

ㅤㅤㅤ you turn to see him, pretending not to understand with a small gesture of confusion, managing to feed his anger as you wanted.

ㅤㅤㅤ —you ignore me all fucking week and now you let someone else fuck you in front of everyone. —he lets out a cynical laugh and claps angrily—. oh! surprise, despite everything, the lady has nothing to say.

ㅤㅤㅤ you try not to laugh at how funny his voice sounds in your head.

ㅤㅤㅤ —my problem if i want to fuck someone in front of everyone. why do you care, lorenzo? and he was just touching a little. tasting...

ㅤㅤㅤ you hear him, his four strong footsteps that shorten the distance with you. it's the scent of her perfume that you catch first, turning on some parts of your body. you can't deny that his demanding gaze also wreaks havoc on your stomach, and memories of all the times you've been together play through your head at an imperceptible speed.

ㅤㅤㅤ —we're not exclusive, remember?

ㅤㅤㅤ you expected those words to hurt him, but it seems they only manage to sink the thorn into your own heart, causing a pain that hasn't been felt so intense for a week. all because of that stupid black book.

ㅤㅤㅤ —and, after all, i'm nothing more than a muggle worth five points. —and it seems that hurts him, because he steps back, destabilized and obfuscated—. how long do you think it was going to take me to discover it? maybe you're used to taking them to your room once or never, but i've been to that fucking place, i don't know... fifty times?

ㅤㅤㅤ —how did you know?

ㅤㅤㅤ —that doesn't matter. do you know how disgusting i felt after knowing that? rating girls for their performance in bed? are you sixteen fucking years old?!

ㅤㅤㅤ lorenzo grabs your arm tightly, pushing you against the bed and preventing any movement with the weight of his body on top. your breathing hits at the movement, feeling dizzy again.

ㅤㅤㅤ —listen, it's not what you think.

ㅤㅤㅤ his voice, so clear and firm, different from the blurry image of that moment. it's hilarious that he wants to keep thinking you're stupid, as if you were exactly what his book says.

ㅤㅤㅤ —are you telling me that i lack reading comprehension? honestly, lorenzo, i'm impressed by how much you underestimate me and... —the laugh that had been stuck leaves your lips like music to the boy's ears—. you know what? fuck it.

ㅤㅤㅤ the leg that was trapped between his rises, giving a sharp blow against his crotch. your hands push his chest, turning in the bed to straddle him.

ㅤㅤㅤ —a five, enzo? —he looks at you, breathing heavily from the wave of torment affecting his body—. weren't you the one who was going after my body? did i hear wrong when you told me that i was doing it just the way you want? why did you seem to enjoy it when i'm a fucking five?

ㅤㅤㅤ yes, it was unpleasant to put scores, but in your chest was a much bigger pain. you like lorenzo. you are madly in love with him and that clouds every other sense in your head. you wanted to be a twenty, fifty or top score for him. you wanted to be enough. you wanted to be the only woman in his power. you wanted to change the immovable.

ㅤㅤㅤ —beautiful... —his hand tries to touch your cheek decorated with small tears.

ㅤㅤㅤ your body reacts by instinct, hitting his arm to press it against the bed, avoiding any touch that could make you lose the courage you have accumulated.

ㅤㅤㅤ —why, lorenzo?

ㅤㅤㅤ if there was something he hated was seeing sad tears running down your face, being enough to say—: i'm not the only one with a book like that. we compare scores, bet on it, and all kinds of things. i just... i didn't want them to know.

ㅤㅤㅤ you look at him, noticing the honesty in his eyes.

ㅤㅤㅤ —you didn't want them to know what?

ㅤㅤㅤ he smirks, looking at your body with lust. every curve, every place that only he knew, every trace of his marks that have disappeared, and every area that he could touch to make you roll in pleasure. lorenzo knew every little detail of your body with such precision that it was inevitable for him not to imagine you naked.

ㅤㅤㅤ —how amazing you are in bed.

ㅤㅤㅤ and you could blame many things for the events that happen after that. you'd say it was his deep voice that scratched your insides, messy hair that falls on the duvet or disheveled clothes. some might believe when you blame the alcohol, but there was someone in the whole world who would always know the truth. you.

ㅤㅤㅤ lorenzo buries his hands in your hips, pushing you against his body to grab your lips with a delicious habit. the taste of alcohol in his mouth is the same as yours, intense and hot. your hips move with the help of his hands that squeeze just the way you like. you let him dominate the situation of that kiss until a fleeting memory comes back to your head.

ㅤㅤㅤ —i want you to use your mouth —you murmur against his lips—. i want you to use it so you can't use it on anyone else.

ㅤㅤㅤ lorenzo looks at you, trying to turn on the bed to do what you ask. the problem is that your body tenses at the intention, and he looks at you with confusion.

ㅤㅤㅤ —not like that.

ㅤㅤㅤ you pull your panties off to stop your pussy right in front of his face. the simple breath of lorenzo hitting your folds makes you shudder, but you know he has to suffer like never before. so, when he makes the gesture of getting closer to your wetness, your fingers tangle in his hair, pressing his head against the bed.

ㅤㅤㅤ —i want to hear that you want it. i want you to beg.

ㅤㅤㅤ it was always lorenzo who dominated in the relationship. you enjoyed it that way, but today, there was a rage inside you that was as uncontrollable as the wave of ecstasy that runs through your body when you talk to him that way. you wanted to make him feel so small that he would be the one to beg to come back this time.

ㅤㅤㅤ you look at him, part of his face covered by the black skirt and gaze lit up in flames. the hot, heavy air crashing against you was perfect, sending desperate signals to your eager and needy body.

ㅤㅤㅤ —let me devour you. i want to lick and suck until i can't take it anymore. please, just, please...

ㅤㅤㅤ and your pussy presses against his lips, holding part of your weight with the headboard of the bed and legs. lorenzo doesn't take long to do what he had asked, stimulating your clitoris with the tip of his expert tongue. you moan at the tickling sensations that travel from there, moving your hips gently against him.

ㅤㅤㅤ lorenzo kisses, sucks, and licks as best he can against the weight of your body on top of him, raising his eyes over your skirt to watch you arch your back every time his tongue gets close to your entrance. his hands move up to your breasts, where one stops to squeeze over your shirt and the other continues its way to your mouth.

ㅤㅤㅤ —do you wanna s-see how i do it? —you say, looking down at him and sticking your tongue out to lick his fingers—. i always imagine it’s your cock.

ㅤㅤㅤ his fingers sink into your mouth so deeply that it’s impossible not to gasp. your tongue licks, curling and tasting the length of his long digits. when lorenzo is satisfied with that, he moves his hand from your back to your entrance.

ㅤㅤㅤ —w-wait, j-just wait a little —you say between soft moans—. i need you to go down a little.

ㅤㅤㅤ lorenzo does so, making you shiver from the new sensation that builds up in that perfect area. then, you feel his fingers digging in in the perfect direction to touch a spot that activates thousands of waves of pleasure.

ㅤㅤㅤ his fingers going in and out quickly, while his mouth continues to stimulate you, was enough to make your legs feel weak. the accumulation of emotions that are trying to be released with moans explodes in an electric current that travels from head to toe, cutting off the air that enters your lungs, making you scream and fall against lorenzo's face pressed against your thighs.

ㅤㅤㅤ he grabs your ass and manages to turn with his head still buried between them. you can feel the tip of his tongue wander over your sensitive areas again. suffer, suffer and suffer.

ㅤㅤㅤ —stop. —one of your feet pushes his shoulder, making him look at you confused—. will you burn that book?

ㅤㅤㅤ your hands play with your shirt, lowering the neckline to free your breasts in front of him. lorenzo's gaze darkens, and he follows your hand to the inside of your thighs.

ㅤㅤㅤ —beautiful...

ㅤㅤㅤ lorenzo licks his lips, feeling his cock tremble in the desire to bury itself so hard and deep inside you.

ㅤㅤㅤ —would you do it to feel how my tight pussy takes you? would you do it so you could enter me whenever and however you want?

ㅤㅤㅤ a wave of pleasure runs through your body at the sensation of your own fingers touching the places that make you moan in front of him. lorenzo was slowly losing his sanity, and you could see it in his eyes.

ㅤㅤㅤ —yes, i will. i'll do whatever you want with that book —he says, his voice dragging out the words because of the rush with which he says them—. i will.

ㅤㅤㅤ and from one moment to the next, even if you're not sure how, you're out of bed with lorenzo staring at you as hard as the bulge in his pants about to explode. you don't let that weaken you, adjusting your clothes in seconds.

ㅤㅤㅤ —good. perfect, really. —he follows your body to the door with the bad mood sprouting from every pore of his skin—. then we can finish this when you do it right in front of my eyes.

ㅤㅤㅤ —what?

ㅤㅤㅤ —what you heard —you say, sliding a soft smile on your lips—. when i see that ridiculous book in pieces, you can finish what we started. now, get out of my fucking room and close the door on your way out.

ㅤㅤㅤ your body disappears behind the bathroom door, where you hear him call your name angrily, and he leaves the room shortly after. if he hadn't given up, you were sure you would have, so you're thankful he did it first.

ㅤㅤㅤ the surprise is that lorenzo came back minutes later with the book in one hand and his wand in the other, turning the book on fire right in front of your eyes to turn you into a rag of moans, licks, thrusts and marks. not many things could change about this relationship now, but you know that lorenzo might be a little more in love with you than it seems.

#lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire x you #lorenzo berkshire x female reader #lorenzo berkshire smut #slytherin boys #slytherin #wizarding world #harry potter

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silent-stories · 2 days ago

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𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Series summary: When Noah was left alone to take care of his daughter about two years ago, he never thought he would find someone else he would trust enough to include in his little family. But things can change.

Series masterlist

"Okay, recap moment," you began, sitting at a table in the café with Rick, Folio, and Grace, the sun beginning to set outside and filling the room with hues of red and orange.

"Ever since Jason came back to town, he’s wanted to win you back," Rick explained again after taking a slow sip from his coffee, his voice tinged with guilt. "And he asked for my help, because apparently I’m his only friend."

"So, the psycho has been trying to get your attention all this time," Folio interjected, "and when Noah left for a couple of days, he thought it was the perfect opportunity to do something that would drive a wedge between you two."

"So, he had you leave him," you pointed to Rick, "in front of Noah’s house after he got drunk, knowing that the next morning, Noah would find him there and think I'd cheated on him."

Rick lowered his eyes, unable to meet your gaze. "Yeah... that was exactly what he was hoping for. He knew Noah would be hurt, and he knew that would push him away from you."

"Noah didn’t want to listen to what you had to say because he thought what happened with Hannah was about to happen again. And now, he feels awful because he thinks it's his fault—like he can’t keep someone who loves him around," Folio continued.

"And you feel guilty because if you had realized Jason’s intentions sooner, maybe you could have stopped this from happening," Rick added, concluding the chain of events.

"Wow," Grace remarked. "I still have so many questions."

"Yeah, me too," Rick agreed. "Like, why are you even still here? You had nothing to do with any of this."

"Hey! I work here too, okay?" Grace shot back. "I have every right to stay as long as I want."

“So,” you turned to Folio, disregarding the bickering between the punk guy and your friend, or whoever Grace was to you, “what do you think I should do?”

"Go to him," Folio urged. "Talk things through. Please. I can’t keep watching him like this. I don’t think he’s showered in two weeks."

Grace wrinkled her nose.

"I'm sorry," Rick apologized. "If I hadn’t helped Jason, maybe none of this would have happened."

"Well, that’s how things played out," you replied. "And there’s no turning back."

"But things can still be fixed if you both put aside your fears and have a real conversation," Grace encouraged.

Folio leaned back in his chair, his gaze softening. "Exactly. It might not be easy, but if you want to fix things, this is where it starts."

"I’m not sure he wants to talk to me," you said, your voice uncertain as you stared down at the table, trying to sort through your swirling thoughts.

Grace looked at you, her expression a mix of frustration and concern. "Oh, please!" she exclaimed, leaning forward onto the table. "We know he loves you, and you love him. And it’s so obvious you both are suffering now! If you go to him and tell him everything was part of Jason’s plan, and that his weird friend here explained how things really went down, he’ll listen. I promise you!"

Rick shook his head, smirking but with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Hey, weird friend to who, Barbie with black hair?"

Grace just rolled her eyes.

Folio sighed, but his voice grew more serious. "Look, trust me. Go to him, tomorrow. It’s been two weeks, and he’s starting to realize he let you go just because he was too scared. You can’t just sit around waiting for him to make the first move because he won't. He's in a depressive mood right now."

A silence fell for a moment as you thought about their words. Folio's eyes were sincere, and for a brief second, it felt like there was still a chance to fix things. You took a deep breath, the weight of the decision settling over you.

Finally, you nodded. "Okay," you said softly, "I’ll do it."

After Grace and Folio left, you and Rick stood outside the café, the cool evening air pressing against you as the sunset faded into the night. The streets were quieter now, the hum of the city barely reaching you.

Rick shifted uncomfortably, his hands in his pockets as he avoided your gaze. "I… I’m sorry," he said finally, his voice low. "I know you probably hate me right now for helping Jason, for being his friend. I know what I did was wrong. But he was the only friend I ever had, you know? And I just... I always did what he asked, because I didn’t want to lose him. I thought if I kept helping him, I’d prove I was a good friend. But looking at it now, I see I was just blinded by that need to belong. I'm so fucking stupid."

You were silent for a moment, taking in what he said. It didn’t make you angry. Instead, a sense of understanding washed over you. You shook your head gently. "I’m not mad at you, Rick," you said softly. "I don’t think you’re a bad person. You just... you need better friends. Friends who aren’t going to pull you into things like this. Friends who won’t take advantage of your loyalty."

Rick’s shoulders slumped as if a weight had been lifted, but there was still a trace of guilt on his face. "I don’t deserve your forgiveness," he muttered.

"You don’t have to deserve it," you replied with a small smile. "People make mistakes. What matters is what we do after." You paused for a moment, thinking carefully about the next words you wanted to say. "You can come see me, us, at the café anytime. If you ever need to talk, or just... hang out. I'm sure Noah would like you too, you know? You punched Jason, after all."

He looked up at you, his eyes slightly wide, as if your words were a relief he hadn’t expected. "Thanks. Really. I know I messed up, but I’m done following Jason. I’ve made my choice."

You nodded. "I’m glad to hear that."

Rick smiled, though it was a little uncertain at first. "I’ll come by sometime."

As you both turned to leave, you gave Rick one last look. "Thanks again, Rick. Take care."

And with that, you parted ways, but not with the same weight on your shoulders you had carried earlier. Things could get better—for both of you.

Noah sat on the couch, his legs stretched out in front of him, trying his best to smile as he tickled Luna, her giggles filling the air. It was a soft sound, the kind of laughter that once brought him a sense of peace, but now it felt like a distant memory.

He tried to focus on her, on her innocent joy, but the weight of everything pressing on him still felt unbearable. He could hardly summon the energy to keep up with her playful energy.

"Daddy! Knights don’t tickle princesses!” she said, holding up a finger as if to emphasize her point as she laughed.

"Oh really? So why am I doing that now?"

"Because you are a bad knight, daddy!"

Noah let go and finally dropped his hands to his sides, letting the kid breathe.

Luna, her tiny hands gripping his arm as she attempted to climb onto his lap, paused for a moment and looked at him with her big, innocent eyes. She tilted her head to one side, sensing that something was off. "Daddy," she said in her small, soft voice, "will Y/N come today?"

The question hit Noah like a punch to the stomach. He froze for a second, trying to think, his chest tightening as his mind raced for an answer. How could he explain this to her? How could he possibly tell his three-year-old daughter that the woman who had been a constant presence in their lives, the woman he had loved, was gone and might never return?

He forced a smile as he moved some strands of hair from her little chubby face, but it felt hollow. "No, sweetie," he said softly, trying to keep the sadness from his voice. "Y/N won't be coming here for a while."

Luna’s face fell for a moment, and Noah’s heart twisted at the sight. She didn’t understand, not fully. But she could already feel the absence. She blinked and then asked, her voice so innocent and hopeful, "Oh, is she on vacation?"

Noah nodded slowly, trying to hold it together. He swallowed hard, not knowing what else to say. "Yeah," he replied quietly. "She’s on vacation."

Luna seemed to accept that answer, her small face brightening again, and Noah couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. Was he lying to her? He didn’t know. But he couldn’t tell her the truth. Not yet. Not when he was still trying to figure it all out himself.

“Oh,” Luna said, her voice soft and wistful. “I wish I could go with her. I want to see the mountains with Y/N.”

Noah’s heart broke a little more as she spoke, the simple, innocent wish from his daughter ringing in his ears.

He looked down at her, her eyes filled with that pure, untainted hope, and he could feel the weight of the world on his shoulders. He wished things were different, wished he could turn back time and make the mess he had created disappear. But all he could do now was nod, his voice filled with emotion as he replied, “Yeah… me too.”

His gaze fell on the beaded bracelet on his wrist, the bracelet Luna had made with you. She seemed so happy when she gave it to him, saying that you and she had one similar too that Noah couldn't say no. He wondered where you put yours. If it was lying forgotten at the bottom of a trash can or if he was on your wrist too and if you were thinking about him like he was thinking about you looking at it.

The pink was an extreme contrast to his tattoos in a way that made him smile and made his skin burn at the same time.

Luna didn’t seem to sense the weight of his words. Instead, she smiled brightly, her small hands gripping his shirt as she pulled herself closer to him. “Maybe when Y/N comes back, we can all go to the mountains together, Daddy. And see bears.”

Noah’s throat tightened, and he could barely choke out a laugh. "Maybe," he said quietly, his voice breaking just a little. “Maybe we can.”

That late evening, you were at home, the wind outside picking up, howling against the windows.

But then, through the noise, you heard something else—faint, almost drowned out by the gusts of wind. It was a soft whimpering sound. You froze, wondering if you’d imagined it. Another sound followed, louder this time, and it was unmistakable.

You quickly made your way to the door, heart racing. Was someone out there? You opened the door cautiously. The wind whipped around you, but you could make out something small huddling near the porch steps.

A tiny, scruffy ball of fur, sat there looking up at you. You bent down, your breath catching in your throat. A small puppy—probably only a few months old—was staring up at you with big, wide eyes, the color of dark amber. The fur on its body was matted and dirty, but you could tell that, despite its appearance, it wasn’t in horrible condition. It was skinny, too, ribs showing a bit too much through its dirty fur but it didn’t seem too malnourished.

You crouched down, reaching out cautiously, speaking in a soft voice, “Hey there, little one… where did you come from?” The puppy didn’t flinch, but tilted its head at you, studying you curiously, its little tail flicking.

“Do you have a home?” you asked again, more gently this time, hoping it could understand. It just stared at you, unblinking, before it started to shuffle forward, its paws making soft noises on the porch.

“Well, I guess you don’t have a place to go, do you?” you sighed, your heart already melting at the sight of the poor thing. The puppy continued its advance, slowly squeezing between your legs and making its way into the house. You blinked, surprised, but then a soft laugh escaped you.

“Okay, I guess you've already decided where you're going to stay,” you said with a smile, closing the door behind you. You watched the little creature wander inside.

You paused for a moment, your mind spinning with what to do next. You glanced around the small space, eyes landing on the kitchen. Your fridge. Maybe there was something you could feed it.

Opening the fridge, you found some leftover chicken, cooked and ready to go. Without hesitation, you grabbed it, placing it down on a plate for the pup. You watched as the little dog immediately pounced on the food, devouring it in a matter of seconds, the sound of its chewing filling in the silence of the house.

As the dog finished, you crouched down beside it, rubbing its back, and you finally understood the puppy was a male. “What now, little one? You just going to stay here with me?” you asked, your voice soft.

The dog responded with a loud, excited bark, his tail wagging furiously as he jumped up in front of you, as if to say “Yes, please!”

You chuckled lightly. “Guess that’s a yes,” you smiled, patting the puppy’s head.

“Alright then, you can stay with me for now.”

Without thinking twice, you picked the little thing up, holding him carefully in your arms as you carried him toward the bathroom.

You turned on the tap, filling the bathtub with warm water, and carefully set the puppy down.

You took your time, softly scrubbing the dirt out of his brown and black fur.

Just as you were finishing up, the puppy suddenly shook his body, spraying water everywhere. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, the tiny creature soaking your clothes and the bathroom floor, but you didn’t mind. The laugh felt good, like a release, like a bit of normalcy in the chaos that had surrounded you lately.

“You really know how to make a mess, huh?” you said, wiping your face with the back of your hand as the dog looked up at you, his fur dripping wet and his expression utterly adorable.

After a few more moments, you helped the puppy out of the tub and wrapped it in a towel, rubbing it gently to dry it off. He seemed to enjoy the attention, snuggling into the towel as if it had finally found a safe place. You sat on the floor with him for some moments.

Then, you looked down at the tiny creature, now dry and warm, curled up on the towel beside you, his little eyes closing in contentment. “You're a good boy,” you said softly, smiling as the puppy let out a quiet yawn.

That night, he whined until you picked him up and let him sleep in the bed with you, his body pressed close to yours, keeping you almost as warm as Noah's had.

The next morning, before going to the café, you left enough food and water around for the dog before heading out, promising to think of a suitable name for him.

When you were at work, it had started raining, and when you stepped out of the coffee shop during the afternoon, it hadn't stopped yet.

The cold rain immediately soaked through your clothes as you reached your car.

The city streets were slick with water, and the dull hum of distant thunder echoed in the sky, but you barely noticed. Your mind was consumed with the need to reach Noah. You had to. You had already waited too much.

You got in, slammed the door, and turned the key. Nothing. You tried again. And again. The engine sputtered but refused to start, the engine light flashing mockingly at you in the dark interior. Your heart sank. You cursed under your breath and tried once more, but the car just refused to cooperate. It was as if the universe itself had decided that this was not the night for you to see Noah, that fate was conspiring against you, and all the progress you'd just made would come crashing down.

"This is ridiculous," you muttered, staring helplessly at the wheel. Frustration surged inside you, and you felt a lump rise in your throat. The rain was pouring harder now, and everything felt like it was falling apart.

But then, in that moment of frustration, something shifted inside you. You wiped your damp face with the back of your hand and exhaled, steadying yourself. This wasn’t the end, not yet. You weren’t going to give up this easily.

Noah was waiting for you. Even if maybe he didn’t know that. You couldn’t afford to let something as trivial as a car breaking down stop you.

"Fine," you whispered to yourself, the determination in your voice solidifying. "I’ll walk."

Without another thought, you opened the door, slammed it shut, and stepped back out into the pouring rain. The streets blurred with each step you took, your soaked clothes clinging to you as you began your journey toward Noah, your mind set on one thing: You needed to see him.

The rain was hitting the ground in heavy, unrelenting sheets, turning the streets into rivers when you reached Noah's house. The sound of it pounded against your ears, drowning out everything else. You stood there, drenched to the bone, the cold water soaking through your coat and clothes, your hair was wet, dripping down and sending a chill through your neck, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except getting to Noah.

Nothing mattered except Noah.

The cold air pressed against your skin, your heart pounded in your chest, thoughts spinning.

You reached the front door, the familiar house looming before you, but it wasn’t the same. It didn’t feel like home anymore. Not when everything had been shattered, and the quiet that hung between you two was almost suffocating.

Finally, you pressed the doorbell, the sound of it echoing louder in the still night than you had anticipated. The seconds felt like hours, and then, the door creaked open.

There he was, standing in the doorway, but he wasn’t the same Noah. His eyes were tired, bloodshot from lack of sleep, and his face was drawn. The person you had known—the one who laughed with you late at night, the one who made you feel safe—felt distant now, a ghost of the man you had loved.

He looked at you, and for a moment, there was nothing but silence as the rain kept pouring all around you. He didn’t say a word. Didn’t even move. You couldn't read him, it was like he was trying to keep you at arm’s length, afraid that if you got too close, you might shatter him further.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words felt like they were stuck in your throat. What could you even say? How could you explain what had happened, explain how everything had fallen apart because of one man's manipulation? You knew this was your fault, too.

“Noah,” you said, voice shaky as you finally met his gaze. “I... I need to talk to you. Please.”

His expression remained overall hard, a wall that you couldn’t break through, not yet. He looked down for a moment, his jaw tightening, as if he was fighting the urge to turn away from you.

But when he looked at you, his eyes were soft, as if despite everything he couldn't look at you with anger.

"What?" he muttered, his voice strained, as if a single word was causing him physical pain.

You took a deep breath.

"Ever since Jason came back to town, I—I didn’t see it. I didn’t want to see it. I thought that chapter was closed, that he was a thing of the past, that I was done with him. And I was. Because I love you and I'll always love you and only you. But he wasn’t done with me. I should’ve known. And I... I was too fucking stupid to realize he never wanted to let me go. Not really. He wanted to win me back, to tear us apart, and I was blind to it."

He just stared at you, so you kept talking. Seeing him like that was absolutely breaking you.

"He asked Rick for help, a friend of his that understood he was doing something wrong and talked to me. And Rick, he... he just wanted to be a good friend. He didn’t understand. But Jason—he used Rick, manipulated him, got him to leave him drunk in front of your house, knowing that I would let him in because I am too fucking srupid and too fucking nice. He knew that you’d think I cheated on you. Knowing that you’d be hurt, that you'd doubt me, that it would rip us apart. He had everything planned. And I—I let it happen. I didn’t even see it coming. I didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late, until I saw the way you looked at me like I let you down like your ex. And I've never wanted that.

And now... now I’m standing here, soaked to the skin because I always forget to bring an umbrella with me and because I care about you, trying to find the right words, but there’s no easy way to explain this. No way to take back the pain I caused you. No way to undo what Jason did. But I need you to know this... I love you. More than anything. More than I ever thought I could love someone.

And I’m so fucking sorry for the mess I’ve made and for letting Jason ruin everything. I’m so sorry I didn’t see what Jason was doing. I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner that I was losing you, that I was pushing you away when all I’ve ever wanted is to be with you.

I love you more than I ever knew how to say. I love you more than anything. And I need you to know that, to believe that, because it’s the truth. You’re the only thing that matters to me and I miss you. And I miss Luna. And I miss the family we built. The three of us. And if you can find it in your heart to forgive me... I swear, I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right. But please, Noah, don’t let me lose you. Not like this. Not because of an asshole who thought he had power on someone else's love."

After you finished confessing, Noah looked at you with a mix of confusion and concern for a moment, his brow furrowing as his gaze flickered over your drenched form. "Why are you completely soaked?"

You couldn't help but smile softly, a little amusement tugging at the corner of your lips, despite the moment. "My car wouldn’t start," you replied, trying to sound lighthearted, almost as if it was a silly inconvenience. "So I walked."

Before you could say anything more, Noah’s expression softened even more, and without another word, he stepped forward in the rain. His lips found yours with a sudden intensity, and it was like everything else melted away. You smiled against his mouth, the taste of him so sweet, so right, that it felt like you could stay in this moment forever.

You had longed for the sensation of his lips on yours, the warmth of his tongue dancing with yours, and the comfort of his arms wrapped around you for days.

His hair clung to his forehead as the rain soaked him through, and without thinking, you reached up to brush it aside, your fingers grazing the damp strands as you continued to kiss him, your hearts racing in sync. It was perfect. It was real. The kiss lingered, deepening, as if neither of you wanted it to end, until the air between you both ran out and you both pulled back, gasping for breath.

Noah’s hands were still on your hips, pushing you close to him.

His voice was low and vulnerable as he whispered against your lips, "I’ve dreamed of this moment for fifteen nights. I thought you hated me..I'm sorry I told you to leave. I was scared to lose you and so fucking jealous. I've never wanted you to leave. I love you.

I loved you from the first moment I walked into the café with Luna barely able to speak, when she raised her little hand to say hi. She didn't do it with anyone. But she did it with you. Maybe she also understood at that moment that you were going to be the most important person in both our lives."

You couldn’t help but smile, the warmth flooding back into your chest at the sound of his words. "I’ve walked in the rain for forty minutes for you," you murmured, your voice soft but full of certainty. "I’d say I don’t hate you at all."

He chuckled, the sound of it wrapping around you like a warm blanket. God, you'd missed that sound so bad. "I’d say I don’t hate you at all either," he replied, a grin tugging at his lips, and then he kissed you again, softer this time, as if savoring every second, every drop of rain falling around you both.

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lacy1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme @hurricanesfollowyou @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @missduffsblog

TBAF Tags: @klutzy-kay24 @mrscevans @concreteangel92 @iconic-taurus @niicoleleigh @cheyyyyr @supersquirrel1996 @respectfulrebel @clickmedead @whenyouwannafindlove @kenjipepsi1

#noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian x oc #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian #bad omens #bad omens fanfiction #dad!noah sebastian #dad noah sebastian x reader #tbaf #to build a family

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watching-sam-and-dean-again · 1 day ago

Note

This is interesting commentary, but:

"Despite the exact opposite being the typical fandom perception, early on we learn that Sam tends to define a monster by their features/abilities, while Dean defines a monster by their actions."

I agree that early on Sam tends to think abilities = Monster = Bad, but so does Dean. I also agree that how Sam feels about Monsters/people with an abilities does relate to where he is at in his own personal "freak" journey. However, I don’t agree with the idea that Dean has a nuanced criteria for killing early on. To me, it seems more like early Dean sees ALL monsters as bad, AND humans who behave monstrously are ALSO bad.

(As I am just jumping on a post that came across my dash, I’ll put the rest under the cut. So don’t read on if you aren’t interested my expanding on my take. And no hard feelings if you aren’t.).

It isn’t until after "Bloodlust" in Season 2 that Dean even considers the possibility that a monster might not always be bad. Sam is the one who says, "if they aren’t killing anyone, then they aren’t evil." Dean would have killed the vampires without a second thought if Sam hadn’t stopped him (at first). Dean is shaken at the idea that he might have killed monsters who hadn’t deserved to die, which suggests he hadn’t used any criterion to determine what makes someone a monster other than them being "a literal monster" to justify killing until this episode. Also, Max has powers, which I think Dean basically acquaints with being a monster or monster-adjacent. He’s more inclined than Sam to give Andy the benefit of the doubt, but this is after "Bloodlust," and it’s because if he considers Andy a monster for having mental powers, then he might have to consider the fact that he might have to kill Sam (like John warned him) because of his abilities, too. Dean is terrified when Sam starts having abilities that he will become a monster, despite saying he doesn’t believe Sam could go bad and won’t let that happen.

Also, in "The Benders," the family is hideously monstrous, but other than fighting in self-defense and to save each other, both Sam and Dean seem uneasy with the idea that the cop killed the human man who killed her brother once he’d been disarmed. It seems here that both brothers still have some hang-ups on killing even evil humans.

Also, fandom tends to aquate Sam with being the one who usually has more empathy for monsters, or the one less likely to kill somone just because they are a monster … because it’s been shown over and over. His mantra practically became, "it’s not who you are, it’s what you do that matters." Though, it is a lesson he learns after a ton of hardship. In "The Purge," Dean wants to kill the "Fish Taco" who has killed and harmed no one because her brother was a killer. He also is upset that Sam wants them to be "all business" and not family at this time, so one could even argue that Deans empathy comes from his relationship with Sam (he also has the mark here, already, I know).

Also, Sam trusted Ruby, or semi-trusted her, as early as Season 3. He was proven wrong for trusting her even though she helped them countless times, and pulled him back from committing suicide. With Benny, he sees another monster who helped support and save a Winchester, and who appears to be trustworthy … but what if he isn’t? Sam was wrong to trust Ruby, so there is the worry that maybe Dean is also wrong to trust Benny. Add this to Dean killing Amy and Dean literally saying Benny has never let him down (implying Sam has, thus he’s a better brother than Sam), and that’s why Sam hated Benny.

Aneyay, I think who the brothers see as monsters, and whether the person/monster is should be trusted, worthy of mercy or not, often depends more on what they are projecting about themselves or their brother and less on having a set criteria for whether people should be considered monsters or desrve killing.

omg i just finished your emma vs amy takes and the subsequent discourse about it (which was so refreshing to see btw!! love it when adults can be Adults and argue about the topic without insulting the other person) and I might get fried for this but that incident aside, do you have any other scene/episode in mind where sam reacts the same way or does the same thing?

(im sorry if this isn't your cup of tea for asks! your takes have been Enlightening)

You mean another situation where Sam shoots a person with supernatural abilities who hasn't shed blood and has a sympathetic backstory without giving them a chance? Not as overtly—Benny in season 8's "Citizen Fang" certainly comes to mind, but even Benny, Sam at least made a show of giving a chance by assigning Martin to keep tabs on him and make sure he didn't do anything wrong before trying to kill him. (Though whether there was conscious or subconscious sabotage involved when Sam chose Martin specifically—someone he knew to be mentally unstable—is certainly a good question given Sam had already made death threats about Benny before then.)

The fact that Sam's behavior in 7.13 "Slice Girls" is pretty unique is really what I want to point out about this episode in the first place—that Sam's actions in "Slice Girls" are inconsistent with his previous behavior and future behavior as far as "good" monster episodes. We can turn to examples such as:

1.14 where Sam insists they try and talk Max down instead of killing him, because Max's murders are a result of extensive abuse.

Lenore and her nest in SPN's seminal "monsters can be good" episode (2.03)

Sam thinking Andy is responsible for the killings in 2.05 but still waiting for proof before acting.

2.09 where Sam insists they not kill someone they think might be infected with Croatoan virus before he turns and tries to kill them because that doesn't give him a chance.

Two episodes where Sam faces off against Gordon because Gordon wants to kill him before Sam kills someone (2.10, 3.07)

2.17 where Sam and Dean search for a cure for Madison, who is not aware that she has been killing people.

4.04 Metamorphosis where Sam is the one who takes the initiative to research Rugarus, learns that they can survive without giving into their urges, and insist they go and talk to him about how his body is changing (lol) so he has the chance to fight the urge to kill and eat people.

5.06 where Sam and Dean oppose Cas who wants to kill Jesse, who is a child who is not aware that he has powers and is hurting people.

6.02 where Sam, even soulless, recognizes the innocence of a shifter baby.

Then we have Amy and Emma in 7.03 and 7.13 respectively.

8.04 where the brothers let Kate the Werewolf go because she was turned against her will and killed the man who turned her in self-defense.

8.09 Citizen Fang (already discussed)

I'm getting lazy but then we also have Magda and Jack Kline—both children with powers, one severely abused, the other the son of the devil with uncontrolled explosive powers that could end the world, both of whom Sam attempts to help work with their abilities.

Dean has a more structured series of personal "rules"—a litmus test we see from the very beginning—one Sam often follows as well, but I'm not sure Sam ever really fully grasps that Dean thinks this way.

Has this person hurt or killed anyone?

Was it on purpose or was it outside of their awareness?

If it wasn't on purpose, are they capable of learning to control their urges?

We see this code as early as 1.12 "Faith":

SAM Wait, what the hell are you talking about Dean, we can't kill Roy. DEAN Sam the guys playing God, he's deciding who lives and who dies. That's a monster in my book. SAM No. We're not going to kill a human being Dean. We do that we're no better than he is.

Dean applies the same reasoning in 1.14 with Max:

SAM These visions, this whole time -- I wasn't connecting to the Millers, I was connecting to Max! The thing is I don't get why, man. I guess -- because we're so alike? DEAN What are you talking about. The dude's nothing like you. SAM Well. We both have psychic abilities, we both... DEAN Both what? Sam, Max is a monster, he's already killed two people, now he's gunning for a third.

Despite the exact opposite being the typical fandom perception, early on we learn that Sam tends to define a monster by their features/abilities, while Dean defines a monster by their actions. We see the same with Amy—she is "a monster who killed four people" (7.07) . She isn't a monster because of what she is but because of what she did. This again—is also why Dean doesn't even consider killing her son right after her kid swears to kill him one day. We see Dean, in the rare cases where it comes up, is also perfectly fine with taking out human serial killers they stumble across (ex: Thin Man).

Sam will also kill a human serial killer at times (and murderous witches by 3.09), but he reserves the word "monster" to describe individuals with supernatural features/abilities... and I think the fact that Sam's definition of the term differs from Dean's is something neither brother ever fully realizes about the other, leading at several points to arguments where they are talking past each other and do not understand one another. Sam hears "monster" and thinks "Dean is talking about me", when Dean is operating under a completely different definition of the term that is based on the actions of a person.

When Sam is in a headspace where he is thinking of himself as one of those monsters, he shows increased or lessened sympathy in turns. For example, he assumes Andy's guilt in 2.05 because he is panicked about becoming evil himself and is comparing the two of them (but again—still waits for confirmation) but his sympathy for Max in 1.14 comes from the same comparison with himself. Sam completely misrepresents Amy in 7.03 as an addict who relapsed but more generally is "managing", as a way to compare her with himself... when Amy didn't feed on anyone herself and her actions have absolutely nothing to do with addiction or battling "monstrous urges".

I've been bitching and moaning a lot, but I will reemphasize that there is a more sympathetic reason that Sam shoots Emma—Sam and Dean are both crowding up to the diving board at the deep end of the pool in season 7. Dean's grieving and is drinking extremely heavily to cope and Sam is hallucinating. They are both unraveling at the seams. Neither of them is in a place where they trust the other's judgement because they both know themselves and each other to be unstable. So if we imagine a reality where Sam and Dean give Emma a chance, and it doesn't take, Sam assesses himself and Dean to be in no mental state to cope with a potential surprise attack. It's just that Sam also erroneously compares Amy and Emma when they are not the same, and by doing so, frames Dean wanting to spare Emma but killing Amy as hypocrisy (because they are both "monsters") when Dean's actions are perfectly consistent with his personal ethical code and his definition of a "monster"... and Sam's actions aren't.

#spn meta #i do gen think their moral compasses are fucked. both of them.#sam #dean #adding my 2 cents #I can repost separately if OP has issue with my reblog …

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creatur3featur3 · 17 hours ago

Text

ੈ✩ Street Rat p5 ✩ੈ

word count: 12k GOD DAMN IM GONNA BURN OUT WTF

A/N: uhhh lots of rambling on, i wanted to edit this pretty heavily but, my nights are being taken by watching the loml play Stray on my nintendo switch so- yall get a unedited version because I have a life outside of this! don't kill me please

warnings: mentions of wounds, smut at the end, eating out Sev (r) (I could only write so much of it sorry gang)

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

You sat stiffly on Sevika’s couch, your legs bouncing with barely contained anxiety. The fabric beneath you was surprisingly soft, not what you expected from someone like her. The whole place, really, was more put-together than you’d imagined. Still gritty, still undeniably hers, but… not a total dump.

Your hand hovered over your side, pressing gently against the makeshift bandage you’d thrown together on the way here. The stab wound throbbed, a sharp reminder of your less-than-stellar life choices. The fight had been ugly, and the guy you’d gone up against clearly hadn’t cared about playing fair.

“Stay still,” Sevika’s voice cut through your thoughts. She was across the room, rummaging through a cabinet. “You’re already bleeding all over my floor.”

You winced—not from pain, but from the sharp edge in her tone. “Sorry,” you mumbled, though you doubted she cared about the apology.

Sevika turned around, her metal arm gleaming faintly in the dim light as she carried a small kit over to you. “You’re lucky I’m even bothering,” she grumbled, dropping it on the table with a clatter. “Most people wouldn’t be dumb enough to pick that fight in the first place.”

You glanced down, avoiding her gaze. “He started it.”

“Yeah?” Sevika raised an eyebrow, pulling out a roll of bandages and some antiseptic. “And I’m guessing you just had to finish it, huh?”

You didn’t respond, biting your lip as she knelt in front of you. Her expression was unreadable, though the way she grabbed your arm to hold you steady was gentler than you’d expected.

“This is gonna sting,” she warned, holding up a bottle of antiseptic.

“I’ll be fine,” you muttered, bracing yourself.

The first touch of the liquid made you hiss through your teeth, your whole body jerking involuntarily. Sevika’s grip tightened, keeping you still.

“Stop squirming,” she said, her tone softer than before.

“I’m not squirming,” you shot back, though the watery sting in your eyes said otherwise.

She chuckled softly under her breath, shaking her head as she worked. “Tough talk for someone who can’t handle a little cleaning.”

You glared at her, but it didn’t hold much weight—not when she was literally keeping you from bleeding out. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little,” she admitted, smirking as she wrapped the bandage around your side. “But don’t get used to it. This is a one-time favor.”

“Sure,” you said, wincing again as her fingers brushed against a particularly tender spot. “One time.”

But the way Sevika lingered, her hands steady and careful as she patched you up, made you wonder if she meant it.

Sevika sat back on her heels, her sharp eyes narrowing as she finished securing the bandage around your side. Her lips pressed into a thin line, the quiet tension in the room thick enough to choke on. She didn’t look amused.

“Alright,” she started, crossing her arms over her chest as she rose to her full height, towering over you. “Mind telling me why the hell you’re still out there getting into fights?”

You glanced up at her, then quickly looked away, suddenly finding the scuffed floor fascinating. “I mean, it’s the Undercity,” you said, shrugging nonchalantly despite the pain it caused. “Fights happen.”

“Don’t give me that,” she snapped, her voice low and gruff. “You promised you’d do better.”

There was a long pause. You could feel her gaze boring into you, waiting for an answer. Finally, you sighed, raising your hands in mock surrender.

“Okay, okay,” you muttered, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “I may or may not have had my fingers crossed when I said that.”

Sevika blinked, her expression unreadable at first. Then, her jaw tightened, and she let out a sharp, exasperated laugh.

“Are you kidding me?” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I mean, technically, I didn’t lie,” you pointed out, trying to suppress the grin creeping onto your face.

“You’re lucky I didn’t let you bleed out,” she muttered, shaking her head as she leaned against the wall, arms still crossed.

“Come on,” you said, sitting up straighter despite the ache in your side. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Sevika raised an eyebrow, gesturing pointedly at the blood-stained rag you’d used earlier. “Sure. Not bad at all.”

You winced, scratching the back of your neck. “Okay, maybe I could’ve handled it better.”

“Maybe?” she shot back, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Alright, alright,” you relented, holding up your hands again. “I’ll be more careful next time.”

“There shouldn’t be a next time,” Sevika said firmly, her gaze hardening. “You’re gonna get yourself killed if you keep this up.”

The weight in her voice caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words.

“I’ll… try,” you said quietly, your smirk fading.

“Good,” she replied, though her eyes lingered on you, softer now, as if she wasn’t entirely convinced.

Sevika leaned against the kitchen counter, her metal arm glinting under the dim light as she glanced back at you. “You hungry?” she asked, her tone gruff, but the question caught you off guard.

Your stomach growled in reply before you could even think to answer, and you sheepishly scratched the back of your neck. “Starving, actually,” you admitted with a small laugh.

Sevika raised an eyebrow, pushing herself off the counter. “Alright. Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she said, heading toward the tiny kitchen area.

“Warn me?” you echoed, watching her rummage through a cabinet.

She shrugged, pulling out a few ingredients and setting them on the counter. “I’m not much of a cook,” she muttered. “But I’ll try.”

You couldn’t help the skeptical look that crossed your face. Sevika? Cooking? The woman who looked like she lived on cigars and sheer spite?

Still, you stayed quiet, leaning back on her couch as you watched her work. It was oddly mesmerizing—her movements were steady, calculated, like everything else she did.

When the aroma of whatever she was making started to fill the room, your skepticism started to waver.

Finally, Sevika placed a plate in front of you, her expression unreadable as she nodded toward it. “There,” she said. “Eat up.”

You hesitated for a moment, staring at the food. It looked surprisingly good—better than you’d expected from someone who claimed they couldn’t cook.

The first bite was cautious, your eyes widening as the flavors hit your tongue. By the second bite, you were practically inhaling it.

“Oh my god,” you mumbled around a mouthful of food, eyes wide. “This is incredible.”

Sevika blinked, clearly not expecting your reaction. “It’s just… a simple recipe,” she said, scratching the back of her neck.

“Simple?” you repeated, gesturing wildly with your fork. “This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

She smirked, leaning back against the counter with her arms crossed. “You’re easy to impress.”

“No, seriously,” you insisted, taking another enthusiastic bite. “You could open a restaurant or something.”

Sevika chuckled, shaking her head. “Don’t get carried away.”

You leaned back in the chair, fork clinking softly against the plate as you savored the last few bites of Sevika’s unexpectedly amazing meal. “You know,” you started, trying to keep your voice casual, “you’re way too humble for your own good when you’re around me.”

Sevika raised an eyebrow, smirking as she leaned against the counter. “Humble, huh?”

“Yeah,” you said, gesturing toward your empty plate like it was evidence. “I mean, come on. You act all tough and gruff, but then you go and do something like this? It’s throwing me off.”

She chuckled, the low sound sending a shiver up your spine. “Maybe it’s hard not to be when I’m with you,” she replied, her tone surprisingly soft.

The words hung in the air, heavy and unfiltered, and you felt your breath hitch. Your cheeks warmed, your heart skipping a beat as you fumbled for a response.

For the first time in your life, you found yourself genuinely flustered—and not in a way you hated.

You laughed nervously, rubbing the back of your neck as you tried to regain some semblance of composure. “That’s… well, that’s not fair,” you mumbled, avoiding her gaze.

“Not fair?” Sevika teased, her smirk deepening. “What, you can dish it out but can’t take it?”

You scowled half-heartedly, the heat in your cheeks betraying you. “I can take it just fine,” you shot back, though your voice lacked its usual edge.

Sevika chuckled again, her eyes softening as she watched you squirm. “Good to know,” she said simply, her tone carrying an undertone of something… warmer.

And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel the need to run or hide from it.

“So,” you sighed, pushing yourself off the couch and standing up, stretching your arms high above your head. A series of satisfying pops followed, and you let out a content groan. “What’s the plan? You going out to fight people? Play cards or whatever it is you do to keep busy?”

Sevika raised an eyebrow at you from her spot on the couch, her metal arm resting casually on the armrest. “I’m going to bed,” she said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You blinked at her, genuinely caught off guard. “Wait… seriously? Bed? Right now?”

She nodded, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Yeah. I do that sometimes, you know. Sleep?”

You crossed your arms, still staring at her like she’d just told you the sky was green. “I don’t know, Sev. I just assumed you were some kind of nocturnal machine or something. Sleep doesn’t seem very… you.”

Her smirk deepened as she leaned back, clearly amused by your reaction. “And what exactly do you think I do all night? Patrol the streets like some kind of vigilante?”

“I mean…” you trailed off, shrugging as you gestured vaguely at her. “Yeah? You’re Sevika. Isn’t that, like, your whole thing?”

She chuckled, shaking her head as she stood up, towering over you. “I hate to disappoint, but even I need to recharge sometimes,” she said, her tone laced with teasing sarcasm.

You snorted, stepping aside as she moved past you. “I don’t know if I’m more shocked that you sleep or that you’re admitting it to me.”

You stood there in silence, watching Sevika disappear into her bedroom. For a moment, you debated your next move, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. And then, before you could stop yourself, you found your feet moving, following her into the room.

Sevika didn’t say anything as you stepped inside, though the way she glanced at you with a raised eyebrow made it clear she noticed. She didn’t tell you to leave either, so you took that as an invitation to linger.

Her room was simple, surprisingly so. The bed was neatly made, the walls bare save for a few scratches and dents that told stories you’d probably never hear.

As Sevika sat on the edge of the bed, unbuckling her metal arm, you decided to take a risk. “So,” you started, leaning against the doorframe with a playful smirk, “does this mean I get to sleep with you?”

Sevika froze mid-motion, her head snapping up to look at you. For a second, there was only silence, and then—

“You’ve got ten seconds to leave,” she said flatly, though you could see the way her lips twitched like she was fighting back a smile.

“Aw, come on, Sev,” you teased, holding up your hands in mock surrender. “It was just a joke.”

“Nine,” she continued, standing up and fixing you with a look that was equal parts exasperation and amusement.

“Okay, okay!” you laughed, backing toward the door. “I’m going! No need to get all violent about it.”

She shook her head, muttering something under her breath as you slipped out of the room.

As the door clicked shut behind you, you couldn’t help but grin to yourself. Sure, she’d kicked you out—but at least she hadn’t looked too mad.

Despite her threats, Sevika didn’t actually kick you out of her house entirely. Instead, as you were halfway to the door, she called out with a gruff sigh.

“Hey,” she muttered, leaning in the doorway of her bedroom, her metal arm resting against the frame. “You can crash on the couch if you want. Better than whatever roof you’ve been using for the past nineteen years.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden softness in her tone. “Wait, seriously?”

“Don’t make me regret it,” she grumbled, her expression unreadable.

You smirked, turning back toward the couch. “Aw, Sevika, I didn’t know you cared.”

You flopped onto the couch, stretching out and making yourself comfortable. Sure, it wasn’t the most luxurious spot in the world, but compared to a freezing rooftop, it felt like heaven.

Sevika lingered for a moment, watching you settle in before she disappeared back into her bedroom. As the door shut softly behind her, you couldn’t help but feel a strange warmth in your chest.

Maybe she wasn’t as cold as she wanted everyone to think. Maybe—just maybe—there was more to her than the sharp edges and hard exterior.

You had always had a hard time sleeping, never really being able to fully relax when you laid down.

when you were younger you always had be a least a little alert so you could make sure your dad didn't hurt your mom.

but after the fire— the nightmares were unbearable, and of course they happened tonight, just like any night-

The dream came like it always did—smoke and fire swallowing everything around you, your mother’s desperate cries echoing in your ears. You were running, your lungs burning as much as your legs, trying to reach her. Trying to reach anyone. But no matter how fast you moved, the fire was faster.

It consumed everything.

Your sisters laughter turned to screams, the warmth of their embrace replaced by the searing heat of the flames. You called for them, begged for them to come back, but your voice was lost in the roar of the inferno.

And then, just like always, you were alone.

You woke up with a start, a sharp gasp escaping your lips as you bolted upright on Sevika’s couch. Your chest heaved, your body slick with sweat as the remnants of the nightmare clawed at your mind.

You bit down on your trembling lip, quickly wiping at your cheeks to erase any evidence of tears. You couldn’t cry—not here. Not where Sevika could hear you.

Taking a shaky breath, you pressed your hands to your face, trying to calm the pounding in your chest. But the images wouldn’t leave. The fire, the screams, the overwhelming helplessness. It was all still there, as vivid as the night it happened.

You sat there in silence, your hands gripping the blanket Sevika had given you, your knuckles white from the strain. You tried to steady your breathing, counting in your head, focusing on the feel of the fabric against your skin.

Don’t wake her up. Don’t make a scene.

You’d learned long ago how to cry quietly, how to stifle the sound of your sobs so no one would notice. But as the minutes dragged on, the weight in your chest didn’t ease.

This wasn’t new. It was routine. But somehow, sitting there in Sevika’s home—knowing she was just a few steps away—it felt different.

You found yourself standing at Sevika’s door, pondering if you should even do this, she'd probably kill you if she woke up to see you just staring at her in her sleep– but you just wanted to have some sort of comfort tonight…

You cautiously opened the door, slowly walking over to Sevika's bed, and you saw her.

Sevika was sprawled out on her bed, one arm draped over her stomach while the other rested on the pillow beside her. Her metal arm gleamed faintly in the dim light filtering in from the street outside, and her steady breathing filled the silence of the room.

She looked… peaceful. Completely different from the hardened woman you knew during the day.

For a moment, you hesitated, torn between leaving her be and giving in to the ache in your chest. This was a terrible idea—worse than terrible. If she caught you, she’d definitely never let you live it down. But something about the way she seemed so at ease made you linger.

You moved a little closer, your heart pounding in your chest as you debated whether to wake her.

“Sevika…” you whispered, barely audible, testing the waters.

She didn’t stir.

You sighed, your shoulders sagging as you sat cautiously on the edge of her bed. You weren’t sure what you were doing—maybe you just wanted to feel like someone was there. Like you weren’t completely alone tonight.

For a moment, you just sat there, staring at your hands as you tried to will away the lingering images of the fire.

And then, Sevika stirred.

Her brow furrowed slightly as she shifted, her eyes slowly opening. She blinked, her gaze focusing on you in the faint light.

“What the hell are you doing?” she rasped, her voice low and groggy.

You froze, guilt crashing over you in an instant. “I—uh… nothing,” you stammered, quickly looking away. “I didn’t mean to wake you, I just—”

She sat up, rubbing her face with her flesh hand as she muttered something under her breath. “You just what?”

You swallowed, your fingers twisting in the hem of your shirt. “I… couldn’t sleep,” you admitted quietly.

Sevika’s eyes narrowed slightly, but there was no real anger there—just annoyance mixed with something softer, something almost understanding. She let out a heavy sigh, leaning back against the headboard.

“And you thought creeping into my room was the solution?” she asked, her tone dry.

You winced, feeling thoroughly embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Just get in,” she interrupted, cutting you off.

You blinked, caught completely off guard. “What?”

“Get in the bed before I change my mind,” Sevika said, rolling her eyes. “If it’ll shut you up and let me sleep, fine.”

You hesitated, wondering if this was some kind of cruel joke, but the look on her face told you she wasn’t kidding.

Swallowing hard, you slid under the blanket, careful not to get too close.

“Don’t make this weird,” Sevika muttered, lying back down and closing her eyes.

You nodded, though she couldn’t see it, your heart pounding in your chest. “Thanks,” you whispered, barely audible.

Sevika grunted in response, already halfway back to sleep.

For the first time in a long time, the weight in your chest felt a little lighter.

Sevika would've never taken you for someone who needed to have someone to sleep by, but when you crawled into the bed and only about 5 minutes passed you were knocked out completely.

Sevika grumbled sleepily when she felt your body shift closer to her’s, hands lazily gripping at her arm, seemed like you craved the contact.

Sevika blinked lazily in the dim light, her grogginess fading just enough to register your soft, steady breathing. Your fingers curled lightly around her flesh arm, like you were holding on to an anchor in the dark.

She sighed, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through her chest. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to care. But here you were, fast asleep beside her, looking more peaceful than she’d ever seen you.

“Damn kid,” she muttered under her breath, her voice barely audible.

She shifted slightly, careful not to wake you, and let her head rest back against the pillow. Your grip on her tightened unconsciously, and she huffed, though there was no real annoyance behind it.

For a moment, Sevika just lay there, staring at the ceiling, listening to your quiet breaths. She told herself she’d shove you off if you started snoring, or if you got too comfortable.

But when she felt you relax further against her, your hand slipping down to rest on her arm as your body melted into sleep, she didn’t push you away.

She closed her eyes, her lips twitching into the faintest of smiles.

“Don’t make this a habit,” she murmured, knowing full well she’d probably let you do it again.

—

More or less it did become a habit.

She hated that you slept up on that roof, where idiots could find you and rip you apart if they were creeping around– and they had, multiple times.

“Your not going back there,” Sevika had stated as you ate the best fucking sweetbread you'd ever had in your life.

You paused mid-bite, staring at her like she’d just announced the sun would stop rising tomorrow. “What do you mean I’m not going back there?” you mumbled through a mouthful of sweetbread.

Sevika raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Exactly what I said. You’re not going back to that damn roof.”

You swallowed, setting the bread down as you tried to process her words. “Sev, I’ve been living there for years. It’s—”

“Unsafe,” she interrupted, crossing her arms over her chest. “And stupid.”

You frowned, leaning back in your seat. “Okay, first of all, rude. Second of all, it’s not like I have a ton of other options.”

“You have one,” Sevika shot back, her voice firm but not unkind. “Here.”

Your mouth opened, then closed again, her words catching you completely off guard. “Wait, are you—are you serious?”

She huffed, running a hand down her face like this conversation was exhausting her. “Look, I’m not saying I want you here,” she grumbled. “But I’m not about to let you get yourself killed sleeping in some alley because you’re too stubborn to accept help.”

You stared at her, a mixture of surprise and warmth blooming in your chest. “Wow, Sev. That’s… almost sweet of you.”

“Don’t push it,” she warned, though the corner of her mouth twitched like she was fighting a smirk.

You couldn’t help but grin, picking up the sweetbread again. “Fine, fine. Guess I can’t say no to free food and a roof over my head.”

“Damn right you can’t,” Sevika muttered, reaching for her drink.

And just like that, you found yourself with a new place to call home—even if Sevika would never admit that’s what it was.

She hated how you always convinced her to let you sleep in her bed, hated how you immediately crawled up next to her, hated the steady weight of your head against her chest — but she never asked you to move, only draping a lazily arm around you.

You had your own little routine as well, you were a early bird– like 3 in the fucking morning early.

Sevika grumbled as she felt the bed shift under your movements, the mattress creaking slightly as you tried to quietly slip out.

“Do you ever sleep?” she muttered, her voice groggy and laced with irritation.

You froze mid-step, turning to look at her in the faint glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains. “Didn’t mean to wake you,” you whispered, sheepishly scratching the back of your neck.

“You always wake me,” Sevika grumbled, running a hand down her face before glaring at you through half-lidded eyes. “What the hell do you even do this early?”

You shrugged, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. “Secret early-bird business.”

Sevika groaned, flopping back against the pillow. “One day, I’m locking the door and forcing you to sleep past dawn like a normal person.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you teased, sticking your tongue out before making your way to the small kitchen.

As you busied yourself quietly with whatever “early-bird business” meant today—whether it was tinkering with a gadget you’d scavenged or practicing some half-baked card tricks—you couldn’t help but glance toward the bedroom now and then.

Sevika might complain, might grumble about you being a menace, but you knew the truth: if she really wanted to stop you, she would’ve done it by now.

By the time you finished, the faint sound of Sevika’s snoring drifted through the apartment, a quiet reminder that, for all her protests, she had a soft spot for you. And maybe—just maybe—you had one for her too.

She had even made time to try and teach you how to play cards, though your constant struggle and frustration of a toddler who's new toy broke made it hard…

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sevika muttered, watching as you furiously shuffled the deck of cards in your hands for the fourth time in a row, your face scrunched up in childlike frustration.

“I swear these cards hate me,” you grumbled, fumbling as a few slipped from your grip and scattered across the table.

Sevika sighed, leaning back in her chair with a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “It’s not the cards, it’s you. How are you this bad at a game literally everyone in the Undercity knows?”

“Maybe because no one’s bothered to teach me properly,” you shot back, gathering the stray cards with an exaggerated pout.

“I am teaching you,” Sevika said, her tone laced with mock exasperation. “You’re just too stubborn to listen.”

You glared at her, holding up the cards in a way that was anything but professional. “Alright, teacher, then explain to me—again—how the hell I’m supposed to win this hand?”

Sevika chuckled, leaning forward and taking the cards from your hands with ease. “First of all, stop holding them like you’re about to eat them,” she teased, spreading the cards out neatly before handing them back to you.

You groaned, dropping your head into your hands. “This is impossible.”

“It’s literally not,” Sevika replied, rolling her eyes. “Here, let me make it simpler.” She reached across the table and arranged your cards in a better order. “Focus on this. Don’t overthink it.”

You hesitated, glancing at the new setup before looking back at Sevika. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” she said, smirking. “I just don’t want to deal with your tantrums all night.”

Despite her teasing, you couldn’t help but notice the way her voice softened slightly when she saw your furrowed brow ease just a bit.

“Well, don’t get used to it,” you muttered, though a small smile betrayed your words. “I’ll beat you eventually.”

Sevika snorted, leaning back with a confident smirk. “Sure you will, rookie. I’ll be waiting.”

and you had— eventually… albeit with Sevika letting you win, but you didn't have to know that.

You had gloated about it all night, even when you both slipped into bed, you mumbled on about how good you had gotten ( you in fact had not improved a bit and just stole cards when Sevika wasn't looking…)

Sevika lay there, her head tilted slightly as she watched you ramble on with barely-contained amusement. You were sprawled out beside her, practically buzzing with excitement as you recounted your “victory” for the third time that night.

“I mean, did you see the look on your face? You couldn’t believe I won!” you said, grinning ear to ear, completely unaware of the sly grin tugging at Sevika’s lips.

“Uh-huh,” Sevika replied, her voice low and lazy as her metal arm rested across her stomach. “A real prodigy, you are.”

You didn’t catch the sarcasm, too busy basking in your supposed triumph. “Damn right I am! Maybe I should start betting with other people. Who knows? I could be the next Undercity card champion!”

Sevika huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Sure. Just don’t come crying to me when someone catches you cheating.”

Your face froze for half a second, but you quickly masked it with a wide grin. “Cheating? Who, me? I would never.”

Sevika raised an eyebrow, her smirk deepening. “Right. And I didn’t catch you palming cards when I turned my back.”

You gasped, clutching your chest dramatically. “Accusations like that could ruin my reputation!”

“Your reputation’s already in the gutter,” Sevika teased, her tone light as she shifted to get more comfortable.

You huffed, crossing your arms as you flopped back onto the pillow. “Well, it’s not like you didn’t let me win,” you muttered under your breath.

Sevika turned her head toward you, her brow arching. “What was that?”

“Nothing!” you chirped, your grin quickly returning as you turned onto your side to face her.

She shook her head, a quiet chuckle escaping her lips. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Maybe,” you replied, your voice softer now as the energy of the night began to wane. “But you still let me sleep here, so who’s the real fool?”

Sevika rolled her eyes, but the faintest smile tugged at her lips as she reached over to flick your forehead lightly. “Go to sleep, you little cheat.”

You grinned, snuggling into the pillow. “Goodnight, Sevika. Sweet dreams about your champion.”

She groaned softly but didn’t reply, letting the quiet settle over the room. And despite her grumbles, she couldn’t quite hide the warmth spreading in her chest as she listened to your breathing even out beside her.

—

Sevika had expected you to be home by now, she of all people had beat you home and that made her worry, because as much as she hated admitting it she did worry about you getting into fights or something along the lines of that, because— you were clumsy.

10:21pm

You always came home around 10:20 if you were out, and you weren't here.

10:26pm

You still weren't here.

10:33pm

Sevika stood by the window, eyes scanning the dark street below, her mind restless. She had never let herself care this much about someone before, not in a way that made her stomach twist with unease. But damn it, she had a habit of worrying about you, even when she knew you were more than capable of taking care of yourself.

The clock ticked on, each passing minute making her more agitated. She checked the door again, even though she knew it wouldn't be locked, not when you were out there, doing whatever it was you did that kept her awake at night.

Another glance at her watch. It was nearing 10:40 now, and Sevika was on edge.

Her hand clenched into a fist at her side, fingers curling tightly. Where the hell are you?

She paced the room briefly, before stopping to look back out the window, hoping to see you walk through the door with that cocky grin of yours like you didn’t just send her spiraling into worry. It made her feel like an idiot, like she was overreacting, but the absence of your usual noise, the absence of you… it gnawed at her.

The door handle finally clicked, and the faintest sound of footsteps in the hall made her body tense.

“Sevika,” you called out quietly, sounding... off.

Sevika didn't even think before she rushed to the door, throwing it open to find you standing there, looking disheveled, your usual energy absent.

You didn't say anything at first, just looked at her. Something about your expression made her stomach churn.

"Where the hell have you been?" Sevika demanded, her voice sharp despite her concern. She wasn't trying to yell, but the way her heart was pounding only made her more irritable.

You looked up at her, your face half-hidden in shadow. "Just... out," you muttered, almost evasively.

“Out?” Sevika repeated, a dark look crossing her face. "You’re late, and you're clearly not fine. What happened?”

You hesitated, your gaze flicking away for a moment. Sevika knew you well enough to recognize the signs of a lie, and the fact you didn’t meet her eyes made her jaw tighten.

She stepped forward, her voice low and insistent. “Tell me what happened.”

For a long moment, you didn’t respond, and she thought she might just snap. But finally, you exhaled sharply, lifting your eyes to hers.

“I’m fine, okay?” you said, the words almost too quick, too defensive.

Sevika didn’t buy it. "No, you're not. You look like shit. What happened to you?" She stepped closer again, scanning your face for any sign of what you were hiding.

You bit your lip, seeming to struggle internally, before finally admitting, “I got into a fight. Nothing big.”

She didn't believe that for a second.

“Nothing big?” Sevika repeated, her voice laced with disbelief. "What, you think I can't tell when you're lying to me? Where the hell were you?"

You exhaled, rubbing the back of your neck. "I wasn't thinking, Sevika... I just… got carried away, alright? I didn’t mean to worry you."

Sevika shook her head, a mixture of relief and frustration flooding through her. “Next time, don’t get carried away so much. Dammit, you could’ve been killed!” She reached for your arm, her fingers tightening around it. “You can’t keep doing this, especially when you know I’m the one who has to sit here and wait for you to come back in one piece.”

You flinched at her touch, but she didn’t let go, watching your face as her anger gave way to something more concerned, more tender. “You scared the hell out of me,” she muttered, softer now, her grip loosening.

You didn't say anything, but the way you looked at her, the vulnerability in your eyes, made her chest tighten. And despite everything— despite the frustration and the worry— all she could think about was how relieved she was that you were back.

Then- a soft meow from your coat.

Sevika froze, her eyes narrowing suspiciously as the faint sound of a meow reached her ears. Her gaze dropped to your coat, where the noise seemed to be coming from.

“Is that—” she started, only for the small, scruffy head of a kitten to poke out from beneath the fabric. Its fur was patchy and matted, and its eyes… the poor thing was blind, its eyes wounded and closed tightly.

You flinched under Sevika’s stare, your arms tightening protectively around the kitten.

“You’re what made me late,” you mumbled sheepishly, scratching the kitten’s chin as it leaned into your touch, letting out another tiny meow.

Sevika’s eyes widened slightly, her usual tough exterior faltering as she took in the pitiful sight. “Are you serious?” she said, her tone caught somewhere between disbelief and exasperation.

“It was hurt!” you argued, looking up at her with an uncharacteristic determination. “I couldn’t just leave it there.”

Sevika pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering something under her breath about how you were going to drive her insane. “So, what? You’re bringing it here?”

“Well, yeah,” you said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s blind, Sevika. What was I supposed to do?”

“Leave it?” she suggested flatly, but the slight softening in her expression betrayed her words.

You shook your head, holding the kitten closer. “I’m not heartless.”

Sevika stared at you for a long moment, her jaw tightening as she weighed her options. Finally, with a resigned sigh, she stepped aside, gesturing toward the couch. “Fine. But you’re taking care of it. Not me.”

You grinned, relief washing over you as you hurried to set the kitten down on the couch. “Thanks, Sevika. I knew you had a soft spot somewhere in there.”

“Don’t push it,” she grumbled, crossing her arms as she watched you fuss over the kitten.

As you gently cleaned the little creature’s face with a damp cloth, Sevika couldn’t help but watch, her irritation fading as she saw how careful you were. Despite herself, she muttered, “What are you gonna name it?”

You looked up at her, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I was thinking something like Shadow. Fitting, right?”

Sevika rolled her eyes but didn’t argue, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Shadow, huh? Hope you know what you’re getting into.”

“I’ve got it handled,” you said confidently, holding up the kitten like it was a prize. “Right, Shadow?”

The kitten let out a tiny, raspy meow, and Sevika shook her head, muttering under her breath, “You’re both gonna be the death of me.”

Sevika glared at you as you carefully placed the blind kitten—now affectionately named Shadow—on the bed, right between the two of you. The tiny creature curled up instantly, letting out a soft purr as it snuggled against Sevika’s pillow.

“You’re really making me deal with this?” Sevika grumbled, her voice dripping with irritation as she jabbed a finger toward the tiny black fluff ball.

“You said it could stay,” you pointed out with a sly grin, slipping under the covers as if this were all perfectly normal.

“I didn’t say it could take my bed,” she shot back, glaring at the kitten like it was personally responsible for all her troubles.

Shadow let out a tiny meow, its head turning toward the sound of her voice. Despite herself, Sevika softened slightly, though she tried to hide it by crossing her arms.

“Look, it’s blind,” you said, your tone softening as you stroked the kitten’s scruffy fur. “It needs comfort, Sevika. Would you really make it sleep on the floor?”

Sevika groaned, rubbing her temples. “You’re unbelievable,” she muttered, but she made no move to remove the kitten.

Instead, she climbed into bed, her movements careful so she didn’t disturb Shadow. The kitten perked up at the shift and blindly pawed at her arm, letting out another small purr as it nestled closer.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sevika muttered, her voice low, though she made no effort to push the kitten away.

You bit back a laugh, watching the way her tough exterior melted ever so slightly as Shadow settled in. “You’re a natural, Sev,” you teased, propping your head up with a hand.

“Don’t,” she warned, shooting you a look, though the effect was ruined by the way Shadow nuzzled into her side.

As the kitten’s purring filled the room, you couldn’t help but smile, the sight of Sevika reluctantly sharing her space with the tiny creature warming your chest.

“Goodnight, Sevika,” you murmured, your voice laced with amusement as you turned over.

“Goodnight,” she grumbled, glaring at the ceiling. “Both of you.”

Though Sevika couldn't help but wonder why you brought home a kitten of all things right after you seemed to get into a fight, your cheeks bruised- your arms scratched up and covered in dried blood… and you had brought home a kitten.

As Sevika laid there, her gaze fixed on the ceiling, she couldn’t stop her thoughts from drifting back to you. You were fast asleep, your breathing even and soft, while Shadow nestled contently between you both, oblivious to the storm of questions running through Sevika’s mind.

A kitten. Of all the things you could’ve brought home after getting into what was clearly a bad fight—a scruffy, blind kitten was your grand prize.

Sevika’s eyes narrowed as she recalled the state you were in when you’d finally shown up. Your cheek was swollen and turning an ugly shade of purple, your arms were littered with scratches, and your knuckles looked raw from punching something—or someone.

And yet, you’d come home cradling a tiny, injured creature like it was the most precious thing in the world.

“What the hell were you thinking?” she muttered under her breath, her voice barely audible.

Shadow let out a faint purr, its tiny body shifting closer to her warmth. Sevika sighed, her metal arm resting heavily against her side. It wasn’t the kitten’s fault—it was yours. You, with your reckless habits, your infuriating stubbornness, and that damn bleeding heart of yours.

She couldn’t decide whether to be angry or… something else entirely.

Sevika’s gaze flicked toward you, your face soft in sleep despite the bruises marring your skin. You were an enigma to her, a frustrating mix of chaos and compassion.

“Idiot,” she muttered, though there was no heat in the word.

As much as she hated it—hated the worry you caused her, hated the way you seemed to drag her into your ridiculous messes—she couldn’t help but admire you.

Because even after all you’d been through, even when the world had done its best to harden you, you still found it in yourself to care. To fight for something—someone—other than yourself.

She couldn't help but wrap a arm around you though, sighing softly as she pulled you slightly closer, relaxing as you let out a soft breath, molding right into her as Shadow purred softly.

For a moment, Sevika stayed still, her arm resting lightly around your waist as she stared up at the ceiling. The sound of your soft breathing, paired with Shadow's steady purring, filled the quiet room. It was strangely… peaceful.

She exhaled deeply, her body relaxing into the mattress as she pulled you just a little closer, her flesh arm cradling you in a way that felt oddly natural. Your head nestled against her shoulder, your warmth seeping through the fabric of her shirt, and she couldn't help but notice how perfectly you seemed to fit there, like you belonged.

Sevika closed her eyes, her thumb brushing lightly against your side as she allowed herself a rare moment of vulnerability. Normally, she would’ve shoved you away by now, grumbling about needing space or pretending not to care. But tonight was different.

Maybe it was the kitten, a tiny symbol of your ridiculous compassion. Or maybe it was the quiet trust in the way you molded yourself to her, no hesitation, no fear.

“Trouble magnet,” she muttered softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

You shifted slightly, a small smile tugging at your lips even in sleep, and Sevika couldn’t stop the faint smirk that curved her own.

As much as she hated to admit it, there was something comforting about having you here, in her space, in her arms. And for once, she didn’t fight it.

Instead, she tightened her hold on you just a little, her eyes fluttering shut as sleep began to pull her under.

Shadow’s purring filled the air like a lullaby, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Sevika let herself relax completely.

—

That felt like such a short time ago now, but it was about 2 months now, Shadow being a little bit older but still running into a few walls when he wasn't following you around.

Sevika wouldn't admit it but she did like having Shadow around when you were out scraping together pieces for your little inventions, even making a custom little food bowl for Shadow with broken clay or whatever else you put in it.

Shadow had become a fixture in Sevika’s life, almost as much as you had. The kitten’s blind, clumsy antics brought a strange sense of levity to her otherwise harsh world. She’d often catch herself muttering under her breath as she watched him wobble around the apartment, tail twitching and nose leading him toward whatever he’d deemed interesting that day.

Even if Shadow did knock over her tools or chew on the edge of her gloves when she wasn’t looking, she never really got mad. Not that she’d let you see her soft spot, of course.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t help but notice how Shadow always seemed to gravitate toward Sevika when you weren’t around. You often caught her giving Shadow little pieces of meat off her plate, despite claiming she didn’t care much for pets.

“Didn’t think you had it in you, Sev,” you teased one day, leaning against the counter as you watched her scratch behind Shadow’s ears. The kitten’s purring was so loud it practically rattled the table.

Sevika shot you a pointed glare, though there was no real bite behind it. “Keep talking and you’re cleaning his litter box for the next month.”

You snickered, arms crossed as you grinned at her. “Come on, admit it. You’re soft for him.”

“I’m not soft for anything,” she growled, but the way her fingers lingered on Shadow’s tiny head betrayed her words.

Two months might not seem like much, but in this small bubble you’d carved out together, it felt like a lifetime. Shadow had become a symbol of something neither of you wanted to say out loud—something warm, safe, and maybe even hopeful.

As you tinkered with a half-finished gadget on the floor, Shadow bumped into your side, his tiny paws pawing at the edge of your jacket. Sevika glanced over from her chair, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

“Guess he likes you more,” she said, her tone amused.

You grinned, scooping Shadow into your arms as he meowed in protest. “Nah, I’m just the backup. You’re his favorite.”

Sevika snorted but didn’t argue, leaning back in her chair as she watched the two of you. Maybe she didn’t mind being someone’s favorite after all.

Or well, another person's favorite.

It had been six months. Six months since you stumbled into her life and somehow bound you and Sevika closer together in a way you never thought possible. Six months of living under the same roof, sharing quiet mornings, heated arguments, and nights spent laughing softly over a card game or falling asleep against her shoulder.

You weren’t sure why you’d waited this long to ask, but tonight felt different.

Sevika sat in her usual spot, her mechanical arm resting on the table while she idly ran her fingers through Shadow’s fur. You were on the couch, nervously picking at the edge of your sleeve, the question burning on your tongue.

“Sev?” you started softly, drawing her attention.

She glanced at you, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

You hesitated, shifting in your seat. “Why have you let me stay for so long?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and uncertain. Sevika frowned slightly, leaning back in her chair as if buying herself time to think.

“I don’t know,” she said finally, her voice low and guarded. “You just… stuck around.”

“That’s not an answer,” you pressed, leaning forward. “I mean, you’re you. Tough, no-nonsense, doesn’t-let-anyone-get-close Sevika. And I’m… well, me.”

Sevika huffed, her lips twitching into a faint smirk. “Yeah, you’re a pain in my ass.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t let her deflect. “Be serious for a second. Do you… do you like me or something?”

Her expression shifted, her smirk fading as she stared at you, the silence stretching uncomfortably long.

You swallowed hard, suddenly unsure if you wanted to hear the answer. “I mean, it’s fine if you don’t, I just—”

“Shut up,” Sevika interrupted, her tone gruff but lacking any real heat.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Excuse me?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t,” she muttered, looking away as a faint pink dusted her cheeks.

Your heart skipped a beat. “So… you do?”

Sevika let out a frustrated sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

You grinned despite yourself, the nervous energy bubbling into something lighter, warmer. “You didn’t answer the question.”

“Don’t push your luck,” she warned, but the corner of her mouth twitched into a reluctant smile.

That was all the answer you needed.

You smirked as you stood, the warmth in your chest giving you a burst of confidence. You sauntered over to Sevika, leaning against the table as her eyes tracked your every move.

“Come on, Sev,” you teased, crossing your arms as you tilted your head at her. “Why won’t you just admit it? Afraid it’ll ruin your big, tough image?”

Her jaw tightened slightly, her eyes narrowing as she leaned back in her chair, trying to play it cool. “You’re pushing your luck,” she muttered, but the faint flush on her cheeks betrayed her.

You leaned in closer, your face hovering just inches from hers. “Am I?” you whispered, your voice dripping with playful challenge. “Because I think you like having me around. Maybe even a little too much.”

Sevika’s eyes flickered to your lips for a split second before snapping back to your gaze, her stoic mask cracking ever so slightly. “Don’t get cocky,” she warned, though her voice lacked its usual bite.

You chuckled softly, your grin widening. “Oh, but it’s so fun to see you squirm, Sev. Who knew the infamous Sevika could be so shy?”

She let out an exasperated groan, running a hand down her face. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here I am,” you replied, straightening up and throwing your arms out with a playful shrug. “Still here after six months. Still stealing your bed. Still driving you absolutely crazy.”

Sevika’s lips twitched into a smirk of her own, her sharp eyes softening as she shook her head. “You’re lucky I’ve got a soft spot for strays,” she said, her voice low and almost fond.

Your heart skipped at her words, and your smirk softened into something more genuine. “And maybe you’re lucky I’m too stubborn to leave.”

Sevika rolled her eyes, but the way her gaze lingered on you told you everything she wouldn’t say out loud.

Sevika stiffened slightly, her breath hitching just a bit as your hand grazed her thigh. Her sharp eyes narrowed, but you could see the faintest tinge of pink creeping up her neck.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Sev?” you teased, leaning in just a little closer, your voice low and playful. “You never really talk about it. Do you ever think about… me?”

Her gaze flickered to your hand on her leg, and you could practically see the thoughts running through her mind, trying to maintain her cool but failing to fully hide the flush rising on her face.

“I—" She cleared her throat, her voice coming out rougher than usual. "I think you're pushing your luck even further, kid."

You grinned, sliding your hand just a little higher, your touch light but undeniably intentional. “Just curious, Sev. Thought you’d like a little honesty, especially when you’re always keeping things so tight-lipped.”

Sevika shifted in her seat, her jaw clenched as she shot you a pointed look. “You’re getting a bit too comfortable.” Her voice was thick with restraint, but there was something in the way her lips pressed together, something you couldn’t quite place.

“Maybe I am,” you hummed, not backing off, your hand inching just a little higher on her thigh as you took a step closer. “But I have to admit, I’m curious… Do you ever think about what it’d be like if I wasn’t just some ‘kid’ to you?”

The tension in the air was palpable now, Sevika’s body language a mix of annoyance and… something else. You could feel her muscles tightening, but she didn’t move away.

“Stop messing around,” she muttered, though there was no real bite behind her words. Instead, her eyes stayed locked on you, a silent challenge hanging in the air between you.

And you could tell… she didn’t want to admit it, but she was enjoying this—this strange back and forth, this undeniable chemistry that neither of you were willing to fully acknowledge.

You tilted your head, your lips curling into a playful smirk as your fingers barely grazed her inner thigh, making her tense under your touch. “You know,” you murmured, your voice dripping with confidence, “I’m not some naive teenager, Sev. I’m a grown woman. Maybe it’s time you start seeing me as one.”

Her jaw tightened, and she shifted ever so slightly, her metal fingers twitching against the armrest of the couch. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” she growled, though her voice lacked its usual venom.

You leaned in closer, your breath brushing against her ear as you whispered, “Am I? Or are you just scared of what happens if you stop pretending I’m just some kid to you?”

Her sharp inhale told you everything. Her gaze snapped to yours, a mix of irritation and something far more vulnerable swirling in her steel-gray eyes. She was trying to hold her ground, to keep the walls up, but the cracks were beginning to show.

“Don’t push me,” Sevika muttered, her voice low but wavering slightly.

“Why not?” you asked, tilting your head as you brushed your thumb against her thigh again, the teasing touch sending a jolt through her. “Afraid you might actually like what happens next?”

Her glare hardened, but the blush creeping up her neck betrayed her. For once, Sevika seemed completely out of her depth, caught between wanting to shove you away and pulling you closer.

Sevika's eyes widened slightly as you slid onto her lap, your boldness catching her completely off guard. Her metal arm rested stiffly at her side, while her other hand hovered awkwardly near your waist, as if unsure whether to push you off or let you stay.

You leaned in closer, your fingers gently threading through her short, dark hair. “Why don’t you just admit it, Sev?” you murmured, your voice soft but laced with a teasing edge. “You’re into me. I can see it in the way you look at me.”

Her jaw tightened, her gaze darting anywhere but your face. “You’re full of yourself,” she muttered, though her usual gruff tone lacked its bite.

“Oh, am I?” you teased, leaning in just enough that your noses almost brushed. Your fingers continued their slow, deliberate path through her hair, and you could feel the way her body stiffened beneath you. “Then why aren’t you telling me to get off your lap?”

She let out a low growl, her hand finally settling on your waist as though to steady you. “You’re testing my patience,” she warned, though the faint flush creeping up her neck told a different story.

You couldn’t help the grin spreading across your face. “Or maybe,” you whispered, your lips hovering near her ear, “I’m proving a point.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, you swore you saw her resolve waver. But Sevika, ever stubborn, clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes at you. “You’re playing with fire,” she said, her voice low and dangerous.

You smirked, your fingers lightly tracing the curve of her jaw. “Good thing I’ve never been afraid to get burned.”

Sevika’s eyes locked onto yours as you spoke, the teasing, playful energy suddenly slipping into something more genuine. Her breath caught slightly, her usual guarded expression faltering for just a moment, like a brief crack in her armor.

You let the silence hang between you, the weight of your words settling into the space around you. "I’ve liked you for a while, Sev," you murmured, your voice softer now, the teasing edge replaced by something raw. "Ever since I first saw you, honestly."

Her brow furrowed slightly, her gaze flicking to your lips before meeting your eyes again, confusion and something else flickering there. "What do you mean?" she asked, her tone almost defensive, like she was trying to figure out whether this was some kind of joke or not.

You didn’t flinch, didn’t back down. Instead, you continued, your voice steady. "I didn’t really realize it until you took me in. Until I started seeing the real you, not just the tough exterior you put on for everyone else."

Sevika was still, silent for a beat. Then, she sighed, her hand tightening subtly on your waist. “You’re an idiot,” she muttered, but it was gentler than usual, the words softer, almost affectionate.

You leaned in closer, your nose brushing hers ever so slightly as you whispered, “Maybe. But I think you like it.”

Her chest rose and fell with a deep breath, and she didn’t pull away. Her lips parted slightly as if she were about to say something, but the words seemed to get stuck in her throat.

Then, in a moment of pure honesty, she let out a soft, resigned chuckle. "You’re not easy to ignore, you know that?"

Your heart skipped a beat at the admission. And for the first time, Sevika’s usual cold exterior seemed to melt away just enough for you to see a glimpse of what might have been beneath all the layers.

You leaned in just a little closer, your voice low and teasing. "So, are you only good at the rough stuff, or can you actually show some affection, too?" You smirked, your eyes flicking between her lips and her eyes, watching her reaction closely.

Sevika froze for a split second, her breath hitching. The playful edge in your voice clearly got under her skin, her jaw tightening. She was always so composed, so in control, but you were starting to see that she wasn’t as unshakable as she wanted everyone to believe.

She didn’t say anything at first—just stared at you, her expression unreadable, the tension between you thick. Then, without warning, she surged forward, her lips crashing against yours in a kiss that stole the breath from your lungs.

It was rough—there was no sweetness, no hesitation. Just a fierce, almost desperate need that you hadn’t expected. She pulled you closer, her arms wrapping around you, holding you firmly against her as if to prove that she could do more than just words. It was everything you’d teased her about and more, but with an intensity that felt far from the casual, playful act you’d imagined.

When she finally pulled back, her lips lingering a fraction of an inch from yours, you were both breathless. She smirked, her voice low and almost rasping. "I can do affection," she muttered, her hand resting lightly on the back of your neck. "I just don’t do it for everyone."

Your pulse was racing, your heart hammering in your chest, as you caught your breath. "Guess I’m not just anyone, huh?" you whispered, still trying to keep up the teasing, but the words came out softer than you intended.

You giggle softly as Sevika pulled you into another kiss, you wrap your arms around her neck, gently rubbing her scalp, feeling her tongue wrap around yourself, tasting the lingering taste of her earlier snack.

Sevika's hands slid down your back, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened. She was always so sure of herself, her strength evident even in the gentleness of her touch. As your fingers threaded through her hair, she let out a low hum against your lips, the sound vibrating against your chest. Her scent was familiar, warm, and comforting, mixing with the sweetness of the snack she'd had earlier, but you didn't mind. Every moment with her felt like its own kind of fire, both consuming and soothing in equal measure.

You could feel her smile, even if only faintly, as she pulled away for a breath, her forehead resting against yours. The energy between you two was always electric, and she seemed to enjoy drawing it out, savoring the closeness.

"You're distracting me," she murmured, her voice a rough whisper. "But I don't mind."

"So pretty," you gently mumble against her lips, feeling how her thighs flexed, rubbing together, seeming to want to ease the ache between them.

Sevika’s breath hitched at your words, her grip tightening around you as her body subtly shifted. The heat between the two of you was undeniable, a slow burn that made it hard to think straight. She pressed her forehead against yours again, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment, a small, amused smirk playing on her lips.

"You always know how to make me feel… dangerous," she murmured, her voice low, full of that teasing edge she always carried.

Her thighs flexed again, the tension building in the way she moved, but it was as if she was holding herself back, savoring the moment of restraint. You could feel the way her pulse quickened, her body betraying the calm she tried to maintain.

"You have no idea," she murmured, voice thick with desire, her lips curling into a smirk that was both sultry and feral. "But... you’re gonna find out, aren’t you?" She reached for you again, hands finding your hips, pulling you closer with an intensity that left no room for hesitation.

Her gaze flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes, the space between you charged with the kind of tension that only one thing could resolve. Her teeth flashed as she gave you a knowing grin. "I’m not the one who's in control here anymore, am I?"

“Fuck no,” you scoffed as you plant a kiss against her lips before slowly rubbing her neck— before slowly lowering yourself to your knees, nails scraping at the fabric of her pants- “Do me the favor of taking those off will you?” you hum, half jokingly.

Sevika’s breath hitched as you dropped to your knees in front of her, the command in your voice sending a shiver through her body. She gave a low chuckle, her hands gripping the waistband of her pants with a purposeful slowness, as though savoring every moment of this. Her gaze was intense, predatory even, as she watched you, her chest rising and falling with anticipation.

With a teasing smile, she finally gave in, slowly pulling her pants down, revealing more of her body to you with a deliberate confidence that made your heart race.

She stepped out of the pants, eyes never leaving yours, her smirk never faltering. “There. Happy now?” Her voice was low, rough—her usual composed demeanor slowly slipping away in the face of the heat between you two.

“Of course I am, how could I not?” you hum appreciatively, gently nudging her legs apart, sighing softly at the apparent wet spot on her panties, hissing in a breath with a soft fuck.

Sevika’s eyes darkened as she felt the shift in your touch, her breath coming quicker at the sight of your reaction to her. The tension between you both was palpable, thick with desire and anticipation. She spread her legs just a little more, offering herself to you, her lips parting slightly as she inhaled deeply, her whole body betraying her desperation.

"Careful," she murmured, her voice a little raspier now. "I’m not as patient as I seem... and I know exactly what you’re thinking." She smirked, her fingers curling into the fabric of her shirt as if to keep herself from reaching for you immediately. Her hips tilted just slightly, an invitation, her body a taut coil of restraint and need.

She leaned forward, her voice a low rasp as she whispered, "Show me how much you really want it."

You hum in response before you slowly scoot between her legs pushing the fabric to the side, tracing a slow line up her warm folds.

Sevika's breath caught, her thighs tensing at your teasing touch. Her composure faltered as a sharp inhale escaped her lips, her usual control slipping with every slow movement you made. Her dark eyes were heavy-lidded, filled with raw desire and challenge.

"You're playing a dangerous game," she warned, though her voice had a breathy edge that betrayed her own anticipation.

You grinned, unfazed by her words. "And yet you’re still sitting here," you teased, tracing your fingers along the slickness that had already begun to pool between her thighs.

Her hips jerked involuntarily, and her head tilted back slightly, revealing the tension rippling through her body. “Keep that up, and I won’t be responsible for what happens next," she growled, though the tremble in her voice hinted at how much restraint she was clinging to.

You leaned closer, your lips brushing against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. "Maybe that’s exactly what I want," you murmured against her flesh before slipping a finger inside her, the heat and tightness drawing a low, guttural moan from deep in her throat.

Her hips bucked as you added another finger, curling them just right, making Sevika grip the edge of her seat. Her eyes flashed open, locking onto yours. “Fuck,” she hissed, a rare vulnerability slipping through her otherwise formidable demeanor.

“You’re not as tough as you act when I’ve got you like this,” you whispered, pressing deeper, savoring the way her body clenched around you. “Are you?”

Her laughter was ragged, more of a breathless groan. “Oh, I’m still tougher than you can handle,” she shot back, though the desperation in her tone betrayed just how much she was unraveling under your touch.

“Guess I’ll just have to test that theory,” you quipped, quickening your pace and watching Sevika shudder as pleasure overtook her, her usual dominance giving way to the primal need building between you both.

“Tell me,” you exhale softly, gently thrusting your fingers before pulling them back, watching Sevika’s body stutter– “what's it like having a street fucking you right now? any criticism?”

Sevika’s head fell back against the chair with a guttural groan, her lips parting as she tried to catch her breath. Her hands gripped the armrests tightly, the muscles in her forearms flexing as if she was holding back the urge to grab you and take control.

Her eyes met yours, dark and smoldering, and a breathy laugh escaped her lips. “Criticism?” she rasped, her voice thick with arousal. “Yeah, I’ve got one.”

You raised a brow, pausing your movements just enough to make her squirm, your fingers still teasing her dripping core. “Oh? Let’s hear it, then.”

Sevika gave you a crooked smirk, her chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. “You talk too much,” she growled, her tone half teasing, half desperate. Her hips bucked slightly, seeking more of the pleasure you were withholding. “Less questions, more action.”

You chuckled, leaning closer until your lips hovered over hers. “Funny, coming from someone who can’t stop moaning my name.”

Her jaw clenched, a flicker of defiance lighting her eyes. But the way her body quivered beneath your touch, the way her thighs tensed as you thrust your fingers deeper again, told a different story. A broken moan escaped her lips, her resolve cracking as you curled your fingers just right, dragging another wave of pleasure from her.

“Fuck,” she hissed, her voice strained. “Fine. You win this round… but don’t think for a second I won’t get you back for this.”

You grinned, picking up your pace, watching Sevika’s composure unravel completely. “Looking forward to it.”

You eventually pull your fingers out, much to Sevika dislike but when you slowly lick a warm stripe through her folds she wished you'd done it sooner-

Sevika’s sharp inhale filled the room, her body jolting as your tongue made contact. Her thighs trembled on either side of your head, the usual iron grip of control slipping away entirely. A low, guttural moan escaped her lips, raw and unfiltered.

"Fuck—" she hissed through clenched teeth, her hand instinctively tangling in your hair, pulling you closer as if she couldn’t bear any distance between you. "Took you long enough."

You smirked against her heat, dragging your tongue slowly and deliberately through her slick folds again, savoring the way her muscles tensed beneath your touch. “Impatient, huh?” you teased, your voice muffled by the intensity of her arousal.

Sevika only groaned in response, her grip tightening, silently demanding more. You obliged, flattening your tongue against her clit before swirling it with just the right amount of pressure. Her hips bucked involuntarily, and her deep voice cracked into something breathy and desperate.

"Fuck... just like that," she muttered, the commanding edge in her tone softening under the weight of her pleasure.

You hummed in satisfaction, the vibration earning another shudder from Sevika. Every swipe of your tongue and gentle suction made her unravel further, the tension in her body coiling tighter with every second.

“You gonna admit I’m doing something right?” you teased between licks, though your focus remained intent on driving her wild.

Sevika’s laugh was rough and breathless. "Keep going, and I just might," she managed to gasp, though her body was already betraying any need for words.

“cum?” you giggled, the sound being cut off as Sevika’s thighs squished your head, making you moan softly against her.

Sevika groaned loudly, her thighs trembling as they squeezed around your head, locking you in place. “You think this is funny?” she rasped, her voice strained and dripping with need. "We'll see how much you're laughing when I—" Her words faltered as you flicked your tongue faster, pressing harder against her sensitive clit.

The moan that tore from her chest was deep and raw, and the pressure of her thighs only intensified, muffling your giggles into soft vibrations against her. The sensation made her whole body shudder, her grip in your hair relentless.

“Fuck,” she gasped, her composure cracking completely, "you—damn tease..." Her voice broke off into a strangled cry as you sucked just right, pushing her closer to the edge with each passing second.

Her hips jerked forward, chasing the release that was building so intensely it almost overwhelmed her. “Don’t stop," she demanded, her tone desperate now. "I swear—just..."

You hummed again, doubling down on your efforts, feeling the tremors wrack her body as her control shattered entirely. Sevika's breathing grew ragged, her moans turning into incoherent cries as the pleasure finally overtook her.

"Fuck—!" she shouted, her thighs trembling around your head as her climax hit hard, her entire body taut and shuddering beneath your relentless attention. Even as she rode out her orgasm, her grip never wavered, keeping you pressed against her until every last wave of pleasure left her breathless.

When her thighs finally loosened their grip, Sevika let out a long, shaky exhale, her body slackening in the aftermath. "You really think you're funny," she murmured, voice hoarse but tinged with amusement.

You lifted your head, lips glistening as you grinned. "I think you love it."

Sevika snorted, though her flushed skin and softened gaze betrayed her. "Yeah, yeah... maybe."

“I know you're old but– how about another round? or two? Shadow’s sleeping on the bed but- i'm sure he doesn't mind being kicked out for a few hours…” you hum cockily.

Sevika’s lips curved into a dangerous smirk, the gleam in her eyes rekindling. “Old, huh?” she rumbled, her voice low and gravelly. “Careful, or I’ll have to remind you just what this ‘old’ woman can do.”

You giggled, brushing off the mock threat. “Sounds like a challenge. Think you can keep up?”

Sevika sat up slowly, her muscular frame still radiating dominance despite the flush lingering from her release. "Oh, you’re not walking away from this anytime soon," she promised darkly, fingers brushing your cheek before trailing down your body. "Shadow better find another place to sleep tonight."

As if on cue, the kitten stirred lazily from his spot on the bed, oblivious to the brewing heat between you two.

“You think he’ll hold a grudge?” you teased, already feeling the ache of anticipation building again.

Sevika chuckled, a deep and satisfied sound. “Not as much as your legs will tomorrow.”

Before you could offer a retort, her hands gripped your hips, flipping you effortlessly onto the mattress. Her lips brushed your ear as she whispered, “Let’s see if you can keep that cocky attitude after round two.”

And from the glint in her eyes, you knew she was about to deliver on that promise—and then some.

—

Sevika woke up slowly, groaning as the ache in her back hit her like a freight train. The stiff, sore muscles screamed in protest, and she immediately regretted the way she’d slept. The bed felt too empty, her mind still clouded from the night before. And then, she noticed the marks.

Hickeys. Everywhere. Stinging, tender bites down her neck, across her collarbone, the curve of her breast. Her stomach was covered in sharp, almost painful reminders of what had happened. Her nipples were sore, too sensitive for her own comfort, a stark contrast to the usual hard edge of her usual self.

The absence of your warmth next to her felt jarring. She twisted in the bed, searching the room for any sign of you, and that’s when she noticed the open window. You were gone. Again.

Fucking hell.

She sat up, running a hand through her hair, trying to shake off the lingering haze of last night. What the hell had gotten into her? She wasn’t the type for this kind of thing—at least, that’s what she kept telling herself. But then, when she closed her eyes, all she could remember was the way your hands had felt on her, the desperate, frantic way you’d begged, the taste of your skin– the way your ate her out in the perfect fucking way.

Shaking her head, she pushed the thought away as she got up and started to get dressed.

A few minutes later, a sound caught her attention from outside her door—a soft, tentative knock, followed by the creak of the door opening.

And there you were, standing in the doorway.

You looked like shit.

Your hair was a mess, sticking out in all directions, and there were dark bruises down your arms and legs. Your skin was covered in more marks—hickeys, smudged lipstick, and... something else, a kind of glow that made Sevika pause for a moment, something strange in her chest.

You held a small bag of food in your hands, offering it like it was some kind of peace offering.

“I... uh... brought you food,” you mumbled, shuffling your feet awkwardly, eyes avoiding hers.

Sevika’s eyes softened slightly, even though her irritation was still simmering beneath the surface. She took the bag, half-smiling as she inspected the contents. Sure, the food was stale, probably a bit old, but the gesture was enough to make her heart skip a beat in a way she couldn’t quite explain.

“Stale food. Real thoughtful, Street Rat,” she teased, though her voice lacked its usual sharp edge. She glanced up at you, her gaze lingering a little longer than it should have.

You were messed up, too—maybe even worse than she was. But it wasn’t just the bruises or the hickeys; it was the way you looked at her. That soft, almost unrecognizable look in your eyes. The glow, the fragile hope that maybe you were more than just another thing to be thrown away.

Sevika sighed, leaning back against the table, rubbing her temples.

“Just... next time, don’t get yourself killed, okay?” she grumbled, though the words didn’t have the same bite.

You nodded quietly, offering her a small, crooked smile that made her heart tighten in a way she didn’t want to admit.

“Yeah, okay,” you whispered.

And for a moment, Sevika wondered if maybe, just maybe, you had her in a way she was– okay with admitting, just once.

#fanfic #street rat sevika fic #sevika x reader #queer #sevika #sevika arcane #street rat #i'm crying and ovulating #sex is so cool yall #Spotify #closing out tumblr bc im really nervous to see y'all's reaction to this part

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nicverse · 3 days ago

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i can't lose you

maybe being a journalist is less dangerous than being a vigilante, but that doesn't stop jason from worrying about you.

jason todd x journalist!reader

warnings: small mentions of violence, bombs and wounds. flush

ノㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ⊹ㅤㅤㅤㅤׅㅤㅤ✩ㅤㅤ˚ ♡

ㅤׅ ㅤㅤㅤ𝅄ㅤㅤ꒪ㅤㅤ꒱

Police lights and sirens decorated the city, as always. The sound of your fingers against the keyboard filled your living room, tired eyes fixed on the screen as your next work started making some sense now. There had been a few bomb attacks in the city, the police weren’t able to notice the pattern yet, but you already did. So, naturally, you spent the last few hours typing on your laptop, trying to connect everything before something worse happened.

Writing for the Gotham Gazette was your weapon, your power— you didn’t go to fight the criminals on the street every night, but you discovered their secrets instead, publishing them to the people so they would know who were the ones that provoked so much damage and fear to the city. It certainly gave you a sense of satisfaction to know that you were not standing idly by in the face of crime.

But, god, it did tire you out sometimes. With countless nights of sleep deprivation and caffeine, you haven’t visited your family in a long time—and let’s not talk about vacation. Now, even the crime in Gotham knew your name very well, and it was a matter of time before they started to act against your sense of justice. You wanted to say you were afraid, but you would rather be persecuted for speaking the truth than remain silent all your life.

Your body needed rest and you ignored it as much as you could yet it was harder to stay awake when your eyelids closed on their own. Fingertips got lazier with each type and without noticing, your head fell on top of your laptop as you dozed off. It wasn’t the first time it happened, so you would wake up in the morning, ready for another round of exhausting investigation.

But that used to happen when you had no one to look after you; until you met Jason Todd.

His body stepped into your apartment. You wouldn't be able to notice him even if you were awake, he always moved so slowly, like a ghost tracing its path on Earth. The first thing his eyes looked at was your body sprawled on your desk in front of your laptop. Jason walked slowly towards you, taking off his mask, blue eyes shined with adoration as he observed your slightly opened lips, hair fixed in a messy ponytail that you probably did unconsciously.

He chuckled, you always scolded him for taking so little care about his well-being, yet you did the same with yourself. His fingers fixed your hair behind your ear, taking a deeper look at your face. Jason always thought you were pretty. From the first time he met you, he hadn’t been able to get you out of his mind, and it scared him. He never liked having that kind of vulnerability, the kind of vulnerability that would have him tearing his heart out of his chest if you simply asked him to.

You were a weakness to him, and it was dangerous because he would burn the whole world down to save you.

He looked at your investigation on the screen, reading what you had been writing. If there was any sign that this thing was dangerous to you, he would deal with it quickly.

He could be a deadly person in the streets, but he was always so tender with you. His fists were made to punch, to kill, but every single drop of blood that lingered in his mind disappeared when he entered the warmth of your home. So there he was, taking your soft body in his arms and carefully placing it in your bed as he touched your body so softly like you were a precious broken crystal, covering you with a blanket. His heart warmed with the sight of you.

You took his wrist, lazily opening your eyes as your lips greeted him with a smile that he returned. Your fingers burned against his skin, not in a way that made him flinch, but in a way that turned him a mess, wanting nothing more than to melt his body into yours.

Did you know how much you made him feel?

“Hey” You said, your voice still sleepy and tired “Hey” Jason responded, sitting next to your body. You looked at him, his blue eyes pinned in yours with longing, like a tired puppy who just wanted a bit of affection. Without speaking a word, you tapped the side of the bed and invited him to rest. Jason took off his boots and curled up next to you, your fingers tangling in his hair as his head rested on your chest. He loved these moments when nothing existed but you and him in the silence of your room.

He felt the need to say something that had been on his mind for some time. Although your job was the reason the two of you met, he didn't like it very much, it was too risky for you. People started to mutter your name in the darker alleys of the streets, angry whispers of the worst in Gotham, and how you started to be a complication thanks to your articles about the crime in the city. He knew what they meant, and every day felt terrified of something happening to you and he wasn’t there to protect you. Yes, he would happily die in your arms, but he couldn't bear the thought of seeing the slightest scratch on your skin.

“Your job is too dangerous” he murmured and you furrowed your brows at his affirmation. “I’m not the one running every rooftop of this city while shooting criminals at night.”

He leaned in his elbows to look at you, trapping your body between his and the bed. He had the kind of serious look that made you listen with attention “Those guys don’t know my real name. And even if they did come after me, I can fight back. You can’t.” Jason spoke, his tone a little bit more serious than usual.

You knew he had a point, you were a writer, not a fighter, but that didn’t make you completely helpless. You grew up in Gotham too, you learned how to defend yourself before high school.

But that wasn’t enough for Jason. As you said, he was the one who fought those criminals every night, so he knew how much of a threat they could be to you. Yes, he could risk his life every now and then, but he would never let you do that. Never.

You sat in front of him, looking directly into his eyes. You would have been upset by his comment if your heart hadn't been touched by his desire to protect you. Jason was a dangerous man, and you knew that perfectly well, but deep down he was a man you had grown to love too much—more than you would like to admit. Sometimes, you felt like one of the few things keeping him sane.

And you were right.

“Jason, I won’t stop doing my job,” you said calmly. Your fingers searched for his warmth, slowly crawling towards each other for comfort, intertwining as a wave of emotion washed over your mind. He was close, so close that it was intoxicating. “I know I can’t stop you from worrying about me but… That’s kind of the way I feel about the things you do too.” With a shaky voice, you continued, turning to face Jason instead of looking at your hands tied together.

And it was true, you thought about him all the time, and you worried all the time too, afraid that one night he wouldn't be able to reach your window, his wounded body would be lying flat in an alley, and you wouldn't be there to heal him, maybe one day he will step out of your door to never be seen again. The thought terrified your mind, creeping into your worst nightmares.

“I know I can’t convince you to leave it,” Jason looked at your intertwined fingers, and a hint of a smile appeared on his lips. “just… promise to be careful, alright? I can’t be saving your ass every day” he chuckled, and you laughed too, rolling your eyes.

“One day I’ll be saving your ass too, Jason,” you replied, knowing that if you ever saved him, you would never let him forget it.

What you didn't know was that you had already saved him so many times with your love, and your words, holding the fallen pieces of his being with your loving arms and keeping them together when he needed it most.

He took your chin, tilting it upwards so you could see his face, gently holding you. His eyes were pinned in yours, filled with something you couldn’t quite name yet. His hands were rough but hot against your skin, calloused fingers reaching out to touch the forbidden skin of an angel they desired. Jason leaned your head closer to his lips, leaving a soft kiss on your forehead.

"Let's get some sleep, okay? Can't save the world if you keep like this" his voice murmured against your skin, taking in your scent and the softness or your hair.

You nodded, too flustered to even speak as you took your usual side of the bed. He got up to go to your couch, but you called him, signalling to the empty spot beside you. Jason couldn't have been happier and rushed to rest his body against yours.

Gently you moved closer to his body, smiling warmly as you opened one of your arms for him to come closer. Jason accepted and wrapped himself around your body, blending into each other like a perfect jigsaw puzzle, as if they were made for one another.

Perhaps both of your jobs were dangerous. But that would never stop you from coming home to each other every night.

sorry, but I'm such a fool for x and journalist!reader, especially with jason todd

𖥔 ࣪ ˖ ꒱

another one from my fic (which i haven't posted yet, but I will, promise) I love them so much

just kiss already

i'm also accepting requests! please send them, I'd love to write them

this was a little bit longer than usual, but I think I like it.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #dc comics #red hood #batman #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd x you

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adddddiiii · 21 hours ago

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Hi! Could I request a Damian x femreader where her parents don't accept Damian because they think he is a playboy like his father and because they don't want their daugther to have a boyfriend to distract her from her studies, so they force them to break up amd now Damian need to gain their approval so her parents will let them date

Winning Their Approval

Contents: Damian Wayne x reader

Warnings: One use of y/n

The first time Damian met your parents, he’d thought it went well—at least on the surface. They were polite, though your father’s firm handshake lingered just a bit too long, and your mother’s smile seemed more rehearsed than genuine. You had reassured him afterward that they simply needed time to warm up to him.

But time hadn’t helped.

When they sat you down one evening to announce their decision, it hit you like a ton of bricks.

“We don’t think Damian is the right fit for you,” your mother said firmly. “You’re so focused on your studies right now, sweetie, and we don’t want anything—or anyone—distracting you from your future.”

Your father chimed in, his tone sterner. “Besides, Damian comes from a… colorful background. His father’s reputation precedes him, and we have no reason to believe he’s any different.”

You’d argued, of course. You’d told them how Damian wasn’t like Bruce, how he was caring, loyal, and supportive. But they wouldn’t listen. By the time you called Damian to tell him what had happened, you were in tears.

“I don’t care what they think,” Damian had said, his voice low and firm through the phone. “They don’t get to decide who you’re with. If you want to keep seeing me-”

“No, Damian,” you interrupted, your heart breaking. “I can’t go against them right now. Please, just give me some time to figure this out.”

For the first time since you’d met him, Damian had no response. The line went quiet for a moment before he finally whispered, “Okay. But I’m not giving up.”

You tried to move on, to focus on your schoolwork and avoid the ache in your chest, but Damian was never far from your mind. Late at night, you stared at the messages you wanted to send him, your fingers hovering over the keyboard before deleting them.

Unbeknownst to you, Damian wasn’t just waiting on the sidelines. He was strategizing.

One Friday evening, your parents called you into the living room and your stomach dropped when you saw Damian sitting on the couch, his posture perfect, hands resting on his knees. His expression was calm, but you could see the tension in his shoulders.

“What’s going on?” you asked, glancing between him and your parents.

“Damian requested to meet us,” your father said, his tone unreadable. “He wants to… prove himself.”

Your eyes widened, and you looked at Damian. He met your gaze, his green eyes filled with determination.

“Y/n, I meant what I said. I’m not giving up on us,” he said softly, his voice carrying a weight that made your heart clench.

Your mother cleared her throat, pulling your attention back. “Damian asked for a chance to prove that he’s serious about you—and about respecting our concerns. We decided to give him an opportunity to try.”

Damian’s efforts were nothing short of extraordinary. He volunteered to help you study for your exams, often coming over to your house and sitting with you for hours. He was patient when you struggled and quick to clear your doubts.

When your parents observed him, they couldn’t deny his dedication. He wasn’t a distraction — he was an ally.

One evening, after helping you solve a particularly challenging problem, Damian leaned back in his chair, smirking.

“You’re brilliant, you know that?” he said.

You rolled your eyes, a blush creeping up your cheeks. “You’re just saying that because you want my parents to like you.”

“Not true,” he replied, leaning closer. “I’d say it even if they didn’t exist.”

Your laughter filled the room, and for a moment, everything felt normal again.

But Damian didn’t stop there. He invited your parents to a formal dinner at Wayne Manor, where Alfred prepared an exquisite meal. Damian made sure to engage them in thoughtful conversation, so he could truly show them how much he cared about you.

“I want your daughter to succeed just as much as you do,” he told them while they were all waiting for dessert. “I don’t want to hold her back — I want to be someone who helps her reach her potential.”

One evening, as you and Damian were studying in the living room, your father called him aside. You watched nervously as they disappeared into the kitchen.

“I’ve been watching you,” your father said, crossing his arms. “You’ve done everything we’ve asked and more. But I need to know one thing — why are you so determined to be with my daughter?”

Damian didn’t hesitate. “Because she’s the most important person in my life. She makes me want to be better. I care about her, sir. Deeply. And I’m willing to spend the rest of my life proving that to you.”

Your father stared at him for a long moment before nodding. “All right. You’ve earned my respect. But remember — if you ever hurt her, you’ll answer to me.”

Damian’s lips quirked into a small smile. “Understood.”

When your parents finally gave their approval, you could hardly believe it. You threw your arms around Damian and hugged him hard.

“I told you I’d win them over,” he murmured, holding you close.

“You’re amazing,” you whispered.

“I know,” he said, pulling back to look at you. “But so are you."

And from that day on, you faced the world together, knowing that nothing—not even the initial disapproval of your parents—could keep you apart.

#sorry its a bit rushed #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #robin x reader #robin #dc #dc universe #dc comics #batfam #batman

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delulusionwl · 3 days ago

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♡ I Can't Keep You Off My Diary ─ pt i

♡ I Can't Keep You Off My Diary ─ pt iI Pairing ── Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Reader! | Apollo!Daughter Word ── 2k Synopsis ── In wich Clarisse see drawings of herself in reader's diary. Warnings ── Nothing much? (I hope), Clarisse and her group being annoying as usual, Reader being the target of their teasing? A bit of low self-steem? Insults of reader's apparence? (nothing related by weight, high or strong facial features or body limbs) Please help me with this, I'm new lol A/n ── English is not my native language, forgive any mistakes! Please alert me if any of the nicknames might be offensive to any racial group. I would hate for that to happen, and it’s not my intention. However, since my native language is not English, some of the nicknames may not have racial connotations in my language – which might happen in English. I appreciate your help with this! Please, let me know if it's good hehe :) Part ii has been released, go check it out!

Y/n wasn’t like any other child of Apollo. She stood out from the more predominant characteristics of all her siblings. The truth was that she often felt like an ugly duckling, with no hope of turning into a beautiful swan.

Amidst her siblings—blond, red-haired, or light-brown, with eyes ranging from honey to the brightest green—Y/n stood out, but not because she radiated more light than the others. Her beauty was cold. While the others resembled a beautiful morning sunbeam, Y/n kept her rays hidden behind layers of clouds—enough to light the day, but not enough to make it vibrant.

Her dark eyes and hair, along with her lightly tanned skin—barely touched by the sun—set her apart from the other children of Apollo, who seemed to be lovingly kissed by sunlight, vibrant, vivid, golden. These features enhanced Y/n’s cold beauty, making her impossible to go unnoticed. Some even claimed she couldn’t be a child of Apollo if the god himself hadn’t claimed her.

Despite her strong and contrasting characteristics in her cabin, Y/n’s abilities proved her to be a legitimate child of the sun god. In training and combat, her bow was her strongest point, always hitting its mark regardless of whether the target was stationary or in motion. She was also a good healer, like most of her siblings, and helped in the infirmary during tough times—especially after Capture the Flag.

What truly made her stand out, however, were her artistic talents: writing, singing, and drawing. Y/n excelled at everything related to art but insisted on keeping it to herself, even among her talented siblings. This was another distinctive trait: unlike most children of Apollo, she wasn’t a social butterfly. She didn’t flaunt her talents or surround herself with friends like her siblings. Y/n was more introspective but could be a great friend when she wanted to.

Y/n’s cold beauty set her apart from all the other children of Apollo. She didn’t go unnoticed—least of all by Clarisse.

The daughter of Ares had seen Y/n’s arrival at camp, skittish like a scalded black cat. Like everyone else at camp, Clarisse had initially thought, So Hades had a daughter? But the truth came out shortly after the rumors spread. Y/n was a daughter of the sun.

Clarisse, already a standout in her cabin, with her group well-established, “welcomed” the new daughter of Apollo to camp. From then on, whenever Clarisse saw Y/n, it was impossible not to make jokes about her appearance.

“Oh my gods, are you sure you’re Apollo’s kid?”

“If the sun had a cold, dull version, that’d be you.”

“Hey, Winter Apollo, ready to brighten our day? On second thought, don’t—the day might get even worse.”

“I always thought Apollo’s kids were lively and full of energy. But you? You seem to be on night mode all the time.”

Many such remarks were made by Clarisse and her group over the years. Sometimes, Y/n even laughed along—not to appease the children of Ares or ingratiate herself, but because the jokes were genuinely creative. The first time Y/n laughed, it only fueled sharper, slightly more biting remarks.

Clarisse vividly remembered the day. The sun was setting, giving way to night, and Y/n was returning to her cabin after a long day helping in the infirmary. Clarisse and her group were heading to their own cabin, inevitably crossing paths with Y/n.

Y/n looked at the group ahead, her expression neutral. As she moved to step aside and let them pass—hopefully without interaction—she was stopped.

“Well, well, the daughter of Apollo. If that’s really who you are. What’s this? Stole the essence of the sun but forgot to bring it to camp?” Clarisse teased, stopping briefly in her path, scanning Y/n from head to toe with an amused grin as her siblings laughed at her comment.

To the children of Ares’ surprise—especially Clarisse’s—Y/n let out a small laugh. The sound echoed in Clarisse’s ears, her eyes locked onto Y/n. “There’s the glow,” Clarisse thought, captivated by Y/n’s smile.

When Clarisse finally shook off the thoughts and the sound of Y/n’s laugh, her siblings were already piling on more jokes, sharper than before. She quickly snapped back to the present, slipping her hands into her pockets.

“Gods, with the way you are, Apollo might be rethinking his parenthood,” one of Clarisse’s brothers said, gesturing dismissively toward Y/n. This time, the comment didn’t amuse her as much, though the other children of Ares—Clarisse excluded—found it funny.

“Come on, leave our little sunblocked alone. Or she might start crying,” Clarisse said with a playful grin, eliciting more laughter from her brothers as they moved on toward their cabin.

As they walked away, Clarisse’s gaze briefly returned to Y/n, who took a deep breath and resumed her own path, glancing back at the Ares group and briefly meeting Clarisse’s eyes.

From that point on, Y/n wasn’t often seen near the Ares children. Camp was full of demigods, and Y/n would inevitably cross paths with others—or so Clarisse thought. But Y/n mainly appeared in training, the dining pavilion, occasionally in the infirmary, and during Capture the Flag.

Wherever Y/n was, if Clarisse was nearby, her eyes seemed magnetically drawn to the daughter of Apollo. Whether it was a crowded space or an open field, Clarisse couldn’t help but look, even if just for a few moments.

The first time Clarisse’s eyes were locked for more than a few seconds and she couldn’t look away from Y/n was in the dining hall at night, where the daughter of Apollo was talking with her siblings, wearing a beautiful smile and laughing softly with them.

The embers of the flames from the dining hall’s pyre made her dark hair shimmer with red and golden highlights, and her skin reflected the flames almost like a mirror, becoming subtly flushed from the heat and glow of the firelight. Her dark eyes and a smile just a bit wider than usual seemed to brighten the surroundings. Clarisse swallowed hard upon noticing all this and forced her attention back to her own group.

The daughter of Ares tried not to think about the daughter of Apollo over the years, but Y/n had already carved out a place in Clarisse’s curly-haired head. So, every time she spotted Y/n from a distance, Clarisse allowed herself a few seconds to look at her, just enough to take her in, before quickly turning her attention back to her group, pushing thoughts of the daughter of Apollo away.

Those thoughts, however, were about how Clarisse would like to see Y/n more often, how she hoped to talk to her more often... maybe without the sarcastic remarks. But Clarisse’s brain had already made a list of jokes, each one less rude and intimidating than the last, but a little funnier, unconsciously hoping to make Y/n laugh at one of them again.

Until one day, Clarisse, accompanied by two of her group members, was on her way to Hephaestus’s forge. Alec, one of Clarisse’s brothers, had left his sword there to refine its blade since the Capture-the-Flag game was at the end of the month. As they walked across the open lawn where a path led to the forge, Clarisse’s eyes fell on someone sitting in the grass with a notebook and pencil in hand, facing a bird perched on a rock.

The daughter of Ares chuckled through her nose, catching the attention of her brothers, who were casually chatting about a few strategies and how they hoped to defeat the children of Athena in the upcoming Capture-the-Flag. Alec and Darius smiled, amused, as they followed Clarisse across the lawn.

“Look at that, it’s ‘Apollo on mute,’” Clarisse said as they got close enough, causing the bird on the rock to quickly fly away and Y/n to look up at her, squinting slightly against the brightness of the day. Alec and Darius’s laughter was audible. Clarisse glanced at the open notebook in Y/n’s hands, which contained a few sketches: on one page was the landscape of the field, and on the other, the startled bird. “What do we have here?” Clarisse said, snatching the notebook from the other girl, who jumped up immediately.

“Clarisse, give it back!” Y/n said loudly, nervous, stepping closer, but Alec and Darius were quicker, positioning themselves in front of her to prevent her from reaching Clarisse, who held the notebook in her hands.

"Ah, what’s the matter?" Clarisse said with an amused laugh, and Y/n looked at her nervously, casting the same uneasy glances at Alec and Darius, who were thoroughly enjoying the daughter of Apollo’s reaction. "You’re not half bad at drawing, Ray-less." The daughter of Ares turned her attention back to the notebook, flipping a page and finding a drawing of a rose with many thorns curling across both sheets, along with some scattered phrases, some in Ancient Greek and others in English. Fragments of what seemed to be thoughts. "Oh... look what we have here... is this a diary?" Clarisse said, laughing, as she turned another page to see what else was inside.

"Clarisse, this isn’t funny. Give it back. Now!" Y/n said in a louder tone, reaching her hand out quickly, demanding that the daughter of Ares return her notebook.

"Chill, girl," Clarisse said nonchalantly, looking at the page she had turned to. "Why the rush, Y/n? Did you write down who your crush is in here?" The daughter of Ares laughed, and that was enough for Y/n to try pushing past Alec and Darius, who were standing right in front of her, to snatch the notebook from Clarisse herself.

"Hold it, overcast sky," Alec said with a sarcastic smirk, stopping Y/n from getting any closer.

"Clarisse!" Y/n called out loudly, her eyes fixed on the girl, who had just flipped another page in the notebook.

As soon as Y/n saw Clarisse’s eyes widen slightly and her lips part softly, her heart skipped a beat, and she swallowed hard. "Shit." The daughter of Apollo thought, swallowing again.

"C-Clarisse. Give it back!" Y/n pleaded, her voice trembling, her face starting to turn red, but Clarisse’s eyes remained fixed on the notebook as she turned more pages.

The daughter of Ares’s brothers grew curious, and that was enough for them to move closer to their sister, one on each shoulder, peering at the pages in the hands of a practically frozen Clarisse.

"IT’S YOU!" Darius shouted in delight, and Alec burst into laughter while the two girls stood there, almost like statues.

Some drawings were heroic, worthy of one of those paintings of the Greek gods: Clarisse with her spear, battle clothes, hair and parts of her attire flowing in the wind, claiming her victory over faceless enemy bodies. Clarisse shouting and warring, accompanied by her own army of faceless people.

Other drawings? Something simpler, calm… gentle, perhaps a side of Clarisse she didn’t let many see: Clarisse smiling with her siblings—not a sarcastic or amused smile, the one she always gives after tormenting another poor soul at camp. No, not that one. It was an open, carefree, and relaxed smile. Clarisse with her piercing eyes and long lashes, looking straight at whoever's eyes were on the page. Clarisse with a small smile, just like she had during one of the past campfires, except this time with a flower in her hair. A real flower, pressed between the pages of the same drawing.

Y/n cleared her throat while Alec and Darius laughed beside a frozen Clarisse, who was staring at the drawings.

"Had your fun?" Y/n said, steadying the tremble in her voice, stepping forward and snatching her notebook back quickly. She closed it and started walking back to her cabin. Even though Y/n tried to appear unshaken, the undertone of her voice betrayed her mortification.

Clarisse finally snapped out of it when she heard the firm steps on the dirt fading away. She turned, watching Y/n moving away as fast as she could, while her brothers still laughed beside her.

"Wow, she did more than just write down who her crush was," Alec said, chuckling.

"Congrats, Clarisse, you’ve got yourself a fan," Darius said, laughing even harder, leaning on his sister’s shoulder.

Clarisse brushed Darius’s hand off her, and although her face was flushed, her brows were furrowed, and the glare she shot Darius was far from friendly.

"Shut up, idiot," Clarisse snapped at Darius, irritated, shoving him hard enough to send him to the ground. When she turned to Alec with the same fiery glare, he shut his lips and raised his hands, trying to compose himself. "I swear to the gods," the daughter of Ares muttered angrily, trying to pull herself together.

"Just one question..." Darius said as he got up, catching his breath. "Why’s your face so red?" He smirked, teasing his sister, while Alec struggled not to laugh.

"It’s the sun, idiot." Clarisse said curtly, blaming something else as she started walking again toward Hephaestus's forge, refusing to think about what had just happened.

Alec and Darius followed a few steps behind her, stifling their laughter, while Clarisse stomped forward, determined to keep her thoughts far from Y/n’s notebook. Far from Y/n.

"'Apollo on mute' has her glow," Alec whispered to Darius, who stifled another laugh as they trailed behind Clarisse. "Clari, wait up!" Alec called out, still laughing.

Part 2 >

#delulusional #clarisse la rue #clarisse larue #clarisse la rue x reader #Clarisse La Rue #Clarisse Larue #PJO #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo series #heroes of olympus #dior goodjohn

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cartersblogabtnothing · 3 days ago

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i didn’t think about adding babs or steph because i know they aren’t technically batkids, but i shall do it now for fun!

stephanie has not a fucking clue how she got where she is, wherever… that… is…

it looks like new york, sounds like new york, smells like new york… but… there’s something different about it that she can’t put her finger down on.

the last thing she remembers happening in gotham is taking a bite of a burger from Batburger. it was a good burger. probably because she hadn’t spent any of her own money on it.

but, just as soon as her teeth sunk into the burger, a weird light bulb blew and then the next thing she knew she was sitting in a different restaurant. she felt different too, like her insides had been rearranged.

she was very uncomfortable.

steph wandered around for a while, her eyes darting around the city aimlessly as she tried to find something as an identifier. she came up empty handed outside of some news channel complaining about some… spider… guy.

she wasn’t really paying attention in all honesty. she was more concerned with where she was.

steph let out a sigh, shaking her head. she felt a little hopeless, walking around aimlessly in an unfamiliar city in god-knows-where. she tried thinking about what bruce would do, but the thought made her angry so she ignored it completely.

she took a left, and suddenly she was face-to-face with the spider guy from the news channel. she blinked a handful of times, making sure she wasn’t going mad.

the person was climbing a wall like it was the most normal thing in the world, their lean build making climbing easy and efficient. she considered, just for a second, to try and do that herself whenever she got home.

“what the fuck,” she lets out suddenly, staring.

the person’s head whips around and they stare with a blank expression on their mask. they tilt their head, staring.

“you’re not from new york,” they said simply, and steph rolls her eyes. “you’re not from here, are you?” they ask and she stiffens.

“how did you know that? did you send me here? if i could —“ she starts and the person shakes their head.

“no. i didn’t, but i can help bring you home.” they sigh and hop down, landing on the tips of their toes with practiced grace.

and they did just that, after eating mexican food with steph on the rooftop of their apartment building. they talked for a while, mainly about their shady parents and even shadier parental figures. they really did bond, and steph actually really liked peter. even if their… strange… spidery tendencies scared her. she liked them.

she liked them so much that she even offered them to come with her after the weird contraption had been built, but they declined. she left their world feeling both a little lighter, and a little empty.

barbara had been considering quitting for years, after getting shot and almost killed by the joker really put a damper on her second life. even if she loved batgirl, she couldn’t continue putting her health at risk.

…which is what she told herself before she jumped at the first opportunity to go on patrol with bruce again. she really should’ve said no, especially considering the new magic user in gotham city.

which is why she’s in the situation she is, now. he had blasted her with… some sort of… ray from his fingertips. it was weird, it felt violating, and she felt sick afterwards.

well, she felt sick after she hit the hardwood floor of someone’s apartment.

someone who… curiously enough… had jumped up and stuck to a wall, and stared at her with wide eyes. they looked nervous, scared, and protective.

they reminded her a lot of tim. it made her smile.

and then gag.

where was she??

she stood slowly, brushing the dust off her suit before placing her hands on her hips.

“where am i?” barbara asks, tilting her head.

“my apartment.” the person huffs before they hop off the wall, landing gracefully.

“i assumed.” barbara huffs back, crossing her arms over her chest. “and where is that?”

“queens, new york.” the person mutters, standing in a defensive position - but their limbs remained loose and pliable. it was a talent that only dick could master, and she was immediately impressed.

“new york…” she murmurs, nodding her head. “i’m not from new york.” she sighs.

“i can tell.” the person hums, nodding their head. “jersey? you sound like it.” they mutter, and she smiles softly, nodding.

“yeah — uh — but… i feel weird. like… my insides are twisted.” barbara mumbles, holding her stomach.

the person’s eyes widen slightly before nodding tiredly, and they walk away. barbara didn’t even have a chance to call out before they came back in with some device.

“do you know how many people i’ve had crash into my apartment after being teleported across dimensions?” they ask as they ready the device up. “four people. it’s concerning.”

barbara laughs, and the two talk for a while as the person — peter, she learns — fixes the device up to help her get home. she learns that peter’s a vigilante too, named spider-man, and they were bit by a radioactive spider. which she thought was cool. she also learned their favorite things, their interests, and she realized they were more like than she thought.

she had offered to show them where she comes from, but they told her it was a one way trip. barbara felt like she was losing an old friend, which was strange, but she moves on anyway. brace face and all.

she goes back to gotham and tells a million stories of peter and her adventures, and she wishes she could be back in his shabby apartment laughing over goldfish and protective fathers.

i’m sure we’ve all read at least one or two “peter parker in gotham” fanfics. they’re a personal favorite, especially when they’re done well. and i do get why peter is always in gotham, but…

…why not put one of the batkids in peter’s new york? i think it’d be interesting.

my personal favorite is tim drake, but i do think any of the batkids would be absolute comedic gold. here’s why:

dick would’ve 100% “fallen” into some portal during a fight and ended up in new york. at first he thought it was just that, the portal teleported him into new york. whatever. that’s like a regular tuesday for him.

but then he saw some news program (“The Daily Bugle”) talking about some… Spider-man guy that dick’s never seen! never heard of! who the fuck was this guy and where is dick!?

he momentarily freaks the fuck out before giving himself a mission; find out where the fuck he is and then get back home. easy enough. he’s been stranded before. it should be easy for him to get back home.

at least he thinks so, until he bumps into the aforementioned Spider-man guy, who is surprisingly friendly despite the strange way they move. guess the spider thing was fr.

they bond over acrobatics while peter is attempting to figure out how to build a teleporter (he figures it out quicker than expected and spends far too much time styling it)

jason was on a mission with the outlaws, and one thing led to another and now he and the rest of his team had been teleported to different locations.

he had assumed that bullshit ray gun was some dollar general version of the big stuff until he walks head first into a humongous spiderweb that sticks to his helmet.

jason fucking hates spiders.

he freaks out (duh) and yanks his helmet off and stumbles away, staring at the way it just… hangs there… and suddenly he knew for a fact he wasn’t supposed to be there.

he looks around for a while after that, helmet-less and confused as all fuck. he thinks distantly that maybe he could just restart here. no joker, no batman, no nightwing, no responsibilities. he could make it work.

on his walk, he comes across a mugging. he attempts to get in there, of course, but he’s completely outgunned by some soft-looking fuck in red spandex.

red spandex! what the fuck!

the red-spandex person cleans the mugging up swiftly, and then they turn around to see jason there. they freeze, their mask scrunching up.

jason tries to shoot at them, but his hands get webbed to the wall before he could even reach into his pants.

he’s mildly impressed.

tim is completely whelmed when he just… disappears on his walk back to the manor after school. there’s no portal, no laser beam, no spell… he just… trips once and then falls through the sidewalk. it was so fucking weird.

he’s caught off guard as he’s spit back up from the other side, coughing and heaving breath after breath into his lungs as he takes in his surroundings. he’s in some bad smelling alleyway, and he could feel at least three other people near him.

he’s in a loud, busy city with tall buildings and aggressive crowds. it’s too bright to be Gotham and too gloomy to be Metropolis.

where is he?

he stands shakily, brushing himself off before looking around again. more focused this time, though. he focuses on his location.

he turns to see a homeless man staring, and before he could even open his mouth, the man screams before hissing at him and running the opposite way.

what the fuck?

he tosses his hands in the air before getting cut off by a snort, and he whips around to see a lean, thin, soft-looking person in red and blue spandex. their face is covered by a mask, but even then their mask is so animated that tim feels immediately impressed.

“you scared jimmy.” the person says simply, tilting their head.

“you scared me.” tim responds, tilting his head slightly to mirror them. they laugh, their white eyes narrowing.

“you’re not from around here,” the person says slowly, leaning forward slightly. “let me guess… jersey?”

“huh, how’d you know?” tim snorts, shaking his head.

“accent.” the person shrugs.

the two bond quickly, over everything and nothing at the same time; and they simultaneously figure out that tim is in an alternate dimension and they work together to figure out how to get him home.

by the time tim returns to gotham, he’s picked up more of peter’s spider-like attributes than he’d ever like to admit.

damian doesn’t want to admit that he went head first into a villain’s trap, but… he did.

in his defense, his father did nothing to stop him from doing it. truly, it’s his father’s fault. not his.

he blinks awake to find himself in a puddle, and theres cold rainwater falling onto him and soaking into his suit. it’s uncomfortable, cold, and he feels like curling into a ball and hiding.

but he can’t. he can tell he isn’t in gotham. what if he was somewhere unsafe? he needed to stay vigilant and aware.

he sits up, and immediately feels eyes on him. he looks around, paranoid and on guard.

before he can really understand what’s happening, he sees a person dressed in red spandex hop off what looks like a human sized spider web, landing on their feet with perfect, practiced elegance.

“you’re too young to be dressed like that,” the person begins as they walk closer. “too young to be what you are.”

damian scoffs and stands slowly, hiding a wince as he leans on his left foot. something’s sprained.

“hardly.” damian shakes his head, and the person tilts theirs in response.

“i had a feeling, but i had hoped i was wrong.” the person says softly before walking closer.

the last thing damian remembers before waking up in a warm bed was a warm hand grabbing his arm gently.

the person in red spandex reveals themselves, and they talk. for a while. damian ends up really liking them, especially after they tell damian all about the spider that bit them.

he almost doesn’t want to leave.

while shadow traveling (like in pjo?), duke goes a little too far. he knows he should’ve gone back, but he’s never gone this far and he was so curious it ached.

so he kept going until he walked out the other side, into a very busy alleyway. it smelled of garbage and weed, which didn’t necessarily bother duke but it did tickle his nose slightly.

he decided to figure out where he was first, and then worry about getting back. if he found out a way to get from one timeline to another, then bruce would be extremely grateful to have duke’s abilities on his side.

right?

duke could only hope so.

he walks around for a while, ending up on a very busy sidewalk. he sighs and steps next to a hot dog cart, to which the man stares at him strangely before shrugging and preparing a hot dog. duke goes to refuse, but hears… something in the distance.

he didn’t have time to react before the hot dog cart’s owner held the hot dog out to the street, and a person dressed in red spandex swung past and snatched it up. then, a few seconds later, a five dollar bill was… webbed to the side of the hot dog cart.

duke stared in awe, his eyes wide as he watches the scene. he immediately searches for a library, and immediately begins looking up who this person in red is.

does he forget that he isn’t dressed like a normal civilian half way through? yes. does he fix that? no.

he tracks spider-man down pretty easily, and asks them a million questions all at the same time, to which his mouth gets webbed for. spider-man snorts and answers every single one of his questions.

duke feels so heard it hurts his heart.

he shows spider-man how he did it, bids them farewell after letting spider-man take a picture and several notes of duke’s powers.

duke goes back to gotham feeling light and warm, a smile on his face.

cassandra woke up on a rooftop, feeling sick and tired. she assumed it was some sort of alternate dimensional travel, considering she had been in a space ship beforehand and now she wasn’t.

she uses context clues as well.

the loud bustling streets, the tall but modern buildings, the laughing, the music — none of it is gotham. she knew that very well, but she was still rather confused.

if she wasn’t in space, if she wasn’t in gotham, where was she?

she lets out a silent grunt before slowly sitting, and then standing up. everything hurt. she guessed her spaceship had crashed into some sort of… cosmic ray or portal and she fell out of it. made the most sense.

she looks around slowly, taking in her surroundings like she was taught. she sighs softly when she turns up empty handed, back at square one.

one thing she does notice is the obvious eyes on her. the person isn’t trying to hide, which means she probably in their terf. that isn’t good. not good at all.

cassandra barely turns her head before she feels something pulling at her wrist. looking down, she finds her wrist being tugged by a synthetic spiderweb. it was sticky, silky, and had far too much pull to it.

she twists her arm and pulls on the webs, and then the person comes forward with a heavy step. shiny red and blue spandex fits this person’s body like a glove, and the mask they wear is far too animated to be authentic. must be a function.

the two fight, and as they do cassandra watches the person’s spider-like tendencies. they move with suck fluidity that she feels inferior for the first time in a long time. she’s left in awe, almost.

eventually, she forfeits. she knows when she’s about to lose a fight, when it’s better to stop and give up then die fighting. even if this spider person doesn’t seem hostile, just protective.

“i’m not from here.” she states simply as she’s allowed to stand.

“i know.” the person responds, and cassandra feels more at ease than she did beforehand.

the person - peter takes care of her during her time in new york. gives her a bed, hot food, and even a fake identity for the time being. it works, and eventually she’s back home.

sometimes she tries to mimic peter’s fighting style, but without his abilities, she comes up short.

but the memories are warm and fuzzy and she likes to dream about it.

#barbara gordon #stephanie brown #babs gordon #steph brown #batgirl #spoiler dc #oracle

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marsborne · 3 days ago

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Untold Weight - Pinocchio x f!Reader

After the events that happened at Arche Abbey, Pinocchio is left to think about all that has happened. The thoughts that run around in his head are not very pleasant.

Set after the Rise of P ending

- warnings: sad pino at the beginning

- word count: 1.6k

AU where Antonia lives

It’s been a few days since Pinocchio returned from the Isle of Alchemists with Sophia, and ever since, unease seemed to settle over him like a shadow. He’d shared everything with you—every trial he faced, from his battles against countless enemies to his fight with Laxasia, and even his confrontation with Simon. His silver hair, gleaming softly in the moonlight, a sort of proof of setting Sophia free and her being with him until the very end. She was happy now, radiantly so, and yet…something lingered.

He told you about Geppetto. About the Nameless Puppet. About Carlo. About his own heart.

When he returned, it was you he sought out first.

He found you in the library of Hotel Krat. There were no words, only action. He wrapped you in an embrace so tight, so full of sorrow, it felt like he was holding onto you for dear life, afraid you might slip through his fingers just like his maker.

He didn’t know what to think. His father—his creator, the man he had idolized and obeyed without question, had spoken such hateful words. Yet, he had shed tears for him.

Tears for a monster of a man.

And still, those final words haunted him.

"I’m sorry, son."

They echoed in his mind, turning over and over like the mechanisms in his chest. The more he thought about them, the more he believed they weren’t meant for him at all, but for Carlo.

Everyone at the hotel noticed the shift in him. Some more than others. It was Antonia who noticed first.

She called for him one day. Life at the hotel had started to mend—rooms restored, halls repaired, the echoes of despair replaced by the tentative whispers of hope.

He sat on a stool by the piano in the library, his elbows resting on his knees, his silver hair falling like a curtain to hide his face. Across from him, Antonia sat in her wheelchair, her gaze warm with quiet understanding.

He told her everything.

Antonia, who had loved Geppetto and Carlo so dearly, found her heart twisting in ways she hadn’t expected. She had never imagined this of Geppetto, the man she once held in such high esteem. Carlo was gone, but her love for the boy remained steadfast. Yet, in the time she had come to know Pinocchio, her affection for him had grown just as strong. In many ways, she saw him as a son.

But there was another weight Pinocchio carried, one he couldn’t voice so easily.

He worried about what you might think of him now.

His father’s words had cut deep, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t silence them. He was just a puppet. Nothing more.

But oh, if only he could see himself through your eyes.

Antonia saw it too.

“Oh, dear child. That girl holds you so very dear—more than you probably know. Don’t think I didn’t notice how she looks at you, from the very first day you arrived here. I may have been ill, but I wasn’t blind,” she said with a soft chuckle. “Talk to her and see for yourself. She has a pure heart, and she loves you truly. She would never discard you, just because you’re not made of flesh and blood.”

Her words stayed with him, echoing in his mind, until finally, he found the courage to come to your door.

You had been worried sick. For days, he had barely spoken to anyone, least of all you.

When you opened the door, his gaze remained fixed on the floor, unable to meet yours. You could see the weight he carried, feel it in the air between you. You knew what had happened—everyone did. You couldn’t claim to understand his pain. You didn’t, and you never would.

But you had resolved to be there for him, through it all.

He stood before you in his simple white shirt and dark pants, a picture of vulnerability. You stepped closer, your hands reaching up to cradle his freckled cheeks, gently lifting his face so you could meet his eyes.

His eyes shimmered—not with the polished quality of their craftsmanship, but with unshed tears.

“Pino, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

It was a silly question. You knew what was wrong.

He said nothing, only wrapped his arms around you. Carefully, always carefully with his Legion arm. He buried his face in your shoulder, silent tears soaking into your shirt.

Your heart ached. You held him close, your fingers threading through his silver hair, offering comfort in the only way you could. For a while, the room was quiet, save for the soft ticking of his mechanisms and the steady beat of his heart. Then, finally, you spoke.

“You are enough.”

He froze. For a moment, even his gears seemed to halt. Slowly, he pulled back, his face a mix of surprise and something else—something raw.

“…What?”

“You are enough, Pinocchio.”

And just like that, he broke.

He kissed you with an intensity that stole the air from your lungs, his lips pressing against yours with a fervor that felt like a plea and a promise all at once. His hands moved with a careful kind of desperation—one resting on your back, pulling you closer, as if he could fuse you together and never let go. The other found its way into your hair, his fingers threading through the strands as though seeking solace in their softness.

It was not a kiss of hesitation or doubt—it was everything he couldn’t put into words. His fears, his sorrows, his love for you—all of it poured out in a torrent, raw and unrestrained.

For a moment, you were stunned, caught off guard by the sheer weight of his emotion. But then, like the tide rushing to meet the shore, you responded without hesitation.

Your hands found their place, one on his cheek and the other curling around his neck, pulling him even closer. The heat of the moment wrapped around you both like a cocoon, shielding you from the outside world. You kissed him back with everything you had, pouring every ounce of love, every whispered promise, and every silent vow into the connection between you.

His lips moved against yours with a mix of urgency and tenderness, as though trying to memorize every detail of this moment. He tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss, and you felt a soft, shaky sigh escape him. The hand in your hair tightened just a fraction, his thumb brushing against your temple in a touch so reverent it made your heart ache.

Your senses were overwhelmed by him—the faint metallic tang of his scent, the warmth of his touch, the rhythmic ticking of his mechanisms mingling with the steady beat of his heart. It was a symphony of contrasts, both human and mechanic, and it was him.

When you finally broke apart, it wasn’t from a lack of desire but the need for air. His forehead pressed against yours, his silver hair falling between you like a shimmering curtain. His breaths came in soft, uneven gasps, mingling with yours in the quiet space between you.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You simply looked at each other, his glossy eyes searching yours as if trying to confirm that this was real, that you were here, and that you loved him as fiercely as he loved you.

And you did.

Without a word, your thumb brushed against his freckled cheek, a silent reassurance that you weren’t going anywhere. His lips quirked into the faintest of smiles, and in that instant, you knew. No matter the hardships you faced, no matter the doubts that plagued him, you would face them by his side.

---

An hour later, you lay together on your bed. Pinocchio rested his head on your chest, his arms wrapped securely around your torso. The steady rhythm of your heartbeat was his anchor, grounding him in a world that often felt too overwhelming.

Your fingers played idly with strands of his silver hair, curling them around your fingertips as you stared at the ceiling.

For Pinocchio, this moment felt like heaven.

The thought came to him suddenly, yet it rooted itself deeply.

He thought of Julian, the gentleman who had entrusted him with his wife’s most cherished possession. Their wedding ring. His owrds rang in his head.

"Please remember the love Melody and I shared. Who knows? Maybe you'll find true love one day, too."

He thought of Polendina and the love he so clearly felt for Antonia—a love so pure and steadfast it seemed to transcend everything.

And then, he thought of you.

He adored you. Completely and utterly.

“I want to marry you,” he said, breaking the silence.

Your fingers stilled. Your heart skipped a beat, and he felt it beneath his ear.

“I…what?”

“I want you to be my wife,” he said, his voice soft but steady.

You blinked, unsure if you’d heard him correctly.

Now he lifted his head, propping himself up on his arms. His silver hair framed his face, strands brushing your cheeks like a veil between you and the rest of the world. Your face burned crimson, and he chuckled softly, a flicker of mischief breaking through his seriousness.

“You’re not…proposing to me right now, are you?”

He faltered, guilt flashing across his face as he began to sit up. But before he could pull away, you grabbed his face, pressing a kiss to his freckled forehead and tucking a few silver strands behind his ear.

“I’m not complaining,” you said with a soft smile. “And I want you to be my husband as well”

For a moment, he looked as though he might short circuit entirely.

Little did you know, the residents of Hotel Krat had already begun planning your wedding long before either of you realized you wanted one.

Heyy so school started and I'm not okay with that

Anyways I finished ng+ and immediately started ng+2 and my brain slapped me with this idea

I put my whole nervous system and brain power into that kissing scene I hope it's alright-

Also that ending was so random I felt the need to add that

#i love him sm ohmygodosjjshsbsjajajaisixjhx #lies of p #lies of p pinocchio #lies of p x reader #pinocchio #pinocchio x reader #x reader #fluff #lies of p fanfic #lies of p game #oneshot #female reader #slight angst #p x reader #headcanon #lies of p headcanon

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lonelyl00n · 15 hours ago

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To Love A Boy

billie eilish x fem!reader

- in which a girl is in love with her childhood friend (based on 'To Love a Boy' by Maya Hawke).

i want to love a boy the way i love the ocean...

Billie and I sat at the foot of the ocean, our jean shorts sitting vulnerable against the sand, a fact that I’ll probably regret once I uncomfortably drive back home. But there was a reason that it was worth it, as I watched Billie’s brown hair blow wildly in the California wind.

It had been a while since I’d last seen the girl. She had been on across the world on tour for several months. She had even asked me to accompany her, but I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t brave enough. Visualizing glistening sweat dripping down her body after a set, seeing her smiling and flirting around with her new influencer friends, and knowing that every night, she’d be cuddling into me, her legs entrapping mine in a tiny queen bed.

Just like she’s done since we were kids.

I couldn’t bear to feel these sinful feelings about my own best friend. Like an objectifying beast, so instead, I found myself a distraction. Jack.

Jack was nice. He approached me during an intense manga reading at the library, cutely stuttering out something along the lines of “you’re beautiful.” Nobody had ever called me beautiful, well, nobody except Billie. He invited me out to coffee, and we talked about the weather, about life, about fears, about hopes. He understood me in a way that nobody else had ever cared to before. Nobody except for the girl beside me.

“So...” The girl playfully spoke, “When were you going to tell me about Jack?” Huh? I hadn’t told her about him, for a very good reason. Recognizing my confused expression, the brown-haired girl laughed, “Dude, I had to find this out from Zoey. I mean, you tell her, but you didn’t tell me?”

I let out an awkward chuckle.” There’s a lot I haven’t told you.” I thought.

“Umm, well, Jack is nice.”

Billie cocked her head to the side, “Really, that’s all, just nice?” It was obvious she was skeptical, as I had never in my life expressed an interest in a boy, and now I was dating one.

But it was true. When Billie left, I spent almost every night at Jack’s house. At first, not much would happen between the two of us. We would order Chinese takeout, challenge each other in Just Dance, Binge watch How I Met Your Mother, and we would also kiss a bit. I say only a bit because there was no passion, not from me and not from him. But for some reason, we both put up with it. I didn’t find out why until a couple weeks later.

Jack and I met at our regular meet up spot, the coffee shop across from the library. Jack had offered to pay for our orders while I went to the restroom. As I walked out of the restroom, I found Jack, talking to a barista. The same Barista that’s working every time we’re there. Jack had both our drinks in hand, yapping nervously like he always does to the poor worker, but it was then that I noticed. That look.

His eyes were shimmering like a pile of gold was in front of him. His smile wider than the Nile Delta. Meanwhile, the man in front of him looked oblivious to this fact, but I wasn’t. It’s the same look that I caught myself giving to Billie.

Later that night, as we were binging season four of our favorite show, I finally spoke. “I saw.” I simply said. Jack jolted for a second and sighed. “And I see the way you look at the girl on your lock screen.” The two of us said nothing else, instead we scooted closer to each other. Jack lifted my body onto his lap and we let our lips do the talking.

It was not sweet, it was not tender, and it was not angry. It was filled with longingness. Not for each other, but for who we wished the other could be. But I knew that Jack wasn’t my childhood best friend, as he knew I wasn’t the handsome barista he admired. We called each other the Tracys to each other’s Robin. Nobody understood me the way Jack did. He became my closest friend, a companion that I could express my deepest feelings about Billie to and then kiss it all away and pretend like none of it existed.

But it did. I felt it every time she would call in from her hotel room after a concert, pouting and complaining about how much she missed me and how she wished I wasn't so stubborn on my decision of not coming with her. I felt it whenever she would send me good morning texts at exactly the same time every day, even when she was on the complete opposite side of the world. And I felt it whenever she would flash me that gorgeous smile of hers whenever she felt that I was feeling down. So yes, Jack was nice, great even! But he wasn't her.

I hadn’t even realized how silent I had gotten reminiscing about Jack and I’s pathetic relationship, two homosexuals roleplaying as people we weren’t, that I failed to notice how awkward the atmosphere had become.

“Well,” Billie finally broke the silence, “I’m glad you and your boyfriend are so in love.”

There was something weird in the way that she said it, but I didn’t get to think too much about it as she pulled me in, her lips pecking my forehead, how she’s always does. Because to her there was no meaning behind it. To her I was only her best friend and that’s all I would ever be to her. She rested her head on my shoulder as I laid my head on top of hers, together watching the glistening blue ocean. And as waves of the ocean kissed our feet, as the seagulls soared through the sky, as her warm breath invaded my shoulder, a terrible thought encroached my mind: I wished I could be in love with Jack the same way I was helplessly in love with the ocean.

#billie eilish #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish x you #billie eilish imagine #lesbian #oneshot #angst

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atlafan · 1 day ago

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Bad Medicine - Prologue + Part 1

a/n: you can read this 8-part, completed fic on Patreon now! I always like to post the first part of a completed work here to give yall a taste. Consider joining my Patreon today to read the rest of this fic, and the many others I have on there. Happy Friday! Warnings: grief, funerals, a ton of sexual tension. best friend's little sister/brother's best friend trope Words: 10K Patreon

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Prologue

Harry

It was sudden and unexpected. But even when you’re given the time to prepare, you still fall apart when it happens, so there’s no difference.

My best friend died. We’re only thirty-one, this shouldn’t be happening yet. But a brain aneurysm doesn’t care how old you are, apparently. Tim hadn’t felt well one afternoon. We all thought he was dehydrated, so he went to lay down. When his mother went upstairs to check on him, his body was unmoving, and he had no pulse.

The Bakers are a close family. I had the privilege of being pulled in when Tim and I became friends. Tim’s father, Adam, died a long time ago, it was a mixture of lung cancer and high cholesterol. When he died, he left quite a bit of land to Tim and I. Tim’s mother, Georgette, had already known about this, but it came as a complete shock to Tim and I.

“It’s so you two can build the ranch back up, make it better.” Georgette had smiled somberly. “We didn’t think you’d be getting it quite so soon.”

My grandmother had raised me, but when she got too old to take care of herself, we had to sell our home. I moved her into the best assisted living facility I could find, and the Bakers invited me to come live with them. I barely needed to take them up on their offer because this happened around when Tim and I were set to go to college. We both got football scholarships at the same school. It was perfect. But I’d stay with them when I’d come home on breaks, and I had been going to their house since I was five. The Bakers have always been family.

Since Adam died when we were fifteen, our after-school jobs became mowing, fence mending, dirt packing, stall mucking, and so on. We worked our asses off to bring Black Beauty Ranch to life. Georgette was a big help with the logistics. She had grown up on a cattle ranch, so she knew the ins and outs of buying and selling cattle, horses, chickens, and so on. She knew the best vets to come in and check on the animals, she knew how to help the animal through giving birth, and she knew how to give horse riding lessons. She of course taught us all of that too, so by the time Tim and I graduated from college, we were ready to take the reins.

We built a big, beautiful house for ourselves. The land wasn’t too far from the Baker’s original house, so we created a throughway and had Georgette stay living there, while Tim and I lived in our big house. We call Georgette’s house Girl House, and we call mine and Tim’s Boy House. It was stupid, but because Tim’s little sister stayed with Georgette, and they were girls, it made sense for that to be called the girl house because that’s what it was. Rowan was actually the one to give us the idea. Not living with Georgette gave us the much needed independence we craved. We didn’t want to have to answer to anyone about who may or may not be sleeping over, and Tim didn’t want Rowan seeing random women coming and going.

After we built the boy house, we worked on smaller, ranch-style homes that the ranch hands could live in, if they so choose. We used several as Air BnB’s to offset different costs, and we even converted one of the barns into an event space so people could have their wedding receptions or parties here.

Families rented our horse stables, our horses too, and we offered lessons. The ranch hands did a superb job of keeping the cattle healthy, along with the other animals. We’ve made this place into a well-oiled machine. Even Rowan stepped up a few years back to do some freelance social media management for us. She set up an email marketing schedule, ads on different social networking sites, all of that shit. I don’t understand much of it. I think I only have Instagram and Facebook as apps on my phone, and that’s just to stay in touch with a few people and to switch into the business accounts to answer questions.

It wasn’t until a little later that it was revealed as to why Adam left his nearly 6,000 acres to us. His brother, Glen, thought he was going to get everything since the Baker home had been a generational family home. He only got the Baker General Store in town, and he ended up having to sell it because of the 2008 recession. He had that little bit of cash and nothing else. He’s tried to weasel his way into Black Beauty Ranch, but Georgette has been good about keeping him out of our business. The land was in a trust, split between me and Tim. Glen was pretty pissed when we met with the family attorney to go over Adam’s will.

“How could he do this to me, I’m his brother! That boy isn’t even related to us!” Glen had shouted, scaring Rowan. I’ll never forget seeing her little body tremble as she hung on to Tim.

“It doesn’t matter! This is what Adam and I wanted. We wanted to ensure the kids would be set up for long after we’re gone. Tim needed a partner, and Harry’s practically family. His grandmother babysat you and Adam when you were kids, remember?”

“So that makes him family?”

“Maybe I should go.” I had said, not wanting to cause any drama.

“Harry, it’s alright. Glen’s just being a baby.” Georgette said, then looked at Glen. “You’re getting the general store, what’s the big deal?”

“I already had the general store.”

“You had half of the general store. Adam left you his share. You only want the acreage so you can convert it into a subdivision and sell bits and pieces of it for people to build shitty homes on. The land will be a better use for Black Beauty.”

“What a stupid name.” Glen seethed.

“I picked it out.” Little Rowan had mustered the courage to say. “The boys let me.”

“It’s her favorite movie.” Tim said. “And we wanted her to feel like she had a say in things.”

“There are, like, eight different Black Beauty movies.” Glen ran a hand down his face. “This is insane!”

“It doesn’t matter. This is what Adam wanted, and I signed off on it when we put all of this together.” Georgette said. “This isn’t something you can contest. My husband died.” She took a step towards him. “The love of my life is gone forever, you don’t want to fuck with me right now, Glen.”

It was the first time I had ever heard Georgette use a curse word. The room fell completely silent, and that was that.

The ranch is really starting to turn a profit now. It’s been good for the town of Hawthorn, thanks to all of the jobs the ranch created. Other ranches and farms buy our cattle to sell to markets because ours aren’t pumped full of hormones or other bullshit. And even though somedays it feels like back-breaking labor, I love what I do.

But Tim’s dead now, so I have no idea how I’m going to manage the ranch on my own. Sure, Georgette is still here to help, but I can’t rely on her forever. I’m going to need to talk to Rowan when she gets here for the funeral. Maybe she can help out in the interim. She hasn’t lived at home in quite some time, but maybe she wouldn’t mind not paying rent for a while, that could sweeten the deal a bit considering she lives in LA where the rent is astronomical.

We all decided to meet at the boy house since that’s where everyone will go after the service. Georgette is already down in my kitchen. I’m just getting my tie tied when I hear Georgette exclaim, “She’s here!”. Hopefully her loud voice didn’t send my Granny into shock. She’s ninety, she can’t handle much these days.

I make my way downstairs, give Granny a kiss on the top of her head before topping up her coffee, and then the wind is knocked out of me when Georgette brings Rowan into the house.

She looks the most grown up I’ve ever seen her, like…like a real woman. All she has on is a simple, black dress, but there’s something different about her.

Before I can greet her, she’s throwing herself into me, crying, “Oh, Harry!” She sobs into my chest, and I have no idea what to do. I don’t want to hold her too tight. She’s already pressed up against me, I don’t need to feel any more of her than I already do. I decide to just pat at her shoulder. “I’m sorry, I know you all are sad too, I just don’t know how I’m going to get through this.” She pulls back and wipes under her eyes. “I can’t believe he’s really gone. Oh! Hi, Granny Styles.” She throws her arms around Granny. “How are you feeling?”

“Any time I sit, I have to sit on a donut or else my back hurts for a week. How the hell do you think I’m feeling?”

“Granny.” I can’t help but laugh. “Don’t be nasty to Ro, hm? Her brother died.”

Granny rolls her eyes. Losing a sibling is child’s play to her. She was forced to bury her son and daughter-in-law on the same day. There’s really no coming back from that kind of grief. But the upside is, Georgette has someone to talk to about what it feels like to lose a child.

“The town car is here.” Georgette says. “I’ll sit with Granny in the second row of seats, you two can sit in the back row. It’s nice that no one will have to sit up front with the driver. When Adam died, they wouldn’t let Ro sit on my lap, so they made Glen go sit up front. Come to think of it, maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.”

“I’m glad he’s not riding with us to the cemetery.” Rowan says. “Why isn’t he, though? Since he’s immediate family.”

“I asked the undertaker if they could send a separate car to his house since your aunt and cousins are coming.”

We all head outside to the car, and I help Granny inside before rounding the car to open the other door for Georgette. Then I open the door for Rowan before going around the car again to get in on the other side. We’re all quiet, knowing that if we speak at this point, we’ll all just burst into tears. I, for one, would prefer to save my tears for the service.

We’re not late by any means, but we’re not the first to arrive. A few of the ranch hands are already here, as well as some friends from high school, and Tim’s ex-girlfriend, Delia.

Fuck. They broke up about six months ago, she must be devastated. I leave Georgette, Rowan, and Granny to go over to her.

“Hey.” I say.

“Hi.” Her voice cracks and I open my arms to hug her. She comes to me easily. When I feel her stomach meet mine rather quickly, I step back and look down. She’s wearing a long coat. She notices me looking at her stomach and she sighs, opening her jacket. “I was going to tell him.” She takes a deep breath and closes her jacket back up. “I wanted to wait until I knew if I even wanted to keep it or not. I didn’t know if I wanted to be attached to Tim for the rest of my life. But…when a few months went by, I thought about how much of a great dad he would be. So…so I was going to come here and tell him, and…and see if he wanted to try to make things work. I can’t believe I waited so long. I…” She buries her face back into my chest and I hold her.

“How far along are you, exactly?” I can’t help but ask.

“Almost five months. We had one last spontaneous romp when we bumped into each other at a concert. We both had been drinking and…well, you know, sometimes these things happen.”

“I have to ask the uncomfortable question: are you sure it’s his?”

“That’s valid.” She sighs. “I haven’t slept with anyone else. I went on a few dates after Tim and I broke up, but when I found out I was pregnant, I decided to focus on myself.”

“Alright.” I run a hand through my hair. “Tensions are high today. Come back to the house after the service. I think Georgette will be really excited about having a grandbaby. And we can give you a place to live, money towards pre-natal care, stuff like that, if you need it. I know how conservative your parents are…do they know?”

“No, I’m going to tell them after the baby’s born. I’m afraid they’d find a way to push me down the stairs or something. Your kindness and hospitality is much appreciated.”

“It’s what Tim would want.” I smile softly.

“I can’t believe how grown-up Rowan looks.” Delia nods towards her. “I mean, I know she’s twenty-six, but this is one of the first times it’s hit me that she’s not a little girl anymore.”

“I was thinking the same thing earlier.”

“Yeah? You were checking her out?” Delia smirks, and I feel my cheeks grow hot.

“No.” I say defensively. “Don’t be gross, Dee.” I shake off my embarrassment when I see Glen, his wife Priscilla, his son Malcom, and his daughter Elma. “I better go say hi to them. There are chairs if you need to sit.”

“Thank you, Harry.”

I go over to Glen and his family just as they’re wrapping up their hellos. I shake his hand and do my best to smile at my surrogate aunt and cousins. Me, Tim, and Malcom all graduated in the same year. I think Malcom was always jealous that Tim and I were closer, but the three of us did just about everything together for a while. And for the most part, we got along just fine.

“Isn’t it just terrible that funerals are the only times we really get together?” Elma dabs her eyes with a tissue. She’s three years younger than us. And even though I was never interested, Malcom gave me the, ‘don’t ever touch my sister’, talk when we were in high school, and he reminded me again when she turned eighteen. Then he got offended when I told him I’d never want to go out with Elma.

Malcom is just like his father in that he never understood why Tim and I never cut him in for partial ownership of the ranch. He claimed he could help and be useful, but this was something Adam had left to only Tim and myself, probably for a good reason, so we never cut Malcom in. Malcom is successful in his own right, having opened up his own real estate agency, not so cleverly called, Baker Realty. Elma is his accountant. Despite her faults, she’s a fucking whiz with numbers, I have to give her that. Neither of them are married with kids.

“Mrs. Baker.” The reverend comes over to us, addressing Georgette and not Priscilla. “We’ve filled in considerably. I think it’s time you all take your seats so we can begin. I believe Mrs. Styles is already sitting.”

“Yeah, Granny sat down right away.” I say and give Georgette my arm. I almost trip when Rowan takes my other arm. We all sit down in the front row of seats. I sit by Granny, Georgette sits next to me, and Rowan is on her other side. The rest of the family fills in the other seats. Delia sits behind us. I’m glad she’ll be off her feet for a bit. I feel Granny put her hand over mine and I turn to look at her. All she does is look at me and give me a soft smile. “Are you alright?” I whisper.

“It’s a terrible thing, to bury your child. It’s bringing back some tough memories, but I’m more so worried about you. You and Tim were attached at the hip. So, you just squeeze Granny’s hand any time it becomes to be too much, just like you did at your parents’ funeral.”

I kiss her temple then interlock our fingers. I don’t know what I’m gonna do when she eventually kicks the bucket.

The second the reverend begins, I feel my eyes water. Out of my peripheral, I can see tears sliding down Georgette’s cheeks. Rev talks about how we should look at things as a celebration of life and the ways we can keep Tim alive in our hearts going forward. Then he steps aside so others can speak. I take a deep breath and stand up first.

“To quote Emily Dickinson, ‘my friends are my estate’. This was true for Tim. Land, money…none of that mattered to him as long as his family was happy and healthy. Tim had to grow up fast after his father died. He stepped into the ‘man of the house’ role seamlessly. He took on a lot and never complained. Tim and I have been friends since kindergarten. I was instantly pulled in as a member of the Baker family. I’ll always be grateful to him for giving me a sense of normalcy. The world will be different without Tim.” Tears start sliding down my face, but I’m still able to speak without hiccups. “It hasn’t completely set in that I’ll never be able to go fishing with him, or go for a ride on our horses, or even muck out a stall with him again. Tim was my best friend, my brother…and I loved him.” I look back at his casket. “I’ll miss you, buddy.” I sit back down and Georgette mouths, ‘thank you’.

Rowan goes up next, but she’s only able to get a few sentences out before she has to sit back down. A couple of other friends share some kind words about Tim, and then we’re all standing up as he’s lowered into the ground. Rowan’s sob breaks me out of my trance. She sounds like she’s been stabbed. Turning to her, I open my arms and let her hug and hold onto me. She clutches to the lapels of my suit jacket, and I wrap my arms around her, resting my chin on the top of her head.

“It’s okay, honeybee.” I say, just above a whisper, “We’ll get through this.”

I see Malcom and he’s already looking at me, narrowing his eyes. I have no idea why.

We’re all eventually pried away from the gravesite, and back at the boy house. People are eating and drinking and sharing more stories about Tim. Some people are still crying, but it seems like everyone has a shoulder to lean on. I head into my home office for a minute alone, and to grab a beer out of the minifridge. Tim and I shared this space. We always joked around that it looked like an old detective’s office, with the desks pressed back-to-back.

Just as I’m taking the cap off my beer, Rowan comes in and closes the door behind her.

“We’re doing everything with the will tomorrow. Your mom figured Glen would put up a stink, and we didn’t want that happening today.”

“I wasn’t coming in here to talk about that. Delia just told us she’s pregnant and that you said she could live here if she needed to.”

“I’ll have her stay in your mom’s house. I don’t want her coming to me as some sort of surrogate boyfriend, or father to her baby.”

“I’m…gonna have to move back here to help out…aren’t I.” It’s not a question.

“I’m sure your mom would appreciate it.”

“The second I come back here, she’s going to-“

“Rowan, now really isn’t the time to be a whiny brat.” I snap. “None of this matters right now. Your brother died, can we just get through his funeral before we make things all about you?” I take a swig of my beer before setting it down. “I know you have a whole other life in LA. I’m not gonna twist your arm to make you come back, but it sure as shit would be nice if you did. I can’t run the ranch by myself, and I can’t rely on your mom. Tim would have wanted you to take over his share, and I’m fairly certain that’s stated in his will.”

“I’ll have to quit my job…I wouldn’t be able to come back right away. I’ll need to drive my car back. I’ll need help.”

“I’ll have your mom fly out to help you, and then she can drive back with you.”

“Not you?”

“No, I’ll be needed here.”

“Where would I live? If Delia’s gonna move in with Ma…are any of the smaller ranch houses available? You must save a couple for the Air BnB.”

“They’re all booked out, and all of the other houses are taken. If one opens up, it’ll go to Delia. She’ll only want to live with your mom for so long.”

“So…I’d live here?”

“What’s wrong with your house? It’s not like Delia’s taking over your room.”

“I cannot live under the same roof as my mother again.”

“Cut her some slack.”

“Right now, I have all the freedom in the world. If I move back in with her, she’s gonna start up with house rules and other bullshit.”

“And you think there wouldn’t be rules here with me?” I smirk, crossing my arms over my chest. “Because let me tell you, young lady, I have rules.”

“Oh?” She smiles, and it’s rather…flirty. I’m suddenly aware that we’re alone in a room with the door closed. “And what might those be?”

“You really want to live with me? This house is huge, but it’s not like every bedroom has an en suite. We’d be sharing a bathroom, this office-“

“I won’t mind being around you so much. I never have.” There she goes, being flirty again.

“Let’s just cross that bridge when we come to it, okay?”

“Okay.” She sighs. “Anyways, I only came in here to take a break from everyone. Thank you for speaking so nicely before. I wish I could’ve gotten all my words out.”

“You did your best. It’s not easy.”

“I should go check on Delia. She and I have a lot of catching up to do.”

I watch Rowan leave, biting into my cheek as I watch her hips sway. Did she have to wear such a tight dress? It’s completely appropriate with its high neckline, and it goes down just above her knees, but the way it accentuates her…assets…

I sit down at my desk and sigh, feeling sad when I look up and don’t see Tim sitting across from me. It’s at this time, I notice an envelope on my desk with my name on it. It’s Tim’s handwriting. I open it immediately:

“Harry, if I’m to perish in an untimely manor, there’s something you need to know. If I’m not around, then I won’t be there to make sure Rowan is alright. Even though she doesn’t come home as often, if something happens to me, she’ll come home. I want you to look out for her the same way I did. She’ll need a positive male force in her life, and I don’t want Uncle Glen or Malcom trying to do that. It has to be you.

This isn’t my secret to tell, but you should know that Rowan has a major crush on you. She does a good job to hide it, but I’m not an idiot, it’s clear from the way she looks at you. I don’t think you ever would, but my wish is that you never start a romantic relationship with her.

My reasoning behind this isn’t because you can be sort of promiscuous. I’ve seen you have wonderful relationships, so it’s not that I don’t think you’re capable. And it’s not because I don’t think you’re worthy of my sister. But if you were to ever get together, and it didn’t work out, there would be a rift between you and my family going forward. Tensions would rise, and it could ruin the peace we’ve built at Black Beauty. Even if you fall in love with her and truly think you could make it, don’t go after her. If she flirts with you or asks you out, turn her down. It’ll hurt and it’ll suck, but it’s what has to be done.

I know this seems insane, but I never want you to be on bad terms with my family. So, please, honor this wish of mine.”

I’m stunned. Did he really think I would ever jeopardize everything we’ve worked for? Flush sixteen years of work down the toilet just so I could fuck his sister? I don’t even like Rowan like that. And what was all that shit about her having a crush on me? I suppose the flirting makes sense, but that could also just be playfulness. I’ve never noticed her looking at me or anything. But then again, I was never looking at her.

Not until today.

What else is odd is that Tim never verbally spoke with me about this. Since Rowan is a decent chunk younger than us, he never had to give me the ‘don’t touch my sister’ talk the way Malcom felt the need to do with Elma. And why wouldn’t John just give this to me tomorrow when he reads out the will? Who found this, and who put it here?

This is not good. Not good at all.

Part One

Rowan

When my mother called to tell me that Tim had died suddenly, I was in a state of shock. I didn’t believe it, but also put her on speaker so I could immediately book my flight out to Hawthorn.

I only come home sporadically, for certain holidays. I wanted so much more out of life than smelling like horse shit and dirt. I went to college in LA, and pretty much never came home, moving there full time after graduation. I have a great job doing social media metrics and analysis. I work the job remotely, but I don’t think I’ll be able to do it and help out on the ranch at the same time. I’ll have to talk to my supervisor. I know I’ll have to move back here for good. Harry’s right, he needs me to take Tim’s share.

I suppose it won’t be all bad, being around Harry all the time. I’ve missed him. The way he held me today and just let me cry into him was everything I didn’t know I needed. I’m sure he still just sees me as Tim’s baby sister, but I could have sworn there was something different in his eyes when he looked at me today. It was like he was seeing me clearly for the first time in his life. It sent a wave of confidence running through me.

Five years is a big age difference. I knew that growing up. I knew nothing would ever happen between us, not until we were older, at least. Thirty-one and twenty-six doesn’t seem as huge. We’ve both matured, especially me. I’ve learned to take care of myself. That’s partially why I don’t want to move into my mother’s home. She’ll take everything I’ve done and squash it in a matter of minutes.

I love my mother, and it’s not that I don’t get along with her, but I have reasons as to why I moved away. I needed to breathe.

Every other minute, I get hit with a wave of reality. My brother is gone. He’s never coming back. I haven’t felt this lost or sad since my dad died. I was only nine when that happened. Tim took on so much and never complained, just as Harry said. He was so much more than a big brother to me. He and Harry taught me how to fish, start a fire at a campsite, to swim…Tim was always there for me. But so was Harry. He’ll make coming home much easier. And maybe, just maybe, he’ll start seeing me as more than just Tim’s little sister. We can deal with our grief together and help each other, and I can show him how adult I’ve become. I’m not a little girl anymore. I haven’t been for a very long time.

“Rowan, Tim’s share of the ranch goes to you.” John, our family’s attorney says. We’re all in the home office, listening. Harry’s barely looked in my direction. But I’m not holding anything against him. It’s a weird time. “If after a year you want out, Harry, and only Harry,” he looks at Malcom and Glen, “can buy you out.”

Okay, so if I hate it, I only have to stick around for a year. That’s not so bad.

“How does that make any sense?” Glen asks.

“Because the ranch is in a trust, and myself and Tim are the only ones allowed to sell and buy and do things with it, you jackass. Now it’ll be Rowan and I.” Harry huffs. “John, please continue.”

“The boy house is yours, of course. The girl house is still Georgette’s, but it’ll go to you and Rowan when she’s done with it. Tim leaves his personal affects to you, Harry, to do whatever you want to them. Is there a Delia Anderson present?”

“That’s me.” Delia raises her hand. I didn’t think my brother would have left anything for her. He didn’t know she was pregnant. “Tim…mentioned me in his will?”

“He stated that in the event of an untimely pass, he wanted to give you the money he had saved for an…engagement ring.”

“Oh my god.” She pinches the bridge of her nose, clearly trying not to cry. “I can’t believe I fucked up so badly with him.” She buries her face in her hands and sobs. My mother goes to her quickly, rubbing her back.

“Dee, you didn’t know this was going to happen.” Harry says softly. “You can do whatever you want with the money. Can set up a retirement account, or something for the baby.”

“Right.” Delia sniffles. “Thank you.”

“I thought Tim didn’t know you were pregnant.” Malcom says.

“He didn’t.” Delia snaps. “That’s just the kind of guy he was. We were together for four years. We still loved each other. We just needed to take a break.”

“John, is there anything else?” Harry asks.

“That was the last item.”

“Great, meeting adjourned.” Harry claps his hands together. “Everyone can leave now.” He looks at Glen and Malcom as he says this. “Bye, see you at the next holiday gathering. Malcom, we’ll get beers later in the week, yeah?”

“Alright.” Malcom nods with a sigh.

“So,” my mother says once the other Bakers are gone, “Rowan, how quickly do you think you’ll be able to pack and wrap things up at work?”

“I don’t know. At least two weeks.”

“Alright, I’ll fly out when you’re ready and we’ll drive back together.” Ma says. “That shouldn’t take more than a couple of days if we set our minds to it.”

“Okay.” I look at Harry who’s looking anywhere but me. “Harry, should we sit and go over things, like, what you’ll need me to do around here and all that?”

“I can have that ready for you for when you get back.” He says. “I need time to really sit and think about it.” He looks down at his watch. “I have to go. A few of us from the football team are meeting up for drinks to honor Tim. I think coach is gonna retire his jersey.”

“Oh, that would be so nice.” Ma says. “Go on, have a good time with the boys.”

With that, Harry leaves.

“Well, I should get my shit packed and get ready for my flight.” I say.

“So, you’re not leaving any friends or boyfriends behind?” Ma asks.

“I mean, I have friends out there, but I still have friends here. And no, I don’t have a boyfriend. I haven’t had a boyfriend in, like, eight months. I’ve been focusing on myself.”

“That’s good.” Delia chimes in. “Smart. I’ll drive you to the airport. It’ll give us time to catch up.”

“I’d like that.”

Two Weeks Later

Three days alone with my mother. It didn’t start off bad. She was happy I rented a U-Haul to hitch to my SUV. I wanted to bring my bed and bedframe home, and it made it easier to pack the U-Haul rather than my car. We stopped for one night and got a motel room. Conversation was surface level, but good. Neither of us wanted to talk about Tim because neither of us wanted to start crying.

We talked about how nice it was that a few of my friends helped me pack all my shit before my mom got there. That led to her asking questions about me not having dated much since my last boyfriend.

“I don’t know, Ma. It was like the more I talked about where I grew up and what I grew up doing, he started to get more condescending. He talked to me like I was simple, like as if I didn’t have an undergraduate degree and a master’s. Any time I asked if he’d come home with me for a holiday, he told me we should go to his family’s. He started mansplaining more and more. I didn’t like it, so I t up with him. He didn’t believe it at first, but I changed my locks, blocked his number, and held firm.”

After telling my mother that story, she told me she was proud of me, and then she started telling me stories about guys she went out with before my dad, and how my dad was a breath of fresh air compared to all those other guys, and how she hopes I’ll find my own breath of fresh air.

As we take the exit off the highway that leads into Hawthorn, she starts fidgeting.

“Honeybee, are you sure you’d rather live in the boy house with Harry? I mean, it’s called ‘The Boy House’, for a reason.”

“It’ll be easier, Ma. Harry and I talked about it. The office is here, we’ll be able to go to the sites together easier. Your house is like half a mile from here.”

“When did you two talk?”

“Last week, he called me and we went over a few things. Why?”

“No reason.” She shrugs. “He just usually keeps me in the loop, that’s all.” I notice her grip the wheel a little tighter. “It’s a little odd to be living with a man you’re not in a relationship with.”

“It’s like having any other kind of roommate.”

“You’ll be sharing that upstairs bathroom.”

“I’m aware.”

“Have you ever shared a bathroom with a man before?”

“Um, yeah, every day when Tim and I were living with you.” I sigh. “Ma, if I really have to go and he’s in there, I’ll go use one of the downstairs bathrooms.”

“What about if he brings a woman home?”

“He’s an adult, he can do whatever he wants.”

“Fine.” She concedes. “If at any time it becomes too much, though, you come home to me and Delia.”

“I will.”

Ma pulls into Black Beauty Ranch, then down the road to the boy house. A ton of people are waiting outside, and there’s a big sign draped along the porch that says, ‘WELCOME HOME, HONEYBEE!’ Times like these, I cherish being from a small town.

“Oh, wow.” I beam as I get out of the car. Sally, Harry and Tim’s executive assistant, is the first to hug me. She’s in her mid-fifties and incredibly sweet.

“Harry and I organized the whole thing.” She tells me. “The ranch hands are here to help. Some of the ladies made food for everyone, plenty to go around. Are all your boxes labeled by room?”

“Of course they are.” I smile.

“Good.” She smiles back at me and kisses my cheek. She looks at Eduardo, the foreman of the ranch hands, and says, “alright, send in the troops!”

Eduardo gives me a big hug after telling the ranch hands to start with the U-Haul.

“We missed you, kid.” He tells me.

“I missed you all too. I’m happy to be home and on the ranch.” A woman comes over to me and gives me a hug.

“Ro, I didn’t get a chance to see you at the funeral, I’m Sarah.”

“Oh! You’re the head of the events team.”

“I am.” She beams. “I was a year below your brother in school. I’m so excited that we’ll be able to work together in person, make all the social media stuff you do even better.”

“Yeah, Harry said I’ll probably be taking over the weekly meeting you have with him. I’m great at project managing. I’m looking forward to working with you too.”

“He said what?” Her smiles falls slightly.

“Well, it’s just that he meets weekly with Sally, and then with Eduardo. It would free up some time for him if I take over your weekly meeting, and I don’t mind. You have others on your team, right? Daryl and Janey, right?”

“Right.” She swallows.

“Sally, where’s Morgan?”

“I sent her off with Harry so I could be here.” Morgan is the admin below Sally. She takes care of more of the day-to-day things like general emails and phone calls. “They had to pick up a few heifers earlier today. They should be back in a bit. He really wanted to be here when you got here, but they couldn’t reschedule the sale.”

“Oh, it’s fine, I get it.” I wave her off. I watch as the ranch hands start bringing boxes into the house. I notice Sarah talking with my mother. My mother looks annoyed, but not with Sarah. She looks annoyed with whatever Sarah just told her.

Hmm. That’s…interesting.

After saying hello to a few more people, I start helping to bring my stuff inside. I’m certainly not going to sit around while everyone does everything.

I’m grateful that so many people made and brought food. We’re all hanging out in the kitchen, stuffing our faces. I told most of the people they could leave once all the boxes were in. I’m not going to let anyone unpack for me. That’s my responsibility. So, it’s just me, Sally, Ma, Eduardo, Sarah, and Delia. Thank fucking God for Delia. I always liked her, and even though she started dating Tim by the time I moved to LA, I still knew of her. She’s just a kind human being. I’m glad she’ll be part of our family again.

“Hello!” I hear Morgan from the mudroom. She comes into the kitchen and squeals. We run towards each other and hug. Morgan and I have been friends forever. I’m glad she’s working at the ranch. “Sorry, I probably smell like cow shit.”

“You don’t.” I laugh. “Are the heifers alright?”

“Yeah, they’re great. Harry’s down at the transition barn, he’ll be up in a few minutes.”

The transition barn is where all the new cattle go to get acquainted with the new surroundings. It’s comfortable and peaceful for the cattle.

“You know,” Morgan says after popping a cherry tomato into her mouth, “he was super anxious all day about getting back here. He really wanted to be part of the warm welcome.”

“He’s sweet like that.” Sally says. “He’s been fretting around the house for the past week making sure everything was in suitable condition for you.”

“Oh, I feel bad. He didn’t have to do anything special for me.” I frown.

“You know Harry.” Eduardo says. “Always looking out for honeybee.” He kisses my temple. “Well, I’m gonna head to my house. My darling wife has plans with her friends, so I need to go take over parent duty.”

“Bye, Ed, thanks so much for your help today.” I give him a hug, and he gives me a good squeeze before heading out.

“I think it’ll be good if we all get going. Rowan needs time to unpack.” Sally says. “Sarah, come on, I’ll drop you off at your car.”

“No, please don’t go yet! Morgan’s staying to help me unpack my room and stuff. You’re all more than welcome to stay.” I tell them.

“I have a better idea, we’ll all go to Georgette’s.” Delia says. “We’ll have some dessert and coffee. Decaf, obviously.” She chuckles and cups her bump.

“Sounds good to me.” Sally says. “Let’s go, ladies.”

Sarah flashes the fakest smile in my direction, then leaves. My mother gives me a hug and goes out with Delia and Sally.

Morgan and I head up to my room.

“It’s not weird for you to be taking over Tim’s room?” She asks me.

“Nah, Harry actually said he preferred it. It’s better than leaving it like a shrine or turning it into an empty room. Besides, the only other bedrooms up here are at the other end of the hall, and this is the only bathroom up here. I love the Jack and Jill style.” I open the door. “It’s kind of cute that they put in a double vanity. I remember when they first showed us the bathroom layout when they were building it, and my mom point blank asked if they were more than just friends.”

“Ha! I know, they lived like two old ladies who have been ‘special friends’ for thirty years.” Morgan smirks. “Do you think he’ll get freaked out with all the girly stuff in the bathroom?” She looks at my box of products and toiletries.

“He’s a modern man, I don’t think a few razors and bottles of various products is going to be an issue.”

“What did LA do to you? You’re like one of those Tik Tok girls who uses like eight products just to wash their face.”

“Stop making fun of me.” I take the box from her and go into the bathroom. “All of this stuff helps. Now, my mini lazy Susan can go in this corner. That’s what I put all my makeup and brushes on. This little shelf organizer is for my mouth products. And this shelf organizer houses my morning and night time skin care routine products.”

“Why do you need sweat bands?”

“They’re not sweat bands.” I laugh and slide them onto my wrists. “They stop the water from running down my arms when I wash my face.”

“Okay, that’s valid.”

“There we go. Clean and organized and not in the way of his stuff. I love how big the counter is. We won’t even bump elbows if we’re in here at the same time.” We head back into my room and start organizing my closet. “I like to keep things color coordinated, and by type of article. So, all tank tops should be together, and so on.”

“You’re like Danny Tanner.”

“A clean and uncluttered room will keep me calm. It’s something I have control over, if that makes sense.”

“It does.” She nods. “I’ll start on this end with your dresses.”

“Thanks.” I smile.

Many hands make light work. One of the last boxes of clothes is what was in my underwear drawer.

“And who exactly were you wearing this sexy thing for?” She flings a thong at me.

“No one.” I laugh. “I wear them with my leggings.”

“That’s a sex thong.”

“It is not.” I pull out a pair of lace panties. “These are sex panties. The cheeky bottoms are the best for sex. They’re not alluring.” I hold them up to my bikini area. “Don’t you just wanna take these off with your teeth.”

“Um…” she covers her mouth, hiding a laugh. She nods to tell me to look behind me.

I turn around, still holding the panties to my crotch. Harry’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, and a smirk on his lips.

“Oh, hi, Harry.” I can feel my cheeks heating up.

“I can see you’ve settled in.” His smirk grows. “Nice panties.”

“Thanks.” I swallow. “I got them on sale at Victoria’s Secret.”

“Good for you.” He looks down at them, then back up at me. “I think they’ll look a lot better in your dresser drawer.”

“Right.” I ball them up and hold them behind my back.

“Do you need the bathroom? I’m desperate to shower.”

“It’s all yours.”

“Morgan, you should get going. You’re probably exhausted.”

“I am exhausted.” She sighs. “I was just waiting until you got in. There’s nothing weirder than being in a new space by yourself. Can’t have my girl feeling lonely.”

“Thanks for all your help.” I tell her and give her a hug.

“Don’t mention it. Night, Har.”

“Night, Morgan.” He watches her leave, then looks at me. “The room alright?”

“Yeah, it feels like my own.”

“Good.” He nods. “And everyone came by and helped? Sally and I organized everything.” He rubs the back of his neck.

“I know, she told me. Everyone was a huge help.”

“Did you, uh, like the banner?”

“I loved it.” I make my way closer, and go to hug him, but he stops me.

“Don’t. Uh…I stink. I’m gonna shower.”

I nod and watch him leave. Even though that was a little awkward, I’m glad he’s home.

I decide to change into an oversized T-shirt and bed shorts, then go downstairs. I never got to have dessert earlier, and I need something sweet.

Harry

Any other guy would’ve been freaked out by all the feminine touches Rowan’s added to the bathroom, but I don’t mind. It makes it feel like home again. I was getting sick of only seeing my stuff around. I packed all of Tim’s stuff up and put it in the attic.

The only thing I need to be mindful of is I can’t walk around in just a towel anymore, or only in my briefs. I made sure to buy a ton of pajama pants and T-shirts. There’s a lady in the house now, I can’t be all exposed.

My stomach growls, so after I get dressed, I head down to the kitchen. Rowan’s already there, sitting up on the counter, eating something right out of the container.

“What’s that?” I ask, smirking.

“Oreo trifle.” She says, licking her spoon. “Want some?”

“Maybe in a bit. I need real food first.”

“How are the heifers?”

“Snug as a bug in a rug.” I sigh. “One of them is little, very cute. They’re all for milking and breeding. No slaughtering.”

“Yeah, we just save the slaughtering for the men.” She grins, and I grin back as I grab some Mac n cheese out of the fridge. I grab a fork and eat out of the dish. If she can do it, then so can I.

“God, Sally’s husband makes the best pulled pork Mac.”

“It was a real crowd pleaser. I made sure to save you some.”

“Thanks, honeybee.” I ruffle the hair on the top of her head, and she swats my hand away.

“Don’t.” She whines. “Can I ask you about Sarah?”

“What’s up?”

“That’s what I want to know. I told her you said I’d be taking over the one on ones with her, and she got sort of upset. Do you guys have a secret thing or something?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then what’s her problem with me?”

“Sarah and I dated for, like, a second in high school. We stayed friends afterwards. She’s great at being the head of the events team, an excellent colleague. But, selfishly, I want you to take over the weekly meetings because I don’t always feel comfortable meeting alone with her.”

“Why not?”

“She’s a little bit attached to me.”

“From having a high school romance?”

“Well, I was sort of her…first.”

“First what, boyfriend?”

“No, her first.”

“Kiss?”

“No.”

“I’m at a loss.”

“Rowan, I was the first guy she had sex with.”

“Oh! Oh my God, I totally forgot people actually had sex in high school.”

“You didn’t?” I don’t know why I’m so surprised.

“No, I was way too scared of getting pregnant and having to drop out. I didn’t have sex until I was nineteen, and on birth control.”

“And somewhere that Tim couldn’t scare off any boyfriends.”

“That too.” She nods. “How old were you?”

“I don’t know, fifteen?”

“That means Sarah was fourteen!”

“What? No.” I laugh. “I was seventeen when I had sex with her, and she was sixteen.”

“You were having sex with multiple people?”

“Well, yeah. Who was gonna stop me, my granny?” I smirk. I seem to be doing a lot of that with Rowan.

“Good point.” She scoops some more trifle onto her spoon, but before she can bring it to her mouth, I snatch her wrist and take the spoonful into my own. “Hey.” She pouts.

She locks eyes with me, and I take the spoon from her. “This is good. Who made it?”

“No idea.”

I shrug and go in for more, but instead of eating it, I hold up the spoon to her mouth, and she takes the dessert into her mouth. She takes the spoon from me, and I lean both of my hands on the counter on either side of her hips. She feeds me another scoop. I don’t think I’ve ever been this close to her before. I can see every little freckle that’s speckled over her nose and cheeks. I stick my finger in the trifle and smear it onto the tip of her nose before standing up straight.

“What’d you do that for?” She laughs.

“I don’t know, felt like it.”

“Ohhhh, okay.” She takes the spoon, that’s full of trifle, and presses it onto my nose so it stays there.

I take a deep breath and remove the spoon. I pick up the container and reach for her head. She squeals and hops down from the counter.

“What’s the matter? I just wanna talk.” I say.

“No, you want to shove my face into that.”

“No, really, I just wanna talk.” She races to the fridge and pulls out a pie. “Is that supposed to scare me?”

“I don’t know.” She walks towards me. “You tell me.”

“Alright, Baker, drop the pie, and no one has to get hurt.”

“Drop that trifle first, Styles.”

“We’ll put them both down on three. One, two, thr-“

“Harry, what’s that?!”

“What?!” I look behind myself and don’t see anything. I turn back to her and then…chocolate cream pie is being thrusted into my face. “Rowan.” I say lowly, wiping pie out of my eyes. “I literally just showered.”

“Guess you’ll have to spend extra time on your skin care routine.” She snatches the trifle from me and puts it back in the fridge.

“You know what? You’re right. I’m so glad you’re here.” I open my arms. “Come give me a hug.”

“No way.” She laughs.

“Come on.” I start walking towards her.

“Harry!” She squeals and I snatch her just in time, and I rub my cheeks all over hers. “Stop, stop!” She laughs, and that’s when I start tickling her sides. “I tap out!” I let her go and wipe my face with my shirt. “Gross.”

“Welp, you’re in the boy house now, darlin’.” I make sure to add my best country accent, and she pushes my shoulder. “Get used to it.”

“Ugh, come on.” She takes my hand and pulls me out of the kitchen.

“Where are we going?”

“To the bathroom.” She tugs me upstairs and into our newly shared bathroom. “Sit.” She pushes me to sit on the lidded toilet. Then, she pushes some sort of head band onto me to pull my hair back. “I’m doing myself first. You can sit there and wait.” She puts an identical headband on, along with two sweatbands on her wrists.

“Sweatbands?”

“Oh my God, Morgan said the same thing. They’re not sweatbands, they help make it so water doesn’t run down my arms.” She flips the hot water on and dabs at her face with a washcloth.

“How many products do you use?”

“Well, first, I fully wash my face.” She does so, and I watch her. “Then, I pat dry. Once the skin is dry, I use a cotton pad and rub cleanser onto my skin, followed by toner.”

“And what do those do?”

“Cleanse the skin-“

“Didn’t you just do that?”

“No, I exfoliated. You exfoliate and then you cleanse. The toner helps with pigmentation and scarring.” She dabs it onto her skin. “Lastly, a light, oil free, nighttime moisturizer.” She fans her face afterwards. She sits up on the counter, then gestures for me to come to her. “Okay.” She dips a new washcloth into the hot water in the sink, then presses it to my face, over and over, getting it wet. Then, she pumps her exfoliant into her hands, rubs them together, and starts working it into my face. “Close your eyes.”

“Sorry.” I close them and try to relax. It feels kind of good to have her massaging my face.

“I’m draining your lymph nodes.” She explains. “Feels good, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You should really get a professional facial done sometime. They’re life changing.”

“Hey, honeybee?” She hums her response. “You’re not in LA anymore.”

“I’m well aware.” She dips the washcloth into the water and starts rinsing my face. “There are spas in Hawthorn.”

“I’d have to go out of town.”

“That can be arranged.” She pats my face dry with a cloth, then starts putting the cleanser on with a cotton pad, followed by the toner. “Some time you should let me put one of those blackhead strips over your nose after a shower.”

“Is it that bad?”

“No, but it wouldn’t hurt to do it occasionally. With all the sunscreen you wear, and all the dirt from the ranch, your pores get clogged like crazy.” She rubs the moisturizer into her hands, then spreads it over my face. “There, all clean.”

“Wow.” I look at myself in the mirror. “M’all glowy.”

“Yup.”

“Are you gonna do this for me every night?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yeah, kinda.” I can’t help but laugh.

“Then you can pitch in for the products. I’m happy to help you with skincare. Just wait until the morning routine.”

“I’ll be counting down the minutes.” I take the headband off. “Is it okay to brush my teeth now, or will that throw everything off?”

“Don’t sass me.” She hops down and grabs her toothbrush. “Brush away.”

We take care of the rest in a comfortable silence, lingering after we’re done.

“Well, I guess…this is goodnight.”

“Did you finish unpacking your room? Do you need help with anything else?”

“Just putting away clothes. All my furniture is built and in place. You’re probably exhausted.”

“I’ve caught a second wind. I’ll come hang out while you finish. You’ll feel better if it’s all done tonight.” I follow her into her bedroom. “Any other lingerie you wanna show me?” I ask as I lay back on her bed, crossing my arms behind my head.

“Very funny.” She rolls her eyes with a smile. “I don’t have a ton of frilly things.” She bends over and picks up a ton of socks to put in her top drawer. I decide to sit up and see what other boxes she has. There’s one that’s labeled, ‘bedside table’, so I open it. I want to be helpful. I notice her double take as I rip the tape open. “Harry, wait!”

“What?” I look down and I feel my cheeks flush.

“Don’t you know that a woman’s bedside table is filled with her…goodies?!”

“Jesus, look at this thing.” I pull out a rather large, purple, silicon dildo. The internal end has ridges on it, and the external attachment is diamond shaped. I’ve never seen one like this before. “This is huge, it actually fits in you?”

“Don’t touch it!” She snatches it, and the box, from me, putting it back in. “Weirdo.”

“We’re adults.” I lean back on my hands. “It’s a bonding experience for us as roommates. Now answer my question.”

“Of course it fits in me. It’s my favorite one. It’s called a g-thumper. The inside thumps and vibrates against my…my spot.”

“Why is the external part diamond shaped? I’ve only ever seen rabbit ears, or those ones that are for suction.”

“It…Harry, this is embarrassing.”

“Just answer the question.”

“It kind of slips between and under the hood, so everything gets stimulated. It vibrates.”

“Ohhhhh.” I nod. “Cool. What else do you have in there?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“You shoved a pie in my face. Show me your goodies.”

“Why? So if you hear me you’ll have a better picture for your imagination?”

“Don’t be gross. I’m not a voyeur.”

“You’re only a voyeur if you’re watching.”

“Whatever, you know what I mean. Come on, teach me what women actually like to use. You just did the same thing with the skincare. You have to unpack the box regardless.”

“Fine.” She kneels on the floor and opens her bedside table drawer. “I have organizers for them and their chargers. I already put those in. Okay, so you’ve met big purple. This one is just for internal use, it thrusts on its own.” She holds up a pink silicon dildo. “And this one is just for external use, but I can never get it to work right, and takes too much effort to use, but it’s nice to use with a partner.”

“Why with a partner?”

“So the guy can focus on the fucking.” She closes the top drawer, then opens the bottom one. “Here’s my toy cleaner. And my different lubes. There, are you happy now?”

“Yup, very.” I lay back down with my arms crossed behind my head. “Continue on with your clothes.”

“Gee, thanks.” She shakes her head. “What toys do you use?”

“I don’t use any on myself.”

“Really?”

“Well, not when I’m alone.”

“Now, why is it okay for you to use one with a partner, but not me?”

“It’s not that it’s not okay, I just don’t think a lady should have to worry about getting herself off. That’s the man’s job. He should be in charge of the toy. Or at least telling you where to use it.”

“Harry?” She sits on the end of the bed.

“Hm?”

“You know what’s nice about not being related to you?”

“No, tell me.”

“I could never have a conversation like this with Tim. It would be weird. I…I was really hoping for us to grow closer with me moving here, really be friends, you know? Even though I’m still five years younger than you, that age difference doesn’t feel so big anymore.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Do you think…I mean, I can’t talk to my mom about Tim, she’ll get sad in a way I can’t even comprehend, but do you think if it’s a particularly hard day that I could come to you, and we could talk about Tim?”

“I’d like that.” I sit up and give her shoulder a squeeze. “I don’t like talking to your mom about him either. It would be nice to have someone to talk to.”

“I’m really glad you’re letting me live here with you.”

“I never would have said no. It’s been so quiet these last two weeks, I’m really glad you’re here.”

She throws her arms around me, and I wrap mine around her. I feel my neck getting wet, she’s crying.

“Sorry.” She lets go of me and wipes her tears.

“Don’t be.” I cup her cheeks and rub her tears away with my thumbs. “It’s okay to cry.”

“Harry…could I ask you to do me a massive favor? It’s going to seem really childish, and you can feel free to say no, but…would you lay with me until I fall asleep? I always have trouble sleeping in a new space for the first time.”

“Yeah, I can lay with you.”

“Thank you.” She leans in and I turn my face, her lips pecking my cheek.

“Go on, get under the blankets.”

She nods and crawls to the other side of the bed. I’m not planning to sleep in here the whole night, so I don’t bother getting under the blankets with her. I turn the light off, and keep my arms crossed behind my head. Rowan cuddles up next to me and rests her head on my chest. I let one of my arms fall around her.

“Goodnight, Harry.”

“Goodnight, Rowan.”

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