#I’m so sick of the ‘ be grateful toxicity’

[iwatcheditbegin]

I can never fully explain the trauma of being brown and growing up with racist family members.

[yourdarkcherry]

Is it casual now?// Ellie Williams x fem!reader

summary: you and Ellie had a “casual” thing until she decided to ghost you and replace you. your friends decide that the best way to get over her is to get under another woman.

warnings: jealous ellie, abby is the revenge, reader is barely surviving her first wlw heartbreak, she/her for reader.

a/n: if u cant tell im obsessed with chappell roan.

It was your fault. Sleeping with Ellie Willaims was your fault. 

Ellie was notoriously known as the toxic one, and you knew that. But you were like a moth drawn to a flame, you smiled at her when your eyes met hers too many times at the party. You allowed her to flirt with you, and encouraged her to make out with you at the backseat of the Uber. 

She told you she liked you, and that you were the sexiest girl she was with, but it was all casual and no attachments, it was just having fun.

You knew that deep in your heart, and you liked it because you weren’t looking for anything serious and simply liked the sex and the flirting without any attachment. You liked being able to sleep with anyone you wanted, you liked being able to flirt with anyone, no one blowing up your phone and no one requiring your time and care.

You liked it all.

Until Ellie wormed her way to your heart. It was truly your fault, all of your friends told you that a ‘Casual’ thing with Ellie was a recipe for disaster. 

You didn’t care, you were happy to be the one occupying most of her time, you were simply happy to be the one that got to meet her dad or Joel as she liked to call him, you were ecstatic being the only one to know how much of a big nerd she really is, to be the one to hear her sing, to be the only one that knows how to make her laugh when she’s sad.

That is all until she decided to replace you.

The sight of Ellie with another girl, the two of them were on the couch, the girl sat on Ellie’s lap and giggling into her neck as Ellie whispered things you never wanted to hear in her ear. Just seeing them like that made your eyes burn, and your breathing turned short and despite wanting to peel away your stare from them.

You couldn’t.

Your eyes were glued to them, your vision turning blurry by the second and your stomach turning sick, you didn’t drink anything at this party so you cannot blame it on the drinks no matter how much you wanted to.

In your trance at them, Ellie turned to stare at you—must’ve felt your burning look. You wanted her to push the girl away, to stand up and walk to you and lie to you that it’s not what you think it is. You wished for her to tell you any lie, to pretend like she wanted you just as you wanted her.

You would’ve believed it all, you would have succumbed to her and allowed her to take you to her bed and you would’ve allowed her back into your heart.

But none of your wishes came true. While maintaining eye contact with you, Ellie pulled the girl closer to her.You could feel the bile rising to your throat, and you ran outside the house party and threw up into one of the bushes.

Some part of you is grateful that your wishes didn’t come true, that the next day you didn’t wake up naked in Ellie’s bed. Because it makes hating her a lot easier. 

“It’s a good thing you two ended that weird casual thing you had,” Leah told you on the way to the cafeteria after class. “I don’t know about you, but if the person I was fucking with no strings attached made me meet their parents, I’d run.” You sigh and roll your eyes at her words.

“It was never casual, maybe at the beginning but it quickly escalated to something very codependent. I’m glad it ended, though.” She added, taking the booth seat. 

“Okay, can we stop airing out my dirty laundry for once? I was wrong and you were right, is that what you wanna hear?” you scoff at Leah. The woman grins and nods, “that’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

You sigh for the millionth time on this day. 

“I’m glad you admitted that I’m right, because from now on you’re going to do exactly what I tell you to do.” Leah said, then her eyes falling to something behind you and waving. Before you could look over your shoulder to what she’s looking at, or more rightfully, who she’s looking at, she holds your arm and stops you.

“You’re going to flirt hard with Abby Anderson, and you’re going to dress as a slutty cop when you go to the party this weekend with Abby.”

You open your mouth to ask who the hell is Abby Anderson and why does Leah think she can boss you around like that, but she cuts you as she speaks urgently. “You are a whore, act like it.” before you get a chance to feel offended at her words, you hear Jordan’s voice as he greets, “hi babe”

He rounds the table to sit at the booth, he presses a kiss to Leah’s forehead. She grins into it, and from the corner of your eyes you see a new figure, you turn to look at a tall blonde woman. She pulls out a seat and then turns to look at you when she notices your look.

“Hi, I’m Abby, Jordan’s friend.” You blink, taking in the sight of the tall, blonde woman who just introduced herself as Abby. Her gaze is steady and confident, her smile is charming and polite.

“Nice to meet you, I’m (Y/N)” you reply, forcing a smile as you try to mask your confusion. Leah’s instructions echo in your mind, and you're not sure how to react. Who is this Abby Anderson, and why does Leah seem so intent on orchestrating some kind of encounter between you and her?

Leah’s so obvious as she says with a knowing look directed to you, “(Y/N), this is Abby Anderson,” 

“Hi Abby, Leah tells me a lot about you.” you lie. 

Abby chuckles, and nods, “she told me about you too. She has a knack for thinking all the lesbians on campus know each other.”

As you burst out in laughter at Abby’s comment, Leah feigns innocence as she asks, “y’all don’t? I know all the bisexuals on campus.”

Jordan leans back, his arm draped casually over the back of the booth, watching the interaction with a keen interest. "So, you guys ready for the party this weekend?" he asks.

Leah comments, throwing you another look as she said, “(Y/N)’s been looking forward to it,” she says, shooting a grin at Abby. “She never attended a frat halloween party.”

Abby nods, and looks at you, “It’s pretty fun, any thoughts for a costume?” Her voice is smooth, and it grounds you even when you glance at Leah that’s glaring at you. 

“Uh…” you hesitate, glancing again at Leah that kicks your leg underneath the table. You finally answer, “uhm…I’m going as a cop.”

“No way! I’m going as a prisoner.” Abby said with pure surprise, and when your gaze falls at Leah and Jordan that are pretending to not have known. You also stammer as you try to lie, “wow, I had no idea!”

“What a coincidence, truly.” Leah says.

“You two should go together.” Jordan comments, and Leah claps as she affirms, “oh yes that’s such a good idea! That way you two won’t look like single losers, no offense.”

“None taken.” Abby says with an amused grin, then she tilts her head to you and asks, “so, what do you say?”

“Sure.” You nod.

As the night of the party approaches, your nerves begin to bubble up, and it's not just because of the skimpy costume Leah convinced you to wear. The real source of your anxiety is the possibility of running into Ellie Williams. 

She attended all the parties, she never missed one. You on the other hand stopped attending them after the one you saw her at weeks before with that other girl in her lap. After that, you swore to never see her again. Which was easy, considering you had memorized her schedule like the back of your hand. 

The idea of seeing her at the party, mingling with others and having fun, twists your stomach into knots.

“When’s Abby picking you up?” Leah asks, her voice coming out of the speaker of your phone.

You stand in front of the mirror, adjusting the police costume's accessories for the umpteenth time, trying to focus on anything other than the potential encounter. “In five minutes, you on the way the party?” 

“Yeah, Jordan is in the car with me.” She answers. 

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “Cool, I’ll see you guys there,” you say, forcing a smile that Leah can’t see.

“Hey, you'll be fine," Leah reassures, her tone softening. "Remember, this party is about you having fun and maybe getting to know Abby better. Don't worry about Ellie. If she shows up, just ignore her. You've got this."

You nod, even though she can't see you, and glance at the clock. Time seems to drag and race simultaneously, your thoughts racing ahead to every possible scenario that could unfold at the party. The memory of seeing Ellie with another girl, looking so carefree and happy, still stings. It was that moment that made you realize it was time to let go.

A knock on your door startles you out of your reverie. You quickly grab your phone, ending the call with Leah. "Abby's here. I'll catch you later."

"Have fun, (Y/N)!" Leah calls out before you hang up. You take one last look in the mirror, smoothing down your costume and taking a deep breath.

When you open the door, Abby stands there, a grin on her face. She's in her prisoner costume, complete with fake tattoos on her arms. She was wearing a short sleeved orange button down, the first five buttons left open and giving you a good look into her chest. “Hey, Officer,” she jokes lightly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Please don’t arrest me just yet, I have a party to attend.”

You laugh, though it’s tinged with nervousness. “I’ll let you off the hook just this time.” you reply, stepping out and closing the door behind you. 

The drive to the party is filled with light chatter, Abby doing most of the talking. She seems at ease, excited for the night ahead, and her energy is contagious. You try to focus on her words, on the fun you're supposed to be having, but a part of you can't stop thinking about Ellie.

It’s truly the pinnacle of loser behavior as your friends always tell you, but you can’t help it. She plagues your mind, and everything about her haunts you.

As you arrive at the party, the music and laughter spilling out from the house only amplify your anxiety.You and Abby climb the steps leading up to the door, and enter through the wide door. Your eyes scan through the dim lit room with the red and green lights. The music pulses through the room, a steady beat that seems to synchronize with the thrumming in your chest. You scan the room, your eyes darting from group to group, hoping to spot familiar faces—or perhaps to avoid one in particular.

"Wow, it's packed," Abby comments, leaning in close to be heard over the music. Her presence is comforting, a steady anchor in the sea of partygoers.

You nod, your eyes still searching the room. Suddenly, you spot Nora and Mel in one of the corners, engaged in an animated conversation. They're dressed up too, Nora as a pirate with a makeshift sword at her side and Mel as a witch, complete with a pointed hat and a fake broomstick.

A wave of relief washes over you at the sight of your friends. You nudge Abby and point in their direction. "There are Nora and Mel," you say, a genuine smile breaking through your earlier anxiety.

Abby smiles back, nodding. "Let's go say hi."

As you and Abby approach Nora and Mel, their faces light up with recognition. Nora waves excitedly. "Hey, Abby! (Y/N)! Over here!"

Mel, grins widely, “there you two are! We were wondering when you'd show up." She gives you both a quick hug. "And look at you, Abby! Going all out with the prisoner theme, huh?" Nora hands you a drink that you down, hoping it will calm down your nerves.

Abby laughs, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Thanks” she says as she’s glancing at you, "and (Y/N) makes a pretty convincing cop, don't you think?"

Nora nods enthusiastically. "Absolutely! You two look great. Perfect match for the night." She takes the empty cup from you and places it somewhere else. Eager to find another drink, you take the red cup from Mel’s hands and down it too.

A new song starts playing, and as you recognize the song from the beginning of it. Nora’s eyes widen and she pushes you and Abby to the direction of the dance floor, “this is (Y/N)’s favorite song! You two should dance together!”

It doesn’t take you long to figure out that Leah most likely roped Nora into it too. The mission of getting you to get laid by someone new to get over your weird feelings for Ellie.

It seems like your friends are determined to push you out of your comfort zone tonight. Abby, ever the good sport, grins and shrugs. "Well, if it's your favorite song, we have to dance," she says, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Caught in a case of mild embarrassment, you let yourself be led to the dance floor. When you reach there, you kick out all the embarrassment out of your head, and then turn around as you bring Abby’s hands to rest on your waist from the back.

It’s a dangerous game you’re playing, but if your friends are so eager for you to sleep with Abby, you might as well do that. It’s probably the tell-tale signs of you being tipsy but the idea of making out with Abby seems like a good idea right now. You like her just enough, and she seems to like you too.

With that, you start grinding your ass on her. Abby leans in close, her breath warm against your ear. "You're a pretty good dancer," she says and you can hear her teasing grin. 

You smile back, feeling a flush of warmth to your cheeks and neck as one of her hands on your waist roams underneath your tits.

“Do you like my costume?” you ask, your hand resting on her own and you tilt your head to the side to allow her to press her face to your neck. She breathes in your perfume and whispers back, “I love it.”

You’re about to whisper the same line you used on Ellie when she saw you wearing that tiny scarlet dress she likes in that first party you met her. I wore it just so you’d sleep with me. But your eyes fall on the very same Ellie Williams.

Standing right to the side, and glaring at you like you were the one that cursed her with seven years of bad luck. Her piercing gaze sends a chill down your spine, and any playful mood you had vanishes instantly. The weight of her stare is too much, and instinctively, you pull back from Abby, the space between you widening in an instant.

Abby, sensing the shift, looks at you with concern, “something wrong?”

“I—I need to go to the bathroom.” you lie, and then take unbalanced steps towards the stairs to use the upstairs bathroom. Your mind races, unsure of what to do next. The party, the music, and the laughter all fade into the background as you enter the toilet.

You allow the cold water to sting your hands as you can’t really wash your face. 

But before you can fully collect your thoughts, the door swings open, and Ellie steps in, closing it behind her with a quiet click. The small space suddenly feels even smaller, the air charged with the unresolved tension between you.

Ellie’s eyes are a mix of emotions—anger, hurt, and something else you can’t quite place. She takes a step closer, her jaw set. “What the hell was that?” she asks, her voice low but intense.

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of her gaze. You rest your hands on the sink as you scoff, “why do you care?” then you push your weight back while turning around to face her, “you moved on, and I’m trying to move on.”

“Is that what it was? Moving on?”

You hesitate, the words sticking in your throat. You want to say yes, to tell her that you’re over her, but the truth is, you’re not sure. Seeing her now, the intensity of your feelings crashes over you like a wave, and you realize that moving on is much harder than you thought it would be.

“Actually, it’s not moving on. We were never something, it was never that deep between us.” You say.

You feel your heartbeat accelerating as you stare at her, before you stepped closer to the door and invade her personal space, “baby, no attachment.” you use the same words she told you that last night you slept with her.

Without waiting for her reaction, you turn and push open the bathroom door. You walk out, the noise of the party flooding back in, a stark contrast to the tense silence of the small room. As you step into the hallway, your heart races, the adrenaline from the confrontation making your pulse quicken.

Forcing yourself to keep moving, and trying to put as much distance between yourself and Ellie as possible. You promise yourself that night that you won’t allow her to take up one thought of your mind.

[httpsserene]

can you do a smau if you want where the reader is a driver and makes music on the side (music like sza or Megan thee stallion and kaliii) and she makes a music video for area codes and all her other music and it has the drivers in it

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 (𝐟𝟏) - 𝐲𝐧. 𝟎

summary: you make hit songs when you’re not driving a formula one car. your fellow drivers love to feature in your music videos. content warning: driver!reader makes music. toxic internet culture. profanity. hateful comments. attempt at humor. fluffy. light angst ig. there's no specific face claim, just pretty black women! ex-haas driver, current aston martin driver!reader. reader is american. seb retires in 2021, fernando is on the grid just not with aston martin. nikita mazepin mention lol. lando norris and george russell get bullied (humor). light british slander. no plot just vibes. pairing: platonic f1 grid x fem!black!driver!reader genre: smau.

from serene: i have a disease and it's called "being unable to make a normal length smau." it's a sickness, idk if i'll ever be abl to fulfill a request without the plot running away from me. anyways, enjoy loves xxx

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yn ln signs multi-year contract with aston martin • espn f1 • 2021 post-season

ESPN F1 yn ln has signed a multi-year contract with Aston Martin! The American driver completes the team’s lineup with Lance Stroll. Even though she was an F4, F3, and GP3 Champion, and she won the F2 Championship on her first try with Prema; her F1 career began with unexpected opportunities and last-minute substitutions—becoming a reserve driver for Haas and filling in for Romain Grosjean after his accident in 2020, and then replacing Nikita Mazepin halfway through the 2021 F1 season—an official seat of her own in Formula One was a long time coming and well deserved. Congratulations to yn ln, the first Black woman to race in Formula One!

instagram • yn0 • 2022 pre-season

liked by astonmartinf1, lewishamilton, maxverstappen, sza, and 3,451,967 others

yn0: i have always believed that being an f1 driver would become my reality. it was a never a dream to me because i KNEW i was going to make it here. i’m incredibly thankful to haas for giving my first chance to race in the big league and i will miss all the incredible people who helped me grow and improve while i was there. however, i am extremely grateful and excited to have a seat of my own at aston martin in 2022 and onward. some critics have called me "conceited" to bet on myself, so i made a song just for them < 3

tagged astonmartinf1

view comments

yn0 on sundays, we wear green 💚

➥ user1 you're an inspiration to all women in motorsport, especially women of color 💚💚💚

➥ user2 praying that your aston is quicker than your haas! prove the haters wrong 😤

astonmartinf1: we'll bet on you every race! can't wait to play this in the garage 💚

haasf1team: take care of our songbird 🥲

➥ haasf1team: and keep the tea and honey STOCKED for her vocal cords

➥ user3: i’m gonna cry :(

user4: yeah who paid for her seat? no way she got it off skill. she's never been above p12. f1 has changed for the worse now that a woman's out there. she's a hazard.

➥ user5: incel mindset 😒

➥ user6: bro she was in a haas. reaching p12 in that car is enough of an achievement. better than mazepin ever did, even with his daddy's money 🤷‍♂️

lewishamilton: LFG 💪🏽💪🏽💪🏽 can't wait to see you in the paddock

➥ yn0: lfgggggg 🤸🏾‍♀️🤸🏾‍♀️🤸🏾‍♀️

➥ yn0: i wouldn't be racing at all if i didn't see you do it first :)

sebastianvettel: prove them all wrong and never apologize for it.

➥ yn0: i learned from the best 🥹 happy retirement, seb!

mickschumacher: "no reason to make friends, i'm cool"??? is that line about somebody else or should i be worried 🤨

➥ maxverstappen: yeah let us know 🙄 your seat on the jet can be revoked

➥ yn0: bros...we all know who it's really about

➥ user8: you can say it's about mazepin nobody will be mad at that 🤗🤗🤗

landonorris: wish it was papaya, but i can't wait to see you in green!

➥ yn0: you know what?i think I CAN wait

➥ yn0: i'm actually going to quit f1 rn i think 😐

➥ user9: lando stop, get some help

lancestroll: hi teammate!

➥ yn0: hi teammate!

➥ user6: oh,,, this is awkward

charlesleclerc: finally 🙌🏻 i thought you would never drop this song

➥ yn0: the music is more important than my f1 seat to you 🙂

➥ charlesleclerc: encore encore encore 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

georgerussell: i would be happy for you if i didn't know this meant you'll be bullying me every race weekend

➥ alexalbon: she smells your fear which makes you an easy target

➥ alexalbon: CONGRATSSS 🥳🥳🥳🥳

➥ yn0: 🤭

instagram • yn0 • 2022

liked by charlesleclerc, lewishamilton, megantheestallion, and 2,191,042 others

yn0: thee "cognac queen" learns how to celebrate their FIRST EVER f1 points in italy with their honorary prince 🇮🇹 im in my gacccc, i wanna danceeee, come get yo man, come getcho maaaannnnn 🍾🍾🍾

tagged charlesleclerc

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user10: WOOOOOAH WHATS ABOUT TO PLAY 😳

➥ user11: she PUT IT ON HIM last night apparently 🫣

➥ user12: he calling her BACK TO BACK????

astonmartinf1: you only win first points once but you only have one liver. please show up to the paddock next week 🥴

➥ yn0: don't worry admin i'll be there bright and early!

➥ user13: drink responsibly kids alcohol poisoning is not fun

➥ user14: aston martin shouldn't stress. it sounds like charles took very good care of her 😏😏😏

user15: i feel like i shouldn't be allowed to watch that video (i'm 23)

➥ user16: they were having a tiiiiiiiiime out in italy 🫦

➥ user17: if she was all over me like she was on charles i would be asking about marriage. he's so much stronger than i am 🙂‍↔️

charlesleclerc: went courvoisier crazyyyy

➥ charlesleclerc: je suis très fière de toi (i'm very proud of you) ❤️

➥ yn0: thank you charlieee (for the mv too x) 😚

➥ user18: oh so she really got charles thinking that he's her man???

➥ user19: you were DOGGING it? i didn’t know charles had it in him 🐶🐶🐶

user20: ew this is gross. charles is in a happy relationship and we're all going to pretend like yn isn't a homewrecker???

➥ user21: i was waiting to see this comment! this is like proof she used her body to get on the grid 👀

mickschumacher: no way you put charles in a video before me...i thought we were locked in 😞

➥ yn0: mick be so for real. you hate cognac :(

➥ user22: mick said we suffered through haas together and you already forgot about me

landonorris: are you looking for a cognac king?

➥ alexalbon: boys point and laugh 🫵🏼🤣

➥ charlesleclerc: 🫵🏻🤣

➥ maxverstappen: 🫵🏻🤣

➥ georgerussell: 🫵🏻🤣

➥ mickschumacher: 🫵🏻🤣🤣🤣💀

➥ user23: 🫵🏾🤣

lewishamilton: xnda feature when you make it on the podium

➥ yn0: i'll be up there next week.

➥ user24: bring back xnda girl !!! for all of us 🙇🏽‍♀️

instagram • yn0 • 2022

liked by alexalbon, astonmartinf1, maxverstappen, sza, and 4,233,761 others

yn0: my girl is my girl, is your girl, heard that's his girl too...he's like 9 to 5, i'm "the weekend"

tagged alexalbon, lilymhe

view comments

astonmartinf1: highest race finish of your career can you drop a fire song to celebrate 🥵

➥ lancestroll: team karaoke when????

➥ yn0: make it happen and i will show out for y'all 💯

user25: this video was funny af! my favorite song from you so far 😁

➥ user26: yessss i was not expecting her to flip the song in the video like that 🤌🏻💋

➥ user27: the premise of her and alex fighting over lily was perfect 👌🏽

lilymhe: make me lose my mind every weekend 😮‍💨

➥ alexalbon: you take wednesday thurday 🧎🏼‍♂️‍➡️

➥ yn0: then just send her my wayyyyy 🤤

➥ user28: think i got it covered for the weekend 🎤🎶

landonorris: i'm available any day of the week with no other commitments blocking my schedule ☺️

➥ georgerussell: mate this is embarrasing

➥ mickschumacer: lando no wins & no rizz what a shame 😒

➥ user29: MICK CHILLLLL ⁉️⁉️

➥ user30: whatdidhedo to deserve that calm downnnn

➥ charlesleclerc: lando please just listen to the song like everybody else this is painful to see 😣

maxverstappen: you laced this song with something addictive

➥ schecoperez: i hear it on repeat through the wall he is not lying

➥ user31: yn ln gives you wings 🤪

user32: just because lily was in the video and yn made the focus of the song about her doesn't mean that the orginal song is okay? it's not like she stopped singing about being a side chick.

➥ user33: no, it literally IS okay. because lily and alex both said they made the song with her and were happy to be in the video 🙂

➥ user34: i don't know, lily agreeing to the video makes me dislike her

➥ user35: yeah this song was a miss not a good message at all

instagram • danica patrick • 2022

liked by 10,764 others

danicapatrick: “This past weekend the Aston Martin F1 crew celebrated yn’s P5 finish track side and, honestly, that was unnecessary. It’s not like she managed to reach the podium and personally, I feel like she doesn’t take F1 seriously. I mean, it seems like she spends more time making explicit songs than she does preparing for a race weekend. Her little songs are a distraction to the men on the grid and she appears as a promiscuous, immature, and unfocused girl. She’s not the formula one standard, in my opinion.”

I discuss yn ln’s career in the new episode of my podcast, Pretty Intense! Click the link in my bio to hear it all!

tagged prettyintensebydanica

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user36: ms. patrick are you familiar with the idea of having a hobby 🤔

nicorosberg: how are you qualified to be an expert on sky sports?

user37: woman who's never raced in f1 gives her unsolicited opinion on the only black woman to race in f1 😂

user38: danica this screams jealousy girl

user39: nothing is worse than hearing a fellow girl hate like a man smh

user40: "her little songs" disrespectful as hell don't forget one of them charted on billboard's top 10 😤

user41: SHE GOT P5 IN AN ASTON MARTIN how is that not taking f1 seriously????

user42: if her songs were a distraction to the men on the grid aren't they the ones who should be described as unfocused🤫

➥ user42: anyways, yn would be doing us a favor. maybe max wouldn't win as many races if that were the case

instagram • yn0 • 2022 post-season

liked by dominicfike, keithpowers, tchalamet, summerwalker, and 7,988,531 others

yn0: "girls need love," too.

view comments

user43: OH MY GOD the drought is over 😭😭😭

➥ user44: i thought we'd never get another song after the hate she was getting for it 😫

michaelbjordan: are you interested in a private studio session?

➥ landonorris: she don't want u lil bro 🤣

➥ user45: yn's pulling with three photo's and a song,,,teach me your ways

astonmartinf1: the spine tattoo 😍 good choice to get it during the off-season 💚

➥ user46: i misjudged you aston... i thought y'all told her to stop making music glad to see the support is still there :)

mickschumacher: let’s go get some gelato?

➥ yn0: as long as you don’t snitch to my trainer 😚

➥ mickschumacher: i’ll pick you up 😇

➥ landonorris: imma bout to crash TF out ong 💢💢

patriciooward: there's a spot on my side of the garage whenever you want to watch an indycar race

➥ landonorris: oh wow is this really what we're doing pato 😐

➥ user47: the tension in this comment section scares me

jjetas2: if you're near minnesota one day fall through

➥ landonorris: win a superbowl first 🥱😴

➥ user48: LANDO you haven't won a race or a championship either 😭

judebellingham: have you gotten any better at football since the last time we spoke?

➥ landonorris: knew i supported man united for a reason 😒

lore_musetti: call me if you want a real italian to give you a tour of italy x

➥ landonorris: didn't know an italian could disrespect charles like that honestly 🤨

➥ user49: 💀💀💀

instagram • yn0 • 2023

liked by georgerussell, mickschumacher, megantheestallion, and 4,178,063 others

yn0: japanese nightlife captured in my new music video “mamushi” !!! thank uuu yuki-san for being my tour guide 💋💋💋💋💋💋

tagged yukitsunoda

view comments

georgerussell: i quite enjoy this song 😌

➥ alexalbon: bro what

➥ yn0: tEa aND cRuMPets SConEs AnD biScUIts 💂🇬🇧

charlesleclerc: triple platinum in my house rn ⭐️⭐️⭐️

➥ alexandrasaintmleux: i'm responsible for at least a million views on my own 🥱

➥ yn0: 💚💚💚💚💚

user50: at least we know that yn and yuki can qualify for formula drift if they ever lose their f1 seat

➥ user51: 95% of the driving they were doing in that video looked illegal (but fun asl i'm not a buzzkill)

➥ user52: she's a bad influence on yuki 🙄

➥ user53: i don't think you're familiar with yuki tsunoda at all @/user52

maxverstappen: yeah the song is catchy; where's mine 🥱

➥ yn0: damn you're gonna win a third championship this year and you want a song too 😱

➥ yn0: just big and greedy fr 😒

➥ user54: big back attitude

➥ user55: like sheesh leave something for the rest of us 🤯

user50: gets p3 in suzuka driving an aston 🗿-> shrugs when asked how she did it 🗿 -> makes a banger mv in japan with yuki 🗿 -> refuses to elaborate 🗿

pierregasly: yuki explain your behavior in this video

➥ yukitsunoda: no 🤗

➥ user56: maybe he would've told you if you stayed at alphatauri

➥ user57: now you're in an alpine 🫵🏻😭

instagram • yn0 • 2023 post-season

liked by charlesleclerc, logansargeant, glorillathepimp, and 9,337,272 others

yn0: he don't "wanna be" saved don't save him 🤫

tagged maxverstappen

view comments

yn0: i don't need insurance cause a bitch CAN'T WRECK ME

➥ user58: no like she's never been in a crash her entire f1 career 🤓

➥ user59: she's untouchable srs

logansargeant: WHITE BOY WASTED CHANNING TATUM

➥ yn0: hoes love me like justin bieber 👅👅👅

user60: omg an old picture from yn's haas era when max's redbull wasn't a rocket ship 😩

➥ haasf1team: good times

➥ astonmartinf1: 💚💚💚

maxverstappen: you graduated from the max verstappen school of being unstoppable 😼

➥ charlesleclerc: austria 2022

➥ georgerussell: brazil 2022

➥ mickschumacher: my dad’s 7 championships

➥ alexalbon: i have nothing to add (literally)

➥ maxverstappen: out of the five of us we have three total world championships and they're all mine 😐

glorillathepimp: go yn 🥵

➥ yn0: get it glo 👅

➥ user61: i am no better than a man

➥ user62: i want this video tattooed on my eyelids

mickschumacher: i don't wanna be saved don't save me

➥ yn0: on gang 🤞🏾🔒🙅🏾‍♀️

kellypiquet: twenty missed calls...

➥ yn0: i would like to initiate a trade! i offer: max :) in return i receive: my twin p 🤲🏾

➥ kellypiquet: i will have a bag packed for her TONIGHT

➥ user63: kelly definitely won in that trade agreement! a childfree night??? sign me the fuck up ‼️

user64: i didn't think it was possible but this song is the worst thing she's ever made 😂

➥ user65: it's weird. max is in a committed relationship with a woman and has bonded with her kid. yn's getting involved with him when she shouldn't be 🤷‍♀️

➥ user66: girl she's been around since wayyyy before kelly as max's friend.

➥ user67: she forced max into friendship when they were karting back when he thought he couldn't have racing friends🥺

➥ user66: trauma bonded besties fr

sky sports f1 • 2024 testing

instagram • yn0 • 2024

liked by natalie_pinkham, danielricciardo, laybankz and 5,438,023 others

yn0: (my honest reaction when the internet can't stop talking shit about me) can't i make fun music videos without being called a homewrecker or a whore? sometimes "girls just wanna" f1 !

view comments

user68: no bc she makes hot girl music and y'all dont appreciate it 🤷🏽‍♀️🤷🏽‍♀️🤷🏽‍♀️

➥ user69: if you don't like her music you're not a baddie i don't make the rules 🙅🏻‍♀️

user70: did she just make the song of the summer 😱😵‍💫☠️

➥ user71: song of the YEAR !!! and people calling her a whore smh

landonorris: what if you make an mv with me and instead of being called a whore i call you my girlfriend?

➥ mickschumacher: corny. delete your account 🚮

➥ user72: i disagree with mick, he ate that up imo 👀

➥ user73: isn't he messing around with that model/actress though…

➥ user74: you mean m*gui lol

➥ yn0: who's that

➥ user74: lando's recent sneaky link or gf i thought

➥ yn0: oh

charlesleclerc: if i were to call you one thing it would not be homewrecker or whore ✊🏻

➥ charlesleclerc: it would be hit-maker because you DO NOT MISS 😩

➥ alexalbon: one could even call her the 🐐

➥ georgerussell: grammy caliber artist

➥ maxverstappen: they compare her to lebron and simone biles in discussion of being the greatest of all time 😌

➥ yn0: just yesterday y'all said i give slut energy (affectionately) 😕

➥ maxverstappen: many things can be true at the same time

➥ charlesleclerc: false ‼️ accusations

sabrinacarpenter: girls just wanna have fun 😋

➥ user75: OMG sabrina what are you doing here

➥ user76: what in the disney channel crossover episode is going on

imessage • yn -> lando

instagram • yn0 • 2024

liked by mclaren, mickschumacher, lewishamilton, laybankz, and 8,765,392 others

yn0: dropping the "tell ur girlfriend" video tonight as celebration for lando's first win (me next please!) i DO NOT codone cheating but the song is too hard for me to pretend like it's not a banger 🤪

tagged landonorris

view comments

landonorris: you look good in papaya 🧡🧡🧡

➥ astonmartinf1: it's a little too much for our tastes 🤢

➥ yn0: i look good in any color but i do happen to prefer green 💚

➥ user77: i think lando's on to smth w the orange tho 🤔

landonorris: that's my girlfriend !!!!

➥ yn0: NO I AM NOT ❌❌❌

➥ yn0: WE WERE ACTING IN THIS MUSIC VIDEO

➥ yn0: LANDO I WILL SUE YOU FOR DEFAMATION 🤬

➥ landonorris: i'll wait for you 😔

➥ mickschumacher: she's so uninterested in you mate 🙃

user78: he gets his first win and a yn ln music video i know he's on cloud nine 😭😭😭

➥ user79: lando how does it feel to be living my dream 😩

oscarpiastri: oh thank god maybe he'll stop talking about you nonstop now that he got a video 🙏🏻

➥ landonorris: bro delete this comment

➥ user80: i screenshotted it too late 🫡

user81: she doesn't condone cheating but makes a song promoting it anyways 😑

➥ user82: she doesn't condone cheating but messes with lando even though she knows he's taken by magui 😑

➥ user83: she doesn't condone cheating but makes a song about it because it sounds fucking fire 🫦👅🔥🔥🔥

alexalbon: great video too much lando for me 😪

➥ georgerussell: he really just ruined the vibe

➥ charlesleclerc: y'all just mad you haven't been in one of her videos yet 🙂‍↔️

➥ maxverstappen: i don't see how you can hate from outside of the club 🤷🏼‍♂️

➥ landonorris: you can't even get in 🫵🏻🤣

twitter • yn0

instagram • yn -> the day ones

instagram • yn0 • 2024 post-season

liked by maxverstappen, fernandoalonso, zhouguanyu24, kaliii and 12,779,436 others

yn0: hoes mad about my roster being INTERNATIONAL smh stay mad and watch the music video for "area codes" it features all the men (my FRIENDS ✨) you'll never have a chance with 😇😚🤗🤭🤤💚💚💚

tagged f1

view comments

user84: no xnda feature but she got lewis in the fucking video

user85: i just wannna know hwo the fuck she got checo to be in the video 💀

user86: idc what the haters say: she just said y'all have no motion, no aura, no bitches and what are you gonna do about it 😳😳😱

user89: she got lando and mick in a photo together??? how they've been beefing in her comments for years 😧

➥ user90: can't believe im saying this but esteban did not deserve to be punished like that 😬

georgerussell: i am the one feeding her pasta and lobster btw

➥ yn0: you don't send me money tho :(

➥ georgerussell: you are an f1 driver too you don't need my money 🧐

charlesleclerc: can you leave some talent for the rest of us 😒

➥ yn0: bro u are mozart on your days off be serious

lilymhe: cause why are u never in town 😞

➥ alexalbon: cause she'll steal you from me 😭😫

➥ yn0: i'm pulling up rn lils 🫦

lewishamilton: you want a mercedes or a xnda feature?

➥ yn0: im tryna take the mercedes seat you left behind 👀

➥ user91: omfg toto sign herrrrrrrr ✍️

maxverstappen: anything for my favorite lady 🙇🏼🧎🏼‍♂️

➥ yn0: i gotta go they just lmk that i could pick up my mercedes 🏃🏾‍♀️💨

user92: lando in two photos? sus

➥ landonorris: you said it not me 🤫

➥ mickschumacher: bro you acted like her shadow the entire night don't let it go to your head 😠

fernandoalonso: very fun song!

➥ user93: you too old to be doin all that fernando :/

➥ user94: literally choked when i saw him in the video

logansargeant: hey you did manage to get me in "one of your little music videos" 🤭

➥ yn0: if only they knew that you agreed with a bribe of two zebra cakes

➥ user95: they couldn't fathom the delicacy that is a zebra cake 🤤

yn0: stop pretending to dislike my songs and realize that the boys are my homies. you'll be a lot happier when you come to terms with that 🥱

© httpsserene 2024

[nosyp]

Don't you miss me babe?

Warning = stalking, controlling behaviour, toxic relationships, toxic michael kaiser, manipulation

Pairing = Michael Kaiser x reader

Summary = Michael Kaiser begging for you to come back but you aren't having none of it.

Word count = 3.8k

A/N = I kinda hate this, maybe I'll rewrite in the future

The hum of the plane engine filled the cabin, a constant, soothing rhythm that masked the restless whispers of passengers and the occasional clatter of the flight attendants’ carts. You leaned your head against the cool window, eyes tracing the endless expanse of clouds below, their fluffy edges glowing softly in the sunlight.

The world seemed so small from far away up here. You clutched the boarding pass in your lap, the crinkled paper a tangible reminder of where you were headed… and what you’d left behind.

A voice crackled over the intercom, the pilot announcing the estimated arrival time, but the words barely registered. Your mind was elsewhere, replaying the moments that had brought you to this seat at 30,000 feet in the air.

The stranger beside you shifted, snapping the book shut in the process. "Long flight, huh?" he said, their tone light.

You still stared out of the window, surprised by the interruption and too scared to meet their eyes. The voice sounded so familiar, that scared you. There was no way right?

“Yeah," you murmured, unsure whether to continue the conversation or retreat back into your own thoughts.

“Why’re you flying?” he asks, looking at the clutched boarding pass in your lap.

You look up at him, meeting his eyes. Shit. It was your ex, Michael Kaiser. 

Your breath caught in your throat, your stomach twisted and turned inside your stomach. Of all the people in the world, why him? You’d worked so hard to leave Michael Kaiser in the past, but here he was, seated right beside you in the plane.

“Kaiser,” you bit out, your tone laced with venom.

His smirk widened at the sound of his name. “The one and only,” he said smoothly, leaning back in his seat as if he hadn’t noticed that you were staring daggers at him. “Fancy seeing you here. Guess it’s fate, huh?”

“Fate?” You scoffed, shifting away from him as much as the cramped airplane seat would allow. “More like a sick joke.”

He chuckled, the sound grating on your nerves. “Still so feisty. I missed that about you.”

Your fingers tightened around the boarding pass in your lap. “What part of I never want to see you again didn’t you understand?”

Kaiser leaned closer, his cologne annoyingly familiar. “Oh, come on. Don’t be like that. We had something special.”

“Special?” You turned to him, eyebrows raised. “If by special, you mean you constantly acted like the world revolved around you and couldn’t take no for an answer, then yeah, it was real special.”

His confident grin faltered for a split second before he recovered, brushing off your words like they were nothing. “You’re just angry because you know I’m right. Deep down, you still–”

“Don’t,” you interrupted sharply, your voice low and firm. “Don’t even finish that sentence.”

For a moment, silence settled between you, giving you the temporary moment of peace you needed. Kaiser opened his mouth, probably to deliver another infuriating line, but you held up a hand.

“I’m not doing this, Kaiser. Not here, not now, not ever. So save your breath and just go.”

He stared at you, his smirk slipping into something more subdued, a softer smile, but you refused to let your guard down. The tension between you and Kaiser was so intense it almost felt real. He leaned closer again, his face now inches from yours, and this time, the smirk was gone, a dark smile now present on his face.

“I don’t think you understand, do you?” His voice low, almost a whisper, but still somehow able to send shivers up your spine. “You think you’re moving on, but I know you’re not. Not really.”

You stiffened, resisting the urge to shove him away. “You don’t get it, Kaiser,” you spat, your teeth gritting. “I hate you. I never want to see you again, I never want to talk to you again. So what the fuck are you doing here?”

He didn’t move, his presence suffocating. “Oh come on… just calm down. You can say that all you want, but I know you. You can’t just erase me from your life. We were good together and… I was the only one who could truly understand you.”

Your pulse quickened. He was crossing every line, and still, you couldn’t bring yourself to back down. He was right. No matter how much you hated to admit it, there was always that nagging feeling, that memory of the way he’d manipulated everything around you. He knew exactly what buttons to push and how to push it.

“You don’t know anything about me,” you managed to say, weakly.

Kaiser leaned in even closer, his breath brushing your ear. “You might think you’re over me, but I can see it in your eyes. You’re still looking for me. You need me.”

Your stomach churned. “Shut. Up.” The words were shaky, but you forced them out. “You have no right to talk to me like that. Not after everything.”

He chuckled softly, that familiar, infuriating laugh that always made your skin crawl. “What’s wrong, babe? You’re still mad about how I left? You’re still pissed off about everything? Do you think you’re the only one who’s suffered?”

The sudden rush of emotions hit you like a truck, all the feelings of anger, disgust, and hurt all blending together in a raw, overwhelming mix. “You’re unbelievable. I hope you know that.”

His eyes gleamed with that sharp, calculating look you remembered too well. “Maybe. But I know exactly how this ends.” He slid his hand closer to yours, his fingers brushing against your wrist, the touch making you recoil.

“No,” you hissed, shoving his hand away, a hot surge of adrenaline rushing through you. “You have no idea how this ends, because it ends now. I don’t owe you anything. Not an explanation, not closure, nothing. You lost that long ago.”

For a moment, Kaiser’s smirk faltered, finally. He was visibly frustrated from the words that you decided to spew out. “You’ll come around. You always do.” His tone was almost... patronizing. Like he was speaking to a child.

You stared at him, trembling with the effort to keep your anger in check. “You’re insane if you think I’ll ever forgive you.”

His eyes never left yours, unwavering. “It’s not about forgiveness, babe. It’s about me getting what I want.”

The words hit you harder than any of his previous ones, and a cold dread settled in your chest. He wasn’t backing down, not this time. He was going to make you believe that you owed him something. He was going to make you need him again.

And for the first time, you wondered if he really would win.

“Don’t touch me,” you warned, your voice shaking despite the rage bubbling inside.

His smirk didn’t falter. If anything, it deepened. “You know, you really don’t know how much you still care. But don’t worry, I’ll remind you.”

The way he said it disgusted you. It wasn’t a plea or even an attempt to reason with you. It was a command, words that were supposed to manipulate you into thinking you’d need him. He never understood the word no. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

“You really think you can book a seat next to me and just start talking to me as if everything’s fine?” You bit out, your voice sharper now, holding onto your anger like a weapon. “Like you didn’t tear me apart?”

Kaiser tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with that damnable amusement. “Tear you apart?” He laughed, a low sound that made your skin crawl. “If anything, you tore yourself apart. I just showed you who you really were. All those walls you put up? I broke them down. You didn’t know who you were before me.”

Every word hit like a slap. The guilt, the self-doubt that had been buried under the layers of anger and resentment you’d carefully built after the breakup, started to bubble to the surface. He knew exactly how to chip away at you, to make you question everything.

“I was fine before you,” you snapped, forcing your emotions to stay in check, but the crack in your voice betrayed you. “I was better before you. And you know what? I don’t need you to remind me of anything.”

His expression shifted slightly, the smirk faltering for a moment before it returned, darker now, colder. He leaned in even closer, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re wrong. You need me more than you’ll ever admit. And I’m not going anywhere, babe. You’re mine.”

That last word settled over you like a shadow, its weight sinking into your chest. There was no mistaking it now. He wasn’t just trying to get back with you—he was trying to reclaim you, to possess you again. The same twisted control he’d held over you before was there, lurking in every word he spoke.

“No,” you managed, barely a whisper, but firm enough to choke back the crushing weight of his presence. “You lost your chance. You can’t own me anymore, Kaiser.”

He stared at you for a long moment, eyes narrowing, observing every detail of you. Then, as if he’d come to some conclusion, his lips curled into a sinister smile.

“You’ll see. You’ll come crawling back. They all do eventually.” His tone was so confident it made you want to scream, to slap that smug look off his face. But you kept still, trying to hold onto whatever piece of sanity you had.

But as the seconds stretched on and turned into minutes, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he could be right.

And that thought… oh that thought… it was far more terrifying than anything you could ever imagine.

Kaiser’s smirk stayed on his face. The air around you started to feel suffocating now. Every word he spoke was like a jagged blade carving through your defenses, and despite every instinct telling you to fight, you felt a momentary crack in your resolve.

“You really think you can move on?” he continued, his voice calm but edged with something darker. “You think you can just forget everything we were? All the things we shared? All the things I gave you?”

The words sliced through you, and for a split second, a memory flashed. You’d suddenly remember the feeling of his touch, his words, the moments where he did make you feel like you were everything. And then, in the next moment, everything could change. Those sweet memories turning into something bitter.

“No,” you spat. “I’m not the same person anymore, and you’re not the same either. In fact, you’ve probably gotten worse. You were always the selfish one, always looking out for yourself. You can’t just come back into my life and pretend things are different.”

His eyes glinted with something that looked almost like amusement. “Selfish?” he repeated, his voice dangerously soft. “Maybe. But you’re no saint either. You’re a mess, and deep down, you know that. You’re just too scared to admit it.”

Your heart pounded harder, anger flashing through your veins. “Stop trying to manipulate me!” you hissed, your fist tightening on the armrest. “This is exactly what you did before. You don’t care about me… you care about winning. About controlling me. About making me need you again. I bet it makes your ego thrive huh?”

Kaiser leaned back in his seat, as if satisfied by the effect his words were having on you. “So what if I do?” he drawled, his voice lazy. “I’ve always had control over you, and I know you hate admitting it. But every time I’ve walked away from you, you’ve always come crawling back. You always do.” 

All of a sudden, his voice dropped to a whisper. “Just like I said. You’ll come to me when you’re ready. When you realize no one will ever love you the way I did.”

Your stomach churned, the darkness of his words wrapping around you and squeezing you. But even with the lump rising in your throat, something in you refused to give up. You weren’t the same person anymore, not the one who’d been caught in his grip.

“Not this time,” you managed to say, voice trembling but defiant. “You don’t control me. You never did.”

Kaiser chuckled again, but this time it was devoid of warmth. Icy. Like he was savoring something, like he knew you’d eventually break. He slid his gaze over to you, leaning forward again, too close for comfort. His breath ghosted over your ear as he spoke, low and chilling.

“I never needed to control you, babe,” he whispered, voice thick with unspoken threats. “Because you were always mine to break. And that’s the thing… no matter how hard you try, how many times you escape… I will always find a way.” 

His fingers grazed your wrist once again, with more force this time, gripping your skin with a cruel sort of finality. “You don’t get to walk away from me. Not again.”

The sound of the plane’s engines seemed to fade into the background, like the world was narrowing down to just the two of you. 

You fought back the tears about to burst from your eyes, clenching your jaw until it hurt. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you break, not again. This time, you wouldn’t let him win.

“You’re wrong,” you said through clenched teeth. “I’m done.”

Kaiser didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned even closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “We both know you’re lying,” he murmured. “And when you finally admit the truth, when you realize that you still… need me, you’ll come running. And I’ll be right here, waiting. Because I always will be.”

You could feel his hot breath on your skin, the pressure of his presence pushing in on you from all sides. His hold on you wasn’t physical, not just yet. But emotionally? Mentally? He was already in control, and the thought sent an icy shiver down your spine.

But as the plane hummed on, you took a shaky breath and refused to let him see how deeply he was getting under your skin.

This wasn’t over. And it never would be, not until you stopped letting him invade every part of you.

For the rest of the flight, Kaiser didn’t try to disturb you, luckily. Though, his presence still hovered in the corner of your mind, like a shadow you couldn’t escape, but he still kept his distance. Maybe it was all a game to him, or perhaps he realized that pushing you further would only make things more complicated. Either way, you were thankful for the quiet, for the ability to breathe without his voice invading every thought.

You tried to focus on something, anything, to distract yourself. The seatbelt sign flickered on and off occasionally as the plane made its way through the clouds, and you found yourself staring at the small plastic tray in front of you, as though it held the answers to all your questions.

But the longer the silence stretched between you, the more you realized how fragile it all was. What if he didn’t stop? What if this wasn’t just some twisted game to him? What if Kaiser really could find a way back into your life, despite everything you’d worked to leave behind?

The more you thought about it, the more anxious you became. His words echoed in your mind.

“You’ll come crawling back.”

“They all do eventually.”

“I’ll remind you.” 

“You’re mine.”

Each sentence was a poison, spreading through your thoughts, and you could almost feel yourself slipping. But you clenched your fists, dug your nails into your palms, and reminded yourself that no, you’re not going back. Ever.

You glanced out the window, the endless sea of clouds below you offering some semblance of calm. The gentle sway of the plane became a lullaby, coaxing your thoughts into a haze. But even in that moment of peace, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of Kaiser’s words.

Suddenly, a soft thud broke the silence. You turned your head to find Kaiser leaning back in his seat, eyes closed, seemingly relaxed. His arms were crossed over his chest, but there was something about the way he sat made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

It was like he was waiting for something, watching you out of the corner of his eye, studying your every movement. He wasn’t bothering you, but his presence was still suffocating, like a constant reminder that he was never too far away.

You forced yourself to look away, focusing back on the soft hum of the engines, trying to keep your mind from spiraling. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to engage with him, because you certainly didn’t. It was more that you knew that if you let him in again, even just a little, you might never get out.

The flight seemed to stretch on endlessly. Every passing minute felt like an eternity, and the closer you got to your destination, the more you felt that sense of oncoming doom closing in on you. You had no idea what was going to happen once you both landed. Was this just another round of his twisted game, or would he try to force himself back into your life for good?

The intercom crackled once again, and the pilot’s voice filled the cabin, announcing the final descent. You braced yourself, hands gripping the armrest as you stared straight ahead, trying to steady your breath. You couldn’t shake the feeling that once this flight was over, you would have to face him, face the reality of everything he had dragged you through, and decide if you were really strong enough to walk away for good.

But for now, you have to survive the next few minutes. The next few moments of silent tension, of being stuck in this small metal tube with someone who knew exactly how to hurt you.

And for now, you held onto one truth. That one small, defiant thought: You won’t let him win. Not again.

As the plane descended, the sense of tension looming above you and Kaiser worsened. The hum of the engines was no longer a soothing background; now, it felt oppressive, like it made the sound of his words louder. You could feel his presence near you.

Just when you thought you could breathe again, the silence was broken by the soft sound of him shifting in his seat. He moved, and you immediately tensed, instinctively turning your body toward the aisle, trying to put a physical distance between the two of you. But it was too late.

Without warning, Kaiser slid closer to you, settling into the seat beside you as if he had every right to. His arm brushed against yours, and your body went stiff at the contact. His proximity was unbearable, but you didn’t dare react. Not yet. You were caught in a limbo of wanting to flee and wanting to not give him the satisfaction of seeing you squirm.

He didn’t say anything at first, but you could feel his eyes on you, watching, studying. The air was thick with unspoken words, the weight of his gaze on your skin like a brand. You tried to focus on the window, hoping the world outside could somehow offer you escape, but he was relentless.

“Comfortable?” His voice was low, smooth.

You bit your lip, fighting the urge to snap back. Instead, you forced yourself to stay still, to ignore the adrenaline thrumming through your veins. “I’m fine,” you muttered, the words clipped.

“Sure you are,” he said, his tone laced with disbelief, though he was oddly calm. “You’ve been quiet since I sat down. Very unlike you.”

The arrogance in his voice made your blood boil, but you kept your hands clenched in your lap, trying to keep your temper in check. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you react.

Kaiser let out a soft chuckle, the sound sliding under your skin like a snake, crawling its way into your thoughts. “You’re still angry,” he observed, eyes flicking over you in a way that made you want to crawl out of your own skin. “I can tell.”

You swallowed hard, refusing to give him an inch. The memory of everything he had done to you. You hated him. Hated him so much you could feel your chest tightening with it.

“I’m not angry,” you said through gritted teeth, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue. “I’m just… so tired of you.”

His smile didn’t falter, but there was something darker behind his eyes now. “You’ve said that before,” he murmured, leaning just a little closer. “And yet, here you are. With me.”

The distance between you seemed to close even more, and you felt the edges of your control slipping, like sand through your fingers. He was right. You were here. You were stuck on this flight, trapped beside him for the last stretch of the journey. You were stuck in this hell of your own making.

But then, something in you snapped. You couldn’t just let him keep twisting the knife, making you feel like you were the one at fault. You had fought so hard to get away from him, and now he was just waltzing back in, expecting you to fall back in line.

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, suddenly turning toward him, voice sharp and low. “Don’t ever think you have the right to get close to me again.”

His smirk widened, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something dangerous in his eyes. “I don’t need your permission to be close to you, sweetheart,” he said, voice dripping with venomous sweetness. “I’ve always been close to you. And I always will be.”

Your heart slammed in your chest, the fight-or-flight instinct kicking in. He was pushing, testing you, seeing how far he could take this before you caved. 

The plane began to shake slightly as it descended further, but Kaiser didn’t budge. He stayed right beside you, close enough for you to feel his body heat, hear his breath. His presence was suffocating, invasive, but you forced yourself to stay calm, even if your heart was pounding in your throat.

You focused on your breath, your pulse, the sound of the plane’s descent, anything but him. You weren’t going to let him control this moment. Not now, not ever again.

[twistedheartsclub]

The Neighbors Claim Male X Female Reader

| Older Neighbor x F!Reader | Dark Romance | Non-con/Dub-con | Obsession | Psychological Manipulation | Possessive/Controlling Male Lead | Power Imbalance | Breeding Kink | Toxic Dynamics | Stalking | Submission Themes | Coercion | Reader Discretion Advised

It started with a knock.

Not even a loud one—just a shy little tap on his apartment door. He almost didn’t hear it over the sound of the game on his old TV. When he opened it, she was standing there. New girl. Apartment 4C. The one who moved in with too many plants and not enough muscle.

She smiled up at him with both hands wrapped around a mason jar. "Hi, um—I’m sorry to bother you, but my sink’s doing that awful rattling thing again, and I was wondering if you maybe had a wrench I could borrow?"

That was it. Nothing dramatic. Nothing special. Just a jar of iced tea, a soft thank you, and the way she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear when he said he’d come take a look.

He fixed the sink. Took him ten minutes. She offered him banana bread in return. Still warm. Wrapped in a little towel. Smelled like butter and vanilla and something almost dangerous.

That was the first time.

After that, she came by more often. A lightbulb out. Her AC acting funny. A shelf she couldn’t reach. And he always helped—always showed up with his sleeves rolled, work boots thudding heavy on her soft little carpet. And she always paid him back in food.

Casseroles. Cookies. Pasta with too much cheese. Chicken soup when he got sick once in November. All of it homemade. All of it wrapped in those too-sweet notes with her pretty little handwriting:

“Lunch for tomorrow—hope it makes work a little easier!”

“Made too much, again. Save room for dessert :)”

She’d leave the dishes out for him to pick up later. Washed. Dried. Sometimes still warm from her hands. His name scribbled on post-its like they’d been married ten years. Like she was already his.

And maybe she didn’t mean anything by it.

Maybe she was just kind.

But that didn’t stop it from settling into his chest. That didn’t stop the ache.

Because after a while, it wasn’t just her food he was craving.

It was her soft voice saying his name. The curve of her waist when she reached for something high. The way her eyes lit up when he said he’d help her, no problem. The way she smiled like she trusted him.

Like he was safe.

And that was the most dangerous part.

He wasn’t safe.

Not anymore.

His name was Mason.

Worked early mornings, came home late. Drove a battered truck with tools rattling in the back. The kind of man people moved around without realizing it—like he took up more space than he meant to, like the air shifted a little when he walked into a room.

He’d been in the building longer than anyone else. Didn’t talk much. Fixed things around the complex when the landlord didn’t get there fast enough. People appreciated him. Respected him. But no one lingered with him. Not like her.

She lingered.

Not on purpose. That’s what made it worse. She was just... sweet. The kind of sweet that felt homemade. Like a girl raised to say please and thank you, who brought too much to the table and never asked for anything back.

Except she did ask. A little at a time.

He started remembering the things she needed. Started keeping extra lightbulbs in case she ran out. Started cleaning his tools more often so they didn’t look too rough when he brought them to her apartment. Not for her sake. For his own.

He liked the way she looked at him. Like she was grateful. Like she thought he was some kind of good man.

He wasn’t. Not really. Not when it came to her.

Because he watched too long when she turned her back. Listened too closely when she hummed in the kitchen while he fixed her squeaky cabinet. Noticed the way her soft pink lips curled around the edge of a spoon when she offered him a taste.

She didn’t know what she was doing.

Didn’t know what she was inviting.

And Mason… he tried. He tried to keep it clean. To keep it neighborly. But then winter came, and she knocked again—cold, bundled in a scarf, cheeks flushed from the wind.

“I made stew,” she said, handing over a warm glass container. “And apple cobbler too. You’ve done so much for me this month, I just wanted to say thank you.”

Stew. Cobbler. A handwritten note on the lid.

He took it from her, and their fingers touched for just a second too long. She didn’t pull away right away. Just smiled up at him, soft and trusting. That was when it hit him—really hit him.

She’d make a good wife.

A good mother.

She already fed him like one. Looked at him like she belonged to someone. And he wanted it to be him.

He closed the door too hard that night. Ate the cobbler straight from the pan with his fingers. Her note stayed on the counter all week.

He didn’t sleep well.

And when he did sleep, he dreamed about her in his bed. Her soft little body curled up under his heavy palm. Wearing nothing but one of his work shirts, hair mussed, voice breathy.

God help him, he wanted to ruin her.

But not quick. Not fast.

He wanted to make her his.

Slow.

Permanent.

Forever.

Y/N had lived in the city her whole life.

Born and raised in a quieter neighborhood uptown, where front porches still mattered and neighbors watched each other’s kids without thinking twice. Her mother was a nurse—gentle, warm, exhausted. Her father ran a corner bookstore and believed girls should know how to change their own tires but also how to bake a pie from scratch.

She grew up with a soft kind of resilience. The kind that made people smile when she passed. The kind that made old ladies call her “an old soul” and strangers offer to carry her groceries without really knowing why.

After college, she didn’t leave. The city had veins that matched her own—fast and busy, yes, but also full of stories, full of people. She got a job as a kindergarten assistant teacher at a nearby school. She worked with tiny hands, sleepy giggles, crayon-streaked cheeks. She kept Band-Aids in her pocket and hairpins on her wrist. Always prepared. Always kind.

It wasn’t a glamorous job, and it didn’t pay much. But she loved it. And she stayed.

She lived alone now—her first solo apartment, 4C in a weathered brick building with peeling paint and old pipes. She decorated with soft colors, lacy curtains, mismatched dishes from thrift stores. The walls were thin, and the hallway lights flickered when it rained. But she didn’t mind. She made it a home.

The first time she met Mason, she was balancing a cardboard box of winter clothes and the building’s front door slammed shut too fast. He caught it with one hand—just stepped in, boots heavy on the wet floor, callused fingers closing around the frame like it was nothing.

He was quiet. Tall. Big. He didn’t say much.

But she smiled at him anyway, the way she always did. “Thank you,” she said, a little breathless, and nudged the box back up in her arms. “I think my winter coats are plotting against me.”

He grunted. Nodded. Held the elevator for her, too.

That was it. That was the start.

Mason had noticed her before.

You couldn’t not notice her. She was light in a hallway of shadows. Always smiling at people. Always holding the door. He figured she wouldn’t last in the building more than a month—too kind, too soft. The kind of girl the city usually chewed up.

But she stayed. And slowly, she started asking for things.

Not much. Never demanding. Always soft-spoken.

“Would you mind helping me with this shelf?”

“My smoke alarm keeps chirping. I don’t trust myself on a ladder.”

“Do you know anything about radiators?”

And every time, she brought him something in return. Little paper-wrapped cookies. Ziploc bags of fudge. Tupperware stacked with dinner—real food, not just boxed meals. She cooked like a woman who learned from someone old-fashioned. Someone who believed food was love. And her notes were always hand-written:

“I hope your day wasn’t too long. You deserve something warm.”

“Thank you again. I’ll wash the Tupperware and return it tomorrow!”

He kept them all in a drawer.

At first, it was neighborly. Friendly. Sweet.

But it started to turn.

She was so gentle, so easy with him. It made something ugly stir inside. Not violent—possessive. A primal, growling mine.

She didn’t know what she was doing when she touched his arm to thank him. Or when she leaned in too close to show him a cracked tile on her kitchen floor. She didn’t know what kind of fire she was playing with when she looked up at him like that. Big trusting eyes, soft mouth, like he was her hero.

He wasn’t her hero.

He was a man who hadn’t been touched in too long. Who hadn’t been loved, not really. A man who lived alone by choice, because the world felt too damn loud. And now this little thing—this woman—was bringing the noise right into his chest. Sweet and slow, like rot under wood.

And the more he helped her, the more he needed her to need him.

So he started finding reasons to stay longer. Fix things that didn’t need fixing. Show up with tools she didn’t ask for. His eyes followed her too long. His hands hovered too close.

One night, he stayed late after patching a broken lock on her balcony door. She brought him a slice of lemon cake on a plate with little blue flowers. She was barefoot, hair damp from a shower, wearing some oversized sweatshirt that hit mid-thigh.

He could barely breathe.

And when she smiled at him like she wasn’t afraid—like he was safe—something inside him cracked.

He wanted to press her into that counter, lift her up and make her his.

He wanted to breed her.

Hold her down and fill her until she had no room left for anyone else. Until there was proof inside her, permanent and undeniable, that she belonged to him.

But he didn’t.

Not yet.

Because she wasn’t ready. And Mason... Mason was patient. Dangerous, yes. But patient.

She was already halfway his. She just didn’t know it yet.

Y/N was the kind of girl who gave the world her best without asking for much back.

She woke up early every morning, packed her little floral lunchbox, and left with her hair tied up in a ribbon or clip. Her clothes were modest, but soft and pretty—flowy skirts, cream cardigans, vintage blouses. Like she stepped out of a picture book and never realized the city had teeth.

She brought treats to work for the other teachers. Remembered the janitor’s birthday. She helped kids tie their shoes and always kept a little bottle of hand lotion for chapped knuckles. Her apartment smelled like cinnamon and lavender. Her bookshelf was overflowing.

She didn’t party. She didn’t date much either.

Too busy. Too tired. Too... unsure. She said love would come when it was supposed to. Said she didn’t mind waiting.

Her friends, of course, didn’t buy it.

Especially Harper.

“You’re gonna turn into a Disney spinster,” Harper said one Friday afternoon, sipping wine in Y/N’s kitchen. “You’re literally wife material, babe. Someone should be worshipping the ground you walk on.”

“I’m fine,” Y/N said with a bashful smile, slicing apples for a pie. “I don’t need to be worshipped.”

“No,” Harper said. “But you do need to live a little. Which is why I gave your number to a friend of mine. His name’s Theo. He’s nice. Normal. Employed. You’re going.”

Y/N blushed. Stammered. But in the end, she said yes.

Mason didn’t like surprises.

He didn’t mean to check the hallway camera that night. Not really. It was just habit. Security, routine. He liked knowing when people came and went. Especially her.

And when he opened the feed and saw her?

Fuck.

He froze.

She was stepping out of her apartment like a dream. A soft powder blue dress, cinched at the waist with a white ribbon. Her lips pink. Her hair curled. He hadn’t seen her wear heels before. She wobbled just slightly before steadying herself, clutching her purse with that same innocent little smile she gave everyone.

And then he showed up.

Tall-ish. Smiling too much. Wearing a leather jacket like he was trying too hard. And Mason—still in his work pants, sweat still drying on his back—watched the guy lean in, watched her laugh at something he said.

He saw them walk off together.

And something snapped.

The date went fine. Theo was nice. Talked a little too much about cryptocurrency and CrossFit, but he wasn’t rude. He paid for dinner. Walked her back to the building with his hands in his pockets like he wasn’t sure if he should try anything.

“I had fun,” Y/N said softly.

“I’d like to see you again,” he said. “If you’re up for it.”

She hesitated. Smiled politely. “Maybe. I’ll text you?”

He nodded. Didn’t push. Just leaned in for a quick hug.

And from upstairs, Mason watched. Jaw clenched. Chest tight. Heat coiling low and dark.

She made it inside, kicked off her shoes, and was halfway through taking off her earrings when the knock came.

Three slow thuds.

Heavy. Familiar.

She opened the door without thinking.

“Mason?”

He stood there—still in his work pants, boots unlaced, grey t-shirt clinging to broad shoulders, rough hands resting casually at his sides.

“Didn’t mean to bother you,” he said, voice gravel and steel. “Thought I heard your AC rattle again. Figured I’d check.”

“Oh—it’s fine, I didn’t hear anything,” she said, confused but smiling. “But, um… you can come in if you want?”

He stepped inside. Filled the whole doorway with his size, his scent—sawdust, soap, something male.

Her apartment always felt smaller when he was in it.

“I was just about to have a glass of wine,” she said, fidgeting. “Would you like one?”

He nodded once. “Sure.”

She poured two glasses. They sat at her tiny kitchen table. She was still flushed from the date, still wearing the dress, still a little warm in the cheeks from flattery and wine.

And Mason watched her with something dark burning behind his eyes.

“You look nice,” he said, quiet.

She blushed. “Thank you.”

“You go out with that guy often?”

She shook her head. “First time. Harper set it up.”

He hummed. Took a slow sip. “You like him?”

She hesitated. “I don’t know yet. He’s nice. Kind of loud.”

Mason smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You like loud?”

She laughed, a little shy. “Not really. I like quiet. Gentle.”

He tilted his head, watching her. “You ever dated an older man?”

Her eyes widened slightly. “Um… no, I don’t think so.”

“No reason,” he said, leaning back in the chair. “Just think you might do better with someone who knows how to treat a woman.”

The silence stretched.

Her lips parted like she wanted to say something, but the words didn’t come.

And Mason just watched her.

Every blink.

Every twitch of her hands.

Every breath.

She had no idea what she’d just invited in.

She finished her glass of wine too quickly.

Her cheeks were warm now—not just from the alcohol, but from his eyes on her. Mason didn’t talk much, but when he looked at you? It was different. Heavy. Like he saw more than he should. Like he was waiting for something you didn’t know you were offering.

She was still in that powder blue dress. Still curled in her kitchen chair, her legs tucked under her a little, one hand playing absently with her necklace. Her lip gloss had worn off. Her eyeliner had smudged.

He thought she’d never looked more fuckable.

But he kept his tone easy. Relaxed. A slow hunter, not a fast one.

“That guy,” Mason said after a sip, “he touch you?”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

“After the date. Did he try anything?”

She shook her head quickly, soft laugh bubbling up. “No. Just a hug. He’s respectful.”

Mason’s jaw shifted. Not clenched. Just… adjusting. Like he didn’t quite like the idea of anyone putting their hands on her. Not even a hug.

And then, quietly, he said, “He didn’t deserve one.”

She blinked. “What?”

His voice was low, almost thoughtful. “That dress. Your hair like that. He didn’t earn it.”

Y/N smiled, flustered, tucking her legs in tighter. “You’re sweet, Mason. That’s—thank you.”

“I’m not sweet,” he said, mouth curving slightly. “Not with women like you.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. The words felt too heavy, too adult, too... charged. So she tried to shift the energy—playful, soft.

“Well, if you're not sweet,” she said, “how come I always find my shelves fixed and my dishes carried up?”

He reached across the table before she could pull away—fingertips brushing a crumb from her cheek.

She froze.

His touch was warm. Callused. Gentle in that way only a strong man can manage—like he could crush her windpipe or stroke her throat with the same hand.

Her breath caught.

And he smiled. Just a little.

“You bring me pie,” he said. “I’d fix your whole life if you asked.”

She let out a nervous laugh. “Mason…”

He sat back slowly. Let her have her space again.

Then, with a shrug: “You deserve someone who knows how to treat you. Not some kid who doesn’t know where to put his hands.”

Her face burned. She fiddled with the hem of her dress.

And then—

“You ever think about letting me take you out?”

Her head snapped up. “What?”

He leaned forward again, elbows resting on his knees, big frame folding in close.

“Just friends,” he said, casual. “Dinner. Somewhere nice. You do all this for other people all the time, cooking, baking, giving. Maybe it’s time someone did something for you.”

She hesitated. The wine was soft in her blood. His voice was deeper in person than it was in the hallway, his eyes darker up close. There was something about him—safe but not safe. Warm but too intense.

“I mean… sure,” she said quietly. “As friends.”

His smile turned sharp, but only for a second. Then it was back to calm.

“Friends,” he echoed. “Course.”

But in his chest, the word curled into something twisted.

Because he knew better.

And soon, she would too

Y/N stood to clear their glasses. No big thing. Just a little gesture. But when she turned and walked to the sink, bare feet padding across the tile, her dress swayed gently around her thighs. The zipper at the back had dipped slightly. The curve of her neck was too exposed.

And Mason couldn’t look away.

She hummed—soft, tuneless. Just rinsing the glasses. The overhead light was dim, casting a warm yellow glow over her skin. She moved like she didn’t know she was being watched. Like it didn’t even cross her mind that someone might be burning for her right behind her.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said, voice low.

She glanced over her shoulder, smiling. “I don’t mind. You helped me with the balcony door, remember? This is the least I can do.”

She turned off the tap, reached up to open the cupboard—stood on her tiptoes.

And that was it.

Mason’s jaw flexed. His knuckles went white where they rested on his thighs.

That little stretch—her dress riding up slightly, her shoulder blades pulled back, soft little exhale from the effort—something snapped inside him.

He was behind her before he even realized it.

“Let me,” he said, voice rougher than he meant.

She gasped a little but stepped aside with a sheepish smile. “Thanks. You’re always rescuing me.”

He reached up, grabbed the glasses, set them in place. He didn’t move away. Didn’t step back.

Y/N didn’t either.

They were too close now. The kitchen was too small. Her back nearly brushed his chest. She smelled like wine and vanilla lotion. Warmth and softness and home.

And then—then—she did something she didn’t even realize would wreck him.

She turned, smiled up at him, and reached to straighten the collar of his shirt.

“You’ve got sawdust on you again,” she said softly, brushing it off with her delicate fingers. “You’re always working.”

Mason went still.

Her fingers brushed his chest. A fleeting touch, innocent, casual, affectionate in the way women sometimes are when they don’t know the power they hold.

But to Mason?

It was too much.

His hand came up—hovering just beside her waist. He didn’t touch her. Not yet. But his breath hitched. His restraint hung by a thread.

“You always take care of people like this?” he asked, voice low, dangerous.

She tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

He looked down at her—into her—and his voice was quiet when he spoke.

“You’re soft with everyone. Generous. Sweet. You do things that feel like… more.”

She blinked, eyes wide, lips parting just slightly.

“You ever wonder,” he murmured, “what that does to a man?”

Her throat bobbed in a swallow.

“I—no. I didn’t mean—”

“I know you didn’t,” he said. His voice dropped. “That’s the worst part.”

The air crackled between them.

And then—mercy. He stepped back.

Just enough.

Let her breathe again.

“I should go,” he said, throat tight. “It’s late.”

She nodded, looking dazed. “Yeah. Of course.”

He walked to the door, but before he left, he looked over his shoulder.

“Wear something nice when we go out, yeah?”

Y/N smiled, soft and unsure. “Okay.”

He left without another word.

But all night, she sat in bed wondering why her skin still tingled where he’d almost touched her.

And all night, Mason lay awake on his couch—hard as a rock, jaw clenched—replaying every second.

She was breaking him down.

And soon, he wouldn’t just watch her do domestic things.

He’d own them.

Y/N woke up foggy.

Not from the wine—it was barely a glass. But her head was heavy, her body humming with something leftover. Something sticky. Something warm.

It was Mason.

That moment in the kitchen wouldn’t stop playing on a loop in her mind. The way he’d looked at her—like he was holding himself back. Like she was a cookie he’d been told not to eat. Like he’d already tasted her in his head.

She’d felt it, even though he never touched her.

And worse… part of her liked it.

She wrapped a cardigan tight around her that morning, clutching her coffee as she called Harper while walking to the school.

“He was just being nice,” she said.

Harper laughed through the phone. “Oh, babe. Come on. The man literally fixed your door and then offered to take you out. That’s not ‘just nice.’ That’s predator patience.”

Y/N gasped, half-laughing. “Harper!”

“I’m kidding—mostly. But seriously, how old is he again?”

“I don’t know. Forty-something, maybe?”

“Oof. You’re twenty-four, sugarplum. That man’s been paying taxes since you were teething.”

Y/N groaned into her scarf. “Don’t make it weird.”

“It’s already weird. But also… kind of hot?”

“Stop.”

“No, like—he’s tall, right? And those hands? He probably built a shed with those hands. He’d wreck you.”

“Harper!”

“I’m just saying. If you ever decide to do something sinful, make sure you stretch first.”

Y/N hung up laughing, but the conversation clung to her. Stuck to the edges of her brain like molasses.

Because Harper wasn’t wrong. About his hands. His eyes. The way he stood close. The way he looked at her like he wanted something.

And what scared her most?

She didn’t know if she wanted to run...

Or say yes.

Mason’s morning was worse.

He barely slept.

By 6am he was already in his truck, already gripping the steering wheel too tight, already rock-hard again just thinking about her standing on her tiptoes in that fucking dress.

He hadn’t touched himself. Didn’t want to. Not yet.

He wanted to earn it. No—claim it.

His crew was already working when he showed up, toolbox in one hand, the other holding the familiar glass container.

“Heyyy, Big Mace’s got a lunch again!” someone called out. It was Javi, the youngest guy on the crew. Loud, nosy. Always pushing buttons.

Mason ignored him.

“Oh come on, man. That little girl next door still feeding you?”

Mason didn’t answer.

“Goddamn,” muttered Troy, an older guy with grease under his nails. “That’s, what, three times this week? Homemade, too. You hittin’ that?”

Mason looked up slowly.

Troy raised his hands in surrender. “Kidding, kidding. But for real—what’s her name again? She got a sister?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Mason said quietly, snapping open his lunchbox.

There was pie inside. Wrapped in wax paper with a sticky note on top:

“Have a good day! Hope this makes the morning a little easier 💛”

His jaw ticked.

Javi whistled. “You ever bring her over, we’ll make her lunch for you, man.”

Mason stared at the note. Said nothing.

But in his head?

He was picturing her apron tied at the back. Standing in his kitchen, barefoot, round with his baby. Stirring soup with one hand and holding her belly with the other.

He would bring her home.

And no one else would ever touch her. Ever.

The day at the school was long but sweet.

Y/N had two back-to-back classes full of five-year-olds, all high energy and sticky hands. They made paper flower crowns. She helped tie shoes, wiped away snotty noses, gave out extra gold stars just because it was Friday. She spoke gently, knelt to eye level, hugged kids who needed it.

The other teachers loved her.

The kids adored her.

She kept her phone in her cardigan pocket, glancing at it occasionally. No messages. Not from Theo. Not from Mason.

Not that she was expecting one.

But… part of her kind of was.

Around lunch, she stepped out into the break room to eat her sandwich and sat down beside her friend Celine, who glanced over and grinned.

“You’ve got that look,” Celine teased.

“What look?”

“The ‘I had an interesting night and now I’m pretending nothing happened’ look.”

Y/N laughed into her thermos. “I had a glass of wine and a very intense conversation with my neighbor. That’s all.”

Celine raised an eyebrow. “The neighbor?”

Y/N nodded, lips twitching. “He invited me out. As friends.”

“Friends,” Celine repeated, unconvinced. “Honey, if that man looks at you like he looked at you when he helped set up for the Fall Carnival, he doesn’t want to be your friend.”

Y/N tried to brush it off, but her heart fluttered.

“He’s just… older,” she said softly. “Different.”

“Mm,” Celine hummed. “Older men know what they want.”

Y/N didn’t answer. She stirred her tea, eyes distant.

Because yeah. Mason definitely knew what he wanted.

And she wasn’t sure how long she’d be able to pretend she didn’t feel it, too.

That night, she made cookies.

Baking calmed her down. Gave her something to do with her hands. Something sweet, simple, normal. The apartment filled with the smell of brown sugar and cinnamon. Her playlist was soft—old records, piano songs, the kind of thing that always made her feel warm.

She wore her sleep shorts and a big oversized sweater. Her hair was up in a clip. The windows were cracked. And for the first time in a while, she felt calm again.

On impulse, she snapped a picture of the cooling tray—soft, golden-brown cookies stacked up like a little offering—and sent it to Mason.

Y/N

Guess what you’re getting tomorrow 👀🍪

She didn’t expect a reply right away.

But then—

Mason

Still awake?

Her stomach fluttered.

Y/N

Yeah :) just finishing the last batch

Mason

Got something in my truck I meant to drop off. You want it now or tomorrow?

She hesitated. Then typed:

Y/N

Now’s fine if you’re still up!

Two minutes later, there was a knock.

She opened the door barefoot, the scent of warm sugar trailing behind her like a ribbon. The moment she saw him—still in his boots, hoodie pushed up to his elbows, hands full with a small box of tools—her stomach flipped.

“Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to bother you this late.”

“You’re not,” she said quickly, stepping aside. “Come in.”

He stepped inside. Her apartment was dim again—just the kitchen light and a candle flickering on the table. Everything about it felt soft. Intimate.

He set the box down. “Just some stuff I thought you might need. Basic things. Tape measure, screwdriver, flashlight.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said, smiling.

“I know.”

She offered him a cookie. He took one, fingers brushing hers again. This time she felt it. That pause. That weight.

She looked up at him.

And then—nervous, fidgeting, trying to fill the silence—she said, “You ever bake anything?”

He gave a low huff of a laugh. “Not unless you count frozen pizza.”

She giggled. “I could teach you. If you wanted.”

Something shifted in his expression.

“You’d teach me?” he said slowly.

“Sure.”

“Maybe I’d rather just… watch you do it.”

She looked down, cheeks burning.

“You’re good at it,” he said. “Feels like home in here.”

She didn’t know what to say. Her throat was tight.

And then he stepped just a little closer. His voice dropped.

“You wear this for the kids too?”

She blinked. “What?”

He reached out, tugged lightly at the hem of her oversized sweater—his eyes dragging down the length of her bare thighs.

“N-no,” she whispered. “Just for me.”

His voice came back soft. Dangerous.

“Shame.”

They stood there in silence. So close. Too close.

Then Mason stepped back. Took a deep breath. His knuckles cracked once as he said:

“You free tomorrow night?”

“I think so,” she said, barely above a whisper.

“I’m taking you out,” he said. “No arguments.”

She swallowed. Nodded. “Okay.”

“Wear something pretty.”

And then he left.

Not another word.

Saturday afternoon, Y/N called Harper.

She was pacing her bedroom, dresses thrown across the bed like fabric confetti.

“It’s not a real date,” she said for the third time.

Harper groaned over speaker. “Girl. If I had a dollar for every time you said that, I could fly you to Paris to get laid properly.”

Y/N laughed, flopping onto her mattress. “It’s not like that. Mason’s just… being nice. Again.”

“Oh yeah,” Harper drawled. “The giant, brooding, older man who looks like he could bench press a truck and has zero social life—he’s definitely being neighborly.”

Y/N bit her lip. “He brought me a flashlight.”

Harper cackled. “Was it attached to a ring?”

“Harper.”

“I’m serious! Look, just come over. Bring your options. Celine’s here. We’ll make sure you don’t wear librarian drag and call it flirty.”

Half an hour later, she was curled up on Harper’s rug in a sea of clothes.

Celine held up a pale green wrap dress. “This. It’s soft, romantic, not too showy.”

Harper narrowed her eyes. “No. She’ll spill something on the tie.”

Y/N groaned. “Can I wear a potato sack and just say I’m emotionally unavailable?”

Celine smirked. “Too bad, because emotionally unavailable is in. Especially for men like Mason.”

Y/N blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Men like that,” she said, painting her nails. “Rough around the edges. Hands like tree bark. You smile at them once and they decide they’d die for you.”

Harper nodded sagely. “Or kill.”

Y/N shivered. “You guys are making it sound like I’m walking into a mafia romance.”

They just laughed.

But under the humor, Y/N couldn’t help the flutter in her chest.

Because they weren’t totally wrong.

Mason was intense.

And she was nervous.

Later that evening, back home, she stood in front of the mirror.

She chose a dusky rose-colored dress—modest neckline, sleeves to the elbow, hem brushing mid-thigh. Feminine. Sweet. Paired it with her simple gold necklace, soft curls tucked behind one ear. She looked soft. Gentle.

Like herself.

But more polished.

She touched perfume behind her ears. Lip balm. Just a little shimmer on her eyelids. Not too much. Not enough to suggest anything serious.

It’s just dinner, she told herself.

Just friends.

Just—knock knock knock.

Her breath caught.

She walked barefoot to the door, smoothing the fabric of her dress, and opened it.

Mason was standing there.

And God.

He looked dangerous.

Dark jeans. Black button-down rolled to the elbows. The sleeves clung to his forearms, veins visible in his hands. Hair clean and tousled just enough to look like he didn’t try. A leather watch on one wrist. The faintest trace of cologne—wood, smoke, something expensive.

His eyes dragged over her body with slow precision.

“Hey,” he said. His voice was gravel. “You ready?”

Y/N’s mouth went dry.

She stepped aside. “Y-Yeah. Just let me grab my shoes.”

He waited at the doorway, tall and quiet, eyes watching everything. The way she moved. The way she fidgeted. The curve of her calves as she bent to slip on her flats.

“You look beautiful,” he said simply.

She paused. Blinked. “Thank you.”

She tried to breathe.

Just friends.

But when Mason offered his arm?

She hesitated only a second before taking it.

And his hand curled just a little too tight around hers.

The drive was quiet at first.

Mason’s truck was clean but smelled like him—leather, soap, and something earthy. He opened the door for her without saying much, helped her climb in like it was instinct.

The second the door shut behind her, she felt the world narrow.

The city noise outside dimmed. His presence filled the space beside her. One hand on the wheel, the other resting too close to the gearshift. Too close to her.

“You nervous?” he asked, voice low.

“A little,” she admitted with a light laugh. “It’s just dinner, though. Right?”

He glanced at her. Smiled. Slow. Unreadable.

“Right,” he said.

But he didn’t take her to some fast-casual diner.

No.

The place was nice. Quiet, moody. Warm-toned lighting. Real candles on the tables. Soft jazz playing under the clink of wine glasses. Not what you take a friend to.

“Mason,” she whispered as they were led to their booth, “this is—wow. You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” he said simply. “You deserve nice things.”

She flushed.

They sat close—too close for how wide the booth actually was. His thigh brushed hers under the table. His hand settled near hers. And when she reached for the menu, his fingers lightly grazed her wrist.

She startled a little.

“Sorry,” he said, voice low. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

But he didn’t move away.

The touches added up.

A hand at the small of her back when the waitress brought their drinks. His fingers brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. His thigh staying just pressed to hers through appetizers. He kept leaning in when he talked, voice soft, smile easy. He didn’t leer. He didn’t make crude comments.

But it was so much.

Too much.

At one point, when she took a sip of wine, his hand landed gently on her knee under the table—warm, solid, confident.

Her breath hitched.

He smiled at her over the rim of his glass like he felt it.

She wasn’t sure what to do.

Because he was kind. He was safe. He’d fixed her doors, carried her groceries, brought her tools. He’d fed her kindness from day one.

And now he was touching her like he had every right to.

She looked down. “You’re… really touchy tonight.”

Mason didn’t pause. Didn’t flinch. He leaned in, voice lower than it had been all evening.

“You okay with it?”

She froze.

He didn’t move his hand. Just let it rest there. Warm. Heavy.

“I—I guess,” she said quietly. “You’re just… different tonight.”

“I’m the same,” he murmured. “Maybe you’re just seeing it more.”

He slid his hand off her knee, finally, just as the dessert menus came. She tried to collect herself, focus on anything but the way her skin still burned from where he’d touched her.

But when she excused herself to the bathroom?

He watched her go.

Like a man who already knew.

On the ride home, he was quiet again.

But his hand kept finding hers.

On her knee.

On the center console.

Fingers brushing hers too often.

And every time, she didn’t stop him.

Not because she didn’t want to.

But because she didn’t know how.

They pulled into the parking lot, and Mason killed the engine.

It was dark now, city lights flickering across the windshield. A comfortable kind of quiet filled the cab, like maybe the night would end there. Maybe he’d walk her up, say goodnight, and that would be it.

But Y/N didn’t move to unbuckle.

And neither did Mason.

“You have a good time?” he asked, voice smooth.

“I did,” she said truthfully. “Thank you again. It was… really nice.”

He smiled, slow and warm. But something behind his eyes didn’t quite match the softness.

“You’re easy to please,” he said. “That’s rare.”

She looked down at her lap. “I guess I just don’t expect much.”

“You should,” he said. “You should expect the world, sweetheart.”

That nickname—sweetheart. It slid down her spine, unfamiliar from his lips.

He reached across to touch her chin. Just lightly. Just a brush. Tilted her face toward him for a moment.

“You clean up nice,” he murmured. “But you look better in your kitchen. No makeup. That old sweater. That’s the version I like best.”

Her breath caught.

She pulled her gaze away. Reached for the handle. “We should head up.”

He got out first. Rounded the truck before she even stepped down, hand out to help her like it was second nature.

She hesitated before taking it.

His grip was firm.

Possessive.

The hallway was quiet.

He walked beside her up the stairs, slow and easy. When they reached her door, she fumbled for her keys.

“I owe you more cookies,” she said, trying to lighten the moment. “You’ve done a lot for me lately.”

“You bake like it’s your love language,” he said playfully.

She laughed—nervous, tired.

“It kind of is.”

“Well then,” he said, leaning one hand on the doorframe above her, just crowding her a little, “guess I better keep doing things that make you want to feed me.”

Her breath stilled.

She felt the weight of his presence behind her—solid, warm, close.

She unlocked the door. Pushed it open.

“You want to come in?” she asked, voice too quiet.

She didn’t know why she asked.

Maybe because it felt rude not to.

Maybe because it was easier than saying no.

He smiled like he’d been waiting for her to ask.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

The apartment felt smaller with him inside.

She kicked off her shoes, padded toward the kitchen to grab two glasses of water. He followed slowly, eyes grazing over her back, her legs, her soft little dress.

“You always take care of people this way?” he asked, leaning against the counter as she set the glasses down.

“I guess,” she said. “I like making people feel comfortable.”

He took a step closer.

“You make it easy to forget boundaries.”

She looked up, startled.

He smiled again—playful, but something in his eyes stayed still. Focused.

“I’m kidding,” he said softly. “Mostly.”

She swallowed hard. “You’re being different again.”

“Maybe I’m just being honest now.”

He took a sip of water. Watched her over the rim.

“You want me to go?” he asked.

She hesitated. “It’s late.”

“That wasn’t a no.”

“I didn’t say yes either.”

“You didn’t have to,” he said. “I’m good at reading people.”

He stepped closer. Only a few inches between them now. His hand reached out, touched the curve of her elbow.

“Tell me to go, and I’ll leave.”

His voice was gentle. Almost a whisper.

But there was nothing casual in the way his thumb traced small, invisible circles against her skin.

She opened her mouth—

And closed it.

“I’m tired,” she said instead.

He nodded slowly.

And leaned in to kiss her forehead.

A soft, lingering press of lips.

Like he was claiming her.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he murmured.

Then he turned, walked out without another word.

And the second the door closed, Y/N locked it.

And leaned back against it.

Heart racing.

Because that didn’t feel like “just friends” anymore.

And she didn’t know how to stop it.

The next day, Y/N met her friends for lunch at a cozy café with patio seating.

It was chilly, the kind of early spring day where the sun was out but the wind still nipped at your ankles. She wore her favorite cream cardigan and a long skirt, hair loose, makeup soft. She looked like herself.

But she didn’t feel like herself.

Not after last night.

Not after him.

Harper and Celine were already sipping mimosas when she arrived. They waved her over, called her “Sleeping Beauty,” and immediately dove into conversation about the guy Celine matched with on a dating app. Y/N laughed where she could, but she was quieter than usual—twisting her straw wrapper, not really touching her sandwich.

Finally, Harper narrowed her eyes.

“Okay, what’s going on with you?”

Y/N hesitated.

Then, quietly: “It’s Mason.”

Both heads snapped toward her.

“I let him come in last night. After dinner.”

Harper’s eyes lit up. “Did you finally—”

“No!” Y/N blushed, shaking her head. “No. Nothing happened. Not like that.”

“But something happened,” Celine said, raising a brow.

Y/N looked down at her hands. “He was… touchy. All night. Not in a creepy way. Just… hands on me. My back, my knee. He kissed my forehead before he left.”

Harper blinked. “Okay, that’s kind of adorable.”

“It wasn’t,” Y/N whispered. “It felt like he was testing me. Like he wanted to see how far he could go without me saying no.”

Celine leaned in. “Did you want to say no?”

“I don’t know.” Y/N’s voice broke a little. “He’s always been kind to me. But it felt different last night. Like he wasn’t asking anymore.”

Harper sipped her mimosa. “So tell him to back off.”

“It’s not that simple,” Y/N said. “He doesn’t do anything wrong. Not really. But I feel like… I don’t know. Like I can’t breathe when he’s near me.”

Celine tilted her head. “Maybe you’re just into him.”

Y/N stared. “What?”

“I’m serious. You said it yourself—he’s older, takes care of you, shows up when you need something. Maybe your body’s picking up on something your head’s scared of.”

Harper smirked. “Or maybe you just need to fuck him and get it over with.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open. “Harper!”

“I’m kidding. Kind of. Sometimes these guys only stick around because they think you’re the prize they haven’t unwrapped yet. You sleep with him, he gets bored, he moves on.”

“That’s awful advice,” Celine said with a snort. “Honestly, if he’s been this patient with you and he hasn’t made a real move, maybe he’s serious. Maybe he actually likes you.”

Y/N went quiet again.

Because neither option felt right.

She poked at her salad. “I’ve only been with one person. Back in college. It was… okay. I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

Harper reached over and touched her hand. “Babe, you don’t owe anyone anything. Not him. Not us. Not anyone. But if you’re confused, you have to ask yourself why. What is it about him that makes you feel weird?”

Celine shrugged. “Or… what is it that makes you feel good, and you’re just scared of it?”

Y/N didn’t answer.

She sat there in the golden afternoon light, surrounded by friends, laughter, soft music playing in the background.

But all she could feel was the ghost of Mason’s hand on her skin.

Still warm.

Still there.

Three Days Later

Mason was elbow-deep in drywall dust and nails.

The house they were working on was old—wood rot in the floors, wiring from the damn 60s. Sweat clung to the back of his neck under his shirt. A nail gun hissed beside him, someone shouting over the hum of the generator.

But Mason?

Mason wasn’t really here.

He was thinking about her.

He always was, now.

Did she sleep in that same oversized sweater? The one that barely reached her thighs? Did she bake again last night—leave the window cracked and the lights warm, inviting?

He pictured her humming in the kitchen, hands in dough, lips bitten softly in concentration. He wondered what music she played when she was alone. What it would sound like, muffled against the wall between their apartments while she moved through her little world like something holy.

God, he wanted to crawl into her skin.

He patched the drywall like muscle memory. Sanded. Cut. Measured. It didn’t matter. He was good at what he did—reliable, his boss said. Quiet. Strong. A man who finished what he started.

But every job felt meaningless now. All this fixing, building—none of it gave him the kind of purpose she gave him.

With her?

He could build a life.

He could do it right this time. No messy exes. No mistakes. Just her. Barefoot in his kitchen, pregnant and glowing, mouth soft from the cookies she couldn’t stop sampling.

He could give her everything.

And the best part?

She didn’t even know how much she needed it.

Y/N’s apartment was quiet.

It was Thursday night. She’d stayed a little late at school helping one of the kids finish their diorama project. Now she was home, hair tied up in a clip, hoodie soft and oversized again, legs bare as she sat cross-legged on the couch with a warm cup of tea.

The movie playing in the background was something she wasn’t really watching. Her thoughts kept drifting. To him.

To the way he looked at her that night at dinner. The way he touched her. The way she didn’t stop him.

And hadn’t told anyone no.

She should be used to him by now.

But she wasn’t.

She checked her phone. Nothing.

Until…

Mason

You home?

She stared at the message for a beat.

Then typed:

Y/N

Yeah. Just relaxing. Why?

No response.

Not for a minute.

Then—

Mason

Got off work late. Thought I’d bring something by. You need anything?

She hesitated. Fingers hovered over the keyboard.

Y/N

I’m okay. But you can come by if you want?

The words were barely sent before the knock came.

Three slow knocks.

Heavy.

Familiar.

Inevitable.

She opened the door, and there he was.

Mason.

Boots dusty. Work pants smudged at the thigh. Black t-shirt clinging to his chest, sweat still drying at the base of his throat. Hair messy. Hands rough, one of them holding a battered tool bag—more out of habit than necessity.

He looked big in the doorway. Too big. Like the apartment wouldn’t be able to contain him.

“Hey,” he said. Voice lower than usual. Tired, maybe. Or something else.

“Hi,” she replied, stepping aside. “Come in.”

He walked past her like he owned the space.

And honestly, part of her felt like he did.

“I haven’t eaten yet,” he said, dropping the bag near her door. “Didn’t feel like fast food.”

She hesitated. “I still have leftover pasta. I can warm it up for you?”

Mason didn’t answer for a second.

Then—quietly, like it hit him somewhere deep: “Yeah. That’d be good.”

It was such a small thing.

She moved easily through the kitchen, barefoot again, humming under her breath as she pulled the container from the fridge. Her hair was falling out of its clip. Her hoodie kept slipping off one shoulder. She looked so familiar. So comfortable. Like she didn’t even realize the intimacy of the moment she was giving him.

She opened the microwave, stirred the food halfway through. Set a plate at the table without him asking. Poured him water. No wine tonight. Just comfort.

It wrecked him.

Because he could see it—this exact scene, every night.

Coming home. Her waiting.

Warm food. Soft touches. Her doing paperwork while he unwound. Kissing her neck while she filled in lesson plans. His child in her belly while she rubbed her feet under the table.

His jaw clenched as he sat down. Ate slowly. Watched her.

She didn’t notice at first. She was sitting at the other end of the table now, grading papers with a pink pen, occasionally sighing and muttering things like, “He wrote dinosaur with a ‘Z’? Again?”

Every now and then she’d glance up and smile like nothing was strange.

“Long day?” she asked softly.

“Yeah,” he said. “You?”

“Kind of. The kids were sweet, but one of them painted on the wall again. I swear it’s like they wait until I turn around just to cause chaos.”

Mason smirked. “They probably like the attention.”

She rolled her eyes. “They like making me suffer.”

He watched her lips move as she talked. The soft way she scrunched her nose when she flipped through lesson materials. She’d laid out some construction paper and little popsicle sticks, probably for a class activity.

She didn’t realize what this looked like. What this was.

A wife.

A home.

A life.

“You always do this much?” he asked.

She looked up. “Do what?”

“This,” he said, gesturing loosely. “Cooking. Teaching. Being... sweet.”

She shrugged, suddenly shy. “I guess. I just like taking care of people.”

He stared at her for a long second.

“You ever let anyone take care of you?”

She paused. “I don’t know how.”

Mason’s voice dropped.

“I could teach you.”

Silence.

The microwave beeped again—leftover garlic bread she’d warmed for him. She stood quickly, flustered, grabbed the plate.

“You want this too?”

He didn’t answer right away.

But when she turned, setting it gently in front of him, something in his eyes shifted.

He didn’t reach for the bread.

He reached for her hand.

Held it. Just lightly. Warm fingers curling over her wrist.

She froze.

His voice was soft. But firm.

“Tell me if this is too much.”

Her heart pounded.

She didn’t answer.

And he let go.

Y/N carried his empty plate to the sink.

Her hands were shaking just slightly, fingers curling around the cool porcelain. She didn’t look back at him—she couldn’t. The air in the apartment was thick now. Heavy with something she didn’t have a name for. Something warm and wrong and hungry.

She ran the water.

Scrubbed slowly.

Tried to breathe.

Behind her, Mason stood from the table. She could hear the wood creak under his weight. Boots thudding soft against the floor.

He didn’t say anything.

But she felt him moving closer.

The way the air shifted. The way her skin prickled.

She rinsed the plate. Reached for a towel.

And then he was behind her.

Too close.

So close her back almost brushed his chest.

Her breath caught.

She turned slowly—trying to keep it calm, light, safe.

“Mason—”

He didn’t let her finish.

One hand came up, big and warm, cupping her cheek. The other curled around her hip, firm, anchoring her in place.

His eyes burned into hers.

And then he kissed her.

Not soft. Not gentle.

Claiming.

Her eyes flew wide. She made a soft sound—half-protest, half-breathless gasp—her hands pressing lightly against his chest.

But he didn’t stop.

His mouth moved over hers like he’d been waiting years for it. His grip on her hip tightened. His body pressed forward. His tongue slid past her lips before she could even process it.

When she whimpered—genuinely overwhelmed—he pulled back.

Just barely.

His breath was hot against her lips.

“You feed me. You dress like that around me. You let me in your home,” he growled. “You think I’m not gonna want a taste?”

Y/N was shaking.

“M-Mason, I—”

“Don’t lie,” he said, voice dark. “You wanted it. Or you would’ve stopped me the second my mouth touched yours.”

She stared at him, chest rising and falling too fast.

He leaned in again—his lips brushing the shell of her ear this time.

“Plan your weekend,” he whispered. “You’re spending it with me.”

Her breath hitched.

“I didn’t—” she started.

“I’m not asking.”

He stepped back.

Slow.

Eyes locked on her.

And then, like nothing happened, he grabbed his tool bag from the floor, slung it over his shoulder.

“Thanks for dinner.”

And he left.

The door clicked behind him like the snap of a trap being set.

Y/N didn’t sleep.

She sat on the couch for hours, fingers pressed to her lips like she could still feel him there—hot, demanding, uninvited.Her heart wouldn’t slow down. Her body kept replaying it. The kiss. His hands. The way he told her she was spending the weekend with him.

Not asked.

Told.

Her throat was dry. Her eyes burned. And she hated that a small part of her—the part deep in her gut—didn’t feel scared.

It felt wanted.

And that’s what terrified her most.

The next day, she called Harper and Celine again.

They met at a tiny brunch spot with fake flowers hanging from the ceiling and rose gold menus. Y/N showed up late, wearing sunglasses and a too-big hoodie, her energy off.

Harper raised an eyebrow the second she sat down.

“Spill.”

Y/N hesitated.

Then—quietly: “He kissed me. Last night.”

Celine blinked. “Wait—what?”

Y/N nodded, fingers tightening around her iced coffee.

“I didn’t ask him to. I was doing the dishes. I turned around, and he just—he grabbed me. And kissed me. Hard.”

There was a moment of stunned silence.

Harper whistled low. “Damn.”

“I didn’t say yes,” Y/N whispered. “I didn’t say no either. I just… froze.”

Celine leaned forward, voice softer now. “Do you feel okay?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I’m scared. But not because I think he’d hurt me. Just… because I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Harper tilted her head. “Do you like him?”

“I—” Y/N’s voice cracked. “I don’t know. I think I did. Before. But now? It’s different. I feel like I can’t breathe around him.”

Harper shrugged. “Look, not to be That Girl, but maybe he just got caught up in the moment. Men are idiots when they think we want them. If you’re still thinking about him, maybe that means you do want him. At least a little.”

Celine frowned. “Or maybe she’s scared and needs space.”

Y/N looked between them, heart pounding.

“I don’t know what I feel.”

Harper leaned back. “So find out. Go with him this weekend. Worst-case? You don’t like it and you cut it off. Best case? He wrecks your back and makes you waffles.”

“Harper,” Celine snapped.

“What? She’s allowed to want to be taken care of.”

Y/N sat in silence, sipping her drink, confused and quiet.

She didn’t know what was worse—that Mason kissed her without asking.

Or that part of her wanted him to do it again.

Meanwhile, Mason was in the best mood he’d had in weeks.

He whistled while he worked, humming low under his breath as he lifted heavy bags of cement and cracked jokes with the crew. His hands were steady. His back didn’t ache the way it usually did.

Javi noticed first.

“Damn, someone got laid.”

Mason just smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Troy raised a brow. “You’re grinning like you won the lotto.”

“Maybe I did.”

He didn’t say her name. Didn’t need to.

But when the lunch break hit, he pulled out his phone and scrolled lazily through listings. Saved one—a small, private house at the edge of town. Big backyard. Fenced. Quiet.

Perfect.

Troy leaned over his shoulder. “You finally looking to move out of that dusty-ass apartment?”

“Thinking about it,” Mason said.

“You and the girl?”

Mason didn’t look up.

“Yeah,” he said. “Eventually.”

He tapped the contact for their mutual realtor and sent a quick message.

“I’m ready. Find me something private.”

Because this weekend?

He was going to seal the deal.

And once she was his?

He wasn’t letting her go.

Saturday Morning

Y/N stood by the window, arms crossed tight over her chest, staring down at the street below. She hadn’t touched her tea. Her phone buzzed twice. She didn’t look.

A small overnight bag sat near the door.

Already packed.

Pajamas. Toiletries. Two dresses—one soft, one safer. Just in case. A book she probably wouldn’t read.

She should’ve said no.

She meant to.

But now?

Her stomach twisted with guilt and heat and something too tangled to name.

Her mind kept replaying that moment—his hands on her, the weight of him, the command in his voice.

“Plan your weekend. You’re spending it with me.”

She should’ve said no.

So why didn’t she?

She kept telling herself she’d stop it at the door. That she’d tell him she changed her mind. That it was all too fast, too much.

I’ll say it when he gets here, she promised herself.

Then—

three heavy knocks.

Her body went still.

She stepped to the door, heart pounding, palms damp.

When she opened it—

Mason was standing there.

And he looked like something out of a dream.

Black Henley shirt, sleeves tight around his forearms. Clean jeans, heavy boots. His jaw was freshly shaved, his eyes darker than usual. Hungry. Electric.

Behind him, his truck rumbled quietly.

“Morning,” he said.

Y/N blinked.

She opened her mouth.

Nothing came out.

He reached for her bag without asking.

She watched as he lifted it—casual, like it weighed nothing—and turned without another word.

And like a string tied to her spine, she followed.

The drive was long, quiet, and winding.

She stared out the window as city buildings gave way to trees, highways turning into back roads, and finally—

Winding forest paths.

They passed no signs. No gas stations. No houses.

Just pines and sky.

“Where are we going?” she asked softly.

“You’ll see,” Mason said, a hand resting loosely on the wheel.

The other stayed near her leg the whole time. Not touching. Not quite. Just there.

She held her breath.

And then—

The truck pulled up a narrow gravel path. Trees parted to reveal a hidden gem:

A cabin.

Beautiful. Remote. Wood and stone and glass. Nestled at the edge of a wide lake that reflected the clouds like a mirror. Birdsong echoed in the trees. Wind swept through the pines.

Breathtaking.

Y/N stepped out slowly, taking it all in.

The air smelled like earth. Like peace.

It should’ve comforted her.

But her skin prickled.

Mason moved past her, unlocked the front door like it was already his.

“Come in,” he said.

Not a question.

A command.

And she did.

Dinner was… good.

Too good.

The food was perfect. Mason sat across from her, sleeves rolled, beer in one hand, fork in the other. They talked—normalthings. Her work. His job. He told her a story about a coworker almost falling through a roof. She laughed, a little too loud.

He watched her drink. Refilled her glass twice. Said nothing about it.

Just watched.

Listened.

Fed the silence.

Afterward, she moved to clean the dishes, but Mason stopped her.

“I’ll do it,” he said, reaching for the plates.

“No—let me help.”

He stepped close. Took the plate from her hand. “I said I’ll do it.”

His voice wasn’t harsh.

But it stilled her.

She backed off.

“Why don’t you shower?” he said. “Wash the day off. I’ll be done by the time you’re out.”

She nodded.

Obeyed.

The shower helped. A little.

She used the one in the guest bathroom—tried to move slowly, tried to breathe. The hot water relaxed her muscles, but not the tightness in her chest.

She wrapped herself in soft clothes—leggings, a long sweater—and padded back out.

Mason had cleaned everything.

He stood barefoot near the fireplace, a hoodie thrown over his frame now, beer in hand, eyes dark in the dim light.

“Movie,” he said, nodding toward the couch. “Come sit.”

It wasn’t a request.

And she went.

The fire crackled.

The cabin was dim except for the flicker of light and the soft glow from the TV. Mason sat beside her—not touching, but close. She pulled a blanket over her lap, heart still too fast.

“I haven’t picked anything yet,” he said, flipping through options. “Got a preference?”

She shook her head. “Surprise me.”

He clicked on something slow. Quiet. A drama. She didn’t catch the title.

Ten minutes in, he handed her another glass of wine.

“You’re tense,” he said softly. “You always this jumpy?”

“I’m just… tired,” she lied.

He looked at her for a long time.

Then he smiled.

“Good,” he said. “You’ll sleep better once you’re used to being here.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said smoothly. “Just drink.”

And she did.

Because arguing felt pointless.

Because part of her didn’t want to know what he meant.

The fire crackled softly.

The wine in Y/N’s hand trembled, the glass light between her fingers. Her head buzzed, not quite dizzy, but not fully steady either. The air felt too warm, the sweater too soft, the couch cushions too deep.

She hadn’t realized how close Mason had gotten.

One moment he was a foot away.

The next, his thigh pressed against hers.

She felt it—slow, deliberate. The heat of him radiating into her side, his hand resting just behind her on the couch cushion, not quite touching, but there.

Waiting.

She didn’t look at him. Kept her eyes fixed on the movie.

A soft, forgettable scene was playing. She couldn’t have repeated a single line.

“You’re quiet,” he said beside her. Voice low. Calm.

“I’m just tired,” she said again.

“I know.”

His hand moved. From behind her… to her thigh.

She flinched.

“Mason—”

He shushed her gently. “Just relax.”

His fingers stroked slow circles over the fabric of her leggings. Casual. Soothing. Wrong.

She shifted. “Please don’t.”

“You invited me into your home,” he said quietly. “You dressed soft. You let me kiss you.”

“I didn’t—”

“You let me bring you here,” he said, hand tightening. “You cooked for me. You smiled. You packed a bag.”

Her breath caught.

“I didn’t say yes,” she whispered.

“But you didn’t say no,” he replied. “Not loud enough.”

His mouth was on hers again.

Hot. Demanding. Her whimper barely escaped before he was swallowing it, tongue forcing past her lips, his hand already on her throat—not squeezing, just holding. Claiming.

He kissed her like he owned her.

Like her lips were something he'd paid for.

She pushed against his chest—weak, trembling. But he didn’t move.

“You don’t want to fight me,” he murmured against her mouth. “You wouldn’t win.”

His hand slipped under her sweater. Rough palm dragging up her belly, over her ribs.

She gasped. “Mason, please—”

“You don’t even know what your body’s made for,” he growled. “All this softness. All this warmth. You were meant for this.”

His fingers found her breast, cupped it. Squeezed.

She sobbed—breathless and confused as heat sparked through her belly.

“No,” she whimpered. “Don’t—”

“Shhh,” he whispered, lips against her ear. “You’ll feel better once I’m inside you.”

And then—

He stood.

Took her wrist.

Pulled.

She stumbled to her feet, disoriented, heart in her throat.

“Sit down,” he said.

She blinked. “What?”

“Sit. On the floor. In front of the fireplace.”

Her body moved before she could think. She lowered herself slowly, hands bracing against the rug.

He knelt behind her.

One hand went to her waist.

The other—her shoulder.

His breath ghosted down her neck. His voice was a growl of possession.

“I’ve been good,” he said. “Patient. Watching you. Helping you. Letting you pretend this was your idea.”

He reached around. Tugged her sweater up. Slow. Deliberate.

“You should’ve known better.”

Y/N sat on the rug, frozen.

The fire lit her from one side, golden and flickering, shadows dancing across the long stretch of her bare legs. Her sweater was rucked up above her waist, and she clutched it tightly with trembling fingers, trying to pull it back down.

Behind her, Mason knelt like a predator settling behind his prey. Calm. Slow. Focused.

His hand curled around her waist.

Not roughly.

Not yet.

“You feel that?” he murmured, leaning in until his chest brushed her back. “The way your body doesn’t move away?”

She shivered. “Please… I don’t…”

“You don’t what?” His lips dragged against the shell of her ear. “You don’t want this? Or you don’t know how to admit you do?”

His hand moved forward. Flattened against her belly. Held her still as he dragged her back into him, until she felt the solid weight of him pressed flush against her—hard, hot, ready.

She whimpered. The sound left her before she could stop it.

“I’ve thought about this,” he said darkly, voice like gravel and heat. “You. On the floor. Warm and soft. Shaking just like this.”

His other hand slid slowly, slowly, down her thigh.

“You walk around like you’re innocent. Like you don’t know what you do to me.”

Her breath hitched as his hand reached the top of her leggings.

“You feed me like a wife. Let me touch you like a lover. And now you want to pretend you didn’t mean any of it?”

His hand slipped beneath the waistband, warm and firm.

She gasped and grabbed his wrist.

But she didn’t push him away.

Didn’t scream.

Didn’t move.

“You’re so quiet now,” he whispered. “Is it fear? Or excitement?”

He kissed the side of her throat, slow and possessive. “It doesn’t matter. Either way… I’m going to make you mine.”

She whimpered again, and he chuckled—low, pleased.

“You’re already halfway there.”

He didn’t go further.

Not yet.

But she knew.

She knew the rest was coming.

The fire crackled behind them.

The wineglass still sat on the table, half-full, forgotten.

And Mason held her close like a man who had waited long enough

Y/N’s breathing hitched.

His hand was still under the waistband of her leggings, warm and heavy and deciding. His mouth ghosted over the shell of her ear, his voice a slow whisper of rot and desire.

“You know I won’t stop,” he said. “You know what I want.”

Her eyes stung.

Maybe if I give it to him… maybe he’ll stop.

Maybe he’ll leave me alone.

Harper’s words echoed in her head—Just let him fuck you, he’ll get bored.

[wonyonwoo]

The Mistake We Keep Making ~ P.SH

warnings: angst, suggestive, depressed reader, infidelity, cheating, self hatred, toxic hwa.

wc: 1.5k

Just a little drabble.. I hope you enjoy!

How did you end up here? Naked. Vulnerable. Sticky.

It’s a tale you’re all too familiar with, a story that should have ended long ago—one that should have never begun. You know it’s wrong, but you can’t help it. Not when he smiles at you like you’ve made his day, not when he brings you lunch during your grueling study sessions, not when he’s between your legs, devouring you like you’re his last meal, whispering how beautiful you are, how sweet you taste, how good you feel. Not when he looks up at you with hooded eyes, bottom lip quivering as he spills into you. Not when you collapse into each other, bodies tangled, drowning in a high you were never meant to share.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You weren’t supposed to be with him.

You both knew it.

--------

“Y/N.”

Your name pulls you back, snapping you out of your daze. You’ve been zoning out more lately—a side effect of exhaustion, of self-inflicted chaos. The weight of your last year in university, the pressures of grad school applications, a demanding internship, moving out of your old apartment before the lease expires. You’re barely holding it together, and maybe that’s why you keep making the same mistakes. Why you keep letting him in.

“Huh—oh, yes?” you blink, refocusing on Lara, her golden nose ring glinting under the soft apartment lighting. Gorgeous as ever, her warm brown skin flawless, her long red curls framing a face too symmetrical to be real.

“You’re scaring me,” she says, eyes scanning you with concern. “You keep zoning out. I think you have too much on your plate.”

She knows you too well. She always has. You’re a chronic overachiever, running yourself into the ground without ever leaving space to breathe. The difference is, Lara has balance. She’s just as busy—final year, business major, yet somehow her life is seamless. Perfect boyfriend, a family with money, an apartment that isn’t suffocating under the weight of bad decisions.

Meanwhile, you trick yourself into thinking that 5am gym sessions compensate for the disorder of your life, that productivity masks your wreckage. You can’t even remember a time when you weren’t a mess.

“I think so too,” you admit, sighing. “But I’m too deep in. I worked so hard for that internship, I can’t screw it up now. Maybe once I finish moving, things will settle.” You take a sip of your hot chocolate, hoping the warmth will calm your nerves.

“I literally offered to hire movers for you.”

“Okay, but who’s going to unpack all my shit?”

“I said I’d help you.”

You shake your head. “I don’t like people touching my things.”

Lara scoffs. “Why do you make things so hard for yourself?”

You don’t know. You really don’t. But it’s a pattern—one you can’t seem to break.

“You know I like doing things myself, Lara. If I can’t handle it alone, then what’s the point?” It’s a mindset etched into your bones.

She exhales sharply, rolling her eyes. “I don’t understand you.”

“Me neither.” You chuckle, but it’s hollow.

She convinces you to let her help with the move, and though you resist, you’re relieved. You’re grateful to have her, even if a small, ugly part of you resents how effortlessly put-together she is.

You’ve known Lara since third grade, since you found her beating up the class bully, Seth. You were inseparable after that. Her 4’9, 60-pound eight-year-old self had taken on the biggest guy in the grade and won. She was fearless, independent, kind—all the things you pretend to be. Maybe that’s why you push away her help. Accepting it feels like pity. It’s cruel to feel that way about your best friend, but you can’t help it.

She’s perfect without trying. And you…

You’re crying. Alone. In your car. In the parking garage of Lara’s apartment.

Pathetic.

You slam your forehead against the steering wheel, frustration bubbling up in your throat. You’re so sick of crying. Sick of feeling. Sick of yourself. The weight of everything—the past, the present, the future—presses down on your chest, suffocating.

Your phone vibrates.

A name you should’ve erased long ago lights up your screen.

Hwa: I want to see you.

You exhale sharply, fingers tightening around your phone. He always seems to find you when you’re at your lowest. As if he has a sixth sense for your weakness. But the truth is, you wouldn’t have said no even if he’d texted at any other time.

You: I need you, Hwa.

And that’s the worst part.

Because it’s not just loneliness. It’s not just sex. It’s something much darker, much deeper. A sickness rooted in your bones, in your mind, in the way you let yourself believe that this—this—is the only way you can feel anything at all.

Maybe that’s why you always end up in his bed.

Even though you know that’s not where you’re supposed to be.

-------

Seonghwa’s fingers trace the curve of your jaw, tilting your face toward his. The warmth of his touch sends a slow burn through your veins, igniting something reckless inside you.

“Angel,” he murmurs, voice smooth, coaxing. “Look at me.”

You do, blinking up at him from where you rest in his lap, curled into him on the couch. He smells like cedarwood and sin, his presence intoxicating. The movie playing on the screen is long forgotten, drowned out by the steady drum of your pulse.

It’s always the same routine—he comes over, you eat, you talk, you fuck. Repeat. Some nights feel different. Some nights, he lingers. Holds you a little longer. Whispers things in the dark that make your chest ache. Tonight is one of those nights.

His wife and daughter are away for the weekend, visiting family. He couldn’t go because of work.

You don’t know who you hate more. Him. His wife. Or yourself.

You hum softly, lashes fluttering as you meet his gaze. His thumb brushes against your lower lip, eyes darkening.

“You’re so quiet tonight,” he muses. “What’s on your mind?”

Everything. Nothing. You.

Instead of answering, you shift in his lap, pressing your thighs together. The movement doesn’t go unnoticed. His hand tightens on your jaw, the other gripping your waist. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, eyes locked onto yours, heavy with intent.

He leans in, breath warm against your skin.

“Tell me what you need.”

You swallow, heart hammering. You shouldn’t. You shouldn’t. But your body betrays you, melting into him, chasing his warmth.

You whisper the words you always do, the ones that keep you bound to him in this cycle of ruin.

“You.”

Without hesitation, Hwa leans down, his lips meeting yours with a tenderness that should not belong to you. It is slow, deliberate—loving. The kind of kiss a man gives his wife, the kind of kiss a man should give his wife. And yet, here he is, pressing that devotion into you, stealing what was never yours to have.

"Hwa," you breathe between his kisses, your voice barely a whisper, more of a plea than a protest. 

"Hm?" He hums, lost in you, unaware—or perhaps too aware—of how he unravels you piece by piece. 

"You're so gentle tonight," you murmur, tilting your head to grant him access, surrendering before you can think twice. His lips trail down your jaw, onto the delicate skin of your neck, his breath warm against your pulse. 

"I finally have as much time with you as I want," he says, each word pressing into you like a brand. "I'm going to take my time. Savor you. Every part of you."

The words hit deep, sinking into the hollow spaces you pretend don’t exist. He wants to savor you. To be with you. To consume you slowly, as if you are something precious, something worth lingering over. But are you? Is this self-destruction or indulgence? Is this a wound or a reward?

"I missed you so much, angel. Your smell, your face, your taste. Always so pretty for me. You know that?" 

Here he goes again, whispering the words he knows will break you apart, dissolving the fragile pieces of your restraint. He knows you too well. Maybe that’s why he chose you. He knew you were empty, a void waiting to be filled, so he poured himself into you—made you whole in the only way he knew how. Physical love, fleeting love, the kind that fades with the morning light. Because there’s no way he could truly love you, right?

Hwa strips away his shirt, then yours, discarding them like the last remnants of reason. His hands are firm yet reverent as he lifts you, carrying you toward your empty, half-packed room. He stumbles over a box, nearly losing balance, and you let out a quiet laugh. 

He silences you with a kiss, deep and claiming, before laying you tenderly onto the mattress. 

Tonight, you are his. 

Tonight, he is yours. 

And when the morning comes, reality will take him back. 

But for now—for now, he lingers.

[thanksbutno98]

Mending Bridges

John Price x fem!reader

Authors note: Angst has rolled in and helped me finish the piece. Thought I’d keep it as real and personal as possible. I tried to make this as long as possible because I felt guilty taking a week off. This covers about three or four seperate requests I’ve gotten for angst so I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Captain John Price is severely injured while deployed. Once at home in the care of his wife, family seems to always be his biggest stressor.

Warning: body shaming, sexual themes, toxic in-laws, slut shaming, mentions of child birth, mentions of hysterectomy, new born, low self esteem, injuries, blood, violence, not edited.

——————

The house was dark as Jj and Evelyn walked through the threshold of the front door. Floorboards creaked under their weight as they took in the dreary state of their home. The lamp in the living room that was always on was not sitting in its normal spot. In fact something felt off about the house. The living room couch was pushed a foot forward and things in the foyer had been moved around haphazardly. Normally their home smelled like your sweet candles and you had music lightly playing but tonight the house was devoid of smell and sound. It felt as if their home had been abandoned. Seeing things change so drastically in less than a day was alarming to both children.

Late last night you had woken Jj and Evelyn up from bed in a rush. Telling them Uncle Harrison and Auntie Amy were there to pick them up to have a sleep over. Both Jj and Evelyn were confused because they knew their aunt and uncle lived in separate flats. Evelyn cried as you helped pack her overnight bag and Jj was was shaking with anxiety even if he pretend he was okay. To be woken up and ushered to their aunts apartment was strange and scary. Jj barley slept being kept awake by his Uncles loud snoring on the couch adjacent from where the young boy laid.

Now walking into the place they called home and it feeling off made them feel even worse. Standing by the front door they both felt like strangers in their own home. That’s when they saw you quickly yet quietly shuffle down the stairs. You looked tired and your eyes were swollen. Evelyn immediately thought you were sick and Jj became queasy.

“Thank you, Harrison. I need you two to sit on the couch.” You motioned for your children to go sit on the large L shaped couch.

“You need me to stay?” Harrison asked. He could see you had been crying and knew the stress you were under must be suffocating.

“No, you’ve done more than enough.” You smiled weakly.

“Sarah still here?” Harrison asked wondering if his youngest sibling was still here supporting you.

“Yeah, she’s upstairs with John. It’s nice to have a nurse in the family.” You mumbled.

“If you need anything, call. You don’t have to do this all alone.” Without warning Harrison brought you into a vice grip of a hug. You knew he was trying to be strong for your sake and you were grateful for that. You were hanging on by a thread and the whole Price family knew it.

“Mummy, I’m sacred.” Evelyns voice was shaky as you gave Harrison a hug goodbye.

“It’s okay, let’s sit on the couch and have a chat.” With no hesitation you hoisted your daughter into your arms and she wrapped herself around you. Jj was already sitting on the couch patiently. Harrison said a final goodbye before the front door clicked shut behind him.

Placing Evelyn down next to Jj on the sofa you sat on the coffee table in front of them. They were staring at you the fear and uncertainty evident in their young faces. Jj looked so much like John it hurt and Evelyns shade of blue eyes was the same as John’s making you feel like he was somehow sitting in front of you. With a shaky breath you told you children the truth.

“Your father had an accident at work and he’s hurt really bad. It’s going to be different for awhile while he gets better.” The words tasted putrid as if you sunk your teeth into rotting fruit. You wanted to throw up, scream and cry seeing the stunned looks on your children’s faces. Evelyn was speechless for the first time in her life, not fully understanding what you were saying.

“We need to let him rest. That means we can’t cuddle or hug him until he’s healthy.” You knew it was going to be hard for your children to abstain from touching John. You two joked he was their own personal jungle gym with how they loved to jumped and climbed all over him. Piggyback rides and rough housing would have to be a thing of the past.

“Where is he?” Evelyn was quick to ask.

“He’s upstairs in bed. Auntie Sarah and Uncle Grayson helped me get him settled while you had your sleep over. Did you two have fun?” You tried to check in to see how things had gone. Only now realizing you had forgotten to ask Harrison how things went because you were so caught up in your worries for John’s health.

“Can I say hi?” Evelyn asked ignoring your question. She was sitting on the edge of her seat hiccuping back tears.

“No, I’m sorry Evie. Your father needs to rest. We can say hi in the morning if he’s up for it.” You hated telling her no in this moment. Knowing exactly how she was feeling, filled with anxiety and just wanting the comfort John so easily provided.

“Are you not sleeping with him?” Jj’s question was quiet as he stared at you unblinking. He seemed angry like he was holding back the storm that was brewing within himself.

“I’m going to be sleeping on the floor right next to him. I have an air mattress. He will need help getting up to go to the bathroom and won’t be walking by himself for awhile.” These details were important for you to share so hopefully your children listened about letting John heal.

“What happened?” Jj asked. This was the part you were dreading the most. Telling your children the extent of John’s injuries and the reason why he was hurt.

“Your father was trying to keep some people safe and got hurt in the process. I need you both to look at me when I say this. He is going to be okay.” You paused taking a breath before you spoke again.

“But he took a hard fall. His leg is broken and he’s all bruised and cut up. It might be scary and upsetting when you see him in the morning.” Mustering up all your strength you held back your emotion.

“Did he get shot?” Jj asked straight faced.

“Jj, I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go into de-“

“Did he get shot!” Jj was standing as he shouted the words at you. Tears rolling down his face and fists clenched. You could only stare back at him the words caught in your throat, fighting back your own tears.

Jj started crying harder, loud and pained sobs tearing their way out of his little chest. His fists moving to clutch his t-shirt as if his chest was hurting and it was. It felt suffocating for the little boy to come to the realization his dad wasn’t invincible. Jj couldn’t cope he could hardly think as he broke down. You had never seen him like this, crying so hard he turned and threw up on the floor. With gentle hand you took Jj by his hand and guided him forward. Jj collapsed in your arms crying hysterically both of you ignoring the mess on the floor. The little boy let out broken sobs and choked out gasps as he fought for air.

“Mummy.” Jj sobbed into your shoulder as his hands griped your shirt, accidentally pinching your skin. He continued to cry out for you as if begging you to take this feeling away. To make it stop hurting and it broke your heart.

Evelyn was having trouble understanding why Jj was so upset. She knew her dad would be okay, you said he would. The concept of John being hurt wasn’t registering for her but seeing her brother so upset scared her. Evelyn moved to join you two and the three of you huddled together and you let your children cry until they had no tears left. After awhile you ended up carrying both children one by one up to their beds. You realized this might be the last time you ever picked up your little boy. Evelyn asked to sleep in Jj’s room and he was okay with it. Helping you pull out the trundle bed and get Evelyn set up with her blanket and stuffed animals. You stayed with them until they had fallen asleep and quietly made your way out of the room.

Light crying started to come from your new addition to the families room. Quickly you shuffled in and picked up your four month old. Bouncing her lightly she settled down and was fast asleep in no time. You thanked your lucky stars she was such an easy and happy baby. You laid her back in her crib and sat down in the rocking chair. You quietly cried for only a moment and then shook all the sadness away. You didn’t have time to feel all these horrible feelings you needed to go check on John and clean the mess on the living room floor.

——————

“Pass me a blue marker.” Evelyn stuck her hand out waiting for Jj to do as she said.

“You should say please.” Jj mumbled. Tongue peaking out as he scribbled away on his piece of construction paper.

“Pass me a blue marker, now.” Evelyn giggled out causing Jj to snicker at her normal antics.

The two Price children were laying on Evelyns bedroom floor with her art supplies strewn all around them. They had both decided when they woke up to make their father get well soon cards. They also wanted to take their stash of candy and put it in a shoe box and wrap it in the old Christmas wrapping paper they found in the basement.

They had tried to see John but you were quick to tell them he was sleeping and you would bring them in as soon as he had woken up. You had busied yourself with cleaning and making the family breakfast with a baby on your hip. By the time everyone was fed and Lily was down for a nap you prepared yourself for your children to see John. Reminding them that their father was in bad shape and it was okay to be upset when they saw him.

Evelyn and Jj stood shoulder to shoulder outside your bedroom door. Jj had his card and a poorly wrapped package while Evelyn held a flower she picked from your garden, card, and then something else she had hidden behind her back. You didn’t bother asking what it was, you had too much on your mind. It made your heart ache lessen seeing your children prepare gifts for John without you asking them to do so.

Slowly you peaked your head into the room to check John was ready, which he was. Opening the door you allowed your children to make their way into the room. You knew the sight of John would have both your children in tears or stunned silence. It was something they had never seen and you unfortunately had too many times.

Stepping into the room you watched the box Jj was holding fall to the ground with a thud and Evelyns hands drop by her sides no longer attempting to hide the nip of whiskey she stole from John’s desk. This was an earth shattering moment for your children. Something they would never forget and think about for years to come.

John was laying in bed shirtless pillows underneath his head and shoulders so he was propped up at a 45 degree angle. There were thick white bandages wrapped tightly around his rib cage. A bandage covering his left shoulder entirely that went down to his elbow, that was where he had gotten shot. The bullet had gone straight through which meant he did not need surgery, in fact he was lucky. You weren’t to sure how lucky he was when the doctor told you that. There were faded splotches of brown deep within the coverings. You would need to change them after your children were out of the room.

The grey sweatpants John wore were baggier than usual showing how much weight he had lost along with muscle tone. One pant leg was rolled up to his left knee and a white cast was fashioned over his shin and covered his foot, his toes still being visible. The bruises that littered his body were dark and set in. The edges just beginning to turn green as they started to heal.

John had a cotton patch covering his right eye leaving his vision impaired. He had hit his face as he fell out of the helicopter then landing badly broke his leg on impact. Gaz helped John hobble to safety where a firefight ensued and John was shot. Gaz told you he thought he was dead at first because John passed out from pain. They were lucky the med evac was able to get to them and Gaz kept his promise to you; keeping John safe.

“Gotten taller Jj. And look at you Evie, the haircut suits you.” John’s voice was strained as he turned his head towards his children. Unable to move his body without being in immense pain he gave both his children his most confident smile. It faltered from how much pain he was in but he was doing his best to hide it.

Evelyn tore out of the room sprinting down the stairs. The flower, card, and nip of whiskey clattering to the floor in her wake. You watched John’s grey eyes flash with sadness. Being so physically hurt and to now be dealing with the emotional stress was not what he needed. You told him it was too soon for the kids to see him. You had contemplated having your children stay with family until John was in better shape but he broke down at the mention of it. Telling you he needed his family there to remind himself why he does what he does.

“Daddy, can I sit on the bed with you?” Jj was trembling as he asked. Taking a moment to pick up the small shoe box wrapped in Christmas warping paper and all of Evelyns things. Jj hadn’t called you ‘mummy’ or John ‘daddy’ for over three years now. To hear him regressing had you turning in the doorway in attempt to gather yourself.

“‘Course you can.” John patted the bed lightly beaconing his son to come join him. John watched as you hid your face from Jj in an attempt for him to not see you cry. You had been hiding away to cry so John wouldn’t feel guilty but he begged you not to. It hurt more to see the way your shoulders shook as you held back sobs; trying to be strong for your children and him. John would give anything in the world to take away the pain his family was feeling. No amount of physical injuries compared to seeing his daughter run away at the sight of him or have his son calling him ‘daddy’ again.

“I’m going to go check on Evie.” You quickly excused yourself. Voice cracking and cheeks rosy.

“We made you this.” With shaky hands Jj placed everything on the bed as he slowly sat himself by his fathers side. Trying not to move the mattress and cause his father pain.

“Could you open the cards and read them to me?” John asked quietly. He wasn’t able to lift his arm high enough to read them himself and with one eye covered he wasn’t sure if attempting to read would give him another migraine. Jj nodded, lips fixed in a firm frown.

“D-dear daddy, I hope you feel better soon. Mummy put me in rock climbing classes and I can’t wait to show you how cool it is. Love, Evie. P.S. what does P.S. stand for? Anyway I want you to have all my candy.” Jj paused for a second, avoiding his fathers gaze.

It was obvious through her letter she did not expect her father to be bed ridden. The injuries far beyond what the seven year old thought imaginable.

“She drew a bunch of hearts and a picture of her rock climbing. That’s you watching her.” Jj held up the card so John could see the cute drawing his daughter had done for him. The drawing of him fashioned with his signature bucket hat and a cigar in his mouth, she even drew his muttonchops.

“She’s always been quite the artist. Let me hear yours.” John chuckled very lightly then immediately wincing and coughing violently. He couldn’t even laugh lightly without his shoulder and ribs hurting. Coughing had his whole body setting ablaze as pain racked through him. It took all of John not to start cursing and groaning in pain so his son wouldn’t worry anymore than he already was.

“Um, no it’s okay. You can read it when you’re better.” Jj tried to avoid reading his card out loud. A wave of insecurity crashing over him.

“Please J, it would make me feel better.” John watched as tears dropped onto the blue construction paper from Jj’s matching eyes, his sons head hung low. The front was crudely decorated with a drawing of a medal that said ‘#1 dad.’ Jj took a breath before he spoke. His his hands begging to shake as he opened the card.

“Dear dad, You have to get better soon because you’re my hero. Mum, Evie, and Lily really need you. Love, Jj.” The tears came fast as Jj began to crying into his palms; the card falling to the soft bedsheets.

“I’m sorry dad, I-I know I shouldn’t c-ry.” The words came out broken and strained as Jj cried uncontrollably. Hiccups straining from his sore throat.

John’s chest tightened and all the air left his lungs, he was at a loss for words. It felt like an elephant had just sat on his chest. Seeing his little boy like this and hearing his card broke something in John. How could he live up to being the hero his son saw him as? Writing how his sisters and you needed him but leaving himself out so John wouldn’t worry about him.

Jj attempted to take deep breaths to calm himself down. Then almost completely stopping his crying as he finally looked up at his fathers face.

For the first time in Jj’s life he watched as his dad cried. Silent tears rolling down Johns cheek and dripping off his hairy bruised jaw and onto the bandages. Maybe you were right and John could have waited to see his children. Instead of putting them through this and traumatizing them. The guilt that consumed John had his stomach turning and heart heavy.

“I’ll get better as fast as I can so I can take care of all of you.” With his good hand John slowly rubbed the tears away, sniffling as he did so. Jj watched in awe as his father seamlessly gathered himself and was back to his normal stoic self as if he hadn’t just shed a few tears.

“We, have candy for you.” Jj quickly grabbed the box and showed it to John. Doing anything in his power to make his dad feel better. It was easier for the boys to move to the next subject than to talk about their emotional display. John didn’t know but he had just taught his son it was okay to cry because even someone as strong and manly as John wasn’t embarrassed to do so.

“Open it up. I could go for a piece of taffy right about now.” John said attempting to be light hearted. Jj finally smiled lightly as he tore the wrapping paper off and searched the box of candy for taffy and a Milky Way for himself.

——————

“Evie, come down. I know you’re up there.” You were standing at the edge of the woods behind your family home. You had to walk around the chicken coop to get over there which was bit of a headache since you were in bare feet. John had built a tree house for Evelyn and Jj over the last summer while you were pregnant and it had become the little girls safe place. That being said it was always a troop to walk out here and get her.

The tree house was painted maroon with a deep green roof. There were three windows on each side with the front facing one having a little flower box. It was filled with actions figures and toy soldiers with their guns and weapons drawn. They were placed there to keep intruders out. Painted in white at the bottom of the tree house was ‘Grownups Beware!’ You and John chuckled that the kids had added that and decided to not encroach on their space. Leaving this the only area untouched by adults.

“No.” She said in a bratty tone. Evelyn could be a handful most times and was known for either being sweet as pie or grumpy. There was hardly an in between but when she was sad or upset she tended to act out. With a sigh you walked over to the tree that housed the sturdy structure. Peering up through the open hatch you tried to see if your daughter would come down.

“Fine, I guess I’ll just have to come up.” You warned, getting no response.

The only sound being the lively insects chirping and the birds singing deep in the woods. Looking around you admired the forest around you. The foliage was thick creating a canopy of shade and keeping the hot sun at bay. The forest floor was slightly damp, small flowers just beginning to pop up out of the earth. You turned to look back at your house in the distance and then over to the pond that was barley visible through the trees. Moving you started your climb up the wooden planks John had nailed into the tree to make a ladder.

Peaking your head through the square hatch you saw your ponytailed girl. She was huddled up against the wall right underneath the window. She had her stuffed octopus hugged tight to her chest.

The inside of the tree house was decorated with stickers and pictures Evelyn took on her Polaroid she got last Christmas. There were pillows and blankets neatly folded by Jj in the corner on top of the old worn chest. A table with art supplies and a lantern sat to Evelyns left, the chairs tipped over and laying on their sides. John had decked the place out even installing shutters so if it rained they could shut them and keep the rain out. The ceiling was covered in glow in the dark stars.

“How are you doing?” You asked sitting on the floor and letting your feet dangle through the opening.

“Daddy’s faking it right?” Evelyns bottom lip quivered already knowing the answer. Wipping her eyes with the back of her hands pretending like she wasn’t crying.

“No, he’s not, sweetheart.” You reach out for her and she crawled over curling up into your side. You hugged her close resting your chin atop her head.

“Did someone beat him up? I thought Ghosty would protect him or Suds and Gaz.” Her watery blue eyes looked up at your for answers. It was hard for you to see your daughter like this. Not quite old enough to understand what was going on like Jj was. You just prayed you weren’t fucking up as a mom.

“No one beat him up. He fell out of a helicopter.” You told her the truth hoping it wasn’t too much.

“Then he shouldn’t go in heli’s ever again.” The tears stopped and Evelyns mind was made up. You could see the flash of determination igniting in her eyes. She’d be damned if her father ever got into a helicopter again.

“You know, I agree with you. But we can’t stop him from doing his job.” You tried to reason rubbing her back hoping she wouldn’t give John too much trouble.

“I don’t like his job anymore.” She pouted, crossing her arms over her chest.

“That’s okay, sweetheart. I bet he’d be okay talking to you about it.” You let her know. It was something you and John had already discussed. John didn’t want you to have to answer for his choices and decision to be in the military. It was his duty as their father and your husband to be acountable for his profession and what I would do to your family.

“Really?” Evelyn perked up now intrigued this wasn’t an off limits conversation.

“I talk to him about it all the time when you two aren’t around. He knows how much it scares me but after we talk about it I end up feeling a lot better.” For first time in the past few days the truth didn’t taste acrid on your tongue. It was a relief to be able to share some positive things with your daughter.

“Do you think I can talk to him now?” Evelyn asked, grabbing her stuffed octopus and turning the the little tile on the wall to show she was the last one in there. There was a blue side for Jj and an orange one for her.

“Yes, I’ll give you a piggy back ride to the house.” Your words had Evelyn nodding and a smile finally spreading across her face.

“Could Jj feed the chickens today? I’ll take Molly for a walk instead.” She asked as she began to climb down the ladder.

“You’re going to have to ask Jj.” You laughed lightly. Knowing Evelyn only asked right now hoping you’d slip up and say ‘yes’ because you were preoccupied. She giggled at your words clearly noticing she hadn’t outsmarted you. Maybe one day.

——————

“But I don’t want to feed the chickens.”

“Evelyn, don’t argue with your mother.” John’s deep and commanding voice came from your bedroom.

Evelyn jumped slightly not expecting to be scolded by her father, who she thought was out of ear shot. You and her were standing in Lily’s room while you changed your five month olds diaper. John had become bored of television and books resorting to ease dropping for entertainment.

“Run along Evie, I have to feed Lily and get things ready for your Nan and Grandad to come over.” You nodded your head towards the door, following behind as you both went to do your chores. It had been four days since Jj and Evelyn first saw their dad in bad shape. Things seemed to have become okay in the house as everyone except John fell back into their normal routine.

“Nan better be nice to you.” Evelyn warned as she ran down the hall then to the stairs. The little girl threw her leg over the banister and slid down to the first floor.

“Evelyn! How many times do I have to say not to slide down the railing.” You half shouted.

“STOP GIVING YOUR MUM A HARD TIME!” John’s voiced boomed through the house making you jump slightly. A squeal of surprise echoed up the stairs. Evelyn hadn’t been yelled at by her father since he had gotten home and was not about to stick around for another scolding.

“John, settle down. You need to rest.” You sighed out completely exasperated at his strong reaction. You walked into the room to see him fidgeting with his overgrown beard.

“I’m bloody tired of resting. I need to get out of this damn room and have some fresh air.” John attempted to get up from his spot on the bed. Only to groan out in pain and sink back into the mattress. His good hand coming and cradling his shoulder where his worst injury was.

“I’ll open the windows.” You we’re glaring at your husband for trying to get up on his own.

“Fuck the windows help me downstairs.” It came off as an order which you weren’t to keen on. Stopping in front of John and raising your eyebrows at him as if to challenge him to continue being grumpy.

“Weren’t you just yelling at Evie to not give me a hard time? Take your own advice.” John sighed deeply at your words. You were right.

“Sorry. . . I’m going stir crazy and the idea of seeing my mother today is driving me mad. Im stressed she’s going to be rude about Lily.” The stress that washed over John was palpable. The pair of you were dreading Mary coming over. The two of you hadn’t seen her since Christmas but when she found out John had been injured she begged to come check on him. You were both weary but John did want to see his mother and hopefully bury the hatchet. And you understood a mothers love well enough that you were okay with Mary coming to check on her son.

“Well she’s the spitting image of you so there’s not much she can say.” You reasoned trying to quell John’s anxieties. Coming over and standing next to him so he could hold his little girls chubby hand.

“Never thought if Lily looked like me she’d end up pretty. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Right, peanut?” John gave the little girl a goofy face making her round cheeks turn up in a smile. A hearty and gruff laugh left your husbands parted lips. John’s children held the key to cheering him up and you adored that about him.

“You are a cutie aren’t you.” You cooed at your baby girl poking her chubby belly a chorus of giggles erupting from her.

“Let me hold her.” John was smiling widely as he reached his good arm out for his youngest daughter. Just like when she was born John wanted her to sleep on his chest. It was tradition at this point, all your children loved to nap on John but Lily especially did.

“No, John she’s going to pull at your bandages or hurt you and I need to breast feed.” You kissed John’s forehead, then walked away ignoring the frown he was giving you.

“Darling, how much longer are you going to treat me like an invalid.” John’s bad mood was back just as quickly as it had gone.

“Until you can get up and go to the bathroom without my help. You can’t even get out of bed or off the toilet without me. Think I’m going to trust you holding our baby?” You smiled sweetly. Making your way into the bathroom to grab a hand towel to use while you breast fed Lily.

“Bloody tyrant.” John grumbled to himself. He could hobble around just fine he just couldn’t get up on his feet without help in fear of tearing open his stitches.

John wasn’t actually frustrated with you he was annoyed at being incapable of spending quality time with his kids. The only good thing to happen in the past five days of being home was he could finally take the eye patch off after a home visit from his doctor. Well not the only good thing. Jj had been playing chess with John every day, you lost at scrabble last night, and Evelyn put on a play for him about helicopter safety. Which was mainly her making him promise to wear a seatbelt. So it wasn’t all bad.

“Sorry, didn’t quite hear you.” You whipped around and walked back into the room. John froze instantly regretting being curt with you.

“Sorry.” John apologized instantly.

Being on your bad side while he was bed ridden was not a smart move. You could easily ‘forget’ to bring him lunch or straight up ignore him. John would be screwed if you lost your kindness because he pissed you off. He should be thanking his lucky stars you were so sweet taking into account how grumpy he had been. Especially considering how kind you were the previous night giving him a show and settling your head between his thighs giving him some much needed stress relief and adult entertainment.

“That’s what I thought. And if I’m a tyrant I learned it from you.” You volleyed back. Ignoring how John rolled his eyes at you. No wonder the kids gave you such a hard time when their father could be such a smart ass.

“Mum! Grandad and Nan just pulled up!” Jj called from the front door. You had already pulled yourself free and gave your daughter what she had begun to fuss for.

Jj had just come in after taking Molly your tri-colored Border Collie for a walk. You and John had gotten her because when you originally moved in you wanted lambs and you needed a cattle dog for that. After becoming pregnant you two continued to put it off until Evelyn was two. Molly proved to be horrible at herding so you gave up on your dream of having lambs and settled for chickens.

Molly was the sweetest girl who loved to cuddle but was incredibly clumsy and a bit dumb. It made you and John laugh, her quirks only had you loving her more. She was truly Jj’s dog, sleeping in his room every night since he was four. They were the best of friends and she tended to follow him around where ever he went. Only leaving his side when there was food or a chipmunk to chase. She would wait on the front porch for Evelyn and Jj’s bus to drop them off and then she would sprint to him, greeting him after school. She also would book it to the pond if you weren’t paying attention which ended up in you having to hose her and Jj off because he’d have to pull her out of the water. John had trained Molly well enough that she listened to basic commands and could be off leash most times but she was unruly and unpredictable.

Jj was overly protective of Molly. Hating when his grandparents complained that she would beg for food or claiming she was too dumb to herd. You and John would rebut saying she was great at keeping the kids close by which she did. She was so sweet when Evelyn would try and run off. Standing by her and letting the little girl tug on her fur and guiding her back when she went too far.

Jj knew his dad grew up with a slew of dogs and that his grandad prided himself on them being amazingly trained. Molly just wanted to be loved and you all didn’t care about her quirks it was just more of a reason to love her. Jj was dreading seeing his grand parent for so many reasons. He knew his Nan would comment about Molly which he was use to but what scared him was her comments about Lily.

Jj stood up for Evelyn every chance he had. Since they went to the same school it had become normalcy for the Price children. Something changed for Jj when Lily was born. He was annoyed to have a new sibling but after seeing you in such horrible pain and scared out of your mind things changed.

When Jj held Lily for the first time in the hospital room he knew he’d love her forever. A picture of them being snapped as he told you he was so happy to have another little sister and wished John could be there. The knowledge that his Nan was not allowed to meet her making him even more protective over his baby sister. John saw how much his son took after him. The need to protect and provide in his sons genes just like his own. John hated to admit that Jj was turning out just like him and would most likely follow his path into the military.

“Look at you! So tall, little lad.” Paul, John’s father praised as he held the back door open for his wife Mary.

“Jj, you’re tall just like Johnny was at your age!” Mary pushed past her husband and quickly wrapped Jj up in a tight hug. Molly was quick to jump up on Paul and tried to do the same to Mary.

“Johnny needs to train her better. So she shouldn’t jump.” Paul pushed the dog off his wife. Reprimanding her and attempting a command she didn’t know.

“She’s fine.” Jj mumbled calling for Molly to follow him to the fridge so he could give her some cheese. Wiping the lipstick smudge off his cheek that his grandmother had left.

“Hey, you two. It’s been awhile.” Your sweet voice hung in the air like smog. Jj was stressed and the feeling quickly subsided as Molly weaved her way between his legs and sat down. Pushing him back a few inches begging him to give her attention.

“Y/N.” Mary said curtly looking past you as if you didn’t exist.

“You look healthy, love.” Paul ignored Mary’s rudeness and hugged you firmly, holding on for a second too long. You could tell he missed you and was stressed about seeing his son wounded and bed ridden.

“Wheres Evie?” Mary half forced herself between you and Paul. Tugging his arm so he would stop greeting you and being pleasant.

“Probably in the tree house.” You stated with a smile undeserving of Mary.

“You’re not going to have her say hello?” Mary was in normal form questioning your choices as a mother. You were happy John had somehow convinced you to leave Lily upstairs with him.

“Evie doesn’t want to say hello and that should be okay.” Jj’s voice cut through the conversation. He repeated the same words you had said to your husband the previous night while him and Jj played chess.

“Jj don’t be rude.” You quickly scolded.

“But sh-“

“Doesn’t matter. Apologize to your Nan. That’s not how we talk.” Even if Mary was a piece of work you still did not accept your son being rude to anyone. There was no need to be bratty in an attempt to defend you. You were a grown woman capable handling this on your own.

“No.” Jj wasn’t normally defiant but he was insanely upset at his grandmother and booked it out the back door going to join his sister in the tree house.

Jj had heard his grandmother call you a ‘slag’ multiple times but didn’t know what the word meant until recently. He had no room for forgiveness and he didn’t understand how you did. Especially because he overheard you tell John about the nasty texts and voicemails she left after Christmas. The word ‘bastard’ being used which seemed to upset his father the most. Jj didn’t know what the word meant, only that it was a bad one.

“I wish I could say I ‘don’t know whats gotten into him.’ But I think we all get it. They’re still very upset about Christmas.” You explained only to get a obnoxious eye roll from Mary. God, you wanted to throttle her and kick her out but you didn’t for the sake of your husband.

“I’m only here to see Johnny.” It was easy for Mary to ignore your sweet nature. She was convinced it was all a facade and you were a ‘manipulative, disloyal, slag’. As she wrote in one of her texts.

“Okay, follow me.” You said in a sickly sweet voice that you all knew was fake. You weren’t going to give Mary a scrap of ammunition or anything to complain about.

“The weight after the third is hard to get rid of isn’t it?” Mary’s words were snarky and mean.

You instantly felt your cheeks begin to burn from embarrassment. So what, you had gained a bit of weight you just had a baby four months ago. John seemed to love it, worshiping the stretch marks and leaving gentle kisses on your stomach and thighs. When you complained about it he told you there was more of you to love. Which made you cross for only a moment. John was quick to remind you how beautiful he found you and thanked you for making him a father.

You already felt self conscious enough having just had your third child. Mary knew no detail of how traumatizing and brutal the birth was and you held back all the rage you had for her and kept quiet. Leading her and Paul up to your bedroom as Paul scolded Mary to behave and then told you, you looked beautiful and John was a lucky man.

The only reason you did not freak out and tell Mary how horrible she was, was for the sake of Lily who was happily napping on John’s chest upstairs. She had passed out as soon as she was done breast feeding. Lily was a daddy’s girl the moment she came into this world. Only settling down to the sound of John’s deep and gruff voice. She never stirred when he yelled and slept the best in his arms. John had to send a recording of his gentle words and cooed to his baby to help her fall asleep while he was away. Her fussy nature subsided immediately when John came home when she was five days old.

“John, you look like shit” Paul used humor to cope as he saw his son laid up in bed. It pained John’s parents to see him in such bad shape. A reminder their son was risking his life on a normal basis. Leg raises in a cast and shoulder and chest wrapped in thick bandages. The bruises that littered his body were beginning to heal. It looked like he had gotten hit by a bus.

“And this is?” Mary asked with tears in her eyes. Lily was drooling onto John’s bare chest, her cheeks rosy and thick brown hair curling around her ears. She was a pretty baby and looked exactly like John, even with her bright blue eyes closed.

“This is Lily.” John said simply, eyes fixed on his baby girl and not bothering to look at his mother. Ignoring his injuries and running his hand over her sweet snoring face, John winced at he pain of his gun shot wound.

“S-she looks just like you.” Mary choked on her words. She was so overwhelmed seeing her son like this and knowing she had a new grandchild. She felt enraged no one had told her sooner.

Mary adamantly thought you had cheated on John and she had no claim to this child. Saying horrible things and refusing to even hear the name you two had picked out. Now standing in your bedroom doorway and seeing she was clearly wrong and had ignored her grandchild for four months was sickening. Lily looked exactly like John, down to the little freckle on her nose. Mary was feeling utterly humiliated for the things she had said and the way she had treated her grand daughter. If you thought Mary would surrender and apologize you were sadly mistaken.

“I’ll take her so you three can chat.” You made your way over to John. Scooping you little one into your arms and watching as she frowned in her sleep being taken away from John.

“Can I hold her?” Mary asked. Arms already outstretched and going to take Lily from you.

“Not right now. Maybe another time.” Quickly you dodged Mary’s arms only for her to step in front of you so you couldn’t get to the door.

“And why is that?” Mary challenged. The audacity had you shocked.

“Because you don’t think she’s John’s.” The frustration was evident in your voice. You couldn’t hide the anger and disgust you had for the woman in front of you who so blatantly hated you.

“It’s clear she is.” Mary attempted to take Lily again and John watched as you flinched and stepped back.

“Then an apology is in order.” John was quick to insert. Hating how he couldn’t stand by your side and support you.

“She may happen to be yours Johnny but that does not mean Y/N is deserving of an apology. After everything you’ve done, tearing our family apart. The least you could do is let me hold my last grandchild.” The gaslighting and victim complex Mary had made you feel uneasy. Even when she was wrong her pride was to big for her to apologize to you.

“I’m going to need time before I’m comfortable with you holding her.” You stepped back again as Mary attempted to take your sleeping baby. Placing your hand protectively over the back of Lily’s head.

“You’ve married such a cruel woman.” Mary turned to John as if he’d help her get what she wanted. As if John’s loyalty to her out weighed her nasty behavior.

“Mum for the love of God stop.” John started to shout and quickly died off by the end. This was not going how he expected and he was getting angrier by the second.

“Mary, please.” Paul rested his hand on his wife’s shoulder. Everyone in the room was begging for her to settle down and drop it.

You felt intimidated and slightly scared at Mary’s quick turn on you. She had that same look in her eyes from the night she called you a slag. You weren’t someone who lived in fear or allowed people to have the kind of power over you. But after hearing the things Mary had said and how aggressive she could be in person put you on edge. With your husband held up in bed and unable to physically come to your aid had you wanting to run for the exit. It may be irrational but you feared for Lily’s safety even though you knew Mary was all bark and no bite.

“It’s just a matter of time before she gives you a bastard.” The words cut you down in one clean blow, leaving a painful ache in your chest. You have had some cruel words spat in your face by ex lovers, loved ones, strangers and people who didn’t particularly like you. This felt like the lowest blow Mary had taken and you wished she would have continued to comment on your appearance rather than your loyalty and ability to have another child.

John saw the pain in flash in your eyes. You only allowed it to be seen for a split second before you were back to being straight faced. That comment had John’s blood coursing fast and hot through his veins. He knew the hurt you were feeling was deeper than just cruel words that held little weight. You had lost so much having Lily and the possibility of you having anymore children had been snatched away from you.

John wasn’t there when they told you, in fact he missed the entire birth. But when you confided in him when he got home you were a wreck. John would never forget how you told him it was like you had part of your womanhood stolen from you. John didn’t know if his mother knew about your hysterectomy but those words were still unwelcome in his home. Especially because John knew you were still grieving over it and mostly likely would be for awhile.

“Mum I was really hoping we could start mending bridges. Clearly I was too optimistic. I think it’s time for you to go.” John was shifting up to sit up completely straight. The pain that screamed from his injuries was ignored as if they were nonexistent. John watched your eyes go wide at him moving like that, you were scared he would rip his stitches. With a simple raise of his hand you bit your tongue holding back the worried words that were clawing their way up your throat.

“You use to be strong Johnathan. But look at you now. Laid up in bed and taking orders from a woman who’s damaged goods. You’ve lost your self respect.” Mary’s words were said with so much disdain that you had never seen thrown in the direction of her youngest son.

Not only was she being cruel to you she had finally snapped and went after John. Trying to find the most backhanded way to question his manhood and shame him. She turned on her heels, her long black cardigan flowing in her haste and she left. The air was dense in your bedroom as you processed how quickly things had devolved.

“You’re okay with her acting like that?” John snapped at his father who had been almost silent up until this point.

“For better or worse. In sickness and in health.” Paul’s words were melancholic as he nodded at his son and then at you. It felt like a cope out and Paul would never truly acknowledge the disturbing side of the woman he married.

“Never thought for a second you’d be unfaithful to my boy. I’m sorry for Mary.” Paul gently placed his hand on your shoulder the other coming up to rest on Lily back.

“Lily’s a beautiful name and she looks exactly like you Johnny. . . I hope you feel better soon.” Paul’s voice cracked slightly on John’s name.

The pained expression on his aging face made you sick to your stomach. It felt like a disservice for Paul to not come to Johns defense and knowingly stay away from Lily because Mary told him so. You knew Paul loved each one of his children and would do almost anything for his family. He just couldn’t stand up to his wife. Marys wrath and opinions had caused so much strain in your and John’s marriage and it’s what ended Harrison and Amy’s. You wondered how many people have to suffer for Paul to open his eyes.

“Why don’t you stay? I can give you a ride home.” You asked. A spark of hope flickering in your chest at the idea John might be able to get Paul to come around.

“Best I get going. Don’t need Mary cross with me too.” The words were meant to be humorous but you and John worried she’d go after him verbally but it was far from your place to get involved. You turned to see the anger etched so deep in your husbands face you felt it best for you to not be apart of what he had to say to his father.

Stepping out you gave John and his father a minute alone. Choosing to put Lily down in her crib and get started on lunch. You decided the tears and hurt feelings could wait for when you showered before bed. It would only make things worse, in your opinion, if the kids or John knew how upset that last comment of Mary’s made you.

It was one thing for her to go after you, you expected that. But for her to go after John you knew would wound him greater than any of the ones that already riddled his body. His mother visiting was suppose to lift his spirits and they were going to start over so hopefully she could be apart of his children’s lives. Now, that glimmer of hope had been snuffed out and you knew John was going to struggle dealing with it. He had told you he was going to cut his mother out if things went poorly and now John was going to have to deal with that pain.

You could see Mary sitting in the cab of Paul’s black truck refusing to even glance at the house while you prepared John’s lunch. It took no longer than ten minutes before Paul gave you a hug goodbye and they were on their way. You dreaded bringing Johns sandwich up to him knowing he was going to be silent out of frustration.

Stepping into your bedroom you were surprised to see your king sized bed empty. The panic that plagued you was suffocating and immediate. John wasn’t suppose to be moving without assistance with his injuries and you were terrified he might have fallen and was laying on the bathroom floor with torn stitches.

You shot to the bedside table to place the plate and glass of water then quickly made your way to the bathroom door. Bursting in without knocking you and John both screamed at each other in shock. John was seated on the toilet with his pants around his ankles and you quickly ran out of the bathroom with your hands covering your eyes.

“Bloody hell Y/N!” John shouted at you turning red in the face.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I thought you fell! How’d you get in there?” You bellowed out slamming the door behind you. Trying to erase the image of him you had just seen so you could look John in the eyes later.

“My dad helped me up! For fucks sake you’re worse than the kids! Bloody knock next time!” John was yelling through the thick wood of the bathroom door. You knew if he wasn’t in a bad mood previously he was now. Now his anger was directed at you which was not going to be fun to deal with. John never took embarrassment well.

You weren’t sure you’d get the image of him shirtless on the toilet out of your head. You and John were pretty good about privacy only having seen each other in compromising positions like that maybe a dozen times in your long history together. When it came to you helping him while injured he’d tell you to look away which you respected and so did he when you had needed assistance after birth. Some mystery was gladly acceptable by the pair of you.

“Did dad just yell at you?” Jj was standing in the bedroom doorway wide eyed. John never yelled at you unless he was on a suicide mission. Both your children considered you the cross one not hiding your annoyance with their father but he hardly ever showed it with you.

“Yes, he did.” Your voice was high pitched. Now realizing the only reason your son was in here was because he was looking for lunch that you had fallen behind on.

“Molly, NO!” Jj lunged forward. Turning you saw the tri-colored border collie licking at your husbands sandwich you placed on the night stand. In seconds she had John’s roast beef sandwich clasped between her jaw, trying to house it down in a few bites. She paused for only a second as Jj tried to snatch it from her, before she was dashing for the door accidentally knocking Jj over.

“MOLLY!” You yelled chasing after her. Jj was a foot behind you as you chased the poor dog around the house and out to the backyard. Molly thought it was a game and you didn’t want her eating table food and getting an upset stomach. Evelyn and Jj found it hilarious watching you chase after the family dog who had a thick sandwich in her mouth. Evelyn may or may not have taken a Polaroid picture of you mid sprint after Molly by the chicken coop.

After the stunt was over and you accepted your defeat, you made your way back inside. Bringing yourself back into mom mode, you made your children Mac and cheese and frozen fish fingers because you were too exhausted to do anything else. They both complained at you that they wanted the lunch they were promised; which was fish and chips. The glare you gave them had ‘thank you’s ’ rolling off their tongues. The quick rebuttal of ‘so for dinner?’ Following their complaints. That’s when your remembered John had requested fish and chips for lunch. You had honestly completely forgot about him having become so sidetracked.

That when it hit you. You had abandoned John to be stuck on the toilet for nearly an hour. To say he was upset would not do it justice. John was convinced you left him there because you were mad that he yelled at you. No convincing could change his mind and for years to come he would snipe at you for leaving him stranded on the toilet. He didn’t even get fish and chips like he’d asked for which had him complaining even more.

John had to eat cold Mac and cheese and some fish fingers you threw into the air fryer. The complaints stopped after dinner when he’d finally gotten the food he requested. Telling you he would prefer to not talk about what happened with his mother for some time. It was too fresh for him and John needed time to work through it on his own. He was open to hear your feelings and was a true help.

So you gave him the space he needed on the subject and cuddled next to him in bed. When you breast fed Lily next to him and shared your plate of assorted snack you’d gathered as your own dinner later that night. John realized you hadn’t eaten anything that day until now. Some baby puffs you fed Lily, crackers, sliced cheese, a handful of fruit and nuts, a little bowl of hummus, and a half slice of coffee cake was your dinner.

John then realized you normally did not make yourself dinner and just snacked on the leftovers like a little mouse. John did not let that last. After that night he would randomly order takeaway to show up at your door for only you. You swooned over him seeing your dinner show up each night after the kids had gone to bed. John always guessed right on your cravings and you happily shared with him. He couldn’t do much to romance you but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to try.

By the time this recent dinner showed up, it was a week later. John was just healed enough to be moving around the house on crutches. You suggested some slow love making which had John giddy. Good thing he had just sent in a request for two dozen roses as a small thank you for taking care of him. They’d be there first thing in the morning after your lovely night together. The sweet gesture just might involve some romance right after breakfast when the children had gone to school. John prayed for the best hoping things could finally turn around for your family. Hoping to leave his mother in the past and move forward.

~~~~~tag list~~~~~

@exhaustedpotat0 @glitterypirateduck @ivymarquis @crazymela @what-0-life @boredfairy4 @hihhasotherfixations @stephanswhxre @shanjisan @k4es @luvleywrites @kita03-0 @midwesternwitchery @aleynaleia @suckerforbassist @misshoneypaper @theaonlax @blackstar9005 @tooterbutt @havoc973 @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @freshlemontea

[mangionebabymama]

Do u think toxic bbd lu would get his family to convince you not to break up with him??I feel like his mom would be on your side idk she knows he can be a lot lmaoo GIVE US UR THOUGHTS NOW

Oh, of course he would, because when things don’t seem to go his way, he makes sure everyone knows about it, and he’ll do whatever it takes to change the outcome in his favor. It probably comes from him being a stubborn ol’ son of a bitch. But when you’re the youngest of three, and the only boy in your family, it’s easy to grow up thinking the world should revolve around you first, and everyone else second.

To say the least, Luigi would be sick over it; he’d be stubborn, prideful, and completely blindsided that the woman he trusts most—besides you—is siding with you. The woman who raised him to be protective, to fight for what’s his. And now? She’s telling him to let go?

Yeah, he wouldn’t take that well.

The second he finds out you went to his mom before you told him about the breakup, it’s like something in him buckles, not in a dramatic way but in that quiet, how could you do that to me? way. It’s betrayal, but it’s complicated. Because deep down, he knows why you did it, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting, and it punches him in the gut. So as soon as he catches wind, he’d head on over there and show up at his parents’ house. “So let me get this straight,” he’d say, his hands gesturing wild like only a son raised by his Italian mother can manage. “She tells you first—you, my own mom—about leaving me? And you don’t even try to tell her she’s being ridiculous?”

She’d raise an eyebrow, standing in the kitchen, calm like she’d seen this version of him before too many times. “She wasn’t being ridiculous, Luigi. She was being honest. It was something, quite frankly, you weren’t ready to hear.”

He’d be all frustrated, trying to explain how he’s showing up as a dad and as a partner by being there at your house every night, staying up with your son, taking care of you, and feeding your baby. That’s when she’d clarify: it’s not that you’re breaking up with him because he’s a lousy father—because he’s anything but that, and you’re deeply grateful for it—but because you’re exhausted. You have been for a while. And you can’t carry the weight of both your relationship and your baby all on your own right now.

His voice would rise, not because he meant to yell, especially not at his mom, and definitely not in her house, but the frustration would push through anyway. “And you agree with her?! Just like that?”

“I didn’t just ‘agree,’” she would reply. “I listened. I looked at her—tired, overwhelmed, not sleeping—and I heard what she was really saying. She needs space, Luigi. She’s not your enemy.”

“And what about me, huh?” He'd gestures to himself, because right now, he's the one that's hurting the most. “What, I’m just supposed to sit there and take it? Watch her walk out with our baby and pretend like it’s for the best?”

She'd then sigh, crossing her arms. “You think I don’t know what it’s like to feel helpless in your own house? To be angry at things you can’t fix? But yelling at me won’t change the fact that she made her choice.”

He would lower his voice, not because he’s calm, but because it’s all getting too real now. “You were supposed to be on my side.”

“I’m on the side of what’s right,” his mom would say. “And right now, what’s right is giving her the space she needs before you break everything beyond repair.”

He'd look away, jaw clenched, heart pounding. It’s not just that you left; it’s that his own mother saw it coming and didn’t stop it. It didn't go his way, and you went away from him. That she saw him in all his flawed, stubborn, loyal glory and still said to let you go.

And she would see all it in his face, the devastation masked behind all that attitude, and she would soften quite a bit, because in the end, she'd know why it would hurt him that bad. She'd step forward, takeing his face in her hands like she did when he was a kid.

“I know you love her,” she would whisper. “And that’s exactly why you need to let her breathe.”

He'd close his eyes, swallow hard, and nod—once. But his jaw would still be tight, and his pride would be bruised. Because he's a Taurus through and through: fiercely loyal, maddeningly stubborn, heart-on-his-sleeve but only for those who really know how to look.

And right now?

He’d be hurt, and he’d be completely lost. But one thing about him?

He doesn’t stay down. And deep down, even his own mother would know that when he truly loves someone, he'll find his way back to it eventually. So right then and there, he knew he wasn’t going to give up on you two—not yet. After all, you had a family together now. He wasn't going to give up on you and him just like that, now, after everything you've gone through together.

[typewritingyip]

The Arcturus Missions

Part Nine - Information Needed

Part Eight

———

Preceptor is one of the finest scientists that the Earth has to offer, next to Shockwave, both of whom work for the agency Mecha and their own corresponding governments. He was one of the first to start working on the suits, before the drift technology, said it came to him in a dream. A very odd dream but still a dream.

Most people are convinced that the man is a little insane, often spending long hours examining and re-examining the remains of the Quintessons as if trying to remember something or someone. He spends a great deal of time alone or with pilots, he himself is technically drift compatible and tests most of the technology he makes within his own much smaller suit.

Although he was deemed odd, his innovations in the mech suit field and for a number of programs are astronomical in nature. Hence why Mecha was quick to snatch him up, with a considerable salary and a promise to be able to spend more time in his own suit, he worked endlessly on tech for the pilots and they were eternally grateful.

Most of the enchanted upgrades that went into the Arcturus program came from Preceptor, he himself technically registered for Arcturus Three should it ever get off the launch pad. It had not been the boss’s idea, but if their shuttle system were to actually work than sparing one scientist of their brilliant pair would be fine, right?

—

The ground was harder here than it was where the Odyssey landed, Jazz was talking quietly with Prowl for the moment while the crew of Actrusus One settled onto the chunks of scrap metal or the ground. Sunstreaker was at present cleaning his bracers, now covered in just disgusting gore, along with Sideswipe. Breakdown eased himself slowly to the floor and stared up at the sky, sighing deeply. Hound was waiting for Jazz to wrap up his conversation, shifting slightly to look at the other mecha in the distance.

If what Jazz said was true and that these beings weren’t things in suits like them, it could be dangerous, prejudice found it’s way into most societies. Glancing toward Sunstreaker, he stared at the flecks of pink still covering his armor, so much of their world was toxic to them. Hound’s eyes continued to scan the environment, watching some of the mecha in the distance drink something very similar to what was splattered on the twins. Could it really be their blood?

Jazz turns away from Prowl and comes over to Hound, resting his hand likely on his shoulder, “Welcome to Cybertron.” With a push, they go over and sit on a section of what likely used to be metal crates which have now melted to the ground, “Yes, speaking of, where is Cybertron?” Jazz sighed and leaned back against his hands, shaking his head slightly. He stayed quiet for a moment before looking to Hound, “About, thirty or more lightyears from Earth?” Hound nearly got up from the shock but Jazz grabbed his hand, “It’s not so bad once you get used to it. When you're in places like Iacon you can open your vents and Prowler helped me set up a garden up there. I’m not starving, not dying, and doing my job.” Hound sighed, slowly lowering himself back down to the makeshift bench.

“You likely traveled here the same way I did, an unsanctioned space bridge, you all probably deal with mild radiation sickness over the last few days.” The way he said it, it almost made Hound’s skin crawl, “Jazz, we’ve only been here a day or two at most. But back up, what the hell is a space bridge?” Hound’s head shakes a bit, especially when Jazz laughs, “God, there is so much you’ll have to learn. A space bridge is, uh, well maybe a wormhole? I don’t exactly get it, but you’re here.” Jazz’s arm wraps around Hound’s shoulders, “Why are the four of you here?” The moment hung in the air, for one second then dragged on, Jazz’s grip tightened slightly, patting Hound’s shoulder, “I’m really happy to see you Hound.” Hound lowers his head, smiling sadly, “I’m really happy to see you too Jazz.”

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe looked towards them both, “Jazz, we were going to find you, no matter the state you were in.” Sunstreaker’s voice was soft, rubbing lightly at his head, “Even if we died trying.” Sideswipe finished, smiling even behind the visor. They all nodded, the mission was to live and die for their planet, to do what they could while they could, they all knew it. To become drift compatible, the day you start the procedures is the day you sign your death certificate just about. Hound looked over at the pilots, at the numbers on their chests, staring at the twins 2450 through 51, and remembered how they’d passed three thousand before they left Earth. His hand comes up and rubs over the number on his own chest, “Our mission is to defeat these, Quintesson things, to stop them from attacking Earth. If we can take out their ranks here, or find wherever they're coming from, I think that’s worth it.” Breakdown hummed but stood, stretching, “I’m gonna walk around, try to get my translator working.” “Adjust your settings, it’s set up to translate into English.” Hound pointed at his head as Breakdown nodded and hands moved through the air, to the screens that would be in his cockpit to adjust the settings as he walked away. Jazz winced, “Uh, yeah, he’ll need to work on that.” Unable to hold it back, Hound chuckled, which eventually sent the group into laughter.

—

In the distance, Megatron was brooding, as were many other cybertronian’s watching the new and odd mecha interact. Optimus was talking quietly with Mirage only a few meters away, battle mask still up and covered in soot, “So, the yellow one,” “I think his name is Sunstreaker sir.” Mirage stood almost painfully rigid as he always did around the prime, “Yes, he’s the one who harmed Beachcomber?” Mirage nodded but clasped his hands lightly, “I don’t believe it was on purpose, the scraplet deterrent systems activated once they entered the solar farm, according to those who were there the fog was so thick they couldn’t see anything for the first half the fight.” Optimus hummed, nodding slowly, “And Beachcomber was seen by Knock Out, got his arm reattached and is already back in Iacon.” Mirage almost preened, he was good at his job and part of it was in fact the damage control. Optimus’s smile reached his eyes, hand coming to rest on Mirage's shoulder, “Thank you Mirage, I’d recommend you refuel and get some rest, we’ll be returning to Iacon in the morning.” With a stiff nod, Mirage steps back and salutes, “My Prime,” before heading towards where the energon was being served.

With a deep sigh, Optimus turned to Megatron, frowning now as he walked over, “In the last five stellar cycles, I thought you came to care for Jazz.” he stood as close to the grey mech as he could without touching him, his own gaze following Megatron’s to the strange mecha in the distance, “I have, that is why I am concerned on why they are here.” Optimus hummed, the back of his servos lightly brushing over Megatron’s, who brushed his back before crossing his arms and adjusting his stance, “If they did not come here to find Jazz, what else would have brought them here?” “I think they arrived here in a similar manner as to how Jazz came to us,” Megatron almost growled, it was a touchy subject, Jazz’s first few weeks in space and his collision with a space bridge, “But, regardless, they are here now and we will take care of them the same way that we have for Jazz.” Optimus looked at Megatron, smiling a bit before looking past him and sighing deeply, “It never ends, yes, Ironhide I am coming.” He quickly takes Megatron’s hand and releases it almost instantly, “Do not scare them while I am gone.” “I would never dream of it.” His tone said otherwise but the prime was already rushing off.

Megatron continued to watch the group, frowning deeply.

—

It was starting to get dark with the glow of the heater, the main thing for light, it was comfortable, familiar in a way.

Although it was against typical protocol, Hound was distracted and not keeping an eye on his team. Breakdown had wandered off to try and get his translator programmed and the twins were obviously snacking inside their suits as their hands clink against their visors every couple of seconds. He was thinking and starting at the heater, it wasn’t a fire but still something that would keep them warm. The last probably two days, he’d have to check over the actual logs to know how long it had been; it had been entirely strange and foreign. Something he’d expected working with a group so different from each other, but he didn’t anticipate the alien planet. He didn’t anticipate the wandering eyes of mechs that looked so much like his suit, but very clearly were not suits, stared at them all.

Heavy footfalls drew the twins' attention up, both of them gawking behind their visors at the sheer size of Megatron. Sure, they’d seen bigger mechs but he was also heavier by how just his footsteps lightly shock the ground. Sunstreaker turned towards Jazz, moving slightly closer, “Hey, do you know that guy?” Jazz glances up but looks back to Sunstreaker quickly, “That guy, is Lord High Protector, don’t piss him off.” He shifted back to his incomprehensible conversation with Prowl, who, if the twins were choosing to describe it, was gazing at Jazz as if he hung the damn stars in the sky. Sideswipe nudges Sunstreaker and together they shift closer to Jazz and Prowl, whispering quietly, “What the hell is a lord high protector?” Sideswipe shrugged lightly, “Beats me, but last time I messed with a guy in a suit that big, with a cannon that… compensating, I ended up in the hospital for three weeks and my mech lost it’s first arm.” Sunstreaker nods a bit, remembering that very distinctly since he’d been the one to pull the guy off his brother, neither of them had spoken to Barricade since. They move again, closer to Jazz and Prowl, both tuning their translators and trying to figure out what was between those two besides plating.

After a moment more, Megatron reached the outskirts of their group and he was glowering at it, the separation from the other mechs was bad enough before the war and now an entirely different species of mech was being terrorized by their shared enemy, it made his lines boil. Clearing his throat, he sat with them and leveled his gaze at the leader of their group, the one in green, “Hound, was it?” Who was still deeply lost in thought but glanced up, “Yes, um.” Jazz looks up and nearly has a heart attack, “Commander Megatron, sir, um.” He clears his throat painfully, “These are,” “I have received Prowl’s report, thank you Jazz.” With a slightly sheepish nod, Jazz looks to Hound. Who was stock still himself, as he had deactivated his own motion adapters to snack as to not draw attention to the fact he was eating. Jazz could tell and lightly shook his head, but a message popped up on Hound’s visual feed, ‘Don’t be stupid, also send me the specs for the transmitter, it's so not fair you can talk to them and I had to slog my way through their language’ Hound didn’t have time to answer, even as the twins did in his stead, “Hound, do you recall my question from earlier?” Megatron’s voice almost softened, as if he was anticipating a negative answer, “Of course sir.”

Taking a breath, he finished the bar quickly and shifted to look at the direct commander of this small outfit. His grey was intimidating, so many of the mechs on Earth had flashy colors so that they’d be able to sell merchandise, seeing someone washed out in such a way was almost disturbing. Hound shifted to look at him before reactivating the motion adapters and clearing his throat, tuning the translator slightly, “Sir, you asked us what brought us here, other than Jazz, I still don’t understand your question.” Megatron shifted a bit, gears grinding, reminiscent of the sound of Hound’s own joints in the early morning, “He is one mech, they sent four, why? What value does he hold to your people?” Nodding slightly, Hound scratches lightly at his jaw, “Well, Sir, technically he was only part of our mission, recover what parts we could. “Parts?” “Yes sir, we didn’t assume he survived.” Hound’s gaze wandered to the very alive Jazz, sighing lightly.

”You came to collect a dead mech, for a funeral?” It was a beat before Hound was able to respond, shifting slight, “Well, no. The government works with our agency, I technically work for both, recovering any parts of— Jazz, seemed more plausible and cost effective. We needed the data he has.” Megatron shifted slightly, crossing his arms, “The data?” Hound nodded some, “Yes Sir, the data, we don’t often travel space. Technically, we were expected to break Newton's third law, for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Back home we say, what goes up must come down. We weren’t planning on coming back down.” Looking up to the stars, Hound smiled sadly, “How would you provide the data if you were not expected to return?” Breakdown shifts in the distance, clearing his throat, “Uh, we have on our ship a relay satellite, it would broadcast the information much faster than simple radio waves. It would remain in function long past our remaining time.” Megatron turns to look at Breakdown, “Your remaining time?” Hound clears his throat again as Breakdown looks at the ground, “Well, nobody lives forever.” Over near Jazz, Sunstreaker hums lightly before Sideswipe sings off key, “Let us die young or let us live forever.” Jazz takes the opportunity to smack Sideswipe.

Megatron turns to stare at Hound, with a flicker of horror in his optics, shock evident on his face, “You expected to die,” Hound, shrugs lightly, shaking his head, “Most of us were the best candidates, no strings attached or nothing much to live for unless you count money.” He sighs deeply, tilting his head slightly, clearly in thought, “After Jazz disappeared, we knew once we volunteered there wouldn’t be a way back. It was easy to accept, us or the world. Wouldn’t you make that choice?” He looks back to Megatron, whose face was still filled with shock before pushing off his seat aggressively and storming over to Optimus who was still speaking with Ironhide, “Optimus! A word, now.” The taller blue and red mech looked to the grey with a sense of dread before nodding, ironhide making himself scarce. Jazz looked to Hound and whistled lightly, “You don’t talk to Megatron about the matters of freedom, you or the boss will get an ear full.” Hound tilted his head again and rubbed his neck, “I was just telling him about our mission, to find you and send data back home before we died.” “Yeah and you said that to cybertronian Karl Marx.” Prowl frowned, looking to Jazz and having a brief silent conversation before he nodded and returned to his datapad.

Breakdown moved over to the group, hands on hips, “What?”

—

Mirage was for the moment hiding in the command structure, trying to refuel in peace and cool down from the day's battle. The green one, Hound, was a remarkable marksman and was plaguing Mirage’s mind; in the moment he could finally understand the initial allure that Jazz had for Prowl. he rested his helm lightly in his servos, remaining out of sight as he attempted to consume his fuel. Footsteps echoed in the distance and moved closer, “Let us talk where the others might not hear,” Mirage looked up and remained invisible, staring with wide eyes as his commander's voice drew closer. Optimus watched Megatron briefly before gesturing to the command structure, following Megatron’s angered pace.

Optimus was already rubbing his face, holding open the tarp for Megatron to enter the tent. Mirage remained in the corner, now freezing in his efforts to eat in peace, subspacing his energon and remaining out of sight. He thought for a moment to attempt to leave before Megatron and started to speak, “A suicide mission, they sent on a suicide mission.” Optimus sighs and leans against the table, “From what Jazz has said, their planet is desperate. Hence how he ended up finding Prowl and how we even learned of them to begin with. He too is lucky to be alive.” “Then a second suicide mission! When the first one failed.” He paced the small space, “Megatron, we don’t know how they view death, we have seen the amount of damage they can take. I myself have been certain Jazz was dead a number of times.” Megatron turned to Optimus, anger evident, “And that makes it all better, doesn’t it? The fact that they are designed for battle and war!” “That is not what I mean and you know it.” Optimus grabs Megatron’s hand and holds it lightly, squeezing lightly at his servos, “You cannot convince people that their life is worth living when they’ve been told from the moment that they came online they are doomed to die, not in a single conversation. I understand your anger, old friend, do you think it does not hurt me to see living being dismiss their own value so easily?” Optimus’s eyes were sad with age and wisdom, Megatron signed out with steam, leaning his helm against Optimus’s shoulder, “How many more mechs born to die will we encounter from this world? Their numbers, 2451, within thirty solar cycles.” Optimus’s eyes wandered the room for a moment, twitching for a click before he brings a hand to rest lightly on the back of Megatron’s head, Mirage snags the image and saves it quickly, “It seems that their species is a flash of lighting, bright and violent and brief.”

They stood together for a moment, silent and just holding lightly to each other. Megatron’s hands rested on Optimus’s waist as Optimus held his head to his shoulder, taking solace for a moment together.

“I hate their planet.” Megatron’s voice wavered with emotion, knowing he could have this moment with Optimus, oblivious to Mirage in the corner as was to his specs, “You have never been there.” Optimus tried lightly, “And yet I have seen this evil. I have seen it in Jazz’s broken parts and now in four others who treat themselves as if they have already died.” It was a moment before Optimus could form more words, “Your poetic way with words never fails to move me, I just wish you could speak of happier subjects.” Megatron chuckled softly, “May we live in happier times and win this war for the sake of all people.” He finally pulled away from Optimus, staring at him for a moment, “Thank you, if I had remained out there it was likely I would have said things they didn’t need to hear this soon after losing their home.” Optimus’s servos lightly brushed over Megatron’s faceplate, “It seems my endeavors to teach you patience are paying off.” Megatron grabs Optimus’s wrist, snarling, “Don’t be too proud of yourself Prime. Now, I have work that needs to be done.” “Will I see you for refueling?” Optimus tried not to worry at his derma, Megatron paused as he headed for the tarp, “If work does not run too long, my Prime.” Somehow to Mirage, that didn’t sound like a term of respect, he tried not to grin.

Once Megatron exited the room, Optimus sighed deeply, leaning against the table and speaking up, “He may not have known you were there Mirage and I recommend we keep it that way.” Before he too left the room.

———

A/N

Alright, so I had help with writing Megatron’s dialogue at the end of the chapter, it’s something when that person is pacing through the room doing a Megatron impression. It just makes it easier to find his voice apparently.

Thank you to @daffodils-and-bonfires for saying Megatron is cybertronian Karl Marx, I knew it but needed the help to phrase it.

I can typically write Megatron when he is on the battle field or in the berth room (not like that) but when he needs to wax poetic, I struggle a bit.

Tags!

@lunarlei68 @whirlywhirlygig @loop-hole-319 @pixillandjester @alek-the-witch @not-a-moose-in-disguise @goddessofwind8water @neurologicalglitch @dersereblogger @pixel-transformers @mrcrayonofdoom @wireplaces @twilightfreefaller @original-blog-name-2 @devilangel657 @robbin-u @childofprimus @miniartistme

And once again thank you to @keferon for this amazing AU.

[loveandmurders]

Never forget: ya're a Sinclair (Part II)

Hi everyone, this is the second part of the adopted sister x Sinclair!brothers little series. It's based on an image I posted a while ago (here).

You can find part I here and my masterlist here.

I hope you'll enjoy! <3

Warnings : no proof reading, toxic family, overprotective Sinclair brothers, negative thoughts about yourself, insecurities, violent discussion with your family, distress, crying, mentions of deadly sickness, angst / comfort

Everything was supposed to be alright, so you couldn’t understand how your day could have gone downhill so quickly and so badly.

Your day started like the other days.

You woke up in Bo’s bed. He was already up and about, preparing breakfast for everyone in the kitchen. You grabbed a quick shower, you dressed up and joined him. You kissed his cheek and thanked him for having taken care of you the night before. He told you to not mention it and gently stroked your face. Soon after Vincent came, he greeted you with a gentle kiss on your cheek as well.

You ate in a comfortable silence before sending a little message to Lester to wish him a good day. When he wasn’t coming for breakfast, you always sent him a message because you didn’t want him to think he was less loved than the twins. He was grateful you made him feel like he was part of the family, like he mattered.

And then you went to work after the twins hugged you goodbye and asked you to be careful on the roads. Bo reminded you that if you were too tired, he or Lester could come get you at the end of your shift. You smiled and nodded, knowing how overprotective and paranoid the brothers could be when it was about you.

You arrived at work and you thought that everything was going to be alright. You sent messages to Lester because you needed him to buy you some snacks, and to the twins to make sure that they were careful with the tourists. You hated to come back home with them injured. Your messages were always answered in the instant, the boys smiling at their screen.

Everything was going alright until, during your lunch break, someone asked for you.

You were a little bit surprised because no one could ask for you. A man younger than you was waiting for you at the reception. He smiled at you and greeted you with a honey-like voice. He seemed very sweet, but you grew up with killers so you knew the voice Bo was using when he needed to lure a victim in his traps. It felt the same. You might look innocent and naïve, but you knew better. You smiled back, but soon enough you lost your good mood.

“What do you mean, you are my brother?” you asked, it felt like a bad dream or a nasty prank

“I’m Sean, your brother. We have the same parents, Lydia and Mark. They lost you when you were 7, but I’ve been able to find you again. I was so excited to meet you, and I’m sure you’ll be so happy to finally have your family back.” he told you and you felt sick

“What do you mean, they lost me? They knew what orphanage they left me at. And they never came back. Look, I’ve moved on. I don’t want to talk to you.” you replied in pure instinct. 

Something inside of you was panicking. You had wanted to leave this dark past behind you, and to understand that your parents were actually alive and had another child, whom they kept, was making you feel nauseous.

But Sean was smart, he begged for your phone number, and you gave in, so he could leave you alone. You were shaking when you came back to your office and you just couldn’t focus on your work anymore. You didn’t even finish your food.

You had barely calmed down at the end of your day. You were getting ready to get back home when you received a message from Sean. He invited you to meet your parents, so you could all be a family again. You refused and went back home as fast as you could, as if being in Ambrose would protect you from whatever the hell was going on.

You didn’t tell the twins what happened. You didn’t know why, you just didn’t feel like telling them. You were afraid of their reaction and you were afraid that if you talked about it, it would make all of this even more real.

Your parents were alive.

Your parents never came for you because they hated you.

But they had another child they loved this time.

What if it was the proof you weren’t lovable? What if it would allow the Sinclairs to realise it?

You were oddly silent that night and the twins noticed how you seemed thoughtful and tense. They didn’t manage to make you talk, and it worried them. You always told them everything, because you knew they always had your back. You got away from their interrogation by saying you just had a lot in your mind because of work, but that everything was alright. They knew when you lied, but they trusted you. They knew you would tell them if something was really off. Still, they hated to see their girl so out of her usual self.

You didn’t sleep well that night and Bo asked you if you were alright the next morning, gently cradling your face into his hands as he was looking for your eyes. You simply nodded and kissed the palm of his hands. He let you go, unconvinced. You barely ate and left before Vincent was up. You remembered to send him a message, as well to Lester though. It still concerned the three men; you never acted that way before.

They had always been a little bit worried you would meet someone, one day, which would drive you away from them. They wondered what was going on, even more because it seemed like you were upset, which was unbearable to them. You barely answered their messages today. They knew they would interrogate you that night. 

Even more so when you told them you were going to come back home late. It never happened before.

You had agreed to meet your parents. Your “brother” was good with words and he convinced you. A part of you was a little bit curious as to why they left you. And another part of you hoped that if you accepted to see them just once, then you could forget about them forever. It would be your way to make peace with your past self and to say goodbye to this era of your life. You were really stressed out but you always dealt with your problems holding your head high.

You were strong and you kept repeating it to yourself as you settled in front of your “family”, in a bar nearby your workplace. You couldn’t deny how shocked you were to be in front of your parents. They were obviously older than in your memories, but it was truly them.

At first, they all tried to be gentle to you, like when you try to get someone to do what you want them to do. You could tell they were sweet talking to you, but you weren’t too sure why. They hadn’t looked for you for over a decade, so why did they care now?

Your parents explained to you that the orphanage refused to give you back; and when they finally had all the papers to take you again, you had been adopted away. The orphanage refused to give the name of your new family. But now you could be a family again, you could be everything you should have been. You listened for a while, without saying anything. You weren’t stupid enough to believe them.

A little voice inside your head was telling you that they never tried to find you after they abandoned you, and you were believing it.

“I have a family” you finally replied as you felt your phone buzzing inside your pocket, knowing it was one of your brothers messaging you.

You saw that your parents tried no to laugh at that and their son sent them a little warning look, as to tell them “don’t fuck this up”. You leaned into your seat, waiting.

“I’m very happy you found a family, despite everything” Sean said as he took your hand in his. You did your best to not remove it from his grasp. “But I want my big sister home, I want to know you and to take care of you. I’m sure you want to discover who I am too; you don’t have to be alone anymore. We can be a real family. You have been missed so much” he continued and you knew that if you didn’t have the Sinclairs in your life, you would have fallen for this. 

“Why now?” you asked

“It has been difficult to find you before. When I finally managed to find the name of Victor Sinclair, it was impossible to find where Ambrose was. I promise we’ve been looking for you for quite a while now.” he explained

“You could have looked for us too” Lydia said with a little bit of venom in her voice; a venom you used to know so much. It made you want to throw up but you didn’t show anything.

“You abandoned me.” you simply replied

“And we want you back” Sean said before his mother could reply “But we don’t have a lot of time” he continued

He proceeded to explain that your mother was heavily sick and that she needed a very expensive treatment they couldn’t pay for her. They needed your help, they needed your money, they needed you in their lives.

The little girl inside you wanted to cry; she wanted to be a good girl to her family, she wanted to obey like she used to. She thought she could finally be loved by her parents and to show them how useful she could be.

But you had grown up, and you now knew what it was to be loved and wanted. You didn’t need them for that, even if a toxic part of you wished to know more of Sean; to understand why he was loved by your parents when they never cared about you.

However, you were smart so you refused to help them and to be part of their family. Your answer displeased your parents who started to tell you all the awful things they used to yell at you. They woke up all your most primitive insecurities; the ones they created when you were a child and the ones you could barely make shut up.

You were a waste of space, you were clingy, stupid, you were talking too much, you were asking too much, you were unlovable and pathetic, you were going to end all alone because even your real family couldn’t stand you, you didn’t deserve to be part of anything. 

Sean tried to appease the situation but you got up and left without a word. You didn’t want to give them that kind of power over you. You didn’t want to cry in front of them; you just wanted to come back home, where you felt safe and loved.

You noticed the missed calls from Bo and Lester, the messages from Vincent. You sent a message on the family group chat “On my way home, sorry I’m later than I thought I’d be”. Bo instantly offered to give you a ride but you refused. You needed some time to yourself, to calm down.

One thing was certain: you didn’t want to tell anyone about what happened.

You didn’t know how they would react to such news and you were afraid they wouldn’t want you anymore in their lives. What if they realised you were indeed unbearable, clingy, stupid, too talkative? What if they realised your parents were right to abandon you? What if they thought family was too important and that you needed to get back to yours?

When you parked your car outside the house, the three men instantly opened the front door to welcome you home. They quickly were all over you, checking on you and asking you what was going on. It warmed your heart and it appeased you a little bit. You were loved, you needed to remind yourself that.

You still barely managed to smile at them and you weren’t hungry. You told them you were going to go to bed, but they weren’t going to let you go that easily. You had always told them what was wrong. You were far too important to them for them to drop the subject. If something was wrong, then it was their duty to find a solution.

They needed you to be happy.

Despite your arguments, they settled you on one of the kitchen chairs and Bo knelt in front of you as Vincent brought his chair closer to yours. Lester was behind you, his hands on your shoulders in a comforting way while Jonesy was whining at your feet. They coaxed you into telling them the truth. After a little while, you finally let escape the words that were burning your heart, throat and mouth.

“My biological family found me”

Pure panic wracked through the three men as they exchanged a look. They couldn’t understand what was going on. Their first thought was “Are we losing her?” and then “We have to get rid of them or to lock her up. We can’t lose her.”

“They are dead,” Bo simply said, trying to make sense of the situation.

You only had the strength to shake your head, before you started crying. And it broke the men’s hearts. They had no idea what was going on, but they did their best to comfort you with soft cuddles and gentle words. It had been such a long time ago since the last time they saw you crying and they remembered very well how much they hated it. They felt quite powerless but they kept trying to make you feel better.

“Ya sure it’s really them?” Lester tried to question and you nodded

“They know too much for them to not be… And I recognised my parents. Can’t fucking believe they had a son…” you babbled and the mention of another man tense the brothers even more. A brother could so easily take their place, and they couldn’t let that happen. You were a Sinclair. “He tried to be nice to me, but how can I trust him?” you whispered

“Ya can’t darl’. What do they want from you anyways?” Bo replied, trying to hide his anger

“They said they want me back, but it’s for my money because she is sick” you said, crying even more

“Those fuckers. She should die then. They ain’t your family” Bo groaned

“They said they didn’t come back to get me because I was too much” you continued, needing everything out so the brothers could comfort you

“Ya ain’t too much” Bo replied with annoyance now; he was getting really mad at those people

“We love ya so damn much, ya know it” Lester whispered to you “They ain’t deservin’ your tears” he added

“And we can get rid of them if it could make you happy again” Vincent signed and it instantly made you stop crying. 

You stared at him, wondering if it was indeed what you wanted.

“I don’t want the police to find you. And Sean…” you started

“What ‘bout him?” Bo asked, grabbing your face into his right hand, for your attention to be on him. 

Your eyes widened as this time you heard it in his voice; the love, the jealousy and the worry. You seemed to have forgotten how possessive Sinclairs were over their own people. You dried your tears and tried to calm down, before softly smiling at the three of them. 

It was going to be alright again, you knew it.

--

Part 3

[milykins]

TMNT Headcanon – When They’re Sick

You would think the guys never get sick but they’re just as susceptible as you are and they all handle it differently.

Aged Up Characters

Bayverse Turtles

Individual TMNT x Reader

Mikey

Mikey will turn into a big baby when he’s sick. He wants all the attention, all the amenities and all of the cuddles. He will whine and act like he’s dying and that everyone needs to be nicer to him because he’s sick. He will also be bad about taking his medicine, especially if it’s the liquid kind. Good luck trying to get him to take Buckly's. He’ll request you to do silly things like spoon-feed him his soup or having Vicks rubbed on his plastron even though Donnie told him it wouldn’t work. Mikey will request soup, crackers, toast, anything his little heart desires and expect you to wait on him hand and foot. He’ll burrito-wrap himself up and stay on the couch for days until he starts to improve. When he finally starts feeling better he’ll apologize for annoying everyone and bake cookies or brownies as a peace offering.

Raph

This guy will hole himself up inside of his room when he’s sick for however long it takes. He’ll sneakily emerge for food and disappear right after. He’ll raid Donnie’s cabinet for medicine much to his annoyance because he'll leave it a complete mess. When asked how he’s feeling it will be “I’m fine.” No matter what it’s “I’m fine, quit asking.” Raph’s worst habit is trying to push everyone away including you when he’s sick. This is due in part of him refusing in infect his family with whatever he’s sick with and stubborn pride to be able to take care of himself. He will begrudgingly accept your help if it’ll help YOU feel better. He is the worst patient though, because he'll still try to act like he's fine and accepts the bare minimum in the way of medicine and care. You will discover though, that if you rub his shell when he’s sick he’ll churr for you. He can't help it. It’s quite a sight seeing the biggest and strongest turtle curled up in a ball of blankets. After he recovers, he’ll quietly thank you for your help and apologize for being a dick to you.

Leo

Leo will steadfastly refuse your help, he is fine and will take care of himself, there’s no need to ‘fuss over him’. All he needs is time and his tea, thank you very much. He is the most difficult one to take care of because he will continuously refuse help until you just start helping him anyway and may even need to put him in his place. If he’s got a fever/cough/cold and it’s getting worse you will order him to go rest and bring him tea, soup, medicine, whatever he needs. Leo will reluctantly come to the realization that he feels so rotten that your help is very much appreciated. The more delirious and sick he gets, the bigger the baby he becomes and he’ll actually ask for things like being cuddled. Once he’s feeling better he’ll downplay how sick he was but thank you for your assistance nonetheless. Formally, with a bow.

Donnie

Donnie’s toxic trait is completely ignoring the fact that he's sick and continues on working and living his life despite feeling like a bag of garbage. He will likely work himself too hard and collapse from his symptoms. His brothers will put him to bed and then it’s your turn to put on the doctor hat. You ignore his weak protests and get to taking care of him. Once he’s been forced into his bedroom to rest he’s relatively easy to take care of. He’ll take whatever medicine you provide for him and eat his soup like a good turtle. He’s not used to being cared for like this. He’s usually the one taking care of everyone else. Finally being unable to do so is a humbling experience for him. He will be very grateful for your help and will present you with a gift once he's recovered.

[babyleostuff]

hii ! i absolutely adore your svt as your boyfriends series and i was wondering if you could do chan's version? tysm, hope you're having a good day 🫧🤎

so happy you enjoy the series love! here is your Chan request <3

DINO AS YOUR BOYFRIEND

𓆩♡𓆪 he is so so cuddly, i’m going to cry 

𓆩♡𓆪 always had his hand on you when you’re in big crowds 

𓆩♡𓆪 because he doesn’t want to lose you :(((

𓆩♡𓆪 and is afraid that something might happen to you :(((

𓆩♡𓆪 he loves having you wrapped up in his arms, with your head resting on his shoulder

𓆩♡𓆪 not only does he gets to hug you, but also place gentle kisses on your forehead and cheeks 

𓆩♡𓆪 definitely cuddles with you before sleep and while watching movies 

𓆩♡𓆪 gets so happy (and shy) whenever you praise him

𓆩♡𓆪 because usually he thinks that he can do an even better job at certain dance steps or vocal parts 

𓆩♡𓆪 but you are there right by his side, to cheer on him and tell him what an amazing job he does 

𓆩♡𓆪 he loves spending late nights at the dance studio 

𓆩♡𓆪 when you two are left alone for yourselves and can finally get a bit of freedom from other people 

𓆩♡𓆪 he thrives off of your compliments about his dancing, but also loves to drag you to the middle of the dance floor to teach you some moves (even if you can’t dance, he looks at you like you’re his entire world)

𓆩♡𓆪 because you are 

𓆩♡𓆪 he just looks so stupidly in love with you, with a huge grin on his face and constant giggles leaving his mouth 

𓆩♡𓆪 but he wouldn’t have it any other way 

𓆩♡𓆪 Chan gets jealous quite easily 

𓆩♡𓆪 not because he is possessive or toxic in any way 

𓆩♡𓆪 but he is afraid that someone might steal you from him

𓆩♡𓆪 no matter how confident and cocky he is on stage (especially when dancing), he is rather insecure about himself 

𓆩♡𓆪 it doesn't surprise him when people flirt with you, well, because look at you, IT'S YOU

𓆩♡𓆪 he just kinds of sulks, but doesn’t approach you, not wanting to come off as clingy or overbearing 

𓆩♡𓆪 but you are quick to comfort him and tell him that no other person in this world can take you away from him

𓆩♡𓆪 because you are just as in love with him as he is with you 

𓆩♡𓆪 he ADORES taking care of you, in any shape or form 

𓆩♡𓆪 even though he usually gets treated as the youngest, he has an urge to take care of people around him

𓆩♡𓆪 and as you are one of the most important people in his life, he makes it his life goal and mission to take a great care of you 

𓆩♡𓆪 he helps you, even if you didn't ask him

𓆩♡𓆪 if you’re sick, there is no way you’re getting out of your bed 

𓆩♡𓆪 when you’re on your period, he is already on his way to the nearest convenience store to buy you pads and your favourite chocolate 

𓆩♡𓆪 will never let you go home alone at night, he will always pick you up (except for when he’s away of course)

𓆩♡𓆪 and if you don’t call him to pick you up, he’s either having an heart attack, because he’s scared that something might happen to you or is sulking

𓆩♡𓆪 but at the same time, no matter how much he enjoys looking out for you 

𓆩♡𓆪 he is so grateful that you take care of him as well

𓆩♡𓆪 because he has a habit of overworking himself and before you, he had no one there for him (except for the boys, of course) 

𓆩♡𓆪 but you are literally everything he could have ever asked for, and more 

𓆩♡𓆪 loves taking candid photos of you and using them as his wallpaper 

𓆩♡𓆪 especially when he’s on tour, because he misses you so much 

𓆩♡𓆪 you definitely have at least one small matching item 

𓆩♡𓆪 because it reminds you of each other when you’re apart 

𓆩♡𓆪 loves when you share your interests and hobbies with you

𓆩♡𓆪 whenever he has free time, he likes to incorporate both his and your’s passions into date nights 

𓆩♡𓆪 you’re each other's safe places

your messages <3

[nyxtickled]

Fucking hell, Nyx. I have down-shifted my presence on here significantly lately (only tangentially relevant tl;dr: it turns out that the added mental bandwidth from my ADHD meds is not the only thing I need in order to be a good member of a kink community, and I am still working on the rest) so it took me a minute to get caught up, but I have now.

I am really fucking sorry that Socal put you through all of this extremely unhinged, unnecessary, sociopathic shit; I am really fucking glad you had the receipts ready to unload; and I am really really fucking amazed at your fortitude, both in carrying it mostly in silence as long as you did, and in opening up about all of it. I obviously also wish you hadn't had to do either of those things, but that's not news. I reiterate: fucking hell. 😞

(Incidentally: he was the pissant, penny-ante troglodyte shitheel, wasn't he? Your answers to other asks implied you knew who the main anon hater was, and that you'd taken some distance from them. It deserves mentioning that that was the same fucking guy. If someone wrote a character that toxic on an HBO show, people would say it was unrealistic. Fucking hell. 🤮)

I've always felt two ways about sharing community hygiene posts because my blog is tiny and I legitimately can't see that it matters (though I do it anyway) but I also saw the one that said "reblog that shit no matter the size of your blog" so I guess I'm done feeling two ways about it. Do you mind if I add a couple of my own thoughts when I do? They feel really inconsequential, because I have not dealt with anything even remotely like this, but I think I saw a reply saying you appreciated other people's perspectives, so I dunno.

Either way. I am glad you're here and that you continue to be here despite All Of The God-Damned Fucking Bullshit. The community is better for it. I am very evidently not the only one who feels that way, either. Go hug your wife and cuddle your dog and gather some spoons. 🖤

hey there, my dear beloved Thing 💖 it’s so great to hear from you! and i appreciate your empathy and support, very very much.

(incidentally: your suspicion is absolutely indeed on par with mine. the first time i ever received anon hate was during the screenshot fallout i shared when my dog got sick, as i was ignoring his calls and receiving walls of toxic texts from him. the second time was during the additional screenshot fallout i shared when the AUNT convo went down. the next time was after i got married, when i wasn’t speaking to him anymore. and, ever since i ended the connection entirely, ive been getting sporadic anon hate from the same person who just keeps trolling about me “cheating” since im married now etc. lmao, it’s just, the timing??? is way too fucking suspicious and it makes me laugh every single time i think abt it)

i am always open to anyone sharing their thoughts and perspectives! you’re more than welcome to add anything you want to a rb.

thank you for being here. the overwhelming response has been so validating and healing bc i legit only wanted to look out for others, and i’m so grateful that it was received in the way i intended. 💜

[baneonono]

watch house for the first time with me

we’ve made it through season 2 and through the first five episodes of season 3 and there was lots to scream about. I have a sneaking suspicion that I am going to hate the whole house gets arrested plot. like I’m gonna furious typing out whole essays type mad but we’ll see.

21

GUYS I WANT HOUSE TO WEAR THE SUIT. I UNDERSTAND THAT HE DOESNT THINK IT MATTERS BUT IM LOSING MY MIND. I KNOW EVERYTHINGS GOING TO BE OKAY BUT IM STRESSED AND CAN HOUSE JUST WEAR A SUIT

Can everyone just be fixed please I don’t want to deal with this anymore

22

If that baby died, I’m crying

Are we starting Wilson Cuddy stuff because boring

Chase working at the nicu😭😭😭😭

HE CHOSE NICU😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Chase working with kids😭😭😭😭😭😭

Honestly house is real for wanting foreman to fight with him. Like it’s just his way of wanting original thoughts and that is relatable

Wilson checking cuddy for cancer-

NO THE BABY DIED

Chase my baby boy I adore you it’s okay

Cuddy wanted Wilson to be the father of her child😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 I’m gonna break down if we get a scene of Wilson hearing this

23

House being a piano player is actually one of my favorite things about him

Dude I trust House but like I wouldn’t trust him that much @ cuddy

IS WILSON JEALOUS THAT HOUSE HAS ANOTHER FRIEND

I would do so much for James Wilson. I don’t think yall understand. I love him dearly

The entire diagnosis department pacing is so funny

24

SOMEONE SHOT HOUSE. BABE THAT IS MY EMOTIONAL SUPPORT JERK

“I wanted to see you suffer” girl he suffers every day you just had to come into the hospital and watch

“She killed herself” still not House’s fault bro

Wilson doing houses physical therapy is hilarious

I need house back 

This episode is weird

What in the world did I just watch

Season threeeeeeee

1

Okay I am so grateful we got the scene of Cuddy and Wilson trying to come up with cases to give house. Like😭😭😭😭😭 I love them

Chases haircut😭 he looks amazing

House lost his leg pain and got 10x the whimsy

“I’m not going away” please never go away Wilson 

Wilson. House was right. What do you mean you can’t tell him. 

2

Wilson maybe you should tell house that he was right. Listen to Cuddy. Wilson I adore you why are you doing this to me. 

Chase winking at the parents🥰

Whaaaattttt lying to house has consequences. Telling him that he’s bad at his job affects him. That’s so craaaazzzzy

Oh Wilson comparing house to Icarus, you’re so iconic. I love my toxic old men yaoi with Greek mythology references. That’s actually the only way I’ll tolerate it

3

Everyone is going through so many radical position shifts this episode. Guys can we have some consistency (@ cameron)

People just go running to Wilson when they want house to do something huh. 

I love when house operates on patients. Just love him entirely in his element

Awww house is proud of Cameron for killing a dude, it’s always nice to hear from our dad that he’s proud of us

4

House you do not need your carpet back. Why are you like this. Iconic but why

I need this girl to leave. House isn’t that attractive

I’m glad Cuddy is standing her ground on this one

Love how Wilson walked in on them in his office and just was like “weird typo”

Can Cameron stop psychoanalysing house 

Need this girl to stop 

Foreman you pawning that off in Wilson was not slick

HOUSE BEING GOOD WITH KIDS I LOVE TO SEE IT(also just taking drugs)

Wilson don’t let house out of your sight while he’s drugged, he’s got a girl really into him and I don’t think we should let him alone

House😭😭😭😭😭 please stop throwing away Wilson’s gifts

Cameron did not need to sit next to house

WILSON JUST WALKING OUT OF HIS OFFICE 

Thinking about the triplets going all over the hospital looking for house this episode

😭😭😭😭😭😭house got a gift😭😭😭😭😭😭oh my little neurodivergent bonding

5

This husband being so ride or die. I love to see it. Yes sir saw an opportunity to step in and took it. 

Oh she’s sick, okay well, we’ll get to see more of him?

House leaving to go break up Wilson flirting with a girl. Bro just say you’re jealous and go

THE LOOK ON CHASES FACE AT FOREMAN WHEN CAMERON SAID SHES HITTING THAT  WAS SO FUNNY. BABY BOY WHAT WAS THAT

“Great I haven’t committed a felony yet today” -Chase

Guys the pill only stops pregnancy, not STDs, maybe they wear conforms to prevent STDs

Why does Wilson just do things for house. I mean beyond being in love with him. 

I hate this apologzie to the patient thing today. I don’t care about this stupid jerk. I prefer my smart jerks

Really was not expecting an incest plot from this show but I should’ve. 

House getting arrested is insane

[xocasper]

it’s beautiful how dynamic life can be.

when the internet found me, i was sick. i wasn’t dying, it wasn’t terminal, but i was undoubtedly decaying with every passing day. i spent weeks in bed, sleeping and starving, and some nights i’d mindlessly wander through dark parts of town. and i can tell you with 100% certainty that none of that is as poetic as it sounds.

when i left tumblr, i was nearly dead. genuinely. i would not like to trigger anyone, so i am warning you now that the next paragraph will cover a severe eating disorder.

i will keep it as simple as saying that i had a bmi of 13. i couldn’t leave my room. i was on a mood stabilizer that decreased my appetite. my body physically rejected and regurgitated everything i ate. my stomach was swollen to the size of pregnant person. i looked like i was a good seven months along. my body was holding onto every nutrient it could find. i lived with my parents at the time, and they body shamed me and constantly commented on the size of my stomach. my dad stood in my bedroom and watched as i chugged an entire bottle of magnesium citrate because he believed it was constipation, not starvation. no one wanted to help me in the ways i needed. to this day, i have no idea how my body survived that much trauma.

that was a year ago.

in a single year, i gained twenty pounds. i fell in love. i discovered that i am not aromantic, but simply cannot harbor romantic feelings towards men. i faced years of internalized homophobia due to religion with that realization. i had my first true heartbreak. many of them, over and over with the same person. the relationship was so toxic towards the end that they caused me to get re-diagnosed with type 1 bipolar. and no, i am not passing blame. i faced harassment and lies and stalking from them and their friends. it sent me into a manic episode so severe that i flew thousands of miles away because i believed that if i stayed, i would end my life—hence the re-diagnosis.

this is not all a trauma dump though.

life IS dynamic.

i finally think i’m beautiful. i’m learning to love my body. i’m accepting of weight gain. i’ve decided to enroll in college and will be leaving an incredibly toxic environment to stay on campus. i got a better position at work. i have wonderful friends. i stopped drinking excessively. i saw one of my favorite music groups live. i went on vacation for the first time in years. i left a debilitating relationship the day before my birthday. i must’ve cried too much the day i broke up with them because for the first time in years, i didn’t cry on my birthday. i got a surgery that changed my life in a million ways.

i’ve felt things i didn’t know were possible. i’ve cried until my eyes were swollen shut the next morning. i’ve had pregnancy scares. i’ve had ER visits. i’ve earned money and i’ve burned it. i’m in love with a girl.

i’ve learned that life is not fixed. change is possible. love is possible. the internet is not lying when they say that the sickness won’t last forever. the pain is temporary. this is not the end of the road.

i have more notifications than i can count. i have more followers than i ever imagined. but this isn’t about the numbers—it’s real, tangible proof that people will love you when you’re gone. you will not be forgotten, so do not leave. it’s worth it to stay. it’s okay to take a break, it’s okay to hit the bottom of the well, and it’s okay to stay there for a while before you have the strength to pull yourself back up.

i’m incredibly grateful for everyone who read my work. whether you clicked on one or devoured my masterlist, thank you. you appreciated the only thing i loved about myself. i’m proud to say that there are so many things i love about myself now, past my writing and creativity.

you are all beautiful, kind people. it’s not always easy to see that, but existence is the most beautiful thing in the world. every day, you exist, and that in itself is a remarkable thing.

so thank you, for everything. i hope to hear from you soon.

xo,

casper

[youkeepmecloseby]

HAPPY ONE YEAR TO THE OUTSIDERS MUSICAL!!

This story literally saved my life and i’m so grateful to have discovered it when i did

I got into the Musical first out of all of them back in June (unfortunately we don’t study the book here in england and i had never heard of the movie)

and not that anyone is here for my life story but last summer (july) i had a knee surgery and it was the second most miserable time of my life. I was stuck to my sofa all summer, i only had two friends at the time and they were so busy all summer i saw each of them once.

I was listening to my theatre playlist with suggestions and Throwing In The Towel came on and made me cry so i had to get into it.

and i have also been such a big fan of Kevin Csolak and saw he was in it so started looking into it and i remember being so happy seeing him in the background of Jason and Daryl’s chilling in the dressing room.

i could go on forever about my love for ksco (please ask me to) but i also owe a lot of gratitude to him for me being in love with the show

My first big memory with the show is RJ’s instagram takeover with the whole hunger games fiasco. I was in London literally 5 days before my surgery and had just watched moulin rouge and my mum stayed up with me to watch soc saturday.

I also got into Grease; Rise of the pink ladies (may that show rest in peace) which i watched in one sitting and then had on repeat.

December was such a weird month for me and my family as my grandad died on the first and my sister works away and wasn’t allowed home and that (kinda) ruined our christmas so my parents bought me tickets to the Outsiders. I really thought i was never going to see the show that saved me in so many ways and i did (with the obc too). Unfortunately for my whole trip to NYC i was so incredibly ill and we still don’t know what it was (i am still suffering) and was suffering with such sickness that i really don’t remember anything after throwing in the towel but it was still amazing and i met them all at stage door after (i did write emma a letter but left it in my hotel)

I really love this show and so upset with how toxic the fandom has become because it was so loving and supportive before.

sorry for the trauma dump but this show truly is magical and the story saves so many lives.

(i love hearing everyone else’s stories of getting into the show)

I LOVE YOU ALL