#SHE FINALLY GETS HER LUCKY CHICKEN

[thecherrypittttttt]

PEACHY; dr jack abbot x dr!reader

words: 8,800+

content warnings: a lil bit smutty, bit of an age gap, pining, the whole ED gang, fluffy <3

summary: the 4 times they didn’t get caught and the 1 time they did

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

In hindsight, the first time they were almost caught, was probably the closest call.

They were at a lake resort, about an hour or so outside of Pittsburgh, for the annual Emergency Department resident program retreat. The air was muggy - thick with humidity and loud with the mundane buzzing of mosquitoes.

Every year, after the chief residents graduate, the attendings take the whole program on a weekend retreat somewhere. Usually it is some random bed and breakfast that barely has a pool. Not that anyone cares. Everyone is happy for a weekend of relaxation and the chance to actually see the sun for 48 hours.

The hospital funds an abysmally small portion of the retreat since it is technically the time when everyone gives their feedback on the residency program. Graduating residents and attending physicians partake in evaluations on both the program and each other. The attendings rotate every year who pays for the rest of it. This year, it was Dr Abbot's turn.

Dr Abbot had spared no expense. They were at one of the nicest resorts in Pennsylvania. It had everything. Horse riding, axe throwing, two golf courses, bowling, cooking classes, a holistic healing spa, and what the residents had all decided was the one thing more tiring than the ED - the Team Building Adventure Package they were all signed up for.

The attendings spent the weekend doing who knows what while the residents conquered a high ropes challenge course, zip lining, and a climbing wall.

Yes, Dr Abbot had spared no expense but he had spared no free time either.

She was excited for this trip. For the sunshine, sure. But the chance to finally, maybe, get Dr Abbot to crack. She saw the way he tried to pretend not to look at her in the ED. She noticed the hoops he would jump through to have her on a case with him. The excuses he made up to text her - citing some random medical journal that yes, she was interested in. But she was far more interested in him.

If only he wasn't such a damn good guy. She knew he would never touch his resident no matter how much he liked her. They have had too many late night and early morning conversations up on the roof or at the diner next to the hospital or that bench in the park across the street where he had had his chance. So many times. She knew he was waiting for her to give the green light. For her to make the first move.

One night he started calling the bench in the park 'their bench'. She almost kissed him that night. But she chickened out. Now that residency was over and she would be starting as an attending at The Pitt shortly, she was feeling a newfound sense of confidence. So she bought a new string bikini for the retreat. If only she had had a chance to wear it. Or even see him.

Jack smiles to himself as he dips into the lake. He feels kind of bad. Making the residents work like this on the retreat. But he knew he couldn't see her in a bikini so he packed their schedules with the random team building program the resort had offered.

He already felt disrespectful enough with the thoughts he had about her when she was in hospital issued scrubs. If he saw her in a bikini, he would not make it through this weekend without cracking. Her half naked and technically no longer being his resident was a very dangerous combination and he was thanking his lucky stars that he had made it through the full 48 hours barely even seeing her. He missed her, of course. But she was better off without him. Practically 15 years his junior and Jack was almost certain she didn't see him as anything other than a good boss or a mentor.

Some nights he let himself think otherwise. Usually, when they'd go sit and chat on their bench and something in her eyes was practically begging him to kiss her. Jack would just chalk it up to him projecting onto her. Because gosh, he wanted to kiss her so bad. But he respected her too much to put her in a potentially uncomfortable situation.

Yes, they were close. Yes, they got along. Yes, they laughed together. Yes, they cried together and then comforted each other. But he did not want to be that male attending that took his resident simply being kind to him as romantic interest.

He lets himself actually think about her for the first time since they saw each other at check in. He can't help but huff a laugh to himself at the fact that she is probably pissed off at him for making them do so much physical activity over the weekend. He is definitely going to be hearing about it tomorrow on their shift. He can't wait to see her.

A creak on the dock shakes him out of his thoughts.

He must be dreaming. He did everything possible to avoid her this weekend. Specifically, her in a bikini. And here she was, practically glowing in the moonlight, wearing the tiniest purple string bikini and a knit coverup dress that wasn't doing much covering up. Jack is happy it is dark out because he is pretty sure that his face is tomato red.

She doesn't say anything. Just stops at the end of the dock, staring at him with her hand on her hip.

"What are you doing here?" is all he manages to choke out.

"Well, I bought this new bikini and haven't had a chance to use it because you've had us running around like a drill sergeant all weekend. Figured it would be a shame to waste it."

Jack is trying not to check her out but he knows he is doing a poor job when all he can respond with is, "Yeah, definitely"

She doesn't seem to notice. Just plops herself down onto the dock, her feet hanging in the water.

"Plus, I believe that I'm owed an evaluation with my attending."

Technically, a resident can do their evaluation of their primary attending with said primary attending. Since that is entirely counterintuitive to honest feedback, they give the residents the option to do it anonymously online or meet with another attending that is not their primary. No one ever does it with their primary attending no matter how good a relationship they have with them.

Jack knew she had already had her evaluation of him earlier today. She did it with Robby. He knew because he went against everything good and honest in him and read her file. He was dying to know what she said about him. And unsurprisingly, it was all good things. All professional things. Too professional for his liking.

Jack is typically a chatter box but the moon shining on her face is making her look more like a princess than normal and he feels breathless. He's happy to get out the couple words he is able, "You're brave."

They just stare at each other for a moment. It feels like a standoff. Who is actually going to acknowledge that they're both half naked and alone for the first time in well...ever?

"And you're stalling. C'mon, you get to give me feedback all day everyday. It's my turn, Dr Abbot."

She flips her hair and tugs her coverup up and over her head - sets it down onto the dock next to his prosthetic. Jack sucks in a breath and doesn't even try to hide the fact that he is checking her out. She's doing the same to his bare chest and biceps. Jack barely notices because he is too busy wondering where the hell she managed to get a bikini that small.

The little smirk on her lips is what confirms for Jack that she knows exactly what she is doing. Two can play at this game, he thinks. He skips the boring questions about patient care and gets right to the questions he knows she is hoping he asks.

"How do you feel your attending's behavior impacts your learning experience as a resident?"

"The praise is encouraging. But the staring, the intense eye contact-" she pauses and Jack would laugh at the irony of it all, her eyes boring into his as she says this, if he wasn't holding his breath in anticipation, "-is distracting. But still encouraging."

Jack is silent for a moment then gives himself a quick mental pep talk. If he can be brave enough to be in combat, he can handle flirting with his colleague, "Well, if my staring is such a problem, why does it sound like you like it?."

"You wish." She kicks her leg as she giggles, splashing him. Her giggles stop quickly, the second Jack's strong hands wrap around her lifted ankle. He feels a sense of pride at her gasp and lets himself think that maybe, just maybe, he makes her feel the same way she makes him feel.

If only he could hear her heart pounding in her chest. He takes her foot in his hands gently, massages the arch of it as he asks the next question, "How stimulating do you find your attending's teaching style?

Jack can't hide the smirk that takes over his face as he realizes that she is struggling to answer - because of his fingers, "Do you need me to repeat the question?"

She rolls her eyes. In the way she does so often, but this time it is a little different - forced. As she answers, she is hoping he hasn't noticed that her faux annoyance is actually just a front for how turned on she is over such little touch.

"Stimulating? Mentally, very. Physically, there’s a lot to be…desired."

He drops her foot in surprise at her direct answer and for the first time tonight allows himself to believe the fact that this might actually be happening. She takes his brief shock as her chance to dip into the lake. It's pretty shallow. The water line is high enough to lap at her neck , but short enough to where they both could either stand or tread water. He swims a stroke towards her, they are almost nose to nose but they do not dare touch. Jack breaks the silence, but not her gaze.

"To what extent do you feel your attending demonstrates ethical behavior?"

The question she has been waiting for. She doesn't miss a beat in her response, "To an annoying one."

Jack's eyebrows raise in surprise, "That's a first."

Somehow, they both manage to get a small laugh out. Jack is first and foremost a combat medic. There are numerous colleagues of his that would argue his use of, what they would consider risky procedures, isn't necessarily the most ethical thing of all time.

"Can you expand on what is so...annoying?"

"You're always looking but...you're never touching."

"Well, some would say that touching your resident would be unethical."

"Some would say that you’re teasing."

"Oh, really? Who? Did you raise your concern with Robby? What did he have to say?"

They both feel the air shift. It's the fun of their dynamic. He lets her have her fun. Lets her have control. Lets her take the lead. Lets her be her. Because they both know at the end of the day, the only other person she is ever going to follow the lead of, feel safe enough to be vulnerable around, is him. And he is damn honored.

"You know I didn't." He wants to kiss the pout off of her face - it's so cute.

"You know, he didn't mention you going to his evaluation in the tiniest bikini on planet earth so I am going to assume -" Jack traces the bikini strings on her hips then snaps them against her skin as she gasps at him finally touching her. "-that this is all for me."

Now she is the one left speechless. She recovers flawlessly, "Also, meant to put that in your evaluation. Too cocky."

"Why didn't you ask Robby?"

"Jack-"

"When I ask my residents questions, I expect an answer. You know that." Jack's hands move up, rubbing at the sides of her waist. He feels how fast her heart is beating now. The pace matches his own, making his breath hitch. The confirmation that she is feeling as keyed up as he is gives him the confidence to brush his fingers, just under her breast, but careful not to touch it.

"Because I don't want Robby to touch me." His hands drift to the back of her thighs, lifting her legs around his waist. She feels him hard against her and tries not to drop her head back in the satisfaction of finally feeling him. She reaches her hands around his neck, rests them where his curls are. The curls she's imagined running her hands through what feels like a million times. Jack's hands rub up and down the back of her thighs as he holds her up. His fingers are dangerously close to her ass, but again, he's careful not to touch. Not until she says so.

"Who do you want to touch you then?"

She rolls her eyes again. This one is different too. But it's not forced like the first one. It's frustrated - sexually frustrated. "You know who."

"Whitaker? Shen? Langd-"

She mumbles "You're so annoying" before she is going to kiss him. He doesn't know where this sudden will power is coming from, but he stops her, one hand holding her up and the other on the back of her neck - keeping her in place.

"What'd I say about when I ask questions, hm?" Jack can't stop staring at her lips. Her full, perfectly pink lips that are so, so close to his own. They haven't even kissed yet and he's so far gone. They both are. He feels himself harden more than he thought was possible as she practically pants for his kiss.

Jack can't take it anymore, his thumb reaches under her bikini top, grazes across her nipple. He'd rather bite it but he'll save that for later. He can't wait to find out what pretty noises she'll make then if these are the ones she is making now.

"Oh my god! You, Jack! I want you to touch me! Happy!?"

"Unethically so"

And in one swift movement, Jack pulls her lips to his, swiping into her mouth almost immediately. She whimpers at the feeling of his tongue against hers. Jack draws back just a little bit, to snag her full bottom lip with his teeth. He's pressing a searing kiss to her lips again as his hands reach for the strings around her back and then her neck, tugging them loose. His other hand that is kneading her ass grabs the strings on her bottoms, pulls those loose as well. He grabs the scraps of fabric and tosses them onto the dock.

He drinks her in and if he thought the moonlight made her look perfect earlier, he doesn't even have an adjective for right now.

He always assumed there would be a sun in heaven but now he is sure that there is a moon. She tugs at his curls as she presses another hungry kiss to his lips, her hands dragging down his body and slowly scratching his biceps. Yes, definitely a moon.

Jack dips his head, takes one of her breasts into his mouth. Licking and nipping at one with his mouth. Kneading the other with his hand.

He comes up for air and a bit of teasing, "This unethical enough for you?"

She smiles at him in a dazed way that makes his heart stop. "Almost" she whispers in his ear, letting her lips run down his neck - lightly kissing, sucking at the sensitive spots, and then trailing her tongue over them.

She runs her finger under the waistband of his swim trunks. He moans at the feeling of her finally touching him. He feels her smirk into his neck as he takes off his trunks, throwing them on top of her swimsuit on the dock.

Her mouth is on his again. Hot and desperate. Jack can't help but think he is the luckiest man on the planet now that he knows that she is just as needy for him as he is for her. She grinds her center down onto his hard length, and they both let out a groan. Yes, definitely the luckiest man on the planet.

"You know how long I have been waiting for you to kiss me?"

Jack is panting, he whispers back, practically speaking the words right onto her lips. "Didn't want you to feel weird. You deal with enough at work - you didn't need your old attending hitting on you."

"I knew it." That makes Jack pause.

"What?"

"You weren't making a move because you were my attending. I gave you so many damn chances and you would just stare at me. That bikini was my last resort."

"That bikini - is going to give me a heart attack. And I know this is ironic because we are skinny dipping and making out like teenagers who are past curfew but I have way too much respect for you to assume you loved me back without explicit verbal consent."

Jack doesn't even realize it slipped out until he sees the expressions move over her face. First surprise, then just pure joy, "Love?" she teases, her eyebrows raising and her hands clasped at the back of his neck.

Jack just grins, his thumb brushing her cheek as he kisses her again and whispers softly against her lips, "Yeah, I love you."

She tosses her head back and laughs. His favorite sound. Even though they are completely naked right now - it's her laugh that is making him blush the hardest. "God, I love you. I'm gonna leave the world's most positive review for that bikini because I have been trying to get you to admit that for years and if I knew that was all it would take - I would have done this a long time ago."

"Yeah?" Jack can't believe his ears. But she is nodding her head, mumbling to him that he is an idiot, and kissing him again because she can't get enough. Neither of them can. They have about four years to make up for. They could kiss forever. But a door slamming against the wood of one of the cabins breaks them apart.

"Oh my fucking god" she whispers. She would recognize that blonde head of hair anywhere. And under any other circumstances, she would be more than happy to see it.

Jack grabs their swimsuits off of the deck and into his hands, under the water and hidden from view. She flies under the dock. The space is small, but large enough for her to not have to go under water. She's hidden and doesn't have to hold her breath - that is all she cares about. She clamps a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.

"I thought I told you that smoking was bad for you."Jack huffs. Dana laughs. There is a flicker of a lighter but it goes out just as fast as it was lit. It's broken. Dana sighs.

"Well, I need to go find a lighter that actually works but since I'm here - you feeling okay?" There's a lilt to Dana's tone. A teasing one.

Jack's brow furrows, "Why would I not be?"

"I don't know - I just transcribed all the attending reviews of the residents and I don't think I have ever read a more glowing review from you. I mean that thing could practically pass as a love letter.”

"She's a great doctor."

Dana cackles, "I didn't even say who it was."

Jack just laughs and for the millionth time that night he is thankful it is dark out because his cheeks are burning. "Okay, you caught me."

"But she is a great doctor. A great person too. Funny, kind, pretty, smart." a pause and then, "No longer your resident" another pause, "...single."

"Dana - what happened to you going to find a lighter that works?" That cracks a laugh from both of them.

"Fine, I'll leave you be - but you deserve to be happy too, Jack. So does she. I think you both do that for each other. Just keep that in mind."

"Goodnight, therapist Dana" Jack sing songs.

"Goodnight!" She yells back from her trek to the cabins. They wait for the click off the door before they are in the clear.

"Don't say a word" is flying out of Jack's mouth at the same time she teases, barely getting the words out between her giggles. "What a wing woman Dana is. Gosh, I just love her."

"Wing woman? Sounds like you have a crush."

Her eyebrows fly up her forehead in faux surprise as she points behind her to where Dana once was moments ago, "Oh, really? Because you’re writing love letters about me to our employer and everything. It sounds like you're obsessed with me!”

Jack mumbles a coy 'Something along those lines' and playfully tosses her bikini at her "Get dressed - lets go."

Jack is pulling his trunks on and jumping out of the lake and onto the dock. He tugs his prosthetic on and reaches out a hand to her. She just stares at him - blank and confused. They were finally there and now he wants to leave just because Dana had to smoke a cigarette.

He silences any doubt in her brain, "I'm not fucking you for the first time in a lake. You deserve a bed and not a UTI."

That tugs a laugh and a smile out of her. She ties on her bottoms and the bottom half of her top before she takes Jack's hand and climbs up onto the deck.

"Who knew what a gentleman you are." She turns her back to him, signalling for him to finish tying her bikini.

His whisper on the back of her neck makes her legs wobble in anticipation, "and I can't properly feel how wet you are for me if we're in the water."

"There he is."

They are a tangle of limbs and kisses and giggles as they slowly but surely make their way back to Jack's cabin. It is truly a miracle they don't get caught.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

The second time they'd almost been caught was practically a year from the first. It'd been a year since the lake. A year of finally loving each other. A year of somehow, someway - not being caught at work - despite Jack being absolutely, positively awful at keeping them a secret.

They were head over heels in love and he was a shameless flirt. The only thing saving them was that he was a bad flirt so nobody had really noticed yet. Or so they'd hoped.

She had moved into Jack's house two months ago. If he had it his way, she would have moved in about six months ago. She was always there anyway. That is what he would say.

They had spent all morning hiding her stuff - making it look like she had never even stepped foot in the place. She was even practicing her reaction to 'seeing his house for the first time'. Jack couldn't stop smiling at her. He was just happy she was finally referring to everything in the house as 'theirs' and not 'his' - even if he was being bossed around. He liked it. He loved her. More than anything.

Every year, one of the attendings hosts a welcome barbeque for the new interns and med students that join the program in July. The whole program comes, at least the ones who aren't working, from the newest third year med student to the most seasoned attending.

Usually, if there is a new attending, they are supposed to host after their first year on the job. Jack made up some random excuse as to why he wanted to host. Everyone looked at him like he had three heads when he had volunteered but he knew that she couldn't exactly send out an invitation with the same address as him and not blow their cover.

They had spent all afternoon on absolute opposite ends of their backyard. Jack posted up with Robby at the grill. She was lounging on the pool chairs with Dana, Collins, and Mel.

She was killing him. She wasn't in that purple bikini. This was a work function after all. But she could wear a paper bag and Jack would be sweating so the high cut swimsuit she was in now wasn't helping his case. The only thing getting him through the afternoon was knowing how she would be once everyone was gone.

She likes to tease that he is the needy one. And normally, she is right. But if there's a couple hours where they are on separate shifts or apart for whatever reason, having to pretend like they are not practically engaged, she is on him like glue the moment they're together again. And she doesn't leave him be. Jack relishes in it.

Like he is right now. They're putting the house back together. Getting all her stuff out and back in its rightful place. When they set up this morning, they had basically split the house in half and tackled it that way. Now she trailed behind him like a cute puppy, holding onto his bicep and nuzzling herself into his side. "Can we please do this tomorrow? I just wanna lay with you. I'm tired."

Jack is so giddy, he practically giggles. He slowly lowers himself onto their plush patio furniture. Tugs her down on top of him. Her legs on either side of his waist and her arms finding their usual place around his neck - her hands in his hair. He cups her face, presses a long kiss to her lips and then speaks against them, "From what? Laying by the pool and teasing me all day?"

"From pretending that this isn't our house."

Jack grins at the emphasis, and then they're both in a fit of laughter thinking about the hilarity of the day. Of their situation. Of how they silently communicate that they don't think they can keep sneaking around for much longer. They don't really want to. They know this is it. That they are it for each other. So everyone is going to find out eventually anyways.

He imitates her, "Dr Abbot, where is the garbage can? Dr Abbot, where is the bathroom? Dr Abbot, where is the-"

She covers his mouth with his palm and feigns annoyance as she rolls her eyes. "I'm not going to ask where the bedroom is if you don't shut up."

"Don't need the bedroom. Got you right where I want you, baby." He's slipping off that damn cover up that is really never doing its job anyways and laying her down on the daybed.

He's kissing down her body, slowly. Doing his favorite thing - worshipping her. Her hands pull at his curls and he lifts his lips from her body only to murmur against her hip, "Been dying to taste you all fucking day."

He's pulled her bottoms not even halfway down her thighs when they hear the lock on their fence rattle. She is up and running into the house faster than Jack can even blink. He can't help but double over in laughter - he has never seen her move that fast in their lives - not even for a code.

Robby's voice shuts Jack right up, "Why are you laughing to yourself?"

"Why are you breaking into my backyard?"

"I forgot my sunglasses." Robby walks over to where Jack stands by the daybed. He picks up a pair of sunglasses off of the side table.

Abbot nods to them, "Those look like Heather's sunglasses."

Robby doesn't miss a beat, "And that-" he juts his chin towards the coverup that was left abandoned on the daybed, "-looks like something that belongs to another doctor we know."

Jack feels his face heat up, "She must have left it here."

"I was talking about Shen." Robby jokes, cracking one of those smiles that reaches his eyes. A knowing smile.

Jack just has to laugh. It is Robby after all, "I'll bring it to her next shift."

"Oh, I'm sure you will, brother. I'm sure you will. Along with a coffee and probably an engagement ring if it was up to you."

If only he knew, Jack thought.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

After that day at the barbeque, Jack and her fess up to Robby and Collins. They were both their respective best friends. It was getting too hard and they really didn't see a reason for it anymore.

Robby and Collins were about as surprised as Jack and her were when they found out about them giving it another go - so not surprised at all.

It was Tuesday night the third time they almost got caught. A Tuesday night meant Robby and Jack had a basketball game for the ED's rec team and Collins and her would go to yoga and for a walk. Probably stopping at some kind of wine bar along the way that Jack and Robby would eventually meet them at.

Tonight was different though. Collins and her took their walk straight to the park district that the hospital league played at because tonight was the championship game and the whole department was going to support.

“Oh look who decided to grace us with their presence.” Robby teases the second they walk into the gym.

The boys on the team are warming up - Robby, Whitaker, Langdon, Shen, and Jack. She feels Jack's eyes looking her up and down - she didn't wear the matching workout set for no reason. The biker shorts were short and tight. The sports bra was low cut and tighter. She had a sweatshirt on over it though - gives him something to take off later.

Jack just smirks and tosses her the basketball. She catches it with ease and effortlessly sinks a shot. She hears Dana and some of the rest of their work friends cheer from their spot in the stands.

“Ooo look! She’s got better game than you, Dr Abbot” Robby nudges his shoulder.

She rebounds her own ball and shoves it back into Jack’s chest as she responds. He’s smiling down at her. He wants to kiss her so bad, "Someone has got to show you fools how it’s done.”

Her and Collins cross the gym and take the steps up into the stands to meet the rest of the department.

"Don't turn around, it'll make it obvious, but Dr Abbot is staring at your ass." Victoria whispers it to her like it’s the most scandalous thing in the world.

Victoria is being so sweet, trying to be helpful - she doesn't want to laugh at Victoria but Dana's response makes her and Collins crack up. They can't help it.

“Wouldn’t be the first time, kid!”

Oh and Dana knows now too. Dana is like a second mom to her. She couldn't not thank Dana for wing womaning for her that night out on the lake. Even if Dana was a little floored at finding out what she had actually interrupted that night.

"Dana!" She tries to pretend to be shocked. But their facade is fading quickly and neither of them particularly care too much. The only thing they care about now is the bet they have going on who is going to be the one to accidentally get them caught.

"Cheers!" Dana starts as she hands over a solo cup full of wine that she had packed in the cooler next to her. "to Coach Abbot." Dana finishes.

Now she is the one staring. Jack pulls off his sweatshirt, exposing his biceps in the tank style jersey they've all got on. She huffs a laugh at the fact that every other department has a color jersey and the ED's is camo patterned because Jack paid extra to get it. She can't necessarily claim she is paying attention to the game but she is paying attention to him and how good he looks as he plays.

She also feels a tug of pride in her belly. It may sound stupid, but playing a pick up basketball game was once thought to be impossible for an amputee like Jack. She had gotten him the special running prosthetics for his birthday. She had spent an exorbitant amount of money for him to be able to participate in this rec league. But she would have spent much more because it wasn't about the money. It was about him feeling good, feeling like himself, being able to do all the things he loves to do - no matter what. That was priceless.

The game flies by. So does the wine. At some point Dana suggests that if she had enough wine on her they should drink every time Jack looks up at her when he makes a shot and everytime Langdon airballs a shot.

The team sits on the bench as they prepare for the last quarter. A groan comes from Jack, then a low 'Fuck' and she is doing her best not to seem overly concerned. Suspiciously concerned. He doesn't seem hurt. He's been moving great.

But then she sees it. The broken running prosthetic. He places it in his bag and replaces it with his normal prosthetic. He seems fine but her heart sinks for him. He must feel her or something because he turns around and gives her a small smile and a thumbs up. That makes her feel better. Collins nudges her shoulder, pointing towards Shen who apparently had just called her name twice.

She tears her gaze from Jack now that she knows he is okay, “What?”

“We need a fifth person if Jack can’t play anymore.”

“Okay?” She asks, confused. What does that have to do with her?

“Jack said you played basketball in high school.”

“Not particularly well.” She glares at Jack. He knew she wasn’t great. Sure, she had a bit of a shot on her, but she hadn't actually played a game of basketball in over ten years.

“We don’t need well, we just need able.” Langdon pipes up in a completely non encouraging way that only Langdon can.

“Convincing.” she deadpans.

“Please, we just need someone who knows the rules. Unless anyone else in the department would like to reveal that they are secretly a basketball legend.” Shen looks at the department, sitting in the stands behind their bench.

The department looks at her. She sets down her solo cup and stands up, making her way down the few stairs to the bench, “I want it on record that I’m a glass and a half of wine deep. And Dana is pouring so that probably is more like two and a half."

Everyone claps and cheers and whistles. Then Jack takes off his jersey to hand to her, she takes off her sweatshirt and the whistles get louder.

Her sports bra dips lower onto her cleavage than she was planning on ever letting her coworkers see. She didn’t even know she had the mark on the top of her breast until Langdon yelled from down the bench, “What are you hooking up with a teenager or something? What’s with the hickey?”

She is absolutely beat red and Jack actually does a bit of spit take from his water bottle. Jack and her were adults. They weren’t in the habit of giving each other visible marks, but marking eachother in places noone else can see? That was a different story.

"Oh my god." She has never tugged a piece of clothing on to her body faster. The jersey falls over her like a dress, going past her biker shorts and hitting mid thigh.

She quickly scans Jack’s chest as he pulls a plain back tshirt on, praying to whoever will listen that she didn’t leave a mark anywhere on him last night. She sighs in relief at the fact that the only marks are his permanent ones. The ones she loves tracing - his freckles, his birth marks, some scars. She’s made a habit out of kissing the scars.

She would maybe be a little sheepish about wearing a jersey with a big 'ABBOT' on the back in front of all of their coworkers if Langdon hadn't just made her hickey everyone's business.

"Okay on that note, let's finish this game." She manages to huff a laugh and rounds the bench to sit with the rest of them. Landgon is bent over, tying his shoe. She knocks him over and he mumbles something about probably deserving that. She feels a bit better.

Jack is up and in front of the five of them, explaining some play on his white board as seriously as he explains assignments in the trauma bay. She takes a peak at their teammates, to see if they are also taking this as serious. They are - deadly so.

She can't help but start to giggle as the buzzer goes off and they're making their way to the court. They all look like they've seen a dead body, “Guys, lighten up. We’re playing radiology, not the 90s Bulls.”

She feels a gentle tug on the back of her jersey, pulling her back to the bench where Jack is. She slowly turns around to him, her eyes basically popping out of her head. Telling him what her mouth can't say. Could he be literally any more obvious?

“What can I do for you, captain obvious?”

Jack lets the jersey go immediately, “Sorry - habit."

Her heart warms at that because she gets it. It's hard when they're at work - not to reach out and just touch each other. Not even in a sexual way, just in the way that they feel like extensions of each other and it's weird to not be able to touch when they want.

She's technically still on the court and he is technically at the bench, but he is the closest a coach can get to the sideline without being on the court and she is the closest a player can get to the sideline without being out of bounds.

Close enough to hear him say, "Just wanted it also on the record that I’ve seen you accomplish much more impressive, physically demanding activities than a basketball game while a glass and a half of wine deep. Like when you were hooking up with that teenager last night.”

She can't help but whip back around agape at him, a smile threatening to take over her face, “You’re a dog.”

"And stop looking at me like that."

"What? I’m in trouble for looking at my coach?"

"You're in trouble for looking at me like that with my last name on your back."

She opens her mouth to respond but is interrupted by the referee who she is pretty sure is just a resident from psychiatry, "If the Emergency Department coach is done flirting with their new player, we can get this fourth quarter started."

She hears Collins and Dana cackle in the stands. Jack and her are both flushed for what feels like the millionth time that night and not from the basketball. The whistle blows and then the fourth quarter is well underway.

There is maybe a little more than a minute left in the game and against all odds, they are only down by four. She hasn't done awesome. She hasn't done bad. She's hit a couple mid range shots. Missed some too. But now she was definitely flushed from the basketball - they'd been running up and down the court for eleven minutes straight. And radiology had substitutions.

Robby makes an easy layup and they're back on defense. Radiology is passing the ball around, trying to kill time. She hears Jack tell Langdon to foul his player with the ball. He does, the guy misses both his free throws, and now the ball is back in their possession - for likely the last play of the game.

Robby dribbles the ball up the court. Maybe three seconds left and now they are only down by two. He dishes it out left to her. She's out on the left wing, behind the three point line and closest to the bench. The ball reaches her hands. All she hears is Jack muttering, "Shoot".

So she does. The ball leaves her fingertips and swishes through the net right as the buzzer sounds.

She turns around to look at Jack, her jaw dropped and a little shocked. "You did it! We won!"

And then they're both laughing. And his arms are around her waist, lifting her up and spinning her around before they both remember where they are. And who is watching. He sets her down and Robby claps a hand on her shoulder, "Be careful or we're gonna put you on the team next year."

"Absolutely not." She huffs, sipping her water bottle.

"I'm sorry - were you guys just hugging? We're all not going to ignore that, right?" Shen can't help himself. She knew he wouldn't.

"She did a good job." Jack says nonchalantly. As if they embrace like that all the time.

"I've done a good job all season. Where's my hug?"

"Those are reserved for players our coach has a crush on." Robby teases.

"Michael!" Heather chastises from the stands and that gets everyone going even more.

"Michael? Since when do you call him Michael-" Langdon trails off - figuring out for himself what's going on.

Jack and her just look over at Heather appreciatively. She mouths a silent 'Thank you' to Heather for taking the heat off of them.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

After seeing his last name on her back at the basketball game, and honestly way before then too, Jack could not stop thinking about calling her his wife.

They both knew that was eventually happening. They'd talked about it. They went ring shopping. She gave him a general idea of what she liked and then she left him to his own devices. She still wanted to be surprised. And she was still waiting to be surprised because he hadn't proposed yet. She was almost positive he had bought a ring because he had been acting so skittish the past week or so.

They're working the day shift together the fourth and final time they almost get caught. Robby and Collins went on vacation and they're covering their shifts for the week.

Jack is charting at the nurses station, trying not to stare at her everytime she walks by. It's been irritatingly slow. At least when it's busy they have something to distract themselves from each other.

“So Dr Abbot, who is she?”

They both freeze at Perlah’s statement. Jack stops typing. She was on her way to go round on a patient but quickly pretends she needs to make a pit stop at the nurses station to listen in.

“Excuse me?”

“The girl I saw you ring shopping for the other day.”

So he had bought a ring. She smiles to herself. Even more so when she sees how red Jack is. She winks at him from behind Princess and Perlah's inquisitive stares.

“It’s probably the same girl who decorated his house over the summer.” She pipes up from the back of the station.

Princess and Perlah laugh along with her. They're murmuring something about how they thought his home had a woman's touch to it at the barbeque earlier that summer as they're called away from the nurses station.

They leave Jack alone quicker than they'd leave Robby alone. They know he is not an open book and they'll respect that but that doesn't excuse him from some teasing. Especially if Perlah has got first hand information on him.

Jack stares at her, a smirk twitching, fighting to appear on his lips. She peels out of the station and to the staff lounge. Jack is hot on her heels and the staff lounge is thankfully, very empty.

"I could decorate the house if I wanted to. You just like that stuff." She playfully rolls her eyes and humors him.

"Sure you could, Dr Abbot. Just tell that girl she did a good job, yeah? On the house and the future husband."

"I'm not completely incapable of having taste, you know? I've got a pretty big diamond ring to prove it."

“I heard. Planning on doing anything with that anytime soon?"

He kisses up her neck, slow as his hands rub at her hips. He whispers as he reaches her ear, tugs a bit with his teeth and then, "Planning on doing a lot with it. And you. Exceptionally soon, actually."

Then he's pressing her against the wall next to the door and placing his lips on hers. His hand snaps at the waistband of her scrub pants, then under her top, over her chest and splays across her throat - lightly squeezing it. She whimpers at the sensation, her lips parting a bit further and Jack takes the opportunity to lick further into her mouth. They can never get enough of each other, they don't think they ever will.

This was especially reckless of them, though. They were plenty guilty of sneaking away to the on-call rooms or a supply closet, but the staff lounge during a fully staffed day shift was just further proof they were not keeping this sneaking around stuff up much longer, if at all.

She moans his name, quietly, as she reaches for his waistband. Any other time, when his brain was working, Jack would grab her wrist and tug her to an on-call room. But she's already got his head hazy and he knows they can't go much further in the literal staff lounge but he lets himself relish in her soft hand stroking his hard length.

He tells himself he'll give them just a couple more seconds - tie themselves over until they're off their shift. Or at least can find a supply closet that locks. Their usual spot had been compromised two weeks ago since it no longer had a working lock. He is silently counting down from five in his head. Five seconds and then they'll be done. But god, she has no business being so damn good at this.

He only makes it to three when the door handle jiggles and they are flying off of eachother. He sits in the chair closest to them. He can't go back out there until he is a little less...excited. She has made it practically halfway to the staff pantry when Mateo steps in.

She snags a lollipop from the cabinet and unwraps it. Jack has to physically keep himself from groaning out loud when she winks at him and wraps her lips around it. Way slower than necessary, by the way. She waves hello to Mateo and then looks at Jack, "Hope you find your ring, Dr Abbot."

And then she is out the door, but not before she hears Mateo ask Jack, "You wear a ring?" She laughs to herself.

Oh, he'll have a ring on that finger soon. They both will.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Their luck wasn't going to last forever. They were honestly shocked they had made it almost eighteen months with only Dana, Collins, and Robby knowing. Sure, they got some suspicious glances from Shen or Ellis sometimes, but everyone else seemed none the wiser.

They had had the night shift from hell. Nothing tragic had happened, thank goodness, but it had been absolutely jam packed with cases. She doesn't think either of them had gone to the bathroom or eaten or even had a sip of water for the entire twelve hours.

She knew it wasn't healthy. It wasn't healthy for anyone, but especially for her. She had been diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes as a baby and at this point in her life, she could guess what her blood sugar was without some kind of monitor inserted into her skin 24/7.

Of course, she typically wore one anyways. Especially at work. Like right now. She was dizzy and sitting at the nurses station, head in her hands, waiting for everyone to finally arrive for shift change so she could get the fuck out of there and go home with Jack.

She could feel the shakes coming on and she really did not want to pass out at work. She's kicking herself for not eating the many snacks Jack had been bringing her from the vending machine. Where was he finding the time to go get those? She had no idea. But the incessant flow of cases left every offering unintentionally untouched.

Jack was protective of her. Not in a weird, possessive way. But he loved her, cared for her, wanted her safe. Her passing out at work, or really anywhere, was not safe. He could also intuitively tell her blood sugar, high or low. And if she was having one of those days where she didn't want to take care of her diabetes on top of everything else - he was the one injecting her with insulin or making her a snack.

Her continuous glucose monitor was old, as a resident she could barely afford the one she had and then she just hadn't thought to change it once she got her pay raise as she graduated to an attending. She usually could just tell her sugar levels anyways.

Jack was the one who came home one day with a new one for her. This was like his super bowl. His two favorite activities - taking care of the love of his life and spending a lot of money on new medical gadgets - all at the same time.

This new one could connect to her phone, easily communicate her sugar levels in real time. When she never hooked that up because sometimes she just doesn't want to be constantly reminded of her diabetes, he just connected it to his apple watch.

That is how she knew the ED was busy. Because otherwise Jack would be standing over her, feeding her himself, until her blood pressure was back to a normal level.

It was almost like the thought of Jack summoned him. Jack was second to shift change, behind her. He strokes her hair a couple times and drops a bag of peach rings into her lap - taking advantage of the time alone.

“Sit and eat before you faint, please.” He says gently. He sets a glass of water on the desk in front of her.

“Jack, I’m fin-“

“You’re shaking like a leaf and your blood sugar is-“ he pauses and looks at his watch, “64 and dropping.”

“Why do you know her blood sugar?” Mel asks, as she walks up, genuinely confused.

Both Jack and her are frozen in place, staring at each other.

“And where did you get those peach rings? We don’t have those in our vending machines. Only at the store across the stre-“ McKay trails off as she puts two and two together.

“And why do you get her blood sugar sent to your apple watch?” Langdon chimes in, eyes darting in between the pair of them.

“Wait, is your glucose monitor connected to Abbot’s apple watch?” Whitaker with the questions now.

Jack just looks at her, shrugs, and digs into his wallet as they both laugh. “I knew you’d be the one to get us caught.” She mutters, satisfied with her victory.

He slaps a $100 bill onto her palm. She pockets it and tosses a couple pieces of the candy into her mouth, still chuckling.

“Get you caught?”

Robby, Collins, and Dana are laughing uncontrollably. Because of course this is the way they would get caught.

“If the peanut gallery could quiet down over there - I could let you all know that yes, her glucose monitor is connected to my apple watch because my fiance likes to play Russian roulette with her diabetes and that is not happening on my watch.” Jack's voice is serious but the big grin on his face is giving him away.

“Quite literally, actually.” she adds.

“Fiance?!”

"Yes, now hurry up with this shift change so I can get her home before she becomes a patient."

"I knew that house had a woman's touch!" Perlah yells from across the hall, not letting her patient get in the way of any gossip. Especially something this big.

Eventually, everyone calms down. Her blood sugar slowly rises as she eats. Jack stands next to her chair for the rest of shift change, her head leaning against his leg, his hand softly massaging the nape of her neck and her shoulders as the other hand takes notes for the both of them.

They wrap up shift change, not without a few jokes tossed their way, and then Jack is kneeling down to be eye level with her. "How you feeling?"

"Peachy." She giggles. So does Jack. They're both a little giddy right now. "Take me home?" she asks, intertwining his large fingers with her own.

"Gladly." He smiles as he helps her up and presses a kiss to the back of her hand, both of their backpacks on his back.

They don't escape completely unscathed. They both hear Langdon as they're halfway out the door, "Oh my god, that hickey you had at the basketball game was from Abbot!?"

"Nothing gets by you, Langdon." Jack claps him on the back as they exit.

Once they're outside, Jack presses a kiss into her hair and murmurs "I love you". Right in the middle of the ambulance bay - because he can now.

If he knew getting caught would feel this good he would have slipped a long time ago.

[brookghaib-blog]

The ghost I left behind - II

Pairing: Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x reader

Summary: Y/N and Bob had a life before he disappear, full of love, hope, and a lot of chaos, but they managed each other, she was the only one who truly could make him avoid the void inside his mind. How could he turn his only light into a shadow in his mind ?

Words: 7,03k

Chapter I , III

--

18 months ago

The dinner rush had slowed to a crawl.

It was one of those mid-week slumps where time dragged its feet, and the only people who came in were either regulars who knew the staff by name or wanderers with nowhere better to be. Y/N moved between tables with practiced rhythm, balancing plates and coffee refills like second nature, her back sore and her feet aching in shoes she’d long worn past comfort.

The little bell above the entrance jingled.

A man walked in—mid-fifties, pinched face, suit slightly wrinkled like it had seen better years. He looked around with thinly veiled disgust before huffing and plopping himself into the booth by the window—Table 9. The corner one. The one nobody liked serving because the light always flickered overhead and the booth’s cushion was partially split.

Y/N forced a smile and approached, flipping open her notepad.

“Good evening, sir. Welcome to Cluckin’ Bucket. Can I start you off with something to drink?”

He didn’t look up. Just waved his hand in the air like she was a gnat.

“Coffee. Black. And make sure it’s fresh.”

“Of course,” she said gently, tucking the pen behind her ear.

A few minutes later, she returned with a mug, carefully setting it in front of him.

“I’ll give you a moment with the menu—”

He cut her off without lifting his eyes. “Jesus, you’re slow. Do you people even train here, or just pick up anyone who needs cigarette money?”

She blinked, caught off guard.

“I… I’m sorry?”

He finally looked at her, and his smile wasn’t kind. “You should be. You’re lucky anyone even eats here with the way this place is run. What are you, twenty? You going to be slinging grease until you hit thirty? Classy.”

She stiffened, drawing a steadying breath. Her fingers clenched slightly around her notepad.

“Sir, I’m doing my best. If there’s something wrong with the service, I can ask someone else to take your—”

“Don’t get huffy with me, sweetheart. Just bring me a two-piece meal. And none of that soggy crap you people usually serve. If I find a hair in it again like last time, I swear to God…”

Y/N’s jaw tightened, and something heavy pulled at her chest.

“I’ll put in your order,” she said, voice quiet, calm—but the burn in her throat was rising fast.

As she turned, he muttered just loud enough to hear, “No wonder your kind ends up in jobs like this.”

She froze, mid-step.

No scene. No yelling. Just a single breath, then another. Her hands were shaking now, and she didn’t want to let them see.

“I’m taking five,” she murmured to the shift manager, barely audible as she walked past the kitchen.

She pushed through the back door that led into the alley behind the restaurant, where the dumpster smell mixed with exhaust and the quiet hum of city traffic. The cold air hit her like a slap. She pressed her back to the brick wall, closed her eyes, and finally let out the breath she’d been holding.

The burn in her chest wouldn’t go away.

She hated how easily people like that could unravel you. How fast kindness could be swallowed up by cruelty. She’d been so tired lately. Not just in her body but deep in her bones.

She wiped her eyes quickly. No tears, not here, not for that man. Just five minutes. That’s all she needed.

Then, just as she stepped away from the wall, she heard movement.

Around the corner of the building—behind the employee entrance—was a dim alcove where the employees usually went to smoke or cool off in costume. She walked quietly toward the sound, expecting maybe someone to be hiding out like her.

Then she saw him.

Bobby.

Still half in his chicken suit, the headpiece sitting on the crate beside him. His back was to her, hunched over something in his hands. The foil glinted faintly. A tiny click. The smell hit her first, acrid and chemical and sharp. The pipe. The lighter. The slow drag.

She stopped cold.

He turned his head slightly—just enough to catch her from the corner of his eye.

And froze.

They didn’t speak.

He looked at her like a child caught red-handed—eyes wide, mouth parting with some silent, unspoken apology already dying in his throat. His shoulders drooped, the weight of shame dragging him down like a stone.

Y/N didn’t move. She just stood there, staring at him. Everything in her face was quiet—but inside, it cracked.

She had always known, somewhere. The strange mood swings. The occasional vacant look in his eyes. The way he’d sometimes vanish after work and come back different.

But she told herself it wasn’t often. That he was better now. That he was trying.

And now, here it was. Not suspicion. Not a maybe. A truth, in sharp relief.

She blinked slowly. Her chest rising and falling like she’d just been punched there.

Bob didn’t speak. He didn’t run. He didn’t even look away.

She did.

Y/N turned and walked back inside without a word, the door swinging shut behind her.

She didn’t cry. She didn't say anything. Not yet.

She had a shift to finish.

The conversation would come later.

But in that moment, something inside her was already breaking.

--

The walk back to her place was drowned in silence.

The city buzzed around them — car horns, laughter, the occasional bark of a street vendor — but between Y/N and Bob, there was a vacuum. Her steps were steady, controlled, but her jaw was tight, eyes forward. Bob trailed a little behind, hands buried in his jacket pockets, shrinking into himself like a child expecting punishment. Shame clung to him like smoke.

They reached her apartment. It had become a second home to him — familiar, warm, soft in the corners where his own life was harsh. He’d left extra clothes in her drawers, knew how her kitchen light flickered when the microwave was running, had memorized the scent of her shampoo from the pillowcases.

He watched her unlock the door. She didn’t speak, just moved to the bathroom, turned the shower on. Steam soon crept under the crack in the door.

Bob stood there, frozen. A picture frame on the wall caught his eye — the two of them at the park, that first sunny date. She was kissing his cheek, laughing. He looked dazed, goofy, stunned by her affection. He still felt like that. Always stunned.

The door to the bathroom opened a while later. She came out in clean clothes, her damp hair pulled back in a loose bun. Wordlessly, she moved to the kitchen, pulling out ingredients like muscle memory. The rhythm of chopping vegetables, setting the water to boil, flipping something in a pan — it was too normal. Too quiet. It was the kind of silence that screamed.

Bob sat on the couch. His leg bounced. His palms were sweaty. The sound of a spoon clinking against a pan made his chest tighten.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

"Y/N," he croaked.

She didn’t turn.

He stood up slowly, walked a few steps toward the kitchen. "Please. Just say something."

The chopping stopped. She placed the knife down and leaned her hands on the counter, head bowed.

“Why?” she asked, barely above a whisper. “Why do you do it?”

Her voice wasn’t angry. It wasn’t accusing. It was sad. It was tired.

Bob swallowed hard. His throat burned. He opened his mouth, but for a moment, nothing came out.

Then he spoke, slowly, quietly. A confession years in the making.

“I was sixteen the first time I tried it,” he said. “It was just supposed to be for fun. Some kids in my neighborhood — we were bored, angry, messed up. I didn’t think it’d be a thing. But it stuck.”

He looked down at his hands like they weren’t his own.

“My brain… it’s not right. Hasn’t been for a long time. There’s this weight I carry every day. Like the world is pressing down on my chest, and everyone’s expecting me to breathe like it’s nothing. Some mornings I don’t even want to get up. Some nights I wish I wouldn’t wake up.”

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing now.

“The meth — it made it quiet. Just for a while. It made me feel like I could do things. Like I wasn’t a loser, a disappointment. It tricked me into thinking I was normal.”

He stopped and turned to face her. His eyes were glassy, his voice breaking.

“But then I met you. And for the first time, I didn’t need it to feel okay. You made me want to stay clean. You made me believe I could. And I was trying, I swear, I was trying so fucking hard.”

He stepped closer, his voice desperate.

“I didn’t want you to see me like that. I didn’t want to lose this — lose you. You’re the only good thing that’s ever really been mine.”

His knees buckled slightly as he dropped down to them in front of her.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I’m so sorry. I hate that I messed this up. I hate that I let you down. Please… please don’t give up on me. I swear I’ll get clean. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll go to meetings, therapy, rehab — anything. Just don’t walk away.”

Tears streamed down his face now, dripping onto the floor.

“I know I’ve got a thousand reasons to hate myself. I know I’m broken and messy and hard to love. But you… you make me want to be better. And I will. I promise. Just… don’t let this be the end.”

Y/N stood still for a moment, frozen, her hands still gripping the counter behind her.

And the only sound in the room was his quiet, wracked sobbing, and the distant clatter of boiling water on the stove, as dinner burned, untouched.

Bob stayed on his knees, eyes red and rimmed with shame, when his voice returned — quieter now, like a wound being exposed.

“My dad used to hit me,” he said. “Not just when he was mad — sometimes, I think, just because he didn’t know how else to talk. Or maybe he did, and he just liked watching me flinch.”

His eyes weren’t focused on her now. They stared past her, through her, into a corner of memory he rarely let himself go back to.

“He was a drunk. A real mean one. He’d come home and if the dishes weren’t done, or the TV was too loud, or I looked at him the wrong way — that was it. And my mom… she didn’t stop him. She just… endured. Like it was normal. Like it was just what families were.”

Y/N’s hands had gone still behind her on the countertop.

“I used to hide under my bed, back when I was little. I’d count the cracks in the floorboards, try to breathe as quietly as I could so he wouldn’t hear me. I remember thinking if I could just disappear for long enough, maybe he’d forget I existed.”

He laughed once — a low, broken sound that barely resembled laughter. “I used to wish I could disappear entirely.”

A tear slipped down Y/N’s cheek, but she said nothing yet. Let him speak.

“When I got older, I fought back. Not well. But I tried. And when I was seventeen, I left. Packed a trash bag with clothes and took a bus out. Thought I’d figure it out. Be free.”

He looked up at her then — just barely.

“But the thing is… when someone teaches you your whole life that you’re worthless, it doesn’t go away just because you leave the house. It follows you. It lives in you.”

His hands shook now, resting on his knees.

“I’ve spent my whole life feeling like I’m seconds away from falling apart. Like no matter how good something feels, I’m gonna ruin it. And I thought— I thought maybe if I numbed it, if I buried it, I could be normal.”

He exhaled, tears slipping freely now.

“But then you showed up. You, with your stupid coffee orders and your sweet laugh and the way you looked at me like I wasn’t a fucking disaster.”

His voice cracked, almost too much to continue.

“And now you know. Everything. The drugs. The lies. The damage. You know it all. So if you want me to leave, I will. I won’t fight it.”

Y/N moved then, slowly, quietly kneeling down in front of him. She reached for his face — her touch soft, careful — and wiped the tears from his cheeks, her own still silently falling.

“You’re not leaving,” she whispered, her voice firm despite its softness. “You don’t get to push me away, Bobby. Not tonight.”

He blinked at her like he couldn’t believe she was real.

“I’m gonna help you,” she said. “Not because I think I can fix you, or save you, or any of that hero complex bullshit. But because I see you. I see who you really are underneath all of it.”

She gave him a small, fragile smile. “And I know what it’s like. To fight temptation. To almost fall. You think I don’t get it? That I didn’t come close to things I don’t even like to think about now?”

Her thumb stroked his cheekbone, gently.

“The only difference is, I didn’t fall. Not back then. But you— Bobby, you got up. You got up today. You came home. That counts for something.”

She leaned in and kissed him, soft, slow — not fiery or frantic, but grounding. A tether to the world he was convinced he didn’t deserve.

And when she pulled back, his arms wrapped around her like a man clinging to the last piece of a life raft. His grip was tight, desperate. His body trembled against hers.

“Why…” he whispered, breath shaky against her shoulder. “Why do you love me?”

She pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. Her own were glassy, full of heartbreak and something stronger — belief.

“Because I see the man you’re trying to be,” she said. “Because even when you’re at your lowest, you still try to protect me. Because you never looked at me like I was broken, even when I told you all the reasons I could be.”

He shook his head slightly, disbelief etched across every inch of his face.

“How…” he whispered. “How can someone have so much love for me?”

And she didn’t answer right away. She just kissed his forehead, brushing the damp hair from his face, and pulled him close again.

In the quiet of that little apartment — with the burnt dinner on the stove, with their photograph still crooked on the wall — Bob let himself cry like a child for the first time in years.

They forgot about their surroundings and just laid against the couch, and Y/N held him through it all, her love a quiet, unshakeable force wrapped around him like armor.

Still. Steady. Like she wasn’t afraid of what he’d just shown her.

He couldn’t even look at her when she said, softly, “You’re not the only one with ghosts, Bobby.”

He glanced at her. She wasn’t looking for sympathy — just understanding. Her voice didn’t shake. It was tired, but honest. Worn down from years of holding things in.

“I’ve never told anyone everything. Not like this,” she said. “But… did I ever mentioned to you about Jordan? He was my first love.”

Bob turned toward her, the lump in his throat tightening again.

“I wasn’t always like this. Quiet. Careful,” she said, a hollow laugh passing her lips. “I used to be… wild. Not in the good way.”

She looked down at her hands. Her fingers were shaking.

“My mom — she’s the kind of woman who never wanted a daughter. Especially not one who reminded her how much time she’d lost. She was beautiful once. And she hated that I got told the same thing. She treated me like I was competition in her own house. Constantly picking at me. My clothes. My body. My laugh. Everything I was, she hated. It’s like I walked into a room and reminded her of all the choices she didn’t make.”

Bob’s brows drew in, his mouth a tight line of hurt on her behalf.

“And my dad?” she scoffed. “He was a college professor. Brilliant. Poised. Married to appearances. When I turned twelve, he started spending more nights in his office than at home. Eventually, he ran off with one of his grad students. Left a sticky note on the fridge. ‘Don’t let your mother go crazy.’ That was it.”

She blinked hard, not wanting to cry again. Not for them.

“I became the adult in the house before I hit puberty. My mom drank. Screamed. Slept through entire weekends. I cleaned. I cooked. I learned how to smile and make it look real. I still loved her tho, I never really blamed her for being the way she was, maybe she had reasons and I just… came in the wrong timing.”

She leaned back against the couch, staring at the ceiling like it might hold something safer than the past.

“By the time I was sixteen, I was going out every night with older friends. We used fake IDs, got into clubs. I was… reckless. Desperate to feel like someone wanted me. Like I wasn’t invisible unless I was being yelled at.”

She turned to Bob, finally, her eyes watery.

“That’s how I met Jordan.”

Even saying his name made her stomach twist.

“He owned the club. Rich. Handsome. Wore these stupid expensive suits like he was always playing dress-up for some fantasy life. And he noticed me. Like… noticed me.”

She laughed bitterly. “I thought I’d won the lottery. I was seventeen, and he was thirty-two, and I felt like I was starring in some tragic love song. He gave me everything. Drove me around in his sports car. Bought me designer dresses. Called me ‘his girl’ in front of everyone.”

Bob stayed completely still, listening with his whole soul.

“But it wasn’t love,” she said. “It was manipulation. Control. He liked that I was pretty and broken. Liked that I thought being chosen by him meant I was worth something.”

Her hands tightened in her lap.

“Then one night… he took me home after a club party. I’d said no. I remember saying it. I was tired. I didn’t want to stay over. He gave me a drink, just so “ we could relax”— I didn’t know something was in it. I passed out in his bed.”

Her voice cracked then, finally.

“When I woke up, I wasn’t wearing my dress anymore. Just a sheet. He was in the kitchen making coffee like it was nothing. Like I was nothing.”

She looked at Bob, her voice hoarse.

“I didn’t do anything. I just… laid there. Crying. Because I realized right then — I wasn’t looking for love. I was looking for someone to lie to me sweetly enough that I could pretend it was real.”

A long pause followed. Bob’s hand found hers, trembling but firm.

“He never went to jail. Of course not. I didn’t tell anyone. Who was gonna believe me? I was just some ‘party girl’ sneaking into clubs with an older man.”

Tears finally spilled down her cheeks.

“So I went numb. For a time, I just thought that dating would lead me to the same path my mother went into. I told myself I deserved it for being stupid. For needing love too much. Life stopped being colorfull, and just went with the whatever the wind took me, and it was not far. I got out of the house, never truly cared to repair the relationship with my parents, but going with no money wasn't very smart, didn't even got the education I desired, got away from my friends. And when I realized I was stuck in a loop, always stagnant, never really improving, and I just accepted it.”

She wiped her face with the sleeve of her shirt, breath shaky.

“But then… you.”

Bob’s eyes locked with hers, wide and wet and full of disbelief.

“You came into that stupid fast food place in a chicken suit. Nervous. Sad. So fucking awkward. But you were kind. And you made me feel… safe.”

She smiled through the tears.

“And every day, even on your worst days, you looked at me like I was something worth staying sober for. And that meant everything, Bobby. It still does.”

She moved closer to him, took his face gently in her hands.

“I know what it’s like to carry pain that eats at you. I know what it’s like to feel like your story’s already been written — and it ends with you broken. I don’t judge for the path you took, sometimes I…I thought about it, I hang out with the wrong people, of course I have done it before, I didn’t rely on it but…I just I don’t know, I was lucky I guess.”

Bob was crying now, hard, his face buried against her shoulder.

“But it’s not over,” she whispered. “We’re not done.”

He looked up, shaking.

She brushed a tear from his cheek and smiled through her own.

"I see you. Not the addiction. Not the mistakes. You. And I love you… even the parts you hide.”

Bob let out a trembling breath and held her tighter, like he’d never let go again.

And in that moment — surrounded by all the wreckage, the shadows of what they'd both survived — two broken souls found something whole.

--

Present day

The days bled into each other now.

She moved like a shadow through the fluorescent-lit diner, apron tied tight around her waist, sneakers dragging just a little more than usual. The name tag still read Y/N, though the letters were beginning to smudge. No one commented. No one really looked.

“Welcome to Cluckin’ Bucket. What can I get you?” “Refill’s free. I’ll be right back.” “Fries come with that. You want ranch or ketchup?”

Her voice didn’t change. Not cheerful, not cold—just flat. A practiced cadence with just enough inflection to pass as human. The kind of tone that no one questioned. That no one cared enough to dig beneath.

Her coworkers passed by in a quiet shuffle. No jokes. No checking in. Just nods and tray exchanges. Maybe they could sense it—the weight around her like a storm cloud that never lifted. Or maybe they were used to it by now.

She stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom during her ten-minute break and didn’t recognize her own face. The bump beneath her uniform was unmistakable now. She didn’t bother trying to hide it anymore. There was nothing left to hide behind. No more stories. No more pretending that he might show up mid-shift and scoop her into his arms like it was all some misunderstanding.

The clock ticked by. Her shift ended without fanfare.

She changed in the back room, put on her coat, wrapped her scarf around her neck. No goodbyes. Just the squeak of the door as it closed behind her.

The night was cold but clear. A rare calm in the chaos of the city.

She walked with her earbuds in, phone buried deep in her coat pocket, letting the random shuffle take over. Whatever came on, came on. She didn’t care anymore. She didn’t have preferences. She just needed something to drown out the silence.

Halfway home, her feet started to ache. She spotted a bench tucked beside an empty bus stop, under a flickering streetlight. It wasn’t much, but it was empty. And it was still.

She sat down slowly, one hand instinctively resting on her stomach.

The music kept playing.

And then, like fate—like punishment—their song came on. That stupid song, that she could not stop listenning. "Yours" - maye.

That one he used to hum under his breath while frying chicken in the kitchen. The one they danced to once in the middle of their living room at midnight, barefoot and grinning, cheap wine on the counter and nothing but love between them.

Her throat tightened.

She stared down at the cracked pavement beneath her feet, the light above humming faintly as it flickered.

He loved me, she thought. He really did.

That was the cruelest part. He hadn’t been faking it. She’d felt it in his touch, in the way he held her in the mornings, the way he kissed her forehead when she cried after a long shift. It wasn’t pretend. He loved her.

But he left anyway.

He loved her, and he left.

The thought came like a stormcloud, suffocating the warmth before it could grow.

He had made a choice. She knew that now. The police confirmed it. He had planned it. Saved up. Booked a ticket. Crossed oceans not to be found. She spent her free time removing the flyers she had put up for him.

She wanted to scream at him. Why wasn’t I enough? Why wasn’t the baby enough? But screaming wouldn't help. It never did. It only made her feel hollow afterward.

Still, her mind wandered—always back to him.

Maybe he regrets it, she thought. Maybe he’s out there, wishing he could come back. Maybe he thinks about her. About this child.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Every hopeful thought fought against the brutal weight of reality like a war inside her skull.

She was tired of the battle. Hope hurt almost as much as the truth.

She lowered her head into her hands and let the music keep playing. The baby shifted inside her, a small, fluttering reminder that she wasn’t completely alone.

But she felt like she was.

She lived in limbo now. Between memory and disappointment. Between what they had and what was left behind.

The bench was cold. The city was loud. But she stayed there for a long time, because going home meant facing the silence of their apartment again.

And she wasn’t ready for that yet.

--

Meanwhile, in Malaysia- 2 months ago

The air in Malaysia was thick — not just with humidity, but with something heavier. Guilt didn’t have a scent, but if it did, Bob imagined it would smell like the sweat-drenched room he was holed up in. Ceiling fan rattling overhead. One bare light bulb swaying from a cracked ceiling. A single mattress on the floor. A half-empty bottle of water at his feet.

He hadn't spoken more than a few words to anyone in days.

The job they’d given him was temporary, meaningless. He moved crates from one side of a warehouse to the other. A ghost with hands. No one asked his name. He didn’t offer it.

Every night, he collapsed onto the mattress like a dying star — heavy, slow, and silent. And every night, her face found him again.

Y/N.

He could still see the way her hair fell across her face in the morning when she leaned over the stove, cooking eggs in his worn-out T-shirt. The way she would hum softly under her breath while drying dishes. The way her fingers curled instinctively over the swell of her belly the day she told him they were going to be parents.

He had kissed that hand.

And then he left.

Because he was a coward. Because the drugs were easier. Because he’d convinced himself she was better off without him.

But the truth was uglier than that.

He missed her so much it made him physically ache. Not just her body, her warmth — but the space she created around him. Safe, forgiving, real. She was the first person in his life who hadn’t looked at him like a lost cause.

And he’d proven them all right.

He rubbed at his face, scrubbing tears away before they could fall. But it was useless. They came anyway.

He reached under the mattress and pulled out the photo.

It was wrinkled, faded from being handled so many times. It showed the two of them sitting in the park on their first date — the one where she packed the entire meal and insisted he try her potato salad. He hated eggs, but he ate it anyway because she’d made it with so much love.

She was laughing in the photo. He remembered that moment. He'd just made some dumb joke about the squirrel trying to steal her sandwich. She had leaned into him, eyes crinkling, and he thought, I’m never letting go of this.

He traced the edge of her face with his finger.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

He’d whispered it every night since he left. Sometimes louder. Sometimes choked out between sobs. But she couldn’t hear him. She would never hear him.

He imagined her now — back in that little apartment. Alone. Tired. Maybe crying. Maybe angry. Maybe both. Maybe she hated him. He wouldn’t blame her.

But maybe… just maybe, some part of her still believed in him.

And that was the cruelest hope of all.

Because he didn’t deserve it.

He stared at the ceiling, hands trembling. The meth wasn’t hitting like it used to. The numbness didn’t come fast enough anymore.

And still, in his mind, her voice lingered.

"You’re stronger than this, Bobby. You’re not your worst day."

He closed his eyes and clutched the photo to his chest.

But in this place, across oceans and guilt, those words felt like they belonged to someone else. Someone better than him.

Still, he held onto them.

Because it was all he had left.

--

Night came early in this part of the city.

Not because the sun set any quicker — but because the shadows here swallowed light before it could settle. The alleyways twisted like veins, pulsing with neon flickers and muffled shouting from nearby vendors. The street smelled like oil and rot and burning sugar. Bob barely noticed anymore.

He hadn’t slept. Not really. Just nodded off in strange places — under stairwells, on benches, wherever his body finally gave in. He was five days clean and forty-eight hours high. Maybe more. Time didn't work right anymore.

His hands shook as he walked. Sweat stuck his shirt to his back. His mouth was dry. Eyes too wide. He was running low — the last dose hadn’t been enough. Not by a long shot. The pain crept in again. The ache behind his eyes, the guilt in his ribs. Her voice in his head.

"Bobby, don’t lie to me." "We can get through this." "I love you, even when you don’t love yourself."

He gritted his teeth and shoved her voice aside.

She wasn’t here. She wasn’t real anymore.

He needed to make her go away.

He ducked down a narrow side street, where dealers sometimes drifted like ghosts, offering plastic baggies with eyes too old for their faces. But tonight, no one was there. Just the hum of faulty streetlights and the sting of desperation in his chest.

“Looking for something?”

Bob stopped.

The voice was smooth — too smooth. Like glass over ice. It came from a man leaning against a rusted metal door, half-shrouded in shadow. White shirt, dark blazer, not a bead of sweat on him despite the thick air. He looked out of place here. Clean. Controlled. Dangerous.

Bob didn’t answer. Just stared with hollow, half-blown pupils.

The man stepped forward slowly, like he already knew the answer.

“You’re not from here. You don’t belong. You’re just trying to disappear, aren’t you?” His smile was thin. “I know that look. Like you’re trying to burn every part of yourself out so there’s nothing left.”

Bob blinked, confused. Agitated. “You got something or not?”

“I have something,” the man said. “But it’s not what you’re expecting.”

That should’ve been a red flag. Maybe it was. But Bob had walked past every red flag he’d ever seen without blinking. His curiosity was frayed, his caution dulled. The man held out a card.

“Come with me. Right now. We’re looking for volunteers. People like you — no strings, no questions. You let us do what we need, and in return...you won’t feel a thing ever again.”

Bob stared at the card. It was black. No writing. Just a silver symbol — something sharp and angular, like a thunderbolt wrapped in a serpent. "O.X.E"

“What is this?”

“A way out,” the man said simply. “You’ve tried everything else. Let this be your last door.”

Bob hesitated.

His skin itched. His teeth clenched. His knees ached. His chest hurt. Not from withdrawal — but from remembering her. From remembering what he left behind. The girl with stars in her eyes who made him believe, for a little while, that he could be worth something. That he could be whole.

He swallowed hard.

“Will it make me better? Like... a better person? Useful?” he whispered.

The man’s smile didn’t change. “Eventually.”

Bob nodded once.

That’s all it took.

And just like that, he followed the man into the dark, down a corridor lined with flickering lights and metal doors — unaware that the choice he just made wouldn’t numb his pain.

It would unleash it.

--

Present day, 7a.m- New York

The weak morning sun slanted through the café windows in narrow ribbons, cutting through the steam rising from two mismatched coffee mugs. The air smelled faintly of burnt toast and the overworked espresso machine. It was too early for the place to be busy, and too quiet for comfort. A tiny bell chimed each time the door opened, but no one came in. Not yet.

Y/N sat across from Officer Cooper, her hands wrapped tightly around a chipped mug like it was the only thing anchoring her in place. Her eyes were tired. Dark crescents hung beneath them, untouched by makeup. Her hair was tied back in a messy bun, a few strands falling loose across her face. She looked thin — too thin — except for the roundness of her belly, which pushed gently against the edge of the table.

She stirred her coffee slowly, even though she hadn’t added sugar. Or cream. Just for something to do with her hands.

“I’m sorry I called,” she said, her voice quiet. “I just didn’t know who else…”

Cooper, across from her, shook his head. “Don’t apologize, sweetheart. I told you before — if you need something, you call. That wasn’t just some empty promise.”

She offered him a small, broken smile. It didn’t last.

“I didn’t sleep last night,” she admitted, barely above a whisper. “Been thinking about things I shouldn’t. Options.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What kind of options?”

She didn’t answer right away. Her fingers moved to the base of her belly, holding it gently, protectively. Her gaze dropped to the table, then shifted to the window. She didn’t want to see his face when she said it.

“I’ve been looking into adoption,” she said finally. “Private. Families who… who can’t have kids. People who want this. Who have homes. Stability. Money. Things I don’t.”

Cooper leaned back, visibly stunned. His coffee mug clinked softly against the table as he set it down, forgotten. “That’s a serious thing to say, Y/N.”

“I know,” she said. “That’s why I’m saying it.”

He studied her. The deep-set sadness in her eyes. The stiffness in her shoulders. The fragility in her voice that she was trying so hard to hide.

“Do you want to give the baby up,” he asked gently, “or is this the last thing on a long list of desperate maybes?”

She didn’t answer right away.

Her lips trembled, and she bit down on the inside of her cheek to stop it. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back. She turned her face toward the window, where early morning joggers passed by, carefree. Laughing. Living.

“I love this baby,” she said, her voice breaking. “So much it makes me sick. But I don’t know how to do this. I don’t even have enough money for rent next month. My job’s cutting my hours ‘cause I’m showing too much. I can't stand on my feet that long anymore. I’ve sold half our stuff just to make it through. And every time I think I’m crawling forward, I just— I slide back.”

Cooper reached across the table and placed a weathered hand over hers. It was warm. Solid. Like a rock in a storm.

“You’re not alone,” he said quietly. “Not anymore.”

She laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. “Feels like I am.”

“You don’t have to make this decision today. Or alone. There’s help out there. I can pull some strings — get you in touch with someone who can offer a better job. Something safer, something that won’t drain the life out of you. Hell, I’ll drive you myself if I have to. In the meantime, I can help, I told you I'm a grandfather, I can give you stuff for the baby, stuff that my granddaughter outgrown, I don't know, I can give you some money, help you get on you feet.”

She finally looked at him, eyes shimmering.

“You’d do that?”

He nodded, serious. “I would. I told you I have a daughter like you, I know my help would be for a good outcome.” He let out a deep breath. "I know you're just a good person with unresolved past damaged, and I could I look at someone who resembles my babygirl and let them suffer the consequences of other people's actions Y/N."

Y/N looked back out the window, her shoulders shaking slightly as the tears finally came. But she didn’t sob. She cried quietly, like she’d gotten good at it. Like it was part of her morning routine.

“I keep thinking about him,” she whispered. “Not the one that left. The one before. The one who came home with flowers after a long shift. The one who said I made him feel like maybe he wasn’t broken.”

She wiped her cheeks, her hand trembling.

“I have the photos. And this baby. And some dumb song we used to play every Sunday morning while cooking pancakes. That’s all I have left of him.”

She exhaled shakily, resting a hand over her bump again.

Cooper was quiet for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, but firm.

“What was it about him, Y/N?” he asked. “What made him worth all this pain?”

She looked at him, startled.

“I mean it,” he said. “You’re holding onto something that’s dragging you down so far, I’m afraid you’ll never come back up. What was so special about Bob Reynolds that even your love for this baby’s not enough to let him go? You spent months knocking at my door every single day, demading those lazy bastards to do something, persisting, looking for him. Losing yourself for a guy who planned leaving while sleeping by your side.”

Y/N didn’t answer, not right away.

Y/N didn’t look at Cooper when she spoke.

Her gaze stayed pinned to the window, as if the right answer might walk by, wearing Bobby’s face.

“I know him,” she said quietly. “That’s why I can’t let go. Not because I’m stupid or weak or in denial. I know Bobby.”

Cooper leaned forward slightly, listening.

“I know how dark his thoughts can get. How he used to wake up some mornings and just… sit there. Quiet. Staring at the floor like the weight of being alive was too much. And he’d smile at me, pretend everything was okay, but I could see it. That hollow look in his eyes. I know how much he hated himself for the things he did. How ashamed he was of the drugs. Of needing them.”

Her voice cracked, but she pushed through.

“He thought I didn’t know how deep it went. But I did. I always did. And I never once judged him. I just wanted him to stop because I loved him. Not because I was angry. Not because I wanted to fix him. Because I wanted him alive. And he tried, God, he tried. Even when he failed, he tried again.”

She paused, drawing a shaky breath.

“You’re asking me why I can’t let him go?” she said, finally turning to Cooper, eyes brimming with exhausted pain. “Because he never let go of me. Even when he was breaking, even when the drugs were louder than my voice — he’d still look at me like I was the only good thing he had left. He knew everything about me, Cooper. The ugly things. The things I never told anyone.”

She looked down at her hands, as if the secrets were written in her palms.

“I told him how I used to be, I was really a bad person for myself, specially in my teeangers years. God... So much shit that I don't even understand how I let all of it happen, but you know what?”

Her voice softened to a whisper.

“He kissed me. Just kissed me, and said, ‘That doesn’t change a thing.’ Like none of it made me less. And I know it did, that's how I ended up here, not pregnant and alone, but here. And was doomed before him, anyway, we were eachothers only light.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks now, freely, silently.

“I didn’t have to pretend with him. I didn’t have to be strong every second of the day. He’d remind me — every single day — how far I’d come. Even on the days I couldn’t see it. Even when he couldn’t see it in himself.”

She pressed a hand to her belly, as if grounding herself.

“That’s why I can’t stop loving him. That’s why I keep hoping. Because the man I knew wasn’t just an addict. He was kind. And scared. And trying. And maybe… maybe he left because he thought I deserved better. Maybe he thought disappearing was mercy.”

Her voice was almost gone now. Just a whisper, like she was talking more to herself than to Cooper.

“But I didn’t need better. I just needed him.”

The silence between them settled like dust.

Cooper said nothing. What could he say? There was no law or logic that could dismantle the truth of what she'd just laid bare. No policy, no report, no advice to hold against the unshakable bond she'd painted with her words.

So he just sat there, eyes on her, while she stared through the glass at a world that kept moving without her.

[changetyre]

this ideia just came through my mind and now im obsessed with it

so its a lando X reader where she went with him to film chicken shop date and amelia notices how funny the reader is and starts to "flirt" with her too and the reader flirts back

all this situation make lando giggling a lot and amelia suggests to the 3 of the become a couple and the internet gets crazy lol idk

Picked the wrong date II Lando Norris x Reader Ⓢ

SUMMARY: You convince Lando to accept the invite to chicken shop date telling him it would make a hilarious video knowing his shy and awkward personality. What neither of you expected was the connection between you and Amelia.

WARNINGS: none? it's short and not proofread.

A/N: This is definitely a request different from what I normally get so I was kind of just winging it;) still hope you enjoy it.

"Hey, it's so nice to meet you. Thank you for coming." Amelia walked over to greet Lando with a handshake.

"Likewise, and I'll be honest if it wasn't for this one I don't think I would've come." Lando laughed pointing back at you.

"Oh really?!" Amelia laughed as she greeted you with a hug. "Are you a fan of the show?" She asked you as she pulled away.

"Big fan, I'm obsessed with your videos, especially the ones with Finneas and Aitch." You replied honestly.

"oooh fun times." Amelia smiles awkwardly making you laugh.

"Go sit down baby." You nudged Lando as you saw someone waiting for him to get mic'd up.

"Right." Lando kissed your cheek then the back of your hand before finally letting go.

"Aww, how cute." Amelia stayed next to you as she was already prepped. "How long have you two been together." She asked.

"Just over two years." you blushed just thinking about your time with Lando thus far.

"Aww, well he's lucky to have you, you're stunning." Amelia complimented you.

"Isn't she just?" Lando smirked overhearing.

"Oh stop it you two are making me go red." You giggled walking over to an empty seat behind the cameras.

_________

"I know you followed me a long time ago and I didn't follow you back," Lando confessed.

"Wha-" Amelia feigned offense. "Yeah, that's true I was gonna bring that up"

"I was just playing hard to get." Lando laughed awkwardly making you smile at his awkwardness.

"Maybe you'll follow me back? Actually, I don-"

"I do actually follow you back now." Lando revealed.

"You do?" Amelia asked surprised.

"Well yeah but to be honest only because she made me." Lando pointed over to you.

"Hmm, maybe I should be on a date with her." Amelia joked making both you and Lando laugh.

"Maybe you should. She's great." Lando giggled.

"Hmm, why don't you give me your number after this?" Amelia asked you.

"Sure will baby." You played along.

"Ooo baby." Amelia giggled, twirling her hair at you jokingly all while Lando couldn't stop smiling.

"You stealing my girlfriend?" Lando joked.

"Hmm, we'll see by the end of this," Amelia said as she took a bite of a fry.

"Cool." Lando looked down laughing.

_

"I just looked at my calendar yesterday." Lando joked pretending he wasn't aware of this interview until yesterday.

"I've known about this for years, it's in my diary." Amelia said making Lando laugh.

"Oh yeah? Your personal diary? What did it say?" Lando asked.

"It said, date with Lando Norris secretly a plot to get with his girlfriend who is crazy beautiful and will be sitting out of frame but just in my line of view throughout the entire date." Amelia improvised all while you couldn't help but laughing.

"It said all of that?" Lando asked laughing too as he looked over at you to see you giggling along.

"Oh yeah." Amelia tried holding back her laugh too.

"Your plot is working honey." You commented.

"Yeah, I figured." Amelia nodded confidently.

_

"You know I've never been to a race." Amelia pointed out.

"You should come." Lando replied, and you could notice the honesty in the invite.

"I would love to," Amelia replied eagerly. "Maybe she can show me around while you're looking for the on button on your car." Amelia winked at you.

You couldn't hold back your laugh. "I'll show you anything you want." You flirted along.

"Anything?" Amelia raised her eyebrows suggestively.

You had to hold back a laugh to flirt along. "Anything." You reaffirmed.

"Woah some things are for my eyes only baby," Lando spoke to you trying to hold back a laugh.

"It could be for our eyes only Lando," Amelia suggested to Lando.

"hmm, I'll think about it." Lando played along able to control his laughter and pretending to think about it.

_

"I heard it's quite hot in there." Amelia continued.

"Yeah, it gets very hot," Lando confirmed. "Yeah, sweaty and-"

"Even hotter if I was in there," Amelia added.

Lando chuckled looking down shyly. "Even hotter if she was in there." Lando quickly recovered pointing over at you.

"Hmm true true." Amelia nodded corroborating.

_

"Can you drive?" Lando asked.

"Uhm-" Amelia hesitated.

"That's a no."

"Just a- we'll just move on." Amelia brushed past the question.

Lando silently sniggered. "It's okay y/n can't drive either."

"See you drive and y/n and I can be your passenger princesses." Amelia pointed out.

"Oh right so like a throuple situation or?" Lando asked.

"Uh well yeah I guess so I'm not sure I can get her without you so." Amelia shrugged.

"Right, that's settled then." Lando shrugged too as if concluding the plan.

Amelia looked around for a bit silently. "Sorry, I'm just imagining that happening and it's great." She smiled dreamily.

-

The rest of the date was similar, with jokes and awkward laughter, as well as flirting between you and Amelia and occasionally Lando.

You knew F1 fans would love this when it came out and there was no doubt they'd love the little added comments from your side.

[spidybaby]

The Lucky One

Summary: Fer tries to play Cupid with you, and it ends up not being what he expected.

Warnings: name calling, cursing, secret relationship.

A/N: Hello my shaylas, how are you??? I'm finally back. After trying for days to post, tumblr allowed me to do it! Love you all. I hope you are having an amazing day ❤️

"When are you going to let me set you up in a blind date?" Fer asks.

You roll your eyes. "Why can't I just stay single?" You ask.

Fernando hugs you by the shoulders, he laughs at how you are frowning your eyebrows.

"Vamos, there's nothing wrong with being single." He says. "I'm just worried about you."

You frown even harder. Looking at him with a confused look on your face. "Why?"

"Joder! I met you a little over a year ago, and you never introduced me or any of the guys here to a boy or talked about a love interest."

You take his arm away from you. "I'm sorry I've been busy with life." You say, walking to the fridge.

You met Fernando in a culinary course. He was the second chef in charge. You bonded with him when you asked him to help you with some recipes.

He stayed some extra time with you in the kitchen where the class was taking place. He made sure you understood everything.

You two created a nice friendship. You even invited him to your birthday. It was something genuine and very respectful.

You two were in your house, you were practicing the last dish of the course. You needed to make it perfectly to be able to pass the course.

"You are mixing the wrong way." He says, smiling at you.

He takes the bowl to his side, grabbing the spoon and showing you how to do it.

You sigh. Rolling your eyes and grabbing back the bowl.

"Who do you even want to introduce me to?"

Fernando smirks, taking his phone out of his pocket. "He's a friend of mine, I promise you are going to love him."

You shake your head no at his exciment.

"One thing, I don't do clubs." You point out. "I don't feel like meeting someone on a very crowded place."

Fer nods, texting quickly.

"What about my house?" He suggests. "My parents are not going to be there, and my brother is busy during the evening."

You nod, agreeing to his crazy proposal.

"Okay, my house, this weekend." He smiles. "Lunch will be."

"Okay, I'll do my best to not have a bitch face the whole evening."

"Great!" He says. "Now, you are mixing it wrong again."

☁️☁️☁️

"You are here!" Fer says, opening the door to his house. "My friend is almost here." He explains.

He grabs your wrist, pulling you inside of the house. You two walk into the house and in the kitchen.

"Ve!" He says, hurrying you to go into the backyard.

You open the door, already feeling uncomfortable. You find two boys and one girl. You say a shy greeting to them.

"Chicos, she's Y/n." Fer introduces you to them. "This is Pam." He says, pointing to a girl. "This is Adrian, he and Pam are a couple."

"Hola!" They both say.

"This other one is Mike." He points to the last one. "He's a friend from Tenerife."

"Nice to meet you." You smile.

You start a small talk with Pam. She was nice and tried to make you talk and get to know the others.

"And I study to be a teacher." She says.

You smile at her. You tell her about yourself. She was very interested and asked you some questions.

"So you think Fer is a food chef?" Adrian asks, a mischievous tone behind the question.

"I do, he's very helpful."

"He once burned the chicken." Mike says, both Adrian and him were looking at Fer in a funny way.

"One time!" He laughs. "Y/n, can you help me with something?" He asks.

You nod, excusing yourself and walking inside the house.

Fer asked you to help him with some snacks. He trusted you more than what he trusted his cousin with flavor.

You joke with him about that burned chicken. He was trying to act as if that didn't really happened and it was because his little brother distracted him.

You take the snacks out and walk back to see if Fer needed any more help. You find him texting with one hand, and the other is mixing something that is on the stove.

"Don't burn that." You say.

"One time!" He repeats. "And it was my brother's fault."

"Was he cooking?"

He was about to answer, but the doorbell interrupted him. You have a feeling on who it is. Mostly because Fernando has this smirk again.

"I'm getting it." He says, turning the stove off and rushing to the door.

You like to say that you don't care about this "blind encounter" or whatever this is supposed to be.

Yet you can't help but check your hair and check if you look presentable. As much as you hate the idea of being in this situation, you at least want to look good.

You take a deep breath, only a few hours, and then you can ghost this guy. Nice and smooth. Or maybe you are actually going to like this guy, and maybe it's going to be a nice evening.

"Ya volvimos!" Fer says, walking to the kitchen with this tall, blonde guy. You tried your best to hide your emotions.

You can't help but feel a little comical. Fer really never asked you what your type was. You definitely were not into blonde guys.

Strike one.

"This is Daniel." Fer introduces the guy.

"Hola," you smile at him. "I'm Y/n."

"Fer told me a lot about you." Daniel smiles.

"I'm checking on the others. You guys can talk here." Fer says, leaving the two of you alone in the kitchen.

You two stood there in an awkward silence. You try to think of something to say that makes a nice conversation.

"Fer told me you are a chef." He says, getting a little closer.

"Not quite a chef." You chuckle. "I'm just learning to cook some fancy dishes." You explain. "Want to go out with everyone?"

"Mmm, let's sit on the couch." He smiles.

You nod, walking with him to the couch. You act quickly and sit on the single one. Letting him sit on the large one that was next to the one you are in.

"What do you do?" You ask, trying to keep the flow.

"Not much." He says, shrugging.

"Are you in college?" You try to ask something again.

"Yeah, I am." He smiles.

You smile back, very awkward at how bad this was going. You two just seat there, the horrible silence that was created by the lack of conversation was killing you.

"I heard that you like to play basketball." You say, remembering a little of what Fernando described him to be.

"Oh, I do." He says, very monotone tone. "I think people are more focused on football these days, but I've been training since I was a kid and-"

You zone out after a few seconds. Couldn't he just say < yes, I do > and move out with the topic?

"And I really think that the Lakers are better than the Warriors."

"Yeah, I like tennis." You say, trying to change the subject.

"Oh, I like tennis too." He says in a happy tone. "Who's your favorite player?"

"Serena Williams."

He chuckles. "I mean, yes, she's a tennis player, in theory." He starts.

Don't say it, you think.

Don't.

"But who's your favorite real tennis player?"

You hang your head low. "Nadal." You sigh.

Second strike.

"Let's go with the others." You say, getting up and walking straight to the garden.

The way Pam smiled at you and patted the chair next to her was so cute to you.

"Was it bad?" She asks, whispering so no one else hears.

"I mean, he still has one strike." You chuckle.

You two talk about different topics. You really got to know her and like her. Maybe that can be a consolation for the blind date thing.

You won't walk out of there with a "boyfriend" like Fernando wanted you to, but you definitely will walk out with a new friend.

"Hey, Y/n." Daniel calls you.

You turn to him, humming so he can say what he needs to say. You were eating the food that Fernando prepared.

"You asked me about basketball, maybe you can drop off at tomorrows practice."

Was that his idea of a date?

Was that even an invitation for a date?

"I'll think about it." You say, smiling lightly.

"Yeah, maybe we can go out and see that femenine tennis game at the bar that's close to where I train."

"Oh, you like tennis?" Mike asks, smiling.

"I do, I trained and played a good number of games when I was a kid-"

"She likes Serena Williams." Daniel says. "Like I asked her for a tennis player, not a lady with a racket."

Everybody fell quiet. He definitely thought that I was going to be a funny joke and that everyone was going to burst out laughing.

"I like Serena Williams too." Pam says. "I think she's the best and some of the younger girls on tennis really look up to her."

"Do you guys want more salad?" You ask, trying to change the topic. "It's amazing."

"Yeah, Fer." Adrian says. "Thank you, hermano. This is amazing, thank you for not burning it."

"One fucking time!" Fernando laughs.

You all laughed at him, and he started to say how much his reputation mattered to him, that the burned food was ruining it.

"Do you need help with the dessert?" You ask him, seeing that he got up to go back inside.

"The last you can do after ruining my reputation." He jokes.

You walk inside with him. Helping him with serving some ice cream into cups. You help him with taking them outside.

"I'll be right back." You say to Pam, who wanted to tell you something.

You notice Fer washings his hands on the sink. You had caramel on your hands also, so you needed to wash them too.

"Fer, where is your bathroom?" You ask, sticking your hands together to play with the caramel on them.

"It's the door in front of the stairs, almost at the front." He points.

You nod, walking to the entrance. You find the bathroom, but the problem now was that your hands were sticky with caramel.

You tried with your elbow, but it was no use. Try with your arm, but it was too heavy for it to open up.

"Quieres ayuda?" You hear someone say behind you. (Do you need help?)

You turn, finding a boy. He definitely was Fernando's brother because they do look alike.

"Si, please." You smile at him. "I have caramel all over my hands, and I can't open it."

He chuckles. "We all been there." He says, trying to make you less worried.

"Gracias, mmm?" You humm, trying to get him to tell you his name.

"Pedri." He says with a smile.

"Gracias, Pedri." You repeat, but this time you say his name.

He does this winking with both eyes. You can't help but find that attractive in some way. He was like a remastered version of Fernando.

A better one, you may say.

"If you need help with something else, I'll be in the kitchen." He smiles.

You nod, smiling at him. "Gracias." You repeat, walking inside the bathroom.

You wash your hands quickly, a part of you want to rush to be able to meet Fer's brother in the kitchen.

The other knows that if Fernando finds out you are trying to make a move on his brother, he will be mad.

Maybe that was the reason why he had never talked about him before. Maybe he was just nice to strangers, and was that annoying boy Fer always yap about.

You walk back to the living room. Thankfully, the kitchen was right next to it, so it was easy for Fer and Pedri to see you walking back.

"The caramel is gone." You say to fer, showing him your hands.

He chuckles, "Hey, this is Pedri." He says, turning to where pedri is, giving him a small hit on the head. "My little brother."

You nod, smiling at him. "Nice to know the one you blame for the burned food." You mess with Fer.

"Jo'er!" Pedri laughs. You can't help but find his laugh so cute. "Don't believe him, I wasn't in the house that day."

You giggle, looking at him.

He was also looking at you.

"Y/n is the one who made the lemon cake from the other day." Fer explains to Pedri. "He loved it, ate almost every slice of it."

You smile while bitting your lip. "Glad to know someone liked it." You say to Pedri.

"Buaf, liked it is not enough." He chuckles. "I broke my diet, so worth it."

"I can bake some for you."

Pedri nods, smiling like a little kid.

Fer calls your name from the backyard. You smile at pedri and walk outside.

"Your ice cream." Pam says.

You sit down, grabbing the spoon and mixing the very melted ice cream you had in front of you. You listen to the conversation, not wanting to involve yourself on it.

From your place you can see Pedri inside of the house, he was playing with the family dog. You knew the dog from Fernando's insta stories.

You can't help but smile at how delicate he is being with the dog.

"Oye," Daniel says to you. "I can give you a ride home. Fer mentioned that you didn't bring your car."

You scrunch your nose. "It's okay, I can order an Uber." You smile.

"Nonsense, I'll take you." He smiles, passing his arm around your shoulders.

You cringe at the action. Quickly grabbing the plates that are in front of you and him.

"Fer!" You say, getting up and making his arm leave your body. "Let me help you with the dishes."

"Oh si, we will help you." Pam says, grabbing some of the plates.

Daniel passed you Mike's plate while Pam had hers, Adriand and Fernandos plate. You walk with her to the kitchen.

"You really don't like him." She whispers.

"Qué?" You ask, trying to act as if you don't understand. "Wha- What are you talking about?"

"Dani, he's been all over you, and you've been so evasive with him."

You stayed quiet, making a face that makes her laugh.

"Let's just say that he's not my cup of tea." You say quietly. "He's just everything that I don't like combined in one dumb dude."

"He really doesn't know when to shut up." She sighs.

You just nodded, not really wanting to talk about it. Daniel was a little bit over himself and was the typical macho guy who thought that he's all that.

You stayed in the kitchen while the boys were outside. They were standing up, so maybe it meant that I was time for the gathering to end.

"Hey, give me your number." Pam says, taking her phone out of her pocket. "That way we can hang out."

You nod, happy and excited that you made a friend. You two share numbers and Instas.

"Party's over." Fer says, entering with the boys to the house.

You say goodbye to Adrian and Mike, giving a small hug to Pam and wave at Fer that was busy loading the dishwasher.

You notice that Daniel was in the backyard talking on the phone. You walk your way to the door to be able to get out before he gets off the phone.

You close the house front door and take your phone to order an Uber. Sadly for you, you were facing the consequences of your own actions.

You were too lazy to change your phone before getting ready, telling yourself that the charge that was left was enough for the day.

Well, it wasn't.

"Shit." You curse, trying not to be loud.

"Tas' bien?"

You lift your head and turn back to the house, finding Pedri looking at you.

"Si, I just got 1% of battery left, and I can't order my Uber." You say, smiling to hide your embarrassment.

"I can take you home." He smiles. "I'm going out, and I don't mind dropping you off."

"I don't want to be a bother." You say, feeling a little shy. "I'll just find a cab."

"Qué va! I'll take you." He says, walking close to you. "Vamos, I left the car outside."

He places his hand on your back, pushing you very lightly for you to walk. You feel this small goosebump.

He not only opens the door of his house to you but also the door of his car. You know that's not something that needs to wow you, but it does.

"Where to, señorita?" He asks happily.

You giggle at his enthusiasm. "Do you by any chance know the Calid Apartments?"

"Si, it's close to camp nou."

You nod. "Yes, the precious Camp nou."

"Do you like football?" He asks.

You shake your head no. "I'm bad at every sport known to man." You laugh, making him laugh. "That's why I picked cooking as my skill."

"You sure are good at that one." He says. "I'm not letting you bit out of the fact that you offered me more of that lemon cake."

He stopped at a red light, head turned to you. The way he was smiling at you and the way the red light hit the high spots of his face.

You were kind of thankful that the red light was hiding your blushed face.

"I'll make you as much lemon cake as you want." You whisper.

"Promise?" He whispers back, smiling at you.

"Yes." You giggle.

The car behind you honk as soon as the light turns green. Making Pedri's eyes move from you to the street.

"Do you want to play some music?" He asks, trying to act normal, he unlock his phone and passes it to you.

You grab the phone, opening spotify and pressing play to the song that was already playing.

The rest of the drive was silent. Not an uncomfortable one, you feel relaxed in some type of way.

You got a text from Fernando, he was asking you where you were. You block your phone, you'll deal with that later.

"We are here." Pedri says, parking in front of the building.

"Gracias, Pedri." You smile at him. "You saved me. Drive safe."

You close the door of his car, waving at him. You only get to walk a few steps before you hear Pedri calling your name.

You turn back to the car, his window is now down. He has that smile that is growing on you.

"Si?"

"Do you want to see a football game?"

You scrunch your nose. "Well, like i said, I don't know anything about football. Why?"

He chuckles, "I have a game this weekend, it's at 2 pm." He explains. "I know that's in four days, but I was wondering if you would like to come?"

You nod quite quickly. "I might not get anything, but I would like to." You smile.

"Talking about that, I can explain some basics to you."

You nod happily. "Give me your phone." You ask, getting your hand inside his car. You pick his phone, saving your number on his contacts. "You have my number. Text me whenever you are free."

He winks at you, saying a quick goodbye. You turn right before entering the building, waving at him.

☁️☁️☁️

"Hola!" You say, opening the door for Pedri.

"Hola, guapa." He smiles.

You step aside so he can get inside. He has a bag on his hands.

"What's that?" You ask, curious about it.

He hands you the bag. "For you." He smiles.

You grab it, also grabbing his wrist and walking with him to your couch. You sit and open the bag.

It was a simple bag, no indication of what was inside whatsoever. That is why when you open it, you are taken by surprise. It was a barca jersey.

"Una camisa!" You say happy. You take the jersey out and check it. (A jersey!)

"This is the black one." He explains, "we have a green one, the blaugrana one and this one."

You check the back to see which player he picked. "It's empty." You say.

He nods. "I'll let you decide which player you want."

You nod. "Cristino!" You smile.

He burst out laughing at your words. When you mentioned that you didn't know anything about football, he thought that maybe you meant the bases of the game, not that you didn't even knew the players or teams.

"I mean, he was in Real Madrid." He explains.

"Oh," you say, blushing at how dumb you must look. "Then who's on your team?"

"We got Gavi, Ferran, Cubarsi." He began naming the players. "We had Messi."

"I know that one." You smile. "But in my mind, he was a psg player."

"He was, before Miami."

You nod. "Do you want something to drink?" You ask him. "The lemon cake is in the oven." You tease.

"Fuck, can I be honest with you?"

"Siempre." You giggle.

"I trained extra hard just because I knew you would bake something."

"I promise it'll be worth it."

You notice that he has a piece of grass on his hair, you think about it for a few seconds. You decide to move your hand to the side of his head, taking the grass off of him.

"I can tell you trained hard." You joke with him, showing him the small trace of grass on your hand.

Your hand goes back to that section of hair, combing it with your fingers to make sure there is nothing left.

Pedri's eyes are running along your features, the way the natural light makes you look like a work of art.

Maybe it's because it's been a long time since he ever felt this attracted to someone. Maybe it's because you are so new to him, and that makes him want to have you around till he knows you.

Or maybe, just maybe it's because you are not like those other girls in his past. You don't care that he plays in one of the biggest teams of Europe.

You don't care that he just invited you to one big game, you don't even know who is on the team or what position he plays in.

You don't care about his money or take a picture with him to get followers and get people talking about you.

"Done." You smile. "Now, where do we start?"

Pedri clears his throat. "Okay, I know that Real Sociedad and Girona match is being replayed in about fifteen minutes, so I think that we can watch it and I'll explain everything to you."

You nod, letting Pedri get on his zone. He was happy that he got to share something he loved like football.

Pedri takes his time with you, explaining every little detail. There was an offside? He will explain to you why that happens and how to not get offsided.

Was there a yellow? Okay, now you know why you get a yellow. What about two yellow? No problem, he has an explanation.

Someone got a red? Well, now you can tell what kind of red card that is. If it was for too many yellows, if it was for a foul, for violence or any other kind of red.

You know now that Pedri is a midfielder, he explains what he does and why his position was important in the game.

"Pacheco is a defender." He explains, pointing to the player. That's why he seems more aggressive."

"Got it." You nod.

During the game, Zubimendi got tackled by Martinez feet. You frown, knowing now that it was a very evident yellow.

"Wait, why is the guy that gives the cards not giving him a yellow? That was a clear foul." You argue.

Pedri can't help the laugh. "Referee, guapa." He says. "And sometimes you'll notice that referees don't give cards or mark a clear thing. That's because they are some cabrones."

"Okay, so the match is almost done, 90 minutes completed. The referee is now supposed to give extra time that will do to make up for lost time."

"Two minutes?" You ask. "What can you do with two minutes?" You frown.

You not also learned that two minutes was a valuable time in football, but also you learned that you spoke way too soon.

"That is what you can do with two minutes." He says after one player scored. "He can even get another one."

You get up, walking to the kitchen to cut the now cold cake. You place a big slice on a plate. You grab a fork and walk back to the couch.

You handed the cake to him, who didn't even last more than five seconds before taking it into his own hands.

"This is amazing." He says, closing his eyes.

"Glad you like it." You smile. "I'll put the rest in a topper and you can take it home."

"Eres la mejor." He says with a mouth full. (You are the best)

You stayed quiet, watching him enjoy his slice of cake. You feel happy that he was so vocal about liking your food.

You let him talk a little bit more about football. You don't understand, but watching him talk and being so open about it makes him so attractive.

"I'll invite my cousin and his girlfriend." He explains. "Adrian mentioned that you two hit off very well."

"Si, she's really nice."

"Vale, then I think my work here is done." He chuckles. "I'll send you the pass information the morning of the game."

You nod, walking back to the kitchen to save the rest of that cake for him.

"Save a piece for Fer." You tell him.

"I can try." He says, shrugging. "But I might not be that successful."

☁️☁️☁️

"You are alive!" Fer says, exaggerating his tone.

"Never stopped." You laugh.

"Pero joder, you stopped answering my texts." He argues. "You only answer Pam's texts." He rolls his eyes.

"Don't be jealous, you are my favorite loser." You say, hugging him. "I'm sorry I didn't answer, it's just that I was busy." You lie.

"Aja. Sure." He smiles. "Also, Daniel asked me for your number the night of the party and I gave it to him."

You nod, faking a smile. "I know, he texted me." You say.

As much as you want to say that his friend is weird and that you didn't really hit it off with him, you don't.

"Subete! Let's go to camp nou." He does a little dance. "Are you excited?"

You nod, "Very much, I even got a kit." You say, pointing to your jersey.

"You finally caught onto a sport." Fer teases, knowing that you are not good at any sport.

You scuff, hitting his arm very lightly. You roll your eyes, knowing that he is right in mocking you.

You let him tell you about this movie he saw last night. He was so happy with the plot while you pay no attention to him.

Your whole focus was on Pedri's texts, he was asking if you if you were ready for the match and if you had your new jersey on.

You smile at the picture he sent you, it was him ready for warm up. You feel comfortable with him and you feel happy that he feels comfortable enough to be natural with you.

You send him a picture of the road. Updating him on where you are and that you have the jersey he gifted you.

You can't lie, a few days ago you were all < I don't need a new friend / boyfriend. I'm fine alone." But now that Pedri made his way into your life, you are enjoying it.

"Are you even listening to me?" Fer asks.

You nod. "Yes, you burned the banana bread your mother asked you to bake." You say, blocking your screen.

"Who are you even talking to?"

You feel your heart jump from the question.

You aren't doing anything wrong, but you are also sure he won't be happy to know his friend is talking to his little brother.

"Daniel." You say, not thinking enough. You mentally hit yourself because that will create a problem.

"Okay!" Fer says, smiling. "My work as Cupid is amazing, I see."

You stayed quiet, hearing him talk about other topics. You check your phone from time to time to answer Pedri's texts.

When you two arrive at the stadium, you feel kind of nervous. You never been to a game or never really been attracted to any sport so this feeling was new for you.

But you weren't just attracted to the sport, you feel attracted to the boy playing that sport.

"Adrian is inside with Pam." Fer says.

You feel happy, the stadium was really big. You remember that Pedri told you that the Camp Nou was even bigger and that it was better.

Fer and you walk over to the stand, you see that people are starting to take their seats. You follow fer to the correct seats.

"Y/n!" Pam says, getting up to greet you. "Love your jersey."

"Thank you, love yours!" You say, hugging her. "Hola Adrian." You say to the boy next to her.

You sit between Pam and Fernando. He wanted for you to sit there so he could explain som parts of the game to you.

You spend the remaining time until the match starts talking with fer and Pam. Adrian and her had an idea of going to Tenerife to have a relaxing weekend.

Fer was happy because that means visiting his family and being able to have a nice weekend with his friends from Tenerife.

"We can use one of Pedri's days off." Fer suggests. "I know he has some next month, and I think it's on the week that he will play againt Las Palmas."

"That's amazing!" Pam says. "You are coming, right?"

You shrugged. "Can I confirm later?" You ask.

"Venga, you have to come!" Adrian says.

"She will, I'll make sure of it."

The conversation got interrupted by the screaming of the people. You all turn attention to the field where the players were coming.

You see the players doing the intro and everything. To you it was amazing, you never seen that before, and you are sure you look like another young boy in the stadium seeing their favorite players for the first time.

They got in position, ready to play. Pedri turns to the bleachers, he's trying to spot his brother or cousin.

When he does, he notices you next to Fer. His smile grows. He turns back to the field, he needs to have his mind on the ball and not on the bleachers.

You try your best to enjoy the game, doing your best to remember what Pedri told you. When one of the players from the other team pushes the number 9, you quickly frown.

"But that's a clear foul." You say, noticing how the referee gives zero fucks about the in clear pain player. "Why is he not giving him a yellow?"

Fer turns to you. "Because he's an asshole." Fer says.

You turn back to the field. The 9 got up and is talking to the referee. You try to understand why it is so complicated to give a card when it's so obviously deserved.

"Espera," Fer says, turning back to you. "Did you just say the word foul and yellow card?" He asks surprised.

"I'm not that dumb." You laugh.

The first half was good. You stressed about the fact that the players of the other team were on and on over the barca players.

"I hate this game." You say t everyone. You have a pout on your face. "Why is the referee that way?"

"That's what we all ask each other week after week." Adrian says.

"Wait for them to foul Pedri." Fer says on a bitter tone. "They love to ignore how other players attack him."

You just frown. Why would anyone attack that gorgeous man?

You sake that thought out of your head. "That's fucked up." You say to Fer.

Thankfully to you, the rest wasn't that long. You hear the screams and people chanting different players' names.

The second time was somehow worse than the first. Fer wasn't lying when he explained to you that the referees hated barca.

Number 7 makes a wrong move and tackles the 11 of the other team. You can see how the yellow card shines in his direction.

But thanks to Pedri, number 3 and number 2. The game got more interesting. Pedri assist number 9 and he scores a goal.

"Only the extra time left." Adrian says. "And we are still leaders on La Liga."

"Is that good?" You ask Fer.

"That's amazing!" He smiles. "Remember, you always want for us to be leaders."

After the extra minutes the game was over. That meant three more points for barca and a clearly free way to the top.

Pedri got named motm, meaning he was leaving with a trophy. He explained that motm meant that he was the best player among the two teams.

The four of you walk back to the parking lot after waiting a while for the people to start leaving.

"Oye, we will head home for pizza and a drink." Fer says, to you. "And you are coming too."

You nod, thanking him for inviting you to go with them.

"Also I texted Daniel, he will be there in an hour. It's enough time for us to get there."

You got serious. It's not like you hated the guy, but if you had to save an ice cream cone from the sun or save him... yeah the ice cream.

Fer explained to you that Pedri has his car and he will get home after showering and talking to some players.

You check your phone when it vibrates. You had two texts, one from Pedri asking you how the match was from your pov.

And the second one was from Daniel, telling you that he was excited to see you at Fer's and that maybe you can plan an outing while you are there.

You obviously answer the first text, telling Pedri your thoughts. You even tell him that you were enow mad at that specific referee and will find him for not giving a yellow when he got tackled.

You can't help but feel bad at Daniel's text. You hate to ignore people, you answer with a thumbs up emoji.

You made your way to Fer's house. Picking the pizza and some beverages on the way. You text Pedri, asking him if he was planning on drinking something.

He answered that he won't and that he might just stick to some water because he has a recovery training tomorrow in the evening.

"Can you help Pam with the pizza while Adrian and I make the dri-" Fer was saying, but the doorbell interrupted him. "Maybe please open the door?"

You nod, smiling at him and handing the pizza boxes to Pam. You walk to the door and open it.

"Hola, mi guapa." Daniel says, smiling at you. "You look amazing on that."

"Hola." You say, very dry tone.

You turn, leaving him at the door and walking back inside.

Pam was about to talk but she noticed the boy behind you. "Oh, Hi." She says, waving at him.

Daniel was too busy with his phone to answer to her. "Where Fer?" He asks you.

You share a look with Pam, rolling your eyes you point to the patio. You then help with placing the pizzas on plates for the boys and for you.

You walk to the patio with a few plates while you see Fernando and Adrian trying to imitate a tutorial on tik tok.

"Hard much?" You ask, laughing at them. "Let's just drink it 70/30 and call it a night." You suggest.

They agree and bring the drinks to the table. You talk for a while about the match, updating Daniel on how the match went.

You get a text from Pedri saying that he was about to get home. You wanted to talk for a while with him before he got taken by Adrian and Fer.

"I'll go to the bathroom." You say, getting up. "Anyone needs more pizza? I can grab some when I'm back." You ask, trying to make it sound normal.

As if it was you saying you are going to the area 51 or something. You are just going to the bathroom.

They all answer yes to your question. You say you'll bring the box to let them grab a slice by themselves.

You walk to the bathroom just in time to see Pedri walking inside the house.

"Hola." He smiles, you can tell he is tired because of his eyes. "Having a good time?"

You nod, giving him a quick hug hello. "You look tired." You say. "I mean, obviously you are, you just played a lot. Sorry, that sounded really dumb, but also maybe you have a lot of energy because sometimes exercise gives you energy." You ramble.

He chuckles, finding cute how you are trying to remedy your words. "Buaf, a little tired, but I'll maybe go outside. I heard that there's pizz-"

"Y/n." Daniel calls. "There you are, we are waiting on that pizza." He says.

You turn to him, frown from how you were just absent for barely three minutes now. "Oh, it's on the counter in the kitchen." You say.

"Hey, man." He says to Pedri. "I know where it is, but you mentioned you were bringing out, and you didn't, so I thought maybe something happened to her."

"It's been four minutes." You say, checking your watch. "Less, I think."

You can feel the awkward silence from the three of you. Pedri, who's just there, not understanding. Daniel, who is trying to get you to come back with him and you who want him to get away so you can go back to Pedri.

"Vale, you can bring the pizza to them then." You smile. "I haven't even been to the bathroom, I was saying hi to Pedri." You explain.

Why are you explaining yourself? Just tell him to go get the pizza!

"Daniel, llevales la pizza tú." Pedri says, noticing the tone in his brother's friend. (Take the pizza yourself)

Daniel lifts his hands, nodding and going back to the kitchen.

You turn to Pedri, smiling at him. You try to think on what to say after that awkward moment, but you kind of blocked.

"Ya viste mi trofeo?" He asks, lifting his motm trophy. "Ta' guapo, eh!" He says. (Have you seen my trophy? It's cool)

You extend your hands, asking for the trophy. You checked it, and it was cool. Like, really really cool.

"Do you have more of this?" You ask, still looking at the trophy.

"I think I have five." He answers, thinking about it. "I have one that has stars on it." You open your mouth in sorprise, looking at him. "I know, so cool." He smiles.

You smile back at him. You hand him the award back. "I'll let you rest." You say. "If you want to still go out, we have pizza and some drinks." You repeat what you say to him over text.

He nods while blinking. You really like it when he does that. "Well if I don't, text me when you are ready to leave, I can drop you off."

"No seas bobo, you are tired. Plus, your brother will drive me."

"The same one who's probably doing shots by now?" He asks, lifting an eyebrow. "Yeah, he's not driving you home. You need to get home safe."

You want to argue back that he really needs the rest but Fernando magically decides to scream.

"Chug, chug, chug. My turn, my turn!"

You shut your mouth quicker than ever. "Maybe I'll do text you." You say, smiling at him. "Go get some rest, you deserve it."

You say a quick goodbye to him, walking back to the garden. Finding Adrian and Fer competing over who can drink their drink faster.

"Y/n, want a shot?" Daniel asks you.

"I think I'm fine with my drink, thanks." You say, taking your seat. "What are these idiots doing?" You ask Pam.

"Adrian told Fernando he was quicker than him at drinking."

You laugh, watching them prepare different drinks and competing over who was quicker or even who got the best drink in taste.

The night was fun, you were thankful that you had all Sunday to rest.

"So, y/n." Daniel says, taking Pam's seat as she went to the bathroom. "What were you and Pedri talking about?"

You lift an eyebrow. "Does it matter?" You ask.

"I mean, I feel like I need an explanation. You say you were going to the bathroom but you are talking to him. Leaving us without pizza."

"The pizza was in the kitchen, dude." You say, getting irritated. "Why do you care if I took less than five minutes in the bathroom or if I was talking to Fernando's brother?"

"Because you can speak to me instead." He says, passing his arm around you. "I told you we can plan an outing, I might cancel that if you keep behaving like a handover." He laughs.

You take his arm away from you. "Don't worry, I'll cancel it for you. Wasn't going to go anywhere with you, anyway." You say, getting up from your seat and grabbing your phone.

You text Pedri to see if he was awake.

He didn't take much to responde that he was, telling you that he would be down in a moment. He sends you a picture of him playing a game.

You thank him and tell him to take all the time he wants. You are not in a hurry.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" Adrian asks you. "Want a drink?" He smiles, lifting his half cocktail at you.

"No, thank you." You smile back. "I just got cold." You half lie, you were cold, but that was not the reason.

"Oh, I can fix that." He smiles, walking to one of the doors by the entrance. He grabs a hoodie from the closet where Pedri and Fer keep a winter jacket and a hoodie just in case.

He walked back to you, handing you a taupe Balenciaga hoodie. You thank him, putting it on.

"So, drink?" He asks again.

You laugh. "I'm good, believe me."

He dissappear back into the garden. You stayed there, enjoying the calm and warmth that the hoodie brought you.

You were dissociating for a moment before you felt a little tap on your head. You go back to reality, finding Pedri in front of you.

"Cute hoodie." He says.

"It's Adrian's." You say. "I was cold, maybe because I'm tired." You smile.

"Let's get you home." He extends his arm to you, offering his hand for you to take and get up.

"Are you sure you don't mind?" You ask him. "I can take a cab if you want to go back to your video game."

He shakes his head no. "I can't let you take the risk of going alone to your house in a cab." He says. "Plus, it was time for me to get off of it."

You nod, walking with him to the garage. He opens the door of his Porsche. You find that very cute.

"Want to do the honors?" He asks once he's inside the car, handing you his phone with spotify open.

You played some Quevedo, you love his music so you can't resist to pick it for the drive.

The drive was silent, you feel tired and he feels tired too, but won't let you take a cab and risk you out there. He prefers to take that little bit of strength he has left and make sure you get home safe.

"Te divertiste?" He asks, stopping at a red light. (Did you have fun?)

"I did, thank you for inviting me." You smile. "Even tho I'm mad that the fact that now I have an enemy on the referee." You say with a mischievous tone.

He can't help the laugh he let out. He was happy that you had a good time, and even better that they won the match.

When he stopped at the entrance of your building, he lowered the music. "Thank you for coming, it was good to have you there." He says, looking at you.

You try to answer, but the big yawn that you let out was the only thing your body was letting out.

He chuckles. "Eso pa mi es un de nada." He jokes. "Go to sleep, guapa." (That for me is a you're welcome)

You nod, leaning to give him a hug and a cheek kiss. You got down of the car, when you are about to enter the building you turn and give him a goodbye wave.

☁️☁️☁️

"You want me to bake you a banana bread?" You ask Pedri.

You were in your apartment watching some movie that he got recommended. You tried your best not to fall asleep.

You have been texting, phone calling, and spending time with each other almost every day since the day after the game.

You thought that it might be a short thing and that maybe the idea of the two of you was wrong.

But after you hit the four months mark, you definitely knew that his feelings were real and that he was as interested in you as you are of him.

You enjoy his presence in your life. It's was different and very nice to have him around. He also enjoys your presence. To him, it was fresh to have someone new and who gave him a new perspective of things.

"Buaf, that sounds amazing." He says. "Don't forget that we have that dinner at Adrian's." He says combing your hair.

"Do we have to?" You ask, getting comfortable on his chest. "I mean, you do because he is your cousin. But do I have to?"

"You don't, but I want you there." He says, kissing your hair. "Also Adrian wants you there."

"Aww, pepi." You say in a teasing tone of voice. "You want me there?" You smile.

He blushes a little. "Maybe you are right, you don't have to go." He jokes.

You lift your head, narrowing your eyes and looking at him. He can't help but smile, even though he is pretending to watch the movie.

"Grosero." You say, getting back to your position. (Rude)

He laughs, turning back to you and kissing your shoulder. "Toy' bromeando." He smiles. "I do want you there." He lifts his neck a little to kiss the corner of your lips.

"Pero besame bien," you pout, making his smile grow bigger. You pucked your lips out for him, he quickly imitates the action and kisses you. "So much better." You smile. (Kiss me properly)

He can't help but feel happy, the time you two have spent together was a very happy time for him.

He moves his hands to the back of your head, making you get closer for him to kiss you one more time.

You feel your phone vibrate next to you, making him separate a little to look at it. "That's probably your brother asking me about the pie he wants to take to dinner tonight." You say.

He shrugged and went back to kissing you, ignoring the phone that was vibrating next to you.

"Pero si me vas a hacer ese pan de platano?" Pedri asks as he separates.

You laugh, "I'll do it. Let's just finish the movie." You say, focusing on the movie.

But you can't quite concentrate on the movie when your phone is buzzing at its maximum. You grab it and move it under of a pillow, that way, the vibration won't bother you.

After a few minutes, the phone passed from vibrating from texts to vibrate from a call. Pedri grabs it, passing it to you.

"Hello?" You ask, the number that was dialing you was an unknown one.

"Te he estado enviando unos veinte mensajes, what are you even doing that's so important for you to not take five seconds to answer my texts?" (I've been texting you like twenty times)

You take your phone out of your ear, looking at the number. "Daniel?" You ask lifting yourself from your position on Pedri's chest. You are confused about what was going on. "Is everything okay? Did something happen?"

"I can ask you the same. Did you even see my texts?" He asks in a mad tone.

"No, I'm busy." You say. "Why is that important that can't wait? Are you okay?" You ask, thinking that maybe he was in trouble.

Pedri was looking at you confused. "What's going on?" He whispers.

You shake your head, not understanding anything. You can hear Daniel chuckling and that makes you even more confused than before.

"Check the texts and call me back." He says before hanging up the call.

You are still lost at what even happened, Pedri looks as confused as you are. You shrugged and opened your texts.

First it was a picture of him with two tickets on his hands. It was for this new movie that was having a premier today.

Then it was him asking what your favorite flowers are. He was at a flower shop, and he sent you a picture of different flowers.

And last was him asking if you like chocolate and what kind of chocolate you want. He sent you a picture of one random one next to the tickets and the flowers.

"I think he likes you." Pedri jokes, reading the texts. "Payaso." He scuffs.

"You think?" You ask, lifting an eyebrow. "Gosh, I hate to be all bitchy, like can he get the hint already?"

Pedri can't help the laugh. "He's obviously not getting the hint, preciosa." He says. "Why don't you just tell him straightforwardly that you are not interested?"

You nod. "Like now?" You pout.

"Ah vale, si quieres esperate de acá a que el payaso ese te proponga matrimonio o algo." (Oh okay, if you want, you can wait till that asshole proposes or something)

"Vale, I'm doing it." You say, smiling a little at his jealousy. "You look good when you are jealous." You tease, grabbing his cheeks and giving him a peck.

You can't lie, you have a text on your notes about what you wanted to say. You just edited some things and added other things.

You send the text and place your phone on Not Disturb mode. You really don't care to read any excuse or text he will send. You just want peace.

"Done." You say, blocking your phone. "Now help me pick something for the dinner tonight." You say, grabbing his hand and getting up from bed.

"I'm literally wearing the same thing." He says, following you to your closet.

"Good thing that you are a boy, then." You laugh. "I don't know what to wear."

He starts inspecting your clothes, finding a T-shirt that's exactly like the one he is wearing. "Mira, we can match!" He says, smiling like crazy.

"Let's match, baby." You hug him.

He kisses your cheek, "By the way, Ferran and Eric want to go to the movies. It's after dinner, and I want you to come with me so you can meet them."

"What if your friends don't like me?" You ask, worried about the possibility.

"Buaf, tas loca." He chuckles, grabbing your cheeks. "Ferran te va a amar, incluso no te asustes si te hace una broma el hijoputa." (You are crazy, Ferran is going to love you, don't get scared if he tries to prank you)

You nod, smiling. "Okay, and Eric?"

"Eric, he loves everyone." He smiles, giving you a kiss. "No te preocupes, you are so special. How could anyone hate you?"

He can't help but crashing his lips with yours. His hands are going from your cheeks to behind your neck.

"Stop, I have to get ready." You say, felling his hands go down on your back, "and you have to get that thing Adrian asked you."

He pecks your lips. "Fine, but we're not done."

You send him back to the room, grabbing the clothes and picking some jeans and sneakers. You took a quick shower, getting ready inside the bathroom.

You add some very light makeup, finishing quickly. You go back to the room, getting back in bed with Pedri, who was finishing the movie.

He snuggles into your side, giving you a kiss to the cheek. "Tell me when you are ready." He says.

"What about what you need to get?" You ask, turning the volume down.

"Fer is getting it."

You continue watching the movie, there was only twenty minutes left on the movie when you heard knocks on your door.

You frown, you are not expecting anybody, so you don't really pay attention to it. Sadly for you, the knocks come back two minutes back.

"I'll be right back." You say, getting up from bed.

You walk to the door, thinking that maybe some package ended in the hands of one of your neighbors.

To your surprise, it wasn't a neighbor with a package. It was Daniel, carrying the bouquete of flowers and the chocolates.

He doesn't even wait for you to say anything, he storms into your apartment. He leaves the things on the coffee table.

"Si, Daniel. Get inside." You sarcastically say. "What do you need?"

"You didn't answer your texts." He says, ignoring your questions. "I brought your flowers, peonies, the florist says girls love peonies."

"Daniel-"

"And I got you some chocolate, this brand is that famous one from tik tok. The Dubai one." He keeps going.

"Danie-"

"And don't forget about dinner, I'm taking you to dinne-"

"Para!" You say loudly. "Didn't you read my text?" You ask, exasperated. He nods. "Okay, you did. Then what are you doing here?"

"I know you were just messing around." He smiles. "And that's why I wanted to get you some goodi-"

"How did you get my address?" You ask, thinking about it. "I never gave it to you."

"Oh, Fer did." He says, normally. "But don't get mad, he doesn't know about your dumb text." He laughs.

You blink a few times. Not understanding if what was happening was real or if it was a dream, a very bad one.

"Daniel, I really hate to say this." You begin. "But like I said over text, I'm not interested, and honestly, it's kind of creepy that you are doing things like this."

He laughs, but not in a < you're funny > way, in a very creepy way. "I mean, look at me. You can give me a second chance. In fact you will!"

It's your turn to laugh. You can't even believe he would have the audacity to say that. "Alright, it's time for you to go." You say, turning to your door.

He grabs your arm, bringing you closer. "Don't act all pure and shit."

You don't think twice and lift your knee, you hit his crotch. "What is wrong with you?" You say, hitting his face with your hand as he fell on his knees from the pain. "Get the fuck out of here."

Pedri hears the commotion and walks to where you are, he sees Daniel on the floor and you with an angry face.

"Qué mierda?"

"Este puto payaso que trató de agarrarme por la muñeca, se piensa que le daré una oportunidad." (This fucking asshole who tried to grab me and thinks I'm forced to give his ass a chance)

Daniel who is still on the floor, looks at Pedri with a confused look. Pedri pulls you towards him, covering your body with his own.

"What the fuck is he doing here?" He asks, mad that Pedri was there.

"Venga, pedazo de imbecil." Pedri laughs. "I can ask the same thing. Get up and get the fuck out." He orders.

Daniel quickly understands the situation. "So you are fucking Fer's brother?" He chuckles. "Okay, miss prude."

Pedri takes that as a sign, grabbing the boy by the collar of his jacket, and while he still om his knees, he's dragging him out of your apartment.

Pedri might look small, but he has some force into himself. Once he gets Daniel out in the corridor. He walks back inside, grabbing the flowers and the chocolates.

He throws it at him, slaming the door and closing it. He takes a few deep breaths before turning to where you are.

"You okay?" He asks, walking over to you. "Did he hurt you?"

You shake your head. "No, I'm just a little shaken up. But I'm okay."

He wraps his arms around you, giving you a hug and a kiss to your hair. "That chocolate actually looked amazing." He jokes.

You can't help but laugh and roll your eyes. "Let's just wait for him to go, and then we can leave to Adrian's."

He nods, holding you while you calmed down. You asked him some things, trying for him to calm himself down too.

He doesn't want to admit it but he's also very mad. You let him go, walking back to your room to get a jacket.

"I'll see you there, please drive safely." He says, pecking your lips.

"We are literally going to the same place. "Keep your hands to yourself." You joke, pushing him away.

He rolls his eyes at you. "You know you love when I do that." He smirks.

"Kinda."

The whole drive to his cousins house was bored. You try to play some music to feel less lonely on the car.

When you arrive the first person you see is Pam. She greets you, grabbing your arm and waking inside.

"I love your shirt." She says, handing you a glass.

You click the glasses together, laughing at how silly that looked, mostly because it was soda and not an alcoholic beverage.

When Fer arrived, it was followed by Pedri. Fer was laughing at how his brother got him to bring what he needed to.

"Pedri!" Pam calls him. "Come here."

He walks over to where you two are, Pam takes a look at you, then back at pedri, then back at you and then back at pedri again.

"You are matching!" She smiles, pointing at your t-shirts. "That's so cool."

You smile at that. Even if it was planned, it felt so cute. "Buaf, we are." He smiles, finger poking your side.

"Adrian, let's match next time." Pam says, walking to her boyfriend.

You grab Pedri's cheek, squishing it. "Totally random." You laugh.

You all sat down at the table, talking about different things. The biggest topic was the famous trip to Tenerife Pedri and Adrian are planning.

"You are coming, right?" Adrian asks.

You nod, at first you didn't want to go, but once Pedri convinced you. He asked you to come to the game that was taking place a few days before the trip.

You all talk about the trip, what you will do when you get there, what activities the boys have in mind and other things.

When it was time to leave, you told everybody that you needed to get home and do something. Saying that you might call a cab or use the bus.

Pedri offered to take you since he was going with his teammates somewhere. Nobody said anything, they all just nodded and waved a goodbye at you.

"I've been thinking." He says.

"That's new." You tease him.

"Buaf, grosera. You are meeting my parents." He squish your hand.

"Maybe when we get to tenerife, we can tell your parents that we are together."

He grabs your hand, giving it a kiss. "If you feel ready, then I do." He smile. "By the way, Ferran might or may not ask you for a cake, he loves cakes."

"Pero venga, por qué no me has dicho que estabas con alguien?" Fer asks Pedri, offended that he found out that he was with someone because of a magazine and not because he told him. (Why didn't you tell me that you are with someone?)

Pedri rolls his eyes, he knows that if he confesses that the mysterious girl is, in fact, Fer's friend. He would be mad and won't understand.

"I was going to." Pedri says, watching his phone like nothing happened. "I was just waiting."

"When?" Fer asks, taking the phone out of his hand. "You never hide things out, what is going on?"

"Joder, can't I have something only to myself?"

Fer throws the phone back at him, grabbing his keys and going out.

Pedri and Fer are not ones to keep secrets to each other, that's why Fer was mas about Pedri keeping this as a secret.

His friends invited him to play some padel, he needed that after the fight with his brother.

Daniel was there, so it was good because they always had a chat to update each other on their life.

But this time was different, Daniel didn't wanted to talk to Fer. He barely even acknowledged him, thing that left Fer very confused.

The whole game he was trying to think what was going on for him to be ignored by his friend.

"Daniel, tio, what's going on?" He asks, patting his friends back. "You've been so distant."

"Honestly, I like it that way." He scruff. "Last time we saw each other you linked me with a fucking girl whos fucking your brother for money."

Fer doesn't have an answer for that, he doesn't even understand why Daniel is saying that.

"Qué mierda? Why are you saying that?"

"Because is true, yesterday I got her flowers, some chocolate and even invited her to dinner but when I went to pick her up she was with your brother."

"Yesterday?" He asks, confused. "I saw them yesterday, that can't be right."

"Don't believe me?" He laughs. "Were they wearing matching clothes?" He asks

Fer doesn't answer, he grabs his stuff. He drives home, hoping that his brother is still there. He needed to ask if what Daniel said was true.

He finds Pedri watching Breaking Bad while petting nilo. Was he mad? At him, no. But he was mad at you.

"Are you and Y/n, hooking up?"

"Qué?" He asks, pretending to not understand. "Are you crazy?"

"Tell me the truth, Pedro." He warns him, using his name and not the nickname. "Because Daniel just told me that he went to deliver her flowers and shit and found you there with her."

Pedri shrugged, "Maybe one of the times where I picked her up."

"Turns out that it was yesterday. At first, I didn't believe it, but then he told me you guys were matching, just like you were yesterday."

Pedri sighs, he wants to honor his word when he promised you to keep it private from the group, but he can't deal with this.

"And if I am, what about it?" He asks, turning the tv off. "It's not like is any of your business."

"Pedro, are you out of your mind? You can be fucking girls and giving them money!" Fer shouts. "Don't be fucking stupid."

Pedri can't help but laugh at how stupid Fernando sounds. "I'm not paying anybody for sex. She's my girlfriend."

Fer doesn't know how to answer because Pedri doesn't do girlfriends. He's more of the type to be with someone for a few days and then goodbye.

"She what?"

"Qué es mi novia, idiota." (She's my girlfriend, asshole)

"You don't do girlfriends." Fer says. "Look, if this isn't true and you are actually payin-"

"Me cago en la puta, que no!" He shouts. "Now be fucking useful and take nilo out for a walk."

He starts walking upstairs, not before turning back to Fernando. His brother is speechless, nilo by his side waiting to be taken out after hearing the word "walk".

"And don't say shit, she wants to announce it on Tenerife. So, you are going to be quiet and act normal." He walks two steps, remembering he needs to say something else. "By the way, if you ever insinuate that I'm fucking paying her to have sex with me. I'll beat the shit out of you."

☁️☁️☁️

"Y/n, are you ready to see the game?" Rosy asks, fixing something in your hair as she sets the plate of food on the table. "Hope we win."

"Yes, I'm so excited. We are going to win." You smile.

"Pedri told me you were not a fan of football." Fernando his father says.

"I'm not really that good at sports, but your son helped me with learning about football."

You were eating at their house, Pedri invited you over so you could tell his parents about your relationship.

"She's a good student." He says, placing his hand on your thigh. "She now knows even more than me."

You smile at him, intertwining the hand that's he has on your thigh with yours. You think nobody's noticing, but his parents are doing it.

Rosy and Fernando are trying to keep their comments, wanting you two to confirm or deny what you are.

The eyes between you and him keep being not discreet at all, even Fer, who was there just because he lived there, noticed that.

You make a nice talk with both of them, they ask you about yourself and about how you met the boys.

They also explained to you how Pedri ended up in football and how he cried on his first night in Barcelona.

Something embarrassing because without it, it wouldn't be a proper introduction.

"Pedri, tell me something." Rosy speaks.

Pedri nods, serving himself with a few more croquettes. He can't get enough of them.

"I'm sorry to ask, I just can't wait." She says. "Can you please just tell us that you are daiting so we can cut the whole weird talk?" She asks

You choke on your food, trying to help Fer pass you some water. He wants to laugh at how Pedri is all red and shy.

"How do yo-" He tries but his voice fails him. "How do you know?"

Rosy and Fernando exchange looks, they want to laugh at how funny this was. Even Fer was enjoying this a little too much for his brother liking.

"Oh, you know." His father says, filling his glass with more wine. "Parents have that instinct."

"That and the fact that we all saw you kissing on the corridor at the hotel in Gran Canaria."

☁️☁️☁️

[romanticintheory]

now thinking about what it would look like if reader was betrayed by simon. i just wanna feel the excrutiating pain😞😞🙏🙏

nonny u read my mind!!

simon "ghost" riley x reader

-you meet him while you're shopping for new jewelry. your father, instead of celebrating your birthday with you, sent you a stupid amount of cash with the note, "happy birthday. get yourself something you like."

-he was always away for work. what he did, you never knew. your entire life, he had always been distanced from you despite his friendly, loud demeanor. it was like he was trying to make up for his lack of emotional and physical presence with his smiles and money.

-you believed simon riley was different.

-he tapped you on the shoulder when you were birthday shopping, clearing his throat to drown the nerves as he asked you which of the two necklaces looked better.

-you smiled kindly at him and pointed to the one you thought looked better.

-"who's the lucky lady?"

-"just my mum. figured she deserved something nice and i want it to be special for her."

-you both hit it off immediately.

-his quiet, observant demeanor was a breath of fresh air compared to what you had suffered with your father. he was always listening, keeping his eyes on you, or maybe had an arm around your waist when his attention was required elsewhere.

-he was also incredibly understanding of your situation with your father.

-"i dunno. i thought about having you meet him, but he's just always so busy and it always feels like there's no point in asking him."

-"he's that busy? what's he even do?"

-"couldn't tell you. he can't even be bothered to let me know what's so important that he has to basically ignore me my entire life. i mean, i love him, but..."

-"yeah. i get it."

-eventually, your dad catches on that you're dating someone. it's during his once-a-month call that hears a simon's "ow" following a loud thud.

-when your dad finds out it's your boyfriend, he insists on meeting him.

-"need t' get to know him, is all. especially if he's gonna be my future son-in-law!"

-when you tell simon, he gives you an encouraging nudge toward agreeing. it had been almost a year that you were together, and you were still apprehensive on letting the love of your life and the vague outline of your father meet.

-"he already knows. bet he'll keep asking until you give in, so why not now?"

-your shoulders sag in defeat as you realize he's right. so, you text your dad the details of a meetup.

-simon is oddly silent the entire drive to the restaurant. you assume it's nerves. after all, you can feel your own heart beating furiously against your chest.

-when you're about three blocks away from the restaurant, he pulls over on the curb. it's a dark night and all is quiet. for a moment, you think he's about to chicken out and propose the both of you just go home.

-he leans back in his seat and unlocks the car doors. he raises his hand as a signal and utters a single phrase:

-"don't scream."

-suddenly, the door to your seat is thrown open and someone is tying your hands behind your back and your legs together. the entire time, you're pleading, tears gathering in your eyes with a confused look on your face.

-as the last knot is secured on your legs, you hear a deep voice murmuring an apologetic, "sorry. nothing personal." is that a scottish accent? "ghost, price gave the good to go. we're ready for you."

-the soldier looks into your eyes briefly, nods back at simon, and leaves, shutting the door behind him.

-you turn your gaze back to who you thought was the one.

-"simon?"

-still, he refuses to make eye contact with you. instead, he opens the glove compartment and pulls out a balaclava and mask, pulling the former over his face.

-you can't read his eyes when he finally looks over at you, his expression now covered by a skull.

-"don't try to escape. we've got someone watchin' you, so we'll know."

-"why are you doing this?" your voice is cracking, and the tears are now slowly dribbling down to your chin and onto your lap.

-he doesn't answer you, just giving you a hardened, "i'm sorry," before taking your phone from your bag and leaving you in the dark, suffocating car.

-yeah. you believed simon riley was different.

[gor3sigil]

I’m Trans and Insane and I’m doing fine.

[TW Psychosis, transphobia, psychophobia, medication, psych ward]

“Are you sure ?” she asked.

I remember looking back at her in disbelief, because that was certainly a question I never asked her when she came out.

“Why do you ask ?” I say.

“Dude, I’ve seen you go into depersonalization so hard you even thought you were a human soul in a robot vessel and now, you want me to trust you when you say that you, too, are trans ?”

That’s the memory that comes back to me as I fold and put in my bag my psychiatrist’s note attesting that I suffer from gender dysphoria, NOT LINKED to any psychotic symptoms. Here it goes in my folder with my prescription note, an increase - again - of my anti depressants and Xan, and my endocrinologist’s HRT prescription, increased too - finally.

I go to two separate pharmacies to pick up each prescription for two reasons:

There is only one in this godforsaken town that always had testosterone in stock.

I can’t explain to you with words the look you can get when you give back to back, to someone who, despite not being a doctor, works in healthcare, a note for trans HRT and then a note for psychiatric meds.

And I’m lucky, because I’m not taking antipsychotics anymore. Contrarily to what you could think, it doesn’t magically makes the voices and the shadowy people disappear, but it can make a mess of your head pretty bad and my doctor and I both agreed that I didn’t need more damage up here than what I already had. And no, it doesn’t make your delusions vanish magically too: in fact, I was still pretty certain that I was talking to my soul family out here in Argentine telepathically about my mission on Earth, the meds just made it more difficult to understand their voices, but the belief was still solid.

Anyways, I’m back home with the Hoy Grail I fought tooth and nails to get: a letter from the Sacred Council of Mental Sanity also known as Psychiatry that I was, indeed, a bit delulu, but also trans, and that both things didn’t play into each other. My transness wasn’t a delusion, my delusions didn’t have anything to do with being trans.

Or did it ?

Chicken or egg, you know the drill. Did I have my selves fractured before and one of the piece that shattered my brain happened to make me trans or was I just trans with a shitload of traumas in the back that made me insane ?

But don’t worry, at least, trans people when we’re together, we have each other’s back ! Right ?

“Transidentity ISN’T a mental illness !! We don’t DESERVE to be FORCIBLY LOCKED UP and MEDICATED and MADE TO CONFORM FOR OTHER’S SENSE OF SECURITY !!”

Neither do I, RIGHT ?

Oh

Or do I ?

Remember what she said, my girlfriend, right at the beginning ?

How I can’t be trusted about myself when sometimes I don’t even have a sense of self anymore or I have too much selves who fight against each other ?

And what do we say to that ?

Get treatment. Get in-patient. Take medication. And for the love of God, shut the fuck up about it, you’re giving us a bad name.

Because being trans and crazy can’t exist. It’s absurd. You have to fix one of these two things. Choose which jacket I’ll wear, and they call it a straitjacket for a reason it seems, so am I queer or am I insane ?

All I know today is there isn’t a universe in which I’m a trans without any mental illnesses, or mentally ill without being trans. And yet, I can’t tell you how many time I got asked “do you think you’d be trans if you never got through [x trauma] ?”. I. Don’t. Know. I’ll never know. And I deserve just as much agency as you get despite being mentally ill. If you don’t believe in that, don’t come yapping about “liberation for all of us”, but “if one of us is crazy they’ll all think I am too and that can’t happen”.

No LGBTQIAA+ person deserves to be told they need to be put away, to be cured, to be allowed out in the open only if they’re deemed “acceptable” by society’s standards. And no mentally ill people deserve to either.

No trans person should be going through years of counseling to have the access to HRT.

And I shouldn’t have had to threaten my own mother’s life to avoid being locked in an adult psych ward at 14.

If you ever think, for one second, that these two things have nothing to do with one another, you are far removed from history.

To hear queer people say “yeah but some mentally ill people are dangerous !” feels like you don’t even know where you come from.

And if I want to say, that me being trans is linked to me being mentally ill, or at least, that both are connected in a way, all hell breaks fucking loose.

So I’ll explain very carefully.

See, when I was young, my mind got shattered into a thousand of pieces I had to try to glue back on. All these pieces of myself broke further more down the line because I couldn’t catch a fucking break. And now, it happens that the final puzzle does not have the same face it had before. It happens that its shape changed over time, for reasons over the control of all of us who tried to build ourselves back. Now there’s a bigger picture, less pieces, a few other shadows, and me. Built from the shatters. With my own needs and afflictions.

And whoever you are, whatever your agenda might be, I will not let anyone take any agency away from me under the false pretext that I can’t know anything for myself. They say that about children, they say that about minorities, about physically disabled people, about the people they want OUT. And my trans siblings, you know that.

I came out for the first time 7 years ago, to my then girlfriend, who was the one asking the question that is the first sentence of this text. I came out a second time 3 years ago. Been on HRT, had top surgery, had psychotic breaks, got my meds changed, switch therapist.

Because I am trans and crazy. And yet, all these choices I made, I made myself. It didn’t have to be that hard to get the basic care I needed. It didn’t need to be. But it WAS. And I’m part of the lucky crowd of people who had access to out-patient treatment, who never have been locked up in ward, who managed to stay alive through meds withdrawals without medical assistance when I had no therapist.

Be very careful of when you start to put conditions on the rights you think you deserve. Be very, very careful about your definition of sanity and of how it warps the way you see people. When you start to say “I have access to that, but there’s people like X or Y who shouldn’t BECAUSE”, pause and ask yourself what led you to think this way. More often than not, you’ll find yourself playing the same mind games as the ones you swore to fight against, and when it gives them the upper hand, they won’t hesitate to come for you after that.

[damneddamsy]

falling | joel miller x fem!oc (part xii)

THEOREM OF BECOMING—Transformation is not a moment, but a process.

summary: The journey back to Jackson is full of make-believe of a life that almost feels like it's coming true.

a/n: woohoo, happy AAPI month! I'm sorry this update took so long, I was so indecisive on how I wanted this chapter to end, and what I wanted to depict, especially at the end when it was hard for me to decide where I wanted to place all of them... I just hope it turned out okay! one more chapter left before the epilogue :)

word count: 12,800+ words (dare I say, a short one?)

Joel tried to imagine himself at university. Outlandish things like, what would’ve happened if the world had given him a second door to open?

Because being here—goddamn. It was hard not to wonder what it might’ve felt like, walking into a place like this with a backpack and purpose instead of a rifle and regret.

What kind of kid would Joel have been, sitting in one of those chairs? Twenty years old, maybe. Hell—eighteen if he'd played it straight. No Sarah. No mortgage. No busted-up drywall jobs. No worry about gas bills or whether the AC would hold another summer.

Fuck no, he wouldn't do whatever it was Leela was doing in that lab, with data and diagrams that looked like chicken scratch to him. He would want a degree in something that lets the brain wander. A major in liberal arts, maybe. History. Music theory sounded nice. All that “not real work” crapola folks in his neighbourhood used to scoff at.

He’d always had a good head on him—just never the time or the cash to spend chasing someone else’s definition of smart. See, college wasn’t for men like him. Places like this weren’t made for people like him.

It was a gate you needed a key for, and that key used to cost fuck-ton loans and inevitable debt. More than he ever had or would have.

But that never meant he wasn’t curious. Never meant he didn’t know things.

Truth was, Joel used to like ideas. He liked stories. He read when he could. Listened. Paid attention. Watched old movies with Sarah, sometimes caught the way dialogue turned into meaning. Took in books secondhand, borrowed from neighbours, dog-eared and scribbled in. Kept his head and hands busy. When he worked construction, he could out-measure, out-calculate, and out-plan any of those stiff-collared pricks with their clean hands and degrees nailed to their office walls.

Tommy used to joke that Joel could memorize a script better than a foreman could read a blueprint.

“Man, you ain’t dumb,” his baby brother said once, picking dried cement off his hands. “We’re just poor.”

And he'd agreed. Their whole academic system was a racket, just a way of putting a price tag on knowledge.

Places like Caltech were always for them—it was for the bright ones, the born-lucky, the rich kids with trust funds and internships lined up like bowling pins. Kids like Leela, in fact. He'd never set foot in a real university, let alone one like this. All that prestige and legacy. Hell, even the labs looked like spaceships.

Joel had never even been on a real campus before the world went belly-up, and now here he was, boots echoing in a dead lecture hall, listening to Leela piece together the last remnants of science like she was born for it.

He stood halfway down the sloped aisle, one hand dragging along the edge of a long desk. The laminate was peeling at the corners. He could picture a thousand students slouched here over the decades, bent over laptops or spiral notebooks, yawning, scrawling notes they’d forget the second finals ended.

Behind him, Ellie climbed onto the stage at the bottom of the hall, testing the strength of the lectern like a kid playing teacher. Her voice carried, all grin and gravel.

“Bet you’d sit in the back row. Right, Joel?”

Joel smirked. “Only place I could get away with nappin’.”

“Or so you think. I’d definitely be front row. Raising my hand. Asking annoying questions.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Ain’t nothin’ changed.”

“Pft, whatever.”

Beyond the doors, down the corridor, he could just make out the faint click-clack of keys—Leela, working in the lab with that same eerie calm she always had when the world dropped away and it was just her and the numbers. Her silhouette had barely shifted in an hour. Her hair was loose, falling over one shoulder, half in the light. She looked like she belonged in there.

“Y’know,” he drawled out to Ellie from somewhere inside his head, “I think she and I… if we’d met like that back then… we’d’ve found each other.”

Ellie didn't tease him about it. “Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. I’d be the guy just tryin’ to keep up. Probably complainin’ about the campus coffee and the goddamn parking passes.”

She grinned. “She’d dodge you for two whole weeks.”

“Hm. Sounds ‘bout right.”

“Then one day you’d say something too smart that’d make her stop and think. And boom. Now you’re study partners.”

He sighed. “I ain’t smart, kiddo.”

“Nah, you’re smart.”

“Not that kinda smart.”

“Bullshit. You literally remember everything. Details. Faces. The way you describe a guy’s boots, I feel like I was there.”

Joel clucked his tongue. “You learn to read people when your life depends on it.”

She shrugged. “Still counts.”

He didn’t answer, but his mouth twitched—somewhere between a smile and a grimace. “Hey, know what else? She’d’ve helped me cheat on a math exam.”

“Ha, no way. Leela would smack you across the face.”

He rubbed his jaw, the beginnings of a smile ghosting across his mouth. “But she’d tutor me. Make me memorise some dumb equation by makin’ it a song or somethin’. She hums that stuff sometimes, y'know? 'Spretty cute.”

Ellie gave him a look—half fond, half exasperated. “Jesus. Jesse was right. You're cuntstruck.”

“Ellie,” he muttered, more warning than scolding, but it didn’t carry much heat.

“Aw, c’mon, Joel. Can you just imagine a life where,” she sighed, “you just live that time-honoured, grey area of life? Be a normal dude with a college sweetheart or some shit?”

“How the hell do you know all that?”

“I'm just that baller.”

“Jesus.”

Now, Joel meant to leave it there, but the thought had already taken root.

He let his eyes drift toward the broken chalkboard at the front of the room, and the lecture hall around them seemed to grow in his mind—less ruin, more memory of something he never had.

He imagined Leela sitting at a desk beside him, in a school that let smart kids like her and dumbasses like him sit together—just one of those big halls with sticky floors and ceiling fans that clicked when they turned, where the smart ones always found the front row and the tired ones sat wherever the sun didn’t hit their eyes. She’d be chewing a pen cap, probably, maybe twirling a strand of hair around her finger, nodding all serious while some professor went off about Gödel or Fermat or one of those names that felt more like hexes than people. Joel wouldn’t understand a lick of it—not even on his best, most caffeinated day.

But maybe—she’d lean in, whisper it in Layman's for him. Not to make him feel dumb, but because she wanted him to know. All sweet, patient, gracious Leela.

He’d pretend to follow along, nodding at the right times, but mostly he’d be watching the way her mouth moved around the words, the way her brows bunched up when she really got into it. Watching the gears turn in her beautiful, brilliant head. Joel still did that, when she went off on a tangent in their living room between her blackboards, he'd just want her to kiss her until she was blue in the face.

He nevertheless would've fallen so damn hard for her. Right on his ass. No question about it.

Wouldn’t have taken him long to ask her out, either—not if they’d met like that. Not if she didn’t already know all the things the world had done to a man like him. He would have acted like his balls had just dropped or something—nervous as hell, but trying to play it cool. Sweaty palms, rehearsed lines in front of his mirror. Something about those big, dark eyes of hers, her fancy shoes, or her mint-condition books. Something along the lines of: I promise I’m more interesting than I look… though I realise the bar’s low since I’ve been standing here staring at you for the last thirty seconds.

And if she’d fold and giggle ‘okay’—and he liked to believe she would—he’d take her out someplace decent. Someplace with candlelight, silverware, suited waiters, cloches and folded napkins. He’d pick her up in front of her building. Show up with a fat bouquet of daisies. Pull her chair out for her at dinner. Hold the door. Call her ma’am without even thinking. He would be flat-broke in that life too, but he was raised right with Texan manners imbued upon him by Mr and Mrs Miller, after all.

Leela would probably tease him a little, maybe make fun of how stiff his shirt collar was or how he kept checking the long-ass bill like it was going to change. But she’d smile through it and offer to go Dutch instead. That rare, toothy smile of hers that made her look so young, unguarded and just a little bit shy.

He imagined them walking back across campus after—quiet, inseparable, arm around his. Maybe it was autumn. Maybe the crimson maple leaves crunched under their feet, and she kept pushing her hands into the sleeves of her coat like she always did when she was cold but didn’t want to say so. Maybe he’d offer his jacket. Maybe she’d take it. Maybe he’d blow into her hands in an attempt to kiss them.

Maybe that night, standing outside her place, she’d look up at him with that same quiet challenge in her eyes she had now—like she was daring him to be gentle.

And he would’ve been. Gentle as fuck. Their first kiss wouldn’t have been some clumsy, rushed thing. No desperation. No fear of the dark coming back. Just... time. Time you don’t know you’re wasting until it’s gone.

He imagined her fingers curled into his coat on maybe their fourth date, maybe he'd just taken her out ice-skating or bowling, and she would push the coat off him, and pull him a little closer. Stay with me tonight. A breath caught between their lips. And maybe—God help him—maybe they’d have stumbled into the fancy elevator of her expensive off-campus apartment, shoes kicked off halfway, giggling when she nearly tripped over her own purse left by the door. He’d catch her waist, steady her, and she’d glance at him with those mischievous eyes that already knew what he wanted. I want all of you.

They’d lock the door behind them, not because they had to, but because they could—because no one was chasing them, nothing was breathing down their necks. Just a night in. Quiet. Private. Theirs.

The desk lamp would still be on, casting light over her math books still open, forgotten now, pages fluttering. Her room would be warm, a little cluttered, with too many books for one person. A corkboard with pinned movie stubs and Post-it reminders. A polaroid of them, maybe, from some campus event—Joel squinting at the lens, Leela mid-laugh as always, her nose scrunched in that way he loved.

They’d peel off layers slowly. Clothes in a trail from the doorway to the bed. His shirt, her dress, his belt, her tights, his boxers. Her bra hanging from the lamp. They’d laugh a little, giggling some, fumbling with the condom in his wallet like it was a joke they’d made earlier in the week—about how just in case that had suddenly become now.

No pressure. No pain. First times. A night they got to have too late. No urgency, no hunger born from grief or fear. Just intimacy. Just plain, affectionate, stumbling, careful sex. Earned. Trusted. Wanted.

He pictured them afterwards, her curled against him beneath tangled sheets, tracing lazy shapes on his chest while the radiator clanked in protest against the cold. Nodding while they discussed their upcoming test, how she’d incentivise him with a kiss for each question he scored, fingers moving through her hair, catching on a tiny braid she must’ve done while studying.

The window would fog up by morning. They’d sleep through their alarms. Maybe skip class like dumb rebels. Maybe make breakfast instead—pancakes from a box, the batter too thick, the frying pan too hot. He’d burn the first one and she’d steal it anyway, kissing him with syrup on her lips. Good fuckin' morning to me.

They’d graduate together, in this life. He’d be in the back row on ceremony day, shoes shined for once, hair swept back neatly, watching his best girl stride across the stage to grab her scroll. Top of her class, honour roll, summa cum laude. Maybe he didn’t get a diploma of his own—maybe he took night classes, taking the slow route out—but he’d be there, standing up before anyone else, clapping like hell, hooting her name with his hands cupped around his lips.

And she’d find him later, tassel on her crooked hat flying, gown wrinkled, eyes shining, leaping into his arms, and he’d spin her about. Kiss her right there in the crowd like he was the luckiest son of a bitch alive.

And in that life—the life he never got—maybe they’d go on like that for years. Their families are all tight-knit, spending holidays together, all of them waiting on hand and foot for Joel to pop the question, but he promised his girl all the time in the world. No muss, no fuss.

Graduation photos in front of some ivy-covered wall. Travel photos of the two of them from roadtrips and weekend escapes—mountains in Telluride, coasts in Monterey, lighthouses in Nantucket. Maybe later they’d rent a shitty apartment together in a big city even if he hated it—New York, or London, or some big German town with a zigzag skyline and a bakery on every corner—while she chased her PhD dreams and he’d just be happy to take care of them. Joel would take on carpentry jobs to keep the lights on and fix things around the building in exchange for rent. He'd play gigs, strum his old guitar, in pubs and bars all night for a good sum of cash. Patch the leaky sink with elbow grease. Assembling furniture that they couldn’t afford to buy. Shelves full of her notes. Coffee rings on the floor. Late-night supermarket runs. Eat dinner for breakfast and fall asleep with her textbooks open between them. The laughter of a life being made from scratch.

And maybe one day, not in a church, not even in a courthouse—but under that oak tree just outside her big, white house in Jackson, they’d say their vows. Soft ones. Barely louder than the wind. Just a handful of people who mattered, a patch of wildflowers in springtime, and the gold ring he’d carried in his pocket for years. Her hand in his, sliding the band into place. Her thumb brushing his knuckles while he tried not to cry. I offer you all I have, my dumbass and beating heart.

And she’d laugh when he picked her up, white dress, veil and all, just to prove he still could, and carry her over the threshold, whilst her sandals dangled from his fingers. They'd make love like it was the first time, on a nice, month-long honeymoon in the Maldives or Bali, on a linen, canopy-frame bed that wobbled by the time they were through.

And one day, he’d come home—sawdust still in his hair, tired to the bone, aching for his long shower—only to find a positive test on the bathroom sink, and they’d smile at each other like they’d just won the lottery. Those soft, teary eyes they’d share. You think we've got room for one more around here?

And from that moment on, Joel would've been all in. No half-measures. No second-guessing. Just him, right in her pocket. He wouldn’t leave her side unless he had to—work, maybe, or some emergency—and even then, she’d be on speed dial (not that she already wasn’t). He’d check in constantly. Make sure she was drinking water, eating enough. Sitting her antsy ass down.

Late at night, he’d press his ear to her belly, grinning when their baby kicked like she already had her mama’s fire. He’d murmur promises against her skin—about giving her the world, about love, about never missing a thing again. And he’d mean every damn word.

He wouldn’t miss a single ultrasound, even if the clinic was across town and the truck was coughing smoke. He’d be there for all of it—Lamaze classes, nausea, mood swings, sleepless nights, midnight drives for god-knows-what. He’d baby-proof every damn inch of the house, stock the cabinets with baby items, triple-check the crib screws, read every parenting book he could find, even the ones with goofy cartoon covers.

Overbearing? For fucking sure. She might threaten to divorce him half a dozen times before the third trimester—but he’d take it, all of it. With a grin and a kiss and a Yes, ma’am.

And when it was time—when the world narrowed to a hospital room and the sound of her hurting wails—he’d be right there, surgical gown and all, holding her hand through every contraction, brushing damp hair from her face, whispering through the panic, through his heart tearing in two: I’m right here, baby. I ain’t going anywhere.

And Maya would come hollering into their lives. Of course, that’s what they’d name her in this life, too. Radiant, beautiful, nascent Maya, looking just like her mama and holding his heart in her tiny fist. All that imagining he’d ever done—every if, every maybe—had somehow led to this little girl he called his.

He pictured Maya clearly in that other life—the one that never got to be. Toddling around their grad-school apartment, leaping onto his stomach in PJs on a lazy Sunday morning, giggling through a mouthful of sugary cereal while Leela chased after their little thief, trying to snatch the box from her sticky hands. One sock is on, and the other is always missing. Her wild curls bouncing as she ran to him when he walked through the door—always early, maybe this time in a stable job which involved him wearing a suit and tie, lugging a briefcase—arms outstretched, shrieking Da-da! like he was some kind of superhero, and without fail, he'd rain at least a hundred kisses on her before letting her go.

She’d throw a fit in the toy aisle over exactly the faulty stuffed animal, with lopsided eyes and a ripped tag, and Joel would fold like wet paper the second she pouted.

And if the bad times did come, the only arguments he and Leela might’ve had were the soft kind, inconsequential—disagreements over something like Joel’s brief, doomed venture into stocks, or Leela being scatterbrained with the grocery runs, or whether Maya should go to that elite preschool an hour away with the long waitlist and sterling reputation. Joel would’ve wanted the best for her, the kind of start he never had. But Leela would just want to keep Maya close a little longer, probably even attempt to homeschool her if she could swing it.

They’d make up over pizza on the couch—Maya asleep between them, still clutching that faulty toy, cartoons flickering on the TV. Their fingers would find each other over the back of her blanket, apology and forgiveness exchanged without a single word spoken.

And thereafter, the mornings were ones where he'd juggle coffee cups, lunch bags and backpacks, dropping Leela off at her university, her hair still wet from a rushed shower, pencil skirt on a tight ass that waited for it's morning squeeze, a thick binder clutched to her chest, a soft lingering kisses shared over the console; and then Maya in the backseat, singing along to the radio, squealing when he pulled up to her school next. She’d barely get her backpack on before she tore across the pavement to her friends, flashing Joel a quick flying kiss and a grin that damn near knocked the wind out of him every time.

And at night—the three of them crammed around a too-small kitchen table, Leela would sit, drafting her research papers or scribbling in a notebook, Maya in her lap, doodling in the margins, asking about black holes and dinosaurs in the same breath. Leela would answer every question like it was the most important one she’d ever been asked. Joel would just listen, smiling into his beer, tuck the moment away somewhere safe inside him, like a man who knew exactly how fragile good things could be.

And Maya would believe everything her mama told her. Because why wouldn’t she?

Joel blinked, staring at the cracked chalkboard. The room was silent, save for Ellie’s soft humming and the hum of distant power from the lab down the hall.

But that life—that life—wasn’t the one they got.

But maybe... maybe it wasn’t too late for some piece of it. Not the degrees or the papers.

But the love part. The quiet part.

Maybe that kind of life still had a place in this one. Maybe that was still real. Maybe it was standing just down the hall, surrounded by equations, stubborn as ever.

He smiled to himself, soft and stupid, like a man who’d just lived a whole other life in three minutes.

A loud metallic clatter broke the spell.

Joel turned—slow, blinking like he'd just woken from a dream—and found Ellie grinning at him, holding up a dusty diploma frame like she’d just pulled a sword from a stone. The glass was cracked in one corner, the name beneath faded and half-eaten by sun and decay. But scrawled across the middle in thick, unapologetic black marker was something brand new:

Dr. Leela Miller.

“Well,” Ellie said, lifting it higher like a trophy, “I didn’t know her last name, so…”

Joel stared. His breath caught on something warm.

“Reed,” he said, slow and quiet, like the name had weight. Affection weaved through it like a thread. “But this… this is fine.”

He could almost see it—this on the wall of that little apartment they never had. Over a desk cluttered with paper and empty mugs and one tiny sock, someone still hadn’t found the match for.

Ellie held it out to him like a kid offering a crayon drawing. “It’s probably not, y’know, technically accredited,” she said with a crooked smile. “D'you think she'll feel a little better?”

He snorted, folding his arms. “That's a ten-dollar word from a dollar-sized person.”

“Hey, fuck you.”

He gave her a look, soft and knowing. “Well, Leela won’t say it right now, but yeah. She will.”

Then he glanced across the hall.

There she was—his smartass, hunched on a table littered with papers and old, curling printouts. Leela had one hand braced against the edge, the other pressed over her mouth like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Her fingers moved through a page, tracing lines of ink like a woman touching scripture. Like she was holding a piece of a language she'd thought was long dead.

Joel brought two fingers to his lips and let out a sharp, low whistle.

Across the hall, Leela jolted a little—more like a reflex than real surprise—blinking over at him with a stunned, empty look. It cracked after a second, softening into something small and sheepish, but Joel didn’t miss the way she moved, like she was dragging herself up from somewhere far away.

He tipped his head toward her, half a smirk pulling at his mouth, trying to keep it easy, light.

“Weather’s turnin’,” he called, voice carrying across the dusty floorboards. “We oughta get movin’ along before it gets any worse.”

“Um...”

Leela hesitated, staring back at the whirring, flickering monitor like it was something alive she’d been charged with keeping breathing. Her hand lifted slowly, clumsily, brushing her hair out of her face with the back of her wrist.

She gave a stiff little nod—obedient, automatic, like she wasn’t even aware of doing it.

Joel opened his mouth—half-ready to tell her it was fine if she needed more time—but Ellie piped up behind him.

“Ooh, we gotta head down to the coast first. Ay, you promised the beach, old man!”

Joel felt the beginnings of a headache forming behind his eyes. He turned slightly, cutting a look back at Leela for silent backup.

And Leela just shrugged. Just the barest hitch of her shoulders, like even the decision didn’t mean much anymore. Her mouth twitched at the corners, a hint of old amusement surfacing and dying again all at once.

“I've almost finished the upload,” she said, tapping the corner of the monitor, where some ancient progress bar crawled along painfully slow. “Just... eleven more minutes.”

Eleven minutes.

It used to drive Joel a little crazy, if he was honest. He’d thought it was grief or obsession. Maybe denial. He’d even thought as much, once—there wasn’t anyone left who cared about prime numbers and proof sheets. Leela's long nights hunched over scavenged paper, her fingers smudged with graphite and ash, scribbling until her wrist cramped. A fucking waste indeed.

No one needed the big hypothesis solved when there were clickers on the road and medicine running thin.

And now he saw it.

She wasn’t trying to bring the old world back. She was trying to make sure some vestige of it survived.

Not the comforts. Not its power grids or grocery stores, or monuments. But it's thinking. It's questions. The bones of the mind that had once built bridges and satellites and figured out how to split atoms. She was keeping that, preserving hope for the world that would eventually look back.

And she was sending it forward like a time capsule in the shape of code—across a patchy uplink, through battered infrastructure, to a settlement that might not even know what to do with it.

One day, someone would.

Someone with a mind like hers. Someone with less blood on their hands and more time. A student, a child, a generation down the line who’d never seen the world fall and might still wonder how it once stood.

She was sending it all to Jackson—not as salvation, maybe, but as seed.

Something to plant. Something to grow if they ever got a spring again.

And if that someone asked, if they searched—she’d be there. In the pages, in the math. In the margins, scrawled with her restless handwriting. A woman who had no lab, no colleagues, no safety, but still sat down and thought.

Joel rubbed his thumb over a dent in the metal of the desk. It was humbling, what she was doing. Quiet and unadorned, the way most real things were.

And for the first time, he didn’t feel far from her work. He didn’t feel like it belonged to a world he couldn’t touch. He was somehow a part of it, too.

He exhaled through his nose, scratching the back of his neck. Eleven minutes. Seemed like a small enough thing after everything they'd been through.

He shifted his weight, the old floor creaking under his boots, and his gaze caught on the diploma again—still cradled in Ellie’s hands, the cracked glass catching the faint grey light.

Dr. Leela Miller.

Miller.

His name. His... wife.

He hadn't expected it to hit him like that. The word sitting there plain and heavy, stitched onto her like it had always belonged. The beginning of his other life.

His name stitched there so plainly, so firmly, like it had always been meant to sit against her like that. A jolt went through him—sharp and unexpected—settling low in his gut like a stone thrown into deep water.

He could almost see it, just for a second—clearer than any dream he ever allowed himself to linger on: Leela standing beside him at some clean, sun-warmed courthouse, signing her new name across the marriage license with a little grimace, muttering about how bureaucratic nonsense would outlive them all. Joel, laughing under his breath, taking the pen after her, signing his name next to hers. The flash of a cheap camera. The clap of a judge’s hand on his back. Her grinning face turned up to his, awaiting a congratulatory kiss. And he would make it linger, pressing two, three, four kisses before he murmured against her lips: You alright there, Mrs Miller?

Yes, Joel didn’t feel the press of the world closing in.

He just stood there, hands planted firm on his hips, heart too big for his ribs, and thought, Maybe it ain’t the life I thought I'd have.

When he was young—back before the world cracked open—he thought he understood what a good life was supposed to look like. Steady work. A home. A little backyard for Sarah to tear around in. A dog, one of those loud mutts that drove the neighbours crazy. Bills paid on time. Supper on the table by six. Simple. Straightforward. A line you followed if you kept your head down and your hands busy.

He’d built toward that life once. Brick by brick. Sweat and sacrifice and stubbornness. And he’d watched it all turn to ash in a single night, leaving nothing but the brutal math of survival behind.

Wake up. Choke down rations. Shoot. Kill without a thought. Stay alive. Sleep with one eye open. Repeat.

Hope had been a dangerous thing after that, an unaffordable luxury. Like college.

But standing here now, and Leela hunkered over that blinking screen like she was fighting the universe itself to save what little good was left in it—Joel realised he’d been wrong about what makes a life and what was worth holding onto.

It wasn’t about clean houses or paid-off trucks or picture-perfect little towns.

It was about this.

It was about watching the woman he loved refuse to give up on the world, even when the world had given up on her. It was about Ellie clutching a battered diploma like it was the goddamn Declaration of Independence, blinking out the window like a daydreaming college kid who still believed she’d make it here. It was about Maya somewhere back home, waiting, safe, growing up in a place that hadn’t been paved over by fear.

It was about them.

So, why not... breathe life into that other reality?

Joel shifted slightly, his hand drifting to his pocket—more out of habit than thought. His fingers closed around the small thing he’d stashed there weeks ago, careful not to draw attention to it.

Rolled it between his fingers sometimes, in replacement for the brass button that Maya had bestowed on him—in quiet moments, when no one was looking. Like maybe if he kept turning it long enough, the edges would smooth out, the crack in the band would seal, and time would forget whatever broke it.

It wasn’t much to look at. Just a beat-up old ring he’d pocketed back in Vegas, half-buried in dust beneath a shattered display case. The stone was gone. The band was thin and cracked, barely holding together. Still, he’d kept it. Couldn’t say why at first. Just felt right in his hand—small, broken, stubborn. Reminded him of someone.

Lately, he’d been thinking about what he might do with it. How he could fix it, in his own way. Maybe shave a sliver of intricate wood into the place where the diamond used to be. Not anything fancy, maybe a flower. She liked sunflowers. Just something honest. Pine, maybe—she always smelled like pine sometimes. Or walnut, strong and durable, like him. Something alive, something that wouldn’t shine too bright, but would still catch the amalgam of Leela.

He didn’t know if he’d ever give it to her. Or when. Or if she’d even want it.

Hell, he didn’t even know what he’d say.

But he carried it with hope anyway.

That was the strange part. It wasn’t really the ring that mattered—it was the idea. That someday, there might be room for something like that between them. Not as some big gesture. Not to fix anything. Just to say: this is still yours if you want it. Just to prove he still believed in what could come next.

Maybe sometimes love looked like a broken ring in a calloused hand, waiting for a world soft enough to give it back.

The sharp things—the grief, the anger, the failure—they were still there, rooted deep under his skin like old thorns. They always would be. But for once, Joel could see something else threading through it. A quieter kind of ache. Not the pain of losing, but the ache of wanting.

He wanted the kind of life that didn’t just survive the world’s ending—but stubbornly, stupidly, beautifully outlived it.

He wanted her, and Ellie, and Maya, and every goddamn scraped-together piece of a future he never thought he'd deserve.

And in this dead place, in the flicker of failing light and old dreams burned onto curling paper, Joel believed—just a little—that maybe this had all been for something. After all, maybe they hadn't come all this way just to bury what was lost. Perhaps they were here to carry it forward.

Maybe they were the ones meant to build what came next.

His throat felt tight, but he welcomed it. A man could learn to carry that feeling. He should carry it. Get used to it. All these good things he was doing.

He slipped the ring back into his pocket, careful, like it might bruise. Gave the pocket a small, reassuring pat.

He glanced at Leela, at the way she leaned into the light like a plant aching for the sun, and felt that wild, wordless thing rise again inside him.

Ours, he thought. Not just hers. Not just his.

Ours.

X

The ocean resembled a busted mirror.

Not glittering or big or blue. Just slabs of grey and darker grey, churning slow under the breadth of a sky that didn’t give a damn. The wind came off the water in lazy fits, carrying salt and rot and the memory of heat that had long since packed up and gone.

Wind tugged at what was left of the boardwalk nearby, a few slats still clinging on like they didn’t know how to fall properly. Rusted carnival lights hung in strips. Booths were gutted. A souvenir shack had collapsed into itself, hurling faded postcards and cracked plastic mugs across the ground. He saw a cracked one half-buried in the dune: I Survived Santa Monica Pier. Bit fucking ironic.

The sea had taken it all back. The joy. The noise. The crowds. It felt biblical, in a way. Like the tide was the big guy's long exhale.

Joel stood at the edge of it all—boots half-buried in wet sand, stepping over a tangled snarl of sea-bleached fishing net fibres, arms crossed against the cold that kept slipping under his jacket. The pier beyond was a half-collapsed skeleton, stripped bare, its spine curling out into the surf with broken ribs of wood jutting upward. Boats still rocked gently in the distance—untouched, paint peeling, sails long since devoured by saline winds, hulls soft with barnacles and time. No lights. No squalling. Not even of birds.

Funny. He used to think that if they ever made it to the coast, something would change. That maybe it’d feel like the end of the road—or the start of something. No, this was just another place the world forgot.

Ellie was already out near the waterline, her boots discarded in a heap beside a tide pool. She’d rolled up her jeans and waded ankle-deep into the cold muck, laughing as she scratched her name into the sand with a busted piece of driftwood. She looked so small like that. Innocent. Her shoulders loose, grin so secretive. He didn't get to see that often.

He watched her kneel, tongue poking slightly out in concentration, and for a moment—just a flicker—it wasn’t Ellie crouched in the sand.

It was Sarah.

Not imagined, not hoped. Saw. Not older, not younger—just as she was the day he lost her.

Kneeling beside her, seaweed looped over her wrist like bracelets, giggling about how it was going to get washed away but doing it anyway. He could see her—clearer than anything. Her head of sunlit curls, tossed by the wind. Making a heart out of the seaweed. Lining the letters with broken shells. Elbowing Ellie with that half-teasing grin she used to have, the one that always said, Do not mess this up for me, Dad.

He clenched his jaw. Swallowed hard. Blinked until the double image snapped apart again, rattled the thought loose from his head, and it was just Ellie again, whistling tunelessly, digging up dead coral to decorate her crude scrawl in the sand.

Goddamn, was this what it was going to be now?

Visions. Ghosts. Fantasies of another life. Wishing, wanting. His mind folding over itself. Losing the thread.

Or was it just the many extremities of grief? The accumulation of too many years? Or was this the beginning of something slower and crueller? Alzheimer’s or some shit. Some fucking cordyceps variation they didn’t have a name for yet. Maybe he’d start forgetting the way back to Jackson. Maybe he already had.

He rubbed a hand across his face, dragging grit from his cheek. The salt clung to his stubble, and the ocean made his eyes sting even when the wind didn’t hit them.

A little ways off, Leela sat cross-legged on the sand, her back to the surf, little haphazard strands from her long braid slapping at her cheeks. A neat little pile of small seashells sat beside her, most of them dull with age and wear—but one, a tiny conch, recently vacated by some poor creature that hadn’t made it. It was still freshly pink inside, gleaming, faintly iridescent.

She had a needle gripped between her fingers, her brow furrowed as she carefully worked it through the shell’s spire. Every movement was methodical, like she wasn’t thinking about what she was doing, like it was all buried muscle memory. When she threaded the bit of twine through and tied a knot, she held the shell up between two fingers, inspecting, squinting at it like it was some precious thing instead of beach trash.

“For Maya,” she said quietly, flashing him a smile—small, lopsided, but real.

Joel let out a soft grunt of recognition. Awful lot of jewellery to be taking back to Jackson.

“Cute.”

He remembered that story—the one he hadn’t meant to overhear, but things stuck. Something about her old life, before Jackson, before her parents, before a child of her own. How she used to make little shell necklaces just like that one and sell them to dumb tourists along the coast back in her hometown. Overpriced junk, she’d said. That weird, lonely kind of pride people have when they remember who they used to be.

Maybe this was her way of passing it on. A sliver of childhood she could carve off and give to Maya. A small thing that said I was here. I was whole once.

He took a step closer, boots sinking into the sand, hands in his jacket pockets. “Still remember how to rip folks off, huh?”

She glanced up at him, just barely. “Who says this one’s not priceless?”

Joel smirked. “Better be. Our baby girl’s got high standards.”

That got a laugh. A real one—small, scratchy, but it cracked the stillness in a way nothing else had all day. Leela shook her head, still smiling, eyes on the necklace, watching the shell sway from its string.

A beat passed. Wind was threading through the bare bones of the city. Maybe this place had once been paradise. Joel didn’t know. All he saw now was wreckage. Absence. A ghost town choking on salt.

Behind them, far away, Ellie whooped, triumphant. “I told you, little bastard! Joel, look, that’s a motherfucking crab!”

Joel glanced over. She was crouched in the wet sand, a long stick in one hand, something small and wriggling and furious in the other. Her sleeves were shoved to her elbows, knees soaked through, hair wild in the wind. She grinned like she was twelve again. Like the world hadn’t burned down.

Another shriek from Ellie. “Holy shit—there’s more of them! A whole Jackson community!”

“Well, don’t just play with ’em. Grab a few. Might be good eatin’.”

Ellie wrinkled her nose, poking one with the tip of her stick. “Eat this? Dude, it’s got, like—claws. And it’s hard as shit.”

“That’s how you know it’s good,” Joel called back, deadpan. “Hard shell means there’s somethin’ sweet inside.”

Ellie gave him a look. “Oh, hear, hear—Wordsworth over here.”

Joel chuckled, shaking his head. “Just get a few, kiddo. We’ll see what we can do.”

“Fine,” she muttered. “But if it kills me, I’m haunting your lying ass.”

Then she dropped the crab anyway, watched it scuttle sideways into the surf with all the drama of a jail break, and burst out laughing—real, unguarded. Her laugh rippled across the beach like it didn’t know how rare it was. Like it didn’t think it was a goddamn miracle.

Joel turned back to Leela. His voice dropped, not meaning to get soft but unable to help it.

“So, is this what you pictured?”

He didn’t say the beach. He didn’t mean California. Didn’t mean the long road behind them—full of blood and breath and quiet, feral hope. Didn’t even mean the life they’d clawed together with broken fingernails and dogged luck.

Leela didn’t answer right away. She just looked out toward the horizon, the sharp line where grey sea met grey skies. Where the world used to open up into possibility, into summer vacations and shipping routes and postcards with skipping dolphins. Now it looked more like an ending. A sentence with no period.

Then she shook her head, just once. “Not even close.”

But she was still holding the shell in her hand. Still tying another knot in the twine. Still smiling, just barely. And somehow, that answer—quiet, and unfinished—was more honest than anything else she could’ve said.

Joel sat down beside her, his knees cracking like firewood. The cold bled through the seat of his jeans, but he didn’t flinch. Just sat. Facing the water.

Leela didn’t.

She was turned slightly away, angled toward the sand, toward the ground, like she’d taken some quiet oath never to look at the sea again. As if it had taken something and she wouldn’t give it the satisfaction of her eyes.

Joel laid his hand over hers, careful.

She stilled.

His palm was unpolished against hers, but he could still feel the tiny shape of the shell necklace beneath it. Warm from her skin. Light as a breath.

“Joel.”

Before she could ask him to get the fuck off her, he said, “Look, I just—”

“What do you think Maya’s going to be when she grows up?”

Leela’s voice was soft, half-swallowed by the sea wind. Not wistful, not dreamy. Just plain and curious, like she was asking about the tide.

Joel didn’t answer right away. His eyes slid back on the water—on the slow, thick roll of it, the lazy collapse of each wave as it dragged itself onto the sand. This landed hard—not because it was tragic, but because it was so normal.

And yet that question hung there. He rubbed his jaw in deep thought. That wasn’t a question people dared to ask anymore, not seriously.

Honey, what do you want to be when you grow up?

He'd asked Sarah that plenty of times. And her answer had been no-bullshit: a rockstar. He used to joke to her about it, how maybe she'd take her old man backstage one day and sign T-shirts with her primped face on it.

The world was too fucked-up now, no rulebook to follow. See, back in the old world, kids had answers ready. Doctor. Firefighter. Astronaut. Singer. Shit like that. You dreamed, you planned. You had options. Only now, the world didn’t want anything from its kids but survival. To grow up at all was a feat. To grow up and become something? That felt like a pipe dream.

Joel breathed out through his nose. He shifted in the sand, elbows on his knees, shoulders hunched against the wind.

“I dunno,” he said finally. “Ain’t somethin’ I let myself think about too much. We used to imagine the future. Now we’re just glad to get through the day.”

Leela said nothing. Just waited, steady, patient, the way she always did when she knew he wasn’t finished.

A bitter little smile curled the corner of his mouth. “Baby girl’d probably be a scavenger. Some real slick trader. Hustler like her mama used to be.”

Leela huffed softly.

“Maybe a sharpshooter,” Joel added. “Takes after Ellie. Bossy as hell.”

That made her laugh again—just a little. Joel felt it in his chest like the thinnest crack of sun through stormcloud.

He kept talking, quieter now. “Could be she ends up one of those quiet ones. People listen when she speaks. Not ‘cause she’s loud—but ‘cause she means her shit. Maybe that makes her a leader. Or a target.”

He hated that last part. But it was true.

The truth was—he didn’t really care what Maya became. He just wanted her to have the space to choose between gentleness and survival. To live long, safe, and full enough to even ask that question. And he hated the world for making him think all this shit.

“And maybe she’s just alive long enough for it to matter,” he finished. “It’s enough for me.”

Leela’s fingers paused at the shell’s knot.

Joel looked over at her, and she still wasn’t looking at the sea. Her face was turned away a little, but her eyes were distant—thinking hard, probably thinking too much.

“Does it scare you?” he asked.

She blinked slowly. “What does?”

“The future,” he stated. “What she might become.”

Leela was quiet for a long time. She pulled the twine taut, tied another knot. Maybe the third one in the same place.

Then she nodded, but it wasn’t sharp. As if something she’d carried for years, only just now saying out loud.

“I just can’t have Maya become like me, Joel,” she said.

Joel didn’t say anything because he knew what she meant. And she was fucking right.

Not just Leela's impossible intellect that she carried like a blade. Not Joel's desiccating anger. Not the endless spinning logic or the obsessive calculations that had driven her across the country in a haze of grief and purpose. Not the math or the memory or the way she could see ten steps ahead while the rest of them were still tripping over the first one.

No—she meant the burden. The self-blame. The detachment. The constant need to understand everything instead of just feeling it. The survival that looked like a function but was really just a retreat.

The way Joel disconnected. The guilt that never left. The way he didn’t flinch at corpses anymore because somewhere along the way, his empathy had learned to ration itself. The way he lived in his head because that was the only place he could guarantee no one would hurt him.

And because of all the ways they taught themselves to cope—none of them were life. They were pauses. Contractions. Damage control.

She sighed. “I thought I wanted that. I did. But after everything back there…”

She nodded toward the road that led back to the university. Toward where she'd left her hopes and regrets. A whole piece of her past.

“I realised that…” She tapped her temple, fingers light, like she was knocking on the side of something hollow. “She doesn’t need this.”

He didn’t press or fill the space like he normally would with some muttered acknowledgement, because this wasn’t a moment for patch jobs.

“This saved me,” she murmured. “The logic. The focus. It’s how I kept going after—after what happened. If I could just understand enough… if I could predict things, calculate the worst-case scenario, I could keep her safe.”

Her voice tightened. Just a bit. Joel heard it.

“She deserves more than that.”

Joel’s throat was dry. He swallowed hard, barely managing. “And now?”

Leela let out a long breath. Not weary. Just… stripped bare.

“Now I just want her to scream,” Leela said. “To run fast. To fall hard. To be loud, and wrong, and stupid—and free. I want her to feel so much that she doesn’t know where to put it. I want her to hit back, punch hard, when someone corners her. Not stand there frozen, plotting some clever escape like that’s gonna save her.”

Joel’s eyes flicked toward her.

She wasn’t looking at him. Still had her gaze fixed on the necklace in her lap, the shell swinging gently as she tied and re-tied the same knot like it was muscle memory. Like if she stopped moving, she’d splinter.

And goddamn.

That’s when it landed. What she was really saying.

He’d seen people go quiet in the worst moments of their lives—seen them freeze, let it happen, disappear behind their own eyes. Not because they were weak, but because someone, somewhere, had taught them that silence was safer than screaming. That survival meant outthinking, not resisting. That pain was something to calculate your way around.

Leela had been that sort of survivor.

“I couldn’t even save myself,” she said, bitter, flat, after a beat.

The fuck kind of thing was that to say? Making it seem like it just made sense?

Joel’s fingers tightened gently around hers, unable to unclench his jaw. “That ain’t your fault,” he reassured to an extent, teeth gritting. “You sayin’ that like it was your choice.”

She said nothing. But the silence was answer enough. And Joel couldn’t sit with that.

“I don’t give a damn what you think you didn’t do,” he muttered, heat rising in his throat like bile. “Someone took... somethin’. They did that. You think being smart, or planning a way out—fuckin’ hell—none of that would’ve mattered.”

She shook her head once. Not in argument—just acknowledgement. “No. But it still happened. And I did nothing.”

Then, finally, she looked at him.

There was no shame in her eyes. Just a brutal clarity. The kind that only came from staring something dead in the face for years and deciding to live anyway.

“I know what I am, Joel. I know what it took to survive. I know what it turned me into. And I don’t want that for her.”

Joel didn’t speak right away. There was nothing to fix. Nothing to deny. He understood her too well for that. She wasn’t afraid Maya wouldn’t make it.

She was afraid Maya would—by becoming someone like her.

“Baby, she’s gonna carry us,” he said, a promise in his voice. “But she ain’t gonna be us.”

Then he reached out, covered her hand with his—rough skin on hers, grounding her.

“She’s got us, Leela,” he added, more quietly.

And he meant every word. He knew what it was to survive through retreat. To mistake numbness for control. To wear grief like armour and call it strength.

Leela didn’t flinch. But she didn’t smile either. Her face softened—like she wanted to believe him, that she was someone worth having.

“I hope so,” she said.

They sat there a while longer, the tide crawling up toward their boots whilst Ellie shouted at them about a jellyfish. Joel felt the sting in his joints when the winds picked up, faster, saltier, sharper.

He looked down at the shell again, their hands twined around it. Small. Pink. Still shining faintly inside. Something you’d pick up on a beach day with a little girl who didn’t know the world yet.

They couldn’t offer Maya that clean world they had lived in. But they could hand her a few pieces worth carrying. And she’d figure out what to build.

For one brief moment, he let himself believe his baby girl would have the chance to answer that question one day—for real.

What do you want to be when you grow up, Maya?

X

The fire had sunk lower to the forest floor, just embers now, red, pulsing like a heartbeat under ash. Shadows lean long against the trees. Night smells like salt and old leaves, smoke in cloth, and distant sea. Boots scuffed quietly on dirt. The silence that only came late, when everyone else was asleep, or pretending to be.

“Can’t sleep either?”

“No.”

“You okay?”

“Just thinking.”

“Night too loud? I've got headphones.”

A pause. Then: “Thanks... I'm missing home.”

“Oh. Me, too..”

“Hm. It's the longest I've been away from it.”

Another pause. “Yeah?”

“I keep wondering if I’d feel different if I got back. Things just magically change.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Fabric creaks. One of them tugs their sleeves down.

“Still mad at him?”

Pause.

“…He just left. You saw how bad it got.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“And he didn’t tell me a word about the Fireflies. Or Caltech.”

“He thought he was protecting you. You know how he is.”

“That’s the problem.”

Another pause. “He said nothing. Just packed up and left. Like I’d only get in the way.”

“I know.”

“You think I meant it?”

“You sounded like you did.”

“I think I did, too. Then. I was just... so angry.”

“But now?”

A defeated sigh. “I don’t know.”

A beat.

“Maya watches the world like he does, too. I noticed.”

“She does that because she learns from him. You can’t raise a kid halfway in, halfway out. You can’t teach them to trust and then disappear when it counts.”

“Yeah, but—” Someone exhales sharply. Tosses a pebble into the fire pit. It hisses. “He came back, didn’t he?”

“Only because we followed him.”

“He came back because he’s never gonna stop coming back. That’s the whole point of him.”

Silence. A reckoning in the dark.

“You know what he told me once?”

“What?”

“He said—he didn’t think people like us got second chances. That we ruin too much. And still, every time he looks at Maya, it’s like he believes she’s the one thing he didn’t fuck up.”

Silence.

“He loves her more than he knows how to say. But he shows it. In everything. That’s the closest someone like him gets to a promise.”

“…he still left.”

“I didn't say he's good at it. He's a goddamn dick. And he was wrong.”

The voice is calm, blunt. Not trying to win. Just telling it as it was.

“But so were you. Saying you’d take her. Like she’s a thing you can lift out of him.”

Quiet again. Then: “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know.”

“I just—she’s all I have. Everything good in me went to her. I had to follow him, and I have to keep her safe. Where do I win?”

“Jesus, she is safe.”

“No, I mean... he’ll break her heart someday, I know it.”

“Fuck no. Never Joel.”

“Hmph. You sound sure.”

“He didn’t break me. And the world gave him every reason to.”

Silence again. A longer moment, this time.

“Maya asks about you when you’re not there, right? She misses you. She asks for you. But when Joel’s gone? She watches the door. She won't leave it. That’s the difference.”

A breath.

“You take her away, and you’ll still have her. But she’ll never stop watching that door.”

Then the fire popped. A shift of posture. The brush of hair against cloth.

“He didn’t get to do all that before, you know. The whole marriage and two-parent household thing. Not with…”

Another breath.

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“Mm-hm.”

“And you’re still thinking about kicking his ass out.”

A creaking silence.

“I’m not good at staying.”

“Me neither.”

“Then why do you?”

A small sound. Could be a laugh or a sigh. “Because he’s good at making me think I can. I’ve seen what that man does when he loves someone.”

“Doesn’t that scare you?”

“No.”

A beat. “It really should.”

“I guess that’s the difference. I'm not scared of him. Not like you are.”

“I'm not scared of Joel.”

“Bite me.”

“It’s more about what he’d give up. For us. For her. What it would turn him into.”

“A dead man.”

No response. But from the dark—

“You think you’re protecting him?”

“I think I’m trying to keep us all breathing.”

“Well. That’s one stupid way to live.”

A rustle. Someone folding their arms. “Do you hate me?”

“What?”

“For saying all this. For thinking it.”

“Of course not. If anything, it makes you more real to me.”

“…But?”

“But if you take her from him—really take her—it’ll kill him.”

“I’m not trying to hurt him.”

The silence after that settles deeper. One of them pokes at the embers with a stick, ash dancing up like fireflies.

Then, softer: “I know. That’s why it would.”

X

As if into the mouth of some ancient beast, the Jackson gates shut behind them with a final clank, steel locking steel, rusting, slow, a reluctant welcome, and for a second, it sounded like a cell door closing.

Joel walked under the shadow of it and didn’t say a word.

The sun hung low on the horizon, flooding the snow-melted streets of Jackson with a weary saffron. Familiar smells maundered through the air—woodsmoke, cattle, hay, pine needles thawing on the wind. There was boisterous laughter somewhere. Hammers. And it all felt just close enough to touch, but not quite real. Like something playing behind a looking glass.

He was back.

Somehow, again, he was still standing. Luck—or stubbornness, someone up there still not ready to let him rest—was still with him. He’d gone to California half-dead and half-stupid, and still made it out. And more than that—they had come for him. Ellie. Leela. They’d followed. Chosen to come after him.

Because he was worth saving. Because someone out there still cared if he lived or died.

That part stuck like a splinter in his chest.

He barely had time to register the weight of it before Tommy was on him, hauling him into a rib-crushing hug, laughing through a wet voice.

“Goddamn, you tough bastard. You just don’t die, huh?”

“Too much to live for, baby brother.”

Joel didn’t hug back. Not at first. Then he did—hands slow, uncooperative, gripping Tommy’s shoulders like he had to feel the bones to believe this was real.

Joel pulled back from Tommy’s grip like he’d just come up for air.

The noise of Jackson started to creep back in—the call of someone on a ladder, boots on pavement, a dog yapping in the distance. All the moving pieces of life.

He turned to his brother, voice low. “Maya?”

Tommy smiled, but it was tight around the edges.

“She’s doin’ just fine,” he said. “Caught the sniffles crying her eyes out, but she’s fine.”

Joel stiffened. “She sick?”

“I said she’s fine, Joel,” Tommy said, firmer this time. “She… she just missed her daddy, is all.”

Joel looked away.

Of course she did. And he hadn’t been there. Not for her fever. Not for the nights she cried herself hoarse. Not for the mornings when she didn’t understand why he hadn’t come back. He’d walked out with nothing but a note and the ghost of an apology, like that would hold up in a house full of silence.

They passed through the main square, Joel’s boots heavy on the stone. It all looked the same; that was what struck him most. The tedium. The cruel, gutting way the world carried on like nothing had changed. Like he hadn’t nearly drowned. Like Ellie hadn’t pulled him back from the brink. Like Leela hadn’t followed him into hell and back.

Like Maya hadn’t cried herself sick.

Then, they turned the corner. And there it was.

The big, white house.

For a moment, Joel took it in. How much he missed this place.

Its porch was half-shadowed, steps dusted with snow. The gate creaked in the wind. He used to hear it from the bedroom. Used to fix it every two weeks, he could never find the right hinges. Used to—

He swallowed.

It used to be a shape in the distance. Something he’d catch through the branches of the old oak tree on mornings, sitting like a clean dream against the sky. Back then, it was just a house. Then it was her house. Then his. A home that was anchored in history and laughter, and Leela’s quiet hum as she flipped a page in her notebook. Full of Maya’s shrieks, toy horses skittering across the floor, her squeaky boots thumping against the wood.

Now, it just looked... tall. Unreachable. Like he’d have to climb back up the whole goddamn mountain to get inside again.

He had left something whole and returned to find it grown in his absence, evolved without him—carved deeper, tighter, stronger. Or maybe that was just him. His fear of losing.

Tommy called out, “Maria’s up ahead—she brought baby girl down the block to get some fresh air. Cranky all goddamn morning. She won't listen to anyone unless it's me.”

“Why's that?”

He sighed. “Guess I remind her of her old man.”

Jesus Christ, this was going to hurt like a bitch.

Joel’s head lifted.

And then he saw her.

A small figure on the porch.

Standing just like she used to, on the top step—like she always did when she waited for him after patrol. One mittened hand resting on the railing, the other clutching that old stuffed horse, ears chewed and fur matted from love.

She was watching the path. Waiting. Lips trembling like her whole world had been breaking every hour they were gone.

His feet wouldn’t move.

Her curls were a little softer now, matted, darker. Her coat was buttoned crooked, boots mismatched, nose splotchy from a recovering fever and maybe something else—like she knew something was coming. Some part of her did.

He took a half-step forward and stopped himself.

Then—

“Mama!”

The word left her like a crack splitting open. Her eyes widened. Her whole body leaned forward as if pulled. Arms out. Little hands grabbing at the air.

“Mama, mama—ha—come—Mama—”

It was the kind of sound only babies could make. Too raw to fake, too loud for their size.

And she teetered on the step, wailing.

Not to him. Not even a glance.

Just attempting to barrel forward to her mother, stubby legs churning, the toy horse flopping from her hand.

Joel felt it like a bullet.

Every effort she took—away from him, toward Leela—landed heavy in his gut. It was instinct. Pure. Unforgiving. She had learned that when someone disappears, you hold tighter to the one who doesn’t. The one who stayed.

Joel barely noticed Leela rush past him, knees bending, a ghost trying to reassemble a body—and didn’t even register the blur of movement until she was halfway to the porch, arms already outstretched. Her eyes were wet but unshed, her mouth twitching like she was keeping herself stitched shut by force.

Maya crashed into her, as if her mother made her real.

“Mama, Mama…”

No trembling. No collapse.

And the sound she made then—Joel had never heard it before. Not from her. Not from any baby. It was half-relief, half-fury, all heartbreak. Like something in her had cracked wide open from the waiting.

He staggered, stopped walking altogether.

Leela lifted her, spreading kisses on her cheeks, nose and hair, rocking her like she was trying to put every second of the last few days back inside her arms. Maya’s sobs were hiccuping now, her face buried in Leela’s neck, her whole body trembling.

She pulled Maya in like she meant to disappear with her. Pressed her face into her curls, kissed the top of her head and closed her eyes like that was where all the warmth lived now, shushed her with slow, circular bounces, murmuring nonsense in that gentle, rhythmic tone only mothers had.

“It’s okay, Maya. Shh, Mama’s here now. Mama’s here.”

While Joel stood frozen on the road.

He didn’t know when his hand had clenched into a fist or when his breath had left him.

He didn’t feel anger. Not at Leela. Not even to himself. It was something deeper. Older. Like watching a life he’d dreamed of grow old without him. A desolation.

And Maya—was still crying. Still hiccupping. Her fists balled into Leela’s coat. She hadn’t even looked at him. Or maybe she had, but didn’t know what she was looking for.

He wanted to step closer. Just one more step. Reach out. Soothe her. Say something. But his feet might as well have been nailed to the frozen earth.

He had nothing in his hands. Not even the strength to say her name.

Ellie moved up beside Leela, brushing Maya’s curls back from her sticky, tear-wet face. She said something. Leela nodded. And they all began to walk up the porch steps together.

Joel didn’t follow. Not yet.

He just watched.

Watched how tightly Leela held their daughter. Watched Ellie glance back at him once, her face unreadable, before she jogged past him and followed Maria and Tommy down the road, and away.

Watched his whole life move ahead of him, step by step, without turning around.

Leela’s arms were tight around Maya’s little body, the baby’s sobs quieter now but still hiccupping against her mother’s shoulder.

All he knew was that he’d left all of this behind with nothing but a note and a mission and the idea that maybe, just maybe, he could do something that mattered. Maybe he could fix something.

He eventually trailed behind them like a ghost.

They reached the porch. Leela didn’t pause. Just hitched Maya higher on her hip, the little girl whimpering against her shoulder, and stepped inside.

Maya twisted as they crossed the threshold, her arms flailing, her cries rising in volume. A shrill pleading screech.

“Da-da! Come, come!”

“Maya,” Leela tried to shush.

“No, no! Da-da, pease!”

Her voice punched through him, sharp and high and raw.

“Da-da-da-da—...”

The door closed with a soft, final click. Over.

Somewhere inside, the baby girl's cries still carried over in fresh pricks at his pummeled heart.

Joel stood there, one foot still planted on the step below, like a man halfway to salvation and halfway to hell. He hadn’t moved. His hand—useless at his side—twitched, searching for something it had forgotten how to reach.

The latch echoed louder than any gunshot he’d heard these past weeks.

He stared at the wood grain of the door, the same one he'd walked through a hundred times before, and now couldn’t seem to approach. A stupid part of him still thought maybe it’d open again. That she’d come back, that she’d say—something. Let him hold Maya just once.

But the house stayed still.

So Joel sat. Dropped like a felled thing onto the top step, legs spreading, elbows propped on his knees, fingers pressed to his lips. Because where else did he have to go?

He stared at the dirt packed under the railings, at the porch slats he’d helped mend last summer. He wasn’t sure he had the right to look at any of this anymore.

It hurt to breathe. Not from the bruised ribs or the deep-healing wound in his side. The knowing. The understanding that he’d done this. The rot. The shame. The guilt. The want to fight Leela, argue, and bash against the door.

And when he rubbed a hand over his face, he felt it—wet.

Tears. Real fucking ones.

He stared down at the shine on his fingertips like it was a new language he didn’t speak.

Crying. Goddamn. So he was still capable of that.

After all this time. After the blood. After the fear. After the killing.

It wasn’t the pain of the trip. Not the near-drowning, not the way his ribs still clicked when he breathed too deep. Not even the damage done to Leela’s precious math notebook, still folded at the bottom of his pack like a prayer he couldn’t read.

It was this silence that used to be his favourite harmony. This porch. This big white house across the street, standing like a lighthouse in the middle of the Wyoming snow.

His big, white house.

Or maybe it never had been his. Maybe he’d only been borrowing this life. A thief in someone else’s dream.

In this big dream, he might not be welcome anymore. He’d left thinking he could prove something. That there was still good he could do. That it mattered if he bled for it. That the sacrifice would mean some shit when he brought it back.

Only now—he was just a man sitting on the porch, hands empty, spine bent like a penitent.

He was still the loser. Always had been, hadn't he? A man who couldn't hold onto what mattered, even when it was pressed into his hands. Slipping through his callused fingers, sand in an hourglass.

“Da-da.”

A tiny voice. Raw. Exhausted from crying.

He blinked. Looked down.

Two tiny fists rested against his knee, barely covering them.

She stood there—his baby girl—in her yellow footie pyjamas, curls plastered to her forehead with sweat and tears, her cheeks flushed and snotty, a fist now halfway to her mouth. A warrior, somehow. She looked like she'd marched out here on stubbornness alone.

“Up, up, Da-da,” she said, her voice barely more than a breath, lips rounded to an 'O'.

He didn’t move. His hands stayed clenched on his knees, like he wasn’t sure if they were still allowed to touch her.

He just looked at her—like he was seeing a miracle and wasn’t sure he deserved to touch it. This small miracle with her tangled hair and her crooked little mouth, trying to be brave. Her big brown eyes stared straight through him, full of a deep, solemn thing children shouldn’t carry but sometimes did.

Maya wobbled slightly, off balance, still reaching. Her coat sleeve bunched at the elbow, her fingers finding a fold of his jacket and tugging. It wasn’t strong. It wasn’t a demand. Just a little pull. A tiny act of faith.

“Pease, da-da.”

That was it.

That was all it took.

He broke. Open like a thundercloud. A dam giving way after too many winters.

No big sound. No shudder. Just a quiet, helpless noise from the back of his throat, a beam giving out in a storm, as he leaned forward, reached for her with hands that shook, that had pulled triggers and choked men and now dared to try and lift someone so little and innocent. Someone still his.

He drew her in like she was the only warmth left in the world.

She wrapped her arms around him, little boots stomping onto his ribs, one arm locked around his neck, her fingers fisting the collar of his shirt, and burrowed in like she’d never left him. Like there’d been no time apart. Like he hadn’t abandoned her.

She just clung. The way babies always do. She didn’t care about the mess. Her dainty love hadn’t learned conditions yet.

His throat narrowed, his chest hitched once, sharp—then again, then again. He dropped his face into the crook of her neck and let it come, loosening that lock in him that had been latched since Sarah died. The kind of crying that doesn’t make sound, that just happens. Tears soaking into the fabric of her coat, into her hair, into his beard. He breathed her in like it might fix something, might make him whole.

“I got you, baby girl,” he sniffed.

She smelled like cinnamon. Like sleep. Like their kitchen in the mornings when Leela was fresh from her shower, Maya would toddle in and reach for a bite of breakfast with both hands.

She smelled like everything he’d fought for. Everything he might’ve lost.

Maya leaned back slowly, the softest untangling of her arms, her tiny body still half-draped over his chest. She blinked at him, her brows drawn close in a look far too serious for her little face. Her mouth tugged slightly downward, curious and concerned all at once.

Joel tried to smile for her. Tried to smooth his face. “I'm okay, it's okay.”

But she saw it anyway. The tears, still clinging to his lashes, streaked into his beard.

She stared, her little hand floating uncertainly in the air between them, fingers flexing like she knew there was something she was supposed to do but wasn’t quite sure how.

Then—clumsily, earnestly—she reached up and touched him, just one little hand against his cheek.

Joel looked from her eyes to her palm.

So small, it barely registered, but he felt the gentle tap, the warm pressure. He felt her try to wipe it—like she’d seen done before—dragging her palm across his stubble, awkward, too hard, leaving a streak of baby drool behind.

She sniffed. Then tried again, this time gentler. The way her mama would do it.

“Mm-mm, no,” she told him.

And then—her other hand went to his hair.

A soft, patting motion. Adorable, pure toddler comfort. No finesse, no words.

She looked at him like she was waiting for him to stop crying. Like she believed he could. That he should. Because Mama always did, when she wiped Maya’s tears. Because after the tears came warm arms. And sometimes applesauce.

Joel let out a sound that wasn’t a laugh, wasn’t a sob—just breath. Cracked, quiet. “You takin' care of me?”

His hand cupped the back of her head. His forehead rested against hers, their noses nearly touching. Her fingers were still in his hair.

“Da-da, no, no,” she resonated.

Joel’s heart clenched again—but differently this time. More like remembering what it was for. Beating for her. Alive for this.

He kissed her temple, the warmth of her skin soaking through his bones.

For a moment, the world held still.

No howling wind. No boots on snow. No years of silence pressing down between now and what he’d lost. Just this: the tiny weight of her heart against his chest. Her trust, folded into his jacket like a brass button or her mama's ring in his pocket.

The floorboard behind him creaked.

Joel didn’t lift his head. He felt her before he saw her. The air changed when Leela entered a space—like some internal pressure recalibrated. Softer, but tighter. She didn’t take up more room than she needed, never had. But somehow, her presence always rearranged it.

She stepped to the railing beside him and leaned, arms resting along the wood. The porch light behind her cast a low, golden ring along her dark, frizzed-out hair on her shoulders. The fire inside flickered behind the curtains.

She said nothing at first. Just looked at him. Looked at them.

Like she was trying to map it out—this man, this child, this picture she couldn’t quite trust yet, this picture that didn’t match the one she’d carried around for too long—of absence, of damage, of a man who left too much behind.

Joel didn’t look at her straight on. His eyes stayed on the horizon past the railing, that dim stretch of pine and powder blue, mountains against the dusk that bled into dark. He could feel her gaze, though. The questions in it. The ache. The absence they were both pretending didn’t sit between them like a third body.

“Joel,” she murmured, the first ripple on still water.

He swallowed. His arms tightened almost instinctively around Maya, who shifted with a faint hum, fist tucked against her mouth once more.

“Just let me hold her for a bit,” he said. It came out low, like an apology, or a prayer through gritted teeth.

A breath passed. Then, quietly—

“You can hold her as long as you want.”

He finally looked at her. Her face was turned to the dark, but he could see the fine edge of exhaustion there. Not the kind that came from no sleep—but from too many nights spent enduring what no one saw.

Her voice was softer when she added, “Do you want to shower first?”

Joel blinked, the words hitting him sideways. What a normal fucking thing to say. So regular.

His mind fumbled with it—like she'd offered him a cup of coffee in a warzone. Like there hadn’t been a canyon gaping between them only days ago, carved out by silence and anger and too many things said too late.

The absurdity of it almost made him laugh. Almost. But the sound got stuck somewhere in his throat, tangled with something older and harder.

The wind stirred again, tugging at the hem of her sweater. She didn’t smooth it down. Just let it flutter around her thighs like she didn’t feel the cold.

“Leela,” he said, low, worn, like gravel under tired boots.

She didn’t look at him. Didn’t speak right away. Just leaned a little further into the porch railing, her fingers curled loose around the wood. Shoulders rising. Falling.

Quieter this time—less like she believed it, more like she needed to—“Come inside, Joel.”

Not an invitation. Not a plea. Just something said because it had to be. Like muscle memory. Like faith said out loud.

“You don’t belong anywhere else.” A beat. Then, “And it’s cold outside.”

Joel looked down at the little girl in his arms. Maya’s cheek was pressed to his chest, her lips parted, her breath warm through his shirt. Her small hand clung to the collar of his jacket like she thought he might still disappear if she let go.

He felt it again—his daughter. His reminder. His consequence.

She came to me, he thought. She still comes to me.

Even now. After everything.

He shifted his weight and rose, careful not to jostle Maya. His knees ached. That old pain in his spine flared, but he barely felt it. She was heavier than he remembered. That, too, was a gift.

Across from him, Leela didn’t move. She didn’t offer him a hand. Didn’t clear the way. But she didn’t block it, either.

The door behind her stayed open.

Oh, here they were again.

Same porch. Same house. Same damn man, more or less.

But different. He wasn’t pounding on the door this time. Wasn’t driven half-mad by a baby that wouldn’t stop crying. He wasn’t walking in blind and bitter and ready to do a good thing just to silence a bad one.

Now he carried that baby in his arms. His baby. His girl.

And Leela—she was the one with the door now. Not just the one behind him. The one she kept closed for years, locked and latched and bolted from the inside, because too many people had barged through without asking.

Joel stepped forward.

Not past her. Not through her. To her.

The space between them was close. Intimate. He stopped just short of touching her, close enough to feel her breath ghosting warm in the cold.

She turned her head, finally. Just enough to see him.

Their eyes met. A half-second. A heartbeat.

There was no forgiveness in that look. Only recognition. And maybe—God help them both—want. A bit of love. Still there, under the rubble and the ruin.

He didn’t say, Thank you. Couldn’t. Didn’t think they’d be enough if he did. And she didn’t say, Welcome home.

When he stepped through the door beside her, the warmth met him like a memory.

As he crossed the threshold, this time he came to carry it all. To be part of it.

Maya stirred in his arms, murmuring something soft and wordless. Her thumb found her mouth again. Her head dropped against his shoulder like she knew this place of hers. Like her little body remembered what his mind kept trying to forget.

Joel blinked hard, the air in his lungs thick.

It was the same spot he’d once stood when he almost didn’t come back. When he’d looked at Leela in that doorway and thought about forgetting this ever happened.

Now she stood just behind him. A quiet key turning in an old, rusted lock.

And he thought: This is how it happens. Not with a grand gesture. Not with a reckoning or a flood of apologies. Not with big dreams of another life coming crashing down.

But like this.

A door not closed in anger. A man not barging in. A home not yet reclaimed, but not lost either.

Step by step. Word by word. Warmth bleeding slowly into cold skin.

Not a finish line or a full repair.

A place to start again.

One last time.

X

taglist 🫶: @darknight3904 , @guiltyasdave , @letsgobarbs , @helskemes , @jodiswiftle , @tinawantstobeadoll , @bergamote-catsandbooks , @cheekychaos28 , @randofantfic , @justagalwhowrites , @emerald-evans , @amyispxnk , @corazondebeskar-reads , @wildemaven , @tuquoquebrute , @elli3williams , @bluemusickid , @bumblepony , @legoemma , @chantelle-mh , @heartlessvirgo , @possiblyafangirl , @pedropascalsbbg , @oolongreads -> @kaseynsfws , @prose-before-hoes , @kateg88 , @laliceee , @escaping-reality8 , @mystickittytaco , @penvisions , @elliaze , @eviispunk , @lola-lola-lola , @peepawispunk , @sarahhxx03 , @julielightwood , @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi , @arten1234 , @jhiddles03 , @everinlove , @nobodycanknoww , @ashleyfilm , @rainbowcosmicchaos , @i-howl-like-a-wolf-at-the-moon , @orcasoul , @nunya7394 , @noisynightmarepoetry , @picketniffler , @ameagrice , @mojaveghst , @dinomecanico , @guelyury , @staytrueblue , @queenb-42069 , @suzysface , @btskzfav , @ali-in-w0nderland , @ashhlsstuff , @devotedlypaleluminary , @sagexsenorita , @serenadingtigers , @yourgirlcin , @henrywintersgun , @jadagirl15 , @misshoneypaper , @lunnaisjustvibing , @enchantingchildkitten , @senhoritamayblog , @isla-finke-blog , @millercontracting , @tinawantstobeadoll , @funerals-with-cake , @txlady37 , @inasunlitroom , @clya4 , @callmebyyournick-name , @axshadows , @littlemissoblivious } - thank you!! awwwww we're like a little family <3

“”

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

here to stay

„I don’t think I could do this without you Darlin’“ he whispered and your arms around him tightened. 

„Thankfully you will never have to,“ you smiled softly at him and kissed him again. 

or; you are there for Joel after the new years eve party.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 937

Rating: G

Warnings: established relationship, angst, hurt/comfort, more comfort though, Joel just needs a hug

A/N: please somebody hug this man

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

Full Masterlist // Joel Miller Masterlist

„You know one day he’s not gonna be here,“ you saw the way Ellie jumped as she walked towards the garage she was living in. You saw her jaw tense, her eyes finding yours as you pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders as you approached her.

Walking towards her, having been in the back to check on your chickens before bed, like everyday, you stopped in front of her. 

„Do you really hate him so much?“ You asked quietly. 

„I…“ she began before she shook her head. 

„You wouldn’t understand,“ she rolled her eyes.

„Try me,“ you said, crossing your arms and she sighed. 

„He lied to me,“ she began, „he lied to me and every time I look at him I just… fuck I just get so angry. Why can’t he just leave me alone?“ she asked.

„Because he loves you,“ you said and she took a deep breath. 

„I didn’t ask him to,“ she mumbled and a sad smile came to your lips. 

„You have no idea how lucky you are to have someone in your life who loves you like he does. Unconditionally. I just wish you could see it,“ you shook your head, before you turned away from her and walked towards the front porch. 

Joel was still sitting on one of the chairs, guitar resting in his lap, a space heater towards his feet. 

You had seen the whole argument at the new years party, your heart shattering when you saw his expression as he left the building. The two of you had a nice time up until the argument and you even had talked him into dancing with you. You thought he would walk straight home after but it was you who got there first, using the time to check on everything before he came home.

He had kissed your temple as he finally walked through the door, his forehead resting against yours for a moment before his eyes found the guitar he had picked up from Ellie earlier. He had put on new strings before you left for the party, intending to give it to her after. 

You watched him pick it up before he walked back outside, the gentle sounds of him picking the strings filling the quiet night.

You knew he would wait for Ellie until she got home to make sure she was okay. At least physically.

You just wished you could take away his pain, Ellie’s too. 

It was heartbreaking to watch them drift further and further apart. 

Things hadn’t been like that in the beginning. You and Joel started dating almost three years ago. Joel and Ellie were a package deal, always up to mischief and you missed those days. 

A true father daughter duo. 

And you loved them like that. 

But then it changed. From one day to another. It was Joel who told you why. 

What he did.

And how he lied about it. 

And while you could understand Ellie’s anger about it, you could understand Joel too. He had lost so much, he told you again and again that he wouldn't have survived to loose her too. Not after Tess, after Sarah. 

You held him night and night again when the world got to much and he just had to let it out. You tried to get both and Ellie to talk but it seemed to make things only worse. 

And so you stopped.

You stopped trying to fix them and just tried to be there for both of them. 

Joel looked up at you when he heard you step onto the porch. He took a deep breath, before he looked away from you. 

He had only tried to protect her. Everything he ever did was to protect her. 

Slowly you reached for the guitar, carefully leaning it against he wall, before you slowly climbed into his lap, your arms around his shoulders. You wrapped him under your blanket with you and you felt his cold nose run over your cheek as you leaned your head against his shoulder. 

„She talking?“ He asked and you slowly shook your head. 

„So goddamn stubborn,“ you mumbled and he sighed, his arms coming around you to pull you closer. 

„She hates me,“ he whispered. 

„She’s a teenager in a post apocalyptic world who never had a parental figure in her life. She’s angry and thinks you took away her choice. I don’t know if she ever actually thought about the alternative. That she would have been dead. Most likely for nothing. But she doesn’t hate you Joel.“

„I couldn’t…“ Joel sobbed quietly and you reached up, brushing your hand over his cheek, wiping the tears away. 

„I understand. I understand why you did it. She’ll come around. Hopefully sooner than later. I remember how I was at that age. Too much shit happening in the brain,“ you attempted to joke and he released a long breath. You looked up at him and he slowly leaned in to kiss your lips softly. 

„I don’t think I could do this without you Darlin’“ he whispered and your arms around him tightened. 

„Thankfully you will never have to,“ you smiled softly at him and kissed him again. 

„Can we go to bed? It’s fucking freezing,“ you shivered and that finally got a small smile to his face. 

„You’re always freezing,“ he said, rubbing his nose over yours. 

„Cause you can’t sleep with the window closed,“ you pouted. 

„Maybe I just like you clinging to me,“ he whispered with a hint of a grin. 

„You love it,“ you teased and he kissed you again. 

„I really do,“ he mumbled. 

[pitchsidestories]

taste II Ingrid Engen x Mapi León x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1018

a/n: dear readers, this short, a little silly but cute oneshot was inspired by this request here, happy reading. 🫶🏻 🐈‍⬛

Autumn has finally arrived in Barcelona. Leaves painted in red, orange and yellow started to fall from the trees for one last dance. Baghera was entranced by what nature did and watched everything from her favourite spot in the living room close to the window.

Every year you both were falling in love with that season of the year, as it might be an ending to a summer you fully lived, but also the beginning of something fresh and new.

The champion’s league was about to start and games under the lights were always something special, alone the thought of it filled you with giddy excitement.

“Girls, I invited Esmee for dinner. That’s alright, right?”, you asked your girlfriends who were already in the kitchen.

“Yes, of course, kjaerste.”, Ingrid nodded friendly, standing in front of the stove. While Mapi was launching around in one of the chairs in a sitting position which screamed gay, and parents would judge because of bad posture.

“She was so sad that her parents left again. I thought she could use the distraction.”, you continued. The sad face of the young player was still fresh in your memory.

As a foreign player yourself you knew that being separated from your family for such long periods of time was hard especially when the nights got colder and the daylight shorter.

When you first came to Barcelona at Esmee’s age you were glad that Mapi and Ingrid welcomed you into their home with open arms, the appartement you began to share with them turning into a home away from home soon.

“That’s very sweet of you.”, the Norwegian commented, her forehead covered in frowning lines, looking concentrated at the recipe ahead of her.

“What’s for dinner?”, Mapi questioned smirking.

“I’ve something delicious planned.”, Ingrid announced delighted.

The Spaniard and you took a curious glance at the cookbook before exclaiming, faces formed to disgusted grimaces. “Pumpkin soup?!”

“Why do I have two children, one who has no patience and the other has the taste bud of a toddler?”, the dark-haired women groaned in response.

“Excuse me?”, you replied, pretending to be offended.

“I said what I said.”, Ingrid declared who tried her best to suppress a smile.

“Can’t you make some chicken nuggies?”, you asked your girlfriend, giving her puppy-eyes which you hoped would warm her Scandinavian heart. Often this worked out perfectly fine.

“Please, please, please.”, Mapi supported your suggestion loudly.

“Girls, seriously?”, Ingrid sighed, the defender and you knew from her sigh alone that you both had won in the question of what’s going to be for dinner.

A knocking on the door interrupted the discussion. You opened the door for Esmee and led her into the kitchen.

“Hi everyone. Ingrid, what are you cooking? Can I help you?”, the young player asked politely, peeking over the shoulder of the tall Norwegian.

“I’m making pum-…“, she started, one last attempt to get someone on her side.

“We’re having chickie nuggies!”, Mapi and you announced simultaneously.

Finally, Ingrid gave in: “Yes, we’re having chicken nuggets…“

“Thanks, love.“, you thanked her, beaming.

A small smile appeared on her face as she nudged your side: “You’re lucky I love you two so much.“

“We love you too, amor.“, Mapi replied, kissing Ingrids right cheek while you got on your tiptoes to kiss her left.

Esmee cleared her throat, making sure you hadn’t forgotten that you had a visitor.

Blushing, Ingrid pushed the two of you away and got to work.

You grinned at Esmee: “Hope you like nuggets, Esmee.“

She nodded happily, looking a bit relieved that it wasn’t pumpkin soup: “I do.“

“Then sit down while Ingrid shows us her cooking skills.“, you joked.

Ingrid rolled her eyes next to you. Of the three of you, she was definitely the best cook so making chicken nuggets was beneath her actual cooking skills.

Still, she managed to present you with a batch of perfectly crispy nuggets, a homemade dipping sauce and a bowl of fresh salad. You were all athletes after all.

“This is…“; Esmee said between two mouthfuls of salad.

“Delicious as always.“, Mapi completed the sentence for her, gleefully biting into a nugget.

Ingrid smiled across the table, seemingly happy that you all enjoyed her food: “Thank you, girls.“

“You’re the best cook.“, you agreed with the others.

“I’ll try the pumpkin soup another time though.“, the Norwegian warned you jokingly.

“I promise we’ll try it then.“, you assured her. It was only fair that she would get her pumpkin soup.

“Appreciate it.“

The food was quickly gone, leaving the table cluttered with empty dishes.

Mapi leaned back in her chair with a yawn: “Now time for a nap.“

“Thanks for the dinner, girls.“, Esmee said after she made sure that Ingrid didn’t want any help washing dishes.

“No worries, you’re always welcome here.“, you assured the young player and pulled her into a quick hug before she left.

You smiled to yourself as you closed the door behind her, you loved providing a safe space for the young players, making sure they had everything they needed even if it was just dinner.

“Y/n, Ingrid, hurry up!”, you heard Mapi call from the living room.

Ingrid left the kitchen, rolling her eyes: “That kid has no patience.“

“You still love it.“, you laughed as the two of you entered the living room where Mapi laid sprawled out on the sofa.

“Come into my arms, my loves.“, she laughed, making space for both of you on each side.

You didn’t even think twice as you launched yourself onto the sofa: “Coming!”

“All here.“, Ingrid smiled as she took the other side of the sofa.

Mapi sighed with content, wrapping one arm around each of you: “That’s how I like it.“

“Sandwiched on the sofa? We know.“, you teased her.

Ingrid chuckled lightly, reaching over Mapi and intertwined her fingers with yours: “Me too. With my two favourite children.“

With her eyes already closed, Mapi mumbled something unintelligible, already snoozing.

You cuddled closer into her side.

There was nothing better to do on your free day.

[1982grapejuiceblues]

Change Of Plans

Official Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Stranger Lanes Part 1

Summary: Y/N just got dumped. By text. Her boyfriend left her for Claire—her coworker, her friend, and the girl who helped plan their summer group trip. Now Claire and Ben are sharing a car to the lake house. Y/N? She’s stuck riding with Harry—Claire’s freshly dumped, emotionally unavailable ex. They’ve barely spoken. They don’t even like each other. And they’re about to spend twelve hours trapped in a car together. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. But then again… nothing ever does.

A/N: I just came up with this (in my opinion) very cute story idea because its finally SPRING (although it feels so much more like summer) and I was really feeling those end of school, summer vibes. So here is my second story, Stranger Lanes! I'll be alternating between posting for this story and The Wrong Pitch (my other series) each day. I hope you guys love teacher!Harry because thats who we're getting today. He's grumpy, quiet, broody, and everything we could ever dream of. Hope you guys love him as much as I do!

Warnings: Off-page infidelity / betrayal (Y/N’s partner cheats with a friend) | Breakup fallout and emotional processing | Anxiety, emotional withdrawal, and dissociation | References to emotional repression (in others and self) | Passive-aggressive group dynamics | Alcohol use (coping, casual context) | One (1) sarcastic mention of wanting to “die in Indiana” | Dry humor layered over grief

Word Count: 1.7K

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

It started with a text.

Not a fight.

Not a conversation.

Not even a slowly decaying vibe.

Just a text. Dry. Colorless. Utterly insufficient.

Hey. I think it’s only fair I’m honest with you. Claire and I are seeing each other. We didn’t plan it.

Y/N read it once. Then again. Then a third time, more slowly—like it might morph into something less ridiculous if she squinted hard enough.

It didn’t.

She stood in the middle of her kitchen, one hand gripping the fridge door like it was holding her upright. The glow of the fridge light spilled across her feet and the tile in soft gold, humming like it was trying to fill the silence. It didn’t.

She hadn’t even taken her shoes off yet.

Ben.

Ben had sent that.

Ben, her boyfriend of three years.

Ben, who alphabetized their spice rack.

Ben, who had built her a bookshelf for her birthday and painted it teal because it “felt like a happy color.”

Ben, who had Claire saved in his phone as “Claire 🌱” because, apparently, she was “good with plants.”

Y/N closed the fridge door slowly and let her phone slide facedown onto the counter.

She didn’t scream. She didn’t throw anything.

She didn’t cry. That would’ve made sense.

Instead, she opened the freezer, took out the pint of overpriced salted caramel gelato she’d been saving for “a bad day,” and stared at it like it had betrayed her too.

Claire.

She leaned against the counter. Crossed her arms. Uncrossed them.

Claire.

As in Harry’s girlfriend Claire.

As in district golden girl, perennial staff lounge contributor, fake-humble about her sourdough starter Claire.

Claire who had cried on Y/N’s shoulder at the end-of-year cookout two weeks ago because Harry was “distant” and “always reading alone when she just wanted to connect.”

Claire who had helped plan the lake trip. Who made the group spreadsheets. Who told Y/N—literally, word for word—that she “was lucky to have someone like Ben. He’s so emotionally available.”

Y/N laughed. Once. Short and dry, like a cough in a church pew.

She put the gelato back in the freezer.

-

She didn’t text back. She didn’t call.

She sat on the edge of her bed, in the tank top she’d taught summer school in, and stared at her laundry pile like it might have answers.

Her phone buzzed again.

I’m sorry

That was it. No period. No elaboration. Just two words that sounded more like a receipt than a confession.

She powered her phone off. Not because she was angry. But because she couldn’t bear to watch the read receipts play chicken with her rage.

-

The next morning, she packed a bag.

Not dramatically. Not even thoughtfully. She just started folding things—loose sleep shorts, that one bra that still held its shape, the tank top with the bleach stain she usually saved for movie nights—and shoved them into a weekender tote like she was running from a hurricane. Which, in a way, she was.

She left Ben’s keys on the counter. Took her spare set. Didn’t lock the door behind her.

-

Her sister opened the door in a charcoal gray face mask and one of those oversized sweatshirts that read PROPERTY OF NO ONE across the chest.

“Oh,” she said, blinking. “It happened?”

Y/N nodded.

“Claire?” Her sister had heard about Claire. Or more specifically, “Claire 🌱”.

Y/N nodded again.

Her sister stepped aside like a bouncer. “Come in. Do you want wine or revenge?”

Y/N dropped her bag in the hallway. “What kind of wine?”

-

She stayed for three nights. Then five. Then seven.

She didn’t go back to their apartment—not once. Ben texted a few times, but the messages were all logistical. Do you want the basil plant? Are the insurance papers in the drawer? Should I grab your blender too?

She didn’t answer. He Venmo’d her $300 without a note. She transferred it to savings and blocked his number.

Her sister didn’t ask questions. She made breakfast-for-dinner three times and gave her the better half of the couch, and only once did she gently ask if Y/N wanted to talk about it.

“I think I will,” Y/N said. “Later.”

It wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t soon.

-

She spent most of her days scrolling—TikTok, Pinterest, Zillow like she could manifest a life somewhere coastal. She read three chapters of a novel before putting it down and flipping to something trashier. She started a letter to Ben and then deleted it. She started a letter to Claire and imagined reading it aloud into a hairbrush like she was Nikki Minaj mic’d at the VMAs.

None of it helped. But it filled the time.

-

The summer trip loomed.

The group chat still pinged daily—mostly Claire, ironically. She sent weather updates and playlists and matching merch links (“Isn’t this cute for a group pic??”) like she hadn’t detonated the entire social dynamic of the group with her soft little garden-gloved hands.

Y/N didn’t mute the chat. She just watched.

Every so often, someone—usually Ali—would DM her privately and say something like “you’re still coming, right?” or “we can totally make it chill, like totally separate spaces, no drama.”

She didn’t respond. Not because she was ghosting. Just because there wasn’t an answer that didn’t sound like she was lying to herself.

-

On day nine, her sister brought in the mail and tossed a catalog onto the couch.

It landed next to Y/N with a heavy thwap. A furniture store ad. The front read:

CHANGE STARTS HERE.

Y/N stared at it for a full minute.

Then she said, “Ali’s gonna call, isn’t she?”

-

It happened at 9:17 p.m., which already felt like a hostile time for unsolicited optimism.

Y/N was on the couch again, wearing the same sweatshirt she’d claimed from her sister’s closet five days ago and scrolling through Instagram like she was watching someone else’s life. Weddings. Beach trips. Dogs on paddle boards.

Her legs were half-asleep under a blanket she didn’t remember pulling over herself. Her phone was warm in her palm. She had just watched an entire video of someone organizing a pantry with acrylic bins and was about to rewatch it when her screen lit up with a name she both loved and feared:

Ali 🌙

Y/N stared at it.

Her thumb hovered.

Then she accepted the call and held the phone to her ear with the energy of someone walking into a trap.

“Please tell me you’re not calling to ask if I’ve forgiven them.”

“No,” Ali said immediately. “God, no. I’m not insane.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Then what.”

“I have an idea.”

“Ali.”

“A solution.”

“Ali.”

“You have to hear it.”

“I truly do not.”

“You do,” she insisted. “Because it’s genius. It’s fate. It’s actually so perfect, I think the universe is throwing you a bone.”

“Is it a bone or is it a grenade?”

“Okay, so—”

Y/N groaned and dropped her head back against the couch. “Start over. From the top. Slowly.”

Ali exhaled dramatically. “Fine. You know how you were supposed to drive up to the lake house with Ben.”

Y/N stayed silent.

“And now you are, obviously, not doing that because Ben is… dead to us.”

Still silent.

“Well, Harry was supposed to drive up with Claire.”

Ah. There it was.

“And now he’s not. Because Claire is, you know, Ben’s rebound wife.”

“I’m going to vomit,” Y/N muttered.

Ali ignored her. “So now Harry has a car. You need a ride. He needs a co-pilot. You don’t want to drive alone. See where I’m going with this?”

Y/N was silent for a long time.

Then: “I’ve spoken to him twice.”

“Three times.”

“Ali.”

“I think he said you had a nice voice once.”

“He asked if I had a pen.”

Ali was undeterred. “He’s quiet. But he’s not mean. And he said he’s still going.”

“You already asked him?”

“Maybe.”

“Ali.”

“I mean. Yes.”

“Oh my god.”

“I swear he didn’t even sound annoyed! He was just like, ‘sure, whatever.’ That’s practically a love letter from Harry.”

Y/N groaned again and pulled the blanket over her face.

“Just—think about it,” Ali added. “It’s a long drive. You can listen to audiobooks. Or just put in your headphones and ignore him. It doesn’t have to be bonding. It can be… logistical.”

“Like co-parenting a twelve-hour road trip.”

“Exactly.”

Y/N peeked out from under the blanket. “He said yes?”

“Yes. Kind of. I think. I texted and he replied ‘fine.’”

“Wow. I feel so cherished.”

Ali snorted. “He’s just… not a words guy.”

“What is he then?”

“A scowl guy. A hoodie guy. A tragic poetry guy.”

“Oh god.”

“You’re gonna have a great time.”

“I’m going to die in Indiana.”

Ali paused. “Okay but if you do, at least make it look like an accident. Don’t ruin the vibe of the trip.”

-

The worst part wasn’t that she was considering it. The worst part was that it made sense.

She didn’t want to rent a car. She didn’t want to fly and pretend she wasn’t terrified of turbulence. She didn’t want to miss the trip entirely, because Claire and Ben didn’t get to take that from her too.

And Harry, despite being barely more than a moody silhouette in the hallway during staff meetings, wasn’t a serial killer. As far as she knew.

She pulled up his contact in her phone. She’d never texted him before. His name was just Harry Styles, no emoji, no notes. A blank profile image. He was, in every way, a placeholder.

She stared at the screen for a long moment.

Then typed:

Ali says you’re okay with driving together. Is that real or was she hallucinating from heat exhaustion?

The dots appeared almost immediately.

It’s real.

Y/N squinted at the screen.

I can pick you up Saturday at 7?

Seven. In the morning. On a Saturday. Before she had coffee.

Was he trying to make her hate him?

Seven AM???

It’s a twelve-hour drive.

I’m aware of the concept of distance, Harry.

Good. I’ll bring coffee.

She paused.

That was… civil. Almost human.

What kind of coffee?

Black.

Are you trying to make this as miserable as possible?

Do you take yours with glitter and oat milk?

Y/N smirked.

I take it with hope and joy, actually.

Cool. I’ll bring despair and an aux cord.

She let out a sound that surprised her—a laugh, small and sharp, like she hadn’t remembered what it felt like to make one.

Then she replied:

Fine. But no true crime podcasts unless I pick them.

Deal.

[supernovafics]

eddie has a crush on you

wc: 683

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

eddie has a crush on you, and it’s become blatantly obvious to everyone except you. 

only days after he met you at the hideout when robin introduced you both, he made you a mixtape. you had half-mentioned that you wanted to get into new music and eddie ran with that information, putting the tape together in just one night and then giving it to robin to give to you since she saw you more often. 

the next time you saw him at some group hangout at steve’s house, you told him that you really liked the songs he put on the mixtape and his heart nearly exploded out of his chest. he happily smiled and rambled on and on about some of the specific songs you said you liked, recommending you more songs from the artist and promising that he’d bring you their full album or just make you another mixtape altogether. 

that was when everyone saw it, how much he obviously liked you. but, you didn’t. 

you saw everything he did for you as just a simple friendly gesture, which was great in your eyes because you wanted more friends in this small town that you moved to only a few months ago.

when he was the only one that would come with you to see some new horror movie at the theater, or when he showed up during your quiet shifts at the bookstore and stayed for a few hours just to keep you company, you simply felt lucky to have him as a friend. 

robin was the only one to tell you differently, though. 

“oh, come on. he’s looked like a little puppy pining after you these past few weeks. i can’t believe you don’t see it.”

you laughed at her words. “you’re insane.”

“no, i’m right,” she said and you only shook your head in response, another laugh falling from your lips because you still couldn’t really believe it. 

that changed only a week later, when you got sick and robin told eddie, and then he showed up to your place armed with chicken noodle soup, cough syrup, and a few movies that you had mentioned to him one time that you really liked. 

“you made this yourself?” you asked as you poured the soup out of its tupperware and into a bowl. 

he smiled sheepishly at you as he nodded. “yeah… it actually wasn’t that hard, though. this lady at the grocery store helped me get the ingredients and then basically wrote down the instructions for me too.”

you gave him a small smile. “thank you.”

you looked down at the bowl of soup. him making it was probably the nicest thing someone had ever done for you, and that was when you finally knew. it was also when you realized how you felt too. 

you both settled on your couch after you ate the soup. one of the movies eddie brought over was playing in front of you and your head was against his shoulder because the cough syrup was making you a little sleepy. 

“eddie,” you said with a sniffle maybe halfway through the movie and turned your head to look at him. there was something about the drowsiness of the medicine that made you feel a little bold in that moment. “do you like me? like, more than just as a friend?”

how red his cheeks got at your questions told you everything you needed to know, but he still gave you a flustered response. “oh, um, yeah. yeah, i do… but, i completely understand if you don’t and—”

you cut him off with a quick shake of your head and you gave him a small smile. “no, it’s okay. i like you too.”

the immediate elated grin that broke out on his face at your words made you want to kiss him, but you refrained from doing so because you didn’t want to make him sick too; you were also too tired. 

“oh. nice. cool,” he said, trying to act normal about it all but was still smiling widely. 

you laughed a bit. “cool.”

[ckret2]

Ok but why DO the teens of Gravity Falls start worshipping Bill after everything he did to them? Isn't there a better counterculture figure they can use that didn't traumatize them for life?

You'd think. Pre-TBOB I sure wouldn't have made them worship him—but if canon says they worship him to be edgy, who am I to argue.

So since it IS canon, I justify it two ways:

One: who says they were traumatized? I'm not saying "Weirdmageddon wasn't traumatic"; I'm saying "maybe they didn't feel traumatized by it." Not everyone comes away from should-be-traumatic situations with trauma, ESPECIALLY if they have a large support group that understands what they went through... like, say, literally everyone else in town.

And a WHOLE LOT of Gravity Falls—maybe even most of the town—had VERY little exposure to Bill or Weirdmageddon. Based on Wendy's account, she and her friends didn't know anything was wrong until the eye-bats swooped in to petrify them. Anyone captured "probably" wasn't conscious (based on how Lazy Susan seems disoriented and unaware of her surroundings, I assume they were mostly unconscious, partially dreaming). All the teens (along with the other townspeople) were freed from the throne while Bill and his minions were outside, escaped (except for Wendy & Robbie) before Bill got back, and then everything went back to normal and nothing was broken and nobody was hurt.

For Wendy, it was the most stressful, dangerous, terrifying week of her life.

For all of Wendy's friends (and probably most other teens in town), it was just a pretty bizarre 15 minutes.

Since the eye-bats were picking off stray townspeople days into Weirdmageddon, I'm sure not all of the teenagers in town were captured so quickly and painlessly... but like, the teens that got the highest doses of trauma from the incident probably aren't the specific teens worshiping Bill to be edgy.

Two: it's a way of reclaiming power over the situation. Do you know one way to stop fearing the monster you imagine under your bed? By imagining really hard that the monster you can feel so, so close in the dark is actually friendly and there to protect you.

The triangle guy's dead and not coming back right? Then there's no consequences if we clown around in his name. You want to be a big fancy god? Okay, now you're the God of Making My Teacher Give Me An A+ On The Final. You're the God of Please Don't Let Me Get Fired From My Part Time Job For Showing Up Late. You're the God of Putting Me In The Same Classes As My Friends This School Year. I'll sacrifice a chicken nugget to you and you'll do me a favor.

If you're a chaos god then I'm calling on you when we spray graffiti, secretly throw a house party, sneak into the movie theater, sell weed in the restroom. If you're a chaos god then keep away the cops and parents when we're breaking the rules. (It's lucky coincidence that Bill would probably love to be the god of illegal parties and drug dealing.)

If you wanna be a god, then you're hired, buddy—and on this planet, that means if we bow to your image and chant your name and sacrificially burn a one dollar Bill over a candle for you, then you have to do what we ask, and you can't scare us anymore. And if worshiping you DOES scare the authority figures we're yearning to buck against, that's just a bonus.

Pantheons all over the world worship gods of volcanoes, sea storms, war, and death. When humans see a force too terrible to defeat or escape, we give it a face, a name, and a temple, and start feeding it with offerings and prayers in hopes we can domesticate it the same way we domesticated wolves with meat and back scratches.

[tonix3]

Larry 2024

(my recap of the most important moments plus a few comments here & there - for clothing stuff & everything music related I made separate categories & I tried to make the connections between some stuff obvious & also I included some of the things their familys/team/inner circle has done when I found it to be important/interesting - sources at the end)

Explanation: cursive = for other people,

{} = my thoughts/comments

January

- H is in Anguilla + pap shots on yacht (with Louis Shirt) + pics with stunt TR -> pap pic release 04.01.

- 06.01. Hs Mum on IG story writes on her pics 'This too shall pass..' + 'Force the smile take the photo ... Remind yourself you're ok'

- 06.01. Mirror posts article saying L and Eleanor are getting close again - Es actual boyfriend posts hot swimwear pic with her {lol}

- no mention of Fs birthday 21.01.

- 23.01. L tweets/answers his favorite snack is Chicken (and an ask about Fs bday 'it was lovely')

February

- H&L listed as partners on Google for the 3rd time

- 18.02 H doesn't attend TR stunts important event to watch football & it's a whole talk online about it

March

- 10.03. L likes post about Lime Bikes {LOL}

- 11.03 Lou Teasdale posts on IG story a meme of Ls Beatbox/Horsenoise Buzzcut interview {LOL LOL LOL}

- 17.03. Liam replies with heart to a comment on IG from @LarryStylinson_favtweets

- 19.03. L is in London with friends at John Mayer concert + H sighted at a flight to London

20.03. H (in L) papped with James Cordon/L MIA

21.03. L (in L) at sisters birthday party/H MIA

22.-25. both MIA

26./27. H in London (pap pics)

{-> TIME TOGETHER?! Pattern of one of them popping up while the other one goes MIA}

April

- 08.04. L non-denial interview using Total eclipse of the heart lyrics posted on Eclipse day -> Larry trends again, everyone falls down the Larry rabbithole, every news outlet reports about it {he also mentions for the first time in a denial that people are being unfair to his son F - OK}

- 10.04 Shania Twain posts TB from Hs Still The One (+ Anne reposts in her IG story)

- 10.04 Jack Whitehall (friend of H) posts a Tiktok in a teens room with H&L posters and says it 'looks like his bedroom at home'

- 10.04. Pleasing ad with white, orange, blue, green nails -> 'simple but effective' caption {baby boyfriends}

- 28.04. Anne on her IG story pic 'Kindness is my go to but fuck off is my wingman' {on the 28th how funny 😆}

May

- 13.05 Mark Tomlinson posts a pic 'My grandchildren' without F

- 15.05 Phoebe IG Story Chicken meal 'such a simple but effective meal' {OK GIRL WE SEE YOU}

- 19.05. after Tayrry BU articles drop Anne posts IG story pics with 'saturday night toast', 'off to the cinema' & happy sunday + H's photographer post champagne bottle in pool + Helen Seamons posts champagne & strawberries + Phoebe posts bathtub pic with 'End to a perfect sunday'

- 27.05 Anne on Podcast says 'my kid was happy as Larry' {what??? even if it's a saying in the UK}

June

- 11.06. Steve Aoki IG story selfie with streetmarket Art of queer legends/famous people H&L next to ea + tags L in the story

- 16.06 Daisy includes L in father's day collage + L posts about England & Jude Bellingham not even liking the post of Daisy

July

- 14.07 final of the euros in Berlin - both H&L attend -> pic with Ed, Lou & most likely H in the background photographed within reaching distance in the same room! For the first time in years! (+ Tumblr anon seeing them in VIP area talking about them meeting up, talking & splitting a few times!) -> media & fandom goes crazy {personally I find the pic of them a bit underwhelming because it's debatable if it's H}

August

- 03.08 L signs a fans midnight memories CD at a M&G on Harry {possessive much? Lol}

- 04.08 Charlie LeClerc (F1 driver) follows H on IG

- 09.08 in Lotties Book she talks about Lucky being her moms only grandchild wishing she could have met him (-> fandom & media goes nuts over excluding F/'confirming' F isn't a grandchild)

+ media article Lottie wrote herself confirms her wording

- Poster shows Homes Chapel 'Pride Street Party' is on 28 Sep🌈

- 28.08. 28clothing posts socks with 28 and a hand showing a rose ring on IG story

- 28.08 Team Ferrari posts Tiktok of Charles LeClerc with Harry's XFactor Audio 'I work in a bakery. I like .. serve'

- 29.08 L follows Charles LeClerc on IG {the following day of the Tiktok? LOL}

- 30.08 F1 makes Out Of My System Song of the weekend on their official Playlist

- 31.08 L attends F1 Grand Prix in Monza Italy & is photographed at Team Ferraris suite + commentator referred to L being in a band with H and mentions not being allowed to talk about Ls boyfriend {What the actual f#ck}

September

- 01.09. Charles LeClerc follows L on IG

- 01.09 L takes official pics with Author Tara Ramos whose book is named 'F1 Behind Closed Doors: Clown of the circus' {While smiling like a madman OK LOU}

- 17.09 Pleasing ad (with @elisasudara) same girl L was pictured in fanpic on beach in Spain {Wtf?}

October

- 12.10 Mark Tomlinson posts he misses Lucky and Olive no F

- 16.10 💔🕊️

- 27.10 Daisy includes F in a collage of Lucky's and Olives Halloweens

- 31.10. Mark Tomlinson posts only Lucky and Olive Trick or treating no F

November

- 01.11. Gemma posts a pic to her IG story with Lous 'It is what it is' (in the same font)

- 13.11. Harry Lambert/Helen Seamons (H stylist/L stylist) post the same Manet Shirt on IG storys

- 20.11 funeral ☁️ all boys attend, arrive separately & manage not being photographed together

December

- 05.12. Pleasing collab announcement ft. dick key chains (inverted colors are blue and green)

- H Fine Line anniversary video includes 3 clips of Harry's Kiwi performances (associated with bbg) Kiwi being a song on HS1 not fine line {🤔}

- 27.12. L in the background of Phoebes Snapchat

- 28.12. Daisy posts a pic from a bowling alley to her Snapchat including the name Freddi (people speculate if her and Phoebe babysit F because L isn't on the list of names) {is it even F? Where are the twins bowling - London? Doncaster?}

- 28.12. L is photographed + video in Doncaster restaurant/bar with different fans at least 5 times

~Clothing stuff 2024~

~ 03.01. H wears 'Louis' (Bode) Shirt in Anguilla

~ 25.01. H papped with LT Jacket and Tennis hat + 27.01. L attends Tennis event as a guest of queer friendly brand Piper Hideseick Champagne {supportive husbandsss}

~ L Melbourne Merch is babyblue advertised with pink background then merch color changes to green for BNE, SYD is pink & displayed on babyblue background {Fine Line is associated with pink&blue - supportive husbandsss 2.0}

(~ 02.02 L wears orange shirt with laurels to SYD FitF)

~ 29.02 L wears Boyfriend Jacket 🫶🏻 at F1 event and concert

~ 20.03 H & James Cordon pap pics - blue greening with their sneakers (+ H carries flower on 'national flower day')

~ 21.03 L wears Jeans Jacket with big lettering to Twins Birthday Party -> 'you can tell me what to do, I just probably won't do it' {so sassy Lou, love it}

(- 03.04. L wears Burberry Laurels Shirt)

~ 06.04. L says in interview 'Clothes tell his story'

~ 11.04. - (first sighting of) H (after Ls non denial) he wears a dark blue shirt with a little L 💙

~ 02.05. L wears Tanktop from gay brand BDXY called 'The Stunt'

~ 04.05 H Umbro shirt over a hoodie being papped on a lime bike in London (wearing Sneakers called Halo - coincidentally like the Shipname Halo which came before Larry Stylinson)

~ 12.05. L wears blue green (back)GAP/PAL(front) Hoodie at airport

~ 04.06. H pink Shirt with 'TOP' {okay Harold}

~ 08.06 + 29.06. L Casablanca Rainbow Outfit {best fit of the year!}

~ 12.07. H sings as surprise guest with Stevie Nicks at Hyde Park (first show after a whole year) & wears a green shirt & bluegreen birdie pin

~ 21.07 first gig L plays after Euros he wears blue green Casablanca Jacket {Come on Lou!}

~ 10.08 (after Lottie/F Book thingy) H being papped with hat 'I am the eldest boy' + L on stage with black and yellow fit {bee reference for larries associating bees with bbg?}

~ 04.09. H takes pics with fans wearing Grand Prix sunglasses while also bluegreening (also 28 days before AIMH tweet anniversary) {after L was at F1 Grand Prix - I see what you did there H}

~ 10.09 H pic with fan wearing LT Hoodie

~ 13.09. H wears white strawberries pin (white strawberries have sexual meanings ranging from c*mming on someones butthole to other things) {Harold, oh my god! LMAO 🤣}

~ 15.09. H papped and fan pics with cardigan in babyblue & shirt underneath looks like it says 'H L paradise' (Japanese designer)

~ 28.12 L pics/vids with fans out in Doncaster wearing his Pleasures Skull Cardigan (backside says 'What happend to you? What happend to me? Pleasures is PAIN' sentences divided by green lines {of course green 😂}

~ L&H are seen multiple times with the same adidas sneakers (on stunt/pap pics) for example camel Adidas sneakers (L's insides are green Hs blue) but also other matching adidas shoe modells

×Music stuff 2024×

× 02.02. WMYB is played after Ls concert

× L Love him/hate it during festivals/concerts:

*30.01 (and mouthed 'that's right'? after)

*22.06 (at pinkpop)

*several other clips/vids of mouthing 'him'

× 28.03. L Away from home festival poster drops (without dates)- with aqueduct like Homes Chapel

× 29.03. L Away from home festival poster looks like door with starry sky & starts on the day (8th of June) of the pride festival in Merida, Mexico (Merida as in the Disney princess from BRAVE)

× 30.03. L has a 1h set but decides to include 3 1D songs + covers 7 (during 7 all lights were red except one single green spotlight), rainbows on screen during JHO, pointed to 🏳️‍🌈 flag with 'Always You Larry' written on, during BTY big HIM on screen with the lyrics of the song

× April - hotspot puzzle for Ls Live Album promo were all Hospitals or Helipads = giant H's

× 12.04. {few days after non denial} Dylan is announced as opener for Ls festival (famous song 'You're not Harry Styles' & covers Kiwi)

× 15.05. during 'Silver Tongues' after 'no one understands me like you do' L says ✨oBviOusLy ✨ + during Saturdays one single green spot on him (again 3 days later)

× 24.05. L (first show after Trarry BU) on screens giant H and S + he sings Lucky Again (after 236days)

× 03.08. Ls big screen showing his 28 tattoo covered with a rainbow🌈 + during Silver Tongues after 'no one understands me like you do' he says 'no truer lyric.'

(× 18.08 L skips Walls but covers 7 nonetheless (&WDBHG))

× 06.09. L has giant H's on screen during 7 cover + L says 'Thats real' after 'Larry called a lot of smoke in' (fandom debates what he meant) {kings of plausible deniability}

- 16/19 festivals L has done he covered 7 - Catfish & The Bottlemen 🎶

{16 times? 1+6=7 we love a good 7 moment}

- L singing Where Do Broken Hearts Go (1D song written by H) at every festival {Why this song Lou?}

___

Many crossovers with their stylists, photographers, friends & family mentioning each other, liking/sharing each others posts or attending events together = same circles

___

SOURCES:

Twitter: @BKatie167 & her awesome GoogleDoc (which should include everything I mentioned & more!)

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/15mUV3fMuiBfz4zl1TziMeGQKmBYt7s6dyMneHA2c7RE/edit?usp=drivesdk

Also everything mentioned was/is discussed by @skepticalarrie @twopoppies and shout-out to my Larry friend @fookinhellcurly

Tumblr/Twitter: @hldailyupdate @fashionlouist

You should find vids/clips & discussions for everything I mentioned with a quick Tumblr or YT search 🔍

[sunshinesickies]

Based on this request: Powder is very clingy when she's sick so the reader takes care of her and don't mind Powder sneezing on her, if you can do it please

Thank you for the prompt anon!! Also…yay!! My first powder fic! I love her so much.

AU Powder x fem!reader

CW: brief mentions of familial loss/death

Germs And All

“Here you go, love.” You kiss the top of your girlfriend’s head as you approach the couch she’s cuddled up on and hand her a steaming cup of tea, lots of lemon and honey of course.

“Thank you beautiful.” Powder hums as she gratefully cups the warm mug in both hands for a moment before bringing the rim to her lips and taking a hesitant sip. It’s just hot enough to soothe her aching throat, but not too hot that it burns. A soft smile laces her lips. “It’s perfect.”

You smile in return, happy to be doting on your cold-ridden girlfriend. She’d started feeling off a couple days ago and yesterday you’d finally convinced her to take it easy and in return, you promised to stay by her side until she got better.

You turn to make your way back to the small kitchen in the other room but you quickly pause with an amused smile a moment later when Powder tugs at your shirt before you can even take a step. “Wait! Where’re going?” She pouts up at you, brows knit and blue eyes wide.

You crouch down to meet her gaze and bring a gentle hand to the side of her cheek, resting it there as you speak. She’s a little warmer than usual, but not too much so you’ll worry about that later if she develops more of a fever.

“I’m going to make you lunch, remember? You ask softly and her eyes glance towards the floor as she frowns slightly.

You can feel her mood shifting, and you have a pretty good idea as to why, but still, you wait a moment, your thumb brushing along her skin before you hum, “what’s up Pow?” You prompt ever so lightly. Her eyes flutter closed as she leans into your soothing touch.

“Stay.” She pleads and your heart pangs right then and there for her.

Since losing both her parents and sister at such a young age, she vowed not to let anything happen to anyone else she loves, especially you. Which means sometimes, especially when she’s not feeling well, like now, she gets a little extra anxious about you going anywhere, even if it’s just the other room.

“I’m just going to the kitchen, I’ll be right back. You need to eat something baby.” You explain gently but she just shakes her head slightly. “Please? I-I don’t want you to go.” Her lip quivers slightly and the sight breaks your heart.

“Shhh. It’s okay love. I’m not going anywhere, but you need to eat or you’ll only feel worse, hmm?” You try again brushing a stray tear from her cheek. Powder just grabs your wrist and holds onto you tightly as she sniffles and turns away to muffle a cough into the blanket she’s curled up under.

“How ‘bout you come with me? We’ll make it together.” You propose, running your hand along her back as her fit settles down. To this she nods and you offer a comforting smile. “Bring your tea.” You remind as you stand up and wait for her to remove herself from the couch.

You can’t help but smile widely when she meets you by the door, blanket draped around her shoulders, bright hair mused from lying down, and mug of tea in hands. Every day you marvel at how lucky you are to have her in your life and sometimes you’re just not sure how it’s possible for someone to be this freaking adorable.

With your arm around her waist and her head leaning against your shoulder, the two of you make your way to the adjoining kitchen. You prompt Powder to sit at the table with her tea then you make your way over to cabinets. “Chicken noodle or tomato soup?”

Your girlfriend coughs, taking a sip of her tea then murmurs, “tomato please.” You nod silently and grab a can of tomato purée and start looking for the other ingredients to whip together a homemade batch of soup. “Grilled cheese?” You add with a knowing tone.

“Yes!” Powder exclaims happily and you smile at her love for grilled cheese. The classic combination is her comfort meal and you end up making it every time she’s down or under the weather.

You work quietly, the only sounds are that of your cooking and the occasional soft sniffles or coughs coming from your sick girlfriend. She watches you with tired eyes as she slumps against the table.

You’re putting freshly chopped onions and garlic into the simmering tomato base when you hear her take a sharp breath. She hitches softly for a few moments before sneezing into the blanket around her shoulders.

“Nnghh'shhuhh! Heh'TSHhuhh! ‘Tsshchhuu!”

“Bless you babes.” You hum as you hand her a few napkins, they’re not as soft as tissues but they’ll do for the moment. She mumbles a “thagdks” before blowing her nose and you turn back to your cooking to give her some semblance of privacy.

“Poor love.” You hum from the stove, heart aching for how tired she sounds. “After lunch you’re resting in bed okay?” Your tone is soft but leaving no room for argument.

“S’long as you’re with me, toots.” Powder replies, her voice suddenly louder and you let out a small oomph as she suddenly hugs you from behind, throwing her arms around your waist and burying her face into your shoulder.

“Whatcha doing love?” Your tone is light and sweet. “You said we’d make it together.” She pouts into your shoulder and you chuckle lightly, “I did didn’t I?” Powder hums against your shirt as she leans more against you, letting your effortlessly hold up most of her weight.

You reach one arm behind you and gently pat your own waist, “well I have to move to finish, so up you go.”

You steady a hand against the counter as she follows your request and jumps up onto your back, wrapping her legs tightly around your middle and clinging to you like a koala as she resumes her position of resting her head to your shoulder. This is how you finish making her meal, with her holding on tightly, and you murmur soft nothings to her as you start on the grilled cheese.

It’s not long before you feel the familiar sensation her breath hitching as her chest quickly rises and falls against your back. You’ve long since accepted the facts that when your girlfriend’s sick, she incredibly clingy, always needing to touch you, and that she doesn’t give a shit whether she sneezes or coughs on you. You don’t mind. You’re just glad to be there for her, even if that means becoming her own personal tissue.

“Huhh-nuhh’Shhhuu! Ahhh’Chschoo! ‘Tshhchheww!” She muffles the sneezes into your shirt and you feel the spot grow slightly wet under her mess. “Bless you love.” You hum simply as she sniffles against you.

A moment later she shifts her face and her forehead briefly meets the uncovered skin on your neck. You frown to yourself, she’s considerably warmer than she was not even twenty minutes ago. “How’re feeling, Pow?” You ask as you plate the grilled cheese and pour the soup into a bowl, adding a spoon and sprinkle of herbs for good measure.

Powder lets out a half whine, half groan. “Nodt great.” She mumbles and clings slightly tighter to you as you slowly make your way, tray of food in hand towards your shared bedroom. You hum sympathetically as you set the tray down on the side table. “M’sorry you feel so lousy baby.”

You sit on the edge of the bed and Powder flops dramatically off of your back with an exaggerated huff and you have to stifle a laugh. She may feel crappy, but she’s still your Powder, and you love every dramatic inch of her. “Eat. Then we’ll rest okay?” You put a hand to her cheek as she settles herself into a sitting position against the headboard.

You sit on the edge of the bed again, this time, picking up the tray and holding it steady as you reposition yourself in front of your girlfriend. You’ve long since both sit cross-legged and you set the tray down between you. Her eyes light up when she properly sees the food for the first time and as tired as she is, she immediately digs in—it is her favorite after all, and you always know exactly how to make it just the way she likes.

It doesn’t take her long to finish and soon enough, the tray is back on the side table (she won’t let you take it back to the kitchen yet as she doesn’t want you to leave her sight), and you’re now both cuddled up under the cozy blankets. Powder’s arms were immediately holding tight to your waist the second you’d sat down with her and you’re currently running your fingers along her back as she rests her face against your side, both your arms are also wrapped around her.

You’d wanted to check her temperature but like taking a quick trip to the kitchen, taking a quick trip to the bathroom to find the thermometer wasn’t something she’d wanted you to do, and you didn’t want to argue. So for now, you’re content to just let her rest, she really does need it. But you’d made her promise that if her fever rises even a bit, she has to let you actually check it.

“Comfy?” You murmur as she releases a deep sigh and you can feel her body start to relax into your hold and the soft mattress beneath you. She mumbles something incoherent into your shirt and you smile softly, taking it as a yes.

“Hey y/n?” Your girlfriend looks up at you a few minutes later. You hum for her to continue. “Thanks for t-tahh…Hhht’khschh!…hh’kHSchhh!—hhnu’Shhchoo!!…tadking cared of mehd.” Powder quickly ducks into your side to half-muffle a harsh sneezing fit against you.

“Bless you, Pow.” You lean down to kiss her hair as she sniffles against her hand which is rubbing her pink nose. She lets out an exhausted and congested sigh after blowing her nose into a tissue you’d had ready for her the second you’d felt her hitch against you. “Heh, sorry toots. You uh, might want to change your shirt.” She mumbles slightly embarrassed but you make no effort to move in the slightest, only continuing your gentle ministrations on her back.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it love. And you don’t need to thank me. I’m always here for you, germs and all.” You chuckle slightly but your tone was completely loving and sincere. Powder squeezes you tighter and her eyes flutter closed.

“Hmm, I love you.” She whispers and you can tell she’s moments from sleep by the way her breath is even and her voice so tenderly light.

“I love you too Pow, now just rest. I’ve got ya baby.”

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Beautiful Stranger

(6) Oh, We're Dancing In My Living Room

Mommy!Wanda Maximoff x Beefy!Fem!Reader

Summary: It's time for you to celebrate your first Hanukkah and the boys to celebrate Christmas for the first time

Word Count: 887

Warnings: Pure fluff~

A/N: Happy Hanukkah and Merry Christmas! I've never celebrated Hanukkah so I hope I did it justice! If I got anything wrong please let me know so I can fix it!

December 7th, 2023Two weeks after Thanksgiving, the scent of fried potatoes and cinnamon lingered in the air as you celebrated your first night of Hanukkah with Wanda and the boys. The living room was cozy, lit by the soft glow of the menorah set on the windowsill. Billy sat snugly on your lap, giggling as you adjusted him to get comfortable, while Tommy stood beside Wanda, his eager little hands helping her steady the candle.

The room fell quiet as Wanda began reciting the blessing, her voice gentle and melodic. She paused between words, guiding Tommy through the unfamiliar phrases. You watched her with admiration, her patience shining through every syllable. It was one of the countless things you adored about her—how she could turn even the simplest moment into a gentle lesson filled with love. Billy’s little voice joined in, clear and perfect, mimicking Wanda with a confidence that made your heart swell.

When the blessing was finished, Wanda handed the boys their small gifts and a pouch of shiny chocolate gelt. The foil coins caught the light as the boys ripped into them excitedly.

“Oh, chocolate coins!” you exclaimed with a laugh, holding one up to inspect it. “I used to get these in my stocking every year!”

Tommy grinned, his excitement bubbling over. “Really? You had chocolate coins too?”

“Yup,” you said with a smile. “Looks like Hanukkah and Christmas have some things in common.” The boys beamed, clearly delighted by the connection.

As Wanda headed to the kitchen to prepare dinner, the boys taught you how to play dreidel. It took you a few rounds to catch on, but soon you were spinning the top like a pro—or so you thought. The boys, with their boundless energy and infectious laughter, kept winning, leaving you mock-pouting at your growing pile of lost gelt.

Just as you were about to snag a victory, Wanda’s voice floated in from the kitchen. “Come on, you three, dinner is ready!”

The boys whooped, grabbing their gelt and darting off, leaving you to sulk. Wanda met you at the doorway, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she leaned in for a kiss. “What’s got you all pouty, pretty girl?” she teased, her lips brushing against your cheek.

“They kept beating me, and I was finally about to win,” you said with a dramatic sigh, earning another kiss from her, this time on the corner of your mouth.

“Don’t worry, love. We’ve got seven more nights of this,” she reminded you, her smile coaxing one from you in return.

The dining table was a feast of golden roast chicken, crispy latkes, and an array of colorful side dishes. The boys chattered excitedly about their dreidel victories as you sat beside Wanda, sneaking glances at her and marveling at how lucky you were.

⋆꙳•❅°⋆❆.ೃ࿔:･*❆ ₊⋆

December 24-25, 2023The house was bathed in soft, twinkling lights, the Christmas tree standing proudly in the corner, its ornaments glinting in the glow. Wrapped gifts lay neatly beneath it, the fireplace crackling softly in the background. You could barely contain your excitement as you handed the boys matching plaid pajamas.

“Family Christmas pajamas!” you declared, grinning as Wanda shook her head fondly at your enthusiasm.

The boys were quick to change, giggling as they admired the bear graphics on their tops. Wanda’s shirt said “Mama,” yours read “Papa,” and the boys’ shirts proudly displayed “Little” above the bears.

“It’s perfect,” Wanda murmured, leaning into your side as you both sipped hot chocolate, her arm draped lazily over your waist.

The boys begged to open one gift each, their wide eyes and pleading voices impossible to resist. “Okay, just one,” you relented with a laugh.

They tore into their gifts, unwrapping Nerf guns and immediately launching into an impromptu battle, their laughter echoing through the house. As bedtime approached, you and Wanda helped them set out milk and cookies for Santa before tucking them in.

“Goodnight, boys,” Wanda whispered, pressing a kiss to each forehead.

“Goodnight, Mommy. Goodnight, Daddy,” they chorused, their voices sleepy but filled with happiness.

The next morning came early, the boys bounding into your room with uncontainable excitement. You carried your mugs of coffee to the living room, settling onto the couch beside Wanda as the boys dove into their presents. Wrapping paper flew in every direction, and their squeals of joy filled the room.

When only two gifts remained, you exchanged a look with Wanda, a shared smile of anticipation. “Alright, boys, these are from your mom and me,” you said, handing them each a box.

Tommy and Billy tore into the packages, their eyes lighting up as they revealed shiny Nintendo Switch Lites. They screamed in delight, throwing themselves at both of you in a flurry of hugs.

“Thank you, Mommy! Thank you, Daddy!” they shouted.

Wanda chuckled, ruffling their hair. “Now, let Daddy put the cases and screen protectors on them before you start playing.”

“Yes, Mommy!” they replied in unison before scurrying off to admire their new consoles.

The rest of the day was spent amidst the chaos of new toys, chocolate-stained fingers, and snow falling gently outside. You watched it all from the couch, Wanda nestled into your side, feeling like the luckiest person in the world.

It was, without a doubt, the perfect Christmas.

[missmarveledsblog]

Bet on it ( Bradley bradshaw x reader ) part one

summary : everyone thought since they were best friend that their kids would be but after some unknown reason bradley bradshaw and y/n mitchell hated each other . after confrontation one night that leaves bradley in a dry spell well the guys make a claim and bradley's willing to bet and prove them wrong all he had to do was get into a relationship with the one person that couldn't stand him .

warning : enemies to lovers, bradley bit of a dick in the start not gonna lie , bet trope , age gap ( ten years hes 38 , she 28 ) this series is gonna be a roller coaster of emotions

They were soulmate platonic  where Mav was, goose was not far behind , both mischievous , both good at what they did . best friends til the end of time even if the time was short lived . so naturally people thought it would be the same with their kids and yet they were very wrong. It was like the two were fire and ice constantly going against each other whenever they got close .  there was a break she went to med school as bradley was back at top gun only for their secret feud to fire back up when she was transferred to a hospital right in san diego and of course she was able to win the hearts of the dagger squad and her turning up to the hard deck it was his worst nightmare come true . if they weren’t locked in the childish back and forth it was ignoring the other existence all together which honestly their friends preferred and as aggravating as y/n mitchell could be nothing was going to dampen bradley bradshaws mood tonight. He almost floated over to his friends the moment he step into the hard deck . the smile on his face was almost cheek splitting when they all looked at him . 

“ guess who got a date with the barista” he flashed his dazzling smile pulling the aviator to perch on his nose . 

“  nice even for you chicken” hangman nodded. 

“ well bagman you know i could give you some advice  , i mean i guess it been a dry spell” he shrugged taking his seat beside phoenix who rolled her eyes and called them both “ disgusting pigs”. 

“ yeah i don’t need advice we both now i do well and even better than you” . 

“ god you both ever gonna tire of the hook ups “ she groaned . 

“ hey this could be best date of my life and she could be the one” bradley smirked. 

Before they could even say more the door open and an excited y/n bounded towards them . 

“ i pass the interview i passed it” she yelled excitedly. 

“ wait the internship in new york?” nat asked unsure of how to feel . 

“ yes it’s not til six month from now but  in six month i will be heading to big city and studying under the greats of pediatrics “ she excitedly dance in her spot barely even sparing the usually happy man in her wake. 

“A date with hot ass woman and she leaving jesus this is my lucky day” rooster felt like crying he was so happy. 

“ in six month pornstache … wow playing in the dog park finally worked out good job” she smiled only for jake to lift her up and spin her around . 

“Knew you could do it , what i tell you this morning” he chuckled ruffling her hair. 

“ not to doubt myself “ she smiled bashfully . “ shit there’s my dad i’ll be back “ she giggled rushing off . 

“ or don’t that’s a good option “ rooster smiled. 

“ i don’t get why you don’t like her” fanboy mused . 

“ because you’ll learn like i did she’ll drop you like that no reason” he rolled his eyes sick of his friend constantly going on about how great she was honestly he thought the same one time and well he learned his lesson . 

“ people change or maybe you done something “ jake mused although he may of know more than he let on giving how close he and y/n got over the two years since she came to san diego. 

“ day that happens i’ll sell my bronco “ bradley scoffed. “ going to the mens room if my date comes tell her i’ll be out in a minute” . 

She stood watching the news sinking in from excitement to straight on nerves .  hoping he would show even a hint of happiness for her . 

“ it’s great news but we .. i just got you back” he smiled uneasy . 

“ it’s only a short flight and i’ll be home for holidays come on dad this is once in a lifetime opportunity i’m literally the youngest and female to be accepted on to this programme “ she almost pleaded with him . 

“ how long is it” 

“ two years with a chance to stay on in new york or head back to my residency here which i will because it will earn my spot on more paid job and more opportunities  it’s only two years and i can visit” she repeated . 

“ well i still got you for six months so i better make most of it i am proud of you but your my baby girl too … penny round on me to celebrate my daughters great work” he smiled sadly although he meant it when he said he was proud . 

“ i’ll have this one with you next one with the guys “ she smiled . 

“ sorry i was suppose to meet someone here and i don’t think i can see him “ a woman called making them turn . 

“ who you looking for honey “ penny beamed 

“ bradley bradshaw oh god i have the wrong place don’t i “ she chuckled . 

“  the wrong man i’d run if i was you” another woman scoffed. 

“ you sure he was charming when i met him “ the girls eyes widened . 

“ really rooster is great guy , don’t listen cheryl she as bitter as those gins “ y/n smiled . 

“ yeah great guy when he and hangman used me as pawn in their who can sleep with most women game , i think i was number 8 made me think i was special never felt the spark like it “ 

“ she’s drunk really rooster is great , he’s sweet and listens to good music “  y/n defended more although she didn’t know why he was an ass to her all time even though he was one that hurt her all those years.

“ sure look he already over there high fiving his friend “ cheryl smirked as the other girl eyes narrowed before y/n  could say anything the woman was barrelling over like a storm . 

Now as bradley looked up ready to greet his date what he didn’t expect was the slap across his face or the anger of a bull on her. 

“ you bastard i thought .. shit i thought one decent guy out there til that woman set me straight “ she pointed over at cheryl although bradley misread it  now he was pissed. 

“ whatever she said was crock of shit  trust me” he defended. 

“ so you and some guy called hangman didn’t have a sleezy contest i will not be a part of delete my number asshole “ was all she said before storming out the bar completely . 

“ she has got some nerve” was all bradley said before he storming towards the bar only he wasn’t going for the right person . 

“ what the hell is your problem  what me being happy isn’t good enough you have to ruin it “ he pulled y/n around as she almost looked shocked. 

“ i didn’t … i didn’t do anything” she stuttered out completely confused. 

 “ yeah you told her about stupid game me and hangman had … do you really like ruining things for me i mean life was great til you showed up here making everyone think your some little sweetheart when in actuality  your’re a cold hearted bitch” he scoffed. 

“ and you said he was a great guy” cheryl laughed . 

“ i guess i was wrong, drop dead rooster “ y/n walked off ignoring everyone’s calls . 

“ shit that girl defended you after i told your date what your really like jesus thanks for proving me right”cheryl saunter off playing her bill and leaving . 

“ wait wait what “ he froze . 

“ rooster what the hell .. you two used to love each other now god your at each others throat but never like that ...   i thought you were better than that .. godson or not you talk to her like that again we’re gonna have problems “ mav warned as he headed out the door .  leaving bradley looking like biggest dickhead in the hard deck head low and tail between his legs he headed back to the table the guys were bar nat and jake who probably fixing his fuck up . 

“ wow harsh man” payback whistled lowly . 

“ yeah not my finest moment “ he grumbled . 

That  sentence was like a mantra on his tongue hell he didn’t want to admit it the dry spell he was having which after his outburst completely extended it first couple of week no girl would even look his way hitting another bust as he headed back to the rest of his squad as y/n sat with jake as far as she could barely even looking his way til she ended up smiling at her phone and bidding the rest a farewell , he didn’t want to admit it but the complete freeze out was worse than before the fact she didn’t even give him a second thought was driving him crazy maybe  the dry spell was affecting him more than he thought . 

“ guess it was a bust” fanboy smirked. 

“ losing your status rooster”  javy laughed , 

“ maybe it for the best between him and hangman  they going to sleep through san diego or that was case” bob chuckled . 

“ now what i would love to see is either of them try a relationship they would fold the second things get serious” payback  pointed out . 

“ ok first ouch bob i’m nothing like bagman  and second i could do serious relationship with any girl “ he stood hand on hips . 

“ not any girl “ bob mused . 

“ baby on board is right not any girl “ jake leaned against the pool table maybe it was a risk and shit if it ended badly well he would hate it but he could see it , he could see it the moment she walked into the hard deck two years ago . 

“ i’d bet my bronco on it “ bradley stood falling into the trap hook line and sinker . 

“ you sure you wanna bet on something you’ll lose chicken ?”  he goaded willing him to take the bait . 

“ fuck it your on bagman name her , point her out” he stood toe to toe with the man . 

“ easy y/n “ that damn smile , the cocky one rooster loved to wipe of his face and yet this one was gonna be tough shit did he have it in him. “ you really are a chicken on it “ he had him hook , line  

“ your on “  sinker .

A.N : Let me know if you wanna be added to taglist for future parts