#and if any of you come at my with that its not that deep thought terminating cliche bs I will turn into a eldritch horror and consume you

[ilovemitsuya]

sylus x reader (fluffy,angsty?)

summary: “During a mission, I sustained serious injuries and was hospitalized. Though Sylus couldn’t visit me, he sent Mephisto in his place. When I was discharged, I wasn’t expecting him to be outside.”

“I’m not going to lie to you two.” Jenna said, folding her arms across her chest as she leaned back against her desk. “This mission isn’t like the others we’ve done. That facility is more unstable than we initially thought. The few teams we’ve sent to investigate before found nothing at all.”

Crossing my arms as I studied Captain Jenna’s face.

“So why send just the two of us, then?” I asked.

“Why not a full squad if it’s that dangerous?”

“Because we don’t know exactly what we’re dealing with. A bigger team could draw too much attention.“

“And if we find something… unexpected?” Tara asked.

“You report back immediately.” Jenna said, her tone firm. “Don’t try to take on anything alone if it’s beyond your capabilities. This isn’t about being heroes.”

There was a beat of silence before Jenna pushed off her desk and took a step closer to me and Tara. “But you’re not going in blind. We’ll have a team on standby if things get too hot. You need to trust your instincts and watch each other’s backs.”

Glancing at Tara, she gave me a reassuring nod.

Tara and I turned to leave, but Jenna’s voice stopped us just before we reached the door. “And remember.” she called out, “If things start to go sideways, you get out. Do you hear me?”

“Loud and clear.” I replied, glancing over my shoulder at her.

With that, Tara and I exited the office, both of us knowing that we were walking into something dangerous. But we had our orders.

———————————————————————

The facility loomed over us, the metal creaking with the weight of its own decay. Tara and I moved cautiously through the halls, weapons at the ready, our footsteps echoing against the cracked concrete.

Dust hung in the air like a fog, making each breath feel heavy. We’d been searching for signs of Wanderers for hours, but aside from a few ominous claw marks on the walls, there was nothing.

Tara walked a few paces ahead, her sharp eyes sweeping the darkened corners as she scanned for any signs of movement.

“This place gives me the creeps.”

“The readings are coming from this sector.” I confirmed. “It’s like there’s a cluster of energy sources in the storage area up ahead. Something’s definitely drawing them here.”

Tara nodded and pushed forward, keeping a steady pace as we approached the large metal door that led to the storage room. She placed a hand on the door’s surface, glancing back at me. “On three?” she whispered.

I tightened my grip on my gun and gave her a quick nod. “On three.”

“One… two… three!”

Tara shoved the door open, and we moved inside in a swift, coordinated motion. The room was just as the rest of the facility, old crates and equipment lay scattered across the floor, and the walls were covered in peeling paint.

I took a step forward, my eyes sweeping the room for any signs of movement. But then, there was a flicker of motion in the shadows, too quick to pinpoint at first.

I turned to Tara, but she had already seen it. Her eyes narrowed, and she raised her weapon in the direction of the disturbance.

“Stay sharp.” she said, voice tense. “I think we’ve got company.”

I reacted on instinct, surging forward to intercept it with a gunshot.

It swiped at me with one of its jagged claws, forcing me to block the strike with my forearm. Pain shot through my body as its claws tore through my sleeve and left deep gashes across my skin.

Before we could even do anything, the wanderer let out a loud roar and smashed its claws against the support beams around us. A low rumble vibrated through the building, and the ground beneath us trembled. Dust rained down from the ceiling, and a series of cracks split the concrete walls, spreading out in every direction.

“Get out of here, now!” Tara shouted, sprinting for the exit.

I turned to follow her, but the ground heaved under my feet, and a section of the ceiling gave way with a deafening crash. I stumbled and fell, barely managing to roll out of the way as a massive metal beam slammed down where I’d been standing. The room shuddered violently, and the walls seemed to cave inward.

“Tara!” I called out, but my voice was drowned out by the roar of collapsing debris. I saw her struggling to keep her footing near the exit, but then another tremor hit, and a cascade of rubble came crashing down, forcing us apart.

I fought to keep moving, dodging falling beams and lunging over shifting pieces of debris. But it was no use. The floor buckled beneath me, and I felt myself falling through the collapsing structure.

The impact knocked the wind from my lungs, and pain exploded through my side as I hit the ground hard. I tried to move, but my legs were pinned beneath a heavy chunk of concrete, and the darkness quickly closed in around me.

The last thing I saw before everything faded was the shattered remnants of the facility above, crumbling like a house of cards. Then, there was nothing.

———————————————————————

The steady beep of a heart monitor was the first thing I became aware of as I drifted back to consciousness.

The world came back in hazy fragments, a faint antiseptic smell, the dull ache radiating through my entire body, the blinding white light overhead. I blinked slowly, the ceiling tiles came into focus. I was in a hospital room, covered in bandages, and every muscle felt like it had been dragged through hell.

A groan escaped my lips as I tried to shift into a more comfortable position. The movement must have caught someone’s attention because I heard a chair scrape back and then footsteps rushing closer.

“Hey, hey, take it easy.” It was Tara’s voice, low and familiar, filled with a relief I hadn’t heard from her often. She came into view, her face creased with worry. Her eyes softened when she saw I was awake, and she let out a breath that sounded like she’d been holding it for a long time. “You’re finally awake. How are you feeling?”

I managed to lift my head just enough to give her a weary look. “Like I got hit by a train.” I rasped, my voice rough from disuse. “What happened to me?”

“You were inside when the building collapsed.” she explained, pulling a chair closer and sitting down beside me. “By the time we got a rescue team in there, you were unconscious and pinned under the debris.” Tara’s voice wavered slightly, and she quickly looked away, as if embarrassed to show how much the whole thing had shaken her.

“You’ve been out for a while.” Her tone was a little lighter now, a hint of humor breaking through. “Can’t believe you’d scare me like that. Do you know how annoying it was waiting around here?”

A faint chuckle escaped me, though it quickly turned into a wince.

“I should let the doctors know you’re awake. They’ll want to check you over.”

I gave a slow nod, already feeling exhaustion pulling at me again, but I didn’t want her to worry. “Go ahead.” I murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

As the door clicked shut behind her, the room fell silent again, and I found myself staring at the ceiling, fighting the familiar feeling of emptiness that came whenever I was alone. I closed my eyes and let out a slow breath.

I wished Sylus were here. There was no way he could just walk into a hospital like any normal person.

I was about to close my eyes again when I heard a soft tapping on the window. My eyes snapped open, and my heart skipped a beat as I turned toward the sound. There, perched on the narrow ledge just outside the window, was a black crow. Mephisto.

I struggled to sit up, limping a little as I reached out to unlock the window. It slid open with a creak, and Mephisto hopped inside, a small bundle of wildflowers clutched in his beak. They were ragged and windblown, a little wilted from the journey, but I could tell they’d been picked carefully.

I took the flowers gently from Mephisto’s beak, my hands trembling slightly. There was a small note tied around the stems with a piece of dark string. I untied it and read the familiar handwriting: “Since I can’t be there. Take care of yourself. – S.”

Sylus couldn’t come to see me himself, but he’d sent Mephisto instead. His way of saying he was there, still watching over me.

“Thank you.” I whispered

Mephisto tilted its head and gave a soft caw, as if acknowledging my words. Then, it took off out the window again.

I sank back against the pillows, holding the flowers close. It wasn’t the same as having Sylus here in person, but it was enough to know he was thinking of me.

———————————————————————

As I lay in the hospital bed, I reached for my phone on the side table and unlocked the screen. My fingers trembled slightly as I typed out a message to Sylus.

I hit send and waited, my heart beating a little faster than it should. The minutes dragged on, and I started to wonder if he'd even seen my message. But then, my device buzzed with his reply.

Typical Sylus.

The response came almost instantly, as though he'd been expecting my question.

I glanced back at the window, half expecting to see the crow still there. It made sense. Mephisto had always kept an eye on me, by Sylus’s command.

I stared at the screen, my chest tightening as I read his words.

There was a long pause before his next message arrived.

It was the closest thing to comfort I would get from him, even if he couldn't be here with me.

———————————————————————

The final paperwork was a blur, the nurse’s instructions fading in and out as I focused on keeping steady. I was bandaged up and aching from head to toe, but at least I was getting out of the hospital. They’d wanted to keep me a few days longer, but I’d insisted on leaving.

As soon as they handed me my things, I slipped into my jacket and headed outside.

When I pushed through the front doors, a figure was leaning casually against the side of the building, half hidden in the shadow cast by the streetlamp. Sylus. He looked up when he saw me.

“Sylus…” I said, managing a small smile as I walked over, but his expression was tense as he straightened up, his eyes quickly scanning over my injuries.

“You’re stubborn for a hunter.” he muttered, his tone flat, though I could tell by the way his eyes lingered on my face and my bandaged arm that he was probably worried.

“The hell are you doing out here so soon? You could barely stand a few hours ago.”

“They were going to keep me trapped in there another week,” I said, trying to sound lighter than I felt. “I couldn’t just stay there doing nothing.”

He gave me a sharp look, he slipped his arm around my shoulders, guiding me firmly to his car parked a few feet away.

“You’re barely out, and here you are, thinking you’re ready to run around already.”

I tilted my head, raising an eyebrow.

"Since when do you drive anything other than that death trap of yours?"

"Since I figured you might not be up for riding around on a motorcycle after getting half crushed under a building."

He helped me into the passenger seat, taking extra care to ensure I was settled in before closing the door. He didn’t say anything as he walked around and got in himself, but the silence felt heavy, like he was holding back from saying a thousand things.

We drove through the streets in silence until we reached the edge of the city. I realized where we were going the moment we turned onto a narrow road.

“Your place?” I asked, glancing over at him.

He kept his gaze on the road. “You’re not going home alone in that condition. Not happening.”

I knew better than to argue, so I just nodded.

When we finally arrived, he was already at my side, opening the car door before I could even move. I tried to slide out on my own, but he offered his hand, steady and warm, and before I could argue, he was lifting me out of the seat.

I groaned, shaking my head. “Sylus, I can walk. You don’t need to—”

“Too late, sweetie.” he smirked, his arms sliding under my legs as he pulled me up, holding me effortlessly in a bridal carry. “Just sit back and let me do this.”

I sighed, trying to hide the warmth creeping up my face. “I’m tough, you know.”

“I know you are.” He glanced down, a glint of amusement in his eyes as he carried me toward the door. “But you’re hurt, and besides,” he added, leaning closer, his voice softening, “sometimes, you need someone to take care of you.”

Inside, he led me to his room and gestured for me to sit on the bed. “Wait here. And don’t try moving around.”

I managed a small, sarcastic smile. “What, you think I’m going to run off?”

His gaze darkened. “You have a habit of being reckless.”

Before I could respond, he was already disappearing into the other room, returning moments later with a small first aid kit and a glass of water. He knelt beside me, unwrapping some of the bandages on my arm with practiced precision.

“I already saw the doctors for this.” I said, watching him closely. He ignored me, dabbing disinfectant on a fresh cut and glancing up with a glint of warning in his eyes.

“Clearly, they didn’t do a good enough job if you’re in this condition.” he replied, his tone clipped.

I sighed, not bothering to respond. Instead, I watched his hands move, careful but efficient, his expression focused as he replaced the bandages. He was so quiet, so steady, so… unlike his usual self. His eyes kept flicking up to meet mine, only for a second, before going back to my injuries.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” I murmured, not sure if I was talking to him or to myself.

He paused, his hands stilling for a moment, before he looked up, his expression unreadable. “And if I don’t, who will?”

I watched him as he worked, watching how he gently wrapped fresh gauze around my arm, tightening it carefully.

His fingers lingered over the bandage, as if making sure it wasn't too tight.

"Is this too tight?" he murmured, his gaze flicking up to meet mine.

"No... it's fine." I whispered, feeling my heart hammering in my chest. My words were barely a breath, and I wasn't sure if he heard me, but he continued anyway, his focus unbreakable.

"You can tell me if it hurts." he said softly, his gaze locking onto mine.

"It doesn't hurt." I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. But the truth was, all I can think about is how his fingers felt against my skin.

“You could have been killed.” he suddenly said, the faintest tremor in his voice. “And you didn’t think to tell me, or anyone, what you were dealing with out there?”

I looked down, feeling that familiar pang of guilt again.

“Tell me next time before you go off on one of these suicide missions.” he snapped, his jaw tight. “Or better yet, stay out of places where buildings collapse on you.”

“I don’t get to pick and choose which missions are dangerous.” I replied.

“And I’m supposed to sit back and just watch you throw yourself into the line of fire?” His voice was low, but I could hear the worry simmering beneath it.

He was silent for a moment, his expression hardening as he reached over to brush a strand of hair from my face.

“And next time, you’re telling me about this kind of mission. I don’t care if you think it’s nothing.”

My expression softened as I looked up at him

“I’m okay now.” I whispered.

He stared at me for a moment before he gave a reluctant nod.

“Try to rest here. I’ll get you some fresh clothes.” he said, guiding her down gently. “I’m guessing you don’t want to stay in those all night.”

I took the bundle of soft, comfortable clothes he offered.

“Thank you, Sylus.”

His lips quirked into a gentle smile, running his fingers lightly through my hair, guiding me to lie back against the bed.

“Enough fighting it, sweetie.” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “You need to rest.”

I started to protest, but he pressed a finger gently to my lips, shaking his head. “No arguments,” he said softly. “Just close your eyes.”

He pulled a blanket over me, his hands lingering as he tucked it around my shoulders, and as my breathing slowed, I felt his fingers brush my cheek, tracing gentle patterns along my skin. The last thing I saw was him watching me, his expression filled with something I couldn’t quite place, a mix of worry, relief, and maybe… something else, something deeper.

“Sleep.” he whispered, his voice a barely audible murmur. “I’m not going anywhere.”

———————————————————————

The soft rise and fall of her breathing filled the room. Sylus sat beside her, one leg folded over the other, his arms crossed as he watched her sleep. In the dim light, she looked peaceful, a stark contrast to the worry that had been etched into her face earlier. He’d seen her like this before years ago.

He could still remember that night, when she’d slipped through his fingers.

He reached out almost instinctively, brushing his fingers against her cheek. She didn’t stir, but his touch softened, lingering there, feeling the warmth of her skin against his fingertips.

Unable to bear it, he slipped his arms around her, drawing her close, careful not to wake her. She was warm, her head resting against his chest, her body relaxed in his embrace. He pressed his cheek against her hair, letting himself take in her scent, the steady beat of her heart.

“You don’t get to do this to me again.” he whispered, his voice rough, barely audible even to himself. “Not this time. I won’t lose you. Not again.”

if you made it this far thank you sm for reading! I appreciate you feel free to request ♡

[mrsfancyferrari]

Save You

Summary: You are the first woman to be racing in Formula 1 and you and Max are already best friends. To Jos' dismay. Part 2

Song: Me and Your Mama by Childish Gambino

Part 1 - Part 3 Author’s note: This is the longest part I've ever written but I had so much fun written it! CW: sexist comments, domestic violence (not from Max). I'm still salty about Daniel Ricciardo's exit to Formula 1 so I decided to add him a little here. PS. I yapped a bit too much in this one so the third one is the last one!

Please like, reblog and share this!

Tag List: @ahhhhhm, @daniskywalkersolo, @friendshipis-magic, @tellybearryyyy, @lanadelray1989, @owl778, @almostuniversallyface, @maluzets55, @dying-inside-but-its-classy, @noooway555.

Word count: 28.8k

You remember the moment vividly, as if it were a whirlwind that spun you around until you were disoriented, lost in the chaos of emotions and shouts.

It all happened so fast—one moment, you were trying to reason with your boyfriend, caught in a tense exchange that escalated rapidly, and the next, he was storming out of your driver’s room, slamming the door with a force that rattled the walls.

Your heart raced with confusion and fear, leaving you breathless as you tried to process what had just happened. You could hardly grasp the gravity of the situation when Max appeared, his presence a sudden calm amidst the storm.

He moved swiftly, wrapping his strong hands around you, lifting you from the ground with an ease that almost felt surreal.

As he gently placed you on the sofa, the urgency in his movements made it clear that this was no ordinary moment—it was a protective embrace wrapped in an unspoken promise.

Sobbing uncontrollably, you buried your face into the crook of Max's neck, allowing the warmth of his body to comfort you as you fought against the tide of panic swelling within.

The tears came in waves, fueled by both fear and the overwhelming relief that someone was there to protect you. You could feel Max's heartbeat steady against your cheek, a rhythmic reminder that you were no longer alone in this moment of crisis.

You let your emotions spill forth, whispering broken apologies through the muffled sobs, feeling as if you were somehow to blame for the chaos that had just erupted in your life.

"I’m so sorry, Max. It’s all my fault," you managed to choke out, your voice barely a whisper between shaky breaths.

“Shh, schat,” he murmured softly, his breath warm against your ear, trying to soothe your spiraling thoughts. The Dutch term of endearment caught you off guard, making the moment feel strangely intimate despite the turmoil around you.

“You’re going to be alright. He won’t hurt you anymore,” he assured you, his voice steady and reassuring, cutting through the fog of your fear.

Yet, somewhere deep inside, uncertainty gnawed at you—could he really promise such a thing?

You felt Max’s grip tighten slightly around you, an unyielding reassurance that made you cling to him even more desperately, seeking refuge in the strength he offered.

It was as if he could sense your doubts, your swirling fears, and was determined to chase them away simply by being there.

In the background, you could hear Max yelling for security, his voice rising in urgency. “Get someone here! Find him! I want him arrested!”

You pulled back slightly, looking into Max's eyes, searching for the comfort that his words promised.

“What if he comes back?” you asked, your voice trembling as the thought caused fresh panic to swell within you.

Max shook his head firmly, his expression serious but his gaze softening. “He won’t. Not with me here. I’ll make sure of it,” he assured you, each word laced with a fierce promise that began to ease the tension within your chest, if only just a little.

“But… I didn’t want any of this,” you protested weakly, feeling a mix of guilt and fear wash over you again, drowning out the sense of safety that was slowly starting to seep in. "I just wanted everything to be okay."

Max's grip around you tightened, anchoring you in the moment, and he pulled you closer, as if shielding you from the world outside. “You deserve to feel safe, schat. What he did was wrong, and you don’t have to apologize for his actions,” he said earnestly, his voice low yet commanding, creating a cocoon of support around you.

You could sense his determination, the adamancy in his words echoing deep within you, and slowly, you began to believe him.

As the sound of footsteps pattered in the hallway, Max's attention shifted, his protective instincts kicking in. “Stay here. Don’t move,” he instructed firmly, and you nodded as a sense of urgency pulsed through him.

His presence was a bulwark against the storm of fear that raged just on the other side of the door, and you wanted nothing more than for him to stay, to shield you from any lingering shadows of doubt.

The door swung open, revealing a security guard with a concerned expression that mirrored your own internal turmoil. “What happened?” the guard asked, eyes flicking between you and Max, who was still in protective mode, grounding you in a way that felt sublime yet strange.

Max responded immediately, his voice steady once more. “Her boyfriend just stormed out, and he was abusing her. I want you to find him and arrest him,” he insisted, his tone brooking no argument as the security man nodded and rushed out.

You could feel yourself trembling as the grip of fear lingered just beneath the surface, the weight of what had transpired embedding itself deep within your mind.

“Max, what if they can’t find him?” you whispered, dread pooling in your stomach as the thought conjured images of your past—of moments you desperately wished to forget.

He turned back to you, kneeling in front of the sofa now, his intensity softening as he searched your face.

“Shh, just breathe. Even if they don’t, I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re safe now,” he said earnestly, and you could see the determination etched into his features, lending you strength even amid your anxiety.

Despite the dim light casting shadows around the room, you could feel Max’s warm hands cradling your face, his touch careful as he scrutinized the bruises marring your skin, remnants of a confrontation that had spiraled out of control.

As he gently brushed his fingers over a particularly sore spot, you winced involuntarily, a sharp pang of pain shooting through you.

You caught a glimpse of concern etched on his face as he muttered something in Dutch under his breath, a language that sounded both melodic and heavy with emotion, making your heart ache more than the injuries themselves.

“Should I call Sarah for you?” he asked softly, those deep-set eyes pleading with you for a response, and, feeling powerless, you nodded ever so slightly, sinking deeper into the cushions of the sofa, your mind swirling with anxiety and despair.

In a matter of moments, Max turned his attention to one of the team staff members who were hanging outside the door, his tone firm yet controlled as he instructed them to fetch your best friend, Sarah, as well as Christian Horner, the team principal.

The mention of Christian sent a jolt of apprehension through you, freezing your body in place as dread washed over you. “Why?” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

The gravity of the situation threatened to engulf you, and in that moment, the realization hit that the repercussions of this incident were far beyond what you had initially imagined.

Max, however, maintained his reassuring demeanor, placing his hands on your shoulders. “Schat, I’m not going to hide this from our boss. He needs to know, we need more help to find him,” he reassured, the endearment slipping off his tongue even as your heart raced with panic.

Yet, instead of feeling any measure of comfort from his words, terror surged through you, knotting your stomach into an anxious ball.

“What if they fire me because I’m weak?” you blurted out, the breath escaping your lips in quickened gasps, your thoughts spiraling uncontrollably as you considered the very real possibility.

Hiring a female driver had already been a gamble for the team, and to wind up as a broken shell so soon into the season felt like a crushing defeat—a silent condemnation from the very people who had taken a chance on you.

Your mind raced back to conversations you had overheard, the doubts lingering in the air whenever someone spoke about female athletes, and you could almost feel their judgment pressing down on you like a heavy weight.

“Hey,” Max replied gently, his voice dipping into that soothing tone that always seemed to ground you amidst chaos, “You’re not weak; you’re brave.” His words sliced through your fear momentarily, lifting your spirits just enough to remind you that you weren't alone.

The tenderness of his gaze fortified your sense of resilience, tempting you to believe that maybe, just maybe, you could face whatever awaited you outside of this safe haven of the sofa.

However, the momentary calm shattered with the abrupt sound of a knock at the door, and you felt your heart plummet, your stomach twisting into knots.

“Y/N? Can I come in? Sarah is here too,” the unmistakable voice of Christian echoed from the other side, and dread nestled itself firmly in your chest like a coiled spring.

“I’ll handle it,” Max promised softly, reading the anxiety radiating from you. With a firm resolve, he reluctantly released your grasp and walked towards the door, each step amplifying the tension pulsating through your veins.

The door opened just a crack, and you could see him standing there, maintaining that familiar air of authority even under these dire circumstances

“Only Sarah can come in for now, I need to speak to you,” he said to Christian, letting Sarah in before effectively shutting the door behind him once more, blocking out the world, at least momentarily.

Your heart raced as Sarah rushed in, her eyes darting over to you, disbelief coloring her features as she took in the scene.

“Oh my God, Y/N!” Sarah exclaimed, brushing past Max and enveloping you in a tight hug. The sudden rush of affection felt overwhelming; the warmth and concern radiating from her made your heart ache in a way that was both comforting and painful.

“What happened? Are you okay?” She pulled back slightly to examine your injuries, her own fear evident as she took stock of the damage. In that instant, you could see her brave façade begin to crack as she tried to process the sight before her.

“I’m fine... it's just Jake,” you replied, though the tremor in your voice contradicted your words. “I—I don’t know how it got to this point,” you confessed, your voice shaky as fragments of the earlier confrontation flitted through your mind like uninvited ghosts.

"I didn’t mean for it to escalate. I just wanted to talk.” The regret began to seep into your words as you struggled to make sense of the chaos.

“Don’t worry about him now,” Sarah said, her voice straining to maintain a calm facade. “Right now, we just need to focus on getting you healed—physically and emotionally.”

Her words resonated deeply with you, yet the reality loomed heavily like a storm cloud, and Max’s earlier statements replayed cautiously in your mind.

The responsibility of the team rested heavily on all of you, and as malfunctioning pieces of a machine, you knew well that one weak link could cause everything to fail.

As she hurried to gather the first aid kit, you watched her hands tremble; that slight betrayal of her otherwise calm facade spoke volumes of the chaos swirling around you both.

Sarah wasted no time; she grabbed the disinfectant and began to clean your injuries with gentle yet urgent hands. Each time the cool liquid touched your bruised skin, you flinched, a reflex of pain that seemed endless.

“Y/N, you need to breathe,” she instructed softly, her voice steady despite the circumstances, her focus unwavering as she meticulously tended to the wounds.

You nodded, trying to do as she said, inhaling deeply, but it was difficult. The weight of what had just transpired clung to you like a heavy shadow. You couldn't shake the memories of anger and betrayal; the accusations echoed in your mind, each word more cutting than the last.

“I thought we were coming here to celebrate... I never meant to upset him,” you whispered, more to yourself than to her.

With a soothing focus, Sarah replied, “You have nothing to be sorry for, Y/N. You deserve to feel safe and happy.” As she continued her work, the knot in your chest shifted slightly, though the fear of what was brewing beyond the walls of this room still loomed ominously.

After a while, just as your world began to settle a bit, a knock on the door jolted you back into a state of hyper-awareness. “Y/N? Can we come in?”

The familiar voice of Max floated through the air, tinged with an unspoken worry that wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. You responded without lifting your gaze, murmuring a soft, “yes.”

As the door swung open, the heaviness inside the room somehow increased; you sensed that Christian was there, and the atmosphere shifted even more.

As Max stepped in, his brow furrowed with concern, you felt Christian kneel in front of you, his presence larger than life.

“Y/N, I already heard the situation from Max, but I want to hear it from you,” he stated earnestly, his eyes searching yours for something—trust, perhaps? You could hardly look up; the ground beneath you felt like a safe harbor amidst the turbulence of the moment.

You took a shaky breath, feeling your heart race as your thoughts collided chaotically in your mind. “I came here to celebrate with him, but he was mad at me for... hugging Max,” you began, your voice barely above a murmur, fragile as glass. “He said that I didn’t love him, and then he... he started hitting me.”

The admission crawled from your lips like a reluctant confession, and the tremor in your voice did not go unnoticed. You could see Max's expression darken, his shoulders tensing as he processed your words.

There was a silence that followed, heavy with unspoken emotions. You could feel Christian leaning closer, his concern palpable as he gathered himself to respond, and you desperately searched for the courage to continue.

There was a weight in your chest that begged to be released, and you pressed on cautiously, “This isn’t the first time,” you added quietly, the finality of those words sending a chilling wave across the room.

The realization hung in the air, a bitter truth that seemed to fracture the space between you. Max looked at Christian, his eyes ablaze with anger, while Christian’s face turned somber, understanding the gravity of your plight. 

Everyone remained quiet, their eyes wide with shock and concern, but you felt an overwhelming urge to glance away, to escape their gaze that seemed to search for answers you couldn’t provide.

“I’m sorry for causing the team trouble,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, hoping to mend the fragile atmosphere, to shift their focus away from your pain and back to the celebrations that were meant to mark the day.

You wanted every trace of the confrontation with your boyfriend to fade into oblivion, telling yourself it wasn’t a big deal, that this situation had been your fault all along, and there was no reason for anyone else to be burdened by your turmoil.

Yet, despite your desperate attempts to shield the room from your hurt, Christian remained kneeling in front of you, his expression locked in a mix of concern and determination that made you feel both vulnerable and cared for.

“Y/N, you didn’t cause trouble; you were put in a situation that no one should have to endure,” he said, his tone unwavering and assured, carrying a weight of authority that made you question the narrative you had spun in your mind.

You didn’t reply, your thoughts replaying like a broken record, insisting that you were to blame for everything that had transpired, and that perhaps his anger was justified.

Christian leaned even closer, his gaze piercing through your defenses, as if he was trying to communicate an unspoken truth that resonated deeply.

“Y/N, what he did to you is not love; it’s control, and you deserve so much more than that.” His words struck you like a lightning bolt, its intensity shattering the delicate veil you had cloaked your heart in.

You felt a rush of conflicting emotions; anger, shame, and the desperate longing for validation collided within you. Christian’s bluntness was perhaps harsher than he intended, yet it pierced through the fog of denial you had wrapped around yourself for so long.

You could feel tears welling up in your eyes, too powerful to be contained, and before you realized it, you were crying, your hands instinctively covering your face as if to hide the vulnerability that was now exposed to everyone in the room.

Just as the moment became overwhelming, a sudden knock on the door jolted you from your despair. “Sir, the podium ceremony is about to start, and we can’t find the two drivers,” a voice called from the hallway, breaking through the dark cloud of tension lingering in the air.

You froze, the harsh reality of the upcoming ceremony crashing down on you. For a volatile moment, your mind flickered between the desire to stay hidden in your grief and the urgency of your obligations to the team.

The celebration you had come to cherish now felt like a distant memory overshadowed by the weight of your turmoil.

Without warning, you felt strong arms wrapping around you, patting your back in a comforting gesture. You recognized Christian's warm presence immediately; it felt safe and secure, something you so desperately needed at that moment.

“Max, go to the ceremony. I’ll pay for the fine of Y/N not being there,” Christian asserted, his voice firm and resolute, leaving no room for argument.

You glanced up just in time to catch Max’s conflicted expression, a combination of concern for you and the demands of his role come alive in his eyes.

Max sighed deeply, the burden of his decisions evident on his face. “I’ll be back soon,” he promised, his gaze lingering on you for a heartbeat longer before he turned to dash out of the room, leaving you and Christian surrounded by the remnants of a conversation heavy with unspoken emotions.

In the silence that followed, a myriad of thoughts coursed through your mind, battling against a newfound understanding of the reality you faced, the strength and comfort that Christian had extended towards you.

As the door clicked shut behind Max, you turned your attention back to Christian, who remained kneeling beside you, his presence steadfast and unwavering.

"Y/N," he said softly, his eyes reflecting concern and warmth, "you don’t have to go through this alone."

At that moment, as you glanced into his earnest gaze, the burdens you had clung to began to feel just a little lighter, and for the first time, a flicker of hope ignited within you. . . .

As you stepped into the sterile environment of the medical office, the fluorescent lights dimly illuminated the white walls adorned with various health posters, each outlining a different aspect of well-being.

Christian, with his serious demeanor, turned to you before leaving, stating, “When you’re finished, you can go to my office to stay until I come back.”

His voice was firm, yet filled with an undercurrent of concern, which only heightened the weight on your chest.

You watched him walk away, his silhouette vanishing just as the doctor entered, clipboard in hand, wearing a reassuring smile that struggled to dissolve the tension enveloping you.

Deep down, you felt ashamed for taking up the woman’s time, as though your presence here was an inconvenience that disrupted the flow of her practiced routine.

You were here because of the circumstances that had befallen you, yet as she gently guided you to the examination area, the overwhelming reality of the situation became more apparent, pressing down like a heavy blanket.

As the doctor began her examination, her focus was both professional and compassionate, yet every question she posed felt like a dagger, pricking at the fragility of your emotional state.

“Has he ever sexually abused you before?” she asked, a serious note underpinning her words, thickening the air between you.

You hesitated, processing the gravity of such a term—before shaking your head softly, “No, he has never.”

She nodded, her pen swiftly dancing across the tablet in her grasp, writing notes as though it were a casual affair. Yet, you could sense the importance of her record-keeping beneath the surface; this was far from casual.

Her next question pierced through the relatively calm atmosphere, “Has he ever abused you before today?”

You felt a lump rise in your throat, and with a small, defeated whisper, you answered, “Yes.” A heaviness settled around that one word, a truth that had wrapped its icy fingers around your heart.

“Would you be able to tell me what happened today?” The doctor’s tone shifted slightly, filled with a careful urgency. “This can be used during court when he is arrested, so please be truthful.”

As the implications of her words washed over you, you felt your eyes widen in disbelief. “Court? Arrested? I don’t want that for him,” you blurted out, the panic creeping into your voice.

The weight of advocating for justice felt immeasurable, and silence hung in the air as you contemplated the meaning of those words.

“Y/N, he needs to be held accountable for what he’s done to you,” the doctor stated, her resolve unwavering as she searched your gaze for understanding.

But even as the truth of her words resonated deep within you, your mind rebelled against the possibility, “But maybe he’s sick; he was never like this,” you said, the words tumbling from your lips in a desperate rant.

“You have a right to feel safe, Y/N. This is your chance to reclaim that safety.” Her voice softened, yet the gravity of the statement stirred a newfound resolve within you.

The desire to protect him clashed violently with the instinct to protect yourself, and you felt torn between two worlds. Eventually, the stories spilled forth, rolling out like an uncoiling serpent, with each recollection revealing the depths of your pain.

With each word, the doctor wrote meticulously, capturing the moments that had led you to this very room.

“Now what happens to him? To me?”

Her gaze focused intently on you as she replied, “After hearing your story, you will either probably go to witness protection, or your boss can arrange security for you until he is arrested.”

The reality of that world sank in, even as you nodded numbly, realizing that this was the pathway to reclaiming a sense of safety you had long forfeited.

Feeling emotionally drained and physically exhausted from the events of the day, you were dismissed with a gentle nod, your body moving almost on autopilot as you left the examination room.

The sterile scents of antiseptic and anxiety lingered in the air as you navigated the corridor, heart pounding in rhythm with your swift steps.

Each stride took you closer to Christian’s office, a sanctuary amid the chaos that had engulfed your life so suddenly.

Arriving at his office door, you hesitated for just a moment, recalling his serious expression and the weight of his concern for your well-being.

When you finally pushed the door open, relief washed over you like a warm embrace, but fatigue quickly crept back in. The room was quiet, with just the faint hum of the air conditioning filling the empty spaces, creating a cocoon that felt safe.

You glanced around, taking in the familiar decor—framed photographs of successful moments, a comfortable sofa nestled against the wall.

Your eyes settled on the sofa that beckoned to you, promising a brief respite from the emotional rollercoaster you had just endured.

Nervously, you wondered if Christian would mind you taking a nap in his office, but the exhaustion was overwhelming, and your body ached for rest.

Slumping onto the sofa, you closed your eyes, wrapping your arms around yourself in an attempt to shield your thoughts from the world outside those four walls.

The events of the day replayed in your mind, like a film reel you could not rewind, each moment etched vividly in your memory.

What would happen when Christian returned? Would he press you for more details, or would he allow you the time to sift through your own feelings?

Somewhere deep within, you hoped he would understand, giving you a moment to breathe before confronting the complexities of your feelings for him, for the man who had hurt you, and for the healing journey that lay ahead.

As you drifted into a light sleep, fragmented thoughts flitted in and out of focus, mingling with the soft sounds of the office—the distant murmur of voices in the hallway, the rhythmic ticking of a clock that reminded you that time was both a friend and a foe.

You felt during that fleeting moment of unconsciousness an odd sense of being caught between two worlds—the one that had once felt safe, and the other that now lay battered and bruised, promising change yet filling you with trepidation.

You started to think about Max. How shocked he looked when he saw him put his hands on you? How gentle he was with your injuries and how he handled the situation.

“You deserve to feel safe, schat. What he did was wrong, and you don’t have to apologize for his actions,”

From what little Dutch you knew, you remembered that schat meant darling or used when speaking to a loved one. Why would he use it for you?

You woke up feeling an unexpected warmth enveloping you, a stark contrast to the coolness that had cradled you to sleep just hours earlier.

The gentle pressure of a hand rubbing your arm slowly stirred you to consciousness, the soothing motion coaxing your senses awake. Blinking your eyes open, the familiar sight of your team principal, Christian Horner, focused on his laptop filled your vision.

It seemed he had draped a blanket over you during your unintentional slumber. Puzzled, you thought, Who was keeping watch over me?

“Hey, schat, you awake now?” came a soft voice from above, pulling you fully into the present. You looked up to find Max standing beside you, a warm smile gracing his features.

“Max!” you exclaimed, attempting to sit up but feeling momentarily ensnared by the blanket that enveloped you. “What happened? I thought you were celebrating with the team.”

“I was,” he admitted, still smiling. “But I wanted to check if you were okay. When we found you in Christian’s office, he said to let you sleep. You looked too peaceful to disturb.”

“Did I really doze off for that long? I didn’t mean to—”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Max interrupted, leaning down so your eyes met. “We had a long day out there, and you’ve been working hard. Besides, you looked really cute all curled up.”

“Cute?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow with playful skepticism. “You’re calling me cute? You must still be half asleep.”

“Absolutely not,” he replied with a convinced grin. “I only speak the truth. You should know by now that sometimes I have my serious moments too.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a smile. “Okay, Mr. Serious. What time is it? And what about the rest of the team?”

“It’s just past 10,” he explained. “Everyone’s pretty much had their fill of the day. They went back home, but Christian stayed behind to do some paperwork for tomorrow and I wanted to keep you company for when you woke up.”

“It’s actually 11,” Christian corrected from his desk, looking over with a warm smile.

“Why didn’t you wake me up? I could have gone home—” you began, finally unraveling yourself from the blanket.

“That’s the problem, Y/N. You can’t go home for now,” Christian said, turning his full attention to you.

“What do you mean?” you asked, a knot of unease forming in your stomach.

Christian’s expression grew serious, his brow furrowed slightly. “We don’t know where he could be. He might be at your home right now, waiting for you to come back and... continue what he started.” You shuddered at the thought.

“Since I’m sure you don’t want to draw any attention, I’ve thought of some options,” he continued. “You can either stay at a friend’s house or stay at Max’s apartment until I prepare a room for you in mine and Geri’s house, and she’s alright with you living with us for a couple of weeks. Or…” he paused dramatically, letting the gravity of his last suggestion linger, “you can go into witness protection.”

“I’ll stay with Max,” you decided quickly, feeling a mix of urgency and safety in your choice.

Max’s eyes lit up, relief flooding his features. “I’ll make sure you��re comfortable, don’t worry.”

“Thanks, Max, I appreciate it,” you replied, feeling grateful for his presence.

Christian nodded approvingly. “Good choice. I’ll take care of the logistics for your transition in the meantime. Just focus on feeling safe.”

As the conversation unfolded, the sense of camaraderie between you and Max eased your anxiety. The world felt a little less daunting with him by your side.

He nodded, his expression turning more serious as he added, “Just remember, you’re not alone. You’ve got me and Christian in your corner.”

“Yeah,” you said softly, reassured. “Yeah, I know.” As you and Max exchanged glances, an unspoken understanding passed between you, solidifying your newfound alliance in the face of uncertainty.

After Christian went into minute detail about the anticipated events to come, unwinding the tension that had gripped you, he finally allowed you and Max to leave, his voice still echoing in your mind like a soft melody lingering long after the music has ceased.

Max, with a protective grace only he could possess, instinctively drew closer to you, ensuring you felt cocooned in warmth and safety, even amid uncertainty.

As he walked you to his car, the cool evening air felt alive with the subtle electricity of unspoken promises, and the distant hum of life resumed around you.

With an elegant fluidity, Max opened the door for you, his focus unwavering as he ensured you were settled comfortably before he closed it, sealing you momentarily in a world of sanctuary.

The click of the door echoed softly, granting the illusion that nothing could intrude upon your brief escape from reality. Glancing up at him, you couldn’t suppress the small smile that spread across your face, a mixture of gratitude and affection shimmering in your gaze.

“Max, you don’t have to act like my bodyguard,” you say, a small smile ghosting across your lips, a playful challenge against the fortress of concern he has erected around you.

The faintest hint of a smirk appears on his face, but there’s a deeper sincerity in his blue eyes that speaks volumes beyond mere banter.

“But I want you to feel safe when you’re with me, so you don’t have to think about that… kontol,” he mutters that last word. You knew enough curse words from Max to know what it meant.

Settling back in your seat and casting your gaze to him, you’re struck by the intensity of his focus as he maneuvers the car through the quiet streets, each motion deliberate and serene.

The way his fingers wrap around the steering wheel—the casual strength reflected in his posture—invites you into a realm where unease dissolves into a calming rhythm.

“You really don’t have to worry so much, you know,” you venture softly, your voice mingling with the hum of the engine, finding a tender spot nestled within the palpable tension of the moment.

You sense the tightness in his shoulders as his grip on the wheel tightens even more, betraying the concern he is trying to mask for your sake.

“I just can’t get that image of you looking helpless with him,” he whispers, the vulnerability dancing in his words palpable and raw.

Your heart lurches, feeling the weight of his worry press upon you, like a stark reminder of just how deeply your experience has affected not just you, but him too.

“I feel like I should have known something was wrong, I should have been there quicker to help you,” he adds more to himself than to you, the burden of ‘what ifs’ clearly heavy on his shoulders.

You want to reach out and ease that weight, to let him know that he’s not responsible for the shadows of your past, but the moment feels too fragile for such heavy revelations.

“You were there for me today, and that’s what matters now,” you counter, placing your hand gently over his in a gesture meant to soothe, to bridge the distance that feels all too real between you.

The warm flush creeping into his cheeks ignites a warmth within you that offers a fleeting sense of relief; a flicker of connection that momentarily overrides the heavy past.

“Thanks,” he mutters, his gaze flitting away to the road, trying to mask the sweetness of the exchange with quiet humility. But you see it—the way his heart races beneath the surface, mirrored in the subtle blush that graces his skin.

The drive to his house preserves a unique atmosphere, woven through with a quiet intimacy forged from shared vulnerability. Every beat of silence flows with unspoken words; your thoughts cascade with reflections, and the knowledge that you are safely ensconced in his world lightens the heaviness that clung to you only hours before.

Max’s home appears on the horizon like a promise, a sanctuary that beckons you in—where the walls may shield you from the storm outside, and where you both can catch your breath, suspended in this precious moment away from the chaos that once clouded your existence.

When he finally parks the car and steps out, you find your heart racing—not from fear, but from a deepening connection that you can’t quite explain.

Max rounds the car and extends a hand to you, his expression earnest and inviting as he helps you out.

Max’s apartment was a reflection of his personality, cozy yet sophisticated, steeped in a warmth that seemed to welcome you the moment you stepped over the threshold.

The spaces unfolded before you like chapters of an intimate novel, with the large kitchen on one side glimmering under the soft glow of pendant lights, whispering promises of shared meals and laughter.

The rich, wooden cabinets contrasted beautifully with the gleaming surfaces, their handles reflecting a playful charm that hinted at culinary adventures waiting to unfold.

“Welcome to your second home for now,” Max teased, his voice a light melody that danced through the air as he locked the door behind you.

The living room, adorned with plush couches and a vibrant rug, beckoned you to sink into its comforting embrace, where the scent of fresh linen lingered, mingling seamlessly with the warmth emanating from the radiator, creating an atmosphere that felt almost like a hug.

As you scanned the apartment, a sense of trepidation washed over you, chasing away the remnants of your earlier turmoil.

“You sure about me staying here with you?” you asked, your voice a fragile whisper, betraying the vulnerability you felt.

The holiday break promised you two weeks away from the chaos that had blurred the edges of your reality, yet the thought of being in someone else’s space, especially Max’s, made your heart flutter with an unsettling mixture of hope and fear.

“Of course, I really don’t mind it,” Max replied, a soft smile illuminating his features, his confidence anchoring you amidst the storm of your emotions.

With your heart racing, you glanced at the clock: 11:30 PM. An array of thoughts flooded your mind, but most pressing was the clinging stickiness of your race suit, a constant reminder of the day’s events and an unwelcome discomfort that left you yearning for solace.

“Is it okay for me to take a shower?” you asked, your voice barely above a murmur as you moved towards the clean, bright bathroom that was nearly the embodiment of serenity.

The tiles sparkled under the muted light, promising a refuge where you could shed not just the sweat of the day but also the weight of your recent memories.

“Sure, oh and Christian said to give this to you, it’s medicine for your injuries,” he said, handing you a small bag filled with care.

The thoughtfulness of this gesture warmed your heart, though you could feel the physical wounds from the past echoing painfully in your veins, a bitter reminder of how low you had felt just weeks ago.

“Thanks,” you replied, the simple gratitude punctuating your quietude as you slid into the bathroom, letting the door close softly behind you, the world beyond fading into a gentle hum.

As you stripped off the remnants of your race suit, every article of clothing felt like a shackle clattering to the ground, freeing you inch by inch from a past you desperately wanted to escape.

The steam began to rise around you, cocooning you in a veil of warmth that offered both comfort and clarity. You stepped into the bath, allowing the hot water to envelope you, a baptism of sorts that washed away not just the physical grime, but the emotional scars that had festered for far too long.

Yet, as you sank into the soothing embrace of the water, a wave of humiliation surged through you, twisting your stomach in knots.

Memories of your now ex-boyfriend's cruel words and actions replayed mercilessly in your mind, reminding you of the darkness that had lingered. You had been reduced to less than you were, every blow shattering pieces of your spirit, leaving you questioning every facet of your worth.

In the confines of that bathroom, you confronted the painful truth that had been so easy to bury beneath the adrenaline of racing and the busyness of life.

“People say relationships suffer,” you thought, reflecting on the misleading normalcy of abuse, entwined deeply with the deceptive narrative that the pain could be survived, that love was somehow worth the bruises and scars that persisted long after the physical encounters had ended.

Your heart sobbed at this realization, the weight of confusion heavy upon you as you grappled with the fallacy of loyalty served on a platter too often mistaken for love.

You had thought that the resentment would be fleeting, that it would dissipate with time, yet here you were — raw, exposed, and painfully aware of the truths you had tried to ignore.

Just as you closed your eyes to soak in a moment of tranquility, a sharp knock interrupted your reverie. “Y/N?” Max’s voice, warm and inviting, floated through the door.

The sound wrapped around you, making your heart flutter. “Yes?” you replied, trying to hide the slight rasp in your voice, wishing it didn’t betray your feelings of vulnerability.

“You didn’t bring any clothes with you, did you?”

A question that sent a rush of embarrassment to your cheeks; of course, in your haste, you had forgotten the very essential clothing that was supposed to accompany such a spontaneous shower.

“Umm, no,” you managed to utter.

Silence lingered for a brief moment, a lull filled with unspoken thoughts. Then, as if sensing your apprehension, Max responded, “Oh, okay, I have some clean clothes that I haven’t used in a while if you want to wear them.”

His voice was light, making the proposition feel effortless, caring.

“Thank you, Max,” you replied, mentally shaking off the embarrassment as you drew the bathwater to a close and readied yourself.

With a nervous slight tug on the towel, you opened the door just enough for Max to pass the clothes over. As he held them out, you couldn’t help but notice the fabric’s soft texture, fine enough to catch the light yet sturdy—almost like it had absorbed pieces of him.

As you inhaled, the faint scent of his cologne enveloped you, mixing with the steam, leaving your senses dizzy with fondness.

You quickly finished your bath, a smile spreading across your lips as you donned the shirt, the scent lingering, almost wrapping you in an embrace.

The fabric felt like a gentle caress against your skin, a reminder of his presence as you gleefully caught another whiff.

Once you draped the outfit, you noticed your race suit lying crumpled on the floor like a forgotten promise of adventure. You picked it up and folded it, placing the race suit on the empty cabinet.

After applying the medicine on your injuries, you stepped out of the bathroom, your feet grazed something soft; you looked down to find cozy hotel slippers waiting for you, an unexpected but welcome touch of warmth.

A grin crept onto your face as you slipped them on and padded out in search of Max.

Max wasn't like Jake. Max could never be like him.

Finding him nestled comfortably on the couch, the dim light casting a soft glow over him from the TV, you felt a flutter in your chest—a magnetic pull toward the easy way he carried himself, like royalty in the thick of an enchanting evening.

He looked up at you and smiled, an expression that radiated genuine interest coupled with an undeniable charm.

“Feeling better?” he asked, his voice low and inviting, making the smile dance on your lips that much wider.

“A bit,” you admitted softly, your voice a mere whisper yet laden with sincerity.

You settled onto the couch opposite him, heart racing as the anticipation of conversation thrummed in the air. Max's warm smile seemed to wrap around you, making the atmosphere in the room palpable with familiarity and comfort.

The air was thick with an unspoken connection, and sitting there in his clothes—your heart oddly buoyed by the fabric’s softness—made you feel like you were wrapped in his affection in a way that words could never convey.

“Can I ask you a question?” you muttered, your gaze fixated on the flickering images dancing across the TV screen. The show’s plot blared loudly in the background, a mere soundtrack to your swirling thoughts, but you barely registered its presence.

Your knees were drawn up to your chin, an instinctive posture reflecting your vulnerability as you hugged your legs tightly, seeking comfort in the familiar embrace of your own warmth.

“Of course, go ahead,” Max said, his voice steady and inviting as he shifted on the sofa to face you squarely, the cushions barely creaking under his movement.

There was a glint of curiosity and concern in his eyes, a warmth that sent a ripple of comfort through your chest, yet the uncertainty that loomed was undeniable.

You hesitated for a moment, the words lingering in your throat—a mix of trepidation and hope—but the longing to understand what had pushed the two of you into this chasm of silence propelled you forward.

“Were you ignoring me before?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you turned your head to gauge his reaction.

You searched his face, studying the way his brows knitted together in confusion, wondering if the curiosity in his gaze could dispel the cloud of doubt that had settled over your hearts.

“What?” he exclaimed, his eyes widening with an intensity that startled you.

You could see it in the way he leaned closer, his body language eager and open, as though he was reaching out to bridge the distance that had subtly grown between you.

“Why would I ever ignore you?” he added, urgency creeping into his tone, and you felt a flicker of relief. Perhaps there was hope yet.

“For a few weeks, you were quiet and not really speaking like you were ignoring me,” you explained, the words tumbling out of your mouth as if they were long-buried treasures surfacing for the first time.

“Did I do something before this?”

The vulnerability of the question hung in the air, heavy and poignant. Your heart raced as you revealed your insecurities, clinging to the fragile hope that there was an explanation beyond your own anxieties that had distorted your perception.

Max’s expression shifted, a concoction of surprise and remorse weaving through his features. He inched closer on the couch, and the warmth radiating from him was a balm to your aching heart.

“No, no, no,” he said earnestly, shaking his head almost as if the very notion were unthinkable. “You didn’t do anything, I promise… it was my father. He said that you were a distraction, and I stupidly believed him. I’m sorry.”

“No, he’s right; I am a distraction,” you muttered, feeling the all-too-familiar sting of tears pooling in your eyes, blurring your vision. Each word felt like a dagger, more painful than the last, ripping through the fragile walls you had built around your emotions.

Why were you crying so much today?

A thousand thoughts cascaded through your mind, each one vying for attention, each one whispering doubts that clawed at your heart.

You felt raw, exposed, and achingly vulnerable as the tears slipped down your cheeks, staining your skin with reminders of your fears and frustrations.

You could see Max’s silhouette in front of you, but everything felt so far away, contorted by your swirling thoughts.

“You’re not a distraction,” he said softly, his words brushing against your cheeks like gentle summer rain, coaxing the tension from your shoulders and momentarily soothing the raging storm inside.

“Then why didn’t you talk to me? Why didn’t you tell me what was going on?” you asked, the tremor in your voice betraying the courage you tried to summon.

When he looked at you, his deep eyes seemed to hold the universe’s secrets, hinting at vulnerabilities etched into his soul.

“I was afraid,” Max admitted, his voice dropping to a confessional whisper as he held your gaze steady.

“Max, you’re the strongest person I know,” you whispered, the words slipping from your lips like a prayer, a plea for him to see himself through your eyes.

But he shook his head gently, a bittersweet smile dancing across his lips, which felt like a fragile shield against the haunting thoughts that loomed in the back of his mind.

“No, I’m not. It would be you, Y/N. You’ve been so brave today,” Max reassured you, the sincerity in his tone wrapping around you like a warm embrace on a chilly evening, reminding you of the delicate threads that tied your hearts together.

“You know, my dad was abusive when I was young. I used to look at how he would yell and hit my mom and think that isn’t love, and I promised myself that I would never treat a woman like that,” Max said, his voice betraying a hint of vulnerability that sent ripples of emotion through you.

You could feel the weight of his past, heavy and burdensome, and it carved deeper channels of understanding between you.

“Why was I so stupid?” you muttered to yourself, resting your head in the crook of his neck, seeking solace in the warmth of his presence as the flood of memories began to wash over you, tainted by regret.

“You aren’t stupid. You thought he could change, but he didn’t,” he replied, his gentle reassurance sending waves of comfort through your body.

Max rubbed your back softly, a rhythm that felt like a heartbeat, steady and reassuring, anchoring you both in the moment.

As you found yourself drifting off, nestled comfortably in the warmth of Max's embrace, you couldn't shake the feeling that safety wrapped around you like a soft, familiar blanket.

Just as your eyelids grew heavy, you heard his teasing voice cut through the tranquil silence, “Alright, it’s already past your bedtime; you’re falling asleep now,” he chuckled, a playful lilt in his tone that made your heart flutter.

Though you felt a twinge of embarrassment for being caught in such a vulnerable moment, the warmth of his arms cradled you securely, and you silently reveled in the vertiginous rush of emotion, wishing you could tell him just how safe and cherished you felt in his presence.

Awakening slightly to the realization that you needed to move, you slowly extracted yourself from the embrace of his strong arms, the warmth dissipating like a gentle breeze as you asked, “Where am I going to sleep?”

Your voice was laced with a hint of drowsiness, and you felt your heart skip a beat, wishing you could cling to his presence just a little longer.

Max, ever the gentleman, looked at you with an endearing smile, as if the world outside had faded and all that mattered was the moment shared between you two.

“You’re sleeping in my bed while I’ll sleep here,” he replied, gesturing to the sofa, a hint of mock seriousness lingering in his face.

“Why can’t I sleep there? I’m the guest, after all,” you said, crossing your arms with playful defiance.

“Exactly, as the guest, you have the bed,” he said with a grin, the twinkle in his eye making your stomach do somersaults.

With a resigned sigh that went hand in hand with your smile, you said, “Alright, goodnight, Max,” as you rose from the plush sofa, the coolness of the air brushing against your skin making you long for the warmth you were leaving behind.

You turned to stroll towards his bedroom, taking in the sweet scent that lingered in the air, mingling with the soft glow of the lamp lined with shadows.

As you entered the sanctuary of his bedroom, you were greeted by new sheets that exuded a tantalizing freshness, yet the unmistakable hint of his cologne clung to the fabric.

You slipped under the sheets and instantly felt a wave of comfort envelop you, a serene cocoon that embraced your body as you sunk into the softness.

A smile crept upon your lips, and as you lay there, you could almost imagine Max right beside you, the warmth of his presence lingering like a comforting ghost.

The very thought of him there calmed your mind, and you allowed yourself to indulge in a colorful daydream, your thoughts conjuring up scenarios of what it would be like if he were to join you, sharing whispered words and laughter that floated across the room with the gentleness of a lullaby. . . .

As you stood there, the air heavy with a palpable tension, your mind raced to comprehend the scene unfolding before you.

Max was positioned a few feet away, his expression nothing short of disgust, but it was the biting words that cut deeper.

“Max?” you stammered, your voice trembling with confusion. “What are you talking about?” In that moment, his features twisted into a scowl, and he spat out, “Why did I even save you? You deserve to be beaten.”

The sting of his accusation made your heart race painfully, leaving you frozen in a whirlwind of disbelief.

The world around you blurred into insignificance as you tried to grapple with your friend’s betrayal; the very person who had once stood by you now stood glaring, with an expression that twisted your gut in knots.

Before you could formulate a response, another voice sliced through the air like a knife, colder than the steel that usually bound your friendship with Sarah.

“Why are you so weak? I’m so ashamed of you,” she declared, her tone laced with venom. Your best friend, the one you had confided in countless times, now seemed like a stranger draped in a veil of contempt.

You felt your insides churn as you processed her words, each syllable echoing in your mind like taunts. Memories of shared laughter and whispered secrets felt shattered, like fragile glass scattered across the ground, leaving only a raw sense of betrayal behind.

“Why are you even saying this?” you managed to blurt out, your voice wavering as confusion morphed into anger.

You looked between Max and Sarah, searching their faces for any semblance of the friends you once knew, but all that reflected back were harsh judgments and scorn. Max folded his arms across his chest as if to shield himself from your desperation.

“You’re just a disappointment,” he sneered, eyes piercing into yours with a coldness that felt like ice.

Each word from him and Sarah chipped away at your spirit, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable, as if you were standing naked in front of a relentless crowd that reveled in your humiliation.

The desire to fight back surged within you, but the fear of losing them completely had your heart in a vice grip, caught between the impulse to defend yourself and the dread of being utterly alone. . . .

The stillness of the night enveloped you like a thick blanket, lulling you into the deep embrace of slumber, when a sudden jolt shattered its peace.

Your eyelids snapped open, and the dim light casting shadows across your room revealed Max, his face a canvas of distress.

The anxiety etched on his brow stirred something deep within you, pulling you from the remnants of dreams into the stark reality of your fears.

You could see the way his eyes darted around, seeking solace yet seeming so lost.

The moment hung heavy as confusion washed over you, and without thinking, hot tears pooled in your eyes, spilling down your cheeks like unrestrained streams.

"Max, please don’t leave me, I’m sorry," you whispered, the vulnerability in your voice trembling like a fragile leaf in the wind. The apology escaped your lips almost instinctively, the weight of the words heavy with desperation.

As his gaze bore into yours, you could see the confusion radiating from him, like a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit. "What?" he asked, the question hanging heavily in the air, reminding you of the helplessness that was tightening its grip around your heart.

In that moment, time felt suspended, and all the doubts and regrets swirled around you, amplifying the emotional chaos you were desperately trying to convey.

Grappling with the fear of losing him, you grasped Max’s hand tightly, your fingers interlocking in a grip that felt both grounding and desperate.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered again, your voice barely rising above a whisper, as if the enormity of your feelings couldn’t bear the weight of louder tones.

You didn't want to plunge back into the darkness of sleep, where nightmares thrived, and instead, you clung to this fleeting moment, scared yet hopeful that it could anchor you.

"Why are you apologizing?" Max pressed, his brow furrowing deeper as he tried to decode the underlying emotion behind your tears.

With an instinctive urge to pour out everything bottled up inside, you took a shaky breath. "I don’t want to lose you… I’ve messed things up so many times," you confessed, your voice trembling as you navigated through the fog of your thoughts.

“I just—” the words caught in your throat, but the honesty behind your despair painted a vivid picture for him, illustrating fears and insecurities that had no measure of expressiveness until this moment.

As the silence enveloped you both, you could see the gears inside Max’s mind turning; he was trying to bridge the chasm of misunderstanding that loomed between you

"You’re not going to lose me," he assured, and in that very promise, there was both comfort and resolution.

It was a promise that somehow had the power to lift the weight of anxiety off your shoulders.

When you finally calmed down, Max then asked you, "Did you have a nightmare?"

You nodded, feeling the heat creep up your cheeks, embarrassment washing over you.

This was the second time today you had let your emotions spill over in front of him, and it felt like a cascading waterfall of humiliation.

You had already cried five times that day, each tear representing a different worry or fear that consumed you. It was exhausting to feel this way, especially around someone like Max, who always seemed so put together.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he replied softly, his voice a gentle balm to your frayed nerves. He leaned in closer, his silhouette warm and reassuring under the soft glow of the lamp in the dim room. “Can you tell me about it?”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you wanted to expose that part of yourself, the vulnerable part that was torn apart in your dreams. But something about his genuine concern urged you to speak.

“It was about you and Sarah,” you finally muttered, glancing down at your hands. “You were both saying that I deserved to get beaten up and that I was a disappointment.”

Max’s eyes widened in surprise, a mix of concern and disbelief flashing across his face. “What? I would never say anything like that, you know that, right?” His brows knitted together, revealing the depth of his worry for you.

“I know that,” you sighed, feeling a sting in your throat as tears threatened to spill over again. “But in the dream, it felt so real. It’s like I could hear the words echoing in my mind, and it just made everything feel worse. I didn’t want to feel that way about myself… I swear.”

Max nodded, sensing the weight of your distress. “Do you want to go back to sleep, or do you want something to drink?” he suggested, his voice laced with a gentle concern that always managed to soothe the edges of your anxiety.

“I just want you here until I go to sleep,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, feeling shy and grateful for his presence. It was comforting to know that amidst the chaos in your mind, you had someone who cared.

“I can do that. Let me go switch off my sim race first.” Max said, jumping off the bed with a sense of urgency. His warmth left a chill in the air, but you appreciated the brief absence.

His passion for racing was contagious, and the thought of him returning filled you with a faint sense of anticipation.

You patiently waited for him to come back, allowing the quiet of the room to settle around you. It wasn’t long before you heard the familiar sound of his footsteps padding back towards you.

He climbed back onto the bed, a soft smile stretching across his face as he settled into place beside you. “Okay, I’m all yours. So, about yesterday… your first win?”

You perked up a little, the memory of your victory igniting a spark of joy. “Yeah! I still can’t believe I pulled it off. The thrill of crossing the finish line… it was unreal!”

Max chuckled, his eyes shining with excitement. “I remember my first win! I was so ecstatic, I nearly jumped out of my seat! But oh man, do you know how many technical problems I faced beforehand? My car almost didn’t even start up! I had the entire team sweating bullets. But when I finally got that checkered flag… whew! Talk about the sweetest moment.”

“I can just imagine you doing your victory lap,” you teased, a smile dancing across your lips. “Did you dance in the car?”

“Of course! I had to celebrate! I mean, who wouldn’t?” Max laughed, closing his eyes momentarily as if reliving those exhilarating moments.

“But then, as soon as I got out of that car, I was hit with all the pressures that came with winning. Everyone was expecting more.”

You listened to him intently, his words lacing with both excitement and the weight of responsibility that success brought. As he recounted the finer details of that day, his passion was contagious.

You could feel your eyelids growing heavier, each word weaving a cocoon of comfort around you. The rhythm of his voice was like a lullaby, slowly drawing you into slumber.

“...and then I had to deal with the media,” Max continued, his tone still animated but softer now. “They all wanted to know my secret—”

You couldn’t help it; your eyes fluttered shut, and soon, you surrendered to sleep, comforted by the sound of Max’s voice and the warmth of his presence.

In this moment, as you drifted off, the worries that haunted you began to fade, replaced by the assurance that you weren’t alone.

You’d face whatever demons awaited in your dreams, but for now, you were safe, cocooned in your shared space with Max. . . .

You woke up to the tantalizing aroma of Spanish food wafting through the air. The smell wrapped around you like a cozy blanket, beckoning you from the warmth of Max’s bed.

With a yawn and a stretch, you slowly got out, your sleepy mind still not fully processing the delightful scent.

As you tiptoed down the hallway, you couldn’t help but notice Max in the kitchen, diligently sorting through grocery bags.

He was dressed in a casual grey shirt and black shorts that highlighted his toned calves. His tousled hair suggested he had just rolled out of bed moments before, and there was a charming disheveledness to him that made you smile.

“Max, why is there so much Spanish food?” you blurted out, your curiosity piqued. “I didn’t know you liked it.”

“Morning to you too, Y/N,” he replied with a touch of sarcasm, not looking up from the bag. “I actually bought them for you since you like it so much.”

“Really?” Your eyes widened in surprise as you stepped closer, the kitchen now filled with the rich scents of chorizo and spices.

“Yeah,” Max said, finally meeting your gaze. There was a playful pride in his voice. “You’re staying here for two weeks; might as well treat you the best.”

A grin spread across your face. “So, what’s on the menu for today? I hope there’s paella!” you exclaimed excitedly, catching sight of a bottle of saffron nestled among the colorful array of groceries.

“Of course! Paella is a must,” he confirmed, his enthusiasm infectious. The way his eyes lit up made you feel like a kid on Christmas morning. He began pulling out pots and pans, navigating the clutter of the kitchen like a seasoned chef.

“And I thought we could make some tapas as well. You know, make it a proper Spanish feast!” he added, his excitement bubbling over.

“Wow, you’ve really outdone yourself,” you laughed, moving closer to help him. “I can’t believe you went shopping just for me.”

“Anything for my favorite guest,” he said, winking playfully as he handed you a cutting board and a knife. “How do you feel about preparing the veggies while I handle the seafood?”

You laughed again, the sound of your amusement filling the kitchen. “I can handle that. What do you need me to chop?”

“Let’s see,” he said, rifling through the bags. “Bell peppers, green beans, and you can’t forget the garlic! A Spanish dish is not complete without garlic.”

“Got it!” You carefully selected the vibrant veggies and began chopping them. There was a rhythm to the kitchen as the two of you worked in tandem—Max stirring pots with one hand while the other tossed fresh seafood in, the air turning more fragrant by the minute.

“Do you really think we can eat all of this?” you asked playfully, glancing at the massive amounts of food filling the counter.

Max chuckled, “You’d be surprised at how much we can devour. Spanish food is meant to be shared—just like this experience!” He looked over, sincerity mingling with mischief in his eyes. “And don’t worry; I can always use leftovers for the next week.”

“Lucky me,” you teased. “You’re always looking out for your guests, aren’t you?”

“Only the special ones,” he said with a teasing grin, before focusing back on the sizzling pan. “So how’s your family? You mentioned they were planning a big gathering for Thanksgiving?”

“They are! My mom has already started prepping,” you started, your excitement growing as you thought about home. “She’s trying out a few new recipes this year, hoping to impress everyone. My uncle can be pretty critical.”

“Sounds like a challenge,” Max chuckled, sprinkling spices into the mix. “You’ll have to tell me all about it once you get back. But for now, let’s focus on our Spanish feast. I think this will be just as memorable.”

With the wafting aromas of saffron and spices enveloping you both, you realized that, for today at least, there was nowhere else you’d rather be.

Over the course of the two weeks you spent living with Max, it was almost as if a new world had opened up for you.

Each day unfolded with a comforting rhythm that wrapped around you two both like a warm blanket. It started with the little things—like the way Max would invite you to join him in sim racing, which was way different from the ones you've used in the past.

“C’mon,” he’d say, his eyes sparkling with that competitive spirit he always had, “you’ll get the hang of it. Just don’t crash my favorite car!”

“Hey! Watch the road, not me,” he teased, laughing as your car veered off course again.

“Easy for you to say,” you replied, grinning. “The controls are the problem!”

On days when you seemed overwhelmed or lost in thought, Max would gently remind you, “Don’t forget your medicine.”

It became a tender ritual—he would hold out the small tube to you, a knowing smile on his face as if he was protecting you from the weight of your own mind.

“Remember, I’m looking out for you,” he would insist, and you couldn’t help but blush at the concern in his voice.

He didn’t particularly enjoy going outside, but when you mentioned needing to stretch your legs, he’d roll his eyes and say, “Fine, but only because I’m convinced you might spontaneously combust if you stay in that long.”

Together you'd take walks around the neighborhood, his pace steady beside you, even though you knew he would rather be curled up on the couch with a gaming controller in hand.

“Look at that tree,” you said one afternoon, pointing to a large oak with brilliant leaves. “It’s got to be hundreds of years old.” Max shrugged, but you could tell he was intrigued despite his usual disinterest in nature.

“Yeah, yeah. Still prefer the virtual cars though,” he teased, nudging you playfully.

When you two were back home, you transformed the kitchen into a whirlwind of culinary experimentations. “You’re a terrible sous-chef,”

You laughed one day as you caught him unceremoniously tossing ingredients into a pot. “I think the recipe clearly says ‘diced,’ not ‘chunked.’”

Max smirked, “It’s called ‘rustic.’ Ever heard of it? Besides, no one can mess up spaghetti, right?”

“How do you mess up spaghetti?” you joked back, and you both burst into laughter as you stirred the simmering sauce.

It wasn’t just the cooking or the racing or your endless binge-watching of movies that grew your bond; it was the unspoken comfort of simply being together.

There were nights where you would fall asleep, only to wake up moments later to find yourself nestled against Max’s chest.

You’d remain there, still as a statue, listening to the slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It was reassuring, like a metronome keeping time to a song you never wanted to end.

“Hey,” Max murmured one night, sensing you were awake. “You could move, you know. I won’t bite.”

You chuckled softly, “I’m okay just like this.” Your eyes wandered over his face, the silhouette of his strong jaw against the moonlight illuminating the room.

He smiled, genuine and warm, and said, “You know, I wouldn’t mind this every night. Sleeping like this… it’s not so bad.”

Your heart raced at his words, and panic briefly washed over you. A small voice in your head warned your to push the thought aside—that this was just a temporary arrangement, and you shouldn’t read too much into it.

But how could you, when every little moment felt so domestic, so right?

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” you replied, playfully nudging him. “What if I start snoring?”

Max laughed, “Then I’ll simply have to learn to embrace it.” You both lay there, in the gentle silence, your heart pounding in a rhythm that matched his.

Those two weeks were more than just a temporary living situation; they were a chapter in your lives that you feared might close.

But in that moment, with your head on his chest and his heartbeat echoing in your ears, you dared to hope that maybe it didn’t have to end after all. . . .

As you settled into the plush leather seat of Max's private jet, a mixture of excitement and unease fluttered in your stomach like an errant butterfly escaping its cocoon.

The rhythmic hum of the engines and the lavish ambiance of the aircraft surrounded you, yet your mind drifted back to the fleeting two weeks spent together. Those days had slipped away faster than the blink of an eye, drenched in laughter and shared clandestine glances that held more meaning than words ever could.

Disappointment lingered like a bittersweet aftertaste as you recalled the warmth of his hand grazing against yours, each touch igniting sparks that made the world outside seem pale and distant.

You gazed out of the expansive window, watching the clouds float by like cotton candy, while a soft tone pulled you back to the present.

“You nervous?” Max's voice cut through your reverie, a playful lilt embedded within. You turned to face him, observing the way the sunlight danced in his hair, making it shimmer with golden flecks.

“Kind of,” you admitted, your voice a whisper tinged with uncertainty. “I really want to race for the rest of the races this year.”

It was both a declaration and a plea, words hung on the edge of hope. You could feel his gaze, steady and unwavering, as if he were silently supporting your dreams and aspirations.

The stakes felt higher than ever, the anticipation of not knowing whether Christian would allow you a seat in the car making your heart race faster than any Grand Prix.

Yet alongside that fear was a flicker of determination; you inhaled deeply, channeling every ounce of courage into your reply, as the jet soared toward the neon lights of Las Vegas, a city that pulsed with energy and life.

When the jet finally touched down on the private runway, the world outside transformed dramatically, an explosion of vibrant colors and thumping bass reverberating through your body.

Max stood up, pulling you from your seat with a gentle tug of your hand. “Let’s make some memories,” he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

Even in that moment, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was just another distraction, a temporary escape from the looming decision set to unfold in Christian's office.

As you descended from the jet, your heart beat in tune with the rhythm of this electrifying city, but the weight of uncertainty loomed like a thundercloud overhead, always threatening to release its rain.

You and Max navigated the bustling streets in the car, clarity fading as the dazzling casinos and extravagant shows surrounded you like a whirlwind of possibility.

However, each step closer to Christian’s office felt heavier, like an anchor weighing you down, pulling your spirits into the depths of apprehension.

“What if he doesn’t let you race?” Max asked, slipping his arm around your shoulders as you walked.

The worry etched into his brow was softened by the warmth radiating from his embrace. You shook your head, biting back the tide of fear welling inside you.

“I can’t think like that. I’ve earned my place, and I’ve worked too hard to just let it all go,” you replied, your voice steadying as a semblance of confidence took root within.

"Good, I hope he knows he can't replace you," Max grinned at your confidence.

When you finally reached Christian’s office, your breath caught in your throat as reality kicked back in with full force.

The opulent office, adorned with trophies and racing memorabilia, felt more intimidating than you ever remembered. You were ushered in by Max, who gave you an encouraging nod, though you could sense his concern, hidden just behind that confident facade.

“Let’s get this over with,” you murmured, trying to steady yourself as you took a seat before Christian’s imposing desk.

He looked up with a pinched expression, a man heavy with responsibility, and for a moment, the air was thick with silent tension, the kind that overshadowed every unspoken word you both shared.

“So, you’re all healed up?” Christian finally inquired, his tone neutral, betraying little of what lay beneath the surface. You nodded, straightening your back as you gathered the fragments of your courage.

“Yes, I am. I’m ready to compete again,” you replied, infusing as much conviction into your voice as you could muster.

For a brief moment, silence hung in the air, and you could practically feel the wheels of his mind turning as he weighed your words against the reality of the season and your past challenges and wins.

Max shifted in his seat beside you, perhaps sensing the rising tension as you waited for Christian’s verdict. Time felt like molasses as it stretched into something insufferably long. Finally, Christian looked up, his expression unreadable as if he were gauging the contents of your very soul.

“Alright, I want you back on the track this week,” he declared, the words echoing in your mind as your heart surged with adrenaline at the realization that your wish was coming true.

You caught Max's eye, and in that shared look, a symphony of emotions played between you; relief, excitement, and a silent promise.

"Y/N, can I speak to you alone?" Christian's gaze was intense as he fixed his eyes on Max, who was leaning against the nearby chair, a protective aura surrounding him.

Max caught the hint. He patted your thigh reassuringly, his eyes never leaving Christian's. "I'll be outside if you need me," he said, his voice friendly but firm, before stepping out of the room and closing the door softly behind him.

The tension in the room shifted slightly, and you could feel the weight of Christian's presence. "I wanted to talk about your housing situation. I can assume that you had a safe and good time with Max?" he stated, his expression serious.

You nodded, feeling a surge of gratitude for Max. "Yes, I feel safe with him. He's been… really supportive."

Christian leaned back in his chair, scrutinizing you with a look that seemed to search deep into your thoughts. "You know staying with Max is not an option anymore. It would eventually cause rumors, and you don’t want that kind of attention, especially not now," he stated, as if giving you a warning.

Swallowing hard, you felt the weight of his words. "What do you suggest then?"

Christian leaned forward, his elbows resting on the mahogany desk. "You have two options: you can come live with me, Geri, and the kids until he’s caught, or you go into witness protection," he outlined, his voice steady.

Your heart raced at the mention of witness protection. "Witness protection? Do you really think things are that serious still? I mean, I appreciate the concern, but—"

"Y/N," he interrupted, his voice firm yet filled with care, "it’s not just about safety; it’s about you having a life free from fear. You deserve that. I know it sounds extreme, but this is a serious matter. You're too important to risk being caught up in something that could put you in danger."

You fidget with your fingers, trying to process everything. "Living with you? With your family? That's a lot to ask. I barely know your kids. What if they—"

"Will see you as part of the family," Christian reassured, a softening in his features. "Geri and I have talked about this. We want to protect you, truly. The kids would love having you around. They need the company, and you need a safe place to stay."

The offer was tempting. A warm household, laughter, and safety. "But what about Max?" you questioned, a pang of guilt pressing against your heart. "He’s done so much for me. It feels unfair to leave him, especially if he might be in danger too."

Christian sighed, a hint of understanding in his gaze. "Max is capable and smart. You two have built a bond, but he knows the situation. If he thought it was best for you to leave, he would support your decision, even if it hurts him to see you go. Your safety has to come first."

The thought struck you hard. Did you really want to give up the comfort of Max's presence? "What if I chose to go into witness protection?" you asked, testing the waters.

Christian raised an eyebrow, his expression neutral. "That would mean leaving everything behind—your job, your friends, your life as you know it. It’s a complete reset. Are you ready for that?"

You took a deep breath, glancing back at the closed door, imagining Max waiting just outside. The two of you shared so much in the past weeks. But as you weighed your options, the gravity of your situation settled in.

After a moment of silence, filled only by the distant hum of the city outside, you finally spoke again. “I’ll stay with your family until he’s caught,” you said, the decision resolute but still thick with uncertainty.

“Good choice,” Christian replied with a reassuring smile. “Your room is almost ready; it will be finished by tomorrow, so you can come by then.”

“Is that all?” you asked, stifling a yawn that threatened to escape. The long flight had drained you, and adrenaline was wearing off; fatigue was creeping in.

“Yes, that is all. Good night, Y/N,” Christian said, his voice gentle. “And tell Max that I can see him staring at me from outside, and it’s not intimidating.”

You turned around just in time to see Max quickly avert his gaze, a hint of pink dusting his cheeks. You couldn’t help a small smile as you thanked Christian and stepped out of his office, the door clicking softly behind you.

As you and Max walked down the hallway, the weight of the situation hung heavy in the air. “So, what did he say?” Max asked curiously, catching up to walk beside you.

You hesitated, looking down at your trembling hands. “Just that everything is going to be okay… that I can stay with his family until…” Your voice trailed off, the weight of the unspoken hanging over you both like an ominous shadow.

“Until he’s caught,” Max finished for you, his own voice subdued. “I don’t like this, you know. I don’t like that you have to hide. It’s not fair.”

“I know,” you replied softly, feeling a pang of guilt mixed with fear. “But it’s not about what’s fair. It’s about what’s safe.”

You paused, glancing at Max, whose brow was furrowed with concern. “The last thing I want is to put you in more danger.”

Max looked down, his frustration evident. “But I am in danger. You being around me is a risk, too. I can’t just stand by and let you go through this alone.”

He stepped closer, his hand lightly brushing against your arm, a comforting gesture amidst the chaos. “Promise me you’ll keep your guard up and be careful.”

“I promise, Max,” you said, forcing a smile to lighten the mood. “He also mentioned that he could see you staring at him and that it’s not intimidating,” you added with a playful lilt to your voice, hoping to diffuse the tension.

Max’s eyes narrowed playfully as he rolled them. “Yeah, right. Like I could ever not find him intimidating,” he said, unable to completely hide the nervous laugh that escaped him.

“Will you continue being my bodyguard in the paddock?” you asked jokingly, a playful smile gracing your lips as the sun dipped low, casting a golden hue over the bustling scene around you.

Max looked up from where he was adjusting his cap, his smile widening as if your lighthearted question had brightened his entire afternoon.

“I thought you would never ask,” he replied happily, his eyes glimmering with a mix of amusement and something deeper, something unspoken that danced just beneath the surface of your banter.

“You know,” you continued, your voice softer now, “it’s not just about the races. It’s about feeling safe with you around.”

Max’s smile slipped, replaced by a seriousness that made your pulse race. “Then I’m honored to be your shield,” he declared, stepping closer, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a comforting embrace.

As you settled your suitcase on the floor of Max’s cozy apartment, a wave of nostalgia washed over you. “It looks nice,” you muttered, taking in the familiar sight—the warm hues of the walls, the bookshelf crammed with books, the couch that seemed to beckon you for a rest.

It reminded you so much of the last place you two lived together, a shared sanctuary filled with laughter and late-night conversations.

Part of you was sad that you was only staying for a day, feeling the weight of past moments pressing against your heart.

“What do you want to do?” Max asked, closing the door behind us, his voice tinged with hope as he leaned casually against the frame.

He looked at you with those bright, contemplative eyes, and you felt a pang of longing.

“I really just feel like sleeping until tomorrow,” you replied, turning to face him, unable to hide the weariness in your tone.

Just as you said it, you noticed the disappointment flicker across his face, a fleeting shadow that made you second-guess your words. You wanted to be with him, to wrap yourself in the comforting familiarity of your bond—not to just shut down for the night.

“Hey,” he said softly, taking a step toward you. “You don’t have to force yourself. If you’re tired, we can just chill here. You know we can always catch up.”

Your heart swelled at his understanding. “I know, it’s just… I didn’t plan to stay, and I didn’t want it to feel like an imposition.”

“It’s never an imposition. I’ve really missed having you around.” His gaze softened, and he reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The simple touch ignited something deep within you, a longing that had been simmering beneath the surface.

“Max, we just live in a house together for two weeks,” you asked, a shy smile creeping onto your lips. “How did you already miss me?”

“Of course I miss you! Who else will I binge-watch terrible reality shows with?” He chuckled, and the sound was infectious, momentarily easing the tension that had built between you two.

“Touché,” you smirked. “I do bring a certain charm to mindless television.”

“Exactly,” he said, returning your smile. Your eyes locked, and in that moment, you could feel the air thickening with unspoken words. The space between you two seemed to shrink, the familiar safety of your friendship morphing into something more tangible, more raw.

“Do you want to lie down?” Max asked, gesturing to the couch. “I mean, we can watch something or just… talk.”

“Talking sounds nice,” you replied hesitantly, yet the thought of lying next to him on the worn couch sent butterflies fluttering through your stomach even though you've done it several times by 'accident'.

As you two settled down, you curled up against him, resting your head on his shoulder. The warmth of his body enveloped you, softening the sharp edges of your weariness.

You two spent a few minutes in a comfortable silence, yet you could feel the tension crackling in the air.

You found yourself leaning in, drawn to him in a way that felt both right and utterly wrong.

It was a stark reminder—only weeks ago, you had closed the chapter on a relationship that had once defined you.

You shouldn't rush something so fragile; the memory of your past still loomed large, casting a shadow over this budding connection.

“So who’s getting the bed tonight?” you asked with a playful grin, tilting your head to meet Max’s gaze, those eyes of his truly captivating—you could often describe them as ‘shimmering sapphires’ or ‘endless oceans,’ each glance drawing you deeper into their depths.

Max smirked, the corners of his mouth curling up in that infuriatingly charming way that made your heart race, “We’ll just have to fight it out.”

Before you could reply, his hands slid under you with effortless strength, lifting you up bridal style.

Instinctively, your arms wrapped around his neck, the warmth of his body enveloping you like a cozy blanket on a chilly evening.

"Hey! That's unfair!" you said, slightly squirming before giving up and relaxed into Max's arms.

"That's the whole point schat," Max chuckled, the sound low and playful, your heart beating a little faster as he gazed down at you, those enchanting eyes sparkling with mischief.

As Max carried you down the hallway, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of belonging in his arms, the playful teasing blurring into something deeper, something that lingered in the space between you. . . .

Max's frustration hung in the air like an uninvited guest, refusing to leave the room. "Why can she stay with me until he's found?" he demanded, his voice trembling with a blend of desperation and confusion.

Christian, unfazed, leaned back against his desk, arms crossed and brow furrowed. "Because, Max," he stated calmly, as though revealing an irrefutable truth, "first, you know that the two of you will eventually be seen together, and rumors will start to swirl—trust me, Y/N doesn't want that attention right now."

He continued, watching Max's expression twist into shock and embarrassment with each revelation.

"Second, it’s kind of odd, isn’t it? You're both just cohabiting there as if you’re already a couple, yet haven’t taken that step. It makes things unnecessarily complicated." Christian paused for just a moment, truly considering Max's feelings.

"Lastly," he added gently, “I just don’t want her to feel pressured or frustrated by your feelings toward her. It’s a heavy weight to carry, especially now.” The words, while protective, sent an uncomfortable chill down Max’s spine as he grappled with the reality of his emotions.

Caught off guard, Max sputtered, "I don't—" but Christian cut him off.

"Look, I don't want to pry into your private life more than I have to," he interjected, his tone firm yet understanding, "but if you two are truly dating and make it public, then all of this changes. Only then would I feel comfortable allowing her to stay in your house.”

The implications of his Christian's words hung heavily in the room, echoing with possibilities. Max's heart raced, torn between wanting to shield Y/N from the chaos of their intertwined lives and admitting the depth of his feelings for her.

As he searched for the right words, he felt the weight of what Christian suggested: making things official.

Could he really bear the thought of Y/N mingling with rumors, or worse, being pulled away from him in this tumultuous time?

Max helped you carry your suitcase to Christian's car, his gentle hands guiding the weight of your belongings as if they were delicate treasures.

“Be safe, okay? Call me when you get there,” he said cautiously, a glimmer of protectiveness in his blue eyes, aware that Christian was watching the two of you from his car, a hint of impatience growing in the tense atmosphere.

The moment felt suspended, the unspoken feelings between you and Max hanging in the air like the golden thread of sunset—beautiful, bittersweet, and entirely unresolved.

“Okay, Dad,” you teased, your voice light yet your heart heavy as you caught the faint flush of color bloom across Max's cheeks. “But really, I’m going to be fine, Max; I’m in good hands. I promise I’ll call you when I get there,” you insisted, trying to soothe his worry while feeling a warmth well within you, realizing how much his concern meant.

“Yeah, yeah, I know Christian has a good track record,” he chuckled lightly, brushing aside the earnestness of his previous concern, the easy camaraderie that had defined your friendship shimmering just beneath the surface.

“Good, now give me a hug, ex-roommate,” you joked, the playful tone dancing lightly on your lips.

You stepped closer, wrapping your arms around his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of him—clean and comforting, a temporary home you were reluctantly leaving behind.

There was something timeless in that embrace, a moment suspended, as if you were both aware that it could be one of the last times you'd feel this way.

“Promise me you’ll call, alright? I don’t care what time it is,” Max said, a seriousness flickering beneath the surface of his vibrant smile.

You felt the walls around your heart crack just a little, the vulnerable parts of yourself laid bare under his earnest gaze. “Yeah, I promise,” you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper, and you could see the corners of Max’s mouth twitch upwards, a flicker of relief dancing through his features.

“Alright then, off you go. Don’t keep Christian waiting,” he urged, that playful glint in his eyes returning as he took a step back, releasing you to the world outside the cocoon of your shared memories.

As you turned to head to the car, you paused for a moment, glancing back at him.

“See you tomorrow at the meeting, don’t be late,” you called out, your smile lingering in the air like the last rays of sunlight slipping below the horizon.

You waved goodbye, your heart stuttering with the weight of the unsaid, the emotion swirling around you like autumn leaves—beautiful but fleeting.

Getting into the car, you looked back at Max, now a silhouette against the sun, your heart full of unexpressed emotions tumbling through as you nestled into the seat.

With Christian beside you, the door to a new chapter beckoned, but the shadow of Max lingered, whispering secrets of familiarity and warmth.

Just as you settled into your new world, a sudden longing surged through you, a need to hold onto the closeness you shared as friends, both exhilarated and anxious about the journey ahead.

As Christian started the engine, turning the key with an eager spark, you stole one last glance at Max, his waves dissipating into the distance as the car rolled forward.

The road stretched ahead—unknown and promising—a direct reflection of the confusing emotions dancing in your chest. “You okay?” Christian asked, glancing over at you, a genuine concern etched onto his face.

You blinked, momentarily caught in the juxtaposition of your feelings; how could you articulate the whirlwind of heartache and excitement that coursed through you?

“Yeah, just… thinking,” you replied, your voice trailing off, filled with layers of meaning, laced with thoughts of the boy left behind, forever entwined in your heart.

“Max is a good guy,” Christian commented, trying to coax a smile from your lips as the gentle hum of the car’s engine enveloped you.

“He is,” you admitted, a wistfulness threading through your voice.

Both of you understood that your past and present existed in a delicate dance, entwined in a tapestry of emotions too tangled to unravel.

Yet, with every mile that passed, the unyielding desire to forge ahead built a crescendo in your heart—still, the ghost of lingering glances and gentle hugs could not be so easily dismissed.

As you parked the car alongside Christian's extravagant home, your heart raced with a mix of excitement and anxiety.

The house loomed before you—a sprawling, modern marvel that boasted large floor-to-ceiling windows, elegantly framed by rich mahogany trim. It was painted a soft gray, showcasing neatly manicured landscaping that whispered of meticulous care.

The front door, a bold shade of navy blue, stood out against the neutral facade, inviting yet imposing. You took a deep breath, trying to quell the butterflies in your stomach.

“Come on, Y/N, I’m sure Geri has already made dinner,” Christian said, his voice pulling you from your contemplations. His confidence was reassuring, but doubts still lingered in your mind.

What if his kids hated you? What if Geri changed her mind about you staying?

With your heart still thumping, you hopped out of the car and grabbed your suitcase from the trunk, noticing the gleaming exterior of the house reflecting the soft glow of the evening sun.

Christian walked over, pushing the door open with a flourish. “After you,” he said, gesturing grandly with a smile.

You stepped inside, and the interior left you momentarily breathless. The open-concept living room was filled with plush furniture arranged around a stunning fireplace adorned with a collection of family photos.

A delicate chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting a warm ambiance. It felt like a scene from a magazine, yet you couldn't shake the unease fluttering in your chest.

Just then, the sound of small footsteps echoed through the hallway. A rush of energy burst from around the corner as a boy and girl, Montague and Olivia, appeared, their eyes wide with excitement.

“Daddy!” they yelled in unison, rushing to greet Christian before halting abruptly, taking in your presence. The air thickened with anticipation.

“Montague, Olivia, go greet Y/N like I taught you,” Christian urged gently, nudging them forward.

Olivia, the older of the two, looked up at you, her big eyes sparkling with curiosity but tinged with shyness. “Hi,” she squeaked, her voice a small whisper.

Montague, her younger brother, clung tightly to Olivia's side. “Are you staying for a long time?” he asked, his tone innocent and hopeful.

“Yes, I am,” you replied, crouching down to their level, eager to break the ice. “I hope we can have fun together.”

Olivia nodded slowly, the nervousness still evident in her expression. “What’s your favorite color?” she inquired, her curiosity overcoming the initial surprise.

“Pink!” you answered with a smile, seeing a flicker of interest pass between them. “And what about you?”

“Purple!” Olivia chimed happily, and Montague added, “I like blue!”

Christian chuckled softly. “Well, it sounds like we already have a creative team here.”

He pulled his daughter and son into a gentle hug. “Now, let’s head to the kitchen and see if your mom needs any help with dinner.”

As you followed them into the next room, the warmth of the moment began to wash over you. The smell of roasted chicken and fresh vegetables wafted through the air, inviting and homey.

Geri stood at the counter, her face lighting up as she spotted you. “Y/N! I’m so glad you made it!” she called, her voice warm and welcoming.

“Thank you for having me,” you responded, feeling a wave of relief.

“Have you met the kids yet?” Geri asked, turning her attention to them with a motherly smile.

“Yup! We’re talking about colors,” Montague responded enthusiastically.

“Colors and fun. That sounds like a great start,” Geri laughed. “Why don’t we all sit down for dinner together? I'll go get Blue and I’ve made plenty for us to enjoy.”

You felt a gentle tug on your shirt, a small but unmistakable gesture that drew your attention downwards. There, with her big, expressive eyes peering up at you, was Olivia, her demeanor a blend of shyness and anticipation.

As you knelt to her level, your heart warmed by the innocent enthusiasm radiating from her, you noticed a light blush coloring her cheeks.

“Yes, Olivia?” you asked, your tone inviting, eager to hear what she had to say.

“Can I show you to your room?” she whispered, her words barely audible yet filled with earnestness.

This simple request tugged at your heartstrings, and you couldn’t help but smile at the prospect of her eagerness to help.

Looking back up, you sought the assurance from Christian, who stood just a few feet away, an encouraging nod of his head affirming that it was indeed okay for you to follow Olivia.

“Okay, Olivia, you'll have to give a tour of the whole house so I don’t get lost,” you replied, smiling to ease her nerves.

The sound of her giggle was like music to your ears, a bright melody that resonated with the warmth of her spirit. Olivia's face lit up as she grabbed your hand with surprising confidence for such a young girl, embodying a sense of purpose that you found endearing.

Balancing your suitcase in your other hand, you set off with her as your guide.

The house was a charming blend of cozy rooms and sunlight that spilled in from large windows, and you felt excitement bubbling within as you anticipated each stop on the tour.

First, she led you to the kitchen, her small hand pulling you gently through the archway. “This is where we eat!” she declared, her eyes shining as she pointed toward the rustic wooden table laden with colorful placemats.

“My mom makes the best cookies here,” Olivia said proudly, prompting an immediate response from you.

“I can’t wait to try them! Do you help her bake?” you asked, genuinely curious about this little chef.

Her face beamed, and she nodded vigorously, “Yes! I mix the flour and sugar!”

As you turned your attention to the living room, Olivia continued to pull you along, her enthusiasm palpable. “And this is the living room!” she said, ushering you with an exaggerated gesture, as if revealing a grand prize.

The room was adorned with plush sofas and scattered cushions, with a massive bookshelf crammed full of colorful stories waiting to be told.

“This is where we have movie nights!” she informed you, her voice filled with a sense of pride.

“Do you have a favorite movie?” you inquired, hoping to catch a glimpse of her interests.

Beaming, she replied, “I love Frozen! I can sing all the songs!”

Next, she led you to the bathroom, where she pointed out the whimsical shower curtain decorated with dolphins. “Mine are cute!” Olivia exclaimed, delighted by her own taste.

You smiled, appreciating how keenly she had chosen items that reflected her personality. "Dolphins are great," you said, letting her take the lead as she explained the significance of each nautical detail, her words bubbling over each other with the excitement of a storyteller.

Moving forward, Olivia was keen to show you her own room. “This is my special place!” she announced, her voice filled with an unmistakable pride as she opened the door.

Inside, the walls were painted a soft lavender, enhanced by an array of colorful drawings she had created and pinned up.

She pointed to a large stuffed bear propped against her pillows, “That’s Mr. Cuddles! He protects me at night.”

You chuckled softly, recalling your own childhood companions. “Does he keep all the monsters away?” you teased, and she immediately nodded, eyes wide with seriousness.

“Yes! He’s very brave!” she declared, and you could see the fierce loyalty she had for her stuffed friend.

After her room, you finally arrived at the guest room where you would be staying. The door creaked open to reveal a bright room, adorned with a subtle decor that felt both welcoming and serene.

“This is it! This is where you will sleep!” Olivia announced, stepping back to give you a moment to take it all in.

You placed your suitcase down gently, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over you for her thoughtfulness. “It’s perfect, Olivia! Thank you so much for showing me around,” you said, genuinely moved by her eagerness to ensure you felt at home.

Feeling adventurous, you sat on the edge of the bed, and she joined you, her curiosity piqued as she surveyed the room.

“What do you think? Is it what you wanted?” she inquired, her expression earnest. “Honestly, it’s more than I expected! I think I’m going to love it here,” you replied, your heart full.

She giggled again, the sound infectious and bright. “We can have sleepovers! You can sleep in my room!” Olivia suggested.

The innocence of her proposal struck a chord within you, and you smiled warmly, touched by her openness to share her world.

“Olivia, Y/N, it's time to eat!” Geri's voice echoed up the stairs, breaking the serene silence of your room. In an instant, Olivia sprang from your bed, her enthusiasm infectious as she tugged on your hand.

“Come on, Y/N, it’s time to eat!” she chirped, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

You barely had time to collect your thoughts before she led you down the stairs, the aroma of home-cooked food enveloping you like a warm blanket.

“Thank you for being such a great tour guide, Olivia. I won’t forget this day,” you assured her as you both made your way back to the living room, already dreaming of making memories in this new haven.

Descending the wooden steps, you could really smell the enticing aroma of Geri’s cooking wafting through the air, stirring your appetite.

Upon reaching the dining room, you were greeted by the lively scene: Geri was bustling about, dishing out bowls of steaming pasta, while Christian leaned casually against the counter, scrolling through his phone.

Montague, perched in his highchair, was animatedly babbling, his cherubic face smeared with remnants of whatever colorful concoction was served earlier.

You took a seat at the table next to Bluebell, who was lost in her own world, absorbed by her phone. The moment the chair scraped against the floor, her gaze shifted towards you.

“Hello, Bluebell. I’m Y/N. Hope you don’t mind me staying here,” you introduced yourself, trying to break the ice with a gentle smile, aware of how teenagers could be a bit apprehensive at first.

She looked up, her brows slightly knitted as if deciding whether to engage. “Hey. No, it’s cool,” she replied shyly, her demeanor softening as she put her phone down, curiosity flickering in her amber eyes.

“Just wasn’t expecting… company, you know? It’s usually just me, Monty, and Geri.”

“Monty?” you inquired, glancing over at the three-year-old, who was now energetically waving at you, pasta sauce dripping down his chin in a comical display.

“Yeah, he’s really a handful,” Blue said with a chuckle, her shyness fading as she began to talk animatedly about her younger brother. “He thinks he’s a superhero and tries to save the world. It’s adorable but exhausting.”

“He really seems like a little ball of energy!” you responded, laughing as Montague attempted to climb out of his highchair, his laughter ringing through the room.

Olivia joined in, her giggles mingling with her brother’s, creating a harmonious chorus of childhood joy.

“Y/N, you should come play with us after dinner!” Olivia exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm as she gave you an earnest look.

“Yeah, totally!” Blue added, a hint of a smile breaking through her usual teenage facade. “We normally play hide and seek or make up stories. Just don’t let Monty be ‘it’ too many times—he’ll end up chasing you until your legs fall off.”

As the dinner progressed filled with laughter, playful banter, and the delightful chaos of family, you felt an unexpected connection blooming around the table.

Geri, with her motherly warmth, ensured everyone was well-fed, while Christian chimed in with witty commentary, balancing the atmosphere beautifully.

By the end of the meal, you realized that being here with them, amidst the laughter and shared stories, felt like a stitch woven into the fabric of a new beginning, one filled with cherished moments yet to come.

It didn't feel as nice as staying with Max but you didn't ponder on that thought for long as Olivia was telling you how her tooth fell out and she got 10 pounds under her pillow. . . .

The echoes of giggles and competitive banter from Christian’s children danced lightly in your memory—Olivia and Montague were familiar companions in this whimsical world of imagination, but it was Bluebell who had truly captivated your attention.

You realized that her spirit, fierce and competitive, was a mirror of her father’s unyielding drive; it had been a surprise to find her enthusiasm so captivating, her laughter ringing like chimes, propelling you into games that were blissfully exhausting yet heartwarming.

As the sun elongated shadows around the room, you took a deep breath, the air laden with remnants of last night’s popcorn and the sweet aroma of cocoa, feeling a warmth in your chest that settled deep, a gentle reminder of the magic shared.

Reluctantly, you peeled yourself from the confines of your cozy haven, looking forward to the day ahead.

Christian was set to drop you at the paddock where you could let go of the previous night’s laughter and embrace a new day of potential adventures.

Getting up early felt like a delightful challenge, a rare chance to be productive before the world started its hectic pace, and you moved about with a sense of purpose that felt thrilling.

After a refreshing shower, you felt the warm water wash away the fatigue of the day. The steam enveloped you, creating a soothing atmosphere as you took a moment to enjoy the tranquility.

Once you stepped out, you wrapped yourself in a soft towel, feeling the gentle fabric against your skin. As you moved to your vanity, you laid out your makeup essentials, each product a small tool in your routine.

As you admired your reflection, you felt a sense of confidence wash over you. The transformation was complete, and you were ready to take on the world, feeling empowered and beautiful.

You then went downstairs to pour coffee into a mug, enjoying the steam that curled like tendrils of warmth into the cool morning air. As you sipped, images of last night danced in your mind—each hide-and-seek episode, each playful shriek of victory from the kids.

How amusing it was to see Christian, usually so composed, getting caught up in their competitive spirit, cheering and teasing in equal measure.

Before the clock struck midnight, you had called Max, almost forgetting in the rush of the evening. The moment you heard his voice, you were instantly transported back to warmth and familiarity.

“Hey Max, you weren’t sleeping were you?” you asked, tone light yet filled with the anticipation of sharing your escapades with him.

“No, no, I was waiting for your call of course,” he replied, and you couldn’t help but smile, feeling a soft flutter at the thought that he valued your chatter enough to stay awake.

“How is the place?” he continued, genuine curiosity dancing in his words.

You chuckled softly as you recalled the previous hours filled with whimsy. “Everyone is so nice here but Christian’s kids have me running around this house more times than I can count for hide and seek,” you said, lying back on your bed, the soft sheets cool against your skin.

You could hear him laughing on the other end, a sound that filled you with warmth—a gentle reminder of the connection you both cherished deeply.

There was something charming about sharing those mundane yet magical moments, and it felt good to let him in on this little slice of your life.

“Seems like you’ve had quite the workout,” Max teased lightly, his laughter mingling with your own as you could just picture his playful smile, the way it lit up his eyes.

“So which company do you like better? Mine or theirs?” he asked, his tone light, but a hint of seriousness lingered, as if he were genuinely curious to know where your heart lay.

Without a moment’s hesitation, the words slipped from your lips, “Well, I’d rather cuddle and watch a movie than chase three kids around, so I’ll pick yours,” you said, unabashedly.

You could almost hear the playful gasp echo through the receiver, as if you had thrown a gleeful gauntlet over the endless banter between you two. “So, I’m the cuddly one now, huh? I always thought I was more of the adventure type!” Max quipped, his voice dancing in the space between you, filling you with an easy warmth.

You grinned, they’re playful exchanges a lifeline reaching across the distance time and again. “Maybe both, but right now, I think I’m just all about the cuddles,” you replied, your heart fluttering at the thought of cozy evenings spent together away from the chaos.

“I can’t wait for that,” Max breathed, the earnestness behind his words brushing against your heart like a gentle caress. “It does feel weird not having you beside me,” he confessed, that hint of vulnerability beneath his bravado softening the air between you.

You were still thinking about the phone call with Max when Christian was driving you to the paddock. His voice echoed in your mind, a mixture of concern and warmth that made you feel both comforted and anxious.

As Christian navigated through the busy streets, you could almost hear Max's laughter as he playfully teased you about your nerves, and it made you smile despite the lingering thoughts.

“Are you going to be okay?” Christian broke the silence, glancing over at you with that serious look he always had when he meant business. “Should I get someone to escort you?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” you replied, giving him a reassuring smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. You unbuckled your seatbelt and opened the car door, the rush of energy from the paddock filling your senses.

“Thanks for the ride!” you called out, waving as you stepped out.

Making your way into the paddock, you felt a mix of excitement and anxiety flutter in your stomach. The roar of engines and the chatter of mechanics surrounded you, but your mind was focused on one person.

You headed straight to Max's garage, where the familiar sight of him in his race suit brought an instant smile to your face.

When Max noticed you, his expression lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. “There you are!” he exclaimed, brushing off his hands and running towards you. “I was wondering if you’d make it before practice,”

You couldn’t help but return his infectious smile, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “Sorry I couldn't come earlier; Christian was so insistent on driving me here.”

“Good! I was worried about you after the call yesterday. Did Christian give you a hard time for your first day in his house?” He raised an eyebrow teasingly, clearly aware of how protective the team principal could be.

“Just a bit,” you admitted, playfully rolling your eyes. “He asked if I needed an escort.” You crossed your arms, leaning against the wall of the garage, watching as he fiddled with his helmet.

“Well, that’s a bit of an overreaction, but it’s not surprising given what happened,” Max muttered, glancing at the camera crew that was trying to record your conversation.

He pulled his helmet down, the expression in his eyes serious for a brief moment. “I mean, you’ve seen the way he looks out for the team, right? Especially after that ordeal the other day.”

You nodded, remembering the tense atmosphere that had enveloped the paddock after the incident. “Yeah, I guess he just wants to make sure I’m safe. But I can take care of myself,” you said defiantly.

Max chuckled softly, and there was a flicker of pride in his eyes. “I know you can. That’s one of the things I admire about you.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “But sometimes, it helps to let others look out for you, especially when we’re all so deeply invested in this world.”

“Trust me, the last thing I want is to feel like a damsel in distress,” you replied, your tone more serious now. “But I also appreciate the concern. It just feels a bit overwhelming, you know?”

He nodded, understanding glimmering in his bright blue eyes. “I get that. But your presence here means you’re already part of this family. And I promise, we’ll look after you.” He grinned, the playful Max returning. “Even if Christian is a bit overbearing!”

You laughed, the tension easing further. “Alright, I guess I’ll keep the whole ‘being escorted’ concept in mind,” you countered, your tone lightening.

Max took a step back, his hands resting on his hips as he surveyed you with an affectionate gaze. “Good! Now, let’s focus on the practice.”

“Of course! Just don’t crash or anything,” you called back as he dashed off to prepare, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and admiration.

As you watched him get back into the groove of his pre-race rituals, the worries began to fade, and all that mattered was the electric atmosphere of the paddock—and Max, with his vibrant energy, ready to take on the world.

As you stood in the hushed moments before practice, the air thick with anticipation, you meticulously slipped into your race suit, its slick fabric hugging your form like a second skin.

The scent of fresh tires and gasoline mingled in the air, awakening a fierce adrenaline among the buzzing crowd of crew members. Your heart raced as you checked the data on your device, numbers bouncing around your mind like your thoughts—each lap time, tire pressure, and weather condition swirling together in a delicate balance that only the fiercest competitors understood.

Just as you prepared to slide into the cool cockpit of your car, a sudden tap on your shoulder jolted you from your racing calculations.

You turned around slowly, your heart caught in your throat, only to find a shadowy figure standing behind you, a mask concealing all but the curve of his lips, and a hat pulled low enough to obscure his eyes entirely.

Instinctively, a thin veil of fear wrapped around you, tightening its grip as you momentarily froze, feeling vulnerable and exposed in this electric environment.

In a heartbeat, the figure revealed himself, peeling back the mask with a flourish that sent a rush of relief and disbelief cascading through you.

It was Daniel Ricciardo—your idol—standing mere inches away, his warm smile illuminating the tension that had momentarily gripped your chest.

“Hey, Y/N! Can I have a hug?” he asked, his eyes sparkling beneath the brim of his hat, disarming you with both his charm and genuine enthusiasm.

You found yourself unable to respond in words, instead, your body acted on its own, arms wrapping around him in a spontaneous embrace that sent your heart racing in a completely different way.

The echo of his presence was oddly soothing, yet even in that moment of comfort, a lingering thread of fear tugged at your heart, the petrifying thought of Jake lurking like a shadow in the back of your mind, reminding you that danger was never far away.

As you clutched onto Daniel, savoring the warmth of his embrace, the panic that gripped you earlier continued to simmer just beneath the surface, whispering unsettling thoughts and fears that made your stomach roll.

You knew the truth—you were still afraid, unable to shake the haunting reality that Jake was still out there, a ghost from your past threatening your present. The very thought of him stepping through the crowd, isolating you in a sea of engines and cheers, sent a wave of nausea crashing through you.

Almost in a daze, you stepped back from Daniel, desperation clawing at your throat as you raced towards the nearest restroom, fighting the overwhelming urge to succumb to the panic that threatened to spiral out of control.

Once inside the solitude of the bathroom, you felt the walls close in, your breathing becoming shallow and labored. Your heart still raced from Daniel’s unexpected arrival, but now, it beat in rhythm with the anxiety bubbling within you.

You pressed your forehead against the cool tiles, your breaths coming in shaky gasps as tears prickled at the corners of your eyes.

You felt pathetic, the weight of your feelings crashing down like a heavy wave, your body betraying you in what should have been a victorious moment.

Then, a soft knock on the door jerked you from your thoughts, halting all movement in your panic-stricken state.

“Y/N, are you okay? Can I come in?” Daniel’s voice broke through the tumult in your mind, filled with warmth and concern.

You instinctively held your breath, reluctant to let him see you unraveling; the revelation of your raw, shaky vulnerabilities felt too overwhelming, especially in front of someone you admired so deeply.

“Y/N, I’m not going anywhere! But seriously, if you need anything, let me know,” he continued, his voice laced with genuine concern.

It was endearing to hear him use your name, pulling you back from the abyss of your spiraling thoughts. “I really appreciate it, Daniel. I just—” you spoke quietly, caught between the urge to confide in him and an innate desire to maintain your façade.

It felt impossible to lay bare your fears and the scars of your recent past to someone who was supposed to remain an untouchable beacon of inspiration.

“Just take your time,” he said softly, his words acting like a balm against your racing heart. “I’ll be right outside if you need me. I swear I won’t tell anyone.”

Somehow, the reassurance in his voice made the knot in your stomach loosen, even if just slightly.

Taking a moment, you swallowed hard and focused on your breathing, allowing Daniel’s comforting words to envelop you like a protective cloak. When the storm in your mind quieted to a gentle swell, you gathered your resolve and, with a deep breath, opened the door.

Daniel leaned casually against the wall, friendly smile still gracing his face, the tension of moments ago melting away as he teased, “Hey, look who’s alive!” He lifted his hands in mock surprise, his tone lightening the atmosphere. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

You found yourself chuckling, the sound foreign yet comforting, as if his playful spirit had chased away the shadows of your earlier fears.

“Thanks for waiting,” you responded, your voice steadier than before. “Honestly, I’m so sorry about that.”

Daniel’s expression shifted slightly at that confession—he looked concerned yet compassionate as he said, “I... heard about the accident.”

Instantly, your heart sank; Jake’s actions felt like a stain on your mind that refused to wash away. The fact that Daniel knew about him was both embarrassing and terrifying.

“Christian told me but only because he didn’t want me to startle you when we first meet... seems I did it without thinking, sorry about that,” he admitted, sincerity dripping from his words, making the weight of your fears feel heavier.

“It’s not your fault; it’s been a month now, and I haven’t gotten over him,” you muttered, the truth slipping from your lips, baring a piece of your vulnerable self that you wished to shield from the world, especially from Daniel.

Daniel noticed the tension in your shoulders and without hesitation, pulled you into a warm embrace.

"You know what? For giving you a scare, why don’t we go out after? Anything will be my treat, promise," he said, his voice steady and reassuring. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, a stark contrast to the raging storm inside your mind.

You nodded into his shoulder, grateful for his presence. It felt safe, comforting. "I should get back to my car for the practice," you muttered, though you didn’t make an effort to pull away.

There was something about the way Daniel held you that made you forget the fear, if only for a moment.

Daniel chuckled softly, pulling you back just enough to look into your eyes. "I'll give you more hugs later, just beat Max is my only request," he joked, a playful grin dancing on his lips as he wiped the tear stains from your face with his thumb.

The gesture made you laugh a little despite everything.

"Deal," you smiled, feeling a flicker of warmth suffusing your chest. Support from Daniel felt like an anchor, grounding you even amidst the emotional tempest swirling around you.

Together, you left the bathroom. Daniel walked closely by your side, sharing small stories and light-hearted banter that somehow managed to lift your spirits. As you approached the garage, you felt lighter with each step, the looming dread receding little by little.

He watched you get into your car and waved enthusiastically as you turned the engine on.

"Remember! Just focus on your laps! You got this!" he shouted, a mixture of encouragement and playful irony in his voice, reminding you of the countless hours you had spent pushing yourself to the limit.

As you drove towards the track for practice, the familiar scenery rushed past, but this time, there was hope mingling with the anxiety. You could still hear Daniel’s laughter in your ears, a sound that promised solace and support.

The memories of the mask and the man who had startled you began to fade, replaced by a determination not just to conquer the track, but to reclaim your peace of mind.

Arriving at the track, the adrenaline started to kick in. The engine roared to life as you prepared to hit the track, and with each lap, you left a little more of your fears behind, driven by the support that Daniel freely offered.

"Let's do this!" you whispered to yourself, feeling a surge of confidence. . . .

As Daniel stepped into the paddock, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, he took a deep breath, savoring the thrill of the race.

His heart was still pounding from the excitement, but he knew he had something more pressing on his mind. He darted through the paddock, weaving past busy crew members and engineers, his eyes scanning for Christian.

After a few inquiries with the staff, he finally spotted him—leaning against the wall, headphones on, immersed in conversation with a couple of mechanics.

“Hey! Christian!” Daniel called out, waving as he approached.

Christian looked up and a wide smile spread across his face. He promptly removed the headphones and wrapped his arm around Daniel in a quick embrace, giving him a friendly dab.

“I heard you met Y/N! How was it?” His curiosity was evident, the playful grin never leaving his face.

Daniel's expression shifted slightly, a hint of seriousness clouding his features. “It was worse than I thought,” he started, his voice dropping to a more somber tone.

“She thought I was… Jake. She looked terrified, man. I genuinely felt awful. I think she almost threw up from fear.” He paused, the weight of the moment hanging heavy. “But, I made sure she was alright to race.”

Christian’s brow furrowed, concern replacing the lightheartedness of the previous moment. “Do you think I should get her a therapist?” he asked, his voice tinged with worry.

“Honestly? It’s probably the best option,” Daniel responded. “But let her agree to it. We don’t want to push her into something she’s not ready for.”

Christian nodded slowly, processing the gravity of the situation. His gaze drifted to one of the nearby TV screens, where you were racing across the track.

“She looks strong out there, but I hate that she had to go through that. We need to make sure she feels safe here,” he said, his eyes still glued to the screen, watching her maneuver skillfully through the corners.

“Yeah, I know. She’s tough, but that doesn’t mean we can ignore what happened. It’s a lot, especially for someone new to all of this,” Daniel replied, glancing over at Christian to gauge his reaction.

Christian sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just hard seeing someone go through that, especially when she's part of this team. We want everyone to feel like this is a safe space.”

Daniel nodded in agreement. “You know how it is, Christian. Racing isn’t just about speed; it’s also about the mental edge. If she’s distracted by fear, it could really affect her performance. We’d be doing her a disservice by not addressing it.”

“True,” Christian said, shaking his head slightly. “Maybe I should just have a chat with her, see how she feels after we get home. I don’t want to overstep, but I don’t want to ignore it either.”

“That sounds like a good plan. Just keep it casual; let her know you care,” Daniel encouraged.

“Right. I think she’ll appreciate that. I just hope she opens up,” Christian admitted, his brow still furrowed with concern.

As they spoke, Daniel couldn’t help but admire Christian’s sincerity. It reassured him that they were all in this together, determined to support each other, especially when it mattered most.

With a renewed sense of purpose, they turned their attention back to the race, both feeling a bit more resolute about ensuring you felt supported as you settled into this high-speed world. . . .

The roar of the crowd still echoed in your ears as your car was wheeled back into the garage, the adrenaline of the day coursing through your veins.

You had just finished first in practice, a thrilling outcome that put you ahead of Max, who had come in a respectable third. As you stepped out of the car, you caught sight of Daniel, just as he had promised before racing commenced.

A grin spread across his face, the kind that could light up the darkest days.

"You really took my promise of beating Max seriously," he laughed, giving you a high five that resonated with the excitement of victory.

You accepted the high five, your heart swelling with pride. “Of course! I expect to get what I want later,” you joked, a playful gleam in your eye as you made your way towards the scale for your post-race assessment.

Daniel chuckled, shaking his head. “Just get changed; I have a busy schedule,” he replied, the feigned seriousness in his tone contrasting with the light-hearted atmosphere.

“Alright, just let me get this done,” you called over your shoulder and waited for the team to finish taking data.

Once freed from the technicalities, you slipped away to change into your casual clothes.

Meanwhile, Daniel was already on the move. He made his way to the adjoining garage where Max was still unpacking his equipment, grinning with mischief. The sight of Daniel took Max by surprise.

“Daniel! What are you doing here?” Max exclaimed, rising from a crouched position and dapping him up, clearly thrilled to see his old friend.

“Well, I came to see who the new star is, who is also a big fan of mine. Doesn’t that remind you of someone a few years ago?” Daniel teased, a knowing look in his eyes as he referenced you.

Max’s cheeks flushed a light shade of crimson. “Why did I ever tell you I had a man crush on you back then? You just won’t let it go, will you?” he retorted, a mix of embarrassment and amusement evident in his tone.

“Not a chance! Plus, I’ve become the chaperone for Y/N today; gotta fulfill my duties to the new star,” Daniel added with a wink.

Max’s expression shifted, disappointment flitting across his face. “You’re going out now with her?” he asked, as if the words physically pained him to say.

“Yeah, sorry I stole your crush away. You can have her tomorrow though,” Daniel whispered teasingly, watching Max’s face turn an even deeper shade of red at the implication.

“She’s not my—” Max began, but Daniel interrupted him with a knowing smirk.

“Not your crush? Max, I’ve known you for years now. I think I can tell when you love someone; your eyes can’t hide anything,” Daniel continued, his teasing tone unrelenting.

“But anyways, I’ve got to go. See you tomorrow!” Daniel winked and turned to leave as he headed back to you.

As you finished putting on your casual outfit, you re-entered the garage, feeling like a weight had lifted from your shoulders. You hadn’t just met expectations; you had surpassed them. Just as you stepped out, Daniel was waiting for you with an enthusiastic grin.

“We’ve got plans, superstar.” he exclaimed, pulling you into a celebratory hug.

“Yeah? Where to?” you asked with a playful twist of your mouth.

“Somewhere you can bask in your glory—not to mention, there’s ice cream involved,” he replied, the excitement palpable in his voice.

“Now you’re talking!” you laughed, matching his enthusiasm.

As the two of you headed out of the garage, Daniel turned to you more seriously. “You’ve shown everyone what you’re made of today. Just keep believing in yourself.”

“I won’t let you down, Daniel. Just don’t forget my ice cream,” you shot back with a wink.

As you walked past Max's garage, the atmosphere was thick with the scent of motor oil and burnt rubber. The engines hummed softly in the background, a symphony of machinery that echoed the excitement in the air.

You turned to Daniel, who was bustling beside you, his playful grin a stark contrast to the urgency of the moment.

"So, you thought of a place to go to?" you asked, curiosity bubbling over as you approached the sleek silhouette of his car parked just at the edge of the paddock.

"Well," Daniel began, his eyes sparkling with mischief, "since you can't have too much before your race tomorrow..." He trailed off, his smile widening as he leaned against the driver's side door.

"I thought we could keep it chill. What do you say to a little drive to that beach café? They have the best smoothies!"

You chuckled, shaking your head. "A smoothie? Is that your idea of being 'chill'? You know that if I drink too much, I’ll be a jittery mess for the race!"

"Exactly! A little caffeine shouldn’t hurt." Daniel teased, feigning innocence as he opened the door for you. "Come on! It'll be fun, and I promise I won't let you have more than a few sips."

Sliding into the passenger seat, you rolled your eyes playfully. "You always say that, but your idea of 'just a few sips' usually turns into an all-out feast!"

He laughed, the sound warm and contagious. "Only because you keep insisting on trying everything on the menu! But hey, for the record, I look out for you. Tomorrow’s the big day, and you need to be properly fueled on adrenaline and good vibes, not heavy meals."

You nodded, feeling a spark of excitement at the thought of getting away from the intense atmosphere of the garage, if only for a moment. "Alright, you win this round. Lead the way, Café King."

As the engine roared to life, you felt a sense of relief wash over you. As Daniel kicked the car into gear, the landscape blurred past, and you took a deep breath, letting the tension slip away.

"So, what's your strategy for tomorrow?" Daniel asked, glancing at you with genuine interest as he navigated the winding road.

"Just keep it clean and smooth. I need to stay focused, avoid any unnecessary risks," you replied. "It’s a long race, and I can’t afford to let my excitement get the better of me."

Daniel nodded, his expression turning serious for a brief moment. "That’s smart. Just remember to enjoy it, too. You work hard, and you’ve got the skills. Have faith in yourself."

You turned to him, gratitude swelling in your chest. "Thanks, Daniel. I appreciate you looking out for me."

"Always," he said, a smirk returning to his face. "And besides, if you crash, I might never hear the end of it from Christian!"

With laughter bubbling between you, the tension of the day eased away.

The bell above the door chimed gently as you and Daniel stepped into the cozy café, a hidden gem nestled on a quiet street corner. The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the sweet scent of pastries, creating an inviting atmosphere.

A few scattered tables were filled with patrons enjoying their afternoon indulgences, their laughter mingling with the soft background music.

“Isn’t that Daniel? I haven’t seen you in a while!” yelled the bartender, a lively woman with curly hair and a warm smile, as she waved enthusiastically from behind the counter.

“Yeah, long time no see!” Daniel replied, his face lighting up as he made his way to the bar.

Your curiosity piqued about who this friendly bartender was, as you admired the countless bottles lining the shelves behind her.

“I see you’ve brought a friend,” she said, glancing your way with an inviting smile.

“Hi,” you responded shyly, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness at being in this vibrant café.

“And a lovely friend at that!” The bartender winked at you before turning back to Daniel. “It’s great to see you again. It’s been what, a year? What have you been up to?”

“Oh you know, the usual. Work, travel, and trying to eat my way through every café in town!” Daniel chuckled, leaning against the bar. “But I had to bring her here. I wanted to show her the best smoothies and ice creams in town! I had to come here!”

“Good choice! Our mango smoothie is to die for,” the bartender replied with a grin, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “And don’t even get me started on the chocolate fudge sundae—it's a crowd favorite.”

“Chocolate fudge sundae, huh? I might have to try that,” you chimed in, feeling your mouth water at the thought of such a decadent treat.

“Absolutely!” she exclaimed, grabbing a menu and handing it to you. “You just have to order the sundae with extra fudge. And Daniel, you know I make your favorite coffee, right?”

Daniel nodded, his eyes gleaming with fond memories. “Oh, the caramel macchiato? You know it.”

“Coming right up!” She turned towards the espresso machine with practiced ease, her hands moving swiftly to craft the drinks. You turned to Daniel, feeling a warmth settle in your chest.

“So how do you know her?” you asked, curious about this unexpected reunion and the connections Daniel had in this small town.

“We met a couple of years ago when I first came here,” Daniel explained, resting an arm casually on the counter. “She was working at this café, and we hit it off immediately over a shared love of desserts. Ever since, it’s been my go-to stop for sweet escapes.”

“Sounds like a great friendship,” you said, glancing around the café. The walls were adorned with local art, and the light fixtures hung low, casting a warm glow across the space.

“It is,” he replied, his expression softening. “And now I get to share it with you. You’re going to love it here!”

The bartender returned, placing Daniel’s drink in front of him and yours beside it. “Here you go! One caramel macchiato and a refreshingly fruit-filled mango smoothie. Let me know what you think! And are you ready for the sundae?”

You exchanged glances with Daniel, both of you bursting with anticipation for the dessert you couldn’t resist.

“Absolutely! Bring it on!” Daniel exclaimed, almost like a child at a candy store.

With a laugh, the bartender nodded and disappeared into the kitchen while you and Daniel toasted your drinks and settled into a comfortable conversation.

"So what's been happening with you and Max?" Daniel said in a teasing voice, a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned back in his chair.

You almost spit out the smoothie you were sipping. "What?" you said, trying to play it cool but failing miserably as your cheeks flushed. Daniel was relentless, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Don't try and deny it," he continued, leaning in closer, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "I'm just curious."

You rolled your eyes, feeling the heat rise in your face. "Daniel, I just broke up with my boyfriend a month ago."

"And?" he replied, a knowing look in his eyes. "Max treats you way better than that guy anyways."

You sighed, knowing he had a point. The memory of your previous relationship was still fresh, filled with moments that made you realize how much you deserved more.

"I guess you're right," you admitted reluctantly. "But it's complicated. I just need some space to figure things out."

"Complicated how?" Daniel pressed, tipping back in his chair with a grin that suggested he was enjoying this way too much. "It’s just Max. He’s fun, he’s sweet, and he clearly likes you. What’s there to figure out?”

You stared at him for a moment, contemplating your next words. “I mean, he’s great. But everything feels so... rushed. I’ve just come out of a long relationship. I don’t want to jump into something new too quickly.”

Daniel chuckled, "Well, from what I’ve seen, advice from someone in a committed relationship should be taken with caution, huh?"

You laughed, knowing exactly what he was referencing. Daniel had been with his girlfriend for years, almost to the point where you suspected he might not know what it's like to date casually anymore. “Touché,” you replied, taking another sip of your smoothie to buy yourself some time.

"But look at it this way," he continued, leaning forward, the teasing glint now replaced by genuine concern. "You deserve to be happy, and honestly, Max makes you laugh. I can’t remember the last time you smiled like that."

"Maybe," you conceded, biting your lip. "It’s just difficult to let go of all the baggage. I feel like I’m constantly carrying it around. It gets heavy sometimes."

"I get that," Daniel said more softly. “But isn’t it okay to give yourself a chance to let someone in again? Just take it slow with Max. No pressure, just see where things go.”

You thought about that for a moment. The idea of keeping things light and fun did sound appealing, especially considering how fun it had been hanging out with Max lately. “Maybe I will,” you said finally, a small smile creeping back to your face. “But if it gets messy, I’m blaming you, you know.”

Daniel laughed heartily, the playful banter returning. “Deal! Just keep me updated on this 'epic saga' of you and Max. I’m all ears for the next smoothie chat.”

You shook your head, still chuckling at the absurdity of it all. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

“Always,” he replied with a wink, raising his smoothie in a mock toast. “To new beginnings, then!”

“Y/N, can I talk to you for a second?” Christian asked, his voice pulling you from the carefree playtime with Olivia and Montague. You blinked up at him, a little surprised by the serious tone in his voice.

With a gentle nod, you gestured for Olivia and Montague to continue their game without you, watching as they remained engrossed in their imaginary adventure.

“Yes?” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady despite the unsettling knot that had begun to form in your stomach.

Christian hesitated, his gaze shifting to the ground before he met your eyes again. “Daniel told me what happened before qualifying,” he said slowly, carefully studying your expression for any signs of distress.

A rush of anger welled up inside you. Of course Daniel had told him—you couldn't believe him. He promised he wouldn’t say anything to anyone.

“Don’t blame him; he’s only looking out for you,” Christian continued, his voice softening slightly. “But I wanted to suggest you go to therapy.”

You felt your heart plummet. Therapy? The world seemed to tilt on its axis at the suggestion. It felt like a gaping chasm had opened before you.

Counseling or coaching was what the “crazy” people went to, right?

“Why? I’m okay, I told you,” you argued, the defensiveness creeping into your voice.

Christian’s brow furrowed ever so slightly, his eyes piercing. “Y/N, you thought that Daniel was Jake because he looked mysterious. It’s okay to not be okay.”

His statement hit you like a slap across the face. You crossed your arms defensively, feeling exposed and vulnerable. “That doesn’t mean I need therapy,” you retorted, your voice tinged with desperation.

“I was just a bit confused. That doesn’t mean I’m... broken or whatever.”

“Confusion is a sign,” he replied, surprisingly gentle yet firm. “You’ve been through a lot lately, and you can’t just brush it off. It’s more than just a mix-up with Daniel and Jake; it’s about how you’re processing everything. Therapy can help you untangle those thoughts.”

You looked away, watching Olivia and Montague, their laughter filling the air and pulling at the corners of your lips despite the heaviness in the pit of your stomach.

“I don't need a stranger telling me how to feel,” you said, though your voice lacked conviction.

“Maybe you don’t,” Christian conceded, his tone softening. “But sometimes an outsider can see things you can’t. They can help you make sense of what’s going on in your head and heart. I care about you, Y/N. I’m not trying to push you into something you don’t want; I’m just worried.”

The sincerity in his gaze made you falter. “Worried? Why?” You found yourself searching his expression, looking for the real reason behind his concern.

“You’re my friend as well as one of my drivers,” he replied simply, and the warmth in his voice made your heart ache.

“And I can see you’re struggling, even if you can’t admit it to yourself. Finding someone to talk to could be the first step towards clarity. You don’t have to carry everything alone.”

The thought lingered in your mind, swirling around like leaves caught in a whirlwind. Could it really help? Did you want it to? Your silence seemed to stretch, time slowing as you mulled over his words. 

"No thanks, I'm really okay," you said, diverting your attention back to Olivia and Montague, who were playing with a pile of colorful blocks on the floor.

Christian exhaled softly, his gaze shifting from you to the two kids. "You can’t keep pretending forever, Y/N," he murmured, concern etched deeply across his features. "It’s okay to not be okay. We all go through tough times; it doesn’t make you weak."

You paused, watching as Olivia stacked a block high enough that it wobbled precariously. "I’m not pretending, Christian. I genuinely feel fine. Just... busy, you know?” You couldn’t meet his eyes, focusing instead on the children’s laughter.

"Busy?" he echoed, the skepticism evident in his voice. "Or is it that you're afraid of what you might uncover if you take a moment to actually look inside? Sometimes a distraction is easier than confronting the mess in our heads."

A pang of irritation surged within you. "I know it sounds cliché, but I really am fine. I just have a lot on my plate." You forced a smile, the kind that felt like a mask rather than a reflection of your true feelings. . . .

Christian drove you to the paddock again, the familiar sound of the tires rolling over the gravel a comforting twist of routine. As you stepped out of the car, your eyes immediately sought out Daniel, who was waiting for you, a look of sheepishness plastered across his face.

"Hey, Daniel," you said, crossing your arms and leveling him with a knowing look. “Are you my escort after yesterday?”

“Y/N,” Christian interjected, shooting you a wary glance. “Be nice and remember what I said, okay? I’ll pick up later.”

“Yeah, okay, see you later,” you replied curtly, as you slammed the car door shut. Your heart raced, not entirely sure if it was from the adrenaline of the day or the unsaid tension hanging in the air between you and Daniel.

You walked past him, straight into the paddock with purpose, though you could feel Daniel’s hesitant footsteps trailing behind you. “Y/N, I’m sorry, but I was worried! You can’t blame me for telling Christian,” he insisted, his voice laced with concern.

You held your silence, striding purposefully until you reached your garage, the familiar smell of rubber and metal welcoming you in. Only then did you turn on him, arms still crossed.

“I trusted you,” you accused, narrowing your eyes. “And you just went behind my back and told Christian. Did you tell Max too?”

“What? Of course not!” Daniel shot back defensively, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I only told Christian because of what happened. You threw up because you thought I was someone else; that’s not normal!”

“Normal? What is normal in this life?” you replied bitterly, shaking your head. “You don’t understand, Daniel. That was—” you hesitated, the words catching in your throat as a wave of embarrassment washed over you. “That was an incredible low.”

As the air between you was thick with lingering tension, Daniel stepped closer, his brow furrowing deeply with concern. The way he gently searched your eyes seemed to awaken something buried within you, a mix of frustration and vulnerability that caught you off-guard.

“I get that you’re upset,” he said softly, his voice steady and reassuring like the calm after a storm. “But you have to understand where I was coming from. I thought you might’ve needed help, or I was worried about you.”

His words hung in the air, an earnest plea wrapped in sincerity, yet all they did was amplify your irritation.

Staring back at him, you clenched your fists as you struggled to wrap your head around the very idea that this guy, who had just walked into your life barely a day ago, felt entitled to share concerns about your well-being.

“Worried?” you shot back, disbelief coloring your tone. “You just met me yesterday!” The words tumbled out harsher than you intended, but the sting of his earlier actions still stung, like a bee that wouldn’t let go.

You felt your heart race, torn between anger and an inexplicable sense of connection that made it hard to let go of the moment. Without missing a beat, Daniel regarded you with those soulful eyes, the corners of his mouth curling into a feeble smile that tried to break through the cloud of discontent hanging over both of you.

“Yet I know mostly everything about you,” he argued, scratching his thick curls, a nervous gesture that betrayed his own unease. “Now can we stop arguing? I’m really sorry. Can I give you a hug as an apology?”

There it was, the soft invitation wrapped in a tentative offer—the kind that made your heart flutter and your thoughts race, even as your mind battled against the rising tide of anger.

“...Sure,” you muttered, the word escaping your lips almost as a whisper. The warmth of that fragile agreement filled the space between you for just a moment, but the storm of emotions still raged within.

As he pulled you close, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against yours, you found yourself caught in the tangle of bittersweet sentiments. Daniel settled his chin atop your head, engulfing you in the soft security of his embrace.

A wave of conflicting feelings washed over you, compelling you to melt into his warmth and yet holding you firmly anchored in your discontent.

“You’re still angry at me, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice low and comforting, a stark contrast to the chaos brewing in your chest.

“Yep,” you replied with a half-hearted chuckle, surprising yourself with the softness of your tone.

The honesty in that simple acknowledgment lingered between you like a thread spun delicately between two hearts, each pulse echoing the other’s unspoken fears and hopes.

“That’s fine,” Daniel replied, his voice unfaltering, “as long as you can speak to me, then I’ll wait for you to forgive me.” This resolute patience struck a chord deep within, igniting a flicker of warmth against the cold betrayal of misunderstanding.

"Also, Max wanted to speak to you this morning; I wonder what it's about," Daniel teased, swinging you gently side to side in the warm embrace you shared, the sunlight filtering through the windows and casting a golden hue around you both.

His laughter, light and infectious, seemed to dance in the air, wrapping around your hearts like a forgotten melody, one you wished to hold onto a little longer. But despite the playful banter, your mind drifted like a leaf on a gentle breeze, caught in the weight of unspoken words and lingering glances from Max.

You felt the soft fabric of Daniel's shirt beneath your cheek, the scent of his cologne mingling with the crispness of the morning, giving you a momentary comfort, yet something gnawed at the corners of your thoughts—the urgency of needing to see Max, to understand whatever was troubling him.

"Daniel, you know it’s never going to be like that; he’s worried for me because of what happened," you muttered into his shoulder blade, your voice muffled by the emotional turbulence that threatened to spill over.

You felt the thump of Daniel's heart against your cheek, steady and reassuring, as if he were a solid anchor in a sea of uncertainty. But in that moment, the weight of your words hung heavy between you.

The morning breeze whispered secrets outside while you remained tethered to the collision of your thoughts and feelings, clinging to a fragile hope that perhaps, just perhaps, you could bridge the gap that the past had carved between you and Max.

"Are you sure?" Daniel's question broke through your spiraling thoughts, his tone steeped in a knowing warmth, as if he possessed insight into your heart that you yourself had yet to uncover.

In an instant, your gaze flickered to Daniel, seeking reassurance, yearning for affirmation that your feelings were not just fanciful dreams but a deeply embedded reality.

"Yeah," you replied softly, yet a flicker of doubt lingered behind your words, coloring them with a complexity you wished could be as simple as the glances shared between you and Max.

You pulled back from the comforting embrace, the cool air catching your breath as you noticed the question hanging unspoken between you.

It was as if the moment stretched beyond reality, each subtle shift in Daniel's expression illuminating the bond that had blossomed amidst the chaos, a bond that was both fragile and resilient.

"Well, just in case you go alone, in case I ruin his big confession for you," Daniel quipped lightly, a spark of mischief igniting in his brown eyes that seemed to bubble forth like champagne in celebration.

It offered a reprieve from the heaviness of the moment, painting a smile across your lips, albeit reluctantly. You could almost feel the warmth radiating from his presence, calming the whirlwind of thoughts in your head.

You took a step back, allowing a gentle sigh to escape your lips as you released the tension in your shoulders, yet your heart raced with anticipation.

"See you soon Daniel," you said, brushing your hair behind your ear, unwilling to linger any longer in this uncertainty.

Your feet carried you toward Red Bull's hospitality room, each step embedding the mix of hope and trepidation deeper into your core.

The vibrant energy of the working teams around you drifted in and out of focus, but your thoughts were solely consumed by Max and the unanswered questions that hung between you like a fragile thread waiting to snap.

The vibrant colors of the team’s uniforms blurred into a watercolor of emotion, each shade whispering tales of romance and camaraderie that resonated with your own heart.

When you reached the hospitality room and inquired with the staff, you felt the fluttering of hope as you searched their faces for familiarity.

"Hey, have you seen Max?" you asked, your heart racing as each voice faded into uncertainty.

The words rolled off your tongue, infused with both urgency and a hint of naivety, yet your heart sank slightly at their vacant expressions.

They exchanged glances, uncertainty casting shadows over their eyes, and your heart quickened—a thump louder than the crowd, resonating with the anxiety that had begun to inch its way into your mind, echoing louder than the chaotic atmosphere surrounding you.

As you wandered through the empty corridor, your mind was ablaze with mixed emotions. The silence was deafening, only interrupted by the soft shuffling of your own footsteps.

Suddenly, you spotted Max's father, Jos, leaning against the wall with an air of arrogance that set your teeth on edge.

Your history had been less than friendly; ever since he had pressured Max to ignore you, labeling you as a 'distraction,' your encounters had been fraught with tension.

Each time your paths crossed, you felt his death stare piercing through me, a reminder of the barriers he had tried to instill between his son and you.

You hesitated for a moment, weighing your options. It would be easy to just turn back, to retreat from this confrontation, but your resolve had strengthened since Max and you reconnected.

There was nowhere else to go, and you had no interest in prolonging this awkward moment. You decided to focus straight ahead and walk past him, deliberately avoiding any eye contact.

But your silence seemed to aggravate him.

"Verdomde teef," Jos muttered under his breath, convinced that you had either not heard him or that your grasp of Dutch was limited to pleasantries. Fucking bitch.

However, thanks to Max, you recognized the phrase all too well.

You spun around, your heart racing yet emboldened. "Een paar laten groeien," you fired back, a smirk creeping onto your face as Jos' jaw dropped in shock. Grow a pair.

"Your son teaches me Dutch, klootzak," you spat, relishing the way the insult rolled off your tongue. His face contorted in anger, a deep flush creeping up his cheeks.

"What did you just call me?" he seethed, his hands balling into fists at his sides, knuckles whitening with barely contained rage.

You leaned in closer, meeting his gaze with defiance. "A ‘klootzak,’ it means bastard if you didn’t know. That's right, Jos. Just what you are. Your little choice to push me away from Max won’t work. He’s not a child anymore, and neither am I."

"Stay away from my son," he warned, stepping closer into your personal space, a smoldering intensity radiating off him like heat from a fire. “I’ll do everything in your power to keep you out of his life.”

“You don’t get to dictate who is in his life, Jos. He’s made his choice, and you will learn to respect it. I’m tired of your intimidation tactics,” you countered, matching his aggression step for step as you took a firm stand.

“Intimidation? You think you frighten me?” Jos scoffed, but you could see a flicker of doubt in his eyes. “You are nothing to me, just a fleeting annoyance.”

Your eyes caught the glimmer of a security camera mounted in the corner of the corridor, a hidden witness to your escalating confrontation.

You knew he couldn’t do anything too drastic without putting his own reputation on the line.

“More like you’re nothing to your son. You’ve already failed as a father,” you shot back, your voice steady and unyielding.

That seemed to be the final straw. Jos’ face twisted with anger, and without warning, he raised his hands toward me. Your breath caught in your throat.

Time seemed to slow as the memories of your ex-boyfriend's violent outbursts invaded your mind, sending a chill through your spine.

You instinctively raised your arms to shield your head, every muscle in your body tensing in anticipation of a punch.

And then it happened—a sharp pain surged through your body, a strong punch that sent a jolt of adrenaline coursing through your veins. You stood there, breathless and bewildered.

The world around you faded, and you concentrated on the looming dread of what could come next.

But your moment of despair was cut short as you heard hurried footsteps approaching, followed by a gasp.

You lowered your arms cautiously and was greeted by the sight of Max standing defiantly between Jos and you. His expression was intense, protective, and full of authority.

"I suggest you get out of here before I call security," Max's voice cut through the air like a knife. "There’s already a camera on you, and I could charge you for assault if she wants to." His hand reached back toward yours, a silent offer of protection.

"She started it," Jos lied, glancing nervously at the camera, but his bravado was starting to falter. "That bitch—"

"If I see you near her ever again, I will press charges myself," Max warned, his grip firm as he took your hand. He led you away toward his driver’s room, taking strides that seemed to echo in the charged atmosphere.

You couldn’t find my voice, your mind still racing from the events that had just unfolded.

Once inside, the door clicked shut, and you finally felt a momentary sense of safety but still held in a bubble of disbelief. “Are you okay?” Max asked, his voice softer now, like a balm on a fresh wound.

You let out a shaky breath. "I’m sorry," you muttered, as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “This is all my fault.”

“Sorry for what?” Max pressed gently, his expression shifting from concern to something warmer, softer. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You were defending yourself.”

His words wrapped around you like a safety net, but still, the guilt gnawed at your insides, sharp and unyielding.

“I just—I don’t know how I let it get so out of hand. I should have walked away. I shouldn’t have let him provoke me,” you admitted, staring down at your trembling hands.

Max stepped closer, his presence a mix of strength and warmth. “Trust me, he’s been like this for all of my life now. I… I just didn’t think he would hit you. I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper.

The sincerity in his tone made you glance up, meeting his gaze. “You don’t have anything to apologize for, Max. You didn’t do this. I—”

“But I wasn’t there to protect you,” he interjected, frustration creeping into his voice. “This is the second time now this has happened to you. I promised to protect you. I should have seen it coming. I should have done something.”

You took a breath, cupping his face in your hands. The warmth radiating from his skin contrasted sharply with the chill of the night air.

“Max, you are not like your father. You are not Jos,” you reassured him, searching his eyes for any flicker of understanding.

He shook his head vehemently, anger and sorrow dancing in his expression. “How can you say that? I’m his son! I carry his blood. Just the thought of being anything like him… it makes me sick. I thought I’d left that behind, but these moments prove I can’t escape it. What if I end up hurting you too?”

“Stop it!” you urged, your voice breaking, a mix of frustration and concern. “You’re not him. You’re nothing like him. You fought against that legacy every day, Max. You’re kind, you’re protective in a good way… and you care! That’s the person you are, not your father.”

Max’s shoulders slumped, the weight of your words settling between you. “It doesn’t change the fact that he hit you. I should have done something. I should have warned you, warned everyone. I need to—”

“Max, listen to me!” you interrupted, desperate for him to understand. “You can’t control what he does. You’re not responsible for him. All you can do is be the person you choose to be. You’re not to blame for his actions; you didn’t pull the trigger on that.”

He looked away, his jaw tightening as he processed your words. The weight of the situation wrapped around him like a heavy fog, fogging his mind with guilt and concern.

He finally nodded, a reluctant acceptance of your words, though doubt still clouded his expression. “I just want you to be safe.”

You placed a hand on his shoulder, grounding him. “I am safe, Max, because of you. You saved me, thank you,” you whispered, wiping the sweat that dripped down his forehead.

Max’s gaze flickered to the ground, and you could see the internal struggle painting his features. “Can... can I see where he hit you?” he asked hesitantly, bravery faltering in his voice.

“Only if you don’t tell our boss,” you teased lightly, trying to diffuse the heavy atmosphere with a little humor. “I want to race today.”

But Max remained serious, his brows knitted in concern. “This isn’t a joke. You could have been seriously hurt.” The intensity of his voice sent a shiver through you, and you couldn’t help but notice how fiercely protective he was becoming.

“Okay, okay. Just don’t make a big deal out of it,” you replied, lifting your shirt slightly to reveal the bruise forming on your side.

The marbled skin was a mottled combination of purples and blue, evidence of the altercation. You winced slightly as the cool air brushed against the tender spot.

Max slowly lifted his arm, his fingers hesitantly reaching for your waist where Jos had struck you. “Tell me if it hurts,” he instructed, his voice low and filled with a mix of concern and determination.

“It stings a bit, but I’ll survive. I promise,” you assured him, trying to maintain a light-hearted tone. As his fingertips touched your skin, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of emotions.

Conflicted feelings about how one moment could shift between fear and gratitude, anger and affection.

“I don’t know how to handle this,” Max confessed, his brow furrowing deeper. “I keep replaying it in my head, imagining what I should have done differently. If only I had been faster, if only I'd been there sooner—”

“Max, stop,” you interjected softly, placing your hand over his to stop his gentle probing. “You can’t keep torturing yourself with ‘what ifs’. It was out of your control. You can’t guard me from everything, and you shouldn’t have to. Just be here with me now, okay?”

He sighed heavily, pulling his hand back but leaving a lingering warmth behind. “I know it sounds selfish, but I just can’t bear the thought of something worse happening to you. I’d never forgive myself.”

You took a deep breath, attempting to bridge the emotional gap. “Max, you’re here now. You don’t know how much that means to me. You fought for me. You stood up when it mattered. That’s something to hold onto. I’m lucky to have you by my side.”

His gaze softened slightly, a flicker of hope igniting behind the ocean of doubt. “Just promise me you’ll be careful,” he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I promise,” you replied, sealing the promise with a firm nod. “And if I need help, I’ll tell you. I won’t keep anything from you.”

For the first time that day, a smile broke across his face, albeit shaky. “Okay, let’s get ready for the race. We’ll leave all this behind for a few hours. Just put some ice on it before racing.”

As you raced around the track, a sensation of freedom mingling with the adrenaline coursing through your veins. Yet, beneath that thrill, the agonizing throb in your waist from the punch you had received earlier.

You chose to suppress the discomfort, your focus locked onto the track before you. Each turn demanded your complete attention, the adrenaline pushing you to ignore the pain gnawing at your side, a sharp reminder that in this high-octane world, every moment counted.

With every twist and turn, you felt the strain deepen, but you pressed on, knowing that the ice pack you had applied before getting in the car had dulled the worst of it.

Crossing the finish line, the satisfaction of securing third place in the qualifying round briefly overshadowed the agony that surged anew with each hard turn you had navigated.

As you leaped from the vehicle, your heart still pounding with excitement and effort, you caught sight of Max standing there, his hair disheveled.

He had taken off his helmet, revealing the genuine worry etched across his features as he approached you, his footsteps purposeful on the polished asphalt.

“Are you okay? I heard you were having trouble in the car,” Max asked, his voice laced with concern, eyes sharp as they searched yours for any sign of pain.

There was something about his presence, an unspoken bond that connected the two of you, making the ache in your side seem both distant and immediate at the same time.

He stood there, a pillar of strength and support, and you found that you couldn’t lie to him, not after everything you had shared.

“Just the hard turns were bad on the bruise,” you admitted, acknowledging the discomfort that swirled within you like the dust from the track.

Max stepped closer, the warm glow of the afternoon sun casting a golden light on him.

“You really gave it your all out there. I saw how you handled those turns. It’s no easy feat, especially with a bruise like that,” he said, admiration lacing his words.

A shy smile tugged at your lips, his praise wrapping around you like a cozy blanket, easing the pain, if only for a moment. His presence was comfort, a balm that quieted the storm of thoughts racing through your mind.

“Do you want to rest for a bit after this? We can grab something to eat, and I can help with the ice again if you need,” he suggested, the offer hanging in the air between you, filled with unspoken understanding and a desire to protect. . . .

"Y/N, I need to show you something," Christian's voice drifted through the air, drawing you away from the laughter of the two children, their joy briefly flickering out as they realized your attention had shifted.

Excusing yourself with a gentle smile, you made your way to the living room, heart already quickening at the serious tone that laced his words.

Standing close to him as he sat on the edge of the sofa, you felt a rush of concern wash over you; there was a gravity in the air that seemed charged with unspoken tension.

"Yes, Christian?" you inquired softly, your brows knitting together in worry as you searched his eyes for answers. He looked up at you, his expression unreadable, and you feared the weight of what he was about to reveal.

"Jake has been arrested."

The words landed between you like a stone, and shock coursed through your veins, quickly morphing into a reluctant relief that you couldn't quite wrap your head around.

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, you simply stood there absorbing the implications. Jake—your former boyfriend—arrested? It should have felt like liberation, but the way Christian’s face twisted into an expression of outrage puzzled you.

“So why do you look angry? Isn’t that a good thing?” Your voice was hesitant, unsure, as you sought to make sense of this unexpected news.

Christian didn't respond directly; instead, he reached for the remote and, with a click, unpaused the television. Instantly, the familiar hum of the news played, and you leaned forward, drawn into the screen as the reporter's voice echoed ominously throughout the room.

"Breaking news! Y/N L/N's boyfriend, Jake was arrested this afternoon. We haven’t received any reasons why, but someone recorded the interaction and posted it on social media."

The words wrapped around you like a shroud, and you felt your heartbeat quicken once more, your palms clammy against your sides. The screen changed, and there he was—Jake, looking not like the same person who had once held you with love, but rather a fragment of a nightmare that you struggled to awaken from.

His eyes, once filled with warmth, were now dark and hollow, filled with anger and bitterness that sent a shiver down your spine.

The police were gripping his arms tightly, their expressions stoic as he struggled against their hold, but all that struck you most was how lost he seemed, how desperate his plea was.

"I’m innocent! I was cheated on by Y/N with Max Verstappen! She left me for this other guy. It’s all her fault. She slept with him when we were dating! I'm innocent! Please!"

[kimuzostar]

YOU CAN'T HIDE ii

⊱ bountyhunter!terry x black fem reader ⊰ ⊱ warnings: 18+, smut, degradation kink, pregnancy scare, mention of clinic visit, slight choking, stalking aspects, slight dom!terry and more i forgot ⊰ ⊱ probably the last part for this, i don't know... writing smut scares me because i'm bad at it ⊰ enjoy

A few weeks have passed of you being on the run. The media coverage of the robbery had died down; yet you were still on edge. 

Not about the robbery but about him.

“When I catch you again, I won’t be as nice.”

 His words replayed over and over in your head. You felt them deep in your stomach, just like his di-

No, no, no. You will not allow a man to be the proprietor of your downfall. 

After he left, you gathered your things and immediately headed for the nearest bus station. You brought a ticket to Arondale, another small town about four hours away. You needed to put distance between the two of you. 

As you boarded the bus, you had an eerie feeling of being watched. You turn and see a truck. His truck. 

Its lights cut on and it rapidly sped off in the opposite direction. 

You let out a sigh of relief. 

Now you could live in peace….. or so you thought. 

You were currently bent over the toilet of your dingy motel room. The entire contents of your stomach emptied out before you. 

For the last 5 or so days, you’ve been unable to hold down any food, certain smells cause you to gag, and you’ve been over emotional about every little thing. 

The tenant next door was not being of any help as he didn’t seem to know how to lower his volume. Constantly playing loud music and talking loudly. Every time you went to complain, he would get quiet and not answer his door. 

The one time you did see him, his back was turned to you as he got in his car. You wish you would’ve saw his face so you could flip it off. 

You were trying not to think the worst, brushing it off to a persistent stomach bug. But your period was late and that wasn’t making anything more comforting. 

“There’s no fucking way!”, you whisper to yourself. 

There’s no way you could possibly be pregnant by a man you don’t even know. A man whose face you’ve never even seen. You didn’t need any of this right now. 

Gathering yourself, you pull up to look in the mirror. Your curly hair wild, eyes shadowed with bags and your plump lips were chapped. You were a mess. 

You needed a pregnancy test. There was a small market across the street. You gathered your jacket and headed out. 

-

The market was stocked; having every essential one might need. 

You grabbed a buggy. You were going to get everything you needed so if you get the worst, you wouldn’t have to come out for a while. 

As you turn down one of the aisles, you bump into someone. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you,” you say. 

Looking up, you see it’s your loud next door tenant. He’s wearing shades with the biggest shit eating grin on his face. A perfect set of 32s. 

“That’s no bother, just don’t do it again,” he replies. 

Already aggravated, you didn’t have the energy to play into his games. You continue along the aisle, paying him no more attention. 

Scanning the items, you finally find what you’re looking for; a clear blue pregnancy test. You grab it, biting your lower lip out of nervousness. 

Taking a step backwards, you run into what feels like a brick wall. A pair of arms surround you, the hands covering yours over the test. They lift them so the owner can take a closer look. 

“A pregnancy test. Who dis fa?”, the person says. 

You push back, turning to see who it is. 

It’s the tenant again. 

“Don’t fucking touch me and it’s none of your fucking business.”

He laughs, taking off his shades to get a better look at you. 

“I think it’s a lot of my business considering I could be a daddy.”  

Fuck, those eyes. 

It was him. The bounty hunter. 

Terry stood before you, smiling so big that his eyes disappeared. His hair was cut low, his skin bronzed by the sun. 

He was beautiful. 

You were frozen, unable to properly process what was going on. You wanted to run but your body wouldn’t move. You have many questions but your mouth wouldn’t move. 

“You look surprised. What’s wrong?”, he says jokingly. 

You finally get the push to speak. 

“You’re not the only person I’ve been with so you’re probably not the father”, you lie. 

Terry raises one of his eyebrows. “Is that so?”, he says. 

“Yes, so you can go away now”, you reply. 

“Nah, I’m curious about the results. Let's get back to your room”, he says walking towards the registers.

Your shoulders sunk. There was no way of this. 

-

Terry watched every step of you take your test; standing in the bathroom doorway like a bouncer. 

You avoided eye contact, feeling vulnerable about the current situation. 

“What does it say?”, he asks. 

“I don’t know, the instructions say there’s a 20 minute wait,” you reply. 

He sighs, looking up at the ceiling in thought. 

“What should we name it? I’m thinking Junior for a boy and Jasmi for a girl”, he says, smiling. 

You scoff. 

“You have lost your black ass mind if you think I’m having a baby with you. Plus, you don’t even know if this is your baby. The only thing I’m worried about is what clinic I need to go to”, you say. 

You peek at him through your lashes. He stood arms crossed, no longer smiling. You could cut the tension with a knife. 

“I’ve been watching you for weeks. There is no other man”, he says. 

“How did you find me? I left Springville weeks ago, it should’ve been impossible for you to find me here.”

Terry smiles, a laugh erupting deep from within his chest. 

“I never stopped following you, you’re just too fucking stupid to realize it. I followed your bus all the way here. I’ve been staying next door the whole time.”, he chuckles. 

You stood there dumbfounded. The clogs in your brain jammed and you were unable to produce a coherent thought. 

The loud music, the loud talking, the man entering the car. All him. 

“Are you actually insane? Do you not hear how ridiculous you sound? What’s not clicking?”, you say. 

Terry’s brows furrowed in genuine confusion. 

“Why are you so mad? I never told you I was going to leave you alone. I said when I catch you, not if I catch. You’re my problem until I feel you’re sorted out,” he says. “You were warned yet you still can’t hide.”

He stepped towards you. You step back and he follows you until you hit the wall. He leans down, his lips brushing your ear. You shiver at the contact. 

“Do I scare you?”, he asks, tracing a circle on your hip. 

Feigning dominance, you respond, “No, I’m not scared of you.”

You were definitely afraid of him. 

“I’m not afraid of a bubbling moron that goes around stalking people, unable to act like an adult,” you continue. 

You see Terry’s shoulders shake with a silent laugh. He pulls back, trailing the hand on your hip up to your neck. He wraps it around, squeezing slightly. You can feel your nipples harden through your shirt. 

”As long as you’re here, I won’t ever leave you alone. Deal with it”, he says. 

The statement causes you to look down at the floor. The thought of him bothering you forever was too much to bear. 

Terry lifts your chin so you can meet his eyes. You’re stuck, unable to look away; almost like you were being hypnotized. 

He kisses you, his mouth engulfing yours. His lips were so soft, citing a moan from you. His hands slide their way to your butt. He squeezes, pulling you flesh against his body. 

He picks you up, walking you over to the bed. He places you down, still not breaking the kiss. 

Your tongues fight for power, neither of you wanting to fall to the other. 

“Take these off”, he says tugging at your pants. 

You oblige, removing your shirt, pants and underwear. He does the same, allowing you to finally get a good look at his body. 

He was chiseled by the gods. His shoulders were large, coupled with a six pack and a deep v-line leading down to a hung dick. 

Terry hovers over you, settling his face in the crook of your neck to inhale your scent. His fingers begin to rub up and down your pussy, softly grazing over your clit. 

He plunges two fingers in you. He licks from your collarbone to the shell of your ear. He gives it a kiss. 

“Still as tight as last time. There’s no way somebody else been in here,” he teases in your ear. 

“Would’ve been better than you anyways,” you reply. 

Terry freezes. He pulls his fingers out of you, lifting his head up to stare in your eyes. The stoic expression is back. 

Uh oh. 

He sits back, using your hips to flip you on your stomach. His hands find your hair and he pushes your face into the mattress. He straddles you, his other hand on your back.  You can feel his dick resting on your ass. 

“I’ve been being really nice. I don’t appreciate all this back talk,” he says. 

“If you stop talking so much shit then maybe we wouldn’t have that problem,” you reply. 

Terry pushes you further into the mattress, leaning in closer to your face. 

“Apologize and mayb-“, he starts. 

“Fuck you”, you spit, cutting him off. 

With no warning, he slams into you, taking a pause so you can adjust around him. 

His grip loosens from your hair, wrapping it around to cover your mouth. He lowers the rest of his body on you, trapping you between him and the mattress. 

“You don’t know how to shut up and be a good girl. Always got that bitchy attitude. That’s ok, I can fix that”, he says with a smile. 

He begins to thrust into you, hard. The position made it feel like he was poking your lungs. 

“Can’t nobody fuck this pussy like I can.”

He would pull up, only leaving the tip; rolling his hips, before thrusting back in. He kept moving over your spot; it felt like scratching an itch slowly.

“Talking all that big shit, say something now,” he urges, removing his hand. 

All you could respond with was a moan. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t form any words. He was fucking you dumb. 

You began to pant, feeling out of breath; that familiar knot growing in your stomach. 

Terry shifts, the change of angle reaching a new dept within you. 

“Cumming,” you say with an exasperated sigh. He continued to fuck you through it, making it feel like it was going on forever. 

“That’s what I thought”, he says. 

Terry flips over to his side, taking you with him. He grabs the back of your knee, pulling it up to your ear. He slides back into you, feeling even deeper than before. 

“Ah, fuck, that feels so fucking good”, you say. 

“You are mine, this pussy is mine, all MINE. You belong to me,” he growls, planting a kiss on your knee.  

You nodded. The words sounding like music to your ears. If this was the kind of dick you’d get everyday, you thought it wouldn’t be too bad. Besides, you know he wasn’t going to leave you alone anytime soon. Especially if you had a baby on the way. 

“You will be a slut for me, whether you like it or not  

He kept slamming into, never letting up. His free hand grabs your neck, pulling you closer to his face. You felt the warmth of his breath on your skin. 

“I’m gonna cum again”, you say. 

“Let it go, wet that dick up”, he replies. 

With that, you let go, screaming to the heavens. Terry follows closely behind. You feel him tense up as he paints your walls white. 

The two of you are a mess of sweat and deep breaths. Terry pulls out of you, looking down at the art he created. He gives a playful slap to your ass cheek.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”, he says.

You roll your eyes, getting a chuckle out of him. 

He gets up, heading to the bathroom to check on the test. 

“Oh look”, he says flashing it to you, “it’s negative”.

-

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @skvrpion @avoidthings @jimmybutlrr @persethegawd @nayaesworld @mymindisneverhere @theereina @thabiddie23 @planetblaque @megamindsecretlair @melaninpov @madamzola @literallegendicon @blyffe

[mind-intheclouds342]

A new ladder - Reader x Curly

BEFORE I START

Yes, another story of Curly. What can i do? I love him.

THIS IS ALL INSPIRED BY THIS AWESOME ARTIST THAT I FOUND ON TIKTOK

btw the curly of this story will kook like this so you can already imagine him.

The user is ladonb.kokosa

PLEASE GO CHECK THEIR ART ITS WONDERFUL

That being said. Lets get start with

Part 1 - Next

"Cryostasis ended"

"His vital signs are stable"

"Who could it be?"

"Disinfect the wounds"

"There are no more survivors"

"They authorized us to give him the implant."

The man could hear several voices in the distance, he saw silhouettes, shadows, he couldn't distinguish the people around him.

He felt them putting a mask on him to anesthetize him, and everything went dark again.

When he woke up, he saw a woman checking his signs, and he was astonished to recognize her despite some of her physical changes.

She was his fiancée, the woman he was supposed to marry after that trip.

Why did she look like that? She seemed older, but in his sigth, she remained beautiful.

He made some sounds to get her attention, causing her to turn and look at him. She approached and pressed something on his neck.

Curly: "Linda..."

Linda: "...No... Tell me it's not you..."

The woman immediately stepped back, covering her mouth, unable to believe what she was seeing.

She didn't recognize the man laying in that bed in front of her, and she prayed so hard that he wasn't the man she was going to marry, but the fact that he recognized her confirmed her fear.

He could understand the terror on her face, but he didn't know there was something else he didn't know.

She took a deep breath and set her fear aside, sitting next to the man.

Linda: "Curly... If it really is you..." she said, still holding out a small hope that it wasn't him, "You were cryogenically frozen for 20 years... They rescued you because the Tulpar re-entered orbit near Earth before running out of energy, they were able to detect it and bring it back without causing damage, and that's how they found you inside... You have been in the hospital for two weeks today..."

He wanted to laugh as if what he was being told was a bad joke, it couldn't have been that long, right?

But looking closely at her, the small wrinkles now on her face and the few gray hairs she had showed her that she was real.

Linda: "They didn't find any more survivors and... The same press has taken care of paying your medical expenses because they want to hear your story... You have an implant in your neck so you can speak, a voice box, you have to press it if you have difficulties but in a while you won't need to do it anymore... and they did a skin graft... Including some prosthetics..."

She carefully took the prosthetics of his arms and raised them so he could see them, Curly felt like a completely different being.

Linda: "I recommend that you ask for what you want now because... As soon as they find out you're awake... They're going to bombard you with questions and the press will come here, they won't show any mercy."

The man tried to raise the prosthesis and pressed his implant on his neck to be able to speak.

Curly: "What about us?"

Linda: "Oh Curly..." she sighed, "When you didn't come back, I thought the worst... That you were dead... I just keep going with my life... I married someone else, I have two children... There is no longer an 'us'."

Before he could say anything else, a reporter peeked in and made a fuss upon seeing him awake; the place filled up in seconds.

The woman lowered her head and left the room in search of security to throw out the press, but the harassment didn't end there.

Curly chose to give them the answers to the questions they had by scheduling a meeting at the hospital.

Thanks to this, many people started donating things to him, including money to help him reintegrate into society.

But beyond the kindness of people, no one wanted to take care of him and help him, not even the nurses, they said they couldn't spend too much time near him.

Linda took care of him during his stay in the hospital while they fixed up his house that had been left abandoned.

Linda: "I found someone who can take care of you."

She commented while pushing his wheelchair, entering his house, that it looked completely renovated.

Linda: "I don't know if you still remember that I mentioned my younger sister, (Y/n), a couple of times?"

Curly: "The one who lived with your father?"

Linda: "That's right... My mom got full custody of her after a few years, and since then she has been living with her until she became independent shortly after turning 18..." 

Curly: "She was 12 back then..."

Linda: "She recently lost her job, I thought it would be a good opportunity for her. She is very responsible, I promise."

When they arrived in the room, he could see a woman standing and looking at the paintings hanging on the walls.

He had never met his fiancée's sister, but he had heard many stories about her, about how her father unjustly gained custody by labeling their mother as crazy, and since then they had fought to get the girl back.

He had been struck by how incredibly different she was from her sister; you two didn't seem related at all.

Linda: "Good thing you were already here," she mentioned with a smile to catch your attention. 

When you turned to look at them, Curly didn't expect such seriousness from you towards your older sister. 

"...Thank you for the job opportunity, I will do my best to help you," you mentioned, looking at the man, ignoring the woman. 

Linda: "Let me show you where everything is-"

"I've already been getting familiar with the place, it's not necessary, you can go."

Linda: "At least let me tell you which medications you should-"

"You have already sent me a message with clear instructions. I can do this, Lin."

Curly: "You should be more respectful to your older sister."

Upon hearing him speak, you turned to look at him again, without any expression. 

"...Lin"

Linda: "I'll leave, there is no problem. I'm sure you've already memorized everything to the letter. If you have any problem, don't hesitate to call me."

She indicated, she didn't want to make a scene and left without even saying goodbye to either of them. 

"...So you are Curly... It's a pleasure to meet you, I hope we get along well."

You had already made a bad first impression on Curly by treating the love of his life so poorly. 

"Lin left your pill organizer with me, and gave me the schedule for them, it's time for the first pill."

You took a bottle and opened it to take a pill, causing the man to tense up a bit as he remembered moments when he was given his painkillers.

Noticing his nervousness, you tilted your head somewhat confused and went to get something to drink so he could take the pill. 

What a surprise he got when you brought him a cup of chocolate along with the pill. 

"When I was little... I didn't know how to swallow pills, I would choke, so I would bite them... My dad used to give me pills with chocolate milk so I wouldn't have a bad taste in my mouth, don't you like the taste of the pills? These can be very bitter..." 

He thought it was very kind of you to consider that, immediately regretting having judged you without knowing anything about you. 

You helped him take the pills, giving him chocolate to drink slowly, it really helped with the bitter taste. 

Maybe... you weren't so bad.

[everywherea11thetime]

Cady girl

cadygirl! reader x lando norris

summary: you usually hated being a cady girl but a certain boy changed that

a/n: reallyyy super short fic that came into my mind like an hour ago. enjoy! xx

☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾

Being a cady girl wasn't fun most of the time, 18-year-old trust fund kids thought that they could say whatever they wanted to you and give you the lowest of low tips. But it did have its ups, like the pay or like when a cute guy would come up to you but it usually always ended in him showing no interest in you or secretly being a freak. Today was one of those times, let's just hope it goes well

A man had waved you down mentally rolling your eyes because he just gave off gross rich boy vibes but when he opened his mouth you were surprised to hear a “can I just have a coke and water please” and not “are you offering any other things that aren't on the menu” accompanied with a disgusting smirk and a peak up your skirt. You looked schocked for a bit but then hopped off to get his things. “Okay that will be 9.75” you said with a smile that hadn't crossed your face in a long time, it was a genuine and nice smile. His friend said something that you couldn't hear and the cute boy replied with a look down at his golf cart and and laughed “chat stop” “sorry huh” you asked. He looked up cheeks bright red “oh sorry I'm live streaming and my chat said that you were cute” you let out a knowing “ohhh, well tell them I said thank you” and started to climb back into your cart “its true ya know” you turned around and smiled “oh really” he put his head down while stuffing his hands in his pockets and nodded shyly “yea of course, your gorgeous” “thank you” you felt your cheeks warm up and started to drive away

2 hours later you were still thinking about the cute boy you served but tried pushing the thought away thinking you'd never see him again. Deep in your thoughts suddenly the sound of an engine catches your attention you turn around and see the cute boy from earlier. He walks up to you “Hey so you can totally tell me to go fuck off but could I get your number so maybe we could go on a date or something?” extending his phone out to you. God you never thought you would be excited that a golf boy was hitting on you “yea, of course, I’d love to!” you said as you typed your number into his phone “Thanks by the way I’m Lando” you smile “my names y/n” “cute name to match the cute face.” you laugh shyly as he starts to speak again “so what days do you have off, so we can hang out” “I only work on weekends and fridays, so any other day is good” he nods reassuringly “ok so how about coffee at the cafe like two blocks down on Monday?” you’d seen the coffee place and has been meaning to go get never ended up going through with it “yea actually I’d love that I’ve been meaning to go” “nice I’ve been meaning to go too! I’ll see you Friday, it’s a date” Lando said with a smile then walked away He was the cutest boy you’d ever seen. And from that moment on you knew you were doomed.

[lunarmoves]

who i see, looking back at me (ch3)

pairing: sebastian solace x reader

mentions: post-urbanshade fic, no use of y/n or pronouns, u are his partner <3, hallucinations, non-sexual intimacy, yearning the yearning!!, touch aversion, hurt/comfort, tentative reconnecting, mild dissociating :)

a/n: i lied btw, there are now 5 chapters instead of 4. if u guys see the number increase again, know it was against my will. the characters do whatever tf they want, apparently. anyways, this chapter simultaneously feels like so much happens and also nothing at all. have fun!

word count: 12.3k+

masterlist | part two

ao3 link

You dreamt of a face, looming over your own as you laid supine on something soft. 

Everything felt muddled—like you were sunk deeply underwater and still continued onward in your neverending descent. Details eluded you. Any sharp edges or angles were softened into nebulous clouds of seafoam green and teal, with light that gently painted the planes of your face in a tender touch. A quiet pressed along the sides of your head, stifling in its presence. You could not move. You were weighed down by something you could not define, your vision hazy and unfocused. 

When you closed your eyes, the backs of your eyelids felt like they were awash in blue. Blue, blue, blue. Infinite, it seemed. Just like the ocean, a distant part of you thought.

You breathed in and out. Calm. Quiet. Then, you opened your eyes. Properly, this time.

The ceiling of your room was coated in shadows broken apart only by a fragile light coming from your slightly parted curtains. You stared, gaze half-lidded, up at it. Not really seeing it. Not really processing. Distantly, you could feel the pull of sleep once more. But you could not bring yourself to return to it. Could not manage to fall back into a slumber even if you tried. 

So you dragged yourself up until you were sitting in bed, blanket sprawled across your legs. Your upper body slumped like you were a puppet cut from its strings. And you just stared forwards. 

Sebastian—fake Sebastian, not real Sebastian—stared back. 

You didn’t move a muscle. You only watched him—unblinking, eyelids heavy like they were weighed. There was something rooting you to your bed, a heavy pit in your gut that made it difficult to do anything other than stare. 

It was quiet. So, very, quiet. 

“Why are you still here?” you murmured after what felt like hours and hours of sitting there. Dawn had long passed, the bright light of the sun poking its way into your room to splay across the floor. You blinked slowly at him—nonchalant as he was where he stood across from the foot of your bed all this time.

His gaze lowered as his smile widened to show off each and every one of his teeth. It was not a kind look. A chill ran its fingers down your spine. 

“You know why,” was all he said. He continued to stare at you, his hands tucked inside his pockets. Waiting, almost. Maybe even expectantly. 

Your jaw tensed and when you swallowed, you could feel the dryness of your throat. Your gaze flicked over to your closed bedroom door, then back at him again. You did not like this.

“I’m working on it,” you whispered, momentarily closing your eyes so you could grip at the unsteady pieces of yourself and pull them together. Even now, you could still see all that blue, etched into your eyelids. Blue and gray and gray and blue. Soft and unfamiliar. 

You sighed—long and deep and vaguely unsteady. Then you turned away. 

Scrubbing a hand down your face, you rolled your shoulders and leaned over to grab your phone from the nearby nightstand. Clicking it on, you squinted down at the time. Shit. If you didn’t get a move on, you’d be late for work. You slipped out of bed, bare feet coming into contact with the cool floor. There was a certain grogginess that still lingered in your body and mind. You yawned and rubbed at your eye as you shuffled over to your door. But before you could open it, you hesitated and took a moment to listen beyond it. 

There was nothing. Not a peep or a shift. Looking down at the crack between the door and the floor, you saw only darkness. No faint light seeping through it—like there wasn’t anyone there. Doubt was beginning to sink its unrelenting tendrils into your body. It was so easy to imagine that the room just past your bedroom door was vacant. That there was only your couch and your television and your coffee table. Still and lifeless. A breath being held before the inevitable chaos of morning. 

But no, you told yourself again and again and again. This was real. If you closed your eyes, you could still feel the cool, hard texture of Sebastian’s hand in yours. The smooth metal of his ring as you ran your thumb over it. This was real, and you would keep repeating it to yourself for as long as it took to properly settle in.

You sighed, long and silent. Well, the day wasn’t going to wait for you to start. 

Gripping at the doorknob, you quietly cracked the door open and squinted into the dim light of your living room. It was darker than usual—an explanation made imminent when you glanced at your windows to see their curtains had all been tightly closed. You could still see sunlight fighting to make its way through the thin material, so it wasn’t like it was completely dark. You just had not expected it, really. 

Turning your gaze back towards the contents of the room, you noticed Sebastian had moved some things around. Not by much. The couch was pushed back a little and the coffee table was off to the side of the television instead of in front of it. All to make space for Sebastian’s large body—tightly coiled as it was in the spot between the couch and television. 

You lingered curiously for a moment over the way his tail looped around like a snake to form a makeshift bed for him. And when you finally glanced over to his face, you saw that he was already watching you. Something in your gut jumped slightly when you made eye contact with him. Over his head like some sort of shawl was the blanket you’d gotten him last night—a defense against the yawning sunlight, most likely. 

“Good morning,” you greeted to break the silence, though soft enough to not disturb the sleepy morning atmosphere. 

“G’mornin’,” he murmured back at you, lifting himself up from his tail to squint blearily at you through the dim. His voice was raspy and deep with the edge of sleep. Fatigue. It made something in your stomach twinge. 

He raised himself up, dropping the pillow he’d been hugging to stretch out his arms—strange to look at, honestly, with three of them attached to his torso—and tugged at the lure on his head to turn it on. You shuffled over to the bathroom to brush your teeth in the meantime and found yourself wondering if you should offer him a toothbrush. Not that it would do much, you thought to yourself as you ran the small bristles along your teeth. His teeth were large and sharp—jutting in his mouth like the jagged edge of a mountain. The teeth of a predator. 

And wasn’t that strange to think about? You suppressed a shiver. 

You supposed it wouldn’t hurt to give him one, even though you were sure he’d probably have a difficult time holding the tiny thing in his hand. Might even accidentally break it, honestly. 

After you finished refreshing up in the bathroom, you exited it and caught his eye almost immediately. He watched you in a nearly lazy manner, head propped atop a hand from where he was using his tail as a rest of sorts. 

You jutted your thumb behind you at the bathroom. “There should be spare toothbrushes in the cabinet if you want to use one.” 

Sebastian blinked at you slowly, then opened his mouth to purposely run a light blue tongue over the front of his teeth. He smacked his lips together and gave you a look. 

“Don’t think you got anything that can deal with these nasty things,” he said dryly. You rolled your eyes at his response. 

“It’s better than nothing,” you replied with a shrug and turned to shuffle back over to your bedroom to grab your work clothes. “You can at least use some mouthwash.” He only hummed after you, not moving an inch even as you could feel him continuing to follow you with his gaze. 

Your clothes were thrown on in record time and you grabbed your work bag from the back of your bedroom door to head over to the kitchen. Rubbing at your chin, you opened the refrigerator and took a moment to peer at its contents. You had enough leftovers for another day, but that wasn’t accounting for Sebastian and his… larger form. You glanced over at your sink and saw that there were no dirty dishes in there from last night. It didn’t seem like he had eaten anything. You frowned. Maybe you should go grocery shopping.  

“I think I’m gonna go to the store after work,” you called out at him as you grabbed ingredients for a quick sandwich to make for your lunch. “Anything you want in particular?” 

There was a thoughtful hum—so low and close that you jumped slightly and looked over your shoulder to find that he had followed you into the kitchen. He loomed almost directly behind you, his hair slightly mussed from the blanket he’d had over his head. How you hadn’t heard him slip into the tiny space, you would never know. 

He seemed to hesitate as you watched him, your arms full of bread and condiments. Then, “Actually, can you grab me a burger and a pack of Marlboros?” 

You paused, processing his request in your mind. “Sure,” you eventually said, nudging the refrigerator’s door closed with your hip. Grocery shopping could wait for another day. “We can do takeout for dinner, I suppose. But…” It was your turn to hesitate, and as you took in the way he clasped two of his hands together—not quite able to meet your gaze—you felt your eyebrows crease. “You… still smoke?” You didn’t think he’d have access to cigarettes in a, well, underwater facility. It’d certainly force him to quit cold turkey.

He shrugged idly as you headed over to the tiny kitchen table to dump all your ingredients on it and start slapping together a simple sandwich. “Yeah, sometimes I was able to get a pack when they upgraded my living arrangements,” he said vaguely, his eyes focused on your hands. He turned to look out at the living room. “Helps take the edge off, y’know?” 

Your head bobbed in some semblance of understanding, even as your lips pulled down in a frown. “Well, okay,” you told him warily, briefly glancing up at him. “Just… try not to make it a habit, alright?” Again, you mentally added.

He snorted and suddenly seemed very interested in toying with his lure. “Right.” 

Your sandwich was made and packed neatly away into your bag. The ingredients were put back in their proper locations. You did a final pat down to make sure you had everything, then slipped out of the kitchen with a banana clutched in your hand as a meager breakfast. You had to scoot around the thick curls of Sebastian’s tail, the muscles just under his scales shifting as he moved to accommodate for your path. You didn’t want to step over him. Everything seemed so cramped, all of a sudden, and you weren’t sure how that made you feel exactly. 

No use deliberating it now. You were running late. 

“Again, help yourself to anything,” you told him as you tugged on a light jacket by the front door and bent down to make quick work of your shoes. “I’ve got some books laying around if you’re bored and the T.V. remote should be somewhere if you wanna watch something.” 

“I think I’ll manage,” you heard him reply, his voice low and amused. 

You exhaled through your nose. Straightening up, you fixed your clothing—doing a final check of your reflection in a mirror you had hanging on the wall near the door—then finally looked towards him.

Him, Sebastian. As he curled in front of you a short distance away after following behind you like an ever present shadow. Hands clasped together with his half-lidded gaze and golden lure gently illuminating the space around you. 

(“I’m out for work!” Sebastian called, his voice echoing through your apartment to reach where you were in the bedroom.

“Okay!” you called back, preoccupied with picking out what you were going to wear for the day. Hmm, beige or burgundy? “Be safe!” 

There was a beat of silence. Then:

“Um, excuse me,” Sebastian’s disembodied voice said dryly. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” 

You snorted and rolled your eyes as you set your clothes down on the bed. Exiting the room, you met his expectant look with your own amused one while you walked over to him waiting by the door. 

He bent down closer towards you once you stopped in front of him, raven hair framing the sides of his face. Your hands found the collar of his jacket, where you fixed it properly so that one of the flaps wasn’t raised. Honestly, how did he not notice it before? There was a mirror on the wall right next to the door.

“Bye,” you told him purposely, tilting your head back so you could press a kiss to his waiting lips. He tasted faintly of nicotine and frozen waffles—a rather… interesting combo, you supposed. You could feel the way he smiled smugly against your mouth. He hummed into the kiss, and you broke away to give him a small grin. “That better?” 

“Much, thank you,” he replied, a certain twinkle to his gaze as he stared adoringly down at you. His cheek dimpled on his right. “And don’t you ever forget again. There’ll be a price to pay and I’m afraid you won’t like it.” He paused, then shrugged. “Or maybe you will.”

“Oh shut up.” You slapped lightly at his chest and shoved him towards the door with a laugh.) 

You took a deep breath. In, then out. Silent. It felt like an infinity resided in the few seconds you both stood there. Waiting.

Your lips pressed together, and you eventually gave him a small, unsure smile. 

“…Bye,” you said, opening the door to let in a small stream of sunlight. His eyes squinted slightly at it, but you found you couldn’t quite look at him. How the tables have turned. “Be back later.” 

The light of his lure dimmed slightly. “Have a good day,” he murmured with a gentle wave of his third arm, something indescribable to his gaze that you couldn’t quite make out before the door had already been shut in his face. 

Your stomach churned, upset and tight. 

As you drove to work, you just couldn’t get that image out of your head. Sebastian, in the middle of your tiny living room. Too large. Too much. His body held in a way where he seemed to be pulled towards you, yet also…. not. Subtle enough that any less observant person would not have noticed. 

You sighed, a deep and long thing that did nothing to ease the tension lining your shoulders. 

Work was busy, not allowing you to sink too deeply into your thoughts as you darted around the clinic. A reprieve, almost, from the events of the last couple of days. You were grateful, but by the end of your shift, you were back at square one. Always, your mind drifted back to him. Him, him, him. You knew nothing else. 

Standing on line at the nearest fast food joint, you stared unfocused at the menu displayed on a small flat screen television behind the counter. How much did he even need to eat now anyways? You weren’t entirely sure, but even the size of his torso was so much more that you were certain it was nowhere near the amount you ate on a daily basis. Were there things he couldn’t eat anymore? Were there things he was partial to? There was a conversation to be had, especially if you were to go grocery shopping sometime in the not-so-distant future. You didn’t want to poison him by accident or something. 

When it was your turn to order, you got a sandwich and fries for yourself. For Sebastian, you bought a triple decker burger, then—after pondering it with furrowed brows—you ordered another. And two extra large fries. And a couple bottled drinks. Hopefully it would be enough for now. If not then, well, he could raid your kitchen.  

After a quick run into a convenience store for the rest of his requested items, you started on your way home. The drive was quick, the golden glow of the sun dipping to kiss the horizon casting itself gently through the windshield of your car. You pulled into the gravelly driveway of your cottage and grabbed your bags from the passenger seat. Then, you locked up your car and bustled over to your front door. The curtains you could see just behind the front-facing windows were still tightly drawn. 

As you unlocked the door, you called out an “I’m home!” and shuffled properly inside. Silence greeted you. Closing the door was like pinching the flame of a candle to douse it, a fragile darkness taking over. You looked around, blinking in an attempt to get your eyes to adjust faster. 

You could just make out Sebastian’s form coiled in front of the couch. He was staring down at something in his hands, but you couldn’t quite make out what, exactly. Toeing off your shoes, you gently placed your work bag on the ground next to them and picked your way over to him. 

“Sebastian?” you murmured, your hands gripping at the fast food bag as you came to a stop somewhere to his right. Faintly, there was the smell of fish. It felt like you were standing in a bubble that resided outside of time—if you even exhaled too loudly it would pop and the moment would be lost forever. 

His ear fin twitched slightly, and his head jerked like he was glancing at you from the corner of his eye before looking back down at his hands. You waited for him to speak, your gaze trained on the side of his face—unreadable as it was. 

“What’d you keep this old thing for?” he eventually rasped out. You peered down at his hands to see he was holding onto the flannel you usually kept hanging on the back of your bedroom door. You hadn’t touched it in… a while. But it still hung there, unwilling as you were to pack it away out of sight. His thumbs smoothed over the checkered fabric. “Hardly seems worth saving.” 

“It was your favorite,” you replied simply as you continued to observe him. He only grunted. The faint glow from his eyes looked airbrushed along his hands and arms. It made you feel as though you were underwater. You found yourself adding, “I kept some other things, too.” 

“Did you, now?” He hummed and shot you a sharp grin. “Couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried, huh?” It was a weak attempt at a joke, you knew. 

“No,” you told him, gaze softening. “Never could.” 

Sebastian exhaled, long and faint and vaguely unsteady. You held your hand out, and after one long, contemplative moment, he gently dropped the flannel onto your palm—his grip nearly mechanical as he released it. Your fingers curled into the soft clothing. 

“Here,” you said as you offered him your other hand holding onto the fast food bag. “Go set the table. I’ll be there in a minute.” 

He cleared his throat and carefully took the bag from your grip. With an unoccupied hand, he gave you a salute. “Yoooouuu got it, boss!” There was a cheer to his voice that you knew was forced, but you didn’t point it out.

Instead, you rolled your eyes and slowly made your way to your room, a soothing light flickering on behind you from Sebastian tugging on his lure. Well, at least you wouldn’t have to worry about your light bill now, you thought wryly to yourself. Shaking your head slightly, you hung the flannel back in its designated spot. Then, you beelined straight for your closet and spent a bit digging around until you located that box of Sebastian’s things. Unsealed and unassuming. You shifted it around in your hold, drumming your fingers along the cardboard thoughtfully. 

When you arrived at the kitchen, you saw that Sebastian had neatly laid out everything from the bag onto the wooden table. Wrapped sandwiches, cartons of fries, bottles of drinks. In one of his hands resided the pack of cigarettes that you had tucked into the bag after purchasing them from the store. The accompanying lighter you got for them was in his other hand, and he rotated it around idly for a moment before pocketing it and the Marlboros in his jacket. 

You noticed he had moved one of the chairs away from the table to take its spot, his tail coiled underneath him. You guessed it was just easier for him to avoid any furniture at all, given his size. Especially a small table chair like that. You walked over and set the box down on an unoccupied surface of the table. 

“It’s not much,” you said as you pushed it slightly towards him. His gaze flicked down to eye the partially open flaps. “But well… I just couldn’t give them away.” 

“What’d you end up doing with all my stuff anyways?” he asked curiously as you wandered over to the sink to wash your hands—stepping carefully around his tail occupying the space of your kitchen. There was a light shifting sound as he poked around in the box that stopped almost as soon as it had started. The light illuminating the kitchen dimmed ever so slightly. His tail twitched behind him.

“Sold them,” you replied as casually as you could, drying off your hands and making your way back to the table. “Or donated. Gave your mom some things too.” 

As you sat down, Sebastian lowered himself so that he wouldn’t tower over you from where he was positioned across the table. It didn’t do much. You still felt like you were sitting before a minor giant, forced to lean back in your seat lest you strained your neck looking up at him. You had to suppress a frown. He tapped his fingers atop the table’s surface. You noticed the box was no longer sitting where you’d originally placed it. In fact, he had set it on the ground—out of sight, out of mind. You did not acknowledge it. 

“Did you give her my guitar?” he asked, maybe a little hopefully, but you shook your head. He frowned. “My Xbox?” Another shake of your head. “Damn. Lucas didn’t want them?” 

“Nope.” 

“My most prized possessions,” he complained, crossing his arms over his chest. “Gone, just like that.” 

“My bad,” you said dryly, reaching out to grab your sandwich and unwrap it. “I should’ve known to keep them for when you would obviously return.” 

He clicked his tongue. “Shame on you for not having the foresight to do so, honestly.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Oh shut up and eat your food.” 

He smirked and grabbed one of his sandwiches. Even a triple decker seemed so small in his hold. How was that supposed to satisfy him? You frowned into your sandwich as you took a bite, trying not to make it obvious you were watching him as he carefully tore off the wrapping with the tips of his fingers.

He held the burger close to his face, peering at it with half-lidded eyes. “I don’t even remember the last time I had a burger,” he murmured and turned it this way and that. Inspecting it thoughtfully. Some of the mayonnaise slapped into it seeped out of the sides as his grip tightened.    

The glow of his lure was like a spotlight as it illuminated everything beneath it. You and him, crowded around your little table in your little kitchen. Nothing else existed outside of it. How strange, you mulled to yourself. You could feel something stir in the pit of your stomach—following the haze of a distant memory that felt just a tad too out of reach. 

You hummed, eyeing his upper body as he finally took a bite that was large enough to demolish half of his burger at once. A lithe torso with lithe limbs attached to it. A looseness to his clothing. Even a gauntness to his face if you paid close enough attention to it past his scarf. The implications of it all settled around your neck like a noose. 

“What did they even feed you?” you wondered, gesturing at him slightly with your partially eaten sandwich. He did not tell you much, in hindsight, about his time trapped underwater. What he did on a day-by-day basis. It was purposeful, but still, you were morbidly curious.

“Oh sweetheart, you’re assuming they fed me at all,” he said as he grinned that shark-toothed grin of his.

You paused to take in his words, then felt yourself give him a concerned look. Worry creased your eyebrows together. His grin faltered minutely—so minute, in fact, that you almost thought it hadn’t at all. 

“Kidding!” he exclaimed suddenly, his eyes crinkling and smile stretching in a way that did not reassure you one bit. “I’m kidding! It was mostly fish.” You waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. It only made your frown deepen. You were doing that a lot tonight, it seemed.

“…Right,” you said, unconvinced. You nibbled on a fry, the salt deliciously coating your tongue. “I’m guessing you’re pretty sick of it, then.” Mentally, you crossed fish off your list of foods to buy at the grocery store. 

“You have no idea,” he muttered sullenly, polishing off the rest of his burger and reaching for the second. There was a glob of mayonnaise on his cheek. Your gaze softened. 

(“Baby,” you said amusedly, watching him shovel the last bits of dinner into his mouth. There was marinara sauce all over his mouth. “You’re a mess.” 

“Well that’s just rude,” he huffed, eyeing you haughtily, “you don’t see me attacking you outta nowhere like that.” 

You rolled your eyes. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” You picked up a napkin from the holder in the middle of the table and gestured at him. “Come here.” 

He tilted his head at you but complied, leaning in closer across the table. You carefully wiped at his mouth, running the napkin tenderly over his lips and chin. You made sure not to tug too harshly on his lip ring; he’d told you before that it still bled pretty easily. He watched you with all the focus in the world, his gaze trained on your face. And when you deemed him clean enough, you gave him a little smile and tapped at the tip of his nose with your finger. His eyes crossed to look at the motion.

“There,” you said, satisfied, as you leaned back in your seat. “All clean.” 

He mirrored your movement, then set his chin on top of his fist as his eyes crinkled warmly at you. “Can’t get enough of me, can you?” He grinned sharply. 

You only grinned back. “Not really, no.”)

“You’ve got a little—” You gestured to your face. When all he did was blink at you rather obliviously, you huffed out a little laugh and grabbed a napkin. For a moment—a short, inconsequential moment—you hesitated. Then, you offered it to him. “Here.” 

He looked down at your hand. And after another short, inconsequential moment, he reached out so he could take it, extra cautious to ensure his claws didn’t catch on your fingers. “Thanks,” he mumbled and wiped at his face. You only offered him a smile. 

“So!” You snagged another couple of fries, ready to push all of… that behind you. “Anything you can or cannot eat? I’m thinking of doing groceries tomorrow.” 

He hummed thoughtfully, his third hand’s fingers tapping at the table while his other two focused on unwrapping his other burger. “Not really, no. Surprisingly I kept most of my ah, digestive abilities, you could say,” he told you dryly. “Although, I seem to crave more of a, mmmm, meat heavy diet.” He smiled strangely and took a bite of his sandwich. 

“Meat heavy, got it.” You took a mental note of that. “Got any food requests, then?”

“Completos,” he said immediately, looking at you rather intently. “God, fuck, I’ve never craved anything so badly. Barros Lucos, too.”

You nodded, adding all the ingredients you would need to your list. Hot dogs, avocados, tomatoes… “Anything else?” 

The two of you spent a while coming up with meals to make over the next few weeks—which essentially amounted to Sebastian listing things he had missed or wanted with the faintest of rasps to his voice. Spaghetti, butter chicken, quesadillas. You had to grab your phone so you could make a proper list or you’d forget it all. With each one, you could feel your heart sinking deeper and deeper into your chest. An ache you were all too familiar with reared its ugly head. And you didn’t know how to deal with it. 

At one point, though—while telling you the ingredients so he could make Charquicán—something seemed to shift within him. You weren’t sure what happened. Only that he quieted down and took on a more… ruminative air. You didn’t press him when it occurred. You just offered a few other options for meals, then let a silence settle between you both as you finished up your meals. 

Eventually, though, you decided to gently prod him. “Penny for your thoughts?” 

Sebastian slowly blinked down at the table. Then, his eyes seemed to flick up towards you and off to the side. He snorted out a laugh, but you could tell it was half-hearted. “Gonna take a lot more than a penny for them,” he tried humorlessly. When you only patiently waited for him to continue, he sighed and his third arm wrapped itself around his abdomen. 

He avoided your gaze, raven hair partially covering his face. “Do you… still talk to my mom?” 

Ah. That explained it. Your tongue suddenly felt dry in your mouth. “I do. Your siblings, too.” 

His head snapped towards you, and for one split second—he looked hopeful. His mouth opened, then closed. And he hesitated, expression scrunching slightly as his hands fidgeted with each other. 

You took the chance to gently ask, “Do you… want to see them?”

“I— of course I do. Is that even a question?” he blurted, then seemed to reel himself back in. He looked apprehensive, his lips pressing together. “It’s just… I…” he trailed off. Unwilling to voice the thoughts that swirled around in his head. It didn’t take a genius to guess what they revolved around. 

“It doesn’t have to be right away,” you told him in a soothing manner. “Lucas won’t be free until next month anyways. I can invite them over around then. We have time.” 

“Right,” he forced out. He twisted the ring around his finger. “Right. Yeah.” 

“Yeah,” you echoed back at him. And after taking in his closed off demeanor—his reluctance to fully face you—you decided a distraction was in order. “Alright, how about we watch a movie?” 

He agreed—lost in thought as he was—and you shooed him off to the living room while you cleaned up in the kitchen. You set the chairs back in place at the table and noticed the box was gone from where Sebastian had placed it on the ground. And when you walked over to join him by the couch, you saw that he was holding that panda plushie in one of his hands. The box sat innocently on your coffee table, flaps wide open. His thumb ran repeatedly over the plushie’s short fuzz, a distant look on his face. 

You grabbed the remote and plopped yourself down on the side of the couch he wasn’t sitting in front of. His tail curved out to the side so that it wouldn’t be in the way—a hulking mass that reached towards the front door with how he positioned it. You took a moment to compare his upper body’s presumed weight with the sturdiness of the couch. 

You cleared your throat, and he tore himself away from the plushie to look at you. “Y’know, you could probably sit on the couch if you wanted. I think it can hold your weight.” Or some of it, anyways. Definitely not with the rest of his lengthy tail. 

He made a face, disbelieving. “Are you sure about that?”

Your head swayed side to side as you considered. “Mmh, yeah. Like ninety-seven percent sure.” 

“And the other three percent?” he asked flatly. 

You shrugged and had to suppress a smile. “Well, in the event that you did break the couch… it would be pretty fucking funny.” You grinned at him when he gave you an unimpressed look. “Come on, have trust in my couch. She hasn’t failed me yet.” You gave the cushion next to you a little pat. 

He eyed you and the cushion dubiously, then seemed to cave when you only patted it a little harder. “Alright, fine. But I sure as shit am not paying for it if it does.” 

You watched as he lifted himself up—the muscles of his tail tensing underneath his scales—and carefully eased his weight onto the couch. Not too close, not too far. Just enough for there to be a foot’s worth of space between you and him. 

The moment he stopped holding himself up completely, his form sinking into the couch cushion, you felt your body inadvertently tilt towards him—off balance with the additional weight. You made a surprised sound as you caught yourself before you could fall onto him, your hands grasping at the armrest of the couch you were closest to. You scooted yourself closer to it, heart beating wildly in your ears. A low warmth crawled up into your cheeks that you willed away.

The couch creaked as Sebastian finally settled in. And after a second of you both holding your breath and waiting, you exhaled and shot him a smug look. “Told you so.”

“I don’t remember you being this annoying,” he said, though the lightness to his voice told you he was messing with you. “Were you always this annoying?” 

You scoffed and had to resist the urge to reach over to shove him. Not that it would do anything. “Shut up. What do you wanna watch?” 

He shrugged. “I’ve got years of movies to catch up on, I don’t really care.” After saying that, though, he seemed to mull it over in his head. And then quietly—so, so quietly you had to hold your breath to hear it—he mumbled, “D’you… got any new favorite movies?” 

You turned his question over in your head. “Yeah, I think so.” 

“Let’s watch those, then.” 

“Hmm.” Your gaze softened while you watched him, a warmth settling deeply in your stomach. He didn’t turn to look at you, instead electing to stare down at the plushie still in his hold. “Okay.” 

You managed to stay focused on the movie you pulled up for about a quarter of its length. And then you got distracted with stealing glances at Sebastian. He paid attention to the film for the most part—the glow of his eyes stark with him having turned his lure off—but every so often you caught him staring distractedly either at the box sitting on your coffee table or the plushie in his hand. Quiet. Contemplative in a way that was haunting. 

You debated saying something. Part of you wanted to just pretend you hadn’t picked up on anything—for his sake or your own, you weren’t sure. But eventually you gave in when he seemed too deeply lost in thought, vacant look to his eyes. 

You cleared your throat and made a show of warily eyeing the plushie in his hand. Memories from a time long passed flowed through your mind. “I hope you’re not planning to do anything with that.” 

Sebastian blinked back to the present. “Huh?” 

You nodded at the panda plushie. He looked back and forth between you and the plushie for a bit until he realized what you were implying.

“Well I can’t do it right now,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s gotta be when you least expect it.”

You gave him an unimpressed look. “When I least expe—” 

Bap!

Stunned, you blinked at Sebastian as the plushie fell to your lap. There was the leftover feeling of fuzz in your mouth. He immediately started to wheeze, one of his hands slapping over his eyes while he shook with laughter strong enough to mildly shake the couch. In hindsight, you should have expected that.

“Fuck, fuck, that’s the second time so far. I need to keep a tally,” he cackled, breathless and delighted. Well, at least he wasn’t in his prior funk anymore. That was all you could ask for, really.

“Some things never change, huh?” you said dryly. You picked up the plushie and tossed it at him. He chortled some more when it harmlessly bounced off his shoulder. 

Letting out a gentle sigh, you glanced over to the television to see the movie was almost at its end. Fatigue from the day’s events was starting to press against your eyes. Ahh, you should brush your teeth and shower. Standing up, you stretched out your arms over your head. The muscles in your shoulders and back moved with the motion, your shirt riding up ever so slightly. You tugged it down and turned to look at Sebastian, his teal eyes already trained on your form—faint smile still lingering on his face from his previous laughter. 

“I’m gonna get ready for bed,” you told him and grabbed the remote to toss in his direction. “You can put something else on if you want.” 

“Aw, already?” He pouted, not bothering to pick up the remote just yet. “It’s not that late.” 

You snorted. “It’s not, but I have to get up early tomorrow. Again. Y’know, like people with jobs tend to do.” 

“Right, right, my bad. How could I forget?” Sarcasm oozed from his words. “Well, don’t let me hold you up.” He made a shoo-ing motion with one of his hands. 

You snorted again and turned on your heel to head over to your bedroom. And once you were inside, you paused once you grabbed your towel from its place behind your door. Usually, you would change your clothes in your room after showering, but… Did you really want to walk around in only your towel right now? You glanced out the door at Sebastian—who looked like he was painstakingly trying to browse other movie options using the tiny remote. You looked back down at your towel, squeezing the soft material. 

…This was stupid. You were overthinking the smallest things, it seemed. You pinched at the bridge of your nose. And after standing there feeling like your innards were knotting themselves together over and over, you forced yourself to gather up your necessary nightwear. Then, you made your way to your bathroom for the quickest shower and redress of your life. 

As you went to brush your teeth, you noticed another toothbrush sitting in the cup you used to hold your own. The bristles were, well, not destroyed exactly, but they stuck out all over the place instead of in their neat lines. A peek into the tiny trash can you kept in the bathroom revealed the remains of a toothbrush snapped in half—the bristles on that one utterly destroyed. Your bottle of mouthwash was also significantly emptier than it had been this morning. You had to suppress a smile. Mentally, you added more to your list of groceries, as well as a better toothbrush for Sebastian to use. 

Upon exiting the bathroom, your towel slung over your shoulder and dirty clothes in hand, your eyes landed on Sebastian. With his lure still off, the light from the television painted the living room in shades of navy and purple. He wasn’t paying attention to the movie he’d put on, still running his thumbs repeatedly over that plushie. You cleared your throat, and his head snapped towards you. 

“Well,” you said lightly as you walked over to your room, “I’m heading to bed. Ni—” 

“Wait—!” he cut across you, his eyes widening as he lurched slightly in your direction. One of his arms raised halfheartedly. One beat. Two beats. And then he hesitated, lowering his arm as he slouched down into the couch. He sighed—quiet, weary—and turned back around so he could stare absently at his box of things once more. “...Never mind.” 

Your mouth opened, then closed. You lingered outside your bedroom for a moment, waiting to see if he would say anything else. But when he didn’t, you gave him one more look, your lips pressing together. 

“Good night,” you whispered, one of your hands resting on the edge of the door frame. 

“G’night,” he murmured back. He didn’t look at you. This felt infinitely worse than last night.

When you finally slipped into your room for the night—heart weighed by something you could not define—you made sure to leave the door slightly ajar. 

The following morning passed similarly to the previous one, with you shuffling out of your bedroom to find Sebastian already awake. He gave you a sleepy “Morning,” and took to watching you sleepily as you scurried around getting ready for work. 

“I’ll probably be back a little later than usual,” you told him hastily as you tugged on your shoes and slung your bag over your shoulder. “Don’t wait up if you get hungry.” 

“Mmmkay.” He gave you a lazy wave from his coiled lounging in front of the couch. The pillow you’d given him was pressed to his chest, his arms tightly wrapped around it. “Have a good day.” You offered him a quick smile, lingering for only the most minuscule of moments before you slipped out the door.

You were hoping for an easy shift at work, especially with all the shopping you’d need to do afterwards, but it was not kind to you. Fatigue weighed heavily upon your shoulders as you left the clinic. There was an itch behind your eyes that you knew would only worsen over time. You huffed and buckled yourself into your car. The quicker you could get this done, the better.

You’d intended to visit your regular grocery store, but upon deliberating it while driving down one of the main roads, you decided to go to your town’s warehouse store. Buying items in bulk would probably be better for you and Sebastian. And your wallet. 

With one hand holding onto your phone and the other pushing around a cart, you went hunting for all the things you’d need. Plus some more items that your eyes caught onto and you figured wouldn’t hurt to bring home. A giant box of granola bars, for one. A couple rotisserie chickens. A container of honey crisp apples. Honestly, you could probably buy anything and he would be happy with it. He never was much of a picky eater. 

You spent some time in the cleaning supplies aisle, looking at various brushes used to scrub sinks or pans. You picked one up, weighing it in your hand and peering at the thick bristles attached to the rectangular head. A traditional toothbrush was clearly out of the question. This would have to do for him. You’d probably need way more tubes of toothpaste as well. 

At one point, you passed by a clothing aisle and took a moment to stare at various shirts and sweaters. You picked out a particularly large, black shirt and tried to imagine if it could fit over Sebastian’s long torso. Probably not, especially with his extra arm. You frowned as you hung it back up. You might have to look online for larger sizes. It was something to discuss with him later.

After making your way through the store, ensuring you got everything on your list, you headed towards self-checkout. And as you scanned each item and placed it on the large scale attached to the monitor, you were hit with just how much you bought. It was… a lot. Almost triple the amount of groceries you typically got biweekly. You nervously eyed the receipt once it was printed, then decided you shouldn’t worry too much about it. You had your savings, and if anything, you could always pick up extra shifts at the clinic. 

Once everything was packed away neatly into the trunk and backseat of your car, you drove back to your cottage. By now it was dark outside, the roads lit up by street lamps that glowed with sleepy cream-colored light. There was the smallest scattering of stars overhead, most of the sky overtaken by cool gray clouds passing lazily by. 

Eventually, you pulled into your driveway and killed the engine. Grabbing some of the items you could carry from the backseat with one hand, you rummaged around in your bag for your keys and made your way over to the door. 

“I’m home!” you called out once you opened it, letting the dim moonlight seep into the darkness of your living room. As you dropped your work bag onto the floor and gently set down the items in your hand next to it, a golden light flickered on. 

“Welcome back,” Sebastian greeted smoothly. A quick glance upwards showed him steadily making his way over from the kitchen. “Was wondering when you’d return.” 

“Admittedly, that took me longer than I’d expected,” you said with a sigh. You gestured down to the groceries on the floor. “Do me a favor and pack these into the kitchen? I’ll bring everything else in. Just shout if you don’t know where something goes.” 

“Alrighty,” he agreed easily, and you turned on your heel to make your way back over to your car to bring in everything else. The quicker this was done, the quicker you’d be able to finally relax. 

It didn’t take too long with the both of you working together, but it was a lot of groceries. Sebastian was able to carry quite a few items to the kitchen on his own—something that would have taken ages on your lonesome. It meant he had to move back and forth between the front door and kitchen, though, and you could see his tail curved all over your cottage. Over the couch, around the coffee table, looping about the kitchen. It really put into perspective just how long he was. And well, it was certainly something to ruminate on.

He didn’t seem to have any issues with putting things in their proper places, thankfully. It wasn’t like it was all too different from how you both organized things way back when. Bread in the fridge, fruits in the little basket on the counter, cereal on top of the refrigerator, potatoes in the cabinet under the sink. It was a major help to not have to pack everything up by yourself, you had to admit.

Finally, you grabbed the last few items from your car’s trunk. The large box of granola bars and a few other frozen boxed items that you stacked on top of it to make the trip easier. Holding it all precariously in one hand, you locked up your car and carefully made your way over to the front door. 

“This is the last of it,” you said as you stepped into your cottage and used your foot to close the door behind you. It was difficult to see where you were going with all the boxes in the way. You toed off your shoes and headed towards the kitchen. “Did you finish packing ev—” 

Your foot caught on something. 

You let out a yelp, lurching forward as you lost balance. The topmost boxes slipped down to the floor, landing with nearly consecutive thuds. Your heart leapt in your chest, but before you could really brace yourself for impact, something snatched you by the back of your jacket and tugged you slightly into the air. 

“Shit! Watch where you’re going!” Sebastian chastised you as you dangled above the floor for a bit before being set gently down. You blinked rapidly, still not quite processing what had happened. “Coulda busted your head right open.” 

“Sorry,” you said automatically, then glanced down to see you’d tripped right over a part of his tail—that was already shifting out of your way to make your path to the kitchen clear. You swallowed. “I— Sorry.” 

“Jeez,” he grumbled, bending down to swipe up the boxes you’d dropped. “And to answer your question: Yes, I did finish. Though I dunno where you want this to go.” 

With his third arm he brandished the sink brush at you, already having removed it from its plastic container. You blinked at it once, then gave yourself a mental kick to the behind to snap yourself out of it. Focus. Here and now. 

“Ah. That’s your new toothbrush,” you told him as you forced yourself to continue on to the kitchen. 

There was a tiny pause. “You’re joking,” he said incredulously as he followed behind you—the low shifting sound of his body your only indication.

“Nope. You’re welcome.” 

“You expect me to brush my teeth with this?” 

“Ordinary toothbrushes weren’t gonna cut it for you,” you told him amusedly as you slipped the box of granola bars atop the refrigerator and opened the freezer. You gestured at him to hand you the boxes he was holding and he complied, though he was still frowning at you like you’d just suggested the most absurd thing in the world. You rolled your eyes. “It’s better than nothing.” 

“That’s what you said about the regular toothbrushes,” he said in exasperation, then sighed. “I should have expected this,” he muttered to himself, eyeing the brush some more as he rotated it about in his hands. 

You closed the freezer door and turned to look up at him. “Did you put away the toothpaste and mouthwash, too?” 

He jabbed a finger over to the bathroom, still scrutinizing the brush. “I put them on the counter.” 

“Okay, I’ll put them away. Give me your toothbrush, I’ll put it in the cabinet.” You extended your hand, waiting for him to stop being so dramatic. He ran a hand down his face and huffed, but eventually dropped the brush onto your palm. You had to suppress a smile. Looked like you won. 

You made your way to the bathroom and exactly what you’d said you’d do. Sebastian’s brush went into the cabinet behind the mirror. The extra toothbrush sitting in your cup—with its destroyed bristles—went into the garbage can. The mouthwash and extra toothpaste were both tucked neatly away into the cabinet under the sink. You washed your hands and rolled your shoulders with a silent sigh. 

After exiting the bathroom, you tossed your jacket into your room and wandered back to the kitchen. That same fatigue from earlier was starting to make a reappearance. It laid heavy hands along your shoulders and the back of your neck. You chewed at the inside of your lip as you glanced at Sebastian—who was sweeping his own gaze across the kitchen—then at the clock on your stove. 

“I am way too tired and it is way too late to make something,” you admitted as you rubbed your hand over your abdomen when your stomach gave a little rumble. “Did you eat the rest of the leftovers?” 

“For lunch, yeah,” he replied as he flicked his head to the dish rack. The associated containers and utensils sat there drying. 

You hummed and slipped carefully around his tail to reopen the refrigerator. Might as well use some of the things you bought today. “How do you feel about cereal for dinner?”

“Don’t care, either way.” He shrugged and glanced up at the top of the refrigerator, where the boxes of cereal stood. “I saw those Reese’s Puffs you bought today. Feels almost targeted, honestly.” He sniffed. 

You grinned as you walked over to the cabinets. “That’s because it was.” 

After you grabbed a bowl and spoon for yourself, you turned around to compare it to Sebastian’s hand size while he moved one of the kitchen table’s chairs to the side again. There was no way he’d be able to comfortably use such tiny things. The bowl alone was more like a cup for him. You rubbed your chin and bent down to grab a basin and a pot spoon, the metal of each reflecting the light coming from Sebastian’s lure. This would have to do. 

You set everything down on the table, then grabbed the Reese’s Puffs, your own preferred cereal, and a gallon of milk—juggling them all in your hold carefully until you could drop them on the table. Sebastian snorted when he saw the basin and pot spoon, but didn’t say anything else. You sat down with a sigh, suddenly acutely aware of your own aching feet and pressing itch to your eyes. 

And so there you both were again. Sitting across from each other in your little kitchen.

Still strange. Still unfamiliar. 

You wondered when you would grow accustomed to it all.

Sebastian cleared his throat as he reached for the Reese’s Puffs to begin pouring it into his bowl. “So! How was your day?” 

You shrugged at him, copying his actions with your own cereal. “Tiring, I suppose. How was yours?” 

“Boring when you’re not here,” he said immediately. He poured milk into his bowl, then gestured at your own so he could fill yours as well. You pushed it closer to him and watched the stream of milk as it splashed against your cereal. “But this isn’t about me. This is about you.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “It is?” 

He nodded and recapped the milk jug. “I told you all about me,” he said simply, “now I want you to tell me all about you. What have you been up to all this time?” 

There was a warmth settling itself in your stomach—like you’d just swallowed a spoonful of hot soup. You tried not to let it affect you so much. “I’m… not sure if there’s really much to say,” you said, a small frown splayed on your lips as you picked up your spoon. 

Sebastian flapped a hand at you. “Pssht, bullshit! There’s always a tale to tell. Come on, don’t hold out on me.” He grinned at you suddenly, sharp. “Unless you’ve got something to hide?” 

You gave him a look. “Right,” you said flatly, “like my secret job I do after working all day at the clinic.”

He snapped his fingers. “Now we’re talking!”

You snorted, then hummed thoughtfully as you swirled your spoon through your bowl. “Honestly, there really isn’t much to say,” you told him quietly, thinking back to the years and years of grief and solitude. “I work. I come home. I read or watch T.V. or play shitty songs on my ukulele.” You chuckled. “Occasionally I text some friends still living in the city. Or call your siblings or mom. Maybe I hang out with coworkers very seldomly. But mostly I just…” you trailed off, thinking about the evenings spent lost in thought at the dock or within the cove. Thinking about him, mostly. Mourning him. You shrugged. “I dunno. Daydream, I guess.” 

The gaze he pierced you with made you feel like you were being picked apart and analyzed, piece by piece. “Hmm, I see.” You were certain he knew you were not telling him everything. 

Well, you thought to yourself wryly, that makes two of us. 

It was okay, though. There were some things that were just better off left unsaid. 

“How about any work stories?” he asked after shoveling his spoon into his mouth to crunch noisily down on his cereal. “You said you work at a clinic, right? You gotta have something from your time there.” 

You mulled it over in your head. “Well, there was this one time…” 

For the rest of dinner, you recounted what tales you could remember from your job. Dramatic coworkers, strict bosses, strange patient interactions. You didn’t think some of them were all too interesting—maybe just a way for you to rant or express your incredulity at dealing with people—but Sebastian listened raptly either way, his ear fins flicking every so often. He offered his own little sardonic quips from time to time (“No way,” he drawled when you told him a patient stopped taking all their medications then was surprised when they felt awful afterwards), and it made you realize later on just how… normal things were between you both. Right then and there. 

Sitting at a too little table, in a too little kitchen. You and him, like it had always been before everything happened. 

It made you crave more. Sunk its talons into your body and filled you up with a want want want. 

Addicting. 

You watched Sebastian scrape up the last of his second helping of cereal onto his spoon, sleepily blinking at him in the quiet, comfortable aftermath of your last story. Your gaze caught onto the long sleeves of his jacket, then traced upwards to the scarf still wrapped loosely around his neck. Faintly, you recalled wandering past the clothes section at the warehouse store you went to earlier. Right. 

“What size are you?” you found yourself asking, eyeing up his jacket and trying to estimate how long it was.

Sebastian let out an offended gasp, dropping his spoon into his bowl while his third hand raised up to his chest in shock. “Why I never! Babe, you can’t just ask someone that!”

You snorted. “I was talking about your clothes and you know it. So?” 

“Why are you asking?” he asked warily, shooting you a narrow-eyed look.

“I was thinking we should order you some new things to wear,” you told him and leaned back into your chair. “You’ve gotta be tired of wearing the same fit every day, right?” 

He shrugged, his head flicking to the side slightly like he was staring out at something other than you. “I got used to it.” 

Your gaze softened. “Well, I think you deserve at least a new shirt. Maybe a sweater.” Then, to lighten the atmosphere and give him an easy out, you said, “Besides, what if I’m tired of seeing you in the same clothes, huh? What if I wanted to see you in something nicer? Ever think about that?”

Sebastian looked back at you, his eyes widening ever so slightly as he processed your words. His lips tensed together when you only smiled knowingly at him, and his cheeks darkened minutely. He opened his mouth, paused, then after appearing to consider what to do next, his lips twisted into a feigned grimace. The edges of his lips twitched. You had to hold back a laugh.

“Eugh, are you flirting with me?” he asked, one of his hands reaching up to tuck his hair vainly over his ear fin. His face scrunched up like he was wrinkling his nonexistent nose, though his lure got a smidge brighter. “You should know, I’m a married man.” He wiggled his third arm’s fingers at you, his ring glinting in the light from his lure. 

You rolled your eyes. You did that a lot with him, you noticed. You opened your mouth to respond, then found yourself darting your gaze past his torso when something blurry moved in your periphery. 

Fake Sebastian leaned against the door of your refrigerator, hands tucked neatly into his pockets as he smiled widely at you. Uncanny, almost. His eyes crinkled into crescents that still seemed to pierce right through your body like an arrow. A reminder. And for one short, inconsequential moment, you froze. 

(Teal eyes. Fingers like knives. Body covered in scales. Pungent smell of fish.)

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

You forced yourself to look back at actual Sebastian, who watched you with slightly furrowed brows. Appraising you, almost. Evaluating. You smiled at him, willing your stomach to stop twisting itself into heavy knots. You were working on it. “So? Size?” 

If he found your lack of a retort suspicious, he did not make it known. Instead, he sighed and leaned back away from you. When had he gotten closer? 

He picked at the material of his jacket sleeve. “I dunno. This shit was all custom made probably.” He moved his third arm around, bringing your attention to the sleeves it had both from his jacket and undershirt. 

You frowned, tapping your finger against your chin. “Guess we’ll have to take some measurements. Gimme a sec.” You stood up, your chair making a little scraping sound as you pushed it back and beelined for your bedroom. 

Rummaging around in your closet, you let out a little “aha!” when your fingers found purchase on the cool metal of a small measuring tape. You pulled it out and scurried back over to Sebastian, your fingers already pulling at the little metal tab at the end to stretch out the flimsy tape. 

“Okay,” you said as you stood next to your chair and pulled the tape out until it was a few feet long. “This shouldn’t take too long. Let’s—”

But you found yourself hesitating as you looked up at him.

You’d… fully intended on helping him measure his waist, chest, and torso length but… As you peered at his face with his glowing eyes trained on your hands, you were suddenly struck with the startling memory of his snarl—snapping at you as he lurched backwards from your touch. The sinking pit in your stomach it caused, and the way he turned away from you like he just could not bring himself to look at you. 

“Not yet,” he’d said, strangling out the words like they were suffocating him. “Not yet.” 

Your grip tightened on the measuring tape. He continued to watch you, his mouth deepening into a frown when you didn’t say anything else. It shook you from your thoughts. You cleared your throat and abruptly loosened your hold on the tool. 

Not yet, you told yourself. Time, you just needed time.

For him and for you.

“Actually,” you said in as thoughtful a manner as you could, hoping against all that your expression was schooled into something similar. You let the tape retract into the metal body of its container and set it on the table to slide it over to him. “Take your measurements. I’m gonna clear the table and grab my laptop in the meantime.” 

When you grabbed at your bowl and his own larger basin, it looked—for one, terse moment—like he wanted to say something. It was in the way his gaze seemed to dart down to the tape, then back up at you. The way his jaw tensed, then relaxed just as quick. 

He sighed, long and quiet. 

“I don’t think you’re gonna find anything that fits… this,” he grumbled as he picked up the tiny measuring tape with thick, careful fingers. One errant flex of his hand and he could crush it rather easily. It was as unnerving as it was captivating. 

You made a noncommittal sound as you placed the dishes into the sink and grabbed the sponge to scrub them down with soap. “Eh, who knows. There might be sizes large enough on certain websites. And if anything, we can probably custom order something for you.” 

He only grumbled something indecipherable, the sound of the measuring tape being stretched out filling the air. You busied yourself with rinsing the dishes, quietly ruminating on the strange proportions of Sebastian’s body. 

His torso was quite long—almost as long as your entire body, honestly. Any shirt you got him might be… a bit short on him, but that was fine. Your one concern was how lithe he was, in addition to his length. It might cause him to get utterly swamped in whatever you would purchase. Not to mention you’d most certainly have to cut a hole in the material to allow his third arm freedom. You’d probably also have to buy shirts made of stretchable material, particularly so he could get his big head through the neck hole in the first place. 

Ahh, this was more complicated than you’d originally thought. 

It was fine, though. Anything to make him more comfortable. 

Drying your hands off on a nearby towel, you glanced over to see Sebastian still measuring his chest’s circumference—his eyes squinted in focus as he carefully pinched the tape around his body. You let him be so you could scavenge around for your laptop. You couldn’t remember where you last left it. 

Once you found it—tucked underneath the couch, of all places—you went back to the kitchen to plop yourself back down in your chair at the table. The measuring tape was already set on its surface, and Sebastian watched you silently with his arms crossed over his chest as you powered on your laptop. You placed it in the middle of the table, so that you both could see its screen properly. 

“Alright,” you said once it booted up and you opened the notepad application, “what’s the verdict, chief?” 

He told you his measurements, and you typed them up for reference. Then, the search began. It wasn’t all that hard to find a website that sold clothes for individuals on the taller side, honestly. What sucked was finding one that had a size chart that matched his own measurements well enough. Either his chest measurement was way too small, or his torso length was too long—it was just as you’d predicted. You’d have to compromise. 

Sebastian was… well… quiet, as he watched you scroll through numerous sites. Not melancholy, really, but… resigned, almost. Maybe even tense. You weren’t sure how to define it. His gaze just seemed distant whenever you glanced up at him to get a read on what he was thinking. It was not an expression you wanted to see on him—that you liked seeing on him. You cleared your throat. 

“I hear baggy, almost-crop tops are the new look,” you joked as you gestured to the size chart on one website that seemed like the best option out of the others. “What do you think?” 

“Hmm?” He blinked as he seemed to come back to himself and glanced briefly down at you. With your expectant gaze on him, his own darted to your laptop and he focused in on it with a squint. “Oh yeah, they’re right up there with skinny jeans and fedoras.” 

You huffed out a laugh. “It’s the best we’ve got that’ll kinda fit you. We can buy a couple to test them out. I can return them if anything.” 

“Whatever you say,” he said vaguely. It made your lips twitch slightly into a frown. 

“Are you… okay?” you hesitantly asked him, turning your body in your seat so you could face him properly. You hadn’t noticed until now but his lure had dimmed. Not too much to be stark, but enough that you glanced briefly up to it in concern. “It’s just… you seem out of it.” 

He didn’t reply. He only stared down at you. A quiet permeated the air, broken only by your soft breaths. The hum of your laptop’s fans. His mouth opened slightly, just enough for you to hear the small inhale he took. Then— he seemed to snap back to himself, his body going from stock still to sudden motion. 

“Just peachy~” he crooned, his eyes crinkling into upturned crescents as he shifted closer to your side of the table. “What options do they have? I’d kill for a turtle neck.” He peered at your laptop with a curious hum, lowering himself down so he’d have a better view. One of his hands braced gently along the edge of the table. 

This close—mere inches of space between you and him as he hovered just over your shoulder—you could smell that poignant, fishy odor. Stronger than it had ever been before. That sank itself into your senses and reminded you of just what you were dealing with. 

Inhuman inhuman inhuman inhuman.

Your breath got caught in your lungs for a second before you forced yourself to breathe normally. You willed yourself to focus on something else, anything else. Anything other than the blatant lack of cinnamon or gentle musk you were accustomed to. Had been accustomed to.

Deep breath in.  

Faintly—your brain inadvertently registered—beyond that piscine scent, was the smell of your detergent. The gentle, clear scent was so different that it was almost jarring. You looked at him from the corner of your eye, latching onto the sleeve of his jacket. It looked… clean. Soft.

Not the point, focus! 

Deep breath out.

“Here, see for yourself,” you said as casually as you could as you shifted your laptop better towards him. He was deflecting, but so were you. It was as clear as a sunny sky after days of rain. There was nothing you could do about it. Or rather, nothing you wanted to do about it at this time.

Eventually, though, you would have to.

But not yet.

“I can’t—” Sebastian cut himself off with a clear of his throat. You craned your head to the side to look properly at him, the way he purposely stared at your tiny laptop and not at you. “I can’t use a touchpad, I fear. My hands are, ah, too cold. And hard.” 

“Oh,” was your response, dropping from your mouth like a rock. You… hadn’t even considered that, actually. You frowned and looked at the tiny arrow keys. His fingers were too big to even properly use those, as well. It didn’t help to eradicate the coolness that was starting to spread throughout your body. You pulled your laptop a smidge closer towards you. “That’s okay. We’ll look together.” It was the only reassurance you could think of to say.

You thought he’d be pickier with what shirts he wanted, but he didn’t seem to mind the ones you pointed out. There was still that… aloofness to his voice, but he seemed to get better when you found some AC/DC and KISS shirts to add to the cart. You didn’t want to buy too much in case they ended up not fitting him at all. In any case, it was a good start. 

You also ended up looking around for a website that did custom sizes after ordering from the first one. You did find one—a tailor that said they would use the customer’s measurements to adjust the clothes they had to fit their size—but you were unsure how it would work with someone like Sebastian. In any case, the two of you agreed to test it out with one of the displayed flannels on the tailor’s website, hoping no one would say anything as you punched in Sebastian’s frankly eyebrow-raising measurements and submitted the order. Maybe it would be chalked up as someone wanting a robe, or something.

When that was all said and done, you leaned back in your chair while your laptop powered off and scrubbed at your face. You were tired. You could feel it in the heaviness of your eyelids and shoulders. You were so ready to hit the—

“So!” Sebastian clasped his hands together and slithered away from you to give you some space to stretch your arms. He looked at you expectantly. “Movie?” 

Ahhh. How could you say no to him after all that?

You suppressed a tired sigh. At least you didn’t have work tomorrow. “Go pick something. I’m gonna get ready for bed.” 

“Yippee!” He gave you a thumbs up and snaked his way into the living room. You took a moment to rub at your eyes, then scooped up your laptop to head to your bedroom for your nightly routine. 

Once your teeth were brushed and your nightwear was slipped on, you trudged over to the couch and flopped down next to Sebastian. Not too close, not too far—just like yesterday. Your eyes caught onto the box of his things, still sitting innocuously on your coffee table. Its flaps were sealed shut. You didn’t linger on it. 

Sebastian already had a movie queued up on the television, and as soon as you gave him the go ahead, he carefully pressed play on the remote with the tip of his finger. 

“What movie is this?” you asked as you let yourself slump into the cushions. Your legs stretched out in front of you, your heels resting on the carpet you had on the floor.

“Pacific Rim,” he replied, reaching up to tug his lure off. “I remember wanting to watch it in theaters, but then… Well.” His voice lowered into a grumble. “Never got the chance.” 

You hummed. “Now’s as good a time as any.” 

He let out an “mmhm” in agreement.

You didn’t even make it past the introduction. 

You could already feel yourself nodding off even as an action scene played out on the screen. The darkness of the living room paired with the comfort of your relaxed body was a deadly combination. You vaguely registered movement somewhere behind your head and shoulders, but you were too far gone to really process what it was. 

There was a cool sensation on your cheek that prevented your head from slipping to the side any further.

And when you woke up, hours later in the middle of the night, you found yourself tucked neatly into bed. Blanket wrapped comfortably around your body and gentle moonlight drifting its ghostly hand across your sheets. You blinked hazily up at your ceiling, then looked over at your open bedroom door. 

The quiet drone of the television just outside followed you back into your dreams.

part four

[tomorrowxtogether]

SOOBIN: “I thought I should just try to shine as I am.”

TOMORROW X TOGETHER The Star Chapter: SANCTUARY comeback interview

2024.11.11

He once strived to become a lush, towering forest. But he realized that people will love him for exactly what he is—a deep, rolling ocean. And so, he decided to remain as whom he always has been: an ocean named SOOBIN.

You took a trip to Vietnam earlier this year with BEOMGYU. I heard you planned the whole thing. SOOBIN: I’m usually the kind of person who just goes around without a real plan, but since we don’t get much vacation time, I figured we’d better go all out and do everything we could in one go, so I tried planning it all out. (laughs) BEOMGYU just wanted to go with the flow, but there was a ton of stuff I wanted to do.

I’m sure it’s not easy taking a trip or spending your off time with the same people you spend all your time with. SOOBIN: I hang out a lot with the rest of the group on my own time too, though. Three of us were all hanging out together just yesterday. To be perfectly honest, it doesn’t feel like anything special since we’re always together 365 days a year, but I’m also most comfortable around them for the same reason.

Sometimes people start bickering with each other when they get too comfortable with one another, but you’re always so kind—like how you gifted BEOMGYU with a nap in that “The Perfect Way to Rest” video when you remembered he was feeling tired. SOOBIN: I think I’m good at picking up on things. I don’t know if I can do it with everyone, but at least with the other members of the group, I’m pretty good at telling how they’re feeling or if they’re not feeling well. As soon as I see one of them, I can tell, Oh, he looks a little rough today, or, He’s sure in a good mood today. (laughs) If they seem down, I go over to them to find out what’s wrong and talk it over.

Your kindness also comes across when you’re with animals, like in the “OUR TOMORROW” video, where you took care of one dog who was so nervous that it didn’t get a chance to eat any treats. Have you always been drawn to people and creatures that are small and left out? SOOBIN: So, so much. In fact, I was really shy and struggled to fit in when I was a trainee. I was really lonely at first. So when time passed and I finally got accustomed to things, if I saw another trainee who was shy and couldn’t adjust, I felt like looking out for them. Kai was among them. (laughs) That’s how I ended up becoming really close with him.

You talked about the cat your sister adopted recently, explaining how it used to be shy because it had a hard life in the past but that it finally opened up this year. SOOBIN: I went to see the cat when my sister first got it, but I couldn’t even see it that first time—it just hid under the couch. It was so shy that I thought I’d never get to pet it, but the last time I saw it, it came right up to me and started purring, wanting to be petted. It was able to overcome its painful past and open up to my family thanks to all the love they show looking after it. Love really does have the power to change anything. (laughs)

You also said on weverse LIVE recently that you made a new friend who you can talk about dramas, movies, and books with. SOOBIN: For me, dramas and movies don’t end with watching them—after you’re done watching, that’s when things are just getting started. I always look up reviews and analyses online. People can watch the same thing and they’ll all have their own thoughts on it, so I’m curious about all those different views, and now I have someone to talk about that with. They know a lot more about books and movies than I do, so I end up learning a lot when we’re sharing our thoughts together. Just having a friend to share my interests with is really fun.

You mentioned talking about Inside Out 2, and you looked at how it features a place to store things you’ve heard that you want to keep for a long time, which got you thinking about what sort of things you would want to hold onto. SOOBIN: I kept recalling things my friends say after we hang out—things like, “SOOBIN, I’m so happy we’re friends,” and, “I feel great whenever I’m with you.” Hearing things like that really touches my heart. Seriously, how often do you get to hear things like that in life? I used to find expressing things like that awkward and weird, but thanks to my friends, I’m getting used to saying I love and appreciate people. You empathized with how Anxiety works harder and feels more anxious than others because they want to be good at things. Are there things you feel you should work harder at than other people? SOOBIN: I’m actually slower at learning choreography compared to the other members. I assumed I’d get a lot better after debuting and regularly performing onstage, but progress was slower than I expected. I didn’t say anything about this before, and I even kept it a secret from the other members, but I actually got separate choreo lessons on the side when we were doing “Chasing That Feeling” and “Deja Vu.” We’d take lessons as a group, and then once I was alone I’d always spend about an hour dancing and working on the little details. I tried so hard with those two most recent songs that I even practiced on my own like that. Seeing as I’m slow, I have to work harder to keep up with the other members. If I have more time, I want to practice more for this comeback, too.

With all the touring you’ve done and the encore performances you have coming up, it must’ve been really hectic getting ready for your Star Chapter: SANCTUARY comeback. SOOBIN: The schedule was really tight this time around—we even had to record vocals in Japan in the middle of the tour since we were in and out of the country—but now that we’re in our sixth year, the five of us were all really fast about things. I could sense that we had grown compared to before since we were faster at recording than we could’ve expected to be in the past and it took us less time to work out the details of the choreography.

The album’s subtitle, SANCTUARY, is a word that’s appeared in TOMORROW X TOGETHER albums before. What’s been your sanctuary these days? SOOBIN: I never used to have a sanctuary, which made getting through tough times hard, but I do now: simple things like working out or reading. It feels like the things that break me away from overthinking and let me immerse myself in something else are my sanctuary.

You were complimented on your previous promotions for your improved vocals and high notes. What about on this album? SOOBIN: Actually, every other album we’ve done had a song in a genre I wasn’t confident in, but not this time. The single “Over The Moon” is really laid-back, and I felt like it was perfect timing for us to try out a song like that. What’s unfortunate is that I caught this horrendous cold during recording. We started practicing for live performances recently, and the director said, “SOOBIN’s singing better than he did when recording. He makes it sound effortless.” So I couldn’t help but think about how much better I could’ve done if only my throat had been in better shape.

You always focus a lot on lyrics. Were there any on this album that have stuck with you in particular? SOOBIN: This album isn’t so much about telling some big, sweeping story as it is about everything we’ve been through together. Now that we’ve been through all that chaos, it’s about the universal emotion of love, which everyone can relate to, and I liked that about it. There’s a line in “Higher Than Heaven” that sticks with me that goes, “I think I kinda get what forever means now.” I even once said, “I never used to believe in the word ‘forever,’ but I think I can now, thanks to our fans.” I didn’t write that part, but it’s like it was written to perfectly capture my feelings.

The other members have probably had an impact on your belief in the word “forever,” too. SOOBIN: I’m pretty sure we’re going to grow old together and that we’ll be together till the day I die. We do the same thing and basically live the same life day in and day out, so we know what makes each other cry the most during concerts, too. Whether it’s my tears of happiness or BEOMGYU’s tears of disappointment from a leg injury, having friends to understand and share those feelings with is nice. They’re all just really kind people—calm and clear, like a stream. None of us is domineering or splashing around, disturbing the peace, and nobody’s dirtying the water, so I think we’ll be able to stick together for a long, long time.

You said before that you had found being onstage tough while touring. Now that you’ve already wrapped up your third world tour, do you still find that to be the case? SOOBIN: I think I’m getting better over time. I still can’t say that I completely enjoy myself, but the worries I used to have before going onstage have gone away entirely. There used to be times where I found it hard to watch myself onstage because I didn’t like how I looked, but now I see myself up there and I think I look cool. (laughs)

The way you have a different outfit on for every sound check when you’re on tour is definitely cool. SOOBIN: For fans who come even though they’re busy, showing up hours before the concert just to wait, doing it purely out of love, I wanted to be more stylish, so I bought a lot of clothes just for sound checks. The glasses-plus-cardigan combo was something I bought in advance for summer, and the reaction from the audience was amazing! They showed me on the big screen and MOA was screaming their lungs out—like, not the usual “wow,” but, “aah!” Like shock and awe. (laughs) I was worried I went overboard with the look, but they showed they liked it, so I was happy.

There’s no way not to bring up your cover of the Choi Yu Ree song “Forest” when talking about you. You said that the people around you are like tall trees in a forest and that you thought you’re one of them, but that you figured out you’re actually more like the ocean. SOOBIN: It’s easy to find people around me who are better looking and sing and dance better than I do. I actually started thinking about that at Lollapalooza. The other members looked so happy and like they were having so much fun onstage, but I couldn’t. I felt eaten up inside seeing myself not being able to fully enjoy it because of all the pressure. Then I heard Choi Yu Ree explaining that “Forest” is about feeling like you’re not good enough and I thought, “Ah, so that’s what I’ve been going through.” I started to understand my emotions a little bit better. Everyone ends up comparing themselves to others at some point in their lives—it’s unavoidable. And they have times where all they can see are the things they hate about themselves, but it’s ridiculous. I was overflowing with negative feelings when I was working on my “Forest” cover, and I wanted to sort of deal with those feelings and express them.

The music video echoes your thoughts that someday you’ll come to shore and become one with the forest. What does the forest mean to you? SOOBIN: Just being a singer who’s good at singing and dancing, interacting with my fans, enjoying performing, and being able to do it all with complete sincerity. I think I was showing how the forest to me means being happy with the other members when they’re happy. Nothing big—just simple things I’m not always that good at.

Do you feel more like a forest now that some time has gone by? SOOBIN: Umm … I saw a ton of comments from fans after I covered “Forest.” My mindset when I was doing it was, Right now I’m like the ocean, but I’ll become a part of the forest just like you guys—so wait for me until then. But once I saw what fans were writing, I changed my mind and thought, Do I really need to become a part of the forest? I could be similar to the forest, but I don’t have to change myself to be one. My fans kept saying, “The whole reason we liked you in the first place is because you’re like the ocean, not because we hoped you’d become like a forest. If that were the case, we’d like somebody else. Why do you think it was you?” The ocean comes with its own perks, you know. You need to have some ocean near a forest to add to the scenery and have more things to do. Now I think maybe I tried too hard to fit in by trying to be like the forest. Now I feel like I can shine bright just by being myself.

That lines up with what you recently said in an interview you did in Japan when you said that your 20s, the best and most energetic time of life, are dazzling and fun thanks to knowing MOA. What do you think you’ll see when you look back on this youthful period of your 20s? SOOBIN: Joy. Every moment of our lives is packed with good times and bad times, joy and sorrow, but in the end, I think, I’m on a path towards joy. Even things that are so agonizing that you want to die—so bad you feel like the whole world is against you, and so bad you’re certain they’re weighing on you forever, eventually pass.

Doesn’t it almost feel funny sometimes, looking back after all that? (laughs) SOOBIN: Yes. It ends up feeling so trivial somehow. Things that felt massive at the time are like a speck in the distance once you get even a little space between them and yourself. Even after all the hardship I went through being a trainee, I can look back now and see there were a lot of good times. Maybe we tend to romanticize the past a bit? (laughs) Even some of the stuff I’m going through now can be tough, to be honest, but I’m never going to give up. There’s still so much I want to give. The amount of joy I derive from doing this is way higher than the amount of difficulty. I think my life’s amazing, even right now.

So amazing. (laughs) SOOBIN: I think so too! (laughs) As time goes on and I get older, when I look back on my youth, my time with TOMORROW X TOGETHER, I wonder if it’ll look that much more shiny and amazing. Maybe I’ll feel I was even cooler at this time than I feel I am now.

[yazzwrites6962]

Lonely ♡ L Lawliet

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ L Lawliet x Fem!Reader ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Author's Note: UNEDITED! Established relationship between L and the reader. This is the first smut I have ever written, so pleaseeeeee be patient with me. I'm just a baby writer (I'm over 18. Don't take this literally). If you find any more warnings I should list, please let me know! I don't own any characters or images!

Genre: Smut/Fluff

Summary: It's lonely being the wife of the greatest detective in the world, especially when he's not the best at showing affection. However, something seems different about him today.

Word Count: 2533

Warnings: Sexual content, themes of loneliness, slight angst, OOC L, Fem! oral receiving, penetration, unprotected intercourse, light breeding kink, praise, begging, daddy kink, creampie.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

You knew what you were getting yourself into when you married him. You knew there would be many nights when he wouldn't come home. You knew there were some compromises you would have to make. Still, it took its toll on you over the years.

It felt like he married you out of convenience. You met young, and you fell so deeply in love with L the moment you saw him. Maybe it was his wit, or the deep charming look in his eyes. All your friends teased your obvious, painful crush on him. You didn't care. Your heart was set from the moment you met him.

The day he approached you and asked you to marry him was the happiest day of your life. You readily agreed without a second thought. You didn't pause to question why he asked. You didn't ponder about the fact you had only a handful of interactions.

"After much observation, I had determined that you will make an exceptional spouse." That's what L always told you when you would ask why. It was true. On the rare occasion that your husband was home, he had a nice meal waiting for him. He had a clean home and a made bed. It was a practical relationship.

He gave you affection, of course, but it always seemed like a chore to him. There were only a handful of times the two of you had been intimate. He never fully seemed to give himself to you, and the loneliness began to weigh you down.

A quick buzz sounded from your phone. You pull yourself off the couch, stretching a bit before checking the notification. It was a text from your husband. He was on his way home, after a week of being caught up in his work and sleeping at the office again. Despite all your conflicting feelings, butterflies fill your stomach. You love your husband. That has never changed.

You rush yourself to the kitchen. Early in your marriage, you'd managed to learn how to make his favorite desserts. You began to slave away over the counters, wanting to give your best effort. L was rarely ever home, so when he was, you gave it your all.

You hear the front door open. He's home much faster than you had anticipated. The desserts you were working on are still baking. You hadn't had time to get ready. Your hair was a mess, your clothes covered in creams and flour, and no makeup. You see L round the corner into the kitchen before his eyes land on you.

"Welcome home, Sweetheart." You say with a chuckle. "You came so much quicker than I thought you would. I haven't had time to finish my cooking or clean myself up."

L is silent, his gaze fixed on you. You grow nervous, fearing his disapproval. He seems tense or frustrated. You have trouble telling what's going on in his mind. He nearly never opens up about his feelings to you.

"Is everything alright? You seem... quiet." You comment, wiping your hands and approaching your husband. "Is everything going alright at work?"

"I want to have intercourse," Your eyes widen as L finally speaks. There were not the words you were expecting to hear. Not even a greeting. Straight to the point. "With you, of course."

"W-Well, no duh with me! I'd sure hope so!" You choke out, growing embarrassed. "What's this about? You seem off, Sweetheart. What's going on?"

"I love you." L says suddenly. He had only said this once before, on your wedding day, and you hardly believed that. It only felt as though it was part of his vows. You were always the more affectionate one, expressing your love without expecting any response.

"I... I love you too." You mutter, shocked by this sudden declaration. "W-What's going on, L. Seriously. If something is wrong, I need to know. I want to help."

"I know you do. You always have." L gives you a rare smirk, awkwardly wrapping his arms around you. Hugs were given on occasion, but this felt different. You could hear his heart beating out of his chest as you lay your head against him. "You have always been my greatest ally, Y/N. I realize that my appreciation for you goes unspoken more often than not. I would like to have intercourse, as a display of my gratitude and affection for you."

You look up at him, scanning his expression. It's comforting to feel his embrace. It's something you rarely get to experience. Yet, you feel this must be too good to be true.

"Darling, you don't have to do anything like that for me to know that you appreciate me, or that you care." Although, in the past year, you truly haven't felt appreciated or loved. You've felt more like a maid than anything.

"Y/N, I want you." He says, in a tone that sounds like a nearly frustrated whine. It's a sound you have never heard before. Still, everything indicates that he is speaking the truth.

He hesitates for a moment before leaning down to meet you face to face. His hands reach to your chin, tilting your head slightly. It's almost as if he's inspecting your face. Just as you are about to ask what he is doing, his lips land on yours.

Your husband was never fond of kissing. He was disgusted by the idea of sharing saliva. Yet, here you were, squeaking in surprise as his tongue forced his way into your mouth. You relax into the kiss. It's soft, and passionate. Your heartbeat practically echoes throughout the room as your excitement increases.

His hands find their way to your waist. He rubs circles on your skin and toys with the fabric of your shirt. You lean into him, your hands roaming his surprisingly toned chest. When you first married, he was much scrawnier than he is now. The thought of your wedding fills your heart with joy.

It was a small ceremony. Private. Very few people knew. Still, you felt as though you were the luckiest girl in the world. When those doors finally opened and L laid his eyes on you, you could've sworn you saw him tear up.

"You are arousing." He whispers in your ear, snapping you out of your pleasant memories. His hands snake under your shirt and gently trace your bare skin. "Even such minimal contact with you can cause a physical reaction."

You look down to see the outline of a very large bulge through L's sweatpants. His arms wrap at your hips, picking you up off the ground. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist. His erection prods against you. He carries you to your bedroom, gently placing you onto the bed. His dominance and affection are unusual, but very much welcome.

"Do I have your consent to remove your clothes and proceed with intercourse?" You chuckle at his formality. You've known him so long. He's seen every part of you. Yet, something still makes your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

"Yes, Lawliet. You do." With that, his hands swiftly move to your pants, sliding them off your hips, down your thighs, and finally off your body entirely. He kneels against the side of the bed, peppering kisses on your skin.

Beforehand, intimacy felt somewhat cold and distant. He had always kept your enjoyment in mind, but had never shown so much affection as he had been showing now.

You feel your arousal pooling as his kisses make their way higher and higher, his thumb teasing at the waistline of your panties. He hooks his index finger around them, slowly pulling them down.

"My, someone is eager." He jokes, his hands positioning your thighs over his shoulders. "Open wide for me, Princess." Simply the sound of his husky voice calling you an affectionate pet name would've made your heart race. What makes your heart nearly explode was the feeling of his tongue swiping a line up your wet core. You let out a shaky breath as he continues, lapping up your arousal.

At first, he is slow and delicate. This is something you had never done before. L was never a fan of foreplay. He enjoyed getting straight to the point. However, as small whimpers and moans escaped your throat, his intensity increased. He grew desperate to hear more, devouring you like an animal. Your thighs squeezed around his head, but this did not stop him. His tongue continued to make your mind go cloudy. Soon, you felt your climax approaching.

"L-Lawliet!" You whimper, moans cascading from your mouth like a waterfall. "I can't take much more!" Your hands, which once gripped the bedsheets, travel to your husband's unruly hair. You tug it lightly, causing him to grunt. His nails dig into your waist as he continues.

Soon, you find yourself releasing on his face with a loud moan. He licks up your liquids and you squeak as his tongue passes back over your most sensitive parts.

Your husband stands, his chest heaving as he undresses. Any remaining garments of yours are shed quickly as well. The moment feels so intimate, and vulnerable. You reach towards the nightstand. With how infrequently you and your husband would have intercourse, you find it somewhat pointless to consistently take birth control. Instead, your primary contraceptive was now condoms. However, L's hand stops you at your wrist.

"I want to have a child. Would this be acceptable to you?" He asks, gently, his eyes never leaving yours. This feels like such a sudden development. L had never expressed interest in having a family before. However, this was something you had been hoping for since the beginning. Tears of joy fill your eyes as you nod. "May I have your verbal confirmation?"

"Of course, my Love." You say quickly, as if the opportunity will pass you by. "I'd want nothing more, but where is this coming from?" Your husband smiles as he leans over your frame, his arms on either side of you.

"I have found myself thinking of you more and more often. The idea of protecting and providing for you has always been in my mind. Yet, in the past few weeks, I have been craving your warmth under the pressure of my current case." L says softly. You listen intently. He has rarely ever opened up about his feelings. Especially not about your relationship. "I do not mean physical warmth in this context. Although, that is something I have missed. I am referring to your overwhelming domesticity and optimism. You are comforting."

"I find you comforting too." Your hand cups his cheek. He nods, happy with your response as he lifts your right leg ever so slightly, positioning himself at your entrance. You look down, spotting his throbbing cock, pre-cum leaking from the tip. You didn't think it possible to become more aroused than you already were, but here you felt your heart race faster and your face grow warmer. He teases you, rubbing himself against your wetness. "Please, Baby." You groan, earning a hitch in breath from L.

He pushes himself in slowly, feeling your warm walls squeeze around his as he bottoms out. He exhales a shaky breath, his nails clawing at the sheets and his eyes squeezed shut. He fears that if he opens his eyes and sees you beneath him, he wouldn't last.

"You take me so well." His voice is low, and he finally opens his eyes. He has given you a few moments to adjust, and he begins to pump in and out of you.

His thrusts are slow and loving at first as he praises you, peppering you with kisses. As your moans and whimpers grow louder, his thrusts pick up in speed, like he's feeding off your pleasure. The sounds of wet slapping skin fill the room, accompanied with L's occasional labored breaths and grunts. Your legs are wrapped around his hips, and your nails scratch into his back. You can tell your husband is getting closer to his climax, as his thrusts become more animalistic and sloppier.

"That's my good girl." He growls as your walls tighten; you're getting closer to your release as well. You whimper, his name slipping from your lips. This only seems to send him further into depravity, as he lets out a loud groan and a hand grabs at your ass.

"I-I'm so close-" You whimper as your husband presses into your sweet spot over and over again. His pace slows down, his eyes laced with desire.

"Beg for it. Beg to cum for me, or I will stop." You don't dare test or tease him. You know that he absolutely has the self-control to stop right then and there. Your legs tighten around his hips.

"No! Please! Don't stop, L. Please, I need this so bad. Please, let me cum. You make me feel so good Daddy." Though you had never called him this before, it seemed to unlock something within him. His thrusts become faster than you can handle, and your orgasm begins to wash over you. "A-Ah! Please! Right there!"

"Fuck." He whispers, lowering his head beside yours. You can hear his subtle cursing and growls right in your ear. Your mind fogs as you reach your climax, biting down on his shoulder as you cum on his cock. "G-Gonna cum-" He does so soon after, emptying himself out inside you with a couple extra thrusts.

He takes a moment to catch his breath before collapsing onto the bed beside you. The glimmer of sweat on his bare chest is truly a sight to see. Somehow, his hair managed to get even messier than it usually is. You giggle, happy to see your husband in such a vulnerable state.

"I hope you found this satisfactory." He turns to you, his eyes shining with affection and adoration. You turn on your side, laying your head on his chest as he wraps his arms around you.

"What's gotten into you?" You ask, tracing doodles on his body with your finger. He hums, thinking of a proper way to answer your question. "You're very affectionate today."

"There are a pair of individuals I have been observing for a time. They go by the names of Light Yagami and Misa Amane. Miss Amane is quite affectionate with Mr. Yagami. However, I notice that he often will not return this sentiment. She is left unsatisfied and desperate for any crumb of attention from Light." L turns to you, brushing a few strands of hair out of your face. "I do not desire to do the same to you. I do love you, Y/N. Since the day I met you. I would like to have a family with you. I would like to be more present. I want you to feel the love I have for you."

You smile, hugging his tightly. You try to hold the tears in your eyes. You've always been relatively confident that he cared for you and loved you. He just shows his affection a little differently. Yet, his concern for your happiness filled a loneliness you'd refused to acknowledge for a long time.

"I love you too."

[valentine-cafe]

May I have a berry crumble please?

[Afab reader]

Just thinking about being angel reader again!! That gets all jealous whenever someone flirts with Jingyi! Little wings behind your ears fluttering and stomping your foot on the floor because can't they see your feather around his neck? It's the same color as yours!!>:[ So the next time these customers come in, the hickeys you left all over his neck are more obvious to them! You're also there hanging onto his arm, huffing and puffing with fluttering little wings. Giving them your best glare through your pout!!

-🍄

˖⁺. ﹙ the greedy demon alchemist  x afab reader. ﹚ .𖹭 ݁

. . . why should i look at them when you are here? !! 🍒 :  demon ˖ alchemist﹙ verseless jìngyí. ﹚

being his little angel assistant has its perks

“Head alchemist. . . who would this be?” The demon to the left asks, with the clearest hints of disgust on their face.

Mere sightings of angels within the abhorration makes most of it’s denizens wish to barf up yesterday’s dinner and today’s hunt meals.

“My assistant and partner,” he replies with no interest in the customer.

He rarely does show any interest, what is the point of doing so? There is work to be done and potions to be made. Though there is a deep mutual understanding for your agigtation when demons cannot catch the hint.

Power hungry, that is what they are. They see his position in rank and believe they have a chance to rise in demonic hierarchy.

It is a blatant thought to have. As if he would even let them try.

With a loud scoff from the demon on the right, you look over at them. Eyebrows knitted together, while angelic eyes stare back with wide irritation.

“What?” You snap quietly, cocking your head to the side.

Unfortunately, there is no fight to erupt. All it takes is one flick of his hand and the two demons are forced to leave. Feet dragging across the ground. They whines and cries for him to forgive them following them out of the door.

Deep breaths sound from your lungs as you watch the scene unfold and end as quick as it was put on. A clawed hand wrapping around your chin delicately to make you look up at the demon next to you.

“My pretty little darling bird.” He mutters, dipping his head down to meet your lips. Taking away your breath again and pushing you into the counter.

“I am yours.”

A whisper full of such love. Back in the day, you would have believed fully demonic descent would be incapable of displaying such emotion. Let alone feel it.

Yet you realised it was very much not what you had thought when you first met this charming man during your fall.

“And you are mine.” He groans against your lips, pulling you close by your collar with the claw of his index. Tearing away at the fabric of your shirt.

You let out a small squeak at the sting that meets the feathers behind your ears as he bites down. Hands roaming possessively.

“Now.” He tuts, pulling away and gazing back at you with half-lidded eyes.

“Get back to work hm? We have a busy day ahead of us.” The sight of your wings drooping slightly left the already boiling cauldron from within his heart spilling over completely. Such a beautiful sight to admire. The frown on your lips and the desperation in your eyes growing.

“And please wake Alessio up too, baobei.”

[nekohime19]

Bimawen # 10 : Old feud

Wukong finally realizing what he's feeling !! He also casually drops a bomb on Mengai, 🤭.

Wukong eyed the mixture swirling in his green-glazed cup, it curled around the cup's wide mouth, dancing in its shallow ends. The tea was hot. Curls of smoke danced above it, washed away in the early breeze. The smell was strong, filled with earthy tones, it was like smelling a handful of sun-drenched dirt. Wukong liked it. He took the delicate cup, his fingers sliding over the luxurious ceramic, and brought it to his lips. The tea was bitter, it nipped at his lips, unyielding. His favorite flavor.

“I knew you'd like my new flavor, bimawen.” Wukong looked up, he gulped down the rest of his tea and put down the cup, utterly satisfied. The one who spoke was bathed in auspicious light, his eyes gleaming with warmth, the kind found in the dead of winter. Yuanshin always inspired a special kind of peacefulness. Serene yet inexplicably powerful. Like the surface of a glassy sea. Serene, yet who knew what laid in its deep ends?

“You always know best when it comes to tea, your reverence.” Hummed Wukong. Despite the respectful address, Wukong acted with no false pretense, his tone lacked the expected submission one should show in front of such revered figures. Yet the Three Pure Ones didn't mind. Perhaps because they were aware of his character, they satisfied themselves with the meager term of address. “You may call me Sun Tao, if you wish to.”

“Sun Tao?” Repeated Lingbao, his face was cut off of ice itself, unmoving no matter the vicissitudes of life. Wukong never saw this man as anything other than proper. No dirt on his golden robe, no curls on his dark-ink hair, he was always the epitome of perfection.

“My courtesy name.” Clarified Wukong.

“Since when do you have one?” Asked Laozi, his eyes curved not unlike those of a cat. His white hair cascaded on his shoulders like ferocious rivers, untamed yet oddly ordered. This man held secrets in his eyes and mysteries on his lips. He was as incomprehensible as the far-away stars yet as familiar as the morning dew. Wukong knew the old-man hid his mischievous smile behind the tip of his fan, he didn't pay it any mind.

“My assistant gave it to me.” Wukong couldn't help the hint of pride bleeding in his tone. He never truly wished for a courtesy name before, but the mere fact that Mengai was the one to give it to him was enough for it to become special. He wanted to use it. It was a gift from his assistant. Wouldn't he be the worst boss if dared to not use it?

“Well then, Sun Tao it is.” Yuanshin smiled, he lifted his cup in acknowledgement of Wukong's new term of address and took one gulp of the earthy drink. The other two deities followed his lead. Wukong chirped in satisfaction, it felt good to be acknowledged.

“You're awfully close to your new assistant, aren't you Sun Tao.” His courtesy name sounded somewhat teasing on Laozi's lips. The old sage reclined on his chair, his white fan tapping against his chin. His eyes, like always, were calculative, as if trying to see beyond what was shown. Wukong didn't know what Laozi seeked within him and he didn't care. He wasn't one to be played with. Perhaps, any other would be like mouses in this man's clutches, but Wukong wasn't like any other, he was no prey.

“Of course, he's my assistant.” Huffed Wukong, as if it was enough to explain his care for Mengai. Yes. Wukong had some confusing thoughts about his assistant, he was still pondering what the lips smack truly meant. But he wasn't one to overthink everything he felt. He knew he cared about Mengai, now what was the nature of that care didn't truly interest him… It would be great to know but he wouldn't die of misery if he didn't know.

Laozi snorted, he waved his fan around like the tail of a serpent. As if he heard something hilarious. The two other deities paid no mind to Laozi's odd mood. Lingbao nodded, happy that his fellow heavenly official was getting along with his assistant, while Yuanshin smiled softly at the news.

“It is good to get along with your colleagues.” Chuckled Yuanshin, he had a twinkle similar to Laozi's in his eyes, as if they shared some sort of hilarious secret, yet Yuanshin's gaze was infinitely gentler. He took another gulp of his cup, the sight made Wukong thirsty all over again, he waved around, immediately a servant served him another cup. “I heard Chiyou brought back some oddities from his expedition, again.”

“When does he not?” Snorted Wukong, he brought the cup to his lips and downed it in one go. He lacked manners compared to the other three but none minded. They were used to it. Besides, they wouldn't spend time with him if his behavior irked them.

“It is reckless of him. He shouldn't bring mortal objects to Heaven.” Huffed Lingbao, there was the shadow of a frown on his frosty face, a rare occurrence. Like always, Lingbao was always the one to respect rules.

“Didn't he come to your stables to give you his horse? Did you see what he brought back?” Laozi leaned forward, eyes fixed on the bimawen. Wukong chuckled. He also leaned forward, as if sharing an important secret. The Three Pure Ones all lended an ear. They all loved gossip but they didn't show it with the same enthusiast. Lingbao's curiosity was quiet, a ripple on his frosty face. Laozi was the very opposite, he pounced on secrets like a starved beast.

“I saw him with a bag. Something sharp was moving inside.” Whispered Wukong, he put a hand above his mouth as if he had to hide his words from outside ears. The Three Pure Ones ooed with various levels of amusement.

“He brought back a weapon.” Hummed Lingbao.

“Evidently, Chiyou is obsessed with weapons.” Huffed Laozi.

“It is most likely cursed.” They all nodded at Yuanshin's input. It wasn't the first time Chiyou brought back cursed weapons from his expeditions. As long as Chiyou managed to control those cursed objects, all was well, but it happened that one or three escaped, causing mayhem in their wake.

“Let's just hope whatever he brought back doesn't disrupt our peace.” Chuckled Yuanshin.

“I don't know…a bit of chaos could do us some good.” Huffed Laozi, he waved his fan excitedly, as if the mere thought of it thrilled him. Wukong was on his side. A bit of chaos could be fun. Heaven felt too static at times.

“As long as he doesn't cross paths with Huangdi.” Sighed Lingbao. They all nodded at this. It was well known that the God of War and the Yellow Emperor couldn't stand each other. Blood flowed each time they crossed eyes. It was an old feud. As old as the birth of kingdoms.

Wukong reclined on his chair, the sun was pouring on their table. The weather was clear. Not a cloud in sight. Yet Wukong knew the cold season was soon to be. The Three Pure Ones’ garden was an odd place. Everything was precisely ordered, each rock, each pond was perfectly placed, yet everything seemed so natural that one wouldn't even think a hand arranged it all. The bimawen's gaze strayed on the carps swimming in the crystal-water pond. He licked his lips… He felt a bit hungry suddenly.

“Sun Tao?” Wukong flinched, he turned towards Lingbao and acted like he never thought wrong in his life. He'll bother his assistant for a fish when he'll get back home.

They kept gossiping until the sun was approaching its zenith. They talked about every little thing that happened recently. Ranging from one wind spirit accidentally letting squalls escape to the Region Below to Constellations losing at a play of lianghu. Wukong never played this game of dice before. He made the Three Pure Ones promise him to try on their next tea gathering.

“You should go see Yuelao, Sun Tao.” Hummed Laozi before the bimawen could leave the garden. Wukong turned towards the old sage and raised one eyebrow. Laozi's eyes were twinkling with mischief. Wukong didn't know if he was trying to pull him into one of his schemes or if this was genuine advice. He never truly talked to Yuelao, from what he knew this deity was overseeing matters of the heart. Some even said he tied red strings on people ankles, bonding them in fate itself.

“Why should I?” Huffed Wukong, he put his hand on his hips and looked up at the old sage with defiance. Laozi snorted, he lightly hit him with the tip of his fan.

“Because I said so.” Laozi left with those words, leaving Wukong alone. The old sage robes flowed in his wake, fluttering like the wings of a butterfly.

Wukong rubbed his forehead, he grimaced. Laozi didn't hit him too hard but still he didn't like to be teased in this manner.

Hmph.

Why should he go see the God of Love and Marriage?

Still monkeys were curious by nature and Wukong couldn't help himself, without truly thinking about it, he walked towards old Yuelao's palace.

***

The Moon Palace was cladded in fog, its pale pristine walls surrounded by swirls of ethereal smoke. It stood in the center of the Region yet it felt like it was cut off from everything surrounding it. The warm shine of swaying lanterns illuminated the serene place. Wukong leisurely walked on the bridge leading to the palace. The sunlight was dampened by the swirling fog, whitened it until it resembled the cold luster of the moon.

Once he was at the foot of the palace, Wukong looked around. The place was strangely empty. Ghostly in a way. He felt something brush against his ankle and looked down. A rabbit was at his feet, two snow-white paws on his left foot.

“What are you doing here lil guy?” Hummed Wukong, he crouched down and poked the fuzzy creature with the tip of his finger. The rabbit's nose twitched. It squeaked, indigned, before pawing harder at Wukong's foot. The bimawen pinched the creature's ear. How dare it pawe at him like this? The rabbit squeaked and pawed harder. Wukong chuckled. “Alright, don't be mad.” He took the fussy creature in his arms and patted its head. The rabbit settled comfortably. “Now, let's find this God of Love.”

Wukong had no qualms about barging in other people's places, especially when no servants were around to guide him. Yuelao's palace was quite serene. The interior was minimalistic yet warm. The bimawen wandered in carpet-cladded corridors for a few minutes before finally seeing someone. A servant clothed in red was wandering in the corridors. The servant flinched at his sight.

“I'm here for the God of Love.” Huffed Wukong, the rabbit was still in his arms, unbothered. The servant looked at him for a few seconds, before letting their gaze fall on the rabbit. For some reason, the cloud obscuring their face faded away when they caught sight of the rabbit, as if its mere presence was explanatory.

“Yes, yes of course.” They squeaked. Wukong followed after them. The servant left him at the foot of an imposing golden-clad door, the bimawen kicked it open with one swift gesture. He stumbled in a light-dimmed office, an old-man was sitting at his desk, leaning over an old scroll.

The old-man had an imposing bear cascading on his chest not unlike untamed vines. His face was as pale as an opal, wrinkled like an agitated sea. His eyes were soft, curved downward like tears. He had a bright red spot on his forehead, burning his skin, a sign of wisdom. Yuelao looked up from his scroll, he didn't seem surprised to see Wukong, in fact, he seemed somewhat relieved.

“I knew you would come, bimawen.” Hummed the deity, his voice as soft as cotton. He gestured to a nearby chair with a flick of hand. Wukong settled comfortably, the rabbit still in his arms. Yuelao looked at the fuzzy creature for a split second, a smirk dancing on his pale lips.

“I just came here to satisfy my curiosity. And you can call me Sun Tao.” Huffed Wukong, he played with the rabbit’s ears, they weren't as soft as Mengai's (nor as cute) but they were fun to play with nonetheless. The rabbit squeaked, outraged, but it couldn't do anything against the bimawen's mighty pets.

Yuelao looked at him with something akin to amusement, he put away his scroll and fully turned towards the bimawen. “Well perhaps I can help you figure some things out, Sun Tao.”

Wukong wasn't one to seek advice on what to do. Usually, if he wanted something, he simply had to take it. However, he did have to admit that what he was feeling towards his assistant was confusing, it wasn't something he was used to. The warmth blooming inside of him was new, unfamiliar. “I like my assistant.” Stated Wukong, sure of himself, because that at least he was sure of. He messed with the rabbit's ears to calm himself. Somehow, talking about Mengai always made him feel quite excited.

“That's good. There are many types of like though.” Pointed out Yuelao. “How do you like your assistant?”

Wukong frowned, he never truly thought about this. He just… enjoyed Mengai's company, he never stopped to think of the intricacies of his fondness. “I just… really like him. I just want to be with him.” Wukong played with the rabbit's ears, the fuzzy creature reluctantly let him do as he pleased. “And I want to nip at his ears. Sometimes, he makes me so giddy… It’s like I can't reign it in and I just have to wrestle him.”

Yuelao raised one eyebrow in intrigue. “That is very specific... Would you say that you're in love with your assistant?”

Wukong's face wrinkled, as if he swallowed something particularly sour. “Love? No. I'm no husband.” Huffed Wukong. He didn't have many experiences with the concept of love. In fact, his knowledge was limited to the brief escapades he saw between mortals. For him, love was akin to a tryst in an alley’s shadows or a kiss on a wedding night. It wasn't something he understood very well. He didn't have those kinds of desires. “I don't want to kiss Mengai. My fangs are too large, they'd hurt him.”

“As I said, love comes in different ways.” Snorted Yuelao. “Your way of loving is perhaps very different from others.”

Wukong thought about it. Mengai was… he wasn't like the others. What Wukong felt wasn't the usual fondness he reserved for his numerous friends. With Mengai…he felt warm. But it wasn't the kind of heat that poured in one's belly nor the one igniting one's chest. It was somewhat softer, tender. Wukong didn't want to kiss, he didn't want to ravish… No. He wanted to hug, to cherish, to smack his lips until his overwhelming fondness was known to all. His fondness for Mengai scared him at times, it was so encompassing, so unfamiliar, it left him at a loss. He expected it to burn, to hurt, yet it didn't… It remained soft, like the sun's kiss in the morning. He couldn't stay away. He was drawn. Like the tides pulled by the moon.

Perhaps, he was in love…in his own odd way.

“So… Can I love him differently? Not like a husband, not like a friend, not like family?”

“You can love him as freely as you wish to.” Nodded Yuelao. Wukong felt reassured. Who needed labels anyway? He was the great bimawen, perhaps it was expected for his love to be different from any others.

Wukong felt better. He didn't like owing something to Laozi but he had to admit that speaking with Yuelao truly helped him. The bimawen nodded at the old-man, grateful for his wisdom. As expected, each profession has its own dedicated expertise. When it came to the heart, Yuelao was one of the absolute authorities, Wukong decided to come see him again if he had other inquiries.

“Thank you, I'll come back with a bottle of wine for you next time.” Nodded Wukong, he put down the rabbit and dusted himself off. He needed to find Mengai and share his discovery! He loved him. How cool was that? He wasn't really worrying about Mengai's own feelings in the matter. As long as Wukong could stay with his assistant, he didn't ask for much more. And even though Mengai didn't like to show it, Wukong knew he cared, in his own grumpy way.

Wukong hurried out of the palace, he felt excited about his new discovery. However, his frenzy was interrupted by a deafening sound. It came from afar. As loud as rumbling thunder.

“What's going on?” Muttered Wukong. Heaven wasn’t usually this loud. In fact, Heaven was often than not silent. The bimawen grabbed a nearby servant and demanded answers.

“The Yellow Emperor and Chiyou saw each other!” Yelped the servant. “Chiyou brought back a cursed sword… It escaped and Huangdi found it…”

Wukong huffed. Really those two couldn't keep it together. But Wukong wasn't one to miss a fight. Especially between two mighty deities. It wasn't often that the Region Above was shaken up by something. “Where are they?” Hummed the bimawen.

“They ran to the outskirts to avoid destruction.” Answered the servant.

Wukong froze. The outskirts ? His domain was in the outskirts. The blonde-furred monkey felt a cold chill run up his spine.

Mengai was in the outskirts!

Wukong was above his domain in seconds. His cloud pierced the air itself, as fast as thunder. The two gods were fighting near the stables, colliding with each other like two starved beasts. The aftershock of their weapons reverbeted in the earth itself. Mengai was with the clones, pushing the horses inside. He was too close to the battle. Wukong didn't like that. He hopped off his cloud and rushed to his assistant.

“Wukong, there is-” The bimawen didn't let him finish, he grabbed his face, eyes zeroing on the blood ticking down his assistant’s ears. Mengai noticed his gaze, his ears flattened on his head. “It's nothing, the sound just surprised me…”

“You go inside the stables with the clones.” Muttered Wukong, his thumb brushed against the macaque's hairy face, cupping the swell of his cheek. Then he turned towards the two fighting gods and growled. “I just need to remind them on whose territory they dare to fight.”

Wukong walked towards the makeshift battlefield. He took the staff hidden in the nook of his ear. It's been years since he took that weapon out. It grew in his hand, until it was as large as his palm and as long as himself. The staff's weight was familiar, his hardened skin fit perfectly against the cold metal. He could feel the power of 13,500 jin vibrating in his hands, one swung was enough to crush the air itself, enough to take hundreds of lives in a demi-second. The blonde-furred monkey leaped forward, he landed in-between the two growling gods, his staff cracking the meadows themselves.

“This doesn't concern you, bimawen.” Huffed Huangdi. He was as straight as an arrow. His yellowed robes floated gracefully around his lean form, not unlike wings. His beard was thin yet long, perfectly groomed, cascading on his chest like a tamed river.

“In fact, it does. This is my domain.” Wukong's lips stretched unnaturally, his eyes twinkled with fury, his fangs, razor-sharp, pressed against his mouth. He was hissing. “Either you leave now and we handle this in court or you persist and we handle this in blood.”

Both gods flinched, no matter their standings, it was impossible to not be aware of the bimawen's might. There was a time where none would have taken Wukong seriously. After all, a monkey couldn't even hope to equal a god, could he ? But the entirety of Heaven learned soon enough to not anger their good-natured bimawen. There was a story. Passed along in hushed whispers. Slithering from ears to ears. Once, the Jade Emperor took all of the bimawen’s previous assistants, believing Wukong could manage the stables on his own. When the bimawen reclaimed his manpower back, the Emperor refused… This day, the bimawen beat Heaven's most competent warrior to the ground, scarring the Region itself with the shape of his fist. Since then, none would be foolish enough to dare anger him.

Huangdi lowered his sword, Chiyou turned his head away. Both gods left the outskirts under the bimawen’s careful watch. Wukong shrinked his staff only when he was sure they left. He promised himself to make them regret trespassing on his domain and wreaking havoc on his lands. He wasn't one to be vengeful. In fact, his anger was as quick to fade as it was to rise. But they made his assistant bleed. And that he couldn't forgive. He'll bring this to court. Make them pay with some good bottles of wine and, perhaps, something more shameful for gods of their stature.

After all, his assistant will need some good vacations after being hurt and someone needed to do his job.

***

Wukong was sitting near his stone tub, the swirls of smoke danced close to him, brushing against his face. They enticed him to come. Like an invisible hand scratching under his chin. Truly. Wukong loved hot baths. His ear flickered when he heard his assistant approach. Mengai put down a heavy bamboo basket filled with peaches and oranges, he huffed, tired by the effort, and leaned over the fruits.

“I thought you didn't like hot baths.” Hummed Wukong as he creeped closer to the basket. He hovered over it, eyes curved in glee, before choosing the ripest peach for himself.

“I don't, but you do.” The bimawen froze at this. He looked up at his assistant and gulped. Again. The warmth poured in his chest, embracing his heart in the softest of ways. Wukong felt giddy. The mere thought of his assistant making an effort to please him was thrilling. He bit in the peach to calm his excitement. The fresh juices flooded his mouth and sweetness poured in his throat.

Macaque removed his clothes and crouched down, slowly he put one toe in the tub. He gradually lowered himself in the water tight embrace. “You're coming?” Hummed Macaque as he dived deeper in the large tub. Wukong finished his peach and shimmied out of his clothes, he jumped after Mengai, uncaring of the splashes. The black-furred monkey scowled, not liking being splashed. Wukong found his expression funny.

“Do you feel better?” Asked Mengai. He leaned on one of the tub's walls, water clung to his shoulders, lovely embracing him. Wukong let his eyes remain on his assistant for a bit longer than necessary, he liked watching him, he couldn't help it. His eyes always followed him. Wukong turned away after a few minutes, he lowered himself until the water tapped his chin.

“I wasn't feeling bad…” Huffed the bimawen.

“Liar.” Snorted Mengai. Wukong scowled, was he that easy to read? “You were all tense after the fight. You couldn't even concentrate on the horses.”

“I wasn't that tense.” Weakly argued Wukong. He didn't like admitting his own shortcomings.

“Will you take this to court? It's not like they did any damage, you intervened before things could get messy.” Asked Mengai, his face was reddened by the steam, his tone a bit slurred. Wukong snorted. He truly couldn't handle hot baths yet he stayed to please him. What a Mengmeng. Wukong was unaware his own tail was twitching happily.

“They hurt you.” Huffed Wukong, as if it was enough to justify the upcoming trial. In truth, it would be enough to even start a war. As much as Wukong liked Chiyou, there were lines that shouldn't be crossed. He could pardon their disrespect with a harsh slap on the back, but he couldn't let them go unpunished after making his assistant bleed. He wouldn't take it to extremes. But they owed at least a good month of free labor. Wukong looked over Mengai and frowned, he did not like the worry clouding his assistant's face. Wukong approached the black-furred monkey and flicked his forehead. “Don't worry about it, you silly Mengmeng. I'm the one who'll handle the court.”

Mengai scowled and rubbed his forehead, eyebrow twitching in annoyance. That was more like it. Wukong's gaze fell on his assistant's ears, his hand twitched, he wanted to cradle them. But he stopped himself. “Are your ears okay?” Whispered the bimawen.

“They're ringing a bit.” Sighed the black-furred monkey. “But it's okay.”

Wukong hummed. Eyes still fixed on Mengai's ears. His assistant noticed his insistent look and sighed, he turned and presented his neck, an invitation at grooming. Wukong huddled closer, he raised one hand and tentatively put it on Mengai's shoulder. Slowly, he began to smooth out his assistant's fur. There was something electric about touching Mengai. Wukong wasn't one to be nervous. In truth, he never truly felt nervous until now. Everytime he touched the other, his skin tingled, his stomach churned and an eruption of giddiness burst out inside of him. It was unnerving yet comforting. In truth, even if he glued the word love on each of these feelings, it didn't truly describe them all. It was more of a blend of so many different emotions, of so many sensations. Fondness. Tenderness. Comfortability. Nervosity. Trust. Softness. Slowness. Haven. Electrical. Tingling. Eruptive. Giddiness. Excitement. Care. Warmth. So many feelings all colliding under the name of love.

“I'll teach you self-defense.” Hummed Wukong as he untied a particularly tight knot on Mengai's shoulder. His assistant perked up, curious.

“Why suddenly?”

“Because I want to and it'll serve you.” Replied the bimawen. This was a fierce world. He was lucky to be born with might flowing in his veins. Mengai needed to be able to protect himself. He was crafty. Intelligent. Good at imitating. But this was the world of gods. Strength was all that was left under the glare of a divine enemy. “If you want to…” Added Wukong after he realized how… forceful his earlier statement could sound like.

“Well, I'm not going to say no when you offer like that.” Snorted Mengai. “Besides, who could refuse a lesson from the great bimawen?”

Wukong frowned at the tease, he had the sudden urge to pinch Mengai's ears, but he stopped himself, those pretty ears suffered enough today. He truly was a magnanimous boss.

“You should get out of the bath.” Muttered Wukong, his assistant's voice was getting more and more slurred, even the tips of his ears were beginning to redden.

“Nonsense.” Huffed Mengai, unwilling to admit he was getting drowsy.

Wukong rolled his eyes, he waited a few more hours until Mengai truly couldn't stand anymore. Then he picked up his assistant and sat him outside of the tub. He tenderly cladded him in towels. Mengai's face was all red, his eyes glazed over by the steam. He looked silly.

“You Mengmeng.” Chuckled Wukong as he carefully dried his assistant.

***

The Treasure Hall of Divine Mists was filled to the brim with numerous Constellations and Star Spirits. It wasn't everyday that the bimawen, known for his volatile character, demanded an audience. The news traveled far and wide in every corner of the Region. Soon, the Hall was flooded with all sorts of faces. From measle spirits to mighty gods. The Jade Emperor sat on his throne of gold, face as unbothered as an oiled sea, yet who knew what storms laid in his heart? His prized advisor, the Gold Star of Venus, stood at his side, his sharp eyebrows pinched in worry.

If there was one thing Heaven couldn't control, it was their good-natured bimawen.

Under the throne’s thick shadow sit two deities. The ones to be judged. On one side stood the revered Yellow Emperor. His long legs were crossed gracefully, his golden robes glistening under the Hall's lanterns. His face was sharp yet inexplicably tender. His hands were as pale as marble, put elegantly on his peeking knee. He looked almost perfect, if one ignored the way his eyes reddened when they crossed with his enemy. On the other side stood the feared God of War. He was reclining on his chair, his numerous heads displaying various levels of boredom. His hands were sharpened like a lion's claws, they had the luster of the blade.

Silence prevailed in the Hall. None dared to speak. But all wondered where their bimawen was? Where was the one who caused this? The doors creaked. They slammed open, letting light flood in. Wukong strolled in, unbothered. He frowned when he noticed the lack of presence at his side, he looked behind him and patiently waited for Mengai to catch up. His assistant hesitated. Not knowing if he had the right to stand beside his superior. Wukong waited, not wanting to move one inch further without Mengai at his side.

The black-furred monkey sighed, reluctantly, he walked by Wukong instead of following his shadow. The bimawen huffed, satisfied. They both stood in the throne’s shadows, each and every pair of eyes was on them. Piercing their very beings. The silence was veiling all in its tight, suffocating embrace. The Jade Emperor straightened. His eyes were serene, like the unbothered surface of a lake, yet his lips were ever so slightly pursued, betraying his inner feelings. He raised one hand, holding every breath on the tips of his fingers, and let if fall on his throne’s armrest.

“For what reasons did you seeked an audience, bimawen.” His voice echoed all around the Hall, thundering between all bodies. Wukong was unaffected. He callously greeted the Emperor with a nod, not bothering with the necessary pageantries, before cutting right at the heart of the matter.

“I seek retributions.” Huffed the blonde-furred monkey. He allowed his assistant to cower behind his back. He knew how… intimidating the situation could be and as much as he wanted his assistant to be at his side, it wasn't at the price of his comfort. If he had to be Mengai's shield then so be it. As long as the black-furred monkey was at ease he didn't mind.

The Gold Star of Venus's mouth twitched in annoyance, it's not as if Wukong was wrong to seek justice, but they all knew (considering their bimawen's character) that his demands would most likely be incredibly hard to meet. Truly. The Star Spirit couldn't help but glare at the two responsible for this mess. If they simply kept their sword's sheathed, none of this would have happened. He could only hope for the bimawen's mercy. If this affair was aggravated, it'll be one more headache to solve.

“For what, precisely ?” Asked the Jade Emperor. It was expected in any trials to go back on the events. This case was no different.

“They barged in my domain, disrupted the stables and wounded my assistant.” Wukong crossed his arms, chin lifted as high as possible.

“With all due respect, bimawen, we never pointed our swords towards your assistant.” Replied Huangdi, his voice as cold as ice itself. Chiyou nodded in agreement. For once they were both on the same wavelength.

“You made his precious ears bleed.” Huffed Wukong. Mengai buried himself in his hands, embarrassed by the sudden praise.

“Were any substantial damages caused?” Inquired the Jade Emperor.

“I already told you what happened.” Replied Wukong. He wasn't about to let it slide. And they should know better than to expect him to stay silent.“This is my assistant we're talking about. His tears are like my own. His orders are like my own. His wounds are like my own. When he bleeds, I bleed.” His voice echoed all around the Hall. Various spirits blushed at his confession while others giggled at his audacity. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Laozi leisurely fanning himself, looking as if he heard something particularly amusing. Wukong paid the crowd no mind.

“So what do you propose, bimawen?” Sighed the Jade Emperor. Wukong smiled. Ah. Now they were talking!

“They owe me one month of free labor. They'll be under my assistant's orders.” Proudly huffed Wukong. Both Chiyou and Huangdi sprang on their feet, indigned. Mengai blinked in surprise, not expecting that.

“I'm sorry for barging in your territory like that, bimawen, but what we've done don't really warrant this.” Pleaded Chiyou. Being under another order, especially an assistant's, was a great wound on a God's pride. Both the Yellow Emperor and the God of War were unwilling to lower themselves so much. Especially since they'll have to work together. Under the same roof.

“I am being lenient, here. If you don't accept my mercy I am more than willing to punish you both in other, less merciful, ways.” Wukong smiled. His fangs glistening dangerously under the Hall's luster. No matter how comfortable he was in his position of bimawen, he was still ruthless by nature. Blood didn't frighten him.

“Will you let this matter go if we agree to let both the Yellow Emperor and the God of War serve your assistant for one month?” Asked the Jade Emperor. Wukong nodded. The Emperor put a finger on his chin, gaze lost in thoughts. He leaned over his advisor and exchanged a few words. “Then it is settled. In one week. Both the Yellow Emperor and the God of War are to be placed under the bimawen's assistant order, and as such for one month.”

“Your majesty!” Refuted the Yellow Emperor.

“Surely you are joking.” Roared the God of War.

“The matter is close. It is not the first time your incessant fights disrupt our peace, let this serve as a lesson for the both of you.” Dismissed the Jade Emperor. None dared to speak against him. His words were always final.

Wukong left the Hall with a joyous sway of hips. This went well. His assistant hurried to catch up to him.

“Are you sure this was a good idea?” Whispered Mengai as they left the palace.

“They got what they deserved.” Huffed Wukong.

“But they're gods and I'm just an-” Wukong cut him before he could end his sentence. Ah. This self-depreciating idiot. Luckily, he had this mighty bimawen to remind him of his worth.

“And you're my assistant. As long as I'm here, they're not allowed to look down on you.” Stated Wukong. Mengai flinched, surprised by the confession, but soon enough his lips stretched in a soft smile. Wukong was satisfied with the sight. He then remembered he never got the chance to tell Mengai about his recent discovery at Yuelao's. “Also, I love you. Now come, hurry, we have to celebrate this successful trial with fresh wine and fruits!” Wukong hurried down the palace’s stairs, already salivating at the thought of their newly made wine.

“Wine sounds good, I wonder how it'll taste–wait what? You love me!?” Squeaked the black-furred monkey.

“Hurry you Mengmeng!” Complained the bimawen. His assistant had no choice but to hurry after him, leaving aside his shocking confession, for now.

+ some vocabulary

Huangdi also known as the Yellow Emperor is a legendary figure from ancient Chinese history, revered as one of the Five Emperors and considered one of the founders of Chinese civilization. He is both a cultural hero and a semi-historical ruler. In fact, he is considered to be the ancestor of the Han.

The battle of Chiyou (God of War) and Huangdi (Yellow Emperor) is a founder myth of Chinese mythology, in short it symbolizes the triumph of civilization over chaos and war, in fact Huangdi victory can be seen as the birth of civilization.

Lianghu : popular dice game in the Tang era

In Chinese mythology, Yuelao is the god of marriage and love, but Tu’er Shen (also known as the rabbit god) is the one overseeing same-sex relationships, in particular between men. I'll let you all think why Wukong picked up a rabbit, 👀

Jin : traditional Chinese measurement, 1 jin in the past was roughly equivalent to 0.5 kilograms (or about 1.1 pounds). 13,500 jin×0.5 kg per jin=6,750 kg. So, 6,750 kilograms or about 14,880 pounds.

Ch1 / Previous / Next

[a-whiff-of-a-dream]

alright this has been sitting in my mind ever since i first heard it a few days ago, but what Emmrich says about his fear of death in his first scene? It hit differently. Im gonna elaborate underneath the cut.

(also this might be too much personal info for some, but anyways)

'Thats when I discovered I possess a great terror of dying' is putting something I have felt for close to 3 years now so... precisely into words.

I have spend so much trying to find words for this feeling, for this fear, and have not yet managed to communicate it with anyone really so far, because the words have just... not been there.

'It goes beyond dread. It cant be reasoned with or soothed over. It comes without warning, in the dead of night, in sunlit streets. A raw, strangling fear, struck somewhere deep past the heart.'

It hides behind every corner of your life. You can go on with your day like any other person, you can be alone at home or out with friends, seeing the world, and suddenly youre hit with this 'someday it wont matter anymore and you wont feel this feeling and never smell the air again' and you cant outrun it.

Its something you cant change, something maybe not even worth mentioning because there is no way out anyways, so why bother and try to find a reason within it, when there is non to begin with?

'Oddly, I discovered I wasnt alone. I debated this fear with friends, I argued with teachers... Yet... It lingered.'

Others might feel the same, and yes its comforting to a degree, but still it wont make it go away. It wont make it better or unbearable somehow. Because its unreasonable. You know it is. Thats why Ive burried it so deep within me and try not to spiral into despair when these thoughts occure.

I am not really sure where I am heading with this but I guess I needed to get these thoughts out into the world somehow. Because hearing this, having it put into words so nicely? It helped. It made me shiver and it has lingered in my head for a while now, but it also gave me words for something I have not yet come around wording myself.

[earthfire-75]

Demons have needs too

Genre: Dragon Age Veilguard

Pairing: Lucanis Dellamorte x Rook, Spite x Rook , Spite!Lucanis, female!Rook, Named Rook, otherwise, non descript

Warnings: smut, just smut PWP , knife play?, no blood, demon possession, dub-con

Notes: purple italics are Spite's thoughts/speaking

Wherein we wonder if Spite isn't actually a Desire demon...

Luna sighed and dragged herself out of bed. Heading into the kitchen, she found Lucanus’ coffee maker next to the stove. She smiled to herself, making herself a cup and a fried egg sandwich for breakfast, then she would head to the training room, where she would also likely find Lucanis. She leaned against the doorway as she watched him, jumping a little when he spoke without looking at her.

“You are improving, my friend. I almost did not hear you.”

Friend? Not friend. Want!

She hid the sadness she felt at his use of friend. She desires so much more than his friendship, had since the last time they had seen each other. But she had only been a teenager then. Now, seeing him again, she knows what she feels isn't infatuation. There is a sexual tension that comes with their sparring, however, and she needs to be careful. She's certain Lucanis Dellamorte is neither ready for any sort of romance yet, nor interested in her that way to begin with.

“Almost only counts in playing horseshoes,” she teased.

“And hand grenades. Or so I ‘ve heard.”

Lucanis turned around, finally facing the girl…no, woman…entertaining the training room. He remembers the teenager he last met years ago. She was beautiful then, but now? Now she made his heart race and his cock twitch, for Makers sake. Now he both looked forward to and dreaded their sparring. The sexual tension it brought…he wanted to …do things to her...

Fuck her, the demon supplied in a whisper. Make her ours! Spite breathed in deep. Smells like…lavender dipped in honey.

Lucanis, for his part, does his best to ignore the demon, giving Luna a smile that's meant to be reassuring as he withdraws his daggers from their sheaths. “Ready for our sparring session, my Moon?” It's a slip, one he deliberately does not acknowledge, in hopes that she missed it. But of course she does not. Still, Luna says nothing, refusing to believe he meant it in the way her heart wishes he did.

* *

He had her pinned against the wall, hands above her head, his dagger pressed firmly against the hollow of her throat. His eyes were ablaze with something she dare not name and something more sinister as he started her down.

Fuck her! The demon was worked up now, more difficult to ignore.

Pretty. Pretty tits, pretty pussy.

Never kissed, never touched

Wants, needs, aches. Aches for us!

The demon tightens their grip on Luna’s wrists. Their eyes drop to her breasts, sliding the blade from her throat down to the first button of her shirt.

We want, we need.

Throb, pulse, ache. Ache for her!

“Lucanis?”

A deep growl - Take, claim, taste, fuck!

Ours! All ours! Fuck her or we will!

At the first sign of hesitation, Spite growls in frustration, shoving Lucanis' consciousness to the side, but not down. The demon wanted its host to remember this.

“We want to see those pretty tits.” The voice that came out of Lucanis was not entirely his own and Luna swallowed around something stuck in her throat as the hand holding his dagger flicked, sending the first button flying. The second and third aren't far behind as Luna's breasts rise and fall heavily.

“Pretty Moon. We won’t hurt you. Well, maybe a little, but we think you'll like.,” the demon spoke as it continued to flick away at the remaining buttons. “But we won't deny ourselves anymore. We want you wrapped around our cock. Not our fist.”

The blade slides back up, between her breasts, cuts through the lacings of her bra, then uses it to move the shirt away from her breasts, exposing them completely. They circle her left breast with the dagger, spiraling closer and closer to Luna's tightening nipple.

“Such lovely, perfect tits.” Spite takes her nipple between its teeth, rolling it until pleasure borders pain.

“We want to tell you, but Lucanis is a coward. Big scary assassin can't tell the pretty how much we want to feel her tits, suck her nipples and ram our cock into her dripping cunt over and over until she's screaming our name, drunk on the absolute fucking we’ll l give her.”

The demon takes the blade to her right breast, offering up the same treatment as its twin. “But no, he leaves that for me to do. So We'll tell you every dirty thing we want to do to you.”

Luna hated herself for it, but she couldn't stop herself from squirming, squeezing her thighs together, arching her breasts forward and moaning as her nipples hardened and her pussy pulsed with desire. The demon breathed in deep, taking in her scent and picking up on her sweet arousal. It dropped their eyes to her still covered bottom half. With the dagger still in hand, the demon cut the ties holding Luna's pants up and watched them fall to her ankles before swiftly and carefully cutting off her panties at the hips.

It slides the blade up her thigh from knee to apex, watching goosebumps form all over her skin, making her nipples tighten even more and a gush of desire floods her. The demon gathers some on the blade carefully, as if gathering something precious. “ We want to taste you,” it whispers before licking her gathered juices from the blade, slow and sensual.

“To fuck you with our tongue and fingers. To fill your dripping, aching cunt in every way you’ll let him…Let us.”

The demon drops the dagger, lifting Lucanis' hand to cup her breast, lowering his head and swirling his tongue around her npple, nipping at the sensitive bud just to hear her cry out, to make another gush of arousal slide down the insides of her thighs.

“We've wanted you like this the longest. Every time we've sparred together, we’ve imagined fucking you into the wall after. Your tits bouncing in our face, your aching cunt squeezing tight around our equally aching cock.” It finally pressed their cock into her thigh as he kicked her legs apart, making her fuck their leg as she feels just how hard they are.

“We’ve imagined bending you over the kitchen table, our hand twisted in your hair, fucking you senseless from behind, not caring who might walk in and see it. Imagined tying you to your bed, legs spread as far apart as possible, arms above your head as you are now, helpless, dripping, begging as blade and tongue trace the shape of your perfect body, especially your tits. Maker, we really love your tits…then we bury our fingers deep into your cunt until you scream out your first and second orgasms. And then, of you’re a really good girl, we fuck your cunt with our cock.” It pressed said cock harder into her thigh to punctuate the point.

It shifted their hips just enough to be right next to her apex and began dry humping. The hand cupping her breast now pinching and pulling at her nipple. It swirled their tongue around the opposite nipple before closing their lips around the hard bud and sucking. The action made Luna moan and her hips jerk. “Please,” she begged, “Lucanis, please…”

“Shhhh, little Moon. Lucanis is…present enough. Point of no return, Pretty. Let us take care of you, let us fuck you, little Moon. Let us…” Frustratingly, the demon found it's host had more influence on them than they thought. They couldn't just fuck her like they wanted. Not without permission.

“Yes!” She couldn't take anymore teasing. Tears stung her eyes thinking her weakness now damned them both, but her hips begged the demon to take her, to fuck her in the ways it described. In a moment she felt the heaviness of his cock before it was teasing at her entrance and sliding all too easily into her, stretching her, filling her.

It did not ease the aching, but heightened it, her cries of pleasure/pain growing louder with each thrust. The demon growls, releasing her wrists to grip her hips in both hands, practically bouncing her on their cock, manipulating how she squeezes around it. She has to grip their shoulders to hold herself up.

“Please…” Luna angles herself to lean back a bit. “I need…” She feels them reach between her legs, thumb finding her clit and rubbing hard, rough circles into it and her pitch becomes higher as she now fucks herself on their cock.

They watch, in awe of her even as they chase their own orgasm. Indeed her breasts bounce, her face twisted in pleasure, sacred and profane all at once. A final thrust of their hips and she screamed out their name as predicted. But their own release comes with a whimper as they bury their head into the crook of her neck.

“You could bring us to our knees, little Moon. You could bring a demon to its knees…”

[pumpkinpastiesandcoffee]

By Your Side Feet?

Nanami x GN! Reader

Summary: You're afraid of the dentist and your dutiful boyfriend finds a way to help

Words: 1387

Warnings: None! Just fluff, Nanami being the perfect sweetie he is

A/N: There's no specified gender, pronouns, race etc. The only thing specified is the fear of the dentist and how (I personally) feel about it, that's it! Just something super quick. I got inspired by @teddybeartoji (seriously go chek them out!! I love their fics) Toji dentist fic, made me think about how Nanami would look after you which I hope to remember next time I have to go to the dentist!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It’s still bothering you, isn’t it” came Kento’s warm voice. Tinged with concern and almost perceptible disapproval. You, however, were nervously smiling up at him, acting as if you hadn’t just been caught massaging your jaw, “no, no it stopped, don’t worry.” Of course, you both new you were lying, something the two of you agreed to never do with one another and had stuck to over the course of your 2 year relationship. So it would be reasonable for Nanami to be annoyed, angry, betrayed feeling, anything like that. However, you’re seemingly infinitely patient boyfriend, held nothing but worry in his eyes as he peered down at you. Letting out a soft sigh, he sat down beside you on the couch of your shared home, hand coming up to cup your cheek, “You need to go to the dentist my love, before it gets any worse.” The deep frown that settled across your lips as you shrunk away from his kind but determined gaze had Kento feeling bad, he knew you disliked the dentist, even he wasn’t a fan, but he also knew you were in agony. It had been 2 weeks now, chewing food on the other side, making pained expressions and tentatively rubbing at your jaw when you thought he wasn’t looking and worst of all was the way you had teared up as you brushed your teeth.

The nervous shake of your head as you spoke only made him frown more, “It’s fine, Ken, it’ll sort itself out.” “Love, please, the pain isn’t worth it to avoid the dentist, I’ll come with you if that’d help at all?” He coaxed gently, the other hand reaching out and gently curling around your wrist to pull you into him. As his fingers settled against your pulse, he realised your heart was racing, and now he had a matching frown, “You’re that afraid?” Tears were quick to flood your lash line as you ducked your head, a feeling of shame swirling in your gut as you whispered, “Yeah.” Nanami wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest as he rested his chin atop your head with a soft sigh.

He held you for a little while, waiting until you relaxed completely into him before speaking again, “Can you tell me why? Perhaps I can find some solutions for you, to make it easier.” With a deep sigh of resignation you tugged his hand into your lap, playing with his fingers to as you began to explain, “I never really worry about the pain, it’s never that bad, but the sensation of everything and how loud it all is just makes me so sick and always gives me a headache. Plus you can’t really move or anything, everything happens so fast and I never have a chance to prepare myself and even if you try to get them to stop they don’t always, just saying to hold on a bit longer. Just all of that is so overwhelming and makes me panic. Feels like I’m being tortured and can’t even move to get away. I know it’s stupid, but the fear and panic once it starts is just so all-consuming.” As you spoke, Kento listened intently, free hand gently rubbing along your back.

“First of all, it’s not stupid. Secondly, I had no idea it felt that way for you, for me its just, uncomfortable, but for you it sounds awful love, I’m so sorry.” He pressed a sot kiss to your temple, hoping to bring a bit more comfort. “I can come with you and we can ask about booking a longer appointment that way they can take their time. I can make sure they stop if you need a break and we can ask them to talk you through things so it’s not so fast. How does that sound?” Chewing nervously on your lip as you contemplated if that would actually help or not, eyes flickering up to meet his and relaxing a little again, “That could help.”

You’d spent the next hour talking about ways to make the whole thing easier on you, with the goal to make it tolerable more so than to fix it all. After that, Nanami had made an appointment for the following day and taking the day off work so that he could be with you the whole time as well as look after you afterwards. Despite all the preparation and talking, you were now sat in the dentist office, leg bouncing as you picked at your nails, mind reeling as the panicky feeling slowly climbed. Kento had signed you in and had just sat down beside you, hand coming to pry yours apart and interlock your fingers. “Breathe for me dear, deep breath in and hold, then out slowly, ready?” and he did as he asked of you, encouraging you to copy which you did. Between his calm hazel eyes and large warm hand encompassing yours, you felt that panic begin to subside, easing into a more manageable bubble of anxiety instead. That was until your name was called and it all came rushing back in an instant.

Nanami held your hand as you walked into the room, only letting go once you’d settled into the waiting dentists chair. He checked with the dentist before moving a chair over to sit by your feet, hand coming to rest on your ankle as a physical reminder he was there. The appointment took a long time, however every time you started to get jittery, Kento’s hands were massaging along your ankles and calves, the occasional softly spoken “You’re doing so well love” a reminder you weren’t alone. A reminder you weren’t trapped, that you could make it through. When you motioned for breaks the dentist listened after the first time where he had hesitated and was met with the clearing of Nanami’s throat and cold, stern look. The image would stay with you forever of you’re doting boyfriend, staring down your dentist and you couldn't help the small smile that tugged at your lips in response.

The second you were out of the chair, Nanami was pulling you in to his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “You did great, I’m so proud of you love, I love you.” And if the dentist and assistant were looking at you both funny, neither of you cared enough to notice, no, instead you were tucking yourself into him with a muffled “thankyou, I love you so much Kento, thankyou.” You walked back out, hand in hand, to pay for the appointment before leaving and climbing into the car. “Now, as promised, lets get that drink you love so much. We’ll order your favorite for dinner rather than lunch seeing as you’ll be numb for a little while” He mused, ruffling your hair as he pulled out of the clinic parking lot. “Hey, Ken, thankyou, really. You didn’t make me feel silly or childish, it sucked but it wasn’t as bad as it usually is so, thankyou.” He smiled, eyes flickering over to you before taking your hand in his, entwining your fingers as he brought them up to kiss the back of your hand. “Of course, I love you, I’ll never treat your fears as silly or childish. I’m just glad I helped even a little bit.”

The rest of the day was spent doing things you loved while Kento babied you. Curled up in Kento’s arms on the couch with a comfort movie playing was a great way to spend your afternoon, it certainly helped the memory of the dentist fade quickly. So, as you curled up together in bed for the night, face peppered in kisses from Kento that had you giggling, you couldn’t help but feel nothing but love. Love for Kento Nanami, a man who would drop everything to make you feel better, who never once would belittle your fears, who thought you were simply the most beautiful human being ever and truly felt happy just to be in your presence. The love held for one another truly shone in times like this, where he knew everything that made you happy and comfy and where you felt safe and stronger with him by your side, or in this case, your feet.

[sneeb-canons]

Heart really likes to chew on rubbery things (ex: pencil grips) and has a strong bite, Mind really likes to chew on soft fluffy things (ex: sweater) and has a soft bite, and Soul really likes to chew on hard crunchy things (ex: plastic) and has a medium bite

Also hms all also communicate with growling, purring, ect.

Headcanon #521

[spearxwind]

I've been thinking about how you've made Talas' physique even MORE powerful lately. And now I'm just imagining him, one-armed, chucking Graves like the world's angriest javelin at their common enemies.

That's genuinely so in character that I had to draw it. Average hunting tactic... and Graves would be all too excited for it, honestly

[liverpool-enjoyer]

.