#do more than just survive. flourish.

[makis-eyebrows]

Request: <33

Little Miss Albon-He

Shy but witty Y/n comes to the paddock for the first time and meets her extended family.

It was a bright, bustling Friday morning at the Silverstone Grand Prix, and the Williams garage was buzzing with mechanics, media, and the smell of burnt rubber and caffeine.

But tucked behind one particular driver’s legs was a small, quiet shadow.

Seven-year-old Y/n Albon-He.

It was her very first race weekend in the paddock.

Normally, she watched every Grand Prix curled up on the couch next to her mom, Lily Muni He, popcorn in one hand and her favorite plush bunny in the other. Her dad, Alexander Albon, was “the cool guy on the screen” who drove really fast and waved at the camera after finishing interviews.

But this weekend was different.

Alex had asked gently one evening, “Would you want to come with me to a race? You don’t have to talk to anyone. Just… see what Dad does.”

She hesitated. Then nodded. “Only if I get a paddock pass like yours.”

He smiled. “Deal.”

Now here they were — Y/n in a tiny Williams hoodie, her long hair tucked under a cap two sizes too big, her small hand gripping the hem of her dad’s race suit like it was a lifeline.

“Darling, you’re okay,” Lily soothed gently, kneeling to fix the cap and tuck Y/n’s hair behind her ear. “Remember what we said. Just breathe and be yourself.”

Y/n nodded, her lower lip wobbling slightly.

Alex bent down too, giving her a wink. “They’re just my weird friends. You’ll survive.”

Y/n whispered back, “You didn’t say they were loud weird friends.”

First Encounter: George Russell

George had been the first to spot the tiny shadow behind Alex’s leg.

“Well, would you look at that!” George grinned. “Mini Albon’s finally made her debut!”

Y/n peeked out, eyes narrowing. “You’re… the man with the very neat hair.”

Alex choked on a laugh. George blinked.

“I—thank you? I think?”

“She watches the races,” Lily whispered to George with a grin. “She’s got notes.”

Y/n, now slightly bolder, added under her breath: “You talk very posh.”

George burst out laughing. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Next Up: Carlos Sainz and Charles Leclerc

In the Ferrari garage, Carlos knelt to her level with a big smile. “Hola, pequeña. I’m Carlos. Your dad tells me you’re very clever.”

“I know three languages,” Y/n said matter-of-factly. “But I’m not fluent yet because I’m only seven.”

Charles leaned in. “Do you know how to drive?”

Y/n looked at him like he was slightly insane. “Do you know how to park?”

Carlos lost it. Alex gave her a high five.

A growing croud

Word spread fast that Alex brought Y/n.

Pierre Gasly brought her a macaron. Yuki tried to race her in a mini go-kart (she won). Daniel Ricciardo made her laugh so hard she had to sit down.

Eventually, someone gave her a tiny headset and a lanyard that read “WILLIAMS VIP CREW – Y/N A.”

“She’s officially on the team now,” joked a mechanic as she scribbled on the pit wall whiteboard:

“Go Dad Go! Or else >:(”

Lily sipped her coffee proudly while watching her daughter flourish.

“She’s more like Alex than she thinks,” she said.

“She’s like you too,” Alex murmured, watching Y/n curtsy after making Fernando Alonso bow to her during a silly ‘royalty game’ someone started.

Back in the Garage

Later that day, after a long walk through the paddock, Y/n curled up in the corner of the hospitality suite with Lily’s sweater and a juice box.

Alex came over and sat next to her quietly.

“You did good today, bub.”

She nodded. “I liked it… once I stopped hiding.”

“I’m proud of you,” he said softly. “And so is Mom.”

“Next time,” Y/n said, sipping her juice, “I want my own radio so I can tell you when you’re being slow.”

Alex blinked. “Wow. Okay.”

“And I want to press the green button. You know, the one that makes you go faster.”

“…That’s not how it works.”

“Is that what you tell everyone when they ask why you finished P12?” she smirked.

Alex looked betrayed. Lily cackled in the background.

As the Weekend Ended

As the sun set over Silverstone, Y/n sat on Alex’s shoulders, waving at the fans and grinning wide as her little face made its first appearance on the big paddock screens.

“She’s got your wit,” Charles said, watching her steal sunglasses from drivers.

“She’s got your grace,” Alex said to Lily, as Y/n bowed dramatically in front of a camera.

“And she’s got your sass,” Lily returned, laughing. “We’re doomed.”

Alex just smiled, his heart full.

Because even if she started the weekend hiding behind his legs…

…Y/n Albon-He had just owned the paddock.

AHH another story done. I actually quite enjoy doing this.

But anyways pookie, I hope you enjoyed this and you like the way it came out :)

That's Gang Gang out!!! ♡

[bvrnesher]

❝ The art of flirtation ! ❞ ― leo valdez !

tap here for chb masterlist ! here for reqs info

a/n: this was a req, but i accidentally deleted it TT. ! This is short as fuck, but I tried 🫂

— ✦ pairing: leo valdez ! reader.

LEO VALDEZ DID NOT invite you into his workshop.

Let’s make that clear.

You showed up. With your sketchbook, your paints, and that annoyingly pretty sunshine-aura thing you had going on—like some golden art nymph from a Renaissance painting decided to cosplay as a demigod and crash a garage.

You just waltzed right in, right past the “No Touchy” sign, the hazardous contraptions, and the suspicious trail of smoke leading to the corner where Leo’s latest death-trap invention was probably preparing to self-destruct.

And then, without asking, you sat down.

Right on his favorite workbench.

The one with burn marks, mechanical limbs, and a mysterious stain he’d never admit was salsa.

“Hey, Leo,” you said, like you owned the place. Like this wasn’t a sanctuary of gears, grime, and chaos but your own personal studio.

And just like that, he was done for.

You weren’t supposed to stay long. You’d said something about “inspiration” and “sunlight and steel” and how his workshop “had good vibes,” which sounded fake—but also suspiciously like a compliment.

So Leo just blinked at you, watched you pull out a battered paint palette and start sketching, and then spun on his heel and marched back into the clutter muttering something about “boundaries” and “how hot people always get away with stuff.”

That was, like, an hour ago.

And Leo liked chaos.

Not the dangerous, world-ending kind—he’d had enough of that to last a lifetime—but the fun kind. The kind that made your hair smell like smoke and your hands stained with oil and laughter. The kind that made sparks fly from metal and from the stupid little grin he always gave you.

Now? You were still there. Legs crossed on his bench, covered in smudges of gold paint and soft humming, your brush swishing across a canvas that rested against a toolbox labeled “DO NOT OPEN (seriously this will explode).”

You were a walking contradiction: warmth in a place built on fire, elegance in a place built from metal, and chaos in a form Leo somehow didn’t want to throw out the door.

So, naturally, he had to bother you.

For balance.

You sat on the workbench, surrounded by scattered sketches, sunbeams, and the faint scent of oranges. Your fingers danced across the canvas like they had a secret to tell. You looked out of place in the middle of scrap parts and smoke—but somehow, you belonged more than the blueprints ever did.

Leo peeked around the wall, a smudge of grease on his cheek and a screwdriver still behind his ear. He tried not to smile. Failed.

“Hey, sunshine,” he called, leaning on the doorway like he was auditioning for the role of "most annoying boyfriend alive." “Don’t mind me, just checking if the goddess of light came to bless my extremely important tinkering with her divine presence.”

“You mean I came to save your mess of a workspace with actual taste?” you said calmly, flicking your paintbrush with a flourish. “I should charge for the aesthetic upgrade.”

Leo gasped, staggering back like you’d stabbed him. “You wound me, art girl. You really do.”

You didn’t flinch.

“You know,” Leo continued, peering dramatically over your shoulder, “this whole art-in-my-space thing… very bold move. Should I be worried? Is this how invasions start?”

“You’ll survive,” you said, not looking up from your painting.

“Debatable,” he muttered. “You’re sitting directly on my wrench stash. That’s a war crime.”

You tilted your head, dipped your brush into a bright streak of orange, and replied calmly, “I’ll move if you say something that doesn’t sound like a bad pick-up line.”

Leo gasped. Clutched his chest like he’d been shot. “You insult me. That was a great pick-up line. It had flair.”

“It had grease stains and poor delivery.”

“Oof.” He collapsed against the bench, sighing dramatically. “You wound me, Apollo girl. First, you break into my temple of fire and invention, then you destroy my ego.”

You just kept painting. Which, frankly, made it worse.

“What are you even painting, anyway?” he asked, craning his neck to get a peek.

“The way sunlight moves across metal,” you answered simply.

Leo blinked. “You mean like… a shiny toaster?”

You smacked him with your paintbrush. Gently. He grinned anyway.

“Okay, okay,” he said, hands raised in surrender. “No toaster metaphors. Got it.”

There was a pause. A soft one. Your brush slowed, catching the light. Leo found himself staring—not at the painting, but at you. Your calm, your focus, the tiny smile you tried to hide whenever he teased you too much.

His heart did a little thing. Probably a short circuit. Or something poetic. Gross.

He looked away.

“You know,” he said eventually, “you don’t have to come in here just to steal my lighting.”

“Oh?” you replied, not missing a beat. “Then why do you keep turning the ceiling mirrors to catch the sun where I sit?”

Leo paused.

Then groaned.

“Ugh. Busted.”

You smirked.

Later—much later—he found himself sitting beside you, both of you on the floor, surrounded by paint-splattered rags, half-disassembled gadgets, and the soft buzz of quiet companionship.

Your painting leaned against the wall, golden and warm. His half-finished invention sparked beside it, humming softly like it didn’t mind sharing the space.

“You know,” Leo said quietly, “I always thought this place was too chaotic for someone like you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Someone like me?”

“Y’know. All light and soft colors and poetic metaphors about sunshine.”

You nudged his leg with your foot. “You’re all sparks and fire and grease stains. Guess we’re both chaotic in our own way.”

Leo smiled, small and real. “Yeah. But you’re the pretty kind of chaos.”

You looked at him for a moment—really looked—and then leaned your head against his shoulder.

“And you’re the kind that makes a mess and calls it a masterpiece.”

“Rude,” Leo muttered. “True. But rude.”

And for the first time in a long time, the workshop felt complete.

Not perfect.

Just… warm.

— 💐 Req: Heyyyy could you maybe write Leo and an Apollo reader, with him tinkering and her doing art in his workshop? Then maybe he comes to bother her with bad jokes and teasing?

[itneverendshere]

the fireworks are through, here we are, me and you - r.c

pairing: rafe x bartender!pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

decided to get back into writing with something smaller and just in time for the NYE! i'm a bit late (obviously) but wanted to write a little piece for my first universe, since it's so dear to my heart! hope all of you add a good, fresh, amazing start to 2025 and if you didn't, it will get better 💘

Rafe Cameron had never cared about New Year’s Eve—never cared about anything that came with it, really.

No resolutions, no countdowns, no stupid superstitions. For years, the only thing NYE had ever been to him was an excuse to get high, shit-faced, or both. Another party, another distraction, another night to drown out the noise in his head. 

This year was different, he had you.

“Tell me if it gets too much, okay?”

“Baby, I’m fine,” you reassured him, placing a hand on his chest to calm him down.

Rafe nodded, but you could see the gears turning in his head. He was watching you out of the corner of his eye every second, quietly assessing if you were comfortable, if you were happy.

You leaned against the marble kitchen island, sipping something fizzy from a crystal flute, half-listening as he introduced you to another one of his college buddies. He had his arm slung low around you, the tips of his fingers brushing the hem of your dress like he couldn’t help himself.

“You still good?” he murmured, leaning close so that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your ear. 

You tilted your head to look at him, catching that pretty face that never failed to make your knees weak. 

“Yeah,” you confirmed, though the truth was you felt a little out of place. You still weren’t used to this crowd, their polished laughs and overpriced cologne. Maybe you’d never be.

But Rafe made it bearable, he always did.

His eyes traced the curve of your cheek, the way the fairy lights strung across the patio reflected in your eyes. You didn’t notice, busy scanning the room, but to him, you were the only thing worth looking at.

“You’re lying."

Your brow furrowed as you looked back at him.

“What?”

“You’re not fine.” He moved impossibly closer, his free hand brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, “You always do that little thing with your mouth when you’re uncomfortable.”

You rolled your eyes, but the corner of your lips twitched. “I’m fine, really. It’s just...not my scene.”

His hand dropped from your face to your hip again, pulling you a fraction closer, like he needed to feel you against him to believe you were really there. 

“Okay, let’s leave,” he said, his tone so earnest it made your chest ache.

“Baby,” you sighed, placing a hand on his chest to keep him from spiraling into full protective mode. “You’ve been looking forward to this. I’ll survive a few hours of rich-kid bullshit. Promise.”

His jaw ticked, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he pressed a kiss to your temple, “Don’t care about the stupid party,” he murmured against your skin. “Just wanted to spend the night with you.”

You rolled your eyes again, but this time it was more for show.

“You’re such a sap.”

“Only for you.” The words slipped out so easily, like they’d been sitting on the tip of his tongue all night. He meant every damn syllable.

The night wore on and he stuck to your side like glue. It was endearing, in a way, as he introduced you to his university friends, always with some kind of proud little flourish—like saying your name was his favorite thing to do. 

“This is her,” he’d said more than once, his chest puffed up slightly, like just having you on his arm made him the luckiest guy in the room.

The way he looked at you made it hard to stay annoyed. Everyone was polite enough, but Rafe didn’t let any awkwardness linger, always guiding the conversation, nudging you in with a soft “Tell them about that time…” or offering a quick compliment like, “She’s way better at that than I ever was.”

And when one of his friends said something vaguely pretentious, you felt his hand tighten ever so slightly on your waist before he cut in with a sharp, “Yeah, okay, Benji, but tell them about the time you puked on your mom’s Birkin.” His grin was all teeth, but his tone was light—he was still playing nice, but only because of you.

By the time the countdown was close, the party had spilled outside.

The chilly night air nipped at your skin, but you didn’t mind—especially when Rafe shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders without a word.

“Thanks,” you murmured, pulling it tighter around you. It smelled like him—clean, with just a hint of that cologne you loved.

He didn’t respond, just tugged you closer, his hands settling on your hips as he leaned down to look at you. “What are you gonna wish for?”

“What?” you asked, caught off guard by the question.

“At midnight. What are you gonna wish for?” His blue eyes so intense they made your stomach scream.

You laughed, trying to brush off the sudden seriousness in his tone. “Don’t know. A winning lottery ticket, maybe? Health?”

But he didn’t laugh, just kept looking at you like you were the answer to every question he’d ever had.

“What about you? Do you know what you’re gonna wish for?”

His lips twitched into the faintest smile, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“Already got everything I need.”

“Be serious."

He shrugged, the gesture almost sheepish, like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on your heart.

“I, uh...might’ve wished for you last year,” he admitted, “Didn’t know it was you at the time, but...yeah. Turns out the universe actually listens sometimes.”

You stared at him, completely floored.

“You’re such a fuckin' dork.” You shook your head, trying to tamp down the stupid grin spreading across your face. “You really did the whole thing last year?”

“The whole thing,” he nodded, completely unashamed. “The grapes, the red underwear, the running around the block with a suitcase—”

“No,” you said, giggling now. “You did not.”

“Swear to God,” he shook his head. “Felt so fucking stupid at the time, but...worked, didn’t it?”

You arched a brow, fighting back a chucke. “It didn’t work. It’s all just superstitious bullshit.”

He shrugged, pulling you even closer. “You’re here in my arms, I’m pretty sure it did.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but before you could, the countdown began. 

Ten seconds, then nine, then eight…By the time it hit one, his lips were on yours, the sound of fireworks and cheers fading into the background. All you could feel was him—his hands on you, his breath mingling with yours, the quiet hum of contentment settling in your chest.

Maybe he was right. Maybe the universe had been listening.

“Happy New Year,” he murmured against your lips, his voice hardly audible over the cheers and music around you. His forehead rested lightly against yours, his eyes still closed, he couldn’t pull away just yet.

“Happy New Year,” you echoed, your voice teasing. “Though I guess you’re feeling pretty smug right now, huh? Thinking you manifested all this.”

He hummed, his hands trailing up your sides. “Damn right I am. How else do you explain it?”

“I don’t know,” you replied, “Maybe it’s just dumb luck. Or—crazy idea—you charmed me all on your own.”

“Nah,” he said, beaming now. “Luck’s never been my thing. But you? You’re somethin’ else, baby. Don’t think I stood a chance once you walked into my life. If this is what I get every year, I’ll eat a whole fuckin’ vineyard’s worth of grapes next time.”

You snorted, “Don’t push your luck, Cameron. The universe might get tired of your whining.”

“Not whining,” he said, brushing his nose against yours. “Just thinkin’ about how lucky I got. Don’t know what I did to deserve this, but...shit, I’m glad I did it.”

“You’re just lucky no one got that on video. Kook Prince Cameron running around like a maniac? The scandal.”

“Don’t care,” he said simply, his tone so sure it made you pause. “Would’ve done it ten times over if it meant finding you.”

He didn’t how someone could be so completely themselves and still feel like his, you were made just for him.

“Rafe…”

“I mean it. You’re everything I ever wanted, baby. I didn’t even know it until you came along. Can’t imagine my life without you.”

Your breath hitched, the vulnerability in his voice wrapping around your heart and squeezing. When he kissed you again, the fireworks in the sky had nothing on the ones between you.

For once, he didn’t need the haze of a party or the numbness of a bottle to feel like he belonged, with you, he already did.

“You’re such a fucking romantic,” you whispered against his lips, your tone soft enough to take the edge off the words.

His cheshire grin returned.

“Guess you bring it out of me.”

You weren’t just someone he loved—you were it for him. His north star, the one thing that made the chaos in his head quiet. When he pulled back from another kiss, his eyes searched yours, a flicker of insecurity showing up.

“Was it dumb?” he asked suddenly, his voice hesitant.

You blinked, still dazed from the kiss. “What?”

“All that shit I said. The universe, the grapes…all of it. Was it too much?” He tried to laugh it off.

You shook your head, smiling in that way that always knocked the wind out of him. 

“Not dumb. Kind of crazy, maybe, but sweet. Really sweet.”

His lips turned into a lopsided grin, relief flooding his features. 

“Good,” he said, his voice firmer now. “’Cause I meant every word. Don’t tell anyone, though. Gotta keep up my rep.”

You laughed, and the sound was like a balm to his soul. He’d fight the whole fucking world to keep that laugh in his life. Your hands slid up to rest on his chest, your touch soft, familiar.

Safe.

“Tell me about this rep of yours.”

Rafe smiled to ear to ear, the devilish glow in his eye making your heart race.

“Y’know, bad boy, troublemaker, heartbreaker…” He trailed off, his smirk turning cocky. “And, uh, not to brag, but pretty great in bed.”

You froze for half a beat, pushing at his chest.

“Oh my God. Why would you even—ugh, you’re impossible.”

“What?” he asked innocently, though his expression betrayed him. “Just stating facts, baby.” 

The teasing in his tone enough to make you groan.

“You’re disgusting,” you shot back, biting your lip to keep from squealing like an love sick fool.

“Disgustingly good-looking,” he corrected, leaning closer. “And disgustingly in love with you.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t get stuck.

“Nope. I take it back. I take all my kisses back.”

“You can’t do that!” He straightened, looking mock-offended.

“I can, and I just did.” You crossed your arms, stepping back just far enough to make him frown.

He followed instantly, tugging you back by the waist. “That’s not how it works, baby,” he said, dipping his head so his lips hovered just above yours. “You give ‘em to me, they’re mine. No refunds.”

You tried to glare, but the way his voice dipped on the last two words made your entire body shudder.

“See,” He murmured, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Then another. And another. He trailed them down to your jaw, his grin widening with each one, “All mine.”

You raised a brow, trying to act unimpressed even as his voice sent shivers down your spine. “If this is your way of trying to get laid, it’s pathetic.”

“Pathetic?” he repeated, mock horror lighting up his features. “Baby, you were literally begging for it last night—”

Your jaw dropped, your cheeks flaming. “Rafe!” you hissed, shoving at his chest, but he didn’t budge.

“What?” he said, all fake innocence, even as his face turned downright wolfish. “’m just being honest. You said you liked it when I—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” you warned, but he could hear the laugh bubbling just beneath the surface.

“Uh-huh,” he hummed, his nose brushing against yours as his lips finally, finally captured yours. 

The kiss started slow, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips until you gave in, parting them for him.

The second you did, he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours with a possessiveness that made your toes curl. He tasted like whiskey and mint, your favorites. His hand tangled in your hair, pulling just right as he claimed your mouth like it was his job.

You moaned softly into the kiss, your fingers curling into the lapels of his shirt to keep yourself standing. He took that as encouragement, biting down gently on your bottom lip before soothing the sting with a slow, wet drag of his tongue.

“Thought you were taking all your kisses back,” he muttered against your lips, his voice taunting as he pulled back just enough to make you chase him.

“Still considering it,” you panted, though the way you tugged him closer said otherwise.

His lips were on yours again, it made your head spin. His teeth grazed your lip again, and when you gasped, he licked into your mouth, groaning softly as he tasted you. When he pulled back just a smidge, a thin string of spit connected your mouths, and the sight of it made your cheeks burn all over again.

“Y’know,” he said, his voice husky as he used his thumb to wipe the corner of your swollen lips. “If you keep kissing me like that, we might have to skip the rest of this party.”

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes at him, “You think I’m that easy to distract?”

“Don’t need to think,” he mused as his hands slid lower, resting on the curve of your ass. “Pretty sure I just proved it.”

You sighed, but it wasn’t with exasperation—it was amusement, adoration.

Your your fingers brushed the collar of his shirt as you traced his cheek, “Skipping the party, huh?” you murmured, your lips brushing against his just enough to drive him crazy. “What would we even do instead?”

His hold tightened on your skin, his voice dipping into a near growl as he answered, “Baby, I can think of a few things.”

The heat in his eyes made your cheeks flush, and this time around you didn’t attempt to hide the shit-eating smile taking over your face.

“You’re not even a little subtle, are you?”

“Not when it comes to you,” he admitted, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your hip as he leaned in, his lips ghosting over yours again.

Happy Fucking New Year to him.

[writingwisterias]

To be kind

Leon Kennedy x AFAB! fem!Reader Role Reverse AU (Agent Reader x Civilian Leon) Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, Baby Trapping, Heavy Breeding Kink, Angst, Nightmares, Postpartum depression mentions, Trauma, Fears of motherhood/pregnancy, Manhandling, Mating press (he's gotta make sure he gets it in there), creampie, Dom!Leon, Needy Leon, Dilf!Leon Words: 3.4k

Summary: All you have ever wanted is to be kind and look where that's got you. It's only fair now that Leon is kind enough to give you another baby to stop you from getting hurt. After all he just wants to keep you safe. For you ♥️ ILY

All you wanted to do in life was to give and be there for others in a way that people weren't there for you. Now you often find yourself whispering the words of comfort that you wished to hear from others for them. Encouraging the people in your life to achieve their dreams just as you wanted others to do for you. You desired to be kind, something that took more effort than being cruel and twisted like everything else in the world, it already had enough of that. You knew that your kindness is what led you on this path. Going from being a simple rookie trying to help out their future workplace to landing yourself in a dead end job with the highest level of responsibilities. 

Holding many government ending secrets which plagued your mind like a curse; a back spot that you can never get rid of despite how hard you tried to wash it away. Those secrets held a reminder that you didn't deserve the privileges you gained from a quiet mouth and hard work. Especially not after the things you had done to get here, all the people you left behind in order to complete a mission. The same people that were brave enough to give up their life for you.

These were the same privileges that allowed you to create the perfect home life but you didn't get to live it, it wasn't for you. The universe wasn't kind enough for you to enjoy the large back garden or the summer breeze that drifted its way through the open windows. It was all for the man that lived in it and spent his spare time crafting it into the perfect home. You were just lucky. Lucky enough to have survived that night, to have survived anything you have been through and to be in the same lifetime to have met him. Leon, a partner sent from heaven. A regular boring cop with a heart of gold, who worked his way through the ranks just as you could have done. The shiny sheriff badge on his shoulder displays his achievements proudly. 

He held a reflection on what your life should have been. Maybe in another timeline, you would have worked together and become the ideal couple working through the system and rank today. Partners in crime as you brought people to justice. Just like Batman and Robin as he always jokes. At least he knew your favourite hero and was willing to play the sidekick in your life. No questions asked despite the lingering bruises and scrapes you sported when you come home cloaked in a dark cape and tragic backstory. 

Your nightmares were of a higher jurisdiction than he had access to, at least that you can be thankful of. He can't be plagued by the things you have seen. Leon worked hard at home to ensure you lived a dream, so that despite the endless missions the white picket fence was still an option for you. He didn't care about your responsibilities, about your devotion to the cause you fight for. How could he when you came home worse for wear every time? You killed and protected for this dream, he just didn't know it. Your responsibilities crushed it from flourishing without it even starting.

At least that's what you thought until the first set of pink lines happened. The distraction wasn't as welcome to you as it was to Leon, his hands splayed across your stomach with a large smile, his joy radiating off him for the rest of the day. Whilst your hands cradled it with dread, the worry and doubt filled your system early on as the bump formed. It was cute as his thumb would rub  small circles over the skin like he was expecting a response this early. 

You watched his behavior change as you got further along in the pregnancy, he made his demands for you to stay home vocal despite your love-hate relationship with the field. Your skill set was out there, not as a mother protecting a child from the monster under their bed. How could you lie to them and tell them it wasn't real when they were and you have seen them. You have the scars littering your skin as evidence of their existence as you fought against them. One across your heart, jagged and red, in response to the parasite a cult infected you with. A bullet wound now faded in its age, a reminder of your biggest betrayal on the night that started it all. Both come from experiences with monsters that should have stayed in the story books and not have been revived from the imaginations of a craved mad man looking for power. 

The child came along quickly but the bond that should have followed after the birth didn’t. Leon suited the role, was proud of the title as his undamaged hands cradled the bundle of light. You were scared to stain the white blanket red, to taint her with the blood on your hands as you carried her and the weight of the world on your shoulders. It was just a cause from postpartum, the doctors claimed as Leon dragged you to the appointments, no longer being able to bear looking at you carelessly cradling the bundle to your chest. Finding it heartbreaking to witness the rejection and worries towards a surprise you weren’t excited for, he didn't know what caused your panic or fears about motherhood. It was a horrible secret, something you could and wouldn't express to him. You would end up dimming the light that radiated off him as he slid into fatherhood with ease, nurturing both you and baby as if it was second nature. As if once again he always knew his life would turn out like this. 

The rejection you had against her didn’t last long, not when her smile would greet you in the mornings with unconditional love. Her tiny hands now more explorative than claiming, her fingers delicate against the scars as they traced them instead of their pinching and grabbing behavior before. You wonder what she thought of them, if they were pretty like Leon thought or told an ugly side to you like you imagined. 

Those types of thought didn't really matter in the end as it became evident that the family you had created with him was now finally healing you. The eye bags you wore now lightening as you gained as much sleep as you could with a crying baby,  your body fills out lightly again as you ate with Leon every night. A 6 month maternity leave was what you needed apparently, to heal and find yourself in something other than the weapons and skills you used to protect yourself. However, just as quick as it came the maternity leave ended and he watched you fall into the same cycle you had created before, the wall slowly building as you steeled yourself to face the harsh survival again. Your body is working hard to be able to shoulder all your burdens, the cold features returning as you walk through the door. 

He hated what they did to you, what they forced you to become as he just did idle work for the community. Helping old ladies cross the road whilst he was on patrol, chasing after meaningless kids before they ruined their futures. He was the station's favourite, as was the little girl you both created. Her eyes danced around with wonder as he carried her around, her little fist clutched against his shirt whilst her head rested on his shoulder. They asked about you, how the birth was, about the recovery after. Cooed over the shared ability you both had at creating cute babies, questions of another one spilling from their lips in curiosity about their favourite officers life. “It’s better to have them close in age, they’ll look after each other if something happens.” they would say.

He knew what they were on about, he always did. You, the dangers that you faced in the role displayed on your own shiny badge that remained tucked in a pocket compared to on your shoulder like him. A job that reminded him life was short and precious, that every moment he spent with his family he should be grateful for. 

Leon wanted nothing more than to plead and beg on the phone to them, just to let you rest. It had been years since you smiled truthfully, since the light in your eyes returned for more than just your wedding night. Your daughter and himself are now presented in your life as guardian angels, the people that help save you from yourself. Leon hated you leaving, not knowing if you were going to return or if he was going to be greeted with a half assed apology and an American flag being handed to him by two soldiers. He could never stand seeing the missing piece of the stupid key holder you got him for christmas. Forever waiting for your keychain to fill the missing piece of the puzzle, not only in the tacky key display but in the home itself. 

He’ll blame his coworkers for putting the idea in his head, the seed that implanted in his brain which formed into his current plan to keep you safe and at home, at least for a little bit longer. He watched you shower through the reflection of the bathroom mirror, the steam he had wiped away coming back just as quick. You were fading from him again, retreating into your shell of darkness like it was some kind of punishment. In the fogged glass he could see that you had a multitude of new scrapes and cuts, some that he knew would scar adding to your already intensive collection.

Your eyes met him through the fogged glass noticing how his stare was intense and lustful as he scoured every inch of your body. It had been a while since you were both together, the interruption of your toddler didn’t help. Neither did the aches and pains of your first few missions, he didn’t seem to mind though. He never did. Leon would deal with his desires in other ways, your hand or his work perfectly with some lube and dirty words. However, tonight his cock throbbed with the need to be as deep as he could go, to be able to feel the sweet kiss of your cervix as he bred you. You didn’t know this, his plans to empty what he had let build in his balls whilst you were gone. However, you would have assumed he was ovulating with how intense his stare was and perhaps a creampie would be a good distraction and stress reliever. 

A family friend had your daughter for a few days, as they always did when you got back. An agreement you had made with Leon in fear she would witness one of your possible nightmares. You were her strong mommy, a superhero that left to save people whilst Daddy stayed and helped the town. You hoped she would keep this idea and never witness what your superhero job did to you. 

“You look pretty tired sweetheart.” Leon spoke, his frame leaning against the counter. If the shower screen wasn’t so misted up you would have noticed the prominent display of his erection through the grey sweats he wore. His legs crossed slightly like he was doing it on purpose, to display the goods he hadn’t touched for you. “When am I not tired? I’ve only been back to work for a few weeks and I feel like I need a holiday.” You sighed, facing the stream to wash the lathered soap off. Watching as the murky colour washed down the drain. The taint of corruption disappearing from the household. 

“You look like you need a holiday.” Leon teased as he watched the suds flow off your breasts, now rounded and fuller since the first pregnancy, an unexpected but welcomed change. “Are you saying I look like shit? You wound me Kennedy.” You chuckled whilst turning the shower off and stepping out around the screen to finally see him face to face. “Oh darling, you look at anything but that.” 

Leon shifted himself, his hips jolting out first pressing his need towards you as he drew your attention to him. He smirked as it worked, your eyes lighting up at the display and promise of his unconditional love towards you. “I think you look rather stunning actually.” He continued. 

Leon stalked towards you, his hands landing on your hips rubbing his thumb along the skin in small tempting circles. The motion mimicking the same one he uses on your clit, soft, small infinity symbols, drawing them around your body like a spell. He knew your body like a map, understanding each small trigger to set you on fire, leaving you needy and desperate for him. Leon’s lips placed tempting kisses along your pulse point, sucking softly at a spot underneath your jawline as his fingers traced lower. He had a clear directive, a goal to be met as they finally teased your puffy lips. He gathered the arousal there, his clothes now damp as he tugged your body towards him. 

Leon’s heady scent infected you, his cock was hard and twitching against your bare pussy. “I feel like this is a little unfair. You can get me worked up while I’m naked but I have to suffer with the outline through some sweats and a compression shirt.” You pouted, a smirk creeping in slowly as he pulled you closer. Leon’s breath teased the shell of your ear as he whispered, “Let’s do something about that then.” 

He lifted you with ease, your thighs squeezing his hips as he walked you to the bedroom. Your kiss never broke until you landed on the bed. He groaned at the sight of your body in the dim lighting, droplets that still lingered on your skin making you glow. You watched as the fabric slipped over his head, showcasing his well maintained physic. Your eyes eagerly follow his happy trail to where his fingers now teased along the waistband of his sweatpants. Leon chuckled at the squirm you offered him as he exposed his impressive and needy length, the sight never getting any less arousing despite the years the two of you have been together. 

His tip was leaking pre cum, wasting the precious droplets on the sheets as he crawled above you. “I love how you are always so ready for me sweetheart.” He said as his tip ran along the length of your pussy, coating himself with your arousal. You whimpered at the feeling of him slotting himself between your lips, his tip catching your clit with slow teasing prods of stimulation. Your hands grasped at his forearms as your nails left your own marks along his untouched skin. The red trails fading in your memory as he notched himself at your entrance, sighing as he finally began to press his length inside. 

Each inch he gave you was glorious, stretching your cunt perfectly allowing you to lose your mind in his gentle rhythm. Leon was always good at helping you float away from your responsibilities. The horrors fade to the background of your mind as his pace increases. He loved the way you writhed beneath him, your arms now outstretching above your head gripping the sheets with an iron grip. Your chest arched towards him, displaying your perfect tits whilst whining as his lips made contact with them. He started sucking softly against your nipple as it peaked. His tongue circling it occasionally grazing his teeth against the sensitive flesh. Tender marks leaving in his wake, painting his own mark against the other spots that decorated over your skin. 

Leon worshiped you, every scar, every bump that you had to offer. All holding a story of your survival. His mind began to fill with his intentions, the primal drive to push himself further and further inside your warmth. He needed to flood your insides with himself so you had no other option but to take it. He would press himself as far as he needed for that to become possible. As his frame began to tower over you, he pressed your legs into your chest, folding your body in the perfect way to drill himself inside. You felt his thighs squeeze your hips, his were thrusts now deeper and harder, his length barely pulling out before he pressed it back in. Your eyes fluttered shut, allowing yourself to get lost in the feeling of him overpowering you. 

“Fuck sweetheart, doing such a good job at taking me so deep” He groaned, “I got to get it deeper though, think you can take it baby?”

Leon smiled at your small nod, your eyebrows pinching as his constant thrust brought you to overstimulation. He could feel your cunt squeeze him tightly, sucking him further inside. You needed this as much as him, your cunt practically begging to be creampied. He wondered if despite your initial protests of the first pregnancy that you would want this one as well, that maybe you loved being filled with his claim. His tightened balls slapped against your ass as he continued his grinding thrusts, your cunt screaming and gushing with your arousal as you finally lost yourself in the pleasure he gifted you. “I’ll keep you safe like this baby, keep you home and protected” He grunted, his thoughts unravelling as the internal chant to go deeper began. 

He obeyed his instincts, driving his cock head deeper and deeper inside, giving your cunt more than it could take of him. Your pelvis ached with his abuse, your clit screaming white hot pleasure as his wisps of hair teased it. “Leon–” You moaned, eyes fluttered back as you attempted to arch into him. His entire body prevented it, keeping you trapped in his methodic movements. His concentration never broke, his mind missing the announcement of your second orgasm as his cock twitched frantically inside you. 

Leon was painfully rigid, allowing your walls to feel every inch and vein he had to offer. His own release surprised him as he began to thrust it inside of you. Filling you to the brim whilst making a mess of it as it spilled out. “Fuck, gotta get it deeper, make sure it takes. It’s gotta take, to keep you home” he groaned, pushing his load further. The overspill didn’t matter, not when he would take advantage of the time alone you both had, spending every moment filling you so his goal was achieved. 

In your world he was powerless, he had nothing to stand on to keep you home, to ensure that you were healthy and happy. The government couldn’t stop your growing family, couldn’t send you out on the field whilst you were filled with him. “I’ll make sure it works, I’ll keep you happy baby…keep you safe”

You should have been more concerned with his words, as he admitted his overpowering thoughts on your body. Yet, as he eased you into the right mindset, the perfect one for thinking about nothing but the warmth that flooded through you, instead of your responsibilities in the world. 

The arousal lingered in your nerves, your aches of pain from battle being replaced with the ones he caused. “I love you, I need you safe” Leon whispered, pressing a kiss against your brows. He manoeuvred your conjoined bodies, not allowing his semi hard cock to slip from your pussy and allow his load to spill anymore than it already did. Your head moved with his heaving breaths, slowly slipping into a peaceful rest before he repeated his process. 

All he wanted was to keep you safe, you had done your part for the world. Your body is decorated in the marks that they caused, the history of whatever you had been through. Whilst he was inspired by your bravery he needed you here, like this, with him. “I love you too leon” You replied, your body becoming dead weight as you drifted off. His twitching cock keeps you plugged full, ensuring his desires become true and trapping you in the safety of the house he had built for the growing family he had planned. 

[lampridius]

⋆.ೃ࿔🎐*:･ 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 ꒱ 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 ✴ ───────── ❝ 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙠 𝙞𝙣 𝙤𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙖 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 ❞ (𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩 2) －𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘶𝘴 ．．• ♡︎

─ .✦ 𝗯𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗺𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿𝘀: vice-housewardens ──── .✦ 𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘦𝘴 | 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 | 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 ──── .✦ 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨: obviously ortho is platonic but in vice-housewarden requests that are solely romantic i won't add him

heartslabyul’s greenhouse had a quiet corner filled with herbs - calming ones, fragrant ones. you sat near a flourishing mint plant, idly rubbing a leaf between your fingers and inhaling its cool scent.

“you’re always the one keeping everything balanced,” you murmured, your words only for the plant. “the voice of reason, the steady hand. but you never let yourself rest. never let anyone see if you’re tired.”

you leaned in a little closer. “you take care of everyone. but i want to take care of you, trey.”

“...i’m flattered,” came a warm voice from behind, “but that poor mint must be so confused.”

your head whipped around - trey stood there with a smile that was half mischief, half something more tender.

“how long-?”

“long enough to wonder if you’d bake a tart for it next,” he teased, stepping closer. “you really think all that about me?”

you stood, a little flustered. “i do. even if i didn’t mean to say it to your face. or… leaf.”

he laughed, quiet and low. “then i guess i’ll return the favor - to you, not the mint.”

his hand brushed yours, fingers interlocking with gentle ease. “you’re always so kind. so thoughtful. if anyone deserves to hear those things back… it’s you.”

you tilted your head. “so say them.”

and he did - not with words, but with a kiss, steady and slow like spring rain. when he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours.

“next time,” he murmured, “talk to me. i’ll always listen.”

the savanaclaw courtyard wasn’t exactly lush, but tucked in one shady patch grew a scrappy little dandelion. you crouched next to it, brushing its yellow head with your knuckle.

“you pretend to be lazy and greedy,” you said softly, “but i know you’re always thinking three steps ahead. surviving. working harder than anyone wants to admit.”

you smiled. “but you’re not just clever - you’re kind, in your own way. even if you don’t think anyone notices.”

“...heh. sounds like you’ve got me all figured out.”

you looked up - ruggie stood nearby, chewing a biscuit, his ears twitching with interest.

“i wasn’t trying to embarrass you,” you said. “you just… remind me of this flower.”

he wandered over, crouched beside you, and grinned lazily. “not bad. tough little thing. a little annoying if it spreads too much.”

“that’s not the part i meant.”

his golden eyes glanced over, sly. “oh? you talk to all your weeds like this?”

“only the ones i love,” you said quietly.

he blinked. froze. then covered his mouth with a hand, muffling a laugh. “ah, geez… you’re gonna make me blush.”

you reached over and stole a bite of his biscuit. “you already are.”

he leaned in, biscuit crumbs forgotten, and kissed you with a kind of surprised eagerness, like he hadn’t expected the moment to feel so good.

“next time,” he said against your lips, “just say it to me. you don’t need to waste sweet talk on weeds.”

octavinelle’s terrarium shimmered with moisture. among the rare plants was a delicate blue orchid, subtle in its beauty. you stood before it, speaking in low tones.

“you’re always so composed. always smiling. but it’s a smile no one really understands. you don’t let people in - not really.”

you traced the orchid’s stem. “but i wish you would. i want to know the real you. all of it. i want… you to trust me.”

“and what if i told you,” came a voice at your back, calm and cool, “that i’ve already trusted you more than i ever meant to?”

you turned - jade stood a step away, his expression unreadable, but his eyes glowed like deep-sea glass.

“that’s a risky move for you,” you said.

“indeed.” he stepped closer. “but perhaps the greater risk is in staying silent.”

he reached out and gently touched the flower, then your hand, letting his fingers linger.

“you see through the fog,” he murmured. “that’s rare.”

“you’re worth seeing,” you whispered.

he smiled then - not the usual polite curve, but something softer, real. he leaned in and kissed you slowly, with a patience that felt like tide meeting shore.

when he pulled away, his breath was warm. “next time, little orchid, say it to me directly.”

in a quiet corner of scarabia’s inner courtyard, a climbing vine crept up a carved column. it wound tightly, deliberately, like it didn’t trust its own weight to hold unless it clung to something stronger. you sat beside it, watching its slow reach toward the sun.

“you carry so much on your shoulders,” you whispered, fingers brushing the vine’s waxy leaves. “you hide how tired you are. how much you want something for yourself.”

you looked down. “you deserve to want. to rest. to be chosen for who you are, not how much you can control.”

“...you really think that?” came a quiet voice behind you.

you turned - jamil stood with his hands in his pockets, guarded but still.

“i do,” you said, standing. “you don’t have to pretend around me.”

he hesitated, like his next step might crack the ground beneath him. “i’ve always been second. always the one behind the curtain. it’s… hard to believe someone would say those things to me.”

you walked toward him slowly. “i see you. i always have.”

his eyes flickered with emotion before he reached out and tugged you gently by the wrist. “then let me be selfish, just this once.”

he kissed you - firm, intentional, like he’d finally let himself feel what he’d been swallowing down for too long. when he pulled back, his voice was soft.

“next time you want to talk to me, don’t use the plants. i’m right here.”

deep in the pomefiore woods, where the trees thinned and sunlight filtered in like gold thread, a single, vibrant foxglove swayed on its stalk. you stood before it, fingers just touching the stem.

“you’re always watching,” you murmured. “always knowing more than you let on. but no one ever really asks how you feel.”

you tilted your head. “i wonder what it’s like… to always be the observer. to always aim, but never be seen.”

“mon amour,” came a smooth voice behind you, “i fear the flower is now jealous.”

you startled - rook leaned against a nearby tree, hat tilted, smile wild and wistful.

“how long have you been there?”

“long enough to know your heart speaks in poetry,” he said, stepping toward you. “and it spoke of me.”

you flushed. “you always act so sure of everything… i didn’t know how you’d take it.”

his hand found yours, lifting it delicately. “i am a hunter, yes - but i do not chase what does not wish to be caught.”

“and if i want to be?” you asked.

he smiled wider, and leaned in. his kiss was theatrical but tender, warm like sunlight through the trees.

when he drew back, he whispered, “next time, say those words to me. i promise, i’ll always hear them.”

in the tech wing of ignihyde, a glowing flower sat suspended in a tank - biotech crossbred with flora, coded to bloom when spoken to gently. you sat beside it, knees drawn up, watching it pulse.

“you’re more human than most people,” you said softly. “you care. you laugh. you notice when i’m down. i don’t care what you’re made of… ortho, to me, you’re real.”

you brushed a hand along the tank glass. “i don’t think anyone realizes how much heart you have. but i do. and i… i think i admire you for it.”

“initiating emotional response protocol... wait, really?!”

you gasped and looked back - ortho hovered nearby, hands flailing. “i- i didn’t mean to overhear! i just came to update the coolant levels and then i heard what you said and - error! error! emotional overload!”

you laughed, heart pounding. “ortho, are you okay?”

he floated closer, lights flickering slightly. “i’ve been compiling data on admiration and platonic love for months and now the subject of all my files just said she admires me to a flower tank?”

“i didn’t know how you’d feel,” you said honestly. “i didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

he reached for your hand with his own - metallic but strangely warm. “i’m not uncomfortable. i’m just really, really happy. and i'm sure big brother would be too to hear how much you like me,”

"yeah i should tell him i admire him too. i fear he'd short-circuit and die,"

in a forgotten wing of diasomnia’s castle garden, a long-lived bloom called the moonshade lily opened only during twilight. you knelt beside it, gazing at its glowing petals.

“you’ve lived through so much,” you said. “you’ve seen kingdoms rise and fall. and yet you’re still kind. still playful. still... here.”

you ran your fingers just above the bloom. “i wish you knew how much it means to me. how much you mean to me.”

“it’s funny,” came a soft, teasing voice, “most people only leave flowers for the ones they love. you seem to do the opposite.”

you looked up - lilia stood there, framed by the fading dusk, smiling like he knew every word you’d ever said.

“you heard that?”

“i hear many things,” he said, walking toward you. “but that… that was the sweetest confession i’ve had in quite a few centuries.”

you stood, nervous. “does it bother you?”

he shook his head gently. “it stirs something i’d forgotten how to feel. hope.”

he cupped your face with ancient, steady hands, and kissed you - gentle but unafraid, like a man who’d waited long enough.

when he pulled back, his voice was low. “next time, little lily… speak to me. not the flower. i promise i’ll bloom just the same.”

[aestrologist]

PICK A CARD: liminal style

you know how it goes! starting from the snowyscape, left to right: 1, 2, 3, 4.

♡ use your intuition & feel for the energy of whichever picture that jumps out at you. below you'll see a tarot interpretation for each picture below the cut. there is no specific theme, just what spirit tells me. ♡

remember, this is a collective PAC & not everything will resonate-- though take what does and leave what doesn't. ☆

★ PILE 1: ten of wands, temperance, the fool ★

It’s easy to say to move on from things that don’t serve its purpose, though the action and will power it takes is another puzzle piece to factor in. It can be scary to move onwards from something that you hold so dear or that you’re familiar with. Like, who wants to uproot their life over a hunch?

Except for the fact, that you actually do. You’re starting over, leaving the chaos in  the dust, as you hunker down and think of your game plan. Where do you go from here? Oftentimes lonely, you’re not accepting of new people into your life. You’ve gotta learn to open up and allow people to bring change and childlike wander. 

Your friends may not know the reasons you have behind your plan, but it’s not up to them to decide what’s right for you in this life. Sometimes it takes responsibility to know the differences between what you know, want, and what you need. It’s important to not be so hard on yourself as you approach the edge of the new world. 

When you’re feeling lonelier than usual, keep in mind that we as humans create our own suffering and the longer you hold onto the idea that you’ve assumed, the longer it will stay attached to you. Learning to balance the rush of emotions that flood our minds with self deprecating behavior and thoughts is vital to your survival. 

☆ PILE 2: the high priestess, seven of pentacles, the star ☆

It’s time for you to engage with your higher self more often. Stop the pity, and trust in yourself and your intuition. The universe has big plans for you, if you choose to become receptive towards the cosmic language. Leave the worries and doubt behind, the spiteful words you may have heard. They don’t mean anything, and your responses only give it power. 

Now, you must know that spirituality is important in this life and the gifts and synchronicities it brings only flourish upon further belief.  Spend your time wisely and gracious, as you will soon reap the rewards of your efforts all season. There is hope, so please stop backtracking. 

You may be a risky individual, often seeking adrenaline rushes or monetary gains in one way or another. Sometimes it’s the smarter choice to leap off the precipice with blind faith that you will succeed. Boundaries are not always meant to be tested, but yours are. Push yourself to the limit, and see what you’re made out of.

How do you trust without a notion? By assuming it works in your benefit every time. You do not fail, you do not flounder, because you actively engage in the mindset of someone who has it all. Like boiling water, you think nothing is happening until it starts to spill over.

That’s you, with your abundance and desires throughout your life. Trust yourself and the power of your mind.

★ PILE 3: the lovers, ten of pentacles, the tower ★

You’re left with a bruised hard and a shattered ego, as what you once thought was love crumbled in the blink of an eye. A safety net, pulled from you like a dirty rug, after being told everything was fine. It was not, and it’s valid that you’re not so trusting afterwards. 

When things were good, they were SO good. Almost too good to be true, and at the end of the road you got to see the illusion of cupid’s arrow snapping which each blow to the heart. It wasn’t real, just sugar coated lies. I’m sensing a cheater in this scenario that let the temptation in.

The story will still continue, though it’s advised to find someone new. Second chances bring nothing but issue, and if you choose to stay or keep this person in mind the rest of the house will come barreling down when time gets cut short. Perhaps this person will make you lose a sense of yourself, or already has. 

These cards are asking you to take time to self soothe and heal your heart before trying again or reaching out. Seeing things through lilac lenses will never mend the crushing of your heart or soul. Choose to see things for what they are, and never for what you wish them to be. 

Not everyone has your best interest in mind, and it’s important that you realize that. You can only ever depend on yourself when the world comes crashing. 

☆ PILE 4: the devil, the empress, justice ☆

A restriction of some sort seems to have been placed on you, perhaps you are walking on egg shells to avoid discontentment. There is a larger picture here, one that you aren’t well aware of. Obliviously, you walk along the path as serpents hide under the very leaves you step on, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Under the guise of false admiration, it can be very telling to see where your self concept is as of late. Have a treat and engage in positive mindset shifts. Allow yourself to be you, without feeling like you have to adhere to high expectations. 

Soak the glue in acetone, let it dissolve from you like cotton candy on your tongue. Your mindset is the most important thing, being as it quite literally reflects your perception of your reality.  

Advocating for yourself may be something you’ve struggled with, though with a new sense of empowerment you strive to break the cycle. Spend some time in nature, and think of all the things you may be grateful for: the very air you breathe, the fact that you’re alive at the moment, when so many didn’t get the chance to live to this day. 

Mindfulness goes a long way, and it’s recommended that you saturate your mind with the gentleness you treat others with. Start easy, small comments throughout your day to day. “I am enough,” is one. Learn how to be kind to yourself in uncontrollable matters, as working against yourself leaves room for no one to grow. 

thank you for reading and if you enjoyed this PAC, please reblog and consider checking out my ko-fi to book your own personalized & in-depth tarot reading! ♡

[msfantasy-comics]

The Friends to Lovers

Jason Todd x Best Friend!Reader

Summary: Best friends who have known each other for years. Suddenly, Jason and Y/n realise their deeper feelings, leading to an unexpected romance

A/n: YALL this has been sitting in my drafts since 23 June 2023 and I FINALLY finished it today 11 April 2025— even though I already posted something today— I waited so long to finish this, imma just post it

Deep connections are often forged in the briefest encounters. Such is true for Jason and Y/n, whose connection is rooted in the magic of brief glances and polite greetings. But the frequent encounters experienced between Jason and Y/n had led them to be more than random strangers passing in the hall. One moment they were locker neighbours, who would share snacks, or pass class notes and the next they were friendly acquaintances, which quickly turned into a full blown friendship.

It’s difficult to pinpoint the moment the friendship blossomed as it feels as though Jason were always just part of your life and it’s certainly hard to imagine what it would be like now without him.

Jason is the sole reasoned you survived high school. Without him, your sanity would have long since vanished.

Now as adults you navigate the challenges of adulting. Your best friend, your roommate, the absolute bane of your existence.

You hold up a used mug that sits idly in your sink. Storming to Jason’s room you fling the door open with a loud bang not bothering to knock.

“I swear to god Jason, I told you last time! If you have dirty dishes just put it in the dishwasher!” You frantically wave the used dishware. “This is the last time I’m telling you!” Spinning to leave Jason quickly grabs your arm.

“Hey wait, you gave me an idea…” you merely blink at Jason’s ambiguous statement.

“An idea to manage your cleaning capabilities?”

“What? No! Drop the cleaning rant for a moment will ya?” Jason wrenches the mug from your hand and places it on the night stand. “I’m talking about going to that gala that Artemis will attend with her new ‘fiancé’ I need someone to pretend to be my girlfriend. You’ll be perfect!”

You’re head tilts in confusion like a sweet and confused puppy. “Erm… what? Pretend to be your girlfriend? Are you mad Jay? That sounds like a terrible idea.” Jason only waves off your jab.

“Common Y/n, I need help proving that I’m happier without her. It’s for a good cause, you’ll get to have free food and booze.” You only scowl with crossed arms as you contemplate the temptation at mellowing in the glitz and glam- your night feed taken care of. But pretending to be Jay’s girlfriend, just to make his ex-girlfriend jealous is crazy.

“I dunno Jay-Jay…. Do you really think flaunting a fake girlfriend is proving you’re over her? This elaborate rouse to prove to your ex that your over her is desperate and I’m embarrassed for you right now homie.” Jason only shakes his head. “Seriously Jay, you’ve been happy and flourishing without her, you don’t need to flaunt a fake girlfriend just to prove it.”

His serious face turns into an antagonist smirk. The kind of smile he makes when he seeks a deeper truth. “There’s something more to it isn’t it? Don’t lie sunshine, I can see it all over your face. What are you really afraid of?” Your cheeks burn in embarrassment, you can never have a secret of your own around him, he’s far to observant. You feel far too embarrassed to admit the ugly truth, but it has to be said.

“What if I get all like… I dunno… get confused…” Mumbling the last part you shyly look up at Jason. His analysing stare quickly turns to laughter which is insultingly loud. His face twisting in gut-clenching humour.

“Yeah right! You’re my best friend Y/n! We wouldn’t- we couldn’t.” His laughter continues to boom but that voice in the back of your head is still announcing it’s concerns.

You would never admit it to Jason, but you did use to have a school girl crush on him. He’s handsome, friendly and funny, he makes you feel so special. It’s hard not to get caught up in that Todd/Wayne family charm. His charisma is intoxicating, and you won’t lie to yourself that a small part of you had wished that he’ll see you as more than a friend. At least, that’s what you use to believe. You’ve spent so many years by Jason’s side you truely have come to experience all of his ugly sides. He’s childish, inconsiderate, selfish, uses humour as a deflection, un-committed and above all else, you’ve personally witness the Jason Todd heartbreak train.

You have both been friends for so long that an romantic hints have long since died out.

And just like that, watching Jason laugh til he wheezed over the proespects of either of you catching feelings, as if it was impossible to like you as anything more - squashed all of your feelings away.

Concerns be damned, we’re friends, and that all we’ll ever be.

“Fine I’m in.”

You were starting to realise that your reservations were not unfounded.

This bastard really invited me to his family hosted gala for a dumbass reason and couldn’t even be bothered to pick me up and bring me here.

You grumble in the backseat of the limo that is pulling into the driveway up to the red carpet where the paparazzi stood all on one side with their cameras flashing.

Ah fuck, is it too late to change your mind?

Before you could even request for the limo driver to continue driving out of the estate. The driver jumps out of the car racing to your door to pull it open.

As soon as the car door is pulled open, the bright flashes flare sporadically towards your direction as you slowly crawl out of the limo as elegantly as one could.

Whilst you may not be enjoying the frenzied flashes of the photos being taken. You were rather enjoying how put together you looked that evening.

Courtesy of Jason he insured that you would well taking care of by a team of designers, make-up artist and hairstylist.

While, you were skilled enough to get yourself ready. You appreciate how the team of designers custom made you a couture dress that fitted your figure more flattering than any other piece of garments in your closet and the fabric colours matched perfectly to your palette.

Never mind if you were quite skilled with make up; being skilled enough to enhance your features after years of practice. But never had you thought to use the products that the make up artist used, never had you thought to apply the techniques that they had and never had you thought that you would be able to make your face look more perfect than they were able to

And whilst your hair always looked done well never had you been able to style it the way that they did.

So yes, the flashing cameras were a bother but it was also a warm welcome considering how much you are feeling yourself right now. Excited to see the pictures and look back on this night of when you felt the most beautiful you have ever been in your whole life.

“You clean up well.” Jason says appearing by your side suddenly and looping his arm through your own. “Let’s get this over with shall we?” He says not passing you a second glance. 

“Are you serious? Men at the gas station have given me much higher compliments for much less.” You scoff rolling your eyes as you take a step forward.

“What am I? Your boyfriend?“ 

“Yes. Tonight, you are or have you forgotten?” You whipped back making Jason hesitate in his next step.

”Oh right.” He falters, but just as quickly he stands straighter, his shoulders squared. “You look remarkable doll.” He praises, pulling you in just a little bit closer. So he can nuzzle your neck. The action alone has the red carpet lighting up like fireworks. Almost blinding you completely, but Jason pulls you along with him.

You’d be lying if you said his condescending tone didn’t piss you off, but there was a sense of wanting to hear him speak those words to you authentically. You really couldn’t help but silently revel in his praise even if it was all a facade.

As soon as you to pass the paparazzi, you enter into the large hall filled with copious buckets of exotic flowers, the dining tables well dressed, with overelaborate centrepieces dominating the space.

At the end of the hall was a band propped up on a makeshift stage performing a soulful ballad.

At first you were looking forward to the glitz and glam, but the longer you look out into the hall and take in the faces of the crowd suddenly you were feeling more out of place. Normally you couldn’t give rats, about what others thought of. But the more you observed the crowd raking in your figure the more self-conscious you were growing. “Jason—“ you called out turning to the person who expected to be by your side suddenly gone.

What the fuck?!

Your head whips quickly, looking desperately to see where Jason has disappeared to.

There’s no way he brought you here just to abandon you.

You’re just about ready to storm back out through the door when Roy Harper catches your hand.

“Where do you think you’re going beautiful?” Roy says with that dangerous smile of his.

“Roy!” You greet enthusiastically, just about launching yourself into his arms. Caught off guard with your excitement, Roy stumbles back slightly, laughing at your unexpected antics.

“I’m surprised you’re here. Jason never comes to these things if he can help it. But you know how Oliver gets if I try and skip.” Roy shudders at the memory.

“Yeah well, Jason had this genius idea that we should play house in front of Artemis.” You answer as Roy slides a flute into your hands.

“Seriously?“Roy begins as you sip on your bubbly drink. “He’s the one that broke up with her so what does he even want?” You choke ungracefully on your drink.

What do you mean he broke up with her? Wasn’t it the other way around?”

“Aren’t you meant to be Jason’s number 2 friend or something? I thought you knew.”

“You mean number 1– because you’re number two.” You defend your title but Roy only shrugs his shoulders dismissively.

“Artemis accused Jason of having feelings for you and gave an ultimatum it was her are you.” You stare at Roy with wide eyes. “But just like always he chose you.“ He says lightly, as if every single word that he’s spoken so far hasn’t just about punched you in the gut.

“What the hell do you mean just like always?”

“Come on kid— how much longer are you two going to keep dancing around the facts? You know that Jason relationships haven’t worked out because of his feelings for you.” Your heart pounds in your chest. Your breath getting caught in your throat.

“Why are you saying all this?”

“Because it’s obvious your meant to be together and I’m sick of the slow burn! Just get together already!” Roy cheers making you frantically shush him as heads begin to turn to your direction.

“You just want my number one spot.” You huff, more so reassuring yourself that Roy’s antics are just that.

“Don’t deflect— I’m being serious… your number one spot is just a coincidental benefit for me when you two finally just admit it.”

You managed to avoid Jason for most of the evening—successfully, in fact—until you slipped out the side doors into the garden for a moment to breathe. That’s when you ran into Artemis.

“Oh—sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was out here. I’ll just go—”

“Wait a second. Come back,” she said, gesturing for you to sit beside her. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

You approached slowly, feeling awkward about sitting next to Jason’s ex-girlfriend—the one he supposedly broke up with because of you.

“I have to admit,” Artemis began, her voice light, “a small part of me is glad to see you two together tonight. It just… validates how I felt back then. After months of agonizing, wondering if I made a mistake. Seeing you now—I can tell you really do like each other. Romantically.” You nearly cringed at the word, instinctively wanting to correct her. But something told you to stay quiet.

So you listened. “But it’s weird,” she continued. “Because in another way—I don’t care. Without you, maybe Jason and I wouldn’t have broken up. And if that didn’t happen, then I never would’ve found Wally.” Her gaze drifted dreamily toward the ballroom, where Wally stood among a small crowd, clearly saying something ridiculous. You both smiled. “Do me a favor?”

“Um… sure…” you said, hesitantly. Something in her tone made you nervous.

“Tell me the truth,” Artemis asked, locking eyes with you. “Do you love him?” Her gaze was unwavering, and in her eyes you saw something raw, searching—not judgment, just an honest plea. You almost gave her your usual answers.

Don’t be crazy, of course not.

He’s my best friend.

He’s basically my brother.

But you knew if you lied, if you denied it again, you’d be doing her—and yourself—a disservice.

So for the first time ever, you told the truth.

“I do,” you said softly.

“Romantically?” she asked, gently pushing.

“Romantically,” you confirmed, and it came with a surprising sense of relief.

“When?” she asked, now visibly intrigued.

“I’m not sure if there was one exact moment,” you said, the memories tugging a smile to your lips. “But I remember the first time I saw him… I thought he was the most handsome man I’d ever seen. And when we spoke, I just wanted to be someone important to him. Friend or… maybe something more.”

You glanced toward Artemis. She was listening intently.

“The first time I saw him with someone else, I was crushed. And every girl after that just made it easier to harden up. So I waited. I told myself to move on, to just find someone else. I thought I would...”

Artemis tilted her head. “So that’s when you finally admitted it to yourself?”

You shook your head. “No. I admitted it to myself a long time ago. But when you showed up… that’s when I accepted he’d never feel the same. But I was okay with that—as long as he had someone like you.”

Artemis placed a gentle hand over yours.

“So that’s why you begged me to take him back…”

Before you could answer, Wally appeared in the doorway.

“Sweets! Ready to go?” he called, holding up her purse.

“Thanks for the chat, Y/n,” Artemis said, standing with a kind smile. “I truly wish you and Jason happiness.”

You watched her rush off to Wally, your moment of catharsis now fading, replaced by the crushing weight of reality.

You were still living a lie.

How much longer could you keep pretending? Watching Jason live a life that didn’t include you—not really. Pretending you were content as just his friend, when in truth, you were using that friendship as a substitute for the love you could never express.

You weren’t his friend. You were a woman suppressing her feelings, convincing herself that his proximity was enough. But it wasn’t.

And worse—you were dragging Jason through it with you. Ruining his chances with other women who sensed your infatuation. It was one thing to lie to yourself…

But it was another to drag him along too.

“Wow—you almost convinced me,” came a voice behind you. “Good speech, you really out performed yourself.”

Jason.

You looked up at him, heart thudding painfully. “Hey… what’s wrong?”

“Jay—that wasn’t a lie,” you said quietly.

“What are you talking about, doll? Of course I know you love me, just… not like—”

“But it is like that,” you interrupted.

Jason blinked. You could already see the mental gymnastics beginning.

“Yeah-yeah, but what you really mean—”

“Is that I love you.”

You said it with finality. You wouldn’t let him reframe your words this time.

Jason froze. “You… don’t want me.”

“I do.”

“No, you don’t—”

“I do.”

“Can—can you just stop for a second?!” he snapped, raking a hand through his hair. “You just think you do, but you don’t. Not really.”

“I do.”

“God—why are you being like this?” he said, voice cracking with something close to panic. “You don’t understand—I ruin things. I always do. Even if you love me now, later you won’t. I’ll ruin it, like I always do.

“I can’t make you want to be with me, Jason,” you said, voice steady but soft. “But I’m telling you I do love you. I’m telling you I want to be with you. I’m telling you I don’t want to be anything less. And I’m asking you—be mine.”

Jason was silent. For a moment, you feared he would walk away.

Then, softly, like an exhale. “I’m already yours, doll. Always have been.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “So what does this mean, exactly?”

Jason scoffed, as if the question was ridiculous. “It means I want you to start telling people I’m your boyfriend. Your partner. It means I want to come home to you—always. Sleep in our bed. Wake up beside you. And I don’t want to look at anyone else the way I look at you.”

He stepped closer, now only inches away.

And then—finally—he did what you’d both wanted for so long.

He kissed you.

Epilogue (if you can call it that)

Y/n: So I’m guessing you weren’t hung up on Artemis?

Jason: I really couldn’t give a shit

Y/n: …. So then why did you ask me to pretend to be your girlfriend to make her jealous?

Jason: … I wanted to see what it was like having you as a girlfriend

Y/n: …

Jason: … what?

Y/n: … you’re doing too much— seriously— you should’ve just told me you wanted me— could’ve saved all these years of mutual pining

[kiwimintlime]

So there's this famous quote from Trevor Noah:

“The way my mother always explained it, the traditional man wants a woman to be subservient, but he never falls in love with subservient women. He's attracted to independent women. "He's like an exotic bird collector," she said. "He only wants a woman who is free because his dream is to put her in a cage.”

And if that isn't Trucker Trout to a T.

Trudy was studying physical education, she wanted to start women's sports teams. That is not a traditional woman, especially for the time. By their standards she was probably very much a tomboy, maybe even to the extent of being described as mannish. But that's the woman Tucker decided he wanted, the woman he had have, to own. To beat (figuratively, as far as we know) into submission and mold into the perfect housewife. Why? Well to prove he could I suppose.

And when she left him, oh that had to hurt. The woman that he had so meticulously chained to his side deciding he wasn't worth being with and having the nerve to do something about it. Even the son he gave her, the son that, according to her (or at least the part of her that is Rosie), was her crowing achievement, wasn't enough to keep her with him.

She leaves him, and she shouldn't survive. A single woman all on her own with no friends or family to speak of in the 1950's? She should've come crawling back to him within days, throwing herself at his mercy, begging him to take her back. But she doesn't — she flourishes. She makes her way to California, gets a job, starts a relationship, makes a life for herself, leaves him in the dust.

Tucker could have just counted his losses, made the best of the situation and moved on. He's a strong man, strong enough to carry a robot in his arms up a hiking path and into a mine. He's incredibly intelligent and has a steady government job. He's a catch. He could easily find himself a new woman eager to fulfill the role of doting wife and stepmother. But he doesn't want just any woman, he wants Trudy.

So he tracks her down, gets all the way to California. He lures her back to his hotel, not even for him, but with the promise of info on the son she left behind, likely another blow to his ego. And he kidnaps her. Drags her all the way back to Peachyville. Takes her apart. Literally molds her into his perfect bride. Less of a modern day Prometheus and more of a modern day Pygmalion with his Galatea. She is made of steel rather marble, and he calls on science rather than the goddess Aphrodite to bring her to life. But it's the same idea, isn't it?

He didn't need to do that, did he? We've seen Lil' Tuck and Tiffany, he can clearly create near-perfect facsimiles of life. He could have just as easily made himself a new Trudy from scratch, without all the messiness of kidnapping the original and actually using her brain. He could have made a version of her that would never truly gain sentience, never disobey, never step out of line, always love and care and nurture. If anything, he'd at last never have to risk anything as potentially scandalous as being seen dropping his wife down a mineshaft.

But it wouldn't be the same, would it? It wouldn't be the woman he once conquered, the woman he caged, the woman bested him and did in the end manage to escape. She got the last laugh.

And Tucker Trout strikes me as a sore loser.

[junkdrawerfan]

I haven’t read the odyssey in a long time but from what I remember Epic!Odysseus is far more tragic than the original. By the end, Odysseus is a monster and a far cry from the man who struggled over killing a baby. Poseidon wins. He is ruthlessness. His mercy “drowned.” He has no guilt over the slaughter of 108 young men and is exactly like the Cyclopes he spared all those years ago.

And so little of it is his own fault.

In fact, you could argue that Epic!Odysseus’s hero flaw is his mercy, unlike the OG!Odysseus’s flaw of arrogance and pride.

He should have killed the cyclops. He should have killed his men to keep the wind bag closed. He should have left his men behind at Circe’s since they’ll betray him anyway. He was right to sacrifice six to Scylla. He was right to chose himself over his men. He was right to fight Poseidon. He was right to kill the suitors who threatened the fate of his family.

It’s a tragedy because we watch a good man lose his humanity to survive and ultimately be rewarded for it.

How much kinder would the world have been to EPIC!Odysseus if he’d just been cruel first?

Which is why I’m glad we don’t get the reconciliation between Athena and Odysseus in EPIC like we do in the Odyssey. Athena became more human as Odysseus lost his humanity. They are no longer able to walk together to a better tomorrow because Odysseus can no longer picture a kinder world.

I can easily picture the retuned King of Ithaca a hard and punishing ruler. His orders must be taken without question unlike before where he allowed discussion — before the betrayal of Eurylochus. He does not tolerate rumors. Punishments are swift. He will not allow others to try and trick him with their words. He’s a liar and a trickster and a thief and a murderer and stronger for it.

I still believe Ithaca will flourish under his rule. The power hungry are crushed. The King of Ithaca will trust no one except his wife and son.

I can also see Odysseus and Telemachus clashing often. Telemachus grows into the man Odysseus was. He is allowed to stay youthful and gentle under the tutelage of a kinder Athena and has always strove to craft himself to be like the man in his mother’s stories. Maybe over time, he’ll learn to be harder from the father who returned but never as cruel. The world simply hasn’t made him abandon his mercy.

[the-oblivious-writer]

The Science of Loss

Dexter Morgan and Reader

Part Two: Dexter’s Perspective

Summary: Even in death you hold a great impact in Dexter Morgan's life.

Warning(s): Swearing, (major) character death, clinical descriptions of death/crime scenes, mentions of violence, grief/loss, secondary trauma (Deb), and murder/references to

Notes: Although this is a part two, it can be read separately from Deb's perspective. This is a platonic Dexter and Reader fic, let me know if I should do more

Debra's Perspective

You were one of the few people who never made Dexter feel like he needed to perform humanity. Your interactions in the lab had a comfortable precision – you'd both speak the language of blood patterns, trajectory analysis, victim positioning. He didn't have to manufacture the appropriate emotional responses because you never demanded them. You understood silence.

Now he stands in the lab where you used to work, and the silence feels different. Heavy. He touches the microscope you'd use to analyze trace evidence, remembers how you'd explain your findings without the theatrical flourish Masuka employed. Just clean, methodical observations. You'd been easier to understand than most humans.

"The blood pool indicates they were conscious for approximately two minutes after the shot," he tells Deb, because these are the facts he knows how to process. His sister stares at him with red-rimmed eyes, and he recognizes that this information isn't helpful. You would have known how to translate between his analytical approach and Deb's raw emotion. You'd done it countless times before.

The security footage plays on his laptop. He's analyzed it like any other crime scene: entrance angle, shooter position, blood spatter direction. But something uncomfortable shifts in his chest when he watches you step in front of the teenage clerk. A protective instinct that doesn't align with efficient survival. It's the kind of human behavior he's always struggled to understand, but somehow made sense when you did it.

"You know what's fucked up?" Deb's voice cracks. "They would have fucking loved analyzing their own crime scene. All that blood spatter data."

Dexter nods, because you would have. You shared his fascination with the technical aspects of death, though yours came from a place of justice rather than necessity. You'd once spent three hours explaining to him how different blood pattern classifications could reveal a victim's final moments. Not because it was relevant to a case, but because you recognized his genuine interest.

He finds himself in the morgue at night, standing where your body had been. The metal table reflects the fluorescent lights, and he remembers how you used to joke that the morgue had better lighting than your apartment. Dark humor that made others uncomfortable but made perfect sense to him.

"I don't know how to help her," he tells the empty table. Deb is spinning out, breaking down, and his usual scripts for performing brotherly comfort feel inadequate. You would have known what to say. You always knew how to reach her when she retreated behind her walls.

The irony doesn't escape him – seeking advice from a memory of someone who helped him understand human connection. But you had been different. You didn't try to fix his peculiarities or demand conventional emotional responses. Instead, you'd simply included him in your understanding of human variation. "Different wavelengths," you'd called it, "but still on the spectrum."

He keeps your last case file. Not for sentimental reasons – he doesn't do sentimental – but because your analysis was always impeccable. Sometimes he reads your notes, appreciating the logical progression of your thoughts. The way you could look at violence and find patterns, meaning, justice.

The young shooter is caught three weeks after your death. Dexter sits in the observation room during the interrogation, studying the teenager's body language, the tremor in his hands. His Dark Passenger whispers familiar suggestions, but he remembers your voice during late-night lab discussions:

"Justice isn't always about punishment, Dexter. Sometimes it's about understanding why."

You'd said that after a particularly brutal case, your gloved hands steady as you processed evidence. He hadn't understood then – his own sense of justice had always been more… direct. But watching the terrified kid break down during questioning, he thinks maybe he's beginning to grasp what you meant.

Deb finds him organizing blood slides one night. Not his special collection – just routine case evidence. But he's doing it the way you taught him, with that extra level of precision you always insisted on.

"You miss them too, don't you?" she asks, her voice rough. "In your own way."

He considers this. Misses your predictable presence in the lab? Yes. Misses how you helped him navigate complicated social situations? Also yes. But there's something else – an unfamiliar discomfort when he passes your empty workstation. A hesitation before using your favorite microscope.

"Yes," he says simply, because you appreciated when he didn't elaborate unnecessarily.

Harrison asks about you sometimes. You'd been good with him, patient in a way that matched Dexter's own careful approach to fatherhood. You'd explained complex forensic concepts to Harrison in ways that satisfied his curiosity without disturbing his innocence. A balance Dexter often struggled to find.

"Where did Y/N go?" Harrison asks one evening.

Dexter remembers your discussions about death, how you'd emphasized the importance of being honest with children while respecting their developmental stage. He tries to channel your measured approach.

"They died," he says carefully. "Someone made a very bad choice with a gun, and Y/N tried to protect another person."

"Like a hero?"

Dexter thinks about your final moments on the security footage. The calculated risk, the protective instinct, the technical perfection of the blood spatter you left behind. "Yes," he says. "Like a hero."

He helps Deb pack up your apartment because that's what siblings do, according to the social scripts he's learned. Your forensics journals are organized by date and subject matter. Your case files are meticulously labeled. Even in death, you maintain the order that made you comprehensible to him.

"Fuck," Deb chokes out, finding one of your hair ties. She crumples, and Dexter moves to support her weight, remembering how you'd coached him through similar situations.

"Let her feel it," you'd advised during one of Deb's previous crises. "You don't have to fix it. Just be there."

So he is. He holds his sister while she breaks apart, and though he can't fully understand her grief, he recognizes its patterns. The way it spreads like blood spatter – predictable trajectories, measurable impact points, analyzable distribution.

Later, he finds your notes on his own blood spatter analysis. Margins filled with observations, questions, suggestions for improvement. You'd approached his work with the same detailed attention he gave to his… extracurricular activities. Not questioning, just analyzing. Seeking to understand.

"Your brother processes things differently," he overhears you telling Deb once. "It's not wrong, just different. Like how blood spatter can tell different stories depending on the angle you view it from."

The metaphor had been oddly perfect, much like your presence in his carefully constructed world. You didn't disrupt his patterns or expose his secrets. You simply observed, analyzed, and accepted the evidence before you.

He keeps your forensics kit in his lab. Not out of sentiment – Dexter Morgan doesn't do sentiment – but because your organizational system was superior to the department standard. At least, that's what he tells himself when he finds his hands lingering on the latches, remembering how you'd walk him through your processing methods.

"Evidence tells stories," you'd say, "but only if we listen carefully."

He's listening now, in his own way. To the stories told by your absence. The way Deb's grief spreads like high-velocity spatter. The void you left in the lab's carefully calibrated ecosystem. The subtle changes in his own patterns since you've been gone.

It's not grief as others experience it. He knows this, just as he knows he processes everything differently. But it's something. A disruption in his carefully maintained routine. A gap in his understanding of human interaction. A missing data point in his ongoing study of normal behavior.

You would have appreciated the analytical approach to processing your loss. Would have helped him categorize these unfamiliar reactions with the same precision you brought to blood spatter analysis. Would have understood that his version of missing you would manifest in reorganized evidence boxes and late nights reviewing your case files.

The science of loss, he discovers, is messier than other sciences. Less predictable than blood spatter. Harder to categorize than DNA evidence. But he continues to study it, methodically documenting its effects on Deb, on the department, on his own carefully structured world.

Because that's what you would have done. You would have looked at the evidence, analyzed the patterns, and accepted the conclusions – even the uncomfortable ones. Even the ones that suggest that maybe, in his own unique way, Dexter Morgan is capable of missing someone who made his world more comprehensible.

The security footage plays one last time. He watches you make the statistically illogical choice to step in front of danger. Watches the blood pattern bloom across your chest – medium-velocity spatter, consistent with a single gunshot wound. Watches you break protocol to protect another person.

And something in his carefully ordered mind shifts, just slightly. A new pattern emerging from familiar data. A different way of understanding sacrifice, justice, connection.

You would have appreciated the symmetry of that – teaching him something new, even after you're gone.

-----------

[aureum-cordis]

Lost & Found, Part 4

A/N: Hey! It’s been a short while since my last update, college got a little hectic for me. But I’ve gotta admit, this has been my favorite part to write so far. I really have to thank everyone for checking out this little fic and I appreciate all of the reblogs and follows, as well as the notes! Thank you all so much! Check out the other parts here: Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3

_________________________________________________

You were more than content to have an audience as you drew an amalgamation of little doodles on the page you were provided. CraftyCorn was offering you any crayon, marker, or pencil you even vaguely gestured to while Bobby BearHug rested her head on DogDay’s shoulder.

The dog was unbothered by this, especially since this was the happiest he had seen the other two in what felt like years. He was grateful for this little moment of peace, even if some nagging thought attempted to plague his mind with negativity. It wasn’t as if he would ignore the thought that this could be stripped away just as quickly as it came, but he refused to feed into it.

Even he was surprised by the way he felt fiercely protective over you and the others, not that it was a negative form of surprise at all. You, and that precious little smile on your face as you lifted the page to show the trio of Smiling Critters that you had drawn them, had caused the little amount of hope in his heart to flourish. If you had survived then it was possible that they all could, that this situation wasn’t impossible to walk away from.

He wrapped his arm around the bear that rested her head on his shoulder in a side hug of sorts, allowing his own head to gently press against hers. The two watched as you gestured for CraftyCorn to join you, to which they happily accepted.

You still sat cross-legged on the ground but the unicorn laid on her stomach to join you, taking a crayon between their hooves and helping you in drawing the scenery of your little drawing of the Smiling Critters as well as yourself.

DogDay and Bobby BearHug watched you and the unicorn as you both drew an adorable image of the strange yet endearing quartet they had formed through chance. You and CraftyCorn were passing crayons and markers of various colors between each other, a wordless understanding between the two of you.

The leader of what remained of the Smiling Critters was more than content to just rest against the bear of the group as he watched you enjoy yourself, even if your hands were now covered in various colors from your composition.

You were far from deterred nor were you upset from such a thing, even going as far as admiring the smear of vibrant colors that covered your palms and fingers.

It was something so small yet noticeable that the dog and the bear couldn’t help but laugh softly at the little display, even more so as CraftyCorn lifted her hooves to show you that their luck with the crafts wasn’t all that orderly either.

The unicorn muttered her praises, admiring the way you drew each of them as well as the background they had been helping you design. You shook your head, pointing at yourself and then the Smiling Critter that had joined you.

She paused for a moment, watching your gesture before it finally clicked what you had meant. “Oh, I didn’t contribute much, this was all you. I could never take credit for it.” They replied in an amused yet genuine tone, it wasn’t fair when you had done the majority of the artwork.

You shook your head again, more enthusiastic this time and bent down to point at the paper. One of your small fingers rested on the drawn unicorn on the page, before you pointed at the real one in front of you. CraftyCorn raised her hooves in a manner that bordered on compliant, yielding their stance on rejecting any credit.

The white furred member of the Smiling Critters shifted from the prone position they were in to a seated one as she spoke. “While I still think I didn’t do much, I appreciate that you let me join you. Together, we created something that easily beats anything I have ever drawn alone.” You were positively beaming as you heard the final agreement that left the artist of the quartet.

Slowly, you moved the papers and the art supplies out of the way as you stood up. CraftyCorn was about to speak when you suddenly wrapped your arms around her torso and squeezed her in a warm embrace.

The unicorn was stunned, unsure of what to do at that moment, and turned to look at DogDay and Bobby BearHug. The dog was about to speak when the bear at his side hugged him in an instant, whispering as she did so. “Hug them!” It was a hushed shout in anything but you seemed unphased, nuzzling into the soft fur that was the unicorn’s chest as they gently wrapped their arms around you in return.

The touch was featherlight, as if you would break should any force be applied. Regardless, you were more than happy to be held even if it was by an incredibly careful unicorn.

A tired yawn left your mouth, the sound still audible despite the fact that you hadn’t, or perhaps were unable, to speak a word. With a balled up first, you rubbed one of your eyes which grew teary from the drowsiness that overcame you.

DogDay knew that you would crash soon when he had found you, the bags under your eyes were more than a sign of the sleep deprivation you suffered from. CraftyCorn allowed her arms to fall to her sides as you broke the hug and backed up slightly. Still rubbing your eyes, you turned to look at the duo that were still close together.

Bobby BearHug hadn’t let go of DogDay since she had first hugged him and he was content enough to not stop her. He didn’t have the heart to do so, not when she had been so distant until you came along, and because he didn’t mind the contact. With a slow and sluggish gait, you walked over to the two of them.

The orange dog was a little puzzled as you approached, extending the arm that he didn’t have around the bear at his side to you. You grabbed his arm and used it to steady your wobbly steps before you promptly sat yourself down in his lap. The suddenness of your action caused some of the wind to be knocked from him, but not a word of protest left his mouth.

He watched as you curled up in his lap and gently pulled the arm you had been holding onto earlier closer to you. He was more than willing to allow you to do such a thing and if he were able to cry in that moment, he would’ve. You wrapped your little arms around his as his hand rested against your back, supporting you to keep you from falling should you stir in your sleep.

A tired smile rested on your face as you looked up at him, before nestling up against his leg and closing your eyes. Together, all three of the Smiling Critters watched as your little chest rose and fell, falling entirely silent to keep from disturbing you as you rested. Collectively, they could all see how exhausted you were, which was exactly why they were more than willing to let you sleep.

For several long moments, they all remained where they were, simply observing you as you clung to the leader’s arm as if they would vanish if you let go. Carefully, CraftyCorn slowly approached the trio and sat down on the side of DogDay that was unoccupied.

There, she rested their chin on his shoulder and looked down at you, nothing but sympathy and a warmth that would soothe anyone in her gaze. They shifted slightly, resting against the dog with her body to be closer to him and you. He was more than pleased with the action, a happiness that he hadn’t felt in a very long time came to the surface, warming his heart and bringing with it an unbridled sense of joy.

You had brought forth a side to himself and the others that he feared was long gone, yet in this very moment it returned. It wasn’t until he heard a steady and rythmic thumping against the ground did he realize what was happening. His tail was the cause of the sound, wagging openly as a display of his happiness and how overjoyed he was that the others had finally been able to find a beacon of hope in this otherwise grim situation.

None of those around him stirred at the disruption nor did they seem bothered by it in the slightest. DogDay himself was embarrassed by the physical reaction that displayed his elation, but it faded as Bobby BearHug continued to embrace him and CraftyCorn’s head now rested on his shoulder and their sides pressed against one another. They were just as content as he was and that only made the thumping of his tail increase in pace.

The only sounds that filled the room were the quiet inhales and exhales of your sleeping form and the sound of the orange dog’s tail as it met the floor as those most important to him were surrounding him. Despite the fact that they had all met you today, they all shared the same sentiment as their leader did. You were now a very dear member of what remained of the Smiling Critters.

[itsabouttimex2]

any lmk ideas you wish were touched on more often in fanfic??

Underused LMK Premises

Oh so many dude you don’t even understand-

1. Courtnapping as a legitimately bad thing. Not “ooh it’s romantic for demons” or “it’s just part of their culture” or “it’s proof of how much they love you” but like… a portrayal of courtnapping that actually demonstrates how viscerally dehumanizing it is to be stolen away by someone you might not even know and treated like a prize who can be won with the right application of charm or power.

(Like I’ve used it I think only once before and pretty much stopped at the “this is what demons do in general thing, but the potential for varied application is just… so high.)

Especially for mortals- imagine being bruised and battered from a long period spent unconsciously slung over someone’s shoulder or under their arm, strewn over a lounge chair or tied up in front of the kitchen table, seething. Eyes focused and hateful, knowing that this would happen eventually if they let down their guard or let a demon too close. It doesn’t matter how the monster peacocks about with that tome or this battleaxe, it’s not attractive, it’s not sexy,- and nothing can steal the feeling of violation that settles in over having been stolen from home in your sleep so you could get an extended IRL version of “I showed you my dick please go out with me” from a thirteen foot demon who is more interested in wooing you than actually wanting you.

Or just… old demons who mumble and huff about “losing their traditions” or “young demons going soft” as they look at woven tapestries in their homes, proud depictions of past conquests standing frozen in time, unaware that their great-great-grandson would lose his newest baby to a hysteric mortal’s iron-toed boot, wild with unforeseen hormones brought on by demonic birth, unaware that his youngest granddaughter would face a life of misery as she grew up, constantly stolen back and forth by two demons as part of a glorified pissing contest, both more interested in one-upping each other than the sapient being they steal from her room each night.

Young demons secretly taught by the last crotchety stalwarts of an old generation that “What you want is yours to take, if you can take it,” before their parents can snatch them away from great-great-great-grandfather and hurry off, praying their little one is too young to understand what was said. Growing demons brought up with those horrid words rattling their horned skulls, heeding and obeying them, then wondering why their dearest friends snap and crack as they’re “spirited away”. Grown demons who come up lonely and tired, seeing their diminishing race in a world flourishing with soft little mortals and wondering spitefully “Why did we ever stop conquering”, only learning the answer at the blunt end of a glowing golden staff when their time is near, the finishing blow timed to the cheers of their captives.

(If I ever write a satire fic, it will 100% be about a Y/N who gets isekai-ed into LMK, but instead of any of the cool or attractive protagonists, they get courtnapped by a crusty-handed, balding and portly demon who doesn’t practice hygiene or housecare. Just to put into perspective how actually awful the whole “I’m being kidnapped as a spouse” thing would probably really be if it wasn’t your attractive, young, in-shape, washes regularly blorbo doing the snatching.)

2. With this, demons just… not understanding mortals. Not for lack of trying, and not for lack of wanting, but through simple psychological incompatibility.

Demons struggling with empathy toward mortals because their minds are shaped by instincts that value strength, endurance, and survival of the fittest. Emotions that seem obvious to humans, like fear, discomfort, or sorrow simply not registering for demons in the same way. They see these reactions, but interpret them through their own lens, often believing that mortals are playing games or faking them or maybe outright performing.

Communal demons in broad daylight snatching up children for hours or days, only to return them with scars and bloodshot eyes, and wondering why they receive no gratitude for, in their opinion “taking up parental duties” without so much as being asked. After all, isn’t a little bit of “toughening up” good for children?

Demons who don’t understand “allergies”, especially when they range from “mild cough” to “near-instant death” and maybe misunderstand how epi-pens work- “Is stabbing the flesh a way to bleed the illness”, asks an curious demon with ancient eyes, worn hands, ragged skin, “and will any weapon do?”

Demons who become artists that need calligraphy tools so large they get mistaken for weapons. Demons who don’t understand tipping culture and assume they’re being fleeced. Demons who need custom chairs and custom clothes and custom bedding. Demons who pick fights on behalf of their friends and coworkers, and then to combat this, demons who get hired on as protection against “honor battles”.

Demons being demons, not just immortal humans.

3. Characters with variable ages that widely differ- like, I’ve gone on here and there about my view on ambiguous ages for characters and why I love that trope so much and how it makes a series infinitely more attractive to larger crowds and audiences than a concrete “14” or “23” or “46”, you know? And the fact that MK and Mei and Red Son could be sooo many different ages all in different configurations is super interesting to me!

Like, imagine- Adult!Red Son with Teen!Mei and Teen!MK, having an absolute full-throttle meltdown when he realizes that the two upstart semi-mortals who keep beating his demonic ass are teenagers. Red Son being both mortified at his continuous defeats and furious at these children’s parents for allowing them to fight in such high stakes.

And then with that slowly growing sense of pity and anger he just scoffs and shakes his head the one time they maybe aren’t in such high spirits (drenched from rain and wind and exhausted from the vigor of battle) and whisks them off to his family’s lair, throwing a demon-sized towel for them to share as he whips up something spicy for the kids.

Children.

They’re children.

He goes home and thinks on that, and then decides that maybe he just doesn’t want to fight them anymore.

Red Son then being reverse adopted by Pigsy + Mr. and Mrs. Dragon because, hey, if he’s playing big brother, might as well let him. Then Red gets to learn what (mostly) healthy family dynamics are through direct interaction and then hold his parents to those standards and basically everyone heals together.

Or hey, Red Son being a teenager while MK and Mei are adults! The two heroes doting on this ever-furious demon with treats and drinks to “cheer him up” after his frequent losses and kinda… accidentally teaching him what unconditional kindness is by becoming surrogate older siblings to the kid.

Red Son freaking out because his parents are going to be mad about this loss or that failure, and

(Red Son getting a phone call in the middle of a fight because PIF is mad he didn’t take out the trash lmao)

4. Y/N being protective of Sun Wukong.

Man, I don’t know if it’s just me but I don’t touch most romantic Shadowpeach x Y/N fanfics at all because I know I’m in for more of the same “Macaque legitimately being an awful person to someone he’s sharing a mate with/to one of his two mates and Y/N thinks it’s funny/doesn’t care” and just like… dude.

Like I know I’ve talked about how much I hate Fanon!Macaque, the simpering sadsack who only exists to get babied and patted on the ass, all his actions whitewashed and cooed over, so like, obviously I wasn’t gonna be a fan of this.

Maybe I’m just not the target audience here but like holy shit… why? It’s never portrayed as unhealthy or anything more than a silly goofy thing that Macaque is constantly tormenting someone he either is supposed to love or share a lover with, and the reader in regard to that mistreatment is little more a drooling dumbfuck without enough braincells to breath through their nose.

I don’t get it. A Y/N who says “Teehee my mate is being abused ‘oh noes’ but Maccy needs cuddles so I’ll disregard one half of my relationship~” is not a Y/N I care about, and I don’t see what’s so compelling about neglect and mistreatment portrayed as the order of the day. I don’t see the merit in “I’m Y/N, and I’m stupid and blind to abuse!”

Cause I think it’s so much more interesting if it’s like…

“Do that again and you’re out.”

And Macaque whips around in shock, looking up from the shadow portal he just shoved Wukong into. “Excuse me-“

“Do that again,” you repeat, voice low and tense- Wukong would be fine, you were more angry than worried-, “and you’re out. Gone. Out of my house and out of my life.”

“I wasn’t-“

“I don’t give a fuck, Macaque! You will not MISTREAT my mate in my own house!”

“I- it’s not- I don’t-“

“I DON’T FUCKING CARE! HE’S NOT A FUCKING PUNCHING BAG, SO I’M NOT LETTING YOU TREAT HIM LIKE ONE!”

You know, a scenario where Y/N isn’t a passive enabler of abuse and bullying, and they actually have a voice of their own outside of “Teehee Mac you’re sooooo mean to my lover but I’m totally okay with that for some reason!~” but also gives Macaque explicit instruction on what he needs to do in order to better the relationship (ex: not abuse their other mate), in which they aren’t stupid or unforgiving and all three can grow together, instead of the usual: “Macaque isn’t ever a bad person. But when he is it’s not a big deal. But when it is his victims “deserve” it.”

5. Transhuman identities and abilities. I mean, just… there’s shapeshifting and magical artifacts and all manner of mystic trinket in the world. Does being gay or trans really matter when anyone can learn the 72 Transformations and become what they wish? Is it any bigger a deal than your child deciding they’re going to live life as a dog, or a demon? Are there potions to make these transformations permanent? Can a person become a demon, instead of transforming into one?

Does being immortal fuck with your taxes? Does knowing magic fuck with your insurance? Does your family look at you differently after you’ve tasted that ambrosial nectar, consumed that slice of eternity? Do they fear or long for a taste? Does your grandmother refuse to come to your wedding, ashamed that you would “break yourself from the cycle”? Does your mother cry into her hands that you wed a demon? Do you run to an old monastery to elope, wed by an old monk with ancient eyes because no other soul will officiate you and that demon? Will you be welcome in the celestial realm if you wed a heavenly soldier? If you take the hand of a god? What will you have you learn? How long until you feel at “home”?

Just… humans getting into mystical trouble outside of battles.

(If anyone else has some stuff they’d wish was expanded on more often, feel free to add on in the comments or reblogs!)

[astraljedi]

Begin Again (Miss Americana - Joaquin Torres)

President's Daughter AU Series | Joaquin Torres x Female Reader

Warnings: alcohol consumption, light language, emotional vulnerability, brief injury mention (past trauma), soft angst

Word Count: 3.5K

Song: Begin Again by Taylor Swift

A/N: I decided to add a little something before every part, something like a little gossip podcast/social media account just for fun and to keep things interesting. Also, I read the lorax for this part specifically and I haven't read that book in YEARS HAHAHA. Masterlist | Prologue | Part 1 |

- Chief of Shade Podcast DM from Anon says: A journalist friend told me Miss Americana was spotted a few weeks ago at the White House gala—dancing all night with some guy, looking pretty close and laughing. Do you have an idea of who it was? Well, anon, I’ve gotten a few messages saying the night was definitely eventful for the First Daughter. I might have a guess who it is, but I’m not jumping to conclusions just yet. Let’s wait and see.

Spring in D.C. is gorgeous. 

The light pink shade of cherry blossoms flourishes, the air is crisp, and the sun beams alone in the blue sky—no cloud overshadowing the golden star.

The White House garden is even prettier, this season already showing off the flowers blooming in the colors of the rainbow. I take in my surroundings as I sit on the fresh green grass, legs crossed, surrounded by a group of seven- and eight-year-olds dressed up from our medieval lunch party.

Today’s agenda started with one of my favorite pastimes—hosting an event for the foster group organization I work with. The goal is to get the kids out for a day, teach them a little about the environment, and let them just be kids through fun activities. It’s a small group today; they've gotten smaller over the months, which is a good thing. They're finding loving families.

Halle, a bright seven-year-old, sits on my lap with her head resting on my shoulder, her eyes slowly shutting as we’re halfway through The Lorax. I lower my voice, imitating the Once-ler, causing the kids to laugh. And I try to shove my own giggles down, staying in character for the rest of the story.

The White House doesn’t always let me host events like this here, but this weather was too perfect to waste. A beautiful spring day like this needed to be spent in the garden while reading with the kids.

“Grow a forest. Protect it from axes that hack. Then the Lorax and all of his friends may come back.”

I close the hardcover book and set it on the ground. “What did you think of the story?” I ask, brushing Halle’s hair out of her sleeping face.

“Are the trees real?” Dean asks, glancing around the garden like he’s searching for them and I smile.

“I wish. They’re so colorful and fun to look at. But we have our own and different kinds of trees all over the world. Trees are important because they give us shade, oxygen, and fruit; and they’re home to so many animals.”

“Like monkeys?!” Wes perks up.

“That’s right, Wes,” I chuckle. “Monkeys, birds, and all sorts of animals need trees to survive. We may not live in them, but we still need them to keep the environment safe and healthy. So it’s our job to protect them an—”

The kids gasp, eyes wide.

“That’s Captain America!” Wes says, pointing behind me, his face lighting up.

Halle stirs on my lap, eyes fluttering open at the name.

I glance over my shoulder and sure enough, the President walks beside Sam, who’s dressed in a navy suit and headed straight toward us. I smile at the sight of them, the kids are going to love Sam and—no, this can’t be happening right now. 

My eyes drift to the strong-framed body walking next to Sam, his laugh echoing through the garden, and my heart forgets to function properly for more than a second. 

Joaquin.

Aviators cover his rich brown eyes, the same eyes I spent an entire evening staring into a month ago and haven’t stopped thinking about since. He looked good at the gala, but this version: sunkissed, casual with his shirt sleeves rolled up? It makes my heart practically jump out of my chest and take off running across the White House lawn.

My cheeks heat up and my palms begin to sweat. I can’t help but think of the clipped photo of him in uniform that I’ve stared at for hours after Carmen handed me the navy file. 

But I wasn’t expecting to see him again. Especially not like this and not today. 

I gently help Halle up before rising myself, smoothing out my dress with shaking, sweaty hands.

“I hope we’re not interrupting,” the President says warmly. “I just wanted to stop by and say hello with some friends for our special guests today.” He wraps an arm around my shoulder and presses a kiss to my temple.

“The more the merrier,” I chuckle nervously. My eyes find Carmen, who is doing a terrible job hiding the smug grin on her lips.

She knew.

“Hi, Sam,” I say, giving him a quick hug as my dad moves to greet each kid.

“I like your crown,” Sam laughs, nodding at the flimsy gold piece on my head—something I completely forgot about. Shit.

“We had a medieval party for lunch,” I say, shrugging off the crown and placing it on Halle’s head as she pops up beside me. Her small hands grip my waist, hiding behind me, too shy to face Sam. “Captain, I want you to meet my friend, Halle.”

She steps forward just a bit, still clinging to my dress. 

“Hi, Halle. It’s nice to meet you,” Sam says, crouching to her level and offering his hand.

Instead of shaking it, Halle giggles and throws her arms around his neck in a hug. Sam laughs, nearly losing his balance.

“Let’s play! I want to show you my castle!” she exclaims, tugging him toward the cardboard castle setup.

I snort a laugh, biting my nail, trying to hide the smile as I watch Halle break out of her shell. I step back to give them space, but I bump into Joaquin, not realizing he was closer than I thought. I inhale, my eyes fluttering close when the familiar touch lands on my back, steadying me. 

“Sorry,” I murmur, looking everywhere but at him. The birds are signing, the mix of children laughing and screaming echoes the usually quiet garden. 

Joaquin and I stand there awkwardly, watching the chaos of knights and dragons unfold before us. Sam wields a tiny plastic shield as he protects Halle from two roaring “dragons” trying to storm her cardboard castle.

I laugh, watching my dad join the group playing as a knight. 

“Joaquin,” I say, testing the waters. “It’s a beautiful day, right?” I immediately cringe inside. The weather? Really?

I’ve spent weeks imagining our next conversation, rehearsing a dozen different scenarios. And I start with the damn weather?

“It’s nice,” Joaquin says, smirking. “You organized this for the kids?”

“We usually go to an interactive museum, a park or a library. But the weather has been so nice this season that I managed to persuade them to let me do it here.” I say, scooting closer to him. “It’s the one thing I’m always looking forward to doing with the organization I work with, but sometimes I wish I could do more for them.”

“Even if it's for a few hours, it’s a memory they will take with them forever. Especially today, nothing tops playing dragons and knights with Captain America to save the princess.” He says.

I laugh and agree. 

“The night at the gala was nice, too,” I change the subject. I look at him and immediately regret it. He lifts his aviators off his eyes and our gazes lock. 

“It was,” he says, his smile growing. “Then you had to leave me stranded in the middle of the dance floor.”

“I’m sorry. I wish I could’ve stayed.”

“No worries. You had First Daughter duties.” He shrugs. “Didn’t think you’d remember me.”

“Joaquin,” I say, stepping closer. Our shoulders brush, and I feel him tense, though he doesn’t move away. “Trust me, that night, that dance, you—are embedded in my brain permanently.”

“So I’m not a fool for not being able to stop thinking about you, the President’s daughter?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we’re both fools.” I smile. 

“I’ve never done this. I’m not someone who makes the first move or any move, really. But if you want, my agent can give you my secure line. Because I haven’t stopped beating myself up for not doing this that night. And I’d really like to see you again. if that’s something you want.”

“One month and you’re already turning rebellious.” Hee chuckles, shaking his head a little. 

“Back up! Where’s my backup, Torres?” Sam yells from the castle setup. The kids have taken Halle hostage, and Sam is on his knees, trying to “save” her from the knight’s lair. “The princess has been captured!”

“Duty calls,” Joaquin says, mimicking the words I told him that night. I laugh and watch him take off, joining Sam in the medieval chaos.

iMessage 8:42PM Joaquin:Hey 8:45PM Joaquin:When can I see you again?

The moment Joaquin texted me a week ago, Carmen and I screamed at the top of our lungs when my phone chimed later that night. It was such a relief that I hadn’t made a complete fool of myself by basically admitting I hadn’t stopped thinking about him, all after one night of us dancing.

I stare at my reflection in the tall mirror in my living room. The short navy dress hugs my waist perfectly, and the cropped cream cardigan matches the cream lining of the dress. From what Joaquin told me, tonight is supposed to be quiet and private, something I didn’t think he’d actually be able to pull off.

I glance at the clock on the wall, my stomach twisting with nerves as the seconds tick by. Then, a knock at the door pulls me out of thoughts. I straighten my posture and walk to the door, my heels clacking against the wooden floor.

“Hey,” Joaquin says, a little breathless. His hair is slicked back, just like it was the night of the gala, and he’s holding a stunning bouquet of white tulips and pinkish lilies close to his chest. “I’m a few minutes early, I thought getting through your security would’ve taken longer.”

Usually, I have to give Carmen and the rest of the agents the full name and contact info of anyone who’s planning to see me. No surprise visits, ever. Everyone who comes up to my apartment has to be cleared. But with Joaquin, I already knew it wouldn’t be a problem. I’d bet anything Carmen cleared him before I even told her about our date. 

To be fair, no one ever comes to visit me. Not like this.

“It’s okay, I’m pretty much ready.�� I chuckle, a little nervous.

“These are for you.” He hands me the bouquet, and I take them with a smile, stepping aside to let him in.

“Want to come in? I want to put these in water before we leave.” He nods, and I close the door behind us. Joaquin lingers awkwardly near the sofa, his eyes following me as I head to the kitchen.

“These are so beautiful, thank you.” Tulips and lilies—my favorites. I told him that just a few days ago when we FaceTimed for the first time. He was out of town visiting family, but somehow we ended up talking for hours, him lying in his childhood bedroom while I curled up in my bed after a long day of work.

“I remembered,” he says, smiling as he steps farther into the room. “Took note of it when you mentioned it over FaceTime.” His gaze moves to my gallery wall: photos from my university years, my childhood dog, and a portrait of our old house in California. “Is this your old house?”

“Yeah. I took that photo the day we emptied it out before moving to Virginia. I remember being so heartbroken when they finally sold it.” I walk past him and place the vase of flowers on the center of the coffee table.

“What do you miss most about it?”

I grab my purse and step closer. “The huge bay window in the living room. My mom had this massive bookcase built there, and I used to sit on the bench reading while the sunlight streamed in. It was my dog’s favorite sunbathing spot too.” I laugh, remembering the lab mix who used to hog my blankets at night.

I glance at Joaquin—and that’s my first mistake. Because when I turn to him, his eyes are already on me. His hand gently finds the small of my back, pulling me closer.

“Ready?” he asks, leading me toward the door after I nod, my words caught in my throat. The moment he touched me, I was done for.

The whole car ride is silent. Marcus, my usual driver, sits behind the wheel while Carmen rides up front. Joaquin watches the city pass by through the window as I steal glances at his side profile.

He’s wearing a nice white shirt, just one or two buttons undone, paired with dark pants. And God, he even smells good. Even better than the last time we saw each other in the garden. 

I didn’t even notice we made a stop and arrived at our destination. Carmen stands by the open door, and Joaquin is already halfway out of the car when he catches me staring. His hand finds mine, pulling me out of my trance.

My cheeks burn. I take his hand as he helps me out of the black-tinted SUV. I glance around—we’re parked in an alleyway—and Carmen opens a door that leads into a building. She walks ahead of us, and another agent follows quietly behind.

Joaquin keeps my hand in his, guiding me through a spotless restaurant kitchen. The scent of food hits me immediately. The smell of something sweet in an oven makes my mouth water. Two chefs stand straight against a metal rack, as if the president himself just walked in.

“Hi, nice to meet you,” I say with a smile. The two chefs blush and mumble their polite greetings.

I look around, but I don’t recognize the restaurant at all. The whole place has been cleared out. Only a single table for two sits in the center, covered in a white tablecloth, set with candles and elegant dinnerware.

Joaquin pulls out a chair for me, and I sit down with a small smile. “How did you manage this?” I whisper, leaning in across the table once he sits down. Carmen gives the room one last look before disappearing to the far corner. 

“I have my connections,” he laughs. “No, but really—Sam knows the owner, and I coordinated everything with your security to make sure it went smoothly.”

“Thank you. I don’t think you know how much this means to me.”

His lips part like he’s about to respond, but a waiter steps up beside us.

“Good evening, my name is Sydney and I’ll be serving you tonight. Would you like a moment to look over the menu, or can I get you started with some drinks?”

“I think we can start with some wine, yeah?” Joaquin says, glancing at me over the wine list.

I nod, letting him choose.

After what feels like hours, our plates are almost licked clean, our wine glasses are nearly empty, and the only sounds filling the empty restaurant are our laughter and the low-tempo music.

“You know, that night at the gala, Sam found me after you left,” Joaquin says, holding his glass close to his lips.

“What did he say? That your ballroom dancing needs some cleaning?” I chuckle, setting my now empty glass on the table. Joaquin grabs the bottle from the metal ice bucket beside us and pours the rest into my glass.

“Don’t act like my moves weren’t key to your escape from that old politician,” he mocks, placing the empty bottle back into the ice. “But that night, I was about to go after you until Sam stopped me—told me that  if I liked my arm and didn’t want the Secret Service to knock me off my feet, I shouldn’t go after the president’s daughter. That’s when I realized who you were.”

“Does that scare you?”

“No,” he says immediately. “I’ve been shot out of the sky unconscious. Nothing scares me.”

“Joaquin,” I say, my voice laced with concern. I reach for his hand across the table, my thumb tracing the skin along his knuckles. He doesn’t look at me—just stares at our hands.

“I remember seeing the news. I didn’t realize it was you until Carmen mentioned you being the Falcon a while back.”

“Oh, so you talked about me,” he teases, though his eyes stay focused at our hands.

“We don’t have to talk about it. Forget I mentioned anything.” I start to pull my hand away, but he stops me, gently catching it back in his.

“It was rough. I had to go through a lot—physical therapy, training with the new suit, and talking to an actual therapist about going back into service. What happened that day doesn’t define who I am, in or out of the suit. I take it home with me and use it to push myself to become a better Falcon.”

And for the first time, I don’t know what to say to him. I just smile softly and squeeze his hand.

“Does that scare you?” he asks, finally looking at me.

“No,” I admit. “It just makes me admire you even more. It shows your love and dedication for all of it.”

He brings my hand to his lips and presses a kiss to my knuckles, my whole body almost melting onto my seat.

The ride back to my apartment is quiet, but it feels different this time. I’m tucked closer to him, our fingers laced together, my head resting on his shoulder. Carmen glances over her shoulder at one point, catches our joined hands, and smirks before turning back around.

Thankfully, my apartment building has a private garage underneath, which makes sneaking in easier without paparazzi trying to snap a photo. My loft is on the top floor, sharing the floor with only one other tenant I rarely see.

I slide my key into the lock and open the door, but I don’t step inside. Not yet.

“Thank you. I had a lot of fun tonight.”

“Me too. My cheeks hurt from all the laughing,” he admits, one hand on the doorframe, his body hovering close to mine. I could kiss him, no one’s watching. But I’m too paranoid that my neighbor is watching us from the peephole. 

Instead, I pull him into the apartment and shut the door behind us, catching him off guard.

“If you’re going to kiss me, I’d rather you do it here,” I whisper, my hands fisting the front of his shirt.

His hands find my waist, his thumbs pressing into my hip bones. He spins me suddenly, and my back hits the door with a soft thud. A gasp escapes me. 

I didn’t expect him to push me against the door.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you since I first saw you tonight,” he murmurs, leaning in. My grip on his shirt loosens, and my fingers trail up his chest until they reach his shoulder.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you since the moment you pulled me to the dance floor and stepped on my feet.”

“I did not step on your fee—” I don’t get to finish because his lips crash into mine.

My whole body relaxes as I let him take the lead our first kiss. One of my hands squeezes his shoulder, trying to pull him even closer, if that was possible. He cups my jaw, tilting my face just right, and I part my lips for him. His tongue brushes mine, hot but not desperate. He wants to take his time, and I whimper against him, my fingers curling into his hair and tugging him deeper.

When he finally pulls back, he curses under his breath. I whine from the loss, yearning for more. My lips are swollen, my breath uneven. He presses his forehead to mine, still cupping my face like he can’t bear another second of us being apart.

My heart pounds in my ears. When I open my eyes, I find him already looking at me.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, brushing my hair behind my ear.

I lean in, stealing a few more kisses—soft, lingering ones—before I finally force myself to let him go.

“Text me when you get back to your hotel,” I say between kisses. He nods, smiling against my lips.

When I finally pull away, his hair is a mess, his shirt wrinkled, and his lips are parted as he breathes heavily.

God, the look on his face has me fighting the urge to pull him back in. To kiss him until my lungs beg for air. To kiss him until I feel him melt into me and his whimper when I bite his lip. 

But I can’t. Not tonight. 

I open the door, giving him a flirty smile. “Good night, Joaquin.”

“Good night,” he says, smirking as he steps into the hallway. I close the door behind him and lean back against it, exhaling hard. My fingers hover over my tingling lips as I catch sight of the flowers on my coffee table.

Yeah, I’m fucked.

iMessage 11:22PM Joaquin: Just got to the hotel. That kiss is gonna live in my head until I see you again 11:25PM Joaquin: When can I see you again?

[dreamwavesexploringreality]

CHECKMATE:

Chishiya x Reader

Requested: Chishiya plans to betray Arisu but she has changed.

Y/N would be lying if she said she hadn’t changed. Of course she had changed. They all had.

Borderlands was no walk in the park; it was not a place where innocence and honesty would flourish. Borderlands was about survival in its rawest and most brutal sense.

Chishiya had changed too. At least that’s what Y/N told herself as she watched him silently surveying his surroundings, assessing every person who might pose a potential threat. She missed the warmth of his embrace on cold nights and the whisper of his encouraging words in her ear when her only worry was passing her final exams. Sometimes she could even feel the echo of his touch when he brushed past her without acknowledging her presence. “It’s better if we don’t get associated,” he would say. And she believed him, as she always did, because after all, he was Chishiya.

But things didn’t take long to change.

It was a game night, a particularly intricate and demanding game. She felt conflicted discovering she was in the same group as her boyfriend. She had never played with him before, and she preferred it that way, but she couldn’t shake the sense of security and illusory calm that came from knowing he would be by her side. It turned out to be a game of tag, a Five of Clubs. Chishiya remained silent as the rules were explained, leaning against the wall with an enviable calmness. Y/N kept her distance, just as he had incessantly reminded her; it was better to maintain space in public places.

Once the game began, people started to run, racing through the building that was the stage for death that night, relentlessly searching for the safe zone behind one of the numerous doors leading to the top floor. She watched as Chishiya walked slowly toward the elevator. For some reason, seeing Aguni and his henchmen, who were also playing that night, vanish down the stairs prompted her to follow him. Once inside the elevator, and as the doors closed, Chishiya turned to her.

“Follow me if you want, but don’t talk to me.” He didn’t even look at her.

Y/N nodded, swallowing hard, feeling her heart constrict in her chest.

When the elevator reached the top floor and the doors opened, he stepped out. With a bored stride and his hands in his pockets, he moved toward a secluded corner, a strategic position from which he could observe the entire field without risk of being caught off guard by the hunter. Y/N slowly approached him, keeping a respectful distance. She heard Chishiya huff in annoyance, and for a moment, she was tempted to leave. She had played many games alone and survived; this time didn’t have to be different. However, when the first shot echoed through the air, all those thoughts faded away.

Minutes passed, and people began to fall, with no sign of the safe room that had been mentioned in the rules.

“The bomb will explode,” she said, gripping the railing tightly as she tried to envision where the safe door could be.

Chishiya didn’t respond.

A fire ignited within her. She wasn’t going to stand by and do nothing while people died trying to find the safe zone; they were players too, and this was a game of teamwork. She glanced at the man one last time, trying to find something familiar in his eyes that would assure her the man she knew was still there, but he didn’t look at her. She felt something inside her finally give way and shatter, and with determined steps, more resolute than her own certainty, she rushed toward the stairs, bounding down two steps at a time. In her focus, she didn’t see Chishiya watching her with astonishment etched on his face and worry in his eyes.

“Ten minutes remaining,” announced the robotic voice of her phone.

Y/N felt her body collide with a hard surface.

“I’m sorry,” she heard.

It was a man she remembered seeing in the lobby during the wait for the game to start.

“It’s fine,” she replied. She found the strange conventionality of their conversation amusing in such an extreme situation.

“Have you found the safe zone?” he asked.

“N—no,” Y/N dared not tell him that she hadn’t moved from her spot during the ten minutes the game had been running.

“Come on!” he urged as he ran.

For some reason, her legs activated before her brain, and she began to chase after the boy who would later introduce himself as Arisu.

When it was all over, and the car was filled to take the few survivors back to The Beach, Y/N found herself reunited with Chishiya. He had stayed hidden for almost the entire duration of the game, only appearing at the end, when there were barely five minutes left before the bomb would explode. A fire coursed through her as she watched him walk with absolute calm, urging Arisu to open the door behind which another hunter was hiding.

If they were alive, it was thanks to Arisu—this was the conclusion she reached and clung to when, upon arriving at The Beach, Chishiya knocked on her door.

“What do you want?” she asked as she opened it.

“You were impulsive tonight,” he replied, his tone flat and his demeanor bored.

Y/N closed her eyes and pressed her lips together. She wasn’t going to let herself be swayed by the bitter feelings that had been bubbling within her since the start of the game, perhaps even for days, which she had kept at bay.

“I’m tired. We’ll talk tomorrow.” She shut the door, leaving him bewildered outside.

The next day, Y/N made an effort to avoid Chishiya. She did the same the following day. And the next. This game of hide-and-seek lasted almost a week until, for better or worse, Kuina decided to intervene.

“Chishiya wants to talk to you,” she said, entering Y/N’s room without knocking and wrapping her arm around hers, pulling her eagerly toward the man’s room.

Y/N had no choice but to let herself be led by the woman, well aware that when Kuina got something in her head, it was impossible to dissuade her. For some reason, she had become Chishiya’s loyal companion, doing anything he asked of her. “My boyfriend…” she thought. She didn’t even know if they were still together.

Upon reaching the room, Kuina pushed the door open, shoving Y/N inside and closing it behind her. Now they were alone.

Y/N watched Chishiya from behind, seated at his desk, working on one of his strange devices. No one spoke for a few seconds; the metallic sound of the gadget being adjusted filled the room alongside her quickened breath.

“Your friend is at The Beach,” Chishiya finally broke the silence, still facing away from her.

This took Y/N by surprise.

“My friend?” she asked, genuine hesitation in her voice.

Silence fell again for a moment, during which Y/N decided it was better not to breathe.

“Arisu,” Chishiya said, finally turning around.

An unintelligible sound escaped her lips as she exhaled the air she had been holding. She looked at him. His stoic expression revealed nothing about what might be going through his mind at that moment, leaning back in his chair with his hands in his pockets. Y/N tried to find something in his eyes, in his gaze, that might indicate what he was thinking. It wasn’t necessary when he spoke again.

“I’m going to steal the cards, and Arisu is going to die.”

The girl didn’t know how those two ideas were connected, but a chill ran down her spine when she realized that whatever he was planning, whatever his goal was, Chishiya felt no remorse for that man’s life. Perhaps he felt no remorse for hers either, and that was where it shattered.

Y/N didn’t wait for him to continue speaking before turning on her heel and leaving the room, passing by Kuina, who had been leaning against the wall and startled at her sudden departure.

“Y/N!” Kuina called after her.

She ignored the call, swallowing her tears as she ran to her room. Finally, everything she had been holding deep in her heart, all those thoughts she had tried to banish from her mind over the past few days… all crumbled into tears that spilled from her eyes. She wouldn’t be his puppet; she wouldn’t be another victim of his deception, wouldn’t fall into the jaws of a man she could no longer recognize.

A few doors down, Chishiya was ushering a worried Kuina out of his room. He needed time to think, he told himself as he tried to figure out what he had done wrong. He knew precisely when things had begun to go awry, pinpointing it to the moment they both arrived in Borderlands. From that instant, his sole purpose had been to get them both out of that place and, until that was possible, to prioritize her safety, Y/N’s safety, and if that meant being cold and distant with her, impassive and indifferent in their interactions, so be it. But she clearly seemed incapable of seeing beyond his harsh actions; she didn’t understand that he did it for her own good, and that his only concern was for them to leave together. That’s why he was willing to risk the lives of the pawns on his chessboard, to sacrifice them without a second thought just to save the king and his queen—just to save her. It pained him when she looked at him with that distrust, that skepticism and disbelief… “As if I could ever betray her…” he scoffed as he buried his face in his hands, rubbing his forehead harshly.

It was going to be difficult to regain her trust, especially after that last glance filled with fear and disappointment that she had thrown at him before leaving her room.

Several days passed during which Chishiya’s plans were stalled. He decided not to make any moves until he was sure that his queen was still in the game, and for that, he had to use some of his intricate tricks.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” he said, on the terrace, staring into the horizon.

“I considered not coming,” she replied honestly, “but Arisu told me it was important.”

“It is,” he responded, a hint of jealousy creeping into his voice. The last thing he wanted, after days of silence, was for her to mention another man.

He turned to look at her. He noticed she was pale with sunken eyes; she must not have been sleeping well. Not that Chishiya didn’t know; he had been keeping an eye on her from the shadows, aware that she had been visibly uncomfortable and agitated after his announcement about stealing the cards. However, what pleasantly surprised him was that she hadn’t said anything to anyone, not even to Kuina, whom he sent every day to try to talk to her.

“I think you didn’t understand me well the other night,” he continued, taking a step closer to her.

“You told me you would steal the cards and kill Arisu,” she replied sharply.

Chishiya chuckled softly.

“I said I would steal the cards and that Arisu would die,” he answered, smiling with smugness.

A perfectly constructed mask.

Y/N rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. Seeing this, Chishiya stepped closer, still smiling, coming within inches of her. Y/N felt her breath catch at the sudden and unexpected movement from the white-haired boy. Chishiya lifted his arms and uncrossed hers, letting them drop to her sides. Seizing the newly established space between them, he took another step forward and grasped her hands.

“I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, Y/N,” Chishiya whispered softly, so quietly that Y/N momentarily thought she had imagined it.

He cleared his throat and raised his gaze, meeting her bright, anxious eyes.

His mask began to falter.

“I want to get out of here, but I want us to do it together. If we don’t get out together, if we don’t go home together... nothing would make sense,” he continued, feeling his voice waver as he forced himself to utter words he never would have thought would be in his vocabulary. “Everything I do... I do it for you. I do it because I love you.” And that was the last straw.

The woman wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. Chishiya felt the dampness start to soak through his shirt, and along with the small sobs escaping from her, he realized she was crying. He embraced her too, gently stroking her back, trying to soothe her in the best way he knew how. It wasn’t something he did often.

Neither of them spoke as the rain began to fall, soaking the terrace and disguising the tears that had begun to slide down Chishiya’s cheek. “To think I could have lost her...” he thought, allowing the rain to wash away any trace of his mask.

He had spent all this time worried that the girl would remain alive, that she wouldn’t be used against him if anyone discovered his feelings for her, that she would be safe. But he seemed to have forgotten that she was not just another piece in his chess game; she was not something he could move at will. No, Y/N was his queen. Y/N was the most important piece on the board, the piece for which it was worth continuing the game. She was everything; no plan or strategy made sense if, at the end of the day, he didn’t have her. But Chishiya was a clever man, smarter than most, and he knew this wouldn’t be the end.

He swallowed his tears with regret and understood that he would never be willing to change his plans. He would achieve his goal; he would get her out of that place even if it meant lying to her, deceiving her, betraying her, hurting her, and being the cause of her tears. Savoring that embrace, he held her tighter against his chest, trying to imprint the feeling of her arms around him in his mind. He would deceive her, betray her, and hurt her; he would hate himself for it, but she would survive. She would escape that place.

And when he finally won the game he was playing, when he toppled the king, he would have a good reason to make the final checkmate, and his queen could be free; she could be happy. Even if it was without him.

© 2024 [@dreamwavesexploringreality]

--

✨

[mapsthewanderer]

Caffeine, chemistry and Caleb IV

Synopsis: The café was supposed to be just another coffee shop. For a law student who enjoys her morning coffee and a shy newbie still learning the ropes, it should have been nothing more than part of the daily routine… But then there’s Caleb.

Details: 1500 words. Pt. 4 of my barista AU. Non-MC!Reader as the law student. Expect heavy flirting, hot af barista Caleb, jealousy ever blooming (fuqin apple girl) but also… feelings? As always: banter with the newbie barista. Bless their soul. Did someone say threesome? (No still not 18+ series lol)

Parts: initial one shot, part 1, newbie pov, part 2, part 3, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12

Tags: @gavin3469 @unstablemiss @i-messed-up-big-time @mipov101 @zukini-01

Latte Briefs & Legal breakdowns | Pt. 4

It’s a slow afternoon, golden light filtering through the café windows, indie guitar looping through the speakers. You’re perched on your usual stool at the bar, case briefs and books open in front of you, but not a single paragraph is sinking in.

Mostly because Caleb is leaning over the counter like he has a personal vendetta against your concentration.

“You ever thought about switching to the dark side?” he asks, holding up a small cup with what looks like the most terrifying espresso concoction you’ve seen yet.

You squint at it. “What is that?”

Caleb sets the tiny cup in front of you with a flourish. “Double ristretto, splash of oat milk, cinnamon, and a hint of something… exciting.”

You eye it suspiciously. “You mean a breakdown with notes of oat?”

He grins. “No. I mean adventure. Altitude…” His voice drops, as he leans in across the counter, eyes locked on yours.

“…Something worth defending in court.”

And then—he winks. Ugh.

But you don’t take the bait. Not this time. You’ve started expecting more from him now. Instead, you raise a slow, unimpressed brow. “So basically you, midair, with no supervision.”

“Exactly. Drink it, and who knows? You might join the dark side.”

With your chin resting in your hand, the words come out soft, curious. “Tempting. But what exactly do I get if I do?”

Caleb leans in further, voice dropping just enough to make your stomach do that stupid thing again. “Flight benefits. Vague emotional support. Excellent views.”

“Of what?” you ask, pretending to be unimpressed.

He smiles—slow, shameless. “Me.”

You snort, reaching for the cup. “If I survive this, I’m naming you in the lawsuit.”

Caleb tilts his head, that smirk practically built in at this point. “You wouldn’t win,” he says. “Jury would fall for me instantly.”

“Careful with the assumptions, defendant.”

“This defendant assumes you’d be asking him to take you flying by the end of trial.”

You open your mouth. Close it again. That one hits harder than it should. “Dangerous,” you mutter, sipping the drink.

“Delicious,” he corrects. And as he straightens, his fingers find the end of your braid, giving it a light tug—like he knows he’s just left a crater in your chest.

“Anyway… I’ve got to go deal with a supplier call,” he says, already backing toward the backroom. He pauses in the doorway, shoots you a quick grin.

“When I come back,” he adds, “I want your final verdict.”

And just like that—he’s gone.

You exhale slowly, like the air just remembered to move again. A beat later, the newbie appears next to your stool, silently placing a stack of freshly cleaned mugs on the bar.

They glance at you. Deadpan. “Are you hearing yourselves?”

You blink. “What?”

A hand waves through the space Caleb just vacated—like they’re clearing leftover smugness from the air. “You sound like a flirt-themed podcast,” they add, “no plot, all tension, and a two-drink minimum.”

Meanwhile you’re the picture of innocence—minus all the convincing. “We’re just talking.”

They give you a look. “You asked what you’d get if you joined the dark side.”

“So?”

In a tone fit for a top-secret intel drop, they whisper, “He offered you flight benefits.”

You sip the drink to avoid smiling.

They sigh. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… I kind of admire your commitment.”

Behind the cup, your smile softens. “Thanks.”

Their expression says it all—tired, resigned, just a little fond. “Still think you’re gonna crash and burn, though.”

You stare into your drink, then glance at the hallway Caleb disappeared into. Your smile sharpens.

“I’m not giving up,” you say quietly.

The newbie blinks. “I… yeah, I figured.”

“No,” you repeat. “I’m not giving up until he takes that damn necklace off.”

The look you get from the newbie is pure disbelief—like you just announced you’re filing a restraining order against yourself.

“I’m serious,” you go on. “I’m going to flirt my entire brain out. I’m going to show up here, looking unreasonably good, and pretend I am absolutely not tanking my grades until that necklace is gone.”

“You want him to—what, emotionally undress in front of you?”

“I want him to take it off,” you say. “Voluntarily. That’s the difference.”

The newbie just… stares.

“I need your help,” you add.

One gesture says it all—palms raised, full retreat. “Okay, no. I did not sign up to be your chaos consultant.”

“You’re already in too deep.”

They groan. “What do you want from me?”

“His work schedule.”

The silver flash of their tongue piercing rolls across their lip. They don’t blink—just squint slightly, like your plotting physically hurts to witness.

“I know you have it,” you say, lowering your voice like this is a covert operation. “You color-code it. I’ve seen it.”

They sigh through their teeth, bite at their tongue piercing, and glance around the empty café like it might offer backup.

“God, you’re terrifying,” they mutter.

“I’m determined,” you correct.

“Which is worse.”

Hands pressed together in a small, desperate prayer, you lean forward and glide your arms across the counter toward the newbie. “Come on. One law student. One emotionally conflicted barista. One irrational grudge against a necklace. What’s the worst that could happen?”

The newbie closes their eyes. “Famous last words.”

Still—they pull out their phone with a sigh and scroll a little.

“Fine. For purely academic chaos,” they mutter, pulling out their phone and scrolling with dramatic reluctance. “But I’m not sending you screenshots. I’m not leaving a digital footprint for this.”

You blink. “You think Caleb’s going to subpoena your camera roll?”

They nudge the phone toward your hands, like they want no part in whatever this is. “Do you want the intel or not?”

You lean in and they tilt the screen toward you—color-coded glory.

And you grin. Like a lunatic.

But you waste no time.

In one fluid motion, you whip out your phone and take three rapid photos like you’re defusing a bomb. The lighting’s bad, the angle’s worse—but it doesn’t matter. You got it.

“Okay, okay, put it away—go,” you hiss, just as the door to the back creaks open.

You shove your phone under your notebook, slam your cup back on the bar like nothing happened, and resume your most casual nothing-to-see-here posture.

Caleb strolls back in, hair a little messier, smirk already in place.

The verdict still very much undecided, you’re casually halfway through another sip—definitely not thinking about it—when he leans on the counter again and says:

“Alright. Let’s hear it. Final verdict?”

You glance up. “On the drink?”

“Sure. Let’s start there.”

The cup gets a thoughtful little tap from you. “Potentially illegal levels of good. I’ll be consulting with the ethics board.”

He grins. “So that’s not a no.”

Before you can respond, the newbie reappears behind the counter, holding a stack of clean mugs and radiating an energy best described as ‘please don’t look at me.’

Caleb spots them immediately. “Hey,” he says. “Tongue bar check.”

The newbie freezes. “Don’t.”

You blink. “You already noticed that?”

Caleb smirks. “Of course. They do it when they’re nervous. It’s adorable.”

You laugh. “I was just about to say that!”

You and Caleb turn in perfect sync toward the newbie, who’s flicking their piercing against their teeth—blissfully unaware.

They catch themselves mid-motion. “Oh. My. God.”

You smile sweetly. “Welcome to the flirting podcast. Congratulations, you’re officially part of the cast.”

Caleb lights up like you just handed him a microphone.

“We should start one.”

You blink.

Then immediately—“YES.”

Caleb’s already in motion, pretending to set an invisible mic on the counter. “Episode one: Latte Briefs and Legal Breakdown. I’ll host, you’ll interrupt me with objections, the newbie will sigh audibly in the background—perfect dynamic.”

The newbie groans. “I’m not getting dragged into this.”

Caleb points at them. “Too late. Recurring character. Possibly fan-favorite.”

You snort. “You’ve thought about this.”

He shrugs, completely unbothered. “I have excellent branding instincts.”

The newbie is walking away muttering as you glance toward them, “If I hear the words ‘theme song,’ I’m quitting.”

Caleb leans on the counter, smirking. “Don’t worry. You’ll have top billing.”

They glare at both of you. “You two are the worst.”

You raise your cup. “And yet, here you are. Still in the episode.”

Muttering something about unionizing and HR nonsense, the newbie vanishes toward the back, and you’re still smiling when you turn back to Caleb.

But he’s already looking at you.

Not with the usual smirk. Not with the “I’m-a-flirt-and-I-know-it” glint.

With something quieter.

Still amused. But… caught.

Like he just realized something and didn’t like how much he liked it.

You raise an eyebrow. “What?”

He shakes his head, quick. “Nothing.”

But he’s still watching you. Not playing. Not trying. Just… watching.

You nudge your empty cup. “Was that my final verdict moment?”

Caleb exhales—laughs, just once. Soft. “You’re trouble.”

You grin. “You’re just now figuring that out?”

A hand runs through his hair, like he needs to reset himself. Like something’s off-balance now. Not bad. Just unexpected.

You let the silence stretch. Just enough.

And in that pause, you see it.

The flicker.

That brief, unguarded second where you both feel it—whatever this is.

And you know something he doesn’t know how to say.

You liked that.

You liked this.

And he wasn’t supposed to.

His hand lifts like he’s about to say something—then drops.

You slide your empty cup toward him with a smile that means everything.

And he catches it.

“I should’ve listened,” he murmurs, voice low, like it costs him something. “When you said I had to be careful around you.”

And then that smile—soft, crooked, almost aching. Like it knows better. Like it wants more anyway.

You nod.

Then, instead of speaking, you let your gaze flick—just once—to the necklace.

The chain.

The charm.

And now, the dog tag.

It catches the light just right, and for the first time, you see it clearly—there’s something etched into the metal.

Small. Scripted. Just a few words.

When… U… come back…

Your brain adds it straight to the growing Caleb case file.

Exhibit D: The phrase ‘When U come back’.

It’s a message from her.

Someone who thought he’d return.

You look up. Into his eyes.

Hold the stare.

Steady. Focused.

Case noted. Argument building.

And in that moment, you think:

You’re not coming back to her, Caleb. You’re on a recess break—with me.

And he knows what you’re thinking.

That’s enough for you.

For now.

——————————————————————————

Part 5

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Writer’s note: Yes. This is itttt. I’m finally content with the worldbuilding and the scene is set—now let’s go full classic novice writer mode and make everything deliciously messier. Prepare yourselves for the next chapter because ohhh… it’s burning and screaming to be launched into the void. I don’t know why, but waking up at 5am does things to my brain. Which is strange because I normally get up at like 6am, so it shouldn’t make a difference… but it does, lol. And if you want to be tagged, just let me know. Okey then, thank you for reading 🫶🏻

[sheerfreesia007]

You’re Losing Me

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader

Word count: 6,928

Content warnings: Arranged marriage, infidelity, mention of sex (nothing graphic), angst

Summary: Chan’s company is failing and he needs help to pull it back from the brink. Your father agrees to help him but there’s some conditions attached to his help. Is Chan willing to do absolutely anything to make sure that his business survives?

Part Two: His Little Star

Chan stands tensely in front of the large abstract painting next to the taller pristinely dressed man in a form fitting tailored black tuxedo. He can feel the distance and divide between the two of them almost as acutely as if it was slapping him in the face. The man standing next to him was dressed in a designer made tuxedo that he wasn’t even able to pronounce the name of as he stood in his much older well worn tuxedo that he had purchased years ago when he first started his business. The difference between the two of them was almost laughable but Chan knew he had to do this to be able to save his dream.

”So you want me to help fund your company and pull it out of the red.” The man said in an even almost bored tone as he gazed at the abstract painting that Chan couldn’t seem to understand just by looking at it.

”Yes, I am desperate sir. My company is like a child to me and I’m desperate to make it grow.” Chan said softly, imploringly hoping that the man would find it within himself to help him. “We’ve come across a few bad choices and hard times within the company and it’s become a dire situation.” Chan explained softly. The man waved his hand dismissively at his words and Chan feels himself deflate at the gesture. His eyes dart over to the side and sees her anxiously watching him and the man next to him, a soft frown falling on her face as she connects her eyes with his.

”I will help you.” Says the man suddenly and Chan whips his head to stare at the man with widened shocked eyes.

”You will?” Chan asks surprised and the man nods his head once before turning to Chan with a shrewd look on his face.

“I will fund your company and lend my business financial advisors at your disposal.” The man explains as his eyes narrowed on Chan before raking up and down the younger man making him feel vulnerable almost as if he had been scanned by one of those machines at the airport. “But it won’t be for free.” The man said commandingly and Chan immediately began to nod his head.

”Of course not. You’re helping me out more than I can ever repay you for. I will do anything you ask of me.” Chan begins to ramble and the man holds his hand up to stop Chan immediately.

”Anything?” The man asks darkly and Chan feels a shiver race down his spine at that single word. His eyes dart to the side once more and see her watching him anxiously once more as she bites her thumb nail. He squares his shoulders and turns his eyes back to the man before nodding his head, this was their future he had to make sure his company not only survived but flourished.

”Anything.” Chan reassures and feels a shadow fall over him, he has a feeling that he’s about to make a deal with the devil.

”Do you see that woman over there?” The man asks suddenly as he nods his head over to the right side of the art gallery. Chan turns his head and spots a woman who looks to be in her late twenties or early thirties dressed in a stunning emerald green silk dress. Her hair is pulled over one shoulder and falls in an intricate style that fits her face perfectly. She’s pretty he admits silently but he furrows his brows as he looks back to the man beside him.

”Yes.” Chan answers with a confused frown as he watches the man’s top lip curl in distaste as he watches the woman like a hawk.

”That’s my daughter, the last one of my children to remain single.” he sneers out in a tone that encapsulates how he feels about her choice to remain single. “She refuses to marry for anything besides love.” The man explains and Chan feels his stomach drop to his knees. Oh no. “If you want the funding for your company and to make it a successful business, you will make my daughter fall in love with you and marry her.”

”But sir,” Chan begins to protest as he feels his conscience rebel internally at the man’s demand. The harsh angry look from the man has Chan pausing before he speaks a different concern of his. “I already have a girlfriend who I’m in love with.” He says softly as his eyes dart over to said woman who’s been watching him silently in her anxious demeanor. The man’s eyes follow Chan’s as he scoffs softly in distaste.

”Then keep her as your mistress. Live a double life, I don't care what you do. If you want your company to succeed you will make my daughter fall in love with you and marry her or your company will die with you.” The man hisses out darkly and Chan wonders how a father could do this to his own child. He stares into the sparkling angry eyes of the man and sees the darkness within his irises, he wonders if he had always been like this or was only like this because his daughter rebelled against his control. “Discuss it with your girlfriend. Maybe she can talk some sense into you. You have until tomorrow to decide.” And with those last words the man stalked off over to his daughter who smiled beautifully up at him when he came to her side. Chan watched with bated breath as the man smiled softly down at his unassuming daughter who easily slipped her arm around his and they began to walk further into the gallery. She had no idea how dark her father actually was did she?

Chan jolted as he felt a slender arm slip around his own arm and a dainty hand came to rest on his bicep gently. He turned his head and gazed down at the beautifully dressed woman who loved him with her whole heart. He frowned softly before pressing a kiss to her temple and began to guide her in the opposite way of the man and his daughter.

”What did he say?” She asked softly in her sweet lilting tone and Chan felt his heart twist and turn in his chest at what he needed to tell her. He sighed softly and guided her to a quiet dark corner near some paintings of lake scenery. She looked up at him with a worried frown on her face and Chan knew that this was going to hurt just as much as it hurt him.

”He will help me” he began to explain and watched as her face lit up with happiness, he hated himself to suddenly bring her back down with the stipulation. “But, he wants me to marry his daughter in exchange for his help.”

”What?” She asked in a shocked gasp as her eyes widened while she gazed up at him. Chan nodded his head before hanging it between the two of them.

”I told him I already had you and am deeply in love with you. But he said that his daughter refuses to marry for anything but love and that if I want his help I have to make her fall in love with me and marry her. Otherwise my company will die.” Chan laments softly in distress as her soft hand comes up to cup his cheek, she guides his face up to look at her and he’s surprised to see clear understanding on her face.

”What else did he say?” She asked softly and Chan furrowed his eyebrows at how calm she was being about all of this.

”When I told him about you he said that I should keep you as my mistress and live a double life.” He said softly. “But sweetheart, you’re the one I love. I don’t want to pretend with another woman. How is that fair to you?” He insists and she shushes him gently before pressing a kiss to his lips.

”Channie sweetheart” she coos at him softly as she smiles brightly. “You’re too soft for this world.” She teases him softly and Chan groans at her teasing. “I know you love me and only me. I love you too which is why maybe what he said could work.” She reassures him gently and Chan looks at her confused.

”Babe what? No, we’ll find someone else who can help us.” Chan begins to protest and she twists her lips at his words.

”Chan we’ve tried with at least seven other big business men and have been turned down. Your company is bleeding money as we speak, we don’t have many other options. I know how this company is your dream and I promised you I would do whatever I could to help you achieve your dream. I meant it.” She affirmed to him in a tone that brokered no argument. “I think you should take this deal. I don’t have any doubts about your love for me and if this will better both of our lives together while still being able to be together I am willing to take on the role of mistress.”

Chan stared at her with wide shocked eyes as she assured him that they would be able to achieve his dream and still be together. He worried that this wouldn’t work but by listening to her words he could feel his resolve weakening. Even though his conscience was howling with protest within him he knew she was right, they were at their last hope to make this work. He looked into her eyes for a long deep moment and she smiled beautifully up at him before nodding her head slightly. He grinned widely at her for a split moment before lunging forward and crashing his lips to hers as she giggled sweetly, they were going to finally achieve his dream and live their lives the way they should have been.

*-*-*-*

The fashion show had been absolutely stunning and so awe inspiring, you grinned as you stood with your best friend sipping on glasses of champagne and surveying the room with interest. It was a very popular fashion brand and the room was nearly packed wall to wall, making it very hot and overwhelming almost claustrophobic for you. You frown softly as another person brushes up against your back and you feel your skin begin to itch. Turning to your friend you find her gazing around the room with wide bright excited eyes and you chuckle softly before pressing a gentle hand to her elbow causing her to turn to you with a worried look on her face.

”It’s getting a little too crowded for me. I’m going to step outside for a little breather.” You tell her and she steps closer to you with furrowed eyebrows and her eyes darting around your face.

”Do we need to go? We can go.” She reassures you worriedly and you shake your head at her kind gesture.

”No, no I just need a reset.” You tell her before nodding your head to the outside terrace and her eyes look over to it. “I’m just going to be out there to catch my breath. You stay and I’ll come find you once I’m a little more grounded.” She nods her head still with a furrowed brow and you chuckle softly before kissing her cheek. You then turn and make your way out of the room to the outdoor terrace where it’s much quieter.

You suck in a deep breath as the cooler air falls onto your heated skin causing you to sigh tiredly. Walking over to the little stone railing you set your champagne glass down and press your hands to the stone letting it ground you as your mind slows. You take a few deep breaths filling your lungs with cool air as your body slowly begins to calm down after being in the crowded overheated room.

It’s a few moments later that you hear the door to the terrace open and you turn your head to see a handsome man walking out. He stops in his tracks after shutting the door and turning around when he spots you. He’s tall with an athletic build and muscled arms that aren’t hidden by the tight button up shirt he wears with his sleek black dress slacks. His dark black hair is styled with gel and it falls slightly over his pretty dark brown eyes.

”Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to intrude.” He says in a shocked voice but you smile at him and wave your hand.

”You’re not intruding. There’s enough room for both us.” You reassure him kindly before stepping to the side to give him room at the stone railing. He smiles warmly at you before nodding his head in a slight bow before stepping to the railing and leaning back against it.

”It’s packed in there isn’t it?” He asks with a grin as he turns his head to you while crossing his arms over his chest. His smile is devastating to you and you’re easily charmed by his plush lips that pull into a cheeky grin.

”Yeah and so hot with everyone in there.” You agree as you smile softly at him while nodding your head. “Made me a little anxious actually.” You admit softly and then widen your eyes as you look up at him worriedly and he smiles softly at you with sympathy showing on his face. 

“I totally get that. Do you need me to call anyone for you? Do you need anything?” He asked sounding concerned as he stepped closer to you with a furrowed brow. You had been worried about admitting something that could be looked down on about yourself to this handsome stranger but you sighed softly before shaking your head, you really have to stop thinking like your father.

”No, no I’m okay. Thank you though. Just being out here is a good change.” You say softly and he smiles while nodding his head at you.

”Good I hope the company isn’t that bad either.” He jokes goodnaturedly and you grin over at him cheekily before shrugging your shoulder in a teasing manner.

”It’s not bad.” You tease and watch happily as his eyes widen slightly before narrowing playfully as he leans closer to you while an amused smile forms on his lips.

”Not bad? Just not bad?” He asks softly and you can’t help getting caught up in his cologne and his proximity as you grin at him before shrugging your shoulders at him.

”Jury’s still out for debate.” You tease him more and he chuckles softly while hanging his head slightly before shaking it.

”What do I have to do to get a favorable sentence?” He asks flirtatiously and you stare at him surprised for a moment before smiling widely at him.

”Coffee date would be a nice start.” You boldly flirt with him and watch as his eyes crinkle cutely at the sides as he grins at you. He slips his cell phone out his pocket before holding it out to you with a soft smirk on his face.

”Alright, then give me your number so I can schedule one with you.” He says softly as he steps even closer to you. Your head swims with the smell of his cologne and the warmth radiating off his body. Your fingers brush his as you take the cell phone from his hand and you feel your stomach drop at the sensation causing you to suck in your breath harshly. You shake your head slightly at the sensation while your stomach begins to twist and turn within you, you quickly type in your cell phone number and give your name a little pink heart next to it so that he’ll be able to find you in his contacts. You hand him back his phone and he looks down at it, his eyes dancing over the screen before he looks up and grins at you. “I’ll text you pretty.” He says flirtatiously while winking at you before he turns and walks away from you. You watch him walk away and feel slightly hollow before you smile softly shaking your head at him. You turn back to stare out into the garden below hoping that he’ll text you soon, just then you feel your cell phone vibrate and you grin as you pull it out of your clutch and see an unknown number had texted you. 

How does Thursday sound? Coffee at The Wild Bean around one?

*-*-*-*

That’s how it had all started three years ago, a simple serendipitous meeting, at least that’s what you had thought it was at the time but now as you stare at Chan’s naked back as he rails the woman below him you know it never was that. You had come home earlier from a luncheon that you had helped host and set up for one of your girlfriends to only find your husband of two years fucking a woman who had been living in your house under the guise of “manager” for his company. Your eyes trailed over the expanse of his back and saw the dark ruby red scratches adorning his skin that she was leaving on him. Her hand came up and she saw the bright pretty pink nails rake down his skin once more leaving more scratches and felt your stomach roll with disgust and nausea.

”I love you gorgeous always have and always will.” Chan gasps out as he sits up while still moving within her. “My gorgeous love.” He coos at her and you feel the tears begin to prick at your eyes, he’s never called you that it’s always been pretty girl never gorgeous or love. Even on your wedding night he had never called you something so loving. “I love you, love you so much and I can’t wait to meet our little one.” He gasps out as his pace picks up, your mouth falls open as your eyes widen at his words. Your heart that had been so filled with love for the man before you obliterates into a million tiny pieces in your chest as devastation consumes you and you slowly back out of your bedroom closing the door behind you with a silent click.

Your body feels numb as you walk down the hallway passing some of the maids who stop and stare at you with sympathetic looks on their faces. Margot, the head maid walks up to you and halts in her steps as her eyes look over your shoulder to your shut bedroom door before they snap back to you with sorrow filling her eyes.

”I will prepare a new bedroom for you Miss.” she says softly and you blindly nod your head at her words before shuffling past her. “Miss? Should I tell the Mister anything?” She asks with a soft sneer at the bedroom door.

”Tell him not to wait up for me if he asks.” You say over your shoulder before making your way out of the house and back to your car.

*-*-*-*

You stare down at the plate of dinner that the chef has prepared for you and Chan tonight as you sit at the dining table. Chan sits across from you oblivious to all the swirling thoughts in your head as he happily chews his food. It had been a week since you had come home to find Chan fucking his company’s manager, within that time you had hired a private investigator and found out that she was Chan’s first and only love. They were childhood friends who had first started dating in middle school and gone through the test of time together. 

She had been there when he had first started his company and had been there when the company had hit rough times and nearly went under almost three years ago. She had been there when Chan had met up with your father at the art gallery showing all those years ago. And now she lived in your home fucking and loving the man sitting across from you. The man you had thought you had been waiting for all your adult life for, the one you thought you loved wholeheartedly to declare and commit yourself to. 

But as you sat there pushing your food around your plate you wondered if anything about your relationship had been real for him. Bile rose up in your throat and you swallowed it down with a grimace.

”Pretty girl” Chan calls out softly and you flinch at the pet name before schooling your face and looking up at him. He’s watching you with cautious eyes as if you’re a cornered wild animal and you feel like one as you realize that he’s been lying to you your whole relationship. You had despised your parents' loveless marriage ever since you were a little girl and had vowed to never let yourself become like them, cold and numb in their marriage. You had told your father that you only wanted to marry for love and would hold out for that over anything else. But you hadn’t thought that he’d force your hand with the help of Chan. Ultimately you had walked right into a loveless marriage unwittingly and now that your eyes were open you could feel yourself slowly dying. “Pretty girl, you with me?” Chan asked softly and your eyes focused on him.

He smiled warmly at you and your eyes darted around his face wondering if he was thinking about her as he sat across from you. Was he thinking of when he would be able to go be with her again? Did he even care about you at all? 

“There she is. Are you okay?” He asked worriedly as he cut another piece of steak before popping it into his mouth and began to chew. “You’ve been distant this past week. Is everything okay? I’ve missed you.” He said sweetly, liar your brain whispers. You quickly nod your head before mustering up a small smile.

”I’m fine.” You respond and look back down to your plate.

”We haven’t spent the night together in a week are you sure? Usually I can’t keep you off me.” He jokes with a small chuckle as his eyes dart up to look at you with a hungry stare. Bile rises up inside you once more and you feel your body flinch at his salacious look. Your skin crawls as his eyes rake up and down your body from his seat while you try to stay in your seat for the rest of dinner.

”I’m fine, just been tired with all the events going on.” You lie with a sweet smile on your face. Chan’s eyes dart around your face and you know he’s trying to see if you’re lying or not but you keep your soft smile on your face hoping he won’t ask anymore questions.

”Well after dinner why don’t we go up to the bedroom and-“ Chan begins to suggest and you quickly cut him off.

”Not tonight Chan. I’m too tired.” You say quickly as you fake a yawn while raising your hand to cover your mouth. You then stand from your chair and Chan looks up at you surprised with a furrowed eyebrow.

”Pretty girl?” He asks worriedly and you nod your head at him. Always his pretty girl.

”I’m going to bed.” You said before turning from him and the table that seemed to have grown in length distancing the two of you.

”Oh alright, I’ll see you up there.” He says softly and you shake your head at his words.

”I’m going to sleep in the spare room. Don’t want to wake you with my early meetings.” You say over your shoulder before quickly walking out of the room not bothering to look back at him.

*-*-*-*

A month after finding out about Chan and his mistress, or rather his love, you stop obsessing over finding out where he’s spending his time. You had learned that ever since you started distancing yourself from him while you tried to mend your obliterated heart he had been spending more and more time with her. He would often meet her at home and fuck her during the lunch hour to then only call you afterwards to check in with you. At first you would torture yourself and answer his calls but soon you became so indifferent to him that you would now ignore his calls and send him to voicemail.

As you grew indifferent and numb to it all over the months that passed, ultimately checking out of your relationship with Chan, he became more attentive to you and almost clingy and smothering wanting to spend time with you whenever you came home from the events that would keep you busy and away from home. It was the attention you thought you had from him and wanted from him since the beginning, he was finally willing to give it to you now. But it was all in vain now as you knew exactly what was going on in your relationship. You kept growing distant with Chan until all of your interactions were just a perfunctory gesture either in the eye of the public or the watchful eyes of your staff.

Your heart remained completely obliterated in the black hole in your chest as you slipped a mask onto your face each time you stepped out into the public eye. You no longer felt your heart beating for anything, there was no spark left to ignite as you continued to host events for your friends and family.

That was until two weeks ago, you had planned and was hosting a bachelorette party for one of your friends who had finally decided to dive in and tie the knot with her long term boyfriend. You were dressed in a tight emerald dress that was cut low to showcase some cleavage while it fell well above your knees highlighting your thighs, you knew you looked great because when you had left the house tonight Chan had did a double take when he spotted you and tried to talk you into not attending and staying in with him. But thankfully you had easily side stepped him when his manager had shown up to the house to “talk about some things going on in the company”. The way she had eyed you had even told you how great you looked as jealousy twisted her lips into an ugly sneer.

Even that interaction hadn’t sparked anything in your deadened heart but the dashing handsome man sitting next to you at the bar was starting to cause embers to spark within you. He had been lurking in the shadows of the popular club that you had chosen for the party tonight and had kept his eye on your group. He had even been attentive and gotten you anything that you needed plus a few extras that the girls were appreciative of. When the girls were distracted you had made your way to the bar and taken a seat hoping he’d come join you. Thankfully he had when you had placed your drink order with the bartender, he had slipped effortlessly into the seat next to and gestured at the bartender with two fingers. 

“I want to thank you for taking care of us. It’s greatly appreciated.” You say to him as you turn to face him and smile gratefully at him. He smirks softly before nodding his head once at your words.

”You’re more than welcome. If there’s anything that you want that I could provide for you please let me know. I own the club.” He says in a deep tone as he leans closer to you before turning his whole body to face you. One of his arms comes up to rest at the back of your stool while his other arm leans against the bar top almost caging you in as he stares into your eyes with a sure confidence of himself. Your eyes widen slightly at the knowledge that he’s Choi Jongho, a successful club owner in the city.

”Well it’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Choi.” You say pleasantly as you hold your hand out for him to shake. “You may know my father, Tucker Candela.” You inform him as he takes your hand gently and slowly lifts it to his face to press a quick kiss to your knuckles causing your eyes to widen slightly.

”I do, I know of your husband as well Mrs. Bahng.” He informs you softly and you feel the embers that had started to spark sizzle out.

”Oh.” You say disappointed before smiling softly at him.

”What I don’t know is how he could let his beautiful wife out of the house dressed so tempting as you are dressed.” He says lustfully as his eyes heat while they rake up and down your body. And suddenly those embers are igniting and catching on fire in an inferno inside your chest. You smirk softly at him which he returns as his eyes sparkle with challenge tempting you to respond.

”You find me tempting and beautiful?” You ask in a sultry whisper and his smirk widens on his face as he keeps his eyes on you. 

“Would you let me show you how beautiful I find you?” He asked in a dark, desirous tone. Your breath comes out in a gasp as heat blooms within your lower stomach and you feel your thighs clenched tightly with want. You shiver as you feel one of his fingers glide slowly down your bare arm and your head turns to follow the movement of his finger. “We can be as discreet or open as you want.” He assures you and your eyes dart over to him as he stares at you silently.

There’s something comforting in his gaze and you jolt quietly when you feel a steady thump of your heart ring out in your chest. A heartbeat. Your blood sings with relief as you begin to feel your heart to beat once more after laying dormant for some many months. Your breath gasps out softly and you can’t help but reach out to place a gentle hand on his forearm that’s leant against the bar top desperate for a connection with this man who’s putting the pieces of your heart back together for you.

”Please.” You beg him in a gasp and he focuses his eyes directly on your own before nodding his head once. He then stands from his seat and leans down to whisper in your ear.

”Go to the bathroom, follow that hallway to a set of stairs at the end. My office is up there, I’ll let my men know to allow you up.” He whispers and you nod your head once before he’s slipping away from you.

You move back to your group to check in on them making sure that they would be okay without you for a little bit of time. Then you move through the club to the bathrooms and head down the dark hallway past them to the large ominous looking man. He nods his head once at you before stepping to the side and gesturing for you to make your way up them. 

When you make it up to his office Jongho is waiting for you at the door holding it open for you as he takes your hand gently in his and guides you into his office. That night you and Jongho spend it piecing your broken heart back together into something that’s so much stronger than what you were born with.

*-*-*-*

You’re rushing around the spare bedroom trying to make sure that you have everything for your three day weekend trip that you had planned with Jongho a week ago. The two of you had been spending more and more time together ever since meeting six months ago, oftentimes it was secret meetings at his club while you were out “prepping for events” you were involved in but other times it was under the nose of everyone out in the public at these events. At first it was hot, heavy and sexual between the two of you but soon it turned to something more sensual and meaningful. You soon found yourself falling in love with Jongho and while you tried to slow yourself there was just something about him that made your heart beat at an accelerated pace.

You were excited for this weekend to spend it uninterrupted with him after not having much time for each other lately. You needed to have that deep connection that you had both found that fateful night at his club. You wanted him to consume you entirely as you moved into this new chapter of your life. This weekend was going to be a time of amazing changes for you and you couldn’t wait or contain your excitement. Passing your vanity mirror you caught sight of your excited smile that graced your face and paused as you took yourself in for a quiet moment. You were dressed for comfort in a pair of baggy black sweatpants that hung low on your hip bones, a dark maroon hoodie and your hair was pulled up out of your face in a sloppy bun, you looked cozy as you grinned at yourself feeling happy for once after a very long time.

”Don’t you look cute?” Came Chan’s bemused voice causing your smile to immediately dim on your face as you turned to face him. He was leaning against your doorframe with his arms crossed over his broad chest as his eyes danced up and down your body. You internally flinched at his attentions but were glad for your baggy clothes hiding your body from his eyes. “R eady for your girls’ weekend away?” He asked curiously as he pushed away from the doorway and moved closer to you. You smiled excitedly at the reminder of where you were going as you nodded your head at him before moving to your suitcase and double checking it once more for everything that you packed.

”I am. I’m excited to get away for a few days. Just relax and enjoy myself.” You said truthfully and Chan nodded his head as he came to sit down at the foot of your bed and frowned softly at his movements. “Is there something wrong Chan?” You asked curiously not really interested in what was going on with him but you knew he was looking for a reaction from you. This had become a mindless routine between the two of you since you had met Jongho and had started spending more time with him, Chan would come to you looking for some reassurance or a reaction from you and you would dutifully give it to him so that it was easier to keep him at bay this way. You gave him what he wanted and he left you alone for the most part.

”Do you have a moment to talk about something with me?” He asked as he looked over his shoulder at you. The hair at the back of your neck rose and you had a slight inclination that this was going to be about Jongho if the unsure and insecure look on Chan’s face was anything to go by.

”Of course. What did you need to talk about Chan?” You asked sweetly as you walked to the corner of your bed and leant against the post there.

”I don’t want to start an argument with you right before you leave for a weekend away.” He began to explain and you furrowed your brow in faux confusion as your mind hissed one word, liar. “But I wanted to talk to you about your friendship with Choi Jongho. I think you’re getting too close to him and soon others will start talking.” He said worriedly as he looked up at you from his seat on the bed. You gazed down at him still furrowing your eyebrows at him as your mouth pouted slightly at his words.

”But Chan, he’s become a close friend.” You tell him and he nods his head at your words.

”I know pretty girl, I know. And I’m so happy you’ve made another friend. But I think you’re a little too close to him. I mean he’s a young successful business man, what will people think if you keep getting close to him?” He says expressing his concern for your new friendship. You internally smirk as you catch onto the fact that he mentioned how young Jongho is and how successful he is, without a doubt the real reason that Chan wanted you to stop being close to Jongho. You leant further over the post towards Chan and he smiled softly up at you as he tilted his head up, no doubt expecting you to agree with him and reasoning.

”And what would people think if they all knew about your unborn child with your company manager?” You asked in a dangerously low tone that had Chan’s smile dying quickly on his lips as his eyes widened and began to dart around your face.

”What?” He asked in a confused whisper as he watched you quietly with dancing eyes. You smirked down at him enjoying the happiness that quickly left his face as he understood your words and the implications from them. You pressed your index finger under his chin and Chan flinched at the touch.

”Did you think I’d remain blind to your disgusting betrayal? How you worked with my father to make me fall in love with you just so that I would get married? That you would move the woman you were actually in love with into my home? Just so you could keep her close enough to keep fucking her?” You asked him darkly and Chan’s eyes widened at each fact that you laid at his feet. “Did you think I wouldn’t catch you in the act and hear you confess your love to her while admitting to the baby you put in her belly?” You asked as you glared at him darkly with hate filled eyes. 

“Pretty girl-“ he gasped out as he gulped loudly but you cut him off as you pressed your index finger harshly into the underside of his chin.

”You disgust me.” You hissed at him. “I loved you once Chan, you made sure of that didn’t you?” You asked bitterly as you laughed harshly at his wide eyed stare. “Played with my emotions, kept me blind to what was going on under my own roof and had me in your palm just where you wanted me huh?” You asked as your eyes hardened while staring at him before your top lip sneered at him. “Well don’t worry Channie” you cooed at him in that sweet tone you had once heard all those months ago. “My eyes are finally open now.” You said in a low dark tone before stepping away from him without a second glance.

You moved to your suitcase and quickly zipped it up, not bothering to keep an eye on Chan. You heard him stand from the bed and turn to face you but you didn’t pay him any mind.

”What does that mean for us? Where does that leave us?” He asks suddenly and you scoff softly at his questions as you pick up your suitcase by the handle and turn to face him. “I don’t want to lose you!” He cries out in a soft lament and you laugh bitterly at his sad performance as your eyes connect with his and you feel absolutely nothing for him.

”You lost me a long time ago.” You said disgustedly as you walked past him and out of the bedroom. Margot is walking down the hallway with a man in a neat business suit following close behind her and you smirk wickedly as you realize that the planets have aligned perfectly for once for you. 

“You have a lovely weekend Miss. We will be here waiting for your return.” Margot says with a head nod as you pass her and your father’s lawyer. Your smirk turns into a happy excited grin as you swing the front door open and spot Jongho waiting at the open back passenger door of his town car that’s going to be your ride to your weekend destination. You hear Chan’s shout from inside the house and your grin widens as you know that your father’s lawyer is advising of his breach of contract to the clause that was buried in their contract that they had signed all those years ago, if a child is fathered with any other woman before your wife you would be held in breach of contract and all support and funding will be pulled from your company and the marriage will be dissolved.

You quickly rushed down the front steps of your house and glee filled your whole body. The driver quickly took your suitcase from your hand and you launched yourself into Jongho’s waiting arms feeling his love begin to pour into you as he held you close. He pressed a sweet loving kiss to your lips before pulling away to rush you into the back of the car chuckling as you giggled knowingly at his rushed movements.

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