#i want to be happy with a quiet life but then i just start thinking how lonely i am lol whatever

[uravitypng]

soulmate hanta who is completely oblivious to that fact that he is your soulmate. everybody is born with a soulmate mark, a scribble of words that are the first words your soulmate utters to you placed somewhere along your hip. hanta sero who is nonchalant and chill about things that he doesn't realise he's already met his soulmate. they met on the first day of ua and he didn't even notice, and you... well you noticed but how could you tell him.

everyone's going around introducing themselves, he doesn't introduce himself though. your bag was neatly tucked away under your desk, already ready to start class when hanta somehow tripped over it, he caught himself in the last minute

"fuck, that could've gone really bad." he grinned at you and you were too stunned to speak, your body felt warm, like fireworks exploding and the warmth left over from sparklers their bright vivid colours flowing through you, you found your soulmate. you didn't get the chance to reply to him, an authoritative voice started speaking, aizawa sensei, and then class started.

you tried really bad to talk to him but he oozed of confidence and friendless, if the roles were reversed and you tripped over his bag you don't even think you would of been able to say something, you'd probably just rush off in embarrassment. he jokes around with everyone and you fade away in the background, you didn't even mean to, it wasn't your intention, you told yourself that when you started ua and started the hero course you'd put yourself out there more but that changed when the idea of talking to your soulmate was so daunting.

soulmate hanta who lays in his hammock with his arm of his face, groaning because you are just so adorable! and you won't talk to him, you're quiet anyway but around him it's like you don't say anything. he doesn't even know if he's ever heard you talk. he frowns at the idea that you won't talk to him because you don't like him, he wants you to like him, he wants you to talk to him! everything about you leaves him in a tizzy- the way you smile, your laugh, your anime pins stuck to your bag, how you got bakugou to open up to you even before kirishima. he can't explain it but he just wants to be near you.

you want to be near him, you want to ask him about his favourite manga, you want to know more about him but you conclude your soulmate wants nothing to do with you. you've only spoken to him once, a month into meeting each other, and he didn't say anything about your mark. he didn't have any reaction. you were talking to bakugou, arguing over who did better in the practical today out of the two of you and you're too involved in proving that you were better that you don't realise hanta and kaminari have walked up to you both. you've spoken to kaminari on a couple of occasions he's nice but a bit too complimentary to girls for your liking and you haven't said one single word to hanta, overthinking every little thing. "oi, you two which one of us was stronger today in our practical?" bakugou shouts over to them.

you don't remember kaminari's response, you remember hanta's, "i mean you're good bakugou but she's miles ahead of you." your heart soars, you don't think you've ever been so happy in your life. shouting ensues, lots of shouting, bakugou calling hanta blind and various other insults.

over all that you say, "thanks sero, you were great too," the end of your sentence gets quieter and you stutter more. they can barely hear you over all the shouting. hanta doesn't look at you or make any acknowledge of what you just said, like 'oh hey, that's what my soulmate mark says' nothing. he heard you but he didn't want anything to do with you. the rejection hurt but you knew something like this would happen, you never expected him to like you but you would've liked him to say something like 'i'm not interested but i still want to be friends with you.'

the lack of any acknowledge on his behalf made it clear to you and you don't want to disrespect his wishes, if he doesn't want to get to know you then you won't force yourself into his life. what you didn't realise is your soulmate didn't even hear what you said... he didn't reject you at all he just didn't hear.

five minutes beforehand he was almost dragging denki by his sleeve over to you and bakugou because he wants to talk to you. he's had this warm fuzzy feeling from the first moment he's seen you and it's just grown and grown.

soulmate hanta is buzzing now that everyone is moving into dorms because surely that means you'll have to talk to him.

soulmate hanta who inserts himself into your life. that anime pin on your bag? he's asking if you've read the manga. he's making teasing jabs at bakugou with you about how his cooking for everyone gives it away that he loves all of the class, bakugou always tells him to fuck off and you have a fit of giggles. he gives you ideas when he can see you're struggling and hit a road block with your hero costume support items. he'll swing you with him to the roof of tallest towers in the city and talk for hours until the sun comes up about the future and plans for being a pro. he's loud and sociable and brings you out of your shell to speak up when he can see that you want but are too afraid to, he's there to give you a push but also relax with you in the dorms when he can tell that you don't have the energy for everyone. he'll bring snacks and you'll watch films and he'll speak to you gently and soothingly that puts your mind at ease when you get overwhelmed. he'll read you manga while you rest your head on his lap and you'll get overly competitive when it comes to mario kart.

you don't understand why your soulmate had this change of mindset about you, maybe it's because you're all living together but now you have him in your life you're not jeopardising that. the time you share with everyone is amazing, and the time you and hanta share with everyone is amazing but when you're just together alone that amazing turns into perfection. you want to bottle up those moments with a glass and keep them forever.

falling in love with hanta didn't surprise you, you knew it would happen sooner or later. you never spoke to each other about being soulmates or relationships (you thought you knew why) you didn't engage in conversations with the rest of the class about it either. you didn't want to put hanta on the spot like that, 'yeah, i've found my soulmate guys, i spend every day with him but he rejected me. oh look! here he comes now, hi sero!' you were wrong though. it didn't happen like you thought it did.

soulmate hanta who isn't just called 'hanta' in your head but when you speak to him or about him, after eight years of knowing each other you've gotten past the use of family names. the first time he heard you speak it his heart skipped a beat. your heads were pressed together and you were under a blanket asleep. you both drifted off at some point during film night, it was time for you both to start joint patrol so you woke him up, whispering his name. you joined the same agency so that meant you liked doing as much joint patrol with each other as possible.

soulmate hanta who's never been in a relationship before and is a complete virgin. he doesn't care about other girls, not even to look their way for a night, all he cares about is you. the idea of even dating a girl riddles him with guilt over how he wishes it was you. hanta is fully aware that you've never been in a relationship either.

soulmate hanta can't bare to look you in the eyes and hear about the person you love or how you're yearning to find your soulmate. he couldn't bare that pain. the idea that you have someone out there- it kills him. in that sense he's insecure, he knows he should be supportive and ask about your soulmate, it seems that every other person has had at least one conversation about it but he just can't. you've never even had a relationship and he knows he should ask why but then you might ask him the same question and the reason would be- you.

the thought that his words may be written on your hip never cross his mind, he's never been in denial that he loves you but he never thought it was reciprocated.

the thought that he himself has a soulmate never, even for a second, flits through in his mind. he doesn't think he's met them and he doesn't care if he does. they won't be you.

next

[austinbutlerslovers]

Thankful  

Label Mature 18+

Summary It’s your first big holiday with Austin and you have tasked yourself with planning a dinner to host all of his celebrity friends. Your nervousness keeps trying to get the better of you, but Austin is right there to keep you calm and grounded with his love and support.

Everything is falling into place until you discover his secret that sets your heart racing and leaves you wondering what’s to come.

💝Romantic Smut💝 Loving affectionate• romantic fluff• praises• can’t be without you• body worship•intuition• pleasure bonding• nipple play•clit play•fingering•missionary•overstimulation • orgasms•creampie •aftercare 

🔗Master List

Thankful

The afternoon light filters warmly through the window, casting a soft glow across the room as Austin lifts another box, setting it down with a smile. “What’s next, babe?” he asks, his voice warm and steady which is a grounding presence in the whirlwind of pre-holiday nerves swirling inside you. It’s the first time you’ll be celebrating away from home due to his filming schedule.

You sift through the decorations spread out on the table—ornaments, garlands, golden candles—your fingers pausing over a wooden sign etched with the words, -Give Thanks Always - The sentiment stirs something in you as you trace the carved letters with a small smile. “Maybe this by the window?” you ask, tilting it up, to get his reaction.

Austin steps closer, wrapping his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder as he surveys your choice. “That will look perfect,” he says, the approval warm in his voice. His hands slide down to gently squeeze your waist. “Every choice you’ve made is spot-on. You’ve got this holiday thing down .” He compliments.

A small grin spreads across your lips from his praises, though the tinge of uncertainty still lingers. You glance around his sleek New York condo, which feels a little intimidating. The modern furnishings, expansive windows overlooking the city, and the knowledge that all the guests tomorrow evening will be his celebrity friends only add to your nerves.

“I just want to make sure all of your friends are happy with everything—including…me,” you say, trying to sound lighthearted but unable to fully hide the worry of their approval in your voice.

He hears it immediately and turns you to face him, cupping your face with both hands. “Baby, listen to me,” he says, his voice quiet but firm as his eyes lock with yours, filled with unwavering love and reassurance.

“They’ll love you. You’re everything to me, and they’ll see that,” he says, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks. “I can’t wait for them to get to know the person who makes my life better every single day.”

Your lips smile slightly, as his words settle deep in your chest, chasing away the doubt. “You really think so?” you ask softly.

“I know so,” he says, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “You’re going to charm the hell out of them just like you do to me” he grins.

You nod, a small smile spreading across your lips as you lean into him. “Thank you Austin,” you whisper.

“Always,” he replies and softly kisses you letting his words sink in as you feel the warmth and reassurance of his love melting away your all your fears.

He pulls you into a hug, holding you close, his thumbs tracing soothing patterns along your back, and you feel your nerves subside, leaving behind a feeling of safety, and anticipation.

After arranging the last of the decorations, you start clearing the boxes, stacking them near the ladder to have Austin put them away in the storage closet. Wanting so save him time you climb up the step ladder holding a box of decorations, sliding it onto the shelf when your gaze catches a small, unassuming box tucked away behind some spare blankets.

Curiosity piqued, you pull it out, fingertips brushing over the smooth surface before you gently pry it open and feel your breath catch. Inside is a smaller, elegant box—a ring box. Your heart pounds as you stare at it, the implications nearly knocking you off balance.

You quickly steady yourself and open it to reveal a beautiful diamond ring nestled inside. The large stone sparkles brilliantly, set on a delicate platinum band adorned with smaller diamonds that catch the light like tiny stars. You quickly reseal the ring box and put everything back in its place knowing you shouldn’t have see it, but the image is imprinted in your mind, leaving your head swimming and your heart racing.

As you step down from the ladder, you catch sight of Austin coming into the hall, concern etched on his face. “Aw, baby, I wanted to take care of all those boxes. Some of those are so heavy,” he says, his voice soft as his eyes linger on your flushed cheeks. “Are you okay?” he asks.

You nod quickly, a little breathless, trying to calm the pounding in your heart. “Yeah…—I’m fine,” you reply, your voice softer than usual. “Y-yes some of them are too heavy I picked a lighter one,” you admit, hoping to blame your flustered state on the task.

Austin steps closer, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before an appreciative smile spreads across his face. “You’ve been working hard all day,” he says, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “You’ve really outdone yourself.” He says proudly.

You grin, melting into his embrace, your head tilting back to look at him adoringly. “I couldn’t do any of this without Austin,” you say appreciatively.

He smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Baby, you’re the one who holds everything together for me, and that’s just one of the million things I love about you.”

Your heart flutters at his words as you glance up at him, knowing his little secret.

“Come on, let’s call it a night. I don’t want you wearing yourself out before tomorrow.” He says affectionately.

Later that evening, after a quiet dinner and a glass of wine, Austin takes your hand and leads you upstairs. As you enter the bedroom, he pulls you into his arms, his touch soft yet deliberate.

“You know,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear, “I don’t think I tell you enough how lucky I am to have you. How beautiful you are. How much I love you.”

You grin, unable to hide the beaming smile spreading across your face. “Austin, you’re too much,” you whisper, your voice soft with affection.

“Never enough,” he murmurs, his voice low and rich, leaning in to kiss you. His lips are tender and unhurried, caressing yours as if he has all the time in the world. He deepens the kiss, slowly, passionately, building it in waves as his hands cradle your jaw, tilting your face to claim your mouth fully.

Without breaking the kiss his fingers trail down your shoulders, undoing the buttons of your top with deliberate precision. Each touch is accompanied by soft whispers, his lips brushing yours as he speaks. “You have no idea how perfect you are,” he murmurs, his voice filled with reverence. “Every curve, every inch of you is so beautiful to me.”

Your shirt slides off, pooling it on the floor, followed by your bra as his hands glide across your bare skin, his touch making you shiver. His mouth follows the trail of his hands, kissing along your collarbone taking his time to worship every inch of exposed skin. You’re trembling already, your breaths hitching with each delicate press of his lips.

His fingers teasingly slide down to unfasten your jeans as he gently kisses your nipples.

He sucks tenderly, his lips warm and soft as he lavishes attention on one, then moves to the other with equal care.

Each tug is a gentle pull on your senses, sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. His hands roam as his mouth works, pulling your panties down inch by inch until you stand before him naked and trembling with anticipation.

You reach for his hands needing him desperately and he gently catches your wrists, bringing them to his lips. “I know baby,” he whispers, his voice soft, his eyes never leaving yours as he begins to undress.

He pulls his sweater over his head, revealing the chiseled planes of his torso, his body strong and mesmerizing. His pants follow, and when he’s finally bare before you, the intensity of his hard cock makes your knees weak.

He lifts you effortlessly, carrying you to the bed and laying you down with a gentleness that steals your breath. You softly smile at each other as he leans over you, and then his lips find yours again, kissing you softly before trailing down your neck.

“You’re everything to me,” he whispers, his voice heavy with emotion. “I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.” He says, placing tender kisses down your chest and lower down your stomach, his lips lingering there as your body arches toward him, trembling with need.

Your thoughts spiral as his lips move lower between your hips every kiss unraveling you piece by piece. You feel completely exposed, soft, and vulnerable in the most intoxicating way.

A soft, involuntary sound escapes your lips, a mixture of desperation and anticipation, your body trembling as his kisses your inner thighs. You tilt your hips ever so slightly toward him, silently begging for more. The ache inside of you growing unbearable, as a deep, throbbing need consumes you entirely.

By the time his mouth touches your clit, you’re already soaking wet, your body quivering under his touch. His tongue moves with maddening precision, swirling and flicking as his fingers slide deep inside you, filling you perfectly. The slow, deliberate thrusts of his fingers send jolts of pleasure radiating through your core, each stroke igniting a new wave of heat.

Every flick of his tongue ever pull of his fingers pushes you closer to the edge until you can’t hold back.

He presses his tongue harder and thrusts his fingers faster, curling just right, as a strange, keening moan slips from your lips. Your hands grip the sheets, your body arching off the bed as your orgasm rushes over you.

Wetness pools between your thighs as your body shudders uncontrollably, the slick sound of it only making you flush hotter, your breath hitching as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you.

Austin hums with appreciation, his mouth still working against your clit as he loses himself in the moment. “Baby, you’re so wet,” he whispers, his voice strained and filled with awe. “So perfect for me….” He praises his breaths shaky as his lips and tongue continue their relentless devotion.

His words only heighten the intensity, making your body quiver as aftershocks ripple through you, the slickness coating his fingers fueling his passion even further.

“So beautiful,” he whispers , his voice thick with emotion as he finally pulls back. His breaths ragged, his gaze burning with intensity as he looks at you, trembling and undone beneath him.

He places a kiss on your inner thigh, filled with gratitude, before he rises over you. He slowly settles between your legs, his cock pressing against you as his chest brushes yours. His hands find your jaw, cradling your face as he kisses you deeply.

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips his voice filled with emotion as he gently pushes his hips forward, his cock gliding into you inch by inch.

The sensation is overwhelming—your entrance so wet, so soft, your walls eagerly glide his thick cock in to you, the slick heat wrapping around him perfectly. The slow stretch around his size only heightens your pleasure, making every inch feel more intimate, more intense.

A deep moan escapes his lips as your bodies press together completely. Your walls grip him tightly, the fullness of his cock sending a shiver through you, the wetness gliding his thrusts effortlessly as you gasp in pleasure beneath him.

He doesn’t rush, his thrusts are slow and steady, his lips finding yours again as he his cock presses your sweet spot between kisses.

“You feel so incredible, baby,” he praises, his voice trembling with desire as his body moves against yours. Each thrust, each kiss, is filled with his devotion, making the moment so tender, so passionate, you feel overwhelmed with emotion.

His hand cradles your face gently, his thumb brushing over your cheek as his hips pull back and thrust into you again, and again, each motion deliberate and deep, making your pulse race. His lips find your throat, pressing hot, lingering kisses against your skin as his pace quickens, the intensity of his need matching your own.

You can’t contain the sounds escaping your lips—soft moans that turn into desperate, breathless cries. Your hips rise instinctively to meet his, each thrust igniting sparks inside you, the tightness in your core building rapidly, teetering on the edge.

Sensing your need, Austin grips your hips, tilting his own to hit the perfect spot again and again. Your walls flutter around him with each deep thrust, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. The tension coils tighter and tighter until your body can’t hold back any longer.

His voice is breathless as it breaks through the haze. “That’s it, baby. Let go for me. Come for me. I’ve got you,” he whispers, and your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your muscles tightening around him as a rush of pleasure explodes through you, leaving you gasping.

Your back arches off the bed as his name falls from your lips in a desperate cry, your fingers clutching at his shoulders as aftershocks ripple through your body.

Austin groans deeply, his movements faltering as your climax pushes him to his own. He kisses you fiercely, his lips catching your cries as he continues to thrust until you feel the hot rush of his come spilling inside you.

He moans deeply against your lips, his breath shuddering as his thrusts soften, letting you feel every last pulse of his pleasure as it merges with your own.

The combination of your orgasms and the lingering aftershocks leave you both trembling, your breaths mingling as you come down from the overwhelming high.

“I love you,” he whispers breathlessly, his voice thick with emotion as his hands gently stroke your skin, holding you close.

“I love you too,” you reply softly, your voice filled with all the love and trust you feel in his embrace.

The rest of the night is spent with his arms wrapped around you, filled with love and reverence. His affection making you feel cherished and completely his as though nothing else in the world exists but the two of you.

The next evening, the condo buzzes with energy as his friends from the city begin to arrive. The smell of roasting turkey fills the air as everyone brings dishes to accompany the feast—platters of roasted vegetables, mashed potatoes, casseroles and freshly baked pies cover the counters.

You flit around the kitchen, trying to make sure everything is perfect. The stress of hosting weighs on you, but Austin is a calming presence, stepping in to help whenever he sees you getting overwhelmed. He sneaks behind you to wrap his arms around your waist, kissing your cheek.

“Relax,” he murmurs. “You’re doing amazing. Everyone’s loving it.” His reassurance soothes you, and by the time dinner is served, the table is brimming with delicious food and lively conversation, accompanied by the clinking of glasses.

Seated at the head of the table across from you Austin looks devastatingly handsome in a dark sweater that hugs his broad shoulders perfectly. He watches you with an affectionate smile, his gaze warm and steady as the evening unfolds. After a moment, he rises from his chair with a wine glass in hand, drawing the room’s attention.

“Can I have everyone’s attention, please?” Austin asks, his voice steady and warm as the chatter fades and all eyes turn to him. He looks at you, his expression softening with affection.

“This year has been one of the best of my life,” he begins. “And it’s not because of anything I’ve done. It’s also because of her.” He nods toward you, his gaze locking with yours as awes of admiration spread through the room.

“I just want to say how thankful I am that we can gather here together this evening, and for this incredible woman who somehow made it all look effortless.” He says gracefully.

Words of approval and nods spread around the table as everyone turns to look at you and you can’t help but smile, as your cheeks flushing under the attention.

“She’s the reason every place I go feels like home. She’s the reason I smile every single day. She’s the love of my life.”

The room hums with awe’s as everyone nods and smiles in agreement, their expressions warm. Your heart swells at his words, each one feeling personal and intimate as you gaze at him lovingly.

He raises his glass, his eyes still on you. “So let’s all cheers and give thanks for love, for friendship, and for the people who make life worth living.”

The room bursts into cheers and applause, the sound filling the space as glasses clink and laughter follows. As Austin sits down after the toast the warmth of the moment is still buzzing in the air as you meet his gaze across the table. His eyes are soft, filled with love and unspoken emotion, and your heart races as his words echo in your mind.

He smiles warmly, and there’s an anticipation in his expression that makes your heart flutter. You secretly know what he’s waiting for, and the thought makes you grin. He’s eager to pop the question soon, and he’s waiting for the perfect day.

You hold his gaze, feeling a spark of excitement build in your chest. The promise in his eyes leavening you giddy with anticipation for what’s to come.

🍁 END

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[grinnames]

SMG4 Godbox AU Chapter 1: Awakening, Overtakening

The inside of the spaceship was quiet, and the only thing that could be felt was overwhelming dread, and silent prayers that SMG4 and SMG3 were still alive.

It had been about an hour since SMG1 and SMG2 had blown up the Godbox and everything and everyone within it. It had been 20 minutes since the two of them regained consciousness and frantically got back into their damaged and dented ship, searching for any survivors. It had been 30 minutes since they had gotten a call from the Mushroom Kingdom, signaling that everyone was alright and accounted for, and that Mario had miraculously survived the blast, though the red plumber was still missing. It had been 10 minutes since they had found Melonie’s burned and unconscious body floating next to SMG0’s corpse. They had hastily pulled her into the ship and hooked her up to a convenient life-support machine, where she lay in a fitful rest, her divine magic whirring and buzzing to keep her alive.

SMG1’s eyes were laser-focused on the monitors, scanning for any signs of life. His hopes were thin, and he highly doubted that the two SMGs had survived the blast. But they were inside the Godbox when the meme-bomb hit, and the lid suddenly slamming shut could have at least shielded them from the worst of the blast. Immense guilt weighed on his heart, but he swallowed his feelings and pushed forward. He had to be strong. If they were dead, he would take full responsibility, and do whatever he could to make sure they were remembered.

SMG2 was the one piloting the ship, ever so often glancing back at his partner in concern. Guilt also weighed on his heart. He really saw SMG3 and SMG4 as his students. Being their teacher brought him so much joy. He loved that he could play a role in training the next generation of meme guardians that would protect the universe. He never wanted them to sacrifice their lives. He felt like he had failed them. If they were still alive, he hoped that they would forgive him, and that they could continue training and becoming stronger… together.

After several, long, anxiety-wracked minutes, the monitor suddenly let out a faint beep. SMG2 immediately perked up.

“They’re- THEY’RE ALIVE!” he exclaimed, his voice cracking with a happy sob.

SMG1 was stunned, and slightly smiled in disbelief. “I… I don’t believe it! But they’ve got to be hurt! We have to hurry!” 

Without a second to spare, SMG2 slammed on the gas, and the ship zoomed in the direction of the life signal. 

...

SMG3 groggily opened his eyes. Every cell in his body felt… strange, almost unfamiliar. He knew that this was still his body, but it was as if someone had barged inside and rearranged all the furniture, and maybe also vandalized the walls with obscenities. He felt so, so cold, but he didn’t feel the need to curl in on himself. No, he didn’t need any warmth at all. 

He could hear the roar of an engine approaching. He turned his head to the side, and winced as bright lights blinded his vision. It was SMG1 and SMG2’s ship. 

...

SMG2 stared in shock and confusion at the sight before him. SMG1 also looked on in shock, but his eyebrows also furrowed in suspicion. 

Just outside their ship, illuminated by the ship’s headlights, were the sources of SMG3’s and SMG4’s life signals, fast asleep and adrift in the cosmos. 

“...Neither of them have any visible wounds…”  began SMG1, unsure of where to even start analyzing. 

“...Ahah, well at least they’re in one piece…?” SMG1 quipped, trying to stay optimistic. “Aside from the, um, random redesign? I think they’re gonna make it!” 

“Why are they… Asian? Actually no, that’s besides the point! How did this happen?!” SMG1 rubbed his head, growing more and more puzzled by the second. 

There was no evidence that they had just been hit with a nuke. Heck, even their clothes were unharmed, and not a single hair was out of place. They had the signature overalls, gloves, caps, and rotund frame of their avatar, but that was where the similarities ended. 

First of all… they were indeed Asian now. SMG4’s new face was smooth and lacked any facial hair. His face almost looked like a doll’s. SMG3 shared the same face, but a short black beard replaced his old mustache. 

SMG3’s color scheme had changed. He kept his black overalls, but his shirt and cap were a dark purple now. 

Their shoes now had pointed heels and toes. Their gloves were longer, and extended past their forearms and nearly reached their shoulders. And finally, each of them sported red, glowing rings that cuffed their wrists, ankles, and neck. 

SMG2 nudged the ship closer, reaching for the airlock. “Let’s hurry up and bring them home, we have to make sure that they’re really ok!” he chirped.

SMG1 grabbed SMG2’s shoulder. “Wait, 2, something doesn’t feel right. I don’t know what it is, it’s just a gut feeling, but look at those rings-”

Before SMG1 could finish his sentence, SMG3 blinked awake and stared right at them. His eyes squinted in the bright light, and widened with recognition. 

SMG2 shook himself, and smiled reassuringly. He switched on the ship’s intercom. “SMG3! Hey… you’re ok! We’re not sure why, but we’re going to get you two home, and we’ll figure it out together!”

SMG3 said nothing. He only continued to stare, his expression hardening.

...

He remembered now. His name is SMG3. He was currently floating in the Great Beyond. He had just been dead. And now he was the vessel for an eldritch god. 

…Why had this happened to him? This was so… unfair. It was all because he had died. It was all because he had been killed. SMG1. SMG2. They had-

“...tried to kill us.” A dark and inhuman whisper rang out in his mind. White hot rage seized his heart. And then, he saw nothing but red.

...

“SMG3…?” SMG2 asked worriedly. “Please say something, you’re starting to freak me out-”

“2… something is horribly wrong.” SMG1 said, his throat tightening as he reached for the steering wheel.

SMG3’s eyes suddenly blazed red. The sclera lit up with the crimson, and the irises flashed white in the shape of a “0.” His lips pulled back and his mouth let out guttural roar, revealing rows of sharp red teeth. In the blink of an eye, he had rushed from his spot to the ship’s windshield, the force of his movement cracking the glass and shaking the ship. His fingers were curled into hooked black talons, digging into the window. 

“Murrrrrrgh… MURDERERRRRRRRRRR!” he roared.

SMG2 screamed, and SMG1's breath caught in his throat. As he and SMG3 locked eyes, SMG1 saw Eldritch 0. The Toytoy Kingdom. Spudnick screaming in agony as a slimy blue appendage squeezed out his essence. His own body burning with indescribable agony and losing its texture. Everything, everywhere falling to pieces and becoming corrupted-

Without thinking, SMG1 immediately put the ship in reverse and blasted backwards, throwing off SMG3… no, whatever that thing was. Fueled by adrenaline, SMG1 deftly put the ship back in forwards mode, spun around and hightailed it.

The vessel tumbled backwards through space before righting itself in vacuum. It glared at the retreating spaceship, unamused. “Meme guardians… always so annoying. They always think that they can put off the inevitable.”

Through SMG3’s eyes, it inspected his new hands. “Though… I didn’t expect this one’s rage to suddenly… spur us to such an irrational and premature move.” It would have been more advantageous to remain passive, and wait for the right moment to strike. It appeared that the purple-clad man's emotional impulses had worked a little too well.

No matter. It had been doing this for a very, very long time. It would adapt. Every movement its new vessels would make would be completely calculated, whether they were in control, or not. 

With no spaceship of its own, the vessel decided to use an old trick. This new body had some interesting code. The former-meme guardian had inherited it from the universe he was sent to. It was just tucked away, waiting to be used to its full potential. Red glitches flickered around its form. A familiar jingle of three uplifting 8-bit notes emitted from within itself, and a yellow cape materialized out of nowhere, wrapped neatly over the shoulders. 

Nearby, the other vessel stirred to life, also gazing in the direction of the spaceship. Its eyes also blazed red with white irises. Its cold and uncompromising frown on SMG4’s face contrasted with the twisted snarl on SMG3’s, but each of them shared the same intent. It joined its partner, reached within SMG4's code, and with some more flickers of red glitches, a pair of raccoon ears sprung forth from its head, and a long, striped tail from its rear. 

Their voices spoke in unison. “I won’t have complete control over these two for long. Our first order of business will be destroying those two meme guardians, like Niles should have done ALL those years ago.” 

“But this time, we will do it ourselves.”

In perfect sync, without even looking at each other, the two vessels reached for and clasped each other’s hands. They shot forward in hot pursuit, heading straight for a certain computer…

To be Continued...

Previous

Next

Just to clarify:

SMG3 is a he/his

SMG4 is a he/his

The Entity is an it/its

Can you tell who is in control?

[foreverisntenough]

‘Movie Night’

Summary: If only life was like the movies. For years, you’d flirted with the idea of something more with Trent, your brother’s best friend.  You'd always danced around the edges of something more with him, sharing flirty moments that felt like scenes straight from the cinema. You had been silently desperate for the main character of your life’s film to finally get the boy but you knew moments like that were saved for Hollywood. The lines were clear; you were always going to be his mate’s little sister. So what happens when you go off script? In a whirlwind of passion, secrets, and stolen moments, you're left wondering: will you and your brother's best friend get the happy ending you've been waiting for, or was it never meant to be more than a fantasy? 

Index:

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI [ smut, slight mention of dv, loss of a parent, drinking - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series!

Disclaimer: No one is crazy about him atm, me included, so this is strictly for my readers and my readers only. I don’t condone his behavior at all -Just let me finish out this fic please. Don’t come for me. I’m only a girl with a google doc whose spent hours upon hours and days on end on this fic

Chapter 12 - 'Monaco’ | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 11.3k

You crawled into Trent’s bed that night, the weight of the party and the fading liquor settling over both of you like a heavy blanket. The room was still, the only sound the soft rustle of sheets as you burrowed into him, pressing your cheek to his chest. His arm wrapped instinctively around you, holding you close, and for a moment, it felt like nothing in the world could intrude on this quiet, safe space. But then, like a sharp snap, reality crept in. Thoughts you’d been pushing aside bubbled up, tugging at your peace.

“T…” you began hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper. He hummed, ready to listen, tired albeit. “Are we ever going to tell people?” You felt him tense slightly beneath you, his hand stilling on your back. You bit your lip, already regretting the question. It wasn’t that you didn’t love the secret moments with him—those were some of the happiest of your life���but lately, the lines between private and public were blurring and not in the way you’d hope.

“Baby,” he started softly, his tone careful. “We gotta think about this.” His hesitation sent a small pang through your chest. Trent wasn’t just stalling for the sake of it, though—you could see the storm of thoughts swirling in his eyes. The things Noah, Aiden, and Bailey had said earlier at the party lingered in his mind, mixing with his own worries about how this would affect you, him, and everyone around you.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, trying to meet his gaze. Your voice was light, almost naive, but you were desperate for clarity.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, pretty girl or that we won’t ever but you know what’s wrong,” he said, letting out a soft laugh as he looked at you with a smirk full of sympathy. “You’re not the one who’s gonna get your ass beat.” It clicked immediately, and you couldn’t help but smirk back. 

“Oh,” you murmured knowingly. Trent nodded, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your arm.  Your heart swelled at the tenderness behind his worry. “I’ll protect you though,” you teased sweetly, your lips quirking into a grin.

“And that’s well nice, but I don’t believe you for a second,” he shot back, shaking his head playfully. “I’ve seen you try to fight Jack. Not exactly convincing.” He cupped your cheek. You laughed, leaning up to kiss his jaw. 

“I’d try for you, though,” you whispered, your giggles subsiding into a softer, more earnest tone. The room fell quiet again, the weight of your words hanging in the air between you. Trent sighed, his hand shifting to cradle your cheek still, his thumb brushing softly over your skin.

“Soon, baby, okay?” he said, his voice steady and filled with promise. “I want you. I want you all the time. I don’t want to hide this way. His words settled over you like a balm, soothing the ache of uncertainty in your chest. You nodded, leaning into his touch as his lips found your forehead. Until, he spoke again. “But we’ve gotta find a way to do it right. I don’t want to hurt people.” He told you and while you understood, it broke your heart. He was hurting you, why didn’t he consider that. But you bit your tongue trying to be rational and understanding. 

“Okay,” you murmured, letting your eyes drift closed. You trusted him—how could you not? And for now, that was enough.

“Baby… Pretty girl… you gotta get up for me,” Trent murmured against your skin. His voice broke softly through the stillness of the room, warm and tender, but his words held a weight that didn’t belong to the intimacy of the moment. His lips brushed against your temple, an apology in the contact before the words even came. Trent looked at you with a pout loving how comfortable you were with him, how cuddly you were. It broke his heart but he had to do it. 

“No,” you mumbled, eyes still shut as you pulled him closer, clinging to the drowsy warmth of his body. “I want to stay with you, baby,” you murmured, your voice tinged with sleep and longing. His hesitation was immediate. You felt the shift in him before he spoke again, his arm loosening its hold on your waist ever so slightly. 

“Baby…” His sigh was almost imperceptible, his tone soft but guilty. “The lads are coming over soon.” Your heart sank. It was a familiar refrain—too familiar. The safety of the morning evaporated, leaving behind the sharp edges of reality. You stiffened in his arms, the weight of his words sinking into you like stones.

“Right,” you said quietly, voice brittle and void of emotion as you sat up too quickly, the ache in your chest making your movements feel heavy. “Got it.”

“Y/N…” Trent tried, his voice laced with regret, but you were already pulling yourself out of his arms, the warmth he’d provided replaced by a cold, creeping frustration. You threw the duvet off with more force than necessary, scanning the room for your clothes.

“No, it’s fine,” you snapped, your voice clipped as you grabbed your shirt from the floor. You yanked it over your head, your movements rushed and jerky, the tension crackling between you both. “Lads coming, so I’ll just—what? Link out? Like usual?” He let out a heavy breath, his hands running over his face and then his hair, visibly exasperated but more at himself than you. 

“It’s not like that,” he muttered, his voice soft, almost pleading. You froze, your back to him, before spinning around, eyes blazing. 

“Then what is it like, Trent?” you demanded, your voice rising. “Because from where I’m standing, it feels exactly like that. It feels exactly like every other time you’ve made me feel less important than everyone else is to you. You pick them over me.”

“Don’t do this,” he said quietly, stepping toward you, his tone filled with frustration and guilt. “You know how complicated this is. You know what’s at stake. It’s not like I’m doing this to hurt you.” He muttered as guilt ransacked him. You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head as you grabbed your jeans, the tears already burning at the corners of your eyes. 

“I’ve been patient, T. I’ve understood. But tell me—when does it stop being complicated? When do you stop hiding me like I’m something to be ashamed of?” His shoulders tensed, his jaw clenching as he struggled to find the right words. 

“It’s not like that,” he said again, but this time, his voice cracked under the weight of his emotions. “You’re being careful about us too. Don’t act like it’s just me. You know it’s not like that.”

“No, I don’t,” you shot back, slipping your skirt on with trembling hands. “Because all I see is me sneaking out of your bed every time someone knocks on the door. All I feel is this constant push and pull—like you want me, but only if no one else can see it.”

“That’s not fair,” Trent countered, stepping closer, his eyes searching yours desperately. “You know how much I care about you.”

“Do I?” you whispered harshly, your voice breaking as you looked at him, the man you loved, the man you’d waited so long for. “Because it doesn’t feel like it, T. It feels like I’m the thing you’re too scared to fight for.” His hand reached out, brushing your arm gently, but you pulled away, the distance between you widening like a chasm. He flinched at your retreat, the rejection cutting him deeper than he expected.

“Baby, please,” he said quietly, his voice shaking. “Don’t walk out like this. Don’t do this. We’ve done this.” He said in a more irritated tone than he meant. You looked at him, standing there with heartbreak etched into his features, and it only made the pain sharper. 

“Don’t ‘baby’ me right now,” you whispered hoarsely, the tears threatening to spill as you grabbed your bag.

“Y/N, wait,” he said, his voice breaking as he stepped toward you again, but you were already at the door, your hand on the handle. “I’m sorry I forgot some lad’s from the team had planned to come over. If you want to stay, that’s fine but it makes less sense for us to out ourselves to people before we sort everything out and tell the people closer to us. Why would we tell them before…” his words were course but then his tempter faded out. “Jack… please wait…” He whispered.  You paused for the briefest moment, your heart warring with your pride. 

“I’m tired of waiting, Trent,” you said softly, almost too quietly for him to hear. Then you pulled the door open and walked out, the slam reverberating through the room like an echo of everything left unsaid. Trent stood frozen, staring at the empty space where you’d just been. His hand fell limply to his side, the weight of your absence suffocating. He sank back onto the bed, burying his face in his hands as the silence swallowed him whole. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. None of it was. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to chase after you. Not because he didn’t want to—but because he didn’t know how to fix the cracks that had been growing between you for so long.

You left Trent’s house in tears, your chest tight with a swirl of frustration and heartbreak. He wanted to chase after you but he didn’t have it in him. He didn’t want to upset you but to a certain point how many times would he have to tell you both of you were doing the same thing. He was just protecting what you had. But you felt hurt. Why did he tell you to come home with him if he was going to kick you out. The walk to your car felt endless, your legs shaky as the cold air stung your skin. You couldn’t shake the ache in your heart, the overwhelming confusion. How could something so right between you feel so wrong when it came to the rest of the world? You wanted him, and he wanted you, but you both stayed trapped in this unspoken fear of making it real. Of bringing it to life. 

The drive to Layla’s was a blur. By the time you arrived and knocked on her door, the tears were streaming freely down your face. Layla opened it immediately, her expression softening with concern the moment she saw you. Without a word, she pulled you inside, guiding you toward her couch like she’d done so many times before.

“Okay, sit down,” she said gently, placing a steadying hand on your shoulder as you dropped onto the couch. “What happened?” She asked softly. You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady, but it came out in a rush of anger and sadness. 

“Maybe I should just stop it all. It’s stupid. This whole thing is stupid.” You rashly told her explaining nothing.  Layla sat down next to you, her brows furrowed. 

“Erm… okay, but before we decide anything drastic, maybe you need to take a breath.” She grabbed your arms firmly, grounding you. You shook your head, your tears falling harder. 

“Lay, it’s so good. When we’re together, god fuck! It’s so perfect.” You dropped your face into your hands in frustration. “But then it’s so bad, and it happens so fast. I can’t do this anymore,” you sobbed, your voice cracking as you clung to her like a lifeline. Layla sighed, pulling you into her lap, her hand gently stroking your hair. 

“Y/N,” she said softly, her voice soothing, “you two have to talk. This can’t keep happening. You can’t keep living like this—it’s not fair to you. You need to figure out what you both want and make a plan because seeing you like this upset? It’s really fucked up.” She looked at you,  her heartbreaking seeing you like this.   

“I don’t know how to talk to him,” you admitted, your voice muffled against her shirt.

“Why not?” she asked, her tone patient but desperate for you to fix it.

“Because what if I don’t know…” You frowned at her pleading for help. She just waited patiently for you to get to the realization that you knew what you wanted. It was obvious you did. You were just scared but that didn’t make it any less true. You wanted Trent. “What if he doesn’t want the same thing I do?” you said, your voice trembling. “What if I tell him I want more, and he doesn’t? What if this is all I get—sneaking around, hiding, pretending it’s not as big as it feels?” Layla’s brows knitted together in frustration, but her touch stayed gentle. 

“Have you told him you want it? That you want more?” She looked at you earnestly. 

“No,” you hiccupped with a sniffle. “I don’t know how to say it. And if I do, and he doesn’t feel the same…” You trailed off, shaking your head as fresh tears spilled down your cheeks.

“Y/N,” Layla said, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to look at her. “Listen to me. I know you’re scared, but you’re never going to know unless you say something. Even after all these years of so much being said in the silences… now you have to say something. He won’t know unless you do. And here’s the thing—I don’t think Trent’s playing with you. He’s not that kind of guy. But last night at the party?” Her expression darkened slightly. “That fucking bothered me. The way the boys talked about you, like you’re some kind of game or joke to him. It pissed me off, and I know it pisses you off that he lets it go on but he can’t stand up for you if he doesn’t know you want him to. So say something, ask him to stand up for you.” You nodded slowly, your chest tightening at the memory. Layla exhaled deeply, brushing a tear from your cheek. “Look, I get it’s complicated with Jack and everything, but that’s not an excuse anymore. You’re not a secret he should be ashamed of—you’re someone to be proud of. If you say something then it’s on him. He needs to step up. He needs to stop hiding you. You both need to make changes for this to work.”

“Why is he okay with it?” you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “Why is he okay with hiding me?” Layla pulled you close again, wrapping her arms around you tightly. 

“I really don’t think he is, babe. I think he’s scared too. But the only way you’re going to know is if you ask him. If you tell him how you feel and what you want. Otherwise, you’re going to keep hurting like this, he’s going to keep hurting you when I’m sure he doesn’t want to and you don’t deserve that.” Her words settled over you like a weight, and for the first time, you let yourself think about the possibility of laying everything bare. Of telling Trent exactly how you felt, no matter how terrifying it was.

Days had passed in silence, the kind that echoed loudly in Trent’s chest. Every time he reached for his phone, his fingers hesitated over your name before pulling back. He didn’t know how to fix this—not yet, at least. Summer loomed just around the corner, promising sunshine and indulgence, but the thought of his upcoming holiday to Monaco filled Trent with dread. It should’ve been exciting—yachts, the Grand Prix, endless parties. It was the kind of trip he used to count down to. But now? Now it felt like a prison sentence, especially with Jack coming along. Jack had planned the holiday with Trent, Noah, and a few other boys months ago, hyped about a well-deserved break from football. Trent knew exactly what it would be like: adrenaline-fueled days watching the races and wild, booze-soaked nights in Monte Carlo’s clubs. It had sounded perfect back then—a dream escape. But now? Now Trent could hardly stomach the idea. He didn’t want to be trapped on a yacht or in some overcrowded club, pretending everything was fine while Jack hovered nearby. Jack, who had no idea that Trent had been sneaking around with you for months. Jack, who’d likely kill him if he found out. Jack, who’d likely kill him if he found out he had made you so upset. And there was you. You, who hadn’t spoken to him since you’d left his house in tears. The image of your tear-streaked face haunted him, a gnawing ache in his chest that wouldn’t go away. He hated himself for letting you leave like that, hated the way he’d made you feel like some dirty secret. His own pride aside, he didn’t like that he made you cry so much lately. He ran a hand over his face, sinking back into his couch. What was he supposed to do? How could he fix things with you while being stuck on holiday with your brother? Trent stared at his phone again, heart pounding as he opened your messages. His thumb hovered over the keyboard. ‘We need to talk.’ He deleted it. Too formal. Too cold. ‘I miss you.’ No. Too vague. He wanted to say more than that. His mind raced, trying to find the right words, the ones that could pull you back to him. But every time he started to type, the fear crept in—the fear that maybe he’d already lost you for good.

The moment Jack’s name lit up your screen, you put on your best casual smile, trying to steady your nerves. As his face appeared, you leaned back, feigning an air of indifference.

“Hey, you! How’s Monaco?” you asked lightly, though your heart was pounding in your chest. Jack grinned, clearly in high spirits. 

“It’s unreal, honestly. Sun’s out, the cars are insane—it’s all proper vibes here.” He shoot you a genuine toothy grin that reminding you so much of your mum it hurt your heart.

“Nice,” you replied, trying to sound detached as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Race is tomorrow?”

“One more,” he said, glancing over his shoulder briefly. Your ears strained to pick up any faint sounds of Trent in the background—his laugh, his voice, anything—but all you could hear was the ambient hum of a busy room. Jack went on about the plans for the day, but then his tone shifted, a greedy grin spreading across his face. “Oh, and there’s this party tonight. Noah’s got some links here. Meeting up with a few girls.” Your stomach sank like a stone. 

“Really?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. Jack raised a brow at your tone. 

“Yeah, it’s nothing. Just a bit of fun. Monaco’s full of, uh… opportunities,” he said with a laugh. You forced a tight smile, even as your heart twisted in your chest. Jack was waiting for you too call him out for being rude but to no avail… he was confused. 

“So lots of girls for you lot,” you said flatly, the edge in your voice betraying your attempt at nonchalance. He nodded. “Good,” you replied sharply, eyes narrowing as you fought to keep your emotions in check. Jack paused, his expression shifting as he caught onto your mood. 

“What’s with you?” he asked, half-laughing, half-confused.

“Nothing,” you said too quickly, your voice pitching higher.

“Y/N…” Jack gave you a look. “C’mon, don’t be like that. It’s jokes. Not serious. They’re just lads going out, let them live. Stop judging.” He fell into a teasing smile. 

“I’m not!” you yelped, the words coming out too fast and too defensive. Jack shook his head, still smiling but clearly baffled. 

“Alright, whatever you say. I gotta get ready. Try not to stress so much, yeah?” The call ended, and you sat there, the silence in your room deafening. Your chest felt tight, and your mind raced with thoughts of Trent, of the girls, of everything unsaid between you. The distance between you both felt insurmountable, and for the first time, you wondered if it was even worth trying to bridge it.

Jack wasn’t stupid. He’d always been the first to sniff out secrets, and lately, something was off. It wasn’t one thing—it was a pile of little things that didn’t add up. You were distant, emotional even, on edge, and while you brushed it off as work stress, Jack wasn’t buying it. Then there was Trent. Once the quiet playboy, he suddenly hadn’t looked at a single girl since they landed in Monaco. Noah had been ribbing him about it for days, and Trent, usually quick with a smirk or witty comeback, just shrugged it off and stayed moody. It wasn’t like him. The real clue began two days before they left for Monaco. Jack had been doing laundry, trying to pack light, when he came across something unexpected—a business card. It was from a high-end restaurant, the kind of place you didn’t just stumble into. Jack’s brow furrowed as he turned it over in his hands. The name nagged at him.

“Where have I seen this before?” he muttered to himself. And then, flash forward to last night, he heard the name again… he and Trent were at the same end of the dinner table with Noah. They were all talking about random spots back home they’d eaten at lately. Trent had mentioned going to the exact restaurant. It took a moment to put two and two together but even when he did, he dismissed it. Jack didn’t want to think much of it other than it was odd—Trent was always out and about, meeting people, living the life of a big time footballer. But now… now it didn’t make sense. Who had he gone with? Trent was apparently seeing a new girl, the one Noah had mentioned. Maybe he went on a date there but then why did the card end up at your house. Jack tried to brush it off, but the pieces were starting to connect in his mind. Trent’s unusual moodiness, your strange behavior, and now this shared thread. No way, maybe it wasn’t from your clothes, maybe it had gotten misplaced, something lost amongst all the traffic of friends in the house. But if it was yours… who had you gone with? It all didn’t make sense.  The realization crept in slowly but undeniably, like a puzzle falling into place. Jack sat back on the couch, staring at his phone in his hand, replaying moments and conversations. Surely not. He clenched his jaw, his mind racing. 

A day or so on, deep in your doom scroll, and in your thoughts, you sat cross-legged on Layla’s couch, while she painted her nails beside you. As you pulled down on your screen, your Instagram refreshed, and there it was: Trent’s latest post. A full photo dump from Monaco. Your stomach dropped the second his name appeared on your screen, but it wasn’t until you saw the pictures that the scream escaped your mouth.

“What the fuck! Oh my God! What the actual fuck,” you yelled, nearly throwing your phone at Layla in shock. She jumped, smudging the fresh coat of polish on her thumb.

“Jesus, Y/N! What?” Layla exclaimed, wide-eyed as she tried to figure out if you were upset, angry, or just losing your mind. You shoved your phone in her face, almost shaking with emotion. 

“Look at this! LOOK at him! Is this some kind of sick joke? What the fuck is this?” The photos were ridiculous. Trent looked good—too good. He was wearing a pair of Prada dungarees, sunglasses, his smile lazy and effortless. Every shot was like a knife to your chest. Him walking around the grid with your brother and Noah, then laughing over drinks. A candid of him on a boat, the Monaco skyline glittering in the background. Another of him standing in a garage, tanned and glowing. Layla took one look and winced. 

“Oh. Wow. Yeah, okay… that’s obnoxious. I mean… what did you expect? It’s Monaco. He’s literally built for a place like this.” She shook her head in faux disbelief because she really could believe it. You groaned, running a hand through your hair, nearly tearing it out in frustration. 

“He looks so good, Layla. So good. What the fuck. And all I can think about is how many girls are probably seeing him right now, in real time, in person. Girls who probably feel the exact same way about him as I do. He never posts but of course he posts this. Fuck off!” You yelled annoyed. You collapsed back onto the couch, clutching your phone like it might explode in your hands. “Is he seeing girls while he’s there? Jack did mention Noah had ‘links.’ What if he’s flirting with them? What if he’s—” 

“Stop,” Layla cut in, her tone sharp but kind. She grabbed your phone out of your hands and set it on the coffee table. “You’re spiraling.” You stared up at the ceiling, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. 

“I’m not spiraling,” you argued weakly. Layla gave you a look. 

“You screamed like someone set the house on fire because Trent posted a couple of photos. You’re spiraling.” She smirked.

“I hate this,” you muttered, your voice breaking. “I hate not knowing what he’s doing, who he’s with. I hate seeing him like this, looking like that, when I can’t even talk to him.” Layla sighed and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. 

“Look, I know it sucks. But you can’t let a stupid Instagram post drive you crazy.  “Millions of people follow him babe but he wants you. You’ll talk to him when he gets back, okay? Just… try to focus on something else in the meantime. And if he is being an prat over there? Then he’s not worth your time, Y/N.  Then he wasn’t worth the risk to be honest. Simple as that.” But it wasn’t that simple. Not for you. Because no matter how much it hurt, all you could think about was how much you wanted him.

When you went home that night and you lost your jealousy but you fell into desperation and vengeance. You were so angry Trent seemed fine. In fact he looked better than fine. You cried on your bed as you pulled out your phone. You stared at Josh’s name. And then in a state of delusion and heartbreak you hit send. You started bawling immediately.  You felt sick, why did you just do that. Why were you so sure? You slammed your phone down on the bed, curling into yourself as sobs wracked your body. You felt your phone buz almost instantly. 

‘My my my… look who it is. Crawling back so soon?’

Your tears blurred the screen, but you could still see Josh’s mocking message, taunting you for your impulsive decision. You hadn’t thought it through—hadn’t considered the consequences of reaching out to him. You only wanted to feel something, anything other than the aching pit Trent had left in your chest. The second you hit send, regret swallowed you whole. Now it was all spinning out of control.Panicked, you grabbed your phone and called Layla. She answered on the second ring, her voice groggy but alert as she heard you crying.

“Y/N? What’s wrong? What happened?” She hurriedly asked, scared. 

“Layla,” you choked out. “I did something so stupid. I—I texted Josh.” There was silence on the other end, then a sharp intake of breath. 

“You what?” She yelped. 

“I don’t know why! I was upset, and I wasn’t thinking, and now he’s replied, and I don’t know what to do!” you wailed, your voice cracking. Layla groaned in frustration.

 “Y/N, why would you—why would you even think that was a good idea? You know he’s not worth your time! You said you were going home to sleep not going to text a fucking sociopath!”

“I know, I know! I just—God, I felt so angry, and Trent’s off in Monaco with all these girls, and I thought…” You couldn’t even finish the sentence. It sounded ridiculous even to you.

“You thought texting Josh was the way to get back at him?” Layla snapped, exasperated.

“I don’t know what I thought!” you cried. “I wasn’t thinking! And now I can’t unsend it, and he’s already replied, and it’s just… stupid! I’m so fucking stupid, Layla!” You cried. Layla let out a long, calming breath on the other end. 

“Okay. Okay, first of all, stop calling yourself stupid. You made a mistake, but you’re human, alright? And second…” She paused, considering. “What exactly did Josh say?” You hesitated, swallowing the lump in your throat before you read her the message. Layla let out a noise of pure disgust.

 “Ugh, of course he did. He’s such a tool.” She rolled her eyes but you couldn’t see. 

“What do I do now, Lay?” you whispered, clutching the phone like it was a lifeline.

“You don’t do anything,” she said firmly. “You don’t reply, you don’t engage, nothing. You made a mistake, but you’re not doubling down on it. Block him if you have to.” You sniffled, tears still running down your cheeks. “But what if—”

“No ‘what ifs,’” Layla interrupted. “You’re not talking to Josh. You’re upset about Trent, and this isn’t the way to handle it. You need to focus on yourself, Y/N. Not on trying to make Trent jealous or trying to prove something to anyone.” Her words hit like a slap in the face, but you knew she was right. Still, as you stared at Josh’s message on your screen, you couldn’t shake the sick feeling in your stomach. The damage was already done.

The guilt was suffocating, gnawing at you every second. You hadn’t texted Josh beyond that one reckless moment, but the damage to your conscience had been done. You felt sick—physically ill at the thought of what you’d done, even if Trent didn’t know. The boys’ holiday was finally over, but instead of feeling relief at having Trent back, you were consumed by dread. Jack was hosting one of his infamous movie nights, and you knew there was no escaping it.

“Y/N, come on down!” Jack called from the living room. “It’s your favorite—you love this one!” You groaned quietly, staring at yourself in the mirror. Your face had lost its color, your eyes dull from days of crying and restless nights. You didn’t feel like facing anyone, least of all Trent. But Jack was persistent, and if you didn’t show, he’d come up to drag you downstairs himself. You hesitated at the living room door, anxiety twisting your stomach. The boys turned to greet you as you entered.

“Hey, Y/N!” Noah grinned, lifting his beer in your direction.

“Hey,” you mumbled back, trying to avoid anyone’s gaze. But then you saw him—Trent, sitting on the couch, quiet and reserved. His usual easy smile was gone, replaced by something you couldn’t quite read.

“Hey,” he said softly, his eyes meeting yours for a brief, electrifying second. You froze, unable to respond. Your heart ached at the sight of him, at how badly you wanted to talk to him, to tell him everything and fix whatever was broken between you. But the weight of your guilt, of what you’d done and the way you’d left things kept your feet rooted to the spot.

“Come on, sit down,” Noah said, patting the space between him and Jack. You reluctantly made your way to the couch, sinking into the cushions and folding your arms protectively over your chest. The room felt stifling, and your awkwardness bled into your every movement. You kept your eyes glued to the screen, but you could feel Trent’s gaze on you. You tried to act normal, but the tension was unbearable. Every time Trent shifted in his seat or glanced your way, your chest tightened. Your emotions boiled under the surface, threatening to spill over. Finally, the pressure became too much. Your eyes began to well with tears, and you couldn’t stop them. You risked a glance at Trent, and his expression nearly broke you. He looked… pained. Like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how. You couldn’t handle it. 

“I… I have to take a call,” you lied abruptly, your voice shaky as you stood up. Without waiting for a response, you darted upstairs, taking the stairs two at a time. The second you closed your bedroom door, you collapsed onto your bed, burying your face in your hands. Tears streamed down your cheeks as guilt, regret, and longing consumed you. You hated yourself for getting mad about him waking you up before his friends came over, about what you’d done, about how you felt, and about how hopeless it all seemed. Downstairs, Trent’s eyes followed you until you disappeared. 

“Been so fucking weird lately”Jack nudged him, frowning

“I don’t know,” Trent lied, though the weight in his chest told him otherwise. He could feel the distance between you, and it was killing him.

Trent came upstairs not long after you fled, lying to the boys saying that he was running to the toliet, his heart racing as he hesitated outside your door. He glanced down the hallway, ensuring no one was paying attention, then knocked softly.

“Hey,” he said, his voice barely audible through the door. The moment you heard his voice, it was like a dam broke. A choked sob escaped your throat, and before you could stop yourself, tears were streaming down your face. Trent pushed the door open gently, stepping inside and closing it behind him. “C’mere,” he cooed, crossing the room in a few strides and pulling you into his arms. His warmth, his scent—it was all too much, and you dissolved into him, your face pressed against his chest. “Baby, please don’t be upset,” he murmured, his voice heavy with guilt. “I don’t like making you cry.”  You shook your head, your words tumbling out between sobs. 

“I just want you to want me.” You cried. Trent’s arms tightened around you as he let out a shaky breath. 

“Please, baby, I do. I do.” He paused, his mind racing. “I’ll go down right now and tell them. Do you want that? Tell Jack everything?”

“No,” you whimpered, your voice small and raw.

“Baby…” he said softly, caution in his tone. He leaned back slightly, cupping your tear-streaked face with both hands, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Talk to me then. Be honest with me. Please.” He begged you. Asking the very thing Layla was telling you could help resolve it all. 

“I just want more than this,” you admitted, your voice cracking as more tears spilled over. Trent nodded slowly, his thumb brushing away your tears with careful precision.

 “I know. I know you do. We’re gonna do it, I swear.” He told you softly but surely. You looked up at him, the desperation in your eyes like a knife to his chest.

 “I just want you to like me.” Your words hit him harder than you could have imagined. His lips parted as if to argue, but instead, he pulled you back against him, his hand cradling the back of your head.

 “I do,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I really, really do, so much. Please don’t cry.” He pressed his lips to the crown of your head, swaying gently with you in his arms. He wanted to fix it all, to wipe away the hurt he’d caused, but your arms hung limply at your sides, and it shattered him. “Can you give me a cuddle, please?” he asked softly, his voice almost breaking. After a moment, you wrapped your arms around him tightly, clinging to him like he was the only thing holding you together. Trent let out a low hum of appreciation, resting his chin on your head. “I’m sorry, pretty girl,” he whispered into your hair. “I’m so sorry.” And in the quiet of your room, you both held on, trying to find comfort in each other even as the weight of everything unsaid loomed heavy between you. Trent went downstairs when it started to get suspicious. And then, after a long twenty minutes of regaining your composure upstairs, you finally mustered the courage to come back down. You moved through the hallway, hearing muffled laughter and the sounds of the movie playing in the cinema room. As you came to the doorway, Jack called out.

“Hey, can you grab me a drink?” He yelled. You stopped in your tracks and turned, your tone sharp. 

“Get it yourself.” You quipped. Jack gave you a look, eyebrows raised in amused disbelief. Before you could keep walking, Trent’s voice broke through the tension, smooth and casual. 

“Actually, Y/N if you’re up, mind grabbing me a water?” You froze, his request catching you off guard. There was no way you could say no to him right now, not after everything. 

“Fine,” you mumbled, trying not to betray the softness creeping into your voice.

“Of course!” Jack and Noah mocked in unison, bursting into laughter. You shot them a glare, your cheeks burning. 

“It sounded like more people wanted something after Jack said something, so I thought I’d be nice,” you argued, though even you knew it was flimsy.

“Right, right,” Jack teased, rubbing it in. “You’ve never been this “nice” to us. Where’s our special treatment?” 

“Bro, we’ve never bought her a car. It’s just not gonna happen.” Noah added jokingly 

“She lives in my house!” Jack yelped dramatically trying to justify why you should be ‘nice’.  He was kidding because if he really took a moment you did everything for him. Rolling your eyes, you flicked their ears as you walked past them. 

“Idiots.”  You muttered strutting to the kitchen.  When you returned with the drinks, you handed them out silently, ignoring their smug grins. You settled into the empty seat next to Noah, which happened to be just at the end of the couch where Trent was sitting. As the others turned their attention back to the movie, you felt a gentle tap on your leg. You glanced down to see Trent’s foot nudging you, and when you looked up, he shot you a wink. A tiny smile tugged at your lips despite yourself, and you reached over to squeeze his foot lightly. The brief exchange felt electric, like your own private conversation in a room full of people. No one else noticed, already engrossed in the film. But for the rest of the evening, the space between you and Trent felt charged, his occasional taps a quiet reminder that you weren’t as distant as you feared.

The air felt thick with tension as you sat at the end of the couch, acutely aware of Trent’s eyes lingering on you. Your cheeks warmed under his gaze, though you tried your best to ignore it, keeping your focus on the film.

“You look cold,” Trent said suddenly, his voice cutting through the quiet. Before you could respond, he pulled his jumper over his head and tossed it at you casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

“Yeah, put some clothes on, sheesh,” Jack, ever ready to tease you, quipped as he glanced at you in your tiny tank top. His joke made you shrink slightly, but your gaze quickly fell to the jumper in your lap. It was that jumper—the one you’d borrowed just the other day when you went to the beach. The one you had wanted so badly to keep, but knew you couldn’t. Yet, now it was here, draped over your legs like a gift. The other boys erupted into playful jeers as you hesitated, examining the jumper. Noah, of course, couldn’t let it slide, teasing and pinching at you like an annoying older brother.

“Oh, look at her blushing now,” he teased.

“Okay, okay,” you muttered, waving them off as you pulled the jumper over your head. The scent of Trent enveloped you instantly—warm, clean, and entirely him. It felt like a secret hug, his presence wrapped around you even when he was sitting a few feet away. For the next half hour, you fidgeted in your seat, feeling distracted by the way the jumper clung to your body and how Trent’s foot occasionally brushed yours. Eventually, you stood, brushing your hands on your thighs. 

“I’m actually tired now and done with you lot so I’m going up,” you announced, pretending to be annoyed as you turned to leave.

Once upstairs, you shut your door and immediately grabbed your phone. Your heart thudded as you typed, 

'Thank you, T xx. Come give me my goodnight kiss pls'

You hit send before you could overthink it. A few minutes later, there was a soft knock on your door. You opened it to find Trent standing there, his lips tugged into a small, bashful smile.

“Can’t say no to you,” he murmured, stepping inside and pulling you into his arms. You tilted your head up, your hands resting on his chest.

 “Good. I’d hate for you to start now,” you whispered before he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a slow, lingering kiss that made your heart ache and soar all at once. But in the quiet sanctuary of your bedroom, the kiss between you became hungry and unrelenting. His hands moved over your body like he couldn't get enough, fingers curling into your hips, tugging you closer, as though even the sliver of space between you was too much. You clutched the fabric of his shirt, pulling him down to your level, your breath hitching as the intensity of the moment consumed you.

"T," you murmured out of breath, pulling back just enough to look up at him. Your chest rose and fell as you steadied yourself, your lips curling into a mischievous smirk. "You like movies so much, maybe we should make one." His brows furrowed slightly, the intrigue written all over his face. 

"What are you on about?" he asked, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he tried to gauge if you were joking. Before he could process it further, you moved quickly, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. 

"What're you doing?" he asked, his voice laced with both curiosity and amusement. But there was also a flicker of heat in his eyes as he began to realize where this might be going. You opened the camera app, thrusting the phone into his hand with a cheeky grin. Trent looked down at you, bewildered yet intrigued, as you began kissing along his jawline, trailing down to his neck. He tilted his head back, letting out a soft groan, the sensation overwhelming him.

"You're mad," he muttered, but his voice was thick with desire, his free hand gripping your shoulder as you sank to your knees before him. Your hands moved deftly, undoing the button and zipper of his trousers, your eyes locked on his. 

"C'mon," you teased, your voice sultry, "just press record." His lips parted as he stared down at you, caught between disbelief and complete surrender to the moment. And so he did. He stared through the screen watching you take his hardening cock out. Your eyes darkened staring up at him as you let a line of spit fall from your lips onto his pulsating cock. He winced. You placed your thumb over his slit leaking pre cum. You massaged over it hard and he groaned as you continued sliding your hand down his base. 

“Baby” he said the pet name as he took a few seconds watching the scene unfolding in front of him in two fold; one viewing on the screen reflecting the scene back at him, the other in real time. “So fucking good f’me” he whispered trying to bit back a groan. This was so beyond risky. He needed to be quiet. Giving him head while all his mates were just downstairs. Your mouth perfectly wrapped around his shaft, as it was meant to be there around him. The motion of your head bobbing up and down had him in awe trying to suppress his moans. He reached to grab your hair with vigor, guiding your movements as you hollowed your cheeks around him, the corners of your eyes now shining with tears as he gagged you with his length. “You look so fucking beautiful with my cock in your mouth baby” He cooed as you moaned at the compliment. You could feel your pussy flutter at the compliment. You stared at him through your lashes as you decided to take him deeper, hitting the back of your throat.  He fucked your face, his cock hitting deep in your throat with every thrust. You were drooling at the corners of your mouth gagging on him trying to breathe through your nose when he grabbed onto your face.

“Going to be a good girl and take all of me? Swallow for me?” He could barely get the words out when your tongue swirled around him as you nodded. He released into your throat coating it in his cum. He grunted at the feeling. You lazily continued sucking him until you milked him of everything. Finishing by gently kissing the head of his cock as you sat back onto your heels.

"Did you like filming me?" you asked with a cheeky smile, your voice breathless, your chin was slicked with trails of his cum and your spit. Trent’s hand with the phone was trembling a little and it made you smile, a small visual you did a good job.

“God baby … fuck. Yeah, I did.” Trent exhaled trying to regulate his breathing. “You’re so good f’me” he cooed. You smiled again as s he stopped the recording and pocketed his phone before he reached out pulling you up to him by your arms. He kissed your temple pulling you into his chest more as he breathed heavily. You smile continued to grow against his chest. 

There was an international break. Trent was away and it was hard on you even if he was only down south. You just wanted to be with him but instead you found yourself with the person you wanted to be with least. The person you were having the hardest time being around lately… your brother. The sun was dipping low, casting a warm, golden light through the car windows, but the atmosphere inside was anything but serene. You sat in the passenger seat, arms crossed tightly against your chest as if to shield yourself from the tension swirling around you. Jack was at the wheel, one hand lazily resting on the steering wheel while he animatedly recounted his Monaco stories, his voice filling the car with a steady hum. The air was heavy, though, and you felt like you were balancing on the edge of a knife. The soft rumble of the car engine mixed with Jack’s voice should have been comforting, but every word he said seemed to jab at the precariousness of your situation. Your heart raced, your palms felt clammy against your thighs, and the suffocating weight of the secret you carried seemed to double with every mile. The car smelled faintly of Jack’s cologne and the remnants of takeaway coffee he’d tossed into the cupholder earlier. You stared out the window, trying to ground yourself in the passing blur of countryside, but it wasn’t working. Jack’s voice kept pulling you back into the moment, into the conversation you weren’t sure how to navigate.

“… and so he was literally mobbed. All these little lads were losing their minds trying to get a picture so Trentski took one with each kid cause he’s Trent but then we were late for the boat...” Jack’s salad of words, you assumed was a story, continued on but you started to pay more attention when you heard his name. The car ride became a minefield of emotions. You tried to focus on the passing scenery, but Jack’s words stuck like thorns in your chest.

“That’s sweet though. I miss him a lot,” you had said, without thinking. The second the words left your mouth, you felt Jack’s sharp gaze on you.

“What?” he asked, his voice laced with suspicion. Your stomach sank. The heat of embarrassment and panic crept up your neck as you tried to recover, your voice scrambling for an excuse. 

“What?” you echoed back, feigning innocence. “I feel like he’s usually around, and now he’s away.” There was a tense pause, the weight of his doubt palpable in the confined space of the car. For a moment, you wondered if he was piecing it all together, but then Jack’s suspicion lingered for a moment longer, his eyes narrowing slightly before he shrugged and leaned back into his seat.

“Hmm,” he muttered, his suspicion fading. “You never miss me like that,” he snapped, though there was a teasing edge to his tone.You were already in freefall, the tension in the car mounting when Jack’s teasing words finally shattered through your fragile façade.

“You wouldn’t know if I missed you… you’d be away,” you quipped, trying to deflect, but your voice wavered ever so slightly. Jack laughed, a sharp sound that made your stomach churn.

 “Fine but Jesus, you’re actually so embarrassing for him. He hasn’t even been around much lately,” he teased, and though his words were light, they landed like stones. You forced a laugh, your heart racing as you tried to mask your discomfort. But Jack wasn’t done. “What are you going to do when he gets married, huh? You know he’s seeing someone, right?” He cooed teasingly. The ache was instant, spreading through your chest like wildfire. You rolled your eyes at him, feigning indifference. 

“Shut up, Jack,” you muttered, hoping he’d drop it. But the words haunted you. He’s seeing someone. It shouldn’t have mattered—it didn’t make sense for it to hurt the way it did because you were that someone. But it did. What if you weren’t that someone though…The thought of Trent with someone else, giving someone else the tenderness he gave you in secret, made your stomach twist. The car fell into an awkward silence. You stared out the window, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from saying anything else that might betray you. Jack, oblivious to the turmoil in your chest, hummed along to the music, his earlier suspicion forgotten. But you couldn’t forget. The weight of the lie you were living, the secrets you were keeping from your own brother, felt heavier than ever. You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying to push the ache down. And yet, you couldn’t shake it. The guilt, the longing, the fear—it all churned within you as you gripped the edge of your seat, praying that the drive would end soon. Jack laughed again, completely oblivious to the storm raging inside you. You turned your gaze back to the window, hoping the conversation would end there, but the weight of his words lingered like an unwelcome guest. The rest of the ride was spent in suffocating silence, your hands gripping your thighs tightly. You kept your face turned away, willing the tears that threatened to prick at the corners of your eyes to stay hidden. The secret you carried felt like it was suffocating you, the walls of the car closing in as the miles ticked by. And as Jack laughed at his own jokes and tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, you felt the crushing weight of the lie you lived—both to yourself and to him.

In the dressing room at St. George’s Park, Trent sat on the bench, lacing up his boots while the chatter of the England squad buzzed around him. They were talking fixtures, rivalries, and upcoming games.

“Man United’s coming up, yeah?” one of his teammates said, tossing his training top aside. “Should be a good one, mate. They’re in decent form.” Trent nodded, keeping his focus on his boots. 

“Yeah, big game. Away as well.” He chirped nonchalantly. His teammate glanced at him with a grin, reaching to find Trent’s competitive edge.

 “Don’t you have some personal stakes in that one? Doesn’t your best mate’s sister date that Josh lad?” Trent froze for half a second, his jaw tightening. He kept his head down, hoping his reaction wasn’t noticeable. The mention of your name made Trent’s stomach twist, even as he tried to focus on tying his boots. The casual comment about Josh left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he couldn’t stop himself from snapping.

“Nah, bro. She’s not with him. Fuck that kid,” Trent shot back, his tone sharp and unfiltered. The group of players exchanged quick, surprised glances. His reaction was louder than it should’ve been, and he instantly regretted it.

“Woah, relax, mate,” one of his teammates said, chuckling lightly. “Only a match.” he said, holding up his hands with a laugh. Trent sighed, leaning back on the bench and rubbing a hand over his face. He could feel their curiosity thick in the air. Trent’s mood simmered, but he tried to play it off, reaching for his water bottle. He hated that people still thought there was anything between you and Josh. It made his blood boil. The teammate sensed some tension but was unwilling to drop the topic. 

“I thought you were seeing that Jess girl anyway,” another chimed in, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction—or maybe just stir the pot. Trent frowned, confused. 

“I don’t even know Jess like that. Where’s everyone getting this information from?” Trent asked frustratingly.

“Jess, mate! Megan’s friend. I saw them out in Manchester the other month.” His teammate grinned as if he was solving some puzzle. “Sorry, I just thought you were with her, and I thought Y/N was still with Josh. So… if that’s not true…” He raised an eyebrow, clearly fishing for more information. Trent felt the possessive heat rising in his chest.

“No!” Trent snapped, but it came out too quickly. He shook his head, trying to sound more composed. “No, bro. Just stop chatting nonsense about Jack’s sister, yeah?” Trent said firmly, his voice more serious than it had been all morning. The group fell quiet for a beat before one of them laughed awkwardly, trying to defuse the tension. But Trent’s mind wasn’t in the room anymore. He was thinking about you, about how much he hated keeping this secret, about how much it hurt to hear your name in someone else’s mouth, tied to someone else’s life. He was done holding back. Something had to give. The thought of you with Josh, of anyone else thinking they could have you—it made his blood boil. Trent didn’t want to share you anymore. Not with rumors, not with anyone. He was ready to let the world know. For the first time, caution didn’t seem worth it.

After training, Trent sat alone in his room, his phone in his hand, the tension in his chest making it hard to breathe. The conversation in the dressing room earlier had stirred something deep in him, a gnawing need to reach out to you. His friends’ comments had irritated him, but what really got to him was how much he hated keeping you in the shadows. He hated the uncertainty, the idea that you might not know how much he truly cared. He stared at your name on his screen, the familiar pang of longing hitting him harder than usual. He swiped at the screen, hovering over the call button. His hand trembled slightly as he pressed it, his heart racing as the line rang. You picked up on the third ring.

“Hey,” you said softly, your voice cautious, like you knew something was coming.

“Hi, baby,” he replied, his voice immediately dropping into something warm and gentle. It was so full of emotion that it caught you off guard. “What are you doing?” He asked sheepishly.

“Not much,” you answered, frowning at his tone. “Why? You okay, T?” You cooed gently. 

“I just…” He paused, trying to gather the courage to say what he felt. His hand ran over his hair as he sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees. “I miss you.” The simplicity of his words stopped you in your tracks. 

“What?” you whispered, caught between suspicion and disbelief.

“I miss you all the time,” he confessed, his voice heavy with longing. “Everything, baby. I miss it all; your smile, your laugh… the way you look at me like I’m the only one who matters. I miss having you in my arms.” His voice cracked slightly at the end, and it made your heart ache.

“T,” you murmured, your voice shaky.

“I know this might seem out of the blue,” he continued, pressing forward. “But I’ve been sitting here thinking, and I can’t stop. I don’t want to wait till I’m back. I need to see you.” His vulnerability was disarming. You had heard him sweet before, but this was different. His words weren’t casual or playful; they were raw, unfiltered.

“What’s going on?” you asked softly, trying to piece together the sudden intensity.

“I just… I need you,” he said, his voice breaking a little. You couldn’t believe how sad he sounded. “Come down to London tomorrow. Please. I’ve got the day off, and I want to spend it with you. I want you. No hiding, no excuses. Just us.” Your breath hitched at the desperation in his voice. You tried to stay logical, reminding yourself that traveling down to London wasn’t exactly practical. But the way he sounded—like he was holding on by a thread—made it impossible to refuse.

“T, baby, I don’t know,” you said hesitantly, your emotions warring with your logic.

“Please,” he pleaded, the word coming out softer, more vulnerable. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just… I miss you so much, baby. I just want to hold you and talk to you without feeling like we’re running out of time.” The raw emotion in his words broke down your walls, and you felt a tear slip down your cheek. You were scared—of what this meant, of what it might change—but you also wanted him just as badly.

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“Yeah?” he asked, hope lighting up his voice.

“Yeah,” you repeated, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the tears in your eyes. “I’ll book a train for tomorrow.”

“Thank you, baby,” he said, relief flooding his tone. You could practically hear the smile through the phone. “I can’t wait to see you. Promise me you’ll text me when you’re on the train, yeah?”

“I will,” you replied, your heart pounding. As you hung up, you sat back on your bed, your phone still clutched in your hand. A mix of excitement and anxiety churned in your stomach. You opened the train app, booking your ticket with shaky hands, all while replaying his words in your head. The thought of seeing him again, of being close to him, filled you with both hope and fear. But for the first time in a long time, it felt like things might finally be moving forward. And as much as it scared you, you couldn’t deny how much you wanted it.

The moment you stepped into the London hotel suite, you felt like you’d entered another world. The soft glow of dimmed lighting reflected off the rich wood paneling and modern gold accents, creating an atmosphere of intimate luxury. Plush furniture, sleek and inviting, filled the spacious room. A bottle of champagne sat chilling on the marble bar, a silent invitation for celebration. Trent was already there, waiting for you. He leaned against the doorway to the bedroom, his casual outfit—just a fitted black t-shirt and joggers—looking comfortably him. His eyes lit up when he saw you, and a warm smile spread across his face as he opened his arms.

“Come here, pretty girl” he murmured softly, his voice filled with affection. You crossed the room to him, slipping into his embrace, his arms wrapping tightly around you like he never wanted to let go. The scent of his cologne enveloped you, clean and intoxicating, and you melted against his chest. He pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head, his fingers running gently through your hair. “I missed you so much,” he whispered, his breath warm against your temple. You leaned back to look at him, your hands resting against his chest. 

“I missed you,” you replied with a pout, your voice soft but full of emotion. He cupped your face gently, his thumb stroking your cheek as he studied you, like he couldn’t believe you were really there. You slipped in comfortable silence after that, the weight of the week melting away in his presence. The city buzzed far below, but up here, it was just the two of you in a cocoon of peace. The night unfolded gently. Trent ordered room service, insisting on your favorites. You laughed as he fed you little bites, both of you teasing and playing but never breaking the intimacy of the moment. You fell into the shower later on, taking the meaning of hot and steamy to new heights with him until the early morning creeped in. 

You found yourselves sprawled across the massive bed, wrapped up in each other and the sheets, talking about everything and nothing. His fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin as he listened to you, his gaze never wavering. In the quiet hours of the early morning, you lay tangled together, his arms strong and steady around you as he held you close. The faint sound of the city below hummed through the glass, but you felt safe, cherished, and completely at home.

“Wanted to be with my girl,” Trent mumbled against your skin, his voice low and lazy as he held you close. The sheets of the hotel bed cocooned you both, your bodies tangled in the soft warmth of the early morning.

“Your girl, huh?” you teased, a smug grin tugging at your lips as you felt his arms tighten around you.

“Yeah,” he murmured with certainty, his words melting into the curve of your neck as he pressed a kiss there. “Always have been.”

“Yeah?” you challenged playfully, your voice light but carrying just enough curiosity to coax more out of him. “Even with my ex-boyfriends? Still yours?” You teased him with a smirk. A low groan escaped him, the sound vibrating against your skin.

 “They didn’t exist,” he muttered, his tone laced with stubbornness. You giggled, running your hands slowly up his back, feeling the smooth expanse of his muscles beneath your fingertips.

 “No? That’s funny because I’m pretty sure they did, T.” You cooed as you ran your hands up and down  on his warm bare skin. 

“They didn’t,” he insisted, his voice firmer now, though you could hear the hint of a smirk creeping into his tone.

“You’re delusional,” you laughed softly, your fingers playing with the short coils on the top of his head. 

“No, baby,” he said, lifting his head to meet your eyes. His gaze was so intense, so full of conviction, it made your breath catch. “You’ve been mine. Always.” He confirmed as if almost a command. His words carried a weight that left you momentarily speechless. He wasn’t just being playful—he was staking his claim, and you could feel the raw emotion in his voice.

“Okay, T,” you whispered, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. But Trent wasn’t finished. His fingers trailed down to the delicate Van Cleef butterfly necklace resting against your collarbones. He toyed with it for a moment, his thumb brushing the charm before he spoke again.

“You knew,” he murmured, his lips brushing your skin. “You wore this necklace. There’s no way you didn’t think about me with other guys while you had this on.” Your eyes widened, a warm flush creeping up your neck. You opened your mouth to respond, but he smirked, cutting you off before you could say a word. He was right though. “My baby… You used to come home from dates,” he continued, his voice low and teasing now, “and still be all over me.” His smirk widened, and you could feel the curve of his perfect, plump lips against your skin. The memory of those days—of how tangled everything had been, how impossible it had felt to stay away from him—flooded your mind.

“You’re so smug,” you murmured, but your cheeks burned as your hands slid up his back again, seeking some sort of grounding.

“And I’m right,” he teased, his lips trailing kisses along your jaw. You sighed, a mix of exasperation and surrender. 

“God, you’re impossible.” You feigned a sigh.  

“But you wanted me,” he whispered, his voice softening as his kisses slowed, becoming tender instead of playful. “And I wanted you… and now look how good, baby, hmm?”  You couldn’t argue with that. Instead, you pulled him closer, your arms wrapping tightly around him. 

“Yeah,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his temple. “It’s good.” And in that moment, with his warmth surrounding you and his words echoing in your ears, you felt it—there was no one else. There never had been. 

Reflecting back, the memories played like a reel in your mind, each frame more bittersweet than the last. You could still picture the way you used to come home from dates. Your heels clicking against the floor, your shoulders slumped, and frustration practically oozing from your pores. Jack always seemed to be holding court in the living room, his friends sprawled across the couches and floor, a casual chaos you didn’t have the energy for.

“How was it?” Jack would ask, his voice tinged with mild amusement as he glanced up at you.

“Shit, if you’re back already,” Noah would add with a grin, never missing the chance to tease. And then there was Trent. Always there, perched on the couch, looking entirely too smug for someone who hadn’t said a word yet. His eyes would meet yours, dark and knowing, and just before you could make it out of their sight, he’d send you a wink. It wasn’t loud or showy, but it was enough to halt your steps and make your stomach twist. You’d plop down on the couch with a dramatic grunt, trying to deflect their teasing, but you never could escape Trent. Not really. The teasing would persist, Jack and Noah laughing and throwing out half-hearted insults, but Trent’s presence was magnetic. He didn’t join in. Instead, he always found a way to tether you to him, his touch subtle but undeniable. A pinch at your side that made you jump, a squeeze on your thigh that sent warmth crawling up your neck, or even a gentle swipe at your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin with a tenderness that felt misplaced—but only because it wasn’t meant to. And then there were his words, deceptively kind but maddeningly ambiguous.

 “Not the right one,” he’d say softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear. You remembered wanting to scream every single time. You wanted to tell him that you already knew. You’d known for what felt like forever. The right one wasn’t out there, somewhere in the endless sea of mismatched dates and wasted time. The right one wasn’t a stranger you had yet to meet. The right one was him. The right one was sitting next to you, his knee brushing yours, his smirk curling at the edges of his lips, and his fingers ghosting over your skin like he was leaving breadcrumbs for you to follow. And you did. God, you followed him every time.

But Trent never went further, and neither did you. So, you’d sit there, your heart in your throat and your mind spinning with all the things you couldn’t say, while he acted like he hadn’t just unraveled you with a look, a touch, or a single maddening phrase. And you hated it. You hated how much you wanted him and how deeply he had you tied in knots, yet you couldn’t hate him. You never could. Because every time he touched you, every time he said something that felt like a breadcrumb but never a full map, you hoped. You dreamed. And you stayed.

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter or of what's to come!

Next part - Chapter 13 xx

[kinzhae]

"Left Behind."

Gojo x Reader, angst with no comfort, reader and gojo drifts away as they enter jujutsu high, being left behind, reader sacrificing her life in order to keep gojo safe.

The first time Satoru left you behind, you brushed it off.

“Gojo Satoru is going to change the world,” you told yourself, smiling as you watched him walk off with Suguru Geto and Shoko Ieiri, his laughter echoing down the hall. His carefree attitude was infectious, and while you were happy for him, it hurt to know that you weren’t part of that laughter anymore.

It hadn’t always been this way. You and Satoru were inseparable once, bound by childhood promises and shared dreams. Back then, the world wasn’t complicated, and neither was he. The cocky smile he wore now was once reserved just for you.

But Jujutsu High changed everything.

---

You noticed the shift slowly. It started with missed conversations—whispers in the hallway you weren’t invited into, a glance over your shoulder to see him too far behind to call out to. Satoru didn’t mean to push you away. You knew that. But as his new friendships deepened, it became clear that your bond wasn’t the unbreakable connection you once thought it was.

Suguru was kind, brilliant, and calm—the perfect foil to Satoru’s chaotic energy. Shoko had a quiet wit that matched his sharp tongue. Together, the three of them felt untouchable, like the rest of the world could only stand by and watch as they carved their own path.

You were no longer part of that world. You tried to let go, you really did.

Even as the ache settled in your chest, you told yourself it was enough to simply watch him thrive. If Satoru was happy, wasn’t that all that mattered? You repeated those words like a mantra, trying to ignore the sting when he barely noticed you anymore.

It wasn’t his fault.

It wasn’t anyone’s fault.

But the cracks in your heart didn’t care for reason.

One day, everything changed. You were heading back to the dorms after a long day of training when you overheard the conversation.

Two voices in the shadows.

One familiar, one chillingly foreign.

“Gojo Satoru. The Six Eyes... He’s too dangerous to keep alive,” hissed the first voice—a higher-up whose name you didn’t dare utter. “The balance he disrupts, the power he wields... If he continues unchecked, no one will be able to control him.”

“And what do you propose?” growled the second voice, raspy and cold. It wasn’t human.

You froze, your blood running cold as you peeked around the corner.

“I want him gone. Do it cleanly. I’ll ensure you have what you need—resources, bodies, whatever it takes. Just make it happen.”

The curse smiled, sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. “Consider it done.”

Your world tilted.

They were going to kill him.

Satoru.

The boy who laughed too loudly, who stood by you even when the world felt too heavy, who once promised you that you’d always be by his side.

You had already been left behind. But you wouldn’t lose him. Not like this.

That night, you sought out the curse.

Its presence was suffocating, the weight of its aura pressing down on you as it materialized in front of you.

“And what do you want, little sorcerer?” it sneered.

“My life,” you said, your voice steady despite the terror clawing at your throat. “Take my life, my powers—anything. Just leave Satoru alone.”

The curse’s laughter echoed around you, harsh and mocking. “Anything, you say? Bold. And what makes you think I’ll honor such a deal?”

“Because if you don’t,” you said, lifting your chin, “I’ll make sure you regret it.”

A lie, of course. You were no match for it. But the curse seemed amused enough to agree.

“Very well. Your life for his. But once the deal is struck, there’s no turning back.”

“I know.”

As the curse’s claws reached out, you closed your eyes, picturing Satoru’s smile one last time.

You disappeared that night.

No one saw you leave. No one even knew why. You left behind nothing but questions and an empty dorm room, your name slipping further from their lips as the days turned into weeks, then months.

Satoru didn’t notice at first. You hadn’t been close lately, after all. But as time passed, he started to feel the absence.

It was subtle at first—a glance around the training field, expecting to see you standing at the edge, watching with a small smile. Then came the ache, the nagging sense that something was missing. He asked Shoko, then Suguru. Neither had seen you.

When he went to your room, it was stripped bare, as if you had never existed.

Satoru wasn’t the sentimental type, but the emptiness you left behind gnawed at him. He tried to brush it off—he was Gojo Satoru, after all. He didn’t dwell on things. He didn’t need to.

But late at night, when the silence grew too loud, he found himself thinking of you. Of your smile. Of the way you used to scold him when he pushed himself too hard. Of the way you had always been there, steady and unshakable, even when the rest of the world felt like it was slipping out of control.

He searched. Of course he searched.

But you were gone.

---

Satoru never stopped looking. Not really. Even years later, long after the grief had settled into something dull and hollow, he still found himself scanning crowds, hoping to catch a glimpse of you.

He told himself it was guilt—guilt for letting you slip away, for not noticing how far apart you had grown. But deep down, he knew it was more than that.

He had left you behind.

And he would never forgive himself for it.

[afterglowkatie]

another one | k.m./c.f.

katie mccabe x caitlin foord x child!reader | 0.6k | caitlin sends katie a video that leads to talks of another baby

ˏˋ°•*⁀ this is part of my new little starfish universe. here's a little blurb/small fic to make it all better after that match! little starfish universe is getting expanded 'three becomes four'

Katie and Caitlin were cuddling in bed, Katie’s head laying on Caitlin’s chest. They’d both just got back home after being apart for the last two weeks representing their countries during international break. You’d joined your mammy this camp since it was their play-offs for the euros next year. Two big games that your mammy needed her little starfish there for, you being there always kept her more calm both on and off the pitch. Caitlin, only being available for the first two of the four friendlies lined up, had managed to get to Ireland for Katie’s second match.

‘You’ve been quiet tonight,’ It was natural for the pair to have more of a quiet night especially when they’ve just come back from an international break, just wanting to enjoy each other’s company. But for Katie, to be as quiet as she has been was more on the unusual side. Even on the plane back, Katie was more just watching Caitlin and you together. Katie knew Caitlin was an amazing mum to you, Caitlin was an amazing mum in general.

They’d both gotten you settled down for the night pretty easily, knowing you wouldn’t wake up until the morning. Camp always tired you out like that. Katie sighed, whenever she wasn’t playing or training there was one thing on her mind the entire time she was at camp. 

Caitlin had sent a video of her with a baby while she was at camp, captioned with ‘I want another one’ and it had Katie thinking more. In the back of her mind the thought of having another baby with Caitlin was always there. Now it was all she could think about. But what if Caitlin had just said it in the heat of the moment and wasn’t as serious as Katie was about wanting another one.

Katie sighed and sat up a little, not leaving Caitlin’s embrace though, ‘That video you sent me,’ Katie started off, ‘The one with the baby. Do you really want another one?’ Katie didn’t really want to look up and see Caitlin’s reaction, just in case, so she stayed just looking down at her fingers.

Caitlin’s eyes softened and she brought Katie in closer, if it was even possible. Her hand cupping Katie’s cheek, gently moving her head so Katie was looking at her. You had your mammy’s eyes and whenever Katie allowed herself to be vulnerable, her eyes always matched the innocence in yours. Caitlin thought about you and her life with Katie and she honestly couldn’t imagine not having another baby with her, couldn’t imagine not giving you a sibling just like she and Katie both had. Having a sibling/siblings was the best part of their childhood and they wanted you to have that.

‘Darling, of course I want to have another baby. Especially if it means having another baby with you,’ Caitlin gave a small and soft kiss to Katie’s lips, ‘I couldn’t imagine my life any other way. Multiple little feet running around, seeing Starfish being a big sister, getting to be a mum alongside you. Sounds like the perfect life for me. I meant what I said,’ 

Katie leaned her forehead against Caitlin’s, ‘You really want another one?’ Katie asked again for reassurance.

‘I really really want another baby,’ Caitlin whispered out, arms wrapping around Katie even tighter. 

‘I really want that with you too,’ Katie whispered back, eyes tearing up a little at the thought of extending their little family and going through this process together, ‘Do you think Starfish would be okay with having a little brother or sister?’ 

‘Last camp when she saw Harper with Koby she asked me when she was getting one,’ Katie and Caitlin laughed together at the little memory Caitlin recounted and it definitely helped to settle any of the sudden thoughts she had that you wouldn’t be happy sharing your mummy and mammy with someone else. A thought that now definitely seemed irrational the more Katie thought about it. You would be the best big sister.

‘I love you,’ Caitlin smiled looking down towards Katie.

‘I love you,’

[manhattanstrawberry]

𝙎𝙊𝙐𝙋 ━━𝙎. 𝙂𝙚𝙩𝙤

Synopsis: Suguru wakes up on a late Saturday evening and the soup on the stove can’t compare to the warmth he feels when you’re near

Tags: fluff!! intimacy, established relationship, pet names (baby, sweetheart)

Word count: 1k

Authors note: I love you Suguru Geto. Just a short Drabble I did in like 10 minutes because I really wanted to write for him. I hope you enjoy!!

Art credits: 521jie

He thinks he must’ve been a caring, loved king in his past life or possibly he fed every little duck in the city’s pond, small pieces of bread so that they barely went hungry ever again or perhaps a cat that brought nothing but happiness to a kind old woman. He had to have been one of the best people on earth in his past life because it was the only solid reason he could come up with to be blessed with the sight he can't tear his eyes away from right now. 

It’s simple, the sounds of crashing waves of a beach are nowhere to be heard, if you look to your right outside the large windows there's no Eiffel tower and if you were to look down the Trevi fountain is certainly not down below. 

It’s just you, in his shirt, wandering around the kitchen doing whatever it is that you're doing. Your upper thigh graces him every now and then when your body quickly turns, to find something in the kitchen. He’s got to get dressed soon and get his day started, preferably not at 5 pm on a Saturday evening but you had insisted he slept in this weekend— “catch up on his beauty sleep” he remembered you saying two nights before. You two ended up staying in bed for the day but his body must've been chasing rest as he slept through most of the day, the sun already setting. 

You're caught up in making "lunch", hoping to give him a taste of warmth, as you smell the flavors seeping into the air from the darling pumpkin dutch oven pot he bought for you a year ago. It was either the pumpkin or the basic red one and he just had to indulge in your love for decorated items around the apartment. 

He too can smell the flavors of lunch but all of his senses are taken by you. All he can see is you, he can still smell the lotion you apply right after your shower every night from the bed sheets he just unraveled from, he can hear the tap of your feet as you move across the kitchen and the small hums that leave you as you finally find the ingredients you're looking for, he can almost feel the soft skin of your exposed legs and arms that he kisses every night and right now he's craving the sweet taste of your lips he could never forget and always seek for.

He can feel the cool air on his skin, his shirt missing from his chest, decorating yours, perhaps you couldn't feel the chill due to the heat coming from the stove. The harsh sound of the wind along with the snow outside is drowned out by the closed windows, and he can hear the quiet jazz from the speakers hooked up to the television if he listens just hard enough. You concentrate on the pot on the stove, stirring with a wooden spoon and then bringing it up to your lips to have a taste. He watches from the archway, a little jealous of the spoon but he stays still just to indulge in the sight a little longer. 

You’re beautiful, bewitching and he almost feels homesick just standing a few feet away from you.  

He can almost feel himself getting warm just from the sight of you and the way you rub your eyes as the steam rises to your face. 

“Suguru, how long have you been standing there?” you placed the cover over the pot as a small smile settles on your face “Did you rest well?” 

He moves from the wall in slow strides to meet you as you walk over to him, he nods before taking you in his arms. He holds your waist bringing you close as his head falls to your shoulder. You settle your head on to his shoulder as he drapes himself on top of you holding you tighter. Your fingers run against his scalp and down the length of his hair, it’s soft and perfect, a little too much like him. He hums at the feeling of your hands in his hair and straightens up to look at you, a tired smile on his face as he places a kiss on your nose and then to your forehead. You giggle and the sound goes into his ears and straight to his heart.

He can feel the weight of his love for you coursing through his body and he wants nothing more than to take you back to bed and hold you even closer that the concept of space doesn't exist anymore. His hand rests on the back of your head, “What are you cooking sweetheart?” the other hand holding your waist close to him. 

“Soup.” 

He hums, feeling warmer from your arms around his waist and the idea of soup in his stomach. 

“Are you cold,” his hand glides to your cheek, his thumb caressing your warm skin. You lean into his touch moving even closer to him, the fabric of your—his shirt pressed against his bare torso. 

“Not really,” You sigh. “I felt warm over by the stove and then I came over to you, I still feel warm. You must've been cold though, I’m sorry I didnt turn on the heater.” You frowned at him. 

“It’s alright, I feel warm with you right here.” His arm tightened around your waist. 

“Put on a sweater or atleast a shirt, baby.” You tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. You let your hand travel down his neck and to his shoulder rubbing it up and down slowly to provide some heat to his exposed skin. 

“Hm, if I remember correctly, someone took it.” He looked to the side feigning sadness. You lightly slapped his shoulder before going back to your attempt of warming him up. He looked back at your face, his eyes, arms and heart filled with you as he warmly smiled. 

He’s just so endearing and sweet and he’s yours. 

“Get a sweater, okay? The soup should be finished right now.” You begin to pull away, but he takes a step to hold on to you a little longer. Your hand rests on his bicep as his face moves a little closer to yours. 

“I’ll put something on.” He kisses your cheek before moving closer to your lips, “I just can’t stand the idea of having soup before I taste you.” 

Divider creds: @saradika

© manhattanstrawberry please do not plagiarize or repost my work

[krirebr]

Thanksgiving with the Barbers

Pairing: dark!Andy Barber x f!reader

Word Count: ~3.4k

Summary: You and Andy celebrate Thanksgiving. Part of the Trapped AU.

Warnings: Dark elements, kidnapping, references to punishment, isolation, solitary confinement, hunger, negative self-talk, manipulation, angst, mental breakdown - This is a rough one, guys. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Masterlist

A/N: So... remember this part from I Don't Want a Lot for Christmas?

"Don’t you want this Christmas to be better than Thanksgiving?” It took everything in you not to grimace. You still felt the marks from what he’d done to you after Thanksgiving dinner.

Yeah. This is that Thanksgiving.

Big thanks as always to @paperweight91 who read so much of this and always encourages me to go as dark as my twisted little heart desires.

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Even if it's just screeching at me. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

Andy’s soft murmurs traveled down the hallway to you from the entryway as he said goodbye to his guests. You couldn’t tell how things had gone. He’d seemed happy enough but as he’d started introducing you to his life outside these walls, you’d learned quickly how easily he could have one face for the world and a different one for you. He’d stressed many times all week how important it was that your first holiday together be perfect. Was it? Had you done enough?

You busied yourself with cleaning up the dining room, trying to ignore the churning dread in your stomach. The leftover turkey, mashed potatoes, and roasted vegetables had already been moved to the kitchen, waiting to be put away in the fridge. Then you’d start on the endless dishes. Hopefully, that would buy you some time alone, while Andy went back to the football on TV. 

You kept your head down and continued gathering the discarded plates as Andy’s heavy footsteps came down the hall. He entered the dining room and leaned against the old-fashioned buffet that took over one wall, his arms crossed over his chest. You felt his eyes on you, but you kept your own eyes down and didn’t say anything. You knew better now. 

You had a tall stack of plates now that you wanted to take into the kitchen, but you were afraid of turning your back on him and leaving the room. So, you stood where you were, and you waited. 

Finally, he cleared his throat. You looked up. “You were awfully quiet at dinner,” he said, softly, but there was an edge of steel in his tone. 

“No, I–” you started and immediately regretted it. That was a bad word. “I just didn’t have much to add to the conversation.” The guests were all Andy’s colleagues and their spouses. It’d been too much shop talk to keep track of. On top of being so many more people than you were used to.

Andy made a thoughtful little hum before he continued. “Barbara commented on it, as she said goodbye. Wanted to be sure you were ok, hadn’t felt left out.”

You forced a smile, trying to stop your hands from shaking. “Yes, I’m fine. I had a nice time. It was a good dinner.”

He pushed himself off of the buffet, straightening to his full height. “Really, you thought it was a good dinner? With a dry turkey and an unfriendly hostess?”

You couldn’t help the way you blanched. You’d never cooked a whole turkey before or anything like it.  And you didn’t have access to the internet right now, so you were limited to the highbrow cookbooks Andy had bought for you. While those recipes were detailed, they didn’t exactly have tips and tricks for beginners. You’d tried your best. And no one at dinner had complained. Everyone seemed to enjoy it. You’d thought it was ok. But he didn’t want to hear you defend yourself, so you said nothing. 

He looked at the dirty dishes spread across the table and scowled. “Finish cleaning this up,” he said. “We’ll continue this conversation when you’re done.”

You nodded quickly with a quiet, “Yes, Andy,” trying to keep your sigh of relief inside. He hadn’t said you’d continue the conversation downstairs, hadn’t said anything about a timeout or a punishment. You might be ok. You might get off with just a lecture. You could handle an upstairs lecture—kneeling at Andy’s feet while he listed all the ways you’d disappointed him and everything you needed to do to be better. Sometimes you even got to stay fully clothed. Lectures were fine. Lectures were easy. As long as you got to stay upstairs, you’d be ok.

Without another word, he moved into the kitchen. You heard him opening and closing the fridge as you continued organizing the dishes into neat stacks to hopefully make cleaning up a little easier. He came back with a beer in his hand, moving through to the living room to watch the evening game. As he started to walk by the table, the movement drew your eye to something, his reflection caught in the shiny steel. The carving knife. Just lying there next to the turkey.

The knife block had sensors in it, just like all the doors downstairs or the front door of the house. You had to scan your wristband every time you needed to use a knife while cooking and it would send an alert to Andy’s phone, letting him know whenever you used one, for how long, and when you put it back. But the carving knife, he’d taken that out himself today. As the man of the house, he had to be the one to carve the turkey. And then he’d just left it there, forgotten about it. The carving knife.

As you stood there, staring at it, it was like all of the parts of yourself he’d worked so hard to turn off, suddenly came roaring back on. How much you hated the dress you currently wore. How exhausted you were after working in the kitchen all day without a single thank you. The lecture that you knew awaited you, being forced to kneel at his feet. All of your own holiday traditions that had been stolen from you so that you could accommodate his. Everything he’d taken from you. The rage bubbling up inside of you was cleansing. You felt it giving you new breath, new life. You felt yourself coming back.

You looked up at Andy as he continued to move, his back to you now. That perfect, broad expanse. You could see it so clearly. The way you’d bury that knife between his shoulder blades. You lunged across the table.

Andy spun around as soon as he heard you move, his bottle of beer slipping from his hand, it’s contents spilling everywhere. Somehow, in that instant, he saw what you were grasping for and lunged for it too. Oh god, he was so much closer to it. You'd timed it all wrong. You were stupid in your desperation and anger. Oh well. You'd already made the choice. There was no turning back now.

You threw yourself onto the table, arm outstretched, dirty plates beneath you, just as his hand wrapped around the handle of the knife. You let out a guttural scream as he threw it away from you and it clattered against the baseboards. 

A beat too late, you tried to crawl backward, your knees struggling for purchase on the tablecloth, plates crashing to the floor, but Andy had already grabbed your still outstretched arm, dragging you towards him as you flailed, trying and failing to grab onto anything that might help you. 

He pulled you over the edge of the table and you fell to the floor, landing harshly in a jumble, more plates falling around you. He loomed over you, face completely overtaken by rage. But it couldn’t compare to yours. You kicked out wildly, indiscriminately and you’d never felt more satisfied than when you landed a few hits to his shins and he grunted in pain. Your satisfaction was short-lived, however, as he recovered and reached down to wrap his hands around both your wrists, even as you struggled as hard as you could to get away from him. 

He didn’t say a word as he dragged you across the floor. That was fine. You had no problem filling the silence. “You fucking motherfucker!” you screamed, the frustration and terror and anger of the last several months finally finding an outlet. “I hate you! I’m gonna kill you! I’m gonna burn this house to the fucking ground!”

Your struggles kicked up a notch as he opened the door to the basement with one hand, the other now holding on to both of your wrists. “No!” you yelled. “You can’t fucking do this! I’m done pretending to be your perfect little wife! You can’t–”

He wasn’t gentle at all as he yanked you down the stairs. You had to pause your fighting and screaming as you fell, the breath knocked out of you. You tried to protect your head, tried to protect any part of your body you could as you hit every step. Your dress did nothing to help as it gathered above your waist. You were exposed and vulnerable. But what else was new? You were immune to it now, after being debased every single day for months.

He paused at the bottom of the stairs to adjust his hold on you, using both hands to drag you again. Still, he said nothing. But you caught your breath and resumed your litany of hate. “You’re so fucking weak. You’re pathetic. Of course, you had to buy a wife. Who would love you willingly?” The carpet burned your skin as he dragged you across it, but you continued to struggle, continued to scream. Nothing would stop you now. “You’re disgusting. Embarrassing.”

He stopped in front of the door to the quiet room and you almost laughed. Did he really think this was just some little tantrum a time-out would fix?  Did he really not understand the rage and power that flowed through you now? Did he really think a few hours in the dark would quell this? No way. After everything you’d been through, everything you felt now, you could handle the quiet room.

He threw you in and closed the door behind you. You sank down into the darkness. This was fine. This was great. The darkness couldn’t hurt you.

You’d forgotten what it was like to have no understanding of the passage of time. It’d been hours. It had to have been hours. Right? 

He would come get you soon. What would you do then? Attack him as best you could. The rage still coursed through you. You were done laying down for him.

It must be getting late. It’d already been evening when the guests left. You were so tired now. Exhausted. But you had to be ready when Andy opened the door.

You startled awake as the furnace whirred to life. You were slumped over against the wall, your face pushed into the cinder block. It felt grimy.

You didn’t remember falling asleep. How long had it been? Minutes? Hours? Where was Andy? Whatever tenuous grasp you’d had on what time it was was completely gone now. That was ok. Andy would come soon and you’d beat the shit out of him, and then you would know what time it was.

It was the hunger that hit you first, but the thirst hit you harder. You knew now that this was the longest he’d ever left you here. You’d never gone hungry like this before. Well. He would let you out soon. He had to.

Your stomach hurt with how hungry you were. Your throat ached. Would he just let you die down here? Was he that angry? So angry that he’d decided to cut his losses. Start over with someone new. Was starving to death better than your life upstairs? Or the basement? You honestly didn’t know.

You were sprawled across the floor, as much as you could in the small space. What was the point of being upright? You could barely even tell which way was up anymore. It was all just darkness.

Suddenly, you were hit by a sliver of blinding light. What was happening? It took you embarrassingly long to realize it must have been a slot in the door you’d never seen before. Then something slid through it. You blinked at it, trying to get your eyes to focus, trying to make sense of what you saw. Oh my god, it was food! You lunged for it and tried to pull the tray to you, but it wouldn’t budge. That was better anyway. You needed the light to eat.  

On the tray was a small plate of leftover turkey and green beans and a bottle of water, along with a small plastic fork. You went for the water first, downing it, and then scarfed up the food, not even tasting it. After a few minutes, on the other side of the slot, you heard an alarm go off, and the tray was pulled back, a few bites still on the plate. “Andy, wait!” you called out, but the slot slammed closed and you were in the dark again.

You didn’t have anything to do. You couldn’t remember the last time you had nothing to do. Before Andy brought you here. Evenings in your little apartment, watching TV and eating takeout, fucking around on your phone. You hadn’t done that, hadn’t even thought about doing it in months. 

When you first got here, when your list of chores felt insurmountable and ridiculous, you would’ve given anything for the chance to lay around and do nothing. But now, it didn’t feel right. You should find a way to be productive. Andy was going to be so disappointed in you.

You hated yourself for thinking it.

You tried to do some yoga. You were so stiff from laying on the floor, but it was too hard when you couldn’t see how much space you had and were too scared of hurting yourself on the furnace or hitting the wall. So you went back to doing nothing.

The worst thing about waking up in this room was that you had no memory of falling asleep. It was all just darkness. Maybe there was no real difference between sleeping and being awake. How could you even tell anymore?

Andy brought another meal. Well, you assumed it was him. There was no one else. But you didn’t see him. He didn’t say anything. The tray was pushed through the slot, you ate and drank as fast as you could, the tray was pulled away. You didn’t say anything to him either.

You were so fucking bored. You’d tried singing to yourself. Running through old movies you remembered watching on TV as a kid. Reciting passages from old books. You felt like you were running out of thoughts.

There’d been three meals. If you could count the meals, that was sort of like keeping track of time, right? Even though you had no idea how often he brought them. Still, it had to be something.

The furnace was going to drive you insane. That whirring, whirring, whirring. White noise that wouldn’t stop. So loud you were afraid that the noise was just inside your head now. Maybe the furnace wasn’t even on.

“Andy,” you called out when the slot opened. “Andy, please.” He didn’t say anything. He never said anything.

The timer must have gone off sooner this time. The tray was pulled back when you were only halfway done. You started crying as the slot started to slide closed. Your stomach felt too empty.

You realized your mistake after he was gone. You had to call him sir when you were in the basement.

You started talking to yourself. Just to hear your voice. Any voice. You didn’t have anything to say, but you just couldn’t deal with the silence.

It wasn’t worth it. You saw that so clearly now. What did you really think you’d gain? You were never going to kill him. You couldn’t even hurt him. You were never going to win and you’d lost even more by trying.

You couldn’t remember whether there’d been six or seven meals. You’d lost count. And they were all the same. Nothing differentiated them. There was nothing to hold on to. This was the one thing tethering you to anything real and you’d lost it. There was no getting it back. You didn’t know how long you’d been crying.

He was tired of you. He was done. He was the only thing you had in the whole world and you’d lost him. You’d fucked it up. You were going to rot away in the Quiet Room until you were nothing. There was no getting out.

You crawled over to the slot when it opened and put your head right in front of it, keeping your eyes closed to avoid the burn of the light. “Sir,” you pleaded, your voice raspy, “sir, please. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, sir. Please.” You were crying. You couldn't stop. You couldn't hide it. 

He paused before he pushed the tray through, but he didn't say anything. 

You were lying on the floor, trying to figure out whether you were awake or dreaming when everything was suddenly bathed in light. You must be dreaming. Oh, but would a dream hurt so much? You rolled onto your stomach and curled up in a ball to try to shield your eyes from the light. Wake up wake up wake up, you chanted to yourself.

And then– Then, as you were curling up, tighter and tighter, on the floor, someone touched you, lightly, gently on your back. When was the last time you’d been touched? You didn’t know. You started crying, even as you pressed up into the soft caress.

“Oh sweetheart,” someone said. An angel. But wait. You knew that voice. “Look at you,” Andy said, “we’ve both had a rough few days, huh?”

You slowly rolled back over, wincing harshly at the light. There he was, crouching over you. You squinted at him, trying to make out his features. You started to sit up, but it ached to use your muscles that way.

He reached out a hand to help you. “Go slow, honey,” he said, and his voice was so gentle. “Give yourself a minute to adjust.”

“Sir?” you rasped. Was he really here?

“Hi sweetheart,” he cooed, as he carefully pulled you into his arms. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“How–” you blinked up at him, feeling so disoriented. “How long?”

“Too long,” he answered sadly. “But we both needed time to calm down, didn’t we?” 

He stroked your back, and you whimpered. It felt so good. You’d been alone for so long. You nuzzled into his chest, the tears still streaming down your face. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t– I shouldn’t have– I don’t know. I’m so sorry. I didn’t understand. Please forgive me.”

“Oh honey,” he sighed. You wished that you could drink up his gentle voice after so much silence. “I know. I know. It was a hard day. I understand. I’ll forgive you. After your punishment, it’ll be like it didn’t even happen.” 

“Punishment?” you looked at him in horror. “But– This– I–” You’d already been through so much. How could there be more?

“Sweetheart,” he said, his voice picking up a firm edge. “This was just a little timeout. For both of us. So that we could both calm down and think about what happened. You know I never want to punish you when I’m angry.”

“But I’m sorry,” you cried, grasping at his shirt. You didn’t think you could handle a punishment. You were afraid you’d break into a million pieces in that room.

“You tried to hurt me.” All of the gentleness was gone now. “You have to be punished so you learn.”

You barely nodded as you curled up in his arms, crying quietly. You’d been so stupid. So, so stupid. It was such a mistake.

“I’ll tell you what, honey.” His hand resumed its stroking, up and down, up and down your back. So gently. “If you’re very good for me, if you take your punishment like a good girl, then we can go right back upstairs when it’s done. We won’t have to spend any more time down here.”

“Really?” You’d been so afraid that you’d doomed yourself to months down in the basement again, even worse than before.

“Really. Neither of us wants to be down here, do we? We both want to be happy upstairs, don’t we?”

“Yes, sir. Please, please. I’ll be good. I’ll be a good girl.”

“I know you will be, sweetheart. Let’s go get it over with, huh? Then we can take a nice long bath to get all this grime off of you. Can you move? Can you get up?”

“Yes, sir,” you mumbled into his chest, but you didn’t make any effort to move. Not yet. You wanted to savor this for a few more moments. You knew that as soon as you got into the punishment room, all of the gentleness would be gone. He’d be the figure from your nightmares again. And you knew you deserved it. You were so stupid. But you needed a couple more minutes of his soft touches before you’d be ready.

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[slaymitchabernathy]

The Nanny

On a quiet morning, when spring and warmer weather were finally on the cusp of the Capitol, Soarynn was stumped by a question that caused her fingers to stop their memorized pattern of braiding Ceraphina's hair.

"Soarynn, how do you know when you're in love?"

Soarynn blinks once, twice, three times. She's never really thought about that before. Of course, she's thought about love, being in love, falling in love. But truly, how does one know when they're in love?

"I...I don't know darling," she admits, grabbing another blonde curl and tucking it into the braid, "I suppose you just wake up one morning and know that you're with the right person."

"Okay, but how?"

Clearly, Soarynn's answer is insufficient for the young girl who's getting to that age where everything is "so romantic." Soarynn remembers being that way when she was little, thinking it was so wonderful how every adult around her was in love. Watching adults hold hands while crossing busy streets and share warm drinks on cold nights was the ultimate tribute to being in love in her eyes.

It also didn't help that she had grown up without witnessing her own parent's love due to the unfortunate death of her mother. She's sure that Ceraphina had experienced a bit of that as well, even though she knew her mother before she passed away.

But Coriolanus and Livia were never in love.

He's admitted to that countless times since they started courting, talked about how Livia made him feel as if he were stuck in the middle of a business arrangement. It often leads Soarynn to wonder how many other couples are simply together for all the wrong reasons and if she and Coriolanus are together for the wrong ones as well.

Not that there's anything wrong with them. After that little hallway incident, he's been nothing but sweet, showering her with words of adoration, tokens of his affection, and sweet gestures that go above and beyond. He's certainly a charmer.

But sometimes she wonders about how they met, how strange it is that a nanny ended up with her employer and then she just ends up feeling strange and icky.

At least she didn't break up their marriage. That's something she constantly reminds herself of. Their marriage was broken long before she came to the Snow family.

"It's this feeling you get inside of you," Soarynn says, placing a hand over her heart, "this feeling that you simply can't live without this person and you want to do everything with them, no matter how mundane or uncomfortable. With the love of your life, everything makes sense."

Ceraphina tilts her head, "Are you in love with Daddy?"

Soarynn already knows how she feels about Coriolanus, but she doesn't always know how he feels about her.

"I care very deeply about your father," she smoothly answers, giving Ceraphina a tight-lipped smile through the mirror's reflection. Ceraphina returns it with one of her own and kicks her feet as they dangle off the vanity stool, "Is Daddy your best friend?" Soarynn raises her eyebrows, she has friends, but a best friend is something she hasn't considered.

But the more she thinks about it, the more it seems plausible. They see each other every day, they spend lots of time together, they joke and laugh with one another, he makes her happy, she feels as though she can tell him anything. They're honest with each other.

Isn't that what a best friend is?

"He is," she confirms with a more genuine smile this time, "spending time with your father makes me very happy." Ceraphina giggles and cranes her neck back so that she's looking up at Soarynn, "Good! Because I asked him last night and he said that you were his best friend!"

Soarynn's eyes widen in surprise, she's forgotten how involved the girls can get with her relationship with their father. At first, she had worried there might be jealousy. They were the only girls in his life and now there was another woman but that wasn't the case. No, the girls were elated to have Soarynn and their father together, a little too elated sometimes since they were constantly hinting at marriage.

Which sometimes worried Soarynn because she didn't want to get her own hopes up let alone the children's. Coriolanus hadn't really ever talked about getting married again and it's not like she could blame him when his last marriage had a bit of a traumatic ending.

"Well, I'm glad that we're on the same page," she says, tying up Ceraphina's hair with a ribbon, "and you look so pretty darling, this is the perfect look for the museum today." Ceraphina smiles at her reflection, admiring Soarynn's handiwork with her hair, "Thank you!"

Soarynn presses a kiss to the top of her head before Ceraphina hops off of the stool and runs out into her bedroom, leaving Soarynn alone in the bathroom with a looming question.

Does Coriolanus see her as a potential wife?

꧁ ꧂

After contemplating her relationship in the bathroom for a good five minutes, Soarynn gathered herself and her thoughts before making her way out into the girls' room and instructing them to put on their shoes so they could depart for the museum.

"I'll go get your brother's shoes on and meet you in the hallway," she tells them, waiting for nods of confirmation so she can actually trust them to do what she said. Once both girls dutifully bob their heads up and down, Soarynn slips out into the hallway and heads toward Caspian's room. But then she stops when she sees several Avoxes walking in and out of the one room that is practically off-limits.

The master bedroom. Where she sleeps almost every night.

The Avoxes appear to be carrying lots of boxes in and out of the room which puzzles Soarynn. Just this morning she woke up in the arms of her lover and he hadn't mentioned any new furniture being moved into the room. Perhaps it's something that Eudora planned out and Coriolanus simply forgot about it.

Soarynn shrugs it off and gently opens the doors to Caspian's room, finding him right where she left him, on his new bed. Caspian has slept in a crib since the day she started working for the Snows but just last week he got a brand-new bed.

A "big-boy bed."

He's been very pleased with himself and his new bed, constantly climbing in and out of it for the fun of it. Coriolanus had worried that he might try to slip out of his room in the middle of the night but Soarynn reminded him of Caspian's inability to reach the door handles and that calmed him down.

It certainly is adorable to see him so excited about his new bed and the best thing about it is that he can now fit more stuffed animals on it compared to his crib where his space was more limited.

"Lenny go museum," he says the moment he lays eyes on Soarynn. The two-year-old boy has become more and more determined to bring Lenny everywhere and Soarynn has become more and more discouraged to argue with him since it'll often end in a tantrum. And for Caspian, a tantrum is him sitting facing the wall and not talking to anyone for at least two hours.

Which is the best tantrum she's ever seen but it's still a tantrum nonetheless.

"Lenny can come to the museum darling," she reassures him, "but we've got to get your shoes on first." His eyes scan his bedroom floor and Soarynn does the same thing because she swears that she laid out his shoes earlier this morning. Unless a certain toddler moved them and can't remember where he put them.

"You wouldn't happen to know where they are, would you Cas?"

He averts his gaze, staring up at the ceiling instead and Soarynn laughs, "I'll take that as a no." That's okay, he has more shoes than he'll ever need so she just goes into the closet to find another pair. She dressed him in khaki-colored pants, a little white shirt, and a red coat to go overtop for when they're outside. Soarynn grabs a small pair of brown leather shoes, humming to herself as she undoes the tiny laces. The thing she loves about children is how cute their clothes are.

She wonders how tiny baby clothes can get.

Does Coriolanus want another baby if they get married?

She really needs to get a grip on her thoughts because this is getting out of hand. Right now, all she needs to focus on is the children.

She has to be the nanny.

꧁ ꧂

There are days when Soarynn only sees Coriolanus once. Breakfast is a promised meeting time for the entire family no matter what the day holds and Soarynn looks forward to it immensely. The girls get to talk to Coriolanus until his ears fall off and Caspian gets to be near his father which is more than enough for him. Breakfast isn't really the time for Soarynn to butt in and talk, not when she often spends the nights with Coriolanus, wrapped up in his sheets.

But today is not one of those days. Because there are days when a person keeps running into the same person over and over again, as if the universe wants them to be together. Even if Soarynn has mixed feelings about that person right now because she doesn't know if he wants to get married and have more children with her.

Which is so utterly ridiculous and she knows that but it doesn't stop her heart from beating faster and faster whenever she thinks of him. Get it together, she tells herself while carrying a sleepy Caspian on her hip, you can talk to him about it tonight. The museum had been wonderful today, a new exhibit about the ocean opened up and the girls loved every second of it. The exhibit mostly focused on different marine life and even had a real whale skeleton.

Needless to say, they were at the museum for a long time.

Caspian was already falling asleep in the car but Soarynn tried to keep him awake until they got back home so she could put him down for a proper nap. "Bed," he mumbles while nuzzling his head against her neck. Soarynn hums, brushing some of his hair out of his face, "I know sweet boy, we'll get you down for a nap."

They ran into Eudora when they got back home and she took the girls to get a snack so Soarynn could put Caspian down for a nap. Soarynn starts walking up the back staircase, her head down as she focuses on the steps when she notices a pair of black leather shoes pass by her going in the opposite direction. She immediately looks up when the scent of roses washes over her and comes face to face with a grinning Coriolanus.

Her heart might beat out of her chest, she doesn't know why she's suddenly so nervous around him, it's probably got something to do with her stupid thoughts about the future and what it holds for them.

"Well isn't this a pleasant surprise?" He says, resting a hand on her arm. Soarynn forces a smile onto her face and nods, "Yes, yes it is. We just got back from the museum." A wave of recognition washes over his porcelain face, "Ah yes, I remember you mentioned it this morning at breakfast."

Soarynn hums but doesn't say anything else which is ironic since she's usually thrilled to run into Coriolanus in the middle of the day. He rarely ever leaves his study if he's working from home.

He furrows his eyebrows, looking her up and down in a concerned manner, "Are you feeling alright darling?"

"Mhm."

Caspian lifts his head after hearing his father's voice, "Lenny go nap."

Coriolanus gives Caspian a gentle squeeze, fixing the collar of his little coat, "Lenny isn't the only one who needs a nap." Soarynn chuckles softly, Caspian often projects his needs and wants onto Lenny, "What were you doing upstairs?" She asks, her curiosity getting the best of her. Coriolanus is a man who values routine and the only time he ever comes upstairs is if he needs to change his clothes but he appears to be wearing the same outfit he wore to breakfast this morning.

He coughs into his fist, looking down at the floor, "Just needed to grab something."

Now they're both lying.

"Alright. Well...I'll see you later then," she says softly, taking another step up. Coriolanus gives her a grunt of approval, "Yes, I was thinking we could have dinner tonight." She doesn't know if she can survive dinner with him tonight, not with her own thoughts running wild but she doesn't want to be rude or ungrateful, "That sounds wonderful," she lies.

He smiles although it doesn't reach his eyes the way a genuine smile does and leans forward to press a kiss to her cheek, "I'll see you tonight then darling."

Soarynn nods and turns to go up the rest of the stairs but she stops herself midway, unable to stop herself from asking the question that's been burning in her mind since doing Ceraphina's hair this morning, "Actually I," Coriolanus stops in his tracks, looking up at her from the first landing of steps, "Yes?"

Soarynn feels a rush of embarrassment wash over her. What a stupid thing to ask him right now, "Never mind," she says, going up the rest of the steps before he can stop her.

Soarynn scolds herself for acting so...so stupid! This morning she felt perfectly normal around Coriolanus, giddy even but now she can barely look the man in the eyes without wanting to ask him if they're ever going to get married or have children.

At least she has until tonight to get her thoughts and her act together.

Soarynn pads into Caspian's room, changing him into pajamas before tucking him into his new bed. She kisses his forehead and sings his favorite song, the meadow song, watching him drift off to sleep with Lenny in his grip. Soarynn watches him sleep for a while, enamored by the sweet boy who calls her his mother despite having no blood relation.

If Caspian considers her his mother then why should she even worry about Coriolanus wanting more children? Ceraphina, Celeste, and Caspian are more than perfect. If anything, Soarynn is selfish for wanting more children.

There, problem solved.

꧁ ꧂

"Soarynn dear, could you run this over to Coriolanus?"

Problem not solved.

Soarynn might throw up.

She just got downstairs after putting Caspian down for his nap and she was feeling much better before Eudora asked her that question. She thought she just solved her problem but just hearing his name made her feel nervous. She brushes her hair behind her ears, looking around the room to make sure that Eudora is talking to her and not someone else named Soarynn.

"Don't you want to do it?" She asks, doing her best to sound casual while stepping into the dining room. Eudora and the girls are all sitting at the table, cookies and tea in front of them although it looks like the girls are drinking apple juice from the tea cups instead of actual tea.

Eudora waves her off as if she's doing Soarynn a grand favor, "You'll be fine, just hand him this file. He asked me to go over it this morning for the upcoming Hunger Games."

Ah yes, the Hunger Games that Coriolanus has to keep running because apparently, his father created them. The night that Coriolanus told Soarynn about Lucy Gray, he also told her more about the origin of the Hunger Games and how his father and Casca Highbottom created them. It was apparently a drunk joke that was made but it turned into something much more sinister once it was written onto paper and turned in as an assignment to Dr. Gaul, one of the Head Gamemakers.

It had honestly horrified Soarynn to know that the reasoning behind twenty-four children being forced to fight to the death was due to a drunk joke but she kept those thoughts to herself. It's not like she could stop them now. Coriolanus didn't seem ecstatic about them either but as President of Panem, it was his job to see to it that they continued this pageantry.

Lucky him.

Soarynn slowly takes the file from Eudora, holding it at arm's length like it's a ticking time bomb, "I'll go give it to him," she finally says, accepting her fate. Eudora gives her a questionable look but nods, "We'll be right here dear."

"Tell Daddy we said hi," Celeste tells Soarynn who swallows and turns to walk back out of the dining room, a dark cloud looming over her once more.

She all but drags her feet down the long hallway that leads to his study, a hallway she normally skips down because it means getting to see Coriolanus. But not today.

She stops once she reaches the doors that lead to his study when she notices that they're not all the way closed. She can hear two muffled voices, male voices, one belongs to Coriolanus, and the other she can't quite place. It's terribly rude to eavesdrop but Soarynn can't help but lean in a little closer to peer inside of his study.

She can see Coriolanus sitting on the sofa by the fireplace, a glass of whiskey in his hand while he talks. She looks over at the other man and finds that it's Quintus Heavensbee, his most trusted advisor. It doesn't sound like they're talking about anything truly important, in fact, they're talking about women.

"...Perlina said it would be a nice trip but after what happened to you in Four, I just don't trust the Districts," Quintus says with a shake of his head, his back towards the doors. Coriolanus lets out a dry laugh, "I never trusted them to begin with. But after Four, the children will never go again." Soarynn agrees with him on that, the attack in District Four could've ended so badly for them. For her.

"They're leeches, filthy leeches that are desperate to get their hands on what matters most to you," Quintus tells him, "speaking of which, how are things with Soarynn?"

Her breath gets caught in her throat and she has to remind herself to breathe again while Coriolanus takes a sip of his drink, "Good, she's good, things are good. I'm taking her to dinner tonight."

Quintus nods and leans back in his chair, "I must say she looks nearly identical to Ceraphina, she could easily pass for her mother if I didn't know any better." Soarynn has to agree with that as well, she and Ceraphina share the same eye color and hair color, leading them to look like a mother-daughter duo. She certainly sees Ceraphina as her daughter, even if she shouldn't.

"Well she's more of a mother to her than Livia ever was," Coriolanus says, bitterness evident in his tone of voice, "and a better partner as well." Her heart flutters from the compliment, Soarynn has never been in a relationship before and she often wonders if she's doing enough. Coriolanus has always been one for words of praise but he could always just lie and be polite to protect her feelings.

"Could you see yourself marrying her?" Quintus asks and Soarynn nearly blacks out. It's as if the heavens above have answered her question! Now she just needs Coriolanus to answer the question and Coriolanus is the master at avoiding things he doesn't want to answer. He's an expert, in fact, diverting the topic by giving an answer completely unrelated to the question. Soarynn has called him out on it before and he's always grinned and claimed that it's a skill only the President can possess.

Coriolanus goes quiet, too quiet for her liking. Soarynn watches him think long and hard about that question, "Not tomorrow," Quintus adds, picking up on the lingering silence, "no one would blame you if you didn't want to remarry."

Coriolanus shakes his head, a determined look now on his face, "I could see myself marrying Soarynn," he answers confidently, "sooner rather than later if I'm being honest. Losing Livia taught me a valuable lesson, many lessons actually but it taught me that nothing is promised. If something were to happen to Soarynn and I missed my chance then I'd never forgive myself."

Soarynn turns around and lets out a silent scream of excitement before collecting herself and taking a few steps back as if she hasn't been listening to the conversation for the past five minutes. She raises her fist to knock on the doors and makes her presence known this time, "Coriolanus? I have something to give you from Eudora."

She listens to their conversation come to a halt and hears someone get up and shuffle towards the doors. Quintus is the one who opens them, greeting her with a kind smile, "Hello Soarynn, how are you today?" She returns his smile with one of her own, genuine this time now that she doesn't have that nagging thought in her head, "Hello Quintus, I'm absolutely wonderful."

He steps to the side so she can walk inside and she's met with a skeptical look from Coriolanus who remains seated on the sofa, "Really? Because when I saw you on the staircase you looked like you were about to be sick." Soartynn waves him off, crossing the room to hand him the file, "I'm perfectly fine," she tells him, "you shouldn't worry about me, darling." The random use of the petname brings a blush to his cheeks and Quintus chuckles, "It's the President's job to worry, isn't it Coriolanus?"

Coriolanus still seems to be in a confused daze but he quickly shakes it off, taking the file from her and adopting the more stern look she's used to seeing from him, "Yes, quite right. Thank you for bringing me the file Soarynn."

Soarynn nods and she can't help but keep going now that she doesn't have any existential dread weighing her down, "What were you two just talking about a moment ago?"

Both men answer her at the same time.

"Taxes."

"Trains."

Soarynn raises her eyebrows, looking back and forth as they clear their throats in an effort to look less guilty, "Taxes and trains? What a thrilling topic." Coriolanus quickly rises to his feet, setting down his glass and the file, both long forgotten, "Yes, it's riveting stuff darling but I think I hear the children calling for you and I have much to do before tonight." He rests a hand on her back and gently guides her past Quintus towards the doors.

Soarynn innocently looks up at him from over his shoulder, "I didn't hear the children."

"You might need to get your ears checked then. I'll see you tonight," he says, kissing her temple before he gently pushes her out into the hall and shuts the doors in her face.

Soarynn crosses her arms, getting her ears checked, please.

Why can't men ever just come out and say what they mean? And they say women are complicated creatures.

꧁ ꧂

Later that day, Soarynn finds herself wondering about something else, something less important.

What is she going to wear tonight?

No matter where they go or what they do, Coriolanus and Soarynn always dress up for the occasion. Soarynn has always enjoyed dressing up for herself and no one else but now that she's in a relationship, it's an added bonus to have a grown man drooling over her.

"Would you two like to help me choose my outfit for tonight?" She asks the girls while they have an early dinner. The girls both gasp, eager to participate in the adult activity of preparing for date night. If they had their way, they'd come with Soarynn and Coriolanus but he's remained very firm that going out on dates is a two-person job.

But that doesn't stop the girls from asking to come. So Soarynn has found that them helping her get ready makes their separation much easier. And although she'd never admit it, easier for her as well.

"Yes!" Ceraphina says, bouncing in her seat, "Can we put on your makeup too?" Makeup is a bit more risky since Soarynn has found out that the girls love to use a heavy hand when applying things such as blush. "Oh, I was thinking you two might help me pick out a bag too," she adds, earning her more excited gasps. Caspian who's sitting in her lap, rests a hand on her arm, "Momma stay."

Her smile falters at his request, maybe she should stay, she and Coriolanus just went out to dinner a few nights ago. But Eudora is quick to intervene, "I thought we might watch one of your favorite films tonight children." Caspian perks up when he hears that, he loves to watch films, especially ones that feature animals. Coriolanus is pretty strict about how much television the children can watch and only permits a certain amount of time per week that they can spend in front of the large screen.

A film is a special treat.

He looks back up at Soarynn, a change of heart, "Momma go."

Soarynn and Eudora laugh at the sudden switch and Soarynn presses a kiss to his head, "Eager to get rid of me hmm?"

"Eudora, can I ask you a question?" Ceraphina asks sweetly, batting her eyelashes which causes Eudora to raise an eyebrow. Ceraphina has a habit of asking the craziest questions at the worst times, it's truly a gift. "Yes, you may dear."

"Have you ever been in love?"

Eudora lets out another laugh, a dismissive one at that, and shakes her head, "I don't believe in relationships dear, they're far too complicated for a woman of my age and status to concern myself with."

Ceraphina frowns, slouching in her seat, "You never fell in love? Ever? Not even once?"

Eudora shakes her head, sighing, "No, well...there was that one time," she mumbles the last part. Soarynn and the children lean in, eager to hear about Eudora Trinket's one love. "Who was he?" Celeste asks, "Or she?"

Eudora looks up at the ceiling dramatically, as if reliving her last moments with her lover, "We were too different," she exclaims, "I was in love with schedules, planning, telling people what to do. And he..." She looks back down at the table, grabbing her napkin and dabbing at her eyes, "He was in love with the weather."

It takes them a full ten seconds to realize who she's talking about.

"Lucky?!" Soarynn asks, unable to believe that Eudora and Lucky have ever shared a single interest let alone a conversation. The girls look as surprised as she is, even Caspian seems to be in denial. Eudora shrugs, "I like a man with a mustache, what can I say? But we were too different, we had different passions and when two people are in love, that means that they must sometimes give up their passions for one another."

She has a valid point.

Coriolanus is passionate about being President, being a leader, a beacon of stability.

But what is Soarynn passionate about?

꧁ ꧂

Soarynn pokes at her pasta, pushing it around on the plate. It's quiet in the restaurant but that's because Coriolanus bought out the entire room so they could dine privately. A man of grand gestures.

"Are you not hungry?"

She looks up from her plate, finding Coriolanus eyeing her plate of pasta, "I am," she tells him, "I just can't stop thinking about what Eudora said earlier when we were all having dinner together."

Coriolanus takes a sip of his wine before asking, "What did she say at dinner?"

Soarynn sighs, she's sure he's already aware that Eudora was in love with Lucky Flickerman at one point so she chooses to leave that part out, "She was talking about passions and now I can't stop thinking about what my passion is." She pokes at her pasta some more before setting down her fork, "My pasta is probably cold anyway," she grumbles.

Coriolanus gives her a knowing look and waves over their waiter who appears at their table within seconds, "Could you reheat this for her please?" Coriolanus asks, handing over Soarynn's plate to the eager waiter who promises to bring back an entire new plate for her.

She bites her lip, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to act ungrateful. I just can't stop thinking about it." Coriolanus reaches his hand across the table and Soarynn takes it, watching his long fingers intertwine with her shorter ones. "I'd say you're acting preoccupied, not ungrateful," he argues, squeezing her hand, "and I think it's rather obvious what your passions are darling."

She looks up at him confusedly, "It is?"

He chuckles, "Yes, it is. You're so clearly passionate about helping others. You love to lift other people up, you love to connect with those around you, making them feel at ease."

Was it that obvious?

The waiter comes back with a steaming plate of pasta and Soarynn must admit, it looks much tastier when it hasn't been sitting in front of her for ten minutes, "Thank you," she says to the man.

"Of course, Ms. Nightingale."

Soarynn catches Coriolanus staring at her empty ring finger for only a moment before he lets go of her hand, "How did you even get on the topic of passions? Are the children already diving into these deep topics at such a young age?" Soarynn softly laughs and picks up her fork again, appetite regained, "No, Ceraphina asked Eudora if she's ever been in love before."

Coriolanus leans in, already hooked, "Has she?"

Soarynn nods, wrapping several strings of pasta around her fork, "She has."

"With who?"

Soarynn takes her time bringing the pasta to her mouth, watching Coriolanus eagerly await her answer while she slowly chews and swallows, "Lucky Flickerman," she finally says once her mouth isn't full and Coriolanus is taking another sip of his wine. He almost chokes on it, covering his mouth with his own napkin while he recovers and Soarynn giggles, "We didn't believe her either," Soarynn tells him, "but apparently, she has a thing for men with mustaches."

Coriolanus laughs, a real laugh, not a practiced one that he pulls out when they're in public. A laugh that she has been given the privilege of hearing. "I don't believe it," he says, shaking his head, "Eudora has never mentioned her and Lucky before and that's not something that just slips past me." Soarynn shrugs, she's sure that quite a few things manage to slip past Coriolanus unbeknownst to him and someone's dating history certainly qualifies.

"Would it have mattered?" She asks, curious as to how Eudora was even hired in the first place. Did Eudora work for the former President? Or do Presidents hire out their own staff once they're in office?

Coriolanus gives her a confused look and she elaborates, "If you knew that she and Lucky had a former relationship would it have affected you hiring her? I know you can see everyone's files but I highly doubt that past relationships are listed."

"It wouldn't have mattered," he answers, setting down his glass of wine, "and the only information I can see about past relationships is if someone has been divorced or not." Her eyes grow bigger at the mention of divorce, something that's practically unheard of in the elite circles. Divorce is a one-way ticket to being shunned by high society. Unless there's a case of abuse or infidelity, couples stay together, happy or not.

Or your spouse can succumb to a sudden deadly illness like Livia and then you'll end up like Coriolanus.

Those thoughts bring her back to the idea of marriage and children and she just can't help herself from asking the next question, "Do you want children?"

Coriolanus freezes, the room feels much quieter now, much colder and Soarynn's worried that she's truly crossed the line this time. He clears his throat, "I would argue that I already have three perfect children," he tells her slowly. Soarynn must look crazy but she has to know if he wants children with her.

"I meant...I meant with me," she says exasperatedly, grabbing her napkin and twisting it in her hands, "if we were to get married tomorrow then would you want to have children with me?"

His face remains neutral, emotionless which means he's thinking hard about her question. Soarynn has gotten better at reading his facial expressions but he's always been so good at guarding them.

"I think it's expected for any wife to bear the children her husband gifts her," he says, scratching the back of his neck, "as for you, I would expect no less. Children are our legacy, you are your family's legacy and I am mine."

He's right, she's the last Nightingale which is a bit of a terrifying thought if she's being completely honest. She's all alone in this world, no wonder people have lots of children. "I don't mean to be so prying," she tells him, brushing her hair behind her ears nervously, "I just started thinking about it and now I can't stop."

His face softens, showing his true colors and how much he cares for her, "Darling, you could've avoided all of this if you just asked me sooner, it's not a prying thing to ask the man you're courting."

He's right. Soarynn didn't know why she was so worried when it was that easy. She nods, "I know, I just don't want to be another thing for you to worry about." Coriolanus chuckles softly, reaching back across the table and Soarynn gladly takes his hand in hers, "I worry about you regardless," he tells her, "and should we get married and have more children, I'll worry about them as well."

So he does want to marry her!

Hearing it directly instead of eavesdropping feels like a weight has been lifted off of her chest. Soarynn gives him a smile, as genuine as it gets, and squeezes his hand, "I'll hold you to that."

꧁ ꧂

꧁ Three Months Later ꧂

"And what is this for again?" Soarynn asks, looking down at an ornate vision board for an event Eudora is putting together. The older woman waves her off as if this whole thing is insignificant despite how much she's been stressing over it, "It's for after the Hunger Games dear, Corioalnus wants to throw a little party to celebrate."

Soarynn frowns, the Snows have been throwing more parties since she started working for them but this seems...odd. "Aren't we already throwing a party the day of the Reaping?"

Eudora shrugs, flipping through more pages of her binder, "The more the merrier dear, now which tablecloths do you like, the cream or the pearl?" Soarynn compares the two swatches of white fabric, nearly identical and yet too different to the trained eye. Coriolanus would simply pick the first one and move on from there but being a woman means that Soarynn actually appreciates these things.

She has a good eye for decorations and notices the smallest details.

"That's why I have you darling," he'd say whenever she'd point something out that he would've never noticed.

"This seems like a lot of white for a party celebrating the Hunger Games," she murmurs, feeling that the colors should be blood-red, not pretty white shades. "Nonsense, it's a clean slate," Eudora insists, holding up the swatches to the light, "white represents becoming new. We'll have a new Victor on our hands won't we?"

"I suppose," Soarynn replies, pointing at the cream-colored swatch, "and I like the cream one the best."

"I was thinking the same thing."

Both women smile at each other, Soarynn has found a good friend in Eudora Trinket, as well as some sort of a mother figure as well. Eudora is a beacon of reassurance, as long as she's around, they can't mess anything up.

Celeste comes running into the sitting room a second later, entirely out of breath and in a rush as she slowly comes to a stop. Soarynn and Eudora give her a glance before turning back to their work, looking at different centerpieces now that the tablecloths have been selected. Celeste tugs on Soarynn's dress and she looks down at the child, "Yes sweetheart?"

"The painting is gone," Celeste says, her blue eyes filled with vigor and conviction.

Soarynn frowns, glancing at Eudora who looks as lost as she is, "The patining?" She repeats, hoping for some clarification. Celeste nods, swaying back and forth on her heels, "Mhm, it's gone."

Without any further explanation, she runs back out of the room, leaving Soarynn and Eudora very confused as to what all of that was about. "Children are always so vague," Eudora says, clearly not as bothered by Celeste's strange behavior as Soarynn is, "Yes, yes they are," Soarynn agrees.

Forty-five minutes later, a party has been planned and a color scheme decided on. Soarynn and Eudora go their separate ways, Soarynn to the front of the house to get the children from Ceraphina's piano lesson, and Eudora to the kitchen to prepare the kitchen staff for the upcoming parties and their menus.

As Soarynn walks through the great hall, she notices something out of the corner of her eye.

Something missing.

The painting.

It's pretty fucking hard to miss too. What used to be a giant painting of the entire Snow family is now gone, with only a bare wall to show that there was once a large object taking up its space. Soarynn stops dead in her tracks, looking around to see if perhaps it was taken down for cleaning purposes but she finds no trace of it anywhere. It's pretty much impossible to hide something of that size but she's hoping it might be hiding under a rug or a table.

It was a beautiful painting in Soarynn's opinion. The children were much younger than they are now, and Livia was well and alive. But now it's gone. And it's left a sinking feeling in her stomach.

Why would Coriolanus have it removed?

Soarynn shakes her head in an effort to shake away those thoughts, she can no longer hear the incorrect piano keys being played so that means Ceraphina's lesson has come to a close. She'll have to ask Coriolanus about it later.

꧁ ꧂

Soarynn drags her fingers along the bathwater's surface, popping a few bubbles in the process.

Bathtime is often when she hits a mental wall, she's tired and ready for the day to end even if the children insist that they can easily stay up for another six hours.

She watches Celeste play with her designated "bath time mermaids" which are really just dolls that she plays with in the tub, and a soft smile graces her lips. She loves this little girl so much.

"The painting is gone," she says, catching Celeste off guard but she quickly recovers and her eyes are as wide as they've ever been, "you were right."

Celeste quickly nods, grabbing the edge of the tub, "You saw it?" She asks, her voice barely a whisper even though it's just the two of them in the bathroom right now. Soarynn hums, reaching out to brush her curls off of her forehead, "I did. Although I don't know why it was removed." She can only imagine why, nothing was wrong with the painting and how the hallway just looks empty without it.

Celeste smiles, nearly bouncing out of the tub which causes some water to splash onto the floor, "It means something's gonna happen Soarynn!"

Soarynn does not share Celeste's enthusiasm, "Like what?"

Celeste shrugs, settling back down in the tub, "I don't know," she admits, still grinning ear to ear, "but it's gotta mean something right?"

Soarnyn purses her lips while she thinks about the possibilities and a very specific one crosses her mind but she doesn't dare speak it into existence.

"I suppose it does," is all she replies with, grabbing the shampoo, "now let's wash your hair darling."

꧁ ꧂

After putting all three children to bed, Soarynn finds herself strolling the halls of the President's Mansion. She knows the place like the back of her hand now that she lives here although the children always know the best places to hide when they play hide-and-seek. She passes the massive doors that lead to the ballroom and sees several Avoxes mopping and floors, preparing for the parties they'll be hosting for the upcoming Hunger Games.

She's almost been here for a year and yet it feels like ten.

Soarynn sighs, she ought to take a walk outside since Coriolanus won't be getting home until late since he's at dinner. She'll go upstairs and get her coat.

She quietly climbs up the stairs and comes across Petunia lying in the middle of the hallway, her tail flicking back and forth while she watches Soarynn approach her, "Hello Petunia," she greets the feline who purrs in response and rolls onto her back. Soarynn chuckles, crouching down to rub her soft belly, "Have any more paintings gone missing or am I slowly losing it?" She asks, more to herself than to the cat.

Coriolanus had that painting removed on purpose. To send a message.

But what message is he trying to convey?

Soarynn stands back up, Petunia following her to the bedroom that is now as good as hers ever since Coriolanus had her move in with him. On the same day that Soarynn was spiraling about having children with Coriolanus, she had witnessed several boxes being moved in and out of his bedroom. She hadn't really paid it any mind since her mind was very preoccupied at the moment but after they returned home from dinner that night, she discovered that he had removed all of Livia's clothing and brought in Soarynn's.

It had rendered her speechless. She was more than used to going to her room whenever she was in need of clothes so to have him remove his late wife's clothing without her even mentioning it left her feeling slightly perturbed. Sure it was a sign of moving forward from her death but it was still quite a shock.

Now she fully lived in his room. She got dressed in his room, showered in his room, and slept in his room. Things were very official.

But she would be lying if she said that having a 'his and hers' closet didn't make her a little bit giddy. His side was filled with expensive tailored suits whereas her side was filled with dresses, skirts, blouses, pants, and lots of shoes. Coriolanus often liked to surprise her with a new handbag or pair of shoes. He'd leave it on the large table they had in the middle of the walk-in closet, next to the vase of fresh roses that always sat in the center.

But as she walks into the bedroom, she feels as if the pieces are slowly falling together.

The closet, the painting, the all-white color scheme for this Hunger Games party suddenly popping up on the schedule, the schedule that Eudora briefed her on at the beginning of June that she swore would not change.

Coriolanus is going to propose to her.

Soarynn feels as if the floor has been pulled out from under her.

She needs to get out, go for a walk, clear her head.

She hurries into the closet and snatches the first coat she sees and throws it on, striding out into the bedroom once again, feeling hot and flushed. Petunia meows for her attention but Soarynn's mind is so, so far away from here right now. "I'll be back soon," she mutters, pulling open the doors and slipping into the hallway. She makes her way downstairs and towards the sitting room that Eudora frequents the most. Sure enough, she's sitting at the coffee table with several folders spread out in front of her.

Soarynn clears her throat, causing Eudora to jump, "Oh! Soarynn, I thought you'd be in bed by now." Soarynn shook her head, she couldn't sleep right now if she tried. "I um, I need to run a quick errand," she tells Eudora, her voice low and hushed even though they're the only ones in the room right now, "I'll be back soon."

Eudora looks at her current attire and Soarynn can see a few questions popping up in her head right now but she asks none, "Alright dear, I'll listen out for the children." Soarynn forces a polite smile onto her lips, "Thank you, I shouldn't be too long."

Soarynn goes to the side entrance of the house where a car with a driver is always waiting, "The Capitol Cemetary please," she says to the driver as she slips into the car.

The drive is short but her mind is buzzing the entire time.

When will he propose? Do the children know?

Eudora certainly does if she's planning the damn thing. Or at least some sort of party to celebrate their engagement.

She wonders what Coriolanus is doing right now, if he's thinking of her the way she's thinking of him. She thinks of him constantly now that they're officially together but she often wonders if he does the same thing. He says he does, and he also says that the dinners he attends are very boring, filled with old men who have great influence in Panem. He says he'll introduce her to them at the Reaping party.

She can't wait.

The car slowly rolls up to the gates of the cemetery and she begins to worry when she sees that they're closed. Which is perfectly understandable considering the time of day. Ten o'clock at night.

A Peacekeeper standing by the gates approaches the car and Soaeynn can only hear a muffled conversation between him and her driver. The Peacekeeper walks to her window, peering through the tinted glass and Soarynn rolls it down, flashing him her prettiest smile, "I'm so sorry for the inconvenience," she says sweetly, "it'll only be a moment." The Peacekeeper, a man who looks to be about the same age as her swallows down a lump in his throat, "Of course ma'am."

That's all it takes for her to gain entry.

The driver rolls the partition down, looking at her through the rearview mirror, "Where to Ms. Nightingale?"

She supposes it would look less suspicious if she went to her own parent's graves, "The West Side please." It's a short drive to that side of the Cemetery and Soarynn can feel her heart pounding. If this is all going to happen, then she has to make peace with her conscious, and those who came before her.

The driver opens the door, offering her a gloved hand as she steps out, "Thank you," she says to the man, "I won't be long."

He eyes her warily, "I could accompany you if you'd like Ms. Nightingale." That just won't do. She knows he means well but Soarynn has a plan and she's sticking to it. "No need to worry about me," she assures him, "I'll be back soon." The driver doesn't look too convinced but he doesn't push it and gets back into the car. Soarynn disappears down the tree-lined path toward the other side of the Cemetery, walking past her parent's graves at a swift pace.

She'll pay them a visit later.

She finally sets her sights on what she came here for.

Livia Snow's grave.

It's just her luck that the groundskeeper is walking out of the mausoleum. Coriolanus told her that he had people clean it every week to keep it in perfect condition. Although they never truly loved each other, Livia was the mother of his children, and he'd be a fool to disrespect the dead.

Soarynn quietly approaches the large stone building, watching the groundskeeper sweep the pathway leading up to the doors that she's never entered. He perks up when he notices her, wrapped in her coat, probably a manic look in her eyes as well. "Good...good evening Ms. Nightingale," the older man says, bowing his head. Ever since she started courting Coriolanus, Soarynn's name has become well-known in the Capitol.

She's reached celebrity status and she doesn't always know how to feel about it. But tonight, she'll use it to her advantage.

"Good evening," she replies, "I don't mean to be a bother, but I was hoping to maybe have a moment alone," she nods towards the mausoleum and his eyes follow her gaze. "Oh, oh I see. The Snows are quite particular about who's allowed inside ma'am," he tells her, "only immediate family is allowed."

Soarynn wants to tell him that the entire reason she's here in the first place is because she's about to become immediate family but she withholds that information, "I understand, I'll let Coriolanus know that I wasn't allowed inside," she says with a feigned disappointed sigh. The man quickly perks up at the mention of the President, "Well you might as well go in," he says, digging into his pockets and pulling out a ring of keys, "I wouldn't want to let President Snow down."

Neither would I, she thinks to herself while he unlocks the doors that open with a heavy groan. She slowly steps inside, it's quite dark except for the small lantern above her. Soarynn sets her eyes on the casket at the very back of the building, made of dark wood with roses engraved into it. Her breaths grow shaky as she walks further inside, looking around at all the things that have been left inside as tribute.

There's a vase of roses, and she also sees several cards with children's handwriting and even a stuffed bear sitting against the steps leading up to Livia's casket. Soarynn stops when her heels touch the first step and she crouches down to pick up one of the cards. From what she can tell, it's Ceraphina's handwriting. There's a drawing on the front of the card of the entire family, it's so sweet and heartbreaking at the same time. Soarynn opens the card and her eyes immediately fill with tears.

'I miss you Mommy'

Soarynn carefully sets the card back down and makes her way up the three marble steps, resting her hand on the smooth wooden top of the casket. If she were to push it off, she'd come face-to-face with Livia Snow. Windows let in the pale moonlight and Soarynn notices a framed photograph on the windowsill directly in front of the casket, a photograph of Livia and Coriolanus on their wedding day. Neither of them is smiling but it reminds Soarynn why she came here in the first place.

"I came here...I came here to talk to you," she says quietly, "I've been taking care of your children for quite some time now and there's not a day that goes by where they don't think of you."

Soarynn tries to blink away the tears but it's no use and they spill down her cheeks, "I love Coriolanus, I love him very much and I think he's going to ask me to marry him but I couldn't in good consciousness accept his proposal without coming to you first and telling you that I'll take care of your children. I'll love them like my own and protect them with my every being. And I'll...I'll make a good man out of him, out of Coriolanus. He's trying to be better, I can see it in the way he treats those around him, how he is with the children."

Is Livia Snow scowling down at her? Does she think of Soarynn as some lovesick fool? Or does she want Coriolanus to be happy again?

"I'll make him happy," she whispers, "and make sure that your children remain happy. No harm will befall them as long as I'm around, I promise."

Soarynn stands there for a few more minutes, sniffling while feeling sorry for herself. She highly doubts that Livia ever cried about an upcoming proposal but she lived such a different life than Soarynn, she married an entirely different man.

Soarynn finally gathers herself, wiping her tears and regaining her composure. "We will always keep you in our memories," she whispers before turning to walk down the steps.

Her heels echo on the marble floors and she feels a wave of relief wash over her when she steps out into the summer night. The groundskeeper gives her a curious look, "All is well Ms. Nightingale?"

Soarynn nods, already feeling much better now that she did what needed to be done, "All is well. Thank you for letting me visit."

꧁ ꧂

Soarynn stops at her parent's graves before leaving. Even in death, they're still together, and that brings her comfort knowing that not even death can keep love apart.

"It's been a while," she says, dusting off any leaves from the tops of their tombstones, "but so much has happened. I met someone, he makes me happy. He has three children, they're as sweet as can be. I think I'm going to marry him."

Saying those words out loud makes it feel very real all of a sudden.

After her father died, Soarynn learned that acceptance was the hardest part of grief. Accepting that nothing could be done differently was a hard thing to do, but it was all one could do.

"When I come back I'll bring my children," she tells her parents, kissing the tips of her fingers and touching both of their tombstones.

She means it too. She'll be back.

꧁ ꧂

The President's Mansion is silent when Soarynn returns.

Another car was already parked at the side entrance which means Coriolanus is already home. Soarynn makes her way upstairs, peeking into the children's bedrooms once more to make sure they're asleep. Caspian is curled up in his bed, Lenny wrapped in a tight grip as if he might try to slip away. The girls are both sound asleep under the canopy bed, their new nightlight shining stars onto the ceiling for them while they dream sweet dreams.

Soarynn quietly closes the doors with a soft smile on her face, a day will come when they don't sleep in the same room anymore or require bedtime stories and she's not sure that she's ready for that day yet.

When Soarynn walks into her own bedroom she finds Petunia sitting at the foot of the bed, a black sock in her mouth which means she stole it from Coriolanus. He hadn't been exactly thrilled when Petunia started sleeping in their room but Soarynn argued that if the cat couldn't stay, then neither could she.

The two had since grown a small rivalry between each other. Petunia would steal his socks and neckties and Coriolanus would steal Soarynn and her attention that was usually given to Petunia.

Heaven forbid they get a dog.

Soarynn chuckles softly as she approaches Petunia and gently reaches out to pull the sock from her mouth, “You have more toys than you know what to do with and yet you insist on taking Coryo’s socks,” Soarynn says with a shake of her head.

Petunia doesn’t seem bothered by this issue that has constantly been brought up since she was moved to this bedroom but she does let go of the sock which is progress. Sometimes it’s a bit of a battle to get her to release the socks and it often ends in both parties feeling very offended.

Soarynn doesn’t hear the shower running which means Coriolanus is probably finishing up, ready for bed which sounds wonderful right now. All she wants to do is curl up in bed with the man she's been falling in love with over the past few months.

What could be better than that?

She expects to find him hunched over the sink when she walks into the bathroom, brushing his teeth or washing his face. Although Coriolanus is as masculine as they come, he's quite rigorous with his nightly routines, ensuring that his skin is properly taken care of.

But the bathroom is empty.

The closet doors are open and Soarynn slowly approaches them, slightly stunned to find Coriolanus sitting on the bench they have in the closet right in front of the of the table. It's usually used for Soarynn to sit on when she puts her shoes on in the morning but today it's being used by Coriolanus who's holding a single white rose in his hand. Soarynn glances at the table and finds a whole bouquet sitting there for her accompanied by a card.

She didn't even notice the gift when she came to get her coat.

Coriolanus has already shed his outer layers, leaving him in a white button-up shirt and black pants which he manages to look like peak fashion. He finally looks up at her and Soarynn feels caught even though she's done nothing wrong. He looks tired, he looks like he expected her to be waiting for him when he got back and she usually is.

But not tonight. The roles have been reversed.

"Hi," she says softly, "how was dinner?"

From what Coriolanus has told her, the dinners he attends are often business-related and very boring. She still asks about them even though he rarely goes into detail about what was discussed. He gives her a look, a condescending, sharp look as if she's greatly disappointed him, "Dinner was good," he answers curtly, twisting the rose in between his fingers, "I kept thinking about coming home to you, so imagine my surprise when Eudora said that you stepped out."

Soarynn feels frozen, she feels caught, like she's done something wrong even though she hasn't. If only he knew what it's been like to live in her mind the past few hours.

"I just had to go do something," she starts but he holds his hand up, stopping her, silencing her, "You just had to go do something at ten o'clock at night?" He stands up slowly, letting the rose fall onto the floor and he takes a step towards her, Soarynn has always admired how big Coriolanus is but right now he's damn near frightening. He looms over her and looks down at her, his jaw tightening and his muscles tense, "Tell me Soarynn, do you take me for a fool?"

Soarynn is speechless. He hasn't even heard her out and he's already acting accusatory, "I don't take you for much of anything right now," she answers truthfully and it does nothing but upset him further but they can both be upset together as far as she's concerned.

"I don't speak about Livia often but she'd nev-"

Soarynn is turning on her heel before he can even finish that sentence before he can finish comparing her to his dead wife, "Well I'm not Livia," she calls back from the bathroom, "and I'm not running around behind your back being unfaithful either even though you certainly seem to have made up your mind already as to what I was doing before I got back." She watches him emerge from the closet through the mirror's reflection, he looks upset that she left him and more upset that he came home and she wasn't here to greet him.

But Soarynn is more than upset. She's pissed.

She finally turns back around to face him, some fire has been lit inside of her since visiting Livia's grave and it's about time she set some rules around here if she's going to marry this man who drives her mad. "And I will not tolerate you walking all over me," she tells him matter-of-factly, taking slow steps towards him, "I will not allow you to accuse me of being unfaithful when I have been nothing of the sort. Or do you want to revisit the last time you accused me of such things?" She asks, tilting her head up at him while they both remember how he fired her without so much as hearing her out after Festus came onto her.

A painful memory for both of them but for very different reasons.

Coriolanus is on the losing side of this battle and he's slowly realizing it but he's stubborn and arrogant at times so he won't just back down. He's not built like that, wasn't raised like that.

"Then where were you?" He asks, his hand coming up to grip her jaw, forcing her to maintain eye contact with him. Soarynn gives him a defiant look, "I was paying my respects," she tells him, "at the Cemetery." A confused look washes over his face, she's sure that he imagined the worst, her tangled up in bed with another man. Not running around the Cemetery in the middle of the night.

"The Cemetery," he repeats but this time there's no bitterness in his tone, no venom or malice. Just confusion. Soarynn nods to the best of her ability with him holding her face in his large hand, "It was long overdue and I needed to make peace with some things before I..." Her voice trails off because she can't tell him that she knows, that she's put the pieces together, "Before I fully committed myself to you," she finishes.

There, that wasn't so hard.

Coriolanus still looks confused, vexed by her wording and Soarynn places a hand on his chest, "You can ask my driver if you want," she says slowly, "he'll tell you the same thing I did."

That jolts Coriolanus out of his confusion and he clears his throat, quickly shaking his head and releasing her jaw, "I believe you," he tells her, "and you're right, you're nothing like Livia and I would do well to remember that."

Soarynn hums in agreement, she knows it'll take him some time to unlearn old habits but she's more than willing to be a patient teacher, "Yes you would. I much prefer us when we don't argue." Coriolanus lets out a breathy laugh, carding his fingers through his messy curls, unruly after a long day of work, "I do as well," he admits, "I was just, I expected you to be here when I got back so when you weren't I..."

"You thought the worst," Soarynn finishes for him, slipping her hand into his, intertwining their fingers, "and I understand why you would start to worry but in the future, talk to me before accusing me alright?"

A remorseful look grows across his handsome features, he looks so very sorry for how he just treated her, "I will, and I'm sorry," he tells her, bringing their intertwined hands up to his mouth so he can kiss the back of her hand, "I trust you Soarynn. I don't want you to think that I don't."

Soarynn could always chew him out just a little longer, just for the fun of it but she's not a masochist. And she doesn't enjoy seeing others at their lowest. "I trust you too," she says, pushing herself to her toes to press a kiss to his cheek which feels a bit rough, "and I think you need to shave."

They both laugh at her comment, Coriolanus always shaves his face at night and Soarynn appreciates a clean-shaven face compared to a rough one. The girls do as well, whenever they give Coriolanus a kiss on the cheek they make sure to let him know if he needs to grab a fresh razor blade.

"Then why don't you help me," he offers, pulling them towards the counter.

Soarynn can't hide her look of surprise, she's seen him shave before but she's never helped him do it, only watched while she did her own thing. "Are you sure?" She asks while he pulls open one of the drawers on his side of the counter, she wouldn't want to accidentally cut his handsome face.

"Of course," he says, brandishing a razor along with a bottle of what must be shaving cream, "I trust you."

Soarynn's not sure that she trusts herself with a job like this but she still shrugs off her coat and slips out of her heels, leaving her in the dress she wore today.

She leans against the counter, admiring their shared bathroom space. Before she moved in with him, this bathroom was sparse. The countertops had nothing on them aside from a bottle of cologne or a box of tissues. Now that Soarynn lives here, there are lots of feminine products for her face and hair. She has a small makeup organizer that sits on top of the counter, it has roses painted on the side of it and it holds her favorite makeup products. There's also a photo of Soarynn with the children from one of their many visits to the museum.

She likes to look at it while she does her hair. The bathroom is huge to put it plainly and Soarynn has more than enough to fill it up. There's also a built-in vanity by the shower where she often does her makeup if she doesn't feel like standing at the counter. A small vase of roses sits on the vanity counter, always fresh from Coriolanus who insists that she's as pretty as a rose.

"If I nick you then you'll only have yourself to blame," she tells him as he comes over to her side of the counter with his tools in hand. Coriolanus shrugs, "That's a risk I'm willing to take if it means you'll kiss me on the cheek more often, now hop onto the counter darling."

Soarynn eyes the counter warily, she's never sat on it before and she doesn't doubt its ability to hold her up but she does doubt her ability to keep her dress from getting shaving cream on it. "Let me take my dress off first," she murmurs, reaching behind her to pull down the zipper. She slips out of her dress without even thinking about how sensual it might look to Coriolanus who is a man who often thinks with what's between his legs rather than his head.

In only her bralette and underwear, Soarynn hops onto the counter, her legs dangling off the edge, "Where do I start?" She asks, ignoring Coriolanus and his slacked jaw while he shamelessly eyes her almost naked body, "I don't think you're finished," he teases, going to pull the strap to her bralette off of her shoulder but Soarynn slaps his hand away, "Behave yourself," she chides, "and hand me the razor."

Coriolanus does as he's told but begins unbuttoning his shirt, baring his chest to her which does unspeakable things to the mind that Soarynn desperately tries to keep pure. He smirks at how he's affected her by simply taking off his shirt and leans down to press a kiss to her lips, "Now we're even," he murmurs while kissing her. Soarynn sighs into the kiss, shaving long forgotten once his hands wrap around her waist, pulling her flush against him. Even on the counter she's still shorter than him but she doesn't mind, especially when his hands slide down to her ass, making her whimper, "We need to focus," she says between kisses.

Coriolanus groans when her own hands come to rest on his belt, tugging at the buckle, "Focus on what?" Soarynn giggles into the kiss, over the past few months they've gotten to know every inch of each other, including their most intimate areas. Coriolanus is a man who gets off on watching his partner being pleasured which is great for Soarynn who loves when he goes down on her. He'll often wake her up by slipping under the covers and prying her legs open, pleasuring her until she cums.

"On shaving," she reminds him, finally getting his belt unbuckled and tossing it onto the floor. When it comes to shaving, both of them run a tight ship. Soarynn has always preferred to be as hairless as possible but she was pleasantly surprised when she found that Coriolanus felt the same way about himself. There was just something about a man who wasn't afraid to shave.

Her hand slips under the waistband of his pants and her fingers graze over the growing boner straining in his boxers, feeling his shudder against his touch, "You know," she says, "it's a shame that we're so traditional, waiting for marriage and all that." She palms him with her hand and he gasps into the kiss, "Yes," he grits out, "it's a real shame."

Soarynn would be lying if she said that she hadn't thought about it before, thought about Coriolanus fully taking her and making her his. But all good things come to those who wait. And Soarynn can be very patient.

꧁ ꧂

It amazes Soarynn how two people can go from being super sexual to tenderly intimate within a matter of minutes.

With the warm shower water running over her skin, she feels perfectly content with his large hands on her hips, his lips gently kissing up and down her neck while they shower off their sexual encounter from minutes before. She lets out a content sigh when his hand lays flat against her stomach and imagines what it would be like to carry a child for him, to have a baby bump and feel their child kicking against his hand.

"What're you thinking about?"

Soarynn opens her eyes, remembering where she is and who she's with, a man who is not yet her husband. "The future," she says, not entirely a lie. She's been thinking about the future a lot lately, what it holds for her, for the family that might be hers someday.

Coriolanus kisses the back of her shoulder before gently spinning her around so that the warm water runs down her back now, "The future hmm? What about the future?" Her breath catches in her throat, it makes her nervous to speak it out loud because then it might not come true.

"I just feel as though something wonderful might happen," she says, lifting her feet off the ground when he wraps his arms around her waist, spinning them around because he knows how much she loves it. His eyes twinkle with amusement and adoration, "Would it be so bad if something wonderful did happen?"

Soarynn wonders if Coriolanus can feel how fast her heart is beating from his question. They're literally chest to chest tight now, nothing between them, "No," she answers softly, "I'd like it very much for something wonderful to happen to us."

He smiles at her use of the word 'us' something she's been doing more often whether she realizes it or not. It's hard not to when she already sees them as an inseparable pair, especially with the children being so on board with their relationship.

"Me too."

She bites her bottom lip, debating on whether or not she should utter those three words that she's never said before in this context.

But after today, after their honesty and her visit to the Cemetery, she feels brave enough to say it.

"I love you."

Coriolanus goes through a range of emotions in about five seconds. From surprise to bewilderment to realization and back to adoration all within the blink of an eye. She wonders if she said it too soon, if she should quickly add that she was joking, just testing the waters.

One of his hands comes up to gently hold her face, holding her as if she's made of priceless glass, so fragile and easy to break. She used to be like that, but not anymore. She's stronger now, better, more determined.

"I love you too."

Soarynn breaks into the biggest smile she's ever worn. She's never felt this way about someone before and she doesn't think Coriolanus has either. They're still learning, still growing as people, as individuals. But she's happy to grow with him, safely by his side, loved and cherished.

Soarynn knows a lot of things but she knows one thing for absolute certain.

She's going to marry this man.

| Part 11. |

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

꧁|taglist:

@lovelylove268 @strawberriicakes @kickmybark @villiansarehottest @wonderlandbound111 @melodyoflovee @thevoicesinmyprettylittlehead

|꧂

[woso-story]

Uncertain Future

Ingrid Engen x Mapi Leon

Ingrid sat by the window, gazing out at the sparkling Barcelona skyline. The city had been home for the past three years, a place where she found not just success on the pitch, but love. Love with Mapi, her partner in every sense of the word. Their relationship had blossomed over time, and despite the whirlwind that was professional football, they had built a life together. They were a team, both on and off the field.

But now, as the season neared its end, a quiet unease settled over Ingrid. Her contract with Barcelona was expiring, and with it, the uncertainty of her future started. The club had offered her a renewal, but the terms were clear: her role would be as a squad player, not a regular starter. With the team back to full strength after injuries, she had found herself on the bench more often than not. She loved Barcelona—loved the team, the city, the vibrant camaraderie, and most of all, she loved Mapi. But staying meant sacrificing the thing she had worked her entire life for: playing football at the highest level, not watching it from the sidelines.

Knowing that her time as a first-choice player was over, gnawed at her. She couldn’t accept that. Not again. Not after all she had given to the club.

Offers had come in from all over Europe: Arsenal, Lyon, even her former club Wolfsburg. Yet, it was Bayern Munich that lingered in her thoughts. Tuva, her Norwegian teammate and friend, had always spoken highly of Munich. She had painted a picture of a club that was like a family, much like Barcelona. A place where football came first, but where players were cared for and valued. The best part was that Munich wasn’t too far from Barcelona—just a short flight away—meaning Ingrid could still see Mapi as often as possible. The city itself, nestled close to the mountains, reminded her of home. It was the kind of place where she could imagine herself thriving, both as a player and as a person.

She had spent days thinking about it, weighing her options, trying to picture a future with Mapi in Barcelona versus a future without her in Munich. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized that Bayern Munich offered her a chance to be part of something exciting, a new chapter in her career. The competition would be fierce, but she would have a place in the team. It wasn’t Barcelona, but it was a place where she could play and be happy.

But how could she even begin to explain that to Mapi?

That evening, Ingrid sat on the couch in their cozy apartment, the soft hum of the city outside barely audible over the faint music playing in the backround. She gazed at Mapi, who was curled up on the other end of the couch, reading. The warm glow of the setting sun painted the room in shades of orange and gold, a reflection of the life they had built together over the past years - a life that Ingrid cherished so deeply. 

"Princesa," Mapi's voice broke through her thoughts. She had closed her book and was watching Ingrid with gentle concern. "You’ve been quiet all evening. What’s on your mind?"

Ingrid hesitated, her heart pounding. She had rehearsed this conversation in her head a dozen times, but now that the moment had come, words failed her. Finally, she sighed and turned to face Mapi fully.

"I’ve been thinking about my future," she began softly, watching Mapi’s expression shift to one of focus. "My contract with Barça... you know it ends soon. They want me to stay, but I won’t be a starter. Not with everyone back from injury."

Mapi frowned. "You’re important to the team, Ingrid. Even if you’re not starting every game—"

"I know," Ingrid interrupted gently, reaching for Mapi’s hand. "But it doesn’t feel like enough. I’ve worked so hard to play at the top level, and sitting on the bench... it’s frustrating. I feel like I’m losing myself a little."

Mapi’s gaze softened, and she squeezed Ingrid’s hand. "So what are you saying? You’re thinking of leaving?"

Ingrid nodded, her voice catching. "I don’t want to go. I love it here. I love you. But I’ve had offers from other clubs, and one of them... Bayern Munich... it feels like it could be a good fit. I’d get to play more. Really play."

Mapi was quiet for a long moment, her fingers absently tracing patterns on Ingrid’s hand. When she finally spoke, her voice was steady but tinged with sadness. "I understand why you feel this way. Football is your dream, Ingrid, and I’d never want to hold you back from that. But... leaving Barça, leaving us—it’s a big decision."

Tears pricked at Ingrid’s eyes. "I don’t want to lose us, Maria. That’s the last thing I want. I love you too much to let distance come between us. Munich isn’t so far. I could visit, and you could visit me. It wouldn’t be easy, but I think we could make it work."

Mapi nodded, her own eyes glistening. "We’ve faced challenges before, and we’ve come out stronger. Wherever you go, Ingrid, we’ll make it work. I love you. And you deserve to be happy. If Bayern Munich feels like the right place, then maybe that’s where you need to be."

Ingrid smiled at her, the weight of her words lifting slightly. "You’re right," she whispered. "Bayern is a place I could see myself being happy. Tuva says it’s like a family. And the city... it could feel like home. The mountains, the air. I don’t want to go, but I also can’t stay if I’m not playing. You understand that, don’t you?" 

Mapi squeezed her hand, nodding. "Of course I do. You’ve always been so driven. You need to do what’s best for you, even if it means making a difficult choice."

Ingrid leaned her head on Mapi’s shoulder, feeling the familiar warmth of her presence. "I just don’t want to lose you. Barcelona is where we’ve built our life together. I don’t want to leave you behind."

Mapi kissed the top of her head. "You won’t lose me. We’ll figure it out. I’ll visit you in Munich, and you’ll visit me here. We’ll make it work, like we always do."

Ingrid felt a sense of peace settle over her. She had never doubted Mapi’s support, but hearing the words spoken aloud made all the difference. Whatever the future held, they would face it together.

With a deep breath, Ingrid made her decision. She would accept Bayern Munich’s offer. It wasn’t Barcelona, but it was the chance she needed to continue her career, to keep playing the sport she loved. And most importantly, it wasn’t the end. It was just the beginning of a new chapter—one that she and Mapi would write together, no matter where it took them.

Later that night, as they lay together, Ingrid felt the warmth of Mapi’s embrace and knew, no matter where she played, her heart would always belong to the love they had built in Barcelona. The future, though uncertain, was full of possibility. And with Mapi by her side, it would be a future worth chasing.

The next morning, Ingrid made the call to Bayern Munich, her heart a little lighter with each word. It was time to take the leap.

[millionsknives]

one of the kids i tutor is this very quiet, strait-laced football-and-cars 8th grader, and he's a little out of my wheelhouse because most of my experience is with k5 kids but i've been tutoring this kid for about four weeks and he was so reserved and stiff and quiet our first meeting i think all he ever said was 'yes ma'am' the entire lesson. and i know he's only here because his parents signed him up for writing lessons but i am so desperately scheming to get him to have fun and take interest and feel like its worth his time, like bro we gon get you something out of these lessons and get some of your personality and interests to show. but i have to be tricky about it. i had to think of something fun and cool disguised as something practical and useful because he's not going to want to engage with any of the silly things we use to motivate the younger kids. so at the end of our first day i asked him if he wanted to start developing a signature. and that was the first spark of interest i ever saw out of him, just the smallest crumbs of life in his eyes, so i've started teaching him cursive off-the-books and when we worked on writing his name today he was very moderately enthused but for him that's basically the equivalent of jumping up and down and it makes me SO happy to see my evil plan working

[blacklegsanjiii]

Ooh god, I loved your Shanks x Sora post so muuuuch <3

But, can I dump a little ship here?

Bellmere x Sora. Just. These two raising Sanji, Nojiko and Nami together (and Sanji not being weird about girls bc of that). Or even ALL the 01234ji siblings + Nojiko & Nami bc Sora deserves to raise all her precious babies like she wanted. They winning against Arlong and his crew and living as a happy little family who basically is loved by all Cocoyashi. Maybe even with ZeffSora! Siblings bc him and Bellmere as in-laws would be funny as hell.

Maybe the crew meets Sanji + Nami at the same time, bc both work on the Baratie or whatever. Maybe Arlong tries, after years, to take Cocoyashi and they hear about it so Zeff sends Sanji & Nami and goes, too. The crew (Luffy, actually) goes to help too, afterall these two will join the crew/are crewmates.

Maybe Lusan and Namivivi happens. Maybe their mothers + siblings (or just sister) hear about it and can't wait to know/see again Vivi and Luffy. Maybe WCI hurts deeper, because Nami knows why her big brother is doing this, but hurts her heart all the same. Maybe, she does slaps him, but hugs him right after. Maybe, after hearing about Pudding and the cuffs, she is 10x angrier.

Maybe, their relationship is more. Something happier, just platonic from both sides. Maybe, when Luffy and Sanji start dating, Nami half threatens Luffy to take care of her brother, and Sanji does the same about Vivi and Nami.

Just, maybe.

I'm ALIVE! There's a lot going on in my life but I think I'm back on it as well as Golden being almost done, should be updating within the next couple of months but let's focus on this!

I love this and I have seen some fanart of this ship of dead Sora and Bellemere watching their kids and Bellemere just losing it for Sora. Which is valid. Sora looks like the lipstick lesbian of my dreams sometimes. Bellemere is definitely stares because hot damn, even when she was a marine she's never seen someone as pretty as that. Because this woman and a kid who looks just like her rolled up in Cocoyashi and Bellemere just stopped and Nojiko and Nami are confused about why she's staring at the woman and her son. Bellemere will bring her girls to deliver to oranges to town and collect payments and the blonde woman is now working in the bar. Bellemere will talk with her lightly and listen, she's pretty. She's so fucking pretty. Bellemere tries to keep her cool which she feels like she lost when she got her girls but the woman seems to pay it no mind. (I need oblivious Sora)

Sora introduces herself after a few trips when she realizes that hasn't happened yet and Bellemere introduces herself and her girls and Sora shakes their hands and looks around and calls for Sanji who pops out from somewhere and introduces him to the lovely ladies. Sanji is rather quiet, especially compared to Nami and Nojiko. He's helping around the bar, collecting dishes and cups and he sneaks around like he's afraid to get caught. Nami and Nojiko will come find him on the off days and try to get him to play with them as Sora will collect the extra food the bar didn't use to make something for them. Sora will call to Sanji in another language to collect him and the girls when it's time to eat. She sounds an ocean breeze to Bellemere, a language she hasn't heard since she was in the marines and Sanji starts teaching the girls and hearing her girls speak in a language not their own makes Bellemere swoon a bit as they try to talk to Sora in it with a serene smile and taking the time to help them. Sora asks Bellemere if she'd like to learn it as well and Bellemere hastily nods.

One day a grumpy man with a peg leg comes to buy out most of their oranges. Bellemere can't help but mention how he looks like the barmaid in town and her son when the chef laughs.

"Sora and her son Sanji? Aye, that'd be my baby sister and nephew. They are actually the ones who mentioned the produce here. Gotta admit it's been a while since I've seen this quality." The chef smiles.

"Oh, she hasn't mentioned a brother." Bellemere replies, slightly in shock as Nami and Nojiko look at the man.

"I'm Zeff, Sora is doing well here. Far more than where she was. I best be off though." Zeff says as he loads the crate. "And Miss Bellemere, you have to be extremely blunt with my sister. She ain't been around many normal folk." Nami and Nojiko start giggling as Bellemere gawks at the man as he leaves with the cart full of produce and just leaves. Bellemere doesn't quite believe him until she starts actively flirting and it goes over the woman's head more often than not. Bellemere looks at Sora and says something about Zeff saying she needed to be blunt but she wasn't hoping that blunt and Sora looks at her confused and Bellemere is flushed as she stutters about wanting to spend the night with Sora, alone, no kids, just the two of them.

Sora is bright red. Sanji pulls the girls out to go play in the orchard and run and climb the trees. He boosts Nami and Nojiko up into the trees and giggle with the girls he now considers his sisters and they plot to get them together. Whenever Zeff visits they'll go hide on the Baratie and Patty and Carne will laugh at the kids and Zeff will let them stow away until the morning. Zeff will teach the girls more of the language and hoist the girls to his shoulders and walk them around the restaurant. Sanji tells them what he remembers of the North Blue on the roof top of Baratie and the constellations there. Nami says she wants to go she can draw a map, Nojiko says she wants to see snow. Zeff smiles at his niblings and is proud of the new family Sora has created for herself.

I love the idea that Arlong doesn't take Cocoyashi until later so Sora and Bellemere definitely get closer over all the times the kids disappear to the Baratie until Sanji is gone more often than not because he's working and then Nami joins not long after. Sora and Sanji moved to the orchard not long after the women started dating and Sanji cooks a myriad of orange dishes as Nami and Nojiko make the peels into pinwheels like Bellemere does and Bellemere also provides protection to the town with the sheriff whenever people try to invade. Bellemere watches in awe as Sora manages to end fights quickly between the kids. Bellemere asks the woman to marry her and Sora agrees. At the wedding Zeff told Bellemere to be blunt and look where it got them. Married. Bellemere groans and says she's just so pretty and kind and nice that all she wants to do is make her happy forever. Zeff says that's why told Sora if she didn't marry Bellemere he would never let her live it down. Bellemere stares at him as he pats her shoulder and goes and dances with her daughters.

When Sanji and Nami are working on the Baratie everyone knows they are siblings and there's a third one of them. Sanji and Nami make an excellent team and Zeff constantly tells his sister and her wife that they are never getting those kids back. They're his now and when Nojiko eventually decides to come join the crew they're all his and Sora will argue with him until she's blue in the face and she's yelling in Northern and nothing makes Bellemere want to pin her down more than a pissed off Sora talking in another language. Sometimes Nami and Sanji can calm her down over the denden. Sanji's cooking has only gotten better so he treats his family to it whenever they're home. It's the best times of their lives so far because Nami's map of the East Blue is coming along really well and she and Sanji still somehow manage to share a room and pool their money together to buy gifts for their moms and Nojiko and books for themselves. It's great.

Until Sanji feeds some guy and he leads a destroyed galleon to them and some kid told Sanji he was going to be his cook and Sanji refused questioningly and then Mihawk shows up and almost kills the swordsman and Nami leaves with them to get the guy medical care. Then after they defeat the crew of the galleon, some guy called Don Krieg Sanji gets a phone call saying there's pirates attacking Cocoyashi so he takes the rubber kid with him to get home and is complaining because he's not Nami and he's not the best at navigation and Luffy is giggling saying he found his cook and navigator. Sanji is blinking at him like he's dumb as bricks but he's just so endearing Sanji gives up. Sure, he'll join the crew. He doesn't make a promise about Nami joining because she has her own choice to make. Once they arrive at the orchard he's enveloped in hugs from his moms and sisters and explaining it's a warlord's little brother, his name is Arlong and he's trying to take over the island and Luffy promises he won't let that happen. Nami says he wants the map to the grandline she bought and he took it in exchange for their lives and Luffy says he'll get it back too since she's his navigator and Nami looks incredously at him and Sanji said he already agreed to be the cook. Nami stares at her older brother as Nojiko looks at Bellemere in a 'what are we going to do about this?' way since she was a marine. Sora is losing it and laughing so hard because piracy runs in the family technically. She's losing her god damn mind over it and Zoro and Usopp are worried she might pass out.

After they beat Arlong and Sanji's still soaking wet from fighting a guy under water they go back home and are met with praise and cheers and Sanji cooks for the town and Nami does agree to be the navigator for the crew and they set off, declaring their dreams and becoming the Strawhat Pirates officially with a glorious flag. When they meet Vivi and agree to give her and Karoo passage and help take back Alabasta. Sanji notices how his sister and Vivi keep looking at each other and somehow manages to get them time alone and nicer food. They enjoy it and thank him because yeah, they're getting close and Sanji does want his sister happy. Nami on the other hand watches her brother be obliviously endeared to the captain who clearly has feelings for him and makes bets with Vivi about it. Then Nami gets sick and Vivi and Sanji are worried but luckily the next island has a doctor because she's only been getting sicker. So they make their way to a bitterly cold island that reminds Sanji of the worst times of his life. He hasn't told his moms that Nami is sick so they don't worry about them. Then he kicks his baby sister and captain out of the way and takes the full force of an avalanche. When he comes to he finds his captain staring at him and Sanji is so fucking dazed as Luffy tells him not to do that again because he loves Sanji and Sanji thinks he just loves Sanji as his cook and Sanji promises not to worry his captain again. Luffy nods and holds Sanji's hand before they end up chasing a reindeer and check on Nami. Then they help defend the jolly roger on top of the castle. When Nami finds out as they're escaping Sanji broke his fucking back she wrings his neck and threatens to call their moms because 'I don't care what your dad did, fucking fuck, Sanji!' as he's apologizing but he feels fine. Vivi kisses Nami because she's better and Luffy is laughing because they got a doctor now. And then when they meet Ace who's flirting goes straight over Sanji's head and Ace gets punched by Luffy for even thinking of taking the cook while their captain declares Sanji as his. Vivi asks Nami if this is normal and Nami's long drawn-out sigh that he's just like his mother and when their moms finally got together it's because it took forever for Sora to take the hint. It's a wonder how their moms got married. Vivi and Chopper are looking at her and Nami shrugs and says they should have seen it when he was waiting on Baratie when the other waiters quit and it just those two waiting, she saw so many people get let down by his oblivious antics. It was bad. It was so bad. Nami made so much money off betting on him though. It was great.

Sanji pulls his sneaky shit and Nami looks at him unimpressed after they free Alabasta and Luffy is clinging to him. It's actually fucking adorable and Nami takes a picture to send home, just as Sanji sneaks one of Nami and Vivi being absolutely lost in each other. They send the photo's seperately but they get one letter back with a photo of the photos hanging up and congratulations on bagging the captain and the princess respectively. They look at each other with deadened eyes and Sanji asks when he and Luffy started dating and Nami says at least Drum if not before, that's why he punched his brother over him. Sanji blinks at her before finding Luffy and asking if they're dating and Luffy says 'Duh!' with a laugh and Sanji rubs his temples. Luffy just wraps around him and plants a sloppy kiss to Sanji's cheek. It's rough, especially when everyone laughs at him. Life continues on for the crew as normal, even through Sabaody just with more letters. Bellemere and Sora constantly asking if they're okay and what they can send to help along with pictures of Cocoyashi and Nojiko and the orchard waiting for them at home. But then on Sabaody the crew with more members and more scars is ripped apart and separated. Sanji has failed his captain and his sister and his moms, Nami has failed her captain, and Luffy has failed his family, his crew, the love of his life. Vivi weeps openly at the news of Marineford and Bellemere stares at the paper as Sora screams curses and heaves sobs out of her chest for losing her son again and now losing a daughter as Nojiko shakes with anger. Two years pass.

Two whole years pass. Two years of getting stronger, of worrying about Luffy who watched his brother die. Of speaking in Northern to feel comfort to no one who understands. Nami remembers speaking in it with Sanji when they wanted to talk shit or Sanji got so excited about something he just slipped into his native tongue and accent, he used to sing to Luffy in it after they actually got together. Hearing it in person after so long as they run to each other, and she leaps into his arms and he catches her and holds onto her. The words falling from his mouth like the rain used to pour in Cocoyashi and Robin smiles sweetly at them and Franky sobs about siblings reuniting. Luffy comes barreling after a while and barrels into Sanji when he's getting groceries and kisses him so fucking hard. They depart Sabaody with allies and friends made during their time apart protecting them as Luffy begs Sanji to cook for him, which he does. Nami smiles and Sanji catches it and smiles back, it looks just like his All Blue Smile and she knows he loves with his whole heart, wears it on his sleeve Luffy holds it so kindly. Just like Vivi holds her's safe back in Alabasta. How Cocoyashi also holds segments of their hearts with their moms and sister. They make it through Fishman Island and to Punk Hazard and Law stares at the Cat Burglar and Cook who speak in Northern and when he slips into their conversations they grin at him and warn him to not let Luffy know. Law takes this warning to heart.

Nami stares in horror because her brother is a self-sacrificing idiot, it's just like when he got struck by lightning on Skypeia except he's strung up by a fucking evil moron. She's screaming for him as Law frees him and they send off. Nami's helping bandage him and Sanji gives her that shit eating grin because he would always protect his little sister. He does it all over again with that damned self sacrificing smile as he signs his death warrant basically and Nami is screaming for him as he's promising to come back, and Nami knows he's believing that he'll come back but she figured out that this would either end in him leaving the crew or dying. She screams until her voice is raw and running after them to get him back. When Luffy and them make it to Zou everyone notices the teary eyes of Nami immediately as she latches to Luffy and Chopper hurls himself into Usopp's. Sanji is gone, his father took him to marry him off and if they don't get him back he might die. Luffy is staring at her because of Sanji's promise on Drum Island is ringing through the captain's head.

Sora, Bellemere, and Nojiko are staring at Sanji's bounty poster between working and trying to find news on the siblings. When the denden in town rings and someone comes to tell them it's for them and they all but run. It's Nami, she's sobbing and apologizing because it was the Vinsmoke's that took him. She and Luffy and several others are going after him, to get him back. Sora tells her as much as she can, being locked in medical meant she wasn't privy to as much as she would like, but still, better than nothing. Nami thanks them and says she'll call when they get him back. Bellemere holds her wife and daughter as they start sobbing and when she gets them home and calmed down she decides to cash in a few favors owed from her time as a marine. Several calls later she makes sure that there's back up for her kids, whether they want it or not. Come Hell or high-water Bellemere will not lose any of them. When the rescue team makes it to the carriage. Nami watches in horror at the hold these people have over her brother but steels herself as she marches forward after her captain falls. She marches over to Sanji and his eyes only show pain and sorrow and guilt as Nami slaps him, quickly pulling him into her arms and his whispered apologies but he he has to as he shoves her off. Luffy stands and yells at him, Nami staring after them while clenching her fists, tears spilling down her face because she's so angry. Angry at his dad for taking him away, angry that Sanji feels he has no choice, angry at herself for not fighting for him. Whole Cake continues normally but after though, small group of what seem to be Marines help the Strawhat Pirates on their escape. They're all about Bellemere's age, which confuses the rescue team and Sanji because why? After they make it to calmer waters the marines yell to them to tell Bellemere they're even now and to stop being so much like their mother. Luffy laughs and plants a big old kiss on Sanji's cheek as Nami yells back for them to fuck off essentially. They can't really think of better people to emanate. They go call their moms and sister and calm them down, more or less, they're pissed and rightfully so. They don't know Zeff is standing with them until he says something like 'I'm calling everyone who owes me favors now, your exhusband is dead, little sister' causing a ruckus on both sides of the denden. Don't piss of their moms.

[forestfrolickingfairy78]

LU Wild x Reader Part 3: Sharing stories

Okay, I forgot how long this piece was but I'll be slowly putting it up every week. Part three yayyy we get to meet Malon hehe! Sorry its a bit short, I actually need to edit some parts so there's extra work to do but here we goooo

Start here!

Malon and Link’s house is adorable, it’s the cutest little place tucked away in a farm, looking over the forest and rest of castle town. Just stepping underneath the expanse of the blue sky makes me want to live here.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so jealous of your house!” I can’t contain my excitement, wrapping my hands together. A few moments later the door opens, and a beautiful woman steps out, Time is smiling, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this happy. She reaches her arms around him, both melting into each other. I can’t help admiring them, tilting my head at the endearing look they share. My gaze falls towards Wild for a moment, raising a slight brow in mockery and nudges my arm.

“I can’t lie, their adorable.” I say, echoing the sentiment everyone else is probably feeling. Most of us are staring in pure admiration, watching them pull away. Time places a soft kiss against Malon's head.

“It feels like forever,” she says, letting go then stares at the rest of us, a hand against her hip before landing her eyes on me.

“Oh! I you must be y/n," Link wrote about you so much to me, come in the rest of you.” I look towards Link, finally this time the old man actually smiles at me, to my relief. I almost let out an audible sigh.

“Told you he was fine.” Wild whispered. I roll my eyes, continuing inside as they lead us into their home. It’s so cozy, and there’s already a whole table full of food set up for us. For a long moment we just let them be, sitting around as we all hungrily stare at the plates. Neither of us reaching for food, striving to be polite. Wild pouts, and Legend reaches his hand out before Sky swats his arm.

“Not yet! Can’t you just be a little patient?” it all makes us laugh, but then my stomach cramps. Hungrily.

“Oh! You guys can all eat, what are you waiting for? We’ll be there in a moment.” Her eyes are still on Time’s, it’s almost like he’s forgotten the rest of us exist. I can’t blame him really, but I still keep looking towards them.

Perfect, their so perfect together.

Again I catch Wild glancing towards me, a smirk growing on his face until I snap out of it, realising their all looking at me. A blush spreads across my face, embarrassed.

“What’s up with you? Daydreaming about having a life like that?” I kick Wild’s leg, a few others noticing, like Twilight.

“Ew, no? what on earth.” I stutter, not coming out the way I intended at all.

“Isn’t it what everyone wants? It’s cool to explore the world but at the end of the day something like this is peaceful…well having someone.” Sky says, hand against his cheek. I keep my face non chalant, but it’s true. And knowing I may not ever get it, really stings.

"that’s so lame.” Legend rolls his eyes, but the others are quiet.

“It definitely warrants that, and who are you lying too? We know how much you miss-“ Sky gives Warriors a cautionary glance, softening his expression as Legend looks genuinely hurt. I’m still quiet, staring below at the floors.

For the rest of the evening Malon kindly asks us questions, about where we’re from. And me, which is a little hard to explain granted I sort of jumped through a well and ended up here.

“Do you think you’ll stay?” she poses the question casually, and everyone looks at me.

“Aha well…I don’t really know yet. It would be nice to stay, but then everyone else will have to go back home at some point, and I suppose my home isn’t really here.” The realisation hurts, and suddenly I don’t have a huge appetite anymore. Time looks at me sympathetically, and Wild also softens, knowing how I truly feel about Twilight right now. He may already have someone in mind anyway right? Best to keep expectations low.

“Whew! I’m kind of full, I think I’ll go for a walk. Would it be okay if I walk?” I push my plate forward, clearing my throat. The tension is making my face heat.

“Oh of course, just don’t wander too far. I’d hate for you to run into a monster at this time.” Time almost looks traumatised just as before, but Wild chips in once again.

“I can come!” I look at him, surprised, but suppose it would be good to talk. He’s really the only one I can sort of confide in right now.

“Sure.”

It’s cold, really cold around here that’s worse than the camp night. I’m shivering, pulling my sleeves while looking up at the moon, remembering that story Time told us about how it had almost fallen and crushed the entire world. It still feels like a silly fable, but then again this whole chance to be in Hyrule is pretty unbelievable.

“So that’s the moon in question? It looks friendly.” Wild says, staring up at while removing his cape, placing it over my shoulders. I freeze, holding onto the end then glance towards him, holding onto the fabric. It carries the scent of peppermint and wood, all the adventures he told us around the fire lingering in this fabric.

“What- aren’t you cold?” I say, letting my hand down. He puffs out his chest, albeit very much freezing and not doing a good job of hiding it.

“I’ve braved snow capped mountains in this tunic, this is nothing.” His teeth chatter, but I giggle.

“Alright, if you’re sure, hero. Also, the moon looks like cheese to me.”

“Cheese?”

“See the craters?”

“Well if I look too long I’m afraid it might start to resemble a face. Do you think the old man was serious about the moon falling?” I give him an incredulous look.

“Do I? at this point anything is possible for me.”

“Oh…right. I mean in my world it turned red. A very, aggressive and blood sort of red. Then at exactly midnight all the creatures and monsters I slayed came back to life." He narrates his story again, walking through the fields while I listen intently watching his eyes colour with intensity.

Once we're closer to the edge of a hill, We come to a stop, overlooking the town square, quiet at this time with a few fires flickering distantly. My stomach churns, the lingering realisation becoming more prominent each day that all this will fade. Wild stops talking, facing me.

“Wait sorry- I forgot about your world-“ he says quietly, "Tell me about it!" I'd been pushing away any thoughts about home, even though I'd come from there, part of me never felt like I'd belonged.

"Nothing too interesting to talk about, really." His expression fades, curiousity dimming. "Really? I thought you were a writer though, I'm sure you've got some stories to share." They weren't worth speaking about here, I'd told them about my journals, all the books I'd read but to tell them something from my life still felt like a raw wound. Stories were best shared as scars, but mine hadn't quite healed yet.

"Umm, I don't really want to, sorry." I mumble, but he smiles again.

"Oh well, but I'm going to hold you to it. You owe me!"

[joelsrose]

Good Neighbours: Chapter 1

NEW SERIES!!! i know yall are still waiting for the next chapter of guns and roses its still in the worksss

no warnings, slow burn - reader is 24, joel is in his mid 40s

The apartment was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that presses heavy against your chest. The space that had once been your sanctuary now feels cold and lifeless, stripped of everything that made it yours.

Boxes are stacked against the walls, their edges frayed from too much tape and too little care. The bare floors creak under your steps, each sound echoing like a reminder of how empty this place has become. Your eyes linger on the window by the fire escape, the view of the city you used to love now feeling distant, like it belongs to someone else entirely.

Chicago had been your dream. The bustling streets, the never-ending noise, the late nights at cramped bars with friends, and the early mornings at the publishing house, fueled by coffee and ambition. It was everything you’d wanted—until it wasn’t.

Your life here didn’t fall apart all at once; it unraveled slowly, piece by piece. The first crack was the breakup, a betrayal that still feels like a sucker punch every time you think about it. Three years with someone who looked you in the eye and lied. Someone who had the audacity to cheat on you with your ex-best friend.

That revelation shattered something deep inside you, leaving a hollow ache you couldn’t quite fill. You cried for weeks, the kind of crying that leaves your chest raw and your pillow soaked, until eventually, even your tears gave up. When that ended, it took more than just your relationship—it took the version of yourself who believed in happy endings.

Then came the job. Or rather, the lack of it. Months of feeling distracted and unsteady after the breakup led to a mistake on a project too big to recover from. You were let go with a sympathetic smile and a box of your things, the kind of professional pity that only makes the sting worse. With no savings to fall back on and no one to catch you, you were forced to face the one option you had left: starting over. Somewhere far away from all of this.

That’s how you ended up on the phone with Uncle Ray, the one steady, no-nonsense presence in your life. When he offered you a place to stay in Texas, you hesitated at first—what did you know about small towns, about fixing cars and country music and people who knew your name before you even introduced yourself?

But you didn’t have much of a choice. A fresh start sounded like the only thing that might save you from drowning in everything you’d lost.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

You stood outside the airport, feeling entirely out of place as sweat clung to your skin. You hadn’t expected it to be this hot, the kind of heat that seemed to cling to you, making the air feel heavier.

Tugging at the hem of your shirt, you scrolled through your phone mindlessly, the notifications blurring together as you tried to distract yourself from the awkwardness of waiting. Then, you heard it—a low rumble that grew louder with every second, the unmistakable sound of a truck’s engine.

Looking up, you spotted it, an old Ford pickup that had seen better days but still rumbled along with purpose. Uncle Ray was behind the wheel, his grin wide as he pulled up to the curb. He climbed out, his arms open as he approached you.

"Hey, kiddo," he greeted warmly, pulling you into a hug that smelled faintly of motor oil and aftershave. He felt solid, familiar, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to relax into it.

"Hey," you returned, your voice softer than you intended.

"You ready to head home?" he asked, leaning back to give you an appraising look.

Home. The word felt foreign, strange on your tongue, but you nodded anyway, forcing a small smile. "Yeah, I’m ready."

The truck’s interior was worn and weathered, the seats cracked in places—a surprising sight considering Uncle Ray was a mechanic. Yet, it carried a charm all its own, a lived-in feel that spoke of countless miles and stories etched into every scuff and tear. As you settled in, pressing your back against the sun-warmed vinyl, Uncle Ray climbed in beside you, his fingers deftly adjusting the stubborn air conditioner until it rattled to life with a sigh.

The scenery outside was nothing like Chicago. Gone were the towering buildings and chaotic traffic, replaced by open stretches of land that seemed to go on forever. Fields of green, the occasional barn, and roads that seemed to shimmer under the weight of the heat. The town came into view slowly, a scattering of small businesses, a diner with a flickering neon sign, and houses spaced far enough apart to feel lonely.

You thought about the last time you’d seen Uncle Ray. Years ago, he’d taken you fishing on one of his rare visits up north. He’d been the same then—chill, a little chubby, always ready with a story that had you laughing until your stomach hurt.

"You holding up okay?" he asked, his eyes darting to you briefly as the truck slowed to take a turn.

"Yeah," you lied, your voice barely above a whisper.

When you finally reached his neighborhood, you leaned forward, taking it all in. The houses were modest but well-kept, each with a wide porch and a patch of green that looked as though it had been freshly mowed. Kids played on the sidewalks, their laughter echoing in the warm air. It was the kind of neighborhood where people probably knew everyone’s name and said hello every morning.

Uncle Ray pulled into the driveway of a double-story house with faded blue shutters and a swing on the front porch. The lawn was dotted with a few wildflowers.

"Here we are," Uncle Ray announced, cutting the engine. "Home sweet home."

You stepped out of the truck, the scent of freshly cut grass and something sweet—maybe honeysuckle—filling the air.

As you reached for the first overstuffed suitcase, your gaze drifted to the houses next door. Neatly trimmed lawns, colorful flowers in hanging baskets, and wide porches with rocking chairs. It was idyllic, picturesque even—a world away from Chicago's cramped apartments and noisy streets.

Your new neighbors.

It was strange being back in suburbia, where people probably waved over fences and borrowed sugar like a scene straight out of an old movie. In Chicago, you hardly saw the people next to you.

Sure, you’d hear them: the clattering of keys as they stumbled in after a late night, the thud of their running shoes as they left for an early workout. But no one lingered for niceties or exchanged cheerful "good mornings" like they probably did here.

You were lost in your thoughts, trying to reconcile this new reality, when you heard a low chuckle from the front of the truck. Uncle Ray was leaning against the hood, talking animatedly to someone.

His laughter carried easily in the warm, sticky air, a sound you’d always found comforting. Curious, you craned your neck, trying to catch a glimpse of who he was talking to.

That’s when you saw him.

He stood tall, broad shoulders casting a shadow that stretched over the gravel driveway. His hands rested on his hips in a way that made him look like he owned the space around him, completely at ease. He wore a plain t-shirt, faded from too many washes, stretched just enough to hint at the strength beneath.

His jeans hung low on his hips, worn at the knees, and scuffed boots completed the look. He wasn’t trying—God, he wasn’t even trying—but the way he carried himself made it hard to look away.

He had to be in his mid-40s, the faintest streaks of silver catching in his dark hair, but that only made him more handsome. Ruggedly so, in a way that felt deeply unfair.

"There she is," Uncle Ray called, catching you staring. He waved you forward, his grin wide. "C’mere, kiddo. Meet our neighbor."

Reluctantly, you abandoned your luggage and crossed the driveway. Every step felt heavier under Joel’s gaze—or Mr. Miller, as Uncle Ray had introduced him—but when you got closer, you noticed his eyes. Warm, earthy brown and piercing all at once, like he could see straight through you.

"This is my niece," Uncle Ray said, clapping a hand on your shoulder. "She’s staying with me for a little while. And this here," he motioned toward the man, "is Mr. Miller. Lives right next door."

"Nice to meet you, darlin’," Joel said, his voice low and smooth, with a Southern drawl that seemed to settle into your bones.

Oh, right. The pet names. Sweetheart, honey, darlin’—you’d heard them at least fifteen times since your plane landed, each one dripping with charm. But coming from him, as his hand reached out to envelop yours in a firm, calloused grip, it felt different. Better. You liked it more than you cared to admit.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Miller," you replied, your voice softer than you intended. His hand was rough and large, making yours feel almost laughably small.

He shook his head, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. "Call me Joel, please. Mr. Miller makes me feel like I oughta be signing up for a retirement home."

You couldn’t help it; you laughed. A genuine laugh that bubbled out before you could stop it. He smiled at that, a small, almost imperceptible curve of his lips, but it was there. You noticed.

Uncle Ray, ever the social one, leaned in conspiratorially, a sly grin on his face. "Hey, Joel, how’s Sarah? She’s what—23 now? Same age as this one," he added, nudging you lightly with his elbow, as if you were part of some inside joke you hadn’t been let in on.

"I'm 24," you said, the words slipping out before you could stop yourself. For some reason, you thought it might make you sound more mature in front of the very much older man standing before you. Immediately, you regretted it—like he needed to know or cared about the one-year gap.

"Same difference," Uncle Ray said with a wave of his hand, completely unbothered.

But Joel raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement passing through his dark eyes.

"She’s good," Joel said, "Working over at the diner, keeping herself busy."

You must have furrowed your brows because Joel caught it immediately. "Sarah’s my daughter," he said, clarifying before you had to ask.

"Oh," you said, feeling a little silly.

Of course, he had a family. He probably had a wife, too. Your gaze drifted toward his house, half-expecting to see her step outside—a vision of blonde hair and a warm, effortless smile. The kind of woman who bakes cookies from scratch, smells like vanilla and sunshine, and waves cheerfully to the neighbors. Maybe there was even a golden retriever named Benji, lounging inside on the couch, completing the perfect picture.

"I’d love to meet her," you offered, trying to mask the pang of disappointment you didn’t fully understand. "I don’t really know anyone here yet."

Plus, my ex-best friend kinda betrayed me by sleeping with my boyfriend, so I could really use some new friends, you thought bitterly, the memory flaring for a moment before you shoved it back down.

"Course, she'd love that" Joel replied easily, his tone warm. "Y’all are coming over tomorrow for the barbecue, right?"

"Course," Uncle Ray said, already moving toward the house as his phone buzzed loudly in his pocket. "Wouldn’t miss it. Joel makes the best ribs in town," he called over his shoulder with a quick smile.

Then his expression shifted as he glanced at the screen. "Sorry, it’s work—I gotta take this," he muttered, answering the call with a distracted wave before disappearing inside.

And just like that, it was just you and Joel.

You stood there, awkward and unsure, while he seemed entirely at ease, hands still resting on his hips. He had a way about him—calm, confident, charismatic.

"You need help with your bags?" he asked, tilting his head toward the suitcases you’d abandoned.

"Oh," you blinked, realizing you’d completely forgotten about them. "No, I should be fine."

Joel’s gaze shifted to the two enormous suitcases that were clearly over the weight limit, and he raised a brow, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was holding back a laugh. "You sure about that?"

Before you could protest, he was already moving, lifting one suitcase with ease and hoisting it into his arms like it weighed nothing. You couldn’t help but notice the way his bicep flexed, the fabric of his t-shirt pulling taut as he carried the weight effortlessly. It was distracting, the kind of subtle strength that you knew he wasn’t showing off—it was just there, in every deliberate movement.

"You pack bricks in here or somethin’?" he asked, his tone light and teasing, as he glanced back over his shoulder. That faint smirk tugged at his lips, like he’d caught you in the act of staring, though he didn’t say it outright.

Your cheeks burned instantly. "No, I just—uh, I guess I overpacked," you stammered, trying and failing to sound unaffected.

He chuckled, low and warm, shaking his head as he grabbed the second suitcase, hefting it just as effortlessly as the first. "Just teasin' darlin" he said simply, his voice steady, but something about the way he said it—calm and self-assured—left your stomach fluttering.

This was going to be a problem.

Your cheeks burned, and you hoped the heat of the day would mask the blush creeping across your face. "Thanks," you mumbled, biting back a smile.

He carried the second suitcase up the porch and set it down with a satisfied nod. "There. Easy enough." He turned back to you, his gaze holding yours for a second longer than necessary.

"Well," he said, his voice low and steady, "Welcome to Texas." Your name rolled off his tongue in that unmistakable drawl, each syllable slow and deliberate, like he was tasting it.

It settled in the air between you, making your knees feel just a little weaker, your chest tightening in a way that you refused to acknowledge.

You swore he gave you a once-over before he strode back toward his house, his boots crunching against the gravel. Just before he reached his door, he glanced over his shoulder and tipped his head.

"See you tomorrow," he said, and then he was gone, leaving you standing there with your heart doing something entirely inconvenient in your chest.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

After dinner—a greasy but satisfying burger and fries from the local diner—you finally settled into your room. It was modest, with a bed tucked into the corner and walls painted a soft beige. A worn wooden dresser sat against one wall, and the faint scent of lavender lingered in the air from a small sachet tucked into the bedside drawer. It wasn’t much, but it was cozy enough.

What caught your attention, though, was the window. It faced the backyard, and as you peered out, you realized it looked straight into Joel’s. The same backyard you’d be standing in tomorrow night for the barbecue.

The space was neat, with a patio table and chairs under a faded umbrella, a small grill parked in the corner, and string lights dangling above. You could imagine it already—laughter, the smoky scent of ribs, and Joel moving easily through it all, a beer in hand and that rugged smile.

Shaking off the thought, you flopped back onto the bed, the mattress letting out a soft creak under your weight. With your phone in your hand you unlocked the screen and hesitated for a moment. Your fingers opened Instagram hovering over the search bar before typing: J-o-e-l M-i-l-l-e-r.

You weren’t a stalker—you told yourself that twice as you pressed search. You just wanted to know more about him. Maybe seeing his wife, his family, would yank your head out of the ridiculous fantasies that had started creeping in since the moment he’d carried your suitcase like it weighed nothing.

Nothing.

The results came up empty, just a scattering of people who were very obviously not the Joel Miller you were looking for. You sighed, biting your lip, and switched apps.

Facebook. He was older—he probably wasn’t on Instagram anyway.

Jackpot. There it was—a profile with a photo that looked like it had been taken years ago. Joel stood with a much younger girl, who you assumed was Sarah, all teeth and curly hair, her arms flung around his neck as he smiled faintly at the camera. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight. It was sweet—simple. A glimpse of him you hadn’t expected.

You scrolled further, the glow of the screen lighting up your face in the dim room. There were more photos: Joel and Sarah on vacation by a lake, Joel in construction gear with a hard hat tucked under one arm, Joel standing next to what looked like an old truck, his hand resting on Sarah’s shoulder as she beamed up at him.

But there was no wife. No wedding photos, no anniversary posts, nothing to suggest she existed. Huh, you thought to yourself, your brow furrowing slightly.

You locked your phone and tossed it onto the bed beside you, staring up at the ceiling. Maybe it didn’t mean anything. Maybe he was just private, or maybe…

You tried to push the thought from your mind, but it lingered, the possibilities swirling in your head far longer than you wanted to admit.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

"You ready, kid?" Uncle Ray’s voice boomed from downstairs.

"Yeah, just one sec!" you called back, turning to the mirror one last time. You smoothed your hands over the fabric of the white halter dress you’d chosen, the hem brushing mid-thigh. It was simple, breezy—perfect for the Texas heat—but there was a part of you that wanted to look good. Not over the top, but enough to feel confident. Enough to catch someone’s attention.

As you descended the stairs, Uncle Ray was balancing a platter of meat and a case of beers, muttering something about forgetting the tongs.

"I’ll take these," you offered, grabbing the beers from him before he could protest.

"Thanks, kid," he said with a grateful smile.

The short walk to Joel’s house felt longer than it should have, anticipation bubbling under your skin. You weren’t sure why you were nervous. Maybe it was the thought of finally seeing inside Joel’s house, the place he lived.

Maybe even meeting his wife. If he has one, a voice in your head whispered, though you tried to ignore it.

Uncle Ray knocked on the door, the sound heavy against the wood. Moments later, Joel’s unmistakable voice called, "Comin’!"

When the door opened, your breath caught in your throat.

If it was possible for him to look even better than yesterday, somehow, he managed it. His hair was slightly tousled, damp at the edges, and there was a sheen of sweat glistening on his tanned skin—no doubt from working outside at the barbecue. He wore a faded gray t-shirt that clung just enough to hint at the strength beneath and a pair of jeans.

Your gaze lingered a second too long, and as if sensing it, his eyes flicked to yours, a small smirk tugging at his lips. You swallowed subconsciously, the motion betraying you. He noticed.

"Ray," Joel greeted warmly, clapping your uncle on the back. "Just through there to the kitchen," he said, nodding toward the hallway for the meat Uncle Ray was carrying.

"Got it," your uncle replied, brushing past him and leaving you standing awkwardly in the doorway, the beers still in your hands.

Why did you feel so out of place? Why were you so... flustered?

"Hey, sweetheart," Joel said, his voice dropping into that low, his arm leaning against the doorframe, his familiar drawl sending warmth cascading through you. He motioned to the beers in your arms. "These for me?"

It took you a second to process what he meant. "The beers?" you asked, dumbly, earning a quiet chuckle from him.

"Yeah," he said, amused, his lips curving into a faint grin. "The beers."

"Oh. Yeah," you said quickly, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

"Here, I’ll take ’em off your hands," he offered, stepping closer. As his fingers brushed yours, a spark zipped through you, quick and unbidden. You glanced up, catching his eyes just as they shifted—flickering down for the briefest moment.

That’s when you realized where he was looking. You followed his gaze instinctively, and your heart stuttered. The condensation from the beers had soaked into your dress, dampening the fabric over your chest. You could see the faint outline of your pink lace bra through the thin material.

Joel murmured something under his breath, so quiet you couldn’t make it out. His jaw tightened as his gaze snapped back to your face, his expression carefully neutral.

Your cheeks burned, your entire body flushing a deep crimson. But Joel—ever the gentleman—pretended not to notice. His eyes didn’t stray, not once. Instead, he made steady eye contact, his tone smooth and unaffected as he said, "Hey, come on in. You can meet Sarah. I’ll introduce you two."

He stepped back, holding the door open wider for you to enter. His voice remained calm, his movements composed, but there was a tension in his posture, a stiffness that hadn’t been there before.

You ducked your head, mumbling a quiet "thanks" as you stepped inside, the air-conditioned coolness of his house brushing against your overheated skin.

Joel’s voice followed you, steady but quieter now. "She’s out back helpin’ with the food. You’ll like her."

You nodded, trying to focus on anything other than the fact that Joel Miller had just seen far more of you than you’d intended—and that the way he handled it, with his quiet restraint and piercing eyes, somehow made it even worse. Or maybe better. You weren’t sure anymore.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ Sarah was incredible—her energy was infectious, the way her eyes lit up when she spoke made you feel like you’d known her for years. She had Joel's kind eyes and smile. Conversation flowed easily, laughter punctuating every other sentence as you sat in the shade of the patio, the warm buzz of music and mingling voices filling the air.

"So, you moved from Chicago?" Sarah asked, taking a sip of her beer, her head tilted curiously. You nodded, but before you could answer, she grinned. "What gives? I’d do anything to get out of Texas, but I think my dad would have a heart attack if I tried."

You laughed softly at her playful tone, but inside, your heart clenched, the real reason for your move bubbling to the surface. The betrayal of the two people you had trusted most in the world—your boyfriend and your best friend—still stung like an open wound. For a moment, you thought about answering with one of the rehearsed lies you’d been telling people since it happened. Something casual, vague, easy.

But there was something in Sarah’s eyes—kindness that felt so effortless, so genuine—that made you hesitate. She wasn’t prying; she just seemed... safe. Your lip caught between your teeth as you glanced down, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

"Well, uh, my boyfriend cheated on me," you said quietly, the weight of it easing slightly as you said it aloud. Sarah’s eyes widened, but before she could respond, you added, "With my best friend."

Her gasp was immediate, her beer nearly slipping from her hand as she leaned forward. "Oh my God. Are you serious? What fucking assholes!" she said, her voice sharp with indignation.

You managed a small, sad smile. "Yeah. So, uh, here I am, trying to figure out what to do with my life. Honestly, I don’t have a clue."

Sarah’s expression softened, and without hesitation, she reached over to rub your shoulder, her touch warm and comforting. "Hey," she said firmly, "they’re both idiots for doing anything that got you out of their lives. I’ve known you for, like, an hour, and I can already tell how stupid that was."

Her words hit you harder than you expected, a warmth spreading in your chest as the corners of your mouth lifted into a genuine smile. "You’re too sweet," you murmured, your voice soft but sincere.

"I’m serious," she insisted, her eyes narrowing slightly as if daring you to argue. "If they couldn’t see what they had, that’s on them, not you."

For the first time in a while, you felt something shift—just a little—a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, you were in the right place to start over. "Thanks, Sarah," you said, meaning every word.

"Anytime," she said, raising her beer with a grin. "And hey, if you need someone to curse them out over the phone, just say the word. I’m really good at it."

You laughed, a sound that felt lighter than it had in months. "I’ll keep that in mind."

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

You sat by yourself now, nursing a drink as you watched the scene unfold around you. Sarah had disappeared into the kitchen to help with something, leaving you to take in the warm buzz of conversation and laughter that filled the air.

People were scattered in groups, mingling, sharing stories, and you couldn’t help but smile at how… nice it all felt. Like being part of a community, even if only for a little while.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed by you—the absence of a partner in Joel’s life. No photos, no affectionate glances exchanged with a woman across the yard, no lady hanging off his arm.

You’d been looking, admittedly more than you should have. And you’d noticed another thing, too: his left hand. Bare. No wedding ring, no tell-tale tan line suggesting one had been there recently.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed movement, and when you glanced up, Joel was walking toward you, his figure outlined by the afternoon sun. One hand lifted to shield his eyes from the glare as he stopped in front of you, his expression as unreadable as ever.

"Hey," he said, his voice low but carrying easily over the noise around you.

"Hey," you replied, sitting up a little straighter.

"You havin’ fun?" he asked, his tone casual but his gaze steady, like he genuinely wanted to know.

"Yeah," you said, nodding. "Sarah’s the best. She’s been really great."

His lips twitched into a grin, one of those subtle ones that made you feel like you’d earned it. "I figured you two would hit it off."

There was a brief pause, a flicker of something in his eyes as he seemed to consider his next words. Finally, he nodded toward the grill. "Hey, you, uh… wanna help me out with the grill?"

"Oh," you said, caught off guard but smiling nonetheless. "Yeah, sure." You stood quickly, brushing your hands on your dress. "I don’t know how much help I’ll be, though."

"That’s alright," he said, already turning to walk back to the grill, his voice carrying a hint of teasing warmth. "I’ll teach ya."

You followed him, the scent of charcoal and smoked meat growing stronger as you approached. When you reached the grill, Joel handed you a pair of tongs, his fingers brushing yours briefly as he did.

"Alright," he said, stepping beside you, his shoulder close enough to brush yours if either of you moved even a little. "First rule: don’t flip ’em too much. Just let ’em sit there for a bit. You flip too early, you lose all the good stuff."

You nodded, gripping the tongs tightly. "Got it. No premature flipping."

He chuckled at that, low and warm. "Exactly." He reached over, his hand lightly covering yours to guide the tongs. "Here, like this. Just slide it under real careful, and then—" He helped you flip one of the ribs, his movements steady, deliberate, his voice low in your ear.

"See? Easy," he said, stepping back but not too far, his hand lingering on the edge of the grill.

"Sure, when you’re helping," you replied with a small laugh, turning to glance up at him.

"You’ll get the hang of it," he said, his eyes meeting yours for just a beat longer than necessary before he looked back at the grill. "Soon enough, you’ll be the one teachin’ me."

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "I don’t think I’ll ever reach your level of grill mastery."

"Mastery, huh?" he teased, his grin widening slightly. "You’re just sayin’ that ’cause you’re tryin’ to get on my good side."

"Didn’t realize you had a bad side," you said before you could stop yourself, the words slipping out light and teasing.

Your heart skipped a beat as you realized how they sounded.

This was so not you—flirting? With Joel? .You immediately regretted it, your stomach twisting as you replayed the words in your head. You made it weird, you thought, biting the inside of your cheek. He probably thinks you’re a freak.

Joel’s eyes flicked back to yours, his grin softening into something quieter, almost contemplative. Then, as his gaze lingered, something shifted—something darker, deeper that wasn’t there before. His eyes traveled, not overtly, but enough to make you feel the heat of his attention, before they settled back on yours, steady and unreadable.

"Guess you’ll have to wait and see," he murmured, his voice low and rough, the kind of tone that felt like it carried a secret meant only for you. It was so quiet, so deliberate, that if the laughter and hum of conversation around you had been any louder, you might have missed it entirely.

Your breath caught for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty threading through your thoughts. Was he—? No, he couldn’t be. Could he? The weight of his gaze, the subtle shift in his demeanor, it all felt different now. Like the casual, teasing banter had taken a step into something else—something charged.

You blinked, trying to shake the thought as your heart gave a traitorous thump against your ribs. Joel’s expression shifted back to something lighter, the corner of his mouth tugging into a small, almost amused smile, as if he knew exactly what you were thinking.

Before you could say anything—ask, deflect, do something—Sarah’s voice called from the patio, pulling both of your gazes away. And just like that, the moment dissolved, leaving you standing there, wondering if you’d imagined the whole thing.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

The rest of the evening unfolded like a whirlwind. Sarah had pulled you into the fold of her hometown friends, introducing you to a group of easygoing, lively people who made you feel like you’d known them for years.

They shared stories of growing up in the small town, teasing one another in a way only lifelong friends could, and you found yourself laughing more than you had in weeks. It was lovely, and for a while, you let yourself forget everything that had driven you here.

You hadn’t seen Joel. Not since your brief moment at the grill. Uncle Ray had left earlier, muttering something about an emergency at the shop—a customer with car trouble that couldn’t wait until morning. He’d pressed the extra house key into your hand before he left, telling you to stay as long as you liked.

But now it was late, and most of the guests had filtered out. The once-lively backyard was quieter, the string lights casting soft, golden halos over the empty tables and half-finished drinks. You hugged Sarah goodbye at the door, a plate of leftovers in your hand that she’d practically begged you to take.

"Seriously, come over anytime," she said, squeezing you tightly. "It was so nice meeting you."

"You too," you replied, genuinely meaning it as you hugged her back.

As you pulled away, you glanced around one last time, hoping to spot Joel, but he was nowhere to be seen. You shifted the plate in your hand and opened the door, stepping out into the cooler night air. The distant chirp of crickets filled the quiet, and you felt the weight of the day settling into your shoulders.

"Leavin’ without sayin’ goodbye?" a familiar voice drawled, stopping you mid-step.

You turned sharply, startled, to see Joel leaning casually against the doorway, arms crossed and his gaze fixed on you. His shirt sleeves were rolled up slightly, and his hair was mussed like he’d run a hand through it more than once. The soft glow of the porch light caught the sharp line of his jaw as he tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

"What, I work you too hard?" he teased, his voice low and laced with that easy humor that made your stomach flutter.

You let out a surprised laugh, adjusting the plate in your hand. "I didn’t know where you went," you said, feeling suddenly self-conscious under the weight of his gaze.

"Had to clean up a bit," he replied, straightening from the doorframe. "Didn’t think you’d sneak out on me, though."

"I wasn’t sneaking," you countered, smiling despite yourself.

Joel’s smirk widened slightly, his eyes catching yours in a way that made your pulse skip. "Good," he said simply, stepping closer until he was just a little too near, the space between you shrinking in a way that felt intentional. He glanced at the plate in your hand. "Sarah guilt you into takin’ that?"

"Of course," you said with a small laugh. "I didn’t stand a chance."

He chuckled softly, the sound low and warm, before his gaze flicked back to yours. For a moment, neither of you moved, the quiet night wrapping around you like a cocoon. His expression softened, the teasing edge fading just slightly as he said, "Glad you came, though."

The way he said it—low, steady, and deliberate—made something in your chest tighten. You nodded, your voice quieter now. "Me too."

You turned toward the driveway, ready to head home, when Joel cleared his throat behind you. "I’ll, uh, walk you home," he said, his voice calm but steady enough to make you stop in your tracks.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Joel, it’s like three steps," you pointed out, gesturing toward your house practically next door.

"I know," he replied, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. "But here in Texas, us gentlemen protect our ladies."

Our ladies. The words hung in the air, heavier than they should have been, and you felt a sudden warmth rush to your cheeks. You knew he didn’t mean it like that—not like you were his—but still the idea made your stomach flip all the same.

"Okay," you murmured, the word barely audible as you started walking, Joel falling into step beside you.

You both walked slowly, the kind of unhurried pace that almost felt like stalling. Joel’s hands were stuffed deep into his pockets, his gaze flicking around the quiet neighborhood before landing back on you.

"So," he said, his voice easy but laced with curiosity, "how long you here for?"

You sighed softly, your fingers brushing the plate of leftovers Sarah had given you as you considered your answer. "I don’t know," you admitted, glancing at him briefly. "I’m here until I figure my shit out, pretty much."

Joel nodded, his expression thoughtful. The light from your porch illuminated the edges of his profile as he turned toward your house, his next words slipping out low and steady. "Well," he said, "let’s hope that takes a while, then."

Your breath hitched, his words landing like a soft knock against your chest. He said it so easily, so casually, but something about the way his voice dipped made it impossible to ignore. You felt the blush creeping up your neck, and for a moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

Joel stopped just short of following you up, rocking back slightly on his heels. He looked at you then, really looked at you, and the warmth in his gaze sent your heart into a full sprint.

"Good night," he said, his voice softer now, before turning on his heels. He walked away slowly, his hands still in his pockets, and you couldn’t help but watch him until he disappeared into the shadows of his own porch.

You stood there for a moment, breathless and still, your mind replaying his words on a loop. The weight of them lingered, warm and undeniable, leaving you leaning against your door long after the night had fully settled around you.

Tag List:

@pedritospunk @ickearmn

[dreaminrainbows]

Happy 28th appreciation day loves! Hope y'all are taking care of yourselves, that this winter treats you well and you have amazing holidays! Here are all the amazing fics that got me through this month! Don't shy away from leaving comments and kudos!!

cut your teeth on my heart by turnyourankle/@turnyourankle | [94.6k]

Louis has worked as a security officer for years, but he's handed his first opportunity to be team lead. The assignment is nothing like what he expected. Harry has spent years trying to distance himself from the pressure of the Twist name and legacy. But it's going to be hard to avoid when his mum hires him a bodyguard.

Porcupine by sweetkalachuchi/@neverforpickles | [82.2k]

Louis, a broke omega librarian, finds his quiet life in Vienna turned upside down when he meets a charming four-year-old boy named Venus, who insists that Louis is his "Mama." When Venus's father, Harry—a powerful and dangerous mafia leader—offers Louis a lucrative job as the boy's full-time nanny, Louis steps into a world where love and danger are deeply intertwined. As Louis grows closer to Harry and Venus, he discovers the perilous secrets of Harry's underworld life. Their unexpected connection sparks a passionate romance, but with Harry's enemies closing in, Louis must navigate a treacherous path where his heart and life are at risk. This is a thrilling tale of love, danger, and the irresistible pull of two souls drawn together against all odds.

Don't Want Shelter by kingsofeverything/@kingsofeverything | [76.6k]

Louis and Harry have known each other all their lives. Friends as children, they danced around each other as teenagers, and have spent the last twenty-five years either screaming at each other or not speaking at all. Except for that one time ten years ago… When Hurricane Nicole threatens the coast, they end up stuck together in their families' old vacation home that they begrudgingly co-own. During the storm, and in the months after, they’re both forced to reevaluate their history and what they mean to each other.

if we were butterflies by blueskiesrry/ @blueskiesrry | [52.6k]

“Is this how I used to look at you?” His hand hovers just over the collarbone of the sculpture, like he’s caught between wanting to touch and wanting to pull away, wanting to leave and wanting to stay. Eyes stuck on Harry, unaware of anything else in the room, Louis whispers, “Something like that,” wondering now if he ever quite did it justice. or: after recruiting harry to model for his sculptures and coming to know all his edges, louis loses him to a life more prosperous than he can provide. he finds harry again four years later.

Tied to Fate  by littlelouishiccups/ @littlelouishiccups | [52.3k]

After his estranged father’s death, Harry inherits a castle in England that has belonged to his family for generations and he knows nothing about. When he breaks up with his boyfriend, Harry decides England is the perfect place for a small vacation. He isn’t prepared to meet Louis Tomlinson, a ghost who once lived in the castle and has haunted it for over five hundred years. He’s even more unprepared to fall in love with him.

Something in the way by momentofclarity/@gaycousinlarry | [40.4k]

Then he looks up and is met by the greenest eyes on this side of the state border. Harry Styles grins wildly at him, dimple deep in his cheek as his eyes sparkle. Hope Floats 90’s AU. When Louis Tomlinson finds out his wife is cheating on him with his best friend, he packs up his life and takes his daughter back to his childhood hometown to start anew. The problem is—he’s not so sure he’s moving forwards rather than backwards. What he finds in the small Texas town is a whole lot of memories, people who think they still know him and a man who’s spent the past decade waiting for his return.

MARRIED FOR A WEEK?!  by gravitycentered/ @zaptains | [20.4k]

Hi guys :) You might recognize Harry from one or two of my old videos .. I was tagged in the Married for a week challenge so I asked him to be my husband ! We had to live together for a week and take each other out on a couple romantic dates and that, check out the video to see how it went :) Give it a like if you enjoyed and maybe subscribe if you haven't already. Love you all - Louis x

There's No Mate Better Than Womb-Mates  by jaerie/@jaerie | [13k]

On the last day of school, Louis decides losing his virginity to one of his high school crushes. The next day, he sleeps with his crush's twin brother. When Louis learns he's pregnant and loses his scholarship, he finds himself shamed and completely alone in the world. He turns to OnlyFans to pay the bills.

Sex Drunk Suckerpunch by thinlines/@thinlinez | [7k]

“Damn, Tommo, hit the jackpot this time? Which old bird or geezer gifted you that? Is it that mad bloke Cowell? Fuck! Did you give him a good dicking?” Louis’ face twisted in disgust as he shoved Niall off. “Don’t say shit like that. Fucking gross.” He shook his head, shuddering at the thought. “Well? Who is it? Who’s willing to spend that much on you?” Louis had to hightail into his room and lock the door to avoid Niall’s insistent questions. He sank down on his bed, carefully putting the Rolex back onto its cushion before noticing a folded note underneath the padding. Hello Louis, I’ve heard from Helene about you. Please contact me when you get this. All the love, H. “H?” Louis pushed back his long fringe. OR Sugar Baby Louis did what any sugar baby should avoid doing but (clichely) end up doing anyways, that is, failing for his sugar mama.

'Sup by MediaWhore/@mediawhorefics | [6k]

Gemma really wants her little brother to sign up for a dating app and get back in the game after a messy divorce. Harry thinks he’s way too old to swipe. They compromise to devastatingly embarrassing results. Meanwhile, all Louis wants is to finish the play he’s been commissioned to write, but one of the regulars at his local coffee shop keeps distracting him. ft. older larry, pushy gemma, harry being a disaster gay and silver fox louis.

Necessities of Nesting  by haztobegood/@haztobegood | [5k]

“I know this is a sensitive topic and you probably don’t want to talk about your nest with me. But I have a friend that teaches nesting classes. Maybe they could help.” “So you agree: my nest sucks and I’m a shit omega.”

That thunder in the distance (I know you're getting close) by Anonymous | [4k]

The grip on his hair tightens once more, Harry’s head now being lifted backwards. With thunder crackling loudly around them, Louis clenches his jaw, not stopping his rhythm, “Try again,” He barks out, “Who am I to you?” “My God!” Harry cries out, tears now threatening to spill. “You're my God. You, fuckkkk, you own me and I serve you. I’m just your–” A whine slips out of Harry, his head growing fussier as he gets closer to his climax, “I’m just a hole for you Sir.” “That’s right,” Louis breaths, sounding smug. “This hole belongs to me. It’s mine to fuck. It’s mine to eat. It’s mine to impregnate. You want that? You want me to fuck a baby into you?” He leans down and licks Harry’s earlobe. Whispering he adds, “Want me to make you a mommy?” OR, God of Thunder Louis pays Harry a visit on Halloween.

Do Not Falter (There's a Star Ahead) by LadyLondonderry/@londonfoginacup | [2k]

It's Christmas Eve, and every single one of Louis' family members are crowded inside his little flat. Really, what more could he ask for on his birthday? The present he never knew he wanted - in the form of an omega from his past - might just make this his most memorable Christmas.

Look what you made me do(when you look the way you do)  by Dreaminrainbows/ @dreaminrainbows | [2k]

“Lou,” he practically whines, knees knocking together, looking at him with those beautiful big doe eyes under his lashes, an innocent seductress,” Wh-what are you doing here?” he pulls at the hem of his pink tee, big black letters reading TOP sprawled across his chest, he looks like he wants to simultaneously cross his hands over his chest and hide but also show it off. Louis knows he wanted to show it off, otherwise he wouldn't have gone outside so boldly with it.

"The Demon you’re trying to summon is currently unavailable." by red_panda28/@red-pandaaa | [666]

“We’re sorry, the Demon you’re trying to summon is currently unavailable. Your ritual is important to us. Please hold--” Harry sighed and hung up, glowering at his phone. “Go with the time they said. It will make things easier they said. They didn’t mention they’d still be putting me on fucking hold,” he muttered. OR Witch Harry tries to summon a Demon on Halloween

A Haunting in Doncaster  by disgruntledkittenface/@disgruntledkittenface | [666]

Harry has been haunting Louis for awhile, waiting for her to watch her episode of Forensic Files. She can't believe it when Louis skips it.

Be kind, leave comments and kudos ALWAYS!

Have yourselves a very happy holidays!

[arnixen]

I know that Vessel wasn't originally written with the lore in mind, but knowing that the whole story of Dema and the Banditos is allegory for Tyler's struggles with mental health, a lot of the songs can easily be thought of in ways that correlate to the lore, pre-blurryface.

So, I've pieced together a chronology of songs in Vessel, and how they show Clancy within Dema before his first escape in HeavyDirtySoul

Ode to Sleep

Self explanatory, with fear tactics and constant anxiety playing a role in vialism, but playing them off as good things, reflected in the upbeat parts of the song.

"I swear I heard demons yelling / those crazy words they were spelling / they told me I was gone"

The bishops + subliminal messaging of the glorious gone.

Holding on to You

This song highlights Clancy's heavy mental reliance on vialism and how convinced he was by the bishops. Themes of suicide are heavily present in this song, and they're glorified by the upbeat tone of the song. "Entertain my Faith" is repeated throughout, showing that Clancy wants some real reason to follow this religion of vialism (This song is originally about Tyler's Christianity in real life, asking for some earthly benefit of his faith)

Migraine

Clancy describing his experiences in Dema, he feels alone in his mental issues, primarily because the bishops' methods separate people, and create propaganda for how happy of a place Dema is. (whereas in most views of Dema we get, it's quite an empty, quiet, and bleak city)

Screen

About how DEMA exploits the most vulnerable people with 'screens on their chests.' this shows that the bishops aren't strong enough to exploit people that aren't already experiencing mental illness.

Specifically Clancy realizing himself being exploited this way.

The Run and Go

A representation of Clancy's first thoughts of leaving the city of Dema. The upbeat happy music sounds disingenuous to me, so I think it could be interpreted as the bishops trying to lure him back in with happy thoughts, but it could also represent the relief he feels from even considering leaving Dema.

Guns for Hands

Represents, again, with "I'm trying to sleep / but I can't / when you all have guns for hands" how the bishops use constant anxiety and fear to their advantage in exploiting the civilians. Also the fear that Clancy feels as he starts to seriously realise how dangerous of a system he lives within.

Fake You Out

This is Clancy starting to seriously doubt the teachings of Dema and vialism, this song is the beginning of his journey to his first escape. He starts to realise how fragile the bishops' system really is. Also planning his escape, and how he'll "fake you out."

Car Radio

When Clancy is finally disillusioned to Dema and the bishops, he's forced to face his own thoughts and the consequences of believing in this cult "now I just sit in silence" in my mind, this song leads directly into heavydirtysoul, with the themes of his regret instantly leading to his first actual escape attempt (also car go vroom)

The remaining songs are Truce, Semi-Automatic, Trees, and House of Gold. I didn't try to attribute these to lore elements because they seem heavily rooted in real-world experiences, and don't really fit in the established lore, similar to some other non-lore songs in other albums.

Let me know what you think!