#if i make it through this week of work AND i go out alone one (1) more time i might get myself a leash or a toy

[dollfacefantasy]

BIRTHDAY GIRL ♡

pairing: clark kent x fem!reader

summary: your boyfriend forgot your birthday :( how ever will he make it up to you...

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, oral sex (f receiving)

a/n: happy birthday to @fearcvlt!!! one of my sweet friends who i love so so much. i hope you're having a great day bb <3 alsooo just fyi to everyone, there will be no part 2 to this.

From the moment Clark woke up today he’d been busy, busy, busy. 

Given that it was a Saturday, he hadn’t expected the influx of tasks thrown at him. However he’d never been one to complain, so instead of moaning and groaning, he handled each thing as it came. 

In the morning, he had to go into town to pick up a few things for his mom. On the way back, he had to stop by the Talon to discuss some details of a recent wall-of-weird incident with Lana. At some point later on, Lex was then calling him up and asking for his assistance on something.

He felt like he spent more time behind the wheel of his truck that day than on his own two feet with how much he was having to go back and forth across the familiar streets.

Really, every moment of Clark’s schedule over the past week had gone something like this. Packed full from dawn till dusk. He had tests to study for and essays to write. His regular responsibilities on the farm never let up as did his small circle of friends asking to do something or the other. And recently, there’d been a strange string of accidents that he felt compelled to investigate.

Last night specifically, he’d been occupied with Chloe and Pete. What was supposed to be a couple hours of research stretched into a few laps through the woods looking for a variant type of meteor rock and then a car ride to Granville and back. Once he finally got home, he passed out for a couple hours and then scraped himself out of bed to get through all of today.

Now in the evening, he finally had a moment of quiet. He sat by himself on the Torch’s computer, fingers tapping away at the keyboard as he looked into connections between all the components they’d found over the last several days. His eyes flicked across the tiny words glowing on the computer screen. Most of the time Chloe handled the research aspect of their investigations, but he felt so close to having this resolved. With a few more details, he could have this thing cracked in an hour.

The sound of footsteps approaching the door pulled his attention away from the article in front of him. He knew from the quick rhythm of them, they belonged to Chloe. His eyes flitted to the entryway as she appeared. She greeted him without any words, her usual smile and slight wave serving as enough for the two of them as she came in and set her stuff down at her desk.

“You must be really invested in this whole thing if it has you working late all alone,” she teased while shrugging off her coat.

“Something like that,” he responded as his gaze drifted back to the screen, “I’m glad you showed up. I think I really have something on this guy.”

“Oh that’s good,” she said, looking much more interested at the prospect of new information. Coming up behind him at the desk, she skimmed the article over his shoulder. “You know, I thought you’d be with your girlfriend tonight, Clark,” she added as she reached for the mouse to scroll down.

His brows furrowed at the mention of you. While he could talk about you for hours and hours, he didn’t understand the point in her bringing you up now. It felt like a joke going over his head. She’d said it with the normal dose of teasing she used towards him, but the statement as a whole sounded earnest.

“Why would you think that?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I just thought you guys might do something for her birthday. I know she’s not having a party, but I guess I assumed she’d still want to hang out with you,” she answered. The way she said it was so casual. It wasn’t meant to mock or come off as a gotcha. That was what it felt like though because in that moment Clark realized something.

He forgot his girlfriend’s birthday.

Actually, that wasn’t exactly true. He hadn’t completely spaced the event. Last weekend, he’d planned this all out in his head. He called in a reservation at your favorite restaurant, stashed away a few small things to give you, even made a note of where he was gonna buy you a cupcake from. It was just that over the past week, he’d gotten so busy and distracted that those plans faded to the back of his mind. Today, he hadn’t even looked at the date, hadn’t even put together that today was your special day.

But none of the excuses mattered. No matter how he put it, when it actually counted, he forgot your fucking birthday. And maybe he could have played it off like everything was a surprise, that he’d only been pretending to be so oblivious and inconsiderate, if not for the fact that his truck should have been in front of your house an hour ago because he told you he’d pick you up for dinner.

He shot up out of his chair so fast that it fell backwards and smacked against the floor. His hands ran through his hair as he frantically tried to think of what to do. Such a strong wave of panic washed over him that he almost burst into super-sprint right in front of Chloe.

“Clark, you didn’t,” she said, looking back at him. He didn’t even have to say the words for her to surmise the reason for his reaction, “That’s bad, even for you.”

“I know,” he agreed, blue eyes still wide and full of worry, “How could I forget? God, I thought about this. I had all of it figured out. This was the one thing I wasn’t gonna miss.”

“Well the day isn't over yet…” Chloe offered with a slanted look.

He rubbed at his brow for a second before nodding. Of course he was gonna try to make it up to you. His mind just didn’t work as fast as his body. He still had to figure out how on Earth he was going to explain this, let alone justify his absence to you. But he could do that on the way to your house. He really didn’t have any more time to waste.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll have to go try to make the most of how ever many hours are left,” he mumbled.

She nodded in support. “I’ll take over here. You go save the day,” she said.

As soon as Clark was out of her line of sight, he bolted. He zipped into a blur, ditching his truck in the parking lot in favor of his own speed. Later he could come back to drive it home. He didn’t have seconds to spare at red lights or finding parking as he collected the things he needed.

It took him around five minutes to pull everything together. He grabbed the pale blue gift bag from his house, picked up a cupcake from the store (the last one they had), and snatched a bouquet of flowers on his way out.

Every step of the way to you, words of apology ran through his mind, ranging from I’m so so sorry, I’m such an idiot to I swear the truck just broke down, I couldn’t get service, but I’m here now. He tried to think of something that would make this salvageable, but truly, this was his worst screw up with you so far. He’d been late to dates before. He’d forgotten important things. But standing you up on your birthday? That might be the fatal blow to your relationship.

He slid to a stop in front of your porch steps. All the windows in your house were dark. He knew your house would be empty with your parents out of town, but he couldn’t even see the glow of your small tv shining up in your room. Dread bubbled inside him as he realized you could have still gone out without him. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t deserve it, but the possibility didn’t sting any less.

Steeling himself for the possibility of no response, he walked up the wooden steps and across the floor panels to your front door. He took a moment to run his fingers through his windblown hair. With one more deep breath, he shifted the flowers to the crux of his arm and knocked on the door. The gift bag hung off of his other wrist while that hand held the small box with your cake in it.

Five seconds passed and then another several moments of silence too. He resisted the urge to knock again. You could just be taking your time.

But after another bout of quiet went by, he tapped his knuckles against the door again three times. If you didn’t answer this time after another minute, he’d have to regroup, he told himself.

That minute went by the same as the last though, and he still didn’t want to leave. He considered saying something or calling for you through the door; though, at this point in time, he wasn’t sure if his voice would be a strong selling point.

He waited another handful of seconds before raising his fist. Third time’s a charm, right? But before his fingers could make contact, he heard the lock unlatch and the knob twist in that clunky way it always did. Relief fizzled all through his body before he even saw your face.

The door cracked open. From what he could see, the interior of your house was as dark as the windows led him to believe. The nearest streetlight doused the small sliver of space in a faint glow. He could see your leg covered in fuzzy pajama pants and the side of your upper half adorned in an old oversized t-shirt. Your face appeared seconds later. At first, your expression looked neutral. Well you looked sad, but you didn’t look angry, which was what he had been afraid of.

Then your eyes lifted to look at his face, and once they registered the sight of the person before you, that fire lit up in an instant.

Immediately, you tried shutting the door, but he was quick. He stuck his foot forward, jamming his boot in the entryway to stop it from closing. The pressure didn’t really hurt, but he still winced for show.

“Baby, wait,” he pleaded, “I know you’re mad, and you have every right to be. I deserve it-”

“Save it, Clark,” you gritted through your clenched jaw.

You threw your entire body weight against the door in an attempt to shut him out. He could hear your feet scraping against the floor along with your soft grunts as you tried forcing it closed. It would probably be cute if he didn’t feel so guilty.

“Just hear me out,” he tried again, “I’m sorry for being late. I’m really sorry. There’s no excuse that would make it ok, so I won’t even try to give you one. But please, sweetheart. I brought you some stuff, and it’s still your birthday-”

“You’re more than late! Late is fifteen minutes! Late is when thirty minutes pass so you call and explain you’re stuck in traffic! Late doesn’t mean an hour goes by and you finally show up because you realize you don’t have anything better to do, so you might as well!” you cut him off.

You couldn’t have said anything worse to Clark in that moment. He never wanted you thinking this was intentional, that he chose to be anywhere else that wasn’t with you. Now he pushed back a little. He leaned into the door, using his strength to scooch you further into the house and allow himself room to slip inside. As he did, he let some grunts slip out and even took a few seconds to give the illusion that you had a fighting chance.

“I swear this wasn’t on purpose. I’d never choose to make you wait or make you think that I don’t care or something,” he continued. A hint of desperation laced his words now. “I didn’t even forget. I’ve been planning this, and I had it all laid out in my head. I just… I just lost track of time. And it’s my fault, but I can make it up to you if you let me.”

You had turned away from him once he actually made his way into the house. Your body stood stiff as a board. He couldn’t even see your face to get some kind of read on how his words were coming across. And even worse, you weren’t saying anything back. He hesitated, mentally debating whether he should proceed with his pleas or give you a second. But ultimately, the former won. Logic and Clark didn’t mix well when it came to getting in your good graces again. He would do anything to make that happen.

“Honey, I know I missed the first part of the night, but I’m here now. And you’re here, and you look beautiful like you always do. And it’s still your birthday and I have some stuff for you,” he added.

“It’s not about the stuff, Clark. It’s not about what day it is or whatever,”you responded. You turned around to face him again. In the darkness, he couldn’t really make out your features, but your voice cracked. He didn’t need any light to know how your eyes were watering right now. How your lip was wobbling in that timid pout. 

He hated that he was so familiar with your disappointment.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, though this time they came out much weaker, like the sound of a dying soldier.

You took in a shuddery breath, either in preparation to yell at him or to maintain what you had left of composure. Neither happened right away. That almost felt worse, leaving him to burn under the heat of anticipation.

“I just… I don’t understand you. You can be so sweet. So caring. You make me feel like you really love me, but then you do stuff like this,” you finally said. Your voice cracked again, but this time it nearly stopped your words from coming out. You were losing a battle of your own against your tears.

“I do really love you,” he replied without a second thought. He dropped the flowers onto the nearby end table, shoving the gift bag and small box on after it. His arms opened for you as he took a step forward. He only hoped you wouldn’t push him away.

But you didn’t. You took the same step with your own feet and let him embrace you. The warmth of his body engulfed you all at once as his big arms looped around your frame. One of his hands found your head, cradling it against his chest.

“I do love you, baby. Always. I never want you to think I don’t,” he said softly.

You sniffled and squished your face against his chest. He held you tighter against himself. It didn’t feel tight enough. It never did for Clark. He always wanted you closer, held more securely, but he had to hold back if he didn’t want to shatter your bones.

“Hey, hey. Don’t cry,” he cooed, planting a few kisses on the top of your head, “Don’t cry, babe. Please. I’m not worth it, alright? I don’t want you so sad over my stupid mistakes.”

While you weren’t saying anything, the weight of your emotions filled the air all around you. They were practically tangible to Clark - the disappointment and betrayal. The insecurity he caused. The pain he inflicted. He was almost glad you usually stayed silent while crying because he didn’t think his Kryptonian DNA would save him from being crushed by your words. At the same time, you didn’t have to speak them for him to understand the potential sentiment. He could tell from the muted nature of your sadness right now. You had gotten your hopes up. You believed that because tonight was special, it would be different. He would show up, and it wouldn’t be like countless other dates and occasions.

He stood there with you in the hall, rubbing your back and rocking back and forth with you a little. After a few minutes, he nudged your head back with the tip of his nose. “Let me see those pretty eyes, baby,” he whispered.

His own vision had adjusted to the dark by now. When you tilted your head upwards, he could see the small spheres all glossy, your lashes wet with the recent tears. He leaned in and kissed the shiny streaks running down your cheeks. The right one first, then the left. His hand cupped your face with all the care in the world.

“There’s my girl,” he murmured as he brushed the tip of his nose against yours.

You gazed back into his bright blue eyes. God, you knew you should make this harder for him. He deserved to work for your forgiveness, but nothing made you weak like Clark. One glimpse of his eyes all wide, looking at you like a scolded puppy, and any anger towards him melted away like ice left out in the summer.

He laid a few more kisses along your face, moving his lips from one feature to the next. “You’re too sweet to be crying like this on your special day,” he said.

His thumbs swiped away remaining tears while your eyes began to dry up. Warmth filled your body again, blooming up in the hollow cold left by your prior loneliness. Looking at his face pushed the sadness away. Maybe today hadn’t been totally ruined.

“I won’t let this happen again, alright?” he told you in a hushed tone despite no one else being in the house. He made sure not to promise though. “I’ll get a calendar or something. I’ll write notes for myself. I’ll write ‘em all over my body like in that movie we watched last summer.”

“The movie that you left halfway through,” you said, your voice gently teasing now.

He exhaled sharply, and a smile spread across his lips. His eyes held a degree of shame still. It felt wrong to laugh about something like that when it was a piece of the issue at hand. But he could tell you were trying to lighten the mood, and he wouldn’t make you feel bad about that.

“I still got the idea,” he defended and ducked in, giving you another long kiss.

His arms pulled you tighter against his body while his hands swept down onto your back. One stayed between your shoulder blades as the other ventured South. His fingers glided over the small of your back, coasting over the top of your ass.

“Let me make it up to you,” he said.

You bit your lip at the sensation of his roaming hands. Allowing him a few more smooches, you finally pulled back to catch your breath for a moment.

“How do you wanna do that?” you asked.

He grinned, those sharp canines peeking out near the corners of his mouth. “I have something in mind, but any way you want is fine, baby,” he murmured.

“You can try your way…” you agreed. You had an idea of what he was picturing, and it wasn’t something you felt the urge to interfere with.

“Try,” he repeated playfully before pulling you into another series of kisses.

The two of you stumbled away from the front door and your gifts left on the end table. His feet followed yours down the hallway in the direction of your bedroom. Your back bumped into the wall a few times before you both slipped through the entrance of your room and found your ways to the bed.

The backs of your thighs hit your soft mattress first. Your smooth skin rubbed against the floral sheets spread over your bed. You let yourself fall back, and Clark’s body went with yours.

You shifted around, scooting up so that your head was on one of the plush pillows near the top of the mattress. He ended up with his frame hovering above your own. Only a few seconds passed before he pressed his lips to your again. Sometimes it felt as though Clark could kiss you all night. He paid so much attention to your lips, put so much dedication into every flick of his tongue and teasing pull with his teeth.

Your hands tried to return the same amount of reverence with their touches. You rubbed them up over his broad shoulders and along the nape of his neck. Your fingertips twisted the ends of his dark hair before sliding between the strands and scratching his scalp.

A groan rumbled up from his chest. You responded with a softer moan of your own. To go with the sound, your legs rose up against his sides and pressed into his hips. You pulled him closer, subtly urged him to tend to you where you wanted him most.

He finally pulled his mouth off you a minute later. His breaths now came out in harsh pants. The warm air fanned over your face while you stared up at your boyfriend. A cute shade of pink filled his cheeks while his pupils dilated with lust for you. His lips shimmered with your saliva under the faint light of the moon beaming through the window.

“My perfect, pretty girl,” he mumbled before dropping his head to your neck.

His attention focused there now. He kissed all over the column of your throat, moving without much strategy. Most of the time, Clark was very eager for you. He explored your body based on pure desire and nothing else. It always ended up feeling good for you though. Seeing his passion was half the pleasure.

While his lips worked above, his hands groped at you below. His large palms massaged your hips and smoothed up and down your sides.  His fingers kneaded your soft flesh. The feel of it alone had him starting to fill out in his jeans.

“You deserve so much, baby. So much more than I give you. Gonna try to make you feel how much you deserve,” he muttered against your skin, lust-fueled thoughts escaping without resistance.

At your waist, his fingers hooked over the hem of your pajama bottoms and gave the fabric a shove. “Lift your hips for me, honey,” he directed.

You did so without a question, allowing him to pull the garment the rest of the way off. It was so frustrating for Clark sometimes. He had the ability to literally tear your clothes to shreds. If he wanted to, those pants could have been gone faster than you could have asked him not to rip them. But for now, he still had to play the game by normal rules.

He moved his way over to your collarbone and placed a few kisses along the neckline of your shirt before migrating South. His hands fell from your hips to your thighs. He gave them the same treatment, squeezing and grabbing. But he wasted no time in parting them.

With one palm on each, he spread you open for himself and settled between your open legs. The sight of your panties greeted him. The dainty cloth covered the precious part of you he was aching to see. He stared at the material for a moment. It wasn’t wet yet, but it was tight against your folds. He could see so much of you without really seeing anything at all.

Leaning in, he kissed your pussy over the fabric. It was chaste. Something less sinful than anything he’d done to your mouth. His thumb came next. He ran the thick digit from the bottom of your slit all the way up to your clit. He kept the pace nice and slow, teasing enough that a shudder came over you as you fought the urge to squirm.

His eyes flitted up to your face. He couldn’t get enough of how cute you were. The desperation was written all over your face.

“I’m not gonna tease, sweetheart. Not on your birthday. Not when I already made you wait too long,” he cooed.

His long index finger hooked around the seat of your panties and gave them a good tug. He worked the small scrap off of you and tossed it to the floor. They landed near the mirror. He only noticed because beside it was a dress, slung over the back of a chair. It was lacy and layered and cute. Probably the one you had on earlier. He could only imagine how sad you looked while taking it off and swapping it out for the more comfortable clothes you had on now.

He had to make this good for you.

Returning his focus to the junction of your thighs, his eyes fixating on your cunt in front of him. Your folds gleamed with the beginnings of arousal. His teasing had been just enough to get the fire started inside of you.

He looked back up at your face and brought his own that much closer. “You don’t know how lucky I feel to call this mine,” he said before kissing your clit.

A broken whine crackled out into the air. The touch was so gentle, so soft. It didn’t really feel like much. But the sight of him, the sound of his voice, his mere existence had your body reacting like a live wire right now.

Clark stuck out his tongue and dragged it up the wet expanse of your pussy. The first couple licks were exploratory, but after a few more, they became greedy. He lapped at your cunt. The tip of his tongue swirled over your entrance and danced across your sensitive bundle of nerves. His eyes fluttered shut at the taste of you.

Meanwhile, more sweet noises poured from your lips. You whined and moan, a few times only managing to choke out a breathy mewl. One of your hands clutched at his hair while the other alternated between clawing at the blankets and covering your face. It flipped back and forth between the two, trying to find the one that would bring some stability.

Nothing you do could fight off the feeling of him though. His lips spread and closed, making out with your pussy. He got louder down there. Wet noises echoed between your thighs. None of them bothered him. He was wrapped up in the task of pleasing you. Nothing else mattered.

Clark didn’t get embarrassed in moments like these. Sometimes while on top of you he could get flustered, but with your pussy like this, he couldn’t string together the thoughts that would cause actual embarrassment. All he could fathom was a craving for more of you.

In these moments, you surrounded him completely. Your thighs wrapped around his head, pressing your skin against him. Your taste flooded his mouth. Your scent filled his nose. All he could hear were your needy cries. It was heaven, absolute paradise.

Grabbing your legs tighter, he held you in place more. You hadn’t started squirming yet, but by the time you felt the urge to, you’d be pinned in place. Somehow he put more effort into this now. He boosted your hips a bit before devouring you.

His mouth worked with desperation you’d never seen from him before. You called out his name before choking out another moan and letting your head fall back. He ground his hips into the mattress below him, chasing whatever physical pleasure he could find to match the bliss he felt inside.

While on top of you, Clark could run his mouth. Endless babbles of praise and cooed praises would fall from his lips. But right now, he was fixated on using his mouth for something more important. He could feel your muscles flexing against his tongue, clenching around nothing. You were getting close.

“That’s it, baby. Feels good?” he asked when he finally pulled himself back for some air. His fingers took over his mouth's duty, rubbing your clit fast and with good pressure.

Your hips bucked as a yelp flew out of you. Despite that, you still nodded as fast as you could. “Mhm. Gonna cum,” you whimpered, as if he needed the warning.

“Go ahead, birthday girl. You can cum whenever you're ready,” he said. He smacked a kiss on your thigh before diving back in and nuzzling into your cunt. His tongue swirled with fervent admiration before lashing over your little bud.

The rapid motion flicks you right over the edge. You gasped before whining. Your hips squirmed while you closed your fingers into a fist around Clark’s hair. You grabbed the soft tresses so tightly you might have pulled a few out. He didn’t complain about any of it though. How could he? It felt like everything in the world was perfect when he had you like this.

He rolled his own hips against the mattress a few more times. You were so caught up in your own release that you didn’t hear the whimpers coming from him. You didn’t catch the vibrations from his moans reverberating against your skin. His own pleasure did nothing but spur him on to keep working you through yours.

As you started to come down, he was still going. His movements were a bit sloppier, but he didn’t have any plans of stopping. It was when you whimpered and pushed at his head that he backed off. 

He looked up at you. Despite the smirk on his face, his voice came out gentle. “No more? You too sensitive?”

You nodded. “If you can stay, we have the whole night,” you offered.

His smirk broke into a full smile, and he crawled up the mattress to peck your lips. “I can stay. It’s still your birthday after all. We got some more celebrating to do.”

“Mhm,” you agreed. You kissed him again, tasting yourself as your lips met. Your hand trailed down his body to the waistline of his jeans. Before you could even ask, his fingers wrapped around your wrist and guided your limb back up.

“I’m fine, baby,” he said with a sheepish smile, “Plus it’s your birthday. It’s supposed to be all about you.”

“Oh my god, you’re really pushing the birthday thing,” you teased.

“I’m gonna keep pushing it until midnight because it’s true,” he said back. His hands cupped your face while he looked down at you.

After the two of you messed around a little more, Clark remembered the things he had left out by the front door. Pushing himself off the bed, he headed for the door. He was quick about getting your things, but he paused on the way back.

Instead of going straight to you, he walked into your kitchen. Rummaging through some of the drawers crammed full of spare parts and random coupons, he found a half-used pack of birthday candles and a lighter.

After opening the box that held your cake, he put it on a plate and jammed a pink-striped candle into the icing of your cupcake. With a click of the lighter, he topped it off with a small flame.

He headed back to your room, walking slowly so as to not have a surprise-ruining mishap on the way. Once he appeared in the doorway, you glanced at him. Your eyes caught on the lit up cupcake, and your whole face brightened. He chuckled and walked further into the room. Seeing that made the beginning of the evening sting less.

“You’re not singing,” you teased as you sat up on your bed and watched.

“That’s because I want you to have a nice birthday,” he replied.

The words brought actual laughter out of you, but you sat there patiently waiting as he walked over with the plate. He sat down beside you and held the plate before you. The whole time he remained careful, conscious of not getting the flame too close to any part of you.

“You gotta make your wish now,” he said and kissed your cheek.

Smiling at him, you thought for a second before turning towards the small flicker of fire. You stared at it for a moment, and then blew a small stream of air. It danced under the breeze before dissolving into thin smoke. He reached over and popped the stick of wax out for you, so you could eat your treat without impediment.

“What’d you wish for?” he asked as he brought the frosting-coated end to his lips.

“You know the rules. If I tell you, it’ll never come true,” you answered and took a bite.

He rolled his eyes, giving you a little poke to the side. “What about last year? That one come true yet or is it still a secret?”

“Still a secret,” you affirmed. You extended the bitten cupcake out to him. “Want some?”

“No, I’m alright. Already had my dessert,” he teased as he got up to throw away the candle. The words earned him a whine and a smack from you along with some grumbling about him being corny. But you had a smile on your face now, and that’s all he could want.

[preciousannie]

Ateez Headcanons

Ateez as your long-term boyfriend

Genre: Fluff, Boyfriend AU!, Idol AU!

Warnings: None

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾    ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾    ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾    ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾   ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾   ‧͙⁺˚*･

Kim Hongjoong

always attentive to your emotions

dislikes PDA but showers you with affection when the both of you are alone

the two of you share every part of your daily lives together

he would get slightly jealous when you get too close to the other members

very dedicated to his work but always makes sure to spare two days in a week for “dating days”

“I’ll always have time for you babe, always.”

Park Seonghwa

he surprises you with random gifts or gestures

keeps track and remembers your period schedules

always prepared beforehand to help you soothe all your discomfort and pain as much as he can

it hurts him to see you in any sort of unpleasant emotions and he tends to match your emotions

always makes time to video call you even on late nights when he’s busy and always after concerts

“I miss you, gorgeous.”

Jeong Yunho

the two of you always do silly things together

either one of you would be cracking a joke with the other 

laughs and giggles surround your entire relationship

likes to give you piggyback rides and princess carry you just because you’re “tiny” to him

very playful when you’re around each other

but when it comes to it he can get earnest and protective about anything threatening related to you

“You okay my love?”

Kang Yeosang

the both of you have a whole facial routine that you have to follow through every night

he likes to shower together whenever he can

buys you lots of expensive beauty products that he approves of and wants you to use with him

prefers to stay at home ideally with you on his off days to spend quality time together

but he would be down in a heartbeat if you just mentioned that you want to go somewhere or want something

even if it is in the middle of the night, he’d do it

“Oh? Consider it done baby, wait for me.” 

Choi San

he unleashes his cute side whenever you’re around despite wanting to appear stoic and manly around others

follows you around everywhere like a lost puppy

likes to take you out on food dates

loves complimenting you random times a day for just about anything

you absolutely endear him when he introduces one of his plushy collections

“Look darling! This one looks just like you! It’s a cute bunny, hehe.”

Song Mingi

he enjoys taking you on random vacations and trips

has to hold your hand wherever he goes as he claims it comforts him

showers you with affection and hugs especially back-waist hugs because of your size differences

absolutely has to cuddle or spoon when in bed together whether it’s relaxing or sleeping

loves sniffing your hair or the perfume you had on that particular day because it’s calming to him

“Mm, you smell so sweet today beautiful, come closer.”

Jung Wooyoung

always showers you with kisses and pecks whenever he can

enjoys bringing you to his family home and letting you be engulfed in the affection of his family members

loves mentioning and introducing you to everyone he engages with

eager to marry you ever since the beginning and wants to have children with you

hopes that the kids the both of you will bear would resemble you the most

“Let’s make it official, shall we dear? And have adorable children together please~” 

Choi Jongho

always makes you feel safe and assured in every aspect of your life

his goofiness makes you laugh all the time even when you’re down

loves singing you to sleep while he caresses your hair 

very mature and responsible even though he is younger

likes to help you with everything he can even when you say you don’t need help

“Here, I’ll do that for you honey, don’t hurt your hands.”

Hihi, it’s been a while (3 years to be exact) but I’m back. I’ve decided to clear up these years-old drafts refining them a little so that they can finally see the light of day XD But anyway hope ya’ll enjoy! Have a beautiful day or night wherever you are <33

[wendichester]

Okay so "happier" both parts just yk

Tore out my heart

Thanks.

But now I feel extremely guilty SO! REQUEST! Cuz how else would we deal with feelings

So, on that note, I'd like to request a Sam x Reader (established relationship), and like Sam has been away from the bunker with Dean for a hunt, but it took longer than expected bc they got another hunt right after and thus stayed away for like a week, and when he comes back it's just like tired, fluffy cuddles but refusing to sleep bc "we gotta make up for lost time"

(And maybe, if you think it's a cute idea, sleepy proposal where it's just in the moment, a quiet mutter of those four words)

Tysm and seriously I love your works, even when they make me cry <3

𓂃˖ ࣪⊹ lost time,

summary. sam’s been gone too long, and now that he’s home, he refuses to let sleep steal a second more from you.

pairing. sam winchester x reader

wordcount. 810

The bunker door creaks open, and you’re already rushing down the hall before Sam can even set his bag down.

He barely has time to brace himself before you crash into his chest, arms wrapping tight around his waist. His laugh is soft and tired, rumbling through him as he buries his face in your hair, inhaling deep.

“Missed you,” you mumble, voice muffled against his flannel.

His arms tighten around you, pulling you impossibly closer. “Missed you more.”

Dean claps him on the shoulder as he passes by, mumbling something about a shower and beer before disappearing down the hall, leaving you and Sam alone in the dim light of the war room.

You lean back just enough to look at him, your fingers tracing over his jaw, the dark circles under his eyes. “You look exhausted.”

He hums, tilting his head into your touch. “I am.”

“Then let’s get you to bed.”

But he shakes his head, a sleepy little smirk playing on his lips. “Not yet.”

“Sam—”

His hands slide down your back, anchoring you to him. “We gotta make up for lost time.”

Your heart stumbles over itself. “You’re literally falling over,” you point out, brushing his hair back, reveling in the warmth of him, the way he’s pressing every inch of himself into you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

His nose nudges against yours, lips barely grazing, just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Don’t care,” he murmurs, voice heavy with exhaustion and something sweeter. “Just wanna be with you.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “You are with me.”

“Not enough,” he mutters, catching your lips in a kiss—soft, slow, lingering. He tastes like road coffee and something distinctly Sam, something that makes warmth pool in your chest, something that feels like home.

You let him steal a few more kisses before tugging him toward the bedroom, despite his sluggish protests. The second the door closes behind you, his arms wind around your waist again, his face burying in your neck.

“God, I missed this,” he exhales, lips brushing over your skin.

Your fingers slide into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp, and he shivers, exhaling through his nose. “Missed what?”

“You,” he murmurs. “The way you smell. The way you feel.” His lips ghost over your jaw, up to the corner of your mouth. “The way you kiss me.”

You smile against him, pressing one more kiss to his lips before coaxing him toward the bed. He groans when he finally collapses onto the mattress, arms still wrapped around you, pulling you down with him.

You settle against his chest, his heartbeat slow and steady beneath your ear. His fingers trace absentminded circles on your back, his lips pressing lazy kisses to your hairline.

For a while, it’s just soft breathing, the warmth of him surrounding you, the quiet comfort of being back where you belong.

And then, barely above a whisper—so soft you almost think you imagined it—Sam murmurs, “Marry me.”

Your breath catches.

You tilt your head up, heart hammering against your ribs. “What?”

His eyes are half-lidded, heavy with exhaustion, but there’s something sure, something steady in the way he looks at you. His fingers brush against your cheek, his lips quirking into a lopsided smile.

“Marry me,” he repeats, voice low and warm, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Your chest tightens. “Sam, are you—?”

“Serious?” His thumb traces the curve of your cheek. “Yeah.”

You stare at him, searching for any hesitation, any sign that this is just sleepy delirium talking. But all you find is Sam—soft and certain and yours.

Your lips tremble. “You don’t even have a ring.”

He huffs a quiet laugh. “I’ll get one.”

“You haven’t even planned a speech.”

He grins. “Do you really want a speech?”

You bite your lip, shaking your head.

“Good.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, voice dropping to a whisper. “Just want you to say yes.”

And really, how could you ever say anything else?

You curl your fingers into his shirt, pressing your face into his chest, your smile aching against his skin.

“Yes.”

Sam lets out a long breath, one of his arms tightening around you, his other hand burying in your hair. His lips find your temple, your cheek, your jaw, each kiss slow and lingering, sealing his promise.

Sleep tugs at him then, his body melting into the mattress, his grip on you loosening only slightly. “Gotta get a ring tomorrow,” he mutters, already halfway gone.

You smile, fingers tracing over his heart. “Plenty of time for that.”

He hums in agreement, his breathing evening out, warmth radiating from him as he finally lets sleep take him.

And as you lie there, wrapped in his arms, heart still racing, you know—this is everything.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @taurus0queenie33 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @whereiwakewarm ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystems ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion ⋆ @s0urw00lf ⋆ @mrs-pondwater19 ⋆ @myceliumsunshine ⋆ @idk6505 ⋆ @giggles1026 ⋆ @idontwannabehere7

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + thirty four

authors note: none.

cw/tw: fluff, angst, and graphic depictions of violence

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

cast+ masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 12k 

“Look, Solana!”

Solana lifts her hands from the scorching heat that beats down on her body, creating a slight sheen of sweat as she works to plant the roses. Looking away from where she's worked tirelessly but dutifully, she's met with Aurora who stands before her, palms open, revealing and showing a beautiful butterfly.

Solana gasps, offering the little girl a smile. “It’s a Monarch.” After removing her gloves, she wipes the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. “You caught it.”

An impressive thing, especially given butterflies rarely like to be captured, let alone stay on a human long enough to be shown to others, just as Aurora is showing her. “Do you know what Monarchs represent?”

Aurora shakes her head, eyes slightly wide, waiting for an answer.

Head tilted, Solana refrains from gently stroking the beautiful, intricately designed wings. “They mean strength and transformation. Change.”

Aurora doesn’t say anything, but Solana’s words clearly register as she then asks, “should we let it go?”

Solana pretends to think about it, gently offering, “I think every living thing deserves to be free, don’t you?”

Aurora nods, murmuring, “bye, butterfly.” And with a deep sigh, she lifts up her hands, both woman and child watching as it flies off into the distance, disappearing into the almost blinding glow of the sun.

“Good decision,” Solana praises, reaching over and pulling Aurora into a hug.

“Girls!” Paloma’s voice travels from the back door of her home that leads to the garden where Solana and Aurora are located. “I made fresh lemonade. Come take a break!"

Aurora looks over at Solana, the mother to be laughing, already knowing her preference.

She stands up, giggling when Aurora “tags” her and runs toward the door, Solana right behind her, thankful for the cool wave of the AC conditioner in the home that hits her as soon as she steps in.

Paloma chuckles. “You two have been out there for hours.”

That definitely takes Solana by surprise. “Really?” Pulling her phone out the back pocket of her jean shorts, sure enough, she realizes it’s been almost three hours since she offered to do some planting for her grandmother.

Paloma chuckles, pouring them each a glass as Solana and Aurora take seats on the opposite side of the larger dining room table. “What’s that American saying? Time flies when you’re having fun?”

Solana laughs, thanking her for the glass. “Something like that.”

Truer words have never been stated.

A week.

For the past week, Solana has stayed with Paloma. Laughed with her over stories about her mother. Cried with her over their shared grief. Rejoiced with and over being brought together. 

It was a decision made by Solana to stay with her biological grandmother as they continued to get to know each other, not as friends but family.

A decision she was slightly concerned Roman wouldn’t go for, until she went that home that fateful night and explained to the the rest of the women that she went to see an “old friend." Bayley and Roman, however, received the full truth, and later that night, as Solana lay in bed with her husband, inquiring about extending her stay, the reply was almost instant.

“Of course.”

He didn’t put up much of a protest, just made it clear Bautista would have to stay with her at all times, which was fine. Paloma had an extra bedroom for him as well. A couple days is what Solana had told him. 

A week is what has passed, Solana always checking in with her husband to make sure he’s okay, to which he always answers the same. 

Yes.

Since saying bye to the girls and her husband, who flew back home only hours apart from one another, Solana has been nothing but happy. Thrilled to spend time with Paloma, her grandmother, her family. Ecstatic to catch up with Aurora, who, in a matter of months, has transformed from an almost mute child to a still quiet little girl, but one who has started using her voice more.

It’s a beautiful thing, truly. From all angles. 

Looking around, Solana finds herself asking, “where’s Bautista?”

Paloma pours herself a drink, sitting down and explaining. “He got his first and is back outside on duty, I suppose.”

Solana chuckles, partially unsurprised. She’s not sure she’s ever met someone who takes their job as seriously as him, which is so very much appreciated. Fair, too, given the nature of his responsibility in keeping her safe.

He’s been so good to and for her since their initial meeting at treatment. 

And as if summoned by conversation alone, his big frame appears in the doorway separating the kitchen from the dining room. “Aurora, your mother is here.”

Aurora is immediately pouting. “Already?”

Solana giggles, reminding, “you’ve been here since this morning, sweetheart.”

She’s been here several days during Solana’s visit, as it’s not uncommon for her to spend time with Paloma, helping her out around the house as well as at the market. A market trip, however, hasn’t happened given Paloma wanting to spend as much time with her granddaughter as possible.

Appreciated by Solana. For sure. 

As the little girl finishes hugging Paloma, she moves over to Solana, asking in a quiet voice, “wanna meet my mom?”

An unexpected thing, but something Solana feels she can only give one answer to. 

“Of course.”

Aurora’s smile makes it more than worth while, as she leads Solana out of the kitchen, through the house, and grabs her backpack, before guiding them out the front door. 

“Mommy!”

Aurora shouts, running up to a woman about the same complexion as herself, hugging her at her waist. The woman is a few inches taller than Solana, short hair cut into a sleek bob, the dark, wide rimmed frames looking as expensive as the designer dress she wears.

The woman returns her daughter’s hug as Aurora peers up at her, while pointing to Solana. “Mommy, this is Solana.”

The older woman looks up and lifts her sunglasses, revealing striking brown eyes that shine and almost sparkle from the sun. “You’re Solana?” A small smile grows on her face. “The one who gave my Rora the journal?”

Partially unexpected, Solana chuckles almost nervously, switching her weight from one foot to the other. “I–I am.” She steps forward, offering her hand. “It’s nice to me—”

Premature interruption caused by this woman, this practical stranger, also stepping forward and engulfing Solana in a tight hug. She's initially tense as hell, the wife of the Tribal Chief, feeling the watchful eye of Bautista, who stands behind her, just waiting for any sign of distress from his charge.

But, it’s when this woman, whose name she doesn’t even know, whispers a heartfelt “thank you” into her ear, that Solana finally relaxes just enough to realize no danger is present. No threat is imminent. 

Just a woman with an immense amount of appreciation. 

And, it’s when she separates, tears in her eyes, she explains just what has her so moved. “My husband and I had no idea Aurora was feeling the way she did, until she shared her journal with us one day.” She shakes her head, looking away. “It’s helped so much. More than you can ever know, so thank you.”

It’s hard to not also be moved, Solana remembering being Aurora as a little girl. Feeling like she didn’t have a voice, because she didn’t. But, Aurora, because of something as simple and little as a journal, has not only found her voice but has used it to alert her parents what’s been going on with her, what she’s been feeling.

Aurora hinted as such, when Solana saw her again for the first time in months. Simply stated, “mommy and daddy don’t fight as much anymore.” But, that was it. Nothing more, and Solana didn’t push. Wanted to respect her privacy and show appreciation for what she had shared.

But, to hear this truly does mean a lot to her. 

“You’re welcome,” Solana finally responds as Aurora’s mother takes a step back and blots at her eyes.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t even offer my name. Elena. Elena Lopez.”

“Solana,” she introduces, feeling a bit silly but not knowing if it caught the first time. “Solana Reigns.”

Something sparks in Elana’s eyes, a sense of knowing almost. Realization. But, whatever she was going to say is cut off by Aurora running over, asking her mom, “can I come back tomorrow?”

Elana laughs, moving her arm around her child. “Of course, sweetie. If Ms. Paloma is alright with it, then yes, you can come.”

Solana has a good guess her grandmother won’t mind. Won’t mind at all.

Another hug from Solana, and a few parting words from Elena before the two disappear in the black SUV, where Solana only then realizes included a personal driver. 

Solana watches them drive off when Bautista steps up, an unspoken question lingering in the air. But, it’s a question she wants to hear, hence her probing, “what is it?”

It’s then she realizes he was also watching the car drive off. He briefly looks down at her. “Who is that little girl’s father?”

It seems that today is just filled with unexpected questions, Solana having to take a second to think about it before she responds. “I–I don’t know.” Curious, she has to ask, “why?”

The concern and confusion in the older man’s face is undeniable. But, whatever it is, he decides, for whatever reason, to keep to himself. “It’s probably nothing.”

Solana is ready to push back and ask, but Bautista is already walking away, leaving her with one major question.

What was that about?

—-------

It starts out just like every other morning. Solana wakes up to the smell of huevos rancheros and freshly brewed coffee, the sun peeking through the partially open curtain shining down on her body as she rolls over in bed.

She grabs her phone off the nightstand, seeing a ‘good morning’ text from her husband. Unlocking it, she hearts the message and responds, asking what he has planned for the day. 

Curious and eager to fill her stomach with the delicious cooking of her abuela, Solana kicks the blanket off and sits up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. It’s then she feels it, feels the almost increased effort it takes for her to sit up, an unfamiliar cushion like space on her abdomen.

Naturally, she drops her hand to her stomach only to gasp loudly. Eyes wide, Solana slaps her hands over her mouth and rushes out the room to the closest bathroom, closing the door behind her. 

And, it’s in front of the mirror that she lifts up her gown to see it. To finally see it. 

“Oh my God….”

Tears are brewing, the emotion flowing as Solana lowers the hand not holding up her gown to her belly. Ignoring the shakiness that stems from being overwhelmed by it all, she explores it. Explores the slightly protruding of her stomach, the slight swell of her belly. 

A bump.

A baby bump.

Teary eyes transcend into tears as Solana finds herself in awe, unable to stop rubbing and feeling her belly. Finally. Finally, this moment that she’s waited for since finding out she was expecting, has arrived.

And what a moment it is. 

It’s then that another thought hits her.

Roman.

He needs to know.

And not even from a safety perspective. Her bump, while easily visible and noticeable when completely void of anything clothing, could easily be hidden behind the right clothes. But, it’s not that she’s thinking about.

She’s thinking about the shocked and maybe unreadable expression on his face as he takes it in for the first time, the way his big hand will reach out and feel, almost as if needing to feel and touch her to believe it’s real.

It’s that moment she can’t wait to have.

That she needs to have.

Which leads her to a bit of a bittersweet realization. 

As much of a wonderful time she’s had getting to know her grandmother, hearing countless stories about her mother, about her grandfather, the priorities have shifted a bit. Solana has a new task at hand. She needs to see her husband.

She needs to go home.

It’s a difficult yet exciting thing that she battles while preparing for the day, leaving the bathroom to gather a change of clothes as well as her toiletries bag so she can shower. She thinks, maybe overthinks, about how she’ll break the news to her abuela. Nerves chew and gnaw at her, even as she later walks into the kitchen where Paloma is standing by the stove.

Hearing her walk in, the older woman turns around with a warm smile. “There you are, nieta.”

Solana smiles, accepting the hug, mindful of her abdomen area, which completely ruins the plan she’d come up with, because the minute Paloma steps back, Solana can see it. Knows that she knows something is "wrong."

And, she asks as such.

Paloma takes a step back, gently grabbing Solana’s hands. “What’s wrong, child?”

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Solana’s response is nonverbal as she carefully carries over their conjoined hands to her stomach, pushing past the baggy material of her shirt. And just like her own reaction, the older woman gasps.

With a look and another gasp in awe, she moves her hand around, “Mi nieta…..” Solana’s eyes are watering all over again. She would give anything to share this moment with her husband as the first of all people to find out, but there’s something almost healing at being able to share it with the woman she never in a million years thought she’d meet or even have in her life.

Her abuela. The closest link she has to her mother.

“You’re showing…”

“I am,” Solana murmurs, her smile inescapable. “I—”

And before Solana can even transition into the almost script she’d prepared, Paloma is already ten steps ahead. “You want to go be with your husband.”

There’s something about her delivery, so kind, considering, and empathetic that brings about a new set of tears. “I do….” Shaking her head, she tries to explain, justify almost what doesn’t truly need to be explained. “I’ve loved spending time with you, and I promise I’ll come back sooner than—”

“Solana,” she interrupts, still with that same calm, serene voice. “I understand, child.” She lifts a hand to wipe away some of her tears. “Go home. Take in this moment with him. We have plenty of new moments to make together.”

Another emotional sentiment that has Solana crying all over again as she pulls her into a warm hug, holding her, eyes shut, basking in and taking in all the love of this special moment.

“I—I want you there when I give birth,” Solana murmurs. A thought she had from the moment she cried into her abuela’s lap and felt the love wrap around her. “I—” She pulls back, explaining, “I want you to come stay with us for a few weeks after—after they’re born.” Sniffling and wiping at her nose, she continues, “Or, at least, a few days, if you can—”

“Nieta.” Another interruption. Just as calm. Just as comforting as the last. “I’ll be there.” Solana shuts her eyes, feeling Paloma’s hands on her face. “I’ve found you now, and nothing and no one will keep us apart ever again.”

Words that not even the Gods themselves could prove to be false.

Paloma initiates another hug, gently stroking the back of Solana’s head, and murmurs, “Te quiero mucho, nieta.”

It's then that Solana feels it. So heavy, so powerful. All-consuming. 

She has no choice but to respond.

“Te quiero mucho, abuela.”

—---------

With tentative plans for Solana to either come see Paloma again in a few weeks, or Roman to arrange so that Paloma can come to the states, Solana boards her private jet with an almost euphoric feeling. Hand atop her belly, she makes slight conversation with Bautista but mostly sits in silence, enjoying and reveling in the bliss that fills her.

Years.

It’s been years since she’s felt so happy, since she’s been in such a good space. Truth be told, Solana isn’t entirely sure if she’s ever felt so happy in and with life as she is and feels now.

Things are good.

Are they perfect? No. She still has the situation with Naomi to handle, a talk to have with Roman about just what’s going on with the Bloodline, and a few other things, but all that feels so secondary in the face of all the other amazing things that have happened. 

Life is just so damn good currently, and for the first time, in a long time, Solana is going to embrace it. Fully embrace it.

The smile on her face could light up Times Square as she steps down off the jet to see Roman waiting for her, muscular arms crossed over his body as he lifts his glasses up off his eyes just in time to catch Solana who mad dashed in his direction, flinging herself onto him. 

Eyes closed, she kisses his cheek, reveling in the feeling of being in his arms. He kisses her temple, voice soothing as he croons in her ear. “There’s my pretty girl.”

Solana hugs him a bit tighter, murmuring as she wraps her legs around his waist. “I’ve missed you….”

Because, she did. She always does. Attached, maybe overly attached, codependent, as Gail has called it, whatever the title, Solana wears it proudly. After spending so much time feeling unloved and unwanted, she accepts and welcomes her husband in any and all ways.

She deserves this just as much as he does. 

Roman doesn’t bother letting her down, carrying her over to the SUV, Solana’s feet only touching the ground due to her needing to climb into the truck. And the minute she does, she’s grabbing for him, noticing the driver is also out of the vehicle, helping to load her luggage.

Opportunity

As Roman closes the door, he starts off, asking what she’d already anticipated. “You wanna tell me now why you all of a sudden asked to come home early or wait till we get home?” A thoughtful, understandable inquiry, as she knows she was rather vague with him regarding her premature return.

But, a verbal answer isn’t exactly what she’s wanting.

Without any reservation, Solana climbs into his lap, straddling him. To anyone looking at them, the optics present a steamy, almost salacious interaction, but it couldn’t be anything but.

Because Solana is reaching for Roman’s hand, guiding it under her hoodie and moving it across the space of her stomach.

And just as she predicted, as if rewatching an old, previously recorded clip, she sees it. Sees the shock, sees the confusion, and then, instead of something unreadable, something that can only be identified as love.

He’s moved.

Roman’s eyes lift to hers, the two sharing an unspoken conversation.

Solana uses her free hand to cup his face, ignoring the prickling of his beard against her palm. “Yeah….” Eyes watering, Solana lowers her forehead against his, breathing him in, breathing in this moment. “I love you….”

Roman tugs her closer, her hands holding the back of his head, as he keeps his hand planted on her baby bump, mouth breathing over her tattoo, her tattoo for him, for them. “I love you, too, Solana.”

—----------

“Aye, you cheating!”

“No, I’m not!”

“Yes, you are Twin 1”

“My name is Gio!”

“What you call me?”

Roman loves his wife. More than anything in this world, but right about now, he doesn’t like her.

He doesn’t like her, because it’s because of her that he’s in this situation right now, surrounded by a bunch of people. His nice, safe, sanctuary of a home occupied by invaders and intruders. 

She might consider them family.

He would say otherwise.

“Man,” Truth grumbles, whispering something over to Sami, his partner in the game of Uno they’re playing against Matteo’s boys. A game they’re losing. Badly. Sami seems to take it all in good fun, recognizing that one, it’s a game, and two, that they’re playing against kids who aren’t even in double digits. Truth, however, can’t seem to grasp that. “They got that twin power.”

“Twin what?” Ava questions from where she sits on the sofa next to a quiet Sana, the little girl naturally taking to the only woman in the friend group, playing with her phone—and Dulce. “Truth, just admit the boys are good, and ya’ll suck.”

Sami laughs a little, conceding, “you won’t find protest from me. This dad knows when to admit defeat.”

Dwayne lifts a beer, his second, or third, of the night. “Game’s not over until the last card is put down.”

Matteo chuckles, voicing agreement as he drinks from his water bottle. Like Roman, he’s remained sober for the duration of the night. “He’s right. You’re only defeated if you accept as such, my friend.”

Truth looks up and over from the table, staring at Matteo for a good minute before saying. “Tribal Chief, since when you get that accent?”

As Dwayne nearly spits out his beer and Ava has to cover her mouth from screaming, Roman finds himself rubbing his temples. 

Yeah….definitely having a talk with his wife as soon as she gets home.

Roman doesn’t even bother correcting his idiot of an employee, partially grateful for the ding of his phone. Anything to distract him from this hell.

This is why he fucking hates people. 

However, opening up his phone only brings about another form of frustration when he sees it’s from Bayley. Even worse, she has him a damn group chat.

Roman is just about ready to remove himself from the chat—something Solana taught him how to do—when he sees Bayley has sent photos. And videos.

Photos and videos that include his wife.

Roman is quick to open said attachments, going for the photos first that include the set of women posing for photos, in front of a restaurant, at a dinner table, and even at the house, clearly before leaving.

The Tribal Chief has to remind himself that children are present, because the thoughts that are running through his head are anything but kid friendly. He’s always been intensely attracted to Solana, but there’s something about her becoming more confident in her looks, less embarrassed of her scars and body that intensifies that attraction.

Not to mention what pregnancy has also done to her generous curves. The cream two piece she has on shows a dangerously tempting amount of skin, with a span of her belly flashing and a deliciously high split, revealing one of those luscious, thick thighs he can imagine wrapped around his waist as he pounds into her tight ass pus—

“Who the hell is that?”

Matteo’s voice breaks Roman from his filthy thoughts. Something he both appreciates and hates. 

Looking over, he sees the older man also has his phone in hand, a scowl on his face. “And why is he so close to my wife?”

Matteo flips his phone screen, revealing Afia, along with the other woman dancing and singing along with some Jack Frost looking motherfucker with bleached hair and a brunette beard that gives away his real hair color. An entertainer, most likely some local act, who has an annoying ass voice as he sings some annoying ass song about someone named Joe Hendry. 

Whoever the fuck that is.

Roman is prepared to look away, but then he sees it. Sees the glimpse of white, hears her laughter from the video, her smile as she also sings along to and with Jack Frost, who is also way too close to her for his liking.

Roman sits up, also asking, “why the fuck is he so close to Solana?”

“Language,”  Ava chides, glancing at the boys, grateful to see they’re too immersed in their game with Truth and Sami to notice the adults about to have meltdowns. “And would you listen to you two? You don’t own them. Afia and Solana are grown. They can do what they want.”

“I agree,” Dwayne sounds, brows furrowing as he suddenly asks, “why aren’t you on the trip? It’s supposed to be some girl thing, right?”

Ava frowns almost instantly. “Solana is cool and all, but being surrounded by a bunch of women? No thank you.”

Dwayne chuckles as both Matteo and Roman excuse themselves, each man going in separate ways, phone in hand.

Roman moves out back by the pool, pulling said video up on his phone so he can get a clearer picture.

One that has him even more irked. Who the fuck does this man think he is to get close to Roman Reign’s fucking wife?

The fucking disrespect.

He's quick with the issuance of a series of texts to his wife.

Roman: Who the fuck is that?

Roman: Tell him to back the fuck off.

Roman: Where are ya’ll?

Roman: Send me the address.

Roman: I want his name.

Roman finds himself growing irrationally irritated when Solana doesn’t answer his texts. Is it because she’s with that fucker?

Fed up with no response, Roman dials her number, pacing along the perimeter of the pool. It feels like forever for her to pick up the phone when, in actuality, it’s only a matter of two rings.

But, instead of being met with the voice of his sweet, innocent wife, he’s met with an almost exasperated Solana who battles against the background sound of the music. “Roman, you’re being ridiculous right now.”

“Me?” He gestures to himself with one hand, as if she can see. “I’m protecting my wife. Who the fuck is that bothering you in these videos?”

She sighs on the other end. Loudly. “Baby, he’s not bothering me. He’s a really nice man—”

“I don’t give a fuck if he’s one of the goddamn Saints.” Because, he honestly, truly doesn’t. “He’s bothering you, and I don’t like it.” And before she can protest, he’s past the point of rationality. “Do you need me to fly there?”

“Oh my God, Roman Reigns, don’t you dare!” He’s already got his phone on speaker as he navigates to Pearce's thread to text him the name of this Joe Hendry person. “I’m fine, baby. I’m–I’m having fun. Please just—try to enjoy your party.”

“I’ll enjoy it when Joe Hendry is dead.”

“That’s it,” she says, voice a bit firmer, but even that isn’t enough to distract him from his task at hand. “I am hanging up this phone.”

That, however, is most definitely enough to grab his attention.

He quickly takes it off speaker, bringing it back to his ear. “Solana, don’t—”

“Ro, I’ll call you when we make it back to the house.”

“Solana—”

“I love you.”

“If you hang up this damn phone, I swear—” The sound of three single beeps confirms she did, in fact, hang up the damn phone.

Roman curses and goes to call her again only to be hit with her voicemail. Confused, he tries to text her only to see that greyed out message that says her phone is on Do not Disturb.

“Damnit,” he curses once more, going to sit on the edge of the pool chair. 

And this is why he should have never let her go on this trip with her dumbass friends. They’re bad influences for his wife, because his sweet, innocent Solana would never engage in something like this if not for the influence of riffraff.

“She hang up on you, too?”

Matteo’s question hangs in the air as Roman briefly looks up from his phone seeing the other man also wearing a slightly irritated expression. “Fucking Joe Hendry.”

“What kind of stupid ass name is that anyway?” Roman asks, watching Matteo sit on a pool chair opposite him. A bit of a rhetorical question.

“All I got out of Afia is he’s some tourist performer,” Matteo shares, as Roman types and sends the same information to Pearce. “Fucking stronzo.” Roman chuckles, not agreeing nor disagreeing when Matteo clears his throat. “I’m sorry we came over uninvited. I assumed Solana would have told—”

“It’s fine,” Roman interrupts. Truth be told, he’s not sure why he’s saying it’s fine when he’d give anything to have the house to himself right about now. Just him and Dulce. Solana, of course, included, if she wasn’t out of town. “She knew I would say no. That’s why she didn’t tell me.”

Matteo chuckles, gaze assessing. “She’s got a boldness to her.”

Now, it’s Roman’s turn to chuckle again. “She does.”

Silence befalls them, the Tribal Chief ready to head back inside when Matteo breaks that silence with a low voice. 

“Can I ask you something?”

Something tells him he should say no, but he doesn’t. He just….doesn’t. “Yes.”

“What was it like with her?” And right away, Roman knows he should have listened to his first mind. “What….was she like?”

There’s no need to ask who the ‘she’ is. It’s painfully obvious. Certainly not Solana, the woman they were just speaking of minutes prior. No. It’s the only she that exists between the two men, that ties them together in a way that Roman has always tried to ignore, preferring to pretend it doesn’t exist because the history behind it is too….complicated, to say the least. 

But, regardless of the associated emotions and painful background, Roman responds. He responds truthfully.

“Cold.” Matteo has always been a man who appreciates honesty, and Roman is certainly never one to sugarcoat coat shit. The truth is just the truth. “She…she didn’t want to be a mother.” He looks away, jaw clenched. “At least not to me.”

If there’s one thing therapy has helped Roman realize, it’s that he most definitely has “mommy issues.” To a certain extent. If and when he’ll ever be ready to truly work on said issues is another story. But, he can at least acknowledge there’s definitely something there….for sure.  

Vulnerability and openness seem to be the keywords of the night as Matteo shares in a low voice. “I’ve always wondered what it would have been like to be raised by her.” He pauses, emotion evident, even if only minimal. “By people who actually cared. Who….who loved.”

There’s something achingly familiar with that sentiment. Roman knows better than most what it feels like to grow up feeling unloved and unwanted. Something Matteo clearly knows as well.

“That wasn’t my experience, either.” Roman shares in a small voice, this rare space of vulnerability unfamiliar and uncomfortable. “You were the son she wanted. She didn’t try to hide that shit. Ever.”

He doesn’t bother to look over and see Matteo’s expression. The last thing he wants is fucking sympathy. He doesn’t need that shit. Doesn’t want it.

“She probably loved you in the only way she knew how.” Words that are eerily similar to what both Solana and Lita had shared with him. Easy to say. Nearly impossible to believe, hence Roman’s response. 

“I don’t think she didn’t know how to love.” A quiet but truthful admission. “She just didn't want to love me.”

“If she didn’t, it was because of what they did to her. What they took from her.” There’s an undeniable mix of grief and rage in Matteo’s voice. Understandable. Roman was born to two parents that loved power and vengeance more than they ever, if ever, loved him. And Matteo never got the chance to know either of his parents.

In many ways, they’re two sides of the same coin, something Roman is gradually coming to realize. 

“I know you probably don’t want to hear this, Roman, but we’re a lot alike.” Another true statement Roman can’t and will not deny. Not….not anymore. “In many ways, we’re still little boys who just wanted to be loved, but received the opposite. Regardless,  I’d like to think we turned out alright.” The brief silence that befalls is both uncomfortable and necessary, before Matteo continues. “I have Afia and my children. You have Solana and will eventually have children of your own.”

For the briefest second, Roman starts to tell him. Almost wants to tell him that it’s already happened. That he and Solana have already conceived. That she’s expecting. 

That they’re expecting. 

But, he doesn’t. He doesn’t because this unexpected conversation already has his head all over the place, and the last thing he needs is to respond out of emotion, which is what that desire feels fueled by. 

He says nothing, even as Matteo stands up, sharing with continued vulnerability. 

“I’d like to one day be able to tell my children the truth. For them to have a relationship with their uncle, and for me to have one with my brother.”

Still, nothing. Continued silence. The Head of the Table unsure of just how to respond to something so unexpected and thought–provoking.

And, it’s with his departure, Matteo shares just one last thing. “Those little boys inside of us may not have had the family and love then, but maybe we can have it now.”

It’s only the sound of two knocks on the door to his office that pull the Tribal Chief away from his recollection of only two days prior. Of a conversation that’s had him reconsidering stances and notions he’s always stood on. Things that now seem almost tentative.

And bound to change.

Irritation fills him as he clears his throat and prepares to live up to his asshole reputation with a rude acknowledgment when he sees it.

Sees her.

Naturally, she welcomes herself into his office, closing the door behind her. “Hey.”

Roman chuckles, that small smile that’s almost always present when she’s around, appearing. “Get over here.”

Her giggle is music to his ears. Roman watches as she almost jogs over to him, tossing her purse on his desk as he stands up to hold her. The first thing he does is kiss her, another acknowledgment of his love and appreciation for her. The second thing is asking the most obvious question.

“What are you doing here?” He’s always happy and pleased to see his wife, but considering how much time they spent together the night prior, he’d expect her to be knocked out, laid up in bed, resting.

“I’m working today,” she answers, fingers stroking beard. “Just got done dropping Dulce off at the groomer’s, and since we have to pass here to get to work….” She trails off, his hand on the small of her back pulling her even closer. “I figured I’d come see you, unless….”

“You know it’s not a problem,” he answers, already knowing where she’s headed. “I always want to see you….”

Always. He’s certain that will never change.

God, he’s missed her. He's happy she got to spend much needed time with her grandmother, but selfishly, he’s happier to have his best friend back home.

Especially now that she's showing. There's still something so powerful and almost emotional about that moment. About feeling her stomach for the first time. Feeling the visible, physical proof of their love. The lives they've created.

Roman is certain it's a moment he'll never forget for as long as he lives.

Her smile deepens. “Good.” Solana moves her hands up his chest to the back of his head. “Guess what?”

He makes a sound. “What?”

Solana leans in closer, tightening her conjoined hands behind his neck. “While I was in Mexico, I figured out what I want the girls' middle names to be.”

Roman’s face gives away what he readily admits. “Shit, I hadn’t even thought about that.” Because he hadn't. Not at all.

“It’s okay,” Solana giggles, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “I did.” She continues, voice slightly playful. “I also think I know what I wanna do with the money they left me, and…” Her voice shifts once more from the solemn tone taken when referring to Xavier and Wesley, to something almost sentimental. “...what I want to name our son when we have him.”

It’s hard for Solana to detect what, if not all, of the things she just shared with her husband has him looking at her equally shocked and moved. “You came up with all of that?” She nods, chewing down on her bottom lip. “Why didn’t you say anything last night?”

A blush rises to her cheeks as she reminds, “Roman, we barely got any sleep last night, let alone had time to talk, remember?”

A true statement she knows he can’t deny, because if there was any part of her that doubted or questioned if her husband missed her while she was gone, he more than squashed it as he took her during their shared shower, after the shower, on the bathroom counter, against their dresser, and at least twice in their actual bed at various points in the middle of the night.

So, yes, very little sleep took place last night.

Roman makes a sound, moving his hands to squeeze her ass. “Maybe you should remind me….”

She laughs when he dips his head to place an open mouthed kiss on her neck. “Roman, stop.” He sighs against her, as she explains, “I’m gonna be late for work.”

“And?”

She lightly pushes on his chest. “And, I’ve already missed enough days and taken enough time off as it is. You know I like working, plus today’s my reading club with the kids—”

“I know, I know,” he dismisses, sighing, not needing her to explain what he already knows. Especially the unspoken part where he knows that she knows that now that she’s showing, it’s only a matter of time before she’s showing to the point where she can’t hide it under baggy clothes.

She’ll have to take leave from work. 

So, he wants her to enjoy it now while she still can. But, it’s specifically as he waits for her to say something else, for her to share the specifics of all her discoveries, and she doesn’t, he prompts, “well? Are you going to tell me the rest?”

Solana bites her bottom lip, lightly tugging him down and leaning up on the tips of her toes, so her mouth is right by his ear. Roman gives a small hiss when she kisses the shell of his ear, taking a deep, almost dramatic breath followed by a long awaited. “No.”

Roman’s scowl occurs at the same time she laughs and moves back down, so she’s craning her head to look at him. Solana moves her hands up and down his chest, explaining, “I’ll tell you when you get home tonight.”

Because, tonight, when it's just her, him, and their dog, she'll be able to share everything she thought about while on her trip. She'll also be able to talk to him about, or rather, try to get him to open up about whatever his conversation with Matteo was.

Something tells her it was important.

Roman's scowl deepens. “Tonight? Solana, you know I hate waiting for shit.”

“I’ve noticed.” Her smile is playful, as she reminds almost coyly, “but, they say good things come to those who wait, so….”

“Great....great things,” he corrects. Solana’s smile shifts from playful to almost emotional as he moves his hand under her hoodie, exploring the span of her now swollen belly. 

She don't think she'll ever get tired of that. Her feeling her belly. Him feeling her belly. Any kind of interaction with the little girls she knows both of them can't wait to meet.

“Exactly,” she whispers. Solana leans up and kisses him on the lips this time. Soft. Sensual. Loving. Them. Slowly, she pulls away, breathing against his mouth. “Tonight…”

Roman whispers back, his hand once again moving around her stomach. “Tonight.”

She smiles and pecks him one last time, finally pulling away, forcing his hands back at his side. Solana turns away with a bashful smile as she grabs her purse off his desk and moves toward the door.

“I love you,” he calls after her. 

Solana turns around, still smiling as she walks backward out of his office. “I love you, too, mi amor.” Her eyes light up with all the excitement that awaits everything else she has to share with him this evening. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“See you.” 

Solana leaves, and Roman takes a few minutes to readjust himself, mentally going over his to-do list for the day. A to-do list that’s made a bit longer due to his Wise Man being out sick yet again.

Damn old man and his weak ass immune system.

Roman opens his laptop, preparing to catch up on some emails where there’s another knock to the door. And this time, his response and reaction is anything but happy. 

He casts a harsh gaze to his on-the-verge-of-being-fired secretary. “What?”

She swallows, nervousness evident as she shifts from where she stands with one half of her body in his office and the other half of it out. “I’m sorry to bother you, sir—”

“Then why are you?” A fair question considering she knows damn well unless it’s on his schedule—or his wife—leave him the fuck alone. 

She swallows. “You—you have a visitor who’s insisting he needs to talk to you.”

“Yeah, so does everyone fucking else,” he dismisses. Roman is typing out the introduction of his response, when he asks with half-hearted interest. “Who is it?”

���A Darnell Adams?”

Right away, his typing ceases, his expression shifting from irritated to angry.

What the fuck is he doing here?

Roman intends to find out.

“Send him in.” An excessive amount of force is used to slam his laptop shot as Alicia scurries off, the Capo rolling his shoulders, trying his best to settle his growing anger. The fucking audacity of this man to show up after Roman made himself clear that day. 

Issued an order. 

An order that’s not being respected. 

Rage fills him the minute the other man steps into his office and closes the door. Palpable, clearly, as Darnell lifts his hands almost defensively. “I don’t want any problems.”

“Then you shouldn’t have fucking come here.”

He nods. “Fair.” He closes his eyes, stuffing his hands in his pants. “I know….I know Solana doesn’t want anything to do with me right now.”

“Ever,” Roman corrects with all the harshness. Does he know for certain Solana forever wants nothing to do with her biological father? No, but she made it clear she wants nothing to do with him currently, and Roman will do whatever it takes to make that happen. Even if that means exaggeration.

Darnell’s face fills with something close to hurt. Not that the Tribal Chief gives two fucks. 

“I understand.” He sounds repentant, but Roman knows better than that shit. People are adept at showing what they want others to see versus the actuality of it. “I just…..” He trails off, looking away. “I know I can’t change the past, what happened to her, what she’s been through—”

“Hell.” Roman supplies. “She went through hell in that house.”  

Roman can’t allow himself to think too much about just what that hell entailed. It’ll drive him mad, and he’ll need an outlet for his fury. An outlet that could come in the form of the man in front of him.

“And, I can’t change that, either, even if I would give anything to—to change it all, but I can’t. I can only take the now and try to make it into something better. I—” He stops, as if emotional, as if emotions building make his speaking a bit harder. “I want to be her father. I want to be there for her.”

“She doesn’t need you now. She needed you then, and you weren’t there for her,” Roman’s fist forms at his side, unable to push away the memory of just how traumatized his wife was when they first met. She was a shell of who she is now. “You didn’t protect her.” A fact. “But, I will.”

An oath.

“I believe it,” he replies, voice solemn. “It’s—it’s obvious how much you mean to her—how much she loves you, and—”

“Why are you here?” Roman has never been one for pleasantries, and with a constantly refreshing to-do list, the last thing he wants to be doing now is talking to his wife’s biological father who she wants nothing to do with.

Darnell swallows, partially surprising Roman by cutting right to the chase. “Is she happy?” He closes his eyes, tone shifting to a thing or regret and grief. “I understand now we might not ever have the relationship I’d hope we one day have, and I—I’ll respect that. I’ll leave her alone. I’ll leave you alone, but I just want—need to know that my daughter is happy.”

It’s not the question Roman was expecting. Granted, this whole exchange is something he never could have predicted for his schedule today, either.

He has to think about it, because it’s something he’s secretly worried about since Solana’s attempt over the summer. 

She says she’s happy. Looks and acts like it, too. Granted, that could have been said before that night, and look what happened. 

But, Roman has to pull away from his fear, detach that influential component to truly look at it from an objective perspective. 

He knows whatever happened with Naomi on the girls trip bothered her, and he knows that she’s still trying to work through all these bombshells, but those stressors feel almost weak in comparison to everything else happening in her life. In their life.

She’s on a good medication regimen, she loves her therapist, has solidified a good, solid friend group, continues to work and create and cook and bake, and all of the other enjoyable things she has in her repertoire of coping skills and hobbies. After some bumps in the road and trying times, Roman truly believes their marriage is in a good place.

They’re building a home. She’s going back to school to get her degree.

She has a real family now, and above all, the two of them have created a family, fulfilling one of her lifelong dreams of becoming a mother.

So, it’s truly taking in all of that, Roman finally answers with a sense of confidence, “yes, she’s happy.”

And, he believes it. For the first time in some time, he’s actually able to believe it.

A wave of relief washes over both men, but it’s the older one who actually shows and verbalizes as such. “Thank you. That’s….that’s all that matters to me.” Roman is still partially caught in his head, not really paying much attention as Darnell starts to walk off but turns around, a small smile on his face.

“It’s interesting,” he starts, eyes gazing as he travels back to a different place in time. “Who’d have thought that brave, stubborn little boy I pulled out of the house that night and had to restrain from going back in because he just wanted to save his family would grow up to be the man my daughter would fall in love with?”

There have been very few times in Roman’s life where he’s been rendered completely silent, at a full loss of words, unsure just how to handle something being told to him.

This….this is definitely one of them. 

It takes a good minute for Roman to respond, and he hates how perturbed he sounds. That he’s given away how shocked he is by what was just said. “What the hell did you just say?”

Darnell’s lips press together before he explains, “I was a volunteer firefighter at the time while in medical school. Wanted the first responder and community experience.” He looks away while Roman finds himself unable to look away. “That night will always be burned into my memory. The lives lost….”

Roman knows. He knows very well, but now he also knows something that he’s wondered about since he was ten years old. 

Who saved his life that night.

Who pulled him out of that fire and who prevented him from going back in, potentially saving his life twice.

And, now he knows.

He fucking knows.

Darnell chuckles, a small, sad smile on his aged but handsome face. “I used to wonder why….why we were only able to save you, but after all these years, I get it now. I understand.” Roman’s intense gaze never leaves him. Not once. “I saved you all those years ago, because you were the one who would save my daughter.”

The last, final statement to leave his mouth before he exits Roman’s office, leaving the Tribal Chief with a new set of confusing ass emotions that all revolve around one single, life changing discovery.

Darnell, Solana’s biological father, was the one who saved his life as a child. 

—--------

Something feels….different.

Not necessarily bad, but not necessarily good, either. Solana can’t put her hand on it, nor can she tell if there is some sort of influence from her pregnancy hormones, but for whatever reason, the car ride to the library just feels off.

It starts the moment she leaves Roman’s office, strangely enough. Up until then, she was great, wonderful. But, riding down the elevator in silence, accompanied by Bautista and her security detail, an uneasy feeling settles over her.

And, it’s a feeling she can’t really shake, even as she arrives at work. The ‘thank you’ she almost always extends to the driver is met with an almost indifferent reply. Minimal eye contact.

Just……off.

It’s when she hops out of the SUV, Solana finds herself asking Bautista, who escorts her into the building, “is everything alright?”

His facial expression doesn’t indicate any sort of issue, as he responds, “as far as I’m concerned, ma’am.”

She gives a small smile, partially grateful for the slight distraction. “I told you that you don’t have to call me that. You know this.”

He returns with an equally small smile. “Habit.” He shrugs, walking beside her, still surveying. “I do think….” He trails off, clearly being mindful of said response. “Tensions are high, for sure.”

That much, Solana already knows. Is it maybe she’s just feeling it for the first time? She didn’t feel anything when she was with Roman. Granted, she also knows he can be adept at hiding what he doesn’t want her to know about or see. And the mess that is the situation with the Bloodline right now is, very clearly, something he doesn’t want her to know about.

Not yet, at least. 

Solana has to ask, eager for the older man’s insight. “Do you….do you think it’ll get better?” She believes it will, but Solana also knows that she’s naive to so many things regarding the Bloodline.

Bautista is thoughtful with his response. “Your husband is a smart man, Solana. If anyone can navigate this, it’s him.” She doesn’t know how, but there’s an almost unspoken “he’s done it before” at the end of the sentence that Solana finds reassuring.

Bautista is right. Roman is intelligent and pragmatic. Things are definitely not the best right now, but he’ll figure it out. 

He always does.

“Thank you, Bautista,” Solana’s smile deepens, as she switches gears just a little. “You know you’ve been with me for a while now. At treatment, in Mexico, now we’re back home, aren’t you due for a vacation?” 

He laughs, something deep and warm. “Eventually.” Solana is ready to ask for a more specific time when he offers, “planning to go see my daughter at the end of the month.”

Solana’s eyes light up, as he holds the door open for her. “For Thanksgiving?”

He nods. “She left for college back in July. Haven’t seen her since.” His eyes alight with something similar to pride. “It’ll be good to see her. See the family.”

Solana’s smile is stapled. “I’m sure it will be.” Adjusting her purse on her shoulder, she admits, “though I was hoping you’d be here for Thanksgiving. I’m planning to host.”

Bautista looks down at her, eyebrow lifted. “Does the boss man know that?” Solana gives that ‘not yet’ expression, prompting him to chuckle. “I take it that’s a no.”

“He’ll come around,” Solana says more to herself than Bautista. She knows how antisocial her husband is, but there’s something she thinks could be gained from hosting Thanksgiving at their home. She doesn’t know what that guest list will look like just yet, but she has to believe things will be better by then.

They just have to be. 

Separating from Bautista and walking deeper into the library, Solana is met with another great source of distraction.

“Sami.”

The man in question turns from where he’s clearly searching for something, only to brighten up at the sight of her. “Solana! I didn’t know you were back in town.”

She giggles, sharing, “I just got back yesterday.” She notices the books in his hand. “Can I help you with….”

He looks down, waving her off. “Oh no. These are actually returns.” He shakes his head. “My wife told me I could just drop em' off tomorrow, but I was in the area, so I figured why not knock them out now, ya know?”

She nods. “Of course.” Curious, Solana inquires, “how was the get-together? I heard you ended up joining impromptu.”

He chuckles, almost nervously, one finger scratching his temple. “Yeah, not too sure the Tribal Chief liked that.”

Solana reaches a hand over on his bicep, reassuring, “if he wanted you to leave, he would have kicked you out. Trust me.”

Because as much as Solana knows Roman loves her, she also knows if he really didn’t want to have that get-together, he would have told them all to leave. But, he didn’t, and she’s taking that as a good sign. 

“Yeah, I guess so.” Sami both sounds and looks a bit more settled by this information. “Well, hey, I won’t keep you.”

“Of course.” Solana nods. She then remembers, informing, “oh! Roman told me you dropped off some food for me. Thank you so much! I haven’t had time to get to it, but—”

He waves her off. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“I’ll make sure to report back to you though how it tasted,” she promises. As someone who also cooks, feedback on dishes is key, so she plans to make good on said promise. Maybe cook a dish or two for him and his family as well.

His grin deepens. “Well, sounds like a plan!”

Solana giggles. “It’s a plan.” She turns to leave, knowing she only has a few minutes before the children start spilling in. “See you later, Sami.”

He gives a little wave. “See you later.”

It’s a bit of a mad dash, Solana leaving her purse up in the break room, keeping her phone secured in the back pocket of her jeans. By the time she returns to the reading nook she designed herself, sure enough, majority of the kids are present. And, in true, child fashion, after being met with a set of hugs, then come the questions.

“Where did you go?” 

It’s asked by several of the children, Solana giggling as she instructs them all to sit down and tries her best to keep the book of the day hidden behind her, secured between her back and the chair.

It’s a valid question though.

“I went to go see my family,” she finally answers, wanting to be honest but also knowing specifics probably wouldn’t be a good idea. “In Mexico.”

Gasps around her as another child, Calista, who prefers to be called Callie, asks, “you’re from Mexico?”

Solana giggles. “Not exactly, but I have family there, so I went to see them.”

Prue, a little girl with fiery red hair, and a personality to match, asks with all the theatrics, “did your husband go with you?”

Solana can’t hold back her smile, as the girls specifically giggle with giddiness. Playing into it, she answers, almost coyly, “maybe.”

The laughter amongst the children is infectious, Solana shaking her head, realizing they need to get started. “Okay, so today, we’re reading….” Solana trails off, noticing a scene unfolding in the distance.

Less the scene and more who is involved with that scene.

“Brandi?”

Solana’s whispered word is not quiet enough to avoid detection from one of the kids who overhears. 

“The book is called Brandi?”

Solana shakes her head, pulling her attention from the scene of Brandi Rhodes holding her daughter, Emma, while talking to Bautista, who has his arms raised almost, as if trying to block them. 

Trying to defuse, which makes sense given the concerned, borderline nervous expression on Brandi’s face. 

Shaking her head, Solana catches the attention of Mrs. Jensen who is returning books to the rightful spot. “Mrs. Jensen?” She turns around, Solana standing up and walking over, asking in a quiet voice, “do you mind starting the story time with the kids? I have to take care of something.”

Her eyes light up with excitement. “Of course!” 

“Thank you,” Solana murmurs, managing a smile as she tells the kids she’ll be right back, while Mrs. Jensen takes her seat, readying to start off the story.

Solana crosses her arms, partially grateful when Brandi looks over and sees her coming. “Thank God,” she sighs, gesturing to Bautista. 

“Solana!” Emma’s smile is big and happy as she wiggles to get out of her mother’s arms. As Bautista turns around, face not hiding his confusion—and concern—at the scene unfolding, Emma runs over to hug Solana’s legs. She looks up, revealing a missing front tooth. “I missed you!”

Despite her confusion at whatever is transpiring, Solana finds herself incapable of not reciprocating the sweet girl's sentiments. “I missed you, too, sweetie.” 

She leans down, offering Emma a hug as Brandi walks closer, Bautista no longer restricting her. 

“Would you please tell him you asked me to come here?”

At that, Solana’s smile drops. She stands up, Emma still almost holding onto one of her legs. “What?”

“Solana….” Bautista’s concerned voice draws her attention. “What is going on?” The same question the woman in question has. “How do you know Brandi Rhodes?” And before she can answer, he asks, almost urgently, “does the Tribal Chief know about this?”

Again, too many questions. Too much confusion. 

Solana closes her eyes and quickly moves based on what makes the most sense. In the moment, at least.

“No,” an answer directed to Bautista. Simple. Not very telling, but the best she has right now. “I’ll handle this.” Redirection to Brandi, her voice lowered. “Let’s talk.” 

Brandi is about to respond when Emma, who’s moved back by her mom, tugs on Brandi’s pants. “Mommy, I wanna hear the story!” She points over to where the kids are gathered around Mrs. Jensen, listening keenly with all the concentrated attention.

Brandi looks up, catching the gaze of Solana who offers a small nod. Probably best Emma not overhear what’s bound to be an interesting conversation. 

Brandi relents. “Okay, but stay right over there.” 

Emma nods happily and books it over to the reading room area, settling on the floor right next to Callie as the two trade brief pleasantries. 

Solana then looks over at Brandi. “Come with me.”

Bautista steps forward. “Solana—”

“I’ve got this,” she reassures, lifting her hand, almost to halt him. “Just….just wait here, okay?” He looks completely uncomfortable, and she can’t blame him, but Solana isn’t ready just yet to share the full story with how she knows the woman she’s currently leading to the break room. She will. But first, she needs to know just what the hell brings the woman here in the first place.

As soon as the door is closed, Brandi jumps right to it. “Solana, what the hell is going on?”

Taken back, Solana shakes her head, crossing her arms, facing the other woman who sounds every bit as lost as Solana feels. “What? I—I was going to ask you the same?” She studies her, trying to ignore the nagging building feeling. “What are you doing here?”

Brandi stops. “What am I doing here?” She also crosses her arms, some attitude seeping into her voice. “You asked me, borderline begged me to come here.”

Solana doesn’t know if she’s in the twilight zone or something similar, because that’s the last thing she expected to come out of her mouth. “What?” Solana scoffs, eyes darting from side to side. “Brandi, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She truly, honestly doesn't. “I haven’t seen you since the night of the gala.” Which feels like forever ago. “And, I don’t even have any contact information for—”

“Are you seriously playing stupid right now?” Brandi’s confusion has completely shifted to irritation. “Really?”

Solana steps forward, deepening her voice, affirming, “Brandi, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Brandi scoffs and aggressively reaches into her purse, pulling out her phone ,clearly unlocking it as she navigates to something. “I swear to God, Solana, I risked a lot to come here, and you’re just standing here acting like you didn’t fucking call me—”

“I didn’t!” Solana defends, feeling her frustrating growing. One thing that she dislikes, largely due to her trauma, is being accused of doing something that she didn’t do. “I don’t—”

“Brandi? It’s me, Solana.” The sound that leaves Brandi’s phone that she’s holding up so both can hear nearly sends Solana back into the door. It’s her voice. But, it’s not. “I need you to meet me at the library this afternoon.” Solana covers her mouth, eyes wide with horror at hearing herself, but it’s not herself. “Bring Emma, too. I can’t say why, but you just have to trust me. Please! I think you guys are in danger. I’ll be waiting for you.” 

The voicemail ends, and Solana is rendered completely silent. “I—” She stammers, finding her voice yet again. “Brandi, that—that wasn’t me!”

“Oh my God….” Brandi turns away, looking with disbelief. “So you’re really trying to deny this shit? It’s literally your voice!”

“But, it’s not!” Solana defends, pulling out her cell phone, asking, “when was that sent?”

Brandi shakes her head, clearly hesitating but eventually looking at her phone, reporting, “today at 12:05pm.”

Solana pulls up her phone log, showing Brandi her screen. “I don’t have any outgoing calls today at that time. Look.” As Brandi, in fact, looks, Solana adds, almost desperately. “Actually, at that time, I was at the groomers, dropping off my dog.” She then remembers the text she sent to Bayley around that time telling him as such, quickly navigating to said message to show it to her. “See.”

And Solana sees it, as the suspicion and irritation starts to fade away in the face of evidence. “Then…..I don’t….I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I,” Solana confesses, placing her phone back in the back pocket of her jeans. She wants to speak, wants to say something else, but the eeriness of it all has her rendered silent once more.

That was most definitely her voice. It was Solana’s voice, but it wasn’t actually Solana. And not only does she have no idea how that happened, but why such a strange, ominous message was left for Brandi, of all people.

And Brandi voices as such, just as lost. “It….it must be AI or something,” She suggests, and it makes sense. The only thing that makes sense right about now. “But…but, why?”

It’s then, in that very moment the ‘why’ leaves her mouth that it hits Solana. That the uneasy feeling from earlier that day returns with an intensely amplified severity. It gnaws at and crawls up her body, piercing into her skin, instantly spiking her anxiety, placing a massive weight on her chest. 

Looking away, starting to put mushy, muddy, somewhat indistinguishable pieces together, Solana focuses back on Brandi. Her voice is almost haunting. “Something’s wrong.”

Not even seconds later, a loud, massive banging sound followed by shouts and the issuance of a harsh, deep command, “everybody down!”

Naturally, both Solana and Brandi jump, but it’s the other woman whose eyes fill with fear. “Emma!”

Pure, maternal instinct, clearly, as Brandi shoves Solana to the side and rips the door open.

“Brandi!” Solana shouts, attempting to stop her, but it’s useless, Brandi is out the door, heading toward the source of the noise. 

And Solana is right behind her. A thing of instinct, truly, because logic would have her remain where she was, away from whatever chaos they’re about to run into. 

And, chaos it is. Masked men dressed in all black, skulls surrounded by hues of red, white and blue, fill the first floor of the library, armed with guns that they have aimed at the innocent patrons. 

But, Solana barely has time to process all that as her focus lands on the corner of the first floor where she sees more men, Bloodline men, attacking two men.

“No!”

Solana shouts, rushing over to where Sami and Bautista are both being beat on, helpless, and painfully outnumbered. However, she’s stopped when guns are turned on her, her eyes widening with abject horror. Naturally, she raises her hands in an almost defensive manner, her heart practically beating out of her chest.

This….this has to be some mistake. How….how can they have their guns on her? Not these men with the unfamiliar insignia, but the men who carry the mark of the Bloodline, the army her husband commands, and yet they have their weapons aimed directly at her.

Solana doesn’t know how she’s breathing right now. 

She’s shaking, her voice just as unsteady, looking amongst them. “Wh—what are you doing?”

“What their Tribal Chief has ordered them to do.”

Solana knows the voice of her husband, the Tribal Chief, very well. Better than most. That’s why she knows, even before looking, that that is not Roman. 

And sure enough, it isn’t. 

Solana’s chest contracts as she lays on him.

“Solo?”

He lifts his chin, Solana unsure what’s more distracting and shocking, the sight of him standing in front of her, clearly the leader of what’s unfolding or the red ula fala he wears around his neck.

The ula fala that belongs to Roman.

Her throat tightens. “What—what have you done?”

Solo’s smile is just as evil as the look in his eyes. “Oh sweetheart, we just getting started.”

But, before she can ask anything, not that she even knows what to ask first with the million and one questions, she’s distracted by the entrance of another man. He wears a similar, evil expression as Solo, but there’s something about it that seems almost darker. 

More sadistic. 

He comes and stands beside Solo, also strapped down, barking to the men, “tie em up!”

And the men move, as if God himself issue the command, Solana’s heart breaking while watching a badly beaten Sami and Bautista, as well as the rest of the patrons, are rounded up, gagged and zip tied.

“Bron, what the hell are you doing!” Brandi’s voice attracts Solaan’s attention to see she’s holding a crying Emma, cradling her to her chest. They’re by the rest of the kids who are also obviously terrified and also crying, but that crying intensifies, when Mrs. Jenkins is also dragged away.

Solana gasps, and with the guns no longer on her, she rushes over to the kids and Brandi. They all fly to her like moth to flame, clutching onto her, Prue and Calista, on either side, holding her tightly.

“It’s okay,” she attempts to comfort, though she’s certain her voice has to give away that their fear is about what and what with hers. 

“Shut the hell up!”

Bron’s harsh shout is directed at Brandi, as it’s only then Solana realizes why he looks familiar. He was the guard with her that day when she reunited mother and daughter.

An eerie thought overcomes her with said realization. 

He was Brandi’s personal guard. The same way Solo was Solana’s. And now, they stand here before the two women they swore to protect, raining fire and chaos, bringing violence and destruction.

Bloodline with Nightmare Factory. 

United.

An alliance.

A coup. 

Brandi’s cry of terror is what pulls Solana from her terrifying realization as she sees two Nightmare men stomp over and rip a crying Emma away from her mother.

“No! Not my baby!” Brandi cries, thrashing violently against the guard who restrains her. 

“Mommy!” Emma also tries to reach for her mother as she’s carried outside, Solana starting to realize just how bad this all is. Beyond it. It’s a nightmare come to life, and she’s right, smack dab, in the middle of it.

“Shut her up!” Bron barks, as one second the guard is restraining Brandi, and the next, he knocks her in the back of her head with his gun, her body going limp in his arms. 

“No!” Solana shouts, seeing Brandi’s unconscious body being lifted and thrown over the shoulder of one of the soldiers as he leads her outside of the building. 

Solo then gestures towards her. “Grab her.”

“No,” Solana naturally protests, an almost maternal instinct coming over her as she tries to maneuver the two crying little girls who hold onto her, crying, shaking. “Solo, please—the kids—”

“You ain’t gotta worry about them, sweetheart,” Bron answers, an evil, malicious gleam in his eyes. “They’ll be just fine.”

Right then and there, Solana knows they’ll be anything but.

She knows exactly what they have planned.

And, it nearly sends her to her feet. 

“Solo,” she stammers, either hand moving to the head of each little girl. “P—please. They’re….they’re just children.” He says nothing, continuing to look at her with boredom. “Please.” Tears stream down her face. “You—you have children. What—what if they were your kids?”

For the first time, Solo gives an indication of some sort of impact from her words. But, she doesn’t believe it. She can’t believe it, until he scoffs, rolling his shoulders. “Fine.” Solana stills. “They can go.”

It feels like a sick ploy, a cruel taunt, but when he motions for his men to stand down, and Bron does the same with his men, albeit with obvious irritation, Solana realizes it’s not a ploy.

He’s going to let them go.

And immediately, she turns around, crouching so that she’s eye level with the kids. “Kids, l–look at me. I—I need you all to run, okay? I—I need you to run as fast as you can.”

Tears, gasps, and hiccups followed by a couple, “we’re scared.”

“It’s okay to be scared,” she reassures, wiping away some of the tears falling down their innocent faces. “But, you guys have to do this. O–okay? You—you have to run.” 

“Hurry up!” Solo barks behind her, making Solana wince and the children cower with a deeper level of fear.

“Who—who here knows where the fire station is?”

A trembling Callie lifts her hand. “I—I do.”

A first thought is the police station, but that’s farther than the fire station and would require the children to cross several streets versus the one for the fire station. Plus, Solana has also been told on several occasions the police department is on Bloodline payroll, so if a coup is truly occurring, she doesn’t know if she’d be sending the kids from one type of danger into another.

“Good,” Solana nods, looking amongst them all. “I need you all to follow Calista, okay? You all run to the fire station, and you don’t stop unless you need to look both ways to cross the street. And you don’t look back, okay?” Solana is pleading, begging at this point. "Whatever you do, don’t look back.”

She’s partially relieved to see several heads nodding and prepares to usher them out of the library when a tug on her sweatshirt draws her attention to teary eyes. “What about you? Aren’t you coming with us?”

A question that nearly breaks her right then and there.

“Not this time, okay?” Solana clears her throat, not wanting to break down in front of these already terrified children. She can’t.

“Will we ever see you again?”

Solana closes her eyes, hating how the same thought crossed her mind.

“Of course.” She can’t do it. She can’t dash their hope, take away whatever they have in this moment that keeps them from falling apart. “I–I promise.”

“Let’s go!”

Solo’s shout prompts Solana to start guiding the children out of the library. She sends Calista off first, an abundance of relief filling her in seeing how the rest of the children follow suit. All running past the masked, arm men like their lives depend on it. 

Because, they do.

And, it’s when the last child spills out of the building and into the line of safety, Solana’s tears escalate a bit, the weight of what just happened, what’s happening, overcoming her. She cries into her hand only for a minute only when a hand yanks her up by her hair, prompting her to cry out from a different kind of pain. 

Eyes opening, she’s met with Solo’s cold stare. “Shut the hell up!” She shouts again when he brings his hand to her face, slapping her with so much force that she’s back on her knees. “Get her ass up!”

Solana has both palms on the ground, eyes clenched shut as she tries to ignore the stinging in her face and uses every ounce of restraint she has to not lash out. To not hit Solo back.

She’s never wanted to hurt someone so badly in this moment, but she can’t. She can’t because of two tiny humans that she has to protect. The children growing in her stomach. The children no one in this room but Bautista know about, and she has to keep it that way.

Soalna only has a slight idea as to what’s happening, but she knows enough to know that whatever happens, she can’t let them know she’s pregnant. Can’t let anyone see the small baby bump that was once something she was so excited about but, right about now, would give anything to not have. 

She winces once more when grabbed by her hair by one of the Bloodline men, the same men who are supposed to be sworn to protect her, who now drag her off towards the door. 

But, it’s as her graze briefly shifts to the line of adults who are still lined up and tied up, she sees it. Sees the moment Sami and Bautista match each other’s gazes, giving a subtle nod, she knows, just knows what’s about to happen.

No.

But, she can’t find a way to voice what she thinks, not until it happens, that with a last act of defiance and hope of saving others, saving her, they each lunge for the guards close to them. 

And it’s only when the sound of rapid gunfire, holes appearing in their bullet ridden bodies that fall almost in slow motion to the ground, jerking violently as the guards continue to fire onto them, that it leaves her mouth.

“NO!”

Solana can barely think, barely breathe, barely function, unable to look away from the scene as the adults around the now two deceased men cry out in equal horror as what courses through her body. 

But, in the sickest, cruelest way, it’s that gruesome sight along with her realizing that Solo is wearing the ula fala, a terribly horrific and grim realization hits her. 

Roman.

“Roman.” Just saying his name has her knees buckling and her heart about to beat right out of her chest. His name invokes a sharp look from Solo. “Where is he?” Solo lifts his chin in an almost taunting manner as Solana tries to lunge for him, only to be held back. “Where is he!” She beats at the muscled forearm holding her back. “What did you do to him?” Tears pour down her face as she continues to realize just how devastating what’s happening truly is. 

What could have happened. 

“Oh, shut up.”

A new voice is added to the mix. A female voice. And Solana only catches a glimpse of familiar, wild, light brown curly hair when a hand is raised, and something hard hits her in the back of the head, succumbing her to the darkness. 

It's a slow descend, because she makes out faint things like the woman smirking. Smirking followed by the sound of rapid gunfire, screams, and then, nothing, the dark eerie silence that follows matched only by the dark abyss that becomes her reality as she's forced to concede to the darkness.

[junezsq]

failing potions

harry james potter x fem!reader

summary: when working on an essay might turn into something more

warnings: none! takes places in third year

word count: 1,1k

a/n: i love writing confident harry, we need to see more of him

── ᵎᵎ ✦

the gryffindor common room was busy for a late afternoon, the usual hum of chatter flowing through the room while a small ray of sunlight seeped in from the window. you’d just come from a quick chat with hermione about charms when you remember the essay professor snape had assigned you to write for the next potions class.

deciding you’d have a better chance in a quieter environment you gathered your things—quill, parchment, books—ready to leave for the library. potions was still giving you trouble, and you needed a bit of peace to work through your essay, even if you weren’t entirely sure where to start. slipping through the portrait hole, you were nearly to the stairs when someone stepped into your path.

"sorry," harry’s voice cut through the stillness after almost bumping into you. when he realized it was you the usual curiosity he had towards you bubbled up.

“it’s alright.” you smiled, stepping aside to let him pass, but he didn’t move. instead, he looked at you with a sort of tentative hope, his eyebrows raised in question. "where are you off to?" he asked, almost as if it was a casual thing to ask.

you hesitated for a second. you hadn’t been planning on bumping into anyone, nor letting someone possibly join you, let alone that someone being harry. however, looking at the boy standing in front of you, you realized he looked genuinely interested. besides, maybe he could help you with your essay; you’d been struggling for days now.

"i was about to head to the library,” you sighed. “to work on that potions essay snape assigned us. it’s giving me a headache. i can’t make heads or tails of half the instructions."

"funny, i was going to work on it in the common room.” harry’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he ran a hand through his messy hair. “i still haven’t even started it yet, though. do you wanna... work on it together?"

you raised an eyebrow, surprised. harry wasn’t exactly the first person you’d think of when it came to potions. it was one of the few things he never seemed to excel in; almost having blown up his cauldron last week. still, there was something about the way he smiled at you—genuine, warm—that made you hesitate.

you thought for a moment. in truth, you just didn’t want to spend the entire evening buried in your own confusion, and the idea of working alongside someone sounded nice. especially harry, who you’d been getting to know better over the past few weeks, even though potions wasn’t his strong suit.

"i guess it wouldn't hurt," you said with a small, amused smile.

harry grinned back, his usual enthusiasm lighting up his face. "great!" he said, his voice eager, though you knew it wasn’t because he expected to solve your potions problem. no, harry was simply someone who liked helping, and, maybe, you suspected, it was also about sharing something with you. "i’m not brilliant at it either," he added with a sheepish chuckle, "but, well, two heads are better than one, right?"

"definitely," you agreed, though you couldn’t help but feel a little skeptical about how much help harry would be. still, his presence was comforting, and that was enough.

you turned to walk toward the stairs, but stopped to glance back at harry. "let’s not tell hermione, though," you added with a quiet laugh. "she’d have a lot to say about us needing help with potions."

harry’s face lit up with a grin, and for a moment, you thought he might laugh out loud. "agreed," he said, nodding. "she’d probably start writing us notes on the finer details of snape’s instructions. i swear, she’s got the entire textbook memorized."

you both shared a laugh, the conversation flowing easily as you made your way to the library. you could feel the beginnings of something comfortable, something real, forming between you. and as harry walked beside you, his smile never quite fading, you realized his company might make the evening worthwhile.

as you reached the library, madam pince was immediately there, giving both of you a sharp look. "quiet," she muttered, waving a finger at you. "this is a library, not a social club."

you both muttered apologies, and harry shot you a grin, making you suppress a laugh. with madam pince keeping a close eye on the two of you, you quickly made your way deeper into the library, picking a secluded corner near the back shelves. it was quieter here, and it felt more private—perfect for getting some work done.

after having sat down at a small table you spread out your books. harry picked up a thick potions textbook, his brow furrowed as he flipped through the pages, and you followed suit; your own potions book open in front of you. the silence between you was comfortable, and as you both tried to piece together the complicated instructions snape had written, you found yourself glancing at harry more than once. he didn’t seem stressed, just casually flipping through the pages, occasionally muttering things under his breath.

"right," harry said after a long pause, "i think i finally understand this bit about the aconite root. snape’s wording is a bit—" he paused, then looked at you, "—confusing, don’t you think?"

you nodded, feeling a sense of relief that harry was just as baffled by snape’s cryptic instructions as you were. "yeah, it’s like he’s trying to make us all fail on purpose."

harry let out a sarcastic chuckle, "wouldn’t surprise me. he’s probably hoping we’ll figure it out on our own, like some sort of secret test."

you smiled at his words, the ease of the moment settling over you. for a split second, you almost forgot about the stress of the essay, of potions, of everything. it was just you and harry, talking and working together in this quiet corner of the library.

then harry suddenly looked up at you, his expression shifting slightly. "you know," he said, his voice quiet but sincere, "i’m glad we’re doing this. i mean, we haven’t really gotten the chance to get to know one another."

you blinked at him, surprised, and a teasing grin formed on your lips, “are you?”

harry shrugged, a small, almost shy smile tugging at his lips. "yeah, well. between everything going on...” he trailed off, but when he seemed to remember he couldn’t tell you more, he lightly shook his head, “i mean, with all the homework we’re getting and all.” he looked at you for a beat, his gaze a little more intense than before. “but this is nice.”

you swallowed, unsure of what to say, and for a moment, you were both caught in a silence that felt different from the usual. the world outside the library seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you in this small, intimate space.

"yeah," you said softly with a small smile, the quiet in your voice matching his. "it is."

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

SOUNDTRACK // blind, role model

TAGLIST // @callsigncrushx @moonjellyfishie @pussyslayerhd

[tsukumomei]

OKOKOK in my mind in the “puppy love” fic, reader is moving to spain

and then three years later sae comes to spain cause he gets scouted by re al you know the story

and so they meet again ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹 (they have cute “dates” if you will, where she shows him around spain and what not 🤭)

now idk if you’re taking requests at the moment, or even want to write a part two for this, but i (and many others i feel like) would LOVE to see this!

no force though, if you do wish to write it take your time, and if you don’t it’s all fine too!

much love, xoxo 💋

a/n: This is actually insane because this is EXACTLY what I had in mind for a bonus part! I was originally going to end it when they saw each other again, but I took your request and wrote about their dates too. Enjoy! Mwah! I wouldn’t consider this a part 2, though—if I ever write one, it’ll still be from Rin’s POV. But I’m open to writing more bonus parts for this fic, so feel free to send me an ask! ^^

—RIGHT WHERE WE LEFT OFF

ft. Sae Itoshi

a bonus chapter for Puppy Love

synposis: Sae moves to Madrid after getting scouted by Real, but he has two problems. One—he hates it. The city feels unfamiliar, foreign, nothing like home. Two—he’s determined to forget about you. But the harder he tries, the more his own mind betrays him—because no matter what he does, everything leads him right back to you. wc: 3.1 k

The shuffling in Sae’s carry-on grows more frantic as he impatiently searches for that notebook from you.

It was the first thing he stuffed into his bag.

Flipping through the worn pages, his eyes finally land on the last one—covered in messy scribbles, but the only thing that stands out is a single line written in red ink at the bottom:

"Wait for me. ❤️ Y/N"

Sae presses his thumb against the words, as if touching them could somehow bring back the past. Could somehow make you feel real again.

He leans back into his seat, staring out at the endless stretch of sky beyond the plane window, but it’s not Madrid he’s thinking about. It’s you.

This morning, back at the house, he’d been kicking a soccer ball around the backyard, the steady thud of leather against concrete filling the quiet air. Rin was there too, watching him with a knowing look before finally speaking up.

"Nii-chan, it was just puppy love."

Maybe it was. Maybe Rin was right.

But if it was just puppy love, why is it still lingering?

Why did he still worry—that if you ever came back, that you’d be mad at him for not being there?

It’s been three years.

The chances of seeing you again were close to impossible.

—

Sae steps into his new apartment in Madrid, rolling his suitcase inside as his manager gestures around the space.

“This is your living room,” his manager begins, flipping on the lights. The apartment is modern, minimalistic—exactly what Sae expected. “Kitchen’s over there. Fridge is stocked for now, but you’ll need to do your own groceries after this week.”

Sae nods, setting his bag neatly by the couch.

“The bedroom’s down the hall,” the manager continues, walking ahead. “Bathroom’s connected. There’s a desk if you need to study or review game footage. Wi-Fi’s already set up.”

Sae peeks into the bedroom—plain, clean, nothing extravagant. Just a bed, a nightstand, and a small window overlooking the street below.

“You’re across the hall?” Sae asks as they return to the main area.

“Yeah,” his manager confirms, crossing. “If you need anything, just knock.”

Sae scoffs lightly. “I’ll be fine.”

His manager gives him a once-over, then exhales. “Good. Then I’ll leave you to settle in.”

With that, the manager steps out, leaving Sae alone.

The moment the door clicks shut, Sae gets to work. He unzips his luggage, methodically putting his clothes away, setting his toiletries in the bathroom, and neatly stacking his training gear by the closet. He takes mental notes of what he needs—more food, basic supplies, maybe an extra pillow.

Once everything is in place, he pulls out his phone and dials home.

His mother picks up almost immediately. “Sae?”

“I just landed and got to the apartment,” he informs her, his voice steady. “Everything’s fine.”

“That’s good,” she says warmly. “Have you eaten?”

“I will soon.”

“Don’t just eat whatever’s fastest. Make sure you’re getting proper meals.”

Sae hums in acknowledgment before adding, “Tell Dad I made it safely. And Rin, too.”

“Of course,” his mother says. There’s a brief pause, then a softer, knowing tone in her voice. “It feels real now, doesn’t it?”

Sae leans against the counter, staring at the empty space around him. His new home. His new life.

“Yeah,” he murmurs.

After a few more exchanges, he hangs up, setting his phone aside.

His eyes drift to his carry-on, to the one thing he hadn’t put away yet.

The notebook.

The worn cover, the slightly frayed edges—he traces them with his fingers before flipping it open once again. The pages are filled with your handwriting, messy yet familiar, scrawled with thoughts and doodles from years ago.

It’s ridiculous, really. He hasn’t seen you in three years. He has no idea where you are, if you’re still in the same country, if you even remember him the way he remembers you.

But memories flood in anyway. The afternoons spent at the park, your determined expression when you first crashed his soccer game, the way you always talked too much but somehow, he never minded. The way you scribbled on his arm once with the same red ink you used to write—

"Wait for me. ❤️ y/n"

Sae exhales sharply and shuts the notebook.

Maybe it really was just puppy love.

He stands, grabs his wallet, and heads for the door.

He needs to get out, get familiar with the city. He’s going to live here now, after all.

—

The city is foreign, unfamiliar—Sae hates it.

He was never one for traveling. The only reason he’s here is to play soccer at an international level, but outside of that, it feels suffocating in a way he never expected.

The streets are too loud yet too quiet at the same time. He doesn’t understand the conversations happening around him, the unfamiliar syllables blending into meaningless noise. The people pass by in a blur, all strangers, none of them acknowledging him beyond quick  glances.

It’s not like he’s stupid enough to get scammed—he’s careful, always aware of his surroundings. But that doesn’t change the fact that he doesn’t belong here. It doesn’t change how frustrating it is to have all this free time and nowhere to go, no one to turn to.

The city is alive, buzzing with movement, but it only makes the loneliness feel sharper.

—

Today marks his second week in Madrid.

Sae realizes just how useless he is when it comes to directions.

The sun is already beginning to set, casting a golden glow over Madrid, and he has no idea where he is.

The street signs might as well be in a foreign language—which, technically, they are. He squints at them, but the unfamiliar words blur together, useless in helping him find his way. And as for Spanish? Well, he knows about as much as a toddler forming his first sentence.

Great.

Of course, it’s at a time like this that he remembers you.

Because you were always the human GPS between the two of you, navigating streets like you had a built-in map inside your head. You always knew the right turns to take, the fastest shortcuts.

And right now? Right now, he is the one most in need of that skill.

Rin thinks Sae is perfect, so he probably doesn’t even know about this little flaw of his.

Sae scoffs to himself, shaking his head. It’s ridiculous that, even now, when he’s supposed to be moving on, he still finds himself thinking about you.

He exhales sharply, pushing the thoughts away.

Enough.

With renewed determination, Sae steps onto the crosswalk, telling himself—again—that it’s time to leave his childhood love in the past.

But by the time he reaches the middle, doubt creeps in—just enough for him to hesitate, just enough for him to misstep.

And just enough for him to accidentally bump into someone walking from the opposite direction.

"Perdón," the girl mutters, barely sparing him a glance—until she does.

She stops short, eyes widening in surprise.

"Oh."

Sae blinks.

"It’s you."

For a moment, the city fades into the background. The people rushing past, the hum of conversation, the faint honking of impatient drivers—it all disappears.

You look different now. Your hair is dyed, a little wavier than before. A stylish bag hangs off your shoulder, outfit effortlessly put together in a way that makes you stand out even in the middle of Madrid.

But to him, you’re still the same stubborn girl who once barged into his soccer game with Rin, the one who never asked for permission—just demanded a pass like you belonged there. The one who never looked at him like everyone else did.

Your eyes are the same. That’s what catches him the most. Time has changed a lot of things, but not that. They still hold the same warmth, the same quiet confidence.

Sae wonders if he looks different to you, too. If you notice the way his shoulders have grown broader, the way the exhaustion lingers under his eyes. If you can tell that beneath all the fame and titles, there’s still a part of him that never stopped waiting for you.

Neither of you speak. Just stood there, caught in something neither of you were prepared for.

Sae exhales, then—without thinking—extends his hand toward you

But before you can take it, a sharp whistle cuts through the air.

"¡Oye! Move it!"

The traffic officer’s whistle cuts through the air, snapping both of you out of your daze.

Startled, you both turn at the same time, realizing the light has already turned green—and you’re still standing in the middle of the crosswalk.

Reality has always had a way of interrupting you two, hasn’t it?

Sae clenches his jaw, frustration flickering across his face. Meanwhile, you weren’t handling it any better—because instead of just walking away like a normal person, you were flipping off the traffic officer and hurling a wooden spoon at him.

Where did you even get that? Sae has no idea. And honestly, he’s not sure he wants to.

But then he feels you grab his arm, yanking him across the street as you break into a run—both of you fleeing from the traffic officer, who Sae can only assume is cursing you out in rapid Spanish.

And just like that, his expression softens.

—

“Whew, that was close,” you say between heavy breaths, still catching your breath from all that running.

Sae glances at you, unimpressed. “Maybe if you didn’t throw a spoon at him, we wouldn’t have to run.”

You roll your eyes, waving him off. “Oh, please. That guy already hates me. This isn’t even the first time, you know.”

Sae raises a brow. “Not surprised.”

You nudge him with your elbow. “Hey! Rude.”

He exhales sharply, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “What did you do to piss him off before?”

You smirk, tilting your head playfully. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Sae gives you a look—unamused but intrigued nonetheless. “I would, actually.”

You grin, pretending to think. “Let’s just say… it involved a churro cart, an old lady, and a very, very unfortunate slip on my part.”

Sae stares at you for a moment before shaking his head. “You’re a menace.” 

You flash him a cheeky smile. “And yet, here you are, running away from traffic officers with me.”

He huffs but doesn’t argue. Because, somehow, you’re right—because he’s relieved that he can finally talk to someone other than his manager, and just as relieved to see that you haven’t changed at all.

Isn’t it ironic? The very day he decides to finally let go of your memory, fate throws you right back into his life.

But something nags at him. You haven’t asked about Madrid, about why he’s here. It’s like you’re not surprised at all, like it’s the most natural thing in the world to bump into him on the street.

Sae narrows his eyes slightly before speaking. “Hey, you’re not gonna ask?”

“Ask what?” you blink at him, confused. Then, as if remembering something, your face lights up. “Oh! Where are my manners?”

Before he can react, you throw yourself at him, wrapping him in a warm embrace.

Sae stiffens, caught completely off guard. But before he can say anything, you sigh dramatically against his shoulder. “I missed you so much! I can’t believe you followed me all the way to Spain. Oh, you really do love me.”

He clicks his tongue, exasperated. You’re being an idiot again—definitely pushing it.

But he doesn’t argue. He doesn’t deny it.

Instead, after a brief hesitation, he exhales and wraps a single arm around you, listening as you ramble on like no time has passed at all.

—

“Maybe I should put a tracker on you.” you tease, walking a step ahead of Sae as you lead him through the narrow streets of Madrid.  

He exhales sharply, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I would’ve figured it out eventually.”  

You throw him a look over your shoulder. “Yeah, sure. After getting lost for another three hours.”  

Sae doesn’t bother denying it. Instead, he follows as you turn into an alleyway, stopping in front of a small, unassuming café tucked between two buildings. 

“This place has the best tostada con tomate in the city,” you say, nodding toward the café. 

“The old man inside—Rafa—he always yells at me for ordering too much, but then he sneaks me an extra pastry for free.”  

As if on cue, the door swings open, and an elderly man steps out. His eyes land on you, and a slow grin spreads across his face. “¡Ah, mira quién es! La niña que me arruina el negocio.” (Ah, look who it is! The girl who’s ruining my business.)  

You laugh, stepping forward to greet him. “Don’t lie, Rafa. You love me.”  

Rafa scoffs but affectionately ruffles your hair before turning to Sae, eyes narrowing in scrutiny. “¿Y este quién es?” (And who’s this?)  

“My amigo,” you reply smoothly, though there’s a glint of mischief in your eyes. “He just moved here, so I’m showing him around.”  

Rafa studies Sae for a moment before nodding in approval. “Bien. Come inside. I’ll make sure he eats something decent.”  

Sae barely has time to protest before you’re dragging him through the door, the scent of warm spices and grilled meat immediately filling the air. The restaurant is small, a little tucked away from the busier streets, but it’s lively, filled with laughter and the soft hum of conversation.

When the food arrives, you dig in without hesitation, taking a bite and immediately letting out a dramatic sigh. “Oh my god,” you moan, clutching your chest like you’ve just ascended to heaven. “This is it. This is what happiness tastes like.”

Sae raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You sound ridiculous.”

“You sound jealous,” you retort, shoveling another bite into your mouth. “You haven’t even touched your food.”

Sae watches you for a moment. The way you eat so shamelessly, without a care for how you look, is something he vaguely remembers from when you were kids. Some things never change.

“I’m just letting you be the poison tester,” he mutters, finally picking up his fork.

You roll your eyes. “Please. If Rafa wanted to kill me, he would’ve done it years ago.”

Rafa, passing by, snorts. “She’s not wrong.”

Sae sighs, finally taking a bite. He won’t admit it, but it’s good. Really good.

Just as you’re finishing your plate, you glance at your phone and stand abruptly. “Be right back. Don’t go running off without me.”

Sae only scoffs in response, watching as you disappear towards the bathroom. The moment you’re gone, Rafa leans against the counter, wiping his hands on a towel before turning to Sae with a knowing smirk.

“She talked about you before, you know,” Rafa says casually.

Sae tenses slightly. “Did she?”

Rafa nods, chuckling. “Not by name. Just 'some guy I used to know who’s hopeless with anything besides soccer and even worse with emotions.'”

Sae huffs. “Sounds like something she'd say.”

Rafa shrugs. “Well, if you’re sticking around, you better get used to her dragging you everywhere. She’s got a habit of making lost people feel at home.”

Sae doesn’t respond, just looks at him, expression unreadable. Rafa only chuckles, shaking his head as he wipes down the counter.

A moment later, you return, eyes narrowing the second you spot them. “What’s this?” you ask suspiciously, sliding back into your seat. “What were you two talking about?”

Rafa smirks, tilting his head towards Sae. “Oh, nothing much. Just sharing stories.”

You gasp dramatically, pointing a finger at Sae. “You weren’t talking bad about me, were you?”

Sae finally speaks, deadpan. “Wouldn’t need to. You embarrass yourself enough.”

You scoff, reaching over to steal a piece of food from his plate. “Unbelievable. I leave for one second, and you two become best friends conspiring against me.”

Rafa laughs. “Don’t worry, querida. He’s not that easy to befriend.”

You nod sagely. “That’s true. I had to force him to like me.”

Sae rolls his eyes. That was true for most people, but definitely not for you.

He liked you from the get-go, like there was a gravitational pull towards you that he just couldn't escape from.

The day continues like that.  

You don’t take him to the usual tourist spots—the grand plazas or famous museums. Instead, you show him the Madrid you love.  

A tucked-away bookstore where the owner lets you sit and read for hours without buying anything. A tiny family-run tapas bar where the food is cheap but incredible, and the owners greet you like family. A rooftop spot where you swear the sunset looks better than anywhere else in the city.  

Everywhere you go, you introduce him like he belongs there.  

By the time the sky turns golden, Sae realizes something.  

This isn’t just a city to you. It’s a home.  

And for the first time since moving here, Madrid doesn’t feel so unfamiliar to him anymore.  

Maybe it’s because he’s finally seeing it through your eyes.

And maybe that so-called puppy love Rin kept telling him about is beginning to grow into something more.

a/n: "Puppy Love" is the one and only beloved Sae Itoshi fanfic franchise that will remain untouched by despair. I wholeheartedly believe that at some point during his four years in Spain, Sae had his dreams crushed and utterly heartbroken. But in this au? nah. no angst, no career-crushing disappointments, Just endless, tooth-rotting fluff and relationship bliss. The kind of soft, sweet moments Sae would never admit he enjoys. Because for once, he deserves to have something go perfectly right.

[narrycherries]

ivy: clover blooms in the fields

she needs help and he just so happens to be the only one available..

(part 6)

mastermind / ivy series

word count: 12.3k

warnings/tags: harry x fem oc, angst, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, surgical procedure/recovery

[a/n: hi, sorry for missing a week but here u go! this is a very important part of the story so I hope u enjoy it. less angsty but still tense and frustrating for them, be patient with me we are getting to the good stuff I promise! part 7 is so good I can’t wait to give it to you!]

Waiting in a hospital room to be prepped for surgery was not how Ivy expected to spend her Wednesday evening. She had been experiencing painful aches in her stomach for the past few days, and she was familiar with the feeling but she hoped it was nothing. Maybe her period was messing up and the dates had shifted, it did that sometimes when she least expected it. The cramps and pulls of her muscles were worse than her usual period symptoms. She didn’t want to go to the emergency room, but when Emma found her in the bathroom crying her eyes out and holding her stomach, she forced her to go.

“Dad, it’s okay.” She mumbled into the phone as she closed her eyes, not wanting to be blinded by the bright hospital room lights.

Emma kept an eye on her as she sat on the uncomfortable couch across the room. She hated knowing that Ivy was feeling this bad and that she was having to have this procedure again, but she was glad to be by her side. Ivy pushed out a breath as her dad began worrying more and more.

“I can’t make it to you right now, honey. I’m.. I’m trying my best to get my boss to work with me.”

“Dad, I’m not alone. Emma’s here.. I’m going to be alright, I promise.”

“What did the doctor say? How many is it?” He was worried, and it broke her heart to know he was so far away and couldn’t get to her right now.

She took a deep breath, the pain medicine pumping through the IV in her arm was making her a little dizzy, in a good way. “Just the two.. they didn’t see any other ones.”

“I’ll try my best to-“

She cut him off. “Dad, please don’t.. it’s okay. I know you can’t change your schedule.. it’s fine, I promise. I’ll be alright. I’ve done this before.”

“You weren’t alone before.”

Her eyes opened, staring up at the ceiling. She didn’t know how to tell him any other way. She was familiar with the surgery she was going to have soon, she had been in this situation before. It wasn’t anything too serious, they caught it in time before any major issues occured. Her dad was a few hours away and she didn’t want him to try to rush to make it to her. His work schedule was tough to negotiate, so she didn’t want him to worry about it.

“Dad, please. I’m fine. I’ll call you when I get out. They said I’ll stay overnight and probably go home tomorrow afternoon.”

They went back and forth for a few more minutes, it was mostly him trying to figure how he could get to her and Ivy trying to convince him that she was going to be okay. It took a lot of bargaining, but eventually she assured him everything was fine. He didn’t want to agree to her terms, but he could tell she was getting frustrated with him. The last thing he wanted was for her to stress out and make things worse on her body. When she ended the call with her dad, her head shifted on the pillow, her eyes finding Emma.

“Is he upset?” Emma asked in a soft voice.

She sighed. “He’s not happy but.. I’ll be okay.”

“Yeah, I promise I’ll do my best to help.” Emma stood up, her arms folding over her chest as she walked to the hospital bed. “I won’t leave you alone, I promise.”

“Except tonight.. you can go home. I’ll have nurses to look after me.”

“Ivy, I don’t want you to be by yourself.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want you to sleep on that couch. I’ll be fine here.”

Emma knew there wasn’t anything else she could say to change Ivy’s mind. She was rather stubborn at times. She looked around the room, her eyes scanning over the IV tube and the medical equipment surrounding the bed. She was terrified that something could go wrong, but she didn’t want to cause any more stress to Ivy’s mind.

“Okay. Just promise me you’ll call me if you need anything.”

Ivy smiled sweetly, glad to have her in the room. “I will, Em.”

Emma’s phone dinged in her back pocket, so she fished it out and read the text. “Niall says he hopes you feel better soon.”

“Thanks.. and don’t worry.. I’m not letting you miss your little trip with him.” Ivy said with a grin.

Emma’s brows furrowed. “I have to sit with you when you’re back home. Niall can plan it for another weekend.”

“No. You’re going. He’s put a lot of thought into it.”

“Ivy, your dad is going to freak out if he finds out. I can’t leave you for that long.”

She did the quick calculation in her head. Emma and Niall had a weekend trip planned for just the two of them. He wanted to take her someone nice and just enjoy time alone. They would be gone just the weekend, Friday evening to Sunday morning.

“I’ll just need help tomorrow night and Friday morning. Then I’ll be okay to move on my own. I’ve done it before.”

Emma was not pleased with what was being suggested. “No. You were just ten minutes from your dad the last time this happened.”

Ivy let out a gentle laugh, everyone was so worried for her when she wasn’t concerned at all. “I’ll be okay. I’ll be able to get out of bed by tomorrow night anyway. I’ll be fine, Emma.”

There was no more time to argue about the arrangements anymore. They’d have to continue on after the surgery was over. The nurse came in and told them it was time to get ready. Ivy wasn’t nervous, partly due to the fact she had pain medicine spilling through her body. She was calm and collected, whereas Emma was starting to worry herself into a panic. She called Niall as soon as the nurse gave her directions on where to wait. He was going to come up to the hospital if he could get someone to cover his shift at the store, he didn’t want them to be alone.

Ivy was wheeled to the operating room, where they went over everything again with her and assured her she’d be fine. It didn’t take long for them to put her to sleep and begin the surgery.

Emma’s heart was racing as she sat next to Niall, his arm secured around her shoulders as he tried his best to comfort her. She was worried beyond belief for Ivy. He was grateful that one of his employees was able to come in and take over his shift so he could be here for them. Emma was waiting half an hour before he was finally able to come.

“So.. what exactly is going on?” He asked with a bit of confusion, Emma had really explained it to him yet she just called and told him there was an emergency.

She took a deep breath and shifted so that she was leaning on him, her body feeling exhausted from all the constant worrying. “She was hurting really bad.. and when we came to the ER they did some scans and stuff. She has two cysts on her ovary.”

“Is that a bad thing? Like, are they dangerous?”

“I mean, they’re not dangerous but.. they can be. She’s had them before, a few times actually. She said they can get really big and they sorta weigh on the area. They cause crazy cramps and aches. She was hurting really bad, Niall.”

He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “But they can remove them, yeah? Get it all out before it causes any damage?”

“Yeah, they can. It’s a good thing they found them. She said sometimes cysts aren’t a big deal. I could have one right now and it could never bother me. But sometimes they just get.. in the way and cause issues.”

Niall nodded his head slowly, absorbing all the information. He wasn’t familiar with the subject matter, but he was glad that Ivy had successfully made it through this before and it didn’t sound too bad. With anything, though, it could’ve gotten worse. Ivy had a close call when she was a teenager, and that was the scariest moment of her life. Thankfully, the few other times she’s had to deal with the cysts, they’ve been much smaller and less aggressive.

“Was she scared before going back?”

Emma smiled gently at the thought of how relaxed Ivy had been. “No, she was calm. I mean.. the medicine helped that. But even before.. when they told her what was going on.. she was calm.”

“Experience plays a role in that, I’m sure.” Niall mumbled back.

“She doesn’t want me to stay with her this weekend. She wants us to go on our trip.” Emma turned her head to look at him, a pout evident on her face.

“We can reschedule, babe. I don’t mind.”

“She refuses to let me stay home. She wants us to go.”

Niall let out a sigh, not sure what he could really do about it. If Ivy didn’t want Emma to miss their trip and insisted she go, then he’d just go along with it. If Emma felt uncomfortable going out of town during her recovery, then he’d be fine with staying home. Apparently, Ivy wasn’t going to let that happen. She didn’t want them to stop their lives for her.

“If we stay home.. she might get angry with me.”

“How long do they expect her to stay here?” He asked, a thought popping into his mind. Before he could bring it up, he needed some details.

“If all goes well, she’ll be discharged tomorrow. They said it's a quick procedure with low risk complications. She’s had it before and never had an issue.” Emma said, picking at her thumbnail as she considered the what ifs.

“So.. you’ll be home tomorrow with her.. and Friday until it’s time for us to go.” Niall said, thinking his way through a plan that might benefit everyone. It would keep Ivy looked after and calm Emma’s nerves. “We can ask Michelle if she can check on her. Maybe stay with her Friday and Saturday night.”

Emma sat up, Niall’s arm falling from her shoulders. “I didn’t think about that. Do you think she’d do it?”

He laughed a little. “M’sure if we ask and she’s available, she’ll do it. She loves being around Ivy.”

“I just can’t leave her alone. I’d worry too much. Her dad can’t get out of work until Monday. She’d really be by herself, Niall.”

“We won’t let her be alone.” He assured her, reaching up to press his hand on her back. “Don’t worry too much.”

“Can you text Michelle?” The desperation in her tone made him softly smile. He was admiring her concern for Ivy, how much this was affecting her. Emma didn’t want anything to happen to her.

“Yeah.”

Her eyes went straight to the clock on the wall a cross from them, she was very impatient and wanted to know what was going on in the operating room. The doctor promised he’d let her know if anything bad was going on. She was just sick to her stomach at the thought of Ivy experiencing some kind of bad complication. Niall sent a quick text to Michelle, explaining briefly the situation they were in. He was hoping she wasn’t busy and would answer fast.

“She’s typing.” He uttered under his breath, capturing Emma’s attention.

She leaned over, her eyes burning holes through the screen of his phone. A message popped up and Niall read over it, a subtle frown shaping to his lips. Michelle was unfortunately unable to help out. She had already made a commitment to other plans for the weekend.

“Damn it.” Emma groaned, that worry building up higher and higher.

“Relax, sweetheart. I’ll see if anyone else can help out.”

Emma sat back in the chair, her head falling against the wall. She knew Ivy didn’t have anyone else in her family she would rely on during a time like this. Her dad was stuck, unable to get out of his scheduled work hours. She was the only person Ivy had that could take care of her. It was scary to think about leaving her alone.

After a little while of texting back and forth with everyone in their small circle, Niall came up short with a solution. He let out a sigh as one final idea popped into his mind. There was no other option left, aside from them staying home for the weekend. Ivy didn’t want that to happen, though. Maybe she’d change her mind if she knew what her only choice was.

“Well.. I have an idea.. but I don’t know if Ivy will like it.” Niall said as he handed Emma his phone so she could read over the text he just sent.

Her eyes widened and she looked over at him. “She’s going to hate this.”

—•—

The following day was going better than Emma ever could have imagined. Ivy was awake eating some of the soft foods the hospital provided for her, since she couldn’t eat a lot for a couple of days. She was in a rather pleasant mood, despite all she had gone through in the past few days. Ivy had been checked out by her doctor just an hour ago and he assured them that she was on the right path of healing. Her incision was looking well. Luckily, they didn’t have to add another scar to her body. They were able to go through the healed cut from her last surgery. She knew how to take care of it, how to make sure it stayed clean. They approved her discharge for later in the evening.

“Niall’s going to come get us and take us home.” Emma said with a hesitant voice, she hadn’t mentioned the arrangement Niall made for Ivy yet. “He can help you get inside and to the bedroom.”

“Okay, thanks. I really appreciate it.” She smiled back, content with the idea.

The only thing Emma could come up with as a lie. “Niall’s going to see if Alyssa can come over while we’re gone and check on you.”

Ivy nodded. “That would be nice.”

“He’s waiting for her to get back to him.” Emma continued her lie.

“This morning when they came in before you got here.. they told me I might experience some soreness for a few days, but they’re giving me a prescription for pain medicine. I don’t want you to worry too much about me.”

Emma sighed. “I have to worry, Ivy.”

“I’ll be okay.” She tried to give her a comforting smile, but she could tell Emma was stressed.

As much as Ivy wanted to keep assuring her everything would turn out fine in the end, she didn’t want to upset her. So, they both went quiet and just watched whatever was playing on the television hanging on the wall. Ivy didn’t know how her pain tolerance would be once she was out of the hospital, but she was hoping it was good. She never had any recovery problems with her previous surgeries, so she highly assumed this one would be good, too.

While they waited for the discharge to begin, she got a call from her dad who was still very much upset over the whole situation. Ivy calmed him down though by letting him know someone would be taking care of her over the weekend. She mentioned Emma, even though she wouldn’t be there, just to make sure her dad knew someone would be there. If he knew Emma was leaving, he would just freak out more.

After the call ended, she closed her eyes just to relax and sink back into her thoughts for a bit. Her dad wasn’t very emotional with her while she was growing up, and it got worse once her brother passed. But that didn’t necessarily mean he didn’t care about her, of course he did. He just had an odd way of showing it most of the time. Now, he was very worried and made sure to let her know he was going to come see her as soon as he could. She was grateful for his care, but she didn’t want to disturb his life. Just like with Emma and Niall, she didn’t want them to cancel their plans just to sit with her for a few days. She hated feeling like a burden, and she tried her best to explain that to Emma.

In the late afternoon, when everything was finalized with her discharge, Niall came to pick the girls up from the hospital. He had dropped Emma off that morning, so she didn’t have a way back anyway. He assisted the nurse in getting Ivy safely into the car from the wheelchair they brought her out in. Emma insisted she sit in the front since it would be easier to get out of the car once they got home. Ivy didn’t want to at first, but Niall gave her no choice.

He shut the door and met Emma at the back of the car. “Have you told her yet?”

She shook her head, keeping her voice to a whisper just in case. “No.. I’m waiting until tomorrow.”

Niall sighed. “Why? What if she doesn’t want it to happen?”

“Then we’ll stay home this weekend and reschedule.”

He wasn’t thrilled with Emma’s decision to hold off on the conversation he deemed to be very important, but he didn’t intervene. They both got in the car and soon started the trip back to their house. Ivy was comfortable for now, the pain medicine numbing any possible aches in her stomach. She felt odd riding in the car after getting so used to sitting in a bed, but she was ready to be home. The hospital bed was not as comfortable as her own, plus she wanted to be surrounded by her personal belongings and not light grey walls and sanitized counters.

It was nerve wracking trying to help Ivy get inside and to her bedroom, but Niall tried his best to be gentle with her. Emma held the door open, watching carefully as Niall guided her in. He was much stronger than Emma and could hold Ivy upright, assisting her as she walked carefully step by step. She wasn’t trying to rush inside, she was patient with herself and glad that Niall was, too.

“Sorry, Niall.” She muttered out as he finally got over the threshold of the door.

“Don’t worry about it. You’re doing fine.” He assured her as Emma moved behind them to shut the door.

She quickly ran to Ivy’s room to open the door. She cut on the light and went to the bed, pulling the covers back and adjusting the pillows so she’d be comfortable. Niall was moving at Ivy’s slow pace, reminding her every few moments that she was doing well. He didn’t want her to get into a hurry and hurt herself. Emma was making sure things were tidy in her room, just in case there were clothes laying around she figured Ivy wouldn’t want Niall to see. But her room was clean and there was nothing in the way. She looked around, thinking of other things she can do to help out.

They finally made it to the bedroom, Niall’s arm still wrapped around Ivy’s waist as he helped her make it to the bed. She let him go and carefully sat down on the side of the bed, a small grunt coming from her mouth.

“That wasn’t so bad, yeah?” He said with a smile as she looked up at him, she appeared to be exhausted.

“It was alright.”

“Do you want me to get you anything right now?” Emma asked as she watched her scoot back in the bed, trying to find a comfortable spot.

Ivy winced, her stomach slightly aching from all the moving around. “No, not right now.”

“Remember to move around as much as you can.” Niall said, giving her a stern look. “You don’t need to sit here all weekend.”

She let out a laugh. “I know, I know. But right now.. I need to rest.”

After a few moments, she got adjusted in the bed and felt like she could actually relax and hopefully get some sleep. She didn’t need to sleep all day, nor sit in the bed. The doctor made it clear that she needed to move around and be active when she could, but it was okay to rest when she needed to. She was familiar with the recovery plan and kept in mind all the things she did previously.

“Do you girls need anything else?” Niall asked.

Emma shook her head. “I don’t. Ivy?”

“No, I’m okay. Thanks, Niall, for helping.” She gave him a polite smile.

“No worries. If you need anything, let me know.”

Emma walked Niall to the door, telling him multiple times how grateful she was for his help. He was glad to know he could be of assistance. They hugged and said their goodbyes, but not before Niall reminded her she needed to tell Ivy the plan soon. She ignored him and said she’d get to it eventually. Once he was gone, Emma returned to Ivy’s room with a reusable bottle full of ice water and a small notebook.

“Alright.. tell me some things you want me to get at the grocery store. I know you’ll need some softer foods for a while.” She said as she sat down at Ivy’s vanity, a pen in her hand as she was waited to start the list.

Ivy tried to tell her it wasn’t a big deal and she could eat what was in the house already, but Emma wasn’t going to accept that. She wanted to make sure she had everything Ivy needed and wanted for the weekend. So, after a bit of nagging, Ivy finally gave in and listed off some items.

—•—

Ivy let out a grunt as she stood up from the toilet. She was not having a good day at all. The morning was tough, she tried to get up and move around the house but every step she took sent a shock wave of pain through her body. She didn’t wake Emma up, just suffered on her own as she tried to scramble a couple of eggs. Emma did get up when she smelled the food, rushing to find Ivy leaning on the counter with her face scrunched up, holding in the pain.

She was not pleased with Ivy doing all this work on her own, despite her claiming she was fine. Emma finished the cooking and then helped her back to the bedroom afterwards. They sat in her bedroom for a while, talking about different things to try and distract her from the uncomfortable feelings. Emma was deeply concerned about her, but Ivy kept pushing it off.

After refusing to eat anything for lunch, Ivy tried to make it to the bathroom to get in the shower. Although the doctor approved her for taking one after Emma insisted she call and double check, Ivy was being talked out of it. Emma was terrified she’d lose her balance and be too weak to catch herself, resulting in her falling and hurting herself even more. She tried her best to convince Emma it would be fine, but she lost the battle. Emma said she should just wait until the next day. She helped Ivy wash up with a wet hand towel, but Ivy wasn’t pleased with the outcome. She wanted to be clean.

Niall was supposed to come pick Emma up for the trip in an hour, so she figured it would be best to mention the plan to Ivy. She tapped on the door and heard a quiet ‘come in’. Emma put on a smile as she saw that Ivy was sitting up in the bed, her journal resting on her lap. She was glad to see she had busied herself with something.

“Hey, feeling okay?” Emma’s smile dropped to frown as Ivy’s head lifted and she saw how sad she looked. “Ivy, what’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “ I.. I thought I’d feel better.. but I don’t know. I’m really sore.” Ivy had tears swelling in her eyes as she pressed her hand over her covered incision.

“Do you want me to stay home?” Emma felt like she was letting her down. “I swear, it’s no big deal.”

“No, Emma.” She whined out, squeezing her eyes shut as a wave of dull pain flooded through her torso. It was much more bearable than the aches the cysts had caused. “You said.. something about.. Alyssa coming over? I can.. I can pay her.”

A lump began to grow in Emma’s throat as reality was quickly crashing in It was no longer an option to keep the secret from her. Guilt was building in her gut as she realized she shouldn’t have waited this long to begin with. Ivy didn’t notice how nervous Emma got, her eyes were closed as she tried to fight through the pain.

“Well, she can’t. Niall asked around and.. everyone is unavailable.. except.. one person.” Emma’s voice trailed off to a whisper.

“Who is it?” Ivy’s brain was so fogged from all the medicine and the uncomfortable sensations happening in her body that she couldn’t come up with any ideas on her own. She tried to think of people she knew, but she was coming up short.

Emma started to fumble with her own fingers, a nervous feeling taking over. “Ivy, I.. I think I should just stay. You’re not going to like the idea.”

Ivy groaned at the mention of the trip being canceled. “I don’t care who it is, Emma. Just need someone to check on me.”

There was a quiet moment that seemed to last forever. Emma had to gather up the courage to finally tell Ivy what was going to happen while they were gone. There was no turning back now.

Niall chuckled as Ivy pushed out a huff once she landed softly on the couch. She wanted to get out of the bed for a while and attempt to move around. She figured it wouldn’t be hard to navigate from the couch to the kitchen. Emma came in with her bag, sitting it next to the door before going to give Ivy a hug.

“I’ll text you as much as I can.” She whispered into her ear before standing up.

“Don’t spend your whole trip thinking about me.” Ivy grinned, shifting her eyes to Niall. “Keep her occupied.”

A smirk shaped to his lips. “That’s the goal.”

“We’ll check in.” Emma added, still nervous about leaving her.

Ivy opened her mouth to say something back, but a knock on the door stopped her. Niall looked over his shoulder, already knowing who was behind the door. He walked away from the girls to answer it. Everyone seemed to be a tad bit on edge, especially Ivy, who’s smile faded to a straight line on her face. Her eyes moved down to her own lap, looking at her chipped nail polish.

“Hey.” Niall’s voice filled the quiet room. “Thanks for coming over.”

“Yeah, don’t mention it.”

The remnants of physical pain were pushed aside as anxiety claimed possession of Ivy’s body. She never thought she’d hear Harry’s deep voice roll through her house like thunder filling a stormy sky. She held her breath as footsteps tracked in. Niall shut the door and turned to face him. Emma just stared at Ivy, trying to figure out how she was feeling.

Harry was their only option. Everyone else had things they couldn’t get out of for the weekend. Earlier, when Emma told Ivy about Harry, she figured her mind would change and the plans with Niall would be rearranged for another time. But Ivy didn’t cave in to the fear. She was determined to not let herself care or worry about it. He was just going to check on her, surely she could handle that.

She was listening as Niall was explaining to him what all he needed to do and what he needed to watch out for. He mentioned how the soreness and pain could come in sudden waves. Ivy wasn’t too concerned with what Niall was saying until a specific response from Harry made her head spin towards them.

“So, I’m staying the weekend, right?”

“Yeah. Emma’s gonna grab some blankets for you before we leave. Couch is actually comfortable. I’ve napped on it a few times.”

Ivy interrupted the conversation, her voice wasn’t as loud as she hoped but she still caught their attention. “Nobody said anything about staying the night.”

“Ivy, you can’t be alone right now.” Emma started, carefully resting her hand on Ivy’s leg. “You hardly made it to the bathroom by yourself earlier. I don’t want you to fall or trip or anything like that. If you get stronger by tomorrow, then he can go home and just stop by.”

“Nobody asked me about this.”

Emma felt a punch to her gut, she had made another mistake. “I know, I’m sorry. Please don’t be upset. Ivy, you can't be by yourself right now.”

“You’re a lot weaker than you might realize, Ivy.” Niall walked over to them, a half smile on his face as he tried to be helpful and not make things worse. “If someone is here to help you walk around, you can build your strength up a lot quicker.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior.” Harry took a few steps forward, his eyes landing on Ivy as he spoke. “As promised.”

“He won’t do anything stupid or I’ll kick his ass.” Niall gave her a chuckle, and it actually made her smile. “And.. there’s something he has to say to you.”

Watching Niall give Harry a stern look pulled a giggle from her, she was amused by how Niall acted like a father figure in this moment. Emma couldn’t help but laugh, too. Harry rolled his eyes and gave Niall a lift of his middle finger. Niall just smirked and crossed his arms, waiting for the statement he made Harry agree to give.

Ivy’s heart skipped a beat as Harry’s eyes moved back onto her. She didn’t know what to expect from him. This entire situation was insane, she couldn’t wrap her head around it. How did she end up in this predicament? Nobody else could stay with her aside from him, that was just her luck..

“I’m sorry for.. yelling at you. I was drunk and overreacted.” He said, not too thrilled about having to apologize to the girl but glad he finally got it off his chest. Even if it wasn’t his initial idea to say it, he wanted to..

Her mind brought up memories of that night just a few weeks ago. She so easily remembered the anger that covered his face and the loud yells that he couldn’t seem to hold back. She wanted to be furious with him now like she had then, and the days following when her diary caught hell about it. But she couldn't find it in her to be angry at this very moment. Perhaps it was the medicine lurking in her veins, clouding her judgement and making her more susceptible to being nice.

“It’s alright.” She finally mumbled out, her eyes falling from his.

“Good, now everyone’s back on good terms.” Niall clapped his hands together. “Let me show you where everything is.”

Niall gestured for Harry to follow him down the hall, leaving the girls alone. Emma instantly turned to Ivy and started to apologize.

“I’m sorry. I really am, Ivy. I know you.. you can’t stand to be around him, but please, please just let him look after you.” She was trying to make up for everything, despite Ivy actually not being that mad. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

She let a smile cover her lips. “Emma, it’s okay.”

“Are you sure? God, that medicine must be strong.”

“Yeah, I think it’s working too well.”

They shared a laugh, even though it hurt Ivy to contract the muscles in her stomach. She pushed her hair out of her face, wishing it was pulled back altogether. The plan to have Harry stick around for a few days was not something she would have come up with on her own, but she was somewhat glad he was going to be there. As much as she tried to act like she was fine all day, it was tough on her body. She was struggling, no matter how hard she tried to lie to Emma and Niall, it was painful to move sometimes. The medicine only worked for so long, and there was a waiting period she had to take in between doses. It was going to be a long weekend, but at least she wouldn’t be alone..

After they left, Ivy started to regret agreeing to let Harry be the one to look after her. His imposing stature and cold demeanor were already seeping into every inch of her home. There was an obvious opposition from him, his presence alone was causing resentment. She tried her best to look past it, hoping maybe he’d warm up to her and get used to be in her home. When she stopped by his shared space with Niall that time, she felt awkward being in their home. Perhaps this behavior was normal in a different way for him.

He sat down in the armchair adjacent to her, his body falling against the back of the chair and his hands hitting his thighs. He looked around, somewhat curious about the room. Without looking her way, he spoke.

“So, what’s the plan? What am I supposed to do?”

She took a deep breath and remained courageous - this was her home after all, he couldn’t intimidate her here. “I have two rules. One, don’t come in my room.”

He let out a short laugh. “How am I supposed to check on you if I can’t come in your room?”

“Knock and I’ll come to the door, I need to move around anyway.”

Harry lifted his brows, not sure why she was making this more difficult than it had to be. “You could fall, you know. That’s the point of me being here.. to make sure you don’t hurt yourself.”

Ivy rolled her eyes. “I’ll be fine. I can make it to the door.”

“Whatever, what’s the second rule?”

She was somewhat surprised he was engaging in a conversation with her, but it was obvious they couldn’t get away with ignoring each other this time. He still wasn’t looking at her, he opted to stare at the books on the coffee table that were neatly stacked. He figured they were just for decoration, but he had a small wonder if they had been read by her eyes

“Don’t wake me up. If I’m asleep, just leave me alone.”

He made a confused expression. “How will I know if you’re awake or not if I can’t open the door?”

“Text me. I’ll have my phone next to me the whole time.” Her sass returned to her tone.

He smirked lightly, but she wasn’t paying him any visual attention. “I don’t have your number.”

“Well, give me your phone.”

Harry was amused by her quick and sharp replies. He was used to her hesitant mumbles and nervous glances. He stood up and reached into his pocket for his phone, quickly unlocking it before handing it to her. He watched as she opened his contacts and added her name and number into a new listing.

“There, now you have it.”

He sighed as he sat back down. “There’s only two rules?”

She pursed her lips as she thought about it. “For now, yeah.”

“Alright, well.. what do you want to do? Stay here or go to your room?” Harry didn’t quite know what to expect from her, but he assumed she wouldn’t want to be around him.

“Stay here for now.” She said, picking up the remote from beside her.

He rose to his feet again. “I gotta go get my bag. Don’t fall off the couch before I get back.”

A chuckle rolled past his lips as she snarled her lip and rolled her eyes at him, finding no humor in his comment.

He was only gone a few short minutes, but Ivy couldn’t help herself from getting lost in her thoughts. She didn’t want to think about him, didn’t want to get so obsessed with her admiration for him. Why wasn’t he being more rude to her? Why wasn’t he treating her like he usually did? Was he doing this only because he owed Niall a favor?

When Harry came back in, he dropped his bag next to the armchair and sat down again, this time his eyes shifted to where Ivy was placed on the couch. Before he could say something, she blurted out a sentence.

“I don’t think I need much help.. I don’t know why they insisted on someone being here.”

He furrowed his brows slightly. “Niall said your knees were weak and shaking when you got out of bed earlier. Sounds to me like you need help.”

She crossed her arms on her chest, avoiding his eyes. “My legs were asleep.. that’s all.”

“Sure.” His response was sarcastic, but the words that followed seemed more genuine. “What happened to you anyway?”

She turned her head, meeting the stare she could feel burning through her skin. “I had emergency surgery.. I had a few cysts that were hurting me. Niall didn’t tell you?”

He shook his head, changing his stare to just a gaze as he blinked. “He didn’t specify.. said he didn’t want to tell your business without your consent.”

Ivy was appreciative of that. As much as she trusted Niall and wouldn’t have minded if he told everyone what happened, she was glad he was mindful of her privacy. She decided to look away from him.

“It’s nothing serious.. I’ve had them before. Sometimes they become aggressive and have to come out.”

“Where were they?”

“Um, on my ovary.”

Harry listened with more intensity than he ever had when it came to her. He wanted to understand what was going on in case an emergency unfolded while he was on duty here. Plus, he’d be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t concerned for her. She is a human being after all, not just a soulless body.

“But you’re alright? Like.. they’re not tumors?”

Ivy felt a spark go off in her chest. Why did he seem so concerned? No, she was just overthinking it. She had an emergency surgery, people were going to be curious about the reason. She pushed aside the feeling and let out a soft sigh.

“No, they’re not tumors.”

He went quiet after that, just gave her a nod when she glanced his way. There was still apprehension radiating from her, still that what if feeling. What if she said something he didn’t like and he went off on her? What if he was just pretending to care so he can use it against her when he’s mean to her again? What if he actually cared..

Neither of them spoke for over an hour and a half. Ivy kept her eyes on the television and Harry stayed on his phone, mindlessly scrolling. She didn’t want to be the one to break the silence. He ended up asking her if she wanted anything to eat, but she said she was fine and she ate earlier. That was a lie. She was too nervous to eat. He made sure she didn’t want anything a few minutes later, double checking just in case she changed her mind. She hated feeling like a bother, she didn’t want to burden him with making her food. She assured him she was fine.

It wasn’t much longer when she stretched her arms above her head and yawned, catching his attention. She shifted closer to the edge of the couch, about to stand up when Harry got up to help her. He held his hand out, but she just looked up at him.

“M’fine.”

He sighed lightly. “Do you need my help?”

As she stood up, still ignoring his hand, she turned away from him so she could head towards her room. “No.. just walk behind me.”

Harry rolled his eyes as he took a step closer to her, she wasn’t moving very fast so he didn’t have to go far. “You don’t need to risk falling.”

“I’m okay.”

“Why are you being so stubborn?”

Ivy grunted, wanting to scream but she refrained. “Because I had surgery on my stomach, not my legs. It was a minimally invasive procedure.. they didn’t chop me up.”

She was glad he didn’t give her a snarky remark. He stayed behind her, his hand out in case he needed to grab her, and followed her to her room. Ivy’s steps were delicate, her eyes glued to the floor. She was able to walk on her own, but after a few feet her legs began to get weak. She stopped to take a quick break.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes.” She quickly said, squeezing her eyes shut.

She had to gather up all her strength before walking again. This time she was moving faster, in hopes to get it over with. The doctor instructed her to walk as much as she could to gain her energy. While her legs weren’t operated on, the scar on her lower torso was painful as her body shifted - each press of her foot to the floor created pressure.

“Okay. See, I made it.” She said with a sigh of relief as she reached her bedroom door.

He moved beside her so he could see her face. “And you’re sure you can make it to your bed?”

“Yes.”

Harry didn’t believe her, but he wasn’t going to go against her rule. She didn’t want him in her private space, and he was going to respect that wish. Maybe her bed was close to the door and she could get there quickly?

“Alright.”

She turned the handle, about to push the door open, when she stopped and looked up at him. “Did they give you the pillow and blankets?”

“Yeah.”

“If you get cold.. you can turn the air up.”

He gave her a nod. “Alright, but I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll, um, text you when I get up.”

Harry licked his lips quickly. “Call me.. in case I’m asleep.”

“Okay. Thanks for sort of helping me.” She shrugged her shoulders, then slipped into her room, shutting the door behind her.

As much as he wanted to wait until he knew she was in the bed, he didn’t want to intrude on her privacy, so he went back to the living room. He shut off the lights after laying the covers on the couch. It felt odd to be on a couch, but he easily got comfortable. Ivy was already bundled under blankets. She drank a bit of water with her nighttime dose of pain medicine, getting in a comfortable position so she wasn’t hurting. Before long, they were both asleep.

—•—

Ivy hoped it had all been a dream, that none of it ever happened. Her stomach wasn’t healing from a surgical cut, her body wasn’t exhausted, and Harry wasn’t in her living room sleeping on the couch. But unfortunately for her, it was all real. A groan slipped through her lips as her phone buzzed on the nightstand, the volume was purposely lowered so that nobody would disturb her slumber. She wanted to sleep in as long as possible so she could be away from Harry. To her dismay, his name was lit up on the screen when she brought it close to her eyes.

She answered with a groggy voice. “Hello?”

“Are you awake?”

She huffed back. “I am now.”

“You need to come eat something. What do you want?” He said through a sigh, hoping she wouldn’t be as difficult today as she had been the evening before.

“Nothing.. M’not hungry.”

“It’s past eleven.. you need to come eat something.”

She felt like she could sleep for another ten hours, but she knew she couldn’t do that. She had to get up and be active, it was the only way she would get her energy back to normal.

“I don’t want anything.” She told him again. “But m’getting up.”

“Are you coming out of your room?” He asked with a less stern voice than he had been using.

“Yeah. I can’t lay down all day.”

“Alright.”

She wondered if he would just come to her door if she had to ask him, since she was so insistent on not needing any help before. She could tell she would be weak once her feet hit the floor.

“Can you.. come to my room?”

“Yeah, that’s my job, isn’t it?” He wasn’t cocky with his words, he spoke in a normal tone.

She smiled softly. “Yes.”

“Then I’ll be right there.” She swore she could hear a smile.

Ivy hung up after that, telling him she needed a few minutes to get dressed. She knew she’d have to use the bathroom before she went to the living room, so she tried to mentally prepare for that. It didn’t take her very long to put on a tshirt and a pair of cotton shorts, something she’d be comfortable in all day. She moved carefully as she dressed and soon found herself at the door. She wasn’t feeling too bad yet, but she knew she’d need to take the medicine before she left the room.

She held back a groan as she twisted around to go back to the nightstand where the orange bottle was waiting for her. She took one of the pain medication pills, making a mental note of the time so she wouldn’t take it too early later on. Finally, she made it back to the door where Harry had been waiting with his shoulder pressed against the hallway wall.

“Admitting to yourself that you need help today?” He said with a smirk she didn’t find appealing.

“M’tired, not weak.” She muttered out as he bent his arm and stuck it out for her. “I need to use the bathroom.”

Ivy tried to be confident with her movements, hoping to not make a big deal out of it in her head. So, she grabbed onto the inside of his elbow and secured her other hand on his forearm, holding on so that he could assist her to the bathroom. He led her at a steady, slow pace so that she wouldn’t trip over her feet. She was mindful of her steps, glancing down every so often to check her footing. She slipped off his arm as she reached the bathroom, leaving him in the hall to wait patiently. As much as he didn’t want to be here, he wasn’t completely irritated by having to help her. He wouldn’t want someone to leave him alone if he were in a similar situation, and just because they didn’t get along doesn’t mean he wanted the girl to get hurt even more.

“Have you decided to eat now?” He said as she came out of the bathroom.

She pushed out a deep breath. “No.”

He shook his head lightly, not believing her at all. He let her take his arm again, she returned to the same position. It wasn’t as awkward as either of them expected it to be. She was focused on not falling or straining her stomach, instead of on the fact she was touching his very strong, toned arm. And Harry was just watching her closely, not thinking about anything other than not letting her fall. He knew he’d be quick enough to catch her before she hit the ground.

When they got to the living room, he guided her to the couch and she chose the spot on the left side so she could prop up against the corner. He asked her if she needed anything and her only request was a cup of ice water. She was very content with his decent behavior, he didn’t seem to be as vicious as he normally was.

“Have you taken your medicine?” Harry asked as he sat down in the armchair, claiming the spot as his own for the time being.

Ivy was looking at the neatly stacked pile of the two blankets and pillow that he used to sleep with last night. It sat perfectly on the other end of the couch. She shifted her eyes to him, realizing how far away he was.

“Yeah, I took it before I left my room.”

He slowly nodded, looking down at his phone for a moment before moving his eyes up. “I don’t want this to be weird for you.”

Her brows dropped a little. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable in your own home. I know this.. isn’t what you wanted to happen, and you probably don’t want me around, but I don’t want you to feel awkward about it.”

Ivy was slightly taken aback by what he was saying. He didn’t give her the impression of being someone who considered another’s feelings or thoughts. She looked away from him the moment he ran his hand through his long hair, pushing it back from his face. What could she say that was nice and not rude in any way? She didn’t want to be unintentionally mean.

“I mean it’s not.. my ideal situation, but it’s fine. I’m kinda glad someone’s here with me. I’m not uncomfortable.”

He was no longer looking at her either. “I know we don’t necessarily get along, but I just want you to know I wouldn’t do anything on purpose to make you uncomfortable while I’m here.”

“Harry, I’m not uncomfortable. I have to get used to it, yeah, but it’s not that bad. Like I said, I’m glad I have some help. I.. I’m a bit worse off than I thought I’d be.”

He was silent for a long moment, making her fear that she didn’t say what he wanted to hear. What if he blew all this out of proportion and left her stranded? A nervous feeling bubbled in her gut, was he going to get frustrated if they kept talking about this? It wasn’t an easy conversation and she knew he didn’t handle that sort of thing well.

“I’ll do my best to help, but I’ll give you some space.” He sat up in the chair, about to stand but he stopped when she looked towards him.

“Are you leaving?” Her voice had softened since the last time she spoke.

“No, I’m just going to sit at the table for a while.” He made it to his feet this time. “I’ve got something I need to work on.”

“Okay.” She watched as he reached into his bag and pulled out a thick book she thought resembled a journal.

Harry gave her one last look before he walked past her, heading to the kitchen. Ivy was confused to say the least. What he brought up sounded so sincere and serious. She was surprised by it, but she was glad he said what he said. Maybe he didn’t hate her that much after all? It was evident he knew they shared a lot of tension.. but perhaps it was more bearable than she thought.

For almost an hour, Harry sat at the table and quietly wrote in his journal. Ivy wasn’t sure what exactly he was writing, and she didn’t dare ask him. Maybe it was something personal or just work related. She kept her eyes on the movie she picked to watch, but after a while her stomach started to grumble. She bit down on her cheek as she felt a layer of drowsiness fall over her brain. She was feeling the effects of the medication, the subtle pain from her incision was gone for now and her brain was a tad foggy.

She couldn’t stand it anymore, she needed something to eat. She thought about getting up, but she was entirely too comfortable. She had maneuvered herself on the couch so her legs were stretched out and she was leaning into the corner, a throw blanket over her.

“Harry.” She said his name, but she was unaware of just how soft she was speaking.

He didn’t answer her right away as she expected, so she tried again. Maybe he was focused and just didn’t hear her.

“Harry.” Her chirp was more audible this time.

“Yes?” He called back from the kitchen, his eyes lifting up to peer her way.

The open layout made it easy for him to see her from the small table. She hadn’t moved at all, she was in the same spot as when he looked at her the last time. He gave her glances every now and then to make sure she was alright. She was talking again, but he couldn’t hear her over the television. He stood up and started the short trip to the living room. She furrowed her brows and frowned as she realized he wasn’t talking back to her. Just as she was about to move to sit up, he appeared in front of her.

“I couldn’t hear you.” He said, his towering height made her feel small.

“M’kinda hungry.” She mumbled out, her eyes were wider than usual, her lips rolled to a pout.

“What would you like?”

“I dunno.”

He was being patient with her, since it was obvious her mentality had changed slightly. He could tell she was drowsy. He wasn’t a stranger to the common side effects of painkillers, so he easily recognized she was experiencing them.

“Pick something. You need to eat.”

Ivy rolled her lips in as she thought for a minute about the options. She could eat solid food by now, it had been long enough since the surgery but she didn’t want something that was too heavy as she was dealing with gentle waves of nausea.

“Can you make me some oatmeal?”

He couldn’t resist the subtle smile that tugged on his lips. “Where’s the stuff in the cabinets?”

She shook her head. “We have some packets.”

“You want instant oatmeal?” He asked with a light laugh.

She felt a little unsure about his reply, it made her feel silly. Was he making fun of her? Of course, it was just the worry in her mind mixed with the dazing effect of the medicine that was causing this.

“Yes.. The apple cinnamon one if there’s any left. That’s my favorite.”

Harry realized she was speaking very calm and gentle, like she was unable to speak any louder. Her eyes had dropped to her lap where she rubbed her fingers against the back of her other hand. This wasn’t the usual girl he was used to dealing with - even when she became shy with him, she was never this quiet. Her demeanor was very different, more fragile than ever before. He didn’t want to risk talking too harsh to her, so he tried his best to stay calm and on a level she would appreciate.

“I could make you some fresh oatmeal, you know.” He tried offering.

She frowned. “No, I want the packet, please.”

He let out a soft sigh. “Okay, where are they at?”

“The pantry.. next to the cereal.”

A feeling he so rarely got occurred when she tilted her head back and looked at him - a feeling he had only a few times, all to which were because of her. A flutter in his heart nearly stopped it, his chest tightened and he felt his lungs weighing down. Something about the way she looked at him, her face so softened, her eyes wide - she looked like an angel.

“Alright.” He managed to get out something. “Do you want me to add any sugar?”

She considered it, but shook her head. “No, but just a little bit of extra cinnamon.”

“Okay.”

“Thanks, Harry.” She whispered to him.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

Ivy waited patiently as Harry microwaved the oatmeal for her. He wasn’t too keen on her eating the prepackaged stuff when he was perfectly capable of cooking it fresh for her, but it was her choice. She seemed to be used to it, especially her favorite kind. He was just glad she was finally eating something.

When he brought it to her, he made sure to ask if she needed anything else. She requested a banana from the basket on the island, so he went and got it for her.

“Thanks.” She muttered as she sat the banana next to her.

“You’re welcome.”

“Thanks for making this.” She said, sniffing the oatmeal she scooped onto the spoon. “It smells good.”

“You don’t have to thank me for everything.” He reminded her.

She didn’t say anything, just gave him a glance before focusing on the oatmeal. She had to blow on the spoonfuls to cool them down. Harry had already walked back to the table when she called his name, turning her head to look for him.

“Yeah?” He hadn’t sat down yet, so he made his way back to her.

“Can you get me a napkin?”

He nodded, turning back to go to the kitchen. He was actually glad she was utilizing him, he didn’t want her to be nervous to ask him to do something. When he gave her the napkin, she mumbled a soft thank you in return.

Ivy ate the oatmeal slowly, savoring the bites each time. Harry had returned to the table, picking up where he left off with whatever he was writing. After sitting for a bit once the food was gone, she realized she needed to use the bathroom, all the water she had been drinking was catching up to her.

“Harry.” She called his name, this time turning her head in his direction.

“Yeah?”

“I need to use the bathroom. Can you help me?”

He got up from the table and walked over to her again, giving her a confirming nod. She was able to stand up on her own, but her legs were feeling stiff as if they couldn’t move. She chose not to say anything and just started to walk. Harry kept a close distance, holding his hand out behind her in case he had to catch her. She made it past the couch, but that was it.

“Wait, Harry.” She froze, looking over her shoulder.

“What is it?” He asked with a drop of his brows. “Are you hurting?”

“I don’t feel.. as strong as I thought.” Ivy gave him a slightly worried look.

“I’ll help you.”

Harry gently pressed his hand to her lower back, then placed his other on her elbow to guide her. She was nervous at first, but she took a few steps. She was grateful there was no pain right now, but the fear of her legs giving out was just as scary. But she couldn’t give up, she needed to move around.

“Go on, you’re alright.” He said in a calm voice as she tried to stop.

“I don’t wanna fall.” She whined softly as they freed toward the hallway. They weren’t far from the bathroom, yet she was taking her time.

“You won’t. I’m right here.” He tried to assure her, but she was not trusting her legs.

Ivy felt a wave of anxiety flood her body. “Harry, don’t let me fall.”

Harry took a deep breath, his patience was fine, he was just disappointed that he couldn’t help her more. He slid his hand to her waist to give her more support.

“I won’t let you fall, love. You’re fine. I got you.” The words that came from his mouth made her heart drop.

What did he just call her? No, there was no need to overreact. He said it so casually, like it was a fixed word in his vocabulary. He must say it a lot or use it in a friendly way.. Ivy couldn’t wrap her head around it. She swallowed hard, trying to think of anything else. She failed at doing so.

After a couple slow minutes of her trying to gain strength, they finally made it to the bathroom. Harry let her go and opened the door for her.

“I’ll walk back in here.” He mumbled to her as she stepped over the threshold.

“Why?”

A smile pulled on his lips. “Give you some privacy.”

“Oh.. right.”

Once she handled her business and washed her hands, Ivy stood at the sink and stared at her reflection. Her hair was messy, most likely tangled up. She saw how tired her eyes appeared. She felt unclean. The routine of showering had been disrupted by the surgery. She hasn’t been able to submerge her sewn incision yet, so having a hot bubble bath was out of the picture. Maybe she can gather enough energy to shower before bed tonight.

When she opened the door and peeped her head out, she was somewhat disappointed by not seeing Harry. He wasn’t lying about stepping away to give her some personal time alone. She licked her lips and called out for him.

“Harry.. I’m done.”

He appeared in the hallway, walking straight towards her. She was relieved to know he was there. While it was not too hard of a task for her to walk on her own, the fear of tripping or losing her balance was frightening.

Harry assisted her back to the living room. She chose the same spot on the couch to sit down on. He asked her if she needed anything, but she didn’t. He was about to walk back to the kitchen when she said his name.

“Harry.” Her voice was as soft as ever.

He realized she had never said his name as much to him as she has today. He liked the way it rolled off her tongue, how sweet it sounded in her voice. It was hard to not think about that.

“Yeah?”

Ivy’s eyes fell from him. “M’sorry if I’ve been mean since you got here.”

He kept a gentle smile on despite her not looking. “I wouldn't say you’ve been mean.”

She huffed, pulling the blanket up to her collar bones. “You’re being really nice to me with helping and all that and I don’t wanna be mean.”

Harry had to keep in mind that her medicine was making her somewhat loopy. She wasn’t the bold, energetic girl he knew she could be. She wasn’t even the super shy, locked away girl he’d witnessed either. She was soft and quiet and delicate.. He didn’t want to say anything wrong or that would make her believe she’s right.

“You haven’t been mean, Ivy.”

There it was again, that little spark in heart that popped in whenever he said her name. She nodded softly, and surprisingly moved her gaze back to his.

“Can.. can you tell me something.. before you go back in there?”

Harry didn’t know what to expect. “I guess, what is it?”

Maybe it was the medicine that made her so open with him right now. She didn’t have to battle with her anxiety or face any worrying thoughts. She was free to just speak to him like nothing else mattered.

“The other night.. why did you.. get so mad at Cory?”

The question rubbed him the wrong way. He didn’t want to hash it up again. He shook his head and tore his eyes away from her.

“Ivy, I don’t want to talk about it.”

She hesitated at first, unsure if he would get angry at her right now. She was in such a vulnerable state, surely he’d show her some grace. “I.. I just want to know.. were you mad at me?”

Harry didn’t want to get into it. “No, I wasn’t.”

“You.. you screamed at me.” She mumbled right back.

“And I apologized to you.”

It didn’t go unnoticed by either of them that the volume of his voice increased slightly. She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she stared down at the coffee table. Maybe asking him that wasn’t a good idea. Things were going so well, why did she have to jeopardize that? Harry watched her for a solid minute, taking note of how she seemed to be sad about it. Her eyelids were heavy, her lips had rolled to a pout, and her hands were rubbing each other in her lap. She was trying to get out of the situation, but he was standing there staring at her.

“The way you told him to get off of you..” His voice almost frightened her, she didn’t think he’d speak back. “I just immediately thought about the night that guy was chasing you. I didn’t want you.. to be that scared again.”

Sincerity was rare when it came to him. He never let it be seen how he really felt. Nobody got any special treatment, he kept things to himself and didn't explain his actions if asked - but Ivy got that treatment. He’s found himself again telling her more than she should know. For just a split second, her eyes met his. She didn’t reply to him, didn’t even give him an expression. Her gaze fell to the pile of things next to the armchair.

“Is that.. the stuff people got for me?”

He was grateful she let the previous topic go. “Yeah, Emma told me to help you put it away but since I’m not allowed in your room.. I left it there.”

She hummed to herself, looking at the collection of gift bags. She knew that she received a few things from everyone and she was appreciative of that. There hadn’t even a chance for her to go through it yet, she had been so tired since she got home.

“Can you bring it to me? I wanna look at the stuff. Please.” She added the final word in a quick chirp.

Harry gathered the gift bags and brought them to the couch, sitting them next to her. He wasn’t sure what she was going to ask him to do next, if anything, so he chose to sit in the chair and watch her open the stuff. She started with the bag she recognized, the one from Emma. She got it at the hospital but didn’t go through it. She pulled out a stuffed teddy bear that was honey brown, attached to it was a pretty pink ribbon bow. She smiled sweetly as she read over the card Emma left for her. The second bag was labeled as being from Michelle. It was an assortment of snacks and candy that she was excited to dig into it. A card was also left, wishing her a quick recovery and a girls night soon. Alyssa put together a snack collection for her, too, with Zayn adding a short get well message to the card. She felt spoiled, but it was a relief to know they cared enough to send her things.

The last bag was a small one. The outside was covered in pink flowers, the bag itself being white. She reached inside and let out a shriek as she grabbed the small stuffed animal. It was a very pale shade of pink with big plastic, glittery blue eyes.

“Look at this one!” She was talking to herself, squeezing the pig with both hands. She thought it was the cutest looking thing she’d ever seen. It had an odd look to it that made it even more adorable.

She checked the bag, but there was no card or anything. There was nothing written on the outside of the bag either. “I wonder who got this. There’s no name on it. He’s adorable.”

Harry watched her as she rubbed her thumbs over the soft material of the plush, her eyes wide with joy and amazement. She had never seen something so cute before.

“Do you know who got this?” She glanced at him quickly.

“No, Niall brought it all in together.”

Ivy sighed, wishing she knew who the gift giver was. She wanted to thank them for blessing her with the pig. She decided to keep the teddy bear and the pig on the couch with her, politely asking Harry to put the candy and snack bags on the kitchen counter. He complied with her request and just smiled to himself as she mumbled about how much she liked the pig.

Later that night, Ivy was able to stand up on her own in the shower and take care of her basic need. Harry stood in the hallway just in case something happened to her. Once she was out, he went back to the kitchen so she could walk across the hall in the towel. She hated the feeling of drying off completely and getting dressed in the bathroom, the steam from the shower lurking in the air making her uncomfortable. So she carefully walked with her body wrapped up in a towel to her room.

Harry decided he’d work on dinner while she was doing her routine. She wanted something soft and easy on her stomach, so she requested macaroni and cheese. Harry found that somewhat amusing, that was all she wanted. But nevertheless, he agreed to making it for her.

There were no more deep conversations like the one they had earlier. She remained quiet and he kept to himself. She ate the food he made for her and watched the television until she was tired. Harry guided her down the hall and made sure she was in her bed before he went to get comfortable in his own makeshift bed. Ivy didn’t stay awake much longer, she was exhausted and ready to sleep.

When morning came, Ivy was way more confident in her walking. She realized that her legs felt much better and the pain from her sewn skin had gone down drastically. Everything was falling back in place, a sense of normality was slowly returning. She found Harry sitting at the kitchen table like he had spent most of the previous day doing. He closed his journal when he saw her come in.

“Sleep alright?” He asked, quickly noticing how swift her movements were . “You’re walking better, yeah?”

She nodded. “Slept good and yeah.. I feel so much better.”

“Well, that’s good. Niall called me earlier and said he’d let me know when they were heading back, should be around lunch.”

She licked her lips and let her eyes stroll over to the stove. “Okay. I’m kinda hungry.”

“What do you want?” He stood up, ready to do whatever she asked of him.

“I can try to do it.”

“You might as well use me while I’m here.” He chuckled very lightly. “Take advantage of my services.”

She thought about for a minute. He’s been washing the dishes he’s used for cooking. He’s cleaned up the kitchen, handled the garbage, done the little tasks she was so used to doing on her own. It was nice to have a break.

“You’re right.” She shrugged. “I just want some eggs.”

Their Sunday morning was much quieter than the Saturday had been. Like Niall estimated, it was a bit past lunch time when they arrived home. Emma practically ran inside to make sure Ivy was still alive and her and Harry hadn’t killed each other. She was relieved to see her on the couch, appearing much better off than when she left her. Emma demanded a full list of every moment from Harry. She had to ensure that he took well enough care of her. She was pleased to hear how everything went and how Harry made her walk around to gain her strength back.

Niall spoke to Ivy quietly on the couch, making sure that he got her side of the story. He was ready to pounce on Harry if he heard any negative comment that was made or any instance of attitude given. He was delighted to hear that Harry had behaved.

Not long after they arrived, Harry made his departure and Niall wasn’t far behind him. Emma made sure Ivy was comfortable before going to her room to unpack her bag. The crazy, unplanned weekend was finally over and everyone could get back to their normal lives. Before she forgot, though, she sent him a quick message that Sunday night.

Ivy: hey, just wanted to say thank you for staying with me. I really appreciate it.

Harry: you don’t have to thank me.

Ivy: but I’ll thank you anyway :)

She went to sleep shortly after that and when she woke up the next morning, she was surprised to see a message from him. He had sent it probably ten or so minutes after her last one, but by then she was passed out. Her heart skipped a beat as she read over the words. She was so stunned that she couldn’t come up with a response. How could something so simple suddenly mean the world to her?

Harry: you’re welcome. by the way.. I got you the pig. glad you like it.

[a/n: I’ve been waiting weeks for this update!! I hope you enjoy it.. the forced proximity is obviously very prominent in this part. things are shifting hehe see you soon!]

taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite

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@ariiscringe

@harlowsgirl

@lomllover

@haniaaa04

@sideboobrry11

@tenaciousperfectionunknown

@fangirl509east

@fruity-harry

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@prettygurl-2009

@sincerely-yours-marsbar

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@matildasatellite

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[auvrorsa]

if i didn't know better - r.c

pairing: rafe cameron x ex!reader

warnings: death of a child, grief counselling

prompt: two estranged lovers join the same support group. this is the first meeting.‍

author's note: this is my first time writing fanfic so pls be kind!!

It's been exactly six months since your daughter passed away.

It's been exactly five months and thirteen days since you had last left your house, until now. Here you stand, like a fish out of water, outside the community centre that holds the grief support group once a fortnight.

It's taken all this time for your friends to manage to convince you to at least try it out. That's the only reason you're here. You didn't believe in any of this therapy shit, but you promised them you would try.

Taking a deep breath, you step inside the building. Now or never.

The room is heavy and you find yourself overwhelmed. This is too much. Too soon, You think to yourself. Just as you turn to leave, someone who you assume is the leader of the group announces it's time to start.

It's busier than you thought it would be, you think as you all take your places in the school chairs that have been placed in a circle. There must be at least twenty-five people here, including yourself. It almost makes you feel less alone.

"Hi everybody, my name is Linda and I'll be hosting this weeks' support group," the woman introduces herself. She must be in her sixties. She has dark brown hair that sits in ringlets and her skin looks almost sun-kissed. You notice that she has soft wrinkles from smiling, although there's no sight of a smile when you look at her today. Immediately, you recognise her as one of your own. You may not know Linda, but it's obvious to anyone who has experienced loss that this woman has been there too.

She continues, pulling you away from your observation. "I wanted to start this session off by saying thank you. Thank you for trusting me and everyone around you with this and thank you for coming. I hope that you all are able to find some semblance of peace after your time here."

Everyone acknowledges her statement with a nod. You swear you even hear a sniffle from across the circle.

"To start off with, we're going to be-" Linda is interrupted by the door bursting open.

"I'm so sorry I'm late. I, uh-traffic was a bitch."

Your head immediately snaps up. You would know that voice anywhere. After all, you have spent the best part of your life in love with it and the person who owns it. Sure enough, your eyes lock onto the father of your daughter.

Rafe Cameron.

Seeing him here threw you through a loop. Of course, Poppy was his daughter too but… Rafe had never exactly been the type of person to sit down and talk about his emotions. It's partly why you two ended. That and losing Poppy. Neither of you were the same, you never would be. Your daughter had taught the pair of you the most valuable of lessons and now she was just… gone. It was cruel. Soon enough, you started arguing and he started staying out late drinking with his friends. In the end, you both realised you needed to separate. You both reminded one another of what you had lost and what you could never get back.

He breaths out your name, breaking you out of your stunned daze.

Linda looked between the pair of you, clearly confused. "Thank you for joining us, Rafe. It is so lovely to have you here. Do you two… know each other?"

Rafe looks at you for a second, trying to determine whether or not to open up the bag that you've both spent the past six months trying to close. He must see something on your face because he shakes his head, "Not really, just both from the same side of town."

"Oh, okay. Anyways, take a seat and we'll get started," Linda says with a warm smile on her face.

Once Rafe takes the last seat, which just so happens to be directly opposite you because of course it is, Linda explains how the session is going to work. Starting with herself, she will introduce herself with a fun fact about herself and then explain why she's here.

"Hi everybody. My name is Linda and I also teach yoga outside of this group. I'm here today because almost five years ago, I lost my husband of thirty-one years to a heart attack."

After Linda, the person to her right introduces herself and so on. It's mainly people who have lost their grandparents or parents. You feel eyes on you and immediately know who it is. When you meet Rafe's gaze, you know you're both thinking the same thing. You're both thinking about how unfair it all is.

Maybe that makes you both horrible people but it's what grief does to you. It takes the person you once were and tears you apart, right through the middle, until you're nothing but a scrap piece of paper.

When it gets to your turn, you're shaking. Somehow, you manage to stand up.

You begin by introducing yourself, "I don't really, uh, have any cool facts about myself. I'm here today because six months ago today I, uh," tears well in your eyes. "I lost my daughter. She, uh, had an allergic reaction at her friends house and she- she didn't have anything to help her." You look at Rafe, seeking that same source of strength from him that you always have, but find nothing. He's simply staring back at you with tears rolling down his own face. The pair of you must be a mirror of each other.

Linda hands you a box of tissues and apologises to you quietly whilst the next person takes their turn.

Eventually, it's Rafe's turn. He rubs his hands on his jeans as he stands.

"Hi guys. My name is Rafe. The coolest thing about me is that I was Poppy's dad. And that's why I'm here today. Because I'm nobody now that she's gone." That's all he says before he sits back down and once again looks at you. A silent conversation being had with just your eyes.

I'm sorry, you say. Me too, he replies.

You both stay like that whilst the rest of the group takes their turns. Simply staring at each other, tears in both your eyes.

Finally, Linda's voice brings you back to reality, announcing that the session is over. You and Rafe stand at the same time and slowly walk over to the door.

Once you both get outside, you head towards the car park. As fate would have it, you find that Rafe has parked next to you. Of course he has.

"This is me," you explain, waving your thumb in the direction of your car. "I know. I remember," is all he says.

Rafe turns towards his own car. He has his hand on the handle when he stops and turns his head towards you. "I miss her. Every single day."

You physically feel your heart crack even more at the crack in his voice.

With tears rolling down your eyes, you reply. "I know, Rafe. So do I."

The next thing you know, Rafe's strong arms are wrapped around you. This is the closest you two have been since you broke up and fuck have you missed it.

"I'm so sorry. It was my job to protect her and I didn't-"

He cuts you off before you can even finish your sentence, "No. No. We did everything we could and- fuck, no one could have protected her from that."

He holds you for what feels like hours, until your sobs turn into mere sniffles.

Pulling back slightly so he can look down at you, "Are you sure you're okay to drive yourself home?"

"I- uh- I should be. Thank you, though."

"Always. Text me when you get home."

You nod softly at him as you get into your car.

When you get home, you pull up Rafe's contact on your phone.

YOU: home.

He reads it almost immediately, as if he'd been waiting for your text.

Rafe: good. Rafe: i'll see you at the next meeting.

[knight-dwx-09]

The Angel With Devil Wings

Oscar open the door with joyful expression.

Oscar: Hey guys! I am back from Vale!

However, instead of a happy greetings or group hugs, he was met with silence as team RWBY and (J)N(P)R sat on the bed with haunted look, as if they were about to go to war.

Oscar: uhh… guys? Is there something wrong? Did Salem announced that she will attack or is she coming to here at this moment?

Ruby: Jaune just message us just now…

Oscar: oh! What did he said? Did he want to watch a movie or play games together? It has been years since I last interact with him with how busy he is after he work with medical department. I really miss him

Ruby: He said that… that all of us should head to the combat arena in a hour…

Oscar: I… see?

Nora: *Clung desperately to Ren’s hand* Renny! I don’t want to train with scary fearless leader today!

Ren has a calm expression unlike anyone else, however, the young boy could see that his whole body was gray out completely. Even then, when Oscar focus just a bit more, the trembles in Ren’s hands was noticeable.

While Blake was the opposite, she was visibly scared while wrapping her hands around Yang’s waist and bury her head onto the shoulder, her cat ears were flat as she whispered something but he couldn’t made out what it was.

Yang had her eyes in two different color, one red and one purple. And only end of her hair was in ablaze. Oscar didn’t even know that was possible for her to do so but she give off a different vibes whenever she use her semblance. Instead of the fiery spirit, one that made her feel like undefeatable, she felt more like a small animal being backed into a conner and try its best to look big.

Weiss: *holding a small doll version of Jaune when he was still at Beacon with tiny version of Croceo Mors* I am sorry dad, I will be a nice girl for now on

Ruby hugs her legs and rocking back and forth.

Oscar: Come on guys, this is Jaune we are talking about. He is one of, if not, the nicest person we have ever met. What are you all so scared of?

Yang suddenly appeared in front of Oscar, scaring him a bit as he try to take a step back but was stopped when she grabbed him by the shoulder with a serious look. However, the slight tremble in her hands reveal her unease and fear.

Yang: Oscar, I know you haven’t see him for a while so I understand why you are confused, but believe me when I said this…

She leaned closer so they were inches away from each other as she whispered to his ear in a scared and timid voice.

Yang: He had change…

Last week

Yang: Tell me where did you hide the weapons?

Criminal: Up your ass!

Yang gritted her teeth at the another fail attempt of extracting information, he was very closed to give him a good knuckle sandwich between his eyes but that was stopped when a yellow haired man in a white coat, hands inside pocket, barged into the room.

Yang: *Scared* Oh, h-hey Jaune! I-it’s nice to see you here

Jaune: It’s nice to see you as well… But can you give us some alone time, firecracker?

Yang: Of course! I will be waiting outside whenever you need me *Hurriedly escaped*

Jaune: So you are one of the White Fang who stole the military’s weapons and mechs this morning?

Criminal: *smiled* So what? Are you gonna give me bitter medicine to ge-

Before he could finish, Jaune’s right leg struck him in the chest through the cuff, breaking it and sent him flying that cause him to bounce off the wall before landed on the ground on all four as the airs crawl out of his lungs.

Jaune: Well, I have been accumulating some stress lately and miss out on hours of my training thank to my dolts of a friend this morning, so…

He bring his hand and make a gesture that say bring it.

Jaune: Give your all and fight me. if you managed to shatter my aura or kill me, the polices will let you go and all of your criminal record get wipe clea-

But before he could even finished what he have to say, the man spring to action as he try to claw Jaune’s face. But it didn’t surprised the doctor as he nonchalantly dodged the strike, leaving a faint trails of energy in their wake, and before the criminal could react, Jaune’s hand were wrapped around his mouth as he were slam into the floor, causing all the air and spit wanting to escape but failed to as his mouth being blocked by a firm grip.

Jaune: You should at least let me finish before accepting my deal, oh well, your funeral, Russet

The criminal, named Russet, grab Jaune’s hand to hold him down while to twist his body enough to bring his leg for a kick that has a similar glow. However, Jaune counter by simply throwing him into the same wall he had kick him to a second ago, like what happened at that time, he bounces off and land on all four.

Jaune: I have read your documents and I know you have a semblance that allow you to produce claw made of Aura from your hands or foot that could cut through steels. Simple and pretty useful semblance that consume small amount of aura *Slowly walk closer, stretching his right arm for another strike* I guess that is fitting for you since you are a tiger Faunus

Russet: STOP! I’M IN RED! ONE HIT FROM YOU WILL SHATTER MY AURA AND SNAP MY HEAD OFF!

Jaune: *Frown* So that is your aura reserved? It’s not that large it seems *Raised his hand toward the man in front of him*

In instinct, he raise both hand to protect himself but his eyes widen from such power rushing through his vein, staring at his own hands glowing in green aura as the feeling of hundreds of drugs were just being injected into his body.

Russet: what the…

Jaune: There, I just recovered and amp your aura so you could continue to fight *Began to pop some bone in his neck*

Hearing this, Russet smiles sinisterly at the doctor as his semblance active, aura covering both hands and take shape of a sharp, long claws that accidentally sink into the ground with ease. Amazed by this turn of event and how powerful his power has become, he gazed at the doctor, thinking he was a fool and dead meat. In second, he leap forward with claw ready, aiming for the neck… Only to be stopped by using his left hand. No, Jaune did not grab his hand to stop the attack or strike him first… he simply bring the hand up and let it hit him as it stop dead in its track… it was as if it refused to slice or even dig into his flesh.

The smirk was instantly evaporated and was replaced with confusion.

But he froze immediately at the sight of Jaune, smiling and cracking the right hand.

Jaune: Now we can keep fighting until I feel satisfied

His whole body tense out of nowhere as his instincts told him to move his head at this instance and so he did. The moment he did so, Jaune’s right leg plummeted down and narrowly miss his head, letting out a gush of wind that come from his strike, that blown him away, and digs through the metal floor like it was butter.

The sense of dread suddenly invaded, a cold shiver run through his spines as sweat began form. In his mind, there were voices to tell him escape as he immediately face towards the door and run.

And Jaune, with a smirk, appeared in front of him with insane speed that was impossible for a huntsman and huntress to achieve without a speed related semblance. Then the blonde struck Russet at the stomach and cause him to spit saliva and get sent flying toward the wall, dented deeply into it.

The hit had made his vision becomes blurry, star appearing in front of him as he didn’t register what had just happened nor the pain. And this time, he feel something began to rise from within his stomach, something that was burning and stinging his throat.

His body slowly loosen from the grip of the wall and fall towards the ground knees first, hand on his stomach and mouth.

He try to hold it in but failed as he release his stomach contents all over the ground and his hands. At the same time, lungs trying to refill all the air that had been stolen from him. But this only cause some of the vomit to crawl back into his throat, causing the acrid burn of vomit flooded their nose and throat as the pain finally spread out like a wild fire.

It felt like a giant Goliath had step on his stomach all of its weight and refused to take another step away. The pain was too much for him that his mind swirl in dizziness and pain, body tremble like a leaf as he vomit more.

He could only cough and hold his stomach to try to minimize the agony he was in, tears began to emerged and slide down his face and to the ground. All he could do was to look up the Angel/Devil slowly walking closer with vomit in hand and in tears.

Russet: P-please! I WILL FUCKING DIED IF YOU CONTINUE TO HIT ME!

Jaune: What are you talking about? Your aura is still full.

The man’s eyes widened, feeling that his Aura were indeed still full.

Russet: W-wh-what? JUST FUCKING HOW!

Jaune: You won’t have to worry about your aura shattering, I will recover and amp each time I hit you so you won’t died or go to a coma on me. And I basically have bottomless Aura, mean that we could keep go at it for a long time. It doesn’t matter if your bones fracture, muscles and flesh torn, organs disfigure. Cause your Aura will protect you from any of those injuries and heal back any damage that has been inflicted. But of course, that won’t save you from the pain you are about to go through now.

Russet: How could you do something like this? Don’t you have a shred of humanity in you!

Jaune: Bastard, I am a doctor, keeping humanity together is my job. *Slowly walk towards Russet* And you should think the of the child you almost killed while stealing the weapons first before asking about my humanity. Cause trust me, this pain isn’t something you will forgot any time soon.

The scream of a man could hear throughout the building for 15 minutes until it becomes dead silent.

And where was Yang this whole time? She was waiting outside the room, sweating bullet after she listened to the scream, whole body shake like a pudding, eyes dilated while focusing on the door, waiting, waiting for the angel from hell to come out.

Every minutes felt like a hour, It was as if time had slow down and being stretch out. She didn’t realize that she was holding in a breath when the door finally opened with Jaune calmly walking out.

Jaune: I will write the coordinate of their base where they keep all of the stolen weapons

Yang: Wow… that man really is tough if he can stay quiet for this long

Jaune: Nah, he already give me the place after 5 minutes in of our session but I still have some stress to steam off so he continue to desperately attack me until he fall unconscious from the blow on the liver. I already call the police to pick him up… I should have informed them to bring cleaning kit with them though

Yang open her mouth but it becomes too dry to even speak. Or that she didn’t dare to ask.

A call then rang out as Jaune grab his scroll and answered it.

Jaune: Hello? What?! Those two idiot are injured because of Dust explode in their face? Fine, I will go there right now

He put away the communication device, grumbling with a deep frown, and takes a few steps, which cause Yang to sigh relief, before stopping to turn towards her with a dagger look.

Jaune: Don’t think I have forgotten of our spar this month, meet me in the arena at 11 after I am done healing Crater Face and your Kitty Cat

Jaune walk away once again, grumbling as usual, leaving Yang as she falls to her knees thank to her legs become really weak. Eyes then wandered back to the room for a split second and that was almost enough to cause her to faint.

Back to the present

Yang: And you don’t want to see the state of that man in. But after that, he was perfectly fine, no injuries, no lastly damage, no anything… However… when he woke up… he was a broke man of who he was before… he would always flinch at the sight of any doctor with white coat, breath hitched, eyes dilated, hearth beat spike to a dangerous level, most time he would scream and try to run away. At night, he would wake up, screaming “I AM SORRY!” or “GET AWAY FROM ME!” with tears in his eyes

Oscar: wow… that… doesn’t sound like him… and this is why you are afraid of sparring with him?

Yang: N-no… Jaune would never cross the line for us… it just… *Look Away*

Ruby: Jaune’s training are simply too intense…

Oscar: What?

Nora: Scary fearless leader would make us to run…

Oscar: That doesn’t sound too bad

Nora: 75 laps around the whole academy

Oscar: Oh…

Blake: He then made all of us to do some weight training to build some muscle… by placing 800 Kg vest and 125 Kg weighted on each of our limbs while running… we won’t even make it to halfway before most of us fall. The worst of it, he will give us time to rest so we could finish the laps and give us that damn encouragement smiles

Weiss: And that is just one of the training he thought of. Sometimes, each one of us would do different exercise to make up our weakness. And they are as intense as the first one

Ren: However, there’s one training we all would always do at the end, we were told to fight him all at once… and that usually end with all of us vomit our meal at least one… but he doesn’t hurt us that much or simply wanting to beat us up, he does help us to get stronger with Qrow telling our mistake and what we need to train

After all of it been said, Oscar stay quiet to finally digest the thing his brother from another family apparently had done while he was away.

Out of nowhere, a familiar voice boomed through out the academy that send dread in everyone, except Oscar, stomachs,

Jaune: REN, NORA, AND TEAM RWBY! YOU ARE 10 MINUTES LATE! IF I WAIT FOR ANOTHER 5 MINUTES, ANOTHER 50 LAPS WILL BE ADDED!

And not even a second when their name called that their eyes widen and run out of the room, leaving the farmer boy in the room alone.

Oscar: Ozpin… is this a normal thing that happened to everyone?

Ozpin: While it’s not common to develop such habit, some people need some way to cope with the stressful situation they are in. Whether it was to drink, have intercourse with someone, write a book, draw an art, or something else

They gazes at a table which has a mountain of books about medicine, the anatomy and physiology of the body of Faunus and humans, brain, disease, genetic, etc.

Ozpin: In Mr. Arc’s case, he use extreme training and sparing to used up the stress he collected during his work life

Oscar: That does not sound very healthy for the body…

Ozpin: No, it’s not. However, it seems like while we were at Vale to help Glynda on rebuild the whole kingdom and Beacon. Mr. Arc has a better understanding about his semblance and his body. Remember what we have heard, there was a doctor in Vacuo who always use his semblance to help huntsmen and huntress recover, even the civilians. And it seems like that man was Mr. Arc

Oscar: Wait, how can his semblance help the civilians when they haven’t unlock their Aura? Doesn’t his semblance only allow him to boost other people’s Aura

Ozpin: As for that, I’m afraid even I don’t have the answer. But we could ask Mr. Arc for it. But allow me to continue with my theory

Oscar: Okay, go on

Ozpin: There’s also some rumor spreading out that there was a doctor with yellow hair, which we can concluded to be Mr. Arc, and massive shield that always stay in front lines of a battle. While he does fight, but that wasn’t his main objective. Some huntsmen and huntress has say that they see him, always running around the battlefield, Killing a few Grimms so they won’t be overwhelmed. However, most of the time, he could be seen carried injuries one back to the back line to be heal before going to the battle to do it all over again, not even taking a single second for a rest or breather, saving many lives while doing so. because of that, he was given many nickname by others. “The Unbroken Aiges”, “White Flame Saint”, and “The Angel From Underworld”

Oscar: You know, after hearing Yang’s stories. I am afraid to ask as to how Jaune got that last nickname *Shudder from the imagine he had just imagined*

Ozpin: I believe all of this healing other, all of the battle, all of the training, had develop his semblance to the point all the negative side effects of such physical labor become null to him. I’m even fear his body and soul had become accustomed to such taxing environmental, giving him one of, if not, the strongest body in Remnant… and we do not know what’s his semblance could do now… or what it could not…

Oscar: I am not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. *Stares out of the window towards the sky*

Ozpin: So do I

————————

AN: Hello there, it has been a while since I last posted. But I am just writing this for those who like the AU I have written so far. I will mainly focus on the Wrath Of A Healer AU (This one), Wanderer Knight AU, Developer AU, and maybe Cat Arc AU for longer post like this. But of course, I will still write more short funny post on other stuff.

And the reference where I got this idea is called “The Wrong Way To Use Healing Magic”. It’s a hilarious manga I read a while ago but I haven’t catch to the recent chapter so I don’t know where the stories goes or would I recommend it so I just say the title and leave it to you all if you want to read it.

[spideysbruh]

Far Away

warnings- phone sex, masturbation, dirty talk, cursing. if i forgot anything let me know!

~~~~

Y/n and Timothée have a pretty healthy sex life. They have sex at least once a week, and that's not including oral (that's probably once a day… at least) 

So when Timothėe is away filming and Y/n is also away working, they get a little agitated.

Y/n just got to Los Angeles, and Timmy is still going to be away for another few weeks, they haven't seen each other in two months.

That's two months without each other, with nothing but their hands to keep them satisfied.

Y/n is in an Airbnb for the night, since she has a meeting tomorrow with her producer. She sighs as she lays on the bed and looks for a movie to watch before she goes to sleep.

She sees ‘Little Women’ and chuckles at that, deciding to play it. It is a good movie, it’s just a coincidence that her boyfriend is in it.

When Timothée pops up on the screen, she snaps a picture and sends it to him with the message- i miss you.

She sighs and locks her phone, he’s halfway across the world right now and probably in the midst of filming right now. He’s not responding any time soon.

But even with the time zones, they still talk every day, no matter how short the conversations are. There have been days where all they texted each other was ‘love you’ or a picture of something that they found funny.

Y/n keeps smiling whenever Laurie does something that she recognizes, her heart aching due to missing him. Towards the end of the movie, her phone dings, even with it being on do not disturb. Only one person does that to her, Timothée. She hums and checks the notification. He responded.

Maud’dib 🧡- stop. I don’t wanna cry right now :(

She laughs and reacts with ‘haha’ to his message, replying- how’s it going over there?

He responds immediately

Maud’dib 🧡- good. missing you. on lunch right now for two hours. missing you. almost done, few more weeks left. did i mention that i miss you???

She giggles and her thumb hovers over the facetime button but she decides against it, he’s around other people, it’d probably be rude. She instead replies- i thought you didn’t wanna cry ? 😕

Maud’dib 🧡- ahhhhhhh 

She snorts at that, then another message pops up. 

Maud’dib 🧡- wyd right now?

She types- literally nothing. watching you yearn for Amy March rn.

Maud’dib 🧡- well now i’m yearning for you…

Her heart skips at that, it’s been so long. She’s masturbated, but it just wasn’t the same without him. She responds- hmmmmm you need help?

Maud’dib 🧡- fuck yes.

A Facetime from him pops up immediately and she quickly answers it, “Babyyyyy I miss you.” he whines, his face incredibly close to the camera as he pouts. 

“I miss you more, baby.” She replies.

“I haven’t touched myself in weeks.” He sighs. 

“Me either! I’ve tried, but it’s just not good enough.”

“We need each other, huh?” He smugly asks, smirking at her through the camera. She giggles and nods, sitting up in her bed. 

“I’m alone in my trailer, thinking about you… all of you.” The camera is moving around as he presumably unbuttons his pants.

She shoves her hand into her pants, sliding her finger between her folds, “Yeah? What about me?”

He hums, “How beautiful you look when you’re under me, bent over in front of me... and especially on top of me. Your pretty tits sit so perfectly right in front of my face.” He moans, spitting into his hand and then moving it off camera again.

“Fuck, Timmy. I miss how deep your fingers get inside of me.” She groans as she pushes two of her fingers inside her pussy.

He chuckles breathily, “All that guitar practice also helped… show me, baby.” the pet name makes her wetter, making it easier for her fingers to slide in and out.

She whines and pulls down her pants to below her knees before flipping the camera, showing her fingers in her leaking pussy.

His eyes roll back at the sight, “God fucking damn it, baby. You're gonna kill me. I miss that sweet little pussy so much.” 

She clenches around her fingers at his words, trying to imitate the way he curls his fingers inside of her. “Let me see you.” He simply says, which makes her moan.

She brushes against her g spot and whines as she flips the camera back to her, “Fuck, Timmy. Show me what you're doing.”

He flips his camera, his dick in his hand as he slides it up and down, also trying to replicate the way y/n usually does it. “I wish I was inside you so bad, babygirl. You're so fucking tight and warm. Always so wet for me.” He says through his moans, Y/ns hand speeds up along with his hand.

“God, I'm so fucking wet for you, my boy. I wish it was you inside me right now.” She whines as she rubs her clit, Timothée flips the camera back to his face, the camera shaking as he strokes his cock.

“Keep going, baby. I'm so close, fuck it's been so long.” He moans.

“I wish you were with me right now, Timothée. Leaving hickeys all over me and fucking me so hard I'm sore the next day.” They moan in unison as their hands get even faster.

“You're so fucking sexy, y/n/n. I'm gonna fuck the shit out of you the second I get home I swear to god.” He says through his heavy breaths.

“I can't wait.” She moans, “You have no idea how badly I need to cum around your cock, baby.”

“Yeah? I think about cumming on you every fucking day. You always look so pretty with my cum on your tummy. You're a fucking work of art.” He moans, “I'm gonna cum.”

“Me too.” She whines, “I wish I was there to lick it all up.” 

He groans at her words, “Say my name when you cum, babygirl.” 

She rubs her clit faster and cums while moaning his name, which throws him over the edge.

“Y/nnn.” He moans, his eyes shutting as his hand slows down, "God, we've gotta do that more often."

She hums, "We really do."

He looks off camera, “Fuck, I came all over my laptop.”

Y/n giggles as she pulls her fingers out, “We've all been there.” he laughs and shakes his head.

“I'm gonna cum all over you when I get home.” He promises, she can only see his forehead as he reaches for a tissue.

She blushes and licks her fingers, Timothées eyes come back into frame and widen at that, “You're naughty.” 

She blinks innocently at him, “What? I've gotta clean up, too.” She shrugs and lays back down.

He huffs, “That's too much. Officially too much, you're too fucking sexy. How did I get so lucky?” 

She giggles and admires him through the screen, “I wonder the same thing about you all the time.”

“You wonder how I got so lucky?”

She laughs, “Shut the fuck up.” he grins and his whole face comes back in frame.

“Ugh, I miss you bullying me so much.” He sighs, resting his head on his fist.

“Well, three more weeks and it's back to normal.” She giggles, turning to lay on her side, he smiles at her. “Can you stay on with me until I fall asleep?” She softly asks.

He nods, “Of course, my love. I'll just run some lines, okay? Quietly, I swear.” 

She smiles and sleepily nods, “Okay, baby.”

She sees him grab his script and smiles before shutting her eyes. Timothée admires her on his screen before turning back to his script, making notes here and there.

He stays on with her until he has to get back to filming, whispering a quick “Love you” to her before hanging up.

Y/n wakes up early the next day and sees that their facetime was a little over an hour and a half long, making her heart swell.

She sees a text from him, from right after the call ended.

Maud’dib 🧡- had to get back to set, my sweet girl. love you.

*

[horsefigureoftheday]

hello sorry if this is a stupid question and if it is feel free to ignore this ask, but how do you go about starting a horse figure collection? like, i know the best answer is probably to Just Start ! but the whole thing is kinda overwhelming, and I'm from a country where figurine collecting of this kind isn't really A Big Thing so the overseas shipping alone would be A Lot lmao,,,

that being said seeing these guys on my dash everyday always makes me smile, so if all else fails i can just live vicariously through this blog HSJJDJS thanks for ur work o7

Disclaimer: This is the opinion of one horse collector, it's not the objective truth of horse collecting. That said, it's an opinion I very strongly believe in.

The thing is, you don't really "start a collection." You just buy the horses you like and within a few weeks or months or years you'll have a small collection. And some day, if you keep surrounding yourself with horses you like, you'll have a big collection.

Gonna get a bit preachy here, but it's something I keep seeing, so I feel like I have to talk about it: I think entering this hobby with the mindset of "wanting a collection" can make you very impatient and vulnerable to fomo and completionism. You get so into the idea of Collecting Everything that you end up wasting $1000s on overpriced listings because you didn't even stop to think if it's gonna get relisted, if the seller is a scammer, or if you even really want that particular horse/doll/pokemon/model car/trading card/memorabilia/etc., or if you only "want" it because it's part of a set.

Collecting hobbies aren't really about having a collection. They're more about the act of collecting continuously. Maybe you take a break from it (I'm a Bella Sara collector who hasn't actively collected for 3 years), but you never really have a "complete" collection. And you need to accept that you'll never have a complete collection, otherwise you're gonna burn out and the hobby won't be fun anymore.

I'm sorry if this sounds harsh, I really don't mean it to. I'm trying to warn you because I'd hate to see yet another potential fellow collector burn out and leave the hobby after a few years. Collecting can be a wonderful lifelong hobby that creates lasting friendships. But only if your center your hobby around the act of collecting, rather than the idea of your collection itself. (I also find that people who focus more on their collection than the act of collecting are often a bit jealous or self-important, but I might just have run into some bad apples).

If you wanna get into a collecting hobby, the best place to start is to go out (to the thrift story, toy store, ebay, craigslist, you name it) and scour the market for things you like. And then buy a handful of cheap ones. Display them, photograph them, tell your friends about them, look up what other figures/cards/etc. are in that series, and in general just... sit with them. Get a feel for them. Are they satisfying you? Do they spark joy? Did you enjoy hunting them down and do you enjoy taking care of them and looking at them?

If yes, they spark joy, you can start looking at more specific brands, styles, colors, etc., and try to focus on what kind of horses you wanna collect. Maybe you wanna focus on palominos. Maybe you love Barbie horses. Maybe you find a really fun community of glass horse collectors that keeps you coming back. And maybe you fall so deeply in love with the hobby that you wanna collect every kind of horse figure you come across. Just be patient and focus on the act of collecting, rather than having a collection.

[nabi-unveiled]

With each rewatch of When It Rains, It Pours, I had become increasingly uncomfortable. A question had begun to plague me.

How did I miss it?

It's no secret that I've been in the "don't trust Fujisawa" camp for a while. But I felt bad for him during the early episodes. After all, it really is a nightmare situation for him too. Why did it take me until my THIRD watch of ep4 to fully convince myself of Fujisawa's nature?

Missing sounds? Not a surprise.

But COMPLETELY missing something that's literally GLARING at me? Not even having it on my radar? That's unusual.

I always have multiple theories and numerous potential scenarios running in my head. It's not like I was watching this series casually.

And make no mistake - the man's been glaring since episode 1. It wasn't constant, but the glaring is not a new development.

Even Fujisawa's words have never been subtle.

So how did I miss it? Why did it take me so long?

I realized the answer yesterday, and I don't like it.

I missed the signs, because I was trained to miss them.

I see these dynamics all the time in my community. And when you see something all the time, you begin to notice it less.

Being uncomfortable with sex?

Growing up ensconced in purity culture means I know A LOT of people with very complex relationships with sex.

Some want it but would NEVER dare talk about it.

Some see it as something shameful.

Some see it as something to be feared.

It's what happens when you're constantly told libido is a swamp.

So this...

I didn't see it as a problem beyond them wanting different things. Either Fujisawa was ace or had issues with sex. He had been open about it with Sei, and he was doing the best he could.

This is fine as long as both parties are content. But Fujisawa is controlling and manipulative. Note the "bars" in the picture above.

Matching your partner's preferences?

I was taught catering to my partner's commands was an expectation. It was required to be a "good" partner. So this....

At one point WAS me. And even if I don't obey the rules anymore, I still see this type of "consideration" in most relationships around me.

IT'S NOT HEALTHY.

Consideration should not mean self-sacrifice.

At one point I thought, "Well, it's Sei's choice."

And that's true. But I know better than to fall for that logic.

It ignores his trauma.

It ignores his low self-esteem.

It ignores his fear of being left alone.

It ignores the difficulty of leaving those you care about and the life you know.

It ignores the manipulation.

Because this type of statement? It's tricky. It can be completely innocuous. But it can also be controlling, and a lot of that comes down to the power dynamics of the relationship.

Fujisawa holds the power here. He HAS been controlling and trying to manipulate Sei. I questioned last week what the purpose was of the editor if Fujisawa wasn't having an affair. However, it became clear when watching for the sizzle. Sei says he will go to the party and Fujisawa IMMEDIATELY says "I'll introduce you to my editor."

The unspoken words are if you don't go to the party. Mentioning the editor was a manipulation tactic. A subtle one, but it was there.

I give Sei credit. He went to the party. He kept emailing Hagiwara. He pushes back on occasion. He doesn't always follow commands.

But well.... damn.

I thought I could at least recognize when my raising was influencing interpretations. I thought I had worked through those issues.

So thanks When it Rains for reminding me not to forget my ID.

I sure as hell don't plan on getting trapped in that room again.

Break out Sei. It's not easy, but BREAK OUT.

There's a beautiful world waiting.

[lovezbrownies]

The Science of Love.

General Masterlist - Julie's Masterlist

Synopsis: Julie McCanister never thought of marriage before, until her nosy coworker kept mocking her and telling her that her dalring should break up with her for waiting so long. And now she's filled with fear of that actually happening.

PAIRING: Yandere!Mad Scientist x GN!Reader

Warnings: My tamest work so far, very fluffy.

Your girlfriend, Julie, had been acting… strange. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it started, but you’d been noticing it for weeks now. The once calm and collected Julie McCanister—always the picture of professionalism—had spiraled into something unrecognizable. The house had become a reflection of her state: a chaos of unfinished projects, half-drawn equations, and scattered papers. It was like everything in her world had turned upside down.

Her usually voluminous hair, the kind that always looked effortlessly messy but somehow perfect, was now a frizzy, unkempt tangle. The dark bags under her eyes had deepened by several shades, and the vibrant spark in her gaze had dulled to a weary exhaustion. She barely seemed to sleep, let alone eat.

For the past month, she’d been consumed by something. You weren’t sure what. You’d caught her muttering to herself, her mind locked in a frantic loop. The lab, once her sanctuary, had been abandoned in favor of the living room whiteboard, where she scribbled in a feverish frenzy—random buildings, nonsensical equations, half-solved problems.

The strangest part? She hadn’t gone into work for two whole weeks. Julie, the meticulous scientist who lived by her schedule, had thrown it all out the window. She was clearly struggling, and yet, she refused to tell you what was going on. The stress radiated off her, but when you tried to ask, she just shut you out.

“No, no, no. I must finish this on my own. No help. If I don’t, it’ll ruin everything,” she snapped one evening, her voice sharp and tight.

You were taken aback, the sting of her words lingering longer than it should have. Julie had never been rude to you. Blunt, yes. But never rude. She’d always appreciated your small contributions, those little comments that lightened her mood or gave her a fresh perspective. A quick kiss, a grin, and she’d be off again, solving the puzzle in her mind. But this time… this time was different.

Her refusal to let you in, her coldness, felt like an impenetrable wall slowly rising between the two of you, and it hurt more than you were willing to admit. But still, you remained steadfast in your desire to help her through whatever this was. You found yourself rushing after her, tidying up the chaos she’d left behind: collecting scattered papers, clearing away empty coffee mugs that once overflowed with caffeine-fueled desperation, and lining up a fresh batch of markers next to the whiteboard. You organized everything neatly, anticipating the moment her current marker would run dry, hoping it would keep her mind from snapping back to frustration.

You did all of this for her, not knowing that the very thing causing her to unravel was, in fact, you.

It wasn’t an insult, not at all. But the source of her stress was wrapped up in a decision she hadn’t yet found the courage to make. Julie McCanister, the logical, no-nonsense scientist who trusted only facts and cold calculations, was planning to propose to you.

For over a month now, she’d been stewing over it—over how you might react, over whether you’d even want it. You always told her the same thing: that you didn’t need a ring, that your love for each other didn’t require some grand symbol. And yet, Julie had seen you. She had caught those fleeting glances, the way you’d unconsciously eye the rings of friends and even her colleagues, the way your fingers would linger on your own hand as if imagining something more.

It all started when one of her colleagues—never one to filter their thoughts—had dropped a bombshell in the middle of the break room one afternoon.

“You’re telling me you two have been friends for over twenty years, lovers for another eight–almost nine– and you still haven’t proposed?! Jesus, McCanister, no offense, but even I would’ve broken up with you by now!”

That comment, as casual and offhand as it had been, had hit Julie like a freight train. Her colleague’s words had taken root in her mind, burrowing into her thoughts until they grew into a full-blown obsession. Could you really be content without that symbol of commitment? Or had she, in her logical, methodical mind, missed something crucial—something that you longed for, even if you didn’t say it out loud?

The thought—the mere possibility—of you breaking up with her sent a jolt of panic coursing through her veins. The idea of you telling her you’d waited long enough, that you couldn’t bear to spend another moment in a relationship without the symbol of commitment, the ring, gnawed at her insides. 

The image of you walking away, seeking someone who would offer you the engagement you deserved, was almost too much to bear. It was as if the very foundation of her world had cracked, leaving her scrambling for something solid to hold onto.

The panic had hit her like a tidal wave, crashing down without warning, sweeping her up in its relentless pull. It came just hours after her colleague’s offhand comment, that careless remark that had burrowed deep into her mind, festering in her thoughts as she tried to work in her lab. Her heart had pounded erratically, and her breath had come in sharp, shallow gasps. The thought of losing you, of not being able to give you what you wanted, what you might secretly need, had thrown her into a complete spiral.

You’d never directly said anything about wanting to get married, right? So it was okay if she waited, delayed it just a little longer, wasn’t it? After all, you hadn’t complained. You were patient with her, understanding of her eccentricities and her logical nature. 

But then again, maybe you had been communicating something to her, something she hadn’t picked up on. Maybe you’d been dropping subtle hints that you wanted more, that you were aching for that next step, but Julie had failed to notice. She’d never been good at deciphering emotional cues, not like she should be.

Her lack of empathy had caused its fair share of arguments when you first started dating. Back then, she’d been almost robotic in her understanding of emotions—practical, yes, but cold, distant even. She could analyze problems, but she struggled with people, with their feelings. She had hurt you once, unintentionally, because she hadn’t understood that sometimes, what you needed wasn’t a solution or a quick fix, but simply to be seen and heard.

But losing you had never been an option.

That was the moment she decided. Valentine’s Day. One month. That was how long she had to plan the perfect proposal, one so flawlessly executed that you’d fall in love with her all over again.

It had been years since the two of you had truly celebrated Valentine’s Day—there was no need anymore. You knew each other too well, had been together for so long that the usual romantic clichés had lost their luster. But even still, there was one tradition you never abandoned. Every year, without fail, you and Julie made sure to pick up a box of those limited-time Valentine’s cupcakes from your favorite bakery. They only came around once a year, and without even discussing it, you both always made time to get them.

And so, Julie decided: that was how she’d start the proposal.

That was two months ago. And now, Valentine’s Day was after tomorrow.

Everything was ready—perfectly orchestrated, down to the very last detail. She had planned every step of the day, every meal, every location, even the outfits you’d wear. The calculations had been finalized days ago. Every possible outcome had been accounted for.

She had even hired photographers. Fourteen of them, stationed at every location on her itinerary.

Most of them had tried to talk her down, to reason with her. “You only need one, maybe two at most. Fourteen is excessive.” But Julie wouldn’t hear it. She needed options. She had no way of predicting when the moment would strike—when she’d finally gather the courage to get down on one knee. Maybe it would happen in a spontaneous burst of emotion, or maybe she’d panic and delay it until the very last possible second.

She didn’t know.

But what she did know was that this needed to be perfect.

For the first time in what felt like forever, she looked put together. The frizzy, untamed waves that had practically become a permanent fixture of her appearance had been smoothed back to their usual controlled state. The dark, sleep-deprived circles beneath her eyes remained, but they no longer seemed to weigh her down. 

Her pants—those meticulously ironed slacks she refused to let you touch out of fear you’d ruin the perfect crease—looked freshly pressed, as though she had actually taken the time to care for herself this morning. The sight alone was enough to make you stare, but it was the look on her face that truly stunned you.

A smile. Not her usual smug, self-satisfied smirk. Not the subtle twitch of her lips she gave when she found something mildly amusing. This was giddy. Breathless. Eyes-bright-with-excitement kind of giddy. The kind of smile you could count on one hand the number of times you had seen before. It was beautiful—so achingly rare that for a moment, you found yourself simply staring, wanting to commit every detail to memory before it inevitably faded. 

And then, before you could even think to ask what had her in such a good mood, she leaned in, pressing a quick kiss against your lips, her words brushing warmly against your skin.

“I’m going to get the perfect outfit for tomorrow. I will be back in approximately one hour and forty-eight minutes.”

Then, just like that, she was gone, still pulling her coat on as she rushed out the door, leaving you sitting there, stunned and thoroughly perplexed.

True to her word, exactly an hour and forty-eight minutes later, the front door swung open with purpose. Julie stepped inside with the same air of confidence she carried after solving an equation no one else could, only this time, instead of a clipboard full of notes, she was carrying two long suit bags draped over her back. They hung from her fingers with a sense of reverence, as if she were handling something of great importance, and if you hadn’t already been confused before, the sight of her now only made your curiosity grow tenfold.

“I am home,” she announced, matter-of-factly, as though she hadn’t just spent the past month acting like a woman possessed. “Follow me, darling, I need to show you what I got us for Valentine’s celebration tomorrow.”

Your confusion only deepened, but you found yourself rising to your feet regardless, trailing after her down the hall, unable to shake the feeling that whatever she had planned, it was big. The last time she had put this much effort into a surprise had been your birthday four years ago, when she had spent weeks secretly building you a fully automated coffee station that catered to your every preference. The thought made something warm settle in your chest, and though you still had no idea what was going on, you knew one thing for certain.

Whenever Julie remembered—I have a darling waiting for me at home, waiting to be spoiled—it became an immutable fact, an unshakable priority that overrode all else. It wasn’t an obligation, nor was it something she did out of guilt or routine; it was simply what had to be done. And Julie McCanister never did anything halfway.

She went out of her way to spoil you, to dote on you in ways both grand and imperceptibly small, from gestures that defied what any average person could accomplish to the simplest, quietest acts of devotion. If something as insignificant as your favorite mug so much as chipped, she would already have a replacement ordered before you even had the chance to sigh over the damage. If you made an offhand comment about a book you wanted to read, she would somehow, somehow, acquire an early edition before it even hit the shelves.

No matter how many decades passed, no matter how many lifetimes she spent by your side, Julie McCanister would never, ever get used to your presence enough to forget to bring you something on the way home. It was a habit ingrained into her, a quiet ritual of devotion—one that never wavered, never dulled, no matter how many times she indulged in it.

And tonight was no different.

As she unzipped the first bag, your breath hitched at the sight inside. The fabric was pristine, luxurious, the kind of material that practically screamed money. Even without touching it, you could tell it was expensive—too expensive. Your first instinct was to protest, to ask her what in the world she was thinking spending this much on a simple Valentine’s date, but before you could even get a full sentence out, Julie did what Julie always did when she decided she didn’t want to hear your objections.

She kissed you.

It was brief, chaste, but effective all the same, successfully rendering you speechless as she pulled back, an infuriatingly pleased look on her face. “This, my dear,” she murmured, fingers ghosting over the fabric with quiet satisfaction, “is for our Valentine’s date tomorrow. This one is yours.” She gestured to the outfit in front of you before moving to the second bag. “And this one—” she unzipped it, revealing an equally extravagant ensemble, “—is mine.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, simply standing in mutual appreciation of the matching set. The colors, the detailing, the careful selection of fabric—it was all so deliberate, so well thought out that you almost didn’t notice at first. But then your gaze drifted, taking in the shades Julie had chosen for herself, and realization struck.

Julie hadn’t tailored the suit to be her usual dark tones. No navy blues, no deep greys or blacks—nothing that so much as hinted at her signature cool, muted aesthetic. Instead, every inch of her chosen outfit was composed of your favorite colors. Your favorite shade, your favorite tone, colors that weren’t hers but were undeniably you. And yet, strangely enough, the outfit didn’t look out of place in comparison to her usual style, small vest, neat button-up, long coat, and her beloved suit pants.

Then your eyes flickered back to your outfit, and the realization settled deeper. It was a perfect reversal—the colors, the undertones, the subtle details. It was Julie. She had chosen shades that reflected her own preferences, yet they weren’t imposed on you; instead, they complemented you flawlessly, as if she had studied every nuance of your features, your complexion, your hair, ensuring each choice enhanced rather than overwhelmed.

It was… intimate in a way you hadn’t expected. A quiet, unspoken devotion woven into fabric and color.

You turned to her, the weight of understanding pressing against your ribs, words forming but failing before they could leave your lips. 

Before she could utter a word, you moved, closing the space between you in an instant. Your arms wrapped tightly around her neck as you buried yourself in her warmth, the force of your embrace making her stagger slightly. A quiet gasp slipped past her lips, her hands instinctively finding your waist, steadying both of you. Then, slowly, the tension melted away. Her fingers curled against you, her hold firm but gentle. The corners of her lips lifted into the softest smile—small, but genuine. Content.

Julie let out a slow breath, allowing herself to sink into the embrace, her arms tightening around you as she pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. A silent promise. A quiet I love you.

And yet, you still hadn’t noticed the small, unmistakable bulge in the pocket of the pants hanging nearby—the subtle outline of a box no bigger than her palm. A box too small to contain anything other than a ring.

Julie’s gaze flickered toward it, fingers twitching slightly at her side. The weight of the moment pressed down on her, gnawing at the edges of her control, threatening to unravel everything she had so carefully built. The urge to reach for it was unbearable, pressing against her restraint like an unchecked variable in an equation she hadn’t accounted for. It would be easy—too easy—to pull it out now, to let it unfold naturally, to drop to one knee before either of you had time to process it.

But no. She had to contain it—hold herself together, despite the undeniable urge to drop to her knees and slip that ring onto your finger right there. The weight of the moment, of the feelings that swelled up inside her, was pressing so hard against her restraint. The yearning to act on it, to do something grand, something that would make you look at her with wide eyes and glowing affection—it was almost unbearable.

And yet, she forced herself to stop. She couldn’t rush it. The day ahead, the moments she had painstakingly planned, would be perfect. Her mind was made up: this was going to be the epitome of romance. A grand gesture, something so profound and sweeping, that after it, you’d be overwhelmed—deliriously in love with her, swarming her with kisses and praises, calling her the most romantic soul alive. She was confident. At least 86% confident. Maybe 85.5%.

But the half-percent that lingered at the back of her mind didn’t matter. She had a plan, and she was going to see it through. She just had to hold on a little longer.

Eventually the two of you pulled away from the embrace and spent the rest of the day as domestically as possible. With the past month Julie had been so obsessive over this entire proposal she had ended up accidentally neglecting you and left you there to collect dust as she planned the perfect proposal. So today, the day before her big plan, she decided to completely pamper you with home-cooked meals, cuddling, and as much as you can handle with her lust.

The morning dawned slower than usual, but there was an unfamiliar softness to the air. The world outside seemed still, almost as if it, too, was waiting for what the day would bring. You woke to the sound of birds outside the window and the soft rustling of fabric from beside you. You didn’t recognize it at first, still heavy with the weight of sleep, but as your eyes cracked open, there she was. Julie McCanister, the apple of your eyes.

She kneeled beside the bed, her hands moving so carefully, so deliberately as she adjusted the blankets around you, making sure you were tucked in just right. Her fingers hovered over your face for a second, so hesitant before she laid her fingers upon the curve of your jaw.

The look in her eyes was… different. It wasn’t the usual confident gaze she held, the one that felt like she already knew the next step in everything. No, today, there was something softer. Something almost… tender. And when her eyes flicked to yours, she smiled so lightly, so gently, that it almost made your heart skip a beat.

God, this was strange—Julie smiling so early in the morning, looking down at you with a softness that felt almost foreign. Vulnerability wasn’t something she wore often, and yet here it was, clear in the way her lips curled just slightly, in the way her gaze lingered on you like you were something fragile, something precious. Julie never liked expressing emotions, never let them settle before she dissected them, rationalized them, and locked them away before they could take root. To her, emotions were unpredictable, inefficient—a problem to be solved rather than indulged.

But you were the exception. You always had been. Because when you smiled, when your laughter filled the air, it made something flutter deep in her chest, made the logic and calculations in her mind blur at the edges. And against all odds, she didn’t mind.

“Good morning,” she whispered, as if the words themselves had to be savored. She took her hand back, now laying her head on her arms, which were crossed over one another on the edge of the bed. Through the dim lighting of the room, the sun peeking through the blinds, you can see her entrancing green eyes gaze deeply into your face, studying every small crevice of your face like it her only purpose in life, “Did you sleep well?”

You could’nt help but be incredibly flustered, this is so incredibly intimate, inin ways you’ve never experienced before with Julie, this had so much love fueled behind it you almost wanted to punch yourself and make sure you weren’t dreaming. Although delayed by your day dreaming you nodded, still trying to shake off the remnants of sleep, rubbing furiously at your eyes.

But something in her gaze kept you rooted to the spot. There was something almost… tender about the way she looked at you. Julie wasn’t one to be sentimental, and yet her eyes held an intensity that made your breath hitch, like she was seeing you for the first time all over again.

Before you could question it, she moved—slow, deliberate, closing the space between you with the kind of confidence that sent a shiver down your spine. Her fingers ghosted along your jaw, tilting your chin ever so slightly, and for a moment, all you could hear was the quiet, measured cadence of her breathing.

The desperate look on your face was undeniable, and you knew it. You felt utterly vulnerable, biting at your lower lip, your legs pressed together as if that simple friction could ease the ache inside. Your eyes darted between her gaze and her lips, pleading without words, but every inch of you screamed for her touch, for her kiss. You couldn’t help it. You felt so exposed, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from her.

Julie, of course, knew you far too well. She saw through you—your every subtle shift, every hesitant movement, every unspoken need. And, as always, she loved you more for it. The way you were so unguarded, so unashamed in your longing for her, only made her want to indulge you.

Julie chuckled, her laughs always an airy laugh, she leaned in as close as she could and whispered into your ear, “You don’t have to say a word.”

Her breath was hot against your skin, her hands sliding back to rest against your neck, pushing herself even closer until her chest was flush against yours. The space between you no longer existed; only the heat of her touch, the magnetic pull that seemed to draw you to her without effort. Her lips brushed yours, slow and teasing, as if savoring the moment before finally, finally, she closed the gap.

Her kiss was everything you'd been craving—intense and consuming. Julie didn’t just kiss you; she enveloped you, devoured you, in a way that left your head spinning. Her hands traced the outline of your jaw, the back of your neck, grounding you in the dizzying sensation of being wanted, needed, by her. And you—desperate and greedy for her touch—let yourself melt into it, feeling the weight of her affection, her control, pressing against you.

Her kiss deepened, her fingers tangling in your hair, holding you in place as if to remind you just how much she loved having you like this. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a claim, a promise of all the things she was willing to give you... and the things she wanted in return.

Every kiss felt like an indulgence, a slow burn that wrapped around your heart, leaving you breathless, craving more.

Julie never touched you like this—not without some teasing remark to accompany it, not without rushing off immediately for a long trip for work, but today? Today was different. She was drinking you in, her touch featherlight but unrelenting, lingering longer than necessary in a way that made your heart stutter. And this time, it wasn’t without a single string attached, no tease, no sex, no rushing. Julie was taking her time, and she didn’t want to take too long at the same time.

Finally, she pulled away, but the connection between you lingered—between your parted lips, a thin strand of saliva stretched, evidence of just how deep you had fallen into her. The sight alone sent heat rushing to your face, and in your flustered panic, you slapped a hand over your mouth, cutting off the string before it could betray you further.

Julie chuckled, low and amused, and that only made it worse. How was she so composed? So utterly unshaken, when you felt like your heart was about to beat out of your chest? It was almost unfair. This was the same Julie who was a sexless virgin before the two of you got together, who acted like she’d never touched another person before intimately.

Julie’s chuckle had barely faded when she suddenly stopped, her body going still against yours. The warmth of her breath, still uneven from the kiss, fanned across your lips, but something in her expression had shifted. Her usual self-assured confidence, the sharp wit always dancing in her eyes, wavered—just for a second.

Her hands, still cradling your face, tensed slightly, fingers pressing into your skin as if grounding herself in the reality of you. Her pupils dilated, flickering between your lips and the flush that still painted your cheeks, before settling—hard, determined—on your eyes.

You looked so at peace, so beautifully messy, so… Perfect. Julie couldn’t stop staring, and she felt so incredibly ashamed to be so forward, but of course, she couldn’t help it. You were always cute, her dear darling, making the cutest noises, lips always parted for her, plump and red always from her ministrations, from her need to constantly have her own on yours.

Yet you never rejected her, you never looked at her strangely, even though her current behavior was strange, that you’d never seen her act like this, you embraced her. You let her do as she pleased because you loved her enough to trust her. And that fact alone had poor Julie’s heart jumping from joy and fear. Joy of how in love she is with you, and fear from what she’s about to say.

"Marry me."

What the fuck am I doing! This is supposed to be done after the orchestra! Not now!

Julie had never been the type to lose control—not in her work, not in her life, not in anything. Every action, every decision was calculated, planned, set in motion with a logic so airtight that nothing could shake her. And yet, here she was, staring at you, heart pounding so violently that she thought she might be sick, and for the first time in forever, she had no plan.

The words had slipped out before she could stop them, raw and unfiltered, bypassing the careful walls she always kept so firmly in place. Marry me. God, what was she thinking? Was she thinking at all? Her mind scrambled to justify it, to piece together the frayed edges of her self-control, but there was nothing—just you. You, looking at her with wide, startled eyes, lips still swollen from her kiss, breath coming in these soft little gasps that made her want to drown in you all over again.

Your breath hitched, your lips parting—but no sound came. For a second, you wondered if you'd misheard, if your mind was playing tricks on you, distorting reality in the haze of Julie’s touch. But she was still staring at you, still gripping you, and there was nothing uncertain about the way she’d said it.

Still, your voice barely came out above a whisper. "What...?"

Your mind barely had time to process the words before the weight of them came crashing down, sending your thoughts into a frantic, uncontrollable spiral. Marry me. No hesitation. No warning. No carefully planned moment. Just Julie, staring at you with an intensity that made your heart feel like it was about to shatter apart from how much you loved her.

It didn’t feel real. None of this did. Your chest was so tight with happiness it almost hurt, but it was tangled up in something else—something so overwhelming that it almost sent you reeling. This was Julie. Julie, who planned every move with cold, calculating precision. Julie, who had never been impulsive, who measured everything with logic, who didn’t let herself get carried away. And yet, she had just blurted out a proposal like it was the most natural thing in the world. It didn’t add up. It couldn’t.

Your hands trembled slightly as you stared at her, your lips parting, but no words came out. You wanted to say yes—god, you wanted to—but your brain kept screaming at you that this wasn’t real, that any second now, she was going to pull back, shake her head, tell you she misspoke, that she wasn’t thinking straight. That this was just the heat of the moment, that she wasn’t actually asking.

Julie blinked, like she had just startled herself. For once in her life, her mouth moved before her mind, before she could run through a thousand calculations and arrive at the most logical course of action. And now, the words hung between you—heavy, irreversible, so completely and utterly hers.

Her jaw clenched, her fingers twitching where they rested against your skin, and you could practically see the internal war she was fighting. The ever-pragmatic, ever-meticulous Julie, who analyzed every possible outcome before making a move, had just proposed to you without a second thought. And that realization made something wild and untamed flicker in her eyes—something dangerously close to panic.

“I—” Her voice wavered, a rare crack in her perfect composure. Her grip on the bed tightened like she was trying to anchor herself. Just then did you realize, I’m laying on my side in my bed getting proposed to. You for certain did not look like you were meant to be proposed to right now, and that much made you so insecure. "I was supposed to do this differently. Today."

She swallowed, unaware of your own inner turmoil, her throat bobbing, frustration flashing across her face—not at you, but at herself, at her lack of control over this moment that had spiraled out of her hands. "I had a plan. A proper one. Everything was set up—the perfect setting, the perfect speech, the perfect ring, because of course I needed it to be perfect for you."

Her voice softened, a stark contrast to the intensity blazing in her gaze. "But then I kissed you, and—" She exhaled sharply, shaking her head, like she couldn’t even begin to put it into words. "And now I can’t wait. I don’t want to wait."

Something tightened in your chest.

Julie’s eyes never left yours, burning with a conviction that sent your pulse into a frenzy. This wasn’t some careless, heat-of-the-moment confession she'd regret later. No, this was deeper, heavier. Like she had carried the weight of these words for so long that they had begun to carve themselves into her bones.

She reached for your hand, her fingers slipping between yours, threading together like they belonged there. And when she spoke again, her voice was steadier, quieter—but no less intense.

“I love you.”

It wasn’t a declaration. It was a fact. A truth so absolute that it left no room for doubt.

You jolted upright so fast it nearly gave you whiplash, your blanket falling off your shoulders in a heap as you stared at her, wide-eyed. "Now?" you blurted, voice pitching up in disbelief. "You’re proposing to me right now? When I—" Your hands flew to your face, to your hair, to the rumpled clothes hanging off your frame. "Julie, I look like I just rolled out of bed! I—why would you propose to me when I look like—like this?!"

Your heart was hammering, pounding so hard you could hear it in your ears, a dizzying mix of happiness and absolute panic surging through your veins. This wasn’t how you’d pictured it. Not that you’d given much thought to your own proposal, but surely it wasn’t supposed to happen when your hair was a mess and sleep was still clinging to your body like an afterthought. You should be dressed up! There should be candles, or a fancy dinner, or at least some kind of preparation! Not this!

Julie’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before her expression softened into something warm, something endearingly amused. She let out a soft breath—a quiet laugh, really—and reached for you, her hands finding your arms as she pulled you closer. "Hey," she murmured, squeezing gently. "Slow down."

"Julie," you whined, still horrified, still flustered beyond belief, but her thumbs were already stroking soothing circles into your skin, grounding you. "I—this isn’t—"

"Yes sure this isn’t how I picture it, but it’s no less perfect to me!" she interrupted, her voice firm but unbearably tender. "You think I care about how you look right now?" She gave a short, incredulous laugh and shook her head. "You always look perfect to me. But more than that? This moment—you—this is real. This isn’t some perfectly rehearsed, artificial scene. This is me, looking at you, and knowing with absolute certainty that I want to spend my life with you.*"

You swallowed, your throat tight, your chest aching with the sheer force of the love in her words. Your lips parted, but no sound came out, because what could you possibly say to that?

Julie took your silence as permission to continue, her hands drifting up to cradle your face. "I love you," she whispered, her forehead brushing against yours. "Messy hair, sleepy face, half-asleep grumbles and all. I love you like this. I love you always. And I don’t need anything grand or perfect to know that I want to marry you. I just need you."

Your breath hitched, something overwhelming swelling in your chest. Because this—this wasn’t a dream, wasn’t some surreal, too-good-to-be-true moment. It was real. It was her. And it was perfect.

Her words were gentle, but there was this quiet certainty behind them that sent a shiver down your spine. How could someone so perfect in their own way love you so completely? Julie’s gaze was unwavering, as if she was pouring all of her feelings into you with just her eyes. The kind of love she held for you was pure and untouchable, and that, in itself, felt like both a comfort and a weight.

But despite her calm composure, there was a trace of nervousness in her eyes too, almost imperceptible to anyone else. The way she fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, the way her fingers twitched as if she was afraid to touch you too much. You could see that she was just as overwhelmed as you—more than she’d ever let on. Julie was human, too.

Your heart beat faster as everything started to shift, as your own uncertainty began to melt away, replaced by something warmer, something all-consuming. There was something so real about the way she looked at you—how deeply she cared—and that was what made this whole situation feel right, no matter how unusual the moment seemed. She was never the kind of person to make a big show of things, and this quiet, intimate proposal, despite your disarray, felt entirely her.

A deep breath escaped you, and suddenly, without even realizing it, you found yourself back in front of her, your hands grasping onto her arms for support. You stared into her eyes, her face so close, and everything inside you just clicked. This was real. She was real.

You felt a surge of emotions course through you—love, joy, relief, and maybe a little bit of disbelief—and before you could second guess yourself, you surged forward. Your lips found hers in a kiss that was more desperate than you expected, more needy than you could’ve planned. It wasn’t planned at all, honestly, it was just instinct—raw and pure. You kissed her with all the confusion, the tenderness, the overwhelming feelings you couldn’t put into words.

Julie was caught off guard for a second, her breath hitching, before she leaned into it, her hands sliding up to your back, pulling you closer like she needed to make sure you were there, right there in her arms. And you were. You were so completely and utterly in love with her, your hands tangled in her hair, drawing her closer as if to make sure this wasn’t some dream. You kissed her again, deeper this time, a slow, tender moment that felt like the world had gone silent except for the two of you. No more doubts, no more second-guessing—just the simple truth of the moment.

When you finally pulled away, your breath mingled with hers, your heart hammering in your chest. "Yes," you said, the word leaving your lips with a breathless fervor. "Yes, yes, I’ll marry you, Julie."

Julie froze for a moment, as if the world had just come to a halt, and then a smile broke across her face—soft, relieved, and full of joy. Her fingers touched your face with tenderness, a slow, reverent caress, as if she were trying to memorize every inch of you. "I love you," she whispered, her voice shaky but filled with so much emotion that it made your heart flutter in your chest. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too," you whispered back, your voice thick with all the emotions you couldn’t even begin to describe.

And in that moment, you both knew—this was real. All of it was real. The love, the proposal, the kiss—everything. The overwhelming feeling of rightness, of finally being where you belonged.

[starlost-maniac]

I Slept with My Boss - Ch 11

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS, DNI

Warnings/genre: SMUT, piv, pia, protected sex, one night stand, mxf, mxm, multiple orgasms, multiple partners, club/drinks, voyeurism, pet names, daddy kink, double pen, oral, color system, squirting, public sex (no witnesses)

Pairing: ot8 SKZ x fem!reader

dividers made by @cafekitsune

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Previous | Next

You decided to go to the gym early Sunday morning, wanting to try and get into a rhythm of going at least once a week. You see Changbin at the receptionist desk, clicking away on the computer. He sees you walk in and smiles wide.

"Hi, bunny. How are you feeling?" He stands up and walks around the table to envelope you in a hug. "Seungmin and I.N didn't tire you out too much?" You hug him back and laugh.

"I'm ok. Little sore, but I'll manage." You smile. "I'm trying to get to the gym more. Need to get that rhythm going." Changbin nods.

"I'd say start off light. Working out with a sore body is already tough, but overdoing it isn't good for you." He gently cups your cheeks and kisses your forehead. "The gym is usually empty around this time, so don't worry about anyone but me being here, ok?" You nod and thank him. You kiss his cheek before going towards the locker room.

You come back out after changing and putting your things away. You see Changbin talking to Hyunjin and you smile. You wave to Hyunjin and he waves back with a smile. You start on the treadmill and walk for about 30 minutes before going to lift small weights. Changbin and Hyunjin come over and sit with you. They talk with you while you do your workout, Changbin giving you small pointers.

When you ask him to help with a certain exercise, he gets up to help you get in the best position for it. His fingers trailing down the bare skin on your arm, making you shiver. Hyunjin watches, eyes wide.

"I missed you so much, bunny. You were coming down while I was either asleep or out of the gym." He pouts as little, looking at you through the mirror that you both stand in front of.

"I'm sorry, Binnie. Things have been a bit hectic." You give him a small smile. He steps toward you, placing his hands on your hips and kisses your shoulder.

"You don't need to apologize. I get it. Especially what happened Friday." He kisses your shoulder again. "If he ever touches you again, you tell us, ok?" His hands snake around your waist and rests his chin on your shoulder.

"I will, Binnie. Thank you." You smile a little wider. Hyunjin walks up behind you both.

"You're doing a cuddle pile without me?" He laughs and steps around your front. He wraps his arms around you and Changbin and hugs you both tight. You feel Changbin's cock twitch against your ass through his shorts.

"Sorry, bunny. I missed you a lot." He chuckles a little. "I'll take care of it later with Hyunjin since he's here." Hyunjin playfully scoffs and pulls back to look at Changbin. You laugh.

"It's ok, I'm getting used to it now." You gently lean your head onto Changbin's. He turns his head slightly and kisses your cheek.

"If anything, honey, we can play here." Hyunjin winks at you. That makes your cheeks flush. You aren't used to the public antics they like to pull. With Chan and Minho, their offices are alone on that floor and being the CEOs, no one really comes up to bother them.

"Obviously we don't have to if you aren't comfortable. We can always go upstairs to my place." Changbin quickly says. You nod, smiling at him again. Changbin gently squeezes your waist, his muscled arms feel nice around you.

"Whatever you want to do, I'll be ok with." You play with the hem of Hyunjin's shirt as he is still in front of you still. The taller one grins playfully and leans down to quickly capture your lips with his, Changbin groaning softly behind you as he presses his bulge into your ass.

"Ever since you first came here, bunny, I've wanted to fuck you in front of and against these mirrors." Changbin whispers in your ear, sending goosebumps across your skin. Hyunjin pulls back to look at the shorter male.

"Can I watch? It might give me inspiration for a new piece." Hyunjin grins at the thought.

"Go close the blinds, Jinnie. Put the closed sign up too, please. The gym can be closed for a few hours." Changbin wiggles his eyebrows at you in the mirror. Hyunjin practically sprints across the gym to flip the switch for the closed sign as he closes the blinds. He locks the door and comes back over, seeing Changbin turned you around, kissing you deeply, one hand on your ass, the other holding your neck. Hyunjin sits on a workout bench to watch you both, his own tent growing in his pants.

Changbin gently squeezes your ass a few times before he grabs the bottom of your workout shirt. He lifts it off you, breaking the kiss to get it over your head. He groans softly as he looks at you in your sports bra. He grabs that next and takes it off you, immediately latching onto your nipple, not caring that you're a little sweaty. Your hands grab at his curls, moaning softly. He moans softly himself, enjoying the taste and feel of you.

Hyunjin palms himself through his pants as he watches. Changbin's hands slowly move across your body as he moves his head to your other nipple. When his hands reach the waistband of your leggings, he hooks his thumbs into them and pulls them down. Letting go of your nipple, he pulls them off, kicking your shoes off when he gets to your calves.

You hear them both mutter out something along the lines of 'so beautiful'. The older one stands up straight and grins at you, walking you backwards till you're against the mirror. He kneels in front of you and grabs one of your legs, putting it on his shoulder. Leaning closer, he kisses along your folds, earning soft gasps from you. Hyunjin gets up from his seat and comes closer, clearly enjoying the view. Changbin chuckles against your skin before licking slowly between your folds. You grab his hair again, moaning his name softly.

"Taste so good, bunny.." Changbin mumbles against you, licking through you again before Hyunjin reaches over to hold you open with two fingers. Changbin thanks him and grins, slowly licking your clit as he slips two thick fingers into your wet cunt. You moan a little loud. Both men groan at the sounds of your cunt and your moans.

Hyunjin sneaks a hand around your leg and slips one of his long fingers inside you with Changbin's, making you squirm a little. Soft whimpers leave your lips as Changbin gently sucks on your clit. He and Hyunjin continue to finger you as deep as they can.

"Such beautiful sounds, honey. Feel so nice." Hyunjin whispers, placing a gentle kiss on your hip. Your legs start to shake as you feel your orgasm coming on. You grip Changbin's hair, moaning both their names loudly as you cum, coating their hands in your release. Changbin chuckles and licks you clean, keeping his fingers inside you. Hyunjin takes his out and licks it clean, groaning softly. Changbin takes his hand from you and gently lowers your leg from his shoulder.

"You ok, bunny?" He stands up, holding you in place against the mirror. You nod, breathing hard.

"Yeah..I'm ok." You smile at him. Your free hand finds Hyunjin's fuzzy hair as he places soft kisses and gentle bites to your hip.

"Ok, good." He presses himself against you as he kisses you softly, letting you taste yourself on his tongue and lips. You moan softly into his mouth as you hold onto him. Hyunjin leaves a few small hickies on your lip and leg before he sits down and leans back, pants sporting a very obvious bulge.

"Hyung, it's not fair that Y/n is the only one naked." Hyunjin teases. You chuckle against Changbin's lips and feel him smile before he pulls back. He quickly undresses himself before immediately grabbing you and holds you off the floor, your legs wrapped around his waist, back against the mirror again.

"You ready, bunny?" He watches your face for any sign that you want to stop. You nod, pressing your lips to his as your fingers find his hair again. He groans into your mouth, reaching between you to line himself up to your entrance. He pushes himself in slowly and groans deeply in your mouth. You gasp softly at the stretch but moan right after as you feel him fill you.

"So big.." You moan out when he breaks the kiss for air. He chuckles as he bottoms out in you. He gently squeezes the back of your thighs where he holds you.

"Feeling good?" He teases, kissing the corner of your mouth.

"So good.." You smile softly. Off to the side, Hyunjin still laid on the floor, having pulled himself from the constraints of his pants, slowly stroking himself. Changbin asks if you're ready, thrusting slowly into you once he gets confirmation from you. You moan a little, head going back with a soft thud on the glass. Changbin brings his lips to your neck, leaving wet, open mouth kisses across your skin.

Changbin slowly starts to pick up his pace, fucking into you deeply as he gets faster. You pull on Changbin's hair a bit, making him groan as he captures your lips in a deep kiss. You clench around him as you feel yourself getting close. When you tell him, Changbin grunts a bit, gently biting your lower lip, he fucks you as deep and fast as he can, his cock occasionally rubbing against your clit with his thrusts. As he does that, it pushes you over the edge and you cum hard, your walls clenching around him, pulling him in as he thrusts. He groans your name as he thrusts as deep as he can, stilling his hips as he spills into you.

"Fuck, bunny.." He buries his face into the crook of your neck, breathing hard. His breath felt cool against your warm skin. Your fingers gently card through his curls, your own breath fanning against his ear a bit.

"You two were so hot." Hyunjin says after a moment of silence. You laugh as Changbin chuckles.

"You're hot too, Hyune." Changbin smiles against your skin. He looks up at you. You want Jinnie to help you go get cleaned up? I gotta clean up out here." He pecks your lips. You smile and nod.

"Thank you, Binnie." You peck his lips just as Hyunjin steps over. You didn't even see him stand up. Changbin lets Hyunjin pull you off him, cock sliding out of you. Hyunjin tosses you over his shoulder playfully and pats your ass.

"I've got wash and stuff in the office, Hyune. Use that for her, please." He says, Hyunjin leaning down to kiss his boyfriend. He takes you to the office to grab what he needs before taking you to the showers. He continues to hold you on his shoulder as he gets the water temperature right. While he lets it warm up, he playfully lets his fingers run through your wet folds, feeling yourself and Changbin's release as the mix coats his fingers.

You let out a soft moan as he grazes your clit. He chuckles a little and teases your entrance with his fingers before he sees you down on your feet. He quickly strips and brings you into the water stream. He watches you as the water cascades down your body. He reaches forward and gently places his hands on your hips. Your eyes crack open to look at him, smiling up at him when you see him looking at you with so much fondness in his eyes.

"Hi, Jinnie." You giggle, stepping out from under the water, closer to him.

"Hi, beautiful." He whispers, smiling softly. He leans down, his lips just ghosting over yours. You reach around his neck, arms loosely holding him. Standing up on your toes, you gently kiss him. He lets out a soft sigh as he wraps his arms around your waist, lowering himself some so you don't have to strain to reach him. He kisses you softly and sensually. He carefully maneuvers you both so you're out of the water now.

"Can I take you, honey? I need to feel you again.." He whispers against your lips. You whisper back a 'please' and he pulls you right against him as he deepens the kiss. You pull back after a moment and turn around, pressing back into him. He places his hands on your hips and grinds against your ass. He gently pushes you forward with one hand, making you bend down as he grabs his cock with his other hand to line up with you.

In one fluid movement, he pushes deep into you and you immediately moan his name out. Your cunt, still a bit sensitive, clenches around him. He places one hand on your lower back as he lets you adjust, watching you place your hands on the tile wall of the gym shower.

"You ok, love?" Hyunjin rubs your wet back softly before moving his hands onto your hips. You nod, letting out a breathy 'yeah'. He smiles softly as he slowly starts to fuck into you. You moan quietly, feeling every inch of him inside you. The sensation of the stream of water against your skin, coupled with his touch made you feel so good. You moan louder, the tile making the sound echo a bit. He grips your hips, fucking into you faster, watching his cock disappear into to your tight cunt. The sound of skin slapping skin mixing with the running water and your moans.

"Watching you take Changbin-hyung against the mirror gave me some ideas for a new piece..it also made me incredibly horny, Y/n.." Hyunjin moans out. "You feel so amazing, honey..god I could fuck your pussy forever.." he groans as he grinds into you. You moan his name loudly, your walls clenching around him as you cum.

"Aish..just a little longer, baby..little longer.." he grunts out, fucking you hard and fast through your high before he thrusts all the way inside you and cums. He gently wraps his arms around you and stands you up straight, flush against him. He lightly thrusts into you in this position, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He slips a hand down to your folds, lightly playing with your clit. One of your hands snakes behind you to his head, your other to his arm. You arch your back in his arm, squirming a little.

"I'm sorry, honey..I need to feel you cum around me one more time. It's so addictive.." he mumbles into your neck, quickly rubbing your clit as he lightly thrusts into you from behind.

"Ahh..Jin-Jinnie…" You continue to moan.

"Hyune, are you still in here with bunny?" Cbangbin calls from the locker room entrance.

Hyunjin lifts his head some and calls back, "I am, hyung.." he lowers his face back to your neck, softly sucking on the skin. Changbin walks in and down to the showers, sitting in the bench by the lockers, he watches.

"Sorry hyung..I need to feel her cum once more..she feels so nice." Hyunjin grunts softly when you clench around him. He fucks up into you hard, pulling a loud gasp from you. Changbin chuckles as he watches.

"You're ok, Hyune. You doing ok, bun?" Changbin watches you. You nod a little.

"Wanna cum for Jinnie.." you moan, arching some as Hyunjin slowly circles your clit, playing with the bundle of nerves. Your cunt clenches around him a few times, you feeling your orgasm building. "Ahh..close.." Hyunjin cups one of your breasts when you arch again, cumming around his cock again as he thrusts into you hard again, cumming with you. Hyunjin groans, feeling your cunt milking him as he cums.

He slowly slips out of you, your mixed releases drippin out of you. You lean back against Hyunjin's chest, breathing hard. The male gently peppering you with kisses.

"Let's get you cleaned up, and maybe you can take a nap upstairs, hmm?" He says. You nod, sleepy now. Hyunjin carefully washes you as Changbin grabs your stuff out of the locker, getting your clean clothes and towel ready. When Hyunjin gets you clean, Changbin gently dries you and dresses you before both men take you upstairs for a nap.

When you wake, it's time for a late lunch, which Changbin doesn't mind making for you. You thank him and Changbin for today, and tell them you unfortunately have to go home, as you have work in the morning. You give them both a hug and kiss before going home.

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[techav]

Sharing a Computer with More Friends

A few months ago I built an I/O expansion board for my homebrew 68030 project with a 4-port serial card to go with it, and got BASIC running for four simultaneous users. It worked, but not as well as I had hoped. I wanted to be able to run two of those serial cards to support 8 total users, but it had proven unstable enough that with just the one card I had to slow down the whole system to 8MHz.

So I designed a new serial card.

I had previously been running this computer without any issues at 32MHz with a mezzanine card with FPU & IDE as well as a video card. The main board by itself can clear 56MHz. Having to go all the way down to 8MHz just didn't sit well with me. I want this machine to run as fast as possible for its 8 users.

I put extra time into reviewing worst-case timing for all components and graphing out how signals would propagate. The 16C554 quad UARTs I'm designing around are modern parts that can handle pretty fast bus speeds themselves — easily up to 50MHz with no wait states on the 68030 bus — assuming all the glue logic can get out of the way fast enough.

Signal propagation delays add up quickly.

My first draft schematic used discrete 74-series logic for chip selection, signal decoding, timing, etc. At slower bus speeds this wouldn't have been a problem. But I want this thing to run as fast as possible. By the time critical signals had made it through all those logic gates, I was looking at already being well into one wait state by the time the UART would see a 50MHz bus cycle begin.

I needed something faster. I was also running low on space on the board for all the components I needed. The obvious answer was programmable logic. I settled on the ATF22V10 as a good compromise of speed, size, availability, and programmability. It's available in DIP with gate delays down to 7ns. Where discrete gates were necessary, I selected the fastest parts I could. The final design I came up with showed a worst case timing that would only need one wait state at 50MHz and none for anything slower.

It ended up being a tight fit, but I was able to make it work on a 4-layer board within the same footprint of my main board, putting some components on the back side. (It may look like a bunch of empty space, but there's actually a lot going on running full RS232 with handshaking for 8 ports).

New problem. I had blown my budget for the project. As much as I love those stacked DE9 connectors, they're expensive. And there's no getting around the $10 pricetag for each of those quad UARTs. Even using parts on-hand where possible, I was looking at a hefty Mouser order.

[jbevren] suggested using ganged RJ45 connectors with the Cisco pinout instead of stacked DE9, to save space & cut costs. [Chartreuse] suggested buffering the TTL serial TX/RX signals to drive the LEDs that are frequently included on PCB-mount RJ45 connectors. Both great ideas. I was able to cut 20% off my parts order and add some nice diagnostic lights to the design.

Two weeks later, I received five new PCBs straight from China. I of course wasted no time setting into starting to assemble one.

I really set myself up for a challenge on this one. I learned to solder some 25 years ago and have done countless projects in that time. But I think this might be the most compact, most heavily populated, most surface mount board I've ever assembled myself. (There are 56 size 0805 (that's 2x1.2mm) capacitors alone!)

After a few hours soldering, I had enough assembled to test the first serial port. If the first port worked then the other three on that chip should work too, and there's a great chance the other chip would work as well.

And it did work! After some poking around with the oscilloscope to make sure nothing was amiss, I started up the computer and it ran just fine at 8MHz.

And at 16MHz.

And at 25MHz.

And at 32MHz.

And at 40MHz.

And almost at 50MHz!

Remember what I said about my timing graphs showing one wait state for 50MHz? The computer actually booted up and ran just fine at 50MHz. The problem was when I tried typing in a BASIC program certain letters were getting switched around, and try as I might, BASIC just refused to 'RQN' my program. It was pretty consistently losing bit 3, likely from that signal having to travel just a tiny bit farther than the others. A problem that will probably be resolved with an extra wait state.

Good enough for a first test! A few hours more and I finished assembling the card.

I did have some problems with cleaning up flux off the board, and I had to touch up a few weak solder joints, but so far everything seems to be working. I've updated my little multi-user kernel to run all 8 users from this new card and it's running stable at 40MHz.

I need to update my logic on the 22V10 to fix a bug in the wait state generator. I would love to see this thing actually running at 50MHz — a 25% overclock for the 40MHz CPU I am currently running. I also want to expand my little kernel program to add some new features like the ability to configure the console serial ports and maybe even load programs from disk.

I hope to bring this machine with a collection of terminals and modems this June to VCF Southwest 2025 for an interactive exhibit that can be dialed into from other exhibits at the show.

[enhaflixer]

i don't wanna be the owner of your fantasy (i just wanna be a part of your family)

synopsis: Jungwon’s birthday should have been a celebration, but instead, it turns into a night of painful truths and breaking points. When an argument spirals into the possibility of letting go, Jungwon refuses to accept that love isn’t enough. But can love alone fix what’s been breaking between you? Or will this night be the one that decides the fate of your marriage?

Husband!Jungwon x Wife!Reader

Angst, Smut, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort.

⚠ Warnings: angst, marital conflict, emotional distress, arguments, mentions of loneliness and neglect, crying, implied past doubts about divorce, reconciliation, soft but intense smut, explicit sexual content (MDNI), fingering, oral (f receiving), protected sex, deep emotional intimacy, praise kink, desperate love-making, aftercare, soft dom Jungwon, swearing, minor possessiveness, making up after a fight, happy ending.

AN: hi guys!!! this is jungwons bday post, didn't wanna take the usual fluff route so let me know what you guys think please!!!!

The fight started over something small—or at least, it should have been. A comment made in passing, a sigh too deep, a look that lingered too long. But tonight, words are sharp, slicing deep and leaving wounds neither of you know how to bandage.

"Jungwon, you don’t even have time for yourself anymore. How am I supposed to believe you have time for me?" The frustration spills out before you can stop it, weeks—months—of built-up loneliness clawing its way to the surface.

Jungwon exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. "That’s not fair. You know I try—"

"Do you?" Your voice cracks, fingers curling into the fabric of your sweater. "Because it doesn’t feel like it. I wake up to an empty bed, I eat dinner alone, I fall asleep wondering if I’m just supposed to get used to this. And today of all days—I thought maybe today would be different."

His jaw tightens, his shoulders stiff. "I didn’t mean for it to be like this. You think I want to be gone all the time? That I don’t miss you?"

"Then what are we doing?" The question hangs between you, heavier than either of you is prepared for. "Jungwon, we’re married. We said forever, but this—this doesn’t feel like forever. It feels like we’re just two people sharing a house, waiting for something to change."

Silence stretches, thick and suffocating. His lips part, like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out. And that hurts more than any argument ever could.

You let out a trembling breath, your heart pounding. "I’m starting to wonder if this is sustainable. If we are sustainable."

Jungwon’s breath hitches, his complexion paling. "You’re not saying what I think you are."

"Aren’t I?" The bitterness in your voice surprises even you. "Because I’ve thought about it. I’ve thought about what this marriage even means anymore, what we’re holding onto when everything feels so distant. And I don’t know, Jungwon. I don’t know if we’re fighting for a future or just trying to keep from falling apart."

Jungwon shakes his head, his hands balling into fists. "You don’t mean that. You can’t—"

"Don’t tell me what I mean!" You take a step back, your heart hammering. "I don’t want to keep fighting for something when I’m the only one showing up."

"That’s not true!" His voice rises, sharp and desperate. "I do show up! I work to give you everything, to make sure we have the future we dreamed of! Don’t act like I don’t care—"

"It’s not just about caring, Jungwon! It’s about being here. It’s about showing me that I still matter. That we still matter. And right now, it doesn’t feel like we do."

The air between you crackles, something dangerous brewing between the words left unsaid. Jungwon’s fists unclench, his expression shifting, something breaking in him.

"Do you want me to quit?" His voice is low, raw. "Is that what you want? Because I will. If it means keeping you—if it means fixing this—I will."

Your throat tightens. "That’s not what I want. I just,” You swallow the lump in your throat and whisper, “Jungwon… are we really okay?”

His breath hitches. “Why would you even ask that?”

“Because it doesn’t feel like we are.”

He stands up then, hands pressing against the table as he leans forward. “You think I don’t love you?” His voice is hoarse, raw. “You think I would’ve married you if I wasn’t all in?”

“I think,” you say, forcing yourself to hold his gaze, “that love alone isn’t enough to keep us together. If we really love each other, then maybe we should let each other go.”

His face falls. You see something break in his expression—the realization that this isn’t just another petty fight. This is bigger. This is real.

Jungwon’s body tenses, his eyes darkening with something raw, something unfiltered. "That has always sounded like utter bullshit to me." His voice is sharp, unwavering. "If we love each other, then that’s more than enough to fight for this."

Your heart clenches. “I don’t know anymore.”

The air between you grows heavy, the walls of your home suddenly suffocating.

He steps closer, his voice softer this time. “You want to leave?”

You don’t answer right away. Because you don’t want to. You want him to fight, to prove that this marriage is worth saving. But you are so tired of being the only one fighting.

“I want us to stop hurting each other,” you finally say. “And right now, I don’t know if we can.”

Jungwon’s lips part, but no words come out. And that silence—that awful, painful silence—is the worst part of all.

The weight of your words settles, and for the first time in a long time, Jungwon really sees you. He sees the exhaustion in your eyes, the way your hands tremble slightly, the way your shoulders hunch as if carrying too much.

And maybe, for the first time, he realizes how much he’s been asking of you.

Jungwon doesn’t let you sleep alone that night.

He finds you on the couch, curled up in a blanket, eyes red from unshed tears. He kneels beside you, hesitant, his hands reaching but not quite touching. “Come to bed,” he says softly. “Please.”

You shake your head, exhaustion pulling at you. “I can’t.”

He exhales shakily, then makes a decision. He doesn’t leave. Instead, he settles behind you on the couch, wrapping his arms around you, pressing his face into your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, voice breaking. “I hate this. I hate that I’ve made you feel like this.”

You close your eyes, letting yourself sink into his warmth, but you don’t respond. Not yet.

He presses his lips to your temple, his breath warm against your skin. “Let me make it up to you,” he whispers, his fingers tracing slow circles over your arm. “Let me love you the way you deserve.”

His touch is tentative at first, unsure if you’ll push him away. But you don’t.

Instead, you turn in his arms, finally facing him, searching his eyes for something—for truth.

"I don’t want to lose you," he breathes. "I never want to lose you."

You hesitate. Letting go would be easy—too easy. But so is holding onto him. And the truth is, despite everything, you still want him. You want to believe him.

You sigh shakily. "This won’t be fixed in one night."

"I know," he says, pressing his lips to your knuckles. "But I have forever to make it up to you."

And when he pulls you close, you let him.

“Show me,” you whisper.

His lips capture yours, slow at first, like he’s relearning the taste of you. His hands explore your body like it’s new again, as if he’s memorizing every dip and curve, every shiver and sigh.

He takes his time.

Jungwon’s fingers trail lightly over your collarbone, his touch slow, deliberate, reverent. There’s no urgency, no rush—only the undeniable weight of his devotion, of his need to make things right.

His hands move lower, teasing the knot of your robe as he watches your face for any sign of hesitation. But you give him none, only the soft parting of your lips and the way your body leans into his touch. The silk parts easily, pooling at your feet, leaving you bare before him.

A sharp breath escapes him as he drinks you in, his eyes darkening with desire. He reaches out, tracing your curves, his fingertips leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. “God, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice thick with awe and want.

Your breath hitches as he leans in, his lips ghosting over your jawline before trailing down the column of your neck. He lingers there, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses, his tongue flicking against the sensitive skin just below your ear. The sensation sends a shudder through you, your hands finding their way to his hair, threading through the strands as you pull him closer.

“I want to take my time with you,” he whispers against your skin, his fingers splaying over your waist, mapping you, memorizing you. “I want to make you feel just how much I love you.”

You let out a soft moan as his lips continue their descent, kissing, teasing, stopping only to bite gently at your shoulder before soothing the mark with his tongue. He moves lower, his mouth finding your breasts, his hands coming up to cup them—to worship them.

His tongue flicks over one taut nipple, drawing a sharp gasp from you. He hums against your skin, pleased, before sucking the peak into his mouth, slow and deep, his other hand rolling your neglected breast between his fingers. Heat coils in your belly, your thighs pressing together in search of relief.

Jungwon notices. He always notices.

A smirk tugs at his lips as he releases your breast with a soft pop, his hands sliding down your sides, over your hips, settling between your thighs. “Already so wet for me,” he murmurs, running a teasing finger along your slick folds, barely applying pressure. “You need me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you breathe, desperate, your body arching toward him. “Please, Jungwon.”

He groans at your plea, at the way you fall apart under his touch. He lowers himself onto his knees before you, his hands firm on your hips as he presses a lingering kiss to your stomach. Then lower. Lower.

Your breath catches as his tongue swipes through your folds, a deep moan vibrating against your heat as he tastes you. “So sweet,” he mumbles, his voice almost reverent.

He devours you, his tongue flicking against your clit, alternating between slow, languid strokes and deep, sucking pulls that make your legs shake. His hands grip your thighs, holding you steady as he pulls you closer, burying himself in you.

Your hands tangle in his hair, your nails scraping against his scalp as you grind against his mouth, your body desperate for more. “Jungwon—”

He groans at the sound of his name, one hand sliding lower to slip a finger inside you, curling it just right, hitting the spot that makes you cry out.

“That’s it,” he breathes, adding another finger, stretching you, preparing you. “Let go for me.”

Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body shuddering, unraveling, your cries muffled as Jungwon continues to lick you through it, prolonging your pleasure until you’re a trembling mess in his arms.

When you finally open your eyes, he’s already standing again, watching you with pure adoration, his lips slick with you, his eyes burning with hunger.

“Come here,” you whisper, pulling him into a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips as your hands push his shirt off his shoulders, eager to feel his skin against yours. You reach for the waistband of his pants, fingers brushing over his length, making him groan into your mouth.

“I need you,” you murmur against his lips. “Now.”

Jungwon wastes no time, stepping out of his pants, positioning himself between your legs as he presses you against the bed, his body flush against yours. He grinds against you, his length teasing your entrance, coaxing moans from both of you.

Slowly, he pushes inside, stretching you inch by inch until he’s fully seated within you, a groan slipping from his lips at the feeling of finally being connected again.

“God,” he breathes, his forehead pressing against yours. “You feel so perfect.”

He moves slowly at first, rolling his hips in deep, sensual strokes, his hands holding you tightly, as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear. You cling to him, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, needing more.

“Jungwon,” you gasp, nails digging into his back. “Faster.”

He obeys, his pace quickening, his thrusts turning urgent, needy, as his hands roam your body, desperate to feel all of you.

“Look at me,” he pants, his voice strained with pleasure. “Let me see you—let me feel you.”

Your eyes meet his, and in that moment, everything else fades away. The doubt, the fear, the loneliness—all replaced by him. By the way he loves you, the way he worships you.

Your orgasm builds again, coiling tightly, your body trembling as he moves harder, deeper, his name falling from your lips like a mantra.

“Let go,” he whispers, his thumb finding your clit, circling it just right. “Come with me.”

The tension snaps, pleasure crashing over you in waves, your body clenching around him, drawing his own release as he moans your name, spilling into you as his hips jerk against yours.

For a moment, neither of you move—panting, gasping, clinging.

Jungwon collapses beside you, pulling you close, his lips pressing against your forehead, your cheeks, your lips—anywhere he can reach.

“I love you,” he whispers. “I love you so much.”

You smile, exhausted, fulfilled, tracing circles on his chest. “I know.”And as you drift off in his arms, tangled together, you know that this love—this forever—is still worth fighting for. Always.