#it only happens when I’m spacing out too

[solxamber]

You Try to Sleep on the Couch after an Argument with: First Years (-Ortho)

Other parts: Housewardens ; Vice-Housewardens + Ruggie

Ace Trappola

The argument wasn’t loud—no yelling, no dramatic walkouts—just tense words exchanged with a little too much bite. Ace had been his usual smug self, which, unsurprisingly, only made you more pissed off.

So, rather than continue arguing, you grabbed a blanket, stomped off to the couch, and flopped down with a huff. If he wanted to be insufferable, fine. He could enjoy the bed all to himself.

You had just started arranging the cushions when you heard footsteps.

Then, before you could even process what was happening, a pillow dropped onto the couch beside yours, and Ace casually sprawled out like he had been invited.

You blinked. “Ace??”

He glanced at you, completely at ease. “What? We���re sleeping here tonight, right?”

You stared at him, then at the couch, then back at him. “We?”

Ace, the menace that he was, patted the tiny sliver of space beside him like he hadn’t just hijacked your whole plan.

You gawked at him. “You have an entire bed.”

“Yeah, but you’re here.”

“That’s the point, Ace!”

He had the audacity to grin. “Exactly. So, obviously, I’m here too.”

You gaped at him, absolutely stunned at the sheer level of his nonsense. Meanwhile, he just folded his arms behind his head, getting even more comfortable.

You glared. He grinned wider.

Then, after a long moment, he scratched his cheek, his bravado slipping just a little. “...Okay, maybe I should’ve asked first.” He glanced at you, a little sheepish. “But, uh. I don’t like going to bed when you’re mad at me. So… can I stay?”

The worst part? He actually looked kind of earnest. Like he meant it. Like this wasn’t just another one of his schemes to get his way, but something real.

Your irritation wavered. Damn it.

With a dramatic sigh, you gave in, flopping down beside him.

Ace, the absolute menace, beamed like he had just won the lottery. Then, without missing a beat, he threw an arm around you and pulled you right into his chest.

“You’re insufferable,” you grumbled against his hoodie.

“Mm. But cuddly, right?”

“…Shut up.”

He snickered, pressing a quick, lazy kiss to your forehead. “Love you too.”

And, annoyingly enough, you found yourself smiling as you drifted off—because, as much as he drove you insane, Ace Trappola was impossible to stay mad at.

Deuce had been tense, his frustration clear in the way he crossed his arms, in the tightness of his jaw. You weren’t much better, snapping back at him until the conversation hit a dead end, leaving you both too stubborn to fix it in the moment.

Deuce Spade

The argument wasn’t a loud one—no shouting, no dramatic exits—just an exchange of clipped words that left a bitter taste in your mouth.

So, rather than risk making it worse, you grabbed a blanket and went to the couch, throwing yourself onto it with the kind of determination that came from being just annoyed enough to stick to your decision. You adjusted the pillows, tucked the blanket around yourself, and ignored the way the room felt too quiet now.

Behind you, there was a pause. A shuffle of feet. Deuce lingered, but he didn’t stop you.

You shifted, trying to get comfortable. It didn’t work. The couch was fine, but it wasn’t your bed. And the silence—the weight of the unspoken apology hanging between you—only made it worse.

You half-expected Deuce to just go to bed, to let you sleep off your irritation. But then—soft footsteps. Hesitant, careful. He stopped just behind the couch, lingering for a moment before speaking.

“…Can you come back?”

His voice was quieter now, no longer laced with frustration, just uncertainty.

You didn’t move.

A longer pause. Then, softer, “I’m sorry.”

You sighed, already halfway to turning around, ready to tell him that you were sorry too, that this was stupid, that you just wanted to sleep—

Then you heard it. A quiet sniffle.

Your heart lurched.

You shot up, turning so fast the blanket nearly slipped off. Deuce was standing there, head slightly bowed, arms tense at his sides. He wasn’t crying, not really, but his eyes were red-rimmed, his breathing unsteady, his lips pressed together like he was trying to keep everything in.

Oh.

Your frustration vanished instantly.

“Deuce,” you breathed, already reaching for him.

He stiffened for a moment when your fingers brushed his wrist, but then, slowly, he let you pull him toward the bed. He didn’t argue. Didn’t hesitate. The second you both reached the mattress, you wrapped your arms around him, tugging him close, feeling the way his shoulders finally relaxed under your touch.

His breath shuddered against your skin. He held onto you tightly, fingers gripping the fabric of your shirt like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. You squeezed him in return, as he pressed his face into your neck, letting the warmth between you say what words couldn’t.

“…I’m sorry,” he murmured after a long moment, his voice quieter, steadier.

You ran your hand down his back, a slow, soothing motion. “Me too.”

His breathing evened out, his grip loosening just slightly. Neither of you spoke after that. There wasn’t a need to. You just held him, letting the warmth settle, letting the tension fade.

Jack Howl

The argument had been sharper than usual—words exchanged with too much heat, frustration lacing every syllable. Jack’s ears had flattened, his tail flicking sharply behind him, while your own patience had worn thin.

Neither of you had raised your voice, but the weight of it had been enough. Enough that when silence finally fell between you, it felt like standing on the edge of something unsteady.

So, in an act of pure pettiness, you had grabbed a blanket and stormed off to the couch, settling in with all the stubborn determination of someone who refused to be the first to cave. You curled up, pulling the blanket tight around yourself, pointedly ignoring the way the room still felt charged with unresolved tension.

For a while, there was nothing. No footsteps following, no hushed words attempting to fix things. Just silence. You shifted, adjusting the pillow beneath your head, exhaling sharply. Fine. If Jack wanted to sleep alone tonight, so be it.

Then—the faintest creak of the floorboards.

You blinked, turning over just enough to peer into the dim light of the living room. Jack was there, sitting stiffly on the couch opposite you, his arms crossed, tail curled loosely around the edge of the cushion. He didn’t look at you directly, his gaze fixed somewhere ahead, expression unreadable.

You furrowed your brows. “…What are you doing?”

His ears twitched. A beat of hesitation. Then, a quiet, gruff reply.

“Go to sleep. I’m just keeping watch.”

Something in your chest ached at that. Even after the argument, after the sharp words exchanged, he was still looking out for you. He always did.

You sighed, sitting up, the tension in your body already loosening. “Jack.”

He glanced at you then, ears flicking back slightly, wary.

Without another word, you stood, dragging the blanket with you as you crossed the room. Jack stiffened slightly when you reached for his wrist, but he didn’t pull away. You tugged, gentle but firm.

“Come back to bed.”

He hesitated. Then, slowly, he let himself be pulled up, following you without resistance.

The moment you both settled back onto the mattress, his tail curled around you instinctively, pulling you just that much closer. The warmth of it, of him, seeped into your skin, comforting in a way words couldn’t quite capture.

A quiet exhale. Then, low, barely above a whisper—

“…I’m sorry.”

You pressed closer, fingers curling lightly into the fabric of his shirt. “I'm sorry too.”

Neither of you said anything after that. There was no need to. The steady rise and fall of his breath, the solid weight of his arm draped over you, the way his tail tightened slightly before finally relaxing—everything else could wait.

For now, this was enough.

You had hit your limit first. Not because you didn’t have more to say, but because you were just too tired. Too tired to keep fighting, too tired to keep letting the hurt simmer in your chest. So, without another word, you had grabbed a blanket and settled on the couch, turning your back to the bedroom.

Epel Felmier

The argument had spiraled out of control so fast that you barely remembered how it even started. One second, it was just a disagreement—sharp words exchanged, but nothing too serious. And then, all at once, it was a mess, voices raised, frustration bleeding into every syllable.

The anger still sat heavy in your stomach, but beneath it, sadness gnawed at the edges. You hated arguing with him. Hated the way silence felt like a wall between you now. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to just sleep through it, to let the exhaustion pull you under.

It worked—for a while.

Then, the sharp clatter of pans yanked you back into consciousness.

You blinked blearily, registering the soft muttering, the sound of something nearly toppling over, the distinct smell of something cooking. Still wrapped in your blanket, you dragged yourself off the couch, stumbling toward the kitchen.

Epel was standing at the stove, back turned to you, gripping a pan with slightly unsteady hands. His hair was still messy from sleep, and even though his voice was quiet, you could hear the edge of frustration in the low curses under his breath.

You hesitated in the doorway, taking in the scene. The counter was a mess, a dish towel discarded haphazardly, the remnants of a nearly-spilled carton of eggs sitting precariously close to the edge.

At the sound of your footsteps, he stiffened slightly. Then, without turning, he muttered, “Go back to bed. I’ll bring it to you.”

His voice was rough, but not unkind. Just strained.

You stepped closer, noticing the way his shoulders were set too tight, the way his fingers clenched the pan handle like he was trying to steady himself. And when he finally turned just enough that you could see his face—he still wouldn’t meet your eyes.

Your heart clenched.

Without thinking, you reached forward, gently prying his fingers from the pan. His breath hitched, but he didn’t pull away. The moment his hands were free, they hovered awkwardly at his sides—until, in one swift motion, he grabbed you and held on tight.

His arms wrapped around you, his grip desperate, like he was afraid you’d slip away if he let go. His forehead pressed into your shoulder, breath warm against your skin as he exhaled shakily.

“…I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice thick with something heavy. “I shouldn’t’ve pushed you that hard. Shouldn’t’ve let it get that bad.”

You softened instantly, guilt pressing at the edges of your own frustration. You wrapped your arms around him just as tightly, hands smoothing over his back. “I’m sorry too.”

For a long moment, neither of you moved, just holding onto each other, letting the warmth settle between you.

Then, after a pause, you murmured, “C’mon. You’re gonna burn the eggs.”

Epel let out a small laugh against your shoulder before finally pulling back, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, alright.”

You nudged him toward the stove, settling beside him. Together, you finished making breakfast, the quiet weight between you easing with every passing second.

So you had done the only thing you could think of before either of you said something you’d truly regret. You left.

Sebek Zigvolt

The argument had been bad. Worse than usual. Sebek had always been intense, but tonight had been different—his voice sharper, his stance rigid with frustration, his words carrying the weight of something neither of you had been willing to back down from.

Grabbing a blanket, you stormed off to the couch, body still buzzing with leftover adrenaline. You barely managed to settle in before you heard heavy footsteps marching straight toward you.

Then, a firm voice cut through the quiet.

“Take the bed.”

You cracked an eye open, already exhausted. Sebek stood at the edge of the couch, arms crossed, expression unyielding. His stance was as rigid as ever, but there was something beneath the surface—something uncertain, something hesitant.

You exhaled through your nose and turned over, pulling the blanket higher. “Go to sleep, Sebek.”

“I will. Once you’re in the bed where you belong.”

You groaned, but before you could snap at him, he was suddenly kneeling beside the couch, eyes burning with unshaken resolve. His voice dropped lower, quieter, the sharpness softened at the edges.

“A knight cannot allow their beloved to sleep on the couch. It is unbecoming. Please.” His jaw tightened for a moment before he exhaled and added, “I… I should not have let it get this far. I should not have raised my voice at you.” His head bowed slightly, shoulders stiff. “I am sorry.”

You blinked, caught off guard. Sebek was loud. He was brash. He was stubborn beyond reason. But kneeling there, humbled in the quiet glow of the moonlight, his apology raw and unguarded—you felt your own frustration ebb.

Slowly, you sat up, watching the way his hands clenched against his knees. And then, instead of answering, you leaned forward, resting your forehead against his.

Sebek froze.

Then, before he could react, you grabbed the front of his shirt and tugged.

He let out a startled noise as you dragged him onto the couch, his balance thrown as he landed beside you. The couch was too small—he was too tall, too broad, and neither of you fit properly. But you didn’t care.

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, pressing against his chest, letting his warmth ease the last remnants of your anger.

Sebek let out a strangled sound, arms hovering as if unsure whether to hold you or allow you to push him away. When you didn’t, when you simply curled closer, his hesitation melted.

With a deep exhale, he shifted, adjusting his position so he could wrap his arms around you. His hold was steady, protective, his warmth seeping into your bones.

“…This couch is entirely unsuitable for sleeping,” he grumbled, but his voice had lost its earlier edge.

You huffed a quiet laugh, pressing your face into his shoulder. “Then go to bed.”

A pause.

“…No.”

You smiled against the fabric of his shirt, and he squeezed you a little tighter. The couch was too small, the position awkward, but as long as he was holding you, it was enough.

Masterlist

[soulofapatrick]

Don’t Tempt Me - Xaden Riorson x female reader

Summary: Xaden finds you burnt out on the training field 

Warnings: none 

Words: 6k (somehow)

Notes: Not my fave and not proofread

Y/N's POV

The sun hangs low over Basgiath, bleeding gold and deep crimson across the sky, its light casting jagged shadows over the towering battlements. The war college looms around me, its stone walls unyielding, its presence as foreboding as ever. The air is thick with the lingering scent of sweat and scorched leather, remnants of a day spent in brutal training.

The air is thick with the scent of fresh earth and damp stone as I sprint across the training yard, my feet pounding the ground with a rhythm that feels like a heartbeat—a constant reminder of my inadequacies. Sweat drips down my forehead, stinging my eyes, but I refuse to wipe it away. I don’t have time to care about that. I only have time to run.

Over and over, I push myself to the brink, my body screaming in protest, muscles tight with fatigue. My breaths are ragged, desperate for air that feels like it's slowly being stolen from me. But the pain doesn’t matter. It’s nothing compared to the quiet voice inside my head, the one that whispers my doubts and my fears, the one that tells me I’m not enough.

You can’t keep doing this.

It’s Virethalon’s voice. Low, firm, and impossibly calm, like he always is when he sees me teetering on the edge. His presence pulses in my mind, filling the quiet spaces with a calm I can’t find within myself.

Stop, he says again, the warning clear. You’ll burn out before you ever get the chance to fly.

But I ignore him. I have to. I can’t stop, not when the weight of everyone’s expectations hangs so heavily on my shoulders. I can’t afford to be weak. I can’t afford to be what everyone expects—a failure.

My legs scream, my body trembling with every step, but I push harder. Faster. A flip, a backflip, then a roll, twisting midair in an effort to improve my reaction time, my agility. I force my limbs to obey, despite how they beg for rest, despite how my mind is breaking under the strain.

I am not enough. I’m not strong enough to make it here.

Each fall, each misstep echoes the same message in my mind: You don’t belong.

The words are a sting in my chest, sharp and bitter, poisoning the air in front of me. The instructors don’t believe in me, not truly. They’re waiting for me to break, to fail in front of everyone. The other cadets—they’re watching too, eager to see how long I’ll last.

Stop.

Virethalon’s voice is more insistent now, rising with frustration. I know he’s watching, can feel his eyes on me, even though he’s nowhere near. You don’t need to prove anything.

I don’t stop. I can’t. If I stop now, the quiet, haunting voice of failure will take over. If I stop, I’ll feel it—the shame of not being able to meet the impossible standard everyone else expects from me.

The ground shifts beneath me as I sprint forward, my foot catching on something, my body twisting unnaturally in the air. For a split second, time seems to stretch—slow, agonising. And then, I crash.

The world flips. My body slams into the earth, my hands and knees taking the brunt of it. The impact rattles my bones, sharp and unforgiving. My breath is knocked out of me, and for a moment, I just lay there, feeling the tremor of my body as it tries to recover from the shock.

I’m not moving. I can’t move.

Gentle hands find my shoulders before I can even process what’s happening. The pressure is firm yet careful, guiding me, coaxing me into a sitting position. My body trembles from exhaustion, every muscle protesting the movement, every joint aching with the weight of my own failure. I try to steady myself, but the effort makes the world spin, and I can’t seem to get my bearings.

The cold stone beneath me is a cruel reminder of how far I’ve pushed myself. My hands shake, fingers stiff from too much strain, and I finally drop my head, trying to hide the rush of heat that floods my face.

And then, I feel him.

His presence looms over me like a shadow, suffocating and unavoidable. My heart skips a beat, and I immediately wish I could melt into the ground, anything to escape the situation. But it’s too late.

I glance up—my breath catches as I come face to face with him. Xaden Riorson. He stands before me, looking like a damn god, his tall, muscular frame casting a shadow over me. The way his wide shoulders fill out his leather jacket should be illegal. He’s built like someone who’s spent years training and fighting, his chest massive, arms heavily muscled. His dark hair is windblown and tousled, the kind of messy that only makes him look more dangerous. His tawny-brown skin is kissed by the sun, and the dark stubble along his jawline only adds to the rough, untamed look. His eyes—gold-flecked onyx—are locked on mine with an intensity that makes me feel like I’m about to be set ablaze, and I would rather do anything else than face him like this.

I rub my face with both hands, hoping to hide the blush that’s rising to my cheeks. Of all the ways for this to end—of course, it’s Xaden Riorson who catches me. And of course, he looks like that.

“What the hell are you doing?” he growls, his voice a deep rumble of anger that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “You’re an idiot.”

I blink, half-frozen, half in disbelief. The audacity. “Oh, wow. Thank you, Wing Leader,” I drawl, sarcasm practically dripping from my tongue. “You really know how to make a girl feel special.”

Xaden’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t bite back—at least, not yet. Instead, his eyes flicker over me, and I know he’s assessing the damage. My exhaustion. The way I’m trembling, barely able to hold myself upright. It’s the worst feeling in the world. I’m embarrassed as hell that he’s seeing me like this—weak, on the edge of crumbling.

“I told you to stop before you reached this point,” he mutters, shaking his head. There’s an edge of frustration in his tone now, and I can’t decide if I want to hit something or laugh at how he sounds like he’s scolding a child.

“Yeah, well, you know me,” I say, wiping a bead of sweat off my brow, trying to make myself sound more in control than I feel. “Can’t resist proving everyone wrong.” I let out a bitter laugh, the kind that doesn’t reach my eyes. “But, hey, thanks for showing up and saving the day. Just what every soldier needs: an overbearing Wing Leader.”

A flash of something—maybe amusement, maybe exasperation—crosses his face, but it’s gone too quickly for me to read it properly. His dark brows furrow, and he steps closer, invading my space. “You’re burning yourself out. You can’t keep going like this.”

I force myself to sit up straighter, determined not to appear as weak as I feel, but I can’t hide the tremor in my limbs. The ache in my muscles is almost unbearable now, and Virethalon’s voice echoes through my mind—Stop, or you’ll destroy yourself. But I ignore it, as I have for hours.

I grit my teeth. “I don’t need your help, okay? I don’t need anyone’s help.”

I try to push myself to my feet, but my body betrays me, buckling underneath me like a broken chair. I stumble, gasping for breath, my hand reaching out for support but finding nothing.

Xaden’s eyes flash with anger again, but his movements are faster than I can process. He’s at my side in a heartbeat, and before I can even protest, he lifts me up, cradling me against him in one smooth, powerful motion. His arms are like iron around me, and my body, still trembling with exhaustion, goes stiff against him.

“What the hell are you doing?” I gasp, still trying to regain some semblance of control. I push against his chest—unsuccessfully—my arms too weak to do anything more than flop uselessly at my sides. “Put me down, you asshole!”

Xaden doesn’t respond immediately. He doesn’t have to. His grip tightens, holding me effortlessly against him as he carries me toward the barracks. “I told you to stop, but you never listen. So now you’re paying the price.” His tone is laced with annoyance, but there’s something else beneath it—something that makes my heart twist. Maybe it’s concern, maybe it’s guilt, but I can’t focus on that. I’m too busy trying to avoid the heat that floods my face.

“You’re such a prick,” I mutter, my voice half muffled by his chest. I’m so fucking embarrassed, and I hate that I feel this way. His warmth, his scent, is all-consuming, and my skin burns at the contact. But I refuse to admit it. “I don’t need you to carry me like some helpless baby.”

“Funny,” he says, his voice low, “because you sure look like one right now.”

I can practically hear the smirk in his voice, and I want to punch him. I should punch him. But I don’t have the energy, so I settle for biting my lip, muttering curses under my breath as he carries me.

The weight of his presence presses against me, and I can feel his muscles shifting beneath me, each movement of his body reminding me of just how powerful he is. And for all my protests, for all my sarcasm, I don’t want to admit that I’m secretly grateful. Grateful that he’s here. Grateful that he doesn’t let me fall apart.

Even if it means I have to endure his endless teasing.

Xaden’s warm eyes flicker down at me, and this time, there’s something softer there. Almost like...he understands. But I’m too stubborn to let myself believe it.

Xaden doesn’t say a word as he carries me through the barracks, the warmth of his body pressing against mine as I try to ignore the heat rising in my cheeks. I’m too tired to fight it. His presence is too overwhelming, and I can feel his heartbeat steady against me. Every step he takes is calculated, strong, as though it’s second nature for him to carry someone in his arms like this. It’s as if he’s done it a hundred times—though I have to wonder just how many times I’ve crossed his mind before today.

Xaden moves with a quiet grace, his large frame effortlessly navigating the corridors of the dorm building as though he’s done this a thousand times before. He steps softly, almost soundlessly, his footsteps absorbed by the shadows that seem to cling to him like a second skin. My heart races, but it's not from exertion anymore—it's the way he's so effortlessly commanding in everything he does. The weight of his arms around me, the heat radiating from his body, and the way my mind seems to short-circuit whenever I’m near him make it hard to think straight.

We pass the first-year rooms—mine included—and I can’t help but cringe at the thought of being caught sneaking past curfew. But Xaden moves with such precision, such mastery of his surroundings, that the idea of us being caught seems laughable. No one can hear us, no one even notices us. It’s like we’re ghosts, gliding past the rooms, unseen by anyone else.

I briefly wonder how he does it—how he’s so adept at slipping through the shadows, unnoticed, silent. But then, he’s always been a mystery to me. The kind of mystery I’ve never quite been able to figure out. And maybe, in a way, I don't want to.

Finally, we reach the staircase that leads to the upper floors, and with a swift glance in either direction, Xaden steps into the shadows, carrying me effortlessly up the stairs. We move past the landing and down the hallway to the last door—the one I know leads to his room. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t pause, and with a final quiet push of the door, we’re inside.

Xaden doesn’t put me down right away. His arms remain around me, his hold firm, as if he’s unwilling to let go. As if, for a brief moment, he’s afraid to lose the connection. The closeness between us feels suffocating, overwhelming, and yet I can’t bring myself to pull away. Every inch of my body is acutely aware of his presence, the heat of his skin seeping into mine, the muscle and strength in his arms keeping me held too close. I can feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat against me, mirroring the frantic pulse racing through my veins.

His dark eyes meet mine, and I swear, for a second, everything else falls away. His gaze is fierce, like a storm trapped behind his irises, flickering with a raw intensity that sends a wave of heat rushing through me. I’m suddenly aware of how painfully close we are—so close that if I moved even an inch, I’d be pressed against him completely. My breath catches, and I can’t look away, trapped in the gravity of his stare, like he’s pulling me toward him without even trying. And then, as if trying to fight whatever is building between us, his eyes flicker to my lips, and I feel it—the pull—stronger than anything I’ve ever felt.

But just as quickly as the moment seems to rise, he jerks his gaze away, his jaw tightening with the effort to control himself. It’s like he’s trying to push back the part of him that’s aware—aware of the magnetic pull between us, aware of how much he’s been fighting this… whatever this is. He shakes his head slightly, as though dismissing the thought entirely, like he’s trying to shut down the desire that flares in him. But I see it in his eyes—the flicker of something primal. Something I can’t ignore.

Finally, he sets me down, but he doesn’t let go immediately. He’s still so close that I can feel his breath on my skin, a whisper of warmth against the cold, the tension stretching taut between us, like a string pulled too tight. My pulse races as I settle onto the bed, the soft covers pressing against me, but my chest feels like it’s about to burst. I try to catch my breath, but it’s like the air in the room has thickened, heavy with unsaid words and the suffocating weight of everything unsaid.

Xaden doesn’t back away. He hovers, towering over me, his presence suffusing the space around us. I can feel the heat radiating off him, his body just a breath away, and every inch of me is screaming to close the distance. But I don’t move. I’m not sure I can. His nearness makes every part of me ache, makes every nerve light up, thrumming with the raw electricity that crackles between us.

His voice cuts through the thick silence, deep and steady, but there’s something almost... softer now, something gentler that makes my heart stutter. “Stay here,” he commands, his words pressing down on me like a physical weight, making my chest tighten. The force of his tone is undeniable, but there’s an undercurrent of something else—something that makes my stomach flutter. Something dangerous and thrilling all at once. "Be a good girl. Don’t go anywhere.”

I feel those words in my bones, in the very marrow of my being. The way he says it—it’s like a promise, a command that makes my heart race faster than it should. And yet, there’s a tenderness beneath it, a strange gentleness that pulls at me, twists my insides into knots. He wants to keep me here, close. He wants to possess this moment with me, even though I can feel the struggle in him—his body yearning to cross the line, but his mind pulling him back, trying to control what’s growing between us.

His gaze holds mine, unwavering, and I swear I see something break in his eyes—something raw and unspoken. It’s as if he’s holding himself back from doing something he knows would be too much, too dangerous. But the look in his eyes tells me everything I need to know: the battle is far from over, and this tension—this charge—it’s only just beginning.

I try to swallow, but my throat is dry. Every muscle in my body is taut, every nerve alive with an electric hum. Xaden disappears into the adjoining ensuite, his heavy footsteps echoing softly across the stone floor. I can hear the gentle hiss of the water filling the tub, the steady flow of it working in rhythm with the hammering of my heart. The tension between us lingers, the silence more suffocating now than ever before, and I can’t shake the feeling of his gaze still lingering on me even as he disappears from the room.

I should feel grateful for the space—should breathe, slow my pulse—but all I can think of is him. The way he’s so effortlessly commanding, yet there’s this softness beneath it that I can't quite place. The way he had looked at me, his expression a battle between restraint and something far more intense.

My fingers twitch, almost compulsively, and I reach for my boots, needing to do something. My body is still shaking from the exertion, from the near-collapse, and now my brain feels fuzzy, the exhaustion creeping in faster than I expected. I should just wait, I know I should, but I feel... out of control. I need to regain some semblance of normalcy, something to anchor me.

I struggle to bend down, but my balance is still far off from the punishment I just put my body through. My vision swims a little, and before I can register what’s happening, my body tips forward, sending me sprawling from the edge of the bed with a yelp. The floor greets me hard, and a shock of pain shoots up my spine, but it's nothing compared to the embarrassment that floods through me in waves. My pulse spikes, and I scramble, feeling utterly ridiculous.

A sharp, almost instinctive growl of frustration rises in the air—Xaden. He’s already moving quickly, a blur of motion as he rushes back into the room, his broad form filling the doorway in an instant. His dark eyes sweep over me, a flicker of concern passing through them, but it’s quickly replaced with something harder—almost irritated.

"You really are a disaster, aren't you?" His voice is deep, but there's a teasing bite to it, even as he crosses the room toward me in strides that eat up the distance. I can’t even find it in me to be offended. I’m too busy feeling like a complete fool.

Before I can open my mouth to respond, he’s crouching in front of me, his hands reaching for my arms to steady me. The sheer strength in his touch almost knocks the wind out of me as he helps me back onto my feet, the warmth of his hands traveling through my skin and straight to my chest. He doesn’t say anything else, but the way his eyes linger on me for a moment, as though making sure I’m okay, sends something fluttering nervously in my stomach.

“Try not to break anything else, would you?” His voice is softer now, as though the weight of the moment has finally broken through that icy exterior of his. His lips curve into a smirk, but there’s no denying the genuine care beneath the sarcasm.

Xaden moves with quiet precision, his hands wrapping around my waist, gentle but firm, as he guides me toward the bed. The heat from his touch lingers on my skin, and despite everything, I can't help but shiver. His grip is unyielding, his presence surrounding me, and as I sit on the edge of the bed, he stands in front of me, towering over me. The dim light from the room casts shadows across his features, making him look even more intimidating than usual, but there’s something in his eyes that betrays the mask he’s trying so hard to maintain.

His hands rest on my knees for a moment, and his gaze flickers to mine. There’s a question there, unspoken, something almost vulnerable beneath that stoic expression. I can see the battle waging in his eyes. He doesn’t want to touch me—at least, that’s what his expression says. But his eyes… those eyes of molten gold flecked with onyx… they betray him, flashing with an intensity I can’t quite read.

And then, in a moment that feels both like an eternity and a breath, Xaden sinks to his knees in front of me. The movement is fluid, almost too graceful, and my heart skips a beat. It feels wrong to be this close, too intimate. His presence is overwhelming, and I can feel the tension in the room thickening with every inch of space he closes between us.

Xaden kneels before me, his hands gentle but firm as he removes my boots. His touch is careful, almost reverent, but the tension is unmistakable. Each movement is deliberate, like he's holding himself back from something. The weight of his gaze on me is intense—smouldering, even—and I can feel every inch of him watching, noticing, memorising.

As he pulls off the second boot, his fingers brush against my calf, sending a jolt through me. My breath catches, and I instinctively tense, but it's more from the electric charge between us than the discomfort of my body. I don’t know why it affects me like this—this man who’s never once been shy about hiding the way he feels or thinking that his touch doesn’t matter—but in this moment, it matters. It matters more than it should.

He looks up then, his gaze locking onto mine. The heat in his eyes is unmistakable, a dark storm brewing just beneath the surface. His brow furrows slightly, and for a split second, I wonder if he’s questioning something—me, himself, what we’re both doing here, like this. But then his eyes flick lower, and I can see the hesitation there, a silent question that hangs in the air between us.

His fingers hover at the waistband of my tracksuit bottoms, brushing lightly against my hips. The touch is almost too soft, as if he’s trying to gauge my reaction before crossing a line that’s already dangerously blurred. He doesn’t say a word—he doesn’t have to. The question is in his eyes, in the way his lips part ever so slightly, in the subtle tension in his jaw. It’s an unspoken request, one that I know all too well.

I can feel the pulse of uncertainty in my veins, but something about this—about him—makes me lower my defences, just a little. Without even thinking, I raise my hips slightly, just enough to give him the signal. My movement is small, almost imperceptible, but it's enough. His breath hitches, and I can see the way his eyes flicker, a momentary loss of control before he tightens his grip on his composure.

Xaden exhales sharply, like he’s been holding his breath all this time, and I can see it in his expression—the struggle between what he wants and what he’s trying so hard to resist. His fingers slide beneath the waistband of my tracksuit bottoms, and I feel the slightest tremor in his touch. He’s slow, deliberate, like he’s savouring the moment, but also like he’s afraid that if he moves too quickly, the entire thing might shatter.

The air between us crackles with an electric tension, and as he helps me out of the fabric, I’m left feeling exposed in a way that’s more than physical. My heartbeat is louder than anything else, pounding in my ears, and for a moment, I forget about the aches in my body, the bruises, the exhaustion. It’s as though the world has narrowed to just us. Just this. And I can’t seem to pull away from him, from the way he makes me feel, from the way his hands linger a little too long at the edge of my clothing, as if to remind me that he sees me—every part of me.

I know it’s not supposed to feel this way, not like this. But every glance, every touch, every quiet, unspoken word between us is enough to unravel the careful walls I’ve built. And yet, even as he pulls the tracksuit bottoms off, his hands gentle but insistent, there’s something else in his eyes—something that tells me he’s fighting every urge to touch me, to kiss me. But he doesn’t. He never does.

I can’t decide whether that makes it harder or easier.

And when he finishes, leaving me in nothing but my sports bra and panties, I feel more vulnerable than I’ve ever been—completely at his mercy, exposed in more ways than one. The air is thick with unspoken words, and even as I sit there, trying to catch my breath, I know this isn’t over.

Xaden lets out a frustrated sound, a low, throaty growl that resonates deep in his chest. His breath stutters as his forehead falls gently to my thigh, the weight of it anchoring me in place. The intensity of the moment is suffocating, like the world around us has slowed to a stop, leaving only the two of us, tangled in something we can’t deny. His hands are gripping the edge of the bed, his knuckles white, and I can feel the tension in his body, a tight coil of restraint and hunger.

And then, in one swift, desperate motion, he surges upward, his lips crashing against mine. There’s no warning, no hesitation. Just pure, raw need. His mouth takes mine with a fierce intensity that leaves me breathless, as though he’s been holding back for far too long and now there’s no more control. It’s like he’s been starved for this—starved for me—and he doesn’t want to let me go, not even for a second.

I kiss him back with everything I have, my hands finding the sides of his face, pulling him closer, as if I can’t get enough. Every part of me feels alive with the heat between us, my skin tingling where his fingers brush against it, my heart thudding erratically in my chest. He tastes like fire—burning hot, consuming—and I can’t help but fall into him, into the kiss, into the feeling of him. I can feel the weight of his body pressing against mine, the strength of him, but it’s not overbearing. It’s grounding, like he’s pulling me into his orbit.

His hands move quickly, urgently, as if he’s afraid the moment will slip away from him. Before I can fully comprehend what’s happening, he’s lifting me effortlessly from the bed, and suddenly I’m straddling his thighs. His hands settle on my hips, holding me in place, the heat of his body radiating into mine. I can feel the way his pulse races beneath his skin, the way his chest rises and falls against mine. The kiss deepens, growing even more frantic, and I don’t know whether it’s the intensity of it or the way he’s holding me that makes everything else feel so insignificant.

He pulls me closer, his hands guiding me with a possessive, yet gentle touch, and I can feel the thrum of energy between us, something electric, something undeniable. My fingers tangle in his hair, tugging him closer, and the sound of his breathing, his heavy exhales, fills the space between us. I can hear the way he’s fighting for control, the way his muscles tighten with the effort of keeping his composure.

But I don’t want him to. I don’t want him to hold back.

I don’t want him to fight it anymore.

I can feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of my sports bra, his chest pressing against mine with each movement, and I’m acutely aware of how close we are, how easy it would be to lose ourselves completely in this. And yet, even as we continue kissing, tangled in each other’s embrace, there’s a part of me that’s still unsure, still trying to catch up with everything happening around me. But when his hands slide down to my thighs, gripping them with such possessiveness, that uncertainty melts away, replaced by a heady rush of desire.

The kiss breaks, but just for a moment, both of us gasping for air. His lips hover above mine, and I can see the raw intensity in his eyes, a mixture of frustration and something else—something far more tender, even if it’s buried beneath the layers of urgency.

"Don't stop," he mutters, his voice rough and low. His hands tighten around me, pulling me against him, as if he’s trying to make sure I’m real. “Please don’t stop.”

And all I can do is nod, my chest still rising and falling with the rapid pace of my heart. I don't want to stop either.

The air between us feels thick with heat, charged with a tension that I don't want to break, even as the reality of what we’re doing begins to settle in. Xaden’s hands are still firm on my hips, his grip tightening with every shift of my body, and I can feel every muscle in his form, every bit of control he's holding onto, fighting to stay composed. He pulls me closer again, the fabric of my sports bra barely separating us, his chest brushing against mine as he presses his forehead to mine, both of us gasping for breath.

The heat from his skin, the closeness of his body, is too much to ignore. It's overwhelming in the best way. I can hear my own pulse hammering in my ears, feel the electricity between us that neither of us can escape. He looks at me, his gold-flecked eyes searching mine, his breath ragged as if he's barely holding on to the edge of whatever control he has left.

I can't stop myself from raising my hand to touch his face, my fingers trailing down the line of his jaw, tracing the hard curve of his chin, feeling the roughness of his stubble. The tenderness in my touch makes him shiver, his breath catching in his throat, and for a brief second, everything else fades. There’s no training, no curfew, no expectations—just the two of us, caught in something far more complex than either of us ever intended.

His lips brush against mine once more, a soft, tentative kiss, but it feels more intimate than the previous fiery moments. It's full of the unspoken things, the feelings we've been hiding, buried beneath layers of duty and unacknowledged desire. Xaden pulls back slowly, just enough to look at me, his eyes heavy with something unreadable.

"I—" he starts, his voice thick with emotion, but I stop him, my fingers pressing gently to his lips.

“I know," I whisper. "I know, Xaden. We don’t need to say it.”

The words hang in the air between us, unspoken yet understood. He looks at me, really looks at me, and for once, there’s no pretension, no walls between us. Just a moment of raw honesty.

But then, he pulls back just a fraction, his hands slowly loosening their grip on me, as if reluctant to let go but knowing he has to. His eyes soften, a flicker of something tender passing over his features before he runs a hand through his windblown hair, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

“You should rest,” he murmurs, though there’s a trace of something unreadable in his voice. “You’ve pushed yourself too hard tonight.”

I nod, feeling the weight of his words as the adrenaline from our moment starts to ebb away, leaving me with a sense of vulnerability, of exhaustion I hadn’t realised had been creeping up on me. My body is still sore from the training, but now, there’s an ache of a different kind, a deep, resonating need I’m not sure how to deal with.

“You’re right,” I murmur, my voice hoarse. “About that bath…”

Xaden’s hands gently guide me to my feet, his fingers lingering on my hips just a moment longer than necessary, as if making sure I’m steady before he lets go. His touch is firm but considerate, grounding me, reminding me that he’s here, present, in this moment. I almost wish he didn’t have to pull away so soon, but the space between us feels impossible to close for reasons I can’t quite name.

With a soft grunt, Xaden rises to his full height, towering over me for a moment before he reaches down and picks me up again, effortlessly moving me toward the bed. His strong arms encircle my waist, and I feel the heat radiating from his chest, the power in his body that he keeps so carefully controlled. He sets me down gently on the edge of the mattress, the softness of the sheets a stark contrast to the tension that still crackles in the air between us.

I sit there for a moment, watching him, as he turns toward the bathroom, his broad back stretching as he moves, his muscular frame rippling with every step. His windblown black hair falls just above his collar, and I can't help but stare at the way he walks—confident, purposeful, but there’s an undercurrent of something, a quiet storm inside him that’s barely contained.

The silence feels heavy, too heavy, until I finally speak up, the words tumbling out before I can stop them.

“... Maybe you could join me?”

The moment they leave my mouth, time seems to slow. Xaden freezes in his tracks, his hand hovering over the doorframe, his back to me. For a breathless second, I wonder if he didn’t hear me, if the words just got lost in the space between us. But then, the tension in his body is palpable. His shoulders tighten, his jaw clenches, and I watch as a low, almost imperceptible sound slips from his throat—a frustrated, breathy exhale that he seems to be holding back with all his strength.

He doesn’t turn around right away, but when he does, his eyes meet mine, and there's a flicker of something dangerous there. It’s not anger. It’s hunger—raw, palpable, and so intense that it sends a shiver down my spine. I can't look away, can't tear my gaze from his. The silence between us stretches, thickening, until I can almost feel the heat coming off of him.

"You really want that?" His voice is low, a little strained, like he's trying to rein himself in. There's a slight tremor in his hands, and his posture is tense, like a coil ready to snap. He’s trying to keep himself in check, and I know he’s holding back everything he wants to say, everything he wants to do. But there's something in his eyes, a flicker of vulnerability, of yearning, that betrays the composure he’s trying so hard to maintain.

I nod slowly, heart pounding in my chest as I search his face, looking for any sign of hesitation, any clue that I’ve crossed a line. But there’s none. Instead, he takes a step toward me, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he’s waiting for me to stop him, to give him some sort of excuse to turn back. But I don’t.

I don’t know what happens next, only that the space between us feels like it’s been stretched so thin that it could snap at any moment. Xaden is so close now, his presence overwhelming, and I can’t breathe, not properly. All I can do is stare at him, feel the pull, the need between us, and wonder if he can feel it too.

“Don’t tempt me,” he mutters under his breath, before stepping into the bathroom, leaving me to wonder if he’ll give in, if he’ll actually let this tension between us break.

Part Two ⇒ Giving Into Temptation

Fourth Wing Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

@xadenswhore @fanficscuziranout @daisydark @Mariahoedt @marrass @

[wstviewvidal]

fever- w. maximoff

pairing: wanda maximoff x r

summary: soft fluff with sick wanda

a/n: i think this was written in december. (don’t like this but also maybe by posting it ill be able to do more things?) trying to get out of my funk lolz

minors do not interact

you give wanda a sideways glance as she coughs into her elbow, burrowed under her blanket, “i told you to wear your jacket on that trip.”

rolling her eyes, she adjusts how she’s laying on the couch, her legs draped over your lap, “it’s germs that get people sick, not the cold,” she mumbles into the blanket that’s covering her face.

“uh huh, and how’s that working out for you?” you tease as you cover her legs with another blanket.

wanda was recently invited to a panel to speak about her experience working in the avengers. of course, being the workaholic that she is, she did not think twice about booking a plane ticket out to the upper east side.

unfortunately, being in a cold climate with countless people stuffed into a closed off space only meant it was a matter of time before someone came down with a cold. even worse, it happened to be wanda— your wanda. the workaholic in her is now paying the price.

and, boy, are you realizing how hardheaded she is when she gets sick.

“you didn’t have to come over, you know,” she says as you can hear the congestion in her voice, “i’m just going to take some medicine and go to sleep.”

wanda can be independent to a fault.

when you’d called her this morning to ask if she’d like to get breakfast, you could immediately hear the stuffiness in her nose. she didn’t even get half way through her response before you bombarded her with questions like, “are you sick?” “did you seriously not wear the clothes i told you to? i helped you pack, wanda,” and, “you don’t even have actual medicine at home, don’t you?”

she tried her best to ease your worries over the phone, but you were at her doorstep no less than an hour later with grocery bags in hand.

you rub her leg as it lays over your own, “i know i didn’t have to, but i wanted to make sure you were taken care of,” you say softly as you watch her burrow into the knitted blanket.

even though wanda preferred to deal with her things on her own, she’d always imagined what it’d be like to have someone to share these experiences with— to be cared for. that was something she’d kept buried deep inside, afraid it was a childish hope.

at the sound of you saying you want to take care of her, she felt her stomach flutter. her lips curled into a bashful smile as she tried her best to hide it. her cheeks turned a dark hue of pink— not from her fever, but from your words.

you didn’t see her reaction, you were too busy watching the show while absentmindedly rubbing her leg in a soothing matter. wanda watched you with a glint in her eye, taking in your gestures.

you turn to look at her, “i’m gonna make you some soup, okay?”

wanda knew it was a losing game to try to stop you, so she nodded and moved her legs to allow you the room to get up.

she laid in the couch, cocooned in blankets while you prepared a dinner for the two of you to eat together.

you walk back after a while with two bowls in hand. you place both on the coffee table in front of the couch.

you move to stand in front of the laying woman, hands on your hips as you assess how her nose is red and her eyes are glossy, “how are you feeling?”

wanda looks up at you with big eyes, shrugging, “the same.”

you nod and help her sit up, “i know, baby, i’m sorry,” you pout softly as you brush away hair from her face. your voice is gentle and warm as crouch in front of her as you fix the blanket she has wrapped around her body.

you touch her so delicately that it makes wanda’s heart swell— then she realizes what you said. she stares up at you with wide eyes, a subtle smile on her face. you don’t notice the giddy look on her face, you’re too busy fussing over her comfort on the couch.

wanda wants to say something smug but the way you’re holding out a spoon for her to eat tells her that you don’t have it in you to make a humorous conversation.

she takes the spoon from you, “you’re spoiling me,” she murmurs.

you settle beside her on the couch, soup in hand, “you deserve it.

you two are sat in a a peaceful silence, cautious glances thrown in wanda’s direction to assess how she’s feeling— she’s loving it, but can’t help but feel a lingering feeling that she could be burdening you.

slowly, she turns to look at you, “why are you being so sweet to me?”

her voice is filled with nerves, and you immediately notice this is hardly the confident woman you first met— instead, this is someone who’s allowing herself to be vulnerable with you.

you look at her, your head tilted in confusion, “what do you mean?”

there is a small crease in between your eyebrows as you look at her, unsure as to why she’s asking such a question.

watching the way your fingers massage her forearm that is laid on your lap, her voice is small as she speaks, “you took the time to come take care of me. you should be at home right now.”

her eyes don’t meet yours and you can see how her ears have turned red from embarrassment. a frown pulls at your lips as you brush back hair from her face.

there’s a brief moment of silence between the two of you and it makes wanda wish she hadn’t said anything.

you breathe in slowly, as if preparing yourself for your next words, “because i care for you, and knowing that you’re okay will always be my biggest priority.”

wanda’s lips purse slightly and you notice the way she licks her lips to prepare to respond to you.

but you don’t allow her to speak— you know she will only down play your words.

you squeeze her hand lightly to get her attention, “i’m not an avenger, you know? i can’t be out there with you on missions to protect you from bad guys. however, i am here where i can at least take care of you when you’re sick. i love you, wanda, and ill spend the rest of my life showing you that if you’ll allow me to.”

your voice is laced with emotion as too speak to her— and the words weave their way into wanda’s heart.

slowly, she looks up and into your eyes, a nervous smile tugging on her lips, “you mean that?”

you chuckle softly, your thumb rubbing the back of her hand as you hold it, “of course.”

wanda’s smile never faltered as she laid in your arms. her mind replayed the moment you saying you want to take care of her for the rest of your life and she knew it would be engraved into her memory.

[tuiccim]

We're Gonna Burn (Part 4-Final)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: 3.8K

Warnings: Smut, Sex Pollen, Non/DubCon (because sex pollen), enemies to lovers.

Summary: When an exposure to a strange powder makes you feel as if you're burning to death, your only relief is in the person you hate the most. Now, dealing with the aftermath makes you question everything.

We're Gonna Burn Masterlist

As fate would have it, you get notification of a mission briefing the next morning. You are slightly relieved when you see this one involves the full team. Your emotions from the day before had kept you awake most of the night and you were glad you had another therapy session planned in a few days. You needed to process everything that had happened last night. Especially that almost kiss. It had disturbed the calm you felt. You had gone from hating the man to nearly kissing him in the space of an hour. You tried to shake it off as merely a reaction to all of the emotions but you knew you were fooling yourself in part. You had been attracted to him in the beginning, but it had faded with his surly attitude. It was as if the vulnerability he had shown had brought all of that back in force and you were glad that this mission was with everyone. Some time with the team and space where Bucky is present but not the center of your attention may help you sort some of these feelings.

But fate always had a sense of humor when it came to you. As soon as the plan had been gone over in the briefing, you were paired up with Bucky for your part of it. You cursed silently but returned his nod of acknowledgement. You should have guessed this would happen. Your skills complemented Bucky’s in a way that would make tactical sense to put the two of you together and they had begun to pair you off more in the weeks before the cabin incident. You calm yourself, Bucky was a professional and you were as well. You can put your emotions aside and handle anything that comes your way. You weren’t leaving until the next day so you had time to prepare yourself. When the meeting concluded, you gathered your things and made for the door but stopped short when Bucky called your name. It seemed like time froze for you and that everyone still in the room eyed you both discreetly. Your aversion to each other was well known and they were used to seeing fireworks between the two of you. They all moved in slow motion as you made your way back to Bucky.

“What’s up?” You ask.

“Uh,” Bucky glares at the others moving slowly until they all tuck tail and skulk off. When you were alone, he said,”I wanted to say thank you again for last night. I’m glad we were able to clear the air between us.”

“Me, too. Was Alpine angry about her delayed dinner?" You attempted to keep the mood light. 

"Furious. She started knocking everything off the counter until her food was delivered," Bucky shakes his head. 

"Oh, so she really does wear the pants in your household?" You laugh. 

"Absolutely, I just wear the apron," Bucky laughs with a shrug. 

You chuckle with him but, unbidden, an image of him in just an apron popped into your mind. With a quirk of your eyebrow, you say, “I see.”

Bucky’s eyes narrow, “Uh-huh. Alpine took a liking to you. You should come back and visit her sometime.”

Your mouth goes dry at the inference he was making. You manage to choke out some sass, “She probably enjoyed having some feminine energy around. Uh, anyway, I gotta go. See you tomorrow… Bucky.” You scurried away quickly, hoping he hadn’t noticed the awkward pause before saying his name. You were fine. You were just fine, you reassured yourself. The energy shift between the two of you was giving you a multitude of ambivalent feelings. Maybe you were reading too much into it. It was all the emotions surrounding what happened. You had to calm down. Taking a deep breath, you recognize the feelings coursing through you and allow yourself to feel them. You and Bucky had finally found common ground. You’re happy about that but it brought on some confusion as well. Was Bucky trying to build a friendship? Part of you was happy at that thought but other parts felt fear that this only a short reprieve and you will find yourselves at odds again. Would the feelings brought on from the experience fade and you'd end up back where you were? Were you reading too much into this? What if you had misinterpreted that almost kiss?

Stop this! You check yourself. While the almost kiss may have been misinterpreted, his reports and reviews couldn’t be. He had learned a grudging respect for you before you cleared the air. So, while you may be overthinking the situation, you didn’t really believe things would go back to the way they were. 

Was Bucky attracted to you? That’s the thing that was throwing you off so much. You had always thought he was but was he feeling this only because of what happened in that cabin? Or was he feeling that at all? You wanted to bang your head into a wall to silence the thoughts running through your mind. Instead, you settled into a chair and reviewed the mission briefing again and again. You committed that map to memory, checked through the profile of known combatants and any skills they possess. You make notes and work through any tactical possibilities. You review the plans for infiltration and make a list of what you wanted in your tool belt. It helps you pull yourself together. 

When the time to load up came the next day, you were able to compartmentalize to allow yourself to be in the right state of mind for a mission. You boarded the quinjet to find Bucky already there. Sitting beside him, you pulled out your tablet and motioned to the map included in the file, “Hey. Can I ask your opinion on this?”

“Yeah. Whatcha got?”  He leans close to see the tablet. 

“The tactical plan has us coming from this angle and entering here,” you indicate the proposed entry point. 

“Right,” Bucky nods. 

“What do you think of coming this way and entering here next to what looks to be a utility room? We can lay a charge on the gas line there before making way to the original entry point for secondaries. The gas line will give us more bang for the buck and it keeps us from having to double back.” You watch his expression as he studies the map and thinks over your proposal. 

“Yeah, that makes sense. We just have to watch for any patrols coming through here or here,” he points. 

“If they’re following the timings that surveillance has seen, we should be good. But there is always that saying about best laid plans,” you murmur the last parts. 

“After last time, that’s an understatement,” Bucky shakes his head.

“Of the century,” you agree with a scoff. 

“Are you okay doing this so soon?” he whispers. 

“Honestly, getting back out and the chance to kick ass is the best therapy I can think of,” you whisper back. 

“Damn right. I knew I liked you,” Bucky grins. 

“Took you long enough,” you quip. 

“I can make the time up,” he winks. 

He’s flirting, your brain screams at you as alarm bells ring. You weren’t sure how to feel but you need to get the focus back on the mission, “Ass kicking first.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he sasses playfully. 

You hold yourself back from saying something- ah, fuck it. You give him a smirk, “good boy.”

The look that crosses his face is priceless. You keep your face impassive as you look over the map again. You could have kissed the pilot for calling you over just then. It allowed you to separate from Bucky without losing the upper hand you had just established. 

The mission wasn’t as easy as you had anticipated. It was fine. The plan went well with only a little bit of improvisation needed but it was difficult for you. You had a harder time compartmentalizing than you normally did. At one point Bucky had pulled you into a closet to miss a patrol and standing close to him with his hand on your waist made it hard to hold on to your professionalism. You were fairly certain he felt the same, if his breathing was any indication. It caused you to have a moment of panic. Would you ever be able to work with him again without feeling like this? You were hyper-aware and tied up in knots over your ambivalent reaction. You were never sure if you were excited or terrified by the contact. You try to convince yourself it would lessen in time. It was just the emotions. Eventually, it would become old hat again. This flirtatious side of Bucky was new and different and enjoyable. Even if the darker side of your brain warned that he was just playing games. If he bagged you for real and not as the result of a pollen induced fever, he’d be able to lord it over you. You silence it quickly but the acrid taste of fear lingers in your mouth. 

You stayed busy for most of the ride back by resetting equipment, updating files, filling out your report, and any other activity you could think of. When there was nothing left for you to distract yourself with, you make your way to where the rest of the team sat. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw Bucky brighten at your presence and motion to the open seat beside him. Like a magnet, you were drawn to him without a second thought and sat. 

“Did you finish everything?” He raises an eyebrow. 

“Yeah,” you nod. It felt like he was acutely aware of your avoidance.

“How was it being back out?” He offers you the bag of chips he is munching on. 

“No, thanks. Not bad,” you demure, “You?”

“Not as cathartic as I hoped,” he says quietly. 

“What?” You are shocked at his comment. 

“Nothing,” he shakes his head. 

“No, I feel the same. It was… I don’t know. Tenser, somehow,” you look at him nervously.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says pensively. 

“What’s that thought?”

“I hesitated,” he says quietly. 

“When?” You ask, thinking back. 

“During the op.”

“You never missed a beat,” you object. 

“When I pulled you into the closet, I hesitated. I think part of me was scared you’d flinch but then I didn’t have a choice. I had to get us hidden.”

“Did I flinch?” You ask with a small smile. 

“No, but your breathing changed,” he looks at you curiously. 

“So did yours.”

“Yeah?”

”Yeah, I think we’re, I mean, I know I’m still a little reactionary to being touched. I’m still finding it a little… I don’t know the word. Charged, maybe?” You attempt to explain.

“Fraught?” He supplies. 

“Yes! Thank you. That’s a very good word for it.”

“Because it’s me or…?” He trails off but the question is clear.

You take a few seconds to compose a reply knowing your relationship hangs in the balance. “Touch in general is still a little difficult for me. I can’t feel it without flashes of- what happened. Of the loss of control.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky’s voice sounds thick.

“It wasn’t your fault, Bucky. You don’t deserve any blame for what happened. But, there is another part of this situation that disconcerts me. This complete one-eighty with us. We went from hating each other, to that, to whatever this is.”

“The start of a friendship?” Bucky says, his face full of hope. 

“Is that what you want?”

“I thought that’s what we both want. After our talk, I thought we were going to build a better relationship to make us better teammates.”

“I wanted to build some mutual respect but that doesn’t require us to be friends,” you say nervously, “So, why? Why do you want to be friends all of a sudden?” You were pushing him, partly to see if his current demeanor was a facade that would fall but mostly because you were scared that none of this was real. You had one view of Bucky for so long and your suspicions of his motives for this new leaf remained. 

“It’s not all of a sudden. I’ve been wanting to for a while. I just didn’t know how to go about it. Anytime I approach you, you get uptight and defensive, rightfully so from my past behaviour, and I didn’t think you’d give me a chance. And then, after what happened, I didn't think you’d ever want to be in the same room with me but then we talked and… when you touched my cheek, it gave me hope that I could turn this around. I understand why you’re apprehensive. I've been a complete jerk to you and you have every right to hate me. But, if you’ll give me a shot, I’d like to be friends.”

It touched your heart. You wanted to lean in, to kiss him, and that terrified you in another way. Fear started to well up in you and you pushed it down. You had control over this situation and you would handle it. “Okay,” you say quietly. 

“Okay?” Bucky asks. 

“Okay, we can give it a shot,” you give a small smile. 

“Okay. That’s, yeah, that’s great. Uh, what are your plans after we get back?” Bucky asks, fidgeting with his fingers nervously. 

“I don’t,” you shake your head, “I don’t have any. Probably just find some food and veg out in front of the tv.”

“Would you like to come visit Alpine? We could order a pizza and watch a movie or something.”

You pause, licking your lips as you consider, “Uh-”

“You can pick the movie,” Bucky sweetens the deal.

A smile slowly spreads across your face, “Yeah, okay.”

A few hours later you were comfortably lounging on Bucky's couch with Alpine happily purring in your lap. Bucky sat on the opposite end watching the goofy movie you had chosen. When it ended, you talked for a while and then left. There was little awkwardness and you appreciated Bucky respecting your boundaries. 

The following week, you had movie night together again and then it fell into a routine. Movie nights, meals, errands, and missions were done together more often than not. When paired together for missions, your skills had always complimented each other but with new understanding and familiarity, your abilities as a team became technically perfect. You could anticipate each other's moves and needs and that translated to your personal life as well. 

One movie night, you shifted closer to him on the couch to show him a video on your phone and Alpine chose that moment to make camp on your lap, so you stayed next to Bucky. You were comfortable there and following movie nights found you in that same spot. Little touches became more common and less fraught each time. It was comforting for your mind and body rather than triggering. Dr. Montesi was impressed with your progress. 

Bucky was kind and funny and full of stories. The more you got to know each other, the more you found you had in common. You both lamented at some point that you had wasted so much time hating each other. You opened up new interests together, discovered new places to visit, and became confidantes. You were basically inseparable. The team had noticed the change in your relationship but kept their comments and observations to themselves. 

The one thing that haunts you, a spectre always in the back of your mind is the memories of the explosive, unparalleled sex in that cabin. During the day, you were able to (mostly) keep those thoughts at bay, but sometimes at night, you dreamed of it and awoke with an intense longing you felt to your bones. At times, Bucky flirts but you both laugh it off. The truth is, as casual as your touches are every time you’re together, your body screams out for him. You were fighting it and you didn’t want to admit it to yourself, but you’re falling in love with Bucky Barnes. You want to believe he feels the same but he hasn't given you any indication. It was eating at you. What if it was all in your head?

–

Bucky answers the door for your weekly movie night with a frantic face, “I can’t find Alpine!” He immediately turns away to search and you follow, swiftly closing the door. “I’ve looked everywhere since I got back and she’s not here. I’ve shaken treats and called for her. I don’t think she got out. Unless she slipped past me when I came back. I-”

“Bucky, hey, stop for a second,” you pull him up from where he’s looking under the couch. “Look at me, okay? I doubt she disappeared. She’s probably hiding. Did anything happen today?” You hold his biceps to keep him still and try to ground him. 

“We went to the vet this afternoon. It was time for her shots.”

“Has she reacted to shots badly in the past?”

“It’s the first time I’ve taken her. She had them all when I adopted her a year ago,” he glances around the room searching for her. 

“A lot of cats tend to hide when they don’t feel well. What did you do when you got home with her?” You ask calmly. 

“I took her to my bedroom and let her out of her carrier. I went to the bathroom and then went to the store for some groceries. When I came back, she was gone,” Bucky shrugs. 

“Is it okay if I help you look?” You asked as an idea formed in your mind. 

“Please,” Bucky nods. 

You stoop down to look under the living room furniture and don’t see anything suspicious. “Is it okay if I go into your bedroom?” You ask over your shoulder as you stick your head in his kitchen. 

“Yeah. I don’t care as long as we find her.”

You head to the bedroom and flip on the lights, getting down on the floor, you look under the bed. There are a few cat toys and a pair of rolled up socks but no cat… at least, not on the floor. 

“I checked under the bed. She’s not there,” Bucky states as he watches you.

“Mm-hm,” you reply as you scooch around to a particular spot. You had noticed that the box spring was drooping slightly in one place and had a suspicion. When you got close enough, you saw where the cover had about a six inch rip. Running your hand over the indentation next to it, you are met with a small mewl. “Hey Alpine. Poor baby, you don’t feel good?” You look through the hole and see the cat curled up. She looks at you with her big blue eyes and seems fine. After giving you a slow blink, she curls back into herself. You look up to see Bucky standing over you and you smile, “She’s fine.” 

Bucky holds out his hand, helps you up and wraps his arms around you in a hug, “Thank you. I thought I’d lost her.”

“Of course. Cats hide when they don’t feel good and they can find the craziest places,” you reassure him as you relax into his arms. Your eyes slowly slipped shut and it seemed you both exhaled the stress of the last few minutes. Peace and comfort envelopes you and with each passing moment you sink further into it. 

It was strange. Usually in a situation like this, your brain would be running amok with thoughts of what you should be doing, if you were touching him too much, some remnant fear would crop up but your mind was quiet for a rare moment. It felt good to just be held by someone you trusted. 

You stay, basking in the warmth and peace that his arms being around you brings. Your mind is quiet until he murmurs something indiscernible. Reluctantly, you lift your head, “What?”

He pauses for a moment and then asks, “Are you hungry?”

“Yeah,” you reluctantly separate from him. “Do you have anything particular in mind?” When he hadn’t spoken after a moment, you look at him. He stands frozen in the same spot while staring at you. You tilt your head in confusion, “Bucky?”

He meets your eyes and says quietly, “That’s not what I said.”

“Wha-”

“I love you,” he steps closer and gently touches your neck. “I love you. I know you may never be able to feel that way about me after what happ-”

“Shut up and kiss me,” you grin as you pull him to you. His lips touching yours is pure bliss. You wrap your arms around him, living for this moment that ignited every happy emotion you possessed. There was not a dark spot in your mind. No negative thought or triggered memory crowded you. It was just joy. And heat. Your body shifted from the comfort of your earlier embrace to a wave of passion as the kiss continued. Keeping your lips connected you pulled Bucky to the living room couch and pushed him down on it. You removed your shirt as you straddled his lap. 

Bucky watches in awe and manages to whisper, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes,” you smile. “I mean, I’d prefer the bed but Alpine’s been traumatised enough today.”

He throws his head back in a laugh and after a moment, his gaze returns to you. A question was clear in his eyes. You swipe your thumb over his lower lip and whisper, “Say it again.”

Bucky’s eyes look into yours deeply, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you kiss him, putting everything into it. You made love on the couch. And then somehow ended up on the floor for round two. Starved, you found some food in the kitchen and christened the counter. Later, as you lay in his arms on the couch again, you can’t help but chuckle at a stray thought. 

“What’s that about?” Bucky asks, cuddling you closer. 

“I, um, I remember wondering if the pollen had made the sex seem so good when we were in that cabin. Now, I know for sure.”

“Oh?” He queries.

“It wasn’t the pollen. It was just you,” you smile. 

His soft laugh warms you, “I knew it was you all along.”

You could hear the double meaning in his words. He really had cared for you before all this happened. You kiss him before whispering earnestly, “I love you.”

“I love you, doll,” Bucky gently stands and pulls you with him to the bedroom. “Now, I think Alpine has had the bed to herself long enough, don’t you?”

“Absolutely,” you grin as you follow him. 

Updates and taglist: Due to the unreliable nature of tags, I no longer keep a taglist. Updates for series will be made on Sundays Central Time Zone. Please follow my sideblog @tuiccimfanfiction and turn on notifications for updates. All series and new stories will be reblogged to it. You will only receive notifications when a new part or story is out! Nothing else will be blogged to the page. I can’t thank you enough for your support!

[natalievoncatte]

There was someone in her penthouse.

Lena paused at the door, listening. The short hairs on the back of her neck stood up, a tingling sensation running down her spine. She wasn’t sure what tipped her off, but after the fifth kidnapping and three or four attempted murders in her own spaces -office, lab, here- she always listened to those instincts. Kara never complained if it was a false alarm when Lena activated her signal watch.

Her thumb hovered over the button. She took another step inside and the door latched behind her. She was about to press when Kara said,

“Please don’t press that.”

Something was off. Her voice was raspy, as though she had a sore throat, and oddly distorted. It was as if she spoke through a damaged speaker. Lena edged from the foyer into the kitchen, her heart still pounding.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

Kara was standing in the living room in her super suit, or so Lena thought. Her cape was there, but the silhouette was different. Lena reached for the light switch and again Kara spoke.

“Don’t. Please.”

“Kara?”

“I’m not your Kara. I’m just… passing through.”

“Passing through my penthouse?”

Lena ran her thumb around the button, ready to press.

“Are you together in this world?”

Lena froze. The figure in her living room, Kara-but-not, was holding the framed photo of Lena with Kara smiling together, the one she’d once shattered. Kara had bought her a new frame for it when they were healing, still working out who they were going to be together, if their friendship could survive with a foundation that had so profoundly crumbled.

The glint caught Lena’s eye. One of Kara’s hands. At first she thought it was a medal glove but that wasn’t right. The shape was wrong, the fingers too thin, skeletal and claw-like. As her eyes adjusted, Lena could pick out more details.

Good God. The whole side of her face was missing, rebuilt into something inhuman and skeletal. A faint emerald glow from her chest and eye cast a pallid light across the living room.

“She’s my best friend,” said Lena.

“Best friend,” the creature whispered, her voice even harsher and more distorted.

“What do you want?”

“I told you, I’m passing through. I won’t be here long. But… can I look at you?”

“Look at me? I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“Just let me look at you and I’ll go. Promise me you won’t scream or call me a monster.”

Lena swallowed hard.

“Should I turn on the light?”

“I would rather you didn’t.”

“Alright, then.”

The figure slowly replaced the photograph and turned, moving towards Lena. She limped, just a little, left foot dragging. Lena gasped.

It was Kara, but not. She had been… mutilated was the only word Lena could find for it. Half her face, her right arm, her leg, and worst of all, a gaping hole in her chest that contained a chunk of vile green Kryptonite burning inside. Her skin was deathly pallid, almost blue, raked through with sickly green streaks surrounded by faint bruises, as if her blood itself was poisoning her.

“My God,” Lena breathed.

“You’re so beautiful,” Kara said, her remaining eye so full of sadness and regret that Lena felt tears welling in her own.

When Kara wept in return, she wept verdant blood. She drew closer, and Lena stood stock still as Kara pressed a corpse-cold palm to her cheek.

“It’s been so long since I heard your heartbeat,” she said. “Thank you.”

“W-what happened to you?”

“Your brother, what else? He impaled me with a Kryptonite harpoon. You saved me. It’s almost funny. The Metallo Protocol kept me alive. If you can call this living.”

“I’m so sorry,” Lena whispered. “Can I help you? Is there something I could do?”

Kara shook her head, mechanical joints in her neck grinding. “There’s no cure for death, zhao.”

Lena blinked. Zhao? Was that Kryptonian? She wasn’t sure what it meant.

The cold palm fell away from her cheek.

“There must be some way I can help,” said Lena.

“In my world I killed your brother,” said Kara.

“In this world, I did. For her.”

“She loves you.”

Lena flinched. It felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over her and her legs went weak. She had to steady herself on the kitchen island.

“What?”

“Kara. She loves you.”

“How… why do you say that?”

“I have visited thousands of worlds. Thousands of timelines. There are many where you don’t even exist, where I don’t. But in all the ones I’ve found with the both of us, there is one constant: Kara Zor-El loves Lena Luthor. It’s inevitable, it’s like gravity. There is something in all of me that must love you.”

“You’re traveling across dimensions?”

She nodded, closing her one eye. “I’m searching. Before I killed Lex, he used his masterstroke against me. He couldn’t kill me, so he hit me where he could do the most damage. He sent Lena to the Phantom Zone before I ripped his heart out of his chest. Then something happened… the yellow aliens told me there was a crisis, a multiversal collapse that split the phantom zone into infinite shards.”

“Yes, the Crisis, but there should be only one Earth now. Your world should have been merged with ours.”

Kara sighed, a broken, pained rasp. “What happens when you subtract infinity from infinity?”

Lena frowned. “I see.”

“I know she’s out there. I can feel her. I thought your world might be the one, but there’s another me here, and the wrong you.”

“I hope you find her.”

“Thank you. May I ask you something?”

“Go ahead” said Lena.

“Do you love her?”

Lena didn’t need to ask who she meant. She felt a lump form in her throat even as her chest fluttered. This cold broken wreckage of another Kara stared into her as if to parse the strands of her soul.

“Yes,” said Lena.

Kara edged closer. “Then tell her. Please. Don’t make her wait. She’s too scared to tell you. She’s like all of us- she’s so afraid of her own strength that she won’t hold anyone truly close for fear she’ll crush them. She’s afraid of losing you, or losing you again. She’s lost everything. Her world, her people, her culture, two mothers and two fathers- there is so much grief in her that it could freeze a newborn star but you, you are the light that shines in the darkness. You are her red sunrise.”

Lena said nothing, fighting the tremble in her lip.

“I must go. She’s out there and I have to keep trying to find her.”

She turned away and Lena caught her arm, gently tugging. She stopped.

“Wait?”

Kara turned back to her, and Lena darted in close and pressed a soft kiss to her cold lips.

“What?” Kara blurted.

“For luck. You’re going to find her.”

“I wish I had your faith.”

Lena now pressed a palm to Kara’s cheek.

“You will. You’re Supergirl. You can do anything.”

Kara smiled with half a face and pulled free, activating a device on her belt. A portal opened before her, filling the penthouse with blazing light. She stepped through and was gone.

Lena stumbled to the sofa and collapsed onto it, hugging herself as the tears flowed.

A few moments later, the familiar sound of stacked heels thudded on her balcony and the door slid open.

Kara, her Kara, swept into the penthouse, frantic.

“Lena, what happened? I saw that flash. I was out on patrol and… are you crying?”

Kara knelt beside her and brushed her hair back from her eyes with her soft warm hand and said, “Baby, are you okay?”

Lena looked at her, really looked at her, and was simply overwhelmed. There was so much depth in her blue eyes, so much kindness and compassion and love.

“I am now,” said Lena.

Kara blinked a few times. “I don’t understand. What happened?”

“I promise I’m tell you someday, but first I have to ask you something.”

“Ask,” said Kara. “Anything you want, you know that.”

Lena curled a finger around Kara’s chin and watched her eyes widen, first in confusion and then in nervous anticipation as Lena bent towards her and tilted her head just slightly to press their lips together.

At first Kara didn’t react and Lena thought she’d made a terrible mistake, but then something in Kara came around and she lunged onto the couch, pressing Lena down to the cushions.

“Lena,” Kara breathed. “What… how… do you… with me?”

Lena hugged her fiercely.

“Stay with me, Kara. That’s what I want. Stay with me.”

“Always.”

[sibylsleaves]

good morning sibyl … prompt: sleepy buddie 😴🤩

omg yay....this is the one i kinda started last night because i was excited!! also im sorry hima...i broke the rules right off the bat because this is slightly over 1k 😔😔 plz forgive me....

---

It’s late when they make it back. Christopher’s been passed out since they crossed the state line. Eddie’s absolutely exhausted, a little delirious from eleven and a half hours in the car but so, so happy as the little house on Bedford Drive comes into view. He gets Chris awake enough to shuffle inside and get into bed, and then drags their bags inside, leaving them in the front hall. Everything else can wait.

Tomorrow they’re going to head straight to Buck’s in the morning to surprise him—Eddie promised Chris it would be the first thing they did when they got back to LA. He’s already checked with Bobby to make sure he’s not on shift.

He’d been too scared to tell Buck that they were coming home. Terrified that Chris would change his mind, or that his parents would try to stop them, or that something would happen to snatch it all away from him again. It hadn’t feel real, hadn’t felt permanent, until he walked up the front steps.

Now, easing down the familiar creaky hallway and pushing open the bedroom door, Eddie lets out the breath he’s been holding since the day Chris left.

The sight that greets him on the other side of the door steals that breath right back. 

There’s someone lying in his bed. Eddie knows it’s Buck before he can even understand how he knows it’s Buck. As if he could recognize him from just the outline of his sleeping body in the dark.

In the wake of his initial surprise, Eddie is filled with something he can only call peace. He’s home. They’re home. And somehow, it makes sense that Buck should be here, asleep in Eddie’s bed like he belongs there.

Moving quietly, Eddie sheds his pants and exchanges his road-worn henley for a fresh t-shirt. Then he moves to the other side of the bed and climbs in beside Buck. 

“‘’ddie?” comes the sleep-roughened rumble of Buck’s voice. 

“Hey,” Eddie says softly in the dark. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’okay. ’m glad. You’re here,” he says, or maybe it’s I’m glad you’re here.

“I’m glad you’re here, too,” Eddie says, settling onto the pillow next to him. Under the blankets, Buck moves, rolling toward him, tucking all that bulk against Eddie. Eddie wraps an arm around him, letting himself, in this quiet, unguarded moment, live in the spaces of Buck’s body, in the warm certainty that no matter how far he goes, Buck will always be his home.

He breathes in, letting all the tension of the last few weeks dissipate, and presses his cheek into the hollow of Buck’s throat. Sleep is creeping up on him, waiting to pull him under.

Buck lets out a little hum, almost a moan, and turns his face toward Eddie’s. 

It’s as natural as anything to meet him there, lips nudging together in a kiss that’s sweet and soft until it isn’t. Until Buck grabs the back of Eddie’s head, angling his face to kiss him deeper, until Eddie opens his mouth to greedily drink every sigh and whimper from Buck’s mouth, until he presses Buck down against the sleep-warm sheets and kisses him and kisses him and kisses him.

But sleep is still lapping at his edges, and soon the near frantic need slows into something languid and undemanding.

Buck sighs his name, sounding half a step from sleep himself, and they settle again, tangled together.

“I’m gonna tell you everything in the morning,” Eddie promises. Means it, too, when he says everything—everything that went down in El Paso with his parents, with Chris, everything he’s been keeping back from Buck because he couldn’t bear to tell him with eight hundred miles still between them. “But tonight I just—I’m home. We’re home. And I love you. That’s the most important part.”

“I love you, too,” Buck says, as easy as anything. Like it’s something he’s said a hundred times before. And maybe—maybe it really is that easy.

Buck hums again and between one breath and the next Eddie feels him drop back off. 

He follows soon after.

When Eddie wakes, he’s alone. It takes him a full minute to even remember where he is—not in Texas anymore thank god— and an additional few seconds to remember that Buck was in his bed last night.

That’s also about when he hears the sound of the kitchen door closing just a little too hard.

He’s out of bed so quickly he’s almost dizzy, stumbling across the hall and into the kitchen where he finds Buck.

Buck who is not, as Eddie might have thought, shuffling around in his pajamas trying to get the coffee going for them. Instead he’s standing fully dressed, shoes on, with a duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

Eddie leans against the doorway. “Were you seriously gonna try to sneak out?”

Buck jumps at the sound of his voice and then immediately goes rigid, his head angled down like a dog waiting to be scolded for bad behavior. “Eddie.”

“Well?” Eddie asks.

“I—” Buck chokes out, his shoulders stiffening, his hand clenched around the strap of his duffle bag. “I’m sorry.”

“For sneaking out?”

Buck nods, face red and bright. “For—all of it. For being in your house when you were—when you were gone. For sleeping in your bed. For—for last night.”

“You’re sorry for last night?” Eddie echoes. “Buck, you kissed me.”

Buck flinches. “I didn’t—I thought I was dreaming.”

“What?”

“When you woke me up last night I—I thought I was still dreaming,” Buck says. “That’s why I kissed you. And then I woke up this morning and you were really there and that meant I’d really, actually kissed you, and I—”

“Freaked out and decided to sneak out of the house before I woke up?” Eddie suggests.

Buck nods miserably. 

“And at any point in this freak out did it occur to you that the fact that you really, actually kissed me means that I really, actually kissed you back?”

“I—oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” Eddie repeats, unable to stop the smile from spreading over his face.

“You wanted it,” Buck says slowly. “You…”

“Want it,” Eddie corrects, crossing the space between them and taking Buck’s face in his heads. “Really, actually.”

Buck drops the duffel bag on the ground. Eddie kisses him, as sweet and slow as he’d kissed him last night. Buck makes a noise that sounds like wanting and kisses him back, holding onto Eddie’s arms, thumbs digging into the soft parts of his wrists. 

“This is real, Buck,” Eddie murmurs between lush, indulgent kisses. “I’m really here. I’m really home. And I really love you.”

“I love you, too,” Buck says, and it’s so different from the way he said it last night. In the light of morning, the words are tremulous and precious, but still easy, so easy.

Eddie smiles, and before he can kiss him again, Buck pulls back. 

“And…you don’t think it’s weird?” he asks anxiously. “That I was, uh—living here?”

“Well, that explains the duffle bag,” Eddie says mildly. His hand finds Buck’s shoulder, his gaze finding Buck’s. “Buck, everything has felt wrong since the second Christopher walked out that door with my parents. Last night was the first time in my life that everything, finally, felt right.”

“Oh,” Buck says, eyes pink and wet. “That’s—me, too. That’s why I thought it had to be a dream.”

Eddie kisses him again and this time—this time the kiss turns from soft to molten. Eddie had been too exhausted last night to even think about anything more but now—now he’s definitely thinking about it. And judging by the noises Buck’s making and the way his hips hitch against Eddie’s, he’s thinking about it, too.

“You know,” Eddie says breezily, walking them backward out of the kitchen and back toward the bedroom. “We had a pretty long drive yesterday. Chris’ll probably be asleep for the next few hours. Maybe in the meantime, we can see if I can make some of your other dreams come true.”

ficlet february prompts

[bonnie-the-butcher]

Rip Tide | Chapter VI

[ MDNI ] [ word count: 8.928 ] [ Masterlist ] 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Canonverse/Canon-Divergent; Dark! Content; NSFW (p in v, unprotected, implied m!masturbation); Strong Language; Cheating; Drug Use; Mentions of overdose; Some shades of Munchausen syndrome from dear old Rafe; Manipulation; Toxic, obsessive behaviour; Stalking; Violence; DUBCON/NONCON; My writing is really pretentious and English is not my first language, so please feel free to call me out in whichever grammar mistakes you might find find.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | You and JJ have always been in each other's orbit. He's your brother’s best friend, the guy you've known your entire life. He was kind, protective, familiar. You never meant for the two of you to start hooking up. And you never meant for it to last so long. But when this boy you thought you'd come to know like the back of your hand turns out to be no better than the men he'd warned you about, you find yourself in the sights of the guy he hates most, regardless of wether you want that or not.

OMG Bonnie what is that? A JJ chapter? Yeah, maybe I went insane. Likes, asks, reblogs, and comments are always greatly appreciated! Thank you in advance for reading <3

JJ takes a slow step forward, his shoulders rolling back, his fingers still coiled tight around the handlebars of his bike. There’s a heat rolling off of him, a barely contained energy that makes your stomach twist.

His gaze drifts over to you. The rage burning through his eyes as he climbs down, drifting through Rafe’ arms, how they wrap around you, how close he’s holding you to him. – What’s going on, huh? – His voice is taught, barely restrained. You think of the hiss a rattlesnake makes before pouncing, the barely restrained violence simmering under each sound. – What are you doing here?

– I could ask you the same thing, Maybank. – Rafe hums. You call his name, trying to reel him back before it gets dangerous, but he seems entertained more than anything. – We’re a little far from the salvation army. Not much for you to do around here.

– Rafe!

The kook holds your hand to his chest when you push him, smiling down at you like it’s the funniest thing in the world. – I’m just having a little fun with him, that’s all.

– Get off of her, Rafe.

He’s looking at you with a focus that’s never a good sign, but don’t miss the way his eyes flick to where Rafe’s hand still lingers at your waist. The moment stretches, thick with the weight of his anger, but you can’t bring yourself to move first.

Rafe doesn’t bother hiding his grin. If anything, it grows, slow and deliberate, like this is the most fun he’s had all night. – Why? You scared she won’t come back when she realizes there’s more to life than being leeched off of by her brother’s friends?

– Rafe, this isn’t funny.

– JJ must think it is, it’s the only thing he does well. – Rafe drawls, tilting his head as he finally steps back from you—but not without dragging his fingers along your side, a pointed reminder. – Right, JJ?

JJ’s lips press into a thin line. His fingers flex around the handlebars, his nostrils flaring as he exhales hard through his nose. His gaze cuts to you now, sharp and demanding. – What the hell are you doing with this asshole?

His voice grates you. Every word echoing in your head like nails on a chalkboard.

– This is none of your business, JJ.

He doesn’t even pretend to hear you. – Kie told me what happened at work. We were all worried about you.

You open your mouth, but Rafe hums before you can speak, stepping in again, loose and easy, barely putting in effort but still commanding all the space between you. – Worried? Were you worried that you’re finally gonna have to get a job and deal with your own shit?!

– You don’t know what you’re talking about, okay?! Shut the fuck up!

– Or what? Are you gonna freeload off of me too?

JJ moves before you can stop him. His bike crashes to the pavement as he lunges, fists already clenched, fury twisting his face. Rafe barely shifts, like he’s been expecting this all along, like he’s been waiting for the moment he can finally push JJ over the edge.

– THIS SHIT ISN’T ABOUT YOU RAFE!

You step in fast, hands catching JJ’s arm before he can swing, your pulse hammering. – JJ, don’t. Fuck off. Don’t fucking do this right now.

– He’s the one who needs to fuck off! We’re talking right now, it’s none of his fucking business! – His breath is ragged, his muscles stiff under your grip. But Rafe just grins, smug and taunting, eyes alight with something dark. – Tell him to go away.

– You can’t tell me that yourself? Is that how much of a bitch you are, JJ?

JJ lunges, nearly pushing you into the asphalt by mistake. Rafe’s the one that catches you, his hand steadying you as you hold JJ back. – LET GO OF ME!

– JJ step the fuck back, I’m not even kidding you.

– He started it!

Rafe whistles lowly, laughing just under his breath as his arm wraps around you again. – Your brother really knows how to pick them, doesn’t he?

– Not helping, Rafe.

– I’m just trying to enjoy myself while you talk him down from his tantrum. I’m great.

– Stop fucking talking to her like that!

– Or what? You gonna hit me? – He muses, tilting his head, like the thought actually amuses him. – Go ahead, man. Take your shot. I bet it’ll feel real good.

JJ’s jaw tightens, his arm twitching under your hold. You can feel the war inside him, the barely restrained urge to throw that punch, to finally give Rafe the fight he’s clearly asking for.

But you don’t let go.

And JJ doesn’t swing.

For a second, the only sound is the thick silence between you.

Then Rafe sighs, exaggerated and disappointed. – Shame, – He mutters, stepping back, shaking his head like JJ’s let him down. – I was really hoping you’d play along, JJ. It’s been what? A week since you last got arrested? Has it ever been so long? I bet they’re missing you down at the station.

He flashes a grin at you, sharp and knowing, before brushing past, hands moving over your back like he owns you. – Y’know what, baby? We should really get going. I’m getting kinda bored.

– You’re out of your fucking mind if you think she’s going anywhere with you.

– JJ. – You warn, but he doesn’t seem to hear you.

– She came here with me, buddy. Maybe you wanna look around you. – He glances at you, blue eyes gleaming as he takes you by the arm. – C’mon. It’s getting late, right? Your brother’s probably struggling to figure out the oven right now.

– You don’t know what the fuck your talking about. – JJ growls.

– You’re gonna go home with this pogue? –The question comes out in a hum, almost condescendingly. His laughter thrills up your spine like a shiver of fear. – You’re gonna let him strongarm you like this?

You swallow, breathing in deep.

Rafe’s grip on your arm tightens, fingers warm against your skin, but you don’t move. His smirk twitches—just barely—before he tilts his head, watching you with curiosity, even if the smile he’s giving you doesn’t seem too pleased.

JJ notices too. He exhales sharply, barely holding himself together. – You’re not leaving with him.

His voice is low, coarse. And he’s clinging, moving his arms within your hold like a whiny kid. But it’s not a plea. It’s a demand.

Rafe hums under his breath, low and pleased, like this is all going exactly how he wanted. – She’s not staying for you, JJ. – He flicks his gaze over, like he’s looking at something stuck to the bottom of his shoe. – You have John B’s useless ass to thank for her not leaving with me right now.

JJ clenches his jaw so tight you swear you hear his molars crack. – Shut the fuck up, Rafe.

Rafe grins, slow and knowing. – I will if she makes me. Right, baby? Maybe you can give me a goodnight kiss before I go.

JJ takes a step forward, but you press a hand to his chest, stopping him. He seethes, nostrils flaring, but you shake your head. – Just go, Rafe. Please. – Your voice isn’t sharp—it’s tired, annoyed.

And that’s exactly why Rafe thrives on it.

He tsks, squeezing your waist in his hold on you before pulling his keys from his pocket. – That’s okay. We’ll have plenty of time for that tomorrow, right? – He leans in, voice dipping lower. – You can make it up to me.

You sigh, rubbing your temple. – Rafe—

– You’re cute when you get all flustered. – He laughs, tapping your chin with his knuckle. – I’ll call you later.

JJ lunges, and it takes everything in you to shove him back.

Rafe just whistles, all relaxed amusement, stepping back with an easy grin. – Damn, Maybank, you’re really gonna let her hold you back like that?

JJ is shaking in anger, chest heaving.

Rafe doesn’t wait for an answer. He shoots you a wink and a lazy salute before finally turning away, tossing over his shoulder, – Don’t miss me too much, baby.

JJ exhales sharply, shaking off your hold. His head drops for a second, his hands clenching at his sides before he looks at you, eyes blazing. – What the hell was that?

You swallow hard, the weight in your chest pressing down heavy. – JJ—

But he shakes his head. – Nah. No way. You don’t get to brush this off. – His voice is rough, disbelief coating every syllable. – Tell me you’re not— He stops himself, exhaling sharply again before taking a step back, shaking his head like he’s trying to make sense of it. – Tell me you’re not seriously falling for this shit.

You don’t know what to say.

Because maybe you don’t have an answer he wants to hear.

– Oh my God. – You don’t know what exactly in his face shifts, but you feel the air around you thicken. – You are, aren’t you?!

– Spare me the outrage, JJ. I’m not in the mood for your lectures.

– The guy is a fucking psychopath! There’s no fucking way you do’t see that! He’s insane!

You roll your eyes, a sigh falling from your lips before you can think of it. – You say that like you’re some sort of model of normalcy.

– I can’t fucking believe you!

– I don’t fucking need you to believe me, JJ. Clearly you fucking don’t. It doesn’t matter what I say, you already have your pitchfork ready! So what exactly am I supposed to be getting out of this?! Huh? Tell me. – A beat of silence lingers between you, as you turn your back on him. It’s long past 6 PM. The sky is pitch-black. – Can we just go? I don’t wanna do this.

You can see the gears turn in his head when you speak. His eyes soften, jaw unclentching. – I’m trying to look out for you. – You scoff. – Look, I know you’re stressed and all, but you don’t need to be taking it out on me, okay?! Chill out.

– Thanks, Mother Teresa. I feel much calmer now.

– Can we just put down the boxing gloves, right now?!

– I don’t know JJ, can we? I can’t put my guard down with you for a moment. Because that’s what you do. You tell me I should calm down, and when I do, you come up with some insane shit to piss me off all over again!

JJ watches you, chest still rising and falling like he’s trying to catch a breath that won’t come. Then his expression shifts—like something clicks into place, like he’s realizing something he doesn’t like.

His lips curl, his tongue running over the inside of his cheek. – Are you serious? – His voice is quieter now, almost disbelieving. – This is where we’re at?

You shake your head, swallowing back the lump in your throat. – I don’t want to do this right now, JJ.

– Oh, that’s rich. You don’t wanna do this right now? – He lets out a sharp, humorless laugh. – You wanna pick a better time? Should I make an appointment? Because it’s like you never have time for me these days! You’ll speak your mind, talk all the game you fucking want, but when it’s time to talk about my feelings, suddenly you’re too tired to deal!

Your stomach twists.

JJ scoffs. – You know, I keep trying. I keep trying to get through to you, and you just— He stops, shakes his head again, shoving a hand through his hair like that’ll help get rid of some of the frustration bleeding off of him.

– Trying to what, JJ? What is it that you’re trying to get through to me so much? That I can’t even talk to people while you go around fucking whatever girl you want? – The words come out before you can stop them.

– That’s funny, I don’t remember leaving with your mortal enemy!

– And I don’t remember kissing your best friend after leaving your bed, JJ. But here we are!

JJ goes still.

For a second, neither of you speak.

Then he exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head like you’ve just confirmed something he was trying not to believe. – There you go again, – He mutters, half in laughter, half in scorn. – You’re insane. Like. You’re actually sick in the fucking head. You and Rafe are perfect for each other. Maybe that’s why you’re here right? I was too normal, so you got bored. And that’s why you’re here in the Country Club, fucking that psychopath!

You stare at him, heart still pounding, but there’s something else gnawing at the edges of your mind now—something off. Something you didn’t notice in the heat of it all.

The country club.

You’re not at your job.

You’re not at home.

You’re not even on your side of the island.

Your stomach twists again.

– JJ, – you start, voice quieter now.

But he doesn’t hear it, or he doesn’t care. He scoffs again, throwing his hands in the air as he turns away, pacing. – I should’ve known. I should’ve listened to John B. He always said you were fucking twisted! But leave it to me! It’s my fault or thinking you could act like a person for once!

Your pulse stutters.

You don’t even register his words.

You don’t remember telling him where you were.

Your job isn't anywhere near the Country Club. You didn’t text him. You didn’t call him.

So how did he find you?

Your skin prickles as you stare at him, the words barely coming out. – JJ... how did you know I was here?

– What?! – He laughs, like you’ve just said something stupid, but you’re not gonna let him do this. Keeping your face neutral, even while your blood runs cold, you repeat:

– How did you know where I was? – He looks at you for a moment, frozen in place. You don’t even see him breathe. But the thoughts run wild behind his eyes, his mouth hanging open, unable to keep up with the speed at which his mind is running. – Answer me. How did you know I was here, JJ?

– I— He swallows, looking between each of your eyes frantically. – I was gonna pick you up at work,

– At a quarter to seven PM? You know I get the bus. It leaves at 5:20. You know that.

– Why are you making a big deal out of this?! I was driving to the wreck and I saw you here—

– No you weren’t. The wreck is East. To get here, you need to be going West.

He’s quiet again.

– Are you following me? How did you even— Realization dawns on you. JJ and John had your phone all day after you left. The notification you saw when you finally got it back, was from your maps app, which you’ve never opened in your life. You pull your phone out of your pocket. The location is on, but you don’t remember activating it. You open your messages. The latest contact is JJ. But you haven’t texted him in days. The chat is empty. – You sent my phone location to yourself, didn’t you? You and John are fucki— Your voice dies within your throat. The hair at the back of your neck standing. – John doesn’t have my password, though.

– You’re acting insane.

– How the fuck did you figure out my password, JJ? It’s a thousand characters long. I expect that shit from Pope, but— You stop again, opening your settings. A second fingerprint is set there, next to yours. – What the fuck is wrong with you?

– Don’t turn this around right now!

– That’s rich, JJ! And I’m the one who’s insane?! You’re a fucking stalker!

JJ scoffs, but it’s different now—less angry, more… wounded. Like you just slapped him in the face instead of uncovering something deeply fucked up. He shakes his head, stepping back like he needs distance from you.

– Are you serious right now? – His voice is quieter, rougher. – After everything?

You stare at him, blood still thrumming in your ears. – After everything? JJ, you just—

– No, you don’t get it. You don’t fucking get it. – He lets out a breathless laugh, dragging his hand down his face. – I knew something was off. I knew you were pulling away. I knew you were sneaking around, lying to me—

– I’m pulling away because you’re messing around with Kie!

– I’m not! Baby, I— He’s slapping himself, pulling out his hair. – I was trying to make you jealous, okay?! I just want you to pay attention to me! But you’re either glued to your phone talking to Barry, or you’re around John B, doing everything for him, everything I want you to do for me!

– What the fuck are you talking about?! He’s my fucking brother, JJ!

– BUT HE DOESN’T DESERVE IT! – He screams, the vitriol burning against his lips like acid. – He was always horrible to you, and I was there! I was there! I wanted you!

– What are you talking about?! You’ve hated me since we were kids!

– NO! I— I wanted you to look at me. I just wanted you to—Please. Just look at me, okay? I don’t want you sneaking around with Barry or with Rafe, or whatever! I want you here! With me!

– Sneaking around—JJ, you broke into my fucking phone—

– Because you wouldn’t fucking talk to me! – His voice cracks on the last word, and it throws you for a second—because the anger is still there, but there’s something else now, something desperate. His hands are in his hair, gripping like he’s holding himself together. – Do you even hear yourself? Do you even care? Or are you just gonna act like I’m some fucking psycho and not the guy who’s been there for you? The guy who—who has wanted you since I was kid?!

Your breath catches.

JJ exhales sharply, jaw clenching like he hates himself for saying it, for letting it slip out in the middle of this.

– You were there for me. – He continues. – When your brother couldn’t be. When my dad started— When he drank. You remember that, don’t you? You took care of me. You always took care of me. John B couldn’t get that! Even if he tried, y’know, who knows, maybe he did! But he was always this golden boy! Your dad, he— He treated him like he could do no wrong— He’d never get it. But you did! You always got me!

You’re quiet. Because you remember.

You remember taking a beating for JJ the day John sent you there to give him his surfboard. You remember laying there on the floor, his dad pulling you by the hair, because you stood there while JJ ran. You remember the face he made when his dad threw you out.

How he fell apart in your arms.

How you remained there, holding him, as he bled through your clothes.

And it tears you apart.

Because the way he spoke to you before, is exactly the way his father used to speak to him.

– But yeah. Sure. I’m the stalker. I’m the crazy one. – He laughs bitterly, shaking his head. – You’re so fucking worried about me following you, but you don’t care that you’re running straight to him! – His eyes flash with something sharp, something dark. – You think he gives a shit about you? You think Rafe fucking Cameron isn’t watching your every move, waiting for you to fuck up so he can sink his claws in? Like Barry did? – He steps forward, voice lowering like he’s telling you some ugly secret.

Your heart jumps in your chest at the mention. JJ knows this is a low blow. – You don’t know anything about Barry and me.

– I know he hurt you. – He’s almost pleading. – He hurt you because you were with him, when you should’ve been with me.

– JJ—

– I did this to protect you. Let me protect you. Like you protected me.

There it is. The flip.

You feel like you might faint.

JJ exhales shakily, his fingers flexing like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands anymore. The anger is fizzling out, but what’s left is somehow worse—smaller. He looks at you, really looks at you, and suddenly it’s like all the fight drains out of him.

– I can’t keep doing this. – His voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper. He shakes his head, eyes flickering away like he’s embarrassed, like you’ve just torn him down completely. – I don’t—I don’t know how else to prove it to you. How else to make you see that I just wanted to keep you safe.

His shoulders drop. He looks exhausted.

– But you don’t believe me. You won’t ever fucking believe me, will you? – He laughs, but it’s hollow, broken. – It doesn’t matter what I do. Doesn’t matter that I would literally die for you—Jesus Christ, I would, and you don’t even fucking see it. I’d do anything for you, and you’re just standing there, looking at me like I’m a fucking monster.

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

– I mean—fuck, what am I supposed to do? Huh? – His voice cracks. His eyes are glassy now, but he swipes a hand over his face before anything can fall. – You want me to apologize? I will. You want me to beg? Fine. – He laughs breathlessly, shoulders shaking as he sinks down onto the curb like his body just gave up. – I’ll fucking beg.

Your stomach twists.

– Just— he exhales, hands clinging to your hips. – Can we go home? – His voice is so quiet now, so defeated. – Please. I don’t wanna fight anymore. I don’t wanna—fuck, I don’t even care. Just let me take you home. That’s all I want.

He looks up at you, and for the first time tonight, he looks fragile. Worn down. Like he’s carrying something too heavy for him, and the only thing keeping him from collapsing is you.

And God help you, part of you wants to believe him.

– JJ. – Your voice is sharp, but your hands are shaking. – This isn’t about that—this isn’t about you wanting to take me home. This is about what you did—

– I know! – he cuts in, his breath coming too fast, too uneven. His hands fist in his hair, like he’s trying to hold himself together by sheer force. – I know, okay? I fucked up, I fucking know— He stumbles over his own words, gasping, like the weight of it is physically pressing down on him. – But I can’t—

His voice breaks.

– I can’t lose you over this. Over Rafe fucking Cameron and his bullshit.

The air between you shifts. Something inside him just collapses.

– Please. – His chest is heaving, his eyes wet, his whole body trembling like he’s about to snap. – I don’t—I don’t know how to make you stay. I don’t know how to fix this. – His voice cracks again, and this time, his knees buckle.

You barely have time to react before he’s falling into you, grabbing fistfuls of your clothes, his breath hitching against your belly. His whole body is shaking.

– I’m sorry. – His words spill out in a frantic, broken rush. – I’m so fucking sorry. Please—please don’t go. Just—just let me take you home, baby, please—

His arms tighten around you, like if he holds on hard enough, he can force you to stay. And God, you shouldn’t. You should push him away, make him listen, make him answer for this.

But he’s crying.

JJ Maybank—loud, reckless, impossible JJ—is sobbing into you like a little kid, like he’s breaking apart right in front of you.

You inhale shakily, your hands hovering before you finally give in, falling before him on the ground, wrapping your arms around him, pressing your cheek against his hair.

– It’s okay, – you whisper, even though it isn’t. Even though nothing is.

But it’s all he wants to hear.

JJ exhales sharply, his whole body collapsing into yours with something like relief. – Don’t leave me.

– I won’t.

And maybe you mean it.

Maybe that’s the scariest part.

You let him fall apart against you, his body wracked with silent tremors as he clings to you like a lifeline. His breath is uneven, ragged, hot against your skin, and his fingers fist into your top, desperate, like letting go isn’t an option. He presses closer, his whole body sinking into yours, like he’s trying to disappear inside you, like that’s the only place he might be safe.

And you let him. You hold him as his shoulders shake, as he fights to keep from outright sobbing, as the weight of whatever broke him presses down so hard you swear you can feel it, too. He’s unraveling in your arms, piece by piece, like he’s been holding himself together for so long that the second you touched him, he lost the strength to keep pretending.

So you kiss the top of his head, soft but steady, and something in him shifts.

JJ exhales, a long, shuddering breath against your skin, like you’ve reached inside him and pulled all that tension from his chest. His body, wound so tightly, begins to loosen—his grip on you eases, but only enough for his hands to smooth over your back instead of clutching desperately. He leans into you now not just from pain, but from something quieter, something softer.

You feel it in the way his breathing slows, in the way the tremors start to fade as your fingers trace slow circles over his back. His arms tighten around you again, but it’s different this time—not frantic, not desperate. Just… needing you. Needing to be here, against you, in your warmth, in this small, quiet moment where he can finally let go.

His face stays buried in the crook of your neck, and when he speaks, his voice is hoarse but steady.

– I’m sorry, – He murmurs, again and again, lips moving against your skin.

You shake your head slightly, your fingers still stroking his back. – It’s okay.

And maybe for him, it actually is. Maybe just for a moment, with your hands in his hair and his body wrapped around yours, he feels something like peace. He doesn’t let go—not yet. He holds on, reveling in the comfort you offer, pressing into you like he never wants to leave. Like you’re the first real breath of air he’s had in a long time.

You stay like that, until the silence grows too heavy and you sigh. – We should go.

JJ doesn’t argue. He pulls back slowly, blinking, his eyes still red-rimmed but calmer, softer. His fingers linger at your waist before he finally steps up, exhaling like he’s reluctant to leave the space you created for him.

The drive is quiet, with him pulling your arms tighter around him everytime he gets the chance. You don’t protest. For a moment it's almost comforting, sitting on the back of his bike, without a word being spoken between you. But the feeling sits there, in your chest, that shiver you got when you realized he’s been following you.

It's not just caution.

It's not strangeness.

It's fear. A real, tangible fear of what he did, of what he can still do. Of what he might have continued doing had you not realized it. —It curls up around your throat, that fear. Pressing against your windpipe. You almost struggle to breathe.— You remain there, arms fastened around him as he slows down, pulling the brakes just before your house, even when he finally stops.

JJ leans back into you, breathing deep, clutching your hand to his chest, his body completely relaxed against yours. You’re still wondering. Mind still running.

How long had he followed you for?

Had he been trailing you? Close behind, just out of reach, or had he stared at your location, waiting, watching you without seeing you?

You don’t know which is worse.

– John B’s with Sarah tonight. – JJ mumbles, his head thrown back against your shoulder, the ends of his hair tickling your face. – I saw him sneak out. He’s probably gonna sleep there. – You hum, not really sure of what to say. – Pope and Kie are gone too. – His thumb brushes over the back of your hand slowly, his voice growing deeper, lower. – It’s just the two of us now.

You don’t say anything.

You don’t know what to say.

JJ looks back as you throw your leg over the other side of the bike, and climb down. He still clings to your hand like he’s got you on a leash: you have to remain there as he pulls the key from the ignition, as he sets his things in the top-box, as he leans back against the seat, pulling you in for a kiss.

You meet his mouth briefly, close-lipped, his fingers interlocking with yours as he pulls you in for another, and another, and one more. – I missed this. – He whispers, eyes barely open, already leaning in again.

– It’s been two days. – You remind him, but JJ only laughs.

– Two too many.

You don’t resist when he pulls you closer. His hands find your hips, sliding beneath the waistband of your jeans, calloused fingers pressing into the small of your back like he’s trying to mold you against him. He kisses you again—deeper, messier, his breath warm and tinged with something desperate.

JJ doesn’t just want this. He needs it.

That's what you like about him. He takes like he can’t get enough. He begs, and he grasps and he clings and he needs you like he needs air to breathe.

His hands are restless, traveling up your ribs, down your waist, over your thighs, like he’s trying to make up for lost time, like touching you might steady him, might ground him. But it doesn’t. The more he touches you, the more insatiable he gets. He’s humming against your lips, sighing into your touch, a little frantic, a little unsteady.

You pull him inside, but JJ can’t seem to break the kiss. He takes your hands to the hem of his shirt, tugging impatiently, his lips dragging from your mouth to your jaw to your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your skin between whispered pleas.

– Touch me, – he breathes, his voice cracking like the weight of everything is still right there, lingering beneath the surface.

Your fingers slip into his hair, threading through the strands, and JJ shudders. He melts against you, knees almost buckling as he exhales a sharp, shaky breath.

– Fuck, – he mumbles, almost laughing, giddy and drunk on your touch. He’s clinging to you now, pressing his body into yours, murmuring against your lips, deeper, please, until you give in, kissing him the way he wants. The way he needs.

He moans softly, hands gripping your waist, pushing your top up just to feel your skin against his palms. He’s lost in this, lost in you, smiling against your mouth in that dazed, breathless way, like nothing else exists beyond the way your body fits against his.

Like everything is fine.

Even it isn’t, not really.

You lead him to your room, kicking the door behind you as he falls back on the bed, tearing his shirt off of him as if it were burning. He doesn’t even give you the time to think before he’s pulling you on top of him.

You try to guide him through the motions, letting his hands explore, letting him pull you closer, letting him bury his face in your neck, all while your mind is somewhere else. Detached. Floating.

Because underneath it all—beneath the heat of his mouth and the weight of his body and the way he pleads for you like you’re the only thing keeping him from falling apart—there’s that feeling.

That cold, creeping thing at the back of your mind.

That fear.

It wraps around your throat, pressing tight, squeezing, reminding you of what he did. Of how long he must have followed you, watching, waiting, just out of reach.

Of how much worse it could’ve been if you hadn’t noticed.

JJ doesn’t see it. He doesn’t feel it. He only sees you, only feels your hands, your lips, the comfort he’s so desperate to take from you.

– I missed this, – he murmurs again, voice slurring slightly, hands still moving, still searching. – Fuck, baby I missed this so much.

You swallow hard, exhaling slowly, before finally answering.

– I know.

And you let him keep touching you, let him revel in this, let him have this, because maybe if he does, he’ll calm down. Maybe if he does, you’ll feel safe again.

JJ exhales against your skin, his body completely unwound, pliant beneath your hands. – Take it off. – He groans, hands shaking against his breeches. – Take it off of me, baby. Please. I just want you to be on me. I need it. Please.

You don’t need to be told twice.

He watches, almost breathless while you strip him bare, moaning at every touch, hips bucking every time you brush against him.

That doesn’t last long though.

It isn’t enough that just your hands are on him. So he drags you onto his dick, still clothed, and he grinds himself into you, eyes rolling back.

There’s something raw about the way he touches you—like he’s savoring every inch, like he’ll be going through withdrawal unless he doesn’t hold on tight enough. His fingers dig into your sides as he pulls your hips into his, his laugh breathy, almost delirious.

– God, I fucking love this, – he mutters against your shoulder, his hands slipping beneath your top, his thumbs brushing lazy circles over your skin.

This.

Not you—this.

The warmth. The closeness. The way you let him touch you, take what he needs. – You love this too, right baby? Your hips— He moans, head thrown back when you roll your hips against his cock, the fabric of your jeans giving just the friction he needs to work himself up. – You're so fucking good at this.

You squeeze your eyes shut as he kisses up your throat, his lips tracing familiar paths, his breath hot and unsteady. He hums when you card your fingers through his hair again, pressing into your touch like he’s melting from the inside out.

He's getting wilder, humping you with this reckless abandon he never seems to shake off. But you can see him unraveling. Just the friction isn't scratching the itch.

He needs more.

– Take it off, baby. Please. Please. – he sighs, voice catching, eyes blown out. – Fuck, give it to me. Just ride me.

You hesitate. Your fingers still against the nape of his neck. The sounds he makes, strangled, anguished. Like he’s going mad.

You actually hear him whine when you lift your hips, and his hand flies down to palm himself while he watches you pull the jeans down.

He tilts his head up, catching your mouth again, dragging you deeper into him. His hands slide down, gripping the backs of your thighs, pulling you closer until he's practically in you.

But you don’t let him sink in just yet.

It's more fun when you drag it out.

When you move against him, teasing him, watching him twitch and moan and plead with nothing but the wetness, the softness, the warmth.

There’s a slow, creeping sickness curling in your stomach.

Because you’re leading this. Because you know what he needs, and you’re not quite giving it to him. Because you’re letting him press closer, letting him unravel, letting him forget—for just a little while—that anything is wrong at all.

And a part of you wants to forget too.

It feels good.

It doesn’t matter what he did, what he would do, because he needs you. He can’t get enough of you. He won't leave.

– Please. Please. – He repeats it like a mantra, writhing beneath you, clutching you so fucking tight. His hips go rogue, bucking wildly. – Please let me fuck you. I need to fuck you. Please. Fuck, I can't take this anymore!

The laughter that falls from your lips almost seems to stoke the flames.

He groans out loud when tip pushes into you, and for a second, his entire body just collapses against yours, heavy, needy.

Then his hands slip under your bra again, tugging at the fabric, his breath hot and desperate against your skin.

– Let me see you, – he murmurs, voice thick, rough. – G-Go ahead, baby. I need you to move. Please.

You pull back slightly, meeting his gaze. His pupils are blown wide, his lips kiss-swollen, his expression open in a way that makes you ache.

JJ wants you. That much is obvious.

But more than that—he wants to disappear into you.

To sink into your warmth, your touch, your body, and let it drown out whatever’s eating him alive from the inside.

Your stomach twists.

His fingers have long stopped tracing slow patterns against your ribs, now he's bruising you, nails digging in, shaking, waiting. Pleading.

You could give him what he wants. It would be easy. So, so easy.

But for the first time since this started, you wonder if you should. – And who said you deserve that, JJ?

– Huh?

– Because with the way you talked to me before, I don’t think you do. – You move, just slightly, and he folds, back arching. – I think you’re gonna have to convince me.

– Please. Baby, please.

– You think I'm pathetic. – You tsk, your hips rolling so slow his eyes flutter when they roll back. – I'm not the one who’s begging, though.

– Please! – He's screaming now, and you’re moving faster. The bed creaking beneath you. – I need it! Faster, baby. Faster!

He's splayed out, a puppet with the strings cut loose, yet he's anything but relaxed. You can feel him tensing, hands fisting the sheets so tight his knuckles have gone white.

He screams.

Almost yelping when you start going at the pace you know he likes. And it still isn't enough. He still grabs your hips, pulling you closer, and closer, again and again, banging against that soft spot within you like it's the only thing that can relieve him from this torture.

And you let him.

You ride him like a bronco, as if he’s trying to fuck you off instead of closer. As if he isn't begging for it. Screaming for it. – MORE, BABY, PLEASE!

You want more too.

At some point you lost yourself in trying to punish him, and it started to feel good. You're biting him, teeth dragging against the skin at the crook of his neck, the spot that always makes him shudder, that always makes him writhe.

Your nails have mapped half his body over.

He's red. —His face, his eyes, his lips, his scratches.— He’s gasping. Shaking. His whole body trembling, his eyes rolling back. You can’t even make sense of what he's saying anymore.

The only thing that leaves his mouth are these incoherent pleas, these oohs and aahs that make you laugh, humming to yourself as you ride into your orgasm, feeling him fall apart.

– F-uck, fuck! Don’t stop! Feels so fucking good baby, so fucking good! – He pushes it in faster, but it's still not enough. He needs more, he was going mad! Grabs you by the waist, tosses you on the bed, rutting like a wild dog, head thrown back, eyes rolling upwards. – Fuck! Fuck! Feel s-feel so fucking good!

All that was heard was your laughter, the pleased little gasps that escape your mouth as he fills you up over and over and over again, animalistic and heaving, laughing as well, but out of his mind, completely overwhelmed by the pleasure, by the building release. He crashes against you, once, twice, getting careless. But by then he couldn’t hold it in. More! More! is all you heard from him.

And then you felt it.

His body shudders all over again, still rutting like his life would end. – God. God! I need to cum— fuck! I need— I need— Keep going! Don’t fucking stop baby, don— FUCK! FUCK!

You felt him coat your walls, white, hot, and endless. By then, you were shaking as well, the waves of your own climax washing over you as you arch against him.

He collapses over you, trembling and crying as he smiles, moaning your name in that shaky, adoring voice, eyes clinging to you in utter joy as he pumped lazily, through your climax and his, he still needed more of you. – It won-won’t stop. Fuck, there’s so m-much of it. – Laughter. Yours, his.

Your mind is blank.

He's heavy, heaving, still inside you.

JJ's breathing is ragged, each exhale a shaky whisper as he remains, still there, still trembling with the aftershocks. His hands wander aimlessly across the sheets, his body warm and heavy, as though he's been consumed entirely. His eyes are half-lidded, unfocused, and a soft whimper escapes him as he reaches for your hand.

– Baby... can you...? – His voice is slurred, broken, as if he’s still caught between the pleasure and the exhaustion of it all. His hand gently tugs at your wrist, his fingers brushing against your skin. – Just... touch me. Please... softly.

There was that, too.

He was always sweeter when he was done.

You give a soft, reassuring smile, your fingers gently grazing his messy hair, pushing the strands out of his face, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, lingering for a moment before you speak in the same soft, soothing tone. – I’m here, JJ. I got you.

He hums in response, his eyes fluttering closed, a content sigh escaping his lips as you run your fingers through his hair, the action slow and comforting. – I’m... Fuck— Laughter buzzes against your skin as he presses his lips on you again. – I'm never getting used to this... I’m not used to this, – he mumbles between shaky breaths, his hand coming to rest on your arm, the weight of his touch grounding him. – Feels... too good. I need you to... keep me close. Just... just a little longer.

You hate the way your heart skips.

But you love the way he says it.

The way his voice brushes against your skin when he pleads, so softly, so sweetly. Like he could never do you harm.

You shift slightly, pulling him into your chest, the warmth of his body a constant reassurance. His hand rests over your heart, the frantic pace of his pulse now slowing, but his face is still pinched with that lingering tension, a mix of exhaustion and need for reassurance. He lets out a soft groan as you press your lips to his temple, whispering, – I’m right here. You’re okay.

His breath evens out, and as the minutes pass, you keep stroking his hair and kissing his head, each kiss lighter than the last, until his body relaxes fully, his grip on you loosens. – Love you.

You feel yourself tense up.

It’s not the first time he says it.

But it might be the first time you know he doesn’t mean it.

Still you smile down at him anyway, pressing another gentle kiss to his forehead before whispering back, – Sure you do, baby. Go to sleep, okay?

He doesn’t need much encouragement.

JJ's never been easy to tire out, but when he does, it's immediate. His ear is pressed to your chest, to your heart, and you wonder what kind of dreams he’ll be having with that soundtrack, but it doesn't take long for his breath to even out.

The house is quiet.

Completely so.

And though you're glad John wasn't there to hear it, laying there, without his snoring to lull you into even halfway into reality only means that it crashes against you like a bucket of cold water a soon as JJ is out.

The day dawns on you, as it has done several times, but still the loathing blooms in your chest and spreads through your body faster than your mind can process.

You're broke.

You're jobless.

The girl you thought was your best friend is a snake.

The boy that's sleeping on you is a stalker.

Your best prospect right now is famously the most spoiled and volatile person on the island. That, because your best friend, the person that could actually get you out of this, has faded away after abandoning you, and you have no idea if he’ll even come back.

What's funny is that this is the thought that hurts you most —Not that you're unemployed, that your now previous boss could ruin you forever, that your relationship with only family member is as unstable as your financial situation, or that the people you thought you could trust don’t care about you— that Barry is gone.

Something he has been plenty of times before.

You lie there in the stillness, the weight of JJ's body pressing against yours. The sheets feel too warm, too much, a world you can’t find a way into. JJ’s steady breathing is a lullaby of sorts, pulling you toward the edge of exhaustion, but it’s not enough to quiet the thoughts tumbling relentlessly in your head.

Barry's absence gnaws at you —You know he’s not gone forever, not really. Or at least you hope so. He’s done this before, pulled away just long enough for you to convince yourself it doesn’t matter. And yet, it hurts like it does. Like it’s different this time.

You turn your head to glance at him—JJ, still sleeping soundly, unaware. His face is soft, the usual edge to his features dulled by exhaustion, but even now, with him so vulnerable in your arms, you feel the invisible distance between you grow. He’s a comfort, but only in the way a warm blanket can make you feel safe when the storm is too loud. And it is too loud. So loud you can barely breathe through it.

Your fingers trace patterns along his skin, but it’s absent, mechanical—the world outside the room, the boy in your arms, the life that’s slipping from your fingers, and the ghost that won’t stop haunting you, and you don't even know why.

Barry.

You know, deep down, that it’s not about him being gone. It’s about the fact that, despite what JJ has just tried to convince you of, Barry actually is the one person that was there for you.

When your father went away, he celebrated with you. When he was declared missing, he comforted you, even if you said you didn't care. Even if you didn't even know you needed it.

And maybe that's the problem: He saw you better than you saw yourself. He knows you. Really knows you.

But does he now?

So much has changed in two days.

You can’t even tell yourself it was real anymore because everything you thought you knew about him, about you, is shifting—becoming something else you can’t identify.

There’s no way to put a name to it, though, is there? That dull ache you’ve learned to live with. Not quite loneliness, but not contentment, either. Just an empty space where hope used to live, and you're so used to it now that you don’t know what it would feel like to fill it.

You let your gaze fall to JJ again, watching the way his back rises and falls with the easy rhythm of sleep. Maybe this is it—this is what you have now. A boy who doesn’t even know what he’s asking for when he whispers his need into the quiet night. And you, too tired to push him away, too lost to turn to anything else. You can almost convince yourself it’s enough, and for a second, you do.

But then, Barry’s face flickers in your mind again, like a ghost.

You wonder, just for a moment, if you would’ve been able to say anything if he were here. If you would’ve told him how much you needed him to help you, how much you needed him to be here, not just physically, but with you in the way that only he ever did.

But he’s not here.

And you’re not sure when he will be again.

The buzz of your phone slices through the silence. You freeze. What's the likelihood that he would call you right then, when you needed him most?

You slide from under JJ, and he grumbles, hands reaching for you even deep into sleep, but you don’t see it. All you see is the unknown number flashing on your screen amidst the darkness, and your heart races as you bring the phone to your ear. – Bee? – The word falls from your lips almost fearfully. You don’t want to know where he's been, what he's doing, or how much of what he had to take to call you like this, in the middle of the night. But you’re impatient to hear his voice, you just want to know if he's okay. – Bee, is that you?

The line scratches softly, the familiar sound of skin whispering against the microphone echoing in-between the two phones. Your pulse thrums against your ear. – Not bee. – You finally hear. – Are, actually.

– “Are”? Barry, what are you talking about? What did you take?

– It’s not Barry, baby. – The edge of his words resounded even through the distance. Pleased, but not quite satisfied. – It’s Rafe.

You let go of a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.

– Oh, “R”. Okay I got it.

He chuckles, a long, breathy noise. His breathing is heavy. – Did you put the cry-baby to sleep or is he still up whining?

JJ turns in his sleep. His arm, still lying, lax, over your lap shifts, and he pulls himself closer, brow brushing against your thigh. – JJ is… gone.

– Good. Thought I was gonna have to call CPS or some shit. – He scoffs, turning, in bed, you gather, since you hear the squeak of furniture.

– How considerate.

– Well, baby, I'm nothing if not considerate. – He hums. – What are you doing awake?

Regretting your life decisions, pondering the benefits of suicide. – Thinking of you. – It was meant to be a joke, but it didn’t sound like one as it slipped from your lips.

There's half a second of silence from him before you hear that laugh again, like you shocked him.

Rafe Cameron was shocked.

That's definitely a headline.

You can almost hear the smirk on his face. – I was thinking about you too, baby. What are you wearing?

You scoff, almost rolling your eyes. – Rafe.

He laughs again, even breathier. – Sorry. Was that too soon? – His bed creaks again. – You don’t seem like the kind of girl who needs a lot of foreplay.

– Hilarious.

– I was really hoping you'd give me a taste of what you’re wearing tomorrow, though.

You look down almost unconsciously. The only thing covering your skin is sweat. – Definitely not what I'm wearing right now. Unless you're hiring for a job other than personal chef.

Rafe’s quiet again. He moves around. You can hear him breathing. – Maybe I am. What kind of job are you thinking?

– Well, aren’t you the little hiring agency? Should've met you before. There’s some things on my resume I'm definitely not proud of. – He laughs with you now, though there's something strange in his tone. – Did you talk to your governess, or that other guy you said you didn't know the name of?

– Did. We'll be waiting for you.

– Well, you call and I come. – He laughs at the double-entendre, another noise escaping his lips. – What time should I be there?

– How's 10 AM sound?

– Perfect, Rafe. Thank you. Again, really. I can’t thank you enough.

– You're welcome, baby. You really are. – He groans, the bed creaking. JJ moves around again, his head on your lap, hands around your knees, and he mumbles something unintelligible. – What was that?

– Sorry, uhm. Just… thinking out loud.

You swallow, but Rafe doesn’t miss a beat. – And what are you thinking about?

– About… What I'm gonna wear. – Improvising was never really your forte.

Rafe hums, a long stretch of the M, then something smaller, a sound you can't quite catch. – That skirt. – He sighs. – The blue pleated one.

You pause.

– What?

– It's pretty. – Is all he says, then a groan, or a purr. The phone falls on his pillow, you can hear it scratch against his skin as he moves. But the way he says it, as if he’s seen it a thousand times in the two days you've known each other, as if he can picture you wearing it right in front of him. – Fuck, baby. You’re so pretty.

The compliment grates at your ears.

How does he know your clothes?

You think of the skirt. Your blue pleated skirt. It's been ages since you've worn it. It's way too short. You’ve outgrown it a while ago. – What else, baby?

– Hm?

– What else are you wearing for me?

His bed creaks again, over and over, and he doesn’t say anything for a minute, he just sighs.

– I, uhm. I don’t know. – What even is this conversation?

– Far as I'm concerned you don't need to wear anything. You can come— He laughs, low and unsteady, a strangled “yeah” cutting through the word. – Come as you are.

You feel a trickle of repulse run down your back. You don’t wanna talk to him anymore. You don’t want to talk at all.

– Talk to me, baby. – He groans, again.

– I, uhm. – You kick the nightstand, the noise echoing loudly around your room. – Shit, uhm. Sorry, that's my brother. I'll see you tomorrow.

You kill the line before he can say anything else.

@chatgtfo @bitterdotcom @sassyvillaintrophy @xmayankax @bluethperson @coralblue35 @munsoncultedits @the-bitch-who-binges @im-julessssss

[mechncheese]

So I’m curious, what are your science guys even up to? Like what’s the concept for them being a team out in space during the war? Is is it not? Very interesting stuff 👀

Oh I am so glad you asked ! This gives me the perfect excuse to yap about the Science Continuity, so buckle up !

So all this stuff is in my Pitchdeck Work in Progress but I'll share what I got (things are still up in the air to change but this is the general gist I'm going with !)

But first I want to begin with a disclaimer !

This continuity does not feature any humans and does not feature Earth. References to Earth related things (media and swears) will be made but overall, this is a story about Cybertronians.

The genre for this continuity is comedy and drama with some lighthearted moments, though it features content such as robot violence and gore.

Romance is not a huge focus in this, though I would be lying if I said there wouldn’t be tension between some characters but for the most part the audience is free to interpret character relationships however they please.

There will be Jetfire and Starscream being messy, that’s the only definitive relationship I can say with certainty but this isn’t reeaaally a Jetfire and Starscream centric/focused story (I'm booed off stage). It’s more like a side thing, so don’t expect to see them interact too much right away. I want to let Jetfire shine and stand out on his own without Starscream and develop Jetfire’s relationship with the other bots as well as explore other bot's relationships in general ! BUT THEY WILL BE FEATURED EVENTUALLY I just draw the funnies that come to my head and right now they're on the backburner in favor of other character interactions.

I'm also not making a full-blown webcomic or anything, I'll have an outline for the timeline / episodic summaries of what happens when I finish this Pitchdeck with illustrations and such ! I will be drawing short comics and other illustrations featuring character interactions + major moments I want to emphasize visually. I do this for funsies on my free time so I may be slow when it comes to that and also don't expect anything really grand, sorraayy !

With that out of the way, here's the Logline for the Science Continuity !

"As war continues to rage on planet Cybertron, A desperate Optimus Prime entrusts Autobot scientist Jetfire and his team of scientists the task of restoring life to their dying planet as they battle against the Decepticons."

Here are the settings/locations of significance/context:

Cybertron - Once Home, Now A Barren Wasteland

In this continuity, Cybertron has turned into a dystopian post-apocalyptic wasteland, drained of its resources and energon amidst the war. The weather on the surface is extreme and fluctuates, forcing Autobots and Decepticons to make their bases within the planet itself.

Cybertron - Iacon - Decepticon Controlled City

Decepticons currently have the upper hand. They’ve overtaken Iacon, Cybertron’s capital city. A majority of the city was destroyed in a major battle with the Autobots. The Decepticons have built their base underneath the city itself, leaving the surface to erode with the elements. 

With the energon shortage, Decepticons have been carefully scavenging the surface for any scraps remaining.

Cybertron - Abandoned Mines - Autobot Hideout

The Autobots have been cornered into the abandoned mines near the outskirts of Iacon. Desperate for any energon, Autobots have resorted to digging further within the mines in hopes of uncovering any untapped veins. They've been sending out expeditions into the mines and onto the surface in search of resources.

Luna 2 - Decepticon Science Base

Luna 2 orbits Cybertron and was the location of the former Autobot Science Base. It was ransacked by Decepticons in the midst of war, forcing the Autobot scientists to abandon Luna 2 through the space bridge. The space bridge is now under Decepticon control, giving them a huge advantage over the Autobots. 

Ambition - Moon of the Hidden Science Base - Main Location of Focus

Ambition is the moon the Science Team ended up on after escaping through the space bridge. The location of this moon is within an uncharted solar system, orbiting a large gas planet among many other smaller moons.

The Science Team has made their new base on Ambition and intend to see their mission to find a way to save Cybertron through. But now they’re saddled with another mission.. How to get back home.

(Note: I made up this location for this AU specifically </3)

--

TLDR: Jetfire was sent out by Optimus with the other Autobot Scientists on a mission to save Cybertron, the war has taken a heavy toll on the planet and he hopes that they can find some scientific means of restoring their home. Wow ! That is a VERY heavy task, no pressure !

This is mostly a story about Jetfire in a leadership position and how he is coping with the weight of such a task on his shoulders while everything goes wrong and the world is against him.

Character personalities are different in this continuity so this a more stern/serious Jetfire than the gentle natured Skyfire G1. He has a team to manage after all !

Thank you for reading if you made it through this beast length ramble, here's Jetfire getting scrubbed

[jgracie]

dating jason grace ♡ headcanons (fem reader)

warnings none! | masterlist

When Taylor Swift said, “in a world of boys, he’s a gentleman,” she was talking about Jason. That whole song is just about Jason

This man is so respectful and considerate and just really wonderful. He feels too good to be true! Which is why you don’t let yourself fall for him at first. He’s literally the most perfect guy you’ve ever met 

Meanwhile, Jason’s thinking the same about you. To him, you’re a breath of fresh air from all the rigidness and strict lines he’s been forced into not only as a Roman but as a son of Jupiter. Why would you want to be stuck with someone as boring as him?

So you just spent your days longingly gazing at each other when the other wasn’t looking while also avoiding each other in public spaces because both of you were slightly intimidated by the other’s presence 

Your first proper interaction must’ve been orchestrated by Hera and Aphrodite themselves considering how adamant you two were on being 6ft apart at all times, and surprisingly, it was in the mortal world

You were spending the day at your favourite library because you missed it and liked to pretend your life was normal by blending in with mortals, and also because you had studying you needed to do since quests left ample time for schoolwork. Jason was there because he’d been cooped up at camp for as long as he could remember and wanted to see what life away from the Gods and their schemes was like, and what better place to figure that out than a library? You breathed a sigh of relief as you finally finished the essay you’d been working on since you arrived at the library. It had been weighing on your mind for days but you couldn’t find time for it until today. As a reward for your hard work, you decided to get yourself a sweet treat before continuing your studies. Haphazardly packing up your stuff, you quickly got up, practically drooling at the thought of the new menu item you were finally going to try after craving for weeks. You were a little too excited. As you turned, you bumped into someone, dropping some of your papers. “Gods, I’m so sorry,” the person you bumped into said, quickly bending down to gather all your stuff. You knew that voice. You could recognise it anywhere. “Jason? What’re you doing here?” You said, suddenly feeling awfully hot for no particular reason. That was the day you really befriended Jason Grace. He decided to accompany you to the cafe you planned to go to, paid for your order and spent the rest of the day there with you. Away from all the craziness of demigod life, you and Jason finally got to truly know each other.

After a while of getting closer, you two begin to date, and it might just be the most beautiful relationship known to man. The way Jason acted before you began dating was nothing compared to now. That was just the bare minimum

You literally never have to lift a finger around him as he insists on doing everything for you. He opens doors for you, pulls your chairs out and takes your coats off for you. If you’re on a quest and you need to sleep, he makes sure you always get the comfier place and takes first watch

He also always leaves you notes. Sometimes they’re notes of motivation, sometimes they’re small poems about how much he loves you and sometimes they’re just really random

Jason is a big fan of taking polaroid pictures with you. After Hera stripped him of his whole life, he’s always had a fear of waking up one day with the same feeling he had on that wilderness school bus, so he takes pictures with all the people he loves and keeps journals and has a box full of all the things that are important to him in case it happens

He keeps one in his wallet at all times to ensure his immediate remembrance of you if his memories get taken again

(As if he’d forget you in the first place. Hera would have to pry the memories of you out of his cold, dead hands)

Your siblings love him so much too! They were a little stressed at first because he’s a child of Zeus, the God notorious for breaking the hearts of his lovers and cheating on his eternal wife, but he showed up at your cabin door to pick you up for a date with a bouquet of flowers for the cabin and then walked you back himself, staying outside until the very second the door was shut and now they love him

Sometimes you think they love him more than you because they’re always asking about him

You spend a lot of time at his cabin. He disguises it as just really wanting to spend time with you and while that is true, secretly it's also because the Zeus cabin gets super cold and lonely and is also kind of scary at night, even though he sleeps in the one space away from the gaze of his father

“Honey,” Jason says, wrapping an arm around your waist. The campfire sing along had ended which signified the end of the day, and all around you, campers were wishing their friends goodnight as they headed to their cabins. You suppressed a giggle, knowing exactly what Jason wanted from the tone of his voice. You hummed, giving your boyfriend a bleary-eyed smile as you waited for him to voice his request. It was cute how even though you’d done this many times before, he still got shy at the idea of you two sleeping in the same room, on the same bed. “Would you maybe wanna spend the night at my cabin? I missed you today, and I can’t even begin to imagine how hot it must be in your cabin, with all your siblings in it, y’know.” “Are you asking because you missed me or because you’re scared of daddy dearest?” You quipped, unable to contain yourself as his face turned bright red. “I’m kidding, Jase, of course I’ll spend the night with you!”

Later on in your relationship, when he’s sure you’re the one for life, he shows you around New Rome. He grew up with a peaceful life in the city being the goal, so it only made sense for him to show you around

Loves the way you light up at everything around you. He’d known New Rome for his whole life and could draw a map of it blind, but you make it feel brand new

Is ecstatic when you tell him you also want to start a life with him in New Rome. The moment you utter those words he’s already signed papers for an apartment and is drawing punnett squares to figure out what your kids would look like

You know the part in The Notebook where the girl’s describing the house she wants? That’s what Jason showing u around New Rome reminds you of

Years later, you reminisce on the way you’d avoid each other as you tell your kids about your lives as teens in your lovely house in New Rome because he definitely did not die <3

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 5

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy, seizures, memory loss, hospitals and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Lando woke up feeling like absolute shit.

His head was pounding, his mouth was drier than the desert, and judging by the fact that he’s still half-dressed and tangled in a celebratory McLaren flag, last night must have been good.

He groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face. He remembered fragments of the night before - flashes of bright lights, loud music, and way too much drinking.

He had won.

Lando Norris was a Formula 1 Grand Prix Winner.

He had been nearly drowned in champagne by Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc.

He had won the 2024 Miami Grandprix.

Lando let out a sigh and gingerly pushed himself up into a sitting position, clutching his head as a sharp pain shot through his temples.

He fumbled for his phone, cringing at the notifications that had piled up overnight. Messages from friends, family, and the racing world congratulating him on his victory.

He blinked blearily at his phone.

Too early. Too bright. Too… too.

But there’s one thing he needs to do before he even considers getting up.

He scrolled through his notifications, heart sinking when he still doesn’t see Lizzie’s name.

But there’s nothing.

His fingers fumble as he types out another message.

Lando: Hey, just checking in. Are you okay? You didn’t answer last night. I was a bit… not in the best state, but I was really hoping to hear from you.

Lando: I’m just worried. Is everything alright? I know I was probably being a bit much last night, but you can always just let me know if you need space or whatever. I just want to make sure you’re good.

Nothing.

Lando stared at his phone, the pit in his stomach growing deeper with each passing second. He didn't understand why Lizzie hadn't responded, and the not knowing was driving him crazy.

He groaned, running a hand down his face.

He tried calling. Straight to voicemail.

His stomach twists.

Lando didn't want to jump to conclusions, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Lizzie was usually pretty good about replying to his messages.

He tried texting again.

Lando: Look, I get it if you need time. I don’t want to come off too strong. I just feel like I should've heard from you by now, and I’m starting to panic a bit. Just a quick text would help me breathe for a second, you know?

Lando stared at his phone, watching the time tick by with agonizing slowness. He'd been awake for nearly an hour now, and Lizzie hadn't responded to any of his messages.

He tried calling again, only to be met with the same response - straight to voicemail...again.

And then his phone pinged.

Lizzie: Hi, this is Lizzie’s father. She’s in the hospital. Multiple seizures. She’s woken up a few times, but she’s not very responsive. I don’t know who you are, but judging by the way she’s saved your contact as ‘Lando Not Dying Yet Norris,’ I assume you’re important enough to be told.

Lando blinks. Stares. His hangover vanishes instantly.

She’s at the Royal Sussex Hospital. Thought I’d tell you in case you want to show up to visit her.

Lando feels like all the air has been sucked from the room.

Hospital. Seizures. Not responsive.

He doesn’t even realize he’s shaking until he fumbles trying to type back.

Lando: I—fuck. Is she okay? What happened?

Three little dots appear, then vanish. Then appear again.

Lizzie: She’s stable. But it was bad.

Lando pushes back the covers, already moving, already grabbing for his McLaren hoodie like that will somehow help him fix this.

He needs to be there.

Now.

His hands are unsteady as he opens his flight app. The next available flight back to London is in four hours.

Not soon enough.

Lando: I’m coming back to the UK. I’ll be there as soon as I can.

There’s no reply, but Lando doesn’t care. His heart is hammering, his mind racing, and there’s only one thing he knows for sure—

He has to get to Lizzie.

He…

There was a knock at the door.

Lando jumped, his already frayed nerves on edge. "Who is it?" he called out, his voice cracking slightly.

“It’s Oscar.”

Lando sagged with relief as he recognized the Australian accent drifting through the door. “Come in.”

The door creaked open and Oscar Piastri poked his head into the room. His eyes widened when he saw Lando’s harried expression. “Mate, you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Lando shook his head, feeling the tension in his shoulders tighten even more. "No, not alright. Lizzie’s in the hospital. Multiple seizures."

Oscar’s expression immediately darkened. "What the hell? Multiple seizures? How is she doing now?”

“Not good, apparently. Her dad said she’s stable, but she’s not very responsive. I’m flying back to London to see her.” Lando ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his heart still racing with worry.

“God damn.” Oscar stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him. He studied Lando’s face for a moment, his eyes narrowing. “You’re a mess, mate. Have you eaten anything?”

Lando shook his head, the thought of food making his stomach churn. "No, I haven't even had a chance to think about food. I’m just freaking out, mate. I’ve never seen her have a seizure, let alone multiple seizures…She had one last week before we had dinner, but she seemed fine, just tired… I have no idea how bad it’s going to be. This is...this is so messed up."

Oscar nodded sympathetically, his expression still grave. "Go," he said simply. "I'll make your apologies to Zac and the team."

Lando nodded numbly, already moving to pack a bag. Oscar stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "And mate? Try to keep calm. You won’t do Lizzie any good if you’re a wreck yourself."

Lando huffed out a breath. "I’ll try."

"Can you tell Max..." Lando trailed off. He had no idea what to even…

Oscar's expression softened. “I’ll tell Max. And the others. You just focus on getting to the hospital, alright?”

Lando nods, his throat suddenly feeling thick. "Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Oscar."

[t1ts-4-donaldson]

Mutual masterbation with Stanford Art

It’s a scorching Saturday afternoon when you find yourself laid half naked in Art's bed, the AC unit in your dorm had broke Thursday morning and you’d been doing what you could to stave off the heat, spending most of your day in the library or cafeteria between classes but you always had to go back to your god forsaken room at the end of the day.

Art had noticed your condition the past few days sweating through lounge clothes that fit a bit to tight for comfort short enough to show a little more skin, he understood your discomfort but fuck you looked so good each forced to excuse himself after each encounter around hard as a rock. It was confusing to you not noticing how hard he was or his obvious infatuation towards you but you paid no mind.

Art been in love with you for ages pining pathetically for years. Patrick mocked him comparing him to a dog utterly devoted yet all of his attempts were in vain, someone else always caught your eye or you’d write off any of his compliments as friendly banter. He was on the verge of giving up but the summer heat finally gave way to the possibility of anything happening between you two.

you hit your boiling point unable to handle the exasperating heat

so now you're here at his front door pleading for some relief.

“Art it’s too hot I need air please" you stammer the words completely jumbled together, he’s taken aback a bit but steps aside letting you in

 “can I strip please I’m begging you" clammy hands tugging at the hem of your shirt

“of course yeah.” Art acquiesces voice cracking as he turns away respecting your privacy utterly shocked, his best friend here almost nude. You strip grateful in too much distress to notice his unease.

“lay in the bed” he offers still staring at the wall, you squint the blatant shyness but don’t care stumbling forward falling back exhaling deeply the breeze from the air-con finally hitting your body the cold calming you down

"Art lie down" you hum patting the space next to you, the boy shuffles over landing next to your body making sure there’s miles of space between you both

You frown shoving your shoulder against his, gripping his arm and pulling him closer "why are you freaking out you've seen me in a bikini before" you ask puzzled.

"this is different" he shrugs "underwear" he gulps, he hates himself for acting this way clamming up like a child it’s pitiful.

"Art it's just me, your best friend" you grin cupping his face tilting his head meeting his worried gaze.

Best friend he winces but wills that strain away shutting his eyes giving in tugging his shirt off as well. “I guess I need fresh air too” he sighs settling against his pillow not before peeking at your chest, nipples pebbling through your lace bra. He averts his gaze quickly when you pinch his arm coughing awkwardly knowing he’d been caught.

“Artie.. something you like?” You joke scooting a bit closer to him

“you wish” he sneers but shifts uncomfortably tugging his shorts trying to tamper down his growing boner, you follow his movements, realizing of what’s happening hitting you. 

“want me to help?” you ask.

“Shut up” he whines embarrassed “you’re fucking with me” he rolls his eyes with disdain 

you try to sound sincere “I will..” you nod, hand slowly shifting over his stomach towards his crotch “only if you want” you stammer sitting up on one elbow.

 “yes, yeah go for it” he chokes out eagerly in disbelief

You settle back down palming his hard on, “fuck” he throws his head back you smirk ego slightly inflated, hand slowly tugs the waistband of his boxers down mouth salivating at the sight erect tip flushed pink leaking, it makes you feel sorry for him. “So needy” you pout running your fingers up and down his member squeezing his balls lightly

“Tease” he chokes out gripping the sheets firmly, you give in feeling bad once his chin starts to wobble, you spit in your palm looking into his eyes as you do so his reaction priceless, mouth slack eyes blinking languidly

you tug his spit slathered dick slowly up and down, rolling his balls between your hand roaming up again running your thumb over his tip smearing pre cum over it, holding back a giggle when a whimper escapes his lips twisting your wrist with each pump.

“Fuck I’m close” sweat beading on his forehead enough of an indication, you lean forward and suck his neck nipping a bit before rising your mouth barely touching his “cum for me.” 

He shudders beneath you panting softly one hand gripping your thigh with a vice surely leaving red indents on your flesh. 

You attempt make his high last as longer milking him dry until he grabs your wrist, “too much” he heaves chest flushed red just like his cheeks.“Didn’t know you’d be that good” he laughs. 

“Doubting my skills? that hurts” you mock lifting your hand observing the thin creamy substance on your skin bringing your fingers to your lips sucking them out of curiosity. Art gulps eyes fixated dick beginning to harden again.

You sigh in contentment, leaning back against the headboard staring up at the ceiling “hope that was nice” you smile knowing it was. 

You stiffen as Art unexpectedly grips your waist. “Can I do you” he pleads meekly.

“no need to return the favor” you laugh ruffling his curls but he shakes his head desperately. “Please.. let me make you feel good” his body vibrates “been wanting to for a while-” he admits eyes watery “please-” 

“alright..” you whisper caressing his cheek wondering where his eagerness is coming from.

what really takes you back is him kissing you, immediately latching his mouth on yours without warning biting at your bottom lip, demanding to open up. You cave tongues lashing together as spit dribbles down your chin. His hand snakes down stopping right over your mound running his fingers up and down your slit over your underwear the cotton rubbing against your clit just right

 you gasp mouth dropping at the sensation he smirks fingers slipping into pussy gathering juices from your hole smothering it over your clit tracing he circles around it

“shit” you groan feeling his fingers slip inside you lost in your own pleasure nails digging into his arm body rolling in time with his hand. 

An idea pops up, finish at the same time

 you sneak a hand between his boxers knowing you can pull another orgasm out of him, Art hisses at contact involuntarily slowing his ministrations cursing trying to concentrate on his movements, “together come on” you urge pecking his lips gently

He nods both of your bodies trembling in tandem, exchanging moans between open mouths, gripping skin trying to find some semblance of control.

“Art I’m close” you squeal eyes shut tight chest rising and falling rapidly 

“come on fucking cum” he grunts sinking his teeth into your shoulder your legs clench together as pleasure rips through you like lightning, a sudden gushing sensation releases between your thighs you gape at his soaked palm 

“I didn’t know I could do that” you pant trying to catch your breath

“doubting my skills?” He whispers pecking a sloppy kiss on your cheek

[kitkatkitzune]

CLAUSTROPHOBIA

Pairing: Kol Mikaelson x Fem!reader

Summary: When you’re trapped in a tiny space with Kol, you find out one of his fears.

Warnings: Panic attacks, PTSD, a bit of angst, fluffy ending, inconsistencies in the tense it’s written in (big shock, I know)

Notes: This isn’t as sad as I wanted it to be to be honest but that’s okay… This is based on the idea that due to being daggered and locked in the coffins that the Mikaelsons develop claustrophobia.

Word Count: 1.4k

———————

Your parents had told you stories of the infamous Mikaelson family and you did everything in your power to stay off their radar. Unfortunately for you, your best friend Hayley got pregnant with Klaus Mikaelson’s child, effectively dragging you into their mess.

You tried your best to minimize contact with them but being that Hayley was practically your sister, it was inevitable that you’d have to be around them. That didn’t mean you had to like it, but for the most part, it was okay. Rebekah was friendly and always excited to have another girl around, Elijah was very formal and respectful, Klaus was too concerned with his child to be bothered by you, but Kol…

Oh, how you hated Kol Mikaelson. He was rude and arrogant, always desperate for attention. That wasn’t the worst though, not only was he incredibly entitled but he was also a flirt. You hated the fact that he could make your face heat up by shooting you a wink or smirking. Not to mention the constant pet names. He would always laugh after, poking fun at how shy you’d get. You hated the effect he had on you and the fact that deep down you knew you didn’t really hate him.

Which is why you repeatedly press the ‘close door’ button on the elevator panel when you see him walking down the hall towards you. In a flash, he’s next to you, leaning on the handrail with a cheeky smile.

“Hello darling.”

Damn vampires and their super speed.

You sigh, dropping your hand to your side as you stare ahead of you, not wanting to feed into his game. To you, he was flirting with you to make fun of you, just as the boys in middle school had done and maybe if you ignored it, he’d stop. The elevator begins to descend, only a few more moments and you’d be out of here.

Kol was not giving up that easily though, he leans closer, “Hi.”

Reluctantly, you turn to look at him with a glare, “Hi Kol.”

The corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles, “So darling, I was thinking—“

He’s cut off when the elevator comes to a screeching halt.

“What was that?” His voice sounds panicked (something you don’t notice) and he takes a step back from you, pressing his back to the wall, his hands gripping the handrail so tightly that his knuckles turn white.

Startled, you reach forward and press the emergency button on the elevator, “I think… we’re stuck.”

“Stuck?” he questions, voice above a whisper.

“Yes Kol.” you hiss, still not picking up on his mood change.

You sigh, pressing the emergency button again, “They’re probably going to take forever. We’re going to be stuck for a bit…” you mumble.

Silence follows, making you furrow your brows. Kol never shuts up, never.

“What?” you ask, still not turning around, “No flirty comment about how we could pass the time? I’m shocked…” You trail off, turning around to look at him. His entire body is tense, his eyes squeezed shut while he begins to hyperventilate.

“Kol…” You mumble quietly.

Then the lights go out and the handrail he was holding snaps off the wall causing you to jump back.

“Kol!”

His eyes snap open, immediately focusing on you as the emergency lights turn on, still, he doesn’t say anything. His breathing is labored as he slides down the wall of the elevator. You kneel in front of him and he buries his face in his hands, still shaking.

“Kol… What's happening? Talk to me.”

“Don’t make me go back there…” his voice cracks as he begins to sob into his hands, “I can’t… I can’t breathe… I can’t go back… I can’t…”

You reach forward, placing your hands on his, causing him to flinch before looking at you once again.

“Hey… just… try and copy me…” you say softly, taking a deep breath.

Kol mimics the action and you smile, “Good, again…”

You repeat this process until he has mostly calmed down, he was still sweating and tears stained his cheeks.

“Are you okay now?” you ask quietly, still holding his hands.

Kol seems to snap back to reality, pushing your hands away and looking to the side, anywhere but you, “I’m fine,” his voice cracks as he speaks.

“Talk to me, that’s—“ you begin to speak but he interrupts you.

His gaze snaps back to you, “Why? So you can mock me?”

“Kol I wouldn’t—“

“Don’t lie, I know you’re not a fan of me, darling.”

You scoff, “Just because I…” you trail off a bit, not wanting to say ‘don’t like’, which was weird because you could tell yourself in your head, all the time, how much you hated him. But you couldn’t say it outloud, “…doesn’t mean I’m cruel… I don’t want to make fun of you, I want to understand.”

“Well you should make fun. It’s pathetic. I’m pathetic. I’m an original vampire, this…” he motions to his current state, “should not be happening. Now you know I’m weak, that I’m scared… I shouldn’t be!”

You frown, “You’re scared of elevators?”

“Small spaces… small dark spaces…” he corrects, focusing on your face that was lit by the emergency lights. He needed to focus on anything but the walls that seemed to be closing in around him. You were a welcome distraction, keeping him grounded.

Your eyes widen in realization, “The daggers… coffins…”

Kol’s jaw clenches, “Don’t… I don’t… I…”

“Okay, okay!” You say quickly, panicking a bit, “I… hopefully we’ll be out of here soon… in a big, open space.”

“I hate these metal death boxes.” he murmurs, “I am fascinated by modern technology but these things…”

“Then why did you get on?”

“…To talk to you… I just wanted to talk to you, I like talking to you.”

The corner of your mouth twitches, “You like talking to me?”

He hums, letting his head fall back to the wall, closing his eyes and you sigh, your smile faltering a bit, “You’ve got a funny way of showing it.”

Kol opens one eye, “You make it so easy to tease you… and well, modern flirting… it’s confusing…”

Your eyes widen, “Flirting? You’re… you’re flirting with me?! Like genuine interest in me?!”

“Thought it was obvious…” he mumbles.

“Kol! You flirt like a middle school boy! I thought you were making fun of me!“

“I was just teasing—“

The elevator jolts, causing you to launch forward, crashing into Kol whose hands shoot out to brace you as your hands fall to his chest. The normal lights begin to flicker and come back on, allowing you to see the position you’ve ended up in. Finally, the elevator begins to move causing you both to sigh in relief.

“Thank God.” Kol breathes out, and his usual smirk paints his face again, “Although, I do like this position, darling…” referring to the fact you were practically sitting on his lap.

You roll your eyes as your face heats up, causing Kol’s smirk to grow but for the first time you pay attention to his eyes. He’s looking at you with such adoration and you wonder if he’s always looked at you that way.

The elevator dings, signaling that you had arrived at the first floor and Kol is off the ground in seconds, offering you his hand, “C’mon, let’s get off this death trap.”

You gladly accept his hand, both of you exiting as soon as the doors open and you can visibly see the tension melt away from Kol.

“Better?”

“Much. I’m never getting on one of those bloody things again… only stairs from now on.”

You sigh, “I hate stairs…”

“I’ll carry you,” he declares and you playfully roll your eyes.

Kol notices the look on your face and continues, “I’m serious,” he looks down at you, his expression suddenly very serious, “about the carrying you and about what I said… I do like you…”

You smile softly, “Maybe you’re not as bad as I thought…”

“Or maybe I’m worse,” he widens his eyes dramatically.

“I doubt it,” you giggle before sighing, “Kol?”

He hums in response so you continue, “If you want to talk about it… about the fear… I’ll listen.”

Kol smiles slightly, leaning forward to press a kiss to the crown of your head and you stare at him in awe because of the sweet gesture.

“Perhaps one day, darling… for now, though, I’d like to get a coffee, care to join me?”

A small smile appears on your face and you giggle a bit, “Kol Mikaelson, is this your way of asking me on a date?”

“Maybe? Depends on what you’d say…”

“Well, I think I’d say yes.”

“Well, then I think I’d say it’s a date.”

[itsnesss]

𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦, 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦 | minho (xo,kitty) × fem!reader

summary | after being temporarily assigned to share a room with minho, you navigate the awkwardness of the situation, only to discover a softer side of him when he’s vulnerable in his sleep

warnings | fluff, mild swearing, slight tension, vulnerability depicted

word count | 1.3 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The sound of the door closing behind you echoed in the dimly lit room. You exhaled in frustration and dropped your bag to the floor, rubbing your temples. This day couldn't have been worse.

First, your professor had changed the deadline for your essay, giving you less time to finish it. Then, you had forgotten your jacket at the cafeteria, and by the time you went back for it, it was gone. And now… now you had to deal with this.

Sharing a room with Minho.

The worst part? It wasn’t even a mistake.

The girls’ dorms were completely full, and the only option the principal had given you was to temporarily share Minho’s room until another space opened up.

Temporarily.

Yeah, right. As if KISS was known for being efficient with their solutions.

You sighed and looked around. The room was in perfect order—too neat, actually. Minho’s bed was meticulously arranged, not a single object out of place. As if he didn’t even live here.

Except he did.

And soon, you would too.

"Perfect," you muttered to yourself, throwing yourself onto the couch on the other side of the room.

At least Minho wasn’t here.

That meant peace.

But, of course, the peace didn’t last.

Because just as you closed your eyes, the door swung open.

"What the hell are you doing in my room?"

You rolled your eyes before opening them.

There he was. Standing in the doorway, arms crossed, looking at you with sheer horror—like you were an intruder in his private castle.

"Nice welcome, Minho," you said sarcastically, not moving from the couch.

"You didn’t answer my question."

"Oh, sorry. Should I stand up and bow before I do?"

Minho rolled his eyes and stepped inside, dropping his bag on the desk.

"You're still not answering me."

You sighed and sat up slowly.

"The principal assigned me this room… for now. There’s no space in the girls’ dorms."

Minho blinked.

"No."

"It’s not like I had a choice."

"You *should* have said no."

"Oh, sure. As if I had another option."

Minho exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.

"This cannot be happening."

"Trust me, I feel the same way."

Silence settled between you.

The rain pattered gently against the window, and for a moment, it almost seemed like neither of you knew what to say.

Finally, Minho shook his head and muttered, "What a disaster."

"I agree."

"You can't sleep in my bed."

"I wouldn’t even if it were the last option on the planet."

He frowned.

"Then where are you supposed to sleep?"

"The couch."

Minho was silent for a moment, evaluating you.

Then, with a nonchalant shrug, he walked over to his side of the room.

"Fine. As long as you don’t make noise or touch my stuff, I’ll survive."

"Oh my God, what a huge sacrifice you’re making."

"I know. I’m practically a martyr."

You rolled your eyes and settled onto the couch, closing your eyes. At least you’d get to sleep peacefully.

Or so you thought.

Because hours later, you woke up to a sound you didn’t expect.

A shiver.

Not in the room.

In Minho’s breathing.

You blinked in the darkness. You couldn’t see much, but you could make out his silhouette in bed. His back was slightly hunched, as if he was curled up on himself.

And then you heard it.

A barely audible whisper.

A whimper.

Was he… shaking?

You sat up slowly.

"Minho."

No response.

But as you leaned in a little closer, you noticed his breathing was unsteady.

You frowned.

"Hey."

Nothing.

Finally, you rolled your eyes and grabbed the blanket you had been using on the couch. You stood up, stepping close enough to drape it over him.

For a moment, Minho didn’t react.

Then, suddenly, his hand slipped out from under the blanket and caught your wrist.

You froze.

It wasn’t a strong grip.

It wasn’t rough.

But it was enough to make your heart stop for a second.

His skin was cold.

Much colder than it should be.

And then, in a sleepy, hoarse voice, Minho murmured,

"Stay."

Your heart skipped a beat.

"What?"

He didn’t respond.

Because in the next second, he was already asleep again.

You pressed your lips together, watching how his face—so relaxed now—contrasted with the usual arrogance he always displayed when awake.

He would never let you live this down if you mentioned it tomorrow.

But tonight, just for tonight…

You said nothing.

You just stayed.

[kay-jaye]

when it finally happens, crowley freezes where he’s standing in the bookshop. he’s between shelves, fingers lingering over the spines of books like he’d been running his hand along the leather. he hadn’t. crowley can’t bring himself to touch anything in here, sit on any of the furniture, move a single item out of its place. it’s stupid, he’s afraid to burn himself without the angel here. stupid.

there was no bell chime of the door opening. only a shift in the air, like warmth returning to the limbs after falling asleep, and suddenly there’s an angel standing where no angel should be, just inside the entrance.

they find each other immediately. the angel looks surprised but not by much, and very, very tired. he shoulders bated relief and fear, while managing to look determined still. crowley doesn’t know what he looks like. drunk maybe.

“i’m back,” aziraphale finally says, breathes, really.

crowley says fuck somewhere in his mind, but what comes out is “i can see that.”

you’re bound to experience déjà vu when you’ve been alive as long as he has. crowley sees this playing out somewhere nicer with an apology dance and champagne over dinner. but that would’ve been months ago, and he knows better.

the angel knows better, too. that’s how crowley justifies it.

“forget something?”

that breaks aziraphale’s shaky resolve down into something shameful, and crowley is equally ashamed at the painful satisfaction it gives him. “crowley—” the angel tries.

“no, that’s not it.” crowley’s aware of the ice-cold wave that washes through the room and how it’s probably his own doing. “i’m pretty sure you knew you were leaving that behind.”

there’s a pause, and then aziraphale says, “i didn’t think you’d be here.”

crowley lets out an unimpressed noise. they’ve known each other for too long. “lying never looks right on you angels.”

the silence that follows is awkward and angry. the longer they stand there, unmoving with miles of space fitting in the feet between them, the more it begins to feel like an act. the scowl on crowley’s face starts to edge off, and he’s afraid of whatever real expression will be there when the mask drops.

aziraphale refuses to move or say or do anything. crowley thinks maybe this place is neither of theirs anymore. maybe aziraphale needs permission to be here. maybe crowley will burn if he stays.

but maybe there’s nothing left they can give each other.

crowley is bitter, but he’s also done.

“do whatever you need, aziraphale. i was just leaving.”

he should’ve waited for the angel to come to his senses and move out of the doorway, grab whatever book, paper, or trinket he missed so badly in heaven that he had to come back down here for. but crowley can do it. he can walk past him and hold it together and get in the bentley and go to sleep for a couple years like he should’ve months ago. crowley starts for the door.

closure is for humans who have expiration dates and ducks to get in rows.

he’s almost in the clear, so close to the angel that he can feel the nervous energy radiating, and crowley already knows he’ll be dreaming of that cologne for the next decade. he thinks briefly that there will be some magnetic force that kicks in and things will be like they were supposed to.

then the angel moves, reflexively, and a hand to crowley’s chest stops him in his tracks. the pressure is minimal, but it still knocks all of the air out of his lungs.

crowley barely gets a good look at the angel before arms are wrapping around him. it only takes a moment, and then, like warmth waking up the limbs again, he’s hugging back without another thought.

it’s nothing like the kiss—rushed, desperate, final. it’s wrong and it’s right. it’s over and not.

aziraphale says something into his shoulder, but crowley won’t let go to pull away because he doesn’t want to hear. to know if this is goodbye. the angel just continues, and crowley realizes he’s singing softly. out of tune and out of breath.

something about nightingales.

it both fills and breaks his heart.

“i would’ve followed you anywhere,” crowley whispers, “just not there.”

aziraphale nods, quiet, and eventually slides his hands away. crowley lets him. the angel looks him in the eyes, as if the sunglasses aren’t even there, and then without sparing a single glance at anything else in the room, the angel leaves.

[shiny-kaibernyte]

May I request something from Sonic Fandom? I would love to see romantic hcs for Surge the Tenrec and Kitsunami the Fennec.

I will absolutely do this for you! I actually had to refresh my Sonic knowledge for this request. I have discovered my new found love for the Imposter syndrome mini series thanks to you so, hopefully it is up to your standards, feel free to throw a Robotnik roast at me if it's not.

Warnings: Spoilers for the Imposter Syndrome Sonic Mini Series

Surge has major trust issues. I'm just gonna put that out there right away. Ever since what happened with Doctor Starline, the battle against Doctor Robotnik’s minions and then her defeat against Sonic. Trust is almost a foreign word to her. Only Kit holds any form of trust in her books but even then. The line is as thin as paper. 

This is definitely a difficult road to cross in the beginning of a relationship with her, friendly and romantic. Surge will question every choice, every thought, every look. Nothing will go unnoticed by her. However, she is open to talking, something she does a lot. She trusts someone more if they let her get everything out of her system. Rant, yell, scream, throw things. Granted she will not do those things to you. Slowly her walls will come down and when they do. She is the best person/animal-hybrid/creature eh you get the point.

She is not a touchy person. PDA is almost Alien outside of privacy. This is however a one-sided coin. She will not touch you outside of a private space. No engaging on her end. If you initiated it however, Surge will respond in kind as she does value your happiness, so touch her whenever you need to. Hand holding, hug, arm in arm. Go for it, just don’t expect her to do it first.

Private however? Total 180, her confidence and attitude completely changes and she just becomes putty in your hands. You are her home, her comfort, her life. To Surge this is the one time in her life she can be at peace. Just the two of you together, watching a movie, talking about goals, her hatred for the blue hedgehog, everything and anything. Laying in each others arms is one of her favourite past times, often with a movie on in the background. Surge is partial to marvel.

Thor is her favourite. It's definitely not the Lightning thing (it's the lightning thing)

Surge can cook surprisingly well, granted she’s banned from using the stove after she blew it up last time. The eggs and her had a… disagreement.

She is an overly cocky person. When it comes to ego, she puts Sonic to shame. More often than not, her ego has resulted in a fight or two, almost all of them were started by her. Whether she was the one to finish them is still on the table. This has caused a couple arguments between the two of you, but her temper will not remain for long. Give her an hour or so to calm down. Surge might be hot headed and ego driven, but she will listen to you. She always listens to you.

Although her hatred for Sonic runs deep, she has no ill will towards his friends. In fact she and Knuckles get along quite well, the pair have spared together on multiple occasions. Something you are often invited to watch. Tails is a different story. Surge does not trust him after his fight with Kit, after all Kit is the closest thing she has to a friend minus you. So if you happen to get along with the twin tailed fox, don’t expect her to join your activities.

Surge will never say the words “I’m sorry” to you. It is not because she believes she does no wrong, it is more of a personal thing, believing the words to be a waste of time. Actions speak louder than words in her mind. So she will often use her actions to apologise if she ever upset you or went too far during an argument. Gifts, food, service, whatever will make you forgive her.

That being said, her love language is Acts of service and quality time. More specifically guard dog kind of service. She is your sword and shield as you are her life line. Without you Surge views herself as nothing. Unable to remember anything from before Doctor Starline's hypnosis and only ever knowing hatred. With you, she views herself as everything. 

Whilst she views Actions more highly than words, Surge talks, and she talks a lot. If she gets riled up, good reason or bad, prepare for a monologue. It's honestly adorable when she starts talking about a passion of hers.

Hand talker. She emotes with her hands. She has zapped you a few times before, never hurtful more a static shock, like when you touch a cat and you get that tiny zap. 

One time, Surge took you out in a thunderstorm as an experiment. She wanted to know what would happen if she tried to zap lightning. Let's just say Kit now has a permanent photo to use on the birthday card every year.

Surge will defend you every and any chance she gets. Like I said, guard dog. Someone tries to hurt you, they're on the ground. Insult you, oh look is that Surge’s fist? Unwanted comments or touches, you get a personal lightning show!

She has a sweet tooth and I mean a sweet tooth. Donuts are her weakness, especially those dark chocolate ring donuts with the little white sprinkles. Give her a box of those and her life is yours. Kit also has a box on standby which he named “the just incase box” 

Can be over protective, and very jealous. Not the, you can’t see any of your friends type of jealous. More the, I don't trust them. Are you sure about them kind of jealous. Her scepticism is to everyone, not just your friends or family so she will often step in front of you during conversations with strangers. She will move out the way if you ask her to, but the stare off between her and whoever you are talking to could go down in history with how intense it would feel.

As for her protective nature, she would be ready to take a bullet for you. Often putting your safety first and never even questioning her own. The amount of times she has jumped head first into an army of Robotnik’s drones is uncountable. Always make sure to carry a first aid kit on you when out on missions with her. Or five.

Little bonus thought. Surge has a collection of batteries. What are they from? Why does she have them? You will never know. You did walk in on her trying to eat a battery once so theory build away on that one.

Kit is the total opposite of Surge when it comes to trust, in you at least. He has put his life in your hands and trusts you full heartedly with it. Others however he's on Surge’s level of distrust. Using caution and smarts instead of actions and fists.

Thanks to his side of the hypnosis, his loyalty to Surge transferred onto you after she left him on the battlefield. His loyalty to you is unmatched, he will follow you to the depth of hell and back if that's what you asked of him. In short, your wish is my command kind of fox.

He adores holding your hand, walking, sitting, standing you name it his hand is intertwined with yours.

You make him feel safe, so he often lets his guard down with you, his ears perking up whenever you talk to him, sometimes you swear you can see his tail wagging. And he isn’t even a dog.

If Surge is a Yapper, he is the listener and he will remember everything you’ve ever said to him. Photographic memory level. Listening to you is one of his favourite parts of the day. Please ramble to him, you will make his day.

He is an introvert through and through, after what happened to him, going outside isn’t exactly something he looks forward to, he is much more fond of spending time inside or working on his garden. Thanks to his water manipulation, he made himself a little garden to occupy himself. Kit lets you name all the plants he gets.

Doing domestic tasks with you is something he really enjoys, doesn’t matter what they are, he is just happy to be doing something with you and feeling important.

Kit is naturally a very quiet and reserved person, using brains over brawn. But don’t get me wrong ,if you are in danger, he will go above and beyond to protect you, often out doing Surge in aggression when he's angry. An extreme rarity he despises showing to you. 

That being said, arguments are few and far between for the two of you. He can’t get mad at you and he will berate himself if he ever raises his voice at you for any reason. The communication between you both is enviable, as you are both able to talk through any situation.

He apologies first and instantly. No questions asked even if he’s right. Kit will apologise for being right.

Dude is a walking dictionary, Kit knows the meaning of almost every word off the top of his head, he can even tell you different meanings to the same word, asking him to do maths would make your head spin with how fast he would complete any equation. 

That being said, he cannot spell, he can write, and write well. Kit has a fantasy story he started writing to occupy his mind after Starline, however his spelling is horrific, either he will ask you to proof read it if you are a good speller or will have his phone next to him with a spell checker ready.

He loves fantasy films, The lord of the rings is on repeat a lot in this household. Never watch horror with him however, he may actually cry. Surge once showed him John Carpenter's The Thing, he got so scared that he doused the TV in water by accident. He wasn’t even wearing his equipment! Gave Surge quite the shock.

Speaking of Surge, he does not trust her around you. After everything that happened, her leaving him, them reuniting, her enraged feelings towards Sonic. Kit is extremely cautious of her but he does want her around. Just like Surge, she's his only friend next to you and his hypnosis still lingers in the back of his mind.

He holds no ill will to Sonic, as Kit could see the reason behind the events leading to their downfall. Knuckles he never met, though he knows of the Echidna. Tails and Kit get along surprisingly well all things considered. For a while they did a Mechanism Monday where they would both hold a competition to see who could complete a mechanical task first. You would always Ref these competitions.

They stopped the race part after they set Surges tail on fire, granted she shouldn’t have stood so close to a burner. Not the fox’s fault.

Little bonus thought, Kit collects rocks. And no i don't mean crystals. I mean rock rocks. You have seen him on his hands and knees sifting through rocks to find the perfect one for his collection.

[writingroom21]

Sweet Escape

Pairing: Rafe x single mom reader

Summary: Moving to Kildare with your best friend and daughter was the perfect move. The little island is perfect, the people are nice, and you are finally at peace. Then Rafe comes in with his perfect smile and charm, sweeping you off your feet. The only issue is if you are ready to let someone else in.

Warnings: none

Wc: 6.8K

Masterlist

Chapter 10: Happy Halloween

“Oh come on Peach. Just let it go.” The chubby puppy keeps tugging at the pair of pants. Vi sits there laughing from the bed as you lay next to her watching the scene unfold.

Rafe was trying to pack his bags to spend the weekend at your house. Wheezie jumped at the opportunity to watch the cute puppy which was nice. As much as you’ve grown to like the dog over the past week, you don’t think she should be at the house. June has been slowly moving back into the house. Jo switched rooms since she felt bad having her grandma live in a different house.

If you had Peach at the house it might be a bit chaotic for June. Well at least that’s what you told Rafe. The real reason is you never had a pet growing up. You don’t think you can even keep an animal alive if you had too. Plus you are all going trick or treating so a puppy by themselves is not ideal. Now that you are thinking about it, Wheezie is coming too so good luck to them.

The chubby ball you call a puppy finally let’s go. Rafe stumbles a bit, standing tall as he gains his balance. “Jesus Peach. At least you didn’t rip them.” He finishes packing his bags as you and Vi play with Peach. She’s very energetic which is perfect because she tires Vi out easily. The two of them run around Rafe’s room and you sit there watching them. 

“I know I said no at first but thank you. Peach is a good addition to the family.” Rafe doesn’t say anything, he just looks at you. Turning to look at him you give him a puzzling look. Usually he won’t stop talking your ear off, which you love. But right now he’s just sitting on his bed staring at you. “You okay space boy?” A smile spreads across his face. Sliding off the bed, he sits down next to you pulling you into his side. 

“I’m good. Just really love the two of you.” You blush hard at his words. Recently Rafe has been more open about saying how much he loves you and Vi. To be fair you think Vi calling him dad really unlocked a part of him he kept hidden. It was like a switch happened and he became more affectionate. He even became more affectionate to Sarah and Rose. With Wheezie he was always really close to her but he really opened up to the rest of his family.

It was nice to see them all getting along. Rose even started family game night on Fridays. Game night has only happened once so far but it was fun. You got to meet John B again and really get to know him. Him and Sarah seem to be really in love. Rafe even invited John B to trick or treating. A really big step for him that almost made Sarah cry. It just feels like you are finally getting a family unit that you never had.

“We really love you too. Now hurry up, it's getting late and Vi needs to go to bed.” He groans and gets up to finish packing the rest of his things. “Before we head over to the court house tomorrow I just need to let Peach out. Rose is still scared of her so I gotta do it.” You giggle at the memory of Rose’s horrified face when you all come home with the puppy. She’s never had a pet before and she never planned on it. So it was a big shock to have a dog in the house.

“That’s fine. Do you think she could watch Vi? Jo needs to get some work done and I feel bad leaving her with June.” Sharp nails dig into your calves. Peach jumps on you wanting you to give her some attention. Bending down you give her belly scratches as Rafe grabs his things. “You just made her day and she doesn’t even know yet. She’s been dying to watch Vi.” Smiling, you follow him out of the room, scooping up Vi. She waves at Peach as the chubby puppy attempts to run after the three of you.

“Bye-bye peachy.” Vi laughs out as the puppy lets out little barks. Wheezie walks down the stairs stopping at the bottom to pick Peach up. “You’re leaving already?” She bounces Peach like she was a real baby. “Yeah it’s late and someone needs to get to bed.” Her eyes focus on Violet whose eyes are fighting to stay open. Wheeze giggles and gives you a hug goodbye before retreating to her room again.

On the car ride home Vi falls asleep. Meaning you had to be extra careful when getting her inside. If she wakes up now then there’s a small chance of her going back to sleep. Luckily she was out like a light and slept through you changing her into pj’s. Which was good because you were exhausted and needed your rest for tomorrow. The last thing you want is to face Theo’s parents with little sleep.

Which is exactly what happened.

You couldn’t sleep at all. Rafe’s soft snores were like little alarms telling you what is going to happen in the morning. Eventually you were able to fall asleep but only for a few hours. Just when you got to deep sleep, your alarm went off. You had to get up and get Vi ready then yourself. You felt like a zombie as you went through the motions in the morning. 

You fell asleep on the car ride to Tanny Hill. Rafe chatted to Vi soothing you to sleep as the car rocked on the road. He left you in the truck with the window cracked as he brought Vi in and let Peach out. As the puppy ran around the yard he woke you up. Groggily you unbuckle yourself and make your way into the house. “Then we can have a tea party where we dress up. We are going to have fun.”

You follow the sound of Rose’s voice to find them in the living room. She set it up to have a pillow fort and snacks on the coffee table. “Wow, looks like the two of you have a fun day ahead.” Rose smiles at you and puts Vi down to let her explore. She walks over to you and gives you a big hug. “Thank you for letting me watch her. We are going to have a great time.”

Rose beams at you and you can’t help but to feel happy. She’s spoiled Vi endless since you and Rafe really became official. It’s like she’s taking the opportunity to have a good relationship with at least one member of the family. Rafe’s told you countless times how he and his siblings never really liked her. That she was just there because she was married to their dad.

It’s different now since they view her like family. When she didn’t leave after their dad died, they realized she did actually care. Their relationship may never be the one she wanted but at least she has a chance with Vi. It warms your heart that she gets that chance and Vi has another grandma figure to look up to. Not to mention you have gotten close to Rose.

“Alright time to go.” Rafe claps his hands as he enters the living room. Peach runs in after him, practically tackling down Vi in the process. Rose winces as she tries to separate the two. “Rafe, why don’t you put her upstairs until Wheeze gets here.” He sends you a ‘I told you so’ look before calling the puppy over to him. As he’s walking out of the room, Vi whines calling out for Peach.

Seeing the distress of the toddler Rose caves in. “The dog can stay. But I swear if she ruins something you’re going to replace it.” Rafe puts her down and ushers you out the room. “Promise I’ll pay for it.” He yells as you enter the front hall. In the truck he takes a moment to look at you. “I’m not replacing her ugly things. You’re gonna have to break the news to her if Peach destroys something.” 

You try to argue with him as he drives off but it doesn’t work. He keeps saying how she loves you and will take the news better. That if he did it she’d think he hates all her decor. Which you argued that he does so therefore he should be the one to tell her. You two went back and forth the whole drive until you were parked outside the courthouse. “Before we go in I need to just say something.” He gives you his attention worried by the sound of your voice. “Stop being a pussy and tell Rose you want to redecorate.” 

You get out of the truck giggling to yourself. “So not cool dude.” He jogs up to you and wraps an arm around your shoulder. When you walk in you see Diane is standing to the side on the phone. She waves you over and explains that Theo’s parents are going on the stand today. You can see them off to the side, chatting in a group. You make eye contact with Victoria, his mother.

She looks the same as you saw her last. Her eyes narrow at you, sizing you up. The stare is intense, making a shiver run down your spine. You try to ignore her as you chat with Diane about how she thinks today is going to run. After a few minutes it was time to go into court and you settled into your bench. Judge Argent walks in and says his little speech that he always does. “Alright Mr. Campbell, the floor is yours. You may call your first witness.”

Theo’s lawyer stands up looking smug as he shoots over a look. “I’d like to call Victoria Wixx as my first witness.” There’s a brief moment when she’s taking the stand where you get nervous. She’s always gotten what she’s wanted in life. Maybe she’d be able to persuade everyone to think Theo is telling the truth.

Victoria goes through the motion of swearing not to lie on the stand. Mr. Campbell takes a moment to let her settle in before starting his questioning. “Mrs. Wixx can you tell us how you know the plaintiff.” She smiles over at Theo and turns her attention back to everyone else. “Theodore is my son.” Mr. Campbell nods his head. “And the defendant?” 

The look on her face falls. It was like a different person was sitting there. “The defendant used to date my son in highschool.” The reminder that you considered her son as a boyfriend is revolting. “You don’t seem pleased by that statement. Did you not like the fact they were dating?” Victoria puts on a soft disappointed look as she gathers her thoughts. “At first I was very happy. My husband and I were friends with her parents. When they got together it just seemed right.”

She’s playing the act of a thoughtful mother who cares about her kid. If only they really knew they used to let him do whatever he wanted. As long as he never got in trouble or made them look bad he could do whatever he wanted.  He could probably kill someone and they would cover it up for him. 

“Over time Theodore would tell me concerning things. I just became really worried for him but more importantly worried about her.” You sit up straighter. What the hell is she talking about? Diane sends over a look to you, shaking her head. “Could you elaborate on these concerning behaviors?” Victoria nods her head, giving a pitiful sight as she continues. “It started with her needing to always check his phone. Theo had to share his location after they had a fight about him being out with friends.”

Mr. Campbell stops in his tracks. “So you would say that the defendant was controlling.” Diane stood up. “Objection, Mr. Campbell is leading to an answer.” He tries to argue but Judge Argent bangs his gavel. “Order in my court. Mr. Campbell I advise you to ask your question differently.” Diane sits next to you huffing and crossing her arms. “Don’t worry they don’t have any proof for any of this.” She whispers to you.

It does nothing to calm your nerves but at least she’s confident. “My apologies. Mrs. Wixx, how would you describe their relationship?” There’s a moment before she speaks where she meets your gaze. “Like the young kids say, it was toxic. She was always accusing him of cheating. Which escalated to her stalking him when they weren’t together. My husband and I were honestly scared for his safety.”

Judge Argent leans closer listening to what she has to say. “Wow I can’t imagine how scary that must have been.” He shoots you a look before circling back to the stand. “How did you manage this?” He blocks your view of her but you still know how she looks. You’ve seen the face she pulls when trying to gain sympathy. “We advised him to break up with her. We were glad when he called things off and went to college.”

You scoff which thankfully no one heard. “You mentioned the breakup. What caused it?” It was you telling him about the pregnancy. “She followed him to our family’s house. She was convinced he was cheating on her after he said he was visiting my mother. It was a whole scene. My poor mother was in so much distress over the whole thing.” 

What a load of bullshit. He had invited you to the vacation home which he forgot. Then he brought over another girl and I caught them. The sad thing is you still tried to forgive him and explained you were pregnant. That was what caused the break up. He didn’t want to be a dad so he broke up with you.

“He broke up with her on the spot. My brother had to escort her off the property because she kept threatening to kill herself.” Your breath hitches. What? “I’m sorry Mrs. Wixx did you just say the defendant threatened to kill herself? In what context?” All eyes turn to you. A burning sensation builds behind your eyes and the back of your throat.

You can feel Rafe’s eyes burrowing into the side of your head. He probably views you differently now. This is worse than you thought. You could handle their lies getting to everyone else because you would fight till your last breath for your daughter. But him buying into the lies isn’t something you can handle. 

“After he broke up with her, she said that she would kill herself. That if he leaves her then he’s the reason she’s dead. It was scary to see her like that. I know she’s attempted it before but hearing her plan it and blame him was frightening.” 

Diane’s hand grabs yours under the table giving it a squeeze. A tear follows down your cheek and you discreetly wipe it away. Rafe continues to stare at you but you try to ignore it. You can't break down right now. They won’t win this.

“I’m sorry for what you witnessed. It must have been hard seeing someone you cared about like that.” Yeah right, she never liked you. “It was hard especially due to how close we were with her parents. May they rest in peace.” Mr. Campbell walks back over to the table adjacent to yours. “Now that you mention Mr and Mrs. Dunn, how would you describe their relationship with the defendant?”

“They loved her a lot. It broke their heart when she ran away. When they found out about Violet they tried so hard to be a part of her life. But she wouldn’t let them and they sadly passed away before knowing their granddaughter.” 

It’s crazy how far from the truth she is. A hand finds your thigh causing you to be startled. You look over at Rafe and he sends you a soft smile. His thumb strokes your thigh over your pants to help calm your nerves. 

You still got him

“That is very unfortunate. How did you find out about your granddaughter?” Probably when their bitch of a son ran back home to them crying. “I heard it from Lily. She came crying to me after another failed attempt at reconnecting. I told Theodore right after and we’ve been trying to find them ever since.” Mr.Campbell shakes his head as he walks to the middle of the courtroom. “As you can see your honor it is in fact the defendant that was the abuser in this relationship. It also calls into question the defendant's mental health and if Violet is even safe.”

Violet not safe with you? That had to be the craziest thing you’ve ever heard. “I rest my case.” He walks back to his bench and sits down facing Theo. You can hear whispers coming from them but you can’t make it out. Diane gives your hand a squeeze before getting up.

“Mrs. Wixx, I have a simple question. When was the last time you saw the defendant?” She points back to you with her question. Victoria looks unamused with the question but still answers. “That day when Theo broke up with her.” Diane watches her for a moment. “You do know perjury can be fined up to five years. So I advise you to answer honestly.”

Victoria scoffs, rolling her eyes. “I know that’s why I am telling the truth.” Diane walks back over to you and sends you a wink. “So you did not see the defendant at her parents' funeral?” You sit up more, your hand finding Rafe’s. He gives you a squeeze having a feeling where this is going. “No, we couldn’t find her so she couldn’t be contacted.” Diane nods as she shuffles through the papers. 

She walks over to Judge Argent. “Permission to approach the bench?” He nods and waves her over holding a hand out to grab the document. The room is silent as he looks through the paper. “As you can see your honor, these documents prove my client was at the funeral.” She shoves the papers on Theo’s bench and turns back around. “The family lawyer had contacted my client a few days after the accident. Then meet with my client during and after the funeral.”

Your head turns to Rafe so quickly you were scared you might hurt yourself. He squeezes your hand leaning closer to you. 

“I advise you Mrs. Wixx to tell the truth.” Victoria looks over at her son. “I must have not seen her. It was a very hard time for my husband and I. We lost our best friends.” Judge Argent stares at her nodding for Diane to continue. “The documents also state how Mr and Mrs. Dunn disowned their daughter. Also states that the reason was due to her teen pregnancy.” Victoria shifts in her seat looking uncomfortable where this conversation is going.

“I talked to Lily practically everyday. She never told me any of that. I was told some sob story apparently.” Even when being caught in a lie she still defends it. “I would like to play the audio recording for evidence 13.” Victoria’s face scrunches with worry as her voice plays through the speakers.

“I can’t believe you even showed your face here. You were a disgrace to your family.” Her voice is sharp, venom dripping from each word. “They wanted me here. Their lawyer was the one who set it all up.” It’s weird hearing your own voice. You’ve always hated the sound of it in videos but this is worse. You sound scared. “Your parents didn’t want you in their life. You and that bastard of yours can disappear.” Theo’s dads words ring through your ears.

Rafe’s grip on your hands tightens as he tries to control his anger. “What is this? Turn this off right now.” Victoria tries to stand up but Judge Argent tells her to sit down. “Your honor.” Mr. Campbell tries to interject. “Order! There will be no interruptions during the recording. If so, I will hold you in contempt.” Everyone settles down and the recording picks up again.

“I just want to get through this. Leave me.” Victoria’s eye’s are glued to her hands as the recording continues. “You shouldn’t be here. The last thing we need is a reminder of why Theo left. You getting pregnant was the worst thing to happen.” Her voice rings loudly through the room. You can hear a sigh come from the side of you. Theo’s lawyer has his head bent down, shaking it side to side. “He’s doing better now without you. Even getting you pregnant could make him stay with you.”

“It was pathetic how long you stayed with him. He could do anything he wanted to you and you were too scared to leave.” Theo’s dad's words were like another nail to a coffin. Looks like their perfect lie was unraveling. “I’m going to my seat.” There’s a strain to your voice. Maybe it was the recording or the fact that you were trying not to cry. But you hated hearing it played back to you. “You better disappear after this. We don’t want either of you around.”

The recording stops and you can swear crickets can be heard. “I’m going to ask you again Mrs. Wixx. Did you see the defendant at the funeral.” Her eyes shoot up to Diane, a look of worry reflecting in her eyes. “I don’t remember. Like I said, it was a really hard time for me. I don’t remember this.” She’s trying to pretend to be innocent but it’s not working. “Was that your voice in the recording?” Victoria opens her mouth a few times but nothing really comes out.

“Yes but I don’t know how.” She looks around frantically acting as if this couldn’t be real. “Objection I call for this to be stricken from the record.” Mr. Campbell shouts out. “On what grounds?” He walks up to the stand placing his hands on his hips. “The witness never consented to this recording. It can not be held up in a courtroom.”

Diane hands over the last piece of paper she was holding. “Actually this recording took place in New York. One party has to consent to the recording for it to hold up. Since my client was a party to the recording and consent it can be used.” The two of them keep staring at each other ready for one of them to break. “I’m calling a recess and I will decide whether or not the recording can be used. We will reconvene in thirty minutes.”

Judge Argent stands up and rushes off with all the documents. Diane walks back to the bench and gives you a thumbs up. Mr. Campbell speeds over to his side grabbing his things then leaves. “Well I think that went well.” Diane grabs her phone, checking it as you still sit there. “How the hell did you manage to pull that off?” Rafe asks the question you are wondering. 

“I may have tricked him into thinking it would be a good idea for Theo’s parents to take the stand. Had a feeling they wouldn’t pass up the chance to lie.” You stand on shaky legs, still not really getting how good this was. You give her a hug, squeezing her tight to you. “Thank you.” It’s all you can really say. Nothing is coming to mind and nothing else seems right. “Just doing my job.”

The thirty minutes seemed like forever as you waited. When the judge finally came back you held your breath. “After reviewing everything the recording will hold up and so will the witness testimony. Mrs. Wixx does expect a hearing shortly for perjury while under oath. Mr. Campbell you may proceed with your next witness.” Victoria looks like she’s on the verge of tears. The view is oddly satisfying.

“Your honor, my next witness has decided not to give a testimony.” Judge Argent raises a brow before nodding. “That seems to be wise. Any other witness’ or evidence to bring forth.” Campbell clears his throat and steps in front of his bench. “I would like to read a note from my client. ‘I Theodore Wixx was not aware that my parents knew about Violet. They never mentioned a thing as well as pushed me to keep studying out of state. I do not agree with what my parents said or their actions.’ That’s all your honor.”

Argent calls an end to the session. You and Rafe walk out of the court house practically on a high. Sure Theo prolonged the trial by saying he didn’t know any of it but it doesn’t matter. The recording shows that he knew about the pregnancy and how he left because of it. The high didn’t last long because the truck won’t start up. Rafe tried jumping it and everything else he could think of but nothing. 

“Rose will be here in twenty. But she said we had to join them for ice cream.” You laugh then groan knowing she’s probably going to be hyper tonight. Which is a double whamming since tomorrow is Halloween. “Fine but she gets to handle her sugar rush tomorrow.” He smiles at the thought and grabs your hand. His thumb strokes yours as the two of you wait. “I think she’ll like that. She never really got that with us.”

Hearing him open up is still so new. Sure he’s always been open with you but this is him being raw. There’s little moments like these where he will randomly tell you something. Something so small or honest that makes you fall deeper.

“I think Vi likes it too. Since Lillian isn’t here at least she gets some type of grandmother.” Rafe stays quiet. Sometimes you think he’s remembering times with his mom. He refuses to talk about her, which you don’t mind. But deep down you know it hurts him. “Thank you.” You surprise him with the choice of words. “For?” He questions.

“For everything. Always being there for me. They way you love Vi and I. Mostly for being the dad she never got.” You swear you see tears well in his eyes but they don’t fall. “Thanks for letting me.” You see Roses car park in front of the courthouse. Nodding your head over, Rafe follows your gaze seeing the car. “Come on, I think there will be moose tracks ice cream in your future.

You follow him out of the car laughing as he chases you. He catches you just as you get to the car. “Mommy!” Vi sits in her car seat looking out the window to watch you too. “Hi daddy.” Steps on the stairs scares you and with a quick glance you see it’s Theo with Delia along with his parents. 

“Hey Vi fly ready to get ice cream!” Rafe opens the door for you as he talks to Vi. He gave her the nickname a few weeks back after you got a venus fly trap. You thought it would get rid of the shop's fly problem which it did. But it also has Vi in a trance as she will watch the thing to see when a fly will come. The nickname is funny but she loves it.

“Yes, chocolate.” Rafe gets in the back with her agreeing with the option. “With hot fudge.” he sends you a wink knowing he’ll have to deal with bed time tonight. From the side view mirror you can see Theo watching the car drive away. 

The rest of the night went as expected. Vi barely ate her dinner and she was off the walls. Rafe probably read Charlotte's Web for hours. Maybe this will make him see why she shouldn’t have that many sweets. Which is an impossible task since you are getting ready to go trick or treating.

“Ba ba.” Vi jumps around the room laughing as the tail of her costume drags behind her. You snatch her up taking the sheep costume off of her so you can sew the puffy tail back on. “Yeah ba ba little sheep. Now let me fix it.” She tries to fight you on it but loses. With a huff she walks over to Rafe who's putting on the last touches to his outfit.

“How’s that look Vi?” He points the bottom of the boot to her to showcase the writing. ANDY in bold letters is written on a child like handwriting but you think it’s actually his. “Good!” She shouts as puts on his vest that’s way too big. Vi walks around the room taking big steps and her hands on her hips with her chest out. “Maybe she should take my costume and I’ll go normal.”

Rafe has been fighting the idea of dressing up since you brought it up. He finally caved when Vi went up to him asking if he could be Woody. When you have an adorable three year old in your face giving you the puppy dog eyes it’s hard to resist. At least that’s what Rafe argued when he agreed. 

“Ha ha so funny. We both know you couldn’t pull the sheep look off.” You giggle as you hold up the tiny outfit. He nods in agreement carrying Vi over so she can put on the costume. “Fair enough wouldn’t be flattering for my figure.” You quickly change Vi and make sure it fits her properly. Next you look over your Bo Peep costume. Everything looks good so you grab your staff and usher the other two out. 

Everyone was already here but was waiting for the costume fix. “Alright we are all set.” The whole living room cheers as they grab their things. “Finally the metal is starting to dig into me.” Wheezie complains as the thin wire for her slinky costume pokes her. “Told you to put something over the ends.” Sarah retorts as she pulls cotton balls out of her bag. Her and John B are dressed up as Mr and Mrs. Potato head. A very cute idea.

“Come on, heard they give out full size candy bars.” Jo calls out. She looks funny yelling in her Jesse costume. You all start to follow her out of the house. “Dude you’re too old to get candy.” Topper jokes with her, making Kelce laugh next to him. Rafe had asked if they could come as they wanted to get to know you more. They’ve been really nice since you’ve met. Plus it’s nice knowing they want to do things that include Vi.

“They said something about being the fun uncles and that it can’t be John B. I don’t know, didn't really argue with them.”

They decided to stick with the theme, coming dressed as Buzz and Rex. June was going to join but once she realized how big the group was she backed down. Her excuse was she gets to still see Vi in her costume and that’s good enough for her. Plus now she doesn’t have to walk around to chase a toddler. To be fair you can’t blame her because Rafe is determined to go to all of the good houses.

As the group walks down the driveway a car door opens. Theo and Delia exit the car making their way over to all of you. Jo gets this stone cold look as she storms over to them. “Get out. You aren’t going to ruin this.” Delia looks back and forth not knowing really what to do. She clings onto Theo’s arm but he shakes it off. “Wow, still the same crazy Josephine. I’m here to be with my daughter.” 

Jo scoffs at him. “Sure just years later after you got a fiance who you want to look good for.” His face gets red, taking a step forward he tries to loom over her. “Careful wouldn’t want a repeat of bowling night.” You were just about to walk over to them but his words stopped you. Jo had the same reaction as you both stare at him.

The last time you had gone bowling was at the end of high school. You, Jo, Theo, and other friends had gone out bowling. Earlier in the day you had gotten into a fight with Theo once again about his cheating. The fight continued to bowling night and Jo got involved. A lot was said in the parking lot setting the whole mood for the night. Which was made even worse when a bowling ball fell on Jo’s foot. 

She was standing by the line up of balls when one of them fell off the stand. It was scary seeing her screaming in pain and watching as Theo tried to remove the ball from her. Now that you are thinking about it he was the only one next to her. He was on the other side finding a ball to use. With the way he mentioned the night it doesn’t seem like an accident.

“Come on man, don't make a scene.” Rafe steps in moving Jo to the side. “Let’s not ruin this night for Vi. I’m sure she’d like the extra company.” You honestly can’t believe what you are watching right now. Rafe is being kind to Theo? Well sort of. Theo looks him up and down. “Sounds good.” Everyone stares at him and Delia as you all walk over to the first house. 

“Trick or treat!” Vi’s little voice shouts as the older lady opens the door. “Awww aren’t you just so cute.” She places a few pieces of candy into Vi’s little basket which goes with your costume. You thought it would be best if you carried all of it. The lady looks over everyone’s costumes and swoons. “Oh my goodness you all look amazing. You must be very loved.” She coos down at Vi.

Vi waves goodbye as you take the basket then her hand. On instinct she grabs Rafe’s, swinging her hands back and forth. About ten minutes later the houses on the block were checked off. The group makes their way to the next street over. Kids ran from house to house getting candy that could fuel them for years. Vi held yours and Rafe’s hand jumping as you walked. “Pst.” You look over at Rafe as he wiggles Vi’s arm at you. 

It took a moment but you finally caught on. When she went to jump next the both of you pulled her arms up so it was like she was flying. She lets out a big laugh, kicking her feet in the air. At the next few houses she gets full sized candy bars meaning the adults got some of the mini sized ones. It was a fair trade so she wasn’t getting too much sugar. “Where’s your costume?” 

You turn around to see a little boy staring up at Theo. “Daniel.” Her mother warns him as she ushers him away with an apology. Theo’s nostrils flare but otherwise he stays composed. There was this house you saw a couple days ago that was decked out for halloween. They had inflatable characters and a bunch of lights. Rafe decided that was the perfect way to end the night. Vi would get to be out for a while and get good candy. Plus she’ll be asleep just past her bed time meaning her whole schedule isn’t as messed up. 

If you’re being honest it was a really good plan. As you get closer, Vi's eyes light up. “Daddy look.” She pulls Rafe’s hand harder as she uses her other one to point to the house. WIth all her excitement, you mean candy, she tries to run to the house. Rafe jogs up to her, chasing her to the house. You take a moment to look at the group. Kelce is watching as Topper fails to flirt with Jo. Sarah and Wheezie are in a debate while John B just listens.

Then there’s the two in the back.

Delia looks around at all the kids and Theo just looks bored. It looks like he would rather be anywhere else than here. You catch up to Rafe and Vi just as the old man opens the door. “Oh that’s the cutest sheep if I’ve ever seen one.” He gives her three candy bars, sending you a wink as he stands up. “Sorry sweetie but the sheep is hard to say no to. I think you can handle the sugar rush.” You laugh as you take the basket from the tired little girl. 

“Don’t worry most of this candy is already waiting for your stomachs.” You point to the group behind you that is just waiting till you get home. “Ha I can imagine. Have a great night and you keep them safe Woody.” He jokingly points at Rafe. Vi jumps at the fact she recognized the costume. “Trust me I will.” The three of you walk over to everyone calling it a night. One the walk back to the house the three year old got really tired. 

Rafe Carried her the whole way home which got some comments from fellow moms. Mostly about how hot Rafe looked carrying a kid. But some mention how you looked good as a family. You can tell he heard them because he pulled you into his side, kissing the top of your head right after. Safe to say the night was a success.

“Thank god. This suit was rubbing all the wrong places. I need out.” Kelce exclaims as the house comes into view. He rushes inside to change and Topper follows him in. Slowly everyone makes their way in but two people. Rafe said he was putting Vi to bed so you snuck off back outside.

Theo was just about to get into the car when you called out. “Do you want to say goodbye to her?” You don’t know why you asked. Probably a last attempt to give him a chance. Stupid but you can’t explain why you did it. “Why? Looks like she’s fine in your little family.” You roll your eyes remembering why you don’t try with him. “Don’t roll your eyes, it makes you look stupid. A family costume with him was not cool. She fucking calls him dad but refuse to call me that.”

“And whose fault is that?” He stays silent staring at you for a moment. “Soon enough you’ll run out of money for that fancy lawyer. All I have to do is wait you out.” He turns around and opens the car door, driving off before you could say anything back. You walk back into the house seeing Jo distributing the candy. They all stop and watch you, looking at the table and then you again. “Just leave me some Twix and I’ll be good.” 

Rafe comes back and you all eat some of the chocolates. “Think our parents snuck out candy when we were younger?” Topper asks. Jo and John B were the only ones who said yes which seems accurate. After another thirty minutes everyone left. Jo went to bed leaving you and Rafe alone. 

“You look good in that dress.” Rafe’s lounging on the love seat looking at you. Smiling, you walk over to him and pick up the dress so you can straddle his lap. “Yeah?” He pulls you into a kiss which quickly turns into the two of you making out. His hand found your hips pulling you back and forth on his lap. You lean back smirking down at him. 

He watches as you move over the couch and back to your original spot. The cowboy hat he was wearing earlier comes into view as you place it on your head. His hands reach up unlacing the ties at the front of your dress making it loose. Cocking his head to the side he matches your smirk. “You know what they say about wearing a cowboy’s hat right darling.” 

He presses kisses to your upper breast making his way over to your neck. “Hmm what do they say?” He playfully bites your neck, positioning his hands on your ass so he can easily get up. “Now I’ve been trying to be a gentleman but you’re making it very hard to behave.” You giggle at his commitment to the bit. “Don’t need you to behave. Now why don’t you show me how much you like this dress.”

“Oh darling I hope you don’t have plans tomorrow. I have plans on not making you able to walk.”

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