#least they change and become a part of you

[ludmithjacques]

The last thing Ian had wanted was to join a Home Owner’s Association, but the price was right and he needed a place. At least most of his neighbors were fine enough, and most of the Agreement was reasonable, if mildly annoying. He could do without the busy-bodies, though.

When Sophie Derringer had given him a pointed look from across the street during his daily hang-out with the local Unkindness, he’d just given her a shrug and fed another tidbit to the one he’d taken to thinking of as Crackbeak, due to the crack in his beak. When she’d showed up on his side of the street the next day and asked him what he thought he was doing, he just shrugged again.

“Just spending time with the neighbors,” he joked, the corvids all croaking out a chorus of ‘Neighbors! Neighbors!’, one sitting on his shoulder (He called her Tatter-Tail, due to one tattered looking tail feather) bobbing her head up and down and cawing, almost like laughter.

“You’re inviting a bunch of wild animals into the neighborhood!” Sophie replied, glaring past her bangs. 

“They already lived here,” Ian countered. “They just started congregating in my yard specifically after I started feeding them, that’s all, and there’s nothing in the HOA Agreement about feeding the birds.”

“I’ve still got half a mind to call Animal Control,” she muttered darkly as she walked away.

Ian didn’t pay her much mind. It’s not like she could ban birds from the neighborhood, and if worst came to worst, he could just feed them in his backyard instead of the front, even if it was smaller. 

Sophie didn’t bother him much for the next few weeks, just shooting him glares from the sidewalk whenever she happened to catch him during Raven Time, which had started to become a regular thing after he started bringing a proper variety of snacks to share. He’d started bringing those charcuterie boards from the grocery store once they’d started bringing him actual change. The first dollar bill had resulted in bits of rotisserie chicken being added to the selection.

The Unkindness definitely got a lot bigger after that, but Ian didn’t really see the problem, they seemed to contain themselves to his yard and his tree, and only for an hour or so before dispersing to go do whatever it was ravens did when they weren’t playing around in his grass and begging for snacks. 

Maybe that’s why he was so unprepared when one showed up in the middle of the night, pecking incessantly at his window. It wasn’t his chamber door, but he wasn’t about to criticize. 

“I’m sorry sir or madam, but I’m afraid you’re a bit early for our normal appointment,” he said through the closed window, making a shooing motion. “Come back during business hours.”

The crow did not, in fact, shoo. If anything, it pecked even harder. “Alright, alright,” Ian said, already second-guessing his choice even as he opened the window and allowed a bird into his bedroom, immediately jumping out of the way as it flapped to his desk. 

And then it bowed.

There was was no question that it was a bow. It’s beak touched his desk, and one wing was spread wide, the other tucked close.  “My lord,” the bird spoke, driving Ian’s eyebrows into his hairline. “My deepest apologies for coming to you at this hour, but it is dire!” “Huh?” Ian answered dumbly, the hamster that usually ran the wheel in his brain apparently taking one look at the talking bird and deciding it wasn’t getting paid enough for such nonsense.

“It is the lady Sophie, of the House of Blue! She plots against you!”

“You mean Sophie Derringer? Across the street?” he asked, sitting at the edge of his bed, the raven hopping to the back of his computer chair. She did live in a blue house...

“The same, my lord! She seeks to drive you out!”

“And... How do you know this?” Ian had many, many questions to ask, but part of him was worried that asking things like ‘how are you speaking’ and ‘why am I your lord’ would end what was shaping up to be a fascinating dream. 

“We’ve been watching, my lord,” the raven had the decency to look askance. “She confers with her cronies on the council loudly in her backyard. She seeks to call a vote to ban the Unkindness, in the past, no less!”

“So,” Ian took a minute to translate the terms in his mind. “She’s going to push a vote in the HOA to ban flocks of birds? Retroactively?”

“’Tis a plot against you, my lord!” 

“I mean, yeah, obviously, unless someone’s got a flock of pigeons I don’t know about,” Ian frowned. “But why? You guys aren’t bothering anyone... Are you?”

The bird would was suddenly not looking at him, finding the wall very interesting.

“Are you?”

“We... May have... Adorned her car, for paying you insult.”

“Adorned it with what?”

“Shit.”

“Ah.”

You always got strange looks whenever you fed the neighborhood ravens. “I give them food, they give me company,” you’d say. One day, a raven excitedly comes up to you and whispers, “A neighbor plots against you, my lord.”

[maybejj]

WHEN THE SILENCE ENDS PART 1

SOCIAL MEDIA AU, 18+ MDNI

firefighter!rafe cameron x female!reader

masterlist

warnings: reader and son have a last name for story purposes, reader/pogues are 28/29, rafe is 30

summary: You and your 6 year old son, Jamie, just moved to Outer Banks, North Carolina looking for a quieter life- at least that’s what you tell everyone. The truth? You’re running. As far and as fast as you can so you try to blend in with the locals, really make this place a true home for your son who barely speaks a word these days. On top of constantly looking over your shoulder and a full time job, the house you moved into is a fixer upper and needs all the work it can get. But when Jamie’s first grade teacher, Mrs. Routledge, holds a career day, things start to change. Jamie becomes obsessed with fire trucks and firemen, specifically a certain fireman whose name is Rafe Cameron. And it just so happens that Mr. Cameron is a jack of all trades and uses every single one to break down your walls.

part 2

Notes: another story??? yes. i can’t help it. it’s a problem. anyways, let me know what you think! might be a few updates until rafe shows up, but he’s coming!

tagging a few peeps who seemed interested!: @starkeyvhs @moondustbaby @zyafics @p0isonb3rry @rafesbabygirlx

[tw1sters]

Refire (Part Two)

When Luca left four years ago, he took your heart with him and left you with a decision that changed your entire life. When he finally returns, rebuilding what you had is a little harder when you have a daughter he doesn't know about. A daughter who belongs to him.

▸ PAIRING: Chef Luca x F!Reader ▸ WARNINGS: NSFW 18+ mostly due to making out (no explicit sex scenes), hurt/comfort, reader is a big scaredy cat, some angst, amelia's personality inspired by morgan stark (marvel) but race is neutral/ambiguous <3 ▸ WORD COUNT: 10.5K ▸ A/N: second and last part!! i love luca sm i hope you've enjoyed this heavily self indulgent story. let me know if there are additional snippets you want to see from this lil family! Read part one here

—

Courage is admittedly not part of your list of best personality traits. Dodging Luca becomes a sport when he’s constantly blowing up your phone after you blow him off over texts. His requests to talk are met with sorry, busy or let me find some time only to never return with a time. It’s childish, you know, but you don’t know how you’re going to deal with these questions. 

The man knows where you live too. 

Your parents are tasked with picking Amelia up from Pre-K everyday so you successfully avoid him at the house by camping out at your parents’ until a late enough time or sometimes even staying over. Your mother questions this – in all her years raising Amelia, you’ve never wanted to burden them more than necessary, which means taking Amelia home almost immediately once you get off work. But now you’re practically half moved in as you look at your phone in paranoia. 

Amelia doesn’t mind it. She loves her grandparents because they spoil her rotten and she lets them do it. She is sharp enough not to raise the fact that you only started doing this when she met Luca. She likely knows that Luca isn’t a bad man, her mom is just a fucking coward. 

It’s ridiculous at this point. You can’t avoid your home forever, nor should you. You just need to figure out what to say to Luca that doesn’t make you seem completely insane for not telling him all these years that you have a daughter. 

By the second week, you’re exhausted with this attempt. The calls have dwindled down and the texts are far enough apart that you think you’ve finally worn him down. But just like a lion waiting to jump on its prey, Luca catches you when you least expect it.

When you realize on Tuesday night that you’re out of work clothes for the week, you have to make a pit stop at home. Your car slows to a quiet roll in your neighborhood as your eyes look around, trying to spot Luca’s car. The vehicle isn’t in sight. Maybe it’s safe now. 

You hold your breath all the way to your door and only let out a sigh when you’re past the threshold. The house is quiet. Ever since your pregnancy, this place has been filled with constant noise. First, it was the nonstop screaming at the early hours of dawn, then it was the excited chattering the moment Amelia began to speak. It’s eerie without all the chaos. 

Making your way towards the stairs, you walk slowly but screech to a halt when you see two figures in your living room. What the fuck. 

“Bec?” You squint and the second person turns around, sending your heart straight through to the ground. “Luca?” You squeak a little quieter. 

“Told you she would be back at some point,” Rebecca smirks. 

“Thanks for letting me in,” Luca says, sounding doubtful still. The two have never met. He just blindly trusted a stranger who might’ve broken into your home. 

Rebecca gets up and approaches you, patting you on your shoulder. “Before you get upset, you two need to talk. I’m sorry for throwing you under the bus here but I think he genuinely cares about you and just wants an honest conversation.”

“Bec,” you hiss, “a little warning would’ve been nice.”

“I know, but this had to happen sooner or later. You can’t avoid him forever.”

You could try. 

“I’m just a phone call away if you need to chat, but honestly, he seems like a good guy. You’re in good hands.”

He is. You know he is. That’s why you can’t do this. Rebecca offers one last reassuring smile before she’s out the door, clicking it shut behind her. Silence bathes the room as Luca stares at you and you’re staring at the dead television screen. 

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Luca points out the obvious. “Why?”

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. Suddenly, your throat feels scratchy, your mouth dry. “I didn’t know how to talk about it.”

Luca mulls over this before continuing. “Because you were worried about what I was going to say?”

“Yes. Or what you were going to make me explain to you.”

He rises to his feet, his movements abrupt enough to make you take a step back, ready to run again. Luca looks slightly hurt by that reflex, staying glued to his spot a mere few feet away from you. “If it helps, I can start.” 

You purse your lips and nod. 

“At the risk of sounding like a toxic man and making this about me, I was surprised, yes, that you have a daughter that you never told me about. All those years over the phone, you could’ve told me, but you didn’t. You don’t owe me anything, you don’t have to tell me anything – I understand that. I just… wish you did.” He takes a deep breath. “And it’s not that you lied, because technically you didn’t. I was a little hurt, if I’m honest. Actually, more than a little. What I don’t understand is that how— how do you still consider me your friend when you didn’t tell me this? When you couldn’t tell me this? When you couldn’t trust me with this big part of your life?

“At the end of the day, you shared what you were comfortable with and maybe you just weren’t comfortable enough with me to share the news.”

You sigh, rubbing your arms and gesturing for him to take a seat. You seat yourself next to him. There is enough distance between you that he can’t reach you. Luca would try to comfort you, reassure you that it’s okay, but him doing that may be the final straw that has you breaking down in tears. “It’s not that I wasn’t comfortable – technically. It just didn’t feel like the right time. You were off to do this big, beautiful thing and I didn’t want you to worry about me.”

“I’m always going to be worried about you. That comes with the territory of being a friend.”

“But I didn’t want you to,” you press.

“What if I wanted to? Isn’t that my choice to make?”

“I wanted you to focus on chasing those dreams because I loved to hear how well you’re doing, how it was all worth it to pick up your life to go there.”

Luca runs his hand through his hair. “It was — worth it for a while. At the end of the day, a restaurant is a restaurant.” 

“You were at the restaurant.” 

A bitter laugh bubbles up his throat. “Yeah so what? What’s the point in making it there if my best friend can’t even trust me?”

You wince and he immediately looks remorseful.

“I just— I wish you told me. I can’t turn back time and that’s fine. Now that I do know, I want to know if you’re comfortable sharing more with me. If you’re willing to trust me with it. And if you don’t trust me… or want anything to do with me really, that’s—” he pauses, breath hitching in his throat as he looks at you and swallows. “I’ll accept whatever your terms are. I care about you, I just want you to know that.”

There are no words that you can use to make up for all the lost time. You suffered in silence but you had people around you who held you up and carried you forward. Luca could’ve been one of those people but you chose for him. You chose to exclude him so his feelings are understandable. 

“Luca, it’s not that I don’t trust you,” you say softly, placing a hand on top of his. “I do. You’re one of my best friends, I hope you know that. Honestly, it was just such a tough time for me. My parents weren’t too happy but they came around. Obviously, Rebecca you’ve now met. She’s fucking fantastic, god knows I wouldn’t be here without her. But it was just so hard during that time. It’s a lot easier now. There are always ups and downs but it’s been good. Amelia’s been good. Great even.”

“Let me help you then. I’ve missed out on so much already with you. Amelia seems— she seems absolutely wonderful. I want to know more about her, about you.”

Laughing under your breath, you nod. “I can do that. What do you want to know?”

“We’ll start with how old she is.”

“She’s four.” He does the math in his mind and you can see the realization begin to sink in with how wide his eyes are and how his lips part.

You quickly blurt out, “She’s from someone else. I mean, it was after you left.” The lie tastes bitter on your tongue, but you can’t drop that bomb on him tonight. Not now. Maybe not ever. 

His shoulders sag slightly. There’s a look on his face you can’t comprehend but, before you can process it, he’s already continuing. 

“And the father, he—”

“He’s not around.” 

“What a proper git.”

You laugh again. “No, it’s not on him. I wanted to keep her. It was my call and it’s the best decision I’ve made.” 

“Must be a lot to do it yourself.”

“Takes two villages to raise this one. I’m not all alone. My parents help a lot and Rebecca is officially Amelia’s favorite aunt four years in the running.”

“No favorite uncle yet? Think I could campaign for that spot.”

You can only smile.

He returns it softly. “I’m happy to take part in this village. I’m not fully working right now and have plenty of time.”

“No, don’t even worry about it. I’ve managed so far.”

“Yes, but I’m offering you help. You’ve already done such a great job with her.”

You preen at the praise. “Thank you, but it’s everyone.” 

Then Luca looks at you like he’s memorizing the features on your face. The intensity of his gaze has you stiffening. But his voice is gentle when he says, “I always had a feeling you’d make a great mother someday if you chose to do it.” 

You blink at him in surprise. “What makes you say that?”

“You were constantly fussing over everyone. You were the one who made sure I ate enough and drank enough water. Don’t think I’d be alive today if it weren’t for you.”

“Now you’re just being dramatic.”

“No, really. I owe a lot to you, I hope you know that. Now that I’m back, I’m hoping I can make it up to you.” 

A snort of disbelief escapes you. “You have nothing to make up to me. I’m just glad to have you back, you know. It’s been a while since I’ve felt this much ego in the room.”

Luca leans over this time, laughing. The sound is deep, straight from his belly. It’s rich and it’s attractive. Even more so when you know you’re the reason for it. He’s close enough to you that you get a whiff of him – and he smells like home. 

–

Introducing Luca properly to Amelia isn’t too difficult. She knows him as your friend back from your restaurant days and he floods her with stories of how you were when you were young. 

“She was rebellious but also extremely responsible, a giant contradiction your mother.” 

“Cont— contra— what is that word?” Amelia tilts her head.

“Contradiction. It’s like when two things that don’t usually go together are paired together. Like someone being naughty and nice at the same time.”

She nods, letting out a small ‘ooh’, which draws a smile from Luca. 

With all his free time, he becomes a regular visitor. You don’t mind it in the least, especially when you know Luca can assist you in the kitchen. Usually, it would be you and four other taste testers just waiting for dinner. Now, you’re working side by side, moving around the space just like you used to. 

Luca quickly learns where everything in your kitchen is located – spices, utensils, plates, and cups. It comes easily to a man who’s lived and breathed in various ones for years. He navigates the space as naturally as you do. 

It’s even more helpful when work hits busy season. At quarter end, you’re constantly getting pulled into meetings and last-minute review sessions. 

When your phone rings in the middle of dinner prep, you groan. “I have to take this. Um, feel free to pause until I wrap up. We can finish it then.”

Luca only shoos you away from the kitchen. “Don’t worry, Amelia and I can handle it, right?”

Amelia nods excitedly. She’s been even more ecstatic recently with more people to torment. Luca’s height and build mean he’s been giving her piggyback rides whenever she wants and pushing her guilt-trip eyes to get him to give her more sweets under your nose. And since Luca is four years behind on kissing her ass, he folds like a cheap suit. 

At least it gives you some reassurance that Luca does well with Amelia.

Sometimes, when you look at the two of them, you wonder if this is what your life could’ve been. It could’ve been the two of you raising this beautiful, brainy little girl. He would’ve been right next to you at parent-teacher conferences, you shaking your head at some of her antics and he would just beam proudly. It could’ve been two, but instead Amelia only got one. 

But it’s all meaningless thinking. You don’t have any regrets. Amelia still turned out wonderful and now they’re building their relationship. He doesn’t need to know the truth. He doesn’t need to live with what-ifs that he doesn’t have control over – and that’s just the way you want it. 

You would rather he have this what-if rather than wonder if it was worth it to give up everything he loved for you. 

You push these thoughts away from your mind as you dive into this work fire drill. There’s been plenty of these lately. With you hunkered down with your laptop, Luca keeps Amelia company – and safe because that girl has been a little too curious about the stove lately. 

By the time you crawl out of your cave, you catch the delicious whiff of custard in the air. Your mouth immediately waters because you know exactly what’s baking in your oven. When you reenter the kitchen, the two of them are on the floor, staring at the lit-up oven. 

“This is – maybe was – your mom’s favorite. She wouldn’t ever order anything else. I used to make this for her after work whenever she was feeling tired. It would cheer her up.” You hear Luca share. 

It’s true. You remember the late nights after a long day of grunt work. The ingredients are always in the kitchen and the process simple enough that Luca would have them ready by the time you finish cleaning up the station. The two of you would sit side by side, spooning the sweet treat into your mouth as you chatted about the day. 

Amelia chimes in this time, “She’s still the same! We always get crème brûlée. I like cheesecake, so we always get two desserts.”

“Do you now? Well, I make a delicious berry cheesecake. I’ll have to make you one and bring it over.”

“We can make one together!” She jumps. “How about tomorrow?”

And this is where you step in. “Amelia, Luca might be busy. We can aim for a weekend, okay?”

Luca gets to his feet then, placing his hand on top of Amelia’s head. She leans into his touch. “I can do tomorrow, no problem. I’ll pick up the ingredients on the way here.”

“You really don’t have to. You’re already helping me tonight.”

“I want to. I can do tomorrow.” Luca grins down at Amelia. “Seems only fair since you’re getting your favorite dessert tonight that Amelia gets hers tomorrow.”

She lets out a cheer. You pin her with a look that does nothing to scare her. “Alright, but only if you get all your homework done. Are you all packed for tomorrow?”

“I’ll finish packing my bag now,” she smiles. “Thanks, Uncle Luca!” With one last hug around his legs, she’s dashing off to her room.

You shake your head, sighing. “You spoil her too much. Her dentist will have a field day on her next visit.”

“I’m not above bribing children with desserts. It’s what all those years in restaurants have culminated into,” Luca cheekily grins, completely unapologetic. 

Once the ramekins are out of the oven, Luca waits for Amelia to return before he layers the sugar on top and torches it. She watches in fascination and Luca even offers to help her try it. “Don’t do this without your mum around, promise me,” Luca says. The stern warning in his voice is appreciated. 

And attractive. 

Shit. You dismiss that assessment and turn your attention back to the two. Amelia is focusing intently on how the sugar browns as her small hands wrap around the tool, Luca’s own larger hands covering hers. If you had a camera, you’d capture this moment to remember. 

Three of you are huddled around the dining table with your respective bowls. Amelia does a dramatic first crack through the sugar, thrilled when she finds that it isn’t as thick as it usually is in restaurants. You stick a spoonful into your mouth and nearly melt on the spot. It’s the right creaminess with a sweetness that isn’t excessive. The brittle is crisp, falling apart at the touch of your spoon, but provides a balanced change in texture. The flavor is familiar, one that you’ve tasted time and time again in the Ever kitchen, but somehow it tastes even better. Luca’s perfected this recipe. 

This is the perfect crème brûlée.

“Good god.” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. “This is even better than I remember.”

“I’ve tweaked it a little bit since you last had it. I’m glad you like it.”

Luca offers to do the dishes while you tuck Amelia into bed, which you are grateful for. “Goodnight, Uncle Luca,” she yawns, rubbing her eyes as Luca bends down to accept her hug. 

“Goodnight, baby,” Luca smiles against her head. The term of endearment makes her smile curl just a tad bit bigger.

She waves sleepily before dragging her feet towards her room. You pull the blanket up to her chin. For once, she has no complaints about going to sleep at the designated time. The dessert must’ve done a number on her, not to mention running around with Luca all afternoon. 

“Night, sweetheart,” you mumble, kissing her on the forehead.

“Mommy?”

“Hm?”

“I like Uncle Luca.”

Your lips twitch, threatening to shift into a grin. “Yeah? He’s great, isn’t he?”

“You never talked about him before, but you’re friends. Why?”

You rub her forehead thoughtfully, smoothing out the small creases of her frown. “He wasn’t here. I didn’t think he was going to come back so I didn’t think you would ever get to know him.”

She hums thoughtfully as her eyelids begin to flutter. She’s resisting sleep as best she could but you cover her eyes and she doesn’t fight. “I’m glad he did,” she mumbles before her soft snores fill the room.

“Me too,” you whisper quietly to her. It’s a quiet admission, one you can only make in the safety of this room. 

You’ve lived years without him, but now that he’s back, you can’t imagine what it was like before he returned. It’s as if he had been here all along, integrated into every aspect of your life. He’s etched into every page of every chapter of your book. 

Luca is staring at a wine bottle in the living room when you find him next. He perks up, lips stretching wide. “She’s asleep?”

“Out cold. Thanks for wearing her out. Usually it takes me an hour to put her down.”

He chuckles. “My age is catching up to me. I already feel it in my back.”

“Sounds like you’ve been slacking on working out,” you tease, sliding into the space next to him. “Thinking of drinking?”

“My only responsibility tomorrow is making cheesecake for a four-year-old, so I think I’m good to suffer through a hangover.”

Smirking, you grab him a wine opener and let him do his thing. He expertly pours out two glasses and hands one to you. The cabernet is rich and delicious. The warmth of the alcohol immediately spreads through your systems and your muscles relax into the couch. Just what you needed. 

Somehow, your conversation strays to dating. 

Perhaps it’s the wine, or perhaps it’s you being soft from a day spent with both Luca and Amelia, but you find yourself being more truthful than you’d like.

“You haven’t gone a single date?”

You laugh and groan simultaneously, head thrown back to the couch. “Don’t say it like that. It’s hard to even think about mustering up the energy to get to know someone when you’re raising a kid.”

“I’m just surprised Rebecca never tried to trick you into going on one. She looks like the type to plot that behind your back.”

“Oh, trust me. She has. Except I had to bring Amelia along so my blind date made himself scarce when he saw his promised date show up with a child.”

Luca scoffs, “Sounds like she has terrible taste in men. For you at least.”

“Oh, yeah? Who would you set me up with then?”

The question catches him by surprise. His lips thin as his eyes dart away. The wine on your tongue suddenly tastes sour. “Don’t think I have any good mates to set you up with.”

“That’s unfortunate,” you grin, “though, I don’t think they would take too kindly to our friendship anyway. At the rate you’re going, I wouldn’t be surprised if Amelia accidentally calls you dad.”

You don’t realize the gravity of your words. They were said in jest. They were meant to be lighthearted. But the look on Luca’s face says otherwise. It’s a combination of shock and awe and bashfulness. 

“A-accidentally, you know,” you try to emphasize. 

“Would it be so bad though?” Luca murmurs quietly, his hand inching closer on the back of the couch towards you. His fingers ghost your bare shoulder, decorated only by the thin strap of your dress. “For her to call me that.”

Your heart beats so hard in your chest, it feels like it’s going to spill out. No words could even come to mind in that moment, not when Luca’s touching you. Not when he’s leaning closer. Especially not when you feel the softness of his lips against yours. 

He tastes saccharine sweet, the gentle kind like a candy that soothes your aching throat. You barely hear him shift towards you until the pillow next to you dips. Then his hand is wrapping around the back of your neck and pulling you closer. His fingers climb to bury in your hair as he lets out a small moan against your lips. His touch, his smell, everything about him overwhelms your senses. 

The Luca you knew before was a little clumsy, a little hesitant. But the man before you today is confident. He’s sure of his movements as his teeth catch your bottom lip, drawing a whimper from your throat. His tongue swipes over the bite before he presses in. 

Luca’s large hands then slide down to your hips to pull you on top of him, trapping his legs in between yours. Your arms wind around his neck to pull him even closer until your bodies are pressed flush together. Your breasts push against his firm chest as his thick arms circle your body, holding you tight. 

You only part to gasp in a little bit of air before he’s slanting his lips over yours again. “You’re fucking gorgeous,” Luca mutters as he begins moving his mouth along your jaw and down your neck. His lips are hot against your sensitive skin, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses that have you shivering. With only your panties and his jeans separating the two of you, you could feel the strain of his erection growing against your core. 

“God, you taste so good. Missed kissing you like this,” he mumbles as he makes his way back to your lips, keeping his mouth on your skin the entire time. 

“Luca, please,” you whine, hands tentatively playing with the hem of his shirt. You sneak your fingers up his abdomen, feeling the solid torso underneath. Your palms stretch over the planes of his abs, toned and firm. 

“When’s the last time, love? Tell me.”

“I don’t know, years,” you mutter. It’s been years. The last time was… 

It’s as if the glass between your past and present cracks. The splinters cut through the haze as you realize where you are. Your daughter is in the next room, sound asleep, while you’re out here on the lap of her father, who doesn’t even know he’s—

You’re quick to scramble off him with your rattling heart, standing away from the couch with your fingers pressed against your lips. They still tingle from where Luca’s kissed you. You can still taste him on your tongue. The shame settles in swift and heavy in the pit of your stomach. 

With his frazzled hair and shirt slightly bunched up, Luca looks at you in confusion. The fog in his eyes is slowly dissipating. “What's wrong?”

“Shit, Luca. I can’t. I can’t do this. I—”

He bounds to his feet and approaches you slowly, hands sliding up your arms to take hold of your shoulders. He pulls you in for a hug when you don’t protest. This feels safe. You feel protected. But you know it’s all a mirage. Temporary. 

“Hey, deep breaths, sweetheart. Tell me what you’re thinking about. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” you swallow, “my daughter’s right there for god’s sake. I’m a terrible mother.”

“No, you’re not. She’s asleep. She’s fine.”

You jerk back, extracting yourself from him. “What if she walked out and saw us? Oh god, how would I explain that to her?”

“Okay, I understand. But she didn’t. You’re fine. If she did, we would’ve sat her down and talked to her.”

“And what would I say? What could I even say to make it better?”

“Sweetheart—”

“Don’t.” The word is sharp. Hard enough to actually have Luca stop in his tracks. “Amelia is everything to me. Everything I do is for her. I shouldn’t have— this was a mistake.”

A mask of hurt settles on his face. “Don’t say that. You can’t tell me you don’t feel it too.”

“It doesn’t matter what I feel. I’m all she has, Luca. I can’t have anyone leave her. You’re— she already likes you too much. And if you leave again, I don’t know what I would tell her.”

Luca frowns, stepping towards you. “I’m not leaving. I told you I’m here for a while.”

“A while is not forever, Luca,” you whisper. “You’re still out there pursuing this big dream of becoming a chef. You’ve worked in some of the greatest places in the world. This home – it’s so small and it’s nothing compared to what you’ve built out there.”

“Don’t say that. You’ve created such a wonderful home. The only thing that gets me up in the morning these days is coming here, coming to you and Amelia. You don’t know how much this place means to me.”

For now. This place means something for now. The same way Ever meant something then. The same way you may have mattered in the past. But things are different now – you’re different now. It’s no longer just you. You’re not on your own anymore, and you’re not going to saddle him with your choices. You’re not going to have Amelia suffer from your choices. Not when he still has so much to offer the world. Not when he’s likely to leave again for the next big thing. 

It’s one thing to long for something you’ve never had. It’s another to lose something you’ve always wished for – after you’ve had it.

“I can’t do this,” you shake your head. “I’m sorry. It’s complicated.”

“Why is it complicated? Help me understand. What can I do to uncomplicate it?”

Your breath is shaky as you inhale. “There’s nothing you can do.”

His eyes slide shut as he swallows thickly, his arms falling limp by his side. “So what now then? Are you going to cut me out of your life again?”

“I never cut you out of my life.”

“You practically did. I saw how distant you were during those calls, how you could barely even look at me. For a while, I thought I had done something wrong – if leaving had been a mistake. Now I understand why and there’s no fault on anyone’s side. But now I’m also here. I’m here with you and I want to stay here – if you’ll let me.”

And you know it’s too late now. You should’ve thought through the consequences to the end. Amelia has grown fond of Luca. She’s attached to him. You can’t possibly be the person to strip her of that happiness. 

“I want you to stay. For Amelia,” you clarify. The light in his eyes flickers, dimming slightly. “I don’t think I’m ready for… whatever this is, Luca. When you decide to leave again, chase the next thing, I already have to prepare Amelia for that.”

“You don’t know if I’m going to leave again,” he murmurs quietly.

“I think the risk itself is enough,” you say with a sympathetic smile. He understands, it’s clear from the way he looks at you. He’s conflicted, his fingers itching to reach out to you again and go back to minutes ago when he was wrapped around you. But he also understands why you’re concerned. 

So he nods. “Yeah, that makes sense. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Please do not apologize,” you laugh, “I enjoyed it – while it lasted. Plus it makes me feel pathetic when you pity me.”

“I definitely do not pity you. Pretty sure I’m pitying myself for messing it up with someone as wonderful as you.”

Your lips twitch, breath huffing in a laugh. “You’re cheesy when you’re drunk." A beat of silence before you say, "You should stay tonight. It’s late and you’ve had too much to drink. I’ll get you some clothes.” The reluctant look on Luca’s face means that he has a question and you already have a feeling what it is. “It’s not… they’re your clothes. You left a few things here last time.”

“Right, thanks.”

When you leave Luca to sleep last night, you drag your feet to your room with a heavy heart. 

You’ve lost him once. You don’t think you can survive a second time.

–

Things are as they should be after. The dynamic between you and Luca returns, Amelia is none the wiser. However, you note that there is slightly more tension in the air now. It’s in the way he chances glances at you, sneaking peeks whenever he thinks you’re not looking. You do the same to him, your eyes trailing over the way his arms move when he’s working in the kitchen. 

It’s easier since Luca started staging at The Bear. It’s a temporary opportunity – he’s not even sure how much longer the restaurant will be around, judging by what their funder said. But he likes the team and the menu, so he’s taking it one day at a time. 

Amelia isn’t too pleased that her time with Uncle Luca is reduced. He apologizes profusely for only being able to come around on Sundays when the restaurant is closed. There are some days that he comes over at night, tired down to his bones, but he still puts on a smile for her. Most of the time, Amelia is fast asleep, but he leaves traces of himself behind for her – a slice of leftover pie, a cheesecake, and even a new stuffed animal in the shape of a cheesecake. She hugs that one to sleep every night now. 

Your parents swoop in. They’ve been wondering why you haven’t been bringing Amelia around as much. 

“Had a little help,” you only say. Your dad doesn’t think much of it but your mom has always been the more observant one. 

“What kind of help?” She prompts.

“A friend.”

“That’s not Rebecca?”

You shrug. “Sure.”

“Are you seeing someone?”

“Mom! No,” you sputter, heat crawling up your neck as you focus on stirring the soup for dinner. 

“Then why are you being so coy about it?” She teases, poking your side. “You have no problem talking about any of your other friends, but here you are – getting all fussy when I ask you such simple questions.”

The warmth only grows and you duck your head, lest she realize how hard you’re blushing. “He’s an old friend. Back from my cooking days.”

“Oh? I didn’t realize you still spoke to any of them.”

Chewing on your bottom lip, you shake your head. “I don’t. He’s – he was gone for a while. He was in Copenhagen and now he’s back.”

“That’s nice. I’m happy you have someone else supporting her.” 

“Me too.”

“So is this the Uncle Luca that Amelia won’t stop talking about? Pretty sure your dad’s upset that he’s no longer her favorite man.”

You laugh, switching off the stove and calling the rest into the dining room to eat. “Yes, I’m surprised she’s already talking about him.”

“We call her too, you know. I’m a little worried about her teeth based on how many desserts he’s bringing her.”

“He’s trying not to spoil her too much, but that comes with the territory of being a pastry chef. He’s very good, though. I almost forgot how good he is.”

“That good, huh?”

The implication in her words is not lost on you. “Dinner’s ready.”

Dinner is lively. Amelia spends all that time catching them up on things they’ve missed, which really isn’t a lot. Your parents adore Amelia and would spend hours listening to her talk on the phone. However, with every mention of Luca, you could feel irritation rising in your dad. Jealousy is foreign territory to him.

In the middle of dinner, your phone rings and you step away from the table. It’s Luca. 

“Hey, I stopped by the house, but you weren’t here.”

“Oh, yes. We’re at my parents’ today.”

“Got it.”

“Did you need something?”

“No, no. Marcus and I were experimenting with a new cheesecake recipe so I wanted to bring some samples by before I headed home. I could drop it off at your parents’ if you’d like.”

Your eyes fly to your family at the table. While your dad’s attention is still focused on Amelia, your mom’s curious eyes are trained on you. “Um, no, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. You can keep it.”

“It’s no problem at all. Let me know the address?”

You confirm with him and send the address over. Luca does live closer to your parents than he does you, so it works out that he can drop it off on his way home. When you return to the table, your mom doesn’t press for answers. She just takes another spoonful of her soup.

However, when the doorbell rings, she’s the first one on her feet – as if she anticipated this all along. You’re a second too late to intercept when your mom is at the door, greeting Luca who – even after a full day in the kitchen – still looks delicious. He smells delicious too. 

“You must be Luca,” your mom immediately says.

Great. Now he’s going to think that you’ve been talking about him. His gaze shifts to you in question. “Amelia,” you say to clarify. “She’s been raving about your company. I think she’s breaking my dad’s heart.”

His laugh is delightful. Your mom seems to think so too when she smiles a little wider. “I am Luca. It’s wonderful to meet you.” He extends his hand, holding a full cheesecake in the other. You’ll only admit to yourself how sexy it is that he holds these massive pastries like they weigh nothing. 

“Why don’t you come in? We’re having dinner right now.”

Luca – knowing full well you eat dinner at seven on the dot – sends you a questioning look at the fact that you’re having dinner at ten. A time in which Amelia should be in bed too. You shrug, “My parents eat late and Amelia takes every opportunity to not sleep when she’s not supposed to. It’s Friday anyway.”

He only nods. “I don’t want to intrude and—”

“You wouldn’t be intruding. Come on in.”

You grasp your mom’s arm. “Luca’s just being polite. He’s exhausted and he’s still working tomorrow. Pastry starts very early over there.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” your mom relents. “We must have you over for dinner next time then.”

“That would be lovely, thank you for the invitation. I’m here to drop off dessert.”

“What a sweet boy. It’s been a while since my daughter has brought anyone around. In fact, I think this is the first time.”

You groan as Luca pinks. “Mom, please don’t start. Luca, please ignore her.”

“A woman can still dream, you know,” your mom grins. 

Before either of you can respond, Amelia is barreling down the hallway and throwing herself around Luca’s legs. You’re quick to take hold of the dessert so that he can bend down to embrace her. “Uncle Luca, I didn’t know you were coming! Are you hungry? Mommy made chicken noodle soup.”

“Did she? That sounds delicious.”

“You smell really good.”

“I was baking your favorite dessert.”

Amelia looks up at the platter in your hand. “Cheesecake! Thank you, Uncle Luca.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. I can’t stay for dinner but I’ll come by on Sunday and we can learn how to make bread. How does that sound?”

“With cheese?”

“Lots of cheese. I’ll bring at least three kinds.”

Amelia hums in excitement and eagerly agrees. Your dad stands behind my mom, eyeing Luca with suspicion. And envy. Luca only smiles politely at him and introduces himself. It doesn’t appear to appease him, but it’s a start. 

“Anyways, I’ll let you folks get back to it. Hope you enjoy dinner.” Luca says to the group who say their own farewells. He turns to you, gaze softening a fraction. The edges of the emerald chipping away. “See you Sunday?”

You smile, “Sunday.”

As you’re putting away dishes with your dad that night, he keeps throwing looks your way. He wants your attention and you have a feeling of what he’s going to ask, so you would rather avoid this conversation altogether. 

“So,” he starts and the sigh that leaves you is involuntary. “Luca then?”

“What about him?”

“He seems nice.”

“He is.” 

Your dad is silent for only a moment before he delivers words that have you choking on air. “Honey, you know your sex life is none—”

“Nope, oh god, no. We are not talking about this.”

“I just want to make sure you’re being safe. You already have Amelia and we do want more grandkids but maybe once you’re fully prepared.”

You’re practically wheezing, closing your hands around your ears. “I don’t want to hear this from you, Dad. I’m an adult. I’m good. I know about the birds and the bees.”

“Oh, dear,” your mom’s voice interrupts as she bumps her husband by the hip. “Go do the final tuck-in for Amelia. I can finish up here.”

Your dad opens his mouth to protest but the look your mom sears him with has him scampering out of the kitchen. 

“Your dad means well.”

“I’m aware, he just needs to work on his delivery. There are probably better ways to say don’t get knocked up a second time.”

Your mom laughs as she closes the dishwasher. “I don’t think your dad or I would mind another grandchild. We’re only saying to be responsible about it. We can see you’re fully capable of raising children on your own but it doesn’t hurt to have an extra pair of hands. Especially when they come attached to a tall, British man who already adores Amelia as much as you do.”

“Mother,” you say in exasperation. Only your parents could make baby-making sound so unsexy. 

“And I know you wouldn’t tell us who Amelia’s father is but… I can’t help but see the resemblance.”

You wet your lips, your eyes going everywhere except to meet your mom’s. “Pure coincidence.”

“Does he know?”

“Mom.”

“Does he? Because he doesn’t seem like the type to up and abandon his daughter.”

Sighing, you shake your head. “No, he doesn’t. I’d like to keep it that way.” Your mom tilts her head in question. “It’s complicated, but he was headed to Copenhagen for work. It was a big opportunity. If I told him I was pregnant, he would’ve stayed.”

Your mom hums in understanding. She doesn’t confirm whether or not what you had done was a mistake. Instead, she only kisses you on the forehead. “You’re too good a kid, you know that.” 

“Think that’s mostly from dad.”

She laughs and flicks your cheek. “I take it back. Go get some sleep. Before the ogre gets you.”

“I’m not five anymore, Mom.”

“You always are in my eyes, honey. Goodnight.”

–

All good things must come to an end. Or so they say. 

When you hit rock bottom back then, you had been drowning in your own misery. Looking at your pregnancy test all those years ago felt like your entire life was crumbling down around you. The castle you had built cracking from the inside. 

While your parents came around at some point, it was Rebecca who really held your hand through it all. She was the one who held your hair back in the bathroom time and time again. She let you bawl through the emotional rollercoasters on her shoulder. She stood by you as you explained to your parents why they should support you. She was your rock. 

But the best thing about her is that she keeps you grounded. She’s never afraid to be honest, to push you out of your comfort zone. There are a lot of things that you’re scared about but it’s a lot easier with your best friend by your side. 

And you know that sometimes you take her for granted. It’s hard to spend time with your friend Rebecca instead of Aunt Rebecca with Amelia. Of course, you love it when the two are together and obviously Rebecca would take a bullet for Amelia, but it’s different when it’s just the two of you. 

Nights like this one – Amelia at your parents and it’s you and her on the couch with tubs of ice cream and Hugh Grant on television attempting to murder these two girls –  are rare to come by. Hugh Grant is nothing compared to the story Rebecca is telling in great detail about her most recent client. As a PR director, she works with the coolest people. Celebrities, influencers, huge corporations. Everyone wants a piece. You always listen to her in awe.

“So what happened when you told this A-list actress no?”

Rebecca rolls her eyes. “The tantrum that she threw. At least one glass furniture broke in my office that day. We have it all on camera. If I were a terrible person, I’d threaten to sell it to TMZ.”

“Jesus, the diva. This is why you can’t trust anyone these days.”

“Well, not just anyone,” Rebecca says with a pointed look. 

You know what she’s getting at. That’s the first comment she makes on the topic that night. She’s baiting you into giving her more intel. There are occasions where Rebecca and Luca overlap but for some reason, they really haven’t seen each other much since that first night when she forced you to talk to him. 

When you don’t bite, she’s on to her next story. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t say yes,” you tell her in disappointment. “You could’ve been dating a billionaire. We could’ve shared the perks.”

Rebecca snorts, “No amount of money could’ve convinced me to date that man. He’s all bark and no bite. Actually, I did hear a rumor that he bites people.”

“For a billion dollars, I might let him. Just introduce us,” you giggle, bumping her shoulder.

Rebecca laughs, “Unfortunately, you’re taken.”

A blush surfaces on your neck. “I am not.”

She gives you a look as she digs her spoon deep into the half-finished pint of Neapolitan. “Who are you kidding? You’re basically dating.” 

Well… “I might’ve forgotten to tell you something,” you start, wincing when she cocks an eyebrow in question. “We made out the other day.”

“What? When?”

“Um, he was here and I had put Amelia into bed. This was before he started staging.”

A gasp slips past her pink lips. “You’re telling me this now? So what happened? What do you mean you’re still not taken? Was he not as good as you remembered?”

No, he was better. You groan, dropping your own tub onto the table before you inhale the entire thing to distract yourself from the pain that persistently tugs at your heart. “I told him we shouldn’t.”

“What? Why would you do that?”

“Look, I don’t know how long he’s going to stick around. When he leaves, I have to pick up the pieces with Amelia. I can’t also be dealing with being heartbroken a second time.” 

Rebecca inhales deeply. You know that look. She’s trying to be patient with you. This is the look she gives you whenever you do something she disapproves of – which, considering you’re a coward, is a lot of times. 

“Let me get this straight. You have this gorgeous man with a hot, posh accent who’s wooing you and who wants to be with you and your daughter? Oh, and he’s also the father. And you’re saying no? The math isn’t mathing, babe.”

You sigh. “It’s not that easy. What if one day he finds out that he’s the father and I didn’t tell him all this time?”

“Wouldn’t that be a good thing?”

“I don’t want him to hate me for keeping something so big from him.”

“So instead, you would rather have him have nothing to do with you?”

“We can stay friends.”

“News flash, you guys aren’t friends. He was in your home practically every day. If he weren’t working, he would’ve likely already moved in here. Amelia is so fond of him. I wouldn’t be surprised if she called him dad at some point.”

“Fuck, that’s what I said.”

“Yeah, fuck. Don’t be an idiot. Luca is fantastic. He’s great with Amelia and your parents. Why would you not want him?” 

“Because I would just hold him back.”

Rebecca turns her entire body to face you now. “Hon, you know I love you. But you’ve got to stop playing this martyr. It’s frankly getting ridiculous. Stop using him as an excuse to avoid doing things you’re scared of doing. It’s okay to admit that you’re worried about getting your heart broken again. It’s okay to admit that you’re terrified of this big, beautiful thing you could have. But you can’t live in a world of what-ifs forever.”

It’s a harsh truth that burns. She’s right. For years, it’s been easy to blame what had happened for your forgotten dreams. But it had ultimately been your choice – to have Amelia, to lie to Luca, and to rely solely on yourself. With Amelia growing up, you know that you have the opportunity to turn things around. You could go back to pursuing your dreams of being a chef. You could go out and date again. You could do things for you. 

“I love you so much. You’ve given your everything to Amelia. You’ve made her your everything. Maybe it’s time to give yourself that grace as well.” 

With Luca, you know that you can never move forward until you tell him the truth. It’s going to be a secret that hangs over your heads. For any future with him – or to potentially even lose it forever, you have to finally share who he is to Amelia. 

A big part of you is hopeful – that he would be thrilled to find out and that he would welcome it with open arms. The next hurdle would be telling Amelia, but you’re hoping that’s something you can wait a little longer to overcome. 

However, a small part of you – the one that Rebecca points out – is still living that fearful what-if scenario. What if he gets upset and leaves? What if he never comes back? 

And the answer to those is another question: what’s the worst that can happen?

He decides that he doesn’t want this and moves on. So you yourself would also learn to move on. You would tell yourself down the line that you dodged a bullet. You’ve raised Amelia for four years, you can do it for the rest of your life without the support of a man. 

So you rip off the band-aid. 

On Sunday, after a long day of sun and desserts, Amelia is finally out cold. She had actually fallen asleep in Luca’s arms in front of the TV and he carried her to bed before rejoining you on the couch. For someone who hates being told to go to sleep, she’s been falling asleep on her own more so recently. It’s a nice change. 

Now to the situation at hand. It’s now or never. 

“We need to talk,” you start nervously. Your palms are clammy and you can feel sweat collecting in your hairline at the thought of this conversation. Luca probably noticed that you’ve been slightly distracted all day, but you didn’t want to wait too long. The fear that your fear will come back is too big. 

“Sounds serious,” Luca says, shifting his body so his arm is draped on the back of the sofa and he is turned to you entirely. All his attention on you. 

“I’m going to tell you something and I just need you to keep an open mind and try not to hate me at the end of this.”

His eyes go soft again, like they always do when he’s with you. It makes you hope even a little that things will turn out fine. “I could never hate you.”

A strained laugh escapes your lips. “Don’t speak too soon.”

“Tell me,” he urges. 

It’s his quiet confidence in you that finally has you spilling everything. Starting from the moment you found out, to your decision to keep it from him, and to today. How you never meant for him to find out. 

Then Luca is on his feet and your biggest fear may have materialized. He’s going to leave. 

But he only paces the length of the room, brows furrowed in deep thought. He’s not looking at you but your eyes are stuck on him, tracing his every movement, following him in case he disappears. 

“So she’s mine” is what he opts to start with.

“In the technical, genetic sense, yes.”

“Why—” he seems to be stuck in this loop of disbelief. His words keep getting caught in his throat and he ends up looking puzzled on how to even address the situation. You’re surprised – but grateful – that he’s more confused than upset. Or at least he appears to be. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want to be a regret. Not to you.” 

Your answer only appears to confuse him more. “Why— why would you think that you’d be a regret?”

“Luca, you’re so talented. You’re meant to do great big things out there. I’ve seen how you work, the passion and heart you put into every single one of your dishes. With a baby – I couldn’t imagine what that life would be like for you. I know you. You would’ve given up Copenhagen, you would’ve stayed.”

“Of course, I would have.”

“And I didn’t want you to!” You exclaim, your fingers pushing through your hair. “Copenhagen was your everything. If I told you about the baby, you would’ve left your dream – and what then? What if you resent me for the rest of your life because of my choice?” 

Luca shakes his head. “I told you I could never resent you.”

You smile weakly at him. “You don’t know that.” 

“You’re my best friend,” Luca says softly. “I would’ve been there for you, no questions asked. Any restaurant can be the greatest in the world. But you – there’s only one of you and I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.” 

“That’s just stupid,” you mutter dumbly through your tears. 

Luca laughs and reaches up with both hands to dry your eyes. “It’s not stupid. It’s the truth. You’re so important to me. I don’t know if you know that. You were the reason why I stayed at Ever as long as I did. Your faith in me was what kept me in Copenhagen. Noma was hard, even harder knowing the shit pay I was getting. But every time I talked to you about it, you would light up – and all I could think about was how I should stay so I could keep telling stories that make you smile.”

The confession has your mind reeling, your heart lodging in your throat. “I didn’t know that. You just – you looked so happy to be there.”

He offers a small smile. “It got better.”

“I’m glad it did because it would’ve been ridiculous if you only stayed to tell me stories.” 

With a shrug, he easily says, “I would’ve. For you.” 

A quietness falls between the two of you. Two revelations. This isn’t how you expected the evening to go, yet you don’t mind it in the least. 

It’s Luca who breaks the silence first. He looks hesitant at first but decides to ask anyway, “Can I ask you something?” You nod. “Her last name—”

“It’s mine,” you blurt out. “I mean, it felt more natural. Since it was just going to be me and her.” 

A flicker of hurt crosses his eyes, a look so brief that you nearly miss it. It’s unmistakable. He looks away before you can see it, but you did. “Makes sense,” he murmurs under his breath. 

“Luca, I don’t— I need to be clear that I’m not expecting anything from you. I made this decision on my own. It’s not your responsibility.”

“She’s my daughter,” he says, a sharpness to his words that you didn’t expect. Your surprise must be clear on your face because he quickly softens. “I’m not trying to step on your toes. When I came back to Chicago, I wasn’t expecting this. I mean, I certainly was not expecting you to have a child. But I also wasn’t expecting her to be mine.”

You’re not sure what to say to that. Your fingers are laced together on top of the table and you pick at the dry skin on your thumb to distract yourself from your heart threatening to hurtle out of your chest. You try to keep your voice steady as you speak. “I know this comes as a surprise. I just want to reassure you that she’s my daughter first and foremost. She’s my responsibility. I don’t want you to think that you have to do anything.”

“That’s frankly the most absurd thing I’ve heard you say all night.”

You immediately look up, your eyes finding his with confusion written all over them.

“The fact that you think I wouldn’t want to do anything. She’s— she’s perfect, sweetheart. You raised her to be strong, smart. She has all the best parts of you and thank god none of me,” he chuckles. “Even if I were here, I don’t think I could’ve done what you did. And for that I’m grateful to you.”

Honest. Raw. Genuine. Your throat feels like sandpaper now, the words lost somewhere in the abyss. 

“About Noma, I don’t even know where to start.”

“I still don’t fully understand why you left. You said it got better. That was your dream.”

“It was,” he says softly, “I had reached it. But it didn’t feel… right. There was something always missing and I couldn’t put my finger on it.”

Nodding slowly, you take your time to digest his words. That had been his entire life. When the two of you were at Ever, all he ever talked about was making it at Noma. It’s every chef’s dream. And he had achieved it. 

“Until now.”

This is the second time you whip up in surprise. “What are you saying?”

“I missed you,” he says, almost a whisper. He says it like a secret. A secret he is sharing for the first time with you. “Gods, I missed you so much. Copenhagen was beautiful. I had a wonderful time but the whole time I was there, all I could think about was— it was being here with you. How we probably could’ve built an equally or even more beautiful life in Chicago. Or I imagined what it would be like for you to be there with me – the two of us cooking and baking like the old days. Sneaking around and eating desserts at the worst hours. Just talking.” 

“Luca…”

“And I’m not expecting you to reciprocate my feelings. I know you were worried about me leaving but I hope I’ve made it clear that I’m not going anywhere. I want to be here with you and with Amelia. I’ve already missed out on four years with her, I have a lot to make up for. But I’ve lost that same number of years with you. You’ve spent so long taking care of others. I want to be here now, I want to take care of you.” 

“I can’t possibly ask you—”

Luca shakes his head. “I want to be very clear. You’re not asking, I am.” 

“But Copenhagen and the restaurants there. You have a life there.”

“I could have a life here too. A better one. The one I want.” Luca inches closer, one of his hands stroking your hair as the other wraps around yours. There’s a comfort to his touch, one that you’ve so desperately missed. “I can work anywhere in the world. I’m constantly learning from every restaurant I’ve worked in. Chicago has some of the best food spots in the world, and even better people who run them. There’s no shortage of that. But in the world, there is only one you and one Amelia, and I’d love it if you granted me the opportunity to be in your lives.”

You swallow thickly. This is exactly what you feared would happen. But here he is — asking this of you as if you hadn’t taken away that option from him to begin with. Here he is telling you that he is choosing this. He wants this with you and with Amelia. 

“Of course you can,” you choke out, laughing lightly through the tears. 

“Oh, love, don’t cry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“Happy tears, I promise.” You smile at him and squeeze his fingers reassuringly. “As for what you said, I missed you too. So much. I don’t even think I realized how much until you came back. And, while I do want something with you, I want to take baby steps. I want to make sure Amelia is okay with all this first.”

“Definitely. I want her to be comfortable with me – being her father but also being around. Once I get her blessing, that’s when I’ll really start to court you.”

A laugh bubbles up your throat. “Court me?”

“Court you,” he grins devilishly.

Your cheeks are beginning to hurt from how much you’re smiling, but you can’t help it. It’s so easy with him. “Thank you for understanding, Luca.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I might just be the worst influence on our daughter.”

The word our makes your heart jump. Our daughter.

You chuckle. “Pretty sure the menace in her comes from my side.”

“You’d be surprised.”

With a deep breath, you sigh and look at him. This gorgeous, beautiful man is all heart. A heart that belongs to you. “Amelia already loves you, being a bad influence might make her love you even more. My dad is already quite disappointed that he’s no longer the favorite man in her life.”

Luca grins unapologetically. “As unfortunate as that is for your father, I am thrilled to hear that. You have no idea. Though, that just means that I also have to win over your parents. I don’t know how pleased they are that I wasn’t around for the first years.”

“I’ll make sure they understand that it wasn’t your fault—”

“I still should’ve known.”

You pin him with a look. “You couldn’t have known. I did everything possible to hide it from you. It’s not on you. They know that to a certain extent. Plus, judging from my mom’s encouraging comments, I don’t think you’ll have to work too hard.”

“Well, still, I hope I don’t disappoint.” 

His fake modesty – which actually is not fake at all because he’s just that humble – is irritatingly sweet. “Luca, you are 6’2” of pure muscle and soft heart. You’ve worked in the coolest places in the world. You’ve been there for Amelia since you found out about her – even when you didn’t know you were the father. You have nothing to be worried about.”

“If you say so,” he smirks and scoots even closer. Your knees are touching and his eyes drop to your lips. “I know you said we’ll go slow but – would you mind if I kissed you every once in a while? No pressure again. Feel free to say no—”

So you do the second brave thing you’ve done today – you lean over and press your lips against his. It’s slow and sweet, sparks compared to the fireworks that one night. Still, you enjoy it all the same. He’s surprised only momentarily before he returns the attention. 

When you finally separate, he leans his forehead against yours. You whisper, “I could really get used to this.”

Grinning, he gives you another peck. “Can’t say I’ll have any complaints about that.”

Tag List: @alexfms97 @capitanostella @eg-dr3amer3 @zulema222 @cloudroomblog @nhloversblog @lilacspider @letmebe0k @messi-jessi603 @imagineslendk @lucycarlisleswife @torubug @tinkcantwrite @marroonwitch @blubra @milescrypt

[solivagant-1]

⋆˙⟡ Let the Light In ⟡˙ ⋆

Ch 2: Suspicion

Characters: Rumi x fem!reader

A/N: Happy to see so many people interested in the fic thus far!! Have some oblivious Rumi & Zoemira crumbs, as a treat. This one’s longer than the last and that’s starting to become a pattern for future chapters lol. Been trying to change canon to make Rumi & Jinu more BroTP than lovers, which means plenty of new scenes (some my own idea, some inspired by concept art) will be coming soon as well. Enjoy!

Y/N must be a demon.

Rumi mentally pats herself on the back for coming to that conclusion.

“Oh, I brought you a gift as well.” You reach into your purse and fish out a small organza bag filled to the brim with tea packets. “Bobby told me about your voice. These teas have worked wonders for mine when I was sick, I imagine they’ll work the same for you,” you smile innocently. The sight makes Rumi’s stomach do a backflip. Maybe two backflips, even worse. “I’ll be sure to bring you some more during practices so you don’t strain your voice.”

She accepts the bag and studies the packets silently. Chances are they’re better than the “tonics” Dr. Han prescribed to her. Your hands brush from the contact and Rumi fails to suppress a shiver that runs through her. 

“Thank you…” Rumi’s voice trails off when she sees very faint lines poking out under the collar of your fitted shirt. She’s close enough to really see your features, and there’s no denying that it must be your demon patterns. Her eyes narrow, startling you with the sudden change. “Or–or I can take them back! I’m sure I have the receipt somewhere.” 

“That won’t be necessary.” Rumi stated, her voice lacking her usual friendliness. Mira notices the change but doesn’t comment on it. Rumi knows she can’t do anything until she’s sure. And even if she is, there’s nothing she can do with Bobby still here.

Throughout the dinner, she just stares at you. Rumi perked up with every anxious tug on your collar. You tried to ignore it, but her gaze was hard to avoid. The staff needed to refill your water repeatedly because your excessive drinking was doing very little to calm your nerves. You were probably the only person on earth who could upset her in less than 5 minutes of meeting without doing a single thing.

Rumi can’t shake the feeling that she’s seen you before. In battle, no doubt. She can only imagine what grotesque form you have hidden underneath that insanely beautiful human disguise.

You were the first to offer to pay once the check came. Even though Bobby initially wanted to, and all the Huntr/x members were richer than god, a small part of you hoped that doing at least this one thing would help get you off Rumi's shit list for the night. You insisted on leaving with Bobby the second he announced his departure. Rumi gives you one last subtle glare before you leave. Fuck, I’m getting fired for sure. 

Once the two are out of earshot, Rumi turns to the group. “I don’t trust her.”

“But she seems so nice! Bobby was right, she seems perfect.”

Mira raises a brow, “You don’t think she’s good enough?” “I think she’s a demon.” That causes all of them to pause. “Don’t you guys think the timing is weird? A demon boy band shows up out of the blue, and now we have new staff.”

“Well to be fair, Bobby said he really needs some extra hands because of them. She doesn’t seem like a demon…” 

“But look at the Saja Boys! They all appear human, but we know the truth! Underneath their so-called hotness they’re just the same disgusting demons underneath. Y/N is probably the same! She’s like, impossibly pretty.”

Zoey and Mira exchange glances. “I didn’t see any marks…but, we trust your judgement. If she’s really up to something, we’ll get to the bottom of it.” Zoey frowns, “I’ll be so sad if she is. Me and Bobby really like her.”

Rather than working on a new song, the trio began tailing you for a whole half day after practice. Peering around corners with binoculars, dodging behind bystanders whenever you glanced their way. Zoey leaped into a bush. And yet, you seemed completely normal. Not one demon-like quality about you. The whole ordeal left them all tired (and Zoey pulling leaves out of her hair) and one less day spent working on the song. 

“This is hopeless” Mira groans as she flops back onto the couch. “Rumi, are you sure she’s really a demon?”

“She’s too attentive.” Rumi argues, “Y/N seemed so suspicious at rehearsal. She was always writing on her tablet or making secret phone calls. She could be a spy, leaking our choreo and lyrics to the Saja Boys!”

“She's our assistant manager. That's…kind of like her job?” Zoey shrugs, snapping off a twig that had dug its way through the holes in her knit sweater. 

“Now I know I can read people pretty well, but Rumi, you’re a whole different story. How much of the session did you spend looking at Y/N instead of memorizing the routine?”

Okay, maybe she spent a little extra time studying you, but she couldn’t help it. It was in the name of research. She noticed how the back of your tablet is filled with stickers of different aquatic life; ranging from sea lions to orcas to whales and many more. Meaning, you have to be a water demon. In Rumi’s mind, she was just connecting the dots!

Rumi deflects the question. “Then what were those marks I saw…”

“Rumi, don’t you think you’re overthinking this?” Mira asks. “Whatever it was you saw on her could’ve been anything. Maybe a scratch or a medical scar. I’m all for killing demons, but in all fairness, you’ve really never given her a chance.” 

“Maybe she isn’t working with the Saja Boys at all and is just trying to support us?” Zoey adds. “I mean, they may be strong, but even they couldn’t hide their patterns for very long.” Rumi looks pensively between the two. “I’ll…I’ll think about it,” she relents as she retires to her room.

Once she leaves, Mira turns to Zoey. “You think she’s gay panicking?” 

“I’ve never seen a gay more panicked.”

“Right…should we, like, do something?”

“I think it’s best we let her figure it out…”

Rumi closes the door behind her, leaning back against it. She could be wrong. But at the same time, she doesn't want to risk the safety of the group. She sighs disheartenedly, looking out her window for an answer. Instead, she sees…a crow with a hat? 

She tilts her head as she steps onto the balcony. “Is that a bird? Wearing a tiny hat?” The bird shrieks, revealing 2 extra sets of yellow eyes right under the first. 

“What?” The bird walks along the railing in an unbothered fashion towards the end of the balcony. Rumi follows with a gleam of curiosity in her eyes.

From the shadows, a set of bright glowing eyes appear behind her, followed by a low rumbling growl. Rumi gasps, materializing her saingeom to point it at the creature. The feline slowly emerges from the darkness, and Rumi needs a moment to comprehend the sheer size of it. It stalks closer and closer until it knocks down a flowerpot. The tiger brings its massive paw down to position it back up. It fails once. Then twice. On the third attempt, Rumi turns to the bird for an explanation, who only squawks the equivalent of a sigh. Rumi bends down to fix the pot upright. The tiger’s pupils dilate, stepping forward, only to knock it over again. She laughs, the bird tilts its head up and caws once more.

“No. No really, it's okay. Just leave it.” The tiger sits up. “What are you?” Rumi asks in awe. The tiger’s mouth opens and an object spills out from its tongue. Rumi picks up the slimy card. 

“Hello, friend.” It reads on the cover. She opens it to reveal a note written in Korean, “Jinu? Ji–Jinu? Oh, meet you? Ugh,” she scoffs, “I’m not gonna meet you. Who do you think you–” she yelps as the crow flies past her and settles on the tiger’s head. The tiger sinks into the swirling blue pool forming under its body. Its eyes don’t stray from the flowerpot as it vanishes past the Honmoon’s seal. Rumi leans over the railing and sees the tiger re-appear in the streets below. It only casts a brief glance at Rumi before it sets off, no doubt leading her to wherever Jinu is waiting. Rumi smirks, crumbling the note in her hand. “Okay, Jinu. Let’s meet.”

The tiger leads her to an empty shopping district with tiered eaves and stone statues. The area was lit by the soft glow of a few scattered lanterns. Rumi peers around the corner just in time to see the tiger jump into a building, disappearing completely. On the top of a roof, a figure stands with his back towards her. Jinu.

She parkours onto walls and roofs, twirling and spinning mid air until she reaches the top, drawing her blade. Rumi lunges. Her blade slices through his body with a deep battle cry. Its head rolls to the edge, turning out to be only a mannequin with a wig. “What?”

“Wow. I wasn’t expecting a hug, but–” Rumi yells angrily, pointing the tip of her blade to his neck. Jinu backs away with his palms held out, “Jeeze, okay, okay.” He jumps backwards onto the next building, Rumi still swinging. “Calm down, I thought the mannequin was gonna be a fun icebreaker,” he squats down, trying and failing to explain himself to Rumi. “But I see I was wrong.”

They jump onto another building because of Rumi’s relentless swinging. “Hey! I just wanna talk.” “Talk?”

“About your patterns? But first, I wanna talk about those pants,” he points down. “Teddy bears and Choo Choo trains? Really?” Rumi looks at him in disbelief. Jinu whispers a train sound that only serves to piss her off even more. She slams her saingeom down, “You were supposed to be dead!”

“Woah, hey! I could’ve told your friends what you are.” He holds his hands out in defense. Jinu vanishes in a purple mist, appearing on the other side of the roof. “But I didn’t, did I? Because they don’t know.”

Rumi gasps, giving it away. “Ah, I did guess right. A demon girl, also hunter. Hiding, walking around free in the human world.”

“Just hunter, not demon.” “Then how’d you get the patterns?” he points out. “Thats none of your business.” 

“Huh…I know what it feels like to have them.”

“Feel? You’re a demon. Demons don’t feel anything.”

“Is that what you think? That’s all demons do. Feel. Feel our shame, our misery. It’s how Gwi-ma controls us. Do you not hear him in your ear?” Rumi narrows her eyes at the new information. “What are you talking about?”

“Huh, you’re lucky. I’ll never forget the first time I heard him. That was 400 years ago.” He tells his story of his poor family, how Gwi-ma called out to him, gave him his voice, only to be condemned to the demon realm. “Every day since, I’ve been haunted by the memory of failing them. These,” Jinu holds out his glowing hands, “are a constant reminder of my shame. A shame I can never escape.” 

He looks down at Rumi, “Yours are a reminder too, of a shame of your own.”

Rumi’s gaze hardens, “You don’t know me.”

“You know you can tell me. I’ll understand. I’m the only one who can.” Rumi raises her sword to his chest, a signal for him to back off. “I’m nothing like you.”

“Denial, I get it.” Jinu walks backwards to the edge of the roof. “I was there once too. I’ll be here when you’re done pretending. Until next time.”

“There won’t be a next time!” Rumi grits out, raising her sword. Jinu disappears into mist before she can land a strike. She yells at the empty spot in defeat.

When Rumi arrives back home, she tosses her pajamas into a hamper and gets into bed. Now is not the time to think about him, but the fans. The signing event tomorrow will be the perfect distraction. No Saja, no Jinu, just Huntrix and their fans.

—

“The saja boys will sit with us!” 

Maybe it's not too late to pick a better career.

You were assigned mundane tasks before the event. Arranging all the signing materials, ensuring the limo would arrive on time, all simple things to ease Bobby’s workload. You thought you’d be able to just sit back in the sidelines and let Bobby handle the rest. After all, there wouldn’t be much else to do once the event started. But now that the Saja Boys are here, sitting between each idol no less, you’re forced to anxiously mend the chaos unfolding between the two groups. 

First, by finding a way to mask Mira’s reddening face from her growing annoyance as she sits between the pink haired Saja Boys, glaring fiercely at the two, and also at Mystery for whatever reason. You figured you’d start there.

Across the way, Jinu turns to Rumi. “I didn’t think you liked sharing.” “I love sharing.”

“Oh, so you shared your secret to your friends? Should I tell them?”

“No, I’m going to tell them, eventually.” Rumi glances down at the table, seeing you approach Mira from the side. Then looks at Zoey, whose grinning ear to ear while speaking to another fan. 

“Heyy Mira, want some water?” You hold out a bottle. She mutters a small “No thank you” while staring daggers at the back of Mystery’s head. If looks could kill…

“Well, if Mira isn’t thirsty…” Abby’s hand encircles your wrist, trailing it down until he grasps the bottle, “I’m parched, mind if I take this?” He asks with a smug grin.

A few fangirls scream and faint in the crowd which draw the attention of both Zoey and Rumi. Zoey brushes it off, seeing how repulsed you looked at the action and laughing when you snapped your hand back from Abby. But Rumi’s eyes remain fixated on the scene, feeling strangely uneasy at the sight.

“If you’re so confident about stealing our fans,” she whispers to Jinu, “why infiltrate our staff in the first place, then?” His brows furrowed. Rumi cocked her head to your direction, then he finally got the hint, His mouth twisted into a smile. “She is not one of ours, though I wish I thought of that.” Jinu admits, pleased at the way Rumi’s expression shifts into disbelief.

Could she actually be innocent? “And how do I know you’re not lying to me?”

He simply shrugs. The next fan who steals his attention gives Rumi the chance to mull over this revelation. Rumi casts her gaze back to your direction. When your eyes meet, she turns back to the stack of posters in front of her, face flushed a light shade of pink from being caught staring.

“Does she know?” Jinu asks. “Or is she just another person you’re hiding your true self from?”

“Are you whispering?” A fan, a girl with glasses and a bob, smiles between the two. Rumi and Jinu sign the poster quickly before handing it back. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.” She points at her cotton shirt with the words “Rujinu” painted on, along with a very interesting drawing. The two awkwardly laugh as the fan walks towards the other members.

“Thanks for coming~ No! Bad Saja Boy!” Zoey reprimands Mystery with an exasperated sigh after barking at yet another fan. “Y/N?” she calls out. You rush over, “Yeah, Zoey?”

“Do you happen to have a spray bottle?” You blink. What a perfectly reasonable item to have on hand. “...I can find one?” 

“Fantastic–Hey! No more barking.” Zoey swats Mystery’s head with her pen. Dear god these boys.

Rumi signs another poster. “I’m not going to talk to someone who's helping Gwi-ma.”

“I’m helping myself. Look, if I help him, he’s promised he’d erase my memories. And those voices in my head will be gone.” “Pathetic.” “I’m pathetic? You can’t even talk about your patterns.” Rumi crushes his foot with the heel of her boot. 

“Excuse me Mr. Jinu? I made this for you.” A young fan hands him a drawing. “Uh, for me?” He gently takes the drawing from the fan. Rumi looks over to see it, smiling at the image.

“Maybe, listen to those voices, instead of the ones in your head.”

Jinu stares at the drawing for a moment too long. He stands abruptly, gaining the attention of everyone in the room just by the simple action, “Unfortunately the Saja Boys have to run. Thank you everyone.” The fans chant their names, tossing bouquets of roses to each of the Saja Boys before they depart. 

As the event winds down, the group huddles around Bobby, whose eyes are glued to his phone. “The internet loves this, and the internet is never wrong!” 

Mira grabs the phone as Bobby speaks, “Rujinu! That’s genius…Zoeystery, where did they come up with that?”

“Mi-ro-mabby? Ugh.” Zoey’s smile dims for a split second. “You guys look cute together…” Mira clenches the phone tighter.

“Even Y/N is getting attention.” Zoey snatches the phone holds it out towards Rumi.

Rumi stared at the screen. “…what exactly am I looking at?” 

“Everyone’s arguing over what you and Y/N’s ship name would be. But no one knows what to call it since they have no idea what her name is. They must’ve loved how attentive she was. She’s the best!” Rumi silently wonders how all this is even possible. Until she remembers her fanbase—They see a second of eye contact and run with it. She’s pretty sure that’s how the Zoey and Mira allegations started a year ago.

As if on cue, Zoey jogs to the other end of the room to hand you back the spray bottle you lent her. Rumi’s eyes follow. 

Maybe she is wrong. She really hopes she isn’t. Because if she is, Rumi’s got a lot of making up to do.

Taglist: @blazemaster4014 , @ang3lz-lov3 , @rainbowmess823 , @honney-bonny

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

Hi! I love your writing style and I had this in the back of my mind for a bit and I’m hoping you would put this into words if it inspires you but imagine Lando and Daniel wanting to prank Max before a big conference by slipping a little blue pill in his redbull but max has a fall that morning and scrapes his palms, and all of it culminates into him hiding in the locker changing rooms, taunted by his friends, unable to take care of himself because of the injuries and the reader as his PR manager finds him like 20 minutes before the conference and tries to convince him to let her help him out as “professionally” as possible (like a handjob maybe?) and maybe max wants to return the favour at some point?

Blue Pills - Max Verstappen

<word count - 3137>

warnings: badly written smut, technically a drink spiking, not proof read

"Max is too calm, we have to do something big this time." Daniel said, thinking over his time in Red Bull with the Dutchman. It was no secret that Daniel and Lando got up to all sorts of trouble together, and now Max Verstappen was their next victim.

So far, they had kept their pranks relatively harmless. They had stolen Charles' phone and texted Carlos some rather... risque messages, they had replaced Nicholas' Nutella with marmite, and they had stolen Kimi's drink. He wasn't very bothered.

Most of them were funny. Well, Charles didn't find it overly funny but Carlos did, so that was at least half of their goal accomplished. For Max, they needed something that was more than just a bit of a laugh. They needed something that people would remember. 

"We could try and stick something on his back?" Lando suggested, and Daniel shook his head immediately. 

"No. We need something that will actually rattle him. It's hard to get to Max." he said, wracking his brains for something. If only there was a way to- oh, oh. Now that would be good. "I've got it," Daniel beamed, the plan formulating perfectly in his head. 

"We've got to be sneaky about it, but we can definitely pull it off. I need you to be a distraction for me, OK? Then we just let the magic happen," Daniel said, and Lando was curious to know what the Australian had up his sleeve, but he was sure that he'd find out sooner rather than later. 

"OK, sure." Lando nodded, already liking where this was going. The papaya pair planned how they were going to execute their devious plan, trying to keep their voices down so that no one would hear them. 

Meanwhile, Max was in medical. On track, he was careful and clinical beyond belief. He didn't make many mistakes. But when his two feet were firmly, or not so, planted on the ground, he was one of the clumsiest men you could find. 

He was literally just walking through the paddock, when he tripped over his own feet and fell to the tarmac. He held his hands out to break the fall, ending up with his palms getting grazed to hell on the rough surface. Thankfully, there was no one around to witness it apart from you, but he could live with that. 

Being Max's PR manager meant that you spent a lot of time with him weekend in and weekend out, so you had become accustomed to his spells of ditsiness. He should have been glad you were there, since he wouldn't have gone to medical if you hadn't forced him to. 

All they did was clean them and wrap them, but he looked like a boxer walking around with his hands wrapped. At least he could hold things and at least he could still race. He just had to look at the positives.

To add insult to injury, Max had a press conference to go to. But first, you dropped him off to the hospitality centre for him to take a second and relax before he had to go into the worst part of his weekend. Of course, he wouldn't be Max if he didn't have his trusty Red Bull in hand, so you picked an ice cold one up for him on your way. 

"You better be here when I go in or else I'm not going." he said, and you knew he was deadly serious. Max didn't give a shit, if he didn't want to go, then he wouldn't. The only reason that he ever went to any of his menial media obligations was for you. 

Your entire job was making sure he said the right thing and was where he was meant to be on time. He felt bad for giving you the amount of hassle that he did, but every driver did it to their PR manager. He knew how hard you worked, so he wasn't going to ruin it by being too much of a handful for you. 

You left him there while you went to run some quick errands, watching as Daniel and Lando approached him. Once you were gone, they waited for him to put his drink down before springing into action. "Hey Max, did I show you that video I got in Thailand? Of the waterfall in the sunset?" Lando asked, ready for everything to fall into place. 

"No, you didn't. Show me." Max said. He was intrigued.

"My phone's on charge. C'mon, I need a walk." Lando said.

"Sure," the Dutchman nodded. He had taken the bait. Lando and Max walked out of sight and left Daniel to carry out his master plan. Looking around to make sure that no one had their eyes on him, he produced two little blue pills from his pocket. 

They were embarrassing to buy, and he had to send some poor intern to get them so that he wouldn't be recognised. The last thing that he needed was people thinking that he needed viagra to get it up, because he most certainly didn't. 

Daniel wasn't actually sure how many he needed, as the pack stated various amounts for various levels of arousal. So, he opted for the one that he thought meant 'hard enough to be visible, but not so hard that it's impossible to get rid of'. 

He popped them through the top of the Red Bull can, watching the blue dissolve into the energy drink through the hole with a fizz. Just as the tablets had melted down, he heard Max and Lando's voices behind him. This was going to be amazing.

Max sat back down in his seat, holding Lando's phone in his hand as he scrolled through the videos from his trip to Thailand. With the other, he reached out and took a few sips of the Red Bull. Daniel and Lando glanced at each other, trying not to give away the fact that they were up to something. It tasted slightly off, but he didn't think much of it. 

You had gotten a fresh one from the fridge; he had seen you do it. It was probably just the heat making it taste a little weird. 

All of the drivers had been pretty on edge around them, not wanting to fall prey to their predatory pranks. Max didn't seem overly phased, though. Then again, he was used to it from having Daniel as a teammate and Lando as a long time friend. 

After talking for long enough, Max had finished the Red Bull. Daniel was stressing slightly. He was trying not to be too obvious as he looked at Max's crotch, looking for any sort of sign that the pills were actually working. 

Max, on the other hand, was trying to ignore the odd feeling of arousal that he was currently experiencing. For some reason, he was suddenly horny. Glancing down, he saw the slight bulge that was already forming in his jeans .

There wasn't even anything around him that he would find even remotely arousing, and now he was getting a full on hard on out of nowhere? Daniel and Lando both noticed the flush in his cheeks as he fidgeted in his seat, knowing that their plan had worked. 

"Just going to the toilet," Max choked out, wanting to get out of there before the extent of his problem could be realised. He was gone before the McLaren boys could make a comment, and they were going to let him sweat for a few minutes. 

"Did you see his face? Priceless," Daniel laughed.

"That is a genius idea, I like it." Lando giggled back, standing and going to follow Max to the changing rooms. He wanted to see this for himself. 

Daniel followed, both of them walking in to find Max pacing the locker rooms with a massive tent in his jeans. "Damn, Max. Didn't know you enjoyed media day that much." Lando laughed, and Max instantly knew. He had fallen victim to the infamous papaya pranksters.

"What did you do?" he asked, unable to hide the bite in his tone. He was all for harmless pranks, but this was downright humiliating. If people found out that he had gotten an erection in the middle of the paddock, he'd never live it down. Max Verstappen, 4 time world champ and the guy who gets bricked up when he has to do an interview. 

"We didn't do anything-" Daniel started with a smirk before Max cut him off. 

"What the fuck did you two idiots do?!" Max shouted, not caring who heard. 

"We just gave you one or two of those blue things..." Lando trailed off, suddenly thinking that this joke had gone a little too far. 

"Viagra? You gave me fucking viagra?! I've got a press conference!" Max raged, now realising that is all made sense. The sudden arousal, Daniel and Lando being a bit weird all day, the strange taste of his drink. They had spiked him, and now he was hard as a rock and had no way to deal with it. There was half an hour before the press conference, and he knew that this stuff lasted a while if the problem wasn't taken care of. 

That was when another issue cropped up: he couldn't take care of it. His hands were bandaged up and, even in his state, that would not feel good at all. There was no way that he could hide it, either. He was screwed. 

"Only two." Daniel clarified, as if that would make the situation better. Looking between Max, Lando, and Max's dick, Daniel quickly sussed out that this may not have been his brightest idea to date. They'd stick to prank texts next time. Well, if there was a next time if Max didn't murder both of them right then and there. 

"Fuck off, both of you. I'm not dealing with you and this at the same time," he warned, and they took the hint and walked out with their tails between their legs. The pair stayed silent as they left, and they spotted you stood in hospitality. You were looking for Max. 

"Have you two seen Max? He hasn't run off, has he?" you joked, but the looks on their faces told you that now certainly wasn't the time for joking.

"He's in the locker rooms. He's got a small... issue." Lando said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. You didn't know what they meant, so you took it upon yourself to go to the changing rooms. 

"Max? It's me. We've got to go." you called, opening the door and stepping through. 

"No, wait out there-" he started, but you were already in the room. Max was sat there, his jeans on the bench next to him while his lower half was only covered by his boxers. That was when you saw it. Max Verstappen. The man you spent every weekend with. The man that you worked closely with was sat in the locker rooms with a painfully hard dick. 

"What the hell happened to you?" you asked, trying to keep your eyes on his face rather than the obvious elephant in the room. 

"Those fuckers slipped me some viagra..." he mumbled, glad to admit that he wasn't just really horny but also embarrassed that he fell for it. 

You looked at him with sympathy, feeling bad that he was a prank victim. But, you were also thinking practically. There was no way that he could get out of this, but you wouldn't want to go out there and do a conference if you were like this either. 

"Can't you... sort it out?" you said, not wanting to be too crude. 

"Not with these," he scoffed, holding up his bandaged hands. Even if he took them off, it would still be really painful and wouldn't have the desired effect. It would probably just wind him up more.

That was when Max got an idea. It was a horrendous idea that could ruin your entire relationship, but it was an idea nonetheless. He hated the fact that he had even thought of this, let alone that he was actually going to ask it out loud. "Can you?" he asked. 

"Can I what?" you replied. Deep down, you knew what he was asking, but you didn't want to accept it. Even before he asked, you were contemplating your response. Something in your brain told you to do it. This was for both of your careers, so surely it would be worth it? At the end of the day, it was only Max.

The two of you were close, so what was getting him off going to do to your rapport with each other? Right, stupid question. That was going to do a lot to your relationship. It would make it so awkward, knowing that you had been intimate like that.

What excuse would you give for Max not being at the conference if you just left him to let the viagra wear off? He felt sick? His hands hurt too much? No, there wasn't time to formulate a story. "Can you sort this out? Just a handjob will do... like... just to get it over with..." he rambled, hating the words as they left his mouth.

"We never speak of this again, agreed?" you said, tentatively sitting next to him on the bench.

"Never again." he nodded, not fully believing that you were actually following through with this. "You don't even have to look," he gently said, taking the first step and pulling his erection out of his boxers.

Your eyes widened as you saw it. He was bigger than you expected, but you thought that it was probably the viagra helping him out. Precum was already beading at the tip, and you felt quite bad for him. 

"Ok... here goes..." you mumbled, spitting in your hand to create some lubrication. If he was being honest, Max thought it was one of the hottest things that he had ever seen. It was the first lick of genuine arousal that he had had all day, and he wasn't complaining.

You were unsure of whether you should look or if you could cancel out the awkwardness by looking away. But you found yourself looking as you gently took ahold of his hardened length. Max shuddered at the contact, and both of you knew that this wasn't going to take long. It was better that way. 

You rubbed your thumb over his tip, smearing precum over it while Max had to bite back a moan. If people heard from outside, they would be straight in and the two of you would never live that down. 

You started off slow, your hand moving up and down his shaft. You were trying to remove yourself from the situation, but you couldn't help but look at his face as his head was tipped back against the wall with his eyes screwed shut and his bottom lip firmly caught between his teeth. 

He looked damn handsome like this. Max's face was flushed with desire and his hair was perfectly ruffled from running his hands through it a few too many times. He was trying to keep quiet, but the whines he was letting out made heat pool between your legs. 

Picking up the pace, you pumped his dick faster, wanting to find the sweet spot of how fast he wanted you to go. "Fuck... just like that..." he mumbled, his breath stuttering as he let the pleasure consume him. He had to stop himself from bucking his hips up into the contact, revelling in the fact that he was finally relieving some of the pressure. 

As much as you hated to admit it to yourself, you were thoroughly enjoying this. There was a strange part of you that wanted to find out exactly what he liked and how he wanted you to do things. You got a better reaction out of him when you squeezed a bit harder. Just like his racing, Max didn't like things doing by halves. 

The natural reaction was for you to be just as turned on as he was. You had to remind yourself that this wasn't about pleasure, it was simply business. You were fixing the issue that had been caused by Daniel and Lando - even if the issue was jerking off a world champion driver. 

"I... I'm going to..." he trailed off, and you knew precisely what he meant. You sped up for one final time to get him there, Max's hand reaching out and gripping your thigh as if he were grounding himself as he came, spilling out onto your hand. 

You kept your movements up as he rode through the high, before he relaxed back against the wall and you stopped. Letting go, you just sat there and looked at each other. "Thank you..." he softly smiled, glad that you had saved him from definite embarrassment.

"That was... well I'm not going to lie to you and say that you weren't amazing," he chuckled and squeezed your thigh. He noticed how you were clenching your thighs together as if you were also craving some sort of friction. 

Before he could comment, you stood and went to get tissues. You passed him a few, and you went to the sink to wash your hands. You were washing your hands of Max's cum, which was something that you never thought you'd ever do. 

"Ha, thanks." you quietly laughed as you dried them off. Max was cleaning himself up, glad that Daniel and Lando hadn't given him any more pills than they had. One hand job was enough. "Come on, we've got to go."  you said, trying to distract from what the two of you had just done. 

"You'll have to let me return the favour one day, yeah?" he said, and he was being sincere. Max was all for fairness, and he wasn't just going to let this happen without you getting your fair share. He saw how much you wanted it, and he could see the faint hints of arousal still lingering in your eyes. 

"We're never discussing this again," you rushed, walking out of the locker room swiftly in front of him. He knew you wanted it just like he did, and he could feel himself stirring naturally this time. Now wasn't the time, though. 

As the two of you walked through hospitality and towards where the conference was taking place, Daniel and Lando watched on from afar. Max didn't have an erection anymore, and you looked flustered. Their minds were running at a thousand miles a minute, and it was like both of them connected the dots at the same time.

If looks could kill, the two of them would be dead as Max glared at them. They'd have to let sleeping dogs lie. For now. 

A/N - I loved writing this I can't even lie to you, this is one of my favourite requests that I have ever gotten! The smut is awful, I know it is 😂 Leave anymore requests in my inbox!

|masterlist|

[yandere-romanticaa]

"Lovely outfit you're wearing today. Meting someone?" I - Phainon from HSR

character interactions - closed.

His words made you stop in your tracks as the door squeaked open, its old wooden hinges nearly ancient because who knows when it was constructed. Bitting the inside of your cheek, a soft, rumbly sound goes past your lips as you shake you head at him, those big blue eyes of his trying their damnedest to look as innocent as humanly possible.

Even when he was agitated, his frustration never ceased to amuse you. He acted less like a grown man and more like a stunted little puppy, constantly yapping for its master, begging said master to please not leave him alone, oh pretty please?

His clingy nature could become tiresome at times, often forcing you to stay behind and comfort him till his aching heart was soothed enough, and then, only then, would you even consider stepping foot on the other side of the door.

Frankly, the sensation of being so wanted, of knowing that your boyfriend was so completely and utterly devoted to you, was a sensation like no other. No matter how much it hindered on your daily life, there was a more selfish part of you which absolutely reveled in it.

His undivided attention, that longing gaze he'd throw your way whenever you'd catch him stealing glances when you'd be getting ready to head out, it was as if you were playing a silly little game of cat and mouse.

It was twisted, downright cruel even to invoke such strong feelings within such a sweet man. You were not a bad person, you were sure of it. Plenty of friends and acquaintances had absolutely no issues with you nor your character, minus the occasional nitpick but hey, who doesn't face such issues?

However.

How could you stop drinking such divine ambrosia which was Phainon's vast love and devotion? How could you not grant yourself the release of being wanted for a change, to feel the desire you've dreamed of your whole life finally come back ten fold?

He became a strange drug in a way. The mere thought of him ever leaving was out of the question, you were sure that you'd cease to function properly as a person. It was as if he was giving you the necessary fuel to move, your daily tasks would always be rewarded with a vast sea of kisses and he was none the wiser just how much you needed them.

Wrapping your arms around him was like heaven incarnate, those broad shoulders of his engulfing you like a shadow as you held him close to your chest. Snow white hair was sprinkled in your vision, a few cheeky strands ensuring to capture your attention.

He's so silly, you thought to yourself as you sat together with him on the ground, his hot breath still fanning your neck with a horrid need.

Somewhere in the distant future (or perhaps not?), there would come a time which you could never predict. Actions have consequences and underestimating Phainon's will is... Dastardly, to say the least.

For now you sit with him, all dolled up and ready to go, your sweet lover clinging to you like vines on an old, stone wall, truly a picturesque scene, no?

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

Judex, Judicum, Infantem - Chapter 12

(Eventual)Reader x Matt Murdock x Frank Castle

previous chapter | next chapter | series masterlist | my masterlist

summary: You and Frank have a heart to heart about his past.

warnings: AFAB Reader. Pregnancy. No use of Y/N.

notes: Two chapters for you all this weekend since this was supposed to all be one chapter. Whoops.

w/c: 2,490

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on Tumblr to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platforms I currently post on are Tumblr and AO3. Thanks*

“You want some coffee?” you asked, quietly padding through the kitchen as you walked through your getting ready for bed routine.

Since Matt had left for the evening, you’d found yourself very much not tired. You were putting off going to bed as long as possible, trying to stay awake until he returned, just to make sure he was okay before turning in for the night.

“Nearly midnight, sweetheart. Ain’t it a little late for coffee?”

“Is it ever too late for you to have coffee, Frank?”

He scoffed with a grin, shaking his head at your comment.

“’Spose not.”

Putting the kettle on the stove, you impatiently tapped your fingers on the counter while glancing out the window hoping to catch a glimpse of the Devil. Clouds were rolling in quickly through the dark sky and the notion of rain began to concern you. What did Matt do when it rained? Or snowed? Or any other manner of unpleasant weather? Was the suit waterproof? Did he tough it out even in the extremes? Or would the skies opening up be the thing that brought him home to you early?

Would you ever get used to this? The worrying?

“Red’ll be fine. He knows what he’s doing.” Frank commented, noticing the way you stared out at the city

“I know. Doesn’t make me worry less, though.”

Frank shrugged and returned to reading your copy of Death of the Nile.

“Where’d that nickname come from, anyway? Red?” you asked

“First time I met him. On some rooftop in those stupid pajamas. Guess it stuck.”

The kettle whistled from the stove and you grabbed it quickly, fixing your tea and pouring the rest in the coffee maker. Once Frank’s mug was ready, you made your way to sit beside him on the sofa, setting both beverages on the coffee table.

You were happy that Frank was going to stay and be a part of your daughter’s life, but you still weren’t sure where the two of you stood with each other. It felt a little awkward, sitting beside him and trying to fill the silences without hating what the two of you had become.

Frank seemed unfazed by your presence, setting the book down and taking the coffee in his large hands, thank you with a grunt before bringing the warm liquid to his lips.

“So how’d you figure out it was Matt? Since you met him as Daredevil. Or did he tell you?” you asked

“Asshole was my lawyer. Running his mouth in court after getting me arrested in the costume. Not hard to put it together after that.”

“No, it’s not. All it took was one night saving me from a mugger in an alleyway and I knew it was him the moment he opened his mouth. He’s not exactly subtle is he?”

“No, he ain’t.”

“What was he your lawyer for?”

“Murder trial. After I went after the gangs that, um…”

He didn’t need to finish his sentence. You knew the rest of the story. Maybe things hadn’t really changed between you and Frank. Before you’d slept with him, he’d get like this too. The two of you would be having a perfectly normal conversation and then something undetectable would totally shift his mood. His eyes would go blank, like whatever innocuous thing you said dragged him back into the shadows of that night and he just wouldn’t be able to shake it off. Maria and the kids were still here, haunting him when he least expected it. He’d shut down and lock you out and then the next time you saw him, he’d be back to his usual gruff and sarcastic self.

You dropped the subject, content to sit together with him in the slightly uncomfortable silence. Your gaze remained fixed on the windows, jumping at every sound in case it was Matt landing back on the roof.

“He’s good, you know.” Frank said softly

“Who, Matt? I wouldn’t call lying to me good, but generally speaking I agree with you.”

If Frank had opinions on your relationship with Matt or how he’d been treating you lately, he was keeping them to himself. Biting his tongue and taking another sip of his coffee, he shrugged.

“He’s gonna be a good dad.” you conceded “So are you, Frank.”

“Think so? Don’t know if I did such a good job the first time around.”

“I know you don’t really talk about them much, but the little I’ve heard you tell me about them, it’s very clear you loved them a lot.”

“Loving your kid and being a good parent ain’t exactly the same thing.”

If Matt’s complex history with both his parents was anything to go off of, you knew that statement was absolutely true.

“Fair. What makes you think you weren’t?”

Frank hung his head, eyes cast downward as if he was watching the memories play out right before him. Swallowing deeply, his chest expanded as he took a sharp breath in, as if he needed to brace himself for what he was about to say.

“I had two families, yeah? I had Maria, I had the kids and I had my unit. I was a father and a husband, but I was also a Marine. And I loved being a Marine. Look, there were times, whether I wanna admit it or not, but I would've rather been neck deep in blood and bullets and shit and be with my unit than with my kids. And now they’re gone. That's something I gotta make peace with.”

“So now… is that gonna be the case now? There are gonna be nights when you’re happier bashing some guy’s skull in than being home with her?” you asked, cupping your bump

“I don’t know.” he replied softly “Look, there’s still a couple loose ends that need tyin’ up and I want to make sure none of my bullshit comes ‘round for her or you.”

“Right.”

“I’m gonna stay here a couple more days. Get in better shape. Then take care of that so it’s something we don’t have to worry about.” he continued

You chewed at your cheek as your eyes stared at the mark on his neck, the stitches still fresh and the vision of him laying lifeless on the floor not leaving you anytime soon. Wherever he got it from was clearly still a looming issue.

“How long will you be gone?” you asked

“As long as it takes.”

Frank must’ve clocked your apprehensiveness, unable to hide the tears welling in your eyes from the fear that he was just finding another excuse to disappear again.

“You good with that?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“No.” Frank said sternly, finally making himself meet your gaze. His eyes swam with all the pain and regret he held as he stared you down. “But, I gotta keep you both safe. I can’t— sweetheart. I can’t loose another person that I….”

Again, the unspoken reality of Frank’s past weighed heavily in the space between the two of you. He had lost everything once. You had only heard of the carnage he left in his wake after loosing his family the first time around, you knew he would fight to the death to prevent that from ever happening again. But it didn’t make the possibilities less scary.

“Bein’ a dad, it was the best damn thing I ever did. I don’t wanna make the same mistakes again. I ain’t gonna miss anything sweetheart. That’s a promise. I told Maria I was done and I meant it and I mean it with you. But I gotta take care of some things first.”

“Done?”

“You know Karen asked me once what it would take to quit choosin’ another war and find an after.” He reached out to you, gently running his thumb over your bump. His eyes still remained on yours. “Think I finally got an answer for her.”

You wanted to believe him, really. But Matt had already torn apart your trust and you weren’t sure stopping being the Punisher was something Frank could just do. At the same time, Frank had never been this open with you.

“You said you were going to keep a few of your hiding spots. That doesn’t feel very done.”

“Yeah, I know. I just— I think some of the shit I’ve done, there’s no escaping it fully. I need you to know that’s always gonna be a risk with me. But I’m gonna try my best to keep you and her safe always. Keeping a couple spots to stash you two if something happens is just good planning, even Red would agree.”

Heavy was the nauseous feeling sinking in the pit of your stomach as your brain began to run with all the real possibilities of danger that came with raising a child with two vigilantes. It was foolish to ever think you could live a version of life with Frank in it where there wasn’t the possibility of men lurking in the shadows in the forms of the enemies he’s made.

So even though he said he was done, he wasn’t. And even though he said he wasn’t going to leave you again, he was going out to finish his work and couldn’t tell you when he’d be back or where he’d be.

“Sweetheart, talk to me. Tell me what’s running through that pretty head of yours?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Frank could hear the lack of faith in your tone as you stood and made your way back into the kitchen, depositing your mug in the sink. He followed behind you, eyeing you as you fidgeted with the faucet.

“Bullshit. We’re not doing this, baby. The not communicating shit. So talk.”

“I’m not your baby anymore, Frank!” you exclaimed, whipping around to face him “And that’s really fucking rich coming from the man who disappeared for months instead of communicating about his feelings!”

“I left to keep you safe. To keep you away from my bullshit! I told you, I can’t loose you too.”

“Is that really the excuse you’re going with? See, I think you left left because you’re too damn scared to feel any other emotion that isn’t anger or grief and when I was around you felt too fucking human so you ran away from it and buried it under that stupid fucking vest!”

“You’re goddamn right, I’m scared!” he shouted back

“Of loosing me or the baby, yeah I know.”

“Ain’t just that…”

He leaned against the counter of the island, head hung as he clasped his hands.

“Since I got here and Red told me about the baby,” his eye twitched as his voice became strained, brown eyes cast downward as he tried not to let any tears spill past “All I can hear is Lisa. You know, she had this little, squeaky voice for the longest time. It was the cutest shit. And you know she’d run into a room and just shout ‘Daddy, look I colored you a picture’ or ‘Daddy, I wanna go play outside’ or some shit.”

Would Frank ever tell you something about his family that didn’t absolutely shatter your heart?

“It’s just been playing on repeat in my head that sweet little voice calling me daddy and— it’s like I’m losing her all over.” Frank continued “I’m just worried once our little girl starts talkin’ she’s gonna sound just like that and every damn day, every little thing she does; I’m just gonna think of Lisa and Frankie instead of bein’ there with her.”

“You might. But I don’t think it’s a bad thing to keep thinking about them.” you reassured

“I just keep thinkin’, what if I mess this up? You know am I gonna be able to love her like I loved them or am I just gonna look at her and miss them and is that gonna mess her up? I’m scared I’m not gonna be enough for her.”

“I don’t think you will. I think you will love her just as much and that will be enough for her.”

He exhaled deeply, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he shook his head.

“Like I said, did a hell of a job the first time. Shit, I wasn’t even there when either of ‘em were born.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Got deployed when Maria was 7 months with Lisa, but they let me go on leave to come meet her when she was a few weeks old. And Frankie, I left right before he was born and didn’t even get to meet him until he was over a year.”

“Jesus, Frank.”

“Told you, I don’t want to miss anything. I’m gonna be right there in room while you’re pushing. Wanna be the first to hold her after you and Red.”

“I’m not sure I want you to see all that Frank. Might never look at me the same way again.”

“Nah sweetheart, still gonna think you’re just as beautiful.”

Letting out a scoff, you rolled your eyes and folded your arms across your chest, trying not to notice the way his stare lingered on you.

“I’m scared too, you know.” you spoke in a hushed tone “I’m scared that I’m gonna mess her up too. Like I’ll be a terrible mom.”

“I know that ain’t gonna happen.”

“No you don’t!” you argued back

“You really think so? Cause you’re so damn smart sweetheart. And you got the biggest fuckin’ heart. And you’re almost as stubborn as me. If she’s even a little like you, she’s gonna be perfect.”

Another thing that Matt and Frank both shared was their ability to see right through you and know just what to say. It fell silent between the two of you as the weight of his words settled in your chest.

With a shaky hand, you reached out, lightly tracing over the jagged stitches on his neck. He had changed so much in the months since you’d last seen him. Like time had taken him by the throat and thrown him into the river styx.

“Where did you go Frank?” you asked quietly

Frank dipped his head, leaning forward to fully catch your gaze. His hands stayed swinging at his sides, but out of the corner of your eye you caught the way his index and middle finger twitched.

“You should get some sleep. I’ll have Red check on you when he gets back.” he said, turning away and walking back towards the living room

Whatever moment you’d had with him faded away with a whoosh, back to the awkward silence of the night. You made your way down the hall towards the bedroom, unsure of what else to do. As you were about to shut the door, you looked back to where Frank sat, catching the way he fiddled with the chain on his neck, twirling the gold band between his index finger and thumb.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

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[rewriterory]

I've been marinating about Jade not calling Aventurine by his name and it brought up the thought for me— do you think Aventurine would even like being called Kakavasha anymore?

I am an avid Aventio fanfic writer / consumer, and a theme I notice a lot is that people headcanon that Ratio would call him by his name when they're in private. It's always depicted as a very sweet and vulnerable part to their relationship, but I wonder if in actuality, it would perpetuate Aventurine's identity disturbance.

Though I do constantly argue that he shows clear signs of having BPD, regardless of the formal diagnosis, it's undeniable that his identity issues are a massive part of his character. The game goes to extensive lengths to solidify this idea, as well. He had a whole life before he was Aventurine, one that very few people know the actual details of. Nobody knows his name aside from Jade, so he hasn't associated with that identity in years. In the Penaoncy quest line, the one time he says the name Kakavasha, he's saying it as if that's an entirely different person. And if we wanna get real fourth-wall-breaky, all the official honkai merch + character photos in the game have Kakavasha and Aventurine listed as two separate people.

Despite his defensive claim to his evil shadow self in his fuckass trauma maze, Aventurine has changed, whether he likes it or not (and deep down, he knows that).

But if he did end up in a relationship and that person wanted to intimately know him + honor his past and his 'real' identity, I wonder if it would just make things worse. If being Aventurine in public and Kakavasha in private would bring even more attention to the fact that he's stuck playing a role for the rest of his life.

Jade told him he'd essentially have to kill that person to become who he wanted to be—collateral, since no miracle is free, ofc. And while it's obviously extremely traumatic that it happened to him, I wonder if she was lowkey onto something in the sense that like, once he's Aventurine he needs to stay Aventurine. Kakavasha was a name "destined to be buried in the dirt". Concerning himself with the past will only intensify his pain and regret (as we see consistently throughout his character). There's a reoccurring theme in his character of trying and failing to outrun the past, and I wonder if it's because he is constantly thinking about it and torturing himself over it. He's fully severed Kakavasha publicly, but internally, he's still grieving. If he could stop thinking about the past, he'd literally be unstoppable. I mean hell, Ratio basically says exactly this when you ask him about Aventurine—he says he has more than enough luck and intelligence to get whatever he wants, the only thing holding him back is himself and his own self hatred. Obviously he hasn't killed off Vasha internally 100% or he wouldn't be suffering with such intense self hatred. If he was able to convince himself he's a completely different person, there wouldn't be anything to feel guilty about.

I've talked in length about his intense self hatred and shame regarding his new persona and how ashamed he is that he (in his opinion) exemplifies so many traits his family would have hated. Would he really like linking that person back to Kakavasha? If Vasha died in that courtroom, he died as himself, at least. As someone his family loved. Somebody he was proud to be. Now, though? I wonder if referring to him that way now would just exasperate the self hatred because Kakavasha would never do the things Aventurine does. I don't know if it would be healthy or possible for him to mix those two identities together. Maybe working on surrendering to his new identity is the most logical way for him to stay sane and let go of his suicidal ideation.

Or maybe I'm reaching entirely too hard and when someone calls him Kakavasha he kicks his little feet and squeals, who knows? I'm not making a claim either way though, not atm at least. Just thinking out loud about my pookie

(I hope my thoughts are coherent as they were, admittedly, my Saturday night I-got-a-tiny-bit-too-high-thoughts, so who knows)

[republicansaredomesticterrorists]

By Dr. Omer Awan, physician and public health expert

The Department of Health and Human Services announced in a press release Thursday that the agency will restrict undocumented immigrants from accessing Head Start, a federal program that provides children with education, health screenings and food. “For too long, the government has diverted hardworking Americans’ tax dollars to incentivize illegal immigration,” HHS Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. said in that press release. “Today’s action changes that—it restores integrity to federal social programs, enforces the rule of law, and protects vital resources for the American people.”

Thursday’s egregious and inhumane action robs innocent children of critical and often life-changing services.

No, that’s not what it does. Thursday’s egregious and inhumane action robs innocent children of critical and often life-changing services including medical screenings, mental health resources, access to developmental therapies and, of course, early education. Removing such a program will cost Americans, literally. Research has shown that early investment in childhood education yields significant economic returns, on the order of 7 to 10 dollars for every dollar invested. This positive return would occur through increased earnings and reduced reliance on welfare.

But forget about the return on investment. Kennedy’s new policy tells the parents of these children that their kids aren’t deserving of fundamental care critical for their well-being because of their immigration status. It tells them that America is not a land of opportunity for them. Or even a land that recognizes their humanity. Taking away Head Start’s benefits from such children will most certainly result in untreated developmental delays and exacerbation of chronic medical conditions, as well as overcrowded emergency rooms when those children get sick.

Hostility toward immigrants has become Trump’s hallmark, and some people may shrug at Kennedy’s announcement Thursday as another cruel, if unremarkable, tactic toward that end. But we shouldn’t become jaded. What HHS is doing isn’t just cruel to immigrant children and their parents; it’s yet another sign that the United States is losing grip on its moral conscience.

Head Start was launched in 1965 as part of President Lyndon B. Johnson’s “war on poverty.” More than 30 years later, in 1998, President Bill Clinton’s administration interpreted the Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity Reconciliation Act of 1996 in such a way that allowed for noncitizen children to access Head Start’s benefits. Kennedy's new policy rolls that back. According to Kennedy's announcement, “Head Start’s classification under the new PRWORA interpretation puts American families first by ensuring taxpayer-funded benefits are reserved for eligible individuals.”

Undocumented children are not strangers, but an integral part of the American community.

Undocumented children are not strangers, but an integral part of the American community. There are at least 1 million undocumented children living in America, as well as 5.5 million children with one undocumented parent, according to the American Psychological Association. Denying these children access to health care and education is entirely un-American. It betrays our ideals of providing equal opportunity for everyone.

Research has also shown that programs such as Head Start have improved health outcomes by reducing obesity rates and increasing vaccination rates. Improved vaccination rates increase herd immunity that protects all children, not just those being vaccinated and not just children at Head Start. That means that removing critical health supports for undocumented children would contribute a public health crisis that affects all children, not just the undocumented ones.

Our founding forefathers argued that all men were created equal, and by extension all children are. They deserve a chance to thrive, regardless of the color of their skin, creed or immigration status. The policy to remove undocumented children from Head Start dehumanizes our most vulnerable population.

Public health is not just about getting the latest vaccine or getting the latest screening test. Sure, that is part of it. But at its core, public health is about building an infrastructure that works seamlessly to protect the most vulnerable populations. By pushing children out of classrooms, hospitals and clinics, Kennedy is doing the opposite.

[preemptivejustice]

Arthur’s breath left him in a rush, as if someone had knocked the air clean out of his lungs. His eyebrows knit harshly together, his heart aching; this wasn’t right. It had been obvious from the start that this program was unfair, but seeing it like this had changed something. 

Kane’s voice was too real, cracked and full of too many things that Arthur didn’t deserve. Forgiveness, concern, care; a trust that Arthur had broken twice now, yet was still being offered to him all the same.

It hit harder than anything had, peeling up parts of Arthur’s mind. It forced him to remove whatever part of him that tried to shove away thoughts of what happened; it had been such a short amount of time, only twenty-four hours, and Kane had been treated with nothing but hatred, in such a cruel severity.

Arthur wouldn't forgive himself.

He stood still for a few moments, his hand still holding the mug. His heart was pounding in a way that only caused pain - but Kane wasn’t yelling. He wasn’t flinching, he wasn’t telling Arthur to leave - he wasn’t even sitting there silently, refusing interaction. 

He was asking if Arthur was okay. That fact broke whatever was left inside of the doctor, his legs leading him forward without even thinking. He sat down gently on the edge of the mattress, close enough to touch but not close enough to be imposing; he hadn’t said anything, still. It felt hard to find words, hard to do anything but sit there and look over the other. 

It was always hard, when he felt himself caring in this sort of way. 

“I’m fine,” he promised, first; though it felt tragically comical that Kane would feel the need to ask such a thing. “I was worried I wouldn’t see you again. “

It would have been his fault, of course. All of this was his fault - though he almost wondered if Kane simply didn’t know that. It made sense. Kane likely didn’t have enough of an understanding of the situation to connect the dots that this had happened because Arthur had broken rules. Arthur didn't want to confess as such, almost, out of fear of burning whatever bridges they had left.

“I’m sorry,” he continued, the words coming easier than they normally would thanks to the drug in his system. “For everything. What they did; it was my fault. And I’m sorry you had to go through that.” 

He had seen it all, of course. He had watched every bit of what they’d done, and he’d been worthless in doing anything to stop it. He was back now, at least, and he intended to stay here - though he doubted that they had seen the last of Six. 

His breath felt stuck in his throat, at that thought. He had had his own run ins with Six, of course, but the man couldn’t do anything to him. It would have brought comfort to think about that, were it not for the glaring fact that sat nearby - anything Arthur did against Six would be taken out on Kane, now. 

The building was becoming more and more of a trap by the second. 

Arthur took another breath, trying to pull his thoughts back on track. It wasn’t typical for his mind to wander this much. 

“I brought some things that might help you feel better,” he informed, gently. “Bandages, tea - I want to look at your bruises, if that’s fine.” He wanted to get them all wrapped and taken care of; it was the absolute least he could do.

The least he should do. 

“Try to take a deep breath for me, okay?” he continued, his thoughts just now catching up to the mental state that Kane appeared to be in. “Just take a deep breath - I’m going to stay here for a little while. As long as I can, alright?”

He hoped that it brought comfort, to say as such; at the very least, he could keep Six away from Kane. He'd stay until he was asked to leave. 

The well-known hiss of his door opening is enough for Kane to snap back out of the somewhat-slumber, somewhat-trance he'd been in; Muscles stiffen and tense within seconds, a breath getting caught in his lungs, eyes remaining closed at first out of---

...Fear, it might be. Fear that the bastard security guard without a name has returned to go on with whatever he's planned this time - some more pain, some more humiliation, both of it. Kane knows, after all, that the man is beyond displeased with the fact that he did not cry, did not beg in a way he'd hoped for...

Dread sets in, settles next to said fear, causing a stomach to cramp and a heart to miss a beat. Part of Kane wants to run, another part wants to keep fighting; He's been able to hold onto himself so far, kept his emotions in check, but he knows he might not be able to do such for much longer - might fall apart instead, turning into the pretty crier which that asshole had wanted to see just a short while ago.

He swallows again, brows knitting, as the seconds pass---

...But then, something else happens; Despite his eyes being closed, Kane notices the change in brightness immediately - and that surprises him, very much so, has his eyelids flicking open, gaze needing a second to adjust to the outright comfortable glow of soft orange instead of stark white.

He does notice a figure standing there, approaching him after a little while - but it's not that security guard he's so afraid of, nor is it someone else that he hasn't really met before...

No, it's... it's Dr. Harrow. He's just existing, the softness of his voice basically drilling itself into Kane's mind, like a punch to his stomach because of how kind it is in comparison to everything else he's gone through during the last day. Hey, he says, follows it up with chamomile tea...

And Kane blinks, stares as he sits up in a slow but steady motion - eyes wide, brows lifted high, like a deer in headlights, as he takes in the sight of the one who had disappeared not too long ago, but now has come back.

He's here. Harrow is here.

Lips part, the bottom one trembling the faintest bit as Kane blinks a few more times - like he tries to make sense of this, figure out whether this whole thing is even real to begin with. Is he sleeping, perhaps? Is this a dream? Has his body finally given in, with him being unable to keep holding onto his own self...?

Kane smells it, the chamomile tea. The scent of it cuts through the sterile air like a knife, but in a good way - like a blanket curling itself around sore shoulders, a promise of something better, something nice interrupting all the bleak and unkind...

"... Harrow?" A simple ask, a name spoken out in a question, yet it comes out broken and almost a little too high-pitched as that breath leaves Kane, not-Kane, it's lungs. Like someone who cannot believe what they're seeing, overwhelmed with all the emotions that crash down onto them with the force of a tidal wave.

No anger. No hate. None of it, not even a glimpse appearing within dark brown irises.

But so, so much else instead. So much else, in fact, that it's hard to pinpoint what it might be exactly - hope, surprise, relief, anxiety, sadness, happiness, all of them combined?

"I thought...I thought--- I thought you were... I thought they would---" Kane rarely stutters, but here he is - unable to form a complete sentence, his mind racing so fast that thoughts seem to slip right through his grasp, breaths getting stuck, one after another, as unsteady hands hold onto the edge of the mattress - left and right from his thighs, fingers digging into the fabric... "I thought I would never...---" ... "..Are you... are you okay...?"

[ackerlikesmen]

"You're biased and just hate Annabeth!!"

Recently, I've noticed posts criticizing anti-Percabeth shippers for being biased against Annabeth because we overlook Percy's mistakes. There's some truth to that.

We focus more on Annabeth's actions than Percy's because they're more impactful and harmful, at least that's me. That's not to say Percy is a saint because he's not. While I do see more criticism of Annabeth, I also see criticism of Percy, such as his passivity when Annabeth does something he dislikes or his lack of openness to her. Hell, a lot of anti-percabeth stans feel Percy is a shell of himself and don't like where he's heading. I also see them criticize how he treated Bob in Tartarus because he was manipulative and a dick. I'm sure there's a lot more to criticize him on.

Percy gets criticized as a character and his choices, but for percabeth, he's rarely the issue here.

To keep it short, let's ask ourselves:

Has Percy done ANY of the following to Annabeth?

Has he called her mean names, intending to bring her down, so he feels better about himself?

Did he demean Annabeth for not understanding something?

Did he crap over her accomplishments because others acknowledge her achievements, then get happy when she's being insulted and told she can't do anything without Percy's help?

Has he insulted her family members or friends?

While Annabeth mourns for her dead brother, has Percy made that moment about himself?

Did he stalk her while she was changing and make excuses for it?

Did he yell and scream at her during stressful times, causing more stress?

Has he made her afraid of him to the point she expects to get hit or chewed out for getting something wrong, even if it's a little?

Has he hit, kicked, shoved, and body slammed her because she ANNOYED or ANGERED him? We're not talking about sparring. Has Percy put his hands on her because she did something he didn't like?

Has he shown a lack of appreciation when she does something kind because she can't afford to do something extravagant?

Has he made her plan everything and hold expectations while he sits on his ass, only to later judge her efforts???

Has he put her life at risk by shoving her into a dangerous situation with a dangerous god/goddess wanting to kill her, watching her getting her shit rocked, and when she asks for help, he sits on his ass and points to his "watch"? Did he do all of this, not knowing if she'll survive?

Has he tried to control her? Make her do something she doesn't like, or make him uncomfortable about interacting, or even think about others?

Has he brought up an ex in fucking Tartarus with the intention of making her uncomfortable?

Has he shamed her for using dark powers that literally saved their lives? Again, showing no gratitude.

Has he gossiped about her to a friend and let his friend paint her as an animal/monster that needs to be leashed?

Has he tried to guilt-trip Annabeth into doing things?

All of those are no.

But Annabeth has done them to Percy.

What's worse? She hasn't apologized. Not once.

Now do you understand why anti-percabeth stans don't like her or are critical of her? It's hard to like a character that's not only a bitch but a bitch that faces little to no consequences, on top of stans calling you 'sexist' for not kissing her feet and calling their relationship the "golden standard".

Trying to shift blame onto Percy is annoying at best and scummy at worst. It's victim blaming. Yes, Percy has done some rude things, but that's nowhere near as horrific as what she did.

When I hear stans talk about her changing, part of changing is acknowledging WHAT NEEDS TO BE CHANGED. Being aware of your wrongdoings. Please list where she has apologized to Percy for being a cunt? Where does she realize she's being cruel and needs to change?

It's Percy who either apologizes or looks over what she did.

That's not changing or becoming better. That's sweeping your shit under the rug and hoping no one smells it. It's the victim trying to tell themselves that what they're going through isn't terrible, and they need to "toughen up".

Yesterday, I saw a stan bashing a fanfic writer for writing Annabeth in a critical light. When the author gave evidence of how Annabeth mistreats him, not only did they ignore it, but they also bash Percy and blame him for things he didn't do or were out of his control.

And that's why I criticize her more. Her actions are more impactful and harmful than Percy's ever will be. The fact Percy EXPECTS her to hurt him is damaging enough. That's probably how fucking Sally feels with Gabe. If I do something wrong, he'll hurt me. Why the fuck can't this be considered the same or similar to Percabeth? Her intent to bring him down and hurt him because of her insecurities is why I voice my complaints, and when I got hardcore stans trying to OVERLOOK and DEFEND her actions, even blaming Percy, I can't help but scorn and bitch louder.

You stans want Percy to share the blame when he isn't required to. You want Annabeth to seem less bad and mean, and I am not okay with that. We should not lessen the blows she delivered. I get that some people can blow things out of proportion, but we have evidence that she's similar to Gabe and is just a nasty person.

Overall, it's not bad that one person gets more blame, especially when they're the ones causing the problems, and that someone is Annabeth Chase, and I won't stop being vocal about that.

Alright. Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

Have a good night xxx.

[maybejj]

masterlist

WHEN THE SILENCE ENDS

firefighter!rafe cameron x female!reader

strangers/friends/lovers

social media au, 18+ mdni

summary: You and your 6 year old son, Jamie, just moved to Outer Banks, North Carolina looking for a quieter life- at least that’s what you tell everyone. The truth? You’re running. As far and as fast as you can so you try to blend in with the locals, really make this place a true home for your son who barely speaks a word these days. On top of constantly looking over your shoulder and a full time job, the house you moved into is a fixer upper and needs all the work it can get. But when Jamie’s first grade teacher, Mrs. Routledge, holds a career day, things start to change. Jamie becomes obsessed with fire trucks and firemen, specifically a certain fireman whose name is Rafe Cameron. And it just so happens that Mr. Cameron is a jack of all trades and uses every single one to break down your walls.

Part 1 𖦹 Part 2

[its-in-the-woods]

Reach For Me - Pain

Masterlist

-Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Pairing: James Buchanan Barnes/Bucky x You/x reader (afab) no use of y/n

Word count: 5.1 k

Synopsis: “Tank,” He says, you blink a few times, you try not to act shocked. “I can’t fix it.” His words are clipped and short, like they hurt to say. 

MINORS and AI dickbags GET OUT. I am not in control of how you interact with my work. My work is not to be used for anything.

Rating/Warning: Missing limbs, prosthetic, wounds, ptsd, long silences, brooding, Bucky (you know why), hurt, longing, past torture, physical and mental, swearing, and so on.. this whole story is just one big warning.

All mistakes, grammar, and plot holes are my own.

You had given James a week of medical leave, mostly cause you wanted someone to keep Steve from wandering the medical floor all day. Also, because you wanted him to try and recover from the mission, you’d gotten permission from him to talk with Stark and Banner about possibly looking at some custom earpieces. Something that could block out sound and make it harder for something like this to happen again. They’d agreed, Stark had already set about looking into the necessary tech. 

It felt like a step in the right direction. Being proactive and working with each other instead of tiptoeing around each other. You’d also have interviews lined up with several therapists and psychologists who could hopefully become part of the team. You’d already heard groaning about it, but had held fast that this was needed to benefit everyone. Banner and Thor included. 

The weekend had been uneventful, you’d pretty much slept. Banner had firmly told you that you’d be escorted off the premises if you showed up at the tower over the weekend. You’d still spent a good amount of it slogging through papers on the latest biotech, learning about cybernetic eyes that were starting to see in colour. Not to mention the regeneration serum coming out of China, it hadn’t been tested on humans yet, but the applications could be revolutionary. 

You opened your phone, looking at the messages, checking emails. Part of you hoped that maybe James would text you, did he even text? Face scrunching, you were almost certain he still had a flip phone. Closing out your phone, you cover your face. What the hell was wrong with you? He was your patient, a traumatized, tortured, mess of a man, who needed care and support. Not your weird heart flips, and gaze that lingered too long on the way his shirt fit him. Groaning, you bury your face into your bed pillows. Nope, that was a line you were not crossing. 

Tomorrow you’d go back to work the same way you always did. Hire some therapists to talk to the dysfunctional group of heroes that lived there. Fit your vets with a device that could be life-changing. Do your job, like you were being paid to do.

“Professionalism.” You said out loud to no one. “And not losing your medical license. Very important.”

You lay on the bed looking up at the ceiling. At least you liked going to work now? That had to count for something. Right?

***

Natasha sits across from you, her hair is down, long and red, arms crossed as she watches you carefully. You were currently going over her notes, she’d been shot in the left thigh, and the right side just under her shoulder. 

“Would you be interested in doing physio once the wounds are healed?” You ask, typing away, Natasha shrugs a little, head tilting. 

“I won’t say no,” She replies curtly, fingers rubbing over the soft grey sweater. You were pretty positive it was Steve’s, but that was none of your business. “How long you going to sideline me for, Doc?”

You worry your lip, trying not to let her eyes burrow too far into your soul. “Your thigh got the brunt of it. I saw the limp you had, should be using crunches or a chair to move around.”

“I am getting around just fine.” She replies, looking towards the scan of her thigh on the screen. “It didn’t hit the bone. I’ve had worse.”

“Yes, you have and I know normally, they’d just have you back out into the field as soon as you were on your feet. But I like to see you all not kill yourselves while I am here.” You raise your eyes at Natasha, mirror her by crossing your arms over your chest. It was not easy facing down superheroes and telling them to take it easy. “I am not trying to be a hard ass, I am trying to make sure you’re in the best form. Avoid unnecessary harm or casualties.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that, Doc.” Natasha resigns, her hand rubbing over the spot where she’d been shot. “You're refreshing.”

Your mouth opens and closes, not sure how to take that, “Thank you.” Looking down at the keyboard in front of you. “I do care about all of you. I am not sure what I expected from this job, but you all feel closer to family than patients.”

Natasha has a small smile play across your lips. “Don’t go getting soft on us now, Doc. But it hasn’t gone unnoticed what you’re doing for us, it’s been a long time coming.”

Stomach twisting, you nod, “That means a lot. I would like to give you at least another week before physio, and then we will go from there.”

She nods, “Slot me in, I’ll be here.” You nod, and she gets up going to the door. 

Pausing, she turns to you for a moment, “Whatever you are doing with Barnes, keep it up, it’s working.”

Your heart shouldn’t lurch, but damn did that feel nice to hear. 

***

“I am not sure why I am here, Doctor of Earth.” Thor sat across from you. It was weird seeing him in sweats and a hoodie. Dark sunglasses over his eyes, his fingers constantly moving over the hem of his pocket.

“Pepper, likes to make sure we have up to date info on all of our members,” You reply, going over his blood work. Eyes narrowing, his cortisol levels were off the charts, well off the charts if he wasn’t a god. “Have you been dealing with some stress at home?”

Thor shifts in the chair, lowering himself down; you could see how uncomfortable he was. “Nothing that I cannot handle.”

“Thor, what is going on? The last time your levels were this high, Loki blew up half the city.” You press, if anyone thought Bucky was stubborn, Thor was a whole different level. 

“Something is wrong at home, in Asgard.” He states, again shifting uncomfortably in the chair. “I will handle it.”

Rubbing your eyelids, you try to figure out what you could do. He was a god; your medicine did almost nothing, and you were almost certain he was depressed. The conflict with Loki was hitting him harder than he was letting on. 

“Do you want to talk to someone?” You throw out, knowing full well he was going to shoot it down. “I have a really lovely therapist who has signed on.”

His arms crossed, eyes going over his glasses, a huff leaving him. “No, I am no mere mortal. How would anyone understand what is happening?” 

“Okay, it’s there if you change your mind. Sometimes talking about it helps,” You reply, so much for standing your ground. A sudden thought comes into your mind. “You could always go bug Tony about some attack bots. Maybe smashing things would help.”

He sat up a little, eyes peering over his sunglasses. “I think I would enjoy that, Doc. That is a good idea. I shall go do that!” 

You chuckle watching him get up, punching at the air before disappearing out the door. Well, you definitely made his week. 

***

The next few weeks fly by, and you end up clearing the whole team to get back to work. Natasha is on light duty and intel only. She gave you a glare but didn’t argue. She also seemed not to mind the physio therapist, despite Steve’s side eyeing him. Speaking of Steve, he had huffed about doing follow-up x-rays, but agreed after you let him go without physio. You were pretty certain he would have tossed the physiotherapist if he had ended up going. Sometimes you had to make compromises to avoid losing any more hair. 

Now you were stuck in a budget meeting. A large glass conference room that looked out over the city, you could see the hallways, and the helipad. You were certain they’d pick this spot on purpose. A way for your boss to flex his muscles.  Stark didn’t much care about how money was spent, as long as it went to something worthwhile. Whatever that meant. 

Who cared was investors, the board was very specific about who got how much, so budget meetings it was. Budget, paperwork, and red tape aren’t exactly your forte. You’d heavily leaned on Bruce to help you navigate the complicated process. He’d been more than happy to show you how it all worked; you definitely owe the guy several beers at this point. Especially after he went over the powerpoint for you.

Looking around the table, your eyes land on Stark. Stark, who had most certainly not taped pictures of the eyes to his glasses, Pepper occasionally nudging him when he started snoring. The meeting was nearly concluded, and the investors seemed more than happy with how your veterans program was moving. The murmur of them using the prosthetics for military applications made your stomach turn; you would be advising your veterans of that. Whether it affected your funding or not. You would not let your patients go in uninformed to any meet and greet with privately funded military companies. 

“Well, if the veteran program keeps up, we may look at expanding it come next year.” A balding man across the table leered at you; something about him made you want to gag.

You smile politely, hoping that your face didn’t give away your thoughts, “I am always open to broadening my research.”

“I bet you are. Been quite the star around here.” Another man says, his eyes staring directly at your chest. Which was hilarious considering you were in a lab coat for once. “Wish Stark had hired you earlier.”

“Now, now, gentleman. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Pepper chimes in, giving them a firm look. You now also owe Pepper wine. “Our Doctor has a lot on her plate already.”

You give her a small smile, thankful that Pepper had stepped in. Looking out through the large window, you see the crew walking down the hall from the helipad. Watching for a moment, you see that James is carrying his arm in his hand, his face a storm cloud of unsaid words, body leaning slightly left as he walks. 

“If we are all done here, I have some work to get to.” You say quickly, gathering up all your notes and files into your arms.

“Oh, taking off so soon,” Stark leers, watching you from above his glasses. 

The urge to flip him off is shoved down; instead, you turn and give him a polite smile. “You know where to find me, Mr. Stark.” He winces, but lets you go.

You take off down the hallway, hoping that you can maneuver the maze to catch up with James. Scurrying through the various halls, you turn through a door and watch as the elevators close. 

“Damnit,” You mutter under your breath, hitting the button to go down. 

One of the elevators comes up, and you are in as soon as the doors open, rapidly hitting the button to your floor. You nearly hit the floor for James’ room, but decided against it. “Boundaries, boundaries,” you mutter to yourself. 

The floors go by slowly, fingers tapping on the edges of the files. Wondering where he would have gone to your office. You hit the clinic floor and nearly topple out of the elevator, scurrying down towards the office doors. Rounding the corner, you see him standing by the door, hand still hanging on to his prosthetic. His shoulder slump, tact gear stretched across him. The little heart jump had nothing to do with the fact you’d never seen him in full uniform. 

“Hey,” You say quietly, like you hadn’t just run out of a meeting and down the elevator to get to him. “What happened to your arm?” 

James looked down at his arm he was holding, and then back at you, his face still an unreadable mask. 

“Thanks,” He says. You blink a few times, trying not to act shocked. “I can’t fix it.” His words are clipped and short, like they hurt to say. 

“Oh, not a problem. I got most of the afternoon free.” You say with a small smile, moving forward and unlocking the office door. 

He follows behind you, his present making the space feel small, placing the arm on your desk with a thud. You place your stuff down, sliding files back into place, firing up your computer. Looking towards him, you see him pacing around the room, his footfalls are almost silent. How could someone that large make almost no sound? Was he sweating?

You sit in the chair, rolling over to look at the arm. It was dented, right where the elbow joint was. Not just dented but squished, like a pancake. Pen taping around the different points. You use both hands to turn it over; the underside doesn’t look as bad, but this was not going to be a quick fix. 

“You said a tank rolled over this?” You ask, moving back to your computer to see if there was a lab free. 

He finally sits, right hand moving up to run over his left side, nodding at your question. You see him wince, just a small scowl that disappears in a blink. There is definitely sweat breaking out over his brow, was he in pain? A list of questions forms in your mind as you watch him.

Glancing back at your computer, you see the lab schedule, lab D is open, at least part of the lab was open, there would be others in there, but the equipment you needed would be available. 

“I am going to take this to Lab D. I have the three-dimensional prints in my medical room next door. I can use that as a template. This may take some time.” You say quickly, booking the lab. “Did you get injured when the tank rolled over your arm? I can take a look at it now, make sure everything is fine.”

James sat there, still as stone, right hand clenched hard enough that his knuckles had gone white. 

“Are you okay?” You swallow, moving over so that you are closer to him.

He fidgets, now that you are looking at him over you can see marks covering his chest. The tact vest had been shot several times, and there was blood splattered across it. The glove on his right hand was torn, and the knee on his left leg was also ripped. 

“James,” You move over closer, you don’t touch him. Something was clearly bothering him more than he was letting on.

“It’s fine.” His words clipped, as he got up and walked out the door, so quickly you didn’t have time to ask him to stop.

You sit for a moment, blinking, unsure why the man had stormed out. Your first instinct is to go after him, but you stop. If he needed space, you’d give him that, he would find you if needed. 

***

Bucky stood in his bathroom, the steam had covered the mirrors, and he would prefer it stayed that way. He knew the mirror would only reveal the damage he could already feel. The pain was excruciating, and the warmth had helped until he got out of the shower. 

It did help that doing things without an arm was difficult. He was certain half his body was not cleaned properly, and he was also certain that getting clothes on was not going to be any easier. He’d be wearing sweats and a loose shirt until he got his arm back. 

The arm hadn’t always been there, but he had never learned how to live without it. It wasn’t like HYDRA had classes on being a normal human being. No, he’d learned how to take a part of a gun one handed, and gut a person with one hand. Yet, putting on clothes wasn’t on their list, or doing his hair, or talking to another human. He was a weapon. The word etched into his mind like a brand.

The counter creaked under the squeeze of his fist. 

He couldn’t hear over the coms; the new earpiece he had been given was still buggy as hell. Digging them out, he taped at the side of his head, hearing someone scream. His head turned, the dust clearing enough for him to see an agent being dragged away by some six legged monster, a tank was headed towards them. She had a dagger dug into one of its arms, but it wasn’t slowing him down; she was thrashing, trying to get out of his grip. 

Without thinking, he was down off the stack of shipping containers, his heart thumping as he watched what was unraveling in front of him. Sam was diving down scooping out agents, and Steve was currently tearing through the roof of the spacecraft. He didn’t know where the others were, his focus narrowing down to what was ahead of him. 

Hand on his weapon, he levelled three shots in a cluster at the creature’s head. It shook it off, turning to look at him, its face splitting to reveal tongues and teeth as it roared at him. The girl in its clutches was thrown towards the spaceship, her head hitting the ground hard enough to knock her out cold.  Bucky didn’t stop, walking in a steady, easy pace, bullets focused still on the thing's face. All it did was annoy the creature. 

Switching over to knives, he flips a dagger into his hand and throws it. It hits directly into the thing's maw. A scream cries out. He breaks into a sprint, the girl is going to be crushed in a moment if he doesn’t move fast. He manages to slide, throwing his arms forward and pushes her out of the way. His body curls in on itself, but it’s too slow. His arm malfunctioning and freezing, he feels the tank crushing his arm. It rips a scream out of his mouth. Pain flares as his socket is twisted and pulled off his body. It feels like it takes hours for the tank to go over his arm; he comes out the other side with a whimper. 

He can feel the countertop piece in his hand, sharp enough to cut into his palm. The steam has faded, and the bruising around his limb shows. The limb is swollen and purple. Muscles around the metal plate were strained, veins red, flesh hot to the touch. The metal plating around his shoulder is rippled; if he presses on it, pain blossoms up his neck and into the back of his head. 

“Fuck,” He whispers out, this wasn’t something he could fix on his own. No different than the arm, he needed help.

He thought of the look on your face when he’d gotten up and left. How confused you looked when he just stood up and left. The pain had been excruciating, his arm was broken, and half the aliens had disappeared into the forest. All he had wanted was for you to fix the arm, just for one thing to go right. The arm that won’t even fit because his limb was the size of a watermelon. It wasn’t your fault that he had been too slow, or that a tank had run him over, or that he was in pain.

Yet he still left you there. The one person trying to help him. 

Looking one more time at his wrecked left side. He didn’t have a choice; if you got the arm working, it won’t slot back into the sock properly now. So he either went and saw you and got it all fixed, or nothing. 

“Godamnit,” He grumbles, leaving the bathroom. 

***

Lab D was as expected; there were two other groups in there working on projects. The space was huge, a large open area where one group was testing out what looked like nano-suit tech. It was not going well. They had covered most of the floor space with mats. Which were now being used by the suit test dummy, who was being thrown into it over and over. He would try to activate the suit; it would cover part of his body and then slam him backwards when he’d get nervous and clench his fist. They needed someone who was much less twitchy. 

Another group had a defunct ironman suit laid out that they were slowly taking apart and piecing back together. It looked tedious and time-consuming, something that you almost wish you could be doing. Your mind was a mess. 

The prosthetic was far more damaged then your initial assessment; the joint looked completely crushed and would need to be refabricated. This wasn’t simple or fast, and James was already upset. You’d also noticed that the pins that latched his prosthetic to his residual limbs were broken, which meant that the limb was more than likely injured. Not that James had told you that. 

You placed his prosthetic on the table, closing your eyes and trying to refocus yourself. Trauma did horrid shit, you still had nightmares, still had flashbacks. There was no timeline for how trauma was dealt with, especially complex trauma like James was going through. 

“Just keep showing up,” You say quietly, as you start to unload your cart. 

Placing the arm on the table carefully, you’d need to get it apart so you could send it to the fabricators downstairs. Hopefully, they had something stronger than titanium down there; your mind drifted to vibranium. Steve’s shield was made of it, but you didn’t know of any other sources. You could possibly add tungsten to the titanium, just to the joints, adding the metal overall would make the limb too heavy. Just adding the joint weight might be too much. There were too many unknown factors. 

“Whoa, is that the winter soldier's arm?” A much too chipper voice chimes in, you turn her, a smaller girl with brown curly hair and big green eyes. She immediately zoned in on the arm, her hands going out to touch it. 

You stare at her for a moment too long, trying to digest the words she had said. “I am sorry. I would prefer if you used his name.”

The girl is looking over the whole thing, the way she is pressing and moving the metal has your fingers twitching. She goes to pick it up, and you nearly shout at her. “I didn’t know he even spoke.”

“His name is James Barnes,” You say firmly, moving so that you are standing in front of the prosthetics. Shuffling her out of the way, you didn’t want her touching the prosthetic anymore. “He is a patient of mine, and deserves some respect. He isn’t a tool to be fondled.”

She scowls at you, arms crossing over her chest. You felt that your face had said more than your words. “Well, he isn’t my patient.” She says loud enough for the rest of the room to hear. “Besides, I have studied cybernetic tech extensively. I could help with this.” 

You look at her name tag, Lily, and you try to keep your face neutral. Most of the room was now staring at you. “Lily, whether he is your patient or not, they all deserve respect. Would you call Dr. Banner, the Hulk?” Your voice was louder than needed, “Or Mr. Stark, Iron Man?”

The test dummy hits the wall with a thud, and someone gasps. Lily takes a step back, folding in on herself as she looks around the room, her cheeks stained pink. 

“I apologize, Doctor," She says, your name quietly. “If there is anything I can assist you with, I will be just over there.”

You watch her walk away, the room still looking at you. The urge to yell boo sits just under your tongue, but you instead move back to what you actually need to focus on. You start placing all the pieces out in front of you, the three dimensional print in the center. Now to take the actual prosthetic apart, sans nosey interns.

***

Bucky stood in a pair of jeans that he’d struggled far too long to get on. A loose-fitting black tee that was baggy enough to hide the swelling. There had been a lot of cursing to get it on. Not to mention the shoes, he was investing in something that he could slip on after this. Clint had mentioned crocs, though the name alone sounded awful. Who names footwear crocs?  

He stood outside his room and had no idea what to do. The pain had dulled to a roar; maybe it would fade. Then the shirt rubs the wrong way, and his head swims, the world turns slightly, and he is grasping the wall. 

Grumbling, he makes his way to the elevators, trying hard not to move his shoulder at all. He hits the elevator button several times harder than necessary. The binging noise makes his head throb, vision blurring. The pain was almost debilitating at this point. 

The doors open to an elevator full of people. They all stand there and look at him. How did so many people have access to the floors up here? He just waits for the doors to close, his forehead resting against the cool metal. Counting to ten, he hits the elevator button again.

***

Lab D is quiet, the lights are dim, everyone else has left for the day. He pads down the hall and stands just outside the doors. You're standing with three tables side by side, his entire arm spread out across all three. There are dozens of sticky notes, your tablet is perched on the rolling stool nearby. He watches as you card your hand through your hair, you grab the inner structure, it looks very similar to how a human bone would look. The joint is a mess, something that will have to be completely rebuilt. 

He turns and leans against the wall, letting out a breath. An intern walks by with a scowl on her face, eyes not connecting with his, clutching her folders tighter as she walks by him. He grits his teeth; now he has to go in there and tell her that there was more damage done. That he was more damaged then he already was. 

“James?” You are leaning out the door, bags under your eyes, brows furrowed as you look at him. 

He pushes off the wall quickly, trying to act like he hadn’t been spiraling less than a minute before. “Umm, yeah, I-I wanted to see how you were doing with the arm.”

“Oh, come in then.” You say, still looking confused as you hold the door open for him. 

He walks in and is struck with how many working parts are laid out in front of him. “Whoa, that’s a lot of parts.” 

A sigh comes out as you pace the length of the tables, “Yeah, there is. The tank did a number on it. The biggest issue is rebuilding the joint.” You point at the piece of metal. “There is some nano fiber damage, and these metal cords.” You pull up three that are snapped. “They act like tendons, and they are also trashed.” 

Bucky’s mind raced; this was not going to be fixed tonight, or hell, even this week. That didn’t even cover what he hadn’t shown her yet. His jaw works as he took it all in. 

“I already have Max downstairs fabricating the new skeletal pieces. I have one being made with titanium and one with added tungsten. I want to make it stronger, but I don’t want to add weight.” He watches you move back and forth, your fingers running over each piece carefully. “We’ll need to do some test runs on it. I also noticed there were pins broken inside. Did you hurt your limb?” 

He looks at you for a moment, “Umm, yeah. I was gonna mention it, it's nothing major.” That was a lie. “Maybe tomorrow you could look at it.” He was certainly not sleeping with the pain he was in.

Your arm crosses over your chest. “You think I am gonna sleep?” The words are thin, not anger, but sadness. “Also, you’re sweating, which I’ve never seen before.” 

Bucky freezes; he doesn’t know what to do, his feet start moving backwards towards the door. You see it and reach out, he grimaces, but stops moving. 

“James, you’ve been ignoring me since you got back. I can tell you’re in pain. If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I can’t help you.” You state plainly, he looks at you, the way your brows are furrowed, lips chewed to hell, and searches his face for answers. 

He looks down at his feet as he pushes his shirt up to reveal his limb. 

***

Your mouth falls open, the residual limb is purple, swollen twice its usual size. Reaching forward, you stop for a moment and look up at him. He is still staring at the floor, clearly upset and in pain. 

“We need to go to my clinic, I need gloves, and possibly an x-ray.” You say quickly, mind a whirlwind. “And before you get upset, I will do everything I can to avoid the scan. But I need to look at this closure and possibly make some phone calls.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, just drops his shirt sleeve and waits. 

You move so you’re facing him, reaching over and grabbing his right hand. Despite his flinching, you squeeze it. 

“James, stuff like this is going to happen. It’s all part of having an arm like yours.” You say quietly, you try to find his eyes, but he won’t look at you. “I know you saved the life of an agent, which almost cost you your own.” 

He tries to pull away, but you won’t let him. Hoping that the squeeze of your fingers can somehow ground him. 

“This is gonna suck, I am not gonna lie to you.” You say flatly, “But I need you to trust me, okay?”

He doesn’t move, his fingers twitch around yours before squeezing them. You let it sit, needing some sort of validation that he was going to be alright. If his limb was this swollen still, after over six hours, there was something severely wrong. Your mind had already started picking up names of people you’d need to phone, and tests you needed to run. 

“I-I,” Bucky’s face twisted like he was trying to find the words. 

You hold up your hand and make an okay sign, “You can just do that.”

Bucky stares at it for a moment, and you let go of his hand, but then he makes the sign. 

~*~*~*~

Author's note: I already have the next part written, but I am adjusting and writing it. May post it early 🤭

If you enjoyed, comment, reblog, like <3

Tag list (comment to be added. If you want to be removed, let me know)

@biaswreckedbybuckybarnes @riki-785 @overwintering-soldier

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@ficmeiguess @vunblr @kimberly-stocks

[wannabedragon-yep-lumenemporium]

Omg this episode was sooo sweet 🥺

As I said multiple times now, this series is making us absolutely love Jerry, what a cutie patootie he was?? And Rick? And Beard Beth? ahaha okay let's go with my take, the episode's themes I noticed and the sus/interesting details.

_________My take (I'm part of the R&M cult, so, impartiality)________

Honestly I was expecting this Jerry to be a total mess, getting our Jerry in real danger quite quickly, instead, this episode was deep and yet silly, sweet and funny.

Jerry change is the most consistent through the show. Jerry is becoming the more consistent character in his arc this season, there is not episodic stuff for him: while Beth, Morty, Summer and Rick seems to orbitate around a "change core", not moving too much close or far from that point, Jerry is evolving in his change. Jerry has completely embraced a new side of himself, and he didn't just accepted it, he is maturing within it, growing more and more self confident each passing episode. He is ready to take the risk of feeling loved and cherished, he is accepting his place in the universe, but not passively: he's not the Jerry that stays in the family because he has nothing better to do with his life, like some filling a role that someone gave to him or just because he likes Beth. He is taking ownership of his life, living it as he likes to, taking the risk,

saying out loud what he thinks, instead of losing himself in fear...

he is learning how to be independent.

I really think this is a metaphor of Jerry finally starting to trust himself.

Would you follow a part of yourself through a multidimensional wardrobe? Probably a healthy answer would be yes, because you know that, somehow, you can get yourself back home. You can look after yourself, you trust yourself.

Mooch is that part of Jerry that saved him so many times: it's the survival core in him that can lead to Jerry Prime...

the same core that can destroy an airplane just to prove a point: a core that needed a more thoughtful and mature Jerry to evolve into grit and ownership over selfishness and cowardice.

And thank to this acceptance and evolution, Jerry is able to kill that part of himself that he dislikes more, basically his own "Rick Prime" (on a very small scale 👌)

Our Jerry matured enough to comfort that part of himself that feels doubtful about his own choices, even when it comes to save his own life...

That frail part of himself too resentful and insecure to accept and to admit love.

He basically gently re parents himself.

I also loved how they explored the Beth second marriage thing, I totally wanted to see this after the Jerryboree episode, bcs I wanted to know what happened to the ex-Jerry in her life.

⬆️(apparently Morty didn't beat that old fart enough last episode)⬆️

Send me on my way - Rusted Root: As Jerry would say, as fate would have it, an Ice Age reference slapped me in the face this episode, just right after reading this moving analysis about the movie a few days ago, analysis that I highly suggest u all to read through and through, especially if the Ice Age was one of your childhood movies. Bcs the Ice Age (at least the first ice age) is a movie about a group of lonely outcasts, just like the Smiths family, that slowly finds a safe space in each other, a safe space where to open up and process their own sh1t, taking ownership of their own lives, instead of passively surviving through trauma, death and danger. I could talk for ages abt this, but uhm, no, I won't💀 I'll just say that it feels so weirdly familiar to find some childhood memory in a 2025 Rick and Morty episode, it's almost like a friend going "Hey, do you remember when in the Ice Age happens this and then blah blah blah..." and you share a piece of heart that you almost forgot about, something that you were both too young to get then, but that it just makes sense now.

I loved the Bag of Holding reference: for those who don't know, that's what a Bag of Holding is, a very cool DnD item, you put basically infinite stuff in it and it's like an inter-dimensional bag

and it scared the shit out of me bcs...

this necessarily implies the Bag Man exists in Rick and Morty reality (a dude that probably once was a person, that got lost into a bag of holding, and legends says sometimes comes out and drags other ppl in the bag with them😭😭) AAAAAHHHHH!!😭 (loool, I looked for a "cry-scared" gif and tumblr asked me if I'm okay and if I need help💀💀💀💀I'm dying 💀💀 how am I gonna tell them that I'm just scared of the Bag Man AHAHAHAHAHAHAH)

Also I love how Jerry gets his family no matter what now, this so funny and cute 💀

In conclusion I cannot think of a better season my dudes, each episode is better than the previous one, and now we'll see Morty with his son... I though we basically had two options with that episode synopsis:

Morty reconnecting with Planetina (but I thought Morty didn't change much since their breakup) or Morty reconnecting with Morty Jr. (but I thought he was already dead). And boom, they dropped it, it was Morty Jr. (this is going to be heartbreaking I guessbafsgdahfh yayyy ✌️💀)

I like how the closer the show gets to the beNinnig of a new cycle, the more unresolved plot points from sooo many series ago, come to an end.

________________Ep. Main themes in a nutshell_________________

Taking real ownership of our lives, means to gentle re parent the most frail sides of ourselves, fighting (aggressively 💀) those attachment issues that would isolate ourselves from those we really love.

Accepting yourself is of course the recurring theme here, but there's a specific something that is starting to emerge: neither Rick nor Morty accepted themselves yet. Rick kills every version of himself on sight and has no contact at all with his good side, like Doofus Rick. Morty does basically the same and the only Mortys who could truly teach him something about life (Evil Morty, Arcade Morty) are evil to him, and he would likely shoot them than having an open conversation with them 💀

__________________Sus stuff/interesting details___________________

Pick me up with Golden Hands. It's peculiar that they chose to highlight this line from the song, bcs it immediately reminded me of The One True Morty Golden Hand: there was a specific quote about "his golden arm reaching for those who believe" or smth like that, but I cannot find it anywhere 😭😭😭😭 anyway even in pocket Mortys, the Grand Sage of the Cult is "touched by the golden hand of The One True Morty", so there's a reference to the One True Self here I think, like: "grab the hands of your true self and embrace who you are so you can find your way" kind of thing.

It's nice to see how much Morty and Jerry have in common: this version of Jerry has the slicked back hair and the same leather jacket of this pocket Morty, Greaser Morty, they're both rebels and little shits.

Also, how cute was Rick??

All done!

Thank you for reading my stuff!

[mistmessenger]

When your pride is on the floor | Papa IV x reader one shot

Beneath all his bravado, Copia remains his own number one hater. On nights he felt at his lowest, he would on you to help him work through his emotions.

18+ MDNI

GN reader, established relationship, dom!reader sub!copia, angst and smut and fluff, edging, blowjobs, light bondage, sex toys, praise kink, Copia is extremely critical of his body and image (cw - self-body shaming), post sex crying, dealing with one’s anxiety with sex probably isn’t the wisest option but Satan knows these two are going to try

AO3 Link

Fun fact - if you want an idea of how good at procrastinating I am, just know that I started writing this in Jan 2024 then completely neglected it. Worth the wait? Negative.

Papa Emeritus the Fourth had grown into his role with passion. Few in the ministry could deny it.

For all the murmurs and doubts cast by certain members of the clergy when the awkward, stammering Cardinal was promoted to lead the Ghost project - some louder than others - Copia had taken to the Papacy with ease.

During black mass he looked every bit at home stood at the pulpit, delivering his sermons with confidence and conviction, leaving little room for anyone to cast doubt on his commitment to the ministry, to the teachings of the Olde one.

The ghouls took a liking to him quickly, even those who had been summoned by and worked with his predecessors. In fact, Copia had gotten the hang of summoning new ghouls, and even ghoulettes at a rate faster than those before him, a testament to his abilities that had lain unseen, unappreciated, for so long.

During confessions and personal meetings, he always set aside time to lend his fellow clergy siblings a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on, to be a pillar of strength to his flock.

Encounters with the higher ups, particularly Sister Imperator and especially Papa Nihil, were still not a walk in the park for Copia. But with time he began to find his spine. Where in the past he would have bent over backwards for their approval, he found himself more willing to stand up for himself in the face of their sometimes overzealous critiques.

At the beginning of his tenure with the Ghost project, Copia had worried about the fan’s perception of him.  It was only natural, after taking the reins from suave, beloved Terzo of all people.

But Copia had quickly found himself unleashing a charm he didn’t quite know he had in him. To be so easily adored, and lusted after, so intensely and by so many, was a new felling for Copia. Although not an unwelcome one, by any means.

The ministry had needed a dominating force, and Copia had stepped up to the challenge.

Yes, Copia had become a force to be reckoned with in a few short years. But some things never changed…

Copia sighed, watching as Papa Emeritus IV splashed against the pale ceramic sink, the paints swirling in the water to create a murky grey hue, before washing away down the plughole. He looked up, hesitantly meeting his own reflection.

He hated this part.

Mass was over, no more meetings to attend for the day. Now was his time to relax.

If only he could bring himself to do so.

Washing away his papal paints felt like unearthing something that should have stayed buried. When the paint was on, he could easily slip into the persona he had carefully crafted to appease the clergy and fans.

Without it, he was forced to see himself, to see Copia.

He leans towards the mirror, pulling at the creases and bags under his eyes and grimacing at their appearance. Quickly his eyes move from his skin to a new grey hair. At least, he’s sure it’s new. It wasn’t there this morning, was it?

He hardly recognised himself these days.

“A good plastic surgeon will do that, I suppose…” He thought to himself, sardonically, twisting his head to get a glimpse of his side profile, examining his nose. He was pleased with the surgery’s results, of course, but occasionally he couldn’t help but admonish himself for getting so carried away, changing so much to fit himself into the role he wanted to play.

He was tired tonight. The exhaustion does catch up with him, every so often, and he can’t help but yearn for a simpler time. As the overworked and underappreciated Cardinal. The one who flew beneath everyone’s radar, who didn’t spend most of his days to pretending to be someone else.

With all his insecurities, his self-doubts, Copia often found himself on edge. After the… suspicious demise of his brothers, Copia often found himself spiralling, wondering if- no, when- he would meet the same fate.

He often wondered what would trigger it, thinking perhaps one day his looks will have faded too much, falling below some set standard – he was sure if a numerical target could be used to measure attractiveness, someone in the ministry was already keeping a spreadsheet monitoring him. 

Or perhaps one day he would fumble over his words too often, or forget something, or trip over at just the wrong moment, making a fool of himself, perhaps they would finish him off then.

If his papal duties didn’t exhaust him, then his brain running on overdrive would certainly do the trick, keeping him awake long into the night.

His examination of his flaws had made its way further down, as he stood shirtless, prodding and gripping the soft exposed flesh of his stomach, trying to tense his abdomen to suck his stomach in.

As he looked up, meeting his own eyes in the mirror again, he started, spotting you leaning against the doorway of the ensuite.

He swallowed, not quite meeting your gaze in the reflection, catching your raised eyebrow, the frown on your face, arms crossed. He hadn’t heard you slip into his room.

This was nothing you hadn’t seen before, Copia being his own harshest critic, but it didn’t make it any easier to watch him tear himself apart. You wanted to help him, but he goes out of his way to make that difficult when he’s in this mood.

Sighing, you spoke softly, but your disapproval crept through in your tone.

“Are you going to stand here poking and prodding at yourself all night?”

Copia hummed for a moment, his response clipped, mocking even.

“That’s ‘Are you going to stand here poking and pulling at yourself all night Papa’ to you.”

You blink, only taken aback for a second by his harsh tone. But you’ve known him long enough now to know that he doesn’t mean it. That this is simply how he gets sometimes, his feelings becoming overwhelming, unable to stop himself from lashing out.

Before you could formulate a reply to try and calm him down, he continued, his face barely disguising a sneer as he rambled.

“Maybe I will. Perhaps I will grab a pen and start making a list. A diet will be at the top.”  He rubbed a towel over his face roughly, tossing it on the floor before turning to leave the bathroom. You’ve seen this mood enough times now to know that he fully intends to write this list of critiques. As he tried to brush past you to leave the bathroom, you grabbed his arm, pulling him to face you. The cold glare he met your eyes with made your heart sink. You hated seeing this. Trying to hold yourself together, you whispered sternly.

“I will write your dammed list for you. I believe a change in attitude would be the priority.”

With that he looked away, brows furrowing as a look of shame crossed his features as he came back to reality, regretting how he snapped at you, not for the first time. Regretting how on nights like this, he lets himself lose control of his tongue. Tonight was tame, compared to some of his worse nights, but still, he wasn’t sure what he hated more – the way he lashes out when you do nothing but support him, or the way you would let him use you to blow off steam, siphoning off his self loathing to redirect it at you.

“Amore… I’m sorry- I…”

You shook your head, taking a step backwards away from him. “Do you need to be alone tonight C?”

It was the last thing you wanted, to leave him unattended to wallow and spiral in his own insecurities, but you weren’t going to push him into anything if he didn’t want to.

He gulped, shaking his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. His exhaustion was evident, shoulders slumped as he met your eyes, the sparkle within them long since dulled.

“No. I need… you know what I need.”

Copia closed the distance between you again, gripping your shoulders and resting his forehead against yours. Without hesitation, you pulled him into a hug.

“I’m no mind reader, Copia. Tell me what you need.” Your face buried in his neck hid your smile.

You knew you were getting somewhere, knew exactly what he was hinting at. But he had to ask for it. Deep down you were never sure if what he was asking for was the best way of dealing with his emotions, but the end results tended to speak for them self.

He let out a low, almost petulant groan. Pulling back, his eyes held a silent plea, one which he’s almost too stubborn and proud to voice aloud. He already felt so pathetic and weak, and his face flushed with embarrassment when he finally spoke.

“Please”

You lightly traced circles over his shoulder, leaning back to look at him. A sympathetic smile crept onto your lips, as you cupped his cheek with your free hand.

“You want me to make you feel better, yeah?” You cooed, pressing your body close to him again.

He nodded quickly, and you could feel his nervous energy radiating through his body. Nodding in return, you stood on your tiptoes to place a gentle kiss to his lips, before moving away to take a seat on the edge of his bed. Leaning back on your elbows, your face went deadpan as you sighed, falling into your own role. The one Copia and you had been perfecting for years now, long before his reign as Papa.

You spoke with authority, voice sharp and punctuating as it cuts through the silence.

“Finish undressing then, get on with it.”

Copia only hesitated for a second, but enough to make your brow raise. A tilt of your head, silently asking if he was going to be defiant tonight.

Swallowing, he nodded, more to reassure himself than anything, before beginning to unlace his pants, the skin of his already exposed chest flushing red.

“Didn’t tell you to look away from me, did I love?”

The flush of his skin spreads to his face as he reluctantly shook his head, biting his lip in slight agitation from being scolded. His gaze was piercing as he pushed his pants down his legs, his boxers following soon after. There was no teasing, no performance made of it, not with the mood he was in. He kicked the discarded clothes aside and stood awaiting instruction.

You took a moment to admire him.

Stood before you, almost entirely naked, only in his socks – you were never completely ruthless in this role, allowing him some little comforts.

It was hard not to get lost in admiring him, your eyes widening and a grin spreading across your face. He was still half soft, but it wouldn’t take you long to fix that.

He was perfect to you. And in your mind, it was a travesty that the man you adored tormented himself so.

“Thank you, love.” You stood to reach for him rubbing his arms reassuringly, your lips meeting his again, but deeper this time, longer, allowing him to place his arms around you, to pull you closer to his exposed body. Breaking the kiss, you scattered light pecks across his neck, savouring how he twitched in response. Between kisses, you whispered your next instruction. “Now. Go and lie down for me.”

Sighing, Copia pulled his hands away from you, doing as he was told. You gave him some time to get settled while you grabbed some equipment from deep within his closet. Just a few pieces tonight, you decided, to keep things relatively simple – the ties for each corner of the bed, the vibrating wand, and the collar and chain.

You smiled to yourself, looking at the chain in his hands, remembering how nervous he had been on the night he suggested buying it for you to use on him. It was like he was always terrified you would reject his ideas. Admittedly, being the one in control of such instruments had never been something you had ever considered, more used to being the wearer, but you would do anything to make him happy.

Back on the bed Copia tried to calm his breathing as you began to work on him, starting at his feet, tying his legs apart but taking time to ensure the binds were not painful for him. You couldn’t help teasing him, climbing atop the bed, a knee on each side of his chest as you work on tying his wrists, your thighs getting close to his face as you lean over him towards the headboard. He let out a low hum, wishing you were not clothed, not when you were this close to him, so close he could taste you.

Moving back, you straddled his hips as you reached for the collar. You opted not to attach the chain just yet, instead looping the collar around his neck, giving it a gentle but firm squeeze. The action caused him to buck his hips up against you, letting out a louder whine.

Rolling your eyes you tut, voice sharp with disapproval. “No. Behave.”

“I’m sorry.” He groaned pitifully, desperate for your touch, desperate to feel good, to pull him out of the depths of his insecurity.

In spite of your sharp tone, and your commitment to the stern act, the adoration in your eyes was clear as you stroked his hair, causing him to lean into your touch. You mused aloud as you idly played with the soft strands.

“Maybe I should gag you… for taking such a rude tone with me earlier…?”

Copia bit his lip, his eyes widening.

“But I’d be doing myself a disservice. You voice is so pretty when you beg. So why don’t you tell me, Copia? What do you want?”

His movements were small, as if trying to get away with them without you noticing. But you noticed, the way he tried to grind his hips against you. Him being half soft was a long forgotten problem at this point. “Make me feel good, touch me. Please.”

You leaned back, about to give into his plea, but stopping to admire the sight below you.

His anticipation was visible throughout his body, as he clenches his fists in the binds, wishing he could feel and grasp at you, to tear the clothes from your body and feel your flesh against his. His breath was shaky, skin still flushed red, his mismatched eyes wide. He was perfect.

With a smirk, you moved to kneel between his legs, taking the tip of his hardened cock in your mouth. At the first contact, his body jolted, his inhale was sharp, finally feeling direct stimulation. He let out a whine as you took more of him, much too slowly in his opinion, letting your saliva coat him.

As you slowly began to bob your head up and down his length, Copia whimpered, pulling against the binds on his wrists, longing to thread his fingers through your hair, to control your pace just so he could feel the calming aftermath of his climax sooner.

If Copia hadn’t been as caught up in his own tension and doubt from earlier, he would have realised something was amiss. In all the scenes that had played out between the two of you in this room, it was rare for you to start with your mouth, knowing how much it flustered him, pushing him to climax so quickly.

You raised your head, smiling as you seen the slight sheen of sweat on his forehead, and the way he was trying so hard to calm himself, to resist the urge to moan and pant in response to the sensations. Spitting into your hand, you gave your mouth a short respite, idly rubbing him, alternating the pressure of your grip to watch the way he gasped and bit his lip. You let your thumb ghost over his tip, and once again his hips jolted in response as he stifled a groan.

“Feeling good, baby?” You grinned.

His lips were pressed tight together as he nodded, eyes squeezed shut as he tried to calm down. “Mmhm… Don’t stop. Please.”

You smirked, leaning down to take him with your mouth again, sucking on him with enthusiasm as he became more and more undone, his whines and laboured breaths like music to your ears. As you continued to bob your head up and down, picking up the pace slightly, your hands wandered. Massaging his thighs, moving up over the hairs of his chest and back down to his abdomen – the area that caused so much of his insecurities when it came to his body. Your hands slipped around his waist, gripping his body a little tighter. He was ticklish on his sides, and perhaps it was cruel of you to further overstimulate him this way.

But how could you resist it when you watched how it made him lose composure, how it made him tremble?

His composure was long gone by this point, his moans louder, his knuckles white from clenching his fists.

You’d done this enough times now to know when he’s close. Involuntarily, he whimpered as his hips thrust upwards again, desperate to sink his cock further down your warm throat. You watched him carefully, waiting for the moment his whole body seemed to tighten, on the edge of his release.

And then you stopped.

Copia let out a hiss, a look of anger and betrayal painting his features. You stepped away from the bed, watching as he thrashed his fists into the mattress with what little wriggle room the binds gave him.

He let out an exasperated growl, making no effort to mask his frustration.

“Cazzo! Just let me come. You- you-“ It was obvious to you that Copia was angry, but his voice sounded so fragile, so shaky. You tutted, pacing around the bed to sit beside his head.

“Ah, ah, ah. You will soon enough. But you do realise you have earned a punishment tonight, yes?”

Throwing his head back against the pillow, Copia turned his face away from you. His frustration was clearer in his voice as his breathing began to steady, his tone almost as sharp as it had been in the bathroom before.

“I told you I was sorry for snapping at you!”

Your brows furrowed on hearing the attitude in his voice, but you said nothing, instead waiting as he began to calm slightly, his breathing becoming steadier.

“And yet… you’re doing it again. Besides, C, that is not why you’re being punished.” You murmured, stretching to reach for the chain you had left at the foot of the bed.

Copia raised his head from the pillow, his chest still visibly heaving, “Then why?” he groaned through gritted teeth as you clipped the chain onto his collar.

“Because… I don’t appreciate it when you admonish the things that make me happy, Copia.”

He almost rolled his eyes, but was caught off guard when you tugged on the chain lightly, your brows furrowed, slightly exasperated at his refusal to listen to you.

You shifted, sitting cross legged beside him, watching how Copia bit his lip as you casually wound the chain around your hand, your cold gaze spiking his anticipation again.

Suddenly, your voice was softer, but no less firm. Even without the collar and chain, Copia was enraptured, stealing glances at your lips as you spoke. He winced, his cock twitching as his mind wandered to how close you just had him with those lips.

“Let me give you a list, hm? Where would I start?” You murmured, running your free hand through his hair, sweeping back the strands stuck to his forehead, dampened with sweat.

“Your hair is so soft, you know? How good it feels to run my hands through it, how it moves and sways with you when you’re up on those big stages. And yet…” You closed your hand into a fist, giving him a light tug by his hair. Copia let out a strangled mrph, biting down on his lip harder.

“And yet you panic and taunt yourself, all over a few grey strands?”

You released his hair, sweeping down his neck with a feather light touch making him shiver. “Or this body…” You whispered as your hand found its way across his chest, pausing to circle his birthmark, before resting on the softness of his stomach.

“Look, Copia.” You gave the chain another short tug as soon as you noticed his eyes squeezed shut, trying to avoid following the trail of your hand. Letting out a begrudging sigh, he pried his eyes open.

“This body that fits so well with mine. That holds me tight in my darkest hours, the arms that feel like a sanctuary to me. How good it feels, on top of me… under me… how sweet it tastes…”

You pressed your forehead against his for a moment, letting the heat of your breath hit his face before pulling the chain so your lips met his. You relaxed your grip on the chain, sinking into the kiss, smirking at his whimper as he tasted himself on your tongue.

You allowed him to rest his head back on the pillow, letting the chain slacken as you carried on your musings.

“What a pretty canvas it is for all those outfits they dress you up in, hm?”

Your other hand moved to softly rub your knuckles against his cheek, letting out a soft laugh seeing how he jumped a little as the cool chain grazed his skin.

“How pretty your skin is when you’re all flustered… You think a few wrinkles are the measure of you? That a few extra pounds will be your undoing?”

He looked away, lips drawn in a hard line. You gave the chain a quick tug.

“Questions are asked to be answered, Copia…”

He took a deep breath, his eyes focused on the ceiling, too embarrassed to look at you while he mumbled, a slight shrug in his shoulders.

“Yes. If I don’t meet their expectations… they’ll… I- I just need to look good. To look like a Papa.”

There is a slight wince in his expression, both from the humiliation of saying it out loud, and in anticipation of how you might respond to his words, expecting another tug of the chain.

He didn’t expect, however, the sound of the chain softly dropping, the feeling of both your hands cupping his face.

“My love…” You whispered, bestowing another soft kiss upon him. “You are being so good, answering me.

“A few wrinkles… some meat on your bones… all signs of a life being lived well. Of opportunities for indulgence being welcomed with open arms…” He let out another shaky breath in response as you carried on, one which you were suspicious might have been an attempt at a scoff.

“What better role model for our congregation, no? A man who has taken on all the joy this life has offered him… Do you think our Lord below would want you denying yourself anything that brings you pleasure, hm?”

A guilty look down as he contemplated your words. He shook his head.

“You have seen how the fans feel about you, no? How many of them lust over you…”

“That’s not-“

“I know, I know my love. That their opinions do not change what you think…”

He was trembling again, another gulp, not from pleasure this time, but the overwhelming feelings bubbling to the surface.

You stroked his hair again, shushing him.

“And that voice of yours. How many fans congregate to hear you sing. How the clergy pack out the chapel to hear your sermons… Years of devotion so evident in your every word.

“How much of yourself you give to the siblings, always there to offer them support, always knowing the right thing to say when we need advice. Yet that wonderful brain of yours will not let you acknowledge just how brilliant you are…”

He was trying to steady his breath, biting on his lip, eyes watering.

You knew this would never be enough to convince him, but maybe someday he might recognise it.

To his surprise, you wrapped your arms around him, one over his shoulder, the other sliding between his waist and the mattress.

With another trembling breath, you felt him calm down, twitching a little as he yearned to wrap his arms around you in return to cling to you.

Eventually, you sat up again, picking up the chain, holding it loose for now.

“Now love, are you ready to start again?”

He nodded with enthusiasm, that flush returning to his chest beneath his dark hairs.

Spitting into your other hand, you coated his cock with it, still hard from your earlier torment.

He let out a low groan as you let go of his cock, reaching for the wand massager. The logical, overthinking part of your own brain wondered when you had last recharged it. But with the state he was in, you doubted that you would need it to last too long. Pushing the thought aside, your expression became blank again, keeping up the role he needed from you in the moment.

With a flick of your thumb the wand sprang to life with a low hum. He watched with a hesitant anticipation.

The wand wasn’t something the two of you used on him often, usually driving him to orgasm too quickly, plunging him into a torturous overstimulation before he had the chance to savour his climax.

You pressed it against the base of his cock, grinning as he jolted, letting out a cry.

You only gave him a few seconds, switching it off and setting it down. You didn’t fully deny him all sensations this time, however, softly massaging his balls.

He let out a noise, a wordless question, unsure of how long you were going to drag this out and torment him.

“Words, baby.” You cooed patronisingly, giving the chain a gentle tug.

“Please amore, just wanna come.” He whined, his cock twitching at the sensation of your hand being so close, yet not offering him the release he was seeking as quickly as he wanted.

“You gotta do something for me first though, sweetie…”

“Mmhm!” He nodded enthusiastically, “Please, of course.”

He raised his head, expecting you to take advantage of his willing mouth. How desperate he was for you to expose yourself to him, to bring you to bliss with his tongue. One of few things his ego acknowledged he was skilled at.

You tutted, shaking your head with your lips curled in a smile, so endeared by him jumping to conclusions, and being so enthusiastic about pleasuring you.

“Not quite, darling…”

His response was a strangled huh, coupled with his brows furrowing at being denied the opportunity to hide his face away within your thighs.

“You wanna come, then you gotta tell me why you deserve to…”

His frown grew stronger, as you knew it would as he heard the condition.

“Deserve… but I didn’t do anything to des-“

He was cut short with a small choke as you yanked the chain, not about to let him revert to petulance.

“You did. You’ve been you. You deserve to come because you’re you. So, it’s your turn to tell me… why you deserve it.” You gave him a pointed nod, giving him the go ahead. The wand was still switched off, but you traced it up and down the lower side of his cock, a mere tease at what you were offering him.

“Amore, please don’t make me-“ He stopped, seeing your raised brow, and the way your knuckles whitened as you gripped the chain, ready to choke him again at a moment’s notice.

“Fine,” He huffed, his voice strained, wavering from his embarrassment, “I deserve to come, because I’m me. And that’s good.”

You pulled the wand away, pouting at the way he rushed his words, his lack of feeling in the words clear as day.

“Copia…” you tilted your head, debating for a second why you even tried to make him believe it. Your eyes flickered to the binds on his wrists, debating just untying everything, giving him his orgasm and calling it a night.

He could see it in your eyes, misreading your doubt of your own abilities as disappointment in him for not following your instruction properly.

“Don’t.”

His plea caught you off guard, blinking as you met his gaze again.

“I deserve it.”

You attempted to keep your expression neutral, despite the fact you wanted to grin upon hearing the sincerity in his tone this time. Sure, a part of it was him playing it up so you would let him finish, but you knew him well enough now to hear the undercurrent of truth in it.

“Yeah? …why?”

Flicking on the wand, you kept it a few inches from him.

“Because I’m… fuck, please, because I’m good.” There was still an edge of exasperation in his voice, enough to make you crack a smile and finally relent.

You pressed the wand gently between the base of his cock and his balls, savouring the whimpers he tried to suppress through tight lips, his body tensing against the binds.

“Yeah… go on, tell me more…”

He squeezed his eyes shut, nodding, as if reassuring himself, giving himself permission to carry on.

“I’m good… good at being Papa, good at entertaining the crowds… Mmph-“ Another small flick of your thumb, the strength of the vibrations increasing ever so slightly.

“Good at teaching the congregation. Good at being yours. Good at pleasuring you.” He gasped, shifting his hips, trying to drop hints for you to move the wand more.

“Only good, huh?” Tracing the wand up and down his length, only just touching the skin without pressing against it, you let out a soft scoff of your own.

“No no no, fuck!” He babbled, eyes snapping open to stare you down, a glimpse of his ego beginning to show through the cracks, “Not only good, I’m fucking magnificent at it, and you know it.”

“Now, now, Copia… This isn’t about what I think.”

“But it’s true…” he snarled, a smug grin on his lips, the rise and fall of his chest quicker now, “I’m fucking good.”

“You’re fucking good, Copia, yeah.” You couldn’t help but grin in return, encouraging him to keep going as he squirmed against the toy.

“I deserve to be Papa, I earned it.” Another mantra, this time in a low growl.

“You’re a wonderful Papa, you worked so hard for it, didn’t you?”

A muffled response, mmhm.

“What else, darling?”

He looked tongue tied, becoming distracted as his cock twitched, letting out a moan as you flicked the wand settings higher again.

Taking pity, you prompted him. After all, he was doing such a good job so far.

“Aren’t you beautiful?”

“I am… I am beautiful…” He sputtered quickly, nodding, “Beautiful, and charming. People love me… ah…. Cazzo… people want me.”

“They do, they do… who could resist someone like you, Copia?”

“Mmh. I… I…” His breaths were deeper, skin burning red, his hair dampened with sweat.

“You’re being so good right now for me, aren’t you?” He let out another whine as he wordlessly agreed, knowing he was approaching a point of overstimulation.

“I am, I’m being good, fuck I’m being so good!” You could hear the crack in his voice, finally confirming that you had gotten somewhere, that you had chipped away at another bit of that wall he tried to put up.

“So for all that… what do you deserve Copia?” You weren’t stern this time, your voice softer now, encouraging.

“Fuck… oh fuck, I deserve everything I want. I deserve to exist, I deserve pleasure.” He barely managed to stop himself tripping over his words as he thrust his hips weakly, attempting to grind harder against the wand.

“I deserve to come… please… fuck… please let me…”

You grinned, making a mental note to have him recite these things more often. Perhaps he would benefit from a few daily mantras.

“'Attaboy.”

Discarding the wand you leaned over his hips, taking him in your mouth until his tip hit the back of your throat, your hand softly caressing his balls. His groans were unrestrained now, his legs trembling as you took him enthusiastically, determined to give him a satisfying conclusion his frustrating evening.

“Shit… Don’t stop… Please don’t stop.”

You heard the rattle of his wrist binds, glancing up to see how he pulled against them, his knuckles white as he clenched his fists. His eyes were teary, lips barely parted as he moaned, desperate for you to allow him to finish in your mouth. He deserved that, didn’t he? To watch you swallow everything he could give you.

You winked, giving him the go ahead, and that was the catalyst of his rapid undoing. Stammering out curses, his hips bucked to bury his cock in your throat as it twitched, the warmth of his cum hitting the back of your throat. You suppressed a cough, having been surprised that you hadn’t been able to raise your head quickly enough for him to come in your mouth instead. The last thing you wanted was for him to feel bad for choking you.

Swallowing, you kept going, slowing your pace, your tongue soft against his cock cleaning all trace of his seed from him as he softened.

You frowned as you noticed his legs still trembling fiercely as you removed the binds from his feet. Turning back you felt your heart stop, a lump in your throat as you took a proper look at him.

His shoulders shook, his eyes squeezed shut, but not enough to have stopped a few tears escaping.

“Hey… Oh Copia. Too much?” You frowned, hurrying to undo the ties on his wrists, a vast pit of guilt forming in your chest as he slumped against you, feeling him cry as his face pressed against your shirt.

“No…” He rasped between his silent sobs. “Exactly what I needed. I’m sorry… for earlier.”

“No, no Copia.” Your hands squeezed firm on his shoulders as you gently pushed him back to look at him, his eyes reddened. “I understand.”

He nodded, his arms snaking around your waist to cling to you, still struggling to control his overwhelming emotions.

Stretching awkwardly, you reached to the bedside table, grabbing one of the many half finished water bottles he had collected, unscrewing the lid.

“Come on, not letting you get yourself dehydrated love…”

He complied, gulping down the tepid water as you held the bottle to his lips.

Setting it aside when he was satisfied, you wrapped your arms around him, rubbing his back as he allowed himself to cry against you.

“You know I’ve got you, right? For as long as you’ll have me…” You murmured, holding him tight. “Just… don’t bottle it all up. You don’t have to…”

You heard a muffled mmhm, his breath warm against the now damp spot on your shirt.

The tears stopped eventually. The room silent save for his loud breaths as he slumped back against the pillows, struggling to keep his puffy eyes open. It wasn’t a stifling quiet, no. Nothing more needed to be said, not tonight. He needed to rest.

When he finally gave into his exhaustion he looked peaceful, your Copia, at ease for once.

Gently you slipped from his arms, his soft snores undisturbed as you tiptoed around the room, quiet as you packed away the toys, picking up the his discarded clothes to bring them to the laundry basket in his bathroom.

Glancing at his paints on the counter, you had a moment of inspiration.

You took the brush, dabbing it in the black paint. Silently you climbed onto the marble countertop, reaching to the top of the mirror. Your brush strokes were high enough that they would not interfere with his use of the mirror, keeping your writing large enough that he couldn’t squint to ignore it, but not obnoxiously large.

I deserve happiness.

I earned all that I have.

I’m fucking good.

Lowering yourself from the counter, you felt the heat of embarrassment in your face, wondering if he would appreciate the gesture, or whether he would find it moronic.

Stealing one of his t-shirts to sleep in, you turned off the room’s lights, readying yourself for bed.

Slipping onto the mattress beside him, you pulled the blanket up, cocooning him within its softness as best you could. He let out a soft grunt as you wrapped him in your arms again, quickly returning to his rhythmic snoring.

You watched him, admiring his features in the dim light of his bedside lamp.

As your own eyes fluttered shut, you felt determined. One of these days, he was going to recognise his own worth.

You were prepared go to hell and back to make sure of it.

[antithetical-bolter]

Someone, Someday (1)

Chapter 1: It's Time To Go

hi everyone, this is my other robby x nurse ofc wip, it's been up on ao3 for a while but I decided to post it here too! yes it is yet another taylor swift themed title, this one has chapter titles too lmao. this one is a different POV style bc I haven't decided what I like yet so lmk what you think <3

4.9k words | ER nurse Hyacinth Clark decides it's time for her to get the fuck out of her marriage, before she becomes just another statistic.

warnings: discussion of domestic violence, emotional abuse, miscarriage, ectopic pregnancy. excessive use of the word fuck, commas, and em dashes.

page dividers: @saradika-graphics

also if you'd like to be tagged in future updates lmk in the replies!!

Next

Masterlist

“Sometimes giving up is the strong thing, sometimes to run is the brave thing”

Hyacinth

She needs to leave. Like, right now. She really should've left already. Fuck.

Hyacinth Clark ran into work at 1902, knowing she was already a few minutes past shift change. Hopefully she got put in the same section as Dana tonight, because she was going to need some help. And probably a few drinks after all was said and done. Maybe a brief grippy sock vacation. 

This evening was too close of a call for her comfort, and she knows she can’t go home now. He was too angry, too close to finally losing his cool altogether and getting physical with her. Thankfully she has a shift tonight and could use it as an excuse to leave the house abruptly. Their relationship has never been perfect, and Hyacinth frequently found herself wondering if she made the right choice. Despite her reservations, she made a commitment and had been willing to try and make it work. They’ve been together for over a decade, since their sophomore year of college. Unfortunately time does not heal all wounds, and it seemed this one would continue to fester. Knowing that she is one bad night away from becoming a statistic scares her - and she knows it's time to do something about it.

The last year has been especially tumultuous, Hyacinth having had a miscarriage almost exactly one year earlier. The day after Pitt Fest. Jeremy, who had played the part of the supportive partner throughout her pregnancy, was a different man when they came home from the hospital. Going to the hospital (not PTMC, only Dana knew she was expecting) with your wife for some mild cramping at 14 weeks and then coming home, your wife no longer pregnant and without a baby, would understandably change a person. But Hyacinth had needed him. Instead of her loving and supportive husband who cooked for her, held her hair when she was sick, and went out of his way to make her life easier she got a cold shell of a man who could barely stand to look at her. She chalked it up to trauma and the disappointment of not having the child he had been so excited about, and he did eventually warm up to her a little bit. Not that it lasted.

"Hyacinth!" A familiar voice jolted her out of her panic spiral, "we're together in critical care today." Dana told her, and instantly Hyacinth knew that her day would have at least one bright spot. Dana had trained her right at the start of her nursing career and the pair made an incredible team. Now 5 years into her solo ER nursing career, Hyacinth almost felt like she knew what she was doing. She could do most things by herself and felt confident in her trauma skills, but smart enough to know when she needed help and not afraid to ask for it. Having spent almost a year under Dana’s supervision, whether direct or indirect, she got to know the older woman quite well and considered her one of her closest friends and an incredible mentor. Hyacinth's 5'10" stature, waist length jet black hair, and penchant for pink scrubs (firmly against uniform policy) was a stark contrast to Dana's five-foot-nothing, bright blonde bob and strictly gray scrubs - but they were undeniably perfect work partners.

Dana had previously been the dayshift charge nurse, but after the Pitt Fest shooting last year switched to night shift and only charges once or twice a week. That day had changed them all. Dana more so than others. The lawsuit she filed on a patient who assaulted her that same afternoon was still not resolved, and while Dana clearly still loved her job she had taken 2 months of leave before she felt ready to return. Hyacinth had certainly not escaped the after effects of the shooting. She was almost positive that she had started to miscarry while working that evening. Often wonders if she had noticed her symptoms earlier if she might not have miscarried, but isn’t sure she would change anything about her actions that day. How could she, when she knows everyone played an integral part in saving so many lives? Nevertheless, working a mass casualty and then having a D&C less than 24 hours later was bound to leave its mark.

"Hi Dana, sorry I'm a few minutes late. Had an eventful evening to say the least and got out the door a few minutes later than I wanted to which meant I got stuck in northbound traffic and -"

"Cinth, honey, you're fine. It's 1904. Most of the night shifters are just coming out onto the floor anyway." She said, eying her protege suspiciously. "Are you okay? You seem a little frazzled, in a way I haven't seen you since after your first code." Hyacinth really wished she was better at lying. Not that she wanted to lie to Dana, but no way in hell was she having this conversation right at the beginning of their shift.

"To be real with you I don't think that I am, but I am also not ready to have that conversation right now. We can talk later, I promise." Her mentor turned friend continued to look at her like she might fall apart at any second (which, to be fair, she very well might) and Hyacinth followed up with "Just... just let me dive into work for a little while. Focusing on somebody else's problems will help me get my brain settled so I can fill you in."

"Alright, I'll drop it for now. If you need to step away for a minute let me know and I'll cover your patients." Hyacinth nodded, knowing she would not be taking her up on that offer. 

They continued walking through the unit, passing by patients in hallway beds and doing their best to avoid eye contact with disgruntled family members. Some people seemed to think that nurses controlled bed assignments, and no amount of explaining could make them understand that nurses are also angry and stressed out about patients being stuck in the ER hallway for days on end. They did they best they could to make their hall patients comfortable, supplying eye masks and ear plugs, but nothing could change the fact that they were stuck in a room where the lights never truly dimmed and the alarm bells sounded all night. Not exactly a restful, healing environment. Turning the corner and walking towards the locker room, Dana turned to Hyacinth again, studied her paler than usual complexion and the bags under her eyes. 

"You're sure you aren't sick? You kind of look like shit. " she said, to which Hyacinth scoffed and replied,

"Physically I'm fine, not sick or anything like that. Just a lot going on at home and me realizing I need to make a big change and it needs to happen soon", she took a deep breath before continuing. “The only thing I feel ready to say right now is asking if I can come stay with you guys for a few days, just until I figure out what the fuck I am going to do with myself.” This caused Dana to stop to pull her aside and ask,

“Did something happen at home? Are you hurt?” Hyacinth watched Dana switch her brain into nurse mode - assessing her. Checking for obvious bruises or other signs that might give away a physical injury. Watching her breathe, even reaching out to feel the pulse in Hyacinth’s wrist. Your classic nursing doorway assessment. A skill all nurses master, being able to tell if your patient is fine, sick, or sick by just walking in the door.

“No - not... physically. I really will tell you everything later, but for now can we please just go get report so I can shift into Nurse Hyacinth for a few hours?” This alternate persona, Nurse Hyacinth, was fantastic at compartmentalization. No room to worry about your own problems when you’re standing between your patient and a one way ticket to a celestial discharge. Dana was aware of this, had helped her form those coping skills. The older woman gave her a look that practically screamed 'I am unhappy about this but willing to wait'. Hyacinth put her bag in her locker, glad that she seemed to be letting it go for now.

“Yeah, let’s go. I get it, even if I don't like it. We can talk when you’re ready, and you can stay for as long as you need.” Dana gave her wrist (where she was still counting a pulse) a supportive squeeze, and they turned to walk to their dayshift counterparts to get report for the evening. 

She really hates when nursing superstitions are correct. Turns out that asking for some work to throw yourself into activates the hospital gods, and not in a good way. Six hours and two rapid intubations later, Hyacinth was just now preparing her workstation for the night. The nurses station was always cluttered after dayshift left, and she liked to start her night off by getting rid of any extra supplies, throwing old report sheets (mostly scribbled on paper towels) in the shred bin, and giving the whole area a good sani-wipe bath. Now that her patient was finally stable, there was some time to sit and finish charting. Needing a caffeine fix, she makes herself a cup of shitty hospital coffee and gets to work.

Not 15 minutes had passed when she hears, “Hyacinth - ICU on line 1 for report on your patient in trauma 2!” the charge nurse, an older man named Jim, yelled from his desk across the unit. She sighs, knowing that she won’t be finishing her charing just yet.

“Thanks Jim!” Hyacinth replied before picking up the phone. “ER, this is Hyacinth.”

“Hi, this is Sara up on ICU. I am ready for report on the patient you are sending to 504.” She said curtly. Hyacinth rolled her eyes - very rarely did she have to give report to Sara but every time she did it was a hassle. Sara is a great ICU nurse. She also has no clue the shit ER nurses deal with on a daily basis. Hyacinth was not looking forward to having to tell her that no, she did not do a 2 RN skin check or label his IV lines. The patient is alive, intubated, well sedated, their blood pressure is no longer 60/dead, and they’re in a clean hospital gown. Really what more could she ask for?

“68 year old male, witnessed collapse this evening. Had about 30 minutes of CPR, started by the family and ending when we got ROSC following intubation. Extensive cardiac and respiratory history, he is generally non-compliant with his home medications. Initial blood pressures were very soft, now he is on 9 of levo and systolic is holding at 90. MAP between 65 and 68. 8-0 ET tube measures 25 at the teeth, OG secured on the right. Temp sensing foley in place. He’s got 2 peripheral IVs and a triple lumen right IJ. Currently on 50 of propofol for sedation.”

In a shocking turn of events, Sara just said “Fine. Bring him up.” and then hung up the phone. A little rude, but Hyacinth would take rude over a slew of questions she definitely did not have the answers to. She calls her trusty respiratory therapist, grabs a portable monitor, and prepares the patient for transport.

“Alright Jim, Dr. Abbot, we are taking trauma 2 upstairs!” She yells, making sure they knew she was going to be off the unit for a little while.

“Take your break when you’re done - I don’t want to see you for at least another hour.” Jim says as Hyacinth, along with respiratory, wheel the patient, his IV pump, and his ventilator upstairs.

25 minutes and one very tense handoff later Hyacinth is sitting in her car attempting to eat her lunch. Unfortunately now that she is no longer operating in nurse mode, she’s starting to feel anxious again. Having always defined herself as 'a bit of an anxious bitch' - Hyacinth is no stranger to anxiety. This is feeling more significant than past anxieties, knowing that her physical wellbeing might not be guaranteed if she doesn't take some action. 

In classic Dana timing, the blonde woman knocks on Hyacinth’s passenger window and looks expectedly at her. Hyacinth unlocks the door and attempts to prepare herself to hash out whatever the hell is happening in her brain right now. Dana does not waste any time, and starts to speak as soon as the car door opens. 

“It’s time. I told Jim that he can deal without both of us for a little while. What’s going on? You've got me worried.” Dana has turned sideways in her seat and is facing Hyacinth directly, while Hyacinth cannot bring herself to look up past her lap where she is wringing her hands. Taking a shaky but deep breath, she tries to find the words to tell Dana what was going on without activating Mama Bear Dana at the same time.

Realizing this is not a feasible task, Hyacinth makes herself start speaking. “I have to leave Jeremy. You know that things haven’t been the same since my first miscarriage, but I haven’t exactly been as detail oriented as I maybe should’ve been when you asked me how things were going.” She sneaks a glance up at Dana, who continues to watch her with an open expression but is clearly expecting some elaboration. “I have had 2 ectopic pregnancies since then. After each he has gotten meaner and more aggressive, and before work tonight when he told me he wanted to start trying again I freaked out. It’s only been a little more than 5 weeks since the most recent one and I’m not ready.” She can feel the tears starting to form and tries desperately to hold them in as she says “I wouldn’t call most of our uhm… encounters this year non-consensual but I definitely was not enthusiastic at the idea and he could tell. I told him that I wasn't ready and wanted to wait a little while longer and he screamed at me. Said some pretty awful things that I won’t be repeating right now. Then he essentially threatened that we would start trying again soon anyway and went to grab my arm. Thankfully this was happening as I was walking out the door for work so I just bolted to my car and got out, but I have nothing with me. Just what I have in my car, and I didn’t pack anything except the extra change of clothes I keep in here all the time." Saying this all out loud makes her anxiety worse, like she's being shoved into a box and pushed off a cliff. "I can’t go back. I probably should’ve left already but I just ... really wanted things to be different and was scared to do anything about it and we've been together for so long and I didn’t kn-” Dana cuts her off by leaning over the center console and pulling her into a hug, rubbing her shoulders and reassuring her.

“We'll figure it out. It’s okay. You can borrow whatever you need from me. Hell, we can even move you out after our shift while he’s at work if you’re up for it. Especially if we recruit Jack. Between your car, my car, and Abbot’s truck I bet we could get you out in one or two trips.” This is what finally does Hyacinth in, and she starts to sob into Dana’s shoulder.

“Can we really move me out today?” She says after a few minutes, taking the time to cry a bit before she tries to speak. “What about your family? Shouldn’t you make sure Benji and the girls are okay with some random nurse you work with all but moving in?” Hyacinth has met Dana’s family a few times, but hasn’t spent enough time with them to really know them.

“Absolutely. Benji will be happy to help, and the girls are both off at college right now. Even if they weren’t we have an extra room.” Feeling reassured enough for now, Hyacinth nods and Dana continues to speak. “You can fill Abbot in on as much or as little as you’re comfortable with, but I can guarantee you he will help. Not like Mohan lets the man sleep between shifts anyway,” she says while rolling her eyes. Hyacinth laughs a little bit at this, and pulls back to grab a wipe for her face.

“Okay, then let’s do it. Getting all my stuff out is a huge step and I think it would help my anxiety to have it done quickly.”

“Then we’ll do it. Jeremy is for sure working? I assume so because he’s a teacher and it’s a Wednesday in mid-September, but just double check his school district calendar to make sure he doesn’t have a secret half day or day off.” Hyacinth pulls out her phone and googles the calendar for the North Allegheny School District, where Jeremy is a 6th grade teacher. 

“Yeah, according to this it is a regular school day. He will be out of the house from about 0700 to 1530, maybe 4 o’clock.”

“Perfect. That's the plan then - our garage is big enough to store anything you don’t want in the guest room. Which is yours for the foreseeable future. In fact, I am going to insist that you for a minimum of 3 months while you find your footing and navigate the divorce process.”

“I'm not gonna argue with you on that. Thank you.” Hyacinth says, reaching over to give Dana another hug. “Hopefully you’ll still be offering me all that storage space when you see how many books we’re going to have to move.”

“You have shown me pictures of those floor to ceiling bookshelves you love so much - I know what I’m getting myself into. Maybe I’ll finally pick up a book for fun. Who knows?” Dana replies, pulling back from the hug to look Hyacinth in the eyes. “I have your back. We will get you through this.” She pauses, but then asks “is that ectopic why you had to take last minute leave in August? I could tell you were holding something back but you really stuck to you story so I let it go.” She had taken time off of work with very little notice, telling her managers that she had a family emergency that would require her attention for a full two weeks. Technically she hadn't lied, it was a family emergency. Just little more immediate family than she had let on in her very vague email.

“Yeah. Jeremy’s sister didn't have to have emergency surgery. I did. The ectopic ruptured and I had my right fallopian tube removed.” Hyacinth looks away from Dana’s sympathetic gaze, not wanting to cry again. She was feeling bad for not telling her, but knew Dana would support her anyway. “Jeremy didn’t want me to tell anyone, told me that it was my fault and that everyone else would think so too. Objectively I know that isn't true, but I was so scared and just wanted his support so I went with it. I’ve never been on good terms with my parents and this situation has made it even worse, I just wanted to feel like someone was in my corner. It felt important that he support me when even my own mom wouldn't.” Dana reaches out and places her hand on Hyacinth’s cheek and says,

“Cinth. Honey. If nothing else, I am in your corner. Always. I’m sorry you had to deal with that by yourself. Are you okay now? Recovering from surgery okay?”

“Yeah, my recovery has been relatively smooth. Other than being stuck at home for 2 weeks and being a little scared of Jeremy the whole time I haven't had any issues. I haven’t had a period since though, and I’m sure the first one will be rough. It was awful after my first ectopic in March, and that one didn't require emergency surgery so I can only assume this one will be worse. But I will cross that bridge when I come to it.” Dana pulls her in for another hug.

“I will support you through that too. Your room has a giant bathtub and there is no shortage of bath oils and bubble bath. I have multiple heating pads and more chocolate than I probably should, and I’ll send Benji out for anything else you want. Plus, I can always bribe a doc into writing you a prescription for zofran if the nausea gets too bad!” She says, laughing.

“I have been pocketing every oral zofran that patients have refused for years. I’ve got lots!” They both dissolve into laughter at this, and Hyacinth feels herself starting to walk back from the metaphorical cliff edge. That is - until Dana says,

“Our break is almost up. Why don’t we go in now, corner Abbot, come up with a game plan, and then dive back into the wonderful distraction that is working in an emergency room?”

Hyacinth replies “Sounds perfect and also terrible. Let’s do it.” As they walk back into the ER, she can't help but feel like she is catapulting herself right off that cliff. 

Abbot is not hard to find as Dana and Hyacinth walk back onto the floor. Hyacinth, feeling nervous, lets Dana take the lead.

“Jack!” She shouts, making the doctor turn his head. Dana generally calls him Abbot while on the clock, so using his first name certainly gets his attention. “Can we borrow you for a second?” She asks while directing Hyacinth into the empty family room. Jack quickly follows and shuts the door behind himself. He stands against the closed door and asks,

“What’s the matter? A patient?”

“Ah, no, not exactly.” Dana replies, looking at Hyacinth.

Deciding to just get it over with, she quickly says “I need to kind of… very emergently change my current living situation. Like ideally before 4pm. I hear you have a truck?” Hyacinth says, finally turning to look at Abbot. He seems to startle a bit before catching himself and saying,

“You heard correctly. I do in fact have a truck.” Abbot replies, giving her a long look before asking “Are you okay? Has someone at home been hurting you?”

“Not physically.” Hyacinth says.

“So if I asked the triage safety questions, what would your answer be? Do you feel safe at home? Is anyone trying to hurt you?”

“Jack - seriously?” Dana interrupts.

“No, Dana. It’s fine. We ask literally all our patients that, I can answer them too. No, doctor Abbot, I do not feel safe at home.” Hyacinth says, no longer able to look either of them in the eyes and instead focusing on the vague landscape painting on the wall near Abbot’s head.

“Alright then. We will get you out today. I will have to tell Samira that I am rescheduling our breakfast date and she’ll more than likely want to come help, are you okay with that?” Abbot asks.

“Yeah, that’s fine with me. Samira and I get along well whenever she picks up her occasional night shift.” Hyacinth says, thankful that Dr Abbot didn’t press her for more information and immediately offering to help.

“Alright then. Dana, please start a group text with all of us in it and send Hyacinth’s address. We will all meet there right after shift change and get you out.” He says, looking at Hyacinth who nods in affirmation. Abbot turns to leave, but before stepping out says “Thank you for speaking up. Taking the first step out of an abusive relationship is often the hardest part, and always the most dangerous. Thank you for trusting us with this.” Giving one last pointed look at Hyacinth, who is very near tears again, he leaves the room.

“Now that that’s settled, why don’t you go splash some cold water on your face and come out onto the floor when you’re ready. I’ll have a coffee with your name on it.” Dana says, guiding her out of the family room and directly towards the employee restroom.

Alone in the restroom, Hyacinth gives herself a generous 60 seconds to cry. Everything she knows is about to change, and nothing about the process was going to be easy. At least she has support. Dana and Jack both immediately offered to help, no questions asked. It felt good to have people be so unquestionably supportive - her parents could never. Hyacinth wasn't even sure she was going to tell them. She just wishes she could jump to the part where she is divorced, living in her own apartment, and never letting another man into her house unless she deems it okay. She's ready to be happy again, tired of feeling like she's dragging herself through life. Her allotted mental breakdown time comes to a close so she splashes some cold water on her face, pats it dry, and declares herself 'good enough' as she looks at her reflection. Stepping back out onto the floor, she puts her Nurse Hyacinth mask back on for a little while longer.

Before she knows it, it’s 0645 and Hyacinth is getting ready to flip her entire life upside down and inside out. She is doing her best to give Princess a quality report, but she knows her heart isn’t in it.

“Girl it’s okay - I know last night was busy. I can read. Go home, I’ve got it.” The other nurse says as Hyacinth tries and fails to make her brain produce simple sentences.

“Thanks Princess. I will go ahead and get out of here. Hope your day goes well!” Hyacinth says, gathering her emotional support water bottle and pens off her workstation. She sees Dana and walks over to her, feeling emotionally fragile and knowing she could use the company on the walk out to the car. Dana sees her coming and immediately pulls her into a hug. Jack watches this and walks over from the other side of the nurses station, giving Dana a subtle thumbs up to ask if everything is okay. She responds with a thumbs up of her own, but her face clearly has a different story to tell. Jack nods and turns to find Robby waiting for him.

“Everything okay?” Robby asks, eyeing Dana and Jack who are both very focused on Hyacinth.

“Yeah - we’ve got it handled. Let me sign out to you and you can take over.” Jack says, steering Robby away so Hyacinth could collect herself in relative private.

After a few moments Hyacinth pulls away from Dana, saying “Okay, let’s go. We need to start or I’m going to lose my nerve.” Dana nods, links their arms, and they walk out to their cars.

Robby

Robby had met Hyacinth in passing many times, and genuinely enjoyed his interactions with her. Always finding himself looking at her during shift change, but he chalked this up to the bright pink scrubs she always seemed to be wearing. She is clearly an incredible nurse as well and he respects her knowledge and hard work. Anytime he assumed a patient she had taken care of the charting was complete and efficient, all patient care done, vitals stable, and the room was spotless. In the 6 years she had been working in The Pitt (one as a nurse fellow, and now five on her own), he had only seen her leave work in tears once, right after her first code blue. Now, the witty, intelligent, capable woman who he was used to seeing was clearly struggling.

“What’s going on there?” Robby asks as he watches Dana walks out with the younger nurse, somehow managing to support Hyacinth while also being almost a foot shorter than her.

“Don’t worry too much about it. Dana’s got it pretty well in hand. Kid has made some hard but necessary choices and just needs a little extra support.” Jack says, trying to convey the seriousness of the situation without betraying Hyacinth’s trust.

“Alright, brother. If you say so.” Robby says, clearly not wanting to drop it but also realizing he won’t get anything more from Jack right now. “She’s a great nurse, It will be fun getting to work with her now that I’m switching to nights.” 

“Your first shift is next week, you ready? No inclinations for past-the-guard-rail roof trips?” Jack asks, knowing Robby has not worked nights regularly for over a decade now.

“Yes, I’ll be fine. I’m excited for a change and to get to know the rest of the night shift crew, and fuck if I’m not thankful it will mean I see far less of Gloria.” Robby chuckles, knowing he will struggle with the transition but also ready to work within the freedom night shift offers. 

“Whatever you say, man. I am headed out. See you on the dark side!” Jack heads to leave, making sure to grab his backpack on his way out.

Robby watches him go, feeling like he was missing a lot of the story. Hyacinth was clearly very upset with whatever she was dealing with, and Robby knows it’s good for her to have Dana and Jack in her corner. He decides then that when he starts nights next week he will be sure to keep an eye on her, ready to offer his support as well should she ask him for it.

What else would a good coworker do?