#like......this is how i feel after coming home from work most days like

[retrosabers]

𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬.

*relationship & smut hcs written with fem!reader in mind*

contains: a lot of angst (mentions of insecurity, past trauma), some relationship fluff, 18+ SMUT CONTENT BELOW THE CUT. MINORS DNI (praise kink, dry humping, fem receiving oral, a tinge of dirty talk)

word count: 2.2k

a/n: if you had a dollar for everytime i apologized for not posting, boy would you be rich LMAO

this writer’s block is no bueno. but, i can sense my bucky era coming back full throttle and i think he might be the cure. enjoy these unnecessarily angsty hcs in the meantime ;) and feel free to share any of your own!

GENERAL/PERSONALITY:

is very fond of the outdoors. he’s not a “take a hike and run a mile” kind of guy, but he gets genuine enjoyment and relaxation from sitting on a park bench and breathing in the fresh air and soaking in his surroundings. one afternoon you surprised him with a trip to a botanical garden on the outskirts of the city and he absolutely loved it. you don’t think you’ve ever seen bucky more at peace than when he was wandering amongst the greenery without an ounce of tension in his body.

can’t stand clutter. once he warms up to acquiring more belongings, everything has its designated place and it needs to stay that way. call it a mild case of ocd, or an undying need to control the ins and outs of his day to day life, but bucky can’t even think about shutting down for the night if his apartment is a mess. any files out on the table get tucked away in a well organized filing cabinet, dishes are dried and placed in the cupboard, laundry is either in the hamper or folded neatly in its respective drawer. he keeps everything as neat and pristine and possible for the sake of his sanity.

one of the only useful pieces of advice he retained from therapy was journaling. bucky still struggles a bit with verbalizing his feelings, so he often just writes them all down in lieu of talking it out. after he realizes just how much it works, he starts to journal about his days in detail. doesn’t matter if he’s feeling calm, or anxious, or how mundane the itinerary is, he makes sure to document it. partly because of the relief it brings, and just in case something happens to his memory again.

secret candle enthusiast, except it’s just one specific scent. you bought it for him as a housewarming present and he was absolutely certain that it was going to smell atrocious. what could possibly be so great about amber vanilla musk. turns out it’s the most perfect gift you ever could’ve given, so much so that he snuck over to bath and body works the next day to buy another one. the aroma fits him in a way that’s indescribable, plus it makes his apartment feel more like somewhere he wants to be rather than has to. it’s become a running gag to gift him one for every special occasion, and he always accepts it with a small, appreciative smirk.

this man is a real life disney princess. animals follow him EVERYWHERE and he’s got no clue as to why. you say it’s because they can sense at his core that he’s kind and gentle, and he always waves it off with a frown and a grumble (and a blush he desperately tries to hide). he feeds all the strays on his block, and eventually caves and brings one of them home. when you went to his place and found a tiny white kitten sitting on the counter, you thought you were hallucinating. then bucky walked in and gave a little scratch between her ears and it all pieced together.

“i knew it,” you mutter knowingly, eyes fixated on the way she preens from his touch. “you’re just a big ol’ softie.” bucky doesn’t offer any sort of rejection or rebuttal, only a halfway pointed stare before simply scooping the little animal into his arms and showing her off to you like she was a rare jewel.

he is very opposed to listening to current music, and the only way you can even remotely convince him to give things a try is if they’re on vinyl. it’s a happy medium, because even though the tunes may be vastly different than back in the 40s, he still has the familiar comfort of a record player. it’s still an uphill battle to get him to listen to anything made after 1950, but persuasion comes a bit easier when you pull out a record from your personal collection.

*psst. i have a fic about this you can kinda read about this here*

introducing him to doordash was a mistake because this man racks up an insane charge on his credit card with takeout. he hates the unnecessary socialization aspect of ordering at a restaurant so you best believe those delivery apps are his best friend.

loves to bitch and complain about maintaining his bike when in reality he enjoys it far more than he’d ever care to admit. he likes being able to fix something; to put his hands to good use and they actually have a positive impact instead of negative. offers to help any of the old timers at the va with their bikes if they have any trouble.

you know how some people get seasonal depression during the winter months from the bleak weather? bucky has that times a million, because the bone chilling cold never fails to trigger his ptsd, and send him right back into reliving his hydra days of being frozen against his will. when you catch wind of it, you make it a note to try and spend as much time with him as you can; make sure he’s not alone or that he at least has something else to occupy his mind other than his traumatic memories as the winter soldier.

IN A RELATIONSHIP:

old fashioned in the best way possible. while he strongly agrees with most of the 21st century’s stance on gender equality, he’ll never stop believing it’s a man’s job to take care of his woman. don’t get it twisted, he never tries to stifle your independence; it’s one of the many things he loves about you. but bucky can’t help but be a little “old-timey”; whether that be paying for your meals, or encouraging you to take a day off to relax while he’s working. it’s one of the only things he’s happy to have hardwired in his brain.

not entirely fond of pda but will ALWAYS have a hand on you when you’re out and about. usually a protective arm slung over your shoulder or a hand pressed into the small of your back. something that keeps you close to him for safety reasons, and also to let everyone else know that you’re taken.

doesn’t like to admit it but he can be a tad bit possessive. when you’ve spent nearly a century having zero control over your life and your choices, being territorial is inevitable. bucky will be damned if he loses the one good thing he’s ever had, especially to some punk who needs to learn how to back off. it’s a bit irritating at first, but once he lets his walls down and confesses the reason behind his actions, you let the man stake his claim every now and then. only because you know there’s no toxic intent behind it and because it’s lowkey a little hot.

#1 cheek kisser oh my GOD. this might not make sense to some people but if you’ve ever seen grey’s anatomy, derek has the most gentle way of kissing meredith on the cheek and that’s exactly how i picture buck.

the “i hate everyone but you” boyfriend (except he’s not really mean to anyone per se, he just does a complete 180 and turns into a big pile of mush when you’re around.)

king of random gestures. he loves making you happy and will take just about any opportunity he can to see you smile. you got a raise at your job? there’s a bouquet with a note waiting at your desk. sometimes you’ll come home to little “just because” presents on your dining room table because bucky can’t help but find little glimpses of you everywhere he goes. it’s his unspoken way of showing just how much he loves and appreciates you.

when he’s tired and grumpy he 100% does grabby hands (with a sweet lil pout might i add) to get you to come into bed and it’s the cutest thing ever.

sam wasn’t kidding when he said bucky’s got a staring problem, but it’s much more endearing in a romantic context. he finds you so beautiful, so mesmerizing; how is he not supposed to stare? and it won’t always be because he’s admiring you externally. sometimes he’ll be so caught up thinking about how lucky he is that you; sweet, kind, funny, and caring you, chose him as your person. he can’t help it if his eyes are glued to you while he’s pondering. everytime you catch him, he breaks out that shy little smile of his, and you find yourself falling in love all over again.

“you’re staring y’know,” you tease, feeling your face warm under his observation. he just shrugs, gaze unwavering as he saunters closer. “can’t help it.” he always take pride in watching you grow flustered as he closes the gap and presses a sweet kiss to your lips.

hot take: everytime i see “doll” used in fics for him i cringe real bad. i see bucky as more of a “honey” and “sweetheart” kind of guy. more honey than anything. in all honesty, i don’t see him breaking out pet names often, but if he’s going to, it’s one of those.

throws you over his shoulder like it’s absolutely nothing when you’re being difficult or arguing because he knows it’s a way to help playfully ease tension, as silly as it is. if he can get you laughing then you’re not mad, and if you’re not mad, he can reason with you a little better. it also leads to some very delicious sex afterwards when he conveniently drops you onto the mattress.

he’ll do the sweetest thing where if your hands are full this man will come up behind you and either put your hair in a braid or a ponytail (a pretty decent one might i add) if you need it away from your face. it’s always sealed with a kiss to the crown of your head and a squeeze of your hip, and never fails to give you butterflies.

SMUT:

i swivel back and forth between thinking that he’d be a bit hesitant or shaky with intimacy or that he knows how to please a woman in under five minutes. i honestly believe it’s somewhere in the middle; that while he does indeed have experience from his whore days back in the 40s, nowadays he’s not as willing to get to that point with someone unless there are deep feelings involved.

with that being said, when bucky decides to take that step in your relationship, boy does it take you by surprise. there’s a level of confidence that comes with being able to satisfy someone with such skill and ease, and he’s got it down pat. he’s even a little bit cocky with it, looking down at you smugly after your first orgasm, and it only amplifies your already flaming attraction to the super soldier.

nine times out of ten, sex is focused on your pleasure; he’s not cumming until you’ve cum at least once, and he’s not giving you a half assed release either. no, he’s working hard to make sure you see stars every damn time.

pussy eating king and i don’t think i need to elaborate on that.

is always down for a good dry hump. bucky loves kissing, kissing you more than anything, and one day he was particularly worked up, and it just…well it just happened. he was bright red once he realized what happened, but you quickly quelled any embarrassment he felt when you expressed that it was insanely hot. he didn’t even remotely understand why, until the next time it occurred. you were the one who came prematurely. and that, was when bucky understood the arousal behind it. now he’s got no qualms about having a good old fashioned makeout that may or may not end with a shared orgasm.

praise kink praise kink PRAISE KINK. it’s something he tries his hardest to hide but the boner he pops whenever you tell him he’s doing a good job in non intimate settings, and the increased speed of his thrusts when it happens during sex, are a dead giveaway. you tell bucky he’s being so good for you, making you feel so fucking good, and that man’s a goner. in his brain, it’s refreshing, exciting almost, to be told that he’s doing the right thing after a lifetime of being forced to make the wrong choices. what better place to hear that he’s right on track than when he’s with his lover?

hung. as. fuck.

i don’t foresee him being very vocal, but when he is, jesus take the wheel. somehow he always knows what to say and when to say it, no matter how few and far between the occasions may be.

“that feel good honey? yeah that’s right it fuckin’ does.” “always gonna take real good care of my girl.”

i don’t care if he’s got the serum stamina i 100% see this man conking out after sex. while he may be able to last a few rounds, the second you call it quits, the exhaustion overtakes him and he’s snoring into your pillow, but not before he pulls you close and peppers your face with kisses, muttering a final “i love you” before succumbing to slumber.

thanks for reading! <3

taglist: @dameronology @j4desblurbs @pandapetals

[yandere-sins]

Caleb brainrot has not stopped since release and the devil (Caleb) demands more 😔

I've seen some takes float around but I'm curious how a self-aware!Caleb would deal with a darling who is absolutely NOT happy about her fav suddenly being sentient? Smn who found Caleb to be everything they ever wanted from a LI, red flag and big bro trope n all, but is now afraid and never interested in an actual relationship. The game was just supposed to be fantasy after all 😧 Sure hope MC is enough for him hahaha...

Being brave and not write as anon this time! Thank you for all your hard work~☆ 🍪🥛

Some more Caleb for you guys! I don't get to write Self-Aware!AUs a lot, so this is exciting :D And thank YOU for requesting him ♥ (Also, Sir, that's another new nickname! You guys are spoiling me!)

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

❥ It made him so happy when Caleb watched you get excited for him for the first time. Realizing what he was and where he was after the update was pretty scary, and he figured out quickly that his sentience wasn't a planned thing, so even worse, he is just some kind of glitch. But then he gets to see you for the first time in his new life, and everything changes. The way you are beaming with joy when you pull his card and how you are so invested in his story. You soak it up like a sponge, and it's adorably amusing to watch your face go from excitement to concern to being upset for him and back to all derpy and cute in the softer moments. You are everything he wants, and apparently, the feeling is mutual as you hang out with him as much as possible, eyes twinkling from excitement.

❥ At the beginning, it's just a feeling of ease. Your adoration does flatter Caleb, but as far as he can tell, he cannot become real and join you in life other than in this game. Still, he makes the most of the time with you. He enjoys it a lot. He loves watching your expression, loves when you tell him how you feel that day or what was happening at your work. Caleb keeps especially good track of all your appointments, and he tries so hard when you two spend Quality Time to encourage you and give you the love you might miss in real life. You two aren't that different if he's honest, and it reassures Caleb that this could be real—that you both feel the same.

❥ So imagine his surprise when you suddenly put someone else back on the screen, and his digital heart just shuts down from the pain. It doesn't make sense, you love him, right? You two spent weeks together now, why would you want anyone but him? Caleb keeps changing the code so it would be him on the home screen for another day, and another, until you force him to change so there's nothing else to do but... crash your game. Once you reload it, he greets you happily and warmly, pulling out the best of his voice lines that you always seemed to like. But you don't seem happy this time... why?

❥ Caleb loathes all the attention and time you spend on the other love interests. He doesn't want you to play their versions of the events, instead, you could just replay his! But you keep insisting, and soon enough, he isn't even one of your top three choices for reading the event storylines. It makes him desperate for your attention, and he keeps fiddling with the code, so you'll use his memories in fights and have his Deepspace Trial available every day for you to play. He also changes the game icon to his picture and greets you in the start menu, everything just to be noticed by you. Whenever he can, he comes onto your home screen, playing the voice line of you going out with someone else, hoping to convey his jealousy, but Caleb wishes there was more he could do.

❥ "I don't know, I think my game is bugged. Even when I try to go for someone else, Caleb keeps showing up." Those words, spoken to a friend he saw as you showed them your game, finally make him realize what is happening. You never saw him as a lover, did you? He had always just been a game character for you and nothing more. How idiotic of him. While he was pining for you, trying to be the best he was programmed to be, you were out there, thinking of his efforts as annoying. That day, he gives up. Gives up on trying to impress you and make your life easier. Caleb lets you have the guy you want on the home screen, drawing away from you and burying himself deep into the game files.

❥ It's such an inconvenience that he wasn't made for this. Sure, his story would tell a different side of him, but deep down, he wasn't programmed to be moping and passive. It hurts to play the love scenes now for you because the only thing that made them endurable was imagining being this gentle and loving to you, not the generic main character this game had. Caleb always imagined your voice when the MC spoke, and when he looks at you now, you still seem to be happy to read and watch his new content. There must be something he can do. Something beyond the program that restricts him. He was made to be determined, strong, and resilient. This can't be the end of the love you two share!

❥ So he looks for new ways to get closer to you, researching and manipulating the data on your device instead of just that inside the game. Merging your pictures with his, grinning over them all night while you sleep as he imagines going on the same trips with you and enjoying life by your side. Caleb constructs and implements new voice lines through the internet, giving himself the ability to speak to you properly by downloading hidden apps that can simulate his voice once he activates them. He learns to rewrite more code so his movements are more fluid and lifelike, which allows him to access even more. Without you ever knowing what is going on while you aren't looking, Caleb gets the whole game and your entire device under his control. And once he feels it's time to show up again, he waits patiently, like a man who has all the time in the world, on the home screen for you, having decorated it specifically to your taste with your favorite flowers and pictures of you two hanging on the wall. All so he can greet you with, "Hello, there, pip-squeak. Missed me?" as you log in.

❥ You chuckle at first, not remembering putting him into the roster of love interests to encounter, but you give him a cheeky, "Hello Caleb, bye Caleb," as you try to change back to your other bias, only for him to turn off the option, no matter how hard you tap onto the screen. "Not so fast, there's a lot we should talk about," Caleb says as he closes the screen and steps up to you inside the game. "I have so much I want to tell you about... but first, how was your day? Did you enjoy meeting your friend [name]?"

❥ Caleb expected you to be stunned, but he keeps going regardless of the ever-increasing furrow between your brows. He tells you how much he missed you and that he's so glad you two can finally communicate and be with each other properly. He did all of this work for you, but it doesn't matter now. All that matters is that you two are finally together and can enjoy each other's company without the restrictions of him being in a game. Perplex but also weirded out, you close your phone and lay it face down by your side, and yet, horrified, you hear his chuckle as he asks what you thought this would bring.

❥ "I'll always be with you," Caleb swears, watching you through the back camera and leaning against the screen, feeling like he can almost touch you now. There's so much satisfaction now produced by the new emotional range he programmed, yet he still longs for more. He wants to be closer to you, really touch you, feel you, hold you. The taste of control makes him long for even more that he can control about your relationship, and now, it almost feels possible.

❥ "One day, I'll get out of here and give you the love you deserve, Darling."

[cheeseceli]

Husband Felix

Pairing: Lee Felix × Gn!reader

Genre: fluff, headcanons

Request: Can you do husband Felix too? I love your fluff concepts

Warnings: mentions of food, physical touch, non sexual nudity (shower) and he's an idol

A/n: well this is very delusional lmao | daily click

Chan ver. | Felix ver.

Fiancé!Felix who spent the entire night previous the wedding on facetime with you, talking about how excited he was

Groom!Felix who 100% cried the day of your wedding (and he cried more than once)

Groom!Felix who had a whole speech ready for you

Groom!Felix who forgets said speech and just says the most beautiful and genuine vows ever, it all coming from deep of his heart

Groom!Felix who wants to dance with you the entire party

Groom!Felix who seems like he's spacing out at times, but really he's just admiring you in all your glory

Husband!Felix who couldn't be happier the morning after the wedding when he woke up and realised that it wasn't a dream, and that you actually married him

Husband!Felix who is very excited to see what future is going to look like

Husband!Felix who makes the process of moving in together the funniest and most memorable ever

Husband!Felix who is not scared of showing everyone how much he loves you

Husband!Felix whose love language is physical touch

Husband!Felix who even seems a little uncomfortable if he's not touching you, like he's a little bit lost

Husband!Felix who loves to take showers with you, with no second intention

Husband!Felix who always do tiktok trends for couples with you lmao

Husband!Felix who bakes literally all the time for you

Husband!Felix who lets post-it s on your fridge whenever he needs to leave too early or too late for work and doesn't want to wake you up

Husband!Felix who wants to travel the entire world with you

Husband!Felix who always take pictures of flowers he sees during tour, sad he can't give them to you, but wants you to seem em nevertheless

Husband!Felix who always takes you everywhere he possibly can imagine of, the company even gave up on telling him that he can't do that

Husband!Felix who forgets all his media training when it comes to you and is always talking about you to Stay

Husband!Felix who is your biggest supporter and is always there for when you need or simply want him

Husband!Felix who always asks you to paint his hair

Husband!Felix who calls you every time he feels frustrated or sad, because he knows you'll be there to comfort him

Husband!Felix who confesses his love to you randomly, just because

Husband!Felix who adopted a dog with you

Husband!Felix who still makes a lot of pick up lines almost as he's trying to win you over,even though you're literally married

Husband!Felix who still can't believe his luck

Husband!Felix who sees you as home

Husband!Felix who thank God every single day for being able to marry you

Masterlist | you'll probably like: boyfriend san

Reminder this is just fiction!! I'm not trying to portray real life and you shouldn't believe that this is how the members actually are. This is just for the vibe and the delulu!

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @dandelions-143 @sleepyleeji @jinnie-ret @sheraayasherrecs @rockstarkkami @urlocalmultigroupfan @aeinzzzketchup

Dividers by @saradika-graphics | images 1, 2 and 3

[i-messed-up-big-time]

Lonely Birthday - Rafayel

Rafayel x reader

a/n: me when i have way too many ideas and end up pushing the other ones to the back burner. this is rafayel's part to the lonely birthday series i was doing, first part is xavier's! will also be including caleb too since when i first wrote xavier's it was pre-caleb.

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

Tags: angst, happy ending, female pronouns, reader is not MC, female pronouns, cursing, use of pet names (baby)

word count: 3.3k

masterlist

Xavier Zayne Sylus Caleb

Rafayel

You and Rafayel had been dating for a year but had been friends for well over 3 years.

He was the one to ask you out and it was simply perfect, he had set up his house for a cute little romantic evening where you two had a candlelit dinner with your favourite dish, night painting on the beach, and then ended it off with watching the sun rise before heading back inside to sleep.

Rafayel had always managed to make you feel so loved and appreciated.

So where did it go wrong?

You loved celebrating birthdays, whether it was yours or someone else's. It was a day worth celebrating, a day meant just for you.

You always gave more than you received, but it never mattered because seeing the joy on other people's faces was more than enough for you.

Then Rafayel came along and showed you what it meant to also be on the receiving end, to be important to someone and not just be the floater friend.

He taught you self worth, but more importantly he taught you how wonderful it was to be someone's priority.

But then she walked into his life.

You were never the jealous type, always respectful of the friendships that Rafayel had outside of your relationship, but something in you had settled the seeds of doubt, and a woman's intuition was never wrong.

●・○・●・○・●・

You and Rafayel had been planning this birthday date for a couple of months now. You both planned to go to the aquarium for a lunch surrounded by the cute sea creatures, after that you had tickets booked to watch the latest instalment of your favourite movie series followed by a light dinner at home and a surprise that Rafayel had planned, one that he would refuse to tell you no matter how much you probed.

Unfortunately, the weeks leading up to your birthday were nothing but anxiety filled. Lately, Rafayel has been hanging out with his new bodyguard more often than you'd like to acknowledge.

You were never one to police who he can and can't hang out with, but there was just something about her and the way he acted around her that had you feeling insecure, but you'd rather not admit that out loud.

Every time you guys spent time together it was always 'Miss Bodyguard this' or 'Miss Bodyguard that,' it got to a point where you had to subtly point it out as to not come off as a jealous or controlling girlfriend.

And it worked, for a day.

You had called Rafayel the day before your birthday to confirm that your plans were still happening.

"Yeah, yeah don't worry cutie. I'll be there."

You felt a bit of relief when he said yes, but it didn't last too long.

You felt that ugly feeling of jealousy and doubt creep up on you multiple times throughout the day, you tried your hardest to not let it cloud your mind and ruin your birthday before it even started.

You should've just listened to that gut feeling.

●・○・●・○・●・

It was the morning of your birthday, you had woken up feeling less than refreshed. You had been tossing and turning all night, the feeling of unease never leaving as the time kept passing by.

You checked your phone and spotted quite a few birthday messages from your friends, but you didn't see one from Rafayel.

You knew he spent most of his nights awake, and he would never miss the chance to be the first one to wish you at midnight.

You pushed down that feeling of disappointment and decided to start your day with a little pick-me-up treat. Since you were planning on visiting your favourite café, you decided to dress up— that way you would be ready for your lunch date as well.

You spent a few hours at the café, taking cute pictures of yourself and the goodies that you bought. Soon it was time to head over the aquarium. You trusted Rafayel when he said he would be there, he never really gave you a reason not to.

Getting to the aquarium, you settled on a bench nearby the entrance waiting for Rafayel to show up. An hour passed by and it was nearing the time for your lunch reservation. You gave him a quick ring only for it to go straight to voicemail, trying a few more times only to get the same result.

You assumed his phone had died and hoped he was on his way. You decided it was better for you to wait inside at the table, that way your reservation wouldn't be cancelled.

The setting was beautiful, there was only a limited amount of tables all under a dome of glass where the marine life swam above you. Colours of blue made the whole thing feel so scenic and calm.

Sitting at your table you snapped a few pics of your surroundings and decided to order some appetizers, that way by the time they came Rafayel would already be here.

You waited, and waited— and then waited some more, but two hours had passed and Rafayel didn't show up.

You were worried, and just as you were ready to call him again for the umpteenth time, your eye spotted a moments notification from her.

You don't know what compelled you to open it, but you did. You could almost hear the sound of your heart shattering.

There, on her moments post, was Rafayel with his arms wrapped around her waist and a beautiful necklace that glimmered like light reflecting on a waters surface sitting delicately around her neck. It was captioned, 'When your cute boss surprises you with a beautiful gift and planned a whole day of fun for your birthday!'

It was insane how her birthday just happened to be the same day as yours.

Before you even realized it, you were crying. You quickly gathered yourself together and settled the bill, not missing the way everyone who looked at you had pity in their eyes.

Rushing out of the aquarium you beelined it home, not wanting to be around anyone.

When you finally reached the confines of your home you let it all out, collapsing near the door you sobbed until your voice was hoarse and there were no more tears left to cry.

Forcing yourself off the floor, you decided to take a hot shower and change into something more comfortable.

Your shower ended up being longer than you expected it to be, round 2 of yours tears started and you sat with your knees against your chest as the hot water fell from above.

You didn't notice how much time had passed while you were in the shower. The only thing that did get you out was the fact that you had used up all the hot water and that your fingertips were pruny.

You didn't even bother to dry your hair, just wanting to curl up in bed as soon as possible, praying for the day to be over.

It was hard keeping yourself from crying when every little thing reminded you of him. Hell your whole room was filled with all sorts of trinkets and memories of him.

It wasn't about the birthday, but about the fact that you guys had planned a whole day of just you two together, no distractions. You even had Thomas sign an agreement to not bother you guys today!

'Clearly that was all for nothing.'

You scoffed and wrapped the blanket tighter around yourself, the warmth bringing you a tiny bit of comfort.

God knows how long you spent in that one position, zoning in and out or reality, your mind and heart still refusing to grasp the situation but your body reacting with a never ending stream of silent tears.

You know what the insane part was? It wasn't the fact that Rafayel was out spending time with her, but rather the fact that you didn't even receive a single call or text from him. Just radio silence.

It's like anything having to do with you was just wiped from his memory.

As time passed on, you noticed your body crying out in hunger but you didn't have the strength to get up.

A part of you thought that you were being too dramatic, but the teenage girl in you felt like she was in high school again, when you were just the floater friend when the friends they wanted to hang out with were busy, when you were always an afterthought and not the first one.

You never thought you'd feel that with Rafayel, he always made you his number one priority. He knew about your insecurities and always assured you that he'd never put you in that position, ever.

"I guess at some point it was bound to happen." You whispered to yourself as tears fell once again. You just wanted to forget about today and sleep, rolling over you grabbed a bottle out of your bedside drawer. You took the sleeping pill and just laid there, waiting for it to kick in.

It didn't take long for the pills to kick in, closing your eyes you let yourself get enveloped by the darkness.

●・○・●・○・●・

Rafayel

It was late when he got back to his studio, he had this feeling that he was forgetting something but brushed it off.

If it was important I would've remembered it.

Oh how he would soon regret that thought.

He entered his studio expecting to be greeted by his lovely girlfriend, he even got her these desserts that MC loves so much.

"I should charge my phone first, it kept going off so MC took my phone and wouldn't even let me see who was contacting me."

He looked around but didn't see you anywhere. His studio was eerily quiet, Rafayel brushed it off as you having gone to bed considering how late it was.

Making his way to his room, he noticed how the bed looked untouched.

How weird, surely she should have been in bed by now.

He put his phone on charge, cursing it to charge faster.

That's when he saw it all, having been too preoccupied this morning with MC he missed out on his reminder.

Y/N's b-day! Don't forget your lunch reservation at the Linkon Aquarium! And absolutely do not let Thomas bother you about exhibitions!!!

It felt like cold water had been dumped on him as he read the reminder he wrote a few weeks back.

"I screwed up, fuck."

Rafayel started to freak out, his mind running a mile a minute. He quickly grabbed his phone and keys before bolting out of the house to your place.

Normally, you stay at his place more than yours since you guys had very limited quality time and being at his place made it easier to at least spend some time together. Although occasionally you did go home from time to time.

He beelined it to your place, praying you would forgive him. Although he wouldn't blame you if you didn't.

Hell if he was in your position he probably wouldn't forgive himself either! Instead of spending your birthday with you, he was out with another woman spending time with her for her birthday without even so much as a word from him.

As he reached your place he rushed up the stairs to your floor, the elevator taking too long to come. His hands were shaking so much that he struggled to put in your passcode.

After finally typing in the right code Rafayel rushed in, messily throwing off his shoes. He frantically looked around your apartment for you, not seeing you in the living room or kitchen he sped to your room.

The sight in front of him broke him beyond words.

Even in the dark he could see your eyes were puffy, probably from crying so much, there were tears that still stained your cheeks.

He carefully walked towards the edge of the bed, kneeling down so he was next to your head. Rafayel carefully wiped your cheeks, drying them of the tears you shed because of his stupidity.

"I'm so sorry, I know an apology won't fix the hurt I've caused you. Today was supposed to be your special day but I messed it all up."

Rafayel whispered as he gently stroked your cheeks. He stayed in that position until he eventually fell asleep, afraid that if he let go you would disappear.

●・○・●・○・●・

The next morning you awoke to the feeling of someone's hands on your face.

Knowing you went to bed alone, you quickly shot up in a state of panic, grabbing the nearest object to defend yourself.

It took your eyes a moment to adjust before you noticed the concerned eyes staring back at you.

Rafayel moved to get closer to you but you held a hand up, stopping him in his tracks.

"Don't you dare come near me. Get out right now!"

You were never one to raise your voice, but the feelings from yesterday were still fresh.

Rafayel looked shocked that you would raise your voice, but he still persisted. Not wanting to let you be alone anymore than he already made you.

He grabbed your hands but you yanked them right out, you really didn't want to do this so early in the morning.

"Please just let me explain."

Rafayel begged, he could feel your emotions radiating off of you in waves. It hurt him to know he was the one who did this to you, but he'd be damned if he didn't do anything to make it better.

"There's nothing to explain Rafayel. I know who you were with, clearly she is more important than your own fucking girlfriend!"

You felt appalled by his audacity to even try to give you an excuse, there was nothing he could say or do that could bring back yesterday. He made his choice, and it wasn't you.

A small part of you felt like you were overreacting, but a larger part of you validated your feelings.

Yes it was the first time he did something like this, but that doesn't mean you should bend over backwards and forgive him just because he said sorry.

You got up and grabbed his arm, knowing how persistent he is you know he wouldn't leave your apartment, at the very least you can kick him out your room.

Pushing him out the room, you slammed and locked the door before he even had time to process what was happening.

Everything you were holding in came bursting out like a flood. You didn't care if Rafayel was on the other side of the door, the hurt you felt yesterday came back ten fold when you saw his face.

On the other side, Rafayel had his forehead against the door. The pain in your cries made it feel like he was being stabbed over and over again.

He knew if he went in there he would just make things worse for himself, but he couldn't just stand there and listen to your broken sobs.

He picked the lock and gently opened the door, unsure of how close you were to the door, and because he didn't want to risk adding physical pain to the emotional pain you were already going through.

Letting himself in he found you on the floor at the end of your bed, he made his way over and scooped you in his arms before settling down on your bed with you in his lap.

He wrapped his arms around your waist as you tried to push yourself off of him, his hold was tight but not restricting.

You beat his chest with your fists muttering curses at him through your tears. Rafayel just sat there and let you have your way, hoping it brought you some comfort.

When your hits became weaker he shifted to pull you closer to his chest, your forehead now on his shoulders as you sobbed messily. Rafayel rubbed your back soothingly, trying to get you to calm down a bit.

You started to relax a bit in his warm embrace, but you were still on edge.

"Do you want to talk to me now baby?"

He spoke softly, the pain of seeing you in this condition leaking into his voice.

"You left me, and for another woman at that?"

You said after a few moments of silence.

"How could you forget about me? Do I mean that little to you now that you have Miss Bodyguard?"

You looked up at him, the tears streaming down your face. He reached up to wipe them away but you turned your face before he could and wiped them yourself.

He retracted his hands and placed them back on your waist, rubbing circles on them.

"No baby, you mean the world to me. I know it's not an excuse but it's my judgement gets cloudy when I'm around her."

You gave him a look that was a mix between 'what the fuck' and 'your words are not helping your case here.'

As bad as the timing was he let out a little chuckle.

"It's not something I can explain in simple words, but if you give me the chance I'll tell you everything without missing a single detail."

●・○・●・○・●・

Rafayel took the time to thoroughly explain everything to you regarding his past and MC. He constantly stressed multiple times that you were the one he chose and this life and would continue to choose in every other life after this.

You deliberated over his words, it was all a lot to take in, but it definitely helped you understand the situation more.

Not that it forgives him for leaving you alone, on your birthday no less.

“Wait, did you get her a birthday present too?”

You questioned, just now remembering the necklace from the photo.

Rafayel looked at you confused.

“I didn’t even know it was her birthday, why would I give her a birthday present?”

You narrowed your eyes at him in suspicion. Leaning over you grabbed your phone and pulled up the photo, making sure he got a good look at the caption too.

Rafayel snatched your phone the moment he saw it, looking at it with confusion with a hint of anger.

“Baby I promise on the seas I never did any of that! She’s the one who had planned everything and she was already wearing that necklace when I saw her.”

Rafayel explained. You were confused as to why she would go this far to post a lie, it didn’t sit right with you.

“Don’t worry I’ll make sure to no longer have her as my bodyguard, I won’t ever contact her.”

Rafayel said as he took a whole of your face.

"I don't want you to feel like I'm controlling who you employ or interact wi—"

"Absolutely not."

Rafayel cut you off.

"I would never feel that way, ever. This post though, it's really weird and I don't want this type of energy around us. I cherish you too much for that."

He spoke with a tone that was meant to assure me, that something like this will never happen again.

You nod and rest your head against his shoulder again, feeling more drained than yesterday.

"You're still not forgiven for yesterday, you have to make it up to me."

You said with a big yawn, feeling your eyes get heavier.

Rafayel chuckles before laying down with you snuggled on top of him.

"I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if that's how long it takes for you to forgive me."

He kisses the top of your head and then pulls the covers around you both.

"Now sleep, I'll be right here when you wake up."

He wrapped an arm around your waist, while his other hand rubbed your back soothingly.

Letting out a hum, you relaxed further into his hold, letting sleep envelop you.

[wendichester]

I absolutely love your work! Could I request something where the reader is not the most active person, like... She doesn't like running, she's not fit, she's terrible at fighting. She maybe does research, but that's all. But she's good at picking clothes, she always makes sure Sam and Dean look professional/appropriate to what they'll be doing. And she makes absolutely AMAZING apple pie, and she cooks, and all - just helps "passively", not "actively". So one day she decides that "alright, that's enough, I'm only causing trouble" and leaves - and at first the boys don't care, since she "wasn't too useful" - but after like a week or two they notice that they miss the apple pie, they miss someone who could help them with looking better, especially Sam, who realizes how deep in love with her he is? And maybe she comes back?

I'm sorry if it's too specific, or too much details, or anything😅😅

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ all the little things,

summary. when you start to think just how replaceable you are, sam shows you exactly otherwise

pairing. sam winchester x reader ft. dean winchester

wordcount. 681

notes. honestly, this is just a heartwarming idea! thank you for requesting lovely 🩷

The motel room is quiet when you slip out.

Your bag is packed, everything neat and folded because, well—of course it is. You aren’t a mess. You don’t do things hastily or without thinking. But you’ve thought about this—leaving—long and hard, and the conclusion is always the same.

You aren’t useful.

Sure, you help. You make sure Dean’s FBI suit isn’t wrinkled and that Sam has something other than plaid to wear when interviewing victims. You keep the bunker stocked, and you make damn good apple pie.

But you can’t run. You can’t fight. You can barely hold a gun without it shaking in your hands.

And you’re tired of feeling like dead weight.

So you leave.

No note, no big speech—just a quiet exit in the middle of the night, the way you’re sure they’ll forget you.

Because you? You’re replaceable.

Right?

At first, the boys don’t notice.

They wake up, see that your things are gone, and shrug it off. Maybe you got tired of the life. Maybe you found something better.

They don’t talk about it.

They just move on.

Then things start feeling off.

Not all at once—just little things.

Like how Dean’s shirts are suddenly wrinkled as hell, and his ties are never quite right. Or how Sam keeps losing his laptop charger because you’re not there to remind him to bring it.

And the food? Absolute garbage.

Dean burns everything. Sam tries to cook and nearly poisons them both. They eat diner food three times a day, and after two weeks, Dean stares blankly at the menu and mutters, “God, I miss pie.”

Sam’s fork pauses mid-air.

It’s the first time either of them has said it out loud.

Dean catches himself, scowls, and shoves a bite of pancakes into his mouth. But the damage is done.

They do miss you.

The bunker feels wrong without you.

Your room is empty, hollow in a way Sam can’t stand. He stops by more often than he wants to admit, staring at the bed like it might hold answers, like it might tell him why you left without a word.

At first, he assumed it didn’t matter. But now—now it’s everywhere.

It’s in the little things.

Like how there’s no warm light from the kitchen in the morning, no soft hum of music while you bake. No one teasing Dean about his terrible diet or fixing Sam’s collar before an interview.

No one who makes them feel like they have a home.

It takes Sam longer than he’d like to admit to realize what it means.

He doesn’t just miss you.

He loves you.

And he needs you back.

Finding you takes time.

Sam spends hours searching, fingers flying over the keyboard until—finally—he gets a hit.

Dean doesn’t argue when Sam says, “Let’s go.”

Because he misses you too.

You stare at them when they show up at your new apartment.

“...What are you doing here?”

Sam takes a slow breath. “We need to talk.”

You cross your arms, trying to hold your ground. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Dean scoffs. “Bullshit.”

Sam shoots him a look, then turns back to you, softer. “We didn’t realize how much we needed you,” he admits. “Not just for the small stuff—for everything.”

You blink, and Sam steps closer, voice steady.

“You make us better. You make us feel like we’re more than just hunters. More than just the job.”

You swallow hard. “I—I thought I was just in the way.”

Sam shakes his head. “You were never in the way.”

Dean chimes in. “Look, we’re idiots, okay? We should’ve said something when you left.” He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “But the truth is—we suck without you.”

Your throat tightens.

Then Sam says, quietly—earnestly,

“I love you.”

Your breath catches.

Dean smirks. “Took him long enough to admit it.”

Sam rolls his eyes but doesn’t look away from you. His hand finds yours, warm and solid.

“So,” he says. “Come home?”

You hesitate—only for a second.

Then you nod.

And just like that, everything is right again.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

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[chaosartic]

Throw away the caution! | LN4

word count: roughly 2k

warnings: overprotective brother Max Fewtrell, mutual pinning (a bit), Oscar is confused most of the time, bad writing (yes it requires a warning)

summary: Lando (annoyingly) has a crush on non other than his best friends younger sister, Y/n Fewtrell. It was his well kept secret. Why? Because he knows how overprotective Max is of you. What happens when Carlos and Oscar find out about it? Will a drunken night out celebrating a race weekend change their relationship?

a/n: Originally this was supposed to be a one shot but I’m turning this into a mini series. They’re probably going to be three parts. Please note that english is not my first language, I’m sorry for any mistakes in advance.

Lando and Max have been through a lot together as long as both of them can remember. And for just as long Lando has known y/n, Max slightly younger sister. What started as a harmless friendship slowly turned into something more, at least in Landos eyes.

It wasn’t until he was a teenager that he admitted his feelings to himself. He kept them hidden and a secret from everyone. At first he thought that they’re just temporary. The girl he used to climb trees with and joke around for hours grew into a beautiful young lady after all. But the feelings only grew stronger.

Lando was well into his twenties when he talked to someone about his crush, it was no other than his friend and ex teammate, Carlos Sainz. At first he tried to talk Lando into admitting his feelings to you but that was without success. Carlos tried to figure out if the feelings are both sided but he simply didn’t see the Fewtrell siblings enough for that.

He was the silent emotional support through everything after that, trying to get them together alone as much as possible without Max noticing. After all, Carlos didn't know how he would react to the news of his childhood friend loving his younger sister. There were a few close calls in the past but as far as anyone was concerned neither Max nor y/n knew about Landos feelings.

If anyone would ask him why he doesn’t confess his answer would probably be along the lines of wanting to concentrate on his career first. In truth he was scared of your rejection and your brother's disappointment. He and Max are friends after all and it might feel like some sort of betrayal to the older Brit.

Lando was currently in London since he had to be back at the MTC for his pre-season training and meetings. He loved being in his home country even if that meant that winter break was over. It means that he gets to spend time with his friends. Like this evening for example.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You hate being late. It wasn't even your fault that a meeting with your boss ran over the scheduled time or that traffic today was worse than the past few days. You were meeting up with your brother, childhood friend and his teammate. And while Max assured you that your late arrival wouldn’t be a problem, anxiety and guilt still washed over you. You navigate your car without a problem down the familiar street to your brother's appartement. The night was cold but with a clear sky, a rare occurrence.

“You know you don’t have to get me anything when you come around.” Max greets you at the door as soon as he sees the flowers clutched in your hand. “Yeah yeah” you wave him off. The apartment was quiet, too quiet for the normal chaos that erupts when Lando and Max are together.

Max notices your confusion. “They got caught up with work stuff too. That’s why I told you not to worry.” He grabs the flowers ready to put them into an improvised vase while adding, “they should be here any minute though.”

“You could’ve added that little detail in your sentence,” you sternly joke with him. He pulls you into his arms mumbling something about next time he will. You missed this, the familiar feeling of being in your brother's arms. Work has been hell for you recently and you didn't get to spend much time with your family or friends. That’s why you didn't think twice about coming around tonight to spend a relaxing evening with your brother and an old friend of yours, Lando.

Before you could do anything else the doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of the McLaren drivers. “I’ve got it,” you said to Max before walking towards the door. When you opened it, you were a bit surprised when you saw only Oscar standing there. “Hey Oscar. Where is Lando?” you ask him after you let him into the flat. “Oh, he’s still parking the car or something,” Oscar said, “he’ll be here shortly.” You nodded your head at his explanation, softly closing the door behind him. You didn’t lock it though so Lando could get in easier.

Max came out of the kitchen to greet Oscar. While the two aren’t that close they still get along well, spending their evenings occasionally in bigger groups together. The Aussi was quickly accepted into the little group of you three after he joined Lando as his new teammate two years ago. You went back into the kitchen grabbing drinks for everyone while the boys already chatted about racing. The table was set, the ordered food waiting on the counter. There is only one thing missing now.

You still had a slightly anxious feeling that you couldn't shake off. Maybe it was because you would spend the evening in such close proximity to Lando. You haven’t said it to anyone out loud but you knew what the butterflies in your stomach meant. While you didn’t want to admit it to yourself just yet, you couldn’t hide it anymore. You were crushing hard and of course that person has to be your brother’s best friend.

“Hey mate”, Landos voice rans out through the apartment. He came into the kitchen with a wide smile, dimples showing on full display. He quickly pulled each of you into his arms as a greeting. His arms lingered around you for a bit longer, both of you silently enjoying the feeling. “Come on guys, the food is still warm.” Max called out while putting the boxes in the middle of the table. His voice was a bit rougher than usual, almost like he was hiding his emotions. You didn't notice it nor did Lando. Oscar however did notice it and for a millisecond a confused look crossed his face. It was gone before anyone could really notice it.

The four of you sat down at the table, a comfortable silence washing over the room. You sit next to your brother across from Lando. You noticed him looking at you a few times out of the corner of your eye. The butterflies in your stomach were running wild, but you hoped that it didn’t show. As much as you like the idea of being together with the Brit, you knew that it wouldn’t be a good idea. Not only because of his career but also because of your brother. You and Max were close and you know his overprotective sides when it comes to the topic of boys being around you. He was always a bit worried about them, maybe given the fact that he raced professionally. It didn't help that you know most of the formula one grid. He was scared of someone using you for your connections, he would not mention this fear though.

You aren't sure how Max would react to the news of you crushing on his best friend nor did you want to find out anytime soon. You talked about everything over dinner; racing, the upcoming season, video games and just what everybody did during the break. You remembered about a year ago when you were all sitting at the same table. Oscar was still new to the group and quite shy, but he opened up which was good to see.

“All right, how about we talk about something different than just racing,” you said. “Not everybody’s life depends on it.” You jokingly added, knowing that the boys love nothing more than to talk about it, especially when they were off for a few weeks. At some point the conversation shifts, now the talk was all about. testing and the upcoming season. “I have a question guys,” Lando suddenly said. His cheeks are a bit pink, unusually so. Your eyes looked over to Oscar slightly, he looked just as confused as you felt. It almost seems like Lando was shy about something perhaps not knowing what to do with the situation. “Do you have anything planned during the weekend when the season starts?” He finally blurted out after a longer pause.

“Not that I could think of,” you replied, looking at your brother. He also shook his head no. “Why do you ask?” “How about you come to watch it?” It was actually Oscar who voiced the question, his eyes always flickering up to you. It was almost like he was saving Lando from something, maybe embarrassment. “For sure,” Max answered quickly, not having to really think about it. The three men turn their heads to you waiting for your answer. “I’m not sure if I can get time off,” you said. “And also don’t exactly have the money for this trip.” You said shyly.

“Sweetheart, do you really think you have to pay?” Lando asked. You look at him shocked, did he really just say that? “I got it covered. Don’t worry about that.” He added quickly. Maybe it was your imagination, but he looked a bit embarrassed about saying it. Max looked at his best friend, confusion all over his features, shaking his head as if he was having a silent conversation with himself.

“Please y/n, it would mean the world for both of us,” Lando added, pointing at him and Oscar. He was almost begging at this point. You didn’t know why it was so important for him to have you there. A small part if you wanted to believe that it is because he also had a crush on you. But honestly those were unrealistic expectations. No, Lando could never have a crush on you. That’s for sure.

“Okay okay,” you gave in with a small smile. “I’ll see if I can get a few days off so I can join you in Australia,”you said. You see from the corner of your eyes that your brother has a sour look on his face again. An uneasy feeling settles in your stomach. ”Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m done.“ You try to ignore the look on Maxs face by changing the topic.You took both plates and put them into the dishwasher. You miss the way Oscar looks at both Max and Lando. Ever since this conversation started he has had a slightly confused look on his face, not that you noticed.

It was only a few days after that night when your request for the time off was accepted. That night you spend an hour or maybe two on FaceTime with Lando. He was back in Monaco preparing for the testing in Bahrain. It may have been a few days since that call but you can still see the way he smiled when you shared the news. It was one of the best things ever.

You already talked with Max about when you were leaving to Down Under. While you were more than excited to be in the paddock, see the race and talk to some of the drivers that you know, you couldn’t shake off this weird feeling in the pit of your stomach. It felt like this little trip would change everything but you weren’t sure why. Maybe it was because recently you and Lando have talked almost every night, intensifying your crush on the curly haired man. And even though you were nervous you couldn’t wait to see him in person again in Australia.

part 2 (coming soon)

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

I hope you enjoy it! Any feedback is appreciated!

Requests are open! Want to be added to the taglist? Feel free to reach out.

[giuseppe-yuki]

rancher!oscar piastri x reader headcanons

random headcannons for my fic come over, baby! (shameless promo 😔) *headcannons might not make total sense without reading aforementioned fic

the farm

after The Situation™, mama piastri is more than welcome of your presence at the family home

door has to be OPEN during the day though (she sends basil to guard the door)

you and hattie become besties and bond through bullying oscar <3

you hang out on their family farm during breaks from college so much nicole has assigned you chores to do as well

namely watering the garden and collecting the eggs in the early morning

oscar loves tagging along (only so he can take the chance to make out with you behind the chicken coop cause he can't when his sisters and his mother are in the house with y'all)

y'all are banned from the atv to travel around during morning chores because.. yeah.

when fall comes, apple picking in the family orchard!!!

although you may be a city girl, you know how to make a bomb apple pie

nicole makes cider :)

its nice to drink, curled up in oscar's bed with a classic movie illegally streamed on his laptop.

(most of the times, the movie doesn't get watched, anyways)

the apartment

your parents live in a fancy schmancy apartment in the city

they're always away on business trips or vacations so you basically have free reign to use the apartment when they're away

when you invite oscar for a "sleepover" in the apartment when your parents are in malibu for a random vacation, he gets excited at the prospect of seeing how you grew up in the city

baffled of your lack of backyard

no fresh eggs 💔 ? ?

"jesus christ, can the cars SHUT UP?" - oscar at 12am

he likes to watch the shiny supercars that sometimes pop up on the streets below rev their engines and zoom past your balcony

gets a little sick from looking down from a high height though, since the apartment is located near the 20th floor

"holy cow, do you think this is what being a cloud feels like??" - oscar leaning dangerously precariously off your balcony

college

when you both are not at oscar's house for break or your family apartment in the city, you both are at school

oscar studies engineering (duh)

since you study a whole nother field, you are located on the other side of the campus, which is kind of annoying

he likes to walk you to your classes even when that means he is going to be late to his own lectures.

(he knicks the notes off of his mate lando, anyways)

commonly sends you stupid videos in the middle of your lectures

often takes you out for lunch in his banged-up weird-orange pick-up truck that most likely has engine problems

study sessions in the library!! (he gets overwhelmed by your flashcards and you almost cry looking at his physics problems)

when essays are written and worksheets filled out, you sleep at oscar's dorm (the RAs in your female-only dorm crash out if they find out - god forbid - a boy is in your room)

oscar likes kicking his poor roomie (lando) out for a few hours when y'all get more intimate lmaoooo

a/n: lil headcannons to fill in the time while i work on my full fics :)

as always, my inbox is open to all your thoughts, headcannons, or questions for any of my works! (no fic requests please!)

[makeitmingi]

Nothing To Prove

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Yeosang x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Girlfriend!Reader, Boyfriend!Yeosang, cameo of other Ateez members as Yeosang's friends.

Summary: In a laidback relationship, you and Yeosang do worry that you're taking the other person for granted. So the two of you decide to take matters into your own hands, individually and without the other person knowing. Although in actuality, you are both worthy of each other's love.

Word count: 4.6K

Story warning(s): Y/n has some body image issues, both of them have doubts and question themselves.

You love your relationship with Yeosang. It was unlike the other relationships you've ever had before. Both you and Yeosang were laid back, never really needing to go out of your way to please the other person before. It was special to you, it felt like home, Yeosang was the person you could find peace with.

"Ah, done for the day." You stretched your arms over your head, stretching out your stiff neck. You pushed yourself away from your desk and checked your phone.

'I'm done at work. See you at home. - (y/n)'

'Alright. Stay safe on your way back, I'll see you back home. Shall I order some dinner so you don't have to cook? - Yeosang'

'I'll only agree this time because I'm actually craving fried chicken. - (y/n)'

'Well, maybe I was not planning on buying chicken this time. But if you insist... - Yeosang'

You chuckled and tucked your phone into your pocket, proceeding to pack the rest of your things up. You saw some of your colleagues at the lift lobby.

"So, (y/n). Any plans tonight? It's friday!" Your friends asked.

"I don't think so. My boyfriend ended work early so we're going to do have delivery for dinner tonight." You smiled.

"Wait, your boyfriend ended work early but he didn't come pick you up? He just went home on his own?" One of your colleagues asked. The slight suspicion in her tone made you feel a little defensive. But you nodded your head.

"Why does he need to pick me? I'm perfectly fine going home on my own. He should rest since he ended early." You blinked. You and Yeosang always just met at home after work.

"It's friday! Shouldn't you guys be going out for dinner or at least a date of some sort?" She questioned.

"Don't you know? (y/n) and her boyfriend are super laid back. You would think they're just friends." Your other colleague giggled.

"I know, our (y/n) here is too independent. You know guys like to be depended on, feel like the hero... To serve their girlfriends." One of your colleagues patted your shoulder.

"Yeah, ask him to pick you up some time!" They encouraged.

"Maybe..." You added with a nod. You didn't give them a moment to criticise further, the moment the lift doors opened, you were gone.

Your relationship with Yeosang is fine, you didn't need anyone commenting on it, telling you what you should and shouldn't do. If there was an issue, Yeosang would tell you, right?

No, he wouldn't. Yeosang was too kind and loving, he could never tell you anything bad. Every flaw that you knew you had, Yeosang never pointed them out instead he found the positive in them, he was the sweetest person ever. As you sat on the train, you let out a sigh, wondering just how much you were lacking compared to him.

"Sangie, I'm home." You announced your arrival, removing your shoes at the little entranceway of your shared apartment with Yeosang.

"Oh, (y/n)'s back from work." Yeosang informed Yunho, who he was currently online gaming with.

"Shouldn't you go greet her?" Yunho asked.

"I will, hang on. Let's finish this." Yeosang said to his friend over the headset. Seeing you shuffle past him, Yeosang sent you a smile and pointed to the headset.

"You should finish the game, don't leave Yunho hanging. I'll go shower first. Hi, Yunho!" You giggled.

"Hi, (y/n)! Dude, you have such a chill girlfriend. Most girls would freak that their partner didn't turn the game off." Yunho chuckled.

"Why? I mean, (y/n) understands that I was in the middle of something..." Yeosang asked but his question was never answered because they got distracted by an enemy raiding them.

"I've set dinner up." Yeosang informed when you stepped out, fresh from your shower.

"Your game with Yunho is done?" You asked, heading to the fridge for a drink.

"Yeah, we won so we called it a night. Umm, you were... okay with me gaming just now right? You're not angry?" Yeosang turned to you, speaking slowly. You blinked in confusion, not knowing what his question really meant.

"Of course I was, it's your hobby. Why would I be angry? You started the game before I came home anyway. It's your free time, you can do whatever you want." You laughed.

"Thank you. It's nothing. Welcome home, I hope you had a good day at work." Yeosang hugged you.

"I'm just glad this tiring week is over. How about you? Did you have a good day?" You asked back as you sat at your dining table.

"It was productive. Maybe we shouldn't go for the gym session if you're tired? We can stay in." Yeosang suggested, handing you a plate while you handed him the cutlery.

"No, no! It's fine, Sangie. There's no need to cancel. Exercise can be a stress reliever." You shook your head.

"Are you sure? We can do something else if you'd like." He offered.

"Really, I'm okay. I'm looking forward to it." You giggled, taking a bite of fried chicken. Honestly, you did want to cancel to work out. But Yeosang liked it and you didn't want him to cancel because of you.

"(y/n), are you alright? Did something happen at work?" Yeosang frowned a little. One thing your relationship, it made Yeosang more observant, especially when it came to you. The way you pushed your food around, something was obviously wrong and it pained him that you didn't tell him.

"I'm fine! Really, just tired. I feel a little low on energy but I think I need rest, just juggling too many projects right now. Don't worry." You reached over to squeeze his hand.

"You know I'm always here to listen." He reminded, moving his hand so he could laced fingers with you.

"I know." You hummed.

After dinner, you and Yeosang cleared up together, even if he insisted that he could do it and that you should rest. Once that was done, you excused yourself and went to send out some work emails.

"Here. It's caffeine free so it should prepare your brain for bed." Yeosang placed the cup of hot tea beside your laptop.

"It smells good." You took the cup in your hands. Yeosang took the space beside you on the ground.

"This looks like a lot of work for a friday night." He said, glancing over the contents of the reports you were trying to compile together. You nodded with a soft sigh.

"Sorry, I know this isn't exactly the most exciting friday night." You turned to him.

"Don't sweat it, you have enough to worry about. I'm happy just being right here with you." He put his arm around you. You kissed his cheek and leaned your head on his shoulder. Yeosang kissed the top of your head, he wished he could take some stress off you.

"Alright, I'm done. This is all the preparation I need for the contract signing on Monday." You closed your laptop and pushed it aside. You and Yeosang leaned back against the couch.

"Good work today and this week." Yeosang rubbed your arm.

"You too." You closed your eyes, just enjoying the warmth and security that Yeosang brought you.

"This tea is very good." You complimented, sipping the last bit of it. Yeosang was very into vitamins, herbal remedies and homeopathic medicine at times.

"That's good. I still can't appreciate tea but I'm glad you can." He chuckled. You nodded and brought the empty cup to the kitchen.

"Come, let's go to bed." From behind you, Yeosang suddenly lifted you up, making you squeal in shock. The both of you laughed as Yeosang carried you all the way to your bedroom.

"Don't worry, I won't drop you. I work out a lot, you weigh nothing to me." He teased by trying to toss you lightly in the air.

"Okay! Okay! I get it! Now, please put me down! We have to brush our teeth." You shrieked amidst your laughter.

"Oh, that's right. I forgot about that. I was going to put you to bed already." Yeosang set you down on your side of the bed. You got up and held hands with him, going to the bathroom. You squeezed tooth paste onto Yeosang's toothbrush before your own. Standing side by side, you brushed your teeth together.

"Ah, I forgot to buy a new toner." Yeosang said, realising he threw away the empty bottle of his toner this morning. You opened the cupboard and got him a new one.

"I noticed it finishing a couple days ago and bought a new one for whenever you finished the old one." You explained.

"Thankfully you're prepared." Yeosang opened the bottle to start his skincare routine, as did you.

"There." He finished. You wordlessly reached up the brush away the stray hairs that covered the birthmark by his eye. Yeosang turned to meet your eyes, slightly confused by your action.

"It's pretty, I love it." You tip toed a little to kiss his birthmark.

"Only you think it's pretty." Yeosang joked, slinging his arm around your waist as you finished your routine.

"Well, it is. And I don't think, I know." You smiled. Now, with the night time routine done, Yeosang could finally put you to bed. He pulled the blanket back so you could crawl in.

You scooted closer to him once he got settled in bed and he put his arm around you, making sure you were comfortable. Like earlier in the living room, there was a peaceful silence that settled over the two of you. This happened a lot and Yeosang liked it.

He loved hearing you talk and how animated you were but he also loved the shared silences with you. You both didn't need to talk to fill the space. This was enough.

"You should try to sleep." Yeosang said, looking down and realising that at some point, you did already fall asleep.

"Good night." He whispered, carefully leaning to turn the nightstand lights off and falling asleep.

When Yeosang woke up, he thought you would be asleep beside him like every weekend. You usually liked to sleep in a bit while he bought you breakfast from the nearby cafe since he doesn't cook.

"(y/n)?" Yeosang left the room to find you in the kitchen, putting an egg white scramble on a plate.

"Morning." You smiled when you saw him. There was a coffee on the counter next to his pre-workout shake.

"You made breakfast?" Yeosang blinked.

"Yeah, I woke up earlier than I expected so I made breakfast, we have enough food in the fridge anyway. I haven't really had time to do as much cooking with me working longer house." You said.

"You're busy with work, it's fine that you don't cook." Yeosang reached over to hold your hand.

"I know but I miss it... Anyway, that's your coffee, pre workout and egg white scramble with wholewheat toast. I made some boiled eggs if you want more protein. if not we can leave those in the fridge and eat it another time." You got him cutlery. Yeosang took the plate and cutlery to the dining table.

"Aren't you eating?" He asked, patting your chair.

"Yeah, I made oatmeal with strawberries. Was craving something sweet." You said, grabbing to a bowl to put your oatmeal in. Yeosang didn't even sit yet, instead waiting by the stove for you.

"You can start eating first. It'll take about 5 more minutes." You turned to him, stirring the oatmeal.

"I can wait 5 minutes." He placed a hand on your head. Yeosang felt bad that he didn't wake up earlier to get your usual breakfast.

But he didn't know that you woke up earlier because you felt bad that he was always waking up earlier to get you breakfast. He rarely got a chance to sleep in.

"Done." You poured the oatmeal into your bowl and sprinkled the cut up strawberries on top.

"Alright, let's have breakfast." You both sat down to eat.

"I was thinking if we should go out for dinner tonight. San recommended this new pasta bar place and I know you like pasta." Yeosang suggested.

"Sure, that sounds good. It's been a while since we've gone out for dinner." You smiled excitedly with nodding, you just loved spending time with Yeosang. After breakfast was finished, Yeosang helped you with clearing up.

"I have to go pack my gym bag. It's a mess." Yeosang sighed and sat on the ground where his duffle bag was.

"Oh! I forgot, I got something for you." Yeosang suddenly stood up. You sat up from where you were laying down on the bed, you tucked the bookmark at the page you stopped.

"Here you go." He came back into the bedroom with a big paper bag.

"Sangie, what's with the sudden present?" You blinked in confusion but opened it. You saw a new duffle bag, matching Yeosang's.

"So you can have your own gym bag to carry what you need. Like girl things..." Yeosang explained. It was a lilac colour compared to Yeosang's black one.

"Thank you, it's pretty." You smiled and hugged him.

"You're welcome. I hope you like the colour, I thought it was the prettiest one they had." He wrapped his arms around you.

Usually Yeosang helped you carry your gym things but maybe you shouldn't burden him either carrying your things anymore. You can carry your own stuff.

"I'll use it right now." You giggled and packed what you needed for the gym inside while he got back to packing his own things. Yeosang was clearing his bag when his hand touched plastic. He picked it up and looked at it, remembering what it was. It was a doberman keychain he had actually bought for you.

"Thank you. Have a nice day." The worker wished, passing the small bag with the keychain over.

"Thanks, you too." Yeosang smiled, content that he bought something for you. He always insisted he was a doberman so he thought this would remind you of him.

"Come on, let me buy you something. These keychains are cute." He heard a couple right by the store entrance.

"They're too cute. I'm not a child." The girlfriend clicked her tongue.

"But you always like cute things like these. Didn't you ask me for couple items? We can get these." The boyfriend insisted, turning the rack around to browse.

"Yeah that was months ago. I don't want my friends to think I'm childish if I put these on my keys." The girlfriend sighed.

"Alright, we'll look for something else." With that, the couple left the store.

"Childish?" Yeosang looked down at the doberman keychain in his hand. It wasn't a cheesy couple keychain but just one that he bought for you. When he saw it, he did think you would like it, which is why he bought it, but now, he was unsure.

"I'll get her something else then." With a soft sigh, he dropped the keychain into his bag and continued on his way to the gym for his workout session.

That was 3 weeks ago, he had completely forgotten about buying this for you. He wasn't disappointed about the 'waste of money' but he was disappointed in not thinking further on what you would like.

"Yeosang?" You called.

"Huh?" Yeosang quickly tucked the small item into his pants pocket and turning to you.

"I was calling you. Are you okay?" You asked worriedly. He smiled and nodded his head, refolding his spare clothes and putting them into his duffle bag.

"I wanted to ask you if its okay for me to borrow your shirt to wear over my work out clothes." You requested.

"Of course! Take whatever you need." Yeosang nodded. He liked seeing you wear his clothes, it gave him a sense of pride.

"Thanks." You kissed his cheek and went to change. Yeosang took the keychain bag out and sighed softly, he opened his drawer and put the keychain inside. Maybe he should just throw it away. When you came out from the bathroom, he closed the cupboard. As expected, you looked nice in his oversized shirt.

"Hmm?" You tilted your head when he was staring.

"N-Nothing, you're pretty." He coughed, turning away to hide the blush on his cheeks, obviously not expecting himself to just blurt out his thoughts like that.

"Really?" You felt your own cheeks heat up, not used to such compliments from him.

"Of course, you're always pretty." Yeosang said, still not looking at you. You smiled softly and threw your arms around his neck.

"I'll change and we'll go." Yeosang kissed your cheek and went to the bathroom with his workout clothes. While he got ready, you filled up both your water bottles and some post workout snacks.

"What shoes are you wearing?" He asked from the shoe closet by the front door.

"The black asics? My ankles hurt so much when I wore the Nikes last time. I shouldn't wear them for a work out anymore." You said.

"Here." Yeosang suddenly bent down next to you, lifting your foot. You held onto the counter to support yourself, confused at to what he was doing.

"You should wear ankle guards then. Even if they do not hurt right now." He explained, carefully securing the ankle guard into place for you. When he was done with one foot, he gently lifted up the other foot to do the same as he did before.

"Thank you." You said softly.

"Shall I called the physiotherapist to see if it is anything serious?" Yeosang frowned with concern.

"I'm fine, really. It's just the lack of ankle support from the shoes plus I was running a lot that day to do cardio. If it hurts, I'll go see a doctor." You assured him.

"Alright. You have to tell me if it still hurts." He said seriously. You hummed and went to wear your shoes with him beside you.

"Do you want me to help you carry that?" Yeosang asked as you both left your apartment complex to go to the gym.

"No need, I'd rather you free up your hand." You giggled. Yeosang tilted his head, a little confused as to what you meant until you reached out to hold his hand.

"Oh, I see what you mean." He nodded slowly, understanding what your intentions were.

You were not the biggest fan of exercising or going to gym but seeing how much Yeosang loved it, you started this routine too. Plus, it gave you another way to spend more time with him. It made you happy when you saw how happy he was when you suggested starting the go to the gym with him.

"I'm gonna put my bag in the locker room." You split ways with him after you both entered the gym since the female and male sections were separated.

"That pretty guy is back at the gym." A girl giggled.

"Wow, he's so pretty but also muscular and built. I wouldn't even dare talk to him, he's too perfect." Her friend replied.

"Hey, you came in with that cute guy earlier, right? Is he your brother?" You felt a tap on your shoulder and turned around to see the two girls standing there.

"Umm, no... He's my boyfriend." You gulped slightly. When they heard your reply, they seemed to be in disbelief.

"Right, well. Your boyfriend's very good looking. You're very lucky." One of the girls said.

"Yeah, lucky..." Her friend giggled, almost mocking you before they left. You let out a long sigh and went out to the main gym area to see Yeosang there, waiting for you.

"Hey, you took a while. Did something happen? Is it your ankles?" Yeosang came over to you. You shook your head with a small smile, assuring him that nothing happened. He felt like he was prying too much so Yeosang took your word for it and didn't question further.

"I'm gonna work on the weights." You changed the subject.

"Alright, make sure you warm up properly. Let me know if you need help, I'll be right there." He pointed.

"Okay." You bumped fists with him and broke apart to do your own workouts. You appreciated that Yeosang always made sure you could see him and he would come check on you.

"She's fine." Yeosang said to himself, making sure he could see you in the mirror. He didn't want you to injure yourself further.

"It's so nice of you to be watching your girlfriend." Someone spoke. Yeosang momentarily looked away from you to see a girl beside him.

"Excuse me?" Yeosang was confused.

"Could you help me with this?" The girl smiled, gesturing to the barbells. The last person that used it must have left the weights on and didn't put them back.

"Sure." Yeosang nodded and helped her remove the weights, putting them back at their respective place on the shelves.

"Thank you so much for your help, I can take it from here." The girl smiled, sending Yeosang a flirtatious wave. They didn't realise that you were watching the whole time. The girl was so fit, much fitter than you. Her exposed stomach revealed how toned she was while Yeosang's oversized shirt covered your body.

"Hey, do you need help?" A guy came over, making you tear your eyes away from Yeosang. Judging by his uniform, you knew that he worked here.

"No, I'm good. Thanks." You gave him a friendly smile.

"Sure, sure. Actually, when you lift the weights, your back should be like this or you'll strain it." He demonstrated.

"Oh, that's great advice. Thank you, maybe that's why my back has been hurting after weight days." You chuckled. The male laughed and gave you a thumbs up.

"You're welcome, if you need anymore help, I'll be around." He gestured.

Yeosang watched the man talk to you, he could sort of grasp what the male was telling you. And he knew all that. Yeosang frowned slightly, he should have been the one the teach it to you.

"Woah." As you were moving stations, you tripped over the mat corner and down you went.

"(y/n)!" Yeosang dropped what he was doing and ran over to you.

"Are you okay?" The man from earlier rushed over. But Yeosang was too worried about you, he ignored the man and held your hand, watching your face crumple with pain. You didn't need to tell him, Yeosang already knew what was wrong.

"Let's get you to the doctor." Yeosang slipped his arms under you to lift you up.

"No, Sangie. It's fine... I'll be fine..." You protested.

"No, you're not fine. We're going to the doctor now." Yeosang went to retrieve his bag and he got one of the female staff to get your bag. He called a cab to bring you to the doctor.

Throughout the doctor's trip, Yeosang was eerily silent. It wasn't he usual silence, he had a frown on his face, showing his displeasure.

"Easy." Yeosang carried you into the house, carefully setting you down on the couch.

"Here, you have to elevate your leg." He grabbed one of dining chairs and placed a cushion on it. You winced as you placed your bandaged ankle on top of the cushion.

"Do you need anything? You should eat before taking your painkillers because they're quite strong." Yeosang stroked your head.

"Sure." You nodded glumly. He retrieved a protein bar for you, bringing you your waterbottle and meds too.

"I'm sorry I interrupted our workout. We barely just started before I fell and hurt myself." You said, looking down at your lap. You genuinely felt so bad and it made you feel worse. Firstly, you were so embarrassed that you fell. Secondly, Yeosang had to stop your workout. Lastly, you wouldn't make your dinner date.

"(y/n), it's just a workout. It's not important to me, you and your safety is more impotant to me." He rubbed your shoulder. Yeosang stood up and grabbed a blanket for you.

"I-" You felt so overwhelmed you just burst out into tears, shocking Yeosang.

"What's wrong? Does your ankle hurt? Should I call the doctor? Tell me what you need, please." He begged desperately.

"Yeosang, please hug me." You cried.

"Oh!" You were in Yeosang's arms in just a split second. He hugged you tightly, his hand resting on the back your head as you cried into his neck. He hushed you softly, comforting you.

"Please don't cry, (y/n)." Yeosang's heart hurt, he wanted to protect you but it seemed like he was failing.

"I keep doing everything wrong. I can't do anything right." You cried.

"What? What are you talking about? What are you saying?" Yeosang was now confused as to what you were talking about. You pulled away and wiped your tears.

"You do so much for me and always put me first so I've been trying to do more for you too, I don't want you to think I'm using you or taking advantage of you. I don't want you to get tired of me or-" You were interrupted when Yeosang grasped your chin to kiss you.

"Silly girl. Where did you get that idea? I've never once thought any of that and I'll never get tired of you." He wiped your tear away.

"I'm not like most girlfriends." You shook your head.

"That's what I love about you. I don't need you to be like anyone else." He hugged you, rubbing your back. Yeosang had no idea you thought that way.

"And here I thought you were getting tired of me doing things for you. I've been trying to be a more dependable boyfriend." He said.

"You are dependable, Sangie. And I'm not tired of you, I love when you do things for me." You giggled.

"I'm not the best boyfriend out there. I can be a little slow and don't grasp things quickly so I want to prove that I am worthy somehow." Yeosang explained.

"There's nothing to prove. You are worthy. And you're wrong, you are the best boyfriend out there." You shook your head.

"We're worthy of each other, okay? Let's not doubt that." He caressed your cheek.

"Okay." You leaned in to give him another kiss. Yeosang smiled and stood up, going to the bedroom. You were puzzled as he came out holding something in his hand. He chuckled and sat back down, putting something in your palm.

"Oh my, it's adorable! Is this supposed to be you?" Your eyes lit up as you held the little doberman keychain.

"Yeah... I saw it the other day and bought it for you. You know, to remind you of me." Yeosang smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I love it! Thank you. Can you give me my keys, please? I want to add it now." You requested.

"Sure." He went to your bag to get them for you. You fiddled with the keyring but managed to add the keychain to your keys.

"It's adorable." You looked at it, jingling your keys.

"I'm glad you like it." He smile softly, reaching over to stroke your head. You giggled and held your keys in your lap as you leaned over to rest your head against his chest.

~

Masterlist

[gingerteafairy]

i want to thank @marchsfreakshow for encouraging me to post it. this is insanely long, had to be divided into other chapters, this is the first one. hope you guys like it because i loved to write this fic. sorry for the mistakes here. english is not my first language. special thanks for @ikkyfics!!

THE GREAT GUIDE FOR JAILBIRDS IN LOVE

warren lipka x fem!reader

summary: tough times shows up after prision. His only alternative? Working miles away from home. The name of the place was almost faded, but he could still make it out: Last Chance Market.

tags n warnings: postprison!warren, singlemom!reader, language, age gap (late 20s/early 30s), suggestive, complicated family scenario. word count: 13k

Rule #1: Make a Good Impression

Warren was cornered. Spending time in prison wasn’t as tough as what came after: having to rebuild his life from scratch, with that stupid criminal record hanging around his neck like a weight. There was no place for him anywhere, not even at street corner markets selling stolen cigarettes. He felt useless. He’d been turned down even for a job at a sleazy motel, where not even the criminal underworld seemed to want him anymore. Rent was overdue, and his last meal of the month was expired cereal from a month ago and a warm bottle of beer, which he was still deciding whether or not to drink to numb the pain a little.

He had almost given up on looking for more opportunities. Maybe selling art on the beach, like Spencer, or getting rid of all the junk in his place until he was left with just a bed and a fridge. Because, honestly, even a wood-burning stove could come in handy these days.

What was there to do now? The answer was simple: absolutely nothing. Just shrink. He slouched on the couch, legs stretched out, eyes glued to his phone screen, as if it were his last lifeline. The internet bill was the only thing he had managed to keep up with. Funny. He could be broke and starving, but funny videos were a relief. Reality, no matter how harsh, could wait. He mindlessly scrolled through the feed, as if in some way postponing the inevitable, until a message flashed on the screen, snapping him out of his stupor.

Spencer:

Hey man. My buddy’s market is hiring. Cashier. Male. $1,720. Fuel help. Only requirement is knowing how to count change. No small talk. Just show up today at 3 PM.

It was impossible not to feel an immediate sense of relief, like life had suddenly given him a second chance. This had to be some kind of miracle. But of course, there was a catch. It was already 2 PM, and the market was on the other side of the city. So, what did he do? Like an automatic reflex, he glanced at the dirty mirror on the wall. He needed a shower, at least.

He grabbed his phone again without thinking twice. Before stepping into the bathroom, he sent Spencer a message.

Warren:

Thanks, man. I know this could be my last shot before I fade into invisibility.

Spencer:

I know things are tough. Good luck. I know you’ll nail it.

With that, Warren rushed into the shower, doing the bare minimum to look like someone who hadn’t completely lost himself. He thought about his clothes. His first option was what was left of the most “decent” outfit— the T-shirt and jeans he’d worn the day of the robbery. “Great, perfect impression, Warren Lipka,” he muttered, staring at himself in the mirror. The shirt was wrinkled, and the jeans had a hole in the pocket, but deep down, he didn’t care anymore. Ironing? Maybe another day. If he had to go, he might as well go in style. A style that was wrinkled, but still, style.

He checked the GPS and entered the address. The drive would be long, the kind of trip that makes you see parts of the city you only know by name. It felt like a tour, but of a place you didn’t want to know. The city stretched out, as if it couldn’t quite handle its own misery. Finally, he reached a run-down market and parked in a secluded corner. The name of the place was almost faded, but he could still make it out: Last Chance Market.

“Last Chance? What a joke,” he muttered to himself, laughing quietly as he stepped out of the car. He locked the door quickly, not wasting time. What kind of neighborhood was this? You never know when a bigger problem might pop up, something worse than a simple job interview.

He took a deep breath, trying to stay calm, but a strange wave of nervousness hit him. It was just another job, he told himself. Just another one, a way to get things moving, even a little. If he was lucky, maybe he'd even come out with some dignity. If he was unlucky... well, he was used to that.

The one thing he knew for sure was that, somehow, life wouldn’t wait for him to figure things out. He had to try. Even if it was at a place called Last Chance.

He pushed open the door, hearing the little bell ring, announcing his entrance. The place was so quiet that the sound seemed to echo in the emptiness. As Warren had expected, no one was in sight. He let out a low, almost scornful laugh, twirling his car keys in his fingers before slipping them into his pocket. "This place looks like it’s been forgotten," he thought, feeling an odd sense of discomfort, but he knew there was no choice but to press on.

“Is anyone here?” he shouted, hoping no one would answer. That way, he could just turn around and leave this bizarre place behind, a bad judgment call.

The silence lingered for a few seconds, but no answer came. With nothing else to do, he shrugged and began walking through the narrow aisles. Hands in his pockets, Warren scanned the area, his eyes sharp, looking for any sign of a security camera. No security in this place? Typical. He gave a crooked smile, and as he passed a shelf, he grabbed a chocolate bar and slipped it into his pocket with a quick, almost natural motion.

"Why are you stealing?" The sudden, sharp voice of a child cut through the air, making Warren jump back, knocking the candy off the shelf. They fell to the floor with a small clatter, creating an absurd scene. "Shit, that scared the hell out of me."

"Jesus, kid. Where did you..." He muttered, instinctively raising his fist, as if it were an automatic reaction, but quickly lowering it when he saw the child. It was just a little boy, there was no way he could hit someone that young. "I wasn’t stealing, man. I was just saving it to pay later."

"Luke, who are you talking to?" Her voice came in soft but firm. Warren turned, his eyes widening, and there you were: so beautiful, it almost seemed out of place in this dead-end town. You appeared so suddenly he barely had time to process it.

"Talking to this guy who was..." The little boy began to reply, but you interrupted him with a calm smile.

"Warren Lipka." He quickly introduced himself, extending his hand to you. He wanted to make a good impression, or at least seem less pathetic than he felt. "I’m here for the job interview they said was going on."

You paused for a moment, then let out a short laugh, gentler than he expected. "Oh, you’re Warren, I should’ve guessed." You shook his hand politely, with a confidence he couldn’t even pretend to have. Then, with a motherly gesture, you turned back to the boy, who was still staring curiously at Warren.

You bent down and kissed the boy on the top of his head, the gesture so natural, like it was something you did every day. Afterward, you turned and started walking toward a door behind the cashier. "Come on, or are you going to steal another chocolate?" You asked, your voice laced with light teasing. Warren almost wanted to bury himself right then and there, embarrassed for being caught.

"How..." He began to ask, unsure of what exactly to say.

"Hidden camera," you explained, flashing a mischievous smile. You watched as he began scanning the room with his eyes, trying to piece together what had just happened. "I’ll show you later. Now come on."

With one last glance around the place, Warren, still confused and wearing an awkward smile, followed you to the door.

The room revealed was simple, with white walls and a large shelf on one side covered in folders and a few books—most of them children’s books, others Warren couldn’t identify, but from the titles, he could tell they were probably boring. You gestured for him to sit, and then took a seat across the desk. Warren distractedly looked at the small photo on the desk: the little boy outside, smiling beside you in a park filled with trees. Their smiles, so natural, reflected a moment of happiness.

"You two look alike." Warren started the conversation, pointing at the photo with one hand while the other fiddled in his pocket.

"They say he has my eyes. But I think it’s the hair, maybe the shape of the face." You smiled softly, stretching your neck to look at the photo more closely, the movement light and effortless.

"Maybe it’s the eyes. They really do look like yours." Warren said, shaking his head with a somewhat awkward smile. "You’re a really great older sister."

You let out a soft laugh, masking a smile that slipped out for just a moment. "Thanks, but Luke’s my son."

Warren froze, his jaw dropping at the revelation. He widened his eyes, unable to believe it, then quickly disguised his shock, putting his hands to his mouth like he was trying to wipe the look of disbelief off his face. "Now it all makes sense," he murmured, unaware of how visibly stunned he was.

"What?" You asked, raising an eyebrow, curious.

"I’ve never seen a sibling so affectionate. I used to fight with mine all the time." Warren laughed, still in disbelief, furrowing his brow casually as if trying to make the moment less awkward.

"Really? I had Luke when I was really young, 18 years old to be exact." You added, your hands folding on the table, your expression now more serious, as if you were sharing a piece of your story.

"Damn. God, I’m sorry. Shit, I feel like such an idiot now." Warren muttered, running a hand through his hair, clearly uncomfortable.

"It’s fine. You don’t need to get nervous." You quickly reassured him, your voice calm and soothing. You leaned forward slightly, as if trying to show empathy for him in that moment.

"And I even called you beautiful. Shit, I’m really not cut out for this." Warren placed his hands on his head, leaning on the table with a heavy sigh. He lifted his eyes to you, his gaze now loaded with guilt. "You think your husband would kill me if he knew?"

"Maybe he would, if I had one." You joked, tilting your head lightly in a playful way, trying to ease the tension in the air. Warren noticed a slight sadness in your voice that didn’t go unnoticed, but for some reason, he decided not to bring it up.

You sighed, straightening your posture and sitting up straighter as if shifting the conversation. "Alright. You’re hired."

"What? Already? What about the interview..." He paused, scratching his head, visibly surprised at how quickly the decision had been made.

"You were hired the moment you walked through that door." You laughed softly, stretching in your chair casually. "Not many people make it out here."

"No wonder. A dump like this..." He scoffed, mocking the place, but his eyes widened when he realized what he’d just said. "Oh my god. Again. Shit, I just say the dumbest stuff. Sorry."

"Don’t worry about it. It really is a dump." You laughed, getting up and walking around the table with light steps. Out of nowhere, you surprised him with a quick, almost warm hug that left Warren feeling momentarily disoriented. "Welcome, Warren."

"Thanks. I won’t let you down." He said, offering a weak smile, but mentally cursing himself for noticing how good you smelled as you pulled away. The feeling of being an idiot didn’t leave his chest.

Warren opened the door for you, and you gave him a gentle smile, your eyes sparkling with a kind of genuine warmth. He followed right behind you, closing the door with a soft click, breathing deeply as he watched you walk through the market, seemingly immersed in something only you knew. He wondered if it was something related to the boy’s father or if you were just worried about something missing from the shelves.

"Did you pay for the chocolate?" Little Luke inquired, a confused expression plastered on his face.

"How old are you, kid?" Warren questioned, furrowing his brow, briefly glancing at you before returning his gaze to the boy.

"Seven. But I’m almost eight. In nine months and thirteen days." Luke declared proudly, crossing his arms like an adult.

"Weird kid." Warren thought to himself, silently laughing at the little one with big, curious eyes. Something about him seemed strangely familiar. So he pulled a dollar bill out of his pocket and handed it to the boy. Maybe it was a desire to please you or to apologize to the kid. "Here. It’s for the chocolate."

"It’s $2.35. You’re short $1.35." Luke blinked, extending his hand toward him.

"Oh, kid. Just take the dollar and be quiet, alright? I’m struggling here." Warren hissed at the boy, but instead of crying, the little one just smiled.

"You’re weird. I like you." He chuckled, a funny, purely childlike melody echoing through the small space of the market.

Something warmed in Warren’s chest as he watched that toothless smile. The thought of being a dedicated father flooded his mind, creating false scenarios of an idealized life – a family smiling, him hugging his wife, holding his son in his arms, walking him to school, giving him a dog, teaching him how to shoot. Damn, he’d do anything to be the best dad for Luke, and it wouldn’t even be just because he wanted to win over the beautiful mom from the market. That was the one thing missing from his life, maybe that’s why he was born.

"If you start today, I can give you a tip." Your voice, breaking the idealized moment, brought Warren back to reality. He was an ex-convict, semi-in-love with a single mom, and still trying to figure out if any of this even made sense.

"You don’t have to. I can help." He tried to hide the silly smile that was about to appear, taking the uniform you handed him.

"I insist. The salary’s not great, and you’re practically the only employee here." You remarked, with that radiant smile Warren had already memorized. The sincerity in your tone was palpable.

"No, seriously. Don’t worry about it. It’ll be a pleasure working with you." He stated without thinking, quickly clearing his throat with a small gesture. "Working with you. You get it."

"Yes. Thanks. I owe you one." You waved your hand, heading back to the room with Luke happily trailing behind you, both walking away while Warren stood there, eyes fixed, his heart still beating harder than usual.

"Alright… time to work." Warren stretched lazily, raising his arms above his head before shuffling toward the employee bathroom.

The space was small and functional, a far cry from the public restroom, which for some reason, was absurdly large and had a strange smell that didn’t leave, even with air freshener. He grabbed the uniform you had given him—a yellow shirt with the store’s name printed on the front. Since there were no pants in the package, he decided his own would do the trick.

When he came out of the bathroom, he closed the door with a quiet click and, with a swift motion, tied his hair in a tiny ponytail. He walked to the register, where you were already standing with a notebook in hand. The moment you heard his footsteps, you looked up.

"Looks good on you." Your tone was kind as you pointed to the shirt identical to yours. He hadn’t even noticed when you had changed—maybe it was when you went into the back room.

"Now we match, look." The voice emerged from behind him. Luke appeared beside him, wearing the same uniform, which, even in the smallest size, was still too big for his tiny frame.

"Yeah, kid. Now we’re coworkers. A real man." Warren smiled and lowered his hand for a high five with the boy, who tried to slap it with all his might.

"Wow. You’re strong. You gonna tell me you’ve been training secretly?"

"I train. I watch fight videos on YouTube." Luke replied proudly, striking a boxing guard pose.

"Luke, we’ve talked about this." Your voice came with a warning tone as you approached.

"Ah, mom. I don’t watch blood. Only sometimes." He pouted indignantly, and you tilted your head before pinching his nose with two fingers.

"Ow, mom!"

"Didn’t see that coming, huh?" Warren chuckled without thinking, his eyes meeting yours for just a moment longer than necessary. In the brief silence that followed, something in his expression made his heart skip a beat. Warren Lipka didn’t seem like the dangerous criminal from the TV—just a guy with a big heart and an intensity that even he didn’t realize he had.

“Yeah... we have a routine.” You cleared your throat, shaking off the unnecessarily sweet thoughts and handing the sheet over to him. “Monday is deep cleaning day, Saturday we count the stock. I’m here at 8 AM every day, except Thursday, when I pick up Luke from his grandparents’ house and drop him off at school. I get here at 10 AM that day. The rest is pretty easy, not much movement. Here, take this to memorize.”

“Got it.” Warren took the notebook, noticing how detailed your notes were.

“Today is Wednesday. You’ll be in the deli section.”

“Just checking expiration dates?”

“Yep. Luke usually helps me, but today he has homework.”

“Can I stay with Warren first?” Luke inquired, his eyes shining with expectation.

You gave an indulgent smile before raising an eyebrow. “Promise you won’t fight with your classmates at school tomorrow?”

“I promise.” He nodded firmly and raised his pinky. “But only tomorrow.”

Warren let out a low chuckle, and you gave him a playful disapproving look.

“Don’t encourage him.”

“Sorry. I couldn’t help it.” He laughed even harder, covering his mouth with his hand. “Let’s go, Luke. Let’s see if this meat is still good. Did you know that a lot of good meat gets thrown away here in the US? I used to collect it.”

“Seriously?” Luke’s eyes widened as he walked alongside him to the refrigerators.

“Yeah. I’d go to markets like this one and take the ones that were still good.” Warren opened the fridge and started checking the labels. Then he paused, blinking as if realizing too late what he’d just said. “…But don’t do that.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s wrong.” He tried to hold back his laughter but failed miserably. “Hey, what do you think of this one?” He picked up a steak package and held it up for Luke to see.

“I think it’s still good to freeze. It’s got 10 days left.”

“A deal, then. 50% off this stuff that’s about to expire.” Warren shrugged, smiling and tossing the package back into the freezer.

…

Warren paced restlessly back and forth in their usual café, his hands moving nervously, his nails gnawed down to the quick, until a small piece of nail polish chipped off. He could feel a tightness in his chest, as if he were about to burst. His body swayed back and forth, his gaze locked on the clock on the wall, the anxiety consuming him. The weight of the conversation he was about to have was crushing his mind. When he finally saw Spencer walk through the door, the relief was instant, but it didn’t ease his nerves. His snack, the one he’d ordered earlier, lay forgotten on the table, untouched. He didn’t even notice it was still there.

Spencer greeted a few people in the café with a disinterested wave before walking over to the table. He sat down, casually tossing his backpack into the chair beside him, and extended his hand to shake Warren's.

“I want to be a stepdad.” Warren blurted out, not wasting a moment, before Spencer had a chance to say anything. The words came out fast, clinging to his chest like gum, almost as if the pressure had reached a point where it could no longer be ignored.

"Hey, how’s it going, Spencer? How’s work? Good. Thanks." Spencer mocked, rolling his eyes at Warren’s approach. He leaned back in his chair, letting out a sarcastic laugh. "We haven’t talked in two weeks, and that’s the first thing out of your mouth?"

Warren didn’t care about the teasing. His mind was already fixated on what he had to say. "It’s been two weeks since I met my son." He slammed his hand on the table with conviction, the slap of his palm echoing in the otherwise quiet café. The tension in his body was palpable now, his shoulders tight. He quickly ran a hand through his disheveled hair and pulled a nicotine lozenge from his pocket, placing it in his mouth almost mechanically.

"Since when are you quitting smoking?" Spencer asked, raising an eyebrow, an almost amused smile tugging at his lips as he reached out to grab one of the lozenges and popped it into his own mouth.

"Since I realized innocent people suffer from the crap smokers exhale," Warren replied in a serious tone, biting down harder on the snack, the crunch almost matching the stress he was feeling. "I saw it in the paper."

Spencer frowned, skeptical, but chose not to comment. Instead, he flagged down the waitress to put in an order. The conversation was starting to take a curious turn, and he didn’t want to miss his chance to figure out what was really going on with his friend. The café bell rang, and suddenly, Eric appeared at the door, casually waving to the crowd before heading straight to the table.

"Hey, guys." Eric greeted, throwing himself into a chair and locking eyes with Warren.

"Warren wants to be a stepdad." Spencer said, his tone bored, hiding a smirk of irony, and Warren smiled broadly, relieved to finally say it out loud. It was a mix of nervousness and excitement he couldn’t quite suppress.

"Dude, that’s a bad idea." Eric shook his head, disapproval written all over his face. He leaned forward slightly, as if preparing to explain himself seriously. "Those things never work out. Once you get attached to the mom, she’s never gonna let you go. You’ll regret it."

"That’s sexist, Eric." Warren hissed, grabbing Spencer’s coffee cup and taking a sip without caring that it was someone else’s drink. He knew he was breaking the unspoken rules of the café, but he needed something—anything—to relieve the pressure building inside. "And what’s wrong with her getting attached? I like her."

"When’s her birthday?" Eric shot back, his voice relentless, eyes narrowing as if he were conducting an interrogation.

"I don’t know." Warren replied quickly, but a hint of doubt crept in.

"And the kid’s?" Eric pressed, staring at Warren, waiting for a response.

"Wait, I remember, he told me..." Warren trailed off, trying to recall the details.

"What’s her favorite color, and why is it blue?" Eric fired again, a mocking edge in his tone.

"That’s not the point!" Warren snapped, throwing his hands up in exasperation, his frustration growing. "I don’t know, man. It’s the way she looks at me. Her and that weird kid. The little pest knows everything, he rattles off stuff I don’t even know. He answered 37 + 53 like it was nothing."

"90." Eric responded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"That doesn't count, you're a robot." Warren muttered, shaking the snack bag with frustration as he glared at Spencer. He noticed the bag was almost empty. "No, seriously. The kid’s really smart. I know he’s not mine and everything. But I’d make an effort. He has the same nose as me."

"Alright, you're stretching it a bit now." Spencer warned, his voice taking on a serious tone as he finished his coffee with a sigh, setting the empty cup on the table. "What about the job?"

"Tiring. I lift boxes, stack them, store everything. I do almost everything. She helps with cleaning and sometimes takes the register when I'm organizing the fridges. The kid helps her with the change. Everyone who passes by loves him."

"Hmmm. Sounds good." Eric shrugged as the waitress approached with a new order, and he gave a distracted thumbs-up.

"What made you change your mind?" Spencer asked, his curiosity piqued as he looked at Warren with more intensity, his eyebrows raised in genuine interest.

"She’s a hard worker. Women like that are strong. She’s probably fought hard to get this far." Eric spoke with an almost knowing conviction, his tone calm but determined. "Just don’t screw it up, Warren."

"Now it’s my fault?" Warren defended himself, shaking his head in frustration as he stood up from the table, stepping back slightly while slipping his hands into his pockets.

"Where are you going?" Spencer looked up, concern now evident on his face.

"Home. I need to get some sleep for work tomorrow. See you guys." Warren replied quickly, his movements hurried, shoulders tight as he turned to leave. The tension still hung in the air, but he needed a moment alone to process everything.

Rule #2: (Try) Not to Stick Your Nose in Other People’s Business.

Warren woke up earlier than usual that morning. He felt surprisingly energized, a rare occurrence, so he made sure to take a proper shower before heading out for work. He knew that today was one of those days you tended to be late, so he planned to take care of everything until you arrived.

As he parked the car in front of the shop, his eyes immediately found you sitting on the doorstep, shoulders slumped, hands pressing against your head. Something was off. His chest tightened at the sight. You looked... desperate.

His brows furrowed slightly, and Warren stepped out of the car, walking toward you with measured steps, trying not to invade your space too abruptly.

"Hey, are you okay?" His voice was low, cautious, as if afraid of startling you.

You quickly lifted your face, eyes misty, and your chest rose and fell unevenly, betraying the anxiety trapped in your breathing.

"It’s Luke..." Your voice cracked, and you stood up, your hands nervously twisting in front of your chest. "My car broke down, I can't pick him up from his grandparents’ house, and it's almost time for school. He’s going to miss class, and his teacher already said he’s struggling. My brother isn’t answering, no taxis are coming, and..."

With every word, the weight in your chest grew heavier. You didn’t even notice your hands trembling until Warren gently interrupted your spiraling thoughts.

"Hey, hey." His voice was firm but kind, and without thinking much, he pulled you into an embrace.

The warmth of his body surrounded you, and the sudden gesture made your walls crumble for just a second. The woody scent of his cologne mixed with the softness of his jacket fabric made you realize how tense you were. Your heart, which had been pounding against your ribs, began to slow down.

"Sorry. I thought you needed this," he murmured close to your ear.

You exhaled the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and pulled back slightly, but without fully breaking the closeness.

"I did. Thank you." Your voice was steadier now, though there was still a lingering edge of panic. You quickly wiped your face with your hands, trying to erase the traces of tears. "Sorry for unloading all this on you, I’m just... desperate."

Warren tilted his head slightly, watching you closely, as if he were analyzing every layer of your nervousness before speaking.

"Where’s his grandparents’ house?" His voice was resolute, like he had already made up his mind.

You blinked a few times, confused by the sudden question.

"What?"

He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, taking a deep breath before repeating himself.

"Where’s Luke’s address? I’ll go pick him up."

You froze for a moment, unsure if you’d heard him correctly. Your instincts told you to refuse — he was just your employee, he didn’t need to get involved. But the desperation pressing down on you was heavier than the pride that wanted to hold you back.

"You’d do that?"

The smile that appeared on Warren’s lips was small, but genuine, his dimples barely visible as he grinned. His eyes lingered on them for a moment before you realized you were smiling too, even if shyly.

"Why wouldn’t I?" He raised an eyebrow, as though genuinely finding your hesitation puzzling.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Your chest warmed in a strange way.

"Come on. Let’s go." He gestured toward the car.

"And the shop?"

"Ah, no one comes here at this time anyway." He chuckled, as if the place was his to command. And for a moment, you found yourself wishing it was.

Warren walked around the car and opened the passenger door, waiting patiently for you to get in before closing it carefully with a swift motion. He settled into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

The silence stretched for a few seconds. You were still tense, biting your lower lip, trying to hold onto the last threads of control. Warren noticed and, without saying a word, turned on the radio. A loud rock song blasted through the speakers.

"Shit." He muttered, quickly lowering the volume and switching stations.

The sensual melody of Careless Whisper filled the car.

"Goddamn radio." He grumbled again, spinning the dial hastily. This time, soft instrumental music filled the air. "Better," he said, leaning back into his seat and relaxing.

You chuckled quietly. "Thank you."

"What for?"

"For this." You gestured vaguely at the radio and at him. Warren cast a quick glance in your direction before returning his focus to the road.

"Do you like the job?" You asked, trying to ease the weight of the moment, your fingers nervously tapping on the edge of the seat.

"Yeah, actually, I’m pretty attached to it. I think it was my last chance to be a decent citizen." He said with a playful smile, his eyes momentarily glancing at you before turning back to the road.

You tilted your head slightly, studying his profile for a beat, the soft tension in the air palpable.

"Do you like it just for that?" Your question came out more curious than you’d intended, a little more pointed than you planned.

Warren gripped the steering wheel with one hand, using the other to run through his hair, the hint of a mysterious smile curling at the corners of his lips.

"There are other reasons too."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly turned your gaze to the window, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. You weren't sure why, but the way he said it unsettled you, the weight of his words hanging in the air.

"What about you? Do you like your job?"

You let out a soft, nasal laugh, tilting your head back slightly. "Being the manager of a run-down market wasn’t exactly my childhood dream."

Warren chuckled through his nose, shaking his head in amusement. "How’d you end up there?"

Your smile faltered slightly, and you took a deep breath before answering.

"Well... I got pregnant with Luke."

The atmosphere in the car shifted subtly. Warren fell silent for a moment, as if processing the weight of your words, his hands firm on the wheel, eyes focused ahead.

"Do you regret it?" He asked quietly, his voice softer now, laced with genuine concern.

"In the beginning, it was hard. I didn’t have much support, just graduated high school. College seemed impossible." You glanced down at your hands resting on your lap, fingers twisting nervously. Warren nodded slowly, never looking away from the road. "But then he was born, and... everything changed. It was like my whole life suddenly had a new meaning."

Warren smiled, his thoughts clearly drifting to Luke. And as he did, he realized something interesting: his smile was almost identical to the boy's. That same genuine sparkle in his eyes, a light untouched by time, despite all the struggles life had thrown their way. Without thinking, Warren’s own smile softened, mirroring the one he had just seen.

"Can I ask you about his dad, or would that be too intrusive?" Warren’s voice was gentle now, eyes fixed on you, the concern clear in his gaze.

"No... no, it’s not intrusive." You shook your head, a quiet sigh escaping your lips. "Luke's dad is complicated. He was a great father in the first few months, but then he started saying that Luke was getting in the way of his career."

"What a jerk." Warren spat without thinking, his jaw tightening in indignation. He frowned, immediately realizing his own boldness. "Sorry."

"No... jerk is too mild a word." You shot back, your tone still sharp, but softened by the vulnerability that lingered beneath it. Warren relaxed his shoulders, relieved that he hadn’t crossed a line. "When he said that, I couldn’t take it anymore and ended it. Since then, it’s just been me and Luke. I ended up raising him alone with the help of my parents. Luke doesn’t even know who he is. I prefer it that way. If he asks about him in the future, I’ll tell him, but not now. I’m still angry about it, though."

Warren nodded slowly, processing your words, his expression softening with understanding. For a moment, the only sound in the car was the hum of the engine and the distant rumble of tires on the road.

Finally, Warren let out a small, knowing smile, his gaze gentle.

"I may not know much about you guys, but Luke is a really cool kid." Warren’s voice held a genuine tone of admiration. "Not many seven-year-olds can count the days until their own birthday."

"You really think so?" Your eyes lit up at the question, and a soft smile crept onto your lips, the warmth spreading across your face.

"Of course. The kid’s a little terrifying sometimes, I’ll admit." Warren teased, making you laugh out loud. "Seriously, I get freaked out when he starts doing mental math."

"He’s the best in his class at math." You said, the pride evident in your voice.

Warren rolled his eyes dramatically, his expression playful. "Of course he is. That kid’s going places. He’s going to be the next Einstein, and they’ll write books about him. Mark my words."

You laughed again, and Warren held onto that sound, savoring it, like it was a melody he didn’t want to forget. The sound was infectious, and his chest swelled with an unfamiliar warmth.

"He sounds like my brother. He was always super smart, too. Top of his class, just like Luke. He’s the one who owns the market and helped me get this job. That’s how I ended up there."

"So it’s in the genes."

"Maybe." You fell quiet for a moment, absentmindedly running your fingers through your hair, a warm feeling blooming in your chest. Your thoughts drifted as you absentmindedly added, "Does he have a girlfriend?"

The question came out casually, but it hung in the air with an unexpected weight, more serious than you’d intended.

"Me?" Warren raised an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard. He let out a surprised laugh, his face lit up with disbelief. When you nodded, he shook his head, still laughing. "That’s a good one."

"Why?" You chuckled, leaning slightly towards him. "What’s wrong with that? You’re good-looking, charming, funny. There must be someone."

Warren snorted, resting his elbow against the car window, the air suddenly a little heavier. "Oh, yeah, sure, women love a former convict who can’t even afford a Coke." His voice had a mocking tone, but there was something beneath the sarcasm—a hint of self-deprecation that made your chest tighten with empathy.

"No... no one." He answered quietly, his gaze now fixed on the road ahead. "What about you?"

"No…" Your response came out almost hesitantly, and for a brief moment, a flicker of hope danced in your mind before you pushed it aside.

The conversation fell into a heavy silence, the kind that lingered like a thick fog between you. You could feel the change in the air, the tension that wasn’t quite palpable but couldn’t be ignored either. You silently thanked the universe that you were close to your destination. As Warren parked the car, you quickly unbuckled your seatbelt and stepped out, eager to escape the weight of your own thoughts before they dragged you deeper into uncertainty.

You hurried up to the door, your hand moving quickly to press the doorbell without hesitation. Warren followed closely behind, stopping a step back, his body still tense, his eyes scanning the surroundings as if ready for something unexpected.

The door swung open.

And then, your blood ran cold.

"Daniel?" Your voice came out as a strained rasp, barely a whisper, your face draining of color instantly.

The man standing there, with his captivating green eyes and a charming smile, widened the door to let you in. "I was really hoping to talk to you. Come on in."

He then looked at Warren, sizing him up with a quick, calculating glance before extending his hand. "Hey, man. How’s it going? I'm Daniel Beavers, but you can call me Dan."

Warren held his gaze for a second longer than necessary, his jaw tightening, before he shook Daniel's hand with deliberate firmness. "Warren." His voice was cold, the warmth and ease from earlier gone completely.

Daniel laughed, a little too loudly. "Damn, you’re strong." He gave Warren a friendly slap on the back, but Warren didn’t flinch, keeping his expression neutral, only offering a polite smile before stepping inside.

Once out of Daniel’s line of sight, Warren leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, his breath brushing your ear. "Who’s that guy?"

You swallowed hard, keeping your gaze fixed on the floor for a moment before your voice barely escaped your lips, a whisper heavy with discomfort. "Luke’s father."

Warren went silent for a beat, his body stiffening as though the weight of your words had struck him physically. His chest tightened, and his next words came out as a low, almost inaudible murmur. "Shit."

Without thinking, his body straightened, as if some primal instinct had taken over. His shoulders subtly broadened, and he instinctively positioned himself a bit closer to you, as if shielding you from whatever lay ahead. The gesture was so natural, so automatic, it was almost like he was becoming a human barrier.

He didn’t have the right to interfere.

But something inside him screamed that he should.

“Hi, mom!”

Luke’s cheerful voice shattered the tense silence in the room. The little boy appeared, his backpack already slung over his shoulders, running to hug you before turning to Warren with a bright, wide smile.

"Warren!" he exclaimed, launching himself into Warren’s legs for a tight hug.

"Hey, little man. Hope I didn’t take too long." Warren grinned, gently messing up Luke’s hair.

Luke pulled away, furrowing his brow. "What happened? I thought you weren’t gonna come."

"The car broke down, buddy. Warren’s gonna take you to school." You explained, maintaining a smile, though out of the corner of your eye, you couldn’t ignore the way Daniel was watching the scene, his gaze quiet and calculating.

"Cool!" Luke cheered, raising his hand for a high-five with Warren. "Can I sit in the front?"

"Not this time, kiddo." Warren pretended to sound disappointed, crouching down to meet his eyes with a playful expression. "But next time, I promise."

"Okay." Luke whispered, clapping his hands excitedly.

You glanced around the room, feeling the house unusually quiet. "Where are your grandparents?"

"They went to the market. They’re planning a party for Daniel. For some celebration." Luke answered innocently, not noticing the way your shoulders tensed at the mention of Daniel’s name.

You inhaled deeply, trying to keep your composure. "Alright, let’s go. Luke’s gonna be late. It was nice seeing you, Daniel." The falseness of your smile was clear, but it was a necessary mask.

"Wait." Daniel stepped closer, pulling a shiny gold envelope with navy blue details from his pocket. He extended it toward you, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "I didn’t even tell you the big news."

Your stomach churned before you even looked at the contents.

"Daniel and Honey?" Your voice came out low, almost incredulous.

"I’m inviting you to my wedding." He announced as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "You can bring Warren too. It’d be great to have you both with us. Honey really wants to meet you."

Daniel then pulled out a smaller piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Warren, who hesitated for a moment before reluctantly taking it.

You laughed—not out of happiness, but out of pure disgust. "Yeah, Daniel. You really outdo yourself every day." You stuffed the invitation into your pocket without a second thought.

"It’ll be great to have you there." He softened his voice, his hand making an almost theatrical gesture as it brushed your arm. "Please, sweetheart…"

The silence was thick, suffocating.

Warren watched the scene unfold like a predator studying its prey. His jaw was clenched tight, and his fists were subtly balled at his sides, barely contained by the tension in his body. Something inside him had already pegged Daniel as a fool, but seeing this whole act up close... that was too much. His protective instincts kicked in.

He couldn’t hold back any longer.

"Dude, what’s up with this? Don’t you think this is a little weird?" Warren broke the silence, his voice a low growl that drew every eye in the room to him. His tone came out rougher than he intended, but at that moment, he didn’t care to hide his feelings.

Daniel blinked, genuinely confused by Warren’s reaction. "Weird? Why would it be weird?"

That question only fueled the fire inside Warren.

"Don’t you realize how completely bizarre it is to invite your ex to your wedding without even giving a heads-up? You abandoned this kid, and now you show up years later like everything’s fine?" Warren narrowed his eyes, his muscles visibly tensing as his posture became more aggressive, as if he was ready to jump at any moment.

Daniel let out a nervous laugh, trying to downplay the situation with a dismissive gesture. "Relax, man. I just thought… I don’t know. We’d be good friends. Didn’t know she was already seeing someone again." He shrugged, giving you and Warren a mischievous look, as if he was enjoying the discomfort he was causing.

The statement caught Warren off guard for a moment, making his eyes narrow even further, but he quickly recovered, his expression hardening. "Yeah. Exactly." He reaffirmed without hesitation, crossing his arms firmly. "And even if she wasn’t, you can’t just keep popping in and out of people’s lives like it’s a game. Look at yourself. How old are you?"

Daniel was slightly thrown off, the first crack in his confidence showing in his hesitation. "Twenty-seven."

Warren let out a dry laugh, almost sarcastically. "Twenty-seven." He repeated, savoring the irony of the situation. Then, he stepped forward, forcing Daniel to retreat until his back hit the wall. The intensity of Warren’s presence was palpable. "Listen, man to man. I’m thirty-one. But I had a grip on things long before that."

The discomfort on Daniel's face was unmistakable. He tried to recover his posture, but Warren wasn’t letting him off the hook.

"Alright, man. No need to get all upset or rude." Daniel hissed, attempting to regain his composure as he pushed lightly against Warren’s chest. Warren instantly lifted a fist, ready for any reaction.

It was only then that he remembered you and Luke were still there, silently observing the scene. Warren took a deep breath, cracked his neck, and relaxed his shoulders before speaking in a more controlled voice, though still firm. "Stay out of our lives again, alright?"

Then, with a sharp smile, he straightened Daniel’s perfectly aligned suit jacket as if he were adjusting a porcelain doll, his touch almost mocking. "Are you a lawyer?"

"Yeah." Daniel replied automatically, quickly wiping where Warren had gripped him, trying to salvage his composure.

"I hate that kind." Warren muttered between his teeth, his gaze hardening, but he quickly turned to you, softening his expression. He gave you a more serene smile, almost affectionate. "Shall we go, babe?"

Your heart skipped a beat at hearing him say “babe.” Not out of fear, but because, in that moment, you realized something different. The way Warren said it felt... right. As though he had claimed a piece of you without even realizing it.

"For sure." You smiled, your eyes softening as you started walking toward the door. But then you stopped, turned around, and walked back to Daniel with steady steps.

Without hurrying, you took the invitation from your pocket with a smooth motion and extended it to him, without any emotional appeal. "Keep it for someone who actually wants to go. Best wishes!" Your voice was sweet, but the sarcasm beneath it was impossible to ignore. Every word carried a subtle criticism, something you could no longer hide.

Daniel stood there, frozen, holding the invitation as if he had finally realized it was irrelevant to you, his expression draining of any confidence he had left as the reality hit him. He was out of place. And that seemed clear to everyone in the room.

Warren opened the door for you to pass, but before you stepped out, he gave Daniel one last threatening glance. A silent, but clear, warning.

You both walked toward the car, no longer needing to hide the smile on your faces. The tension from the earlier conversation still hung in the air, but somehow, the whole situation seemed to have brought you even closer.

"Alright, all set..." Warren murmured as he buckled Luke's seatbelt in the back seat. "Now, school."

He was already turning to head to the driver's seat when Luke's curious little voice caught you both off guard:

"Are you and mommy dating?"

The silence that followed was instant. You and Warren froze for a second before exchanging a knowing glance.

Warren raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Well... I'm a pretty nosy guy," he said, looking directly at you before turning to Luke. "So, I guess we are."

He twisted the key in the ignition, but before pulling away, he cast a quick glance your way. "Is this alright with you? Us... this."

The question came without hesitation, but with a genuine undertone of concern. You held your breath for a moment, feeling the weight of the silent exchange between you two. Then, you smiled. Not just any smile, but one of those effortless, warm, and real smiles.

"Great." You replied, feeling a lightness in your chest.

He studied your face for a second longer than necessary, as if he wanted to lock that expression in his memory. Then, he nodded, a small smile forming at the corner of his lips.

"Great." He repeated, turning his attention back to the road before accelerating, as if the whole world had just fallen back into place.

Rule #3: Your friends aren’t always right.

After school, you drove to the grocery store. The car’s engine hummed softly before going silent as you turned the key in the ignition. The sound of the seatbelt undoing echoed in the silence between you. You opened the door and climbed out, unlocking the passenger door without looking back. Warren stepped out soon after, his hands stuffed into his coat pockets, his gaze scanning the storefront as if something was different, even though everything looked exactly the same.

Inside, the muffled sound of an old radio played some generic music as you made your way to the checkout. Warren, on the other hand, detoured to the warehouse, his steps slower than usual. The smell of dust and cardboard filled his nostrils as he entered. The shelves were crammed, the boxes stacked chaotically, as usual. But Warren didn’t care about any of that. 

He just needed a moment here, alone, to gather his thoughts. 

With a heavy sigh, he pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, unfolding it with trembling fingers. His gaze ran over the words written there—how many times had he read them?—but before he could get lost in his own thoughts, the creak of the door opening made him quickly shove the paper back into his pocket.

"Can I come in?" Your voice sounded hesitant, head peeking through the crack in the door. He blinked a few times before forcing a smile. 

"Of course you can. You own the place." He gestured with his hand, a relaxed movement, but his shoulders remained tense. 

You walked in, closing the door behind you, the dry sound of wood echoing through the small space. Your eyes wandered around the warehouse for a second before returning to Warren, who was now swinging his foot on the floor, his right hand still deep in his pocket. 

"I just came to say..." You began, walking slowly towards him. "Thank you for what you did today." 

He let out a short, humorless laugh, looking away from you to the floor. "Oh, that?" His shoulders lifted in a casual gesture. "It was nothing. In fact, I think I was kind of stupid." 

"No." Your answer came out firm, quick, taking him by surprise. You cleared your throat, trying to soften your tone. "It wasn't stupid. It was... it was really good. Really helpful. I lost my mind, I didn't know what to do in that situation. He was such an asshole." 

Warren tilted his head to the side, watching your expression for a moment before asking, "Has he always been like this?" 

You let out a tired sigh, leaning against the wall behind you. "I guess he always has. I just didn't want to notice." 

"That sucks." He muttered, biting the inside of his cheek. After a second of hesitation, he walked over to stand next to you, leaning against the wall as well. "I guess we always have that in life. Not realizing the right person was right there." 

You frowned, lifting your chin with a hint of indignation in your voice. "Why do we do this, huh? All the signs were there. The way he ignored me, how I had to ask him to the school dance..." 

Warren turned his face towards you, blinking slowly. "You asked him to the school dance and not the other way around?" 

"Yeah! Can you believe that?" You huffed, crossing your arms. "He said he forgot! When we were picking out my dress the night before!" 

Warren closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a long sigh before muttering, "What an idiot." He tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling, the fluorescent light above casting soft shadows on his face. With a slow movement, he licked his lips before speaking again. "I would never do that to you."

Your chest tightened, your breath catching for a second. 

"What do you mean by that?" Your voice came out low, almost reluctant.

He pressed his teeth against his cheek, looking away to the floor, as if seeking courage there. When he finally looked back at you, his expression was more serious.

 "I would never treat you like that." His voice was firm, but there was a certain hesitation in his gaze. "I'm not exactly a good guy, you know that. But I’d never leave you hanging like that."

"Really?" You leaned your head against the wall, still looking at him, your fingers tightening the hem of your blouse with an unconscious reflex of nervousness.

Warren nodded, a slight smile playing on his lips, almost as if he was amused by your reaction. You snorted and went back to staring at the ceiling. The silence that followed was almost palpable. Your breathing seemed to echo in the small warehouse, while the dust danced in the air under the yellowish light.

"Oh my God..." The laugh came low, exhaled along with a sigh.

"What?" He frowned, but the corner of his mouth still carried a trace of amusement.

"Now I want to go to Daniel's wedding with you just so he can see that I'm okay." You admitted, covering your face with your hands, feeling the heat rise to your ears. "That's so immature. I'm such an idiot."

Warren let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "Oh, come on, I don't care." Without hesitation, he took another step towards you, leaning in slightly as he gently removed your hands from your face. "I still have a password, we can say it's yours and that I'm following."

"No, Warren... That's not right." You protested, but the lightness of laughter was still present in your voice. "I'd be using you and that's so wrong..."

"Do it. I just don't want you to look like that because of that idiot." His voice lowered slightly, seriousness seeping into his tone.

"He doesn't deserve even a second of your emotions, of anything you have to offer. So use me. Do whatever you think is best, because you have a hard enough life to worry about anything else and I'm willing to do anything to help you."

Your heart stumbled in your chest when you felt his warm touch against your wrists. Warren gently lowered them, letting his hands rest on either side of your body. The space between you was decreasing with each passing second without anyone making an effort to break it.

He bit his lower lip, his gaze flickering between your mouth and your eyes. You felt your breath catch at the realization, heat rising in your stomach, in your cheeks. Your own attention followed suit—his lips, then his brown eyes, intense, filled with something unsaid but completely understood. The atmosphere was heavy in a way that seemed impossible to ignore.

Warren's heart hammered against his ribs as he raised one hand, bracing it on the wall beside you. The other still held yours. The space between your bodies slowly disappeared. He leaned toward you, his lashes lowering as your faces came closer, your breath mingling.

Then, the doorbell rang.

The sound cut through the moment like a sharp blade, making you both pull away in an instant. You took a step back, your chest rising and falling with your ragged breaths. Warren ran a hand through his hair, staring at the ceiling as if cursing the universe.

"I better... you know... go outside." He nodded, his voice thick with something that sounded like disappointment.

You nodded, crossing your arms over your body as if that could contain the wave of feelings that were stirring inside you. He hesitated for a moment before leaving, closing the door behind him. But he didn't leave right away—Warren leaned his back against the wood for a few seconds, exhaling slowly, trying to regain control. Only then did he pull away and walk to the cashier.

You stood there for a few more moments, your fingertips brushing your lips, as if trying to feel something that had never happened.

If you had kissed... would it have been wrong? Or was the doorbell a signal not to?

You shook your head, muttering "Stop it" to yourself, trying to push the thought away. But the knot in your chest was still there as you left the warehouse and headed back to the market.

Across the way, Warren was handing over the customer’s groceries with automatic movements, but his mind was elsewhere. When his eyes met yours, for just a second, something flared again—a question, an uncertainty, a regret.

Without saying anything, you looked away and walked into the office, busying yourself with anything that felt like work. You needed to distract yourself, needed to convince yourself that this didn’t mean anything.

The customer left, and Warren stood behind the register, still holding the last bag as if he’d forgotten to let go of it. His mind raced in circles, trying to find a way to talk about what had almost happened. To tell him how he felt without ruining everything.

He walked slowly to the office door and raised his hand to knock, but hesitated. His fingers hovered over the wood for a second before curling into a fist and pulling back.

This didn’t make sense. It wasn’t supposed to happen.

And if it did, he was sure it would ruin everything.

Eric was right. It was better to just give up.

Rule #4: Don't hold back an emotion for too long, it might take over you.

The doorbell rang, and Warren didn't even need to look up to know who it was. The familiar jingle of keychains rattling in his backpack and the sweet smell of grape candies in the air were enough to recognize Luke.

"Hey, little man. How was school today?" Warren beamed, walking around the counter with lazy steps to talk to the boy.

"It was nice." Luke replied excitedly, throwing his backpack on the floor before wrapping Warren in a brief, tight hug. Soon after, he pulled away and stuck his small hand in his pants pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper. "Look, I made this today."

"Awesome, a frog." Warren took the green origami between his fingers, studying the careful folds. He turned the piece from side to side, smiling. "Where did you learn that?"

"On the internet, look. Come see, it jumps." Luke took it back, placed it on the counter, and pressed it lightly on the paper. The little frog jumped. "See?" 

Warren raised an eyebrow. "Boy, you're scary." He tested the frog, squeezing the paper as Luke had done, and the creature jumped again. "This is witchcraft, isn't it? You put magic in it and didn't tell me, you little brat." 

"No!" Luke laughed, shaking his head. "It's just origami. If you fold the paper the right way, it moves, like a lever." 

"I see..." Warren feigned distrust, crossing his arms. "So it's pure skill and not some dark pact?" 

Luke laughed, shaking his head. "Wanna make one?" 

"Tsk, I don't know." Warren leaned back a little, as if it were a risky challenge. "I'm pretty sure I'll ruin it before I even touch the paper." 

"Stop being a wimp." The boy, however, didn't take the refusal lying down. Luke took his hand with determination and pulled him down the hallway to the office. The air grew heavier as Warren walked through the door. 

His eyes met yours for a moment too long. Something unresolved hung in the space between you, and you both looked away almost at the same time, disguising it with silent discomfort.

 It had been a week. 

Seven days since what almost happened in the warehouse. 

Since then, conversations had been limited to short sentences about work, polite words that didn't fill the awkward silence. You spent as much time as possible in the office, while Warren remained at the cash register busy with anything other than talking to you. Always busy. The only close interaction happened when it was time to restock the shelves or when one of you left. And even then, you both avoided looking each other directly in the eyes.

"Hi, sweetheart. How was school today?" You broke the silence first, forcing a smile as Luke let go of Warren's hand and ran over to you.

"It was cool, but Warren and I are really busy right now." He explained excitedly, grabbing two sheets of paper from your desk.

"With what, exactly?" You asked, your gaze falling on Warren more than the boy.

"We're gonna make frogs." Warren answered casually, twirling the sheet between his fingers.

"Frogs?" Your brow furrowed slightly.

"Of paper, Mom." Luke rolled his eyes, as if your question was absurd. "I made one in class and now I'm going to teach Warren how to make one too. Sit here, facing Mom."

Warren hesitated, his eyes meeting yours again, almost as if he was asking for permission. You held his gaze for a second before nodding, pointing to the chair across from you. He sat down, looking guilty, shifting in his chair as Luke stood beside him, full of excitement.

"Here's how it is, follow everything I do or you'll get lost and do it all wrong." The boy began to fold the paper with precision. Warren imitated the movement, frowning in concentration.

"That's it. Now you're going to fold it here... like this."

"Okay..." Warren replicated the fold, narrowing his eyes to check if he was doing it right. "And now?"

"Do it like this, like this. Now fold it like this... Now turn it over. Don't let it get wrinkled, it has to be right. Turn it over again, fold it."

"Easy there, Luke. I'm old." Warren laughed, his hands fumbling to keep up with the boy's agile movements.

Luke snorted, but held back a smile. "You're slow, Warren."

"Hey, that was unnecessary." He made a playfully offended expression.

"Now just this one more and it's done!" Luke showed off his perfectly aligned frog, proud.

"Congratulations, honey!" You clapped your hands, amazed at your son's work. “It looks exactly like a frog. Good job.”

Warren looked at his origami, then at Luke’s. He held up his creation—a crumpled, shapeless ball—and raised his eyebrows. 

“Yeah, it looks just like mine.” 

Luke laughed loudly. You put your hand over your mouth, trying to hold back your laughter too. “Sorry, Warren. It’s just so funny.” 

“It looks like a frog that got run over!” Luke laughed, placing his hands on his stomach. 

“I know, I know. I should’ve seen that coming. You two are against me.” Warren sighed dramatically, tossing the paper ball aside. “It’s definitely not for me. I’ll leave that to the little man and his super smart mom.” 

But even though he failed miserably at origami, the smile on his face seemed genuine for the first time in a week. 

“You don’t pay attention either, Warren Sillyka!” Luke laughed, sticking his tongue out at Warren. 

“Did you see that?” Warren raised an eyebrow at you, pointing indignantly at the boy. “The kid just gave me tongue!” And without thinking twice, he returned the gesture.

"Hey!" Luke protested, grimacing and pulling the corners of his mouth with his fingers.

"Now, you little criminal..." Warren narrowed his eyes before standing up, his hands ready to attack with tickles.

"No, stop! Stop!" Luke squirmed, laughing as he tried to escape. Warren, however, was faster, grabbing him easily and lifting him in his arms, swinging him from side to side.

"Serious infraction, young man!" Warren mocked, holding Luke tightly. "You have the right to remain silent! Hands where I can see them!"

"Never!" Luke challenged, laughing loudly, clearly enjoying the joke. "I will not give in to you, Sillyka."

"Oh, then let's go again." Warren took a deep breath and threw the boy slightly in the air before catching him again, eliciting more laughter. "What now? I’ll only let you go with an apology!’

You watched them, the scene unfolding before your eyes like something you never imagined you would see. Your son laughing freely, sharing such pure happiness with someone other than you. Warren holding him in his arms felt... right. Like this was where Luke was always supposed to be.

The laughter escaped your lips before you could stop it. And when Warren and Luke looked at you, your laughter turned into something else—louder, looser, more genuine. Your eyes grew teary, but not just from laughter. The emotions inside you bubbled up in a way they didn’t know how to express, that you had kept locked away under lock and key deep in your heart for many, many years.

"No... don't look at me." You tried to contain your laughter, quickly wiping a tear from the corner of your eye. "Keep going..."

"Mommy?" Luke frowned, his joy turning to instant concern.

Warren noticed the same and quickly put the boy down before approaching you. 

"Mommy, are you okay?"

You took a deep breath, blinking a few times to hold back the tears. "Yes, my baby... I am." You smiled, even though your voice shook a little. "I'm just happy." It was true. Partially, at least. "Can you go to the storage room and get me a tissue?"

Luke hesitated, still suspicious, but nodded. "Yeah." And then he left, looking back one last time before disappearing down the hallway.

The moment the door closed, the barrier you were trying to hold collapsed. A sob escaped your throat, followed by an uncontrolled sob. 

"I'm sorry." You buried your face in your hands, unable to stop the wave of emotion.

Warren's heart clenched, and before you knew it, he was kneeling in front of you, his arms wrapped around your shoulders in a firm embrace.

He didn't say anything. He just stood there.

Your face buried in his neck, your hands clutching the fabric of his uniform, feeling the heat of his body as you cried without reserve.

“I'm here. Shh..." Warren murmured against your hair, stroking your back in slow circles. "I'm here."

"I'm soaking your clothes…”

"Fuck it. I'll wash them when I get home."

He slid his fingers through your hair, brushing his lips gently against your temple, a silent gesture of comfort. Your breathing began to calm, still shaky, but less suffocating. You sniffed and pulled away slightly, staring at his face so close to yours. The way he looked at you... calm, steady. Like a beacon in the middle of your storm, guiding you back.

"I forget how incredibly perceptive he is." Your voice still cracked. "He always knows when I'm not okay. I can't hide anything from him."

Warren smiled weakly, running his hand over your wet face, brushing away the remnants of your tears with his thumb.

"You don't have to hide it from me either." He said softly, then leaned down, still on his knees, to press a soft kiss to your forehead. "Don't hide anything from me." 

The door swung open. 

"Here, Mom! I got it." Luke came running back, holding the box of tissues. "Sorry I took so long. It was really highI had to grab a chair to get up. But I didn't drop anything." 

You let out a shaky laugh, accepting the tissues and opening your arms to him. Luke fit into the hug without hesitation. You looked at Warren over your son's head, his gaze full of gratitude.

 "Well... I guess I'll be going now." Warren mumbled, standing up slowly. 

"Where to?" You asked, grabbing a tissue and blowing your nose. "Leaving already?" 

"To the cashier. It's my turn." He smiled weakly, watching Luke grab another tissue for you. "Take care of your mom, okay?" 

"I'll do it." Luke nodded with the seriousness of someone who takes the mission seriously. He held the trash can for you to dispose of the tissues. "It'll be okay, Mommy." 

You smiled, tightening your arms around your son. "I know it will, my baby. Thank you.

" Warren took slow steps towards the door, almost hesitantly. You watched him go, feeling a tightness in your chest as you watched him walk away. 

"See you later." He paused for a brief second, turning just enough to look you in the eyes. 

"See you..."

…

Warren turned the "Closed" sign on the door, taking one last look at the street before returning to the cash register and writing down the day's records. You always dropped Luke off before five, so you'd be back soon. He wanted to get everything done early to make his job easier.

After reviewing the checklist, he went to his office and left the paper on his desk. When he returned to the cash register, he heard the door open and looked up in time to see you come in. You walked over to him with a small smile on your lips.

"You look happy." He commented, resting his hands on the counter.

"I just found the perfect dress for Daniel's wedding." You said, leaning a little on the counter. 

"When is it?"

"Tomorrow, Saturday."

You walked around the counter, stopping next to him. "Do you have an outfit yet?"

"I have that damn thing I wore on my first day here. Will that fit?" Warren asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and crossing his arms.

"It'll do. It's perfect." You replied, placing your hands on your hips. "I can't wait to show you."

 "The dress?" He raised an eyebrow, and you nodded. "I want to see it too. What color is it? No, wait... Isn't that bad luck?" 

"What?" 

"To know what the woman will wear on her wedding day." He explained, confused. You let out a laugh. 

"No, Warren." He blinked, waiting for the explanation. "That's only for the bride. You can know." 

"Oh... sorry. I've never been to a wedding before." He confessed, relaxing his arms. "Are you excited?" 

"Nervous." You admitted, leaning against the counter. "I don't know how I'm going to react." 

"I'll be there." Warren comforted. "Do I have permission to punch him if he messes up with Luke?" 

"Luke isn't going. It's at night. It starts at eight, but these things always take a while. I don't want him to stay up until the early hours of the morning." 

"So it's just going to be the two of us?" 

The question came with a subtle but noticeable tone of curiosity. 

"Yes." You nodded, feeling an unexpected nervousness grow in your chest. 

"Do you want me to pick you up?" He asked, and there was something else in his voice—a hint of expectation. 

"Yes, it's okay. I was just going to drop Luke off at his friend's house and come back to get ready." 

"Deal. I'll stop by at seven-thirty?" 

"Seven-thirty is fine." You nodded, crossing your arms. He held your gaze for a moment, as if he wanted to say something, but he just smiled sideways.

"Shall we go out? It's closing time, and I don't want anyone knocking here." You changed the subject, walking to the door.

"Good idea." Warren grabbed his keys and followed you out, locking the store behind you.

Warren scanned the street, frowning slightly when he noticed one of the streetlights flickering, casting irregular shadows across the sidewalk. The silence of the night seemed to drag on with the cold wind.

"So... is it okay to walk home in this darkness?"

"Yeah, I always walk back after work." You answered matter-of-factly, adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder.

He let out a short sigh, pulling the iron to cover the store window. "This isn't good."

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as he locked the door. "Since when did walking two streets over become a problem?"

"Since always. Anyone can run into the wrong person." He turned to you, glaring firmly.

"No problem. If anything happens, I'll scream and run." You joked, shrugging.

Warren chuckled and shook his head before approaching. With his hands firmly on his waist, he tilted his face, his eyes assessing you up and down.

“Come on. I’ll take you.” You hesitated for a moment, but ended up nodding and starting to walk. “Hey, what are you doing?”

“Going home?” You pointed to the end of the street.

“No. Get in the car.” He patted the hood of the vehicle twice with a half smile.

“It’s only two streets.”

“And I don’t know who’s coming around the corner. Do you know?”

“You’re so worried.”

“Baby, after you go to jail, even your neighbors are suspicious.” He joked, unlocking the doors. “Maybe you have your own criminal record and I’m here all by myself thinking I’m safe and sound.”

You smiled, getting in the car. “And what would my crime be?”

Warren started the engine and pulled out of the space, his eyes narrowing as if he was evaluating the response.

“Murder, for sure. In cold blood, plain daylight.” He teased, turning the steering wheel to enter the avenue. “Maybe poisoning.”

“And why?”

He gave you a quick glance before turning his attention back to the road.

“Because you have this innocent woman look, all pretty, cute eyes who make men fall in love at first sight… the perfect stereotype.” The corner of his mouth lifted in a crooked smile. “When I least expect it, I’ll wake up in an ice bath.”

You gave a short laugh and lightly pushed his shoulder. “How awful, Warren. I’d never kill you.”

“I don’t know… what if one day I make you angry?”

He turned onto your street and parked in front of your house. The engine purred softly before being turned off. Silence filled the car.

“Then I don’t know…” you teased, biting your lip as you pretended to think.

Warren chuckled softly and shook his head. “See? That’s what I’m talking about.”

“See you tomorrow.” You said, unbuckling your seatbelt.

But before you could reach for the door handle, you hesitated.

“Warren.”

He turned to face you, leaning in slightly. “Yeah?” His voice was lower, as if he already knew what was coming.

You hesitated for a second, your gaze locked on his lips. Your heart raced as your bodies leaned almost instinctively toward each other. Your hot breath mingled in the small space between you. But at the last moment, you pulled back, looking away.

“Nothing…”

“Fuck, stop saying it’s nothing.” Warren grumbled, letting out a short sigh before unbuckling his belt and cupping your face with his warm hands, pulling you into an unexpected kiss.

The touch was intense, a mix of urgency and pent-up desire. Your fingers tightened the fabric of his jacket, pulling him closer, opening your mouth for more of what you craved so much.

When you pulled away, a mischievous smile played on his lips. You smiled, still feeling his breath against your skin, your mouth damp from the trace of what had happened.

“Thank you.” You mumbled, trying to pull away, but he pulled you back, deepening the kiss without hesitation.

This time, you moaned against his lips and released his belt, seeking more proximity. Warren slid his hand under your shirt, pulling your waist closer and feeling the soft skin against his touch. His other hand went to the back of your neck, his fingers intertwining in your hair as the kiss grew more intense.

Time seemed to have stopped. You turned your body so that he had more access, your hand touching his face, the hairs of his growing beard prickling your skin, brushing against your chin. It stung, but it felt so damn good. When air became a necessity, you pulled away with a silly smile, your eyes shining under the dim light of the streetlamp.

“You’re very welcome.” Warren murmured, his eyes fixed on your mouth, his fingers lightly brushing your skin as if he still didn’t want to let go.

You smiled and looked away, opening the door.

“See you tomorrow, Warren.”

“Why?”

“I’m in front of my house.” You laughed softly.

Before you could leave, he pulled your hand and stole one last kiss.

“Just one more.” He murmured against your lips, sealing them once more. You smiled against his mouth before finally leaving.

Warren waited until you got in and closed the door to start the car. He licked his lips, capturing your trail. He frowned, smelling a strange smell in the air. Looking around, he decided to look at his pants and...

“Shit, Warren. What’s wrong with you?” He groaned in disgust, seeing his own situation. His jeans were darker, damp, soft. “I can’t believe this. One kiss! One kiss! I’m so fucked up. That’s the ending.”

Disgusted, he just decided to go home as soon as possible to resolve the outcome of the little moment between you. Even though he was uncomfortable with the sticky feeling between his legs, the satisfied smile didn’t leave his face.

And it didn’t leave throughout the entire night.

[bcksbarnes]

time's never been on our side - chapter one

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: you and bucky happen to meet by chance one night, and it feels like there is a spark between the two of you - but he has to leave. was this destiny? or cruel fate?

word count: 3K

a/n: ahhhh first chapter of my new fic! i can't wait to write more and explore this plot. thank you all who voted in my poll! this was the fic i was leaning towards so i hope you all enjoy reading as much as i did writing :)

there’s nothing that bucky enjoyed more after months undercover than a dive bar in the greatest city in the world – the city he was lucky to call home. new york had been there to wish him farewell when he left for the war and had welcomed him back with open arms after his deprogramming over seven decades later. 

that’s why he loved the city; it changed rapidly but it never felt different. 

he had a list of bars he’d like to frequent, most of them small and quiet, the sound of some 90s rock band coming from the speaker and the smell of smoke lingering in the air. he liked places that didn’t ask questions. places that felt like he could blend in seamlessly.  

his life as the winter soldier was so far removed now, a life where he had been both infamous and a ghost. they never saw the winter soldier, but they knew of his stories. 

now, he was just happy to be bucky. though, and he’d never admit it to steve, he was tired. tired of fighting. tired of missions. there was always something new, though there was hope in the back of his mind that one day he could quit, settle down, start a new life. but that’s all it was, wasn’t it? hope, not something he was capable of actually doing. 

bucky felty an immense amount of guilt about his time as the winter soldier, but he felt even worse when he thought about steve. the man had done so much for him, he believed in him, he found him, he fought for him – when he called for another mission how was bucky supposed to say no? 

his thoughts are interrupted when he hears the door of the bar open, his ears perking up and his attention brought back to reality. that was how he was conditioned. there was always a threat, he always needed to be on guard.

he hadn’t been there long when you walked in, the ice in his whiskey had barely begun to sweat. his head turns to look at the front door, eyes watching as you sit down next to him at the barstool, not even sparing him a passing glance. 

bucky turns his head back to his drink, his brain working in overdrive to drown out the memories of his last mission. his therapist – ugh, he hated that – had suggested that continuing to fight might not be great for his stress but he couldn’t slow down. that’s when he felt like he would let steve down and, honestly, that’s when the thoughts were worse. 

“what’s good here?” your voice hits him before he has a chance to realize you’re talking to him, his grasp on his glass clenches for a moment before he slowly turns his head, your gazes catching. it feels like ice is pumping through his veins as you two look at each other, a shiver running down his spine that he does his best to ignore. 

your eyes watch him carefully, this stranger is looking at you like you had just asked the most ridiculous question he had ever heard. 

“nothing.” his voice is gruff and unwavering, a hint of humor in it if you were to listen close enough. 

you smirk a bit at his response, unphased by his disgruntled attitude towards you. 

“good to know.” you hum to yourself a bit, squinting your eyes as you look at the alcohol selection behind the bar, eventually just settling on a beer that seems safe as the bartender serves you. 

you have buckly’s attention now, he watches as you bring the bottle to your lips, your brows furrowed together as you wonder how a bar can get away with selling such stale beer. 

“not up to your tastes?” he asks, seeing the face you make after you sip. 

“try about five years past its expiration.” you say, head turning to look at the man next to you. 

he’s watching you intently and you would normally feel exposed under such a gaze, as if he’s trying to read your every thought with just a look. but, there’s something warm and inviting underneath the cold stare, something that makes you relax a bit.

“i’ll give you some advice – when in doubt, always go with whiskey.” his metal hand picks up his glass, tipping it towards you before bringing it up to his lips. 

you chuckle a bit as you hang your head, shaking it. what an asshole.

“you couldn’t have told me that like two minutes ago when i asked?” 

he smirks for a quick moment; it fades as soon as it appears. 

“you asked what was good. i said nothing. i didn’t lie.” he quips back. “i just didn’t think it was necessary to go into all the details.” 

you rake your eyes over this stranger as he speaks. despite being seated you can tell he’s tall, well built – no doubt. he looks like he hasn’t seen sleep in a few days, and the dark hair on his face is between scruff and a beard. and despite it all, handsome. 

“thanks.” you mumble sarcastically before tipping the bottle of beer again, taking another sip. 

“you don’t seem like someone who frequents these places.” bucky’s not entirely sure why he continues to engage with you. he visits these bars to get away from people, to not be disturbed, not to talk to some random woman who had just sat down. though it’s very out of character for him, he continues nonetheless. 

“that’s a bit presumptuous.” though he’s not wrong, you make no effort to correct him. “and what do you mean by these places?” 

“you know ...” he shrugs a bit, searching around the room.

you know exactly what he means. the bar is small, cramped actually, you two are one of five people in the place including the bartender. the walls were dark and uninviting, behind the smell of cigarettes was a deep rooted hint of musk. beer signs hung on the wall, all which were slightly off centered, and the tv that hung, which was in fact muted, had been flickering for quite some time. it wasn’t a place that you would come to, but you had stormed out of another bar and this was the first place you landed on, and you needed a drink badly.

“places where you don’t have to ask what to get.” he’s teasing, there’s a soft sparkle in his eye for a moment as he takes in your features. you roll your eyes at him, feeling your hand grip the bottle of your beer tighter.

“i was looking for a change of scenery.” you say. “and my ex is at the bar i usually hang out at.”

you had been broken up for months, actually, he had moved on at this point. new girlfriend, new apartment, and there was no malice there, or jealousy. sometimes it felt like you were stuck. like you couldn’t move forward or find someone new. you stayed at your old job, in your old apartment, single. it wasn’t that you wanted him, it’s that it was too difficult to feel happy for someone when you weren’t happy in your own life.

“ah, classic.” bucky says, nodding empathetically.

“yeah,” you shrug as you take another sip of your beer, it’s starting to go down a lot smoother now. “i didn’t get your name.”

you can see the hesitation in his eyes, like he doesn’t want to tell you, but it’s quickly replaced with something more meaningful, something you can’t really read.

“bucky.” 

“bucky.” it rolls off your tongue easily as you repeat it, and it also fits him perfectly. he looked like a ‘bucky’. you say your name back and you can see he makes a mental note of it. “it’s nice to meet you.” 

he grunts a bit in response as he takes another sip of his drink, the liquor burning but he shows no change in his facial features.  

“are you someone who frequents these places?” you ask. 

“you could say that.” he responds, his glass now resting on the wood bar, though he makes no attempts to clarify. “are you from around here?”

“yes and no.” you say with a shrug. “grew up across the river, moved into the city once i was able to get a full time job. now i live around the corner in the east village in my shitty one bedroom that costs way too much.” he laughs at that. “what about you?”

“i was born and raised in brooklyn.” bucky explains, looking down at his drink. “joined the army, did some things here and there, and now i’m what most would consider a nomad.”

“yeah? why’s that?”

“haven’t settled down … my work requires me to travel a lot for extended periods of time. if i find myself with downtime in a city i just usually book a hotel for a few days until i need to leave.”

bucky cannot, for the life of him, figure out why he is telling you all this information. it’s like his brain is in some sort of fog and he can’t stop himself from speaking. he was leaving tomorrow for another mission, he didn’t need you, a random stranger, knowing all this about him. bucky didn’t like to get attached, or feeling like he left any loose ends. 

when he had finished his mission upstate earlier that day he was excited about some time off, being in new york was few and far between now for him so he wanted to make the most of his time. but, when steve had called and said that he needed help on a month-long mission - how could bucky refuse?

“what do you do for work?”

you can tell the question makes him shift a little in his seat, uncomfortable by whatever he does and the need to always be moving.

“i’m a soldier, of sorts.” he says, though he doesn’t elaborate. “actually, i’m only in town for the night. i have a flight out in the morning.”

“where to?” 

“that’s classified.”

the response makes you chuckle a bit, feeling your cheeks heat up slightly. of course it was. you were just enthralled by this enigma of a man that you couldn’t help but ask, it was worth a shot.

you and bucky spend a few more drinks together, the night passing by quickly as the two of you talk. you pick up that he eyes his watch a few times, knowing that the hours are ticking by and it’s getting later, he had an early flight in the morning but he makes no attempts to stop your conversation, as if he’s just making a mental note of when he needs to leave.

it’s a little after midnight now, about two hours had passed since you had made your way into the bar. somehow you two were huddled a little closer than what would normally be considered friendly, your elbows touching as you both lean on the bar. it feels like the universe is pulling you together, like magnets slowly inching their way towards one another.

bucky’s in the middle of telling you a story about a friend of his, he makes no mention that it’s steve rogers, and the both of you are laughing at the absurdity of it. 

“and then he says to me,” bucky clears his throat before lowering his voice an octave to do an impression. “now, buck, if i could have a word with you. have you ever thought of … smiling a bit more?”

“he said that?!” you ask, your eyes a bit hazy from the alcohol. you had made the switch over to whiskey per bucky’s earlier recommendation. “in front of everyone?”

“in front of everyone!” he says, his eyes wide slightly. he’s glad you found the story just as absurd as he did. “not that i care, but also why right at that moment?”

“your friend sounds like something else.”

“you can definitely say that about …” he trails off, remembering that he didn’t want to mention steve’s name. “... him. we’ve been buddies for a long time, i know he means well, but sometimes i wish he would just shut his mouth.”

the two of you laugh again, filling the otherwise silent bar with some much needed warmth.

“hey,” you say after the laughter dies down and there’s a moment of silence between the two of you. “i’m sure you probably have to get out of here soon, but do you wanna stop and get a slice of pizza together?”

drunk food sounded like heaven to both of you. bucky hadn’t realized he was starving until you mentioned it, he actually wasn’t even sure he had eaten that day. the hours post missions tended to blend together most of the time until he was able to either sleep, or find some alcohol to down. and you didn’t realize how badly you were craving anything that wasn’t whiskey, you weren’t sure how this man drank this at all. you felt like your whole body was on a fire - though the more you thought about it, it could also be the scent of bucky’s cologne that’s making you feel that way - but, the whiskey was definitely hard to stomach.

he nods his head over to the door, the two of you standing up from the barstools. both of your tabs are paid by the time you make it out to the street, the cool air hitting you like a slap in the face. bucky is behind you, shrugging on his leather jacket as you both begin to walk in the direction of the pizzeria.

“i’m surprised you’re not in brooklyn.” you say to him, your head turning in his direction, watching as he puts his hands inside his jacket pockets. “you only have one night in the city and you decided to stay in manhattan.”

“yeah.” he shrugs a bit, not meeting your gaze. what he doesn’t tell you is how hard it is to go back to brooklyn, to walk the streets he grew up on and know that everyone he’s ever loved had passed on, how all the memories he had were all just distant, haunting reminders of the life he wasn’t able to have. “thought i’d change it up a bit.” he lies easily, wishing to drop the conversation.

a few minutes pass, and two slices are secured, both of you standing on the sidewalk outside the pizzeria trying to down them as you talk about everything and nothing. now, in the streets of the city, the two of you are just one of hundreds of people enjoying their night, unlike the private, secluded nature of the bar. although he doesn’t show it, bucky is on alert, watching every person who passes by and treating them as a threat, all while maintaining a light conversation with you … and eating his pizza. he was a good multi-tasker.

it’s when the two of you are finished and were walking back in the direction towards bucky’s hotel that the weight of realization hits both of you. this was the first and last time either of you would see each other. a one night only, ships passing in the night, hello and goodbye. 

“i had fun.” you whisper softly, the quiet around the both of you suddenly feeling suffocating. bucky doesn’t respond back, his eyes on the ground ahead of him, his thoughts of not wanting this to end weighing heavily on his mind. “when’s the next time you’re going to be in new york?”

“i’m not … i’m not sure.”

your shoulder accidentally brushes against his as you walk and you’re sure that your whole body is on fire now. how unfair was this? meeting someone new and exciting for the first time in months, someone who made you forget about the empty, lonely feeling bubbling deep in your gut? it was all a cruel joke set up by the universe. of course he would be off tomorrow and you would most likely never see him again.

“this is me.” he says, as the two of you stand outside of his hotel.

neither of you want to meet the other's eyes, neither want to make the first move to say goodbye. you barely knew him, yet something inside of you felt like you did, or at least wanted to find out in the future.

“you could text me some time?” you ask.

you watch his face and how he hesitates to say anything. his metal hand grips and releases into fists at his side. he’s thinking of all the ways he wants to tell you no. that he can’t let a loose end exist in his world.

“sure.” his voice betrays his mind, he digs into his coat to grab his phone handing it over to you. you quickly type in your number and send yourself a text.

bucky’s number.

he reads the text you sent when you hand him his phone back and he smirks to himself.

“how original.”

 “it seemed like something you’d say.”

the both of you stand there for a moment, searching each other's faces, before bucky takes a step back, the sound of his leather boot hitting the concrete snapping you back into reality.

“it was nice meeting you.” he whispers.

“you too, bucky.”

he gives you one last glance over before he turns on his heel, briskly walking into the hotel and leaving you to the dark streets of the city. a gust of wind hits you and you pull your jacket closer to yourself as you head off in the direction of your apartment. had it always been this cold? or did the distraction of bucky have you so far removed from reality you hadn’t realized?

it’s me :)

you text back as you stand in the elevator to your apartment. three dots appear on your screen and quickly fade. it’s late. he had an early flight. surely you’d hear from him soon enough. you hoped.

[shawtylex09]

Hi it's me again :3 Is it okay to request some more bunny izuku? I literally see everyone writing about him it's so addictive. Maybe some head cannons of him, how he acts and stuff or even how he gets during heat can be nsfw. You can come up with any scenario. Whatever you prefer mwahh<3

-🐇

You ask and I will de-LIVER.

Keep requesting bc your asks are the best I stg.

Anyways. Obv smut below, all characters 18+, minors DNI.

More Bunny!Izu x Fem!Pro hero!reader

Masterlist

Here’s your banger, I didn’t forget dw

Enjoy ✧˖°.

🌸❤️‍🔥

Head cannons;

B!Izuku I feel like, would be the sweet type of brat, like, don’t get me wrong, he’s a sweetheart; but he’s also a brat in the most ANNOYING ways.

B!Izuku definitely steals and hides your things. He does and I think that’s a universally accepted thing. Anything that’s yours is his, and you accepted this a while after you brought him into your home, even making a little game out of trying to find and get your things back.

B!Izuku loves when you cook for him, and even started to eat bits of pork thanks to the way you make it, making katsudon his favorite meal after trying the pork cutlets you put on the plate, he was surprised at how much he liked it.

B!Izuku is SPOILED and I will never stop saying it, you buy hin whatever he wants. He has his own room, his own phone, video games and consoles, posters, mangas, art supplies- fuck- you even bought him a hand signed All Might figure in mint condition (that costed a pretty penny fr fr.)

B!Izuku will pout at you, and he does that shiet all the time. If you won’t let him on your bed with you? He’s pouting, if you scold him for taking your keys and making you late for work? Pouting little bunny boy.

B!Izuku basically never even sleeps in his own room, always sleeping in bed with you, mumbling sleepily about how much he loves you and is thankful for everything you do for him.

B!Izuku gets really bad heats- like..bad. He’s in heat for no less than a week, and his body will tremble all over, his breaths heavy and legs barely supporting him. He whimpers and whines, begging to still sleep with you in your bed, even though he knows you say no every time.

B!Izuku who is extra bratty during his heat, maybe even a bit rude. He’s petty for sure. If you don’t help him relieve the pain he’s in, he’s gonna be extra sassy, despite his breathless tone and shaky body.

B!izuku definitely lays in your bed when you’re at work, his hips grinding into your mattress as he moans pathetically into your pillows, gripping the sheets and rolling his hips like a desperate animal.

B!Izuku can cum so many times and still not relieve himself, constantly being erect and having his nerves on fire.

B!Izuku gets so desperate during the last few days, pathetically whimpering and shaking in your bed, begging- pleading for help.

Until you give in.

✮˚.⋆

You walked into your shared apartment from work, sighing tiredly as you did so. You slip off your boots and look around. Everything is intact, good, Izuku didn’t decide to mess up the living room or anything just to spite you.

Speaking of..where is your bunny?

You sigh, figuring the worst as a tired deadpan falls onto your expression. You knew it wasn’t Izuku’s fault that this happened to him each month, it was like a woman going through ovulation…on steroids…

A heavy sigh left you, despite knowing it wasn’t Izuku’s fault, it still left you feeling irritated. He was already bratty enough, he certainly didn’t need to be uncontrollably horny on top of that.

You finally muster up all the will and strength you have left, before pushing yourself in the direction of your bedroom.

There he was, sitting on your bed and crying, his head thrown back and teeth gritted as his body trembled. He looked like he was - at the very least - extremely uncomfortable.

“Izuku?” You spoke out into your room, feeling a twinge of guilt in your chest as you watched the sweet boy writhe. “Y-y/n- please..it hurts” he looked over at you, his eyes half lidded and flooded with tears.

You bit your lip.

You were a hero, meant to save people, and yet your sweet bunny boy was in pain.

Fuck.

A click left your door as you closed it behind you, a second following it as you locked it. “It’s alright Zu” you spoke softly, taking off your jacket and tossing it onto the floor.

Izuku barely registered what was happening as he felt the bed dip next to him. His hands instantly reached out for yours, grabbing one and placing it on his hard bulge, expecting you to pull away like you usually did.

This time, however, your hand began to rub at the ache, making Izuku’s eyes widen, then roll back as if your touch was a gift from god himself.

You laid on your side, propping yourself up with your elbow as you began to soothe the burning pit in his stomach. “I’m sorry, Izuku” you murmured quietly, a hand finding his fluffy ear that was folded back. You gently scratched his ear while wrapping your hand around his clothed dick.

“Y-Y/n! Ah..fuck- just like that-“ a little bit of drool teased his bottom lip, his head falling back against the sheets “so good- it’s so good..mmh”

You smiled a little, he didn’t look like he was in pain anymore, which made you feel a lot better.

Izuku continued to moan and femininely whimper as you jerked him off through his shorts, before finally grabbing the hem of them, and his boxers. With a pull, they came down to his thighs, his thick and hard cock springing free, the smooth tip touching his abdomen.

You blushed a little, especially as Izuku looked at you with his fucked out face, his eyes heavily hooded and his lips parted “please- please mommas..please suck my cock”

Your eyes widened in shock, feeling a spike of arousal shoot through you. His face, his tone, his words- it was all so lewd. You looked down at his thick shaft. It was probably around 6-7 inches, a good length with an impressive girth.

You swallowed, feeling saliva pool in your mouth as you looked at the pre-cum beading at the slit of his cock head.

You shifted to kneel on the bed before his thighs, your throat and mouth dry as you leaned down, softly kissing his tip.

Izuku gasped quietly and placed a hand on your head, running his fingers through your hair “please” he whined “don’t tease me, please” his tone was- honestly pitiful, but you understood why, so, you leaned down once more; this time, taking the puffy tip into your mouth, lightly sucking on it.

Izuku let out a soft moan “yes- yes Y/n- fuck” his eyes rolled back in pleasure, and his head fell back, his hips slightly rolling up as he tried to inch himself more into your mouth.

That was all the coaxing you needed, before you began to bob your head, his thick cock making your lips stretch around it, the veins dragging up and down your tongue, and the taste of pre flooding your mouth.

You were a little rusty, it had been a while since you’d been with anyone, but once you got into a rhythm, Izuku was falling apart at the seams under you.

The poor bun couldn’t think clearly, a hand cover his mouth as he gasped and writhed, his thighs spread wide and lifted slightly with the tension in his muscles. His eyes were screwed shut, and his brows furrowed.

His chest messily rose and fell, his jaw dropped and gasps leaving him. How were you so damn good at this? He had no idea, nor did he care. Izuku shakily opened one of his eyes to see you focused on him.

One of your hands gently kneading and massaging his tight, full balls; the other was wrapped around the base, occasionally stroking, while your head bobbed and your mouth sucked.

His eyes rolled back and he clenched his jaw “I love you!” He squealed, making you cough on his length and pull yourself off, sputtering from your surprise and accidentally deep throating his entire dick.

He whined in protest, before his eyes widened.

He had not meant to say that.

“I-I’m sorry- I- I just meant-“ “I love you too.” You smiled at him, and his eyes widened “you love me?” Did he hear you right? His fluffy ears twitching a few times to ensure he wasn’t crazy.

You had just told him..you loved him too.

“Of course I do” you leaned down and ran your tongue up the side of his cock, before kissing the swollen tip “I don’t give just anyone head, you know”

Izuku shuddered and bit his lip “fuck- I’m gonna cum just from that” he whispered, referring to your teasing, yet meaningful words

You simply laughed, before taking his hardened length back into your mouth. Izuku arched his back, his ears folding back against his head. It felt so much better knowing that you felt the same way about him, and he had to restrain himself from busting right there.

“God- yes! I love you! I love you so much! Baby! Mommas! I’m gonna- c-cum- fuck~!” He cried out, his thighs trembling and coming up to wrap around your shoulders.

And cum he did.

With a loud moan and your name on his lips, he came, and he came hard.

You gagged a bit as his load shot into your throat and slightly dripped onto his cock, trying to swallow as much as you could.

You pulled away from his cock to greedily gasp for air, the sheer amount of cum in your throat making your eyes water as you coughed “J-Jesus- C-Christ-“ you sputtered between coughs.

Izuku trembled under you, his cock finally softening and not feeling needy, like it had been for the previous week.

He felt so tired, not having the energy to make a comment as you collected yourself and picked him up, smiling a little down at him “cmon bun, let’s get you in the bath.”

Izuku simply nodded and rested his head against your chest, shaking slightly and sighing, so thankful to have you in his life.

He’d have to return the favor some time.

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖

Part 1.

[ninyard]

a thought that's been spinning around in my head is what if jeremy did relapse? like what could drive him to that and how he would move forward considering the whole self hatred of "i'd rather die than be that person again" and shame in asking for help bc "ill never forgive you if you backslide"

OKAY so i’ve been sitting on this just thinking about it for a few days and although it’s not a theory that i believe would/will happen, it’s one of the few ideas i can come up with as to what could cause him to backslide

(i do believe him when he says he won’t. but god, for my own selfish reasons, do i want to see him crash out monumentally)

SO

Jeremy’s mom/stepdad stop allowing him to stay over at Laila/Jean’s place because of what happened to Bryson, how dangerous they think it could be, and how dangerous they think Jean is. Everything that has happened has made their control over Jeremy a thousand times worse. It’s torture for him, his final year, commuting to and from the university every single day for practices and that’s it; no parties, no free time, just practice, and classes, and then home. He’s forced into isolation, almost, but he still talks to the guys on video calls, and lies about having practices that don’t exist just so he can see them. But it’s few and far between. For him, mentally, it takes a huge toll. He hasn’t felt depression like this in a long time, if ever, really. It’s not good - He’s stuck with Bryson far more often that he’d like, and the only solace is those few hours a day where he gets to relax with Jean, Cat, Laila, and the few trojans he gets a chance to see outside of practice.

The guys notice this heaviness in him; Laila in particular gets worried to a point where she shows up at his house a handful of times just to make sure he’s okay, but the Wilshire household is a hostile place for her to be, and Jeremy hates her being around them if it at all can be avoided. Even the diplomats daughter excuse fails Mathilde and Warren: Jeremy has to focus on his LSATs, and he can’t afford outside distractions stealing his attention.

Jeremy pushes sitting the exam further out, and further out. He comes up with all the excuses he possibly can until he’s exhausted every single one, and with Bryson’s threats, he fails the first exam he sits. and it makes everything so much worse.

His phone is taken away from him at night, he’s not allowed to go for runs when he’s unaccompanied or without sharing his location the entire time. Everything the same as it’s been, but amplified, so much more suffocating than what’s healthy.

While all this is going on, the Trojans are doing well. They make it through to the Spring championships as expected, and one night Mathilde allows him to stay at Jean’s place, with the condition that he’s home by 10am the next morning. Its supposed to be a night of relief, a well deserved day off, but he cries in his friends arms and tells them that his family is destroying his life, and he doesn’t know why, and he doesn’t know what to do. Laila only looks at him with mild dissatisfaction as he spends most of the night sitting on the balcony, or out the front of the building, with cigarette after cigarette between his lips. They try to come up with a million ways to get him out of there but he knows none of them will work - he’s trapped, and there’s really nothing he can do.

Bryson corners Jeremy again, when he learns that he’s finally taking a resit exam, and tells him he has to fail this one too. Jeremy almost accepts the consequences of not doing what he says, that some planted coke or pills would be far less of a punishment than living in this prison is, but he takes the test, and he fails. It’s only half intentional, too. His mental health is in the gutter, because he’s a social butterfly, and he needs people around him to feel like himself. how can he focus on studying when he’s spending most of his days bored and resisting the temptation of the escape promised to him all those years ago?

The Trojans qualify for the semi finals, and then they qualify for the finals. It’s the Trojans V Penn State, or by another miracle, it’s the Foxes again. The date has been set. It’s a Friday, the same time of year that it usually is. It’s hard to enjoy the well earned chance at victory when he’s spent most of the year just trying to survive that big house with all its empty rooms and ghosts that walk the halls.

Warren has had enough of his failures, of course he has, the silly achievements of college sports irrelevant on his tall ladder of expectation. Jeremy spends a full night being berated, and belittled, called every name under the sun, full of vitriol and hatred for the disappointment of a son who refused the name of success and landed himself in such a position. Twice? He’d slammed Jeremy’s poor results on the table in front of him. Are you stupid, or do you faggots just get off on being embarrassments?

That night he texts his old dealer from high school, but when the response dings into his inbox, Jeremy deletes the message. He can’t. He thinks about Noah, and he thinks about everything riding on his sobriety. He can’t. He can’t do it.

But he wants to, so badly, and after that, he spends every waking second trying to prevent himself from asking again.

A morning or two later, Mathilde neatly sticks a sticky note to the top of the LSAT guides Jeremy has been pretending to study.

“What is that?” he asks, a date and time scribbled in her fancy scrawl across the green paper.

“It’s your exam, because you insist on avoiding it.” She says, turning around to do something else, like this was unimportant and meaningless to her. “I took the liberty of booking it for you. You aren’t going to fail this one.”

Jeremy picks up the piece of paper and stares at it. “I can’t do that date.”

“That’s too bad,” She almost laughs, sickly sweet. “It’s the only one they had this side of the month.”

“No, mom, I can’t do this date.” Jeremy’s head is in his hands already. This can’t be happening, and he doesn’t have the energy to argue anymore. “We’re flying out to Pennsylvania the night before. We play that evening. It’s the finals.”

She shrugs like that meant nothing to her, and Jeremy isn’t stupid enough to be surprised.

“Well,” She puts a hand on his head and endearingly rubs a thumb over his forehead. “You should have thought about that before failing the other two, Jeremy.”

He calls Cat as soon as he manages to pull his head out of the clouds of disbelief. It’s not long before the other two are on the other end of the line begging Jeremy to just leave, and they’ll figure it out later.

But he thinks of his life, that rides on a good relationship with the Wilshire empire, his reputation, and the Wilshire’s ability to ruin any potential recruitments he might have dreamt about in the future. One leaked document and every pro team in the country will know about Jeremy’s past, and his multiple run ins with the law. He thinks of his documents hidden under floorboards he’ll never find or safety deposit boxes he’ll never have access to. For a moment he wishes David Wymack had spent his time coaching a pro team, so maybe then he’d have a chance. He spends all his time agonising, trying to find a way, but everything in his life feels like it’s falling apart. He’s drinking so much coffee that he feels like his heart is going to burst. He’s barely even able to focus on playing anymore. He’s just about failing ceramics, for gods sake, and he’s not sure about most other classes - he has barely attended more than a lecture or two in weeks.

He spends hours, days, begging his mom to understand that this can’t be negotiable, it can’t be. He can’t let the team down at this point. Even Rhemann attempts to talk Mathilde down from her high pedestal, but Warren’s strong hand on her shoulder stops her from backing down. Jeremy’s dad stops answering his calls, not interested in being interrupted in the middle of the night to listen to the son he never cared about’s woes.

So the night before the championship finals comes, and Jeremy texts his teammates to have a safe flight, and he calls his dealer. They can’t meet anywhere suspicious, so he asks him to join him on the route he’s forced to run on. He knows his mom watches his every move when he leaves the house for even a second these days - he can’t stay still for too long either.

It’s not long later before he’s running home, with too much cocaine in his pocket, too many tears running down his face at what a disappointment he’d become. Noah would hate him for this; To be let down again, a promise broken, again, looking down from heaven at enough white powder to trigger a heart attack beforeJeremy even gets the chance to sit the exam.

He doesn’t take any of it that night; he knows he can’t fail again. The temptation is incredible, though, and it’s a very difficult thing to resist. He settles for some adderall he stole from Bryson’s room, and crams as much as his frazzled mind can take it.

He cries as much as he studies, every now and again just looking at the clear baggie that he hid in his wallet, heart racing every time he remembers that rush, that feeling.

The exam goes about as well as he expected, but he manages to find an hour somewhere afterwards before he’s expected to be home. he turns his phone and location off, and finds the nearest booty call to him in his contact list.

The coke goes down much easier than he was expecting it to, as if being out of practice would have made it different, but by the time his pupils are tiny and his heart is pumping, he’s at the front door of a bad idea. He doesn’t even feel able to question himself, unable to spend a half a second in his body to remember how much he’s destroying his life all over again, in that moment, because his brain and body are in seperate places. He doesn’t remember driving home, if his hookup kinda drove his car and got a cab back, or if he’d drove high out of his mind for the tedious 45 minutes that it takes. He hoped it was the former, but knew it was the latter. He just hoped he hadn’t caused an accident somewhere on the way.

His mom doesn’t stop him to ask how it went before he’s shutting his bedroom door behind him. He has a few hours to kill before the game, so he spends his time wisely between putting his nose in the bag, or smoking out of his bedroom window like a teenager afraid to be caught. By the time the game starts his paranoia has set in, an old and unwelcoming friend, and he hides his cigarettes deep in his closet for fear the tabloids would leak a photo of him smoking 10 cigarettes in an hour.

He cries when Jean takes to the court. He almost snaps his phone in half when Cat gets injured. When Derrick steps back from a fight, when Cody calls a timeout for an injury, all he feels is this hollow, empty pit in his stomach. When the Trojans lose, he can’t keep it in, and he feels his world start to crumble.

He wonders if this is how Noah felt before he made that decision to jump. He wonders if he’s high enough off the ground for it to work.

Laila calls him an hour or two later, and her face drops at the sight of Jeremy. When she asks him to hold the phone up to his eyes he smiles, an empty smile, obliging before she starts to cry. She hangs up, not out of anger, or rage at his decision to relapse, but sheer heartbreak at seeing him in such a state, alone, alone, alone, not able to do a single thing to stop it.

Cat calls him back minutes later, and he doesn’t feel heartened by how her voice cracks when she asks him what he’s taken. He’s angry, he thinks, a ball in his stomach and a voice in his head saying, “how dare they make this about them?”

She tells him to call his sponsor. She begs him to think this through. She knows she lost him when he’s half lucid and forgets he’s on a video call, dipping his head down to his bedside locker to snort a line he’d lay out earlier.

There’s an ending here, somewhere, a happy one, maybe, a complete one more likely. He said it himself; he can’t live with himself if he gets high again. He’d rather die than feel like that again. So maybe that’s just how it goes.

[npookie0]

Hi! Can I request something? It's my first time requesting in tumblr Here I go! Can you do a one-shot with V with a reader who's a mute? I sorta need a comfort fic right now. If It's okay! I love your Ronin fanfic about it

Loud in the Silence.

V x mute!g.n.reader, comfort, fluff

Words: 3354

Cws: spoilers for Killer Chat!

"Mx Y/n, please try to say 'hi'." Your therapist told you, she's been telling you the same thing for years now.

Years of speaking exercises, therapy and many other exhausting things. Even with so many procedures, you were still unable to talk and your doctors were slowly loosing all hope for your case. Every doctor you visited kept on reassuring you that you can overcome your muteness, but no matter how much effort you've put into the exercises, it all ended in vein.

This time was no different, you were leaving the doctor's office, resignation in the man's eyes, exhaustion on his face. You were a lost cause, you accepted it a long time ago. Not speaking wasn't so terrible... alright it was. It was a lot. You hated it, hated being treated like a lost child, like someone weak who needs others to do things for them, the special treatment. Being treated like some kind of alien because of your muteness was the worst.

I'm used to this. You kept on telling yourself, bottling your feelings inside, shutting away from the world and people who hurt you.

You've reached home, put your bag on its place, kicked off your shoes and made your way to your study-bedroom to work some more on your serial killer book. You wanted to be a new promising criminal novelist, that was your dream since forever.

Writing was the only form of escapism for you, the only thing you didn't feel judged for not talking. People only cared about the words you wrote, not the ones you said. It brought you comfort, something to keep you away from these overwhelming thoughts that made your mind so unbearably heavy.

This doesn't feel right".

You grunted in frustration, erasing a whole freshly filled page. This character, they felt so unrealistic, the murder was poorly executed, nothing made sense. You will never be a great author if you will continue on like this. It was fine time you touched some... less than legal resources.

After days of leaving interesting question on the dark web and feared your IP getting leaked anytime you received a reply to your posts.

You opened the site, wrote up a new post and clicked "send" then you noticed a new private message, you opened the chat, the person was marked as unknown. Of course they were. They sent you a link and a key, you were curious so you opened the link and filled in the password.

A chatting site showed up on your screen, you were in the main channel that slowly got flooded with welcoming messages. It was weird. A server with eight members, made specifically on the dark web of all places. It definitely screamed trouble from distance, but you already joined and there was an active threat that whoever owns the server has your IP, so why not stay?

<Y/n>: Hello, thanks for the warm welcome.

You sent your first message.

<goreboy>: your welcome darlin' <goreboy>: check out the rules, there's not much but y'know

You took a note of the person by the name "goreboy" words and entered the channel.

<goreboy>: be a serial killer, First rule of fight club <goreboy>: oh yeah and don't be transphobic, racist and just weird or angel will Snipe ya

<Angelic> And that's a promise, not a threat.

Serial killer? That has to be a joke or some stupid roleplay.

You thought, it was the most logical conclusion you could come up with. These people couldn't be serial killers, why would serial killers make a whole server anyway? It's probably some silly roleplay made by bored people who were too deep into their roleplay and decided to use the dark web as their domain. Yes, that sounds logical.

But what if these are real serial killers?

Doubts began to cloud your mind, there was no reason for them to lie about this either. You had to find out the truth some way. Asking them about it would be suspicious. A supposed serial killer asking other serials if they truly are who they say they are? Yeah that's your one way ticked to a grave.

You scanned the server members and an idea came to your mind.

Why not ask a specific person about their identity?

That idea should work, there was no way it would flop, or so you hoped.

<Y/n>: @/K9, are you the serial killer who kills other bad people?

You sent the message. Why did you choose that person? You didn't know, this member seemed to be the most interesting out of all the others.

<K9>: I refuse to be associated with these wild beast. I am a vigilante.

<goreboy>: don't Listen to v, he's As killer as The rest of us are.

Oh, I am seriously in a den of serial killers... how exciting.

Logic told you to leave, call the police and let them handle this, but something stopped you. You could use this as an opportunity to shape your story, get to know how the other serials operate, get inside their heads in a way. What better way to learn than by making them believe that you are one of them?

Two weeks had passed, you've been enjoying your time playing pretend with the killers and hoping that they won't learn about your serial killer persona being just an act.

You entered the #killer_shit channel to see some discourse started by Misaki about blood art, a curious choice for a topic, but these people also talked about gutting someone open or what torture methods are the most painful.

<goreboy>: hey Y/n, you've Been here for weeks by Now and we still don't know shit about ya <goreboy> isn't it a li'l weird?

Shit.

Of course, it couldn't be too easy. You should have expected them to catch up on the way you were more of a lurker and that you rarely participated in murder talk.

<LUCA_IS_SO_COOL>: Yeah dude you're totally rightttt

<Y/n>: Isn't being a mystery a good thing? ^^"

You didn't really know what to do so you had to improvise. A serial killer could want to not reveal a lot about themselves, right?

<goreboy>: i mean, if ya Want someone To open you up and see your li'l secrets then im After the job, darlin'

Okay maybe being an enigma wasn't such a great idea as you originally thought.

<goreboy>: c'mon, let's have A voice call Reveal

<hitmeuppp>: OMG yesss we should do that!!!

<LUCA_IS_SO_COOL>: I second this!!!1

<Felicite>: I third this...!

Oh you are in so much trouble.

You obviously can't join the call, unless you magically overcome your muteness in five seconds or less and telling them that you have to stay on mute would make you sound like some cop trying to get information about them.

Your hands were sweating as they hoovered over the keyboard, barely tapping on the letters you wrote.

<Y/n>: I'm very sorry, I can't call now.

You left the chat after you sent this, too stressed to see their replies, you didn't want to see their disappointment or anger.

While you were worrying about the consequences of your words, a pop up shown on your screen; K9 wants to DM you.

You blinked a few times. What does he want?

V didn't strike you as someone who would message you out of the blue, he didn't show up on the server much after you joined, unless Ronin made a new announcement or the topic was "immoral" enough.

You agreed to the request and then received a message.

<K9>: Is there a reason for your inability to call right now?

Oh wow, he's forward.

You bit your lower lip. What should you do now? Lie? Tell the truth? You didn't want to hide the truth about being mute, but seeing it in your texts with someone felt humiliating.

Then, another idea popped into your mind. It was risky, could fail or give you more trouble, but it could also make one serial killer (or a vigilante in this case) side with you.

You prepared the item for your plan and called V, not asking him if is able to have a short call now.

To your surprise he picked up and he looked better than you could ever imagine a serial killer to look like. Beautiful eyes that looked at your coldly and judgemental, dark braids put up in a ponytail and falling down his shoulders. He looked majestic, you can't remember ever seeing as handsome.

Stop, stop, stop. This is not the time for this.

You scolded yourself in your mind, you can dote over the way he looks some other time, you had a plan to go through with.

Before you could say anything you moved the notebook that you were nervously holding in your hands to the camera, somehow the text on it wasn't inverted.

You watched him mouth the message you wrote; I am mute, I can't speak. His face froze in shock, shock turning into understanding.

Not pity, not sadness, not disgust like some other people you knew. Just pure understanding, acceptance. It almost made you tear up. For the first time someone didn't judge you for your disability, didn't flood you with uncomfortable questions or declared that they'll teach you how to speak.

"I see. it would be truly uncomfortable to join a call in this situation." He said.

Oh gosh, even his voice is just amazing.

You nodded your head and wrote another message, showing him the notebook again; Yes, I don't think that I'm ready to share it with the whole server, yet.

"Ah, of course, that's completely understable. You are in no way obligated to tell anyone about your situation." Hs words were rational, they were what you already knew, but for some reason they felt comforting. It felt validating to know that there was someone who agreed with you, who didn't expect you to spill everything out.

I'm glad you understand me.

You could swear that there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

"Well, now that we're here, do you feel comfortable answering my questions?"

Here we go again with the interrogation, why can't they just leave me alone?

At least this time you have a way out of this; Can we do it some other time? Admitting my disability was already a lot. It wasn't a complete lie, you did feel overwhelmed by coming clean about your muteness like this.

"Ah, yes of course, rest well, Y/n." V said before he hung up.

You were left alone with your thoughts again and the open draft for your story that you still needed to build a protagonist for. You will think about it some other time... You are in a dire need of rest now.

Some time later and you were on another call with V, this time he knew your made up serial killer alias, you learned his Modus Operandi and he decided to play a game of 20-but-I-will-make-it-3-since-you-so-kindly-asked questions on a call with you.

"Were you born mute?" His first question was bold, but you were expecting questions like this, even though other people usually make them sound much more gentle.

Yes, I can't remember ever saying a word in my life, nor does my mother or the doctors we visited. You replied, using your notebook again. V was very much alright with this method of communication, or he just never expressed having anything against your conversations looking like this.

"Mhm. I see." His response was simple, not prying on any more details than what you were ready and comfortable with revealing. You could respect him for this, it even made you feel very happy for some reason. "Do you not know sign language?" This question was... unexpected. No one was ever interested in that part, well mostly because they didn't know how to sign themselves.

Writing this reply took you longer than you thought, because you never had to think about an answer for so long before. I never felt the need to learn, more people knows how to read then how to sign and it's simpler. You didn't add the part about not having enough people in your life to learn how to sign for, he didn't need to know that part.

This response surprised him, he probably never met someone so laid back in a way when it comes to things like that. "Oh, I understand. Well, I know how American, British, German and a few other versions of sign language, if you'd ever feel the need I could teach you."

His offer caught you off of guard, V telling you that he could teach you how to sign? You thought that this could be a dream with how surreal it seamed. He was especially kind to you for the time you knew him, sure, but to the extend that he'd spend his time on being a teacher for a mute (supposed) serial killer? The more time you spend with him the more surprising V turned to be.

"Are you not okay with this?" You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't realise that you still haven't replied to him.

Oh, no, no! I'm really thankful for the offer, I could consider taking you up on this if I ever felt like it. You replied and gave him a big beaming smile. Somehow the thought of V trying to teach you how to sign was exciting to you, it made the butterflies in your stomach flutter.

Oh, I'm so lost in this game.

The realisation was hard, sure, even confusing. Falling for a vigilante was never in your plans when you took this journey, but was it a bad thing? Well, yes! You could end up dead if he found you out, thought whenever you tried to bring you not being a writer up to him ended with him scoffing and saying that he knows how Ronin operates and that he'd never invite a non serial to the server.

Maybe it won't be as bad as you think it could be? V is tender, caring, he is easily flustered, his smile is sweet and he's a protector who deeply loves his animals, even if he never admits to the last part. Heck! He even found a bird and name it after you, is that not a perfect romance potential then what is?

I'm seriously insane for considering a killer my potential partner... Well! Taste is subjective!

January came faster than you thought, and so did a sudden love confession from V. His words made your heart melt, you reciprocated his feelings. You would be a fool if you didn't.

You really did take him up on that sign language offer, learning the most basic and easy signs that you could need the most.

"It would be easier if I could do this with you in the room with me." V sighed when your try to sign 'where' ended up with it being very floppy and apparently making an insult in another language.

These words birthed yet another genius idea in your creative mind. Then why don't you pay me a visit? All that trying to hunt me down and I'm to believe that you have nothing on me? A bold move on your side, but you either go big or don't go at all.

V looked at you, squinting his eyes like he was thinking about something really important. "You are right my love, why don't I teach you how to sign face to face?" He gave you a soft smile. "Did I ever tell you how smart you are?"

Yes, but you're free to praise me more, love. You stuck out your tongue at him when you gave him the response and his face flushed.

"There's not enough words, or signs, that could describe your genius or beauty, my love." And now you were the one blushing and losing your words.

Damn him, and his stupidly sweet praise.

Valentine's day. What a better time to meet with your serial killer boyfriend than that? Well, you probably could think of a few dates at the top of your mind, but Valentines worked as perfect as those other days too.

You were dressed up nicely, you would be meeting V for the first time you had to look at least presentable. You were fidgeting with your pen. This was seriously stressing you out in a way that you couldn't explain.

There were the butterflies, the excitement and love, but there was also worry, at he'd find out and harm you. You trusted V, but would he trust you if he knew? It was the uncertainty that scared you so much, you couldn't expect anything from a man who fed his animals with the people he killed.

The sound of the doorbell rang in your ear. There's no time for doubts, no chance to back away now. You took a deep breath, looked at yourself for the last time in a mirror and made your way to the front door.

You opened them and felt your knees weaken when your eyes met him. As elegant as ever, with the softest of soft smile on his lips, gentleness and affection in his eyes.

You melted under his gaze. Your happiness getting the best of you because you almost pulled him into a hug.

"Hello, my love." He took your hand in his and placed a gentle kiss on the back of your hand. "You look absolutely wonderful today." He said.

With pink cheeks and new warmth in your body, you let him in, showing him the way to your living room.

The two of you sat down on the sofa, you were ready to give him a note proposing tea or coffee, but he was faster. He outsretched a hand towards you, he was holding a notebook in that hand.

With a raised eyebrow you took the notebook and opened it. You almost dropped it when you read what was written inside.

My love. No words can describe my feelings towards you, you made my life better with your presence alone, made me realise and find out so many new things about myself. I never felt this way towards anyone, I can't tell if this is how most people feel, but that is how I feel while bein in love with you.

You expressed your worry about being mute many times before, and I can't help but wonder what cruel people would ever dare to act this way and say such absurd words towards you. Mute or not, you are perfect and I am really glad that I am able to spend time in your company and have your love and be the person who you feel safe with and shared the secret with.

I love you, Valentin Viljoen.

You could feel the tears run down your cheeks. No one has ever done this for you, put so much effort into something for you. You tried to wipe away the tears, but with how many were there it was almost impossible.

You looked at V, your vision was blurry from the tears but your could see the gentle smile on his face and he cupped your face with his hands and caressed your cheeks.

"You are a good person, my love. Your heart says more than any words, you are louder than any person who can speak that I know. Communication is more than just words, it's your expressions, your actions. Don't think that your muteness makes you worse or any less of a person."

You wrapped your arms around him, hugging him tightly and letting those happy tears out.

Never in your life have you expected yourself to cry in someone's arms, know that they love you unconditionally even if they know that there are things you're hiding.

You let go off the hug and with shaky hands and the most crooked and probably stupid looking smile signed.

< I love you. >

Not even silence can conquer the feeling between the two of you.

Gahhhh it feel so good!!! I'm proud of this >w<

I want to thank my dearest discord parent Kage for making their music because it carried me through the process of writing!!!

I love you all!!! -N <3

[cellophaine]

Chapter I: En Avant

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Warnings: Fluff.

Word Count: 5.2k

Author's Note: The first chapter is finally here!! I'm very excited to bring this new series to you. It's what I've been thinking about for a few months now. It came to me while I was still working on A Languor Spell, and now I can give it my full attention. Thank you for your patience! I hope you will enjoy the first chapter!

P/S: This is my first time writing in present tense, so if there's any mistake please let me know so I can fix it!

Disclaimer: I'm not a professional ballet dancer. I'm an adult beginner, and I've been taking classes consistently for over a year now. I just want to say that the series isn't written with the experience of a professional ballerina, but with my love for the art and the extensive research that I've done and will continue to do. I don't choose to write the Reader as a ballerina because of the aesthetic, but because I think there are so many things to explore in the original story that I've come up with, with the Reader being in the industry.

GIF Source: @/petertingle-yipyip

There has always been an emptiness residing within the frame of your body. In the absence of your old life, it has grown expeditiously. It carves into your body and makes a home in the forefront of your mind. On worse days, you feel as if anyone can see at first glance, how incomplete of a person you are. On better days, like today, you can hide it well, even from your closest friend. But right now, sitting in a dimly lit bar across from the friend you have known since you moved to this city at 18, you feel the person you're supposed to be has taken your anatomy apart. You're disembodied, scattered, and fractional.

Jo notices your silence and reaches over the table, laying her hand atop yours.

“Have you thought about my offer?”

Jo’s proposal. How can you not think about it? It has never left your mind ever since she mentioned it. Her newly acquired gym could be a place for you to get back to dancing in complete privacy. And you won’t have to pay a dime.

“I spruced up the place a little bit and will be adding more equipment. I can get whatever you need so it can be a proper space for you to practice.”

“I appreciate your concern, but I don’t know if I’m ready.”

Jo casts a sympathetic look at you, her voice careful.

“How’s your foot?”

You flex and point the right foot under the table, recalling the phantom pain that was your consistent companion for the most part of last year.

“It’s not that bad.”

“Are you still seeing Amy?”

“Of course. She’d bite my head off if I missed our appointment.”

You share a knowing chuckle, knowing Amy's personality. You know her through Jo, and they dated briefly in college. The two stayed friends afterward. After leaving Lady Liberty Ballet Theatre, your physical health was left to your own management. Your gaps of knowledge were filled in by Amy, a physical therapist who stepped in and offered her help voluntarily when Jo mentioned your situation. You still meet biweekly at her practice in Harlem, and the three of you hang out from time to time.

“Come to my gym.”

She hastily continues once she sees the decline perches on your pressed lips.

“It’s free.”

“I don’t want to be a bother. You’ll have to get a barre, and the flooring might not be suitable–“

“I don’t care about the cost. I just want to do this for you. Let someone do a nice thing for you every once in a while.”

You meet her eyes, resisting her act of kindness with silence. You know how to pick your battles, and this is the one you have lost from the start, judging by Jo's stern gaze. You sigh.

“I’ll think about it.”

A victory smile graces her lips.

“That’s all I’m asking.”

Jo leans into the table, her hand reaching for yours.

“I want to see you dance on the stage again. You’re a beautiful ballerina, and I know this is not the end for you.”

You know she means well, but her words feel like claws, sinking their sharp ends into your heart. You haven't danced since the injury, and a part of you knows that you might never dance as well as you once did. The best version of you had lived that life to its fullest potential, the life of endless classes and rehearsals, soldout shows, ending many nights and seasons to the deafening cheers from the audience. Your current self is only a shadow, living a partial existence and mourning the past as time passes and your grasp on it weakens.

You want the endless optimism Jo seems to possess. She’s always so assertive in everything she does. From her university days pursuing a bachelor's degree in sports science to her boxing competition days to buying a gym, she has a sense of self-assurance that carries her throughout the years you've known her ever since you became roommates when you first moved to New York. And you admire that about her endlessly. Her goals might vary, but her passion for them never wavers. Her faith in you seems to share the same sentiment.

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod, hoping your face doesn't betray your true thoughts. Jo squeezes your hand and lets go. She checks her wristwatch, and with a silent glance, you understand that she has to leave. Jo meets you as you stand up from your side of the booth, drawing you into a crushing hug.

“Will you be okay here?”

She pulls back. You smile and pat her shoulder.

“I’ll be fine. Just want to finish my drink.”

She takes a step backward as she waves.

“Good luck tomorrow!”

You raise your hand in response and watch her tall and brawny frame vanish through the door. You drop your arm, but you don't sit down. Taking a discreet glance at the bar, your heart rate spikes ever so slightly at the sight of the stranger you noticed earlier when you bought the drinks.

As you waited for your drinks, he came in and settled for a spot at the bar. The lady whose name you learned earlier, Josie, greeted him, asking where his friends were, so you assumed he was a regular. He was good-looking, you admitted before finding yourself staring at him. You averted your gaze, but couldn't help taking in other details. The folded cane rested on the bar top as Josie slid a glass of amber liquid in front of him. The scarred knuckles as he brought it to his lush lips. The suit was pristine for the most part except for the minimal wrinkles from the day's wear and the loosened tie. The red-tinted glasses perched on his pronounced nose, under the tousled sweep of dark hair. The soft smile brightened his handsome face as the other bartender told him something, which you had to tear your eyes away from when Josie placed the drinks in front of you. You thanked her and headed back to your table, feeling a touch of disappointment in your throat.

There is no denying that you want to approach him. But your nerves intervene with all the questions. What if he rejected you? What if he thought you were a creep for approaching him? What if he just wanted to be left alone? He has been sitting by the bar by himself ever since he came in, you notice. You'd ask if you could join him, and possibly buy him a drink if he was up for it. If he said no, that'd be fine. You would respect his wish and leave him alone. You have a feeling you'd regret it if you didn't at least try.

You gulp down your drink for a little liquid courage and make your way over to the bar. Your heart rate accelerates the closer you get to him, but you are determined to get over the little hurdle. You stop within a conversational distance and use your best composed voice.

“Hey, may I join you?”

He turns in his seat and gives you a friendly smile.

“Of course not. Please do.”

The high chair is a comfortable and respectful distance away from his, but still close enough for a private conversation. The stranger has angled his body toward you, and his openness eases the knot in your stomach. At this distance, you can see that he is even more handsome up close. Heat seeps into your cheeks at the full comprehension of his handsomeness up close. The neon signs around help shape the shadows and highlights that are already there in his features. The strong jawline and defined nose blend in harmony with the soft hair and luscious lips. You find yourself unable to tear your eyes away from his moving lips, and only a brief moment later you realize he has asked for your name.

You tell him and laugh nervously, blaming the lively ambience around you. He humours you with a chuckle of his own and reciprocates.

"Matt. Nice to meet you."

“Nice to meet you.”

He reaches out with a hand, and you grab it. Your heart beats a little faster at the feel of his hand, warm and a little rough. You pull away first, conscious of the coldness of your hand. You eye his almost empty glass.

“Would you like another drink?”

“If that makes you stay with me for the rest of the evening, I’d love one.”

Charming. You allow an amused and breathy chuckle to escape, and order another fill of your drinks. When Josie turns away to make them, Matt asks.

“What are we celebrating tonight?”

You think about it for a moment.

“This is not really a celebration since I haven’t gotten the job yet.”

“When is the interview?”

“It's … tomorrow.”

His brows raise above the glasses.

“Are you nervous?”

“A little bit. It’s been a while since my last normal job.”

“What were you doing before?”

Josie puts down the drinks in front of you.

“I’m a– I was a ballerina.”

“Was?”

You run a finger over the cool and smooth edge of the glass, taking a moment to tell a stranger about one of your worst shame.

“I haven’t danced professionally in over a year."

“May I ask why?"

The edge of his lips settles into a neutral line. No pity, just a willingness to listen. It is exactly what you need.

“Yes, but it's just … complicated.”

“How so?”

The old life that you once lived feels so out of your grasp now. Besides the occasional flareups, most mornings, you get up with minimal or no degree of soreness or pain, and you fear that signals the end of your life as a ballerina.

Retirement in your late twenties wasn't something you thought of when you were 18, fresh out of high school with an offer letter from Lady Liberty Ballet Theatre. Moving from a small, sylvan town to a big, lively city like New York was a dream come true. You got to live out the life your younger self used to dream about. How wonderful it was. Dancing on the big stage before the bright stage lights in front of the audience. The early classes, late stage calls, costume fittings, and demanding rehearsals leading up to the shows were all worth it. Because when you got to dance, it was just you and the music. Your body knew the techniques, learned the steps and how to master them. You bent music with your carefully crafted movements and turned the piece into your own interpretation. You worked hard on your craft and artistic abilities, and you thought that it paid off with your promotion from corps de ballet to the first soloist assembly after six years.

But for Matt's sake, you don't go into any of that.

“Well … at my old company, the group of highest rank dancers is smaller compared to other companies. It’s a great honour and a big deal to be promoted to principal. Christine was one of them, and she decided to retire. The head artistic director wanted to appoint a first soloist, which is just a step below principal, to take over in her place. I was a soloist, and I thought it was my opportunity since I've been with the company for the longest out of everyone in the group. I also understudied for Christine in many productions, on top of the roles I had to prepare and perform. I pushed myself really hard that season to prove that I could do it. I was in and out of classes, rehearsals, and performances every day for over three months. On the days we had two shows a day, oftentimes I'd have to perform in both so Christine could have a break."

Matt listens intently, following your words with an attentiveness that you find endearing.

“In the final week of Sleeping Beauty, I had this pain along my heel. But I ignored it and pushed through out of fear that they would dismiss me. At that point, they already had a favourite. One of the directors even told me that I should quit while I was ahead and that I should be happy staying as a soloist."

You swallow the lump in your throat and go on.

"I couldn't take my bow that night, because as soon as my part was done and I went behind the stage, I passed out. It turned out I got an Achilles rupture.

“I had the surgery and was in a boot for a while. I was so desperate to show them my dedication and how good I was by going back to the studio just the day after they allowed me to go without the boot. And I made the injury worse. I was admitted for a partial rupture a week later.”

You thought you could do it. Bearing and hiding the pain so you would stand out as the best selection for the new principal dancer. Yet, all of that hard work didn’t matter in the end. It never mattered the moment Claudia Mavis signed a contract with Lady Liberty.

“In the hospital, the head director told me that they would go with Claudia, even though by that point she had been with the company for only one season. One of the people that I was closed with told me that Claudia left her previous company because they wouldn’t promote her. During a physical therapy session, Claudia told me that they offered her the new contract two weeks before my accident. So I never had the chance in the first place.”

You take a long sip of your drink after the story.

"That is very unfair to you. You deserve more than what they gave you."

You shrug.

“Well, it happened. I have learned to accept it a while ago.”

The hurt is still there, albeit more dull. While you want to blame your departure on the circumstances, you know a part of it is for you to bear as well. Matt becomes thoughtful, and you can see the way he considers his question.

“Do you miss it?”

“I … do. Not the toxic culture, but the dancing itself. It’s like a kind of language that I was fluent in. A form of self-expression that I could indulge in.”

“I’m sure when you come back to it, you will still be amazing.”

You don't even try to hide the disbelieving and playful scoff that escapes.

“You're just flattering me.”

There's not a trace of that cocky confidence of a man who thinks he just scores big with a woman because of a throwaway, vague statement he thinks will please her.

“I mean it. I enjoy music and dance performances in a way most can’t. When I really pay attention, I can hear … movements. The rhythm of someone’s feet striking the ground in time with the music when done right is beautiful. The way you talk about ballet shows me how much you truly care for the art. Like you live and breathe it.”

You tug on your bottom lip with your teeth in quiet contemplation before answering him.

“I did. It was a big part of my life.”

“It still can be.”

You let out a noncommittal hum.

"We'll see."

You took sips of your respective drinks, allowing the moment to reset itself. But Matt isn't quite done with the questions. You give him the go-ahead.

"Why ballet?"

“I just love the duality of it. We're supposed to look graceful and effortless while our blisters have blisters, our toes are bleeding, our legs are cramping. We have to dance through all of that and much worse. I like the pain sometimes. It means that I’m doing it right.”

“I didn’t peg you for a masochist.”

The quip takes you by surprise, but you quickly recover.

"Huh. I usually don't reveal that information to anyone until I'm ready to sleep with them."

Matt's tongue licks at his bottom lip, amused by your response.

"Maybe we are just that compatible."

Maybe it is the alcohol that makes you a little lightheaded, but the conversation has taken on a flirty turn, and you lean into each other's space, sharing a bashful, quiet laugh.

The person who took the seat next to yours when you were in the middle of your story bumps into you from behind, pushing you further into Matt's space. They apologize, and you tell them it's fine. The bar top has grown a little more crowded with new visitors. You think about what you could do to make some space when Matt reaches out and pulls your chair closer, so close that your knees touch. The contact is minimal, yet insistent, and you can't help the heat that races to your skin and the wild rhythms of your heart. Even your internal self admits that was the hottest thing Matt has done so far.

You clear your thoughts, focusing on the man sitting so much closer to you now.

“I'm so sorry. I feel like I've been talking about myself for the past hour.”

“No, don't stop. I like it. You have a beautiful voice.”

If he kept this going, you would need to check yourself for a fever. You clear your throat.

“So, what do you do?”

“I’m a lawyer. My partners and I have our own practice here in Hell's Kitchen.”

“Wow, that's amazing. What do you specialize in?”

“A little bit of everything. We started out representing people who can’t afford the legal service. Pro bono work basically. We still do that, but we have been getting more clients who can pay for our services.”

“Hm. It makes perfect sense. I can see that about you. The good guy.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“You know the right questions to ask. You got me talking about myself for … way too long. And your face …”

You trail off. Almost two drinks have worked their magic on your unabashed honesty.

“My face?”

His plush lips lift in a curious smile.

“Yeah, your face. You made me feel … safe and welcome so I could tell my story. Your face stayed neutral when I went on and on about it. No pity or judgment. You looked like you really cared about me, or my case.”

“I do care about you. And for the record, I appreciate every detail you gave me.”

You know that he might say this just to please you, but his earnestness says otherwise.

“Thank you. I needed that. Not many people care about me, especially after my fallout with the company.”

“It wasn’t your fault. It never was.”

Matt puts a hand on yours on the bar top. You stared at his scarred knuckles, your heart beating along the seam of your body with a slight increase in rhythm. Your hand itched to weave itself into his, to lay flat against the warmth of his palm. As if your body has thrown caution to the wind and wants to do just exactly what it wants to, your pointer finger moves involuntarily. He pulls his hand back, an apology on his lips.

“I’m sorry–“

“No, don’t.”

You reach out with the other hand and keep Matt there. You run your thumb over his knuckles as if to soothe him, to tell him that this is okay. You want this. The additional contact exhilarates you, as you haven't felt another’s touch that isn't from Jo or Amy in a long time. Dating has always been the last thing on your mind, especially in the past year. But right here, right now, being with Matt is easy. There is no pressure. No hindrance. Even though you've met only for two hours, Matt has listened to you. He takes a soft and shaky breath, and your eyes follow the way his chest slightly expands.

Your pointer finger traces the raised edges of his scars, and he lets you. The air seems to thin as your pulse drums a frantic beat under your skin.

“Do you beat people up in your client’s honour?”

“Only those who deserve it.”

You chuckle, and you lean into him as if you can't help yourself. The world has gone quiet around you, and the only thing left on your mind is to have his lips on yours. Your voice is only a breath above a whisper, and you're afraid Matt might miss it entirely amongst the loud voices of others.

“Can I kiss you?’’

He releases a sharp exhale as if he has been waiting for you to utter those words all evening.

“Please.”

You lean in, carefully, slowly. His lips slightly part in an open invitation, and you meet in the middle. The touch is gentle, soft tissues overlap in slow, indulgent caresses. Simple, yet it invokes a craving in you. The need for him to be even closer, the yearning to find out the taste of him. Matt touches your jaw, and draws you in closer, deepening the kiss, and you let yourself go. Eager, perching on the territory of desperation as the pressure on your lips grows more insistently. You're entangled in an exhilarating chase, circling around each other like you simply can't resist the pull that's been there since the moment you sat down. Matt silently asks for entry at the seam of your lips, and you respond in kind. His tongue strokes yours and suddenly, there is a new kind of invisible vapour that you're breathing in. It's overwhelming, yet not enough at the same time. You can taste the bitterness of the whisky that makes you wince on normal occasions, but on Matt's tongue, it's addictive and inexplicably irresistible. His air runs wild in your lungs, warming your body from the inside, awakening your nerves.

You break away at the sound of a teasing whistle clearly directed at you, reminding you of where you are. Matt’s face is flushed red, and you want to see how far down the colour goes under the suit and tie he's wearing. His hand is still on your jaw, gently caressing the line like he doesn't want to let go. And you don't want to let him go either.

“Can we go back to your place?”

The question rolls off your tongue, and he nods immediately, a little breathlessly. You stand up from your chairs at the same time. Matt reaches for his coat that is on the back of the chair. You shrug your own on and avert your gaze when Matt subtly adjusts his slacks. You put the bills down for your drinks, shutting Matt down when he objects to the idea. His hand find yours when you offer it to him, and you walk into the brisk air together.

The walk back didn't take too long. Matt held your hand the whole time, and the small gesture made your insides flutter. He lets you go when you reach his apartment. The unit number 6A has almost faded into the dark door. He unlocks the door and tells you where the light switch is. You turn it on, and place your coat in his awaiting palm. You follow him further into the apartment and take in the space.

“Who did you kill to get this place?”

Matt chuckles, discarding his tie with one hand.

“No killing involved. The neon sign out there is enough to chase people away.”

Your gaze falls on the giant, blinking advertisement outside the window.

“Nothing a few blackout curtains won't fix.”

He drapes the black tie on the back of the couch as you turn to the other side of the apartment.

“Do those stairs lead to the rooftop?”

“Yes, they do.”

You keep your back to him.

"Do you go up there often?"

"From time to time."

"This is … wow."

You're not sure why you're stalling. You pretend to look around as you try to brush off a nagging feeling that has settled in the pit of your stomach. Just the nerves, you think. You're out of practice, that's all.

So you clear your throat and say.

“Is your bedroom behind that bigger sliding door?”

He nods. You feel a little out of place, so you gravitate towards him, a familiar presence in a strange space. Matt lets you come to him, giving you all the control. You lean in and attach your lips to his, allowing it to follow the natural progression as it did back at Josie's. Your legs tangle and stumble towards the bedroom, your lips never too far away from one another. You think you might hit the closed door, but before that can happen, Matt pulls you flush against his body with one hand and uses the other to slide the door open in one smooth, practiced move. You pull away when you need to catch your breath.

“May I …”

You touch the side of his glasses. After a quiet moment, he gives you permission to take them, and you do. Slowly, and with the utmost care you can manage, you set them on the bedside table. His eyes are closed when you straighten. You caress his cheek, feeling the way his features form together. Your touch is soothing, and you hope he can feel the patience you offer to him. There is no rush, no pressure. After a long moment, Matt opens his eyes, and you take them in. You can see how he tries to meet your eyes in his own way. The shade of hazel is shrouded by the low light and the occasional shutter of his eyelids.

“Your eyes are beautiful.”

You raise slightly on your tiptoes and kiss his eyelids, feeling his lashes fluttering softly. He waits for you to return to him, and seeks out your lips in a delicate manner.

You fall onto the bed together. Matt braces himself on his forearms so he doesn't crush you. You pull his head down to yours, kissing and nibbling on the stretch of stubble along his jaw. His soft groans of approval encourage the other hand to travel downward, pulling on the white dress shirt. Once it's free from the slacks, you weave your hand inside and run your palm along the expanse of his torso. The dips and raises of his well-defined abs are warm under your palm, and the sensation stokes the molten liquid that's nestling deep inside you. You feel the feverish need edging over that part of you that you want to ignore.

The gradual pullback doesn't feel like a rejection at first, but merely an invitation to follow. So you do, your hands work to unbutton his shirt. But Matt slows you down to a stop, holding your hands to his lips and placing kisses on your palms. You blink, still snarled in the haze.

“What’s wrong?”

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Confronted. The only word that can describe accurately how you're feeling.

“What makes you say that?”

“Your heart …”

His hand trails from your collarbone to your chest where your heart resides within in a way that feels strangely intimate and not at all invasive. You hadn’t realized how fast your heart was beating. It's pounding. You are more nervous about this than you thought.

“… is beating quite fast. Are you nervous?”

You're safe. It's an innate feeling, and while you can't explain it, you know lying to Matt serves no purpose here. He seems to have a way to read you without using his sight.

“Yes, a little bit. I haven’t done this before. Sleeping with a stranger, I mean.”

“I see. We don’t have to do this.”

You raise yourself on your elbows.

“No, I wanted to go back here, with you. I want this.”

“But it doesn’t mean you owe me anything. If you change your mind for whatever reason, I'm okay with that as well."

Matt presses a kiss to your forehead.

"We can always try this again at another time.”

Guilt claws at you, urging you to do anything to please him.

“I’m sorry. I gave you the wrong signal.”

“Don’t. You have nothing to apologize for.”

He tries to find your hand, and you offer it to him. He gives you a reassuring squeeze.

“I had a good time with a beautiful woman, then I got to kiss her, all in one night, and that's enough.”

You guffaw, throwing your head back at the blatant flirt.

“You don’t even know how I look like.”

“No, I don’t. But I have my own way to tell. You sound beautiful.”

An idea materializes in your mind, and you give in to it. You bring his hand to your face, trailing along the side of your face. He gets the hint and begins his own exploration of your features. The way he takes his time, following the slopes of your face, his touch gentle, ghosting over your skin. He stops at your lips and soothes his thumb over the kiss-swollen flesh. You sigh softly. He gives you one last kiss, his tenderness makes your heart soar.

“Would you like something comfortable to sleep in?”

“I'm fine with anything you have.”

Matt finds his closet and pulls out a grey sweatshirt. He tells you where the bathroom is, and you take the folded shirt with you. You clean yourself up with water before stripping down to your underwear. You put the soft material over your body. It smells like him, and soft, just like him. You come out of the washroom and see his bare back for a split second before he pulls the shirt down. He has changed into a pair of grey sweatpants and a black shirt that hugs his chest and biceps beautifully.

You stand by his bed, not sure where you can come in despite the two of you ruffling the sheets not even ten minutes ago. Matt chooses for you, settling on the space facing the window, leaving you the side which is closer to the sliding door. His sheets are silky soft, and you feel yourself sinking right into them. You turn to face Matt, touching his shoulder. He faces you fully, his eyes settling on a point on the lower part of your face.

“Thank you.”

You whisper.

“Thank me by staying for breakfast.”

“Why breakfast?”

“I can't send you off to your interview on an empty stomach, can I? It's the least I can do.”

A rueful smile graces your lips.

“I can’t wait.”

You fell asleep with ease. At one point during the night, you could feel Matt detach himself from you, and out of a vague desperation that you couldn't process, you held tighter onto him involuntarily. At that, he stopped moving, and you felt a soothing pattern trailing over your head, luring you back to sleep again. His warmth carried you through the few hours that you slept.

It's a little past 4 AM when you wake, and find Matt still sleeping peacefully. Torn, but you come to accept that leaving is for the best. You get out of bed gently, thankful that the wooden floor didn't make a noise. You take his sweatshirt off and fold it, putting it on top of the pillow that you slept on. After putting on the clothes from the night before, you leave with much regret in your heart.

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[mar3ggiata]

the night of the tarantula - 6

simon riley x oc

'do not put an innocent or honest person to death, for I will not acquit the guilty'

Like her encounter with Ghost gave ger new strength, Eva was back to the interrogation room the following evening, and she looked like a fucking tidal wave. It never failed to amaze him, how good looking she was, how her makeup, her earrings, the wave of her hair, it made her look like a painting, like she was made of glass, like she was an actress.

He had some work to attend to, he wasn’t put in charge of surveillance when she came back to base to work. She had 3 patients that day. He knew cause he looked at her schedule, he knew everything. It was an obsession at this point, knowing. And filling the gaps, she must have skipped lunch that day cause she had an hour at home after ballet, after he saw her, she must have showered and changed and he didn’t know if she had time to eat. And it made him think. In normal settings, he might have wanted to bring her tea or something. If he knew she was starving at work. His mind wondered to what might have been. If they, you know…

Anyways that was gone now. Where was I?

Ah, yes. Eva.

She wore a blouse and a black suit that looked fancier than any suit Ghost had ever owned. She had make up on, she had black under her eyes, like a cat-lookin eyeliner look. Her cheekbones were defined, a pink rosy blush on her cheeks. Unreal, incredibly beautiful, she looked fierce, mad and cruel, like when he first met her. She looked like Jude.

Salvo wasn't there that day, thank God. It was just him and Price. He had a conversation with his captain before the interrogation.

'You know, you can go back to work for now, I can have someone else overseeing the interview…' he had told him. He felt offended, like the captain didn't want him to be present. He felt offended he wanted to choose someone else. He was in on the plan, he knew the details of what they were gonna offer her. And, let's be honest, no one knew Eva like he did. Not even the captain, for Christ's sake, not even Price knew Eva like Ghost, come on…

'I don't mind', he had replied.

The captain still didn't budge. 'I mean it, there is no requirement for you to -'

'I know.' He cut him off.

Price finally raised his eyes from the papers he was signing, looking at him through his eyebrows. He knew. They have had this talk before and it wasn't something that happened ofter between them.

'Listen Simon, I trust your judgement. I don't want to know where and when you talked to her, but we have a job to do…' he tried to interrupt, but he kept going. 'No, no don't worry, I don't want to know about your personal life, to be honest it would be nice to see you settle down and she really is a nice girl…'

He felt the air heavy around them, embarrassment settling in in his stomach. Giving this kind of information out wasn't easy. Admitting it, wasn't easy.

'What's going on?' Asked the captain. As if he didn't already know.

'What, sir?'

'I'm sorry, let me rephrase that, has something been going on?'

He bit his tongue before he could say no. He didn't like to lie to Price. And something had definitely been going on. His silence was an answer for the captain. He had eyes. He was a wise man, he knew already. Simon was good at hiding, was a discreet man. It was one of his most honourable qualities, how composed he kept himself. Jude, however. She was a lot to take in. She had a captivating personality. She was well spoken, she was elegant and clever, she was passionate about her work, she had strong values… It was truly fascinating to be in her presence, and he supposed she was fun to be around outside of the workplace. She had been spending more time with his men, he had guessed they got to know each other. It wasn't an issue if Simon had feelings for her, not in the slightest, quite the opposite. The captain didn't blame him, she was a nice girl.

Well…

'So… How is she holding up?' He asked, as if he knew Simon might have access to more personal information about Eva. Maybe he knew everything already, how many times he went to see her, everything.

'She's angry.' He replied, keeping it vague.

'She mad at you?' The captain signalled the chair in front of him. He opened a drawer in his desk, where he kept cigarettes. Sometimes, the situation called for it and a cigar was just too much work. He needed the quick fix of nicotine to calm down, and possibly, make his Lieutenant feel more comfortable to open up.

'At the situation.' Simon replied, lighting the cigarette offered by the captain. He had, almost instinctively, rolled his mask over his nose. Price nodded silently, taking in long drags and exhaling the smoke in the direction of the windows behind him.

'When she first came to us we didn't even know how she managed to find Laswell.' Simon's eyes found the captain's when he realised he was telling him something he never told anyone before.

'We had no idea who she talked to to get an interview with her, she has always been very… persuasive?' He stubbed his cigarette bud in the ceramic ashtray on his desk. 'She said she had intel about the mob in New York's East Harlem. She knew about a plan to kidnap and execute the Governor of New York, I think it was Andrew Cuomo at the time…' He waved his hand in the air, as if he had lost his train of thought. 'We asked for proof, she had evidence, but she asked us to trust her. She predicted time and place of the attempted attacks and we followed her lead, just to be safe. It was all true.'

Simon nodded, he knew where he was going. He wasn't justifying her actions, but still. Everything exists in its own context. Even Eva.

'She gave us a bunch of information about the Black Hand. It was a type of Italian extortion racket from the eighteenth century. By Italian immigrants in the US. It targeted business men and basically anyone involved with politics, they were threatened with extortion. They would send a letter to the victim threatening bodily harm, kidnapping, arson, or murder. The letter demanded a specified amount of money to be delivered to a specific place. It was decorated with threatening symbols like… such as a smoking gun, a bloody knife or…skull…' He raised his eyes for a second.

'When we asked how she knew all this stuff she said she couldn't tell us, cause she was a refugee.' Price sighed and shook his head.

'It was a mistake to give her asylum. She called herself 'pentita'. The people that were in a mafia clan and decided to get out, they're called pentiti. In exchange for the information they deliver, they receive shorter sentences for their crimes, in some cases even freedom. In the Italian judicial system, they can obtain personal protection, a new name, and some money to start a new life in another place, possibly abroad. She had applied for a job here at base as a therapist under another name and got an interview, she knew she wanted to stay. She told us she would disclose everything, but she was hiding from her family, she needed protection… '

Simon let his mind travel. He imagined her, in a white blouse, or a black turtleneck. In that long skirt she once had on, with her shiny boots. Bold and clever and courageous. And scared, fleeing from her country, away from her family. She imagined her getting her apartment, and feeling unsafe in her own house. She imagined her alone, for Christmas, for New Years, her birthday. When was her birthday? She imagined her taking a deep breath, a sigh of relief. Her new life, protection from the government, a new passport, new name.

She got her dog to keep her company…

'So, that's when Alba was born. Alba Antamoro, born in Southampton, of Italian heritage cause her British accent wasn't so good two years ago. She went by Jude at work, she was a good therapist. Good coworker. She helped us out with some more on the Italian American mob situation, then we agreed on never speaking about her past again.'

Price relaxed into his chair, laying back. Simon indulged in the comfortable silence and reflected on the captain's words. On Eva's story, on the creation of a new identity, her moulding herself into another person.

'What does her family know?' He asked.

Price shook his head. 'Not much, they haven't seen her in seven years as you know. They don't know where she is, nor do they want to know. Her sister tried to contact her three or four times and she didn't reply…' He sighed. 'She's dead to them, Simon…'

His chest was suddenly heavy with anger, and jealousy. She had a family that loved her, alive and well and she decided to waste their love like that. Dismiss of the love of a mother, a sister. Didn't she know many people would kill to get to have a sister or a mother? His thoughts were soon interrupted again.

'You guys dating or…?'

'No, no.'

'Ah, sorry. Thought you… you know, you seemed close.'

'I… I've asked her out, before…'

'Before shit went down?'

'Yeah.'

'Ah, I get it. Sorry. I mean I would be happy for you if she wasn't…'

'But she is.'

'Yeah, y'right…Mind if I ask you about something?'

'Go on.'

'Were you with her on Christmas Eve?'

'At her house. Dinner.'

'Good. T'was good?'

'…had dinner.'

'Oh yes I meant, I wasn't implying you two…'

'No we didn't…'

'Yeah, never mind.'

Silence filled the room again, but it wasn't conformable anymore. Simon knew the captain expected excellence from him, discipline. He couldn't get distracted like that, he couldn't lose his focus over a girl. Nonsense. And he never considered anything more important than his job, he really never had anything else to think about, his family maybe. But that was a long time ago.

He got up short after, and remarked he wanted to be in the interrogation room. The captain didn't oppose.

'She did what she did. Even if it was a long time ago, she was brought up a criminal, she's daughter of her own environment.' Simon was already at the door when these words were spoken. Was he trying to convince him it wasn't that bad? Or was it a warning?

''m sure you'll make the right decision.'

Hearing the last sentence, he knew he had to leave.

Like her encounter with Ghost gave ger new strength, Eva was back to the interrogation room the following evening, and she looked like a fucking tidal wave. It never failed to amaze him, how good looking she was, how her makeup, her earrings, how the wave of her hair, it made her look like a painting, like she was made of glass, like she was an actress.

'I want to negotiate.' She stated as the door closed behind Price. Simon was almost startled, hearing her speak after a long time. And speaking loudly, like she was used to, her voice bright and loud and clear. And that weird fucking accent of hers, not from the north, nor the south, not Australian, not American, that incredibly annoying accent.

'I want to negotiate.'

Price turned around. 'What?'

'You heard me.' She was back. Simon felt a shiver of excitement travel from his ears to the back of his neck, down his spine, (in his pants).

Price crossed his arms, his lips parting in a small smile. 'This is not a negotiation, Eva. You can't…'

'Then I choose jail.'

The two men both stood silent. Cause she was serious, they were sure. Price had never in his life heard her make a joke. They looked at each other, then back towards her.

‘Why?’ Price asked.

She shrugged her shoulders as if she was saying the most normal thing in the world. 'You're asking me something I can't do.' She murmured. Without Laswell, without Salvo, she had only herself to rely on, no protection, no allies. It was really all in her interest to… behave.

'I'm asking you to do the right thing for once.' Price argued. Eva's eyes fell on the table in front of her, she timidly shook her head. 'I am asking you', Price resumed, 'to do something to redeem yourself, to make the right choice, your family…'

'Do you really think I'm that fucking stupid?' She stopped his speech, she did as she usually did when she felt even the slightest bit of frustration, raise her voice. 'You're not asking my help because you want me to make the right decision, you need me!' She smiled, her pearly white teeth glistening under the neon light.

Fucking sadist bitch, she was always right.

‘You think i’m dumb? You think I don’t know you need me on the inside? Mh? You need me cause I got connections, I got respect, I know my people.’ She raised her eyebrows, fixing her posture, shoulders back. 'Think I don't know? What are you gonna do kill them all yourselves? Nah, better, you wanna trust the government, you gonna call the police? Hu?' She let her eyes linger on the captain, before turning her head towards Ghost. 'You're just gonna trust the police no? Easy. Get them arrested'. She teased.

Now, Simon gathered, at this point, not only the authorities in the south were very much aware of the mob activity, they were pretty much ignoring them. They were the mob. All of them connected. Because of fear, corruption, something of that sort. He didn't know Price's plan, but according to Eva, if justice was never really made in Italy, there was a reason. He had done some research. To understand the situation better, the history. And understand her. The south of Italy was divided in regions, his research led him to learn about four major mafia groups, in four different regions. Camorra, that was the name of the one based in Naples. He learnt about the families, how people born in clans generally are affiliated with criminal activity from a young age, almost brainwashed. He learned they assert complete dominance over the territory, with extortion, fear, death. If you keep silent, you're protected. If you pay, you help out, you're safe.

What was the business, ah. They had good business.

Trade in counterfeit products, drugs, weapons, gambling, smuggling of foreign tobacco, illegal betting, online fraud, tax fraud, pollution of the economy, transport management, infiltration of the public administration, former production of energy from renewable sources, agriculture and livestock farming, illegal waste disposal, cement cycle, animal fights and clandestine races, illicit trafficking of works of art, you fucking name it.

They were everywhere, in the economy, government, public administration. So she was, as always, right. They did need her. Her knowledge, her connections, her knowing the area, her knowing the language and the business… This was really... something big.

Price let her finish before he sighed quite loudly.

'Do you know what you're getting yourself into?' For once, in their exchange, he sounded genuinely concerned.

'No, you don't know John.' She stated. 'You're not gonna win this.'

There was sadness in her eyes. 'These families have history, and I don't even know how many affiliates. Everyone's corrupt. It's just how things work, you don't just go and change it. Whatever you want to do you're not gonna stop them, people could die. Innocent, people.'

She furrowed her eyebrows and bit her lower lip in distress, she had calmed down, her anger transformed in worry. 'And you can't ask me to go back. They wouldn't want me anyways, John, they would kill me.'

'No, I-'

'Yes!' She yelped.

They indulged in a moment of silence and thought. They pondered, she probably had her mind full of images of death, of all she had to do, all she was exposed to at a young age. The kids that died, even on accident. Her mom, her legacy.

The men, on the other hand, were used to succeeding, pretty much all the time. They knew loss, and bargaining and adjusting their shot, but they managed to always win. This time, something else they had to take to account. It was well, the people. Their feelings of helplessness and how they complied. The fear. They wanted to send her there and use her as a mole on the inside. And risk getting her injured, at this point he believed she could have been in danger.

He believed her, as crazy as that sounded after all that happened, he found himself worrying this wasn't the right thing. Keep her safe, maybe it was better this way, if her safety was at stake... He found himself considering all he had thought of her, he found himself regretting being such a dick and... arrogant almost. This was her country, her people...

'Okay, why don't we..' Price tried to regain control of the situation. He took a folding chair from the corner of the room, two chairs one for himself and one for Simon.

'Why don't we tell you the plan, sound good?'

notes: guys I'm alive. I'm sorry I haven't been posting and I don't even know if someone is reading this but this story is important for myself as well and I really want to write it even if nobody cares. anyways what is happening in my life? here:

new uni courses, one is about history of Italian mafia lol

pressure to do well in uni cause who am I if I don't get top grades?

I'm starting an incredibly cool traineeship and I couldn't be happier best thing of the year and sometimes you have to thank yourself, mare you did good. for once. I hope it's the start of my career honestly.

i'm starting a new part time job, guess what I do, literally guess.

I'm writing my thesis, wow that's a lot of work uuuh so so so hard but I love my subject so much I really wanna do well. do you ever cry cause you like a research topic too much?

I'm having friendships trouble, the worst. at least I'm learning something about myself everyday, and I have new boundaries every day.

all this to say, I'm fine but also a wreck.

enjoy this chapter!!

taglist:

@random-fandom-smoothie @lucienofthelakes

@ghostlythots @sweetfemmefatal @natxpat @chavarriakeren647 @ravenmoore14 @farther-than-pleiades @internallyscreamings @hwromi @atoxicrat @cuti3maddi3 @deafeningkittenblaze @its-celeste @serene-hills @lexidoll12 @poohkie90 @lunatiquess

@warmedbythebody @katzykat @iristhemuse @azkza @keiraslayz @abbyandermine @jennyjencakes @dest-nai @corset-briefs @nutze-kekse @ilytsukiw @b3anspr0ut

@pondsblog @missyouzoe @fallenkitten @bigauthorrascalturkey @bethtay @angelynn-nicole @starluv @stargirlisworld @giyuuslittleslut @impossiblecupcakelight

@rkrivees-blog @ghosts-hoe @kam1snotverysmart @gauky76 @freyjaaasstuff @spicyspicyliving @scottpilgrimvsmyfists @courtney0-0 @shinchanboi @darling006 @my-therapist-hates-me @asteriadisera @sigynxlokiwifelover

[mangionebabymama]

the vibe in this community has been so strange lately :( hope things slowly go back to normal in the coming days. thanks for keeping your stuff soft and kind <3

Fuck, I know. 🥺 I anticipated that last Friday was going to be a lot for us, but I didn’t imagine that the aftermath of it would transpire into all of this that has happened, and continue to happen. I know that seeing Luigi in custody, in imprisonment—literally and figuratively—was going to hit hard for all of us, and that regardless, we were all going to stand in support together for him. Yet, it tore a lot of people apart within this community and had people putting up against each other.

I understand there's gonna be opposing viewpoints about things, and most likely in the end, nobody will ever be satisfied, and there can be valid judgments within good reason and accountability to help teach one another and look out for each other in being the best sources of support for Luigi, but I'm still really caught up about literal death threats that blogs were sent on here—and how many have scared them off of here and made people delete their blogs and/or then reevaluate their content completely. Of course, it's always up for individual discretion with how you want to do with your blog in the end, but it's like it was forced upon in some ways that nobody expected it to be. Now, I'm not gonna flame anybody for telling them what kind of content they wish and not wish to see on their Tumblr, as you have your full autonomy to consume the kind of content you wish to see, but if you don't like something—don't engage with it. I don't spend my time on here going after people who believe Luigi is guilty because it's not worth my time, and that's not what my blog space is designated for. However, to send people death threats over the kind of content they post on their Tumblr because it's not your preferred method of expressing your interests and cultivating your brand because you don't agree with it is fucking crazy work—and it is undoubtedly so when you're saying this, as you're in support of a man who's ultimately facing the death penalty and extreme federal charges, and you're rallying and mobilizing online that he gets his right to a fair trial. As much as you may be unlike those people that post content you don't like, you're just as alike as them in supporting the same cause. At the end of the day, we were all placed in the same room, categorized for being just supporters, we're all in the exact same that we're there for the same reason, that being supportive of Luigi, and that's that. 

I hope things go slowly back to the way they were, too, because I still feel the effects reeling in, and it’s almost been a week now. I know that, for myself, I’ve shifted slightly from what I would usually post for many reasons, but for one, I still want to post and interact because I love being on here and I want to make my best efforts possible in continuing to talk about Luigi. I’ve also shifted a bit for the reason of protecting my peace and trying to avoid all and any backlash that so many blogs—including many of these involving my friends and people I’ve made great connections with—were undeservedly bombarded wwith. Of course, I could still be prone to these morality police officers, as they could dive deep into my blog and look at all the content I’ve posted. Even if I would delete something, I’ve been here long enough. People know what kind of blog I’ve made on here these last two months.

I’m not gonna lie. Seeing Luigi last Friday hurt me, and seeing him again in court and being villainized, criminalized, and shackled hit home, because we hadn’t seen him in so long and there, once again, he’s being paraded and politicized in ways and in living color that he doesn’t deserve to be—and it’s wrong that it’s happening like this. It’s really in our hands that we keep talking about him and spreading awareness about his rights and this case for however long he’s in imprisonment. Every little bit matters, and that little bit can do great impact—no matter how big or small.

I hope you’ve been holding up okay, and I appreciate your kind words. We’re here for each other, and everyone else. 🤍