#more of a harsh reset

[malenjoyer]

Hi everyone. I will try to slowly in private my old art since it seems to be something I have to manually do…

I wrote a super long post about how I’ve been trying to process everything: feelings regarding the impersonation, feeling of violation of boundaries, this weird sensation of adjusting to different perceptions of my online self when to me, I’m just a random regular guy.

I’m still processing it but I’ve come to the conclusion that I don’t want something I love so dearly to be tainted to the point of feeling like I should just blow up everything. I miss posting and I miss reading tags, I miss reading comments… I miss seeing the little snippets of thoughts.

There is still good in that and I still like comics. I want to thank everyone who’s been incredibly supportive so far. I like sharing a space with passionate people who love things I love

[articskele]

Ok I dunno if I have the words for this but. Concept: zombie apocalypse AU Artic

Something something that one post about how vultures destroy diseases in corpses, so they not only tend to the dead but help the living survive.

There's a vulture-like wyvern called the Lesser Putrescere that can eat zombie corpses and destroy the virus or smth? So she takes care of them and releases them-

Actually come to think of it, maybe she's trained them to send letters over long distances? Since they're functionally immune to the virus. Duuuuude that would be so cool-

Something something angelic imagery and winter and death and vulture are holy creatures

Anyways she's got big sturdy falconer gloves and hangs out in an old greenhouse ouo

[daxisyzz]

hi! i’m thinking about some angst with a soft fluff ending where the reader and bucky is in their early stages of their relationship. bucky was s h@rass3d in hydra, he was struggling to make physical contact and interactions with the reader but somehow learned what safe touch is 🫶🏻

here's your fic <3

A kind of brave

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky flinches when you touch him—but you're not in a hurry. Love, in your world, is patient.

Word count: 1.1k+

The writing in italics is a flashback

Warnings and tags: Past trauma and harassment (non-graphic), Flashbacks to Hydra-related abuse, PTSD symptoms (flinching, hypervigilance, difficulty with physical touch), Emotional vulnerability, Hurt/Comfort, Gentle Love, Healing Together, Safe Touch Exploration, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Reader Helps Bucky Heal.

You weren’t expecting anything when it started.

He’d shown up to the Tower quieter than most. Standoffish, unreadable. You'd been assigned as his point of contact—“Ease him in,” they said. “Help him find normal.”

But normal wasn’t easy to come by for someone like Bucky Barnes.

Still, he let you sit with him during shared meals. You’d catch him listening as you told stories about the city or teased Sam across the room. His replies were clipped but thoughtful. He'd nod when you made jokes. Once, you caught him smiling.

Then came the moment that changed things—subtly, but completely.

You were reaching for a mug in the kitchen. He stood beside you. As your fingers brushed his arm—just a touch, featherlight—he flinched.

Not dramatically. Not enough to cause a scene. But enough for your heart to ache.

His shoulders tensed. His breath hitched. He stepped back like the heat of your skin had burned him.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, pulling your hand back instantly.

He didn’t speak. Just stared at the floor, ashamed of something that wasn’t his fault.

You didn’t bring it up that day. Just gave him space and offered him coffee like nothing happened.

But that moment stayed with you.

So you started paying closer attention

You noticed it in the way he avoided the couch if someone was already sitting. How he always stood at the far edge of the elevator. How his hands stayed buried in his sleeves, even when the sun was warm.

When he smiled, it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

When he laughed, it was careful—like joy was something borrowed.

You adapted without needing to say it aloud. Stood beside him instead of in front. Sat far enough away that he wouldn’t feel cornered. Asked with your eyes before you ever reached out.

He noticed. You knew he did. Because slowly, inch by inch, he started to linger longer. Sit a little closer. Speak a little more.

Trust takes time.

Especially when you’ve been taught the wrong definition of touch.

It always started with the sound.

A low, mechanical click as the restraints slid into place, followed by the sterile whir of lights flickering to life overhead — harsh, clinical, too white. Too clean. A cruel contrast to the filth he was forced to live in.

The chair was metal, ice-cold against his skin no matter how long he was in it. His breath fogged in the air like a ghost trying to escape. But ghosts were free. He wasn’t.

He stopped fighting it years ago — if years even existed down here. Time was meaningless in a place that never changed. No windows. No sky. No sense of day or night. Just missions, control, silence. Then pain.

A man in a lab coat leaned over him, faceless and featureless in Bucky’s mind now. There had been too many. They all smelled the same — antiseptic and cruelty. A hand gripped his chin, tilting his face roughly upward like he was an object being inspected.

“You're not him anymore,” the voice said, clinical, bored. “You don't flinch. You obey.”

But he did flinch — inside, where no one could see. Where it wouldn't earn him another reset.

Another hand came next — this one pressed over his shoulder, firm and too slow to be casual. They wanted him to feel it. They always wanted him to feel it, in the worst ways. Not just pain, but control. Ownership. Submission.

It wasn’t the physical agony that broke him the most. It was how they taught him to dread touch. How something so human became a punishment. They rewired him — so that warmth became threat, closeness became fear, and skin-on-skin was something to survive rather than savor.

There were nights after a mission when they didn’t even have to touch him. They’d just come close. Breathe behind him. Wait for him to flinch.

He always did.

It was a week after a rough mission. Bucky had barely said a word.

You found him on your couch one night, long after the city had gone to sleep. Hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands. Eyes vacant.

You didn’t speak right away. Just offered him tea. Sat beside him—far enough to let him breathe.

Eventually, he said it.

“Do you know what it’s like,” he whispered, “to want to be touched but not know how?”

Your heart cracked. You didn’t rush to fix it.

Instead, you said, “Yeah. I think… I do.”

He turned toward you. “It wasn’t just the fighting. HYDRA—they used touch. Twisted it. Made it mean control. Made me afraid of something I used to love.”

You swallowed. “I’m sorry they did that to you.”

His voice dropped lower. “Sometimes I still feel like a weapon. Even now. When you smile at me. When you sit close. Part of me wants to pull you in. And the other part... is scared I’ll ruin it.”

“You won’t,” you promised. “Not with me."

He asked if he could hold your hand.

His voice shook when he said it.

“Only if you’re sure,” you told him.

“I’m not sure of anything,” he confessed. “But I want to try.”

So you laid your hand between you on the couch. Open. Waiting.

He took it, slow and careful. His fingers hovered before they rested on yours, like he was expecting the world to crack open beneath him.

But it didn’t.

And for the first time, he didn’t flinch.

You squeezed gently. “You’re doing amazing.”

He smiled—small, but real.

He started coming over more.

Sometimes with books. Sometimes with nothing but tired eyes and quiet company.

One night, you found him in the kitchen. He was making tea—two cups. He handed you yours without a word, then hesitated.

“Can I stay tonight?” he asked.

You blinked. “Of course. You want the couch?”

He shook his head. “I want to try… sleeping next to you. If that’s okay.”

You nodded. “It’s more than okay.”

That night, he curled up beside you—nervous but determined. You didn’t reach for him.

But he reached for you.

His fingers brushed yours under the blanket.

Light, hesitant.

You looked over. “This alright?”

He nodded, eyes a little glassy. “Yeah. It’s… nice.”

You didn’t need more than that.

And when you woke the next morning, his arm was loosely around your waist. His breathing soft against the back of your neck. No nightmares. No panic.

Just warmth.

Just safety.

Just him.

He still had bad days. Days when the shadows whispered louder than your voice.

But they passed.

And on the good days, you’d catch him reaching for you without thinking—nudging your foot under the table, brushing your hair behind your ear, linking pinkies as you walked side by side.

He was learning.

And he was loving you, in the way only he could—slow, steady, gentle.

Not perfect.

But real.

And more than enough.

[jarofstyles]

Haze

Hi bestie babes, here is a best-friends-to-best-friends-with-benefits piece! I am unsure if I'm doing a second part but if I did it'll be later on down the line.

Check out our Patreon for early access and 190+ exclusive writings!

Send us requests in our inbox if the mood strikes you

WC- 8k

warnings- use of marijuana, friends with benefits, biting, daddy kink, soft Dom H hehe

“H? Do you really think I’m pretty?” Y/N’s voice was slightly slurred, a mix of both tired and high as a kite from the joint they’d finished just a bit ago. The cool air flowed in from the window they’d cracked in order for her landlord not to get a call to complain, but she welcomed the chill. She always got a bit hot in her skin when the high hit her. “Don’t lie to me. Give it to me straight.

She loved smoking, sure, but she hated how it made her mind think about things she had purposely been putting off. Like her awful fucking dating life and how stupidly lonely she was.

Harry sat next to her on the sofa, his legs spread in an obnoxious manspread, his fingers messing with the Rubik’s cube. It wasn’t uncommon for them to smoke together- he was her best friend- but she wanted his opinion. The poor man was going to be subject to her insecurity.

Her string of bad dating experiences lately had made it hard to believe it wasn’t a her problem.

"Pretty? Babe, you're beautiful. Come off it." he mumbled, eyes still on the puzzle game. He was in that fluid mindset, neither here nor there. His reassurance felt nice but at the same time, a little vague. Her face contorted in a frown as she looked over at him. He was still baked, so she got it, but still. A little more would be nice.

“You have to say that. You’re my best friend. Tell me honestly, H. What is.. what is wrong with me? Because I don’t know how someone can go on so many bad dates and it not be a them problem.” It had been plaguing her the whole time and harshing the high. The words needed to come out. “I’m the common denominator.”

Finally, he put the Rubik's cube down and turned to face her fully, his gaze locked on hers. Sure, he was dazed from the weed, but he wanted to be sincere with her once he had heard how she had actually been a bit torn up from it. As hard as she tried, it wasn’t easy for her to hide her emotions from him. Even high Harry could see past the playful quips she had made lately. It had only been a matter of time before she had asked him about it and in his opinion, it was bullshit. There was nothing wrong with her at all. Y/N was amazing, but it was only natural to become a little insecure when someone had the string of bad luck like she had.

"Y/N, there's absolutely nothing wrong with you. I'm being completely honest with you, I swear. It's not you, it's them.” He winced knowing how cheesy it sounded but it couldn’t really be helped at the moment. “You're a fuckin’ amazing, smart, beautiful, funny, talented, kind person... I could list off all your good qualities cause there’s loads of ‘em, but m’high and can't think straight enough right now t’give you the fancier words like… exuberant? Pretty sure that one’s right ."

Y/N let out a little laugh. She could hear it in the low tone of his voice and how it seemed to take him longer than normal to say things when he was stoned and trying his absolute hardest to get that out, but it was a little cute. Too bad it wasn’t enough to get her out of her wallowing.

“Then I’m doomed.” She groaned, sinking into the couch. Her hands came up to cover her face, a tired sound leaving her as she tried to reset. “Dude, do you know how entirely and overwhelmingly exhausting it is? And don’t you dare call me dramatic.” Her eye peeped up at him before she fell back into a huff. “I know you get sex on tap but for the rest of us normal folks, it’s like a war zone out there.”

Harry snickefed at her little quip as he watched her sink into the couch. Letting out a sigh as he really thought about it though, a flicker of understanding crossing his face. "I understand how you feel, trust me. It's not easy for anyone. Although I have to admit, I can't exactly relate to your dating struggles, not really. I just happen to be lucky enough to have a very dedicated fanbase."

He was joking but… not really. He always teased her about this. The women who tended to hang out around the garage or try to get near him after hours to ride him in the cars that he just fixed… It wasn't hard for him to get what he wanted. Being good looking, tattooed, solid and single, it got you a lot of places, and a lot of ass. If only she could relate.

“Yeah, yeah. Slut.” She grumbled lightheartedly, kicking her foot against his thigh. It wasn’t fair it was as toned as it was. “You’re a mechanic and you’ve got all the rich soccer moms throwing themselves at you for a romp in the backseat while their husbands are at work. That’s nice and all, but the dating pool for us commoners is abysmal at best.”

Shooting him a glare, she grabbed the bag of goldfish shaped crackers and popped some into her mouth. “At this point I’d be fine with a friends-with-benefits sorta thing- but god damn it, I just want someone to love me at some point.” There was a moment of silence before she cleared her throat. They didn’t really discuss their sex lives and stuff often so she took his silence as one of not knowing what to say- which was fair. She was sorta dumping this all on him. In the grand scheme of things it wasn’t that insane. Everyone went through shit like this. “Sorry. I don’t mean to actually be dramatic this time.”

Harry shook his head at her remark, giving her a reassuring smile that had his eyes crinkling at the corners. He locked his gaze on her face as he listened to her speak, his expression softening with understanding instead of the smug joking he was giving off before. "Hey, s’alright babe. You're not being dramatic. It's how you feel, and I understand that. Everyone deserves love, and I have no doubt you'll find it."

He paused for a moment, considering his next words carefully. When he spoke again, his voice low and sincere as he knocked his hand against her thigh to get her to look at him.

"Y/N... can I ask you somethin’? And don’t make it weird.” He warned, making her unsure what the hell he could be asking.

Brushing the hair out of her eyes, she turned to look back at him with a questioning look on her face. “Sure. What’s up?”

Harry seemed to hesitate for a moment, unsure whether he should ask or not. It would most definitely change their dynamic if she was offended or freaked out by it, but regardless he felt like it it was something he knew he had to ask. He shifted on the couch, turning to face her fully, taking a deep breath and letting his gaze lock on hers before speaking.

"Y’know how you were saying how you're open to a friends with benefits thing? And how you're tired of being alone?"

“Yeah…. I literally said it like, two second ago.” She replied, voice slow and drawn out. She knew she was foggy, but damn. Of course she didn’t want to draw conclusions but she had to wonder why he would be bringing that up again. Her heart beat a little harder as she narrowed her eyes at him. “Why?”

His gaze remained steady on hers, his expression unreadable. He took a moment before speaking again, his voice low and slightly hoarse. Of course he wanted to be careful with his words, in the off chance this could offend her but he knew that he’d kick himself for not asking if he avoided it. He took a deep breath before asking the question.

"I was wondering... if you'd be interested in having an arrangement like that... with me."

Blinking rapidly, she had to be sure she wasn’t just hearing things. Usually she wasn’t the type to have hallucinations when high, but she didn’t know if he would ever actually suggest that. “Uh.. can you repeat that?”

Harry smiled softly as he saw her surprise. He knew it was a big ask, but he was committed to the idea now.

Leaning forward, his voice was smooth and deliberate as he repeated his question, this time with more confidence considering she hadn’t completely looked disgusted at the idea.

"I was asking if you'd be interested in having a friend's with benefits arrangement with me. No strings attached, just a... way to fulfill certain needs without the commitment. What would you say to something like that?"

“Yeah, that’s what I thought you said.” The nod was casual, as if that hadn’t just completely freaked her out. Not in a bad way! But in a…. What-the-fuck-my-best-friend-just-asked-me to-casually-hook-up-on-the-regular, sort of way.

“Uh… I’m not saying no, but I have to ask why you’d suggest that? I didn’t think you were attracted to me in the slightest.” It had completely come out of left field. The intent behind complaining wasn’t for him to offer but to get genuine advice from him considering he never seemed to struggle in the dating department.

"Who the hell said I wasn't attracted to you? I’ve always thought you were stunning.” It wasn’t supposed to come off defensively but he had to wonder in the moment if maybe it did. Harry had never once thought of her as anything but mind blowingly gorgeous.

“Okay, but you have to say that. You’re my best friend, like I said before. I just….” Hesitance grew on her face, looking over his own for any sign of joking. If he was, her ego really couldn’t handle another blow. “I really don’t want to be a pity fuck. And I also don’t want to like… no offense to you, I don’t want to sleep with someone who isn’t exclusive with me? Not like in the dating sense but like, I’d ask you not to sleep with anyone else for safety and I don’t know how you’d feel about that.” Maybe she was rambling but thoughts were running rampant in her already overcrowded brain. Asking him not to fuck anyone else felt like an overstep for some reason.

As she spoke, Harry nodded along, listening intently. He understood her hesitation and appreciated the honesty; it was one of the things he had always loved about her- But he certainly didn't want her to feel like a “pity-fuck” either. That was the furthest thing she could be. He could respect her wanting a certain degree of exclusivity, especially for safety. He knew he was a bit of a whore and he wasn’t ashamed of it, but he had full ability and sometimes the wish to be monogamous- more than he expressed. Granted, if it were anyone else he’d probably feel a little suffocated in an ask like that but… It didn’t sound so bad when it came to Y/N.

"I get it," he said, nodding in agreement. Reaching out and placing a hand on her knee, his touch warm and gentle, he tried his best to reassure her. "I wouldn't suggest it if I didn't find you attractive, Y/N. It's not about pity, it's about wanting a connection with someone I know and trust. And it’s not like it isn’t a convenience for me, too. No awkward leaving afterward, no like… ‘here I’ll get you a cab’ or saying no to a sleepover. We’ve slept in the same bed loads of times and you know I love a cuddle..”

Sharpening her gaze on him, she tilted her head. “Is this because you wanna do some crazy kinky stuff? Cause I’m open but I dunno how crazy I’ll get.” She was kind of kidding…. But kinda not. There were her own things she wanted to explore, but she didn’t want to be a lab rat.

Harry's eyebrows raised at her question, slightly taken aback. He couldn't help but laugh lightly at her tone, but there was also a hint of genuine interest in his reply.

"You really think I'm into kink, huh? Some sort of freak in the sheets?” Wiggling his brows, he teased her. It wasn’t as if it wasn’t obvious that he was a bit of a frequent fucker, but he didn’t have much shame in that. It wasn’t a kiss and tell sort of situation, but he wasn’t shy about letting her know he’d had a lovely night the day prior when need be. “Well, maybe. But no, that's not the only reason..." He let out a breath, a smirk on his lips. "But I'd loveeee to find out what you'd be open to, if we did this."

“Nope, you first, casanova.” She bounced in her seat, getting closer. Her nosy tendencies took precedence over everything else, it appeared. Getting to know more about him that was was enticing and she couldn’t hold herself back. “What's the crazy stuff you’re into? C’mon, we never talk about this stuff.”

Harry was open about the fact he had a healthy supply of offers and hookups but she had stopped him a few times from giving details. Mostly for her sake, so she didn’t see him as some sort of deviant- even if he was. Now, though, knowing she was potentially someone who could experience said things? Her curiosity was killing the cat. Her cat. Metaphorically speaking.

The man’s lips curled into a small smile as he saw her eager expression. He leaned back on the sofa, his arm stretched out behind her. He was throughly enjoying her nosiness- maybe for the first time- considering it gave him the perfect opportunity to tease her a bit more. "Oh, where do I even start... I have quite a few kinks, darling. But I have a feeling you'd like to hear about a certain one..."

“Okay… so tell me.” She rolled her hand to motion to him to continue. Patience really wasn’t Y/N’s strong suit and it was beginning to show, even if the smoking had initially relaxed her. “Let’s hear it. I want to know what I’d be getting myself into, besides greasy hands and the smell of motor oil.” Though she’d never admit how she’d learned to enjoy it, too.

He couldn’t lie and say he wasn't enjoying how intently she was looking at him, how her gaze was fixed on his every move. He leaned forward just a bit, his voice dropping lower as he continued* "Alright, y’wanted to know, you'll get to know like the princess y’are. But keep in mind, I've got a few of these, not just one." The taunting made her give him that impatient look he was used to, snickering under his breath as she bore her eyes into him.

“Okay. Lay them on me, tell me!” She huffed, knocking his knee. “You’re edging for no reason. I already know that one because you’re gross. Tell me the real stuff.”

Raising a brow at her eagerness, he leaned back again with his arm still draped behind her. He began speaking again, letting his voice drop a bit. "Alright, just a little tiny taste then… See if you can handle it. I've got a thing for power dynamics, darling. Particularly, I like to be in control."

“Mm… I could have guessed that. You’ve got the whole smolder thing, and you do the…” Y/N put her hand behind his neck before pulling it off. “Then you do the neck holding thing when we go out. You like to control where people go. Boss me around. So I had a clue. Give me one I wouldn’t expect.”

The perceptive observations hadn’t been something he expected, but it did amuse him. He reached up to brush a strand of her hair away from her face, his fingers lingering against her skin.

"You know me too well, little dove." He muttered, his eyes sparkling with mischief. This was a conversation he was enjoying. Not one he anticipated tonight, no, but one that had him on the edge of his metaphorical seat. His real seat was leaned against the back of the couch. "Okay then... how about this? I also enjoy a bit of exhibitionism. Kinky enough for you?"

“Oh?” She sat with it for a moment. “Actually… that makes sense too. You’re understated in public but you still get a lot of attention. Behind the scenes you’re an attention whore and stuff, which I know first hand but… yeah.” She huffed. “Damn. Can’t believe I didn’t guess that sorta stuff.” Another question popped into her mind. “Wait… what have you done with that? Are you talking like. Dressing rooms, cars? Or in front of people for real?”

Harry grinned as she continued to analyze his kinks, watching her as she went through it in her head. Had she thought about it before on her own? That wasn’t something he’d mind, in all honest. He chortled at her question and leaned back, his arm wrapped behind her. He didn't want to reveal too much but he was enjoying this back and forth. Maybe a tad bit more than he should be.

"You've got good instincts, darling. Yes, I enjoy exhibitionism. And yeah, both dressing rooms and cars are on the list. But not just that... I like a bit more of an audience sometimes. But that’s a different conversation. I can explain why I like it, though. Since you seem to be so curious.”

“Do tell.” Yes, maybe she was a little nosy but… it was slightly arousing. Harry was interesting to her before but now, with the idea of her being in those scenarios, she felt an elevated desperation to know.

Harry noticed how her eyes darkened with excitement as she listened to him and it made a feeling of satisfaction twist in his gut. Having an effect on her was something he hadn’t realized he’d enjoy so much, but now that he had a taste he wanted to see more of it. He shifted a bit closer, his voice dropping into a low whisper. "I like the thrill of being caught. The danger of it, y’know? I love that it’s risky, that your adrenaline pump and you’ve got t’be quiet. Or you don’t, and you have people see- when it’s appropriate.” That was something he’d experienced a few times. “I’ve had it happen before. Maybe I could arrange that, if that’s something you’d want. People watching, not touching, just watching me touch you... and I’d touch you plenty, darling."

“I think um, I’d like it” It was hard to talk with how her tongue felt tied. “I’ve not done a lot of it but I think I’d be open to seeing and doing more of it.” Her voice weakened, feeling him close to her. His cologne was warm and slightly spiced, his fingertips brushing her arm. Y/N had never experienced the sort of thing he was describing. The most she had done was fuck in a car. “Y-Yeah. I think that’s something we could um… try.” She cleared her throat, trying not to show how affected she actually was. It was hard not to. “What other kinks? Anything I wouldn’t guess?”

Harry saw right through her attempts to seem unbothered and he grinned, his hand continuing to lightly brush against her shoulder. He was enjoying the effect he had on her, the more the minutes passed by. It was a brand new side of her that he hadn’t been privy too prior, but now that he had a chance to? He was going to indulge.

"Glad you're up for trying it, darling. And as for other kinks..." He paused for a moment, his gaze trailing over her body before he spoke again in a deeper voice.

"I'm also into a bit of rope bondage, but that’s for another day too. The typical things you’d expect in kink too, the rougher stuff sometimes, but I really like working you up until you can’t take it anymore. Making you desperate, y’know?"

“Ropes?” She swallowed the shock. “Oh. Hm…” it made sense given the other things but for some reason she hadn’t expected him to be into actual ropes. “I’d have thought maybe more handcuffs but you do like being difficult, don’t you?”

It was a joke but it slightly intimidated her. Nothing she wouldn’t try, though. She trusted him to do that sort of thing with her, if they got to it.

Harry hummed at her surprise and leaned a little closer, his hand coming up to her chin to tilt her face towards him. His eyes locked with hers, his tone serious. It was hard to ignore how beautiful she was now that he was allowed to think that way. It was something he’d tried to limit his brain from indulging in before, but knowing he’d have all the rights to be the one to stare and touch her, he felt like a layer had been peeled back.

"Yeah, darling, I like being difficult. And I like being in control. But we'll take it slow, alright?" He saw the hint of intimidation on her face and the small act of rebellion he liked to see in her. He ran his thumb over her bottom lip, her skin hot and soft under his touch. “Nothin’ you don’t want t’do. I’ll make sure you're comfortable. Even if you’re a miserable little brat sometimes.”

“I…” her train of thought was stalled by the tender touch. Harry was… he was being a lot more liberal with his touches. Sometimes he was when he was high in general but this itself had her feeling hot under her skin. There was that intention now that this was slightly more than what friends do. “I can’t lie and say I’m not slightly intimidated by the thought of us doing stuff together. You’ve done a lot more than me.” She admitted meekly.

Harry simpered as he heard her confession and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He appreciated her honesty, understanding her intimidation. It would be the same for him in her position, but luckily he was going to use his advantage for good. "I know I've done more than you, but that's not a good nor a bad thing. Everyone is experienced in their own way, darling. And that's the point of us doing this... to explore each other, to learn what the other likes." He ran his hand down her arm, his fingers lightly tracing her skin, sending chills across her body.

His fingers curled around her wrist, lightly pulling her up and leading her to straddle his lap. This wasn’t at all where she had expected this night to go but… she couldn’t complain. With her nerves aside, Harry was by far one of the most attractive people she had ever met. There was no way she could turn away the opportunity to feel the way he touched someone romantically.

“You’re really okay not sleeping with anyone else in order to do stuff with me?”

Harry gazed up at her as she straddled his lap, his hands sliding up her thighs, pulling her closer against him. He looked up at her with a mix of desire and affection, appreciating her concern for his boundaries. "I'm absolutely fine with it," he assured her, his voice a low rumble. "I don't want anyone else." His hand came up, gently cupping her jaw. "I want to make you feel good, Y/N. I want to give you all the pleasure you deserve, and I want to be the only one doing it."

Y/N let out a weak sound as his lips pressed against the corner of her mouth. Having him so close was making her feel lightheaded, placing her hands on his shoulders as he tugged her closer to him, chest to chest.

“What do you want to do tonight?” She mumbled, eyes dropping to his lips back up to his eyes. “We don’t have to do like, everything and stuff but… I dunno.” The weed definitely made her aroused.

Harry chuckled softly, his lips just barely grazing the corner of her mouth, teasing her again. Feeling her body against his, her hands on his shoulders, it sent a wave of heat through his body. He doubted she knew that he’d started getting aroused when she started talking about what he’d be into.

"You're cute when you're bashful, darling. And high." He teased, his lips curving into a smirk as he spoke against her skin. "As for what I want to do... I just want to enjoy this moment. Maybe smoke a bit more, later. But mostly I just want to touch you."

“O-okay. You can touch me however you want.” Giving him that opening was bold, but she also knew she needed to just let him take charge. He said he liked to dom, so he would take care of her. Her eyes fluttered closed as she felt soft presses of his lips over her cheek, down to her jaw.

“You smell really good.”

Harry could feel himself holding back the pleased noise. The little compliment was a welcomed one, but he didn’t get them often from her. It was a new part of their dynamic but he couldn’t find himself upset with it. In fact, he was going to do everything he could to get some more out of her. He glanced at her, enjoying the way her eyes closed in response to his touch. Running his nose down the column of her neck, he took a little inhale of her scent. Sugary Sweet. Just like her.

"So do you, darling." He spoke against her skin.

In a test of how she’d react, he let his hands slid under her shirt, his fingers tracing along her bare skin. There was no stiffening, so he continued slowly moving closer to the hem of her bra. His lips continued their path down, leaving behind a trail of tingling sensations and wet marks on her skin.

The shaky exhale was louder than she had wanted, his hot fingertips burning a trail over her skin. He took the permission to heart, tracing the bottom of her bra as his lips moved down her collarbone.

Her breathing hitched as she felt his teeth sink into the skin lightly, a firm sucking making her fingers grip his shoulders tightly and nails dig into him just a bit. “Oh, shit… why does that feel good?”

Harry giggled against her skin as he felt her nails digging into his shoulders, enjoying the fact he was already getting a reaction out of her. He continued to kiss and bite her skin, occasionally sucking on the sensitive parts, marking his territory and drawing out more sounds from her.

"Cause I know what I'm doing, darling." He murmured against her skin before biting her collarbone again, this time a bit rougher.

“Oh my god.” She keened, head falling back as her hand came up to cup the back of his head. Fingers curled in his hair, feeling his mouth mark her up while his hand went under her bra, cupping her in his palms. “Fuck.”

Y/N felt the pulsing between her slick thighs, her sleep shorts riding up as she shuffled closer and pressed his mouth harder against her skin. It had been a while since she’d gotten laid but it was a little embarrassing how quickly he managed to get her to feel completely insane.

The sounds of her keening and breathing and the feeling of her arching into his touch was making his own need for her grow. His lips continued to work her her skin, marking and kissing and doing all the things he wanted because it felt like heaven to have this on tap. He could only imagine how much better their smoking sessions would be, how much more fun sleepovers would be if he got to love her up like this without a second thought.

“H…” she whimpered. Rocking her hips slightly, she rubbed against his bulge she could feel clearly between her thighs. “You’re h-hard already?”

Harry hummed quietly, feeling a thrill as she rubbed against him. His lips curled into a smirk against her skin before he lifted his head up, looking at her with darkened eyes. "Yeah, 'course I am, darling. You have no idea what you do to me, do you?"

Moving his hands back down to her hips, he gripped them tightly to grind himself against her. Give her a taste of just how hard his cock got for her. There was no reason for her to doubt. “You did this, sweet girl. S’all your fault.”

“Oh, shit.” She groaned, giggling at the end as she felt his mouth fall onto her chest. Wet, sloppy kisses were placed on the tender skin as she felt him guide her back and forth, setting a pace for the friction. “I can’t tell if it’s been a long time or if uh… if you’re just really good at this.”

Both. It was absolutely both.

Harry chuckled against her chest, his breath hot against her skin before his smirk widened.

"Mm, I would like to think it's because I'm really good at this," his hands guided her hips, setting a slow, torturous pace. "But maybe also a bit of both. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

“Uh-huh.” She nodded. “9 months.”

Harry raised an eyebrow at her response and tilted his head to the side.

"Nine months? Damn, babe." He murmured, his hands going under her shirt, his fingers tracing up her sides, making her shiver. Getting the reactions from her felt almost as good as her rubbing over his cock. "That's a long time."

“Just didn’t find anyone good enough to let in my bed.” She retorted, using her grip on his head to guide him back to her chest. “Take my shirt off.”

Harry didn't need to be told twice. He quickly pulled her shirt off, throwing it over his shoulder, before his hands came back up to her body, slowly tracing up her stomach, his fingers brushing over her skin. The thought had been there quite a few times over what she’d look like bare, but this was a brand new vision for him. One he absolutely adored.

"Beautiful." He murmured, his gaze wandering over her chest as he took in the sight of her bare skin, his breathing growing a bit heavier.

Her voice interrupted his inspection of her body. “Bra, too, please. Have to bite the bullet.” Despite her nerves that maybe he wouldn’t like what he saw, she felt comfortable with him. Harry wouldn’t ever make her feel bad. That much she knew for certain.

Plus… she wanted to feel more of his mouth.

Harry chuckled softly and nodded, his gaze locking with hers for a moment as he ran his fingers over the straps of her bra, pulling them down over her shoulders.

"You're so beautiful, darling. Don't ever feel nervous around me," his reassurance grounded her, his voice gentle but firm.

He reached behind her back, quickly unclasping her bra and pulling it off, tossing it away. Taking a moment to appreciate the sight in front of him, his eyes lit with desire. “God. You don’t even understand how phenomenal you are, do you? M’a lucky son of a bitch that you’re letting me touch you at all.”

Y/N continued to rub herself against him, feeling flushed at the praise. It was embarrassing that she had a pretty good idea that her sleep shorts were getting soaked, but she was swollen and wet and the motions itself of him between her legs were getting her embarrassing close.

Feeling his mouth kiss over the naked skin, she let out a moan that she hadn’t expected to. He was delicate but demanding, taking what he wanted.

Harry groaned as he felt her rubbing herself harder against him, his hands gripping her hips tightly to guide her movements. He couldn't resist the need building up inside him, the need to make her moan and whimper and squirm beneath him.

"You sound so pretty, darling," The compliment murmured against her skin, his lips traveling down her chest, stopping every so often to leave wet kisses, claiming every inch of skin he could. Selfish, possessive, needy. He wouldn’t deny any three of those allegations should she so choose to label him.

“It’s gonna feel so good when you’re inside of me.” She whispered, almost in awe. He was thick and long and she could feel every inch under her. It was almost intimidating to feel it and know that was going to be inside of her at some point. “But I… we have to wait for that. Wanna do that when we aren’t all… you know.” High. At least the first time they fucked, she wanted to be sober completely. “I think I could get off just like this, though. I feel so good right now.”

Harry nodded, his lips continuing to leave wet kisses on her skin, his hands roaming up her sides as he continued to grind himself against her.

"Impatient, aren't you, darling?" He teased, nipping at her neck before moving his mouth to her ear, whispering in it. "You'll just have to wait for that, though. But...there's always other ways to get us both off, hm?"

“Which way?” She breathed, eager to hear any and all suggestions he had.

Harry held her gaze, his eyes dark and full of desire as he spoke in a low, husky tone.

"Let me show you."

He gently pushed her back until she was laying down, his hands running down her thighs, pushing them apart slowly. Shifting his position, he hovered over her, his body fitting perfectly between her legs. His weight rested on his forearms as he looked down at her, she felt her world right itself from how it had been tipped over.

Y/N hadn’t expected the shift of direction but she liked it. Feeling him on top of her, she felt… delicate. Protected. Even if his gaze was predatory and hot, she knew he was good hands to be in.

She also hadn’t expected his hands to grab her shorts, pulling them off and tossing them to the side- but as soon as her panties were exposed, he settled back between her thighs. It was less of a barrier between them.

Harry hummed in approval as he got a glimpse of her panties, taking a moment to admire the sight before him. "You're so fucking wet, darling. Made a mess of those useless shorts. Panties aren’t much better." He murmured, his eyes roaming over her body before they went back up to her face. "And I fuckin’ love that you're all mine right now."

Y/N couldn’t take it anymore. Grabbing his face, she pulled it back up to her own and kissed him. Taking matters into her own hands, she felt him reciprocate immediately. And god, could the man fucking kiss.

Harry let out a soft curse at her sudden action but didn't hesitate to kiss her back through it all, his lips moving against hers hungrily. He pressed his body closer against hers, trapping her beneath him as his tongue delved into her mouth, greedily tasting and claiming her like he had been teasing the whole time.

“I wish you could fuck me right now.” She whimpered, feeling him rock against her. His cock perfectly pressed against her cunt and their mouths lapping against one another’s, it was heated and desperate. They couldn’t, not right now, but the idea of it had her slick and throbbing. It was unfair how her body was so primed and ready for him but she had to do the right thing. He’d feel so perfect inside of her and she’d be so full and they both knew it. “I wish you were inside me.”

Harry groaned at her words, the sound almost like a growl as he buried his face against her neck, his breathing getting heavier as he heard her whimper. He rocked his hips against her, his own need growing stronger with every second that passed.

"You have no idea how badly I want that, darling. But we can't...not yet." He whispered against her skin, his hands gripping her hips tightly. “I’m plenty patient, though. I’ll wait for you to want it, and then…” the pause was heavy. “Then I’ll give you every fucking thing you’ve ever wanted out of a fuck. Can promise you that.”

“I know. I know.” There was no doubt that he was fully and utterly capable. She swallowed back her desperation, wrapping her legs around his hips to pull them closer. “You just feel so good against me. I never expected this…” she whispered against his mouth. “But I’m so happy you decided to be horny and suggest it.”

Harry laughed, leaning down to press his lips against her neck again, licking at the skin as he continued to move his hips against hers, his body hot and heavy against hers. He lifted his head up slightly, looking down at her with darkened eyes as he took in how she had started to look a little blissed out. Just how he wanted her.

"I didn't expect it either, darling. But... I'm glad I did." He murmured, his fingers caressing her skin as he settled into a slow, steady rhythm. Rubbing back and forth, rocking his clothed cock into the sticky heat of her ruined panties, he knew her scent would be on them and that just sort of did something to him. Her own mark left on him.

Y/N felt the bubbling pleasure in her tummy. Feeling him rutting against her, the softness of his tongue as it brushed against her own, his hand curled around the back of her neck in such a possessive and firm grip, she felt controlled in the best way. Her eyes rolled back as she felt him grind harder against her.

“Fuck, Daddy. That feels so fucking good, feeling you against my cunt.” She purred, keeping herself glued to him. There was a pause of moment but she could feel him twitch against her, the sharp intake of breath as he tried to catch himself. It had been a shot in the dark, but one that hit the bullseye. “You like when I call you that? Does it make you feel good too?”

The reaction was visible. The man liked it more than she could even seem but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to play into it to see just how far it went. “Daddy… daddy…. Dadddy.” She taunted, whispering it against his skin. “You’ll make me cum like this. Just keep grinding into me…. Just like this.”

Harry groaned at her response, his lips moving down to her neck, leaving biting kisses in his path. The honorific had him weak, even more worked up than he had thought he could be in this scenario. Little Y/N was getting bolder by the minute and he fucking adored it. It made him wonder what else he could get out of her.

"You're gonna get it, darling. Jus’ be patient and let me make you feel nice, the way you’ve been wantin’ too." he murmured against her skin, his hips continuing to move against hers, keeping a steady pace. His hand cupped her chin, forcing her to look up at him, his eyes dark and intense as he looked down at her. "Daddy's gonna take such good care of you, Y/N. Don’t ever doubt it."

Harry was hot to the touch, her fingers guiding his face back to kiss her as he ground his cock into her. She could feel how it twitched against her, her legs keeping him close so they could stay glued together. “That feels…” she babbled. “S’good. So good, H. I feel so hot and I’m so fucking wet and I wish there wasn’t anything between us but we gotta be good. So good.” She rambled. It was hard to control what left her mouth. She would call it temporary insanity if he brought it up again outside of their arrangement, but the simple movements were making her lose her goddamn head.

Harry's breathing was getting heavier by the minute, his heart pounding against his chest like they wanted to escape his ribcage as he continued to rock his hips against hers. He felt hot and needy, every fiber of his being screaming to be closer to her, but he held himself back, knowing that they had to at least try to be good. He’d get to sink his cock into that hot cunt another day, make her cum around it and squeeze and milk every drop from his balls into her. That was something he was going to look forward to. But for right now they were testing the waters, and he liked it way more than he thought he would.

"Y’feel so good, darling. So, so fuckin’ good, can barely stand it." He murmured against her lips, letting the praise flow easily off his tongue. It’s what the woman deserved. All these shitty hookups and no one knew how to get to those little itches she couldn’t scratch- but he could read her so easily. Harry knew what she needed. "You're doing so well for me, being so good. Daddy's proud of you."

The last sentence made her whine out loud. Pleasure flowed through her at his praise, wanting more of it. All of it. It had been so long since she had been touched by someone else, and while the last person she had expected to do it was her best friend, she had also never felt this level of desperation.

Harry could feel her body responding to his words, her whimpers and whines making his own desire for her grow even more. He loved knowing that his praise was making her feel good, that she needed to hear his words. He continued to murmur sweet, filthy things in her ear as his body moved against hers, his need for her growing more and more intense with every second.

"That’s my girl, sweetheart. You're doing so well for me, letting me take care of you like this."

He knew it had been a long time for her, felt it in how she kissed. Selfishly he would be glad to be the one she got to take care of her. No one else really deserved it. Maybe he didn’t either, but he cared for her genuinely. He liked her and he wanted the best for her- so that’s what he was going to do.

“M’gonna cum, daddy.” She whispered. “I feel it. You’re getting my clit so perfect each time you move… god, s’so embarrassing to cum dry humping but I forgot how good it feels.” Or maybe it just hadn’t ever felt this good with anyone else. It had been a while, sure, but she hadn’t actually had dry sex with someone since she was sneaking around with her boyfriends back home. Something about it made her know that it had to be a Harry thing, though. That he’s the reason it felt this fucking good and why she was desperate for it.

Harry could feel her words shooting straight to his core, his body growing hotter in response. He could tell that she was close before she had even said so, by the way her body trembled against him, by the way her words got breathier and more desperate. Hearing her say so only made him more eager to get there.

"That's it, sweetheart. Let daddy make you feel good, darling." Harry murmured in her ear, his hands gripping her tighter, his body moving against hers more frantically now as he chased his own release alongside hers. She was going to cum, she was going to cum because of him and fuck if that wasn’t the sweetest reward he could think of- he wasn’t sure what was. "You're doing so perfect for me. Just let go for me. You can do it. I've got you, sweet girl."

Y/N felt it approach quicker than she had wanted. It was no wonder, though. Harry was giving her everything she didn’t know she needed in the simplest way, and he wasn’t even inside of her yet. She felt safe and appreciated as his fingers held her and his lips cooed encouragement to her, the rhythmic back and forth of his cock rutting against her poor, soaked panties, the heat boiling over.

“I’m gonna- m’cumming, m’cumming, I’m cumming Daddy- Harry.” She babbled as her eyes welled up with pleasured tears, nails digging into his skin as she came.

Harry's breathing hitched as he felt her grip on him, her hands digging into his skin and her body trembling against his as she came. “There you go baby, there you fuckin’ go. Yes.” He gasped, feeling himself tip over the edge. His name leaving her lips in a strangled whimper had been the final straw, his own release hitting him like a wave, his body shuddering against hers as he followed her over the edge. Shooting right into his briefs, he felt the hot and sticky load and momentarily mourned the loss of it not being inside of her, but it was quickly passed over as the orgasm washed over him.

"God, darling," the man groaned, his voice low and rough as he buried his face against her neck. Mouthing over the skin as he tried to gather his bearings, he mumbled sweetness into her. "You did so well for me, sweetheart. You're so perfect. So good for me. Sweetest fuckin’ peach."

The loud groan that followed her own had caught her off guard, the sharp thrusts of his hips making her cry out in overstimulation but she did little to stop it, keeping her legs around his hips. “What the fuck was that?” She laughed, head falling back on the sofa with her eyes blurry and wet. It was hard to think.

Harry couldn’t say anything, his own brain fuzzy and his body in overload after that climax. He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, his forehead resting on her shoulder. His curls brushed her skin, scalp slightly damp as her fingers settled in the mess of hair and brushed through it without a second thought.

"Bloody fuckin’ hell, babe." Harry finally managed to say, his voice a bit shaky. "That was… incredible." He lifted his head up, looking down at her disheveled and flushed form, his eyes roaming over her.

It was just dry sex, but it had been better than some of the full on stuff he’d had. Maybe it was just their connection, their vibe, maybe even being high, but he knew it felt impeccable. This was something he wanted to revisit- and he would, especially when he was all alone with his hand on his cock.

“If it feels good like that, what the hell are we gonna do when we do the real thing?” Y/N blinked up at him, the flush of her orgasm glowing on her skin. She felt her body shivering slightly, her poor panties a complete mess she’d need to change into, but there was no regret so far. It took her by surprise considering she had been anticipating a bit of awkwardness between the both of them but there was no hint of it as they recovered, a light kiss pressed over her cheek as his hazy eyes looked down at her.

Harry let out a half-laugh, his body still feeling heavy and spent after that intense release- one that had been a welcomed surprise. There had been no prior indication that would be happening tonight but for as insane as it was that it happened, he was more than happy that it did. Getting to experience this side of Y/N had been something he liked far more than he could have ever anticipated.

Leaning down, his forearms rested on either side of her head as his eyes locked with hers while he spoke. "I have a feeling that the real thing will be earth-shattering." He said, his voice low and slightly hoarse. "The wait might kill me, though."

[xlettex]

Kenma’s not sure why he let Kuroo drag him out today.

He doesn’t need more games. Doesn’t want to be recognized. And definitely doesn’t want to watch Kuroo charm every employee in a ten-mile radius. But then they step into the store, and it’s quiet. Cool. Bright but not harsh. A bubble of calm.

And you’re at the register—sorting trade-ins, humming to yourself. You look up when the door chimes. “Hi! Let me know if you need help finding anything.”

That’s it. No double-take. No flushed gasp. No, “Wait, are you—?” Just… normal. Kenma exhales. Relieved. And maybe a little stunned.

Because you’re pretty. Insanely pretty.

Your hair falls messily around your face, but it suits you. There’s a pen tucked behind your ear. Your eyes shone when you spoke. And the enamel pins on your apron—small, colorful characters from games he knows—make his chest feel weirdly full.

Kenma is immediately, irreversibly doomed.

Kuroo leans in, whispering way too loudly, “Wow. A whole thirty seconds and no one’s mobbed you. It’s a miracle.”

Kenma shoves him with a sigh, trying not to fidget.

You raise an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Mobbed? What, are you famous or something?”

Kenma mumbles, “No.”

You let out a soft laugh. “Uh-huh. Sure. Mysterious hoodie guy with a bodyguard and a fear of crowds—totally normal.”

Kenma doesn’t say anything. Just stands there, mildly panicked and already hyper-aware of the way your smile curls at the edges.

You ease off a little, still smiling. “So... you looking for something specific, or just here to be cryptic?”

He shrugs, awkward. “Not really.”

You round the counter and gesture toward the shelves. “Well, we just got a few new arrivals. Depends on what you’re into.”

Kuroo snorts under his breath. “I’ll give you two some privacy,” he murmurs, clearly entertained, and drifts off toward the keychain rack.

You walk with Kenma, asking about mechanics and story preference. He answers in short bursts, hands shoved in his hoodie pocket. He keeps glancing at you and then away, as if he doesn’t trust himself to look too long. And every time you laugh, it knocks the breath out of him a little—something in his chest stutters, just for a second, then settles somewhere it shouldn’t.

He knows these games already. Owns most of them. But the way you talk about them—with love, and that kind of careful attention people don’t fake—has him pretending he’s never even touched a console. Just so you’ll keep talking.

��Since you like JRPGs, you should check this one out,” you say, holding it out. “It’s underrated. Surprising depth. And the bonus content is kinda hard to find unless you know where to look.”

Kenma takes it. He already has two copies—digital and collector’s edition. Played it on stream. Reviewed it. Recommended it to all his followers.

But your fingers brush his for half a second, and his entire internal system does a soft reset.

So yeah. He’s buying it anyway.

At checkout, you ring it up with a smile, slip the receipt into the case, and push it across the counter. “Enjoy. And hey—if you ever want a recommendation again, you know where to find me.”

Kenma nods, barely. His fingers tighten around the case—delicate, almost hesitant. He doesn’t look at Kuroo until they’re back in the car.

Kuroo’s already snickering. “You bought a game you already own?”

Kenma flips open the case, muttering, “Shut up.” Then he sees it—scrawled lightly on the bottom of the receipt in looping pen:

You seemed sweet. Here’s my number in case you ever wanna talk games :) xxx-xxx-xxxx ♡ 

He stares at it, stunned. His chest feels warm, weird, and good in a way he didn’t expect.

Kuroo leans over, reads it, and lets out an unholy sound. “Oh my god, you’re blushing,” he crows, grinning widely. “This might actually be the best day of my life.”

Kenma groans into his hoodie sleeve. “I hate you.” Kuroo laughs all the way home.

Kenma’s still holding the receipt. He’ll deny it later. But that night, he tucks it behind the frame of his second monitor, so it’s visible from where he streams. Then he opens his contacts and saves your number under Pretty Game Store Employee.

[zevrra]

caught in the rain—

synopsis: you and sebastian seek shelter inside an abandoned home where every feeling is laid to bare.

tags: sfw, pure fluff, fem!reader, hogwarts legacy, sebastian sallow(18+), about 3k words

“As if this day couldn’t get any worse,” You mutter. Mostly to yourself but you wouldn’t at all be surprised if Sebastian had heard too. You both had been sent out together to gather some information about some dark magic being practiced on the Poidsear Coast.

Everything had been going smoothly, from taking witness statements to tracking down the dark wizard’s hideout to the coast, even the two of you getting along.

That is until an unexpected heavy downpour comes. Cold rain falls heavy like a thick blanket on the two of you, forcing you to take shelter. Every piece of clothing you wore was soaked—down to your very bones. Thankfully, Sebastian and yourself had managed to find an abandoned home. Boarded up with a more than obvious appearance of not having been taken care of in a very long time.

While you say things could not be worse you really didn’t mean it. Being rained on and forced to wear your freezing clothes wasn’t truly the worst thing in the world. Neither was being stuck in that house with your academic rival. And crush.

“Well. Try not to make it sound so horrible now,” Sebastian sarcastically says. Teasing you as he shrugs off his heavy coat in some hope to warm himself. Rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt as he does anything but look at you. “We could be in some troll’s den. That would be worse.” He chuckles as he checks out the house, hoping to find anything to maybe start a fire with. Swatting away at cobwebs with an annoyed look.

You sigh. Too cold to even defend yourself at the moment. Moving to stand next to a window. Watching as lightning flashes across the sky and the harsh sound of thunder that follows.

“We’ll be here all night if this storm doesn’t stop soon.” You say, irritated. Not that sleeping in some random home, far from the safety of Hogwarts, with no other change of clothes, no warmth, and no bed, didn’t sound fantastic and all but it would also reset all of your progress from today. Tracking down the dark wizard hiding out on this coast had been an assignment given to the two of you and not completing it would leave you both looking rather poorly in your professor's eyes.

“You worry too much,” Sebastian says, cutting into your thoughts, making you look away from the window and towards where his voice had carried from.

You watch as he moves towards the other end of the dark home, Lumos, lighting the tip of his wand as he examines the place. Stairs lead to a second story or perhaps an attic in the farthest corner from the door. Off next to the stairs is a large stone fireplace just waiting to be lit.

“See, always so dramatic.”

You roll your eyes at Sebastian as you follow him into the home. Shoulders tense as you wait for anything to jump out at you. No damn spider was sneaking up on you, not today. In a smaller room straight across from the stairs sits untouched furniture from who knows how long ago. With chairs perfect for disassembling and using as firewood.

Well, at least you’d be semi-warm and somewhat dry for the rest of the time being.

After some rearranging and the use of Incendio, the two of you make quick work of starting a fire and laying out your cloaks before the hearth to dry. Now you are left in just your blouse and skirt, shoes and socks forgotten until they also get the chance to dry as the storm continues to rage outside.

Sebastian stood beside the fireplace, hands held out to try and warm his fingers up. The dull sound of the rain is really the only noise the two of you make. You were friends, classmates, but above all rivals. You could have a civil conversation but seeing as the two of you were there on an assignment, things were tense as both of you wanted to outdo the other.

You shiver, curling up on yourself by pulling your knees to your chest. The fire was working well but the wet clothes still sticking to your body kept you from truly getting to warm up.

“I’m going to go look for a blanket.” Sebastian says, suddenly breaking the silence between the two of you.

You nod in response as he leaves to rummage around the forgotten home. His search for a blanket takes him up the stairs and you watch him go. An eerie feeling creeps up your spine as soon as you‘re left alone. The strange feeling of being watched itches just behind your senses of being cold. It makes you look over your shoulder a few times. That is until Sebastian finally returns.

A thick quilt is draped across your shoulders that startles you ever so slightly. In all honesty, you had thought Sebastian went to retrieve the blanket for himself. Now with the heavy cloth wrapping around your own body you realize that he had been watching you beforehand. He had retrieved the blanket solely for you. The thought makes you flush.

He moves to sit beside you now. Hands returning to hover out in front of the flickering flames. “There’s also a bed upstairs. If you’re tired.” Sebastian once again cuts through the silence to speak.

You laugh at his words. Shaking your head as you tighten the blanket around you. “Tempting but no thank you.” You reply, turning your gaze to the fireplace.

“Why not?” Sebastian asks. From his tone he seems genuinely confused.

His confusion makes you chuckle again. As if he really didn’t know. “Oh alright, Sebastian. Let me just go take a small nap while you run off, find and finish our assignment, and then take all of the credit.” You tease. A smile stretches across your lips as if you’ve caught him in the act.

You imagine he’ll make some funny quip about how you were right and that he was just thinking of a way to get ahead in your studies but instead he says nothing.

The silence has you lifting your head to glance over at the other. His brow is furrowed and there’s a deep frown on his face. Clearly you’ve said something wrong.

“Do you truly think I’m so shallow?” Seb whispers. His voice drips with displeasure.

The disdain in his tone was not something you were used to. Sure, Sebastian had had his moments for being a little irritated with you. From cave crawling and accidentally setting off a trap to the two of you butting-heads for top grades but never had he sounded so…upset and hurt before.

Now it was your turn to truly be confused. You did not think of him as shallow or selfish but you also wouldn’t put it past your rival to take the upper hand on you.

“I don’t find you shallow.” You awkwardly reply. Suddenly you’re thankful for the sound of rain and thunder. “I didn’t mean to offend you.” You add quickly afterwards.

“We may be rivals academically but I’m not your enemy. I’m not evil. I still care for you.” Sebastian says with a sigh. You can feel his eyes on the side of your face. Searching for something you’re not sure of at the moment.

“I apologize,” You mutter. Now would be the perfect time to suddenly disappear. “I simply just thought because of school you would take the opportunity…” You ramble. Wondering why you were even telling Sebastian any of this.

This time, it’s his turn to laugh. It’s a very dry and curt laugh. No humor lingers behind it like it normally would. “I would never sabotage you.”

“No?” You reply short and simple. Wondering why now he would have a soft spot for you. Seeing as he had never before when it involved your academic standpoint.

“What do I have to gain besides you hating me?” Sebastian asks, again genuinely curious. His now warmed hands rub against his cold shoulders and biceps. Hoping to chase away the chill. “I would never want you to hate me.” He adds in a hushed voice.

Listening to Sebastian be so open was definitely something entirely new to you. He was the type to be open about pretty much everything except his feelings. His true, genuine, feelings. And now that he was wearing his heart on his sleeve, you couldn’t help but want him to keep talking. “Not that I would ever hate you but would that really be the end of the world?”

Sebastian turns to look at you then. His brown eyes meet your own as the light from the fireplace softly caresses his features. Turns his freckled face into something far more gentle than you’re used to. Yet you weren’t entirely sure if that was because of the dim lighting or the fact that he was looking upon you with such tenderness that it made him look more attractive suddenly.

“To me, yes, it would be.” He admits openly. As if this is something Sebastian said on a daily basis. As if he constantly told you how important you truly were to him.

Upon realizing his confession, Sebastian’s eyes widened. He coughs in an attempt to move the conversation along, or even just to simply cover up the fact that he just told you how horrible the world would be without you. His face flushes a dark red that even in the dim light you can see.

“Only because, well, you know! I wouldn’t have anyone else to compete with!” He stammers, trying to save face.

It’s a little too late for that now though. You knew he meant something a little more meaningful.

You smile as he avoids your line of sight. “Sebastian…” You whisper. His name rolling off your tongue has him freezing in place. Unsure if he should flee and never speak about this ever again or just stay still long enough he can pretend he’s dead. “Be honest.”

Sebastian continues to ignore your gaze for the most part. Fiddling with some interesting looking piece of dust on the rundown wooden floor.

“I don’t know what you mean. I am honest! All the time!” Embarrassingly he answers. “You’re just too dense to see it!” The insult is a hollow insult at best. Just another tactic to avoid the situation he’s started.

You hum in response. Scooting closer to the other to try and get a good look at his blushing face. “How so?”

“N-nothing! No, I don’t know!” Sebastian deflects. Attempting to turn and hide his face from your gaze.

You had never seen him so defensive before. Wanting to close off from you entirely but that was something you would not allow. He started this and he needed to finish it or else you might go mad.

“What do you mean?” You ask. Not that you couldn’t read his body language at the moment but you still wanted him to tell you. To be loud and clear with his feelings so that you too could be honest about your own.

“Ugh!“ He groans in frustration. His hands come up to hide his face from your gaze. Covering over mainly his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at you looking at him. “I’ve been in love with you since the first day we met! You’ve never noticed it before so why are you suddenly so keen!?”

The inside of your stomach does a flip. The first day you two met was almost three years ago. Had you really never noticed any of his advances? You think back on all the times when he’d let you copy his notes when you were busy with Mr. Fig for the day. Of all the times he called you annoying but would do anything you asked of him. The countless hours you two would spend in the undercroft, practicing your spells and studying together.

All this time…and he only ever stayed by your side.

You reach to grab gently ahold of his wrists. Somewhat prying his hands away from his face so you could get another good look at him. He’s a mess. Red as a tomato. Blushing like he had been sick with a fever. Hair tousled and curled far more than usual from previously having been rained on.

Sebastian Sallow, your friend and rival, sat before you entirely and wholeheartedly shy. Something you would never have imagined to happen before this day.

He’s still under your touch. Still attempts at avoiding your eyes even now. Doesn’t stop you from reading over his features. From every freckle highlighted by his blush to the pretty length of his eyelashes. He was so handsome. Far more than you had ever realized before.

“Sebastian,” You whisper in a soft tone. As his name is called, his head shifts ever so slightly as he finally meets your gaze once more. A rush of emotion swirls up inside of you. Your chest tightens with sudden adoration for the man sitting before you.

He doesn’t say anything in response though. Just slowly takes control over his own hands, placing one against your cheek. His fingers run gently across your skin. Pushing back damp hair as he finally wants to look at your face.

“You’re an idiot. A fool,” Sebastian mumbles after a few painstakingly long heartbeats. “How did you not know?” He asks as his thumb caresses the high of your cheekbone. A lighthearted tone to his voice. As if it were obvious.

His words make you laugh ever so slightly. Of course you hadn’t realized it. Too blinded by your competitive drive to know that all along he was only competing in hopes to make you like him. Which was silly in itself. Seeing as you had always liked him too.

“Forgive me for not seeing it before,” You reply with a smile. Reaching to touch the back of his hand lovingly. “I would like to know everything now.” You add as you turn your head to kiss the inside of his palm.

His breath hitches as he watches you kiss his hand. A slight tremble in his shoulders tells you he’s holding back on moving things further. Even as his thumb brushes against your lips, while his brown eyes stare at every curve his thumb traces. Wanting to commit all of you to every bit of his memory.

“You…you’re over dramatic, always worrying about me. Sometimes you’re too loud. You manage to best me at everything.” Sebastian rambles on with a soft laugh. “And I love every bit of it. Your drive, your excitement, the way you laugh. Everything about you…”

Sebastian softens as he continues to stare at you. His eyes flick up from your lips to your eyes before glancing back down at the lips he tenderly touches. “And I’ve wanted to kiss you for far too long…”

The words he speaks makes your heart beat far too fast. With how hard your heart beats and how tight your chest is, you could almost swear your heart might have burst out from beneath your ribcage right then and there.

Your own face softens. Pressing your lips gently into the pad of his thumb. “What are you waiting for?” You ask with a smile. And immediately Sebastian mirrors your smile. Now, nothing was going to hold him back.

For a moment, as he leans forward to capture your lips, you thank the sudden rainstorm. For without it, you would never have ended up here, held so lovingly in Sebastian’s arms.

[1d1195]

Normal People - Extra I

Read Normal People here | ~2.8k words

From me: from a lovely anon's request. **Reminder: I really didn't like this story by the end of writing it, so please don't be too harsh; it's a little all over the place as always💕

Warnings: mostly fluff, maybe a tiny bit of angst

Summary: Harry is finally older and wiser. But wisdom comes with hindsight. And with hindsight comes with the knowledge that he is really missing her.

Harry wondered if she thought about him the way he thought about her. She was never too far from his mind. He wouldn’t say he was obsessed, not really. It was more like that space between a dream and reality. She was just there right at the edge of his subconscious always lingering. He liked it. It was a warm feeling to have her at the edge of his thoughts. Like a hand holding his at all the time. It was comforting.

They didn’t work out. Not in a bad way. Their relationship ran its course, and they were meant to be there for each other in university and then drift. But now Harry was almost thirty. Time seemed to be speeding up and slowing down at the same time. He felt like he was missing something but just like her phantom hand, he couldn’t quite place it.

Harry liked himself a lot more. She made him feel like a much better person than the one he was in school and all those horrible “friends” he surrounded himself with. He had a cute little niece thanks to Gemma and his mum was likely his best friend. He had a good job and was well-liked and respected there. Overall, he was just happy.

But sometimes he missed her presence more than he realized. He had a couple other girlfriends after her but when time sped up (usually when he saw the little girl that looked like his sister growing as he was actively watching her) he thought he was missing something more.

Or someone.

He was sitting in his office mixing pieces of music together and finishing songs that someone recorded last week. His skill was top notch, and he supposed he would always thank her for reminding him he should pursue what he loved, whether she heard his thanks or not. The melody and harmony of this particular song fit so well together that it didn’t even need lyrics, Harry was emotional just hearing it.

How sad he would have been if he wasn’t a part of this process. If he didn’t get to hear beautiful sounds every day and get to be the person that helped make good music great.

Some days were long though, and the music didn’t always sound right. Sometimes Harry had to sit with the keyboard in front of him and play note by note until he found the perfect fit. It was worth it in the end. However, it made for those longer days when he needed more caffeine. He would slink out of the building whether it was warm or cold and head to the coffee shop closest to him.

The long days were the only time at present in which he was sadder than any other normal day. It wasn’t like before; but it was when he felt like he was missing something. Like he had walked into a room and forgotten what he needed from it. It happened sometimes when he hadn’t seen his niece, and he just knew she was growing, and he was missing it. Or his mum was aging, and he wasn’t around her enough. Wasn’t soaking in enough of her wisdom.

That he wasn’t in love anymore and he hadn’t been since university.

He pulled the collar of his coat around his neck a little tighter and turned his face away from the blustering wind as it chilled his body. The walk was short enough and the chill actually felt good. Like a shock and reset to get the juices flowing again to get him out of his little rut. A little caffeine and he would be as good as new.

He had no plans for the coming weekend; Gemma was visiting her in-laws and his mum had plans with friends. He was going to be a bit lonely. Maybe he would read a book or watch a movie. He really needed to call Niall and catch up too.

There were about four people ahead of him in the coffee line. Texting Niall was a good use of his time and maybe he would have an idea for the song he was working on.

“Harry?”

Surely his mind was playing tricks on him. His subconscious was joking with him.

His heart skipped a beat and then sped to about a thousand beats per minute. He nearly dropped his phone in his sweaty grip. He turned to the sound of her voice, and she was smiling at him. She looked beautiful as always. That wasn’t any question he would ever have. She looked the same as the last time he saw her—when university ended and so did they. Her eyes held the same warmness as he remembered and so did her smile. It was like he was being hugged, and she hadn’t even said anything more to him than his own name. It had nothing on the phantom feeling of her presence in his mind. This was infinitely better.

“Kitten,” he mumbled dumbly. Her grin brightened.

“How are you?” she asked and reached out giving his arm a squeeze. He was going to forget all about her lingering presence now that he had the pleasure of feeling her in the flesh again. “It’s good to see you.”

“S’nice t’see you too. M’good, how are you?”

“Really good,” she nodded. “I just moved to this town actually, my job promoted me to a new office so...here I am.”

“Oh, that’s great. Congratulations,” was he smiling too much? It felt like he was smiling too much. How was he supposed to react? How was he supposed to remain normal in this moment?

His heart was beating too fast. His mind felt like it had turned to mush. She was so beautiful and so lovely. Harry was completely tongue-tied. What was he supposed to say to her? He missed her for so long. Whether their relationship ran its course or not, he knew he wanted her back in his life.

“How about you?” She asked.

God bless her for doing all the heavy lifting in the conversation. Harry was going to end up drooling all over the coffee shop floor because he couldn’t get his mind to work. “Uh, yeah. I work in town too. A music label. I do a lot of the editing and mixing stuff,” he wasn’t even sure if that was what he was actually doing anymore. Nothing in his mind was working at full capacity. It was just thinking of the pretty girl he loved for so long and how lovely she was even after he was a disaster. Harry was a mess.

She grinned. “That’s amazing, I love that for you,” she said cheerily. “How’s your mom and Gemma?”

“Lovely, Gemma had a baby,” he quickly held his phone out and showed her his background of the sweet baby he adored so much. That was something he could focus on. His little niece was his favorite part of his life at present.

Well, until she said his name a moment ago.

She gasped softly. “Oh, she’s beautiful,” she cooed. “Tell her I’m so happy for her, that’s amazing. Congratulations Uncle Harry,” she rubbed his arm again. “I’m happy for you too.”

He swallowed, feeling his face warm with her praise. He didn’t deserve it. She was too kind and too good. “You look...happy,” he murmured.

She smiled. “I am. Really happy. You look great, Harry. Handsome as ever,” she winked and stepped out of line tugging him along with her. “Do you still have my number?” She asked.

Harry thought he had swallowed a bug and he nearly choked. “Uh... yeah,” he would never delete it so it was still listed in his contacts somewhere, he had to take the hearts off her name but it was still there.

“Call me sometime,” she squeezed his hand. “I’d like to catch up.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, if you’re... you’re sure?” He asked.

She nodded, smiling so beautifully, and so brightly it was stunning. She was stunning. “I like that we’re kind of tied together, Harry. After all these years... You’re still one of my favorite people.”

Harry felt nauseous in the best way, and he wondered what on earth he did to deserve someone as beautiful as she was. As forgiving and kind.

Simply put, as perfect as she was.

*

Harry couldn’t stop smiling. It felt almost wrong to be this happy. Especially after everything. But it was so easy. Better. Everything was so much better. Harry loved her loudly and quietly. He said things like “I have t’check with m’girlfriend—no I don’t need her permission, but s’polite,” and his friends all smirked at him glad he found someone that he adored so much. At work they noticed a shift in him too. He was open, happy, bubbly. He was more productive and prouder of his work.

She was the best influence on him.

After a few short months of reconnecting, Niall helped them move into a small little house that needed a good amount of work. They were covered in paint and wood shavings on weekends. Her face was often concentrated on her phone as she watched endless videos to repair their little paradise together.

She was so good with his niece. Gemma said it was like she was meant to be her aunt. She rarely frowned. Only sad movies and books could make her sad these days. She marched herself back into Harry’s life unapologetically and Harry couldn’t thank her enough.

“You are the best thing t’ever happen t’me, kitten,” he pressed a line of kisses along the length of her neck. He did it in public when they waited for a table at their favorite restaurant. He had no qualms of kissing and touching her in public. “M’not sure who decided we should be together, but m’forever indebted.”

She merely laughed. “I always thought we were kind of meant to be together,” she shrugged. “Even when I was sad,” she explained. “You were always a bright spot in my life.”

Harry felt like shit knowing he, in all the shittiest parts of his life, was the bright spot in hers. When he was having a bad day and thought nothing was going right, he thought she deserved so much more. He had no issue telling her so. Groveling and wishing she would make him feel a fraction as bad as he had made her feel.

But she couldn’t. Because she was always too sweet. She turned from her spot in front of the kitchen sink, pulling him toward her with soapy hands and Harry looked at her with an ache in his chest. She was so cute, so pretty, so lovely.

He just wasn’t. Not on bad days. On the days when he felt worthless and shitty that she was worth everything good he didn’t feel good at all.

“We were kids. I’ve had a lot of time and therapy to work through that stuff Harry. You should too, you don’t need to feel bad anymore. Look how happy we are,” she reminded him with a kiss to his lips. “You make me feel special and loved every minute,” she promised him, and she looked so at ease. As if she had forgotten all the bad. Maybe she had. She was good like that, better than him of course. Harry wasn’t sure he could let it go. How could she continually forgive how shitty he was to her? His shirt was getting damp from her hands and they both ignored it. She gestured out the window soap bubbles fluttering about them. The blinds shaking softly in the breeze coming from the spring air. There were birds chirping, squirrels hopping across the yard, and the sun making the flowers bloom in their garden.

“Life doesn’t bloom like that when there’s no love,” she said knowingly.

Harry took a deep breath, buried his face in the crook of her neck and inhaled her sweet scent. She was the best. The most perfect thing in his life and he would spend forever groveling if it allowed him to keep her just like that.

*

“M’fiancée’s going t’love that,” he said to the woman behind the jewelry.

Her faith and confidence in Harry were something to be admired. It made him feel so much better. Or maybe it was the therapy sessions that she encouraged him to partake in. They were finally helping him come to realize that what he did was shitty, but she forgave him over and over. And the person Harry was now, wassomeone very different from back then. Harry had to forgive himself too.

“Is it a special occasion?” The woman asked as she packaged the earrings up for Harry.

“Just Thursday,” he smiled sweetly with a shrug.

The woman looked giggly. “Wow,” she murmured to herself. “What a lucky lady.”

“S’the other way around,” he assured her as he handed his card over the counter to her. “Deserves nothing but the best,” he explained signing the receipt and gave a wave. “See y’next month,” he winked.

Niall was sitting with her on the patio while they drank lemonade, or maybe it was spiked lemonade, but he handed her the little gift bag all the same. “Buying her affection?” Niall asked.

He shrugged and kissed the top of her head. “Maybe.”

“He already had it,” she giggled and rolled her eyes at him. “Stop buying me stuff,” she pouted.

Harry headed back to the house to get the food she had laid out on the counter for dinner. Harry would be grilling something for the three of them while she did sides or something. He ignored her request because he would never stop buying stuff for her. She deserved every love language and Harry would give her each one.

*

“M’wife loves the flowers from here. She’s making a garden in our backyard. We want a spot t’have picnics with the baby,” he explained. He was creating a gardening basket. A homage to her mum and a way to bring her closer to the grandchild she would never meet.

“When’s she due?”

“Next month,” he smiled proudly.

“Boy or girl?”

“Not sure, we’re trying t’keep it a surprise.”

“That’s lovely.”

Harry paid for the items and in the parking lot he put all the items into a basket. She would be irritated that he bought more things for her but he couldn’t help it. She was so lovely and deserved the best.

He found her out in their backyard, lying on the ground, her tummy round, a hand on top of it. The skirt of her dress fluttering, by her shins. She was staring up at the sky watching the clouds talking quietly to the little one inside her.

“Hi kitten,” he grinned setting the basket on the ground behind her. “What was y’plan here? Did y’get stuck?”

She smiled and turned to look at him. She shook her head. “Maybe,” she shrugged. “I figured you’d be home soon to rescue me.”

He gently coaxed her to sitting and placed himself behind her, her back pressed to his chest. Carefully he lifted her lower stomach ever so gently. “Oh fuck,” she whimpered.

“Shh, kitten,” he chuckled. “Not in front of our little one.”

“She’s heard worse.”

“She?”

“I wanted a lot of chocolate today.”

“I see,” he chuckled. Yesterday she used “he” because she had the intense craving for pizza and beer (and when only one of those cravings could be satisfied, she frowned at her stomach and told him he was sucking all her beauty away—which was false. But it made Harry love her more).

“I love you,” she sighed.

“Me or the baby?”

“I was talking to you, but I love this one too,” she rubbed her stomach. “Did you buy me more stuff?” She asked.

“Maybe,” he shrugged.

“Harry,” she sighed.

“M’obsessed with you,” he peppered kisses into her neck and smiled against her skin. “M’not sorry ‘bout it.”

She shook her head but there was a smile as she turned her head toward his chest. “What did you get me?”

“Nothing important. Let’s jus’ sit here a minute,” he turned her a bit more so he could see her pretty face, her eyes covered by sunglasses. He kissed her deeply.

“Don’t start what you can’t finish, Harry Styles,” she mumbled.

The little one made her quite turned on these days. Which was unlike anything Harry could explain (not that he wanted to—it was special and only for them). “Whatever you say, Mrs. Styles.” She giggled and cupped his face kissing him again and again and again. “You can have whatever y’want of me,” he reminded her. They were just in love after all that time, two regular people who found each other again despite everything and loved more than they ever thought.

And if they continued to kiss inappropriately in the privacy of their own backyard then no one would be the wiser.

--

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[pucksandpower]

Achilles Come Down

Charles Leclerc x soft dom!Reader

Summary: sometimes you have to take control to get Charles out of his own head

Warnings: 18+ content

Based on this request with some little hints here and there that the reader is Charles’ race engineer (inspired by him getting a new race engineer all of a sudden in real life)

The garage is eerily quiet as you make your way towards Charles’ driver’s room, the usual buzz of activity muted in the wake of his DNF. His familiar red race suit is marred by streaks of oil and rubber, a physical reminder of the mechanical failure that ended his race prematurely.

Charles stalks ahead of you, his body taut with frustration. You can practically see the negative thoughts racing through his mind, the self-recrimination and second-guessing he’s so prone to despite the circumstances being completely out of his control.

“Charles, wait up,” you call out, struggling to match his clipped pace. He pauses with his hand on the door handle, jaw clenched.

“What is there to say, Y/N? My race is over before it could even properly begin.” The defeat in his voice cuts you deeply.

“This wasn’t your fault,” you insist, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “A rear brake malfunction is out of your hands.”

He shrugs you off, throat bobbing with repressed emotion. “I’m the one behind the wheel. I should have sensed something was wrong, made adjustments ...”

“You can’t control every little thing on that car, no matter how talented you are,” you interrupt firmly. “Sometimes factors outside your control are going to screw things up. Dwelling on it won’t change that.”

Charles lets out a harsh exhale, raking frustrated fingers through his sweat-dampened curls. “Easy for you to say. It’s not your championship hopes slipping away with every botched race.”

You resist the urge to snap back, knowing his irritability stems from disappointment rather than any real malice towards you. Taking a calming breath, you change tacks.

“Okay, let’s go inside and get you out of that suit at least,” you suggest in a gentler tone. “We can debrief the data after you’ve had a chance to reset.”

Charles hesitates, chewing on his full lower lip in an unconscious gesture of indecision. You frame his face with your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze.

“Trust me, baby. Let me take care of you for once.”

The rigidity finally seeps from his stance as he gives a jerky nod of acquiescence. You push open the door and usher him inside, the familiar smells of his favorite Dior cologne and heat-weathered leather enveloping you both.

Once the door clicks shut, blocking out the distractions of the paddock, you move in close to begin unzipping Charles’ kinetic race suit. He stands stiffly as you peel away each layer until he’s stripped down to just his snug fireproof undershirt and shorts.

Running soothing hands over his tense shoulders and neck, you knead at the knots of muscles corded there. A low exhale shudders from Charles’ lips as some of the pent-up stress bleeds out of his frame.

“That’s it, let it all go,” you murmur. “Your only job now is to relax and let me take over for once.”

“Yes ma’am,” he mumbles, the barest ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You circle around to face him again, hands roaming over the lean muscles of his chest and abs through the thin fabric. Leaning in, you capture his lips in a deep, probing kiss, slanting your mouth over his again and again until his tension fully dissolves and he melts into your touch.

“Better?” You ask with a quirked brow as you finally pull back, taking in his dazed expression.

“Getting there,” Charles replies, pupils already blown wide with arousal. He surges forward to recapture your lips hungrily.

You allow him to control the heated kiss for a few indulgent moments before taking charge once more, pushing firmly against his chest until the backs of his thighs hit the edge of the sleek, ultra-modern sofa. He flops back with a breathless chuckle as you crawl over him, straddling his waist and rocking your hips against his in a pointed grind.

“Just relax and let me handle this,” you rasp against the hinge of his jaw, relishing the full-body shudder that wracks his frame.

Your hands deftly slip beneath the hem of his undershirt, pushing it up and over his head to expose his toned upper body before latching your lips to the hollow of his throat. Charles tips his head back in blissful surrender as you lavish hot, openmouthed kisses along the thunderous pulse point and down the sculpted grooves of his chest.

His hands struggle to find purchase as your mouth trails lower still, tracing nonsensical patterns through the trial of hair. Every swirl of your tongue is deliberate, thorough, a reminder to him to stay grounded in the present moment, focused solely on the exquisite sensations you’re lavishing upon his body.

You pause with your face hovering inches above the waistband of his shorts, reveling in the pure want burning in Charles’ lust-darkened gaze as he watches you through his veil of tousled chestnut curls. Hooking your fingers into the stretchy material, you ease it down, never breaking that heated eye contact.

Charles is already achingly hard, hips twitching upwards in search of some kind of delicious friction. You blow a teasing stream of air over his length, relishing the way he squirms and lets out a guttural moan. Only then do you take him fully into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the velvety crown before sinking down in one smooth glide.

“F-Fuck ...” Charles’ head thrashes against the armrest as his hands scrabble uselessly at the supple leather, trying and failing to find purchase. You hum in satisfaction around your mouthful, the vibrations jolting through him with dizzying intensity.

Knowing he’s dangerously close already, you ease off with one last lingering lick. Charles whines in protest, hips canting upwards to chase that incredible heat and suction. But rather than continuing with your talented mouth, you throw one lean leg over his body to straddle his hips once more.

Charles swallows hard as you reach behind to unclasp your lacy bra, shrugging it off your shoulders and allowing it to puddle onto the floor. He tracks the motion with rapt attention, fingers twitching with the overwhelming need to touch.

Before he can make a move, you halt him with a stern look and guiding hand wrapped around his wrist. “Nuh-uh, I’m in charge here, remember?”

Charles makes a thin, desperate sound but complies, allowing you to pin both wrists above his head. His chest heaves with each shuddering inhale as he watches you shimmy out of your skin tight jeans with your core hovering just above his straining length.

Then, maintaining that heated eye contact, you sink down unbearably slowly until he’s sheathed fully inside you. Charles’ mouth drops open in a low keen as you begin to move in an unhurried grind, savoring each delicious inch.

“You feel that?” You rasp, leaning down to capture his plush bottom lip between your teeth. “You’re not alone in this, baby. I’ve got you.”

Charles nods frantically, hips jerking upwards in a broken rhythm to chase that incredible friction. You release his wrists in favor of framing his face, anchoring him to this intense connection amid the swirling sensations.

“Don’t think about the race or the championship,” you order in a low murmur. “There’s only you and me, here and now. Got it?”

“Yes ...” Charles moans in affirmation as your pace picks up the tiniest bit, guiding him closer and closer to that blissful edge.

Perspiration sheens over both your bodies, slick skin sliding together in an intoxicating glide. His hands roam hungrily over every inch of you, mapping each sculpted curve and plane like a long-cherished map. You snake one hand between your joined bodies to stroke him in counterpoint to your rolling undulations, determined to shatter him into a million ecstatic pieces.

Charles’ breath grows increasingly ragged, each strangled cry of pleasure driving you higher towards your own shattering peak. “Look at me,” you demand, cupping his stubbled jaw. His glassy emerald eyes lock onto yours obediently. “I’m all that matters right now.”

He shudders beneath you, mouth dropping open in a choked groan as his orgasm slams into him with full force. You bear down harder, chasing your own release to the soundtrack of his gasping whimpers. White-hot pleasure detonates through your nerve endings, leaving you breathless and trembling in its wake.

Collapsing bonelessly atop him, you nuzzle against the slick hollow of his throat, placing a tender kiss over his pulse as you both struggle to catch your breath. Charles’ arms envelop you, his frame still quivering with aftershocks.

“Better?” You murmur against his salted skin, unable to resist a teasing smirk.

A breathless laugh huffs from his lips. “So much better. I ...” He pauses, seeming to search for the right words. “Thank you, mon ange. For not letting me spiral.”

“Always,” you vow simply, tilting your head to capture his lips in a deep, searing kiss. When you finally break apart, his eyes are warm and clear, no longer clouded by that self-destructive darkness.

A tender smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you brush back the damp chestnut curls from his forehead. In this quiet moment, with his body and soul laid bare before you, you know the roles have switched once more. He’s gone from race driver to simply Charles — your Charles — and you’ll protect that brilliant light within him with everything you have.

“We can debrief the data later,” he murmurs, mirroring your earlier words with a contented grin. “For now, I just want to stay right here with you.”

[obito-in-disguise]

| Unreceived |

Itachi's spiral.

<<Prev

It wasn’t that he doubted your loyalty, he doubted his worthiness. How many times had he left you alone to fend for yourself, with nothing but promises of a distant reunion and a Maltese to fill the void?

The door slamming echoed in his mind long after it stopped ringing in his ears.

He stood there, water dripping from his hair onto the tile floor, his chest heaving as if he’d just come out of battle but this wasn’t a fight he could end with precision or strategy.

It was a messier, more uncertain one, terrifying in a way he couldn’t articulate.

The calm and collected mask he always wore was slipping, cracking under the weight of insecurities Itachi just couldn’t suppress anymore. The years of sacrifice, of leaving you behind, of putting duty before his desires, had gnawed at the edges of his resolve.

“You should refrain from making jests about something so serious.” The memory of his own words burned in his chest, now sounding harsh and unkind in the silence that followed.

He clenched his jaw, shame mixing with the frustration already coursing through him, to form something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

This new feeling was too much. He stumbles backwards toward the wall before sliding down it slowly, gripping his hair harshly.

He felt immense shame, most of it from his inability to prevent his startling display of jealousy and other petty emotions. If his father could see him now he would be so disappointed.

This wasn't the Uchiha Itachi he raised, he had raised Itachi to be an emotionless weapon, to suppress every weakness and he was severely punished anytime he strayed the slightest bit from that image.

Even now miles away from any punishment his father could possibly inflict, Itachi couldn't help but feel that suffocating feeling of shame and disgust for his shortcomings.

His father was just a figurehead for all the people and systems that had subjected him to ridiculously high standards and expectations his whole life. He kept glancing at the door, half expecting them to burst in and scorn him for becoming so weak.

God he was so damaged, what did you ever see in him? Itachi was convinced that you had every right to leave him now, he wouldn't even hold it against you.

You, you were the complete opposite of him, so loving, so put together, so deserving of so much more than what he had subjected you to.

He throws his head back, letting it hit the tiled wall harshly, maybe the impact would somehow reset his spiralling mind.

Alas, it doesn't work. Sighing, he grips the edge of the bathtub as leverage before pulling himself up.

He staggers, his towel slipping slightly, but he barely notices. All that was on his mind was how he let you leave the room like that, without stopping you, without fixing everything.

But how could he? How could he face you when he was like this? He would only make things worse.

Still, he had to try. Even if you told him you hated him and never wanted to see him again, he needed to let you know he loves you and that he's the fuck up not you.

He takes a few steps forward, catching his reflection in the mirror. His sharingan was activated, glowing ominously in the dim light. He didn't even realize he had turned it on, it had become a habit ever since his eyesight started deteriorating.

Ah yes, another one of his fuckups, he had used his mangekyo so much that he started to go blind.

He didn't care, his only regret was that he could no longer see your beautiful face as clearly as he used to without the sharingan. He would never tell you that though, he had burdened you enough already.

He exhales shakily, leaning forward, bracing himself against the counter. He couldn’t let this fester. Couldn’t let you think, even for a second, that you meant anything less than everything to him.

Gathering his thoughts, he pushed himself upright and reached for a robe, tying it tightly around his waist.

The hallway beyond the bathroom was quiet, save for the faint sound of the dog’s nails clicking against a surface, its needy whimpers following suit. He followed the noise, his steps hesitant, his heart heavy.

The noise leads him to the living room where the little creature is pawing against the verandah door. It could see you through the clear door, sitting on the steps of the porch, looking utterly defeated. Perhaps if the creature knew Itachi was behind your distress it would attack him right now.

He squats down to the dog's level, beckoning it to come closer. It growls at him in warning, after all it was quite familiar with you but not Itachi.

He crouches lower, signalling he means no harm before gently scooping the dog into his arms when it curiously trots over to him.

He didn’t know what he hoped to achieve, but maybe seeing fluffy or whatever its name was would make you more likely to accept his apology.

You had been pacing for a solid 10 minutes before you eventually got tired and sat on the porch steps. All the anger had left you at this point, you were just jaded.

Jaded to the reality that there was a huge possibility your marriage wouldn't work out. You loved Itachi to death but you simply couldn't be with someone who thinks you're unfaithful.

You regret the moment that stupid joke left your mouth but...maybe it was necessary. After all it exposed just what Itachi thought about you.

He didn't even come after you, that one hurt a lot. Was he even sorry? Forget about leaving him, what If he was packing his things right now getting ready to leave you.

You scowled kicking a stone with your foot.

Whatever.

You don't need him, he can leave, that way he'll have more time for his stupid missions. In fact, why were you out here freezing your ass of in the cold instead of the asshole who had accused you of cheating?

With that you got up, dusting your clothes off, ready to head back inside and show Itachi that you weren't the same cry baby he left one year ago.

But before you could take another step, your pupils contracted in shock. You screamed, scrambling backward and landing on your butt, as a tall figure with those damned glowering red eyes came into your line of vision.

"Stop doing that!" You cried out, your hand clutching your now rapidly beating chest. The dog squirms out of Itachi's hands, running to you. It barks at Itachi before fussing around you, licking your skin as if to soothe your fall.

Itachi cringes as you land harshly on your behind, he quickly walks over, grasping your shoulders and pulling you up into him.

Neither of you say a word. He dusts off your clothes for you, his hand gingerly coming to rest on your cheek as he finishes.

"You're cold princess..." he murmurs, his fingers gently stroking the cool skin of your cheek.

You stare up at him, your touched starved body nearly giving into his caress before you snapped back to reality, stepping away from him with resolve.

"Don't Itachi..." you hadn't meant for your voice to come out so broken but you couldn't help it, you were hurt and he was trying to love you up into forgiving him.

"Can we talk...please" he sighs letting his hands fall back to his side, they clench and unclench, wishing they were on your skin again. He didn't like the look on your face one bit, especially because he had put it there.

He had seen you angry before, but this, this was different, this was heartbreak. He could see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice, and it twisted the knife deeper into his chest.

"Please," he starts again, softer this time, his voice barely audible over the gentle whimper of the dog.

"I just want to explain... I-" He stops himself, the words catching in his throat.

How could possibly begin to explain his inner turmoil to you? Was it even appropriate to bring it up right now? What if you thought he was just bringing up his insecurities to deflect from his hurtful actions or downplay his accusations.

You watched him skeptically and a bit irritated. Despite that, you softened against your will.

You had never seen your husband this distressed, maybe something was wrong. That would definitely explain why he lashed out like that.

You crossed your arms tapping you foot anxiously. You were worried but you weren't going to baby him and play the role of understanding wife, because look where that got you so far.

If something was wrong then he would have to tell you about it like a grown adult.

He continued to dwaddle, his eyes anywhere but you.

You gripped your arms, your lips pressed into a thin line as you stared at him.

For a moment, you thought about walking past him and going inside, leaving him to wrestle with his guilt on the porch. But something in his eyes stopped you.

Despite the red glow of his Sharingan, they looked vulnerable, pleading, almost. It was a side of Itachi he rarely let anyone see. Against your better judgment, you sighed, lowering your arms slightly.

"Why do you have that on" you murmur your hand reaching up to brush against his long lashes that framed those hypnotic red eyes.

Itachi stared at you his eyes widening and his jaw quivering. You noticed.

That gentle touch from you was a trigger, it was all he needed to finally crumble, his mental spiral reaching its crescendo.

He embraces you suddenly, burying his face in your shoulder as he starts to cry silently, his shoulders shaking violently.

You're startled to say to say the least, you had never seen Itachi cry. Still now, you tried to pull his face out of the crook of your neck to see if your eyes were deceiving you, but he wouldn’t let you.

His distress was slowly rubbing onto you, what on earth happened on that mission. You clench your teeth as you fight the urge to hug him back.

Why did you always have to be the forgiving one? What were you supposed to do with all this anger and resentment you were always forced to put away on his behalf?

"You can't cry your way out of this one Itachi..." your voice is shaky as you fight back your own tears.

By now the dog had headed back inside, the atmosphere making him just as distressed as you both were.

Even as you spoke those harsh words you found yourself embracing him back. Perhaps this was the tragic bane to loving, your heart would always cry out on their behalf no matter how displeased you may be with them.

The second your arms wrapped around Itachi he pulled away harshly, he wasn't deserving of your kindness, he knows. He wasn't going to take advantage of your love, no matter how much he wants to.

He pulls back staring at your shocked face, his chest still heaving and his cheeks still glistening.

He hesitantly raises his fingers to his still activated sharingan, your question echoing off the walls in his head torturously "Why do you have that on?"

and before he knows it, he blurts out the answer to your forgotten question "because I can't see..."

"What?..." What on earth was he talking about. "Itachi what a-"

"I can't see y/n. I've been over using the mangekyo and in return it has been taking my sight. The more I use it the more I plunge into this...this darkness. Not just here" He points to his eyes "but here too" he grips his chest, where his heart lies.

"I lost my eyesight, Christ I've lost my mind and now I'm losing you" he chuckles bitterly, his nails digging into his palms painfully.

"You said if you wanted to cheat, you would do it while I was away" He speaks softly, almost as if to himself. Your eyes widen, and you scramble to clarify. "I shouldn't ha-"

"No let me finish." He says, his gaze finally meeting yours.

"When you said that..." he looks up at the sky swallowing "it was like someone held up a mirror, to my shortcomings, to my failures, to this darkness growing in my soul..."

If there was ever a time you wished you were an Uchiha, it was now. You desperately wished you could understand what he was saying. You stepped forward again gripping his robe "tachi..." He doesn't let you finish, placing his hands on top of yours as he continues speaking.

"I have failed you in so many ways. I’ve put my missions, my clan, my duty, everything before you. And yet, you’ve stayed. You’ve loved me through it all, even when I’ve given you every reason to leave." His gaze met yours, the pain, the torment in them was unbearable for you.

"I've humiliated you by even suggesting you would be capable of infidelity. I don’t deserve you. I’ve never deserved you." He grips your hands tighter "I'm sorry, I'm absolutely sorry...I..."

His words fail him as he pours out his heart to you, now you felt terrible.

Your feelings were justified but if he had only told you how much he was struggling the two of you wouldn't be here right now.

Maybe it was because of how intense the moment was but you didn't notice until now how freezing cold it was getting, so you grasp his hand and tug him toward the warm inside of the house again.

You shut the verandah door so fluffy doesn't get any bright ideas like running away. The cold is a stark reminder of how much time you've both spent lost in your own hurt, far away from each other.

You head toward the couch, sitting and gently tugging Itachi into you. His head rests on your chest and his limbs automatically wrap around you like you were his lifeline, just how you liked it.

"I forgive you tachi...but I don't forgive how you kept all this from me" He swallows looking away before burying his face into your chest.

"I know, I should know better. I always try to do everything alone and it never works out..." He muses, his voice muffled from his position in your bosom.

"I want to be someone you can rely on" he grasps you tighter, the next words difficult for him to say "I didn't want to be weak..."

The more you watched him the more you couldn't be angry with him, here he was hiding in your chest like a baby and putting himself through all this just so he can be strong for you.

You can’t stay mad at him anymore, not like this. You reach up, gently tilting his face towards you, your fingers brushing over the cool skin of his cheek before flicking his forehead as hard as you can.

"Ow! What was that for!" He scowls rubbing the now reddening spot. You chuckle for the first time since the fight before leaning forward to kiss the spot you just inflicted pain on.

"Just what does for better or for worse mean to you? Even though you make it incredibly hard...I love you no matter what tachi, whether you're strong or weak"

He shivers as your lips make contact with his forehead, his chest warming at your kind words. He really didn't deserve you.

He slips back into his quiet nature, not responding to your words but holding them dear in his heart from today henceforth as he snuggles back into your chest, whispering a quiet thank you that doesn't reach your ears.

The atmosphere in your home is back to its warm nature as he listens to you ramble about how you're going to make him an appointment to see Tsunade and fix his eyes.

He doesn't even complain when fluffy, hops on the couch and snuggles between the both of you. Fluffy could sit on the furniture, he was part of the family now.

And Itachi wasn't going to let a repeat of last time happen again, he was going to give all his devotion and time to his little family henceforth.

I just adore when people leave comments. Initially part 2 was just going to be a short continuation where they make up and everything is ok again but ya'lls kind comments, especially @catlover19282 's compliment about the dialogue, made me want to dive more into the characters' psyches and talk about how both their feelings in the situation are valid. Itachi was going through dark shit but the reader is also allowed to feel hurt by his actions.

So thank you to eveyone who left a comment and to those who read as well💕

Click here for more Naruto Shippuden fics and other stories!

[bunnysdollette]

WAYS IM PREPARING FOR THE BIG 2025 PT 1 ⟢

♡˚₊· ͟͟͞͞ Hey angels! I basically just wanted to come on here today and share some ways I’m preparing for the new year. Feel free to take inspiration from this post. :) Stay cute

BEFORE ANYTHING…

Before starting ANYTHING off new this year, I really just wanted to take time and reflect on what I did well and what I need to work on next year and also what I’ve LEARNED this year to make a game plan.

For example, some things I’ve noticed this year that I need to work on is better time management, balance between work and life, taking more time for my mental health, and pushing myself more towards my goals.

I recently also read a post about resetting before 2025, which I think is helpful. I’ll link it right here.

ENVISIONING THE YEAR

for me, setting an expectation is SO important. It just defines everything I want to have and accomplish, it lets me believe that my desires can be attained and really just cultivates that kind of positive mindset I need going into the new years.

Here are ways I’m currently making space for that vision for the big 2025.

♡ vision boards

(could be about beauty, manifesting, money, studying, or a combination! whatever you’d like, but I’d recommend not sharing to keep that energy private to you. it’s important to move in silence.)

♡ inner work

(maybe some difficult events have happened this year or recently. it’s important to go into 2025 releasing everything negative and leaving all grudges behind. 2025 is a NEW year. let’s make sure our mental is great now so that we can charge into 2025 ready to go.)

♡ self care time

♡ social media detox

♡ planning new smart goals

♡ stricter mental diet

START NOW

guys, you’re gonna have to trust me when I say START NOW. of course your resolution isn’t officially in effect til the start of January, but PLS. start now while your motivation is here or even if you aren’t motivated. START working out, start taking those little steps to move like your dream self, DO IT.

The problem is that usually a “new years resolution” person will give up after not even a week of being in it, so START now. Give yourself the space to make mistakes and work out those kinks NOW so you can really go into the new year feeling refreshed and ready to conquer every single one of your goals.

HARSH MOTIVATION

“The person with the same goal as you is working 10x as harder as you right now.”

I saw this quote on my feed and it really resonated with me, because I want to pursue a career in nursing. It made me think of all the people who are studying hard right now and doing pre-med programs right now to be two steps ahead and really excel in their performance as a nurse. And what am I doing? Slacking.

No more slacking in 2025! I have to realize this and tell you this, that nobody is holding your hand anymore! It’s just you versus the world. What will you do to succeed? You need to act NOW while you’re realizing this, or be left behind. That’s just the way things work.

Take that time to yourself. Take that time to reflect, think, and rebuild your self concept for the beginning of the new years. This is YOUR moment. This is YOUR year. YOU’RE her, so start acting like it.

ahihihihi and bd changes her layout again? guys I’m rlly struggling with this theme shit 😪 I feel like I can’t really find a format I can stick to. I think I’m in my divine feminine era..kinda loving it but doesn’t match the cute pink teenage vibe I have for the rest of my blog. anyways have a wonderful holidays n 2025 angels hoped this helped msg me byee ♡

[acatinabox]

A collection of cultural and food suggestions related to Antiva

From an Italian amateur writer.

Big disclaimer: I am not trying to claim Antiva or his characters as Italian, if you want to see it more Spanish, be my guests. Things in the setting are ambiguous so let's make the most of this vagueness and make space for each others' headcanons.

That said, I'm Italian, and these are the things I can relate/speak about confidently, so I will. I do write Lucanis more Italian in my fanfiction because he was written as such in the Wigmaker Job and it was such a boon to feel represented in a piece of media I loved but I support fan creativity so do whatever you want.

Also these are generalisations. People are not a monolith, goes without saying.

Nobody asked for this, but I hope maybe it helps someone or is interesting.

With that out of the way, here's a collection of themes/suggestions that speak to me, and that might be useful if you want to write them in in your fanfiction and that aren't coffee or organised crime related.

The smell of soffritto at lunch time in the streets. People cook with their windows open when the weather allows it, and the smell of their food permeates the air. You can smell it from the street. Soffritto is the base of many Italian preparations and sauces, so it's a very familiar smell at lunch and dinner time. It's a mix of onion, celery and carrots minced and put in a pan to stir fry with olive oil. If you add a little bit of tomato sauce you make the most basic pasta sauce. Congratulations.

The smell of freshly made bread is fragrant and unique. Every region has its own type of bread and you can easily find a variety of them in most cities. Italian bread is fluffy and light and sometimes a bit dry. Potato bread is made in mountain areas. In the south, bread has a thick dark crust and an airy centre. We eat bread almost at every meal, it's just as iconic and pasta.

I can easily see Lucanis make his own pasta sauce and bread from scratch.

Speaking of bread, I can also see Lucanis make "scarpetta" after he finished eating, which means scraping the sauce from the plate with a bit of bread.

People make small talk in the streets or in the stores, sometimes with complete strangers. It's not a strict social rule but it happens quite often.

The Lucanis/Illario conversation in wigmaker job about not eating Antivan food abroad is the quintessential dynamic between the expat and the relative visiting who expects to not go out of their comfort zone. It happened to me more times than I can count.

Family functions can last all day, we can meet for lunch on a Sunday and spend the whole day together. If you get out of the table before 5PM on a holiday like Christmas or Easter frankly it means you failed as a host (harsh but true). More often than not you'll find yourself staying for a lighter dinner too.

The usual composition of a big meal is antipasto, first course, second course with a side, dessert, fruit, caffè ammazzacaffè. On normal days we only have a main, though.

Ammazzacaffè is the sacred ritual of the digestive after coffee (it literally means coffee killer). I mention it because it's mentioned in the game and in the short stories. It can be I think any strong liquor. We have it after a big lunch or in the evening, usually not at lunch on a working day. It kinda resets you, closes the meal.

Drinking wine has a big convivial function. Drinking alone is not something most people do often, we reserve it for social occasions and usually with a meal.

Dressing up is kind of expected in certain family functions and situations. Not in all families and not at all occasions but I can see it would be expected especially in high society.

Veneto, where RL Treviso is, is known for their creative swearing against god. I can absolutely picture Lucanis shout "by Ghil'an'ain's saggy boobs" or "by Elgar'nan's dried balls" when angry. Honestly go wild, please make up some insults for them and tell me about them (also sorry for the apostrophes, I don't know where they go).

We have a chocolate bonbon, Baci (means kisses), that have paper slips with sappy, romantic quotes in them. Some of Lucanis's phrases remind me of that. I think he'd be a fan and note down his favourite quotes. It's a dark chocolate bonbon with a soft heart and a hazelnut inside.

I said I wouldn't mention coffee but I lied. In some Italian cities there's the tradition of caffè appeso (hung coffee). Someone pays for coffee for themselves and for someone else they don't know that might want one and not be able to afford it. It's adorable and I can see Lucanis do it exaggeratedly all the time because he seems quite generous.

I think I'm done for now and maybe more people will jump up in the mentions or the replies to add their own useful things. I'll try to add some if they come to mind!

[careyakane]

4:08 pm Memphis TN / 1:21 Am Texarkana TX

Mahogany tables beneath bourbon walls and a black ceiling as Carl, the saint he is, pours sweet tea and recommends the dry ribs. He holds himself as a gentle man, moving slowly with a little extra weight on his left as he steps towards the kitchen to fetch more of the drink. Damn the sweet tea—tables full of that honey nectar, the water of the South—brought swiftly over worn hardwood floors that have known the feet of many joyous, dancing folk. Folk with soft voices that end each phrase in kind words and affirmations, folk that meet and hold a gaze loyally, just like a deer is loyal to the headlights of its end.

For a moment, I dread the harsh hiss of my peers in the West; anxious fools we all seem in comparison to these tender souls of Memphis. The land of B.B. King, the land of the blues. “See you boys next time,” Carl seems to sing as we step back to the road and begin again. Soon the sun has expanded until she floods everything in sight with a color just like that of the sweet tea. Train yards, groves of locust, drowned fields of soybeans, a sandy full moon low to the horizon, and suitcase towns all burn up in her hand as we fly west.

With time, the snow slips back into the landscape, and just past 10 p.m., we arrive at a deserted navy hospital perched above Hot Springs Arkansas. A thousand windows lay dark, like the eyes of some terrible creature of the sea. The building feels alive, restless to sit drained of the life and death that once filled its halls. Towns like this make me rejoice for my destination, and I swear I saw envy in the eyes of those bound to stay as we stopped for coffee and waffles—“just passing through” written all over us.

Now, an hour past the reset of the day, we stop to sleep in a Texas hotel “under renovation,” or so a greasy fox of a man says, as I am sure he has said each night for years now. I’m not sure how one could fix anything with the sad sum we cough up, and so I turn my head away from the missing drywall and stained mattress and write of the day’s unfoldings. Austin tomorrow.

[inkdrinkerworld]

Hurt comfort requests you sayyy?

What about post-prison spencer comforting sunshine reader when she got hurt during a case and she’s like physically hurt but trying to still be sunshiney to keep the team from worrying but spencer was like you don’t have to keep doing that, it’s okay to acknowledge your pain

"I don't want anything with opium in it." you say to the nurse who nods, leaving the room in search of your doctor.

Spencer is sat beside you on the plastic chair, watching you intently as he has been since you'd been admitted.

You hadn't cried once, and Spencer knows a little about being banged up and you should've cried at least twice. You've got bruising on your ribs, a couple broken as well as a broken nose- you really should've cried.

Instead, you let the nurses set your nose, bandage your side and read you your prescription like it was nothing.

"I can't wait to leave, I've been missing my ice cream." you sigh longingly as you lean back into the bed, turning to face Spencer.

His fair skin is a little splotchy, two spots from where he'd been fighting with the unsub, and one long red mark on his hand where you had been holding him as they reset your nose.

He's been a little checked out seeing you in the hospital bed. It's hard watching someone you love struggle to let themselves feel the less than desirable emotions.

"Do you think Emily will be upset if I come to work in the morning? I don't think I'll need more than a couple hours, but maybe the full day would be nice."

Spencer's eyes snap to yours at that. "You're not going to be able to be in the field for at least seven weeks."

Your eyes widen, "I'm fine. It's just a couple broken ribs, I can go to the office and fly on the jet no problem."

Spencer rolls his eyes, not at all liking that you're acting so cavalier about your injuries. "Try sitting up then, since it's just a couple ribs."

He doesn't mean for heat to seep into his words, and it's evident you weren't expecting it when he watches your eyebrows jump. Still determined, you try sitting up, wincing the whole time.

"Stop," you don't even lift yourself more than two inches off the bed before his hand is pushing your shoulder gently. Laying you out. "You don't have to pretend that everything is okay. You're injured, you can cry or scream or emote in something other than cheeriness."

You frown, "It's kind of my default." you murmur, Spencer doesn't believe you. He knows a lot about psychology and he knows a lot about you, he knows it's not your default.

"A learned one?" Your eyebrows jump again. He's still just as awkward and to the point as he's always been. Spencer takes a steadying breath, "I won't judge you for being upset or sad or anything else. You're allowed to and I don't want you suppressing it."

Your body sags with his permission. It's not that you needed his permission, and more that you needed the reassurance that it was okay. That you could just be.

"All emotions are good, we're supposed to feel all of them." it's this that does you in. Your throat scratches from the tears building through your chest and neck.

You sigh, shutting your eyes as you feel the sting of tears behind them. "I'm in a lot of pain, Spencer." your voice cracks and he's on the edge of your bed immediately, kissing your forehead as the tears fall. "It also kinda hurts to cry with a broken nose."

He chuckles at that, rubbing your arm as your tears begin to slow.

"I'll take care of you. The doctor is gonna come in and tell you that you can take Ibuprofen and you're gonna be here a couple more hours, but then we can go to my place and I'll have you in tip top shape in no time."

You open your eyes and look up at him. "You'd stay with me the full seven weeks?"

Your eyes shine with more tears under the harsh florescent light of the hospital, "I'd stay with you even longer than that, pretty girl." You know in your bones he means every word.

[impulseheaven]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ The regular - Sevika

cw: prostitution , drinking , smoking , mentions of rape and sex wc: 1.7k synopsis: Working at Babettes you grow close with the well known right hand woman of Silco.

You’ve been working for Babette since you were in your early twenties, now years have passed and you’ve grown accustomed to the life of a prostitute. Babette takes good care of you, as she does for most of her workers. Its just in her nature as she knows the work isn’t easy.

Throughout you many years of working for her you’ve had your bad experiences, men being way too rough, some even stalking you, but the past week you had the worst of them all. A specific client thats visited you multiple times forced his seed inside of you, breaking one of the few rules. After you were a bit shaken up and immediately went to Babette about it.

She immediately sent someone to go get the need medicine to prevent a pregnancy, comforting you and granting you a week off per your request. You spent the first couple days laying in bed and sleeping, as you didnt get much due to your job. The rest you spent taking a much needed self reset, doing things that made you happy. Like taking a nice bath, trimming your hair and nails, painting them in your favorite color, and cleaning to soothe your anxiety if it came creeping back up. The day before you had to go back you made sure to get enough sleep knowing your body craved more rest before returning to the tasking work.

On your first day back you took your time getting yourself together, walking into Babettes office and asking who had booked you today. To your surprise she informed you that Sevika booked you for your whole shift. You could tell by her tone that she was a bit surprised too, but she didnt mention it. She mentioned that every day you were gone she barged in asking for you, and with each passing day she got more aggravated with hearing ‘Shes not here today.’

Shes payed you many visits throughout the past couple months, sometimes seeing other girls but she always came back to you. Whispering in your ear that no one could satisfy her better than you, while you whined and moaned on the strap she always wore when seeing you. You let out a hum as you strolled down the hall, knowing she was waiting for you in your room.

As you pushed open the curtain your eyes landed on her, taking up a good amount of space on the couch, her legs spread wide with her mechanical arm resting on the back of the couch as she smoked her cigar with her right. You let the curtains fall behind you as you leisurely walked towards her. Once you were close enough she moved the arm from the back of the couch and wrapped the cold metal around your nearly bare skin. Letting it slip down to your hip as she pulled you into her lap.

With a smile you got comfortable while perched in her lap, placing your hands on her shoulders and moving them to the back of her neck. Playing with the locks on the back of her head. She took one last drag of the cigar, digging it into the tray that you had in your room just for her as she blew the smoke into your face.

You breathed it in with a sigh, it was quiet for a moment before she spoke up. “You’ve kept me waiting woman.” Despite her harsh words there was no ounce of anger lacing her tone. Using her actual arm to place under your chin and held it firmly.

“Wanna let me know why that is hm?” She leaned in slightly, a sly smile pulled on your lips. “Missed me sev?” You were avoiding the question, you both knew it. She let out a huff, ducking her head to your neck and placed a soft bite to your neck, not enough to hurt but enough to make it known she wanted answers. You tilted your head back in bliss, missing the way her mouth felt pressed against your neck. As she pulled away from your neck you whined at the loss of contact.

Through the many visits you let your persona fade away, letting yourself enjoy her pleasure just as much as she enjoyed yours. Not caring to put up a front like you do with other clients. “Tell me.” Letting out a huff you look at her, glancing away briefly as you mumbled to her what happened. You knew you shouldn’t, it wasn’t a good idea but it was Sevika. Not just some random man who came stumbling in.

Immediately her attitude shifted, her touch more gentle but she would deny it if you brought it up. You spent the next hours in each other’s blissful company while she praised you, focusing more on you than pleasuring herself.

When it was time to leave she fixed up her appearance slightly in the tiny mirror you kept to fix yourself up in-between clients while you sat next to her. You stared at her tiredly, sighing as you got up from the couch. She placed the mirror down that seemed smaller in her big hands, standing up and towering over you. She took two pouches of coins from her bag and tossed them on the table, “Keep ‘em. I’ll see you later doll.” You smiled at her and waved your fingers at her as she left.

You felt more at peace as you changed into your regular clothes, placing the two pouches Sevika gave you in your bag. Waving to Babette as you left the brothel for the night, and grabbing some food from Jericho’s on your way home.

Weeks have passed since then, you’ve fallen back into your usual routine. Lately Sevika’s visits have been less sex and more talking. Mostly her complaining about all the shit she has to deal with when it comes to cleaning up after jinx messes, and Silco’s been putting more work on her than usual. Of course no matter what you two were doing you enjoyed her company, the whole time she rambled you ran your fingers through her hair, up and drown the side of her neck while holding her cigar for her until she motioned for it.

On one of those days you told her about how you used her money to fix up your place, you managed to snag of of the few two story homes in zaun. Of course it was abandoned at first but with much grueling work and help from some friends years ago you fixed it up the best you could. You slightly rambled on how you were able to buy a heater to fight against the grueling cold weather that was flowing through zaun right now. You also told her that you were able to buy some new outfits you think she’d like.

Today though was one of the few days you were off, a friend from the brothel asked to snag one of your shifts because she needed some money to buy her son new winter clothes. Of course you let her have it, obviously making sure sevika didnt book you for that day.

Deciding you wanted to get a drink today instead of staying home you pulled on some old worn down leggings and then some thick cargo jeans. Sliding on a black long sleeve that was skin tight and a thick jacket you purchased many cold winters ago which was obvious due to the jacket being worn down. Pairing the outfit with your old black boots that don’t get much wear now. But it did the job so you couldn’t care less. After sliding money in your pocket that would surely cover a few drinks you headed out to The Last Drop.

You pushed the doors open and were immediately greeted with strobe lights and loud music, and smoke flowing through the air. Pushing your way through the crowd to get to the bar, you slid into a bar stool and ordered a shot of whiskey. It was a bit expensive but you liked to take pleasure in spoiling yourself sometimes.

So as you downed the shot, and the next few you didn’t think about how much it costed. Instead you cherished the way the warm liquid ran down your throat. You didn’t take enough to get drunk, but enough to feel a slight buzz. You decided to just sit at the bar for a while until you heard an all too familiar whistle.

It was the whistle she used every-time you stripped off your new set, or when you moved in a way she particularly liked. You head slowly turned to the sound, locking eyes with her. She was sitting in a booth near the stairs that led up to what you would assume is Silco’s office. She was sitting across from a work colleague she mentioned once, Ran if you remembered correctly.

You tried to fight the small smile that played on your lips as she beckoned you over, you slid off the barstool and walked over to her booth. Sliding in to sit next to her. Her arm immediately moved to rest behind you, “What’re you doing here doll?” You glanced to her friend who was simply looking at you. Not with a glare or anything but was trying to figure out who you were. Looking back over at her. “Had the day off, wanted a drink.” You shifted your leg so it was draping over hers, something you’ve grown accustomed to.

She hummed, eyes glancing down at your leg which seemed so much smaller compared to hers. Something she enjoyed when the time came. “If I knew any better i’d say you were looking for me.” She let a teasing smirk pull on her face. You saw her friend slide out the booth through the corner of your eye but didn’t pay it any mind. “Would it be so bad if I was?” Raising your brows at her in a playful manner.

Her hand lifted from behind the couch, wrapping around and her fingers grazed your cheek. Her gentleness taking you aback for a moment, “No, it wouldn’t.” she stared down at you for a moment before rest her hand on your thigh and turned to take a sip from her drink.

The rest of the night you spent with each other, sitting in the booth and talking. Getting to know one another beyond sex, and the rambling that occurred in the brothel. When the night came to a close she walked you back to your house, and with much convincing she stayed the night.

navigation

[elliesbelle]

nobody compares to you

chapter 14

pairing: ellie x reader

synopsis: you're in your junior year of college and at a party, you run into the girl who broke your heart: ellie williams. despite the time it took to reset your life, will you risk a broken heart again for her?

content warnings: modern college au, cursing, angst, dealer!ellie, some setting is in a hospital, mentions of catheters and needles, descriptions and talk of anaphylaxis, mentions of financial difficulties, mentions of alcohol, mentions of toxic parents, mentions of death and suicide, minors do not interact

word count: 7.9k

chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen

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palestine will be free

The first thing you feel is something plastic poking the inside of your nose. It smelled of chilly, medicinal air conditioning. 

The next thing you feel is a massive, unpleasant weight on your chest. Then at the crown of your head. Then some weird pressure squeezing your calves every few seconds. Then an entirely full bladder. 

“I need to fucking pee.” You mutter, voice dry and raspy. 

“I think you can just go, dude.” A familiar voice replies. 

You fight against the crustiness of your eyes but immediately regret it. All you can see through the slits of your eyelids is a harsh, white light. 

“Am I… Am I fucking blind?” You whine. 

“I’m pretty sure that your eyeballs are still inside your head. So hopefully not.” You hear the voice chuckle. 

You fight against the unforgiving glare from above, forcing your eyes open. It takes a few moments to gain control of your body, but you’re eventually able to crane your neck towards where the voice had previously echoed from. 

“J-Jesse?” You croak. 

“Yeah. I’m here, bud.” Your raven-haired friend smiles. 

You spot him to your left, sitting in, what appears to be, an uncomfortable armchair. He wore a blue disposable mask over his nose and mouth, his hair looking unkempt and unshowered, and you notice how his clothes look wrinkled and slept in. 

“What happened? Are you alright? What’s going on?” You groggily inquire. 

“You’re the one all strapped to a hospital bed, but you’re asking me if I’m okay?” 

Jesse takes your hand and squeezes it appreciatively. He flashes you a soft, warm smile. 

“How are you feeling?” He asks. 

“I-I’m not sure…” You admit. “What… what the hell happened?” 

“Well,” Jesse starts slowly. “You went on a date with Anderson to Orchards yesterday. At the end of it, you were being a total dummy and made out with her after she ate a whole plate of shrimp.” 

“N-no, no,” You interrupt, scrunching your face up as you try to recall the previous day’s events. “She ate this whole soup thing for dinner. Some weird French dish with some weird-sounding name.” 

“Bouillabaisse,” Jesse clarifies. “It’s a fish soup. It doesn’t always have shellfish in it, but hers apparently did.” 

You groan. 

“Oh, I am such a dumbass.” 

“Please explain to me exactly how you were being a dumbass in this situation.” 

“You literally just said that I was a dummy!” 

“That was Jesse of the past. I’m a much more mature man now in my old age.” 

You attempt to smack his arm, but he’s saved by the many coils of IVs attached to you, pulling your hand back. 

As he playfully rebukes you for attempted physical abuse, another person enters the room. A kind-looking nurse walks in with a clipboard in hand. Wearing dark blue scrubs, a low ponytail, and a surgical mask, she greets you with a friendly wave. She approaches your bedside opposite Jesse, and her glasses-covered eyes indicate a friendly smile. 

“Hi there,” She nods. “My name is Yoojin. I’m your nurse today. I’m so sorry for not being here when you woke up. I had to step out for a few seconds, but your brother here assured me that you were in capable hands.” 

You turn to Jesse and mouth in amusement, “Brother?” 

He suppresses a laugh. 

“Later.” He whispers through his mask. 

You turn to Yoojin with a small grin. 

“No worries. I only just woke up now.” You assure. 

She gives you, what you assume, is another smile under her mask. 

“So how are you feeling?” 

Jesse remained by your side the entire time, only leaving briefly when he needed to use the bathroom or take a call. He sympathized with your gripes about being bedridden, making lighthearted jokes about your catheter, messing around with the IPC devices off your legs over and over until a nurse came in and kindly asked him to stop. 

The TV in your room wasn’t working, so he kept you entertained, cracking his usual dad jokes and telling some old stories of Jackson you hadn’t heard yet. You pretended not to notice that the anecdotes he’d recall always excluded an essential person in his childhood, and you tried your best not to remark on it. 

After a couple of hours, Dina finally came around to visit. She walks in as you’re berating Jesse for stealing a fruit cup you knew you weren’t going to eat. The sight of her immediately warms your heart. 

“Dina!” You exclaim. “Oh, I missed you.” 

Dina sets her bag down next to Jesse, lowers her face mask for a moment to give him a quick peck on the cheek, and pulls up a chair next to him. She takes your hand and beams at you graciously. You notice that her eyes are slightly glassy. 

“Oh, babe,” She sighs. “I missed you too. Sorry that I’m just getting here. Had to deal with a few things before I came over.” 

“Don’t apologize, D. I’m just glad to see you.” 

She squeezes your hand softly. 

“I’m so glad you’re awake,” She gulps. “You worried us so much.” 

“Sorry about that,” You grin sheepishly. “I was being a bit of a dummy.” 

Dina blinks for a moment before giving Jesse a smack on the back of his head at this. 

“Oy vey. You asshole.” She chides knowingly. 

“Hey! No need to abuse me! I’m delicate.” 

He caresses the spot where she hit him as you laugh heartily. 

The couple recounts the events of last night for you, explaining in detail as much as they know. You listen without interruption until they reach the topic of your EpiPen. 

“But how’d you guys get to my EpiPen so quickly? Did you pass by my apartment?” You ask them curiously. “I don’t mind if you guys did! It’s just not that close to the restaurant. Wouldn’t have made much sense to book it back to my apartment, honestly.” 

Dina and Jesse share a look you don’t understand. Your eyebrows furrow, confused by their hesitation. Eventually, Dina responds. 

“Uh, well…” She begins slowly. “Jesse actually happened to have a spare EpiPen at his place. Thank god, right?” 

“You did?” You turn your head towards Jesse. “I didn’t even know you had one, Jesse.” 

“Y-yeah,” Dina continues cautiously as you notice Jesse’s expression shift to a poker face. “He used to have an, uh, egg allergy growing up.” 

“What?” You ask incredulously. 

“Yup,” Jesse chimes in. “I grew out of it when I was in high school. But my mom still insists that I have an EpiPen on me. Just in case.” 

You continue to look completely discombobulated. You don’t fully buy their story, especially since neither were looking you directly in the face. But you’ve always trusted Dina as a sister and Jesse like a brother, so you half-heartedly accept the tale they’ve decided to present you with. 

“Oh, okay,” You say, slightly unconvinced. “Well, thank god for that, I guess. Is it okay that you used it on me, though? What if you suddenly need it again?” 

“No worries,” Jesse assures you. “I’ll call my mom and ask her to send me a new one.” 

His poker face improves, so you concede for now. 

The couple continue to recount the previous day’s events until they eventually catch up to the present. 

“Only family is technically allowed to visit you in the ICU,” Dina confesses at one point. “Jesse had to say he’s your brother to get past the nurses' station. The nurse manning the desk at the time could definitely tell we were lying, but she was really nice and allowed it anyway.” 

“Oh, gotcha,” You say. “Well, you’re basically my brother, anyway.” 

“You should feel so lucky to share the same genes as me.” He boasts, stealthily avoiding yet another smack from Dina. 

“What about you, D?” You ask, turning towards her. “What did you say you were? My sister?” 

“Nah, I didn’t wanna be siblings with Jesse, even just as pretend.” She grimaces. 

“Okay, yeah, didn’t think of that,” You realize, scrunching up your nose in total disgust at the thought. “Gross.” 

“Wouldn’t be able to get that image out of my head.” Dina shudders. “Anyway, I told them that I’m your life partner.” 

“My what?” You giggle. 

“Hey, it counts!” Dina defends. “Well, kind of. The nurse had to list me as your ‘spouse’ instead, which feels like a hate crime.” 

“Oh, shut up.” You laugh as Jesse chuckles. 

“What? You don’t wanna be married to me?” Dina asks in mocking shock and offense. 

“I am absolutely honoured to be married to you,” You assure her. “I’m just worried about poor Jesse. How in the world are we supposed to break it to him that we’ve actually been married for over ten years?” 

“Oh, please, Jesse’s known from the start that he’s always just been a side piece.” 

“Hey!” Jesse interjects in indignance. “I’m right here.” 

“Be quiet, side piece. The wife and I are speaking.” Dina waves him off. 

You burst out into laughter at Jesse’s playfully hurt expression. 

The three of you discuss what the doctors have told you, and you eventually bring up the conditions required of you to be discharged. 

“I know that the doctors and nurses saved my life and whatever. And of course, I’m very grateful. And I truly do not mean any disrespect,” You say. “But I want to get the fuck out of here, uhh, right fucking now.” 

Dina smiles and Jesse chuckles. 

“I know, babe.” Dina sympathizes. 

“You’ll be out sooner than you know, bud,” Jesse adds. “Don’t stress over it. We’ll get you out as soon as possible.” 

“Oh!” Dina suddenly pipes up and reaches into her bag. “I can’t believe I forgot. I brought your phone. I was able to grab your purse for you before the paramedics took you away. I turned it off and charged it at home, so it should have some juice.” 

She places your phone in your hand, and you flash her a grateful smile. 

“D, you need to be canonized for your good deeds, I swear. With a statue and everything.” 

“Oh, I know,” Dina smirks. “Brought your wallet too. Not sure if you wanna keep it here or bring it back to your apartment, though.” 

“I’ll ask them if I can keep it here with me.” 

A thought suddenly hits you. 

“I’ll… I’ll have to figure out how to pay for all this when I get out.” You sigh. 

“Oh, babe,” Dina says reassuringly. “Don’t worry about any of that right now. Just focus on resting, okay?” 

“Your insurance will hopefully take care of a huge chunk of it,” Jesse contemplates. “It’s through your dad, right?” 

“That’s what I’m worried about,” You say as your hands begin to fidget anxiously. “Something as big as this, they’ll probably contact my parents. I… I can’t let them know I’m in here. I know it’ll start shit and… I just know it won’t be good.” 

The couple give you identical, concerned looks. 

“D-do they know? Th-that I’m in here?” You ask timidly. 

“Not that we know,” Jesse replies. “Neither of them is on your emergency contact list. And you know that Dina and I would never speak to either of them. Unless it’s to tell them to shove a stick up their respective asses.” 

You and Dina giggle. 

“Speaking of which,” Dina adds. “You can ask your uncle. I called him yesterday while you were still out. I hope that’s alright.” 

“Oh, that was so thoughtful of you,” You say gratefully. “What did he say? I hope he didn’t worry too much.” 

“Honey, you almost died. Of course, he’s worried. He loves you.” She checks the time on her phone. “He should be arriving sometime later today, actually.” 

“Shit,” You groan. “He didn’t have to do that. He gets so busy with work during this time of the year. This must have been so inconvenient—” 

Jesse suddenly takes his thumb and middle finger and flicks you on the forehead. 

“What the fuck!” You exclaim in indignance, rubbing the spot you were hit, as Dina gives him another hard smack on the head. Jesse ignores you both. 

“You are more important than any goddamn job that exists in the world, in the whole motherfucking galaxy. Your uncle loves you, just as we do. So no more complaining about it, dumbass.” 

You give him a pouty look, but his words fill your heart. 

Your best friends stay the rest of the time until your uncle arrives around midday. Relief and affection overwhelm you when he enters the room. You squeeze him with the tightest embrace you can possibly give for someone essentially strapped to their hospital bed. You ignore the loud beeping resulting from the tangling of your many IV wires. 

After your friends help you unravel all the cords, they gather their things and get up from their chairs. 

“We’ll let you guys talk.” Jesse says, offering his seat to your uncle. 

“Oh, you don’t have to leave.” Your uncle graciously assures them. 

“It’s alright; have some family time,” Jesse insists kindly. “I’m pretty sure she can only have two visitors at a time, anyway.” 

The couple make their way towards the sliding glass door. 

“I cannot express how grateful I am for you two,” Your uncle says before they exit. “Thank you for saving her life. And thank you for keeping me in the loop.” 

“Please, no need to thank us, really.” Dina nods kindly. “She’s family. We would do absolutely anything for her.” 

“That means you’re both family to me too.” Your uncle concludes. “Thank you.” 

You hold back tears of vast emotion from three of the most important people in your life exchanging such caring sentiments. You’ve never felt luckier. 

“We’ll be in the waiting room,” Jesse promises. “Let us know if either of you needs anything, okay?” 

Jesse and Dina take their leave, and your uncle subsequently takes a seat next to you. 

“Oh, Uncle,” You start before he can speak. “I’m so, so sorry. You shouldn’t have flown all this way. I can’t believe I was so stupid to have—” 

“Hey, hey,” Your uncle interjects. “None of that. You have no reason to be sorry. You needed me, so I’m here. I’m not mad, and this is not your fault.” 

Tears form in the corners of your eyes. 

“I just feel like I’ve inconvenienced so many people. If I could have just paid attention…” You lament. “And now I’ve totally made you drop everything to be here. I know you’ve still got work—” 

“You are a thousand times more important than my job, sweetheart.” He shakes his head and squeezes your hand, echoing Jesse’s previous words. 

“But…” 

“You are my family. Nothing is more important than that.” 

You smile at his adamancy. 

“And especially since losing Rafael,” He continues. “I think of you as my own.” 

“I know, Uncle.” 

You squeeze his hand back in affection. 

“D-did…” You suddenly say. “Did you tell—” 

“No, your mother and father don’t know a thing about this.” He answers insightfully. 

“Thank god.” 

“Did you want me to tell them?” 

You grimace. Your uncle chuckles. 

“I figured as much.” He surmises. 

“I just don’t know how to keep this from them forever, though,” You continue. “They’ll see it through the insurance company. I…” 

“Don’t worry about that. I can talk to the nurses later today before I leave, see if I can pay it in full myself without needing to use your father’s insurance.” 

“Uncle, please. Please don’t do that. This is going to be so costly, and you’ve still got your mortgage and Raf’s leftover student debt—” 

“I just want you to focus on getting better, alright? I don’t want anything else on your plate right now.” 

“Uncle, promise me. Please. Please promise me. Do not spend a single cent on this. I want to do this on my own. I’ll figure it out. Please promise me.” 

He gives you nothing more than a smile in response. 

Your friends and uncle take turns rotating as your company for the rest of the day. They’d only leave your side when the doctors and nurses needed to conduct extensive tests to ensure that you were still stable. You were never on your own for more than a few seconds, your loved ones determined that you not feel alone. 

You’d turned your phone on almost immediately after Dina’d handed it to you. But as a small, gracious gesture of appreciation, you had set it aside to give your visitors your undivided attention for the rest of the day. 

It wasn’t until the evening, when your friends and uncle waved you goodbye as visiting hours ended, that you allowed yourself to finally glance at your notifications. 

Anxiously picking your phone up, the first thought you have is to call Abby. Jesse and Dina had mentioned she was with them in the waiting room the night before. But, like your friends, she was informed that she wasn’t permitted to see you in the ICU as she wasn’t family. Dina and Jesse sent her home with the promise to let her know as soon as possible when you finally woke up and that you were alright. 

You notice that she’d messaged you earlier in the day. But much too embarrassed to face her just yet, you decide instead to first call your old freshman roommate. 

Tara picks up after only two rings, almost as if she’d been waiting by the phone for your call. She greets you with a happy shriek of your full name, an amused giggle escaping your lips as a response to her sudden enthusiasm. 

“Thank fucking god!!! I’ve been waiting all fucking day to hear the sound of your voice!” 

“Umm, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” You reply, smirking. “This is actually Satan, here to leave a message. I’m calling to let you know that I will be collecting your mortal soul sometime during the next 24 hours.” 

“Oh nooooo,” Tara plays along. “What on earth have I done to warrant eternal damnation, Miss Satan?” 

“Not sure if you know, but homosexuality is actually a cardinal sin. And unfortunately, you seem to be a notorious, flaming homosexual. I know, I know; it’s quite disappointing. But alas, I do not make the rules.”  

“But Miss Satan, are you not a homosexual too?” 

“Well, that’s exactly how I know it’s a sin.” 

The two of you crackle at each other’s banter, and you make plans in your head to spend more time with Tara and the rest of the girls after you’re released from the hospital. 

You and Tara chat for a little while about the most mundane things, like her classes the day before and her plans for the weekend. She apologizes for not having more to say and for “being so boring,” but you’re genuinely happy to just hear her prattle off about anything. 

At some point, she hands her phone over to Astrid, who greets you with a similarly delighted shriek that her girlfriend had received you with prior. She gushes over you with love and concern, insisting that she and all the Wilson girls come to visit you as soon as you’re out and adjusted. 

“Tara just about broke down when I told her about it.” She reveals. “She was about to leave for her shift at Ruston’s when Dina called, and I’m pretty sure the whole dorm could hear her sobbing.” 

“What?! I did not!” You hear Tara shout from a short distance. 

“You had so much snot running down from your nose that I just about hosed your face down before you left!” Astrid yells back. 

“Stop telling her that! She doesn’t need to hear all that!!” 

You giggle at the couple’s repartee. 

“Anyway,” Astrid continues. “Kris, Sid, and I tried to come down for a visit, but they apparently only let family in. Jesse and Dina seemed to have monopolized the fake roles of being your family already.” 

“Yeah, sorry about that, Addy.” 

“Oh, don’t be sorry,” She brushes off. “I’m just glad that you haven’t been alone there. Those two really care about you, you know.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

“Dina started to make a whole fuss when they wouldn’t let us past,” Astrid continues. “Threatened to sue the nurses, all the doctors, the entire hospital. The receptionist nurse didn’t even get a chance to kick her out ‘cause Jesse himself forced her to go leave and take a walk to calm down. I don’t think she came back until a couple of hours later.” 

“Yeah, that sounds like our Dina.” You snort. 

The two of you discuss what you’d like to do whenever you finally get released, Astrid swearing to get you out of your apartment nearly every day after your discharge. 

“I don’t think I have all the stamina for all that, babe.” You chuckle. 

“Then you better get yourself to the gym with Jesse, and build that stamina the fuck up! I want your sexy self at parties and clubs, living your best 20s life with us!” 

You chuckle warily at this, simultaneously pushing away the reminder of who Jesse’s daily workout partner is. 

After saying your goodbyes to Tara and Astrid, you make brief calls to the rest of the girls of the Wilson Crew. They all answer your calls with an assortment of jubilant greetings, each girl expressing their elation and gratefulness that you’re finally awake and safe. 

You send individual texts of love to Dina, Jesse, and your uncle, thanking them extensively for coming to your aid and expressing your excitement to see them again very soon. 

Having done your rounds of gratitude, you finally acknowledge that you can no longer ignore the unread texts of the blonde-braided woman you’d had your near-fatal dinner with. You open up your message thread with Abby to see that she’d sent you only three texts earlier in the day. 

You stare at her text. 

Oh. Huh. 

No part of you blamed Abby for the incident; in fact, you’d been feeling a tremendous amount of remorse for putting her through such a traumatizing and jarring ordeal. It had been plaguing you so much since you woke up that you were far too embarrassed to ask Jesse and Dina more about her. 

But something about her texts bothers you. There was very little warmth and familiarity in her messages. Her words didn’t seem that of the woman who had been walking you to your classes every day, who showed you off to her friends at the Bow and the Arrow, who treated you to a lavish restaurant on a fancy date. Who kissed you with so much passion on the sidewalk of that same restaurant the evening before. 

Is… Is she angry with me? 

You continue to stare at her strange messages for several more minutes, unable to process the situation you’re somehow in now. You can’t think of an appropriate response that would lead to something honest, so you decide to put your response off. 

A-at least until after they release me… At least until I get home… 

The doctors only began to discuss the possibility of your discharge early Sunday morning. Though it hadn’t even been a full two days since your admittance, it took everything in you not to practically beg them to let you go. You’d been insisting to anyone who’d listen that you were completely fine, that you’d walk right out yourself if you weren’t strapped to your bed with a million wires. 

It wasn’t until midday, as you were mercilessly beating Jesse’s Shy Guy as Pink Gold Peach in Mario Kart, that Yoojin walked into your room with good news. You don’t notice her at first, too busy taunting Jesse for landing in 7th place while you scored 1st. 

“You only won because I got Lakitu’d in the second lap! Fuckin’ Isabelle was sending red shells at me nonstop…” Jesse gripes. 

“Sucks. Sounds like a personal problem, man.” You shrug. 

“Alright, I want a rematch, but on the Egg course this time.” 

“You’re such a sore fucking loser!” 

“There’s a shortcut on Yoshi’s circuit close to where the finish line is, by the way,” Yoojin interjects, eyes smiling. “If you use a mushroom and drift to the hidden waterfall on the right, it’ll get you pretty far ahead.” 

You and Jesse look up, a bit sheepish at her witnessing your juvenile behaviour. The nurse looks completely unbothered by it, however, and she approaches your bed as you place your controller down. 

“Aww, come on, Yoojin,” You whine. “Don’t tell him that! I’m on a winning streak!” 

“Shh,” Jesse shushes you, attempting to cover your face with one hand. “Don’t listen to her, Yoojin. She’s delirious from all the drugs you’ve been pumping her with. I must know all your secrets, ‘cause I swear, this one is cheating.” 

“Maybe later,” Yoojin laughs as you flick Jesse’s forehead. “Because you might want to hear what your doctor just told me.” 

Your ears perk up at this. 

“I can go home?” 

“Your most recent labs just came back, and everything looks good.” Yoojin nods. “And your vitals have been stable for the last 24 hours. So unless you plan on wolfing down ten pounds of shrimp sometime before leaving, we can get started on getting you released sometime later today.” 

Your face breaks out in a huge smile, and you turn to grasp Jesse’s arm. 

“Dude! I can go home!” You exclaim. 

“Yes, I heard,” Jesse says. You can feel his smirk through his face mask. “Finally.” 

You turn back to Yoojin. 

“I can go right now?” You ask. 

“It’ll take a couple of hours to make sure everything’s set for your discharge,” Yoojin says, chuckling at your eagerness. “But just hang tight, and you’ll be out of here in no time.” 

“Why don’t you guys settle things here while I go tell your uncle?” Jesse offers. 

Your uncle had stepped out to get some lunch at the hospital’s food court not too long ago. He and Jesse had arrived on the dot when visiting hours began earlier in the day. Dina had accompanied them but left shortly after to take care of other obligations, promising to be right back the second she was done. 

“Oh, that’d be great,” You say. “Thanks, Jess.” 

“No worries, bud. I’ll be right back.” 

He gives you a pat on the head before leaving you alone with the nurse. 

“So before you leave, we’ll go over a few things to make sure you don’t suddenly relapse during the next few days,” Yoojin begins. “And we’ll make sure you go home with a couple of new, unexpired EpiPens, just in case.” 

You nod as she goes on to explain the plans for your discharge. You listen attentively, determined not to end up back in the hospital like this again. As Yoojin wraps up, you work yourself up to ask her a question that’s been at the tip of your tongue since the beginning of the conversation. 

“Hey, umm, before you go,” You mutter nervously. “I wanted to ask about how much all of this will cost me. I-I know it’ll be pricey and all, especially with two brand new EpiPens, so I just want to be prepared.” 

“That’s not really something I can help you with,” Yoojin replies apologetically. “That’s the jurisdiction of the hospital’s billing department. But I’m sure you can get it all settled with your insurance after you’ve been released. Depending on what you have, they should cover most of it.” 

You give her a tentative smile as you wring your blanket between your fingers. 

“A-alright then.” You sigh defeatedly. 

It takes about two hours for you to finally be released from all your restraints and another hour until you’re finally walking out of the hospital and into the sunny parking lot. Yoojin allowed you a quick embrace before you left, insisting that you promise to be much more careful from here on out. 

You lean against your uncle and Jesse for support as you exit the hospital’s automatic sliding doors, legs still a little shaky after being bedridden for so long. Dina pulls up next to you in her car and gets out to open the passenger door. 

“M’lady.” She says with a bow, gesturing to the seat. 

“Shut up, D.” You laugh, rolling your eyes. 

“You sure you’ve got everything?” Your uncle inquires. 

“I think so,” You reply. “Didn’t really bring anything with me.” 

“Alright, well, I’ll head to my hotel room first so I can take care of a few things. I’ll meet the three of you at your apartment sometime later today. Sound good?” 

You, Jesse, and Dina all nod in unison. Before he walks away, you wrap your arms around him in a tight hug. 

“Thank you so much, Uncle,” You murmur. “It means so much to me that you came.” 

“Anything for you, sweetheart. Anything at all.” 

He gives you a quick squeeze before releasing you, promising he won’t take very long before walking away towards his rental car. 

“So,” Dina chimes. “Wanna grab some gross, greasy non-hospital food on the way home?” 

 When you finally cross the threshold of your apartment, you’d already wolfed down the majority of your fries along with half a chocolate milkshake. You collapse onto your couch with a relieved sigh, your best friends falling next to you on either side. You lean your head onto Dina’s shoulder as you take her hand between both of yours. 

“I think I’m about to go into the world’s longest food coma.” You decree. 

“I’m right alongside you, dude.” Jesse agrees, having devoured one and a half burgers himself on the way. 

“No comas, please, or we’re gonna have to turn right back around and readmit you into that hospital.” Dina says. 

“Never again, please,” You beg. “If I have to hear the nonstop beeping of a heart monitor for one more second, I’m going into straight-up fight-or-flight mode.” 

Your friends chuckle. 

“Alright,” Jesse eventually says as he sits up straighter. “Now that you’ve been freed, what do you want to do first?” 

You hum as you ponder his question. 

“Get so blackout drunk that I totally forget this entire experience ever even happened in the first place?” You offer. 

“Right, well, perhaps we can do something that isn’t completely stupid and detrimental to your health. Especially after you were just in the hospital after almost dying.” Dina retorts. 

You boo her as Jesse chuckles. 

“Well,” You continue. “I guess I should tell the girls I’m finally out. I promised them I would. Or did you guys say anything to them already?” 

“Not yet,” Dina says. “They’ll probably want to hear it from you.” 

You groan. 

“You’re right. Ugh. I don’t think I can handle the sheer amount of screaming and excitement that’ll come with it, though. Kris sounded like she was going to smother me with so much love that I’d suffocate from it.” 

“You can always put it off, at least until tomorrow.” Jesse counters. 

“I guess so. You think they’ll be mad?” 

“Babe,” Dina says, squeezing your hands and rolling her eyes. “You almost died. I think they’ll survive a day.” 

“Alright, alright,” You giggle. “I probably should focus on getting work done before class tomorrow, anyway.” 

“Ma’am, I know you are not thinking of going to your classes right after you were just in the hospital all weekend.” Jesse scolds sternly. 

“I’m fine!” 

“Dear lord.” Jesse sighs, exasperated. 

“Like I said,” Dina repeats. “You almost died. School is not a priority right now. You need to be resting, not writing essays and doing homework.” 

“I don’t want to fall behind!” 

“Didn’t your doctor give you a school note before we left earlier? She said you can give it to your professors to excuse you from your classes this week.” 

“Yeah, but it’s not mandatory or anything. I’m fully recovered now, so it just seems totally unnecessary.” 

“Like hell it is!” Dina bellows before releasing your hands to stand up from the couch. You fall flat on your face onto her spot when her shoulder disappears from under your head, and you muffle irritated curses into the couch cushion. You look up to see she’s disappeared momentarily into your bedroom. 

“D… What are you doing?” 

Dina reemerges after a few seconds, your laptop in her hands. 

“Babe. What’d you get that for?” You ask suspiciously. 

“I’m emailing all of your professors myself to tell them that you will not be attending any of your classes this week. Especially since it seems that you want to be such a stubborn dumbass about it…” Dina says matter-of-factly, shoving your head away from her spot on the couch to sit beside you once more. 

“Never should have given you my password.” You grumble as Dina opens up your laptop and easily bypasses your lockscreen. 

“Alright, who are all your professors again?” She asks, opening up your browser to access your email. 

“I’m not telling you!” You reply stubbornly, crossing your arms. 

“Hmm… I know she’s got Olinick’s double class on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Mulligan at least on Mondays—” Jesse lists, counting your professors on one hand. 

“No, no, no, I don’t!” You turn towards him, shoving your hands in his face. 

“—I think Joslin from the English department too, but I can’t remember if that was last year or this year.” 

“Jesse!” 

By the time your uncle arrives at your apartment, you’d conceded to your best friends and allowed them to draft an excuse email to all of your professors. Dina opens the door for him after he knocks while you make final edits to your letters, and he settles into the ratty, secondhand armchair right next to the couch. 

Your uncle chuckles at the scene before him: you with a focused look on your face typing rapidly on your laptop, Jesse leaning back into the couch while gently patting the top of your head as he continued to make suggestions to your email, and DIna taking her seat right back next to you before kicking her feet onto your lap as you lift and place your laptop on top of her legs. It had been a while since your uncle had seen you so relaxed around other people, the last time being right before your freshman year of college. His fondness for your best friends quickly grows by the second. 

You look up from your work for a moment to smile warmly at your uncle, and he returns it with one of his own. 

“Hi, Uncle! Sorry, I’m just finishing up this email to my professors.” 

“No need to apologize, sweetheart. You telling them you won’t be attending any classes this week?” 

“Yup,” Jesse answers for you. “Took a lot of bullying on our part to convince her not to overwork herself with school right now.” 

“This dummy wanted to go back to classes right away as if nothing happened.” Dina rolls her eyes as she extracts a foot from underneath your laptop to kick you softly, earning her a stern “Hey, hey, hey!” from you. 

“Well, thank goodness she has you two to set her straight.” Your uncle chuckles. 

“Oh, she’s absolutely lost without us.” Jesse says, continuing to pat the top of your head. 

Your uncle smiles. He can tell that Jesse’s joking around, but he knows that the couple have both been selflessly keeping you alive for the past few years. 

“So how are you feeling?” Your uncle continues with concern etched on his face. 

“Not so bad,” You admit. “Just so glad to be among civilians once again.” 

You feel Jesse rub your upper back kindly. 

“I’m sure,” Your uncle smiles kindly. “How about we talk about what you’re going to do now that you’re out?” 

The four of you discuss what the next, post-hospital visit steps would be. They remind you of the check-up appointment you have later in the week, caution you once more about what foods you need to constantly be looking out for, and double-check that you have your new EpiPens handy and within constant reach. 

“I still have my current EpiPen in the bathroom,” You say. “It hasn’t lapsed yet. So maybe I can give you each of the ones they sent me home with, if that isn’t too much of an inconvenience to either of you guys?” 

You turn towards Dina then Jesse. 

“You sure?” Jesse asks. 

“Yeah, I mean, I obviously don’t want something like this to happen again. But if, by some hideous trick of fate, I end up in a repeat situation, it might be smart to just have one in multiple places. Just to cover my bases, I guess.” 

“I don’t mind at all,” Dina nods. “As long as you have easy access to one at all times.” 

“Yeah, that was my thinking too,” You agree. “Plus, I don’t want to have to use one of yours again, Jess.” 

“Mm, I guess.” Jesse hums. 

Your eyes meet his and you once again recognize his poker face. 

“That sounds like a good plan,” Your uncle agrees. “Let’s try not to rely on just luck next time around.” 

You give him an apologetic smile. 

The sun had been set for at least an hour when Dina and Jesse finally took their leave. Both offer to stay the night, in case you suddenly need either of them, but you assure them that you’ll survive one night alone just fine. You embrace each of them tightly, putting every ounce of gratitude you have into your hugs. 

You settle back onto the couch after you see them both out the door, and you turn towards your uncle still sitting in the armchair. 

“I know I’ve said this probably a hundred times the past day or so,” You begin. “But thank you for coming, Uncle.” 

“I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I didn’t come,” He replies. “Neither would Raf if he was still around.” 

You both share a sad smile. 

“I miss him, Uncle…” You whisper suddenly. 

“I know. I do too.” 

You sigh before continuing. 

“I wish he was still here. I feel… I feel so incomplete without him around. Like this has all been an awful nightmare that I have yet to wake up from.” 

“I know just what you mean,” Your uncle laments. “But our lives still go on, sweetheart. I think it’d make him sad to see us grieving him for the rest of our lives.” 

“But… it just feels so wrong. It feels so wrong to stop grieving for him, to move on from him.” 

“It’s not exactly moving on from him,” Your uncle ponders. “It’s more like… We make a place for him in our hearts. It’s sort of like he becomes a part of us. He’ll always be in everything we do.” 

Your eyes well up as a childhood memory floods your thoughts. 

When you were eleven years old, you had your first anaphylactic experience. You and Rafael were hanging out at his house, your uncle at work all day. You were making a mess in the kitchen, developing concoctions with half the contents of the pantry. As you were dumping a bag of marshmallows into a blender full of graham crackers and banana slices, Rafael fished an old bag of chips out of one of the cabinets. 

The writing on the bag was all in a language you couldn’t understand, but the superheroes on the front seemed to be enjoying the crunchy snack. Raf was tearing the bag open before your greasy fingers started grabbing at its contents. 

It didn’t even take two minutes until Rafael realized something was wrong. You were annoyed and taken aback when he slapped the chips out of your hand. It wasn’t until he was hauling you to the garage and strapping you into the passenger seat that you began to feel dizzy. By the time Rafael had driven to the emergency room, your skin had broken out into hives and your throat felt completely swollen. The last thing that you remembered before blacking out was your faithful cousin scooping you up and sprinting to the emergency room’s entrance. 

You didn’t hear the end of it from your parents when you’d woken up from being unconscious after a couple of hours. Your mother spared no shame in relentlessly admonishing you, regardless of who was in the room, for your “stupidity.” The doctors and nurses offered you continuous looks of pity as they had to witness your many verbal lashings, though none stepped in to interfere. You were blamed for inconveniencing the family, for forgetting your EpiPen at home, for “forcing” Rafael to drive a car when he didn’t have his driver’s license yet, for obligating your parents to pay for your medical bills. 

From that day on, your fear of your parents’ wrath was far greater than the fear of possibly falling prey to your fatal allergy. 

All that gave you hope was your uncle and cousin coming to your defense. Unlike your parents, they showered you with care and love, especially Rafael who felt guilty and responsible for your admission. They nursed you back to health after you were released, Rafael promising you that he’d never let it happen to you again. 

 “Can I tell you something, Uncle?” You ask. “I didn’t even tell Jesse or Dina this. And I don’t think I ever could.”  

“You never even have to ask, sweetheart. You know you can tell me anything.” 

“I…” You gulp. “There was a point… while I was in the ICU that I was a little lucid for a few moments…” 

You wring your fingers together in uneasiness as you stare down at your lap, unable to meet your uncle’s eyes. 

“I… I didn’t know what was happening to me. I didn’t know I was going through anaphylaxis again. But I just knew… I felt that something was wrong with me.” 

Your uncle listens to you intently, his chin on his hands folded as if he were praying. 

“Something inside me… Somehow, I knew that I was dying,” You continue. “Or I knew that at that moment, I could die. I could keep going… or I could choose to let my body give out completely.” 

You finally meet your uncle’s gaze. 

“And I wanted to. I wanted to just… go,” You confess. “Not in a s-suicidal way. Not exactly, at least.” 

Your eyes fill with thick tears. 

“But… I wanted to be with him again. I knew that if I gave in, if I succumbed to whatever was killing me, I would see him again.” 

Your bottom lip shakes as you continue. 

“I miss him so f-fucking much, Uncle. I don’t know how to go on without him around. I’m so l-lost and confused, and all I want to do is talk to h-him about it. But I can’t. There’s n-nobody else in this world that I’ve ever felt as close to as him. Maybe except—” 

You break off before you can finish, shaking off the memory of ocean green eyes and a constellation of freckles. The look on your uncle’s face tells you that he already knows how your sentence was going to end, but he says nothing. 

“He told me he’d never let anything happen to me. He was always supposed to be here with me,” You sob. “I know that’s selfish. I know that his life didn’t revolve around me. But so much of mine did. I planned… I built my life to always include him. Now what the hell am I supposed to do?” 

Your uncle’s sad eyes watch as you roughly wipe your cheeks of the tears uncontrollably streaming down. 

“Sweetheart…” Your uncle begins as he stands up from the armchair to sit next to you on the couch. “You are not selfish. I know how much he meant to you. How much he still means to you.” 

He takes your hands between his. 

“I just…” You sniffle. “It’s been years. I thought I’d healed from it already. I thought I’d moved past all the pain.” 

“It’s not a continuous thing, dealing with your grief.” Your uncle smiles softly. “You’ll have moments, hard ones where it’ll all feel raw and fresh again. It doesn’t mean you’re weak or selfish. You just have your own way of handling your sadness.” 

You nod in acknowledgement of his words. 

“But I think we both owe it to Raf to live our lives, to be happy without him around,” He continues. “His gift to us was time. Time with him and great memories. Even if he’s no longer with us, we’ll continue to carry that gift with us wherever we go.” 

Your uncle smiles and you return it, though wistfully. 

“I’m very grateful that you trusted me to share this with me,” Your uncle begins. “But don’t be afraid to talk about this with your friends. Especially those two.” 

“Jesse and Dina?” 

He nods. 

“I see just how much they love you,” Your uncle says. “They seem like they would do absolutely anything for you. And I am so grateful that you have people like that in your life.” 

“Yeah, they… mean so much to me.” 

“I’m glad. So, please. If I’m not around, don’t be afraid to confide in those two. I’m sure if the roles were reversed, you’d do the same for them.” 

“I’d do absolutely anything for them.” 

“Exactly. So don’t be afraid to embrace the love in your life. You deserve that. And that’s exactly what Rafael would want for you.” 

You throw your arms around your uncle and sob into his shoulder. 

You and your uncle continue to talk for a while until you realize that it’s nearly midnight. Like your friends, he offers to stay the night in case you need him. But you know his flight home was only in a few short hours, so you insist that he go back to his hotel to get a bit of sleep before he needs to leave for the airport. 

It took everything in you not to beg him to stay, but you couldn’t bear troubling him further. And you longed to finally have some time to yourself, so you put on a brave face.  

After your many assurances that you would take care of yourself better, you walk him to your front door. When you open it up, you both notice a simple brown box with a thin bow placed on top of your doormat. You pick it up, noticing how light it feels in your hands. 

“What is this?” You mutter. 

“You got a package?” Your uncle asks, looking at the box. 

“No… I didn’t order anything.” 

“Strange. Maybe your friends Dina and Jesse left it for you.” He offers. 

“I… I guess,” You frown. “Although, I don’t really know why they wouldn’t just give it to me when they were here earlier.” 

“Hmm, that’s true,” He hums, squinting his eyes at it. “A secret admirer, perhaps?” 

“Ha ha, Uncle. Very funny.” 

You give him an amused grimace before untying the bow and removing the lid. You gasp as you recognize what it contains. 

“Oh…” 

You drop the box and embrace its previous contents. 

“My Barbie Bear…” 

author's notes:

thank y'all so much for you patience waiting for this new chapter to come out. i literally wrote like, half of this while in the psych ward, and that was all the way in decemeber sldkfjlsdk

tbh i meant this chapter to be a lot shorter than it turned out to be but lskdjfs more content for y'all ig!

reader's first words after waking up is inspired by me saying, "i need to poop so bad" when the doctors were busy working on me in the emergency room lmaoooo

silver lining of me being in the icu back in december is being able to describe it in detail in this chapter hehe. being in the icu suuuuucked but mostly cause it was boring and cold and i wasn't allowed to get up to pee!!!

the nurse yoojin is named after one of my nurses while i was in the hospital. i loveddddd her, she was such a sweetheart and it made me so happy whenever she was assigned to me. i was rewatching arcane while i was in the hospital, and she saw and asked me about it, and then we gabbed about the show and league of legends (cause she religiously plays the game but hasn't watched arcane yet), and i eventually convinced her to actually watch the show heeeheee

reader’s uncle saying he sees reader as his own is what uncle iroh says to zuko in atla, fun little easter egg heehee (you know me and my love for easter eggs)

reader greeting tara on the phone as satan was how i first greeted my best friend when i was finally able to call her through the public phone in the psych ward (hi rhi LOL)

pink gold peach is my main in mario kart lol

reader's professors mentioned are all named after old professors from my former college's theatre department (rip dennis, miss you always ❤️)

reader’s uncle telling her “we make a place for him in our hearts” in regards to rafael is what tara in buffy the vampire slayer says to dawn when their mom dies (can you tell i love btvs)

working on the next chapter asap, lmk what you think of this chapter in the meantime!

also i made an ao3, so if you wanna read on there too, check it out!

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[coldbronzemoon]

And Now We're Back to Get Some More

A fic for @aroace-get-out-of-my-face 's fic "A Good Day to Die (Again)".

I just want these sadsacks to have a good time on their mini-road trip. This can be found on Ao3 too.

There was a lull in conversation in the car. It was not the first, and probably won’t be the last. Ford was grateful to have Stanley here in the car with him—so, so grateful, if whatever being that caused the time loop, should they exist, ever revealed itself to him he’d do whatever it demanded with no questions—but filling silence for multiple hours straight was still a tall task.

Both their voices were a bit raspy five hours in. Stan was still driving; Ford tried to persuade his brother to let him take the wheel on account of the bad bruise on Stan’s arm from being tackled to the ground during their reunion, but Stan stalwartly refused.

So Ford was in the passenger’s seat with the map, watching the cusps of trees on the side of the highway grow into woods and forests the further north they traveled. It was a pretty sight, most of the drive. He didn’t have the chance to admire it while he was driving down south dozens of times.

His heart jolted in his chest, thinking of the last week. The many last weeks. He looked at Stanley, for a second utterly convinced that the loop would reset and Ford would wake up and scream himself hoarse for a minute because dammit, he did it, he did it, don’t fucking take this from him and steal a car and drive and drive and drive and make it to the casino just to see Stan get shot through the head—

But Stanley was there, one hand on the wheel and the other arm braced on the rolled-down window like a trucker. There wasn’t any blood or bone fragments or brain splatter. He was just sitting there, squinting out at the road. He probably shouldn't be squinting, they weren’t facing the sun at the moment. 

He opened his mouth, intending to ask about that. But he happened to look out the window at the sky, and it was the time of the year that the moon was visible in the sky in the day, and his brain leapt from the moon, to the stars, to the smoggy, dark canopy of sky over Glass Shard Beach, to them as children giving up on the real sky and looking at star charts instead.

“Tell me about Castor and Pollux,” he said.

It had been an old… not game, exactly, but an old pastime. The two of them had both liked Greek mythology when they were younger—for Stan it had mostly been an interest in the wars and magical powers and warriors with swords, but he suffered Ford’s interest in other parts of the mythology too. Ford would tell him all about a god, and Stanley would remember it. 

Then he’d tell the tales he learned back to Ford. He was much better at making them proper stories than Ford, who always talked about things like a series of facts. Stanley made them fun.

When had their last round of myths been told? Ford thought it might’ve been around thirteen. Stan had braces then, and Ford hadn’t gotten his yet. He thought that his last recollection of Stanley telling Greek myths involved the lisp he gained for that period of time.

Pollux had been Polluc’shhh. Because it had been Castor and Pollux then, too. That had been their favorite constellation myth.

Twins, boxers, sailors. It was like they were cast in the image of those two gods. Back then, they would jokingly plot to change their names to Castor and Pollux after they sailed away, because anything was better than Stan and Stan, and get into scuffles over who had to be Castor and who got to be Pollux.

After all, Pollux was the immortal one. Ford would insist on Stan being Pollux if they were to fight over it again. Maybe Stan was already Pollux, in a way. What was a time loop if not a form of immortality?

Stanley blinked out of his harsh squint and glanced at him for a moment. Only a moment; Ford had already given him hell for keeping his eyes off the road because he was not dying in a car crash after everything.

“When the hell did you turn into resin, you sap,” Stan said.

“Are you going to tell me about them or not?” Ford said, ignoring the question entirely. The answer would be the moment I realized you could really die, and for now they were ignoring the amount of death that had happened for their collective sanity.

Stan sighed, a grand production, and said, “Alright, lessee if I remember anything...”

“Keep your eyes on the road while you remember,” Ford said.

He unfolded the map in his lap even though they had miles before any exits as Stan sighed and hummed and clicked his tongue just to be annoying. Ford was annoyed, which was annoying in of itself, but fondness overtook everything else.

“Right, stop me if I get it wrong, but Castor and Pollux, they were these twin brothers. Real hotshots, handsome as hell, as all twins are—”

Ford laughed. He had forgotten that Stan always started the myth like that. He wouldn’t have remembered it without Stan doing it again, and the thought unsettled him for a second.

But it was alright that Ford had forgotten. It was alright, because Stan was here, and telling the story again, and he’d always be here to do everything Ford had forgotten he did because nothing like what happened in that casino parking lot was ever allowed to happen again.

He settled into the seat of the El Diablo and let Stanley’s guff voice wash over him. 

-----------------------------

At some point into Stan’s recollection of the lives of Castor and Pollux, which had slid into a recollection of a group of bikers Stan had run with in his early twenties, Stan abruptly stopped talking and pointed out a billboard.

Ford blinked awake from what wasn’t exactly a nap—he was still listening to Stanley—but nearly counted as one. He almost missed the billboard, and for a second was sure he misread it as it passed by.

The billboard declared that on an upcoming exit there was a “TRAIN OF TAXIDERMY”, featuring a picture of a rundown-looking set of boxcars that presumably held the taxidermy.

“That looks shitty as hell,” Stan said gleefully. “We should go see it.”

“They’re going to charge us twenty dollars each to look at stuffed rabbits,” Ford said.

“Sure are. We should go anyway. I’ve always seen signs for these stupid things and never gone.”

Ford considered Stanley from the corner of his eye. His brother could pay for his own fee with his casino winnings, so that wasn’t a problem… Ford remembered Stanley always having a fascination with this sort of thing. He’d happily point out any dead animals they saw in the area and listen on as Ford poked them with sticks and tried to determine the cause of death.

It wasn’t like Ford hadn’t also enjoyed himself. Hell, maybe the place would have some genuinely decent taxidermy, which would be interesting to look at. Maybe it’d even have something cursed!

“Why not?” he said. “Let’s go see it. It’ll add, what, an hour getting back?”

Stanley whooped with delight as Ford bent over the map and marked the exit for the Train of Taxidermy with a red marker Stan kept in the glove compartment. 

The tourist trap was easy to find on account of the multiple signs pointing out where to go and clarifying how many miles more to get to it. The sight of the wooden pointing arms and faded white letters claiming to “shock” and “amaze” filled Ford with a rush of nostalgia for the boardwalk carnival of their childhood.

Coming up on the train itself—a bold claim, really, it was three boxcars set on an abandoned track, all of them painted lurid colors—was a slightly disappointing sight after all the fanfare. Stan and Ford got out of the car and made their way to the wooden stall near the parking lot for the site anyway. The pair were still riding the wave of getting out of an endless prison of death and were determined to enjoy themselves.

They engaged with the tourist trap’s cashier with a level of enthusiasm and ecstasy that had the bored teenage employee scrutinizing them with narrowed eyes, probably looking for signs of a different kind of ecstasy.

Still, they were directed to enter any boxcar they chose despite the wary look. Ford had no doubt that it had less to do with the girl being sure they were drug-free and more to do with the fact she wasn’t paid enough to care either way.

The hot pink boxcar was the closest one, and boasted “HUGE RACKS AND IMPRESSIVE BODIES”. Stan marched ahead to that one without Ford’s input, and Ford was forced to follow after.

He supposed he could’ve chosen to take one of the cars not emblazoned with a suggestive slogan, but that would require letting Stanley out of his sight. And that simply wasn’t going to happen.

It turned out that the car was mostly filled with deer, and dear Moses, they were awful. Stan was already cackling at the utterly hideous buck’s head that was mounted on the far wall, whose expression in death could only be described as ‘perturbed’. There were multiple doe in the car as well, posed in what was probably supposed to be frolicing motions, but looked more like seizures. The fur and skin were obviously stitched together from several deer, and yet it seemed far too tight over the false bone and muscle inside.

“I could do better,” Stan said, prodding at the buck’s antlers. There was no one around to stop him from doing it. “These things were obviously glued on—if you’re gonna do that, go big! Give it twenty antlers! Put up a plaque saying it grew a new set every year, ‘cept the last set never fell off.”

“Deer live ten years at best,” Ford pointed out, studying the buck as well. The glass eyes had an almost hypnotic quality despite being set into the eye sockets like the maker had just thrown them haphazardly and hoped they’d stick.

Stan shrugged, grinning. “So it was a half-immortal deer on top of the antler thing. Double the fun.”

Ford laughed in spite of himself.

The other two cars were similarly terrible. The second one, painted a suspect green, was filled with birds upon birds upon birds. Half of them were obviously pigeons painted to be other birds, the rest a collection of haggard birds of exotic nationalities that were surely the result of illegal animal smuggling. One of them was a charbroiled chicken carcass in a glass case that claimed to be the remains of a phoenix, a notion Ford spent a good long while ranting about as Stan came up with increasingly absurd ways for it to be a real phoenix corpse despite the fake nature of everything else.

The yellow-coated third car was the best in that it fully descended into the realm of absurdity. Animals had been butchered into pieces and sown back together into complete mishmashes of chimeras that strained the imagination and one’s sense of good taste. There was a wolf with hawk wings, a squirrel with a scorpion’s tail, a snake with what looked disturbingly like human teeth.

“I can’t believe this place hasn’t been shut down,” Ford said, wishing he could study those teeth in more detail. Were they human?

Unfortunately, even he had enough awareness to know you couldn’t go asking to please have the taxidermy snake in an exhibit to test its teeth. That might invite questions like, ‘how are you going to test if they’re human?’ 

“Shit, I can,” Stan said, examining a set of mice with insect wings stapled to their backs on a small table. “Pigs suck at their jobs, what do they care about some weirdo making monsters in the woods?”

“I suppose.”

It took them another twenty minutes of making fun of the stitching and poor attempts at musculature before they wandered back out, having thoroughly enjoyed themselves. They passed the teenage employee as they went, who made no attempt to hide the joint she was smoking. Ford suspected Stan was right on the money; no local authorities of any kind cared about this place.

Back in the car, Stan paused a moment in starting the car, pulling something out of his coat pockets. Ford let out a shout of surprise as Stan dumped a handful of the taxidermy fairy mice into his lap.

“Be quiet or she’s gonna get on our asses,” Stan said. “Anyway, here’s some mementos. Don’t thank me too hard, now.”

The grin on his face could only be described as shit-eating. 

Ford burst into peals of laughter, trying not to let the mice fall into the foot-space of the passenger seat without actually touching them with his bare hands. “Stanley, I can’t believe you. These things are going to give me rabies.”

Stan snorted. “Y’can’t get rabies like that.” Doubt flickered on his face. “Can you?”

“No,” Ford admitted, unwilling to be wrong even for the bit. “But if anything could manage it, it’d be these awful things.”

The mice peered up at him with glassy, beady eyes. They seemed to beg for death despite being dead.

“You love ‘em. They’re exactly your type’a shit,” Stan said.

“They are not!”

Stanley started the car and peeled out of the parking lot before Ford could even think of returning the horrible mice to their resting place. He laughed at all of Ford’s furious spluttering, not in the least bit afraid or concerned about Ford’s ire.

And maybe there was a reason Ford relented so easily. He already knew where to put the awful things in his cabin.

-----------------------------

Adjusting to being in Ford’s house was… odd.

Part of it was that when Stan ever managed to picture where Ford was living, it was usually off in the city, doing important science stuff in important science places. Somewhere big and blocky and white, science-y and all. He had known that Ford was here from calls from his mom, but the reality never really settled in his mind as the truth.

The big cabin in woods a drive out from a small lumber town was not that. It didn’t fit the eager seventeen year old Stan remembered, so ready to be part of something huge and bustling. Something more than the slow, boring crawl of a tiny beach town.

But then, he couldn’t have imagined that twiggy version of his brother getting the shoulders and arms to successfully tackle him to the ground or the speed to sprint after him without getting winded. Couldn’t have imagined that Ford gleefully stealing a car.

He couldn’t have imagined that version of Ford looking so crushed at the thought of him being dead, either, so maybe it was a good thing he found Ford had changed from what he was. Besides, he was still completely Ford in all the ways that mattered, in the madcap enthusiasm and the grammarian ways and the rambling and the tapping of his fingers, which eased the sting of finding his twin had changed in his absence. 

Actually being in the house also helped. It looked like a movie prop department for every mad scientist thriller ever made had exploded in the place, aka exactly what Stan would’ve imagined for Ford. After chasing the gnomes—the gnomes, what the fuck —out of the cabin and falling asleep on the floor for the first night, Ford had vaguely apologized for not cleaning up and then immediately got distracted trying to arrange jars filled with something on some shelving.

Stan wasn’t allowed to help on account of Ford having a specific organizational method in mind, which Stan had never been able to parse even after seventeen years of living with the guy. Mostly he ended up prodding at the anatomical skeleton Ford had in the house for some reason. Weren’t these things real bones? 

It was here in this house that both was and wasn’t everything Stan imagined for Ford that a lot of things Stan had tried to avoid thinking about swam to the forefront.

“How many times did we repeat the week?” Stan found himself asking.

Ford stopped in place, staring off into the distance. It was the sort of concentrated look that Stan vaguely remembered, one that meant Ford was doing a lot of math in his head. Or that he felt nauseous and was trying not to upchuck onto his own shoes. It was a toss-up when they were kids; Ford’s stomach had been pretty weak.

“I believe it was at least several months worth,” he said. “Maybe even close to half a year.”

“No,” Stan said, on principle. It couldn’t have been half a year.

“There are only fifty-two weeks in a year. You found a lot of ways to kill yourself.”

There was a momentary silence. Stan regretted bringing it up; they’d been doing pretty damn good at leaving the fact that Stan had wanted to kill himself pretty badly to the one conversation in the Stanleymobile. He guessed that was on him for thinking he could get away with never talking about it again.

Abruptly, Ford said, “Ma was the one to tell me.”

“Oh, shit,” Stan said. “I thought you were lying about Ma calling you about me.”

Ford frowned. “Well, I was—she never called me to warn me you were suicidal, she called to tell me you were dead.”

“Shit,” Stan said again, with great feeling.

The look Ford gave him was half-way between confused and incredulous, and he supposed he deserved it. Ford had mentioned that before, hadn't he? That Stan's deaths kept getting to him in the end.

It wouldn’t be right to say Stan hadn’t thought his family would learn about his death; he had, especially in the beginning. He’d gone for a drifter’s death out where no one could find him until identification would be a waste.

At some point, though, that aspect had just… faded away. The impact of what he was doing didn’t feel real. It didn’t matter that he was dying, that others were learn that he had died. Hell, a couple times he’d gone for deaths that would make a scene, would maybe end up on the news if the news cycle had ever been allowed to get past Friday. Those would’ve certainly made it back to the rest of the Pines.

Stan had forgotten the fact that by leaving a body to be identified, his mom would learn that he had died. How he had died. That she’d have to ring up Ford and probably Shermie too to break the news.

He wanted to ask what their mom had sounded like relaying his death. He didn’t actually want to know.

Too bad, Ford was already speaking again. “It was her every time. Well, every time there was a phone call to receive; sometimes I’d go the whole week without one and I always wondered… oh, and our dad called once.”

“Pa?” Stan repeated. “Pa called?”

If what his mom had sounded like was something Stan didn’t want to imagine, what his dad had sounded like was something he couldn’t imagine. The concept of his father taking the time to call Ford and give the news just didn’t make sense.

Ford’s jaw tightened and he rearranged a few jars with unnecessary force. “Yes. It was when you—when you were murdered.”

“By old Gas Bag?”

His twin let out a sharp laugh, looking quite surprised at having done so. “Gas Bag?”

“He had a stupid last name!” Stanley said, gesturing defensively. “And he was a gas bag. Full of hot air.”

The fledgling smile on Ford’s face faded as he continued to survey his shelves. “Yes, the first time with him, I believe. Pa called, as he had been the one to confirm who you were. He usually was.”

Stanley didn’t know how to feel about that little tidbit. Wincingly, his mind flipped through some of his deaths like a receptionist flipping through her rolodex of phone numbers. Shot himself in the head, in the mouth, jumped, poisoned himself with cleaning supplies, lit himself on fire…

Very few of them ever left his body looking very…palatable. And while Stan’s relationship and opinion of his dad could be described as ‘complicated’ on the best of days, he wasn’t sure he wanted the old man to have to see him like that. 

He stared at the anatomical skeleton some more. At least it ke[t Ma from seeing what was left of him. That was something.

Ford broke him out of his morbid reverie. “I’m going to punch him the next time I see him.”

“Who, Gas Bag?” Stan said, baffled. He was pretty sure they’d never meet again.

“No, Pa,” Ford said. “When he called, he—he had the gall to blame you for it, you know. That you were dead, that you were living the kind of life where someone might murder you. I remembered thinking for a second that he might regret it, you know, that he’d understand what he’d done, by the way he was acting—but it was your fault. Of course. It had to be your fault, not his. Not even your dead body could shake him of that.”

Ford’s voice was filled with a cold venom Stan had never heard before. 

He tried to muster up much of a reaction to what Ford actually said, but he found himself oddly distant to it. Of course Pa made it all his fault again. That was an old pattern Stan had taken way too long to notice.

Maybe his dad did regret it. Maybe he didn’t. That version of his dad was as dead as Stan tried to make himself. He never really existed.

“Sounds like Pa,” Stan muttered, flicking the arm of the skeleton and watching it swing in response. 

Ford’s expression contorted. He marched away, and left Stan wondering what was happening. His brother returned with several things: the mice Stan had purloined for him in a plastic bag they had mustered up at some point, a stack of post-it notes, and a marker. Ford wrote “CURSE PA NEXT OPPORTUNITY” and stuck it right on the doorframe to the storage room. Then he set about aggressively arranging the fairy-mice in the space on his shelves.

Stan did not find the post-it note weirdly heart-warming. He didn’t.

-----------------------------

Stan woke up with a start. For a long second, he didn’t recognize the ceiling above him, and his heart seized in his chest—where was the water-damage pattern of the motel room he spent months getting used to? 

The fact that it was dark wood above him threw him even more. Most places he ended up in while sleeping didn’t involve homey cabin interiors. More bare concrete and plaster and maybe some dried blood or vomit no one bothered to clean up.

His gaze swung around the room. Then he really almost had a heart-attack, because Moses, there was someone standing in the frame of the doorway, the light shining behind them blocking out all detail until they were a shadowy silhouette. 

Stanley nearly got his hands on the lamp on the bedside table before his brain caught up to everything and his eyes adjusted to the light to make out the other person’s face. The motel, yes, the loops and the many deaths of Stanley Pines, and then, suddenly and miraculously, his last death and Ford dragging him back to his house in Backwater, Oregon.

It was just Ford. Just Ford, standing in his— his! That was novel—bedroom’s doorway in the perfect way to look like he was about to murder the hell out of Stan. Classic Sixer. His knack for menacing would be applaudable if he could actually do it on purpose.

As Ford stood there in the dark like a creep, he looked steadily at Stan and said: “Stanley, I want you to know that if you ever change your mind and actually manage to kill yourself, I’m going to kill myself right after. Just so you’re aware.”

A hysterical bark of laughter burst out of Stan before he could help it. Whatever he’d expected Ford to say, it wasn’t that. The laughter was swiftly followed by a, “Stanford, holy shit.”

“I’m being completely sincere,” Ford clarified. “Ideally, I’d just resurrect you somehow, but if that doesn’t work I’m coming after you.”

The worst thing was that Stan believed him without a doubt. Man, they were fucked up.

“Fuck’s sake, Pollux,” he infused the nickname with as much sarcasm as he could manage, “I’m not killing myself. Not today, not tomorrow, not in the next eighty years. Please get out of my room.”

Ford sighed like Stan was being the weird one here. But he did leave, departing with an unnecessary flourish of the bathrobe he was wearing for some reason. 

“I would do it!” Ford called one more time as he shut the door.

Stan sighed and looked up at the dark wood of the ceiling, the house creaking slightly with Ford’s movements back to his own room.. 

He was the happiest he’d ever been in his life.