#my bike broke and we went home to fix it

[missbellie]

Redline, and...GO!- B.E

Synopsis: You and your ex-girlfriend are illegal car racers. Your breakup wasn't very amicable due to both of your toxicity, so you've avoided competing with each other. But apparently fate has other plans for you.

Pair: B.e×F!Reader

Words: 6k

Warnings: jealous billie, cursing

Style: Fanfic | Imagine | Headcanons

Part: part 1 ⇽ part 2 ⇽

For two weeks, you couldn’t compete—too busy fixing the wreck Billie fucking Eilish left you with.

“I wanna kill that girl when I see her,” you muttered, scrubbing grease off the hood. “Do to her skull what she did to my car.”

“That bad, huh?” a familiar voice chimed.

You turned fast—and froze.

“Alice?!”

You dropped the sponge, running toward her. The blonde, hair in a messy braid, smiled and caught you in a tight hug, lifting you off the ground.

“Hey there, baby girl. How’s the warzone?”

You pulled back and gave her a once-over, still stunned. “You’ve got a motorcycle now?!”

She leaned casually against the beast of a bike parked behind her. “A lot’s changed. Wanna catch up?”

You didn’t hesitate. She handed you a helmet, and seconds later, you were clinging to her back, the engine roaring beneath you.

...

Later, at your favorite bar—John’s in Jason’s—you were deep into your second beer.

“I started working on my license, took the risk, and boom—freedom,” Alice said, grinning behind the bottle.

“And the tattoos?” you asked, eyeing the ink crawling up her forearm. “You look good, girl.”

“Look who’s talking, hot piece.”

You rolled your eyes, clicking your tongue. “Shut up. What brought you back?”

She leaned in a little, smile soft. “Missed this place. Missed you. And shit got messy where I was. Coming home felt right.”

You smiled and lightly kicked her shin under the table. “That’s your second-best decision after getting the bike.”

She laughed. “Well, I know you’ll make it worth it.”

Your cheeks heated, but you waved her off. “Don’t start.”

She sipped. “So. You and Eilish? I heard things went nuclear.”

You groaned. “We broke up, like, two or three years ago. It was toxic. We were dumb, selfish, angry… and in love. But mostly just angry.”

“Sounds familiar.” Alice stretched, sitting awkwardly, legs spread like always. “What about now? I heard something about sabotage?”

You gave her the rundown—how Billie’s car choked thanks to a little unauthorized tweaking, how she retaliated by screwing with your steering, and how you ended up kissing a damn tree.

Alice was laughing so hard she nearly spit out her beer. “She really went full psycho?”

“Full. Fucking. Psycho.”

“And your car’s okay?”

“Now it is. Barely. I want to shove the bill down her throat.”

You stood up to pay. “I got this round.”

“No way, I’m paying,” Alice said, standing too.

You pushed her back down. “Relax. I got it.”

But when you turned toward the counter—you saw her.

Billie. Sitting on a barstool like a storm cloud with legs. Staring at you like she was planning your funeral. Her hand gripped her glass so tight it looked like the thing might shatter.

You walked up anyway, like you hadn’t just stepped into a landmine.

And then—there she was beside you.

“You into bikers now?” she asked, head tilted, voice dipped low and mocking.

“Better than dishonest car racers,” you snapped, handing your card to the bartender.

She laughed bitterly, eyes never leaving you. “Fuck you. What’s she doing here?”

“What do you care? Mind your own fucking business, Eilish.”

She stepped closer. You felt her breath. “Keep saying my name like that and I might actually start thinking you miss me.”

“God, you’re disgusting. Fuck you.”

Then—an arm slipped around your shoulders. You instantly relaxed at the familiar scent of wood smoke and leather.

“Take it easy, Eilish,” Alice said, pulling you in closer. “She’s not into it.”

Billie’s eyes dragged over her with disdain. “Didn’t realize I invited your sniffy little ass. But hey—welcome back, Garfield.”

She turned her back, slapped some cash on the bar, and walked off like she hadn’t just lit a fuse.

You exhaled slowly, the burn of her presence still clinging to your skin.

“Still got that magic, huh?” Alice said beside you, calm as ever.

You didn’t answer. Just took your drinks, and followed her back to the table.

But inside? You were still on fire.

...

The sun was starting to set when Alice heard the knock on her apartment door—sharp, impatient, like whoever was on the other side wasn’t in the mood to talk. She wiped grease off her hands, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and opened the door.

Billie Eilish stood there, solo, hoodie zipped up to her chin and jaw tight.

Alice blinked once, then leaned on the doorframe, calm. “Well, if it isn’t the storm in eyeliner.”

“Where is she?” Billie asked, skipping the bullshit.

“Not here.” Alice raised a brow. “Why?”

Billie didn’t answer right away. Her fingers twitched at her sides like she didn’t know what to do with them. “What are you doing back?”

Alice tilted her head. “Same thing you’re doing. Breathing. Existing.”

“You don’t just show up after years and start hanging around her like nothing’s changed.”

“She invited me back in,” Alice said, arms crossed. “You didn’t exactly leave the door open for her, from what I heard.”

Billie’s eyes flared. “Don’t play this game. I know you liked her. Back then.”

Alice smirked. “She was always important to me. Still is. I don’t think of her that way…” She let that sentence hang, letting Billie exhale just a little—before twisting the knife.

“…But if you care that much about her, Billie, maybe you should stop acting like you don’t.”

That hit.

Billie’s mouth opened, then shut. Her eyes dropped for a second before locking onto Alice’s again, burning.

“You don’t get to tell me shit.”

“I’m not telling you anything,” Alice said coolly. “I’m just pointing out what’s already obvious. You’re here. Alone. Angry. Jealous. Doesn’t look very casual to me.”

Billie stepped forward, almost chest-to-chest now. “I’m warning you—”

“No,” Alice cut in, voice low and even. “I’m warning you. If you’re gonna play with her head again, you’ll have to go through me first. And you remember how that went last time, don’t you?”

Billie’s nostrils flared, but she said nothing. Her hands clenched and unclenched, her jaw working like she had a thousand things to say but couldn’t settle on just one.

Alice leaned in a little, like she was daring her to move. “You still love her, huh?”

Silence.

Then Billie scoffed, stepping back with a bitter laugh. “You’re real cocky for someone she almost forgot.”

Alice shrugged, unfazed. “Maybe. But she remembers me now.”

Billie stared at her a beat longer, then turned and walked away without another word.

Alice watched her disappear down the stairs and murmured, mostly to herself, “Still the same Billie. Still can’t say what she really wants.”

jealous billie, QKQUQKWHWBWHAIWUAU I LOVE IT

hope you liked it babies, xoxo!

[vunblr]

Chains of Fate

Pairing: Destroyer!Chris x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Fluff. Smut. Unprotected sex.

Summary: A florist keeps having trouble with her bicycle, and Chris, her rugged mechanic neighbor, is always available to help. Or isn’t he?

Word Count: About 6.8k.

notes: Yup, this story isn’t about Bucky. After reading this story by @sashaisready featuring Destroyer!Chris the other day, I had an overwhelming urge to write something with him. It was an itch I just had to scratch and well, here we are.

When she closed the shop's door behind her, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows over the street. The aroma of the last plants she touched still clung to her hands as she fumbled to lock up. The bicycle leaned against the wall, her reliable companion in her daily routine.

Except today, it wasn’t so reliable. As soon as she set her hand on the handlebar, she noticed the chain dangling uselessly, smudged with grease, and utterly dislodged.

"Seriously?" she muttered, brushing a strand of hair from her face and crouching to inspect the damage. Her attempt to wrestle the chain back into place was met with resistance and a smear of black grease across her palm. With a resigned sigh, she glanced toward the mechanic shop next door.

The large garage doors were half-open, spilling the faint sound of a radio murmuring some old rock ballad. She hesitated. The other workers had surely gone home already, leaving the place unusually quiet.

The thought of asking him made her nervous and self-conscious. They’d spoken a dozen times, exchanging brief pleasantries when their paths crossed. He always looked like he belonged in an old motorcycle catalog: broad-shouldered with a padlock beard, hair shaved on the sides of his head, and effortlessly self-assured. Also, attractive. Very attractive.

As she predicted, he was still there, leaning against a workbench, the sleeves of his denim jacket cut clean to reveal his tattooed arms. His sharp features and unreadable expression gave him an edge that was as intimidating as magnetic.

Don’t overthink it. Just ask for help, she told herself. Still, her fingers fidgeted nervously as she wheeled the bike toward the shop.

"Hey, Chris?" she called softly.

He looked up, and his piercing blue eyes locked onto hers. For a moment, he simply studied her, then he tossed the rag he’d been holding onto the bench. "What’s up?"

"My bike... The chain came off," she explained, gesturing toward it. "I was hoping you might be able to fix it, if it’s not too much trouble."

His lips curved slightly, a smirk that wasn’t unfriendly but held a flicker of something she couldn’t place. "Bring it here."

She rolled the bike closer, and he took it from her hands, brushing her fingers briefly. He turned it toward the stand, crouching low as he inspected the damage.

"You know," he said without looking up, "you could fix this yourself if you had the right tools."

"I guess I’m not very handy," she admitted softly.

He glanced up, smirking faintly. "Good thing you’ve got me, huh?" before she could answer, he returned his attention to the bike, all muscles flexing as he worked the chain back into place. She found herself mesmerized, gazing at the strength in his forearms and the grease-streaked curve of his jawline.

"Something on your mind?" his voice broke the silence, and her heart jumped.

"No! I mean-" She winced inwardly, caught staring. "Just...thank you. For helping." She glanced around the workshop, her eyes catching on the faint outline of a lipstick kiss smudged on an old coffee cup by a wooden table. Her stomach twisted. She wasn’t stupid, she’d seen the kind of women who came and went from here. Long legged, sun-kissed beauties, wearing barely there shorts, with loud laugh and bold hands.

Not exactly like her.

He stood, rolling his shoulders, the chain now secure in its place. He moved closer, his sharp blue eyes studying her in a way that made her self-conscious again. His smirk softened. "Next time it happens, come straight to me. Don’t try to fix it yourself."

She nodded. "So… how much do I owe you?" she asked after a beat, softer than she intended.

He wiped his hands on his jeans. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" she repeated, a little startled. "I don’t want to take advantage of you,” she stated. “You took the time-"

“Y/n,” he interrupted, his smirk fading into something more serious. “It’s just a bike chain. I’m not charging you for that.”

She bit her lip, unsure how to respond. The way he said her name made something flutter in her chest, and she cursed herself for letting it. She glanced down at her bike, hoping to steady her nerves. "Well, thank you. I really appreciate it."

As he handed her the bike back, his fingers lingered for a moment longer than necessary. "You’re welcome," he murmured, and she could swear his gaze flicked toward her lips.

She tightened her grip on the handlebars, offering him a small, grateful smile before wheeling her bike toward the door. As she turned the corner, she couldn’t help but glance back. He was leaning against the doorway, watching at her.

----------

The following day, she couldn’t focus. Not on the meticulous task of pruning succulents, nor the subtle rearranging of potted lavender displays. Her mind kept drifting back to the workshop next door. Specifically, to Chris.

She bit her lip, hands hovering over a basket of moss she’d been fluffing for far too long. It wasn’t just the gratitude she felt for him fixing her bike, it was the way his voice sounded when he said her name, the fleeting brush of his fingers as he handed her the handlebars, and damn, that stare.

By mid-morning, her resolve solidified. A thank-you was in order, a proper one. And if she were being honest, maybe she wanted an excuse to see him again. As the thought settled in her mind, she absently plucked at a stray leaf from one of her displays, and a memory came to her mind.

It was late summer, she’d been in a corner near the counter of the bakery, debating whether to get a cinnamon scone or stick to her usual croissant, when the doorbell chimed, and Chris strolled inside.

He was hard to miss, even in a crowd. Tall, broad-shouldered, denim jacket slung lazily over one arm. He’d made his way to the counter, nodding a greeting to the baker before ordering a box of assorted treats.

At the time, she’d assumed they weren’t for him. He didn’t seem the type to indulge in baked goods. Maybe the box was for his employees, or one of the women who frequented his workshop. But then, weeks later, she’d seen him again.

It was mid-afternoon, and she’d been sweeping the sidewalk in front of her shop when she noticed him sitting at the curb just down the street. He had the bakery box open on his lap, a brownie in hand, and his expression was uncharacteristically soft.

She had to do a double take, blinking in disbelief. Chris -the intimidating, sharp featured mechanic- was biting into the brownie like a kid savoring his favorite candy. A trace of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, his usual hard edges momentarily softened in the golden light.

She’d stared longer than she should have, her broom forgotten in her hand. The sight had been… endearing, unexpected, and strangely magnetic. It lingered in her mind long after he wiped his fingers on his jeans and walked back to the workshop.

Now, standing in her shop, the memory made her smile. It also gave her an idea. If he had a soft spot for baked goods, why not lean into it?

Decided to give it a try, she flipped the sign on her door to Closed in the afternoon and hurried home. Baking wasn’t exactly her forte, but she could manage something simple. Something thoughtful. She sifted through her cupboards, pulling out cocoa powder, sugar, and butter. Chocolate cupcakes seemed perfect: rich, sweet, and easy enough to make without risking disaster.

The process wasn’t without its hiccups. Flour dusted all over her counter -and somehow her shirt-, and she almost forgot to preheat the oven. But as the cupcakes rose, the warm aroma of chocolate filled her small kitchen, and a satisfied smile spread across her face.

By the time the ganache was swirled on top and the sea salt sprinkled for flair, it was late. She packed the best of the batch carefully into a small box, tying it with twine.

Tomorrow, she thought, wiping her hands on a dish towel. Tomorrow, she’d thank Chris properly. And if she was lucky, maybe she’d get to see him smile like that again.

----------

The next morning, she arrived at her shop earlier than usual, the cupcake box nestled securely in the basket of her bike. Her heart raced as she pedaled through the quiet streets, rehearsing what she might say when she saw him.

As she rounded the corner near the workshop, her eyes immediately landed on Chris. He was standing at the garage doors, fumbling with the heavy lock, a slight scowl on his face. The sight made her smile, seeing someone so self-assured look momentarily frustrated was oddly endearing.

She braked to a gentle stop in front of her flower shop, propping her bike against the wall. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the box and walked toward him.

“Morning, Chris,” she called softly, trying to steady her voice.

He looked up, and is scowl disappeared, replaced by a flicker of surprise. “Morning,” he replied, his voice gruff from the early hour. “You’re up early.”

“So are you,” she countered, her lips curving into a small smile. She stepped closer, holding the box in front of her. “I, uh… I wanted to thank you for helping me with my bike the other day. Properly, this time.”

His gaze shifted to the box in her hands, one brow quirking slightly. “What’s this?”

She bit her lip, feeling uncharacteristically shy. “Just a little something. I… made you cupcakes.”

Chris blinked, as though trying to process her words. “You baked me cupcakes?” he repeated, his tone hovering between surprise and amusement.

“Yes.” She hesitated, glancing down at the box. “I know it’s not much, but… I really appreciated your help, and I thought… well, you seemed to like sweets, so…”

His lips twitched, the corner pulling into a faint smirk. “You noticed that, huh?”

Her cheeks warmed. “I might’ve seen you at the bakery once or twice.”

Chris chuckled, low and warmly. He reached out, his rough fingers brushing hers as he took the box. “This wasn’t necessary, you know.”

“I wanted to,” she said quickly, meeting his gaze. “It’s just a thank-you.”

For a moment, he studied her with a soft expression that made her stomach flutter. “Well, thank you,” he murmured. He peeped inside the box, then back at her. “I’ll have to try them later. If they’re as good as it looks, I might have to hire you as my personal baker.”

She laughed nervously. “Don’t get your hopes up. Baking isn’t exactly my forte.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he said, with a growing smirk.

She shifted on her feet, unsure of what else to say. “Well, I should get back to my shop. Have a good morning.”

“You too.” He murmured. As she turned to leave, she felt his gaze linger, and it took everything in her not to glance back.

----------

It was later than usual when she finally locked up the flower shop. The delivery truck earlier in the afternoon brought far more than she’d expected, and sorting through the dozens of plants had turned into an all-day affair. She was tired, her hands aching a little from hauling pots and unpacking boxes, but it was a good kind of tired, that came with satisfaction.

She grabbed her bike from where it was propped against the wall outside and prepared to head home, already looking forward to a quiet dinner and a hot bath. But when she tried to pedal, the resistance was immediate. The familiar, dreaded clink of the chain greeted her ears.

Her brows furrowed. Again?

Her first instinct was to crouch down and take a look, but she paused, remembering Chris’s words: “Next time it happens, come straight to me. Don’t try to fix it yourself.” It had been a direct instruction, accompanied by a pointed look, and though she didn’t like feeling helpless, she also didn’t want to make things worse.

With a reluctant sigh, she wheeled the bike over to the garage next door. The overhead door was still partially open, spilling soft light onto the pavement, though the space beyond looked quiet. She hesitated at the threshold before stepping inside, her voice tentative.

“Chris?”

There was no immediate response, but a moment later, a door creaked open.

Her breath caught at the sight before her eyes.

Chris stepped out of the small bathroom at the back of the garage, barefoot, wearing only a pair of well-worn jeans that clung low on his hips and a towel that hung loosely around his neck. His chest and abs were still damp, droplets of water catching the light as they slid down his skin, evidence of a quick rinse before heading home. He stopped mid-step when he saw her, his brows lifting in surprise for the briefest moment. Then, slowly, a wicked smile spread across his face, and he pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, the gesture both lazy and deliberate.

“Well, Poppy,” he drawled, his voice low and amused. “Couldn’t stay away, huh?”

Her cheeks heated instantly at the nickname, and she gripped the handlebars of her bike tighter, suddenly hyper-aware of how small the space felt with him standing there. “My chain,” she said quickly, gesturing to the offending bike. “It came off again.”

He tilted his head, still grinning as he sauntered toward her. “Did it now?” His tone was almost teasing, and she couldn’t help but feel like there was something unspoken in his words.

“Yeah,” she agreed, clearing her throat. “So… here I am. Like you said.”

Chris stopped just a foot away, his gaze dropping to the bike and then back to her face, his smirk never faltering. “You’re a good listener,” he remarked, crouching down to inspect the chain. “Most people think they know better and end up making a bigger mess.”

She crossed her arms, trying to ignore the way her pulse quickened as his shoulders flexed with the movement. “Well, you made it pretty clear not to touch it.”

“Smart girl,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.

As he worked, his fingers deftly maneuvering the chain back into place, she studied him, trying to distract herself from the warmth creeping up her neck. There was something about his expression, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“You seem… amused by this,” she observed, narrowing her eyes slightly.

Chris glanced up at her, his grin softening into something more boyish, though no less mischievous. “Do I?”

“Yes,” she shot back, though her voice lacked the bite she intended.

He straightened, brushing his hands on his jeans as he inspected his work. “There. Good as new,” He leaned casually against the bike, and the smirk returned, slow and deliberate.

“Guess you’ll just have to keep coming back,” he added, replacing the boyish smile with the smirk again.

Something about the way he said it… no, she was imagining things. She shook the thought away, offering a polite smile instead. “Thanks,” she murmured. “Let’s hope I don’t have to. I’ve bothered you enough already.”

He didn’t reply immediately, just chuckled low. A rich, warm sound that made her stomach flutter despite herself. Reaching for the towel draped around his neck, he tossed it over his shoulder, his smirk never fading.

“Guess we’ll see,” he replied, his tone dripping with mirth.

She gave him a quick nod, gripping the handlebars of her bike as she turned toward the door. As she wheeled it out of the workshop, she could feel his gaze on her the entire time, heavy and lingering.

----------

It couldn’t be just a coincidence, and she didn’t believe in hexes. As she stepped outside the shop the next day and tried to ride her bike, only to find the chain dislodged again, she was sure Chris had something to do with it.

But why? Was he bored and was using her as a form of distraction? Did he catch on to her little crush and find joy in teasing her? The thoughts simmered in her chest, leaving a heat that burned more from frustration than embarrassment.

Biting her lip, she squared her shoulders and left the bike leaning against the wall. Her resolve hardened as she stormed toward the garage, striding straight through the open door. The bang of it slamming shut behind her echoed in the quiet space.

There he was, perched casually on the edge of a workbench, a giant biscuit in hand. His broad shoulders hunched slightly as he chewed, and he looked up at her with a genuine flicker of surprise in his icy blue eyes. Good. Let him be surprised.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she hissed, her tone sharp enough to cut through the air.

He didn’t answer immediately, his poker face slipping into place as he leisurely took another bite of his biscuit. She marched closer, the click of her boots on the concrete floor punctuating her frustration.

“You think it’s funny, huh?” she snapped, her voice rising. “Messing with my bike to entertain yourself like some immature teenager?”

This... was not how he pictured this would go.

Chris blinked at her, caught off guard by the fiery edge in her tone and the determination blazing in her eyes. He hadn’t accounted for this, hadn’t considered that the sweet, flustered woman next door might come stomping into his workshop like a storm ready to unleash hell.

And damn if it wasn’t kind of hot.

The corner of his mouth twitched, but he suppressed the smirk threatening to form, masking his features into neutrality. Okay, Poppy’s got thorns, he thought, his nickname for her taking on a new meaning. His smooth plan -one that felt straight out of a cheesy romcom, the kind his friends always mocked him for enjoying - was spiraling quickly out of control.

“Are you just going to sit there and stare or are you going to explain yourself?” she pressed, crossing her arms. Her cheeks were flushed, and her frustration was palpable.

He swallowed the last of the biscuit, brushing the crumbs from his hands. “Explain what, exactly?” he drawled, calm but with a hint of amusement.

“My bike,” she snapped, pointing toward the door. “The chain’s off again, and I know you have something to do with it.”

Chris finally let the smirk slip, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek as he stood, the movement slow and deliberate. “Maybe you should take better care of it,” he advised, in a low and teasing tone

Her eyes narrowed, and he could almost see the steam rising off her.

“Don’t play dumb,” she shot back. “You told me not to touch it, to bring it to you, and now, magically, it keeps breaking?”

He stepped closer, his hands sliding casually into his pockets. “And yet, here you are,” he murmured, deepening his infuriating smirk.

Her glare faltered for the briefest moment as she registered his words. Indeed, he was doing it on purpose.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she breathed, her voice dripping with disbelief.

“Guess you figured me out,” he admitted, his voice dipping lower as he stepped closer, vanishing the space between them. Their bodies almost touched, and his heat radiated against her skin. “What are you gonna do about it, Poppy?”

That sultry tone, paired with the teasing lilt in his words, sent a wave of electricity coursing through her body, nearly making her knees give out. But she forced herself to stand firm, her chin tilting upward to meet his gaze.

Before she could stop herself -before her rational side could intervene- her hand shot out, slapping him across the face.

The sharp sound echoed in the quiet garage.

Chris’s head snapped slightly to the side, the sting blooming on his cheek. His free hand instinctively flexed at his side as he turned back to her with a stunned expression, as though he truly hadn’t seen that coming.

“Okay,” he muttered, almost to himself.

She didn’t give him time to recover. “I didn’t think you were such an asshole, Chris,” she spat, her voice trembling with anger, her chest heaving. “You have all those women fawning over you nonstop, and this-” she gestured between them, her voice breaking with frustration” was completely unnecessary. I hope your little game entertained you enough. Your stupid neigh-”

He cut her off the only way he could think of.

By kissing her.

The motion was swift. His hand slid around her waist, keeping her in place as his lips crashed against hers. It wasn’t a soft, tentative kiss. It was firm, heated, and unapologetically bold, the kind that stole the breath right out of her lungs.

For a split second, her mind went blank, her anger eclipsed by the unexpected intensity of his actions. She froze, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer.

His lips softened slightly, coaxing rather than demanding, as if asking her to meet him halfway.

And damn it, she did.

Her hands found their way to his chest, whether to shove him or steady herself, she couldn’t tell.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against hers, and his breath was hot against her lips. “Now,” he murmured “are you gonna call me an asshole again, or should I keep going?”

Her eyes snapped open and her cheeks flamed as she registered his mischievous and utterly unrepentant smirk. Her chest rose and fell, words stuck in her throat as he leaned closer, his lips curling into a knowing grin. "That's what I thought," he murmured, his voice low and taunting, before capturing her lips again.

This time, the kiss was deeper, hungrier. His hand slid from her waist to her hip, pulling her flush against him, while the other cradled the back of her neck. Her protest melted into a soft moan as his tongue parted her lips, exploring her with confidence.

Her hands found their way to his shoulders, clutching at the firm muscles beneath his shirt as he walked her backward, guiding her toward the little office at the side of the workshop without breaking the kiss. When her thighs hit the edge of the desk, he took the opportunity to press his body even closer.

His name on her lips only seemed to spur him on, his kisses growing fiercer and insistent. The room was filled with the sounds of their ragged breaths and the scrape of papers and stationery being pushed aside as he lifted her onto the desk, stepping between her knees with a possessive grip on her thighs.

He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. "You can still walk out of here," he rasped, though the way his thumb traced lazy circles on her inner thigh suggested he knew the answer already.

Her lips parted, but instead of answering, she grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked him back to her. That was all the permission he needed.

Chris’s hands gripped her thighs firmly, pulling her hips closer to the edge of the desk as he kissed her like he was starved. His teeth grazed her bottom lip, drawing a gasp from her mouth, which he swallowed with a low, satisfied growl. One hand slipped under the waistband of her cotton shorts, rough fingers skimming over the soft fabric of her underwear, teasing but not quite daring enough to push further… yet.

“Fuck,” he murmured against her lips, his breath hot and ragged. “You’re driving me crazy, you know that?”

Her nails dug into his shoulders, as he trailed his mouth down her jaw to the sensitive spot just below her ear. She shivered, her head tilting instinctively to give him better access.

“You think this is fair?” she managed to gasp, with a trembling voice as his fingers edged lower, brushing over her clothed pussy. “Messing with me like that?”

He smirked against her skin, his lips trailing down to the hollow of her throat. “Fair’s overrated,” he muttered, nipping at her collarbone. “Besides, you didn’t seem to mind earlier.”

Her retort died in her throat as his hand slipped beneath the elastic of her panties, and, without preamble, he slid two fingers inside her, groaning low in his throat at the feel of her warm pussy clenching around them. “You’re so goddamn wet,” he rasped, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Was all that attitude just for show, Poppy? You have been wanting this as bad as I have?”

She couldn’t answer, not with the way his fingers curled, hitting a spot that made her gasp and clutch at his shoulders. Her nails dug into his skin through his shirt, and she felt his smirk against her neck before he nipped at her pulse.

“Exactly what I thought,” he stated, his voice laced with smug satisfaction as his thumb found her clit, circling it in a way that had her thighs trembling. “You’ve been waiting for me to take you apart, haven’t you?”

Her only response was a desperate moan, as her hips ground against his hand, chasing the pleasure he was so expertly coaxing out of her. He didn’t relent, adding more pressure to his movements, his breath hot against her skin as he kissed and bit along her collarbone.

“Say it,” he demanded, as his fingers plunged deeper. “Tell me how bad you want it, Poppy.”

“I… please” she whined trying to press herself harder against his hand.

Chris chuckled darkly against the sensitive skin of her neck. “Please, what?” he teased, his fingers slowing just enough to make her whimper in frustration. “Use your words, sweetheart. I want to hear you say it.”

Her pride warred with her need, but the desperate ache building inside her won out. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she tilted her head back, exposing her throat in a silent plea. “I need to cum,” she whispered, with a trembling voice. “Please, Chris.”

“That’s my girl,” he growled, his lips crashing back onto hers as he pumped his fingers harder, the slick sounds of her arousal filling the small office. His thumb pressed firmly against her clit, drawing a broken cry from her as her hips bucked wildly against his hand.

Her legs felt weak, her body trembling under the relentless assault of his touch. He pulled back just enough to watch her face, his eyes dark with hunger. “You gonna come for me, Poppy?” he asked, his voice low and rough. “Right here, with my fingers buried in this pretty little pussy?”

That was all it took. Her body tensed, her walls clenching around his fingers as the wave of pleasure crashed over her. She cried out, her nails dragging down his back as her orgasm left her trembling in his arms.

Chris didn’t stop until her shudders subsided, pulling his fingers out slowly and bringing them to his mouth. His eyes never left hers as he licked them clean, with a satisfied smirk on his face. “Sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever tasted,” he murmured.

Before she could recover, he was reaching for the hem of her shirt, his intentions clear as his eyes roamed her flushed, trembling body. “We’re not done yet, Poppy,” he said, his grin wicked. “Not even close.”

Her body was still trembling from the aftershocks, but her mind was beginning to clear, and with clarity came a surge of boldness. As Chris pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it somewhere across the room, she caught his wrist, halting his next move.

“Do you always pull stunts like this?” she asked, breathless but with a hint of sharpness in her tone.

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk still firmly in place. “What, you mean fixing your bike?”

Her eyes narrowed, and she gave his chest a push, not hard enough to create distance, but enough to make her point. “Sabotaging it, you mean,” she shot back, her lips curving into a small smile despite herself.

Chris didn’t deny it. Instead, he leaned in, his mouth brushing against hers as he murmured, “Worked, didn’t it?”

Her retort was interrupted by his hand sliding up her thigh, fingers tracing a slow, teasing path over her bare skin. She bit her lip, trying to hold onto her composure. “You could’ve just asked me out, you know,” she managed, her voice wavering as his hand crept higher.

His grin widened. “Where’s the fun in that?”

She rolled her eyes, but her breath hitched as his hand slipped beneath the waistband of her shorts, cupping her possessively. “You’re insufferable,” she muttered, though her hands betrayed her words as they gripped his forearms, nails digging in as he teased her.

“And you’re gorgeous when you’re pissed off,” he countered, his voice dropping an octave.

Her laugh was soft but shaky, cut short when he slid her shorts and panties down in one swift motion, leaving her bare before him. He stepped back slightly to take her in, his gaze burning as it swept over her flushed skin. “Fucking perfect,” he muttered, almost to himself.

She felt heat flood her face, but instead of retreating into shyness, she stepped forward, placing her hands on his belt and tugging him closer. Her fingers worked at the buckle with purpose, though she glanced up at him with a smirk of her own. “You’re not the only one who gets to have fun, you know,”

Chris groaned, his hands gripping her hips as he watched her undo his belt, anticipation clear in his darkened eyes. “Careful, Poppy,” he warned, though there was no real threat in his tone, just raw, unfiltered need.

“Or what?” she challenged, her fingers sliding beneath the waistband of his jeans to push them down.

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he grabbed her wrists and guided her back toward the desk, his lips crashing against hers in a kiss that left no room for argument. He lifted her effortlessly, settling her on the edge as his mouth moved down her neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses.

Her head fell back with a gasp, her hands rummaged against his shaved head as his beard scraped against her skin. “Chris,” she breathed, the sound of his name a plea that made him growl against her collarbone.

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded, his voice rough as his hands roamed her body, mapping every curve.

Her nails raked down his back, as her hips shifted to meet his. “I want you to fuck me."

Her words snapped whatever fragile thread of restraint he’d been clinging to. He surged forward, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. It was all teeth and tongue, rough and consuming, as his hands gripped her hips like he was staking a claim.

“Say it again,” he rasped against her lips, his voice low and gravelly.

She trembled, her nails kept digging into his back as her legs wrapped around his waist. “I want you to fuck me,” she repeated, her voice tinted with a mix of desperation and challenge.

“Good girl,” he growled, reaching between them to line himself up. With one hard thrust, he buried himself inside her, drawing a sharp cry from her lips as her body arched against his.

The desk creaked beneath them, the sound mingling with their ragged breaths and the low, guttural groan Chris let out as he began to move. His rhythm was relentless, each thrust pushing her closer to the edge as he held her firmly in place, one hand gripping her behind her knee and the other gripping the nape of her neck.

“Fuck, Poppy,” he muttered, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke. “You feel so damn good.”

Her hands clawed at his back, her head falling backward as his pace quickened. “Chris,” she gasped, her voice breaking on his name as her body tightened around him. The way he filled her, the intensity of his movements, it was overwhelming, intoxicating, everything she hadn’t known she needed.

He tilted back her head by the hair, his lips finding hers again in a kiss that was more raw than refined, his teeth catching her lower lip before he pulled back to look at her. “You’re mine,” he said, his voice a guttural growl that didn’t leave place for argument.

“Yes,” she whimpered, her nails scraping against his scalp as her thighs clenched around his waist.

The admission seemed to snap something in him. He shifted his angle, his thrusts hitting deeper, harder, each one drawing a broken moan from her lips. Her hands flew to the edge of the desk, gripping it for stability as her body shook with the force of his movements.

Her climax hit her hard, her vision went white as her body clenched around him. She cried out his name, raw and breathless as the pleasure overtook her. Chris followed moments later, as his hips jerked against hers one final time as he came with a soft groan, his release flooding her as he sank deep, unable to hold back any longer.

They stayed like that for a moment, bodies connected, and breaths mingling as they came down from the high. Chris pressed his forehead to hers, his lips curving into a lazy, satisfied smirk.

“Still think I’m an asshole?” he teased, his voice rough but filled with amusement.

She let out a breathless laugh, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. “Oh, you’re definitely an asshole,” she replied, despite the sated look in her eyes.

He chuckled softly, but then silence settled between them. His gaze shifted to the floor, his hand running through his hair as if to busy himself. She tilted her head, sensing his sudden unease.

After a beat, he let out a sigh, furrowing his brows. “I didn’t think you would say yes,” he confessed, almost hesitant.

She blinked at him, her fingers pausing their lazy strokes on his chest. “Say yes to what?”

He bit his lip, clearly debating whether to answer. Finally, he sighed again, his eyes lifting to meet hers, though they held a vulnerable edge now. “When you told me I could just have asked you out,” he admitted, his words a little rushed, like getting them out quickly would make them easier to say.

Her gaze softened at the sight of his cheeks turning pink, the blush spreading up to his ears. He looked so different like this, shy and unsure. It was a stark contrast to the cocky, self-assured man she’d come to know. It reminded her of the way he looked when she’d caught him eating her baked goods on the sidewalk, his face lighting up like a kid at Christmas.

“Chris,” she said softly, pulling his gaze back to hers. “Why wouldn’t I?”

His hand rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I don’t know. You’re… you. And I’m me. I guess I just figured… hell, I don’t know.” He laughed awkwardly, shaking his head as if to dismiss the thought. “That’s why I thought maybe…”

“Maybe what?” she pressed gently.

He flushed deeper, his hand falling to his side as he let out a resigned breath. “If I kept fixing your bike, it’d give me a reason to see you. Even if you weren’t interested. And maybe… eventually…”

Her lips parted in surprise, and for a moment, she just stared at him. Then, a slow, amused smile crept across her face. “So, you’ve been sabotaging my bike this whole time just to spend time with me?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper as he ducked his head. “Pretty stupid, huh?”

Her laugh was warm and bright, and when he glanced up at her, she was grinning. “Chris,” she said, reaching up to brush her fingers along his jaw, “you really are an asshole. But you’re a cute one.”

That earned her a boyish grin, the confidence starting to creep back into his expression. “Cute, huh?” he teased, leaning in until their noses nearly touched.

She rolled her eyes playfully but didn’t pull away. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

His grin softened, but before he could respond, she added, “Also… I never thought you’d be interested in me. I’m not your usual… cup of tea.”

The playful spark in his eyes faded into something warmer, more serious. He leaned back just enough to study her face, his brows furrowing. “What makes you think that?”

She shrugged, her fingers fidgeting against his chest. “I’ve seen the women who hang around you, Chris. They’re all so… well, let’s say I don’t exactly fit that mold. I guess I just figured someone like you wouldn’t look twice at someone like me.”

Chris’s jaw clenched, his hands slid to rest firmly on her waist. “First off, that’s bullshit. You’re gorgeous, smart, and you’ve got this thing about you…” He paused, his lips quirking into a small, lopsided smile. “You’re real, Poppy. And if you haven’t noticed, I’ve been looking a hell of a lot more than twice.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she bit her lip, unable to suppress a small, bashful smile. “You’re just saying that because I slept with you,” she teased lightly, though her voice wavered just a little.

His expression turned serious again, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “I’m saying it because it’s true. I’ve wanted you since the first time you walked out of your shop six months ago, all wide-eyed and nervous to exhibit some plants in the sidewalk. You had a yellow apron full of poppies.”

She blinked in surprise. “You… remember that?”

His expression softened, a small, almost shy smile tugging at his lips. “Of course, I remember. How could I not?” His thumb continued its gentle caress over her cheek. “You were fussing over every little detail, making sure each pot was lined up just right. I was watching you from the garage and thinking how someone could be so damn... adorable.”

She blinked again, stunned. “Adorable?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice dipping lower. “You had smudges of dirt on your face, a little furrow in your brow like the whole world would fall apart if one of those plants was crooked. And that apron…” He grinned, his eyes glinting with affection. “It had those poppies on it, and I thought, Poppy. It just… fit you.”

Her cheeks burned, the memory suddenly vivid in her own mind. She’d been so self-conscious that day, trying to make a good impression in the neighborhood. “I had no idea you noticed me,” she murmured.

“Are you kidding?” he asked, a soft laugh escaping him. “I couldn’t not notice you. I kept trying to come up with excuses to walk by, hoping you’d look up and say hi. But you didn’t even glance my way.”

She bit her lip, feeling a pang of guilt. “I was so focused on not messing up… I didn’t even think to look around.”

“Well,” he said, his grin returning as he leaned in closer, “I guess I just had to get creative after that.”

Her lips quirked in a wry smile. “Creative like messing with my bike?”

He winced, his blush deepening. “Yeah, maybe not my best plan. But it worked, didn’t it?”

She rolled her eyes, but there was no mistaking the warmth in her smile. “You’re lucky it did.”

Chris chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Okay, but watching you storm in here like a little spitfire? Worth every second.”

She swatted at his chest, though her laugh undermined the gesture. “You’re the worst.”

“Yeah, but I’m your worst now,” he replied pulling her closer by the waist.

She arched a brow, giving him a deadpan look. “You just called yourself my worst. That’s not exactly a glowing endorsement, you know that, don’t you?”

“Fine, let me try again.” He caressed her cheek and pressed his forehead against hers “What about… I’m your guy now?”

She felt a flutter in her stomach at his words. Biting her lip, she hesitated for just a second before leaning in, brushing her lips softly against his.

“Much better,” she smiled, her gaze locked on his.

Chris’s grin widened, his cockiness tempered by something gentler. His hand slid up to cradle the back of her head, pulling her closer for another kiss.

Outside, the faint chirp of crickets signaled the end of the day, but inside the garage, time felt suspended, wrapped in the warmth of shared smiles and the lingering taste of the kiss.

“Guess I should fix your bike now,” Chris finally murmured, his voice low and teasing, though his thumb still brushed lightly against her cheek as if he couldn’t bear to stop touching her.

She laughed softly, the sound carrying over the music. “Maybe I’ll let you if you promise not to sabotage it again.”

His smirk was immediate, wickedness returning in full force. “Can’t do, Poppy. You looked way too damn hot storming in here.”

She swatted his chest, as the song faded into another, its upbeat tempo matching the rhythm of her fluttering heart.

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

[cultofdixon]

Oddly Fascinating

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Can you imagine a human fucking pretzel? Well you certainly like to freak the others out unexpectedly • SFW/NSFW - Implied Sex

Requested by: Anon

It’s…fascinating. The things Y/N can do with JUST her body. Keep that noggin out of the gutter for a minute.

Y/N joined the group a little after the Woodbury infusion to the prison. She didn’t have a group and sort of ended up in Virginia because she simply didn’t stop walking from where she originated.

One day Daryl, Michonne, and Glenn were out on a run in the closest outdoor mall, which is a few hours away from the prison—so they were going to have to camp. Daryl went to check the store that looked like a miniature Home Depot thinking he could find some camping supplies but when he entered the store…said camping supplies were in use but no person.

“If anybody is here, I ain’t gonna hurt yea,” Daryl stated knowing that wouldn’t go far but to his surprise one of the storage boxes’s lids flung open. Soon a woman’s upper half popped out like a jack in the box and it was a bit unsettling to the archer.

“I had to see who I’m working with and what makes yea think I’ll trust “I ain’t gonna hurt yea” with muscles like those”

“You think I’d hit a woman?”

“It’s the apocalypse. If laws don’t exist, neither does moral code. I follow them still…but still”

“I don’t hit women.” Daryl scoffs. “How do yea fit in there?”

“I don’t know you well enough to share my skills. But I do feel a little better knowing you’re not gonna throw a left hook at my face” the woman began to fully pull herself out of the container and when she stepped out, she locked eyes with the archer’s confused yet curious ones. “Okay I trust you about not killing me but why haven’t you left?”

“Gonna ask yea a few things if that’s okay with you”

“Sure I guess” She put the lid back on the box before taking a seat and crossing her arms.

“How many walkers have you killed?”

“Lost count a long time ago”

“How many people have you killed?”

“Four”

“Why?”

The woman went silent for a moment and avoided eye contact as she held herself. “They were my friends, and brother who were about to turn. They didn’t want to be taken out as a walker and didn’t want to become one so. You know…”

“I do” Daryl leaned against one of the shelves. “It’s hard to take someone you care about out after they’ve changed”

“Getting deep with me and we don’t even know each other’s name”

“Daryl”

“Y/N”

Then she joined their group right then and there. The others that came with Daryl liked her, didn’t trust her right away but given her attitude immediately when it came to them asking the same questions Daryl asked—-both Glenn and Michonne knew that they will grow to trust her. Same with the others. Returning back to the prison with a lot more than they had expected helped the initial image of the new comer. Y/N hoarded a lot of stuff so thinking that she would survive alone in there.

Some part of Daryl wanted Y/N to take the empty cell in their cellblock but given he didn’t speak up and Rick showed her one of the others, that wasn’t happening.

But she was very involved with helping around the prison.

“You good up there Y/N?” Rick calls out to her receiving a thumbs up while she continued to work with fixing part of the fence that disconnected from the gate.

The retired sheriff watches his brother pull in on his bike but stop to watch Y/N a moment. She dropped her wire cutters and as it hit the grass, Daryl hopped off his bike about to grab it when he quickly took a step back when Y/N jumped down somersaulting in the dirt.

“The hell is wrong with you?!” Daryl shouted as Y/N stood up immediately, stretching her back after her action. “Yea could’ve cracked your head open!”

“I’ve done it a million times before. Don’t worry your pretty little head”

“A million times? What, in the circus?”

“How did you know?” Y/N smiles catching him off guard at first and even more when she broke out in laughter. “I wasn’t in the circus dumbass. I’ve done a lot of risky stuff and…gymnastics. But what just happened is nothing compared to other stuff” she states while throwing herself back so she was then in a bridged position and Daryl watched her upper half lay flat on its stomach showing her crawl between her legs and hold her ankles. Exorcist shit.

“Now I think you’re an alien”

“Rude” Y/N scoffs as such action was a bit uncomfortable given her twisted position. “It definitely impressed and freaked out a few hook ups”

Now that led Rick to leave from overhearing their conversation, both knowing damn well he was there. He opened the gate once Y/N was back in the upright position and Daryl was still left appalled somewhat.

Y/N was definitely making a good impression on most. Has been on every run that was planned and no one opposed, she’s especially useful in tight situations.

“Alright, so I was thinking we break down the door and then—-“ Tyreese cut himself off when Y/N gestured for Maggie’s help to hoist her up and she happily obliged.

Next thing the group knew, Y/N was pushing herself through the small window above the locked door landing on the other side and unlocking it.

“Or that” Sasha chimes in with a laugh and smile, impressed by the woman. “Now we don’t have to almost break ourselves to get into places” she walked past her as Y/N brushes off some of the dirt checking her person carefully. Said actions didn’t go unnoticed by Daryl.

After a couple hours passed, the four returned to the prison and dispersed but as Daryl stuck by his bike a moment he noticed Y/N straggling a bit. She stood for a while glancing around and turned to Daryl with a questioning look before turning away.

“If yea need something, you can ask” He didn’t hesitate as Y/N slumped in defeat before turning around and approaching him.

“Crack my back”

“What?” Daryl scoffs confused as he wiped the grime off his hands with his rag. “How am I supposed to do that?”

“Imma turn around cross my arms and you’re going to wrap your arms around me then lean back until a crack is heard.” Y/N explained in the most layman terms she could think of and it clicked instantly to Daryl but he hesitated a moment.

“Is that what yea want?”

“Yes, well. What I really want is someone to step on my back but all of y’all aren’t trained to do that and back in the day I had a friend who was a masseuse.”

“Well, I’ll do my best” Daryl grunts bringing himself over after tossing his rag on his bike watching her turn around and do what she had to do before he wrapped his arms around her. “Just lean back holding yea?”

“Yup” Y/N felt a sudden warmth rise in her chest when she was being lifted and the heat came clear in her cheeks expressing more of a red hue.

She heard the crack a bit ago but they both just. Stood there and it went from Daryl holding her to them both holding each other. Still Y/N’s back against his chest but her arms held onto his. Daryl relaxed setting her down but the way he held her for much longer and Y/N didn’t show any sign of letting go.

There was something

When the illness washed through the prison and a few were sent to get the medicine, Y/N found herself in the doorway watching Bob shove alcohol into his bag. He turned toward her realizing she was there and instead of talking first, he quickly took a bottle and threw it in her direction watching her quickly fall back then swing her body back forward.

“Jesus fucking Christ what are you? One of those inflatable car sales string cheese looking things?!”

“That’s very descriptive. Are you gonna be the same way when telling me why you have a goddamn bag of alcohol and not medicine to save our people”

“Oh for fucks sake! You and I are the newest people at the prison and you’re willing to bend over backwards—-even literally—-for people you barely know”

“So?!”

“SO?!” Bob shouted which caught another’s attention, Michonne as the conversation ended the second she joined. Bob brushed past her as she quickly gave a concerned look to Y/N.

I’m fine. Was all Y/N gave her as she stepped out.

Of course the booze was found out by Daryl and that was a more explosive mess to address than when Y/N first confronted him. But it all stopped mattering when they finally got their medicine into their people.

After getting their medicine in, Daryl went in search for Y/N who disappeared after they did such. It didn’t take long to find her because she was in her cell but she was alone in the old Woodbury cell block. Because of the outbreak.

“You alright?” Daryl asks Y/N even if she was currently hiding under her deconstructed bunk.

“Yeah”

“Don’t look like it”

A few seconds of silence. “Yeah…” she sounded defeated and pulls her entire self out from under bringing herself to sit on her bed. Daryl bringing himself to sit with her leaning his back against the wall.

“You can trust me, with whatever is on your mind”

“It’s strange…how easily it was for Bob to just. Not care about the others in the heat of the moment”

“Some people are just like that. Somethin’ or someone has to change them”

“I used to be like that. Not a warm caring person when this thing first started. I just. Had moments that changed me”

“Yeah?” Daryl gave her a questioning look that she noticed in the corner of her eye. “What changed yea?”

“Having to end the lives of people I cared for, the ones who got bit. When…” Y/N hesitated a second before looking at Daryl. “When I met you”

She’s full of surprises isn’t she? Daryl could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he never felt that feeling before.

But this moment was short lived like the many that followed after.

Until they found themselves alone weeks later…in a new place, with strange new people. Y/N stuck by Daryl’s side since they first entered Alexandria and given how the archer was feeling from all the loss, he would find himself following her if she were to stray or disappear from his side for too long.

“Can you hand me the socket wrench?” Daryl asks while under the car Aaron drives for recruiting as he was asked to check something out for the man. Y/N being there to help in any way even if it is just handing tools to the archer.

Y/N was currently repairing one of the angel wings on Daryl’s vest which led her to using her leg to reach toward the bench then her foot hooked onto the handle of the tool box. She then carefully bent so that she could grasp the box with her hands and go through the kit for what he asked for.

“Damn”

The annoyingly familiar voice caught both of their attentions as Daryl pushes out on the skateboard sitting up to look at Spencer confused. Y/N equally confused on the matter while handing the tool over.

“You know I saw you the other day doing your…morning stretches or whatever. Didn’t think you’d be THAT flexible…and limber…” Spencer was starting, or continuing to make Y/N uncomfortable as he starts to check her out making her cover herself with Daryl’s vest in her lap.

Daryl quickly taking note of the reaction and glaring at the man. “Beat it”

“I wasn’t talking to you” Spencer brushed him off keeping his attention on Y/N. “I bet you’re even more flexible in more intimate situations”

Y/N scoffs instantly but before she could bite the guy’s head off. She felt herself being pulled toward Daryl’s direction. Daryl having grabbed the blanket she was seated on pulling it closer to him so he could protectively wrap his arm around her shoulders as she instinctively leaned into him.

“She’s taken. Now I’d fuck off and bother somebody else before your mommy sees her little boy’s face smashed the fuck in” Daryl threats and didn’t let his guard down but it got Spencer to storm off defeated. “What a tool”

“He’s not wrong about something”

“Huh?”

“I am very flexible when we’re intimate” Y/N laughs slightly catching her own boyfriend off guard resulting in the red hue rising in his cheeks.

[balkanradfem]

So, I was biking to work this morning, and while I was riding across the bridge, something happened to the bike. The pedals twisted, and turned they were angled the wrong way, I could tell they were no longer straight. I figured they got a little loose and I would simply fasten them back on when I get home, and I continued forward. I went past a mom and a little girl, both on their bikes, who were pedaling carefully together. Then my chain fell off. Annoyed, I grabbed a glove that I keep on my bike at all times, grabbed the chain, and fastened it back on. It's a common thing for my bike to drop the chain, it's something I repeatedly have to dismantle it for and fix, and now the pedals were weird too. I hopped back on, started pedaling, and then the back wheel fell off the bike.

I am not joking, in mid-ride, my bike split into two pieces, back wheel fell off, the bike fell apart, under me, while I was driving it. The mom and little girl behind me caught up to me just in time to witness this, and all three of us just stared in shock in two pieces of bike on the ground that were, seconds before, carrying me to work.

I gasped and laughed in pure shock, feeling dizzy because that is a wild thing to happen. The mother looked concerned and I reassured her that I was fine, I was going slow and was able to just step away from the bike before it crushed to the ground. We stood there in shock for a few seconds, and then I asked 'Well, is there any trash container nearby, I can't leave it here', and she offered to help me carry a piece of it to the nearest trash disposal. The reasn why the bike broke into two became obvious once I inspected it – the metal base broke into two. I have noticed before that the base had some kind of a crack in it, but I didn't think it was a serious issue – the bike still worked, it didn't make any funny noises, I felt good and stable on it, would one expect it to break into two? No. But it was the only possible logical ending to it.

I got a great adrenaline high that morning, first the bike broke into two, which is in my opinion, the best possible way for a bike to go. If there was anything less final wrong with it, I would be fixing it endlessly, refusing to accept that it was over, despite the bike having million of issues and being older than me probably. Then next, I met the great woman who helped me carry it to the trash! She was so sweet and kind to help me, at 8am, while I was crashing on the sidewalk. And the last good thing was that I knew there was no fixing the bike, I wouldn't spend countless hours trying to make it work, it was definitely over.

I left the bike next to the trash, deciding to go back after work and savage the little basket it had, and maybe to collect some parts, like the chain or the bell. I was a little late to work, and I felt like my reason was pretty funny, so I came in and said 'Sorry I'm a bit late! My bike broke into two on my way here!' and I laughed it off feeling thrilled about my adventure. The woman I work for looked at me absolutely horrified, and I laughed more and reassured her I was not upset or injured, and instead had a great time during this fun event.

'You could take my bike.' She suggested, and I laughed this off too, saying I can walk home, it wasn't that far (I did not confess to people at work that I had a neck injury or that I can't walk far). However she said that she had a bike she wasn't using and I could have it, and I shrugged and said well okay, and she went to fetch it.

I still was not taking her very seriously, because acquiring another bike is a serious issue for me, and I never expected someone would just, give me one, but when she came back she explained I could just have it. I assumed she meant 'borrow until I got a new one', but she said 'no I'm not using it', and insisted I should take it. That was a bit surreal for me and it took me a while to adjust to the idea of just getting a new bike for free. It wouldn't be the kind of bike I wanted, but there would be no financial consequences to my bike breaking, which is amazing.

After work, I got to see my new bike! It was in one piece, which is its best feature compared to my old bike. But, otherwise, it is a kind of bike I would never volountarily buy; it has multiple speeds, which makes it difficult to pedal. It's also not made for carrying much weight, which I need a bike to do, for gardening purposes. But, I would never go and criticize a free bike! I could always decide to buy another bike for gardening, this bike is mine now, and it works, and it's so much more functional that my old bike, it's chain doesn't drop, it doesn't have a broken base, the pedals are facing the correct way. What a great thing to have!

I checked in on my old broken bike, it was still there, next to the trash. I tried to dismantle the little basket, and realized I couldn't do it without tools. I decided to bike quickly home, get tools, and then dismantle the usable pieces. My new bike didn't have a working bell, or the way to hold a bag on the back wheel, and I wanted to see if I could transfer it from the old bike to new.

I got back in 20 minutes or less, and my old bike, was gone. Someone already grabbed it to salvage the parts. I wasn't mad, I left it on the trash, it was in two pieces, it was absolutely fair game. I was a bit relieved, because I felt awful disposing of it in such un-proper way, just leavin it next to the public trash containers. It was great that someone found use of it so immediately! Even if they took my little basket, and my little bell that still worked. I hope they cherish those parts, as I did.

I think that bike was the greatest bike in the world. I loved it so much. I had tons of trouble with it, I was always dismantling and fixing it. I ruined some parts of it, and knew it had an expiration date. I learned so much about fixing bikes while working on it. I learned so much about life and how difficult it can be without a bike, when you can't walk for long.  It gave me so much joy riding it around. It was lightweight, with huge wheels that made it so easy to get around. It never tired me out.

I was aware it was an old, used, and close-to-its-end bike, so I usually never took it out to go to trips or for fun times. But I did yesterday. I was inside for too long and I decided to take the bike out and just go around the city, and then ride next to the river for a while, collect some wild flowers. It was the best of times we had together. Now it's going to be my favourite memory of it, our last trip together. Except of course, the breaking in half, that was too iconic to forget. I truly used that bike until the last second of its life.

[bucksaiga]

I didn’t know I wanted you (Until I couldn’t have you)

Part 4/5 (master list)

“Buck?” Eddie called out to a very distracted Buck. “Something wrong? You’ve been looking at your phone all night.”

“I-I’m always on my phone.” Buck nervously laughed.

“Sometimes…” Eddie nodded. “But not this much. Did you find a substack or something?”

“Uh…yeah.” Buck lied. “Just doing some deep diving.”

Eddie snickered in response, shaking his head. “Of course you did.”

Actually, Buck was checking his phone waiting to hear from Tommy about his date.

As the night went on and it was nearly midnight, Buck assumed the date went really well and Tommy took this mystery person home, or vice versa.

The following morning, Buck didn’t bother to text Tommy and told himself he’s probably sleeping in or spending time with his date.

When Tommy finally texted back, Buck unlocked his phone within seconds, eager to read the text.

He…? Not that Tommy needed to come out to Buck, because Buck’s cool. Totally cool. He’s an ally. He has queer friends. It shouldn’t even be a big deal that Tommy’s revealing this information to him.

Oh God I hope that didn’t sound too forward.

Tommy took Buck to a taco bar and Buck asked about his date, trying not to sound like he was prying for information.

Tommy’s responses were brief and vague.

Guy’s name is Edgar. He’s 42. Works in accounting. Loves the outdoors and mountain biking.

He sounds boring. Buck thought. But he liked all the stuff Tommy liked. He was even a trained pilot and he knew some Muay Thai.

Maybe he’s more interesting than me. Buck negatively thought.

“S-so you guys are gonna go hiking?”

“Yeah, I was thinking of taking him up the trail we went to. I know it pretty well and it seems like a great spot to go.”

Buck felt like his heart exploded in his chest. He felt like his soul was going to leave his body. Even death would have been kinder than this. “O-oh yeah? That’s cool. He’ll love it.” Buck forced out with a fake smile.

Tommy nodded. “Hope so.”

“Yeah, it’ll be pretty romantic. Especially if you end your hike by the picnic area an hour before sunset, when the sun is low and it creates this nice warm light. They-they call it the golden hour because the sun, it—it’s golden with a warm, reddish—“ Buck laughed to himself. “Sorry I know it’s your date, I-I was just—“

Tommy shot buck a fond smile. “I think that might be a little too romantic for a second date. We’re still getting to know each other.”

“Oh—ah—yeah. Y-you’re right.” Buck nervously chuckled. “I guess so.”

Sure, it was just the very beginning of their dating stage, but it felt like the end of the world for Buck, and he just couldn’t figure out why.

But boy, did it hurt like hell.

A week later, Buck found himself complaining to Eddie and Maddie in a separate group chat he’d created for just the three of them.

Buck realized he was starting to sound a bit insane and deleted the entire message.

He didn't want to say that either. He didn't agree with Maddie. She wasn't wrong, she just didn't understand the sort of...friendship they had.

Buck glared at his barrages of texts, hoping he didn’t sound too eager or too annoying.

Buck put on one of his best shirts and threw on his apron and immediately started prepping for dinner. He was so excited to finally see Tommy again and cheer him up that he couldn’t stop smiling.

He rented Love, Actually to stream, curated a playlist of some of Tommy’s favorite songs, and even mixed up some boxed cake mix.

He didn’t have any frosting, so he hoped strawberry preserves would do.

He wanted this evening to be perfect for Tommy, so he could forget all about the cheating bastard that wasted his time and possibly broke his heart.

The thought of Tommy having a broken heart nearly shattered his own. He needed to fix it. He needed to let him know that he would always be there for Tommy, like Tommy was there for him.

Buck texted Tommy to let him know the door was unlocked for him.

Tommy welcomed himself into Buck’s apartment. Buck looked up from the counter, a wide ecstatic smile painted on his face.

“Smells amazing in here.”

“I hope so. I’m just throwing a few things together. It won’t be perfect but—“

“It’ll be perfect. It was more than I could’ve asked for. Thank you for all of this.”

Tommy’s eyes fell onto the cake on the counter. “You even baked a cake?”

“Uh yeah, but I don’t have any frosting. I hope strawberry preserves are—“

Buck glanced over at Tommy as he was helping himself to a slice of cake, slathering the strawberry preserves on top.

Tommy shoved a generous helping into his mouth, glancing up at Buck with wide eyes. “Sorry. Did you want me to wait until after dinner?”

Buck laughed, shaking his head. “It’s fine. Whatever you want.”

“It’s good cake.”

“It’s just from a box. I adjusted the recipe a little bit to make the cake more moist and flavorful—“

“It worked. This is delicious.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

They sat down and ate dinner, laughed and caught up on daily life outside of Gerrard and definitely outside of Edgar.

They watched Love, Actually and finished off the night with some beers.

“You’re right, Tommy. This is some really good beer.”

“Mhm. I told you.” Tommy paused to finish his beer. “Thank you again, Evan. Tonight was…really fun.” He smiled. “Really helped take my mind off—“

“You don’t have to think about him, Tommy. I’m here for you. You don’t have to feel alone.” Buck realized how strange his statement may have sounded. “You’ve also got all our friends at the 118 too.”

Tommy nodded with a small smirk. “I know.”

There was something odd about the sound of Tommy’s voice. Perhaps he was looking for something more. Something Buck just couldn’t give him.

But Buck, somehow, still wished he could give him everything.

[ray935sworld]

New priorities (Pedrenzo)

"I'm probably not going to do a wildcard this year" Dani whispered.

Jorge almost laughed out loud when he heard that but he only but his lip, trying to surpress his grin. Dani really a habit of saying important things in the most impossible situations.

He had told Jorge that he would retire in 2018 in between post race kisses, shortly before he ran back to his team, leaving the younger man in a shocked silence, just staring at him.

And now he was telling him he wouldn't do a wildcard this year - probably never again - while he was trying to get their little daughter to sleep.

The baby, barely a few months old, was peacefully laying in his arms, just moving slightly, as if she wanted to get more comfortable. She was unaware to the things her fathers were talking about and what they meant.

"Mmmh... I figured. So next year?" "No... No probably not" he answered. His eyes went from Jorge to their child and back to Jorge. He was humming a song under his breath.

The younger man smiled softly. He loved the picture infront of him. He wanted to safe the view in his mind and never let it go again.

He had the man he loved ever since they were stupid teenagers as his husband. They had a child. There was nothing that could make him happier.

"You know what that means, right?" he asked nonetheless. He was sure Dani had though this through. It was Dani after all. He always thought thinks through.

"What do you mean?" "Your professional, active racing career would end and-" "My professional, active racing career ended in 2018" "And how often did you drive a motogp bike since then?" he countered.

Dani had done a few wildcards since his retirement and even more tests. But even the test had rapidly decreased over the last years.

Jorge remembered seeing Dani almost jumping with his excitement on the days he had on track testing with ktm scheduled. He had been smiling about it days in advance. And he'd often come home grinning when he got to do some riding at the factory.

The majorcan knew how much riding those bikes still meant to him and knowing that Dani might had participated in a race for the last time, without knowing it would be his ultimate last race, broke his heart for him.

He might wasn't racing but he hadn't not been motogp rider either.

Dani chuckled. He gave Jorge a look, clearly trying to get out of this without changing his position. "I ehm... I've been retired for years" he tried to argue, a blush obvious on his cheeks. "Yeah, yeah, retired with comebacks."

"Where are you going with this?" "I'm just saying... No wildcards this year... If next year neither - Jerez last year might have been your last real time on a motogp bike... You know what I mean"

He didn't mean to be rude. He didn't mean to push him. It was the last thing he wanted. But he himself hadn't been on a motogp bike in years, simply because he didn't want to. He had refused. But Dani hadn't. And now suddenly it might be over.

He just wanted to make sure Dani didn't regret it. He didn't want to see his husband wishing for 'one last time', 'one last race' with nothing to do about.

"I just want you to be sure."

Dani nodded, understanding his thoughts. His response was to put his hand on their daughter's cheek. Softly he caressed the skin, his eyes fixed on her.

"I can't go racing anymore. Not when I need to keep my bones together as best as possible. I... Jorge, I love you so much and I love her so much. Racing is - It seems so pointless now."

Everything seemed to be pointless when you had a 6 months old child clinging to your hand, your finger, your hair, anything they cpukd grip to get your attention just to stare at you before giggling.

"What if I crash? What if something happens?" Dani asked feeling a cold going down his spine. The thought that could have happened during his racing years that might had taken away this reality, made him shiver.

"It won't. You-" "We spend 30 years on bikes. 30 years and we were both lucky." Both had their fair share of injuries. Some more intense. Some more hurtful. Some with longer hospital stays. But at the end of the day they could still move and life normally.

"I can't run out of luck now and I am not gonna risk it. I can't have you lose me and I can't have her lose me. I refuse to leave you."

"I know" Jorge said as he made his way towards Dani. He pulled him closer. He had him in his arms, their child by now sleeping calmly in Dani's arms. He softly kissed him, feeling his lips on his own. He felt the love Dani was trying to give him and gave it back as much as possible.

"You're not gonna to lose us. Hey... This is our happy end. The one we always wanted. I promise you, no one and noting is gonna take this away from us"

[maryanddeadthings]

A wee snip snip of my Ten Years Later AU chap 13. Finlay gets some well deserved attention.

“Oi, Jacey! Stay away from the dog shite!”

Joseph called over the back porch, wafting in heavy tobacco smoke from himself and Finlay, who watched the kids play in the unkempt backyard. Overgrown in weeds and untrimmed bushes, an old shed, and rings of dead grass all surrounded in the toys, play sets, and Joseph’s broken down atvs and dirt bikes. A lower class yard that somehow felt exactly like home to Finlay. Just how she raised him. A yard of memories. No frivolous need to impress the neighbours. Jacey and Dottie ran circles around each other engaged in a game of tag, with their family St. Bernard, Tiny, following in any attempt to stay involved. Bribe a pet or two from the kids when he could.

Beside Finlay sat Raffs, who lived only a few doors down by chance. He wasn’t a smoker or a drinker, but he’d partake in the company regardless. Finlay was the closest rig mate, the only other living in Stirling, and everyday they had been off the rig and out Wylen’s Point, Raffs made it a point to visit.

“You want a Bucky, Owen?” Joseph asked.

“Naw, I’m good, thanks.”

Finlay had a brief laugh, “Wee man barely drank in the lounge, he was only there for the company. Proper social butterfly,” she nudged Raffs jokingly. “Donny be shy, you wee bastard. Finally put some hairs on your chest.”

Raffs laughed with Joseph and said, “Naw, I’m fine, really. You got some neat toys, Joe. Shame to see them like this.”

Joseph didn’t catch what he meant at first, then flicked his glance to the atvs and bikes. “Aye, right shame. Few years back made heaps of money in the oil trade, much like mum. Didnae work offshore, fuck that, but you know… the patches and what not. Company went belly-up and all my assets started to bite me in the arse. Sold off most, couldnae bare to part with those, though. Just donny have the fucking time or money to fix them now.”

“I could help if you want. Give me something to do,” added Raffs, with Finlay nodding beside him. “Since we’ve been back… just kind of feels like I’m searching for purpose again. Everyday a new project.”

“You’re still a spring chicken, lad,” said Finlay. “Mum and dad still kickin’. No wives or weans. Donny be down in the trough. Live it up a little. We don have to worry about this confidential government shite anymore, might as well go out to the pub, find a bonnie or two, make some friends. A whole life at your doorstep now.”

“Aye, I don’t know…” Raffs said shyly, “My mind is rough, lately. Maybe I’m just not the type.”

“Well, you’re always welcome here,” added Joseph, “Anyone on that rig are friends here. I could use some help with that scrambler, and all.”

Dottie called up to the porch, “Gran! Granny! Gran!”

“Aye! What?!”

“Look what I can do!” She proceeded to do a wobbly handstand, until Jacey came up and pushed her to the side. The two kids squabbled and shrieked with Joseph’s bark filling the neighbourhood.

“Hey! Quit! Stay out of the dog shit, for Christ’s sakes! Jacey, leave your sister alone!” He turned back to Finlay and Raffs in exasperation, “Have kids close together, they said. It’ll be fun, they said. Their mum gets home from work, of course, their absolute angels.”

Finlay chuckled, “She donny coddle them, that’s why. Discipline and no mucking about with that tone, Joey.” Then Finlay belted out, a motherly scold that brought back memories for Joseph. “Play nice, you two! Or you both will spend the day cleaning the shite, understand?”

Both Dottie and Jacey jolted to the scolding and nodded, quieting down their bickering like the flick of a switch. Joseph groaned but kept a smile to Finlay’s proud shrug. “Yeah, right, ya showboat.”

Raffs added playfully, “Gran is back, they’ll be learnin’ real fast. It was a cardinal rule on the Beira. Everyone knew it. Even Rennick. Donny fuck with Finlay.”

That broke a crow laugh from her, leaning into a cough as smoke flew from her mouth. “True, true.”

[ladyamanda123]

imgonnagetyouback

… Lilac short skirt

The one that fits me like skin

Did your research

You knew the price goin' in

… And I'll tell you one thing, honey

I can tell when somebody still wants me, come clean

Standing at the bar like something's funny, bubbly

Once you fix your face, I'm goin' in

… Whether I'm gonna be your wife or

Gonna smash up your bike, I

Haven't decided yet

But I'm gonna get you back

… Whether I'm gonna curse you out or

Take you back to my house, I

Haven't decided yet

But I'm gonna get you back

… I, I hear the whispers in your eyes

I'll make you wanna think twice

You'll find that you were never not mine

You're mine

… Small talk, big love

Act like I don't care what you did

I'm an Aston Martin

That you steered straight into the ditch

Then ran and hid

… And I'll tell you one thing, honey

I can take the upper hand and touch your body

Flip the script and leave you like a dumb house party

Or I might just love you 'til the end

… Whether I'm gonna be your wife or

Gonna smash up your bike, I

Haven't decided yet

But I'm gonna get you back

… Whether I'm gonna flip you off or

Pull you into the closet

I haven't decided yet

But I'm gonna get you back

… I, I hear the whispers in your eyes

I'll make you wanna think twice

You'll find that you were never not mine

You're mine

… I can feel it comin', hummin' in the way you move

Push the reset button, we're becoming something new

Say you got somebody, I'll say, "I got someone too"

Even if it's handcuffed, I'm leaving here with you

… Bygones will be bygone eras fadin' into gray (fadin' into gray)

We broke all the pieces but still want to play the game (oh)

Told my friends, "I hate you but I love you just the same"

Pick your poison, babe

I'm poison either way

… Whether I'm gonna be your wife or

Gonna smash up your bike, I

Haven't decided yet

But I'm gonna get you back

… Whether I'm gonna curse you out or

Take you back to my house, I

Haven't decided yet

But I'm gonna get you back

… I, I hear the whispers in your eyes

I'll make you wanna think twice

You'll find that you were never not mine

I'm gonna get you back

Observations:

-Gender neutral pronouns

-Using the word “bubbly” to describe her muse…..is so sapphic and 1000% screams Karlie

-“once you fix your face I’m going in” I mean….sure guys can wear make up and be bubbly but come on. This isn’t sounding like any of the beards. This is Karlie or another woman at least.

-whisper in your eyes….whispering eyes is queer

-the “I, I” before whispering eyes sounds EXACTLY like Dress BUT incomplete. Only two instead of 4….because they’re stuck in between. In Dress they were in the moment of the dress coming off and then….

Here the ending isn’t known yet….will this end in a fight or will the dress be coming off when she takes her home?

- “bygones will be bygones, eras fading into gray” Is this indicating that they will be publicly “burying the hatchet” so to speak and be seen together again towards the end of the eras tour?

ANOTHER Thought….

I feel like this album has fully ninja’d my brain! Every day new things jump out at me! But this one completely went over my head until I saw a tiktok Jordyn did about it….

🎶Whether I’m gonna flip you off or Pull you into the closet

I’m sorry, WHAT!?!?

🤯

This album is SOOO loud!!!!

[secretlythepits]

My refrigerator broke last night.

We have a very old second one in the garage so the kids and I schlepped most of the very full, just stocked fridge to it. I couldn’t transfer all the jars and the frozen stuff was pretty melty so who knows.

I tried to fix it today by cleaning the coils but it didn’t work so I’ll call a repair person tomorrow. We are lucky to have a second fridge so I feel like I shouldn’t complain, but it just sucks so much. Another bill. Another mess. Another massive disruption to my days.

Last night my husband literally sounded like he was dying. It wakes me up and I feel awful and helpless as he retches, gags, coughs and spits. But my brain needs sleep. I can’t take the couch because I am a bad sleeper and have lots of systems to my bed worked out from my brain injury. Also, I’m still sick. I think recovery is up and down a bit.

I’ve been messing up my words lately.

There was five minutes when I couldn’t walk today.

My brain needs sleep and genuine rest.

I went on a bike ride this morning which was really good for me. About 8 blocks from home, I just started feeling really down. I stopped to put my head down and ended up crying a little. After that, I never really got my energy. It just drained out of me never to return.

This has been an awful weekend on the tail of an awful two weeks.

I am so afraid. Every night my only prayer is : the least amount of suffering possible. At the moment, it feels unanswered.

I’m at the point when I’d like to ask for help but I don’t quite know how. It could be anything. Would love if someone sent a meal. Would love if someone could grab some stuff at Costco for me. Invite my kids over and drive them at least one way. Send me a random cheer up card, you’re fabulous card. I don’t know, just make it a little easier. Make it a little happier. But I don’t really know how to ask, in what forum. It feels like another chore.

I haven’t ridden my bike in a while. The tires were low. That’s my husband’s job or sometimes my son. But today I did it myself. It wasn’t as hard as I thought. But it’s the effort. The everything. I grew up with a single mom, but I’ve very much settled into a bit of a princess situation since I’ve been married. My Capricorn husband likes to do things and I don’t. I need to get used to it. But it’s not just my jobs. It’s his. It’s home ownership of an old house. I only ever rented before. When the fridge broke, it was just a reminder of how it’s always something. My plate is f-u-l-l FULL. I don’t have space for refrigerator breakdowns, all day excursions to the hospital, a flat tire.

I AM DAUNTED.

[cyberphuck]

The other day the neighbors called the city on me again for having an overgrown lawn. I explained to City Guy that I was disabled and broke, and he gave me two weeks to "work on it" (I asked him, too, if there were programs to help me take care of the stuff they wanted me to take care of, and he said no). I traded a bag of dog food to a guy to mow my lawn, and he just... did not come back lol so today I went out with some very rusty loppers to try to cut back some of the bigger stuff.

We have a few milk thistles-- I tackled like three or four biggish ones-- but the majority of the overgrowth in the front yard is one massive creeper vine. There weren't any of what I as a Californian would call weeds besides the thistles-- not even dandelions. At least the creeper vine is green, doesn't have spines, doesn't harbor any kind of bugs, and is soft and moist enough not to be a fire hazard. (I'm not entirely sure what the creeper vine is. It's not virginia creeper, poison ivy, kudzu, wintercreeper, mile-a-minute, or honeysuckle. It's green, will grow up, through, and over anything and likes when you run it over repeatedly with your car, soft and cool with no stickers or hooks, and explodes with bitty white flowers in the mid to late fall. I like it.) I was out there sweating and shaking, taking frequent breaks because of my knees and back, doing my best to cut down the biggest growths. A car pulled up to the neighbor's house and the man himself got out. I straightened up, lowering the loppers, and stared fixedly at him (sweaty, sunburned, covered in leaves) as he walked into his house. He didn't even turn his head to make eye contact with me. A little while later, an older lady came out with a lawnmower and mowed their already-pristine lawn. I watched her. She also didn't look at me. Neither of them said anything like, "hey, noticed you doing yard work and crying, need a hand since the mower's already out?" To be clear, they have never spoken to me, even once, since they've moved in. Sometimes their mail gets delivered to my house by accident, and I'll walk it over and put it in their letterbox. A couple of times there were big manila envelopes that looked time-sensitive so I knocked, trying to make sure they got it and not wanting to bend it to fit it into the letterbox. TV was on but no one came to the door. I'm the one who ran across the street to help grandma out of the tub, remember, the one who buys lemonade and candy from the local kids, the one with a separate bowl for toys on Halloween, the one who chases down the neighbor's dog in the middle of the night and puts him back in the yard so nothing happens to him, the one who brings my dogs in when they start barking so they're not bothering people. I'm the one who brings a slice of birthday cake to share with the cranky old man across the street, who stopped to help a bleeding woman at walmart, who saw someone riding their bike on the side of the freeway (?!) and pulled over to put his bike in the back of my car and give him a ride home. I don't do that kind of stuff with an expectation of some kind of payment. And god knows I don't even like some of my neighbors-- I don't really like anybody, if it comes down to it. But we've all got to live on the same street, and I think it's important to be on at least nodding terms with your immediate neighbors in case something happens, you know? You don't have to bring over lemon squares every Sunday, but it'd be nice to have someone let you know if your house is on fire, or know that if there's an accident and you need help, you can bang on someone's door. Just come and talk to me about it once, okay? Once. Find out what's going on. Maybe there's a super simple fix. Maybe there's something we can trade. Maybe we find out you can't help at all. Maybe I'll tell you to shove it up your ass, but at least you tried before you got the fucking city involved.

Unfortunately for you, I'm not a 'turn the other cheek' sort of person. The cuttings from the insane, fast-growing, impossible to kill vine can go under your porch.

[pbandjesse]

Today was good, compared to last night. After my post I would continue to feel nauseous and would end up violently throwing up and it was really horrible. James helped me and cleaned up and I got changed but I was just so upset. At least I wasn't feeling as sick but I felt disgusting.

And sleep wasn't easy. I would eventually go get some juice and that helped. Sweetp was being bad again but not as bad. So we didn't have to lock him out of the room. But waking up at 630 was still tough.

But I did it. And I got dressed. And had some cereal. James was downstairs waiting for me to get myself together. And soon we were heading to our appointment.

I didn't feel amazing. I wasn't nauseous exactly but I had a little reflux and was just really tired. It was nice to see friendly faces from the nurses. The nurse we had today keeps calling us her friends and that was so nice. And while we were getting the tests and monitoring done she told was asking about our pets. And I was telling her about Crabcake and she said that there was another patient that had an emotional support snapping turtle that she brings to the appointment!!! What!! She showed me a picture and I thought that was hilarious because the only emotions I know snapping turtles to have is rage and anger so I am very curious what it would do for this pregnant person!! Still hilarious though.

Sylvia was looking great. Continues to be breech. The nurse said she might be bald?! Which was surprising to her because I have so much hair. I will only tease her a little if she's bald.

We finished up there. And I already have all my appointments made. So we could just bounce. James took my picture outside the office like always. And we headed out.

James got their bike off the car and gave me a kiss and then I went home. I was so tired and so ready to be back in bed.

When I got back here I was in a really good mood. I had things to do this afternoon but nothing this morning so I just got cozy and went to sleep for hours.

And it was really good rest. I woke up at 11 and took a bit to get myself up and out of bed. I was really cold but I wouldn't put the heat on for a while. Not for any particular reason. But I just didn't.

Instead I had lunch. Ate to many Hershey kisses. And worked on drawing on my tablet while I waited for the plumber to come.

He would actually come early which was nice. He was nice guy. I explained the issue and what I thought was the issue. He said that the shower not getting hot could be three things: the scald protector (which is what I thought), a clogged cartridge, or that the entire valve needed to be replaced. These were all wildly different price points. And if it was the last one he would have to cut a hole in my closet to get to it. So I was really worried. Like well pay for whatever needs doing but man did I not want to spend $1000 today.

He left to go back to the shop for tools. And would return a few minutes later. I had talked through everything with James so we were ready for whatever needed to happen.

And then the plumber was back. He accidently knocked one of the mirrors in the hallway and the frame broke. But I thought it was pretty fixable. He felt so bad.

And I think his guilt for breaking that gave us a little discount. But also the thing wrong with the shower was what I thought was wrong! The scald protector was just set to high. And he fixed it and it was no big deal. I paid him for his time. And he headed out with well wishes.

And I was so excited. I am going to take an actual bath tonight that isn't half cold. It's going to be great.

Once I let James know what happened I got to work fixing the mirror. It isn't perfect but I think it's passable. No one will notice it's a little wobbly looking now if I don't point it out. And it was nice to have a little project.

I went back to drawing on my tablet. Finally drew up a frame for my bear tarot cards and I love it. And I was just having a good time. I had put the heat on when the plumber was there and I felt a lot better with it so I was just in a better mood.

James would come home while I was sitting at our bedroom desk waiting on the teamster meeting on zoom. And it was an excellent meeting.

I am going to help write up the press release form the employees of the museum. And we went through the talking points and what we are hoping for and what departments are being represented. And it was great. I love being part of a team. Zella, who has been the big driving force, is so great. And I am really excited to work with them more.

After the call I came downstairs to hang out on the couch with James. We had pasta for dinner. My back was hurting so James got me my heating pad. And started the laundry.

And now I think I'm going to go try and take a bath. And we'll just have a nice evening together.

Tomorrow I have some small errands to run. And then we have the BMI's holiday party. I am looking forward to that! Always excited to see people.

I hope I feel good. And I hope you all have a great night. Sleep well everyone. I love you all!!!

[hedgiwithapen]

MAWS prompt: Waller and the General kidnap Clark early in the season, before he's told anyone about his powers. Jimmy has to decide whether to tell Lois Clark's secret, and they have to figure out who could have taken him...

(I'm playing fast and loose with the timeline here. episode 4/5 but Lois never finds the article, Steve never left the weights, etc)

Flip peddled hard, panting.  She twisted the gearshift on her handlebar that was slightly too big for her hands. The 21 speed bike was a great investment, just like she'd told her mom. Usually, it was just so she could get her paper route done and still have time for both cartoons AND homework after school. This was a far bigger deal.  Without the bike, there'd have been no way she was getting up the hill. At least the way down was fast. she didn't even touch the brakes, screeching a warning as she flew past a stop sign. It was illegal, but this was way too important. 

"Lois! Lois!" she shrieked, pulling up to the sidewalk beside a familiar green-coat. One foot bracing her bike, she leaned her head on her handlebars, exhausted. "emergency!"

"Flip, forgetting your book report until last minute is not an emergency," Lois said.

"Not that--how'd you even remember that--wait, no, not the time." Flip gasped for breath. "Superman. they took him!"

"What?" Lois turned fully, eyes wide. Crouching partway, she grabbed the 4th grader's shoulders.  "Flip, what did you see? Tell me everything. Who took Superman?"

"Some guy with white hair. He had a sword, two swords, and, and he was doing flips, and there was a helicopter thing. He looked like a spy. or an assassin. A Spyssassin. Superman was fighting them, but they got really close to the freeway, and he was trying stop it from collapsing and people jumped out of the helicopter, and they took him!"

"Oh my god," Lois said. "Wait, Flip, did they see you?"

"No, I was hiding. We gotta find him! Lois, they had guns!"

"Flip, you  need to go home. I'll get Clark and Jimmy, we'll figure it out, okay?" Screw that she was just an intern--she was her father's daughter, too. Superman had saved their lives, they'd save him back. Somehow.

"I want to help!"

"You have. Flip, please. Go. Normally. Pretend everything's fine."

"But it's not fine!"

Lois nodded.  Impulsively, she hugged the kid. "Stay safe, ok?"

Then she took off running. 

*

Jimmy looked at the pieces of the alarm clock, and signed. This one was not going to be so easily fixed. Usually they broke in about the same way, and being more mechanical than digital, it wasn't that hard to replace a gear, or hammer out a dent. He'd actually gotten pretty good at it, thanks in no small part to Mr. Gotamco at the watch repair place down the street.  Honestly, if the whole photojornalist thing didn't work out, maybe that wouldn't be a half bad career.  His phone rang.

"It's Jimmy," he said, answering. 

"Oh, good," Lois sounded breathless. "Is Clark with you? He's not answering his phone. I'm on my way over right now."

"Why?" Jimmy asked. " It's our day off, isn't it? Did we have a meeting? Did I forget a--"

"No, no. Jimmy, focus. Clark."

"Uh, he went out to get lunch..." Jimmy looked at the clock and realized it was still broken. "Oooh, did he finally ask you out?"

"No! What? Open your door." Jimmy obliged, and Lois  slammed past him, red-faced from running. "It's about Superman."

"Yeah?" Jimmy asked, sweeping the clock parts to the side. He was going to have to buy a new one after all. "something I should put on Flamebird?"

"Yes, no, I don't know--where's Clark? We need him. Superman's gone."

"Gone?" Jimmy choked, putting down his phone. "What do you mean, gone?"

"Gone. Flip saw that guy from the city square take him. He could be hurt, or--we owe him, Jimmy. Say you'll help me."

Jimmy froze. Gone. Superman couldn't be...kidnapped... "Lois." He said, suddenly very quiet. "I need you to promise me you won't get mad."

"About what, Jimmy? Now is not the time for--"

"Promise," he said again. "You can't be mad."

"What did you do!?"

"Nothing. I--nothing. I just... know something. Something I'm not supposed to. And I shouldn't tell you but you have to know now so promise you won't be mad."

"Ok, I promise," she said too easily. Jimmy let it slide.

"Clark. He's Superman. I figured it out ages ago. Not that he was Superman, just that he was... you know. Different. but it's his secret and obviously he didn't want us to know but--if he's--"

"Clark?" Lois said, sitting hard on the couch. "Clark's... all this time, he's been...hiding--"

"You promised not to be mad," Jimmy said. "At either of us." She had not but it was implied.

"Oh, I'm mad," Lois said. "I'm mad at that... that..." she couldn't find the insult she wanted. "Asshole who took our best friend!"

Jimmy'd take what he could get. Clark couldn't be mad, either, right? Not if they were saving him.... Secret Identities were important, privacy mattered, but not when it was life or death. Jimmy really, really hoped that it was not life or death. 

"What's the plan?" he asked, jamming his shoes on. Lois deflated. "I don't know.  Look for clues, Flip said it was by the freeway. We could find something there, maybe?"

"Then let's go." Jimmy wasn't sure how they'd save Clark, after they found him. They had to find him. 

*

It wasn't hard to find the battlesite.  There were cracks in the support pillars of the overpass, all of them minor, or already sealed over.  patches of grass were charred or flattened.  Lois scoured the ground while Jimmy took photos of everything, hoping some clue might stand out. 

"I found something," Lois said.

"is it a clue? is it blood?" Jimmy asked, hurrying over and stopping at Lois's outflung arm. 

"Bootprints," Lois said. "I've seen prints like these before." Her voice was suddenly very un-Lois-like. Quiet. almost defeated. 

"In the tunnel, at the salvage yard?" Jimmy asked, squinting at the tracks. Maybe it was all connected to that tech. If it was, there had to be a way to trace it, they could find something that would lead them to Clark. Or Clark could get away on his own, maybe--he'd won the fight in the square before. Once he was in a place where innocents wouldn't get hurt, he'd have no problem kicking that guy's ass. "Or... the bank robbery?"

"No," Lois said, looking at her phone. The missed call log. Over and over, the declined calls. 

"Where, then?" Jimmy asked, staring at her, his camera lowered. "Lois?"

"My shoe rack, back home.  Standard issue. US Military. I...I have to call someone."

Her thumb hovered over the contact for 'dad' before pressing down with enough force to almost crack the screen. 

It rang, and rang, and went to voicemail. 

[lifenconcepts]

GUESS WHAT?! If I had a nickel for every time o heard someone (online or irl) say their bike seat broke while they were riding it, I’d have one nickel.

Which makes sense because IT WAS ME!

I HAD THIS EXPERIENCE! BAHAHHAHH NO WAY…

I litterally never heard it happen to anyone before and litterally tons of people I know have bikes they rode for years upon years. and TODAY MY BICYCLE SEAT JUST.. SNAPPED OFF… babdhxjhshahhajahahhaha

For context it was slightly wobbling since yesterday’s ride, which we today tightened slightly but didn’t pay much attention to. So what if it was wobbling a tiny bit side to side? Not too much of a reason to worry. Well everything was good, we got to our destination, we’re leaving town, and as we crossed the road it just.. *sound of metal falling* oh that’s not good. *sound of seat sliding down and as I get up it’s just hanging on by a thread and…*

That’s very not good.

okay so it then went like this, me and my dad stopped and began to look at what the hell just happened, he looked at his own seat as our bikes are identical, i found the bolt just a few feet away from me and thankfully not on the road, he looked at the overall pieces we got, and figured that the bolt holding the entire thing together just snapped. multiple times he advised me to change bikes with him, but I refused because honestly.. how often can you say that your bike seat broke while you were riding it? I wanted to properly experience it before it got fixed ya know xD

there’s a little spot above the back wheel I could have sat on, usually intended to kinda put a bag or something there, and I found it uncomfortable as because I was so close to the ground my feet were going up to the pedals and not down, and that just made me feel very unsettled especially around the roads, and so I just stood the entire way home!

I do like standing that’s for sure and we got my Black Pearl (that’s my bike’s name btw) cool new pedals after hers were all loose and old, and so I could stand without stress for slipping. It was fine for a few seconds but then it dawned on me that I couldn’t sit down (as I usually stand only for short periods of time on it) and I genuinely broke into a hearty laugh! I had a great time despite how usually ungood this situation was and I learnt that I can easily stand for multiple minutes at a time, as despite the ride home being approx 20 minutes I did have a few moments where I got off (at traffic lights) or sat on the back (also at traffic lights). Was an incredible experience and I never before had the opportunity to do such a thing, but now know I can handle it well! It was still quite the surprise and I’m quite humoured by it. Even took a photo just for memories sake hahahah!!

[emberdune]

went to sleep at around 2am, woke up at 6 for a class at 8 for which the teacher arrived at 9, afterwards spent an hour and a half in the library fixing layout errors on indesign, then another class after that at 12 except the teacher didnt even arrive, so we went instead to go do construction-ish work on this thing we're doing, except we had to go get the keys from a classmate who's sick then came back to start working on the thing that would definitely not pass an osha inspection until 6:20pm, broke my bike lock keys, came home to maybe take a little nap before i leave for work for my ten hour shift during which i have to do two things i've promised which are : 1. read someone's thesis and give them pointers (it's like 120 pages), 2. finish up the indesign thing (i also have to do my work but whatever)

[aestheticvoyage2025]

Day 73: Saturday March 15, 2025 - "Blue Angels Base"

All week long William was pumping up for the big weekend adventure - an excuse to go to a hotel, a chance to see his cousins, and BEST of all, the Blue Angels! Donuts and breakfast in a hotel with his cousins is absolute excitement for this three year old, and we packed up and followed them to the Naval Air Facility at El Centro - the winter home and training facility for the Blue Angels. William became an unexpected fan after catching a documentary on Prime last summer that finally broke the Frozen spell. I was a fan too. And also because the documentary genre is not one often chosen by this "bumper cars" loving kid - but the Blue Angels stuck. Grandma even found him a toy Blue Angel last summer in Ludington, and I felt like of all the things for this kid to fall in love with, given that we live near an Air Force base, and his mama works in aviation, Jets are a pretty cool pick. Happy to feed it! So while this is William's first Air Show, I was also very present to the fact that it was also our first show here together. We setup shop under the wing of an army paratropper plane for shade, and settled in to a demo from the VFA-122, the sneaker pass from the Super Hornet definitely caught us both by surprise as we decided it was time to go find the earphones! He didnt take them off again until they were done. I worried the initial shock would sour the enthusiasm but it was nothing that a little cherry shaved ice couldn't fix!

While we start the Air Show phase, we are also starting the enjoying talking to other people phase! As we visited the paratrooper plane, he enjoyed a long conversation with the Army pilot and just like he told everyone all week about how he'd be here with Aria and Violet, and now proudly introduced them to everyone we met. One of the biggest highlights of the day (that wasn't in the blue angels) were the motocross guys flipping and jumping for the mid-show entertainment. We gathered up right with the crew chiefs and watched the hoped that William wouldn't take away any great ideas home to his own bike. This is an absolute carnival! For everyone on the base! Old Cars, Dune Buggies, Fair Food, even a Chinook Helicopter still equipped with its big guns, for the kids to play in. William especially enjoyed the toy planes and insisted we waste no time in getting him his - #1. And he held it up proudly from on top of my shoulders as we noted that Fat Albert was about to take off. He cruised down the runway with an American Flag sticking out of the flight deck, before turning around and showing off its agility with an almost straight up take off. Whoa! Not long after, they were introducing the six pilots that climbed into their F18s and took off to start the main part of the show.

The rest is for the memory bank - the way the ribs rattled, and how close they felt, and how fast they went. My favorite was when they went straight up in the air and then came straight back down and then split it out in different directions, right above us. I wonder what parts of this William will remember - no doubt it will be the way it felt when those jets went past. How they roared. Maybe he'll remember how into it I was too, for him, and with how much joy I picked out that gaudy Tshirt and how much I enjoyed wearing it to air shows as he grows up, like an old rock concert that meant a lot, because this one will - a good choice. And neat that the Cordovas were there too. Our first air show, and something fun we went and did together. The legacy I want to leave - dadding as A Verb. A self made law and a really great day for us to keep building off of.

Song: Matt Nathanson - Come On Get Higher

Quote: "Be a fool. For love. For yourself. What you think might possibly make you happy…even for a little while…whatever the cost or good sense might dictate." ~Anthony Bourdain

[kerolystar2]

Chapter 9: "On the Waves of Fear and Hope.

It had been a month without Nina. Each passing day, her absence grew harder to bear. I tried calling, but there was only silence. My messages went unanswered. I didn’t know what to do anymore. I knew I had failed, but what consumed me the most was not knowing how to fix what I had done.

Her smile at the party still haunted me—a cold, resigned smile, as if, deep down, she had already expected it to happen. That’s what hurt me the most—the idea that she wasn’t surprised. The more I tried to move forward, the more I was consumed by doubts about Nina. Where was she? What was she thinking? What could I do to mend what seemed irreparable?

When I finally gathered the courage to go to her house, it was her adoptive mother who answered. “Nina’s not here.” “Is she okay?” I tried to ask, but my voice betrayed the desperation I was trying to hide. The woman hesitated, as if she wanted to say something but wasn’t sure if she should. “You need to give her some time, Adrian. She... needs space.” I wanted to insist, but something in her tone made me pause. I nodded, unsure of what else to do, and walked away. But I couldn’t go home. I wandered through the streets of Mokdan, lost in my thoughts. Eventually, I found myself at the park, sitting on an empty bench. It was where we used to go together.

My mind drifted through all the moments we shared there—the smiles, the laughter, the shy touches at the beginning of our relationship. It all felt so distant now, like it had never been real.

“You look lost.”

The gentle voice pulled me from my thoughts. I looked up and saw Ayla, a friend of Nina’s. She was holding her bike, her hair tied in a messy bun, her eyes filled with concern.

“Is it that obvious?” I tried to smile, but the weight of the moment made it impossible to hide my pain.

She sat down next to me without asking. “Nina told me what happened.”

My body tensed. “And?”

“She’s not angry at you, Adrian. Not really.”

“Then why is she avoiding me?”

Ayla sighed, looking at the sky as if searching for the courage to speak. “Because she’s scared. Not of what you did, but of what it means. Nina carries a lot on her own—things you don’t know about.”

“Like what?” My voice came out more desperate than I intended.

“That’s not something I can tell you.” Ayla stood, gripping her bike. “But if you really love Nina, maybe it’s time to stop waiting for her to come to you. Maybe you need to show her you’re willing to face whatever it is—even if she tries to push you away.”

**Days Later**

I knew where to find her. The beach. It was the only place Nina sought refuge when the world felt too heavy. When I arrived, I saw her sitting on the sand, knees to her chest, her eyes fixed on the horizon. The wind tousled her hair, and for a moment, she looked so small, so vulnerable, that it tightened my chest.

“Nina.”

She didn’t turn, but I knew she heard me. I walked over and sat beside her in silence.

“I didn’t want you to come.” Her voice was low but firm, as if trying to protect herself.

“I know. But I had to.”

We sat in silence for long minutes, listening only to the sound of the waves crashing on the shore. Finally, she broke the silence.

“Do you want to know why I reacted that way that night?”

I nodded, even though I wasn’t looking at her.

“Because I already knew something like that would happen.” Her voice trembled, but she didn’t stop. “No matter how hard I try, Adrian. No matter how much I want to believe someone can truly love me... there’s always something that ruins it. I’m... defective. And people always end up showing me that it’s not worth trying.”

“Nina, no.” My voice cracked. “You’re not defective. What happened at that party was a mistake. It has nothing to do with how I feel about you.”

She finally looked at me, her eyes brimming with tears. “You don’t understand. It’s not just about you. It’s about me. About what I am. About everything I carry that you never noticed.”

I wanted to tell her she was wrong, that I could handle everything. But words felt too small. So instead, I took her hand, holding it tightly, as if I could convey what I felt without speaking.

“I’m not going anywhere, Nina. You can try to push me away, hide whatever you want, but I’m not giving up on you.”

She didn’t respond, but she also didn’t pull her hand away. We stayed like that, connected by touch, as the sun set, painting the sky orange and pink—a reminder that maybe there was a chance to rebuild what we had, even if we had to start from scratch.

I stayed by her side, keeping a respectful distance. For a moment, the only sound was the waves breaking.

“I’m not going to apologize again,” I began, my voice hesitant. “Because I know words don’t change what happened. But I want you to know that I never meant to hurt you.”

She looked at me, but the silence returned, heavy as a shadow. I knew I needed to keep going, that there was more to say, more to do. But I also knew I couldn’t force it. That words, no matter how sincere, couldn’t fix everything that was broken.

“I love you, Nina. And I’ll be here, even if you don’t want to talk to me right now. Even if you think you can’t trust me.”

She let out a long sigh, finally turning to face me. Her eyes were red, but there was something new in them. Determination.

“Adrian,” she said, her voice low but firm. “It’s not just about what happened at that party. It’s about everything. How I feel alone, even when I’m with you. About the weight I carry that you’ve never noticed.”

My throat tightened. “I want to understand, Nina. Let me try.”

She shook her head slowly, turning back to the sea. “I don’t know if I can let you in. Because if I do, you’ll see everything. Everything I try to hide. And I’m afraid it’ll push you even further away.”

“It won’t,” I said, my voice filled with emotion. “I’m not going anywhere, Nina. No matter what it is. No matter how hard it gets.”

She stayed silent for a long time, wrestling with her thoughts. Then, finally, she said, “Okay. But you need to be prepared, Adrian. Because the truth... isn’t pretty.”

I held her hand, feeling her hesitation. “I’m not here for the pretty parts, Nina. I’m here for you.”

And there, under Mokdan’s starlit sky, I felt we were at the beginning of something new. Something more honest, raw, and real.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Capítulo 9: "En las Olas del Miedo y la Esperanza.

Era un mes sin Nina. Cada día que pasaba, su ausencia se volvía más difícil de soportar. Intentaba llamarla, pero la respuesta siempre era el silencio. Los mensajes eran ignorados. No sabía qué más hacer. Sabía que había fallado, pero lo que realmente me consumía era no saber cómo corregir lo que había hecho.

Su sonrisa en la fiesta seguía resonando en mi mente, fría y resignada. Como si, en el fondo, ya esperara que eso sucediera. Eso era lo que más me dolía: la idea de que no se había sorprendido. Cuanto más intentaba seguir adelante, más me consumía la duda sobre lo que estaba pasando con Nina. ¿Dónde estaba? ¿En qué pensaba? ¿Qué podía hacer para arreglar lo que parecía irreparable?

Cuando finalmente reuní el valor para ir a su casa, fue su madre adoptiva quien abrió la puerta. "Nina no está aquí". "¿Está bien?", intenté preguntar, pero mi voz me traicionó, mostrando la desesperación que intentaba ocultar. La mujer parecía vacilante, como si quisiera decir algo pero no supiera si debía. "Necesitas darle tiempo, Adrian. Ella... necesita espacio". Quise insistir, pero algo en su tono me hizo dudar. Asentí, sin saber qué más hacer, y me alejé. Pero no pude regresar a casa. Caminé por las calles de Mokdan, perdido en mis pensamientos. Eventualmente, terminé en el parque, sentado en un banco vacío. Era donde solíamos ir juntos.

Mi mente viajó a todos los momentos que compartimos allí: las sonrisas, las risas, los tímidos roces al inicio de nuestra relación. Todo parecía tan lejano ahora, como si nunca hubiera sido real.

"Pareces perdido".

La suave voz me sacó de mis pensamientos. Miré hacia arriba y vi a Ayla, una amiga de Nina. Estaba con su bicicleta, el cabello recogido en un moño desordenado, sus ojos llenos de preocupación.

"¿Es tan obvio?", intenté sonreír, pero el peso del momento hizo imposible ocultar el dolor que sentía.

Se sentó a mi lado sin pedir permiso. "Nina me contó lo que pasó".

Mi cuerpo se tensó. "¿Y?"

"No está enojada contigo, Adrian. No realmente".

"Entonces, ¿por qué me está evitando?"

Ayla suspiró, mirando al cielo como si intentara reunir el valor para hablar. "Porque tiene miedo. No de lo que hiciste, sino de lo que significa. Nina lleva muchas cosas sola. Cosas que tú no sabes".

"¿Cómo qué?" Mi voz sonó más desesperada de lo que imaginaba.

"Esa no es una respuesta que yo pueda darte". Ayla se levantó, agarrando su bicicleta. "Pero si realmente amas a Nina, tal vez sea hora de dejar de esperar que ella venga a ti. Tal vez debas mostrarle que estás dispuesto a enfrentar lo que sea, incluso si intenta alejarte".

**Días Después**

Sabía dónde encontrarla. La playa. Era el único lugar donde Nina se refugiaba cuando el mundo parecía demasiado pesado. Cuando llegué, la encontré sentada en la arena, las rodillas contra el pecho, la mirada fija en el horizonte. El viento despeinaba su cabello, y por un momento, parecía tan pequeña, tan vulnerable, que sentí un nudo en el pecho.

"Nina".

No se giró, pero supe que me escuchó. Caminé hasta ella y me senté a su lado, en silencio.

"No quería que vinieras". Su voz era baja pero firme, como si intentara protegerse.

"Lo sé. Pero necesitaba hacerlo".

Permanecimos en silencio durante largos minutos, escuchando únicamente el sonido de las olas rompiendo en la orilla. Finalmente, ella rompió el silencio.

"¿Quieres saber por qué reaccioné así esa noche?"

Asentí, aunque sin mirarla.

"Porque ya sabía que algo así iba a pasar". Su voz tembló, pero no se detuvo. "No importa cuánto lo intente, Adrian. No importa cuánto quiera creer que alguien puede amarme de verdad... siempre hay algo que destruye eso. Yo soy... defectuosa. Y las personas siempre terminan demostrando que no vale la pena intentarlo".

"Nina, no". Mi voz se quebró. "No eres defectuosa. Lo que pasó en esa fiesta fue un error. No tiene nada que ver con lo que siento por ti".

Finalmente me miró, sus ojos llenos de lágrimas. "No entiendes. No es solo por ti. Es por mí. Por lo que soy. Por todo lo que cargo y que tú nunca notaste".

Quería decirle que estaba equivocada, que podía lidiar con todo. Pero las palabras parecían demasiado pequeñas para eso. Así que, en lugar de hablar, tomé su mano, la sujeté con fuerza, como si pudiera transmitir lo que sentía sin palabras.

"No voy a irme a ningún lado, Nina. Puedes intentar alejarme, puedes esconder lo que quieras, pero no voy a rendirme contigo".

No respondió, pero tampoco apartó su mano. Permanecimos así, conectados por el tacto, mientras el sol se ponía, tiñendo el cielo de naranja y rosa, como un recordatorio de que quizás había una oportunidad de reconstruir lo que teníamos, incluso si necesitábamos empezar desde cero.

Me quedé a su lado, manteniendo una distancia respetuosa. Por un momento, lo único que se escuchaba era el sonido de las olas rompiendo.

"No voy a disculparme de nuevo", comencé, mi voz vacilante. "Porque sé que las palabras no cambian lo que pasó. Pero quiero que sepas que nunca fue mi intención lastimarte".

Ella me miró, pero el silencio volvió, pesado como una sombra. Sabía que tenía que seguir, que aún había más que decir, más que hacer. Pero también sabía que no podía forzar nada. Que las palabras, por mucho que lo intentara, no podían cambiar todo lo que estaba roto.

"Te amo, Nina. Y estaré aquí, incluso si no quieres hablar conmigo ahora. Incluso si crees que no puedes confiar en mí".

Ella suspiró profundamente, finalmente girando su rostro para mirarme. Sus ojos estaban rojos, pero había algo nuevo en ellos. Algo que no había visto antes. Determinación.

"Adrian", dijo, su voz baja pero firme. "No es solo por lo que pasó en esa fiesta. Es por todo. Por cómo me siento sola, incluso estando contigo. Por el peso que cargo y que tú nunca notaste".

Mi garganta se cerró. "Quiero entender, Nina. Déjame intentarlo".

Ella negó con la cabeza lentamente, volviendo su mirada hacia el mar. "No sé si puedo dejarte entrar. Porque, si lo hago, verás todo. Todo lo que intento esconder. Y tengo miedo de que eso te aleje aún más".

"No lo hará", dije con la voz llena de emoción. "No voy a irme a ningún lado, Nina. No importa lo que sea. No importa lo difícil que sea".

Ella permaneció en silencio durante un largo tiempo, luchando con sus propios pensamientos. Finalmente, dijo: "Está bien. Pero debes estar preparado, Adrian. Porque la verdad... no es bonita".

Tomé su mano, sintiendo su vacilación. "No estoy aquí por lo bonito, Nina. Estoy aquí por ti".

Y allí, bajo el cielo estrellado de Mokdan, sentí que estábamos al inicio de algo nuevo. Algo más honesto, más crudo, más real.