#sorry not sorry about making everything about them

[reignpage]

❀ In which husband!Nanami makes a big decision after your labour Tw: hard labour, difficult pregnancy, allusions to death, angst, not proofread

“Are you sure about this?” The doctor asks again.

Kento leans back in his chair, staring straight ahead at the older man before him. He notes, with a little humour, how concerned his doctor looks at the prospect of a younger, more virile man like him undergoing such an operation. There seems to be some stigma surrounding the quick and low-risk operation, almost as if the idea of any man willingly sacrificing an essential part of their identity, their manhood, is so abhorrent one must check again and again if they are certain this is what they want. 

And he is. 

If asked, and he’s sure when he discloses his decision to friends and family, they will ask, he’ll tell them it is the easiest choice he has ever made — second only, of course, to his decision to marry you. 

No matter how many times the doctor reminds him that contraceptives are satisfactory, that abortion is available up to twenty-two weeks gestation, and he might come to regret this later when the pain settles in, Nanami Kento will not change his mind. Not even when you, his beautiful wife, argued, pleaded, with him. 

You resented the thought of not being able to give him the big family he’s always dreamed of, but how could he possibly tell you, through your tears and the quiet suckling of the nursing baby in your arms, that you’ve already given him everything he could ever want?

That it isn’t a big family he wants but rather, simply, a family with you. 

Years of giving you everything you’ve ever wanted makes this one act extremely uncomfortable; defying you goes against his nature, after all. But he sees no other way to go about this. Perhaps it's just better to ask for forgiveness than approval on select occasions.

The pregnancy had been hard. The labour even harder. Lasting longer than twenty hours, the nurses and doctors rushed around, beelining in and out of your room with all sorts of expressions on their faces, ranging from professional sternness to mild worry to pure panic, all reflecting the emotions he wore on his own face as he waited outside. 

At first, things went smoothly — the overnight bag was ready by the door, your contractions were consistent and you were both able to get ahead of your water breakage. He was by your side throughout it all, holding your hand, brushing your hair back, going through breathing exercises, and giving you encouragements. 

You were anxious but excited, rattling off baby names as back-up plans in case the baby was 'giving off a different vibe,' worrying about the crib you both picked out, the colour of her room, and trying to remember every single advice you heard from your experienced friends. “What was it babies can’t have until much later? Ugh, I can’t remember now. It was something I really like and was super bummed I can’t let her taste until like centuries later. “

“Honey?”

“Yes, dear?” You grinned at him.

His lips twitched.

“That’s all I get? I thought that was hilarious.”

He wiped the sweat off your forehead. “It was very funny, my love. I hope our baby gets your sense of humour. She’ll make for a successful clown.”

The eye roll you gave him, for one happy moment, convinced him that this labour was going to be just as they said.

There was nothing to be concerned about. Your tests were clean, there’s no history of complications, you followed the recommended diet and have been diligent with the vitamins. It was just going to be your standard birth and they have years of experience.

You’re in safe hands.

So why were you straining for so long?

Why were you screaming through gritted teeth, threatening to break every bone in his hand?

Why was he growing dizzy at the sight of your shaking body?

“Just breathe, sweetheart, alright? Breathe for me.”

You tried. You tried so hard. “Yes, y-yes, I am. Oh, fuck, Kento, it hurts. It really hurts.”

“I know, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.” Mouth dry, face flushed, and voice broken, he could only mutter empty promises. A true failure of a husband, unable to do a single thing to alleviate your pain. “Hang in there, please. They’ll sort it out. It’s all going to be fine.”

The nurses began whispering among themselves, too hushed and hurried for him to understand. "Is everything alright? What's happening?"

More people came in, crowding the bed and pushing him away. He tried to tell them you needed him by your side, that you needed something to hold, someone to keep your hair out of your face. He was being escorted out, wordlessly.

"Ken? Wait, don't leave. I'm scared." Your hand was outstretched and he fought, against better judgement, to hold it just for a second to soothe your worries. They didn't let him.

"It's okay, sweetheart. T-they're going to take care of you."

Hours flew by. He paced the floor, and answered all the messages and calls he received from worried loved ones with responses he didn’t really believe in but knew he had to: ‘she’ll be fine,’ ‘she’s in good hands,’ and ‘it’s probably nothing.’

Sitting on a cold, hard bench, in a large waiting room with people he could only hope weren't in the same position as him, Kento couldn't sleep. Instead, he listened to the incessant ticking of the clock, the dull thrumming of the TV in the corner, and the monotone voices of nurses talking among themselves.

He wasn’t in the room when your baby was finally out, missing out on her first cry, on watching that instant connection you talk about form, on being able to thank you.

They only beckoned him in with relieved smiles some time later. Finally, he could see you, could hold you, tell you how amazing you are. And he did. He held the baby too, small, beautiful, unable to even open her eyes, but had a great set of lungs on her, just like her mother. 

“Oh, sweetheart. She looks just like you,” he breathed out. 

You didn’t reply, couldn’t look at him, couldn’t smile. You simply held his hand and gave him a reassuring squeeze. The feeling of your cold, clammy hand weak and quivering like you were holding onto a thin rope just so you could say goodbye will forever haunt him.

"Sweetheart? What's wrong, love?" He turned to the nurses, tried to meet their eyes. "What's happening to my wife?"

The events after that were hectic and Kento, try as he might, couldn’t piece together what happened. Rapid beating and beeping, sudden shouts, baby taken away, and he was pushed out of the room. The last glimpse he had of his wife, the last glimpse he thought he would have forever, was of her spasming on the bed, surrounded by strangers in masks and stained robes. 

Alone.

Terrified.

Failed by her husband. 

Never again, Kento swore. Never again will he put you through that, the pain, the suffering, the fear. He’ll never drive you to the edge of life and allow you to teeter on your own. If it’ll be anyone, it’ll be him. It has to be.

You survived this time and he’ll do everything in his power to make sure there isn’t a next time — he’s not sure he could step up and be the father your baby needs without you.

His hand still shakes.

In his sleep, at his absolute worst, he hears your screams, holds your limp body, and grieves your presence. He's ashamed to admit he couldn't pick his baby up for days after, that he had let dark circles grow, allowed darker thoughts to permeate his mind, consuming him.

How could he possibly look in his little girl's eyes and know she almost lost her mother? That in a split second, everything you two built together could have burned down in front of him? That when it mattered most, he was powerless as a man, as a husband, and as a father?

"You've been washing the same plate for five minutes, Ken. I think you need more sleep," you said, hugging him from behind.

He had wandered into his mind again, running on autopilot as he washed the dishes. Clearing his throat, he forced a smoothness into his voice. "Yes, you're probably right."

"Are you still thinking about going to the doctors?"

"Yes."

You sighed. "I'll be okay, Kento. You don't need to do that. We're going to be fine. Let's just live as we always did and let the universe take us where we need to."

Wet hands clutched your dry ones. There was a firmness to them, unyielding and tight. When he spoke, his tone commanded attention, rendering you as silent as the baby sleeping in her crib. He didn't turn around, likely couldn't, for he knew if he did, his resolve might just crumble.

"I won't leave your life in the hands of anyone else. I refuse. Your life holds more value to me than my own and I will not spend it so carelessly, leaving it in the hands of the universe or God or whomever else. I can't see you go through...that again. I can't. I w-wouldn't survive it. And I know you want more children because you think that's what I want, but sweetheart, I need you. I need you. You may never understand what I mean and that's alright. The life we have is good. It's perfect. I can't risk it. I won't. So, I'm sorry but I don't think there's anything you can say to change my mind."

Pressing a kiss in between his shoulder blades, you said, "I know."

Unending, your patience is commendable — you don't grouch when he wakes you up in the middle of the night just to make sure you’re still breathing or get irritated when he insists on carrying the heavy lifting around the house.

He took off more time out of work, desiring nothing more than staying at home so he can keep you fed, can take care of the baby whilst you catch up on sleep, and help you shower on unsteady legs.

Every moment, every kiss on his knuckles, every brush of your hand on his cheek, every admission of love bears a thousand times more weight now. The persistent crying in the middle of the night, the mess, the diaper-changes, the vomit on his clothes don't frustrate him; they're a mark of what you and him had fought so hard for.

This is the family he’s always wanted. The family he must protect. 

And damn it all if he lets it, you, slip away. 

So, he says, calmly and with the most certainty anyone can muster, “Yes, I’m sure.”

Jello! Had some time to make this since my exam was pushed later. Sorry for yet another angsty piece, I just couldn't get the idea out of my head. It's very rushed, as I'm sure you can tell. I think I'm a little out of practice cause it's been almost a week since I last wrote something

Well anyways, this is just a snack to keep you guys fed whilst you wait for me on the other side

Blessing and good tidings y'all

[delirious-and-slightly-murderous]

Ok, just, WTF? Dude sometimes I hate this app. (And I'm gonna be a BITCH, but this just gives me soooo much USAian vibes. If this person is not from there, sorry for being a bitch. But if they are, I'm sorry but I can't with your fucking country.)

And maybe I'm just getting annoyed over nothing, and I misunderstood the tags. But I don't think that's the case.

(Will probably delete this later cause I really don't wanna pick fights)

But how the F do you go from this person used to read porn in class, to they don't know maths and are a conservative?

How???

Talk about illiteracy.

First of all, they did NOT let me play gameboy in math class. That's the point, going into class they did not take it away cause it wasn't a phone, but I still wasn't supposed to be using it. Hence the hiding it with the pencil case, so the teacher couldn't see it and what I was doing.

But okay, I'll give it to you that I did not explain that part very well. Sorry, my mistake.

But! I'm saying highschool, starting 7th grade. What kid doesn't get bored during class and do other stuff? Specially at 13 years old? Because newsflash, I was good at math. So when my teacher had to go over the same explanation 3 to 4 times to make sure everyone got it, while I had already understood the first time. Well I got bored outta my mind.

Now, I'm in Uni, I'm a Biologist, and maths are a BIG part of what I do. So do not presume to talk to me about statistics and math literacy.

And a conservative? A CONSERVATIVE???? Fuck that! I'm not about to go into my personal views and politics on a Tumblr post. But no, just no. I'm a firm believer that conservatives are just heinous people who do not care about other people's suffering.

You don't know me and you have no reason to know this, but I'm the furthest thing from conservative you can get.

But, ALSO, some people are just bad at maths, and that is okay. Not understanding statistics doesn't automatically mean you can't understand the socio-political phenomenon at play behind them. And it also doesn't make you a conservative. I have lots of friends at Uni, from the Arts and Humanities, who understand jack shit about maths, and are some of the most politically and socially cultured people I know. People who couldn't hope to read even a simple graph, but are there on the front lines fighting for everyone else's rights and against conservatives and far right shits.

I agree with you that maths are important, I am a scientist first and foremost, how would I not agree? (they are a big part of what I do and what I am). And not understanding math makes people ignorant and dangerous. But maths are also not everything. Generalizing like this is very dangerous and ignorant too.

I'm annoyed, idk, this was totally unnecessary. But I guess I just had to rant.

if there is a screen

ao3 will be seen

[oureddie]

is anyone else's brain just one big

what do we need him for? what's your problem man. what are we measuring here buck. you can have my back any day. i love kids. i love this one. they weren't my type. i thought you just dressed alike. buck gave me a heads up. does this boy crush on eddie mean you're finally ready to move on from abby. uh, you should meet his kid, though. i can see the pollen. i can hear it. ooooOOOOooo you made him cry. you dont find it son, you make it. you two have an adorable son. why are you in hospital jail. i got you. dear buck you are an awesome firefighter love christopher. GET UP your life isn't over just bc you arent a firefighter anymore. says the firefighter. there's nobody in this world that i trust with my son more than you. BECAUSE YOU'RE EXHAUSTING. did you ever stop and think for a minute what that could do to US. a total impulse buy, not like you at all. c'mon eddie if you're not gonna be honest with frank at least be honest with me. i could still take you. you think so? i know. wanna go for the title? uhhhh this is eddie's house im not really a guest. just wait until he gets to the 'i dont have to do what you tell me' phase. aren't you still in that phase. you hungry? wanna grab a bite after we drop him? weeeee have visitors cap. eddie!!!!!no!!!!!nonononnonoedddie!!!! CLAWS AT THE GROUND. you wanna do a rope rescue??? of course you do. i mean that wont happen to US. to abby. his fiance is ABBY. welp. at least it's not a tsunami. hey man you might want to talk to your kid about playing fair. buck can we go to your house and play video games. uhhhh sorry kid i think we might be kicking it old school for a while. he's on the phone with dr. copeland, emergency therapy session. what do you have to apologize for? did you say anything that wasn't true? yeah she's worried about me *drop kicks a punching bag* yeah can't imagine why. i had to do it. i know you did. trauma bag? yup. sorry whhaaaatttt was that? check. do you ever replay a conversation in your head and worry you sound like an idiot? have you met me. it's like the universe is scREAMING at you and you refuse to listen. the universe does not scream. am i interrupting book club. you're late. there was construction on sunset. had to take a detour. buck. buck you have to help chris is- right here. you sure that's a smile? that's the same face buck makes when he's gassy. but just be sure that you're following YOUR heart. *gets sniped* eddie- eddie i need you to hang on. are you hurt? where's buck? he's got a harder job tonight. the team feels off without eddie. he doing okay? better than me. i kind of lost it when i told him you got shot. hey since we've got a minute... uh is everything alright. it got me thinking. what would happen if i hadnt. so i went to my attorney and changed my will. so someday, if i uh, didn't make it, christopher would be taken care of. by you. don't you need my consent. my attorney said you could refuse. but you know i wouldn't. but you knew i wouldn't. because evAN. you act like you're expendable. but you're wrong. good idea. eddie really shouldn't be exerting himself right now. this isn't me an eddie bagging a turkey in south pasadena. he takes christopher there all the time, got the place memorized. my kid loves her. is that enough. ice goes on the eye bud. *gets kidnapped and held hostage together* my abuela would eat this up. she loves a good telenovela. oh cuz uhhh you don't? i know you watch them with christopher. that's how we practice our spanish. look man you don't need to pretend with me. buck you need to move on, i have. eddie get away from the door im coming in. what are you afraid of. that im never gonna feel normal again. buck already took him to school, figured you could use the sleep. chris drew this? uh, that one's mine i misunderstood the assignment. cuz he got the help he needed, and that started with you. i just wish i could- fix it? yeah. what are you offering? right now? bobby's famous lasagna. buck, you dont even have a couch. bUUUUCK where the hell are you going. you can live without a

spleen- right? she's gonna be ok. how did the age of absolutely turn into alfalfa smoothies? give me one second let me grab eddie. YO. i dont know. feels weird to congratulate him. alright cowbody go get em. BUCK!!!!! do more! i just feel like she sees me. sorry about this. yeah it's gonna suck. uh hey do you have any plans for the weekend? i was thinking about go-karting, place in the desert, supposed to be a blast. welcome back to the world of the living buck. you were missed. actually i was kind of hoping you would. i just dont want him to uh- end up like me? you didn't end up like you. hey cap, need a lift? you took the chevelle? how'd you talk him into this he always says no to me. like sea monkeys! in fact, i havent been able to uhhhh yeah since i found out. yeah. well i uhhh wish i could help with that! this doesn't change a thing between us. i thought you couldn't bring a date to a bachelor party. UBBBEEERRR!!!! we don't need a key we're firefighters. he's crockett he's tubbs. actually im crockett and HE'S tubbs. eddie who's kim. does that poor woman know she's a dead ringer for your ex wife. oh eddie. what you always do. talk to him. i dont wanna break down the door buck i want him to open it. well uh, he probably won't. ok well why does it have to be me? you're the fastest runner. we beat the bees! im guessing it's probably an allergic reaction of some kind. to what bad juju? you owe me five bucks eddie. i never watched glee. give it back im serious. we know you're serious that's what scares us. whatareyoulookinateddiehehehe. he knows how to stay, unlike some people. yup, i am freddie fakeman, you would do that for me? you and for christopher. mmmmm like it's nothing. it's not nothing. look i know this whole thing between us has been messy and hard. you do matter to me. i know. eddie would never do anything illegal eddie has a silver star!! you're his dad. he doesn't have a mom. if you don't damage him who will? dad up!! sorry i had to go to the airport to pick up this one. said i was gonna get groceries. it's fine. doesn't seem fine. the trials and tribulations of evan buckley. a tragedy in 97 acts. you've been spiraling since the funeral and nobody knows how to talk to you about it. i don't know buck i wasn't there. eddie- jerk. airport and texas are not the same. they don't even have the same amount of letters. heard some dick was being mean to you, thought you could use a little cheering up

or is that just me rn

[miscellaneouzz]

On the topic of the Mighty Nein’s themes of slowly unraveling their idealized and warped views of each other, I love that while this is all happening with interpersonal relationships in the party, this is also happening with Fjord and his perception of Vandran. Fjord uncovering more things about Vandran he didn’t know about and slowly starting to be disillusioned by him while literally putting up a front to everyone else that is his idealized view of Vandran is so good. I love how Jester saying “Do I like them or do I like what I thought they were? And then you don’t know…” about Fjord ends up mirroring Fjord saying “It might just all be in my head” to Jester about his relationship with Vandran.

Sorry I have so many Fjord thoughts because I recently got his origin comic and I just absolutely love the tragic irony of the line “Captain Vandran was the first real teacher I ever had… He taught me to mask my vulnerabilities so they couldn’t be targeted.” Such a bittersweet moment of how everything clicks with Fjord as a character—that in finding his first form of real comfort in life with someone like Vandran, it only led him further and further away from feeling truly comfortable with himself. And I love how well that characterization is captured throughout the campaign like when he tells Caleb “If I could have it my way, none of you would ever know anything about who I was before and I mean that.” And in the scene where he finally comes clean, he has this very poignant dialogue where he says “I wanted to emulate him, I wanted to be him… Vandran seems to be at peace. But that is not how I felt. I don’t feel at peace.”

So then bringing it back to Jester, there’s another beautiful irony in that despite her dismantling her romanticized perception of Fjord throughout her own journey of self discovery, it was also Jester that knew from the beginning it wasn’t Fjord’s real voice. It was Jester that was vulnerable enough to ask “Do you ever get sad?” and wise enough to say “Do you think if we find him, you’ll stop talking like him?” and valiant enough to tell him “I will do anything to get you away from Uk’otoa.” And you can tell, despite him putting on the act, Fjord cherishes Jester’s ability to bring out his vulnerability so much. It’s why he describes falling in love with her as “You know when someone makes you feel a way that you don’t think you have any right to feel? Or you never thought that you might?” It’s why he tells Caleb that he finds Jester’s whimsical attitude inspiring, but also asks her “What makes you sad?” Why, when he overhears her asking the Traveler to look out for him, he tells her she doesn’t have to wait for a response, because the sentiment alone was enough for him. Why he teleported over a volcano to grab onto Jester and beg her to stay, saying “We will catch you.” There is such eclectic narrative merit in the way that despite their individual affectations and facades, the quiet moments just between the two of them are grounded and earnest. And it isn’t until Jester feels that comfortability in those moments of vulnerability and uncertainty together, that she realizes what falling in love really is to her.

I think Yasha summed it up best: “I’ve found that passion and love for someone is stronger the more that you know them.”

[wisgoat]

I am not gonna pretend. I wasn't a petty unhinged asshole perfect victim who did nothing wrong, cuz I lashed out and I was scary and uncomfortable to be around as I was facing salem's ex and their friends constantly harassing and bullying me sending me crazy transphobic things, feeding mine and salem's stalkers private informations they are in no right to share, denying ever doing it amd constantly playing the victim like it's a normal thing to just release to the public someone's disability earnings and to disclose exactly how he uses it, there has been so many instances of just breeches of privacy, genuine obsession and gaslighting and I did lash out at the person doing all of this a lot.

The fact they demand a public apology from me and salem after being a sex pest, obsessing and publicizing and speculating about our Sex life in the most intrusive and inappropriate ways, hanging out and being okay with people who are extremely fucking transphobic towards me, and straight up just called me a breeder TIM who will never be a woman, nothing else than salem's fetish? Really? You're gonna complain I was an asshole to you? When all you do is not only reblog, and add context and clarify and add details to my stalkers and help them stalk me easier, you also deny doing that and say you're just sharing your experience and how dare I even insinuate you're stalking us. Let go of salem. He is not coming back to you. Stop being in fucking denial and stop trying to get us to break up. You act like your page which is filled with fucking crazy lies and smears and exaggerations among some things that are true that I did that were genuinely awful, nasty responses to being stalked, you act like it isn't used in like 15 callouts where you put selfies of me next to porn salem made, acting like you aren't the direct reason why he was ran offline for nearly half a decade now. Youre always saying "I didn't mean to, it wasn't me, I only put your faces, fetishes, steamID, earnings, ethnicity, gender, exact days you were born, if I had phone number I would put it in there too, every single friend I have that's not involved in any of this, and also random bad faith reading of a post in a way that makes you a pedophile and zoophile, but im allowed to talk about my experiences"

You're full of shit! You spun me into a devious crypto nazi because i shared a story how i was abused by my dad who was very reactionary and basically a nazi, insinuated i only transitioned to escape this so i socially am not seen as a nazi, you hang out with people who call me an ARYAN FUCKINH PERSON or simply just "white european". IM POLISH, MY GREAT GRANMA WAS A SLAVE FOR NAZI FARMERS, MY GRANDMA LIVED THROUGH THE WAR TOO, DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH MY FAMILY HAD TAKEN AWAY FROM AND SUFFERED BECAUSE WE WERE NOT TREATED AS WHITE ENOUGH. Of course you dont, why would you. You're a dumb fucking american who knows nothing about the world, thinking the fact ur partially Mexican absolves you from ever educating yourself. Get a grip.

All that while spewing straight up hitler level anti sex purity culture narratives and demanding we both act to your morals. Nevermind that ive seen drawings you made that are embarassing and fantasized about everything you called me out for, and everything you called your ex you did to her and fantasized about it. You can deny it say i have no proof but ask me this. Do you really want me to? Do you really want me to post porn you made that's embarassing the same way you did to both me and salem? Or are you doing this just to avoid responsibility of having to justify or saying sorry for things you did.

You're not getting an apology from me, go fuck yourself and as for what i want from you, i want every moment of your life to be filled with grief and guilt that you are capable of doing this to someone and that youre not a perfect victim. It's the least you deserve, and I dont care what yoy do as long as i dont have to deal with my boyfriend's ex discussing how my boyfriend secretely doesnt love me and how we like to have sex and this and that ITS NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS YOU CREEP

[missadangel]

MAKE HIM DISLIKE LOVE YOU

Harry Castillo x Reader (The Materialists)

Chapter 9: Hurt

prev chapter series masterlist

Chapter Summary: Is love enough to overcome everything? -Yes. How? -No. Why? Warnings: 18+ (smut, MDNI) kinda romantic comedy stuff, fluffy, angst, lying, soft and caring Harry Castillo, Lucy as his ex, John as Lucy's ex, wealth, expensive gifts, drinks, money, cars, language, sexual tension, oral sex, p in v sex, kissing, slow burn, power imbalance, I might have missed some warnings; I will update them in due time. Chapter Word Count: 9,8k, ANGST (sorry for that), love, feelings, fluffy, rom-com, lust, passion, dirty talk, love triangle, intrigue, mention about death. authors note: I used Spanish and Italian language in some parts, I'm sorry if I made mistake, I'm still a learner. Feel free to warn me guys :) Thank you all for your support, asks, comments, reblogs and likes. I appreciate each and every one of you! Love you all!

“Baby, just try to breathe.” 

That was the third time Harry had said it as you both stepped out of the car, holding hands while walking up to the mansion. But despite his reassurance, your nerves were still going wild. 

Excitement mixed with anxiety as the weight of the moment settled in; you were about to meet your boyfriend's mother. Your mind raced with questions, each one jostling for attention like cars on a racetrack.

No, don’t think about cars, you reminded yourself.

You didn’t want to make a strange first impression by mentioning things like what men typically like. The last thing you wanted was for your future mother-in-law to think you were odd.

Mother-in-law.

That thought made you grin a bit. 

Suddenly, you felt Harry’s lips on your temples, and you turned to him in surprise. “You looked like you needed that,” he said with a grin, wrapping his arm around your waist and leading you toward the door.

He was right; the kiss worked wonders. You gazed at the grand historical mansion in front of you, located in Brooklyn Heights, not too far from the bridge. It was surprisingly close to your and Zoe's apartment in Dumbo. Considering the Castillo family's wealth, you were taken aback to learn his mother lived here. On the way over, Harry had mentioned that his mother had faced a trauma that kept her from leaving the house for years. That made you feel a wave of empathy as you anticipated meeting her. Taking a deep breath, you tightened your grip on Harry's hand while clutching the bag of pastries and pie you had prepared all morning.

“Mr. Castillo, it’s great to see you again.” 

An older guy opened the door, greeted Harry, and welcomed both of you in with a warm gesture. Stepping inside, the spacious reception hall welcomed you with its grandeur. The staircase twisted in multiple directions, adorned with wrought iron balustrades and floral designs. While you admired the surroundings, Harry helped you remove your coat before doing the same for himself, handing them to the man. 

“This way,” he said, guiding you gently toward a large hall on the right with his hand resting on your back. 

“Master Harry!” A woman in her sixties approached you, arms wide open and wearing a big grin. Dressed casually, her accent clearly revealed her Latin roots. 

“How are you, Sofia?” Harry asked her. 

“I’m better now that I’ve seen you!” she replied, giving his arm an affectionate touch. 

Then, she turned her attention to you, her smile widening as she took in your appearance from head to toe. “Oh, Dios mío, qué mujer tan hermosa eres.” 

Nervously, you smiled. Your Spanish wasn’t great, but you grasped the compliment. “Muchas gracias,” you managed to reply. 

Her laughter rang out as she seamlessly switched back to rapid Spanish, leaving you a bit lost. You looked to Harry for help. “Sofia, could you please speak in English? I’m not sure she understands you,” he said to her.

“Oh, disculpa, señorita,” she said, looking at you, a bit embarrassed. “Mrs. Castillo is inside, waiting for you.” She took the bag from your hand and led the way. 

As you walked in, you whispered to Harry, “I really need to work on my Spanish.”

He chuckled lightly. “It’s not on you. Sofia’s English isn’t great, and she loves speaking her native tongue. Sometimes she talks so fast that even I can’t keep up.” 

“Oh yes, they’re here; I’ll call you later,” a voice came from the living room. When she hung up and turned around, you couldn’t help but admire her. She was a woman in her late sixties with short gray hair, stunning for her age. Honestly, she looked more like Harry's older sister than his mom. 

Her gaze focused on Harry, and a joyful tear sprang to her eye as a wide smile spread across her face. “Mi hijo!” They embraced tightly, and you felt a warm smile cross your lips as you watched them. She playfully punched Harry on the shoulder. “You’ve really been a bad son! Is your job more important than your old mama?” 

“Mother, must you embarrass me in front of my girlfriend?" he grunted.

Her gaze then shifted to you, prompting you to flash your most nervous smile. As her admiration deepened, you felt your cheeks heat up while she appraised you with a satisfied expression. “Oh, how beautiful you are!” she exclaimed, narrowing her eyes at Harry. “Now I see why you’ve been so busy.” 

Harry chuckled as he introduced you. 

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Castillo,” you said warmly, extending your hand. 

With a cheerful laugh, she shook your hand. “Oh, please, cariño, just call me Valeria.”

Sofia, the woman you met earlier, quietly stepped into the room and leaned in to whisper, her eyes sparkling with mischief as they both chuckled while looking at you. “Sofia says dinner’s ready; let’s head to the dining room,” Valeria announced, her gaze locking onto yours with intensity. Harry took your hand gently, and Valeria placed her hand reassuringly on your back. “Come on, sweetheart,” she invited with warmth.

Well, you hadn’t expected this kind of attention from Harry’s mom. She kept an eye on you until you were comfortably settled at the table. Harry pulled your chair out for you, sliding it in once you sat down, then took a seat right beside you. Valeria, at the head of the table, folded her hands and shot you a warm smile while Harry beamed with happiness as you two exchanged grins.

As dinner was served, Harry and Valeria chatted easily about work. When the conversation shifted your way, you answered every question honestly, sharing that your mom had passed away, your dad was living alone on your farm in Atlanta, and a bit more about your life. Valeria listened closely, her kind smile and supportive words making you feel at ease. When it was your turn to talk about your job—the part that made you the most anxious—Valeria surprised you. “Don’t feel ashamed, honey. This job is one of the toughest out there. People can be awful, but you’re amazing and hard-working, and you deserve more. Keep your head high; it’s the person who brings dignity to the job, not the job that brings dignity to the person.”

You recognized the quote. “Martin Luther King,” you said, smiling back in gratitude. "Thank you Valeria."

Harry then reached over the table to take your hand. “Actually, she’s done with that for now,” he said, looking deeply into your eyes. You smiled back. “Because I didn’t want her to wear out her beautiful, skillful hands,” he added, kissing your knuckles. A bit shy about the attention in front of his mom, you bit your lower lip and grinned nervously.

Valeria sipped her champagne, a playful smile lighting up her face. “Hmm, I sense a bit of ‘skillful’ in your tone, Harry.”

“She’s an incredibly talented bakery chef,” he proclaimed proudly.

"Um-" You were about to protest, but Harry continued, “You’ve got your certificate, love; it’s time to stop being modest. You’re officially a chef now,” he said with proud, prompting smiles between you.

“Oh, that’s wonderful.” Valeria said excitedly.

“And this made by this lovely lady herself, Mrs. Castillo,” Sofia chimed in with a smile as she entered the room, serving the dessert you’d prepared and placing it in the center of the table.

“Ah, Sopapilla?” Valeria said, her eyes lighting up in delight.

“Harry mentioned it was your favorite, so I made it for you. I hope you like it,” you said, biting your lower lip.

Sofia drizzled honey over the cheesecake before serving Valeria, then Harry, and finally you. “My baby's been hustling in the kitchen all morning to make this,” Harry said, glancing your way as he took a bite of the cheesecake.

“Ah, this is absolutely delicious! The best sopapilla pie I’ve ever had. It’s fantastic!” Valeria exclaimed eagerly, savoring another forkful.

“Thanks, I’m so glad you like it,” you said happily, relieved.

“I loved it, honey,” Valeria added, giving Harry a knowing look and then turning back to you. “It was really sweet of you to make this for me.”

As the evening went on, Harry shared stories about his family and showed you old photos in another room. He talked about his sister, who had passed away young due to a congenital disease, and how their mom struggled after that. He also shared the history of their home, which was built in the 1800s for a ship dealer and beautifully restored with modern touches after Harry’s dad immigrated from Mexico to New York. The house’s stunning design, with its vintage charm, offered breathtaking views of the city from the terrace, while the backyard was a serene escape, filled with plants, flowers, and dwarf trees, created since his mom couldn’t go outside anymore. It was a beautiful house, especially seeing it was where Harry grew up.

When you asked for permission to use the bathroom, Harry went to his mom. In the kitchen, he and Sofia were chatting about you.

“She’s got a pretty good figure,” Valeria giggled.

"And young too," Sofia said.

“Even better. Young enough to give me lots of grandchildren one day—hopefully.”

"Fingers crossed. Oh, Jesus, please hear our little prayers.”

They both raised their hands above as if praying, then laughed together.

Harry, hands on his hips, huffed in mock disapproval. “What kind of conversation are you two having about my girlfriend?”

Valeria took Harry's face in her hands and smiled warmly. “Harry, this girl is incredible. I was so nervous since it’s the first time you’ve brought someone home. But you really hit the jackpot! Don’t let her slip away; propose to her and put a ring on it! If you don't marry this girl, I'll beat the shit out of you regardless of your age,” she said, teasing.

Sofia chimed in with a laugh, “Last time you said that, Harry was only 19.”

They both shot her a look, and Sofia quickly looked away, focusing on her work.

“Mom, don’t worry. Even if she ever decides to leave me, I wouldn’t let her go. Besides, I was coming to ask you for your wedding ring.”

Valeria gasped, her hand flying to her chest. “Oh my! Are you really going to propose? Did you hear that, Sofia?”

Sofia clapped her hands excitedly. “Gracias Jesus! Finally, the moment you’ve been waiting for, Mrs. Castillo! God bless you, Harry,” her voice a little shaky from all the happiness.

Harry chuckled and then warned her, "Ssh, she will hear you."

“I thought you might never want that ring; thought it would just gather dust in the drawer,” Valeria said with a happy sigh. “Hold on, I’ll go get it for you.”

After Valeria left the kitchen, cheerfully murmuring to herself, Sofia turned to Harry. “I haven’t seen her this happy in ages, and neither have you. She was so down when you went to France, but now…” Her voice trailed off as tears welled up in her eyes. “Thank goodness for this moment; it’s such a blessing to see you both so blissful.” 

Harry grinned back at her, totally oblivious to the fact that you were walking back from the bathroom and could hear him in the hallway. “Thank you, Sofia. I promise it won't happen again; she’s been through enough. Now that I’ve found the one, we will create our happiness together, and nothing will stand in our way. I won’t allow it.”

You smiled, hoping for the same.

The first day of the fair arrived just a few days after you received your certificate and master’s license. The logo design for the booth, brochures, banners, and everything else was set to go. After much consideration, you, Harry, and Mia -who insisted strongly- finally settled on the brand name “The Vanilla Vine.” Since it was the weekend, Zoe joined you at the booth. Harry was the first to test the desserts and sweets you made, followed by Maria, Mia, and John.

The fairgrounds brimmed with a tapestry of colorful booths, filled with throngs of eager visitors. As the hours slipped by, more and more people gravitated towards your booth, captivated by the tantalizing aromas wafting from your offerings. Each smile and compliment filled your heart with joy, a testament to all the hard work you had poured into this endeavor. However, as the sun began to set, the fatigue began to settle in, weighing on your limbs. Harry, receiving an urgent call, excused himself and hurried off, leaving just you and Zoe to manage the dregs of the day. Thankfully, it turned out to be a way better day than you expected—almost everything was sold out before closing time.

As John and Zoe were heading home together, you waved goodbye to them before getting into the car that Harry had sent for you. You were so ready to get home, take a shower, and collapse in bed—exhausted from the long day of cooking and standing around.

You were yawning when the elevator dinged as it reached Harry’s penthouse. You swiped the card against the door lock and stepped inside, finding the lights off. Hadn't he come home yet?

“Harry?” you called out, but there was no reply.

Only stillness answered, prompting you to pull out your phone. A quick call confirmed he would be home in a few hours. Sighing, you wandered into the laundry room, shedding your clothes before heading into the bathroom for a hot shower. You tossed your well-worn cooking apron and the remnants of your day’s attire into the washing machine. The steam enveloped you as you stood under the warm water, washing away the fatigue, and afterward, you slipped into bed wearing only Harry’s bathrobe, far too worn and loose for you, but comforting nonetheless.

You fell asleep pretty much right away.

When you woke without opening your eyes, you felt the bed dip as he slid next to you, followed by a gentle pressure on your cheek. His familiar, masculine scent of cologne wafted through the air, and you felt the tickle of his mustache as he kissed your cheek.

“You awake, baby?” he asked softly.

Not quite opening your eyes, you mumbled sleepily, “You came.”

He wrapped his arm around you, burying his nose in your damp hair. "Sorry I'm late. A few things came up."

His tone urged you to open your eyes. “Is everything okay?” you asked, not turning to face him.

"A few setbacks, but I’ll handle it tomorrow. Don’t worry about it. How did things go after I left? Everything run smoothly?"

You released a sigh of relief. “Yeah, it was fantastic—everything sold out.” 

“They were all incredible. I’m not surprised at all. I’m so proud of you.”

“I couldn’t have succeeded without your support. Thank you for everything,” you murmured, turning to him.

He smiled wider, leaned down, and kissed you, his hand sliding under the collar of your robe, brushing your skin. “No underwear?”

You smiled at the thrill in his voice.

"I was so worn out to wear any. I still am," you murmured, turning onto your side and closing your eyes again teasingly.

Mischievously, he gathered your damp hair and slowly slid the robe down to your shoulder. He started placing soft kisses along your skin, moving to your neck. “I wonder how tired are you? Can you rate it for me?”

"I would rate it a solid 10 out of 10," you murmured again, trying to hide your amusement while content to enjoy his warmth.

“Hmm, that much? Well, can I have permission to fuck you while you sleep then, because I want you so bad.”

You turned to him lazily, your eyelids heavy. "Baby, I'm wiped."

He smiled mischievously and whispered into your face as he ran his lips along the edge of yours. "Hush, it's all right, love. Just stay still. I'll take care of you."

It was the first bit of excitement you felt, even though you were really tired, and you started to wonder if he was thinking about where to begin.

Damn.

The idea of him running his tongue over your skin was enough to make you wet. Drifting into consciousness slowly, you were enjoying the feel of being wrapped by his strong, warm arms. You stretched a little, toes pointed toward the end of the bed, and snuggled tighter into him.

However, his intention was not solely for cuddling.

His arm curved around you, slid a hand under the robe to cup your breast, gently pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers. The stimulation made you gasp, the sensation blossoming out and down. 

You suddenly noticed that Harry still hadn’t taken off his shirt. Your hands searched for the hem clumsily, he laughed at your efforts. With a swift movement, he yanked off his black T-shirt and tossed it to the floor. His arm slipped around you from behind as his other hand skillfully pulled the robe off you. The scent of fresh soap from your skin reached him, he couldn’t help but touch you again, trailing his lips softly over your skin. Your hands found the waistband of his pants with a bit more ease this time, and as you tried to unbuckle them in the low light, you noticed that the thrill of the moment was making you feel surprisingly more alert and less tipsy. As you loosened the belt, he delightedly caressed your neck and collarbone, then between your breasts, using wet touches of his tongue and smiling as he tasted lavender off your skin.

But now he was feeling impatient.

Dangerously so.

He sat on the bed to remove his pants and left them to the same fate as his T-shirt, returning to the bed to kiss you passionately. You both moaned from the vibrating waves of the touch as he insistently thrust his tongue into your mouth. You felt a shiver run through you as you realized that the taste of his tongue and saliva revealed he had just knocked back a strong whiskey.

Irish.

Neat.

He must’ve had about four or five shots.

He always went hard like that whenever he was feeling stressed.

It was kinda wild and almost beautiful to understand him just by tasting him.

It felt like reading a book without even looking at the pages.

He was too, and he relished tasting you just as much. He felt the vanilla frosting of the cupcake you had just popped in your mouth before you got in the shower - the only thing left from the fair - on his tongue and he sucked so hard that you couldn't help pushing yourself against him, almost sitting up in bed. You held onto his shoulders and his hand, which was everywhere at that moment, began to caress your legs sweetly. With a swift movement he got rid of his underwear and got back to business.

He ducked his head, kissing his way slowly up your belly, over your ribs, finally taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking gently. "Oh," you gasp, bucking your hips against him. Harry released the tender nub and blew gently. His breath was hot against your wet, cool skin, making you writhe.

You groaned and arched your back, then leaned in to kiss him. His kiss was now slow and thorough. He moved his mouth over yours, drinking more while he groaned. He nudged your thighs apart with his knee, lowering his hips to grind his hard cock against your pussy. You spread your legs wider, bringing your knees up and hooking your ankles behind his back. You felt him reach down and slide his fingers between your folds to rub against your clit. He dipped two fingers inside you, moaning as he slid easily into your hot, wet pussy. He grinded his hips in time with the stroke of his fingers inside you, his cock hard and rough against your clit.

“Oh god Harry,” you moaned, watching him.

He looked up at you, eyes glistening in the dim light. His mouth quirked up at the corners into a half smile. "Feels good, baby?"

You ran your fingers through his hair, which looked really dark, almost black, in the dim light. "Yes, keep going please," you craved.

As you moved your hand down his forehead, you gently touched his face, trailing your thumb over his eyebrows and giving his cheeks and jawline a soft caress.Then, your fingers wove through his hair again, with your thumbs circling around the contours of his ears this time, he smirked, clearly enjoying it. You sit up to kiss him again, rocking your hips against his palm as he continued pumping his fingers inside of you.

A groan escaped from your lips as you came.

He then captured your mouth in a fervent kiss to swallow your loud moans, pulling his fingers out slowly. “So fucking hot,” he hummed then dipped his head down to kiss your neck, hands pulling at your hips, flipping you onto your stomach.

You buried your face into the pillow, groaning when you feel his cock against your ass. He kneads your ass, pulling your cheeks apart. You could feel his knees on either sides of your thighs. He kissed your back, sliding the head of his cock down low between your legs to rest against your pussy.

He slid inside of you so slowly that every nerve sings. It glided against the taught, wet muscles, stretching and pulling. Harry's hips come to rest against your ass as he buried himself inside of you. He pulled back, movements measured and deliberate. "God, you're so tight, every damn time," he groaned.

Bringing your ass up, you pushed against him, silently begging for more. He grabbed you, long fingers wrapping around your hips. He pulled back but only to push himself forcefully forward into you with a grunt. "Fuck, you're driving me crazy. I want to fuck you so hard."

“Yes, please,” you beg, voice party muffled by the pillow.

“You want it hard baby?” he asked, voice ragged almost begging for your confirmation.

“Yes,” the muscles in your abdomen shuddered and tighten with expectation.

And that was it.

He rocked his hips back, his forward thrust slamming inside of you, repeating the motion again and again, bed rocking, springs creaking slightly with the rhythm.

Gripping the sheets desperately, "Harry," you moaned, mewled and gasped, your own movements limited by the position. He leaned over you, lips pressing to your shoulders and the back of your neck, licking sucking, nibbling.

Pressing your ass up, you pushed down against the bed, breathless. Harry shifted, pulling out. You felt his cock, wet and hard, smack against your thigh. You got up onto your knees, turning to your lover. He took your breasts in his hands, kneading them, rubbing his thumbs over your nipples.

“Baby,” he whispered, dipping his head to kiss you. His lips were soft and part readily. You reached down, taking his cock in your hand which was slick from your pussy. You tightened your fingers around his thick shaft, stroking slowly. He moaned and shifted back, sitting against the headboard. Your body moved with him, lips pressed to his, stroking his cock in your hand.

Stretching his legs out, he pulled you into his lap, fingers digging into your ass. Never breaking the kiss, you tilted his cock up towards you, slowly lowering your hips onto him.

Harry groaned.

You spread your knees to either side of his hips, taking as much of his cock as you can before rocking your hips back, grinding your clit down against him. He broke the kiss, running his tongue down along your neck, nipping gently at the base, just above your collar bone. You set the pace, increasing the speed as you find your rhythm and the pressure started to build in your core.

“Harry,” you gasped, gripping his broad shoulders for leverage. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you into him. He slid his left knee up the bed shifting onto his side enough to drive his hips up into you, head bent as he panted.

Kissing the top of his head, you wrapped your arms around his neck, grinding yourself down onto him faster, gasping. His cock was hitting you just right, sliding against your right spot. The pressure built quickly, your movements becoming frantic.

“Come baby, I want to feel you come,” he rasped.

With a loud moan, you collapsed into him, eyes squeezed shut and head falling back. The deep sensation of pleasure blast through you, setting off a chain reaction of bliss. Your pussy clenched around him, muscles milking him.

With an impatient growl, he pushed you down onto the bed, pushing your knees out wide. His hips pounded into you, rocking you back and down against the mattress. He gasped and grunted, head down, lost in the sensation.

You brought your hips up, snapping them upwards quickly in time with his thrusts. Digging your nails into his ass, you pulled him into you, moaning soft encouragements.

He shuddered, groaning, collapsing onto you as he came hard. He tightened his arms around you, sliding his cock in slowly once, twice, until only his chest moves against you in time with his quick, ragged breaths.

You slid your hands up his back, the outlines of his arms, biceps like faint messages under your fingertips. Harry kissed your chest, letting out a long, shaky breath against your skin. "God, I love you so much," he said, still catching his breath. 

"I love you too Harry. So so much."

He lifted his head, a lazy smile spreading across his face as he gazed deeply into your eyes. Then, leaning in, he pressed his lips against yours for a slow, tender kiss.

In the morning, when Harry dropped you off at the convention center before work, he couldn't tear his eyes away from his phone. He was deep in a serious convo, his face all furrowed. You couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, but he wasn't sharing any details. Whatever it was, it felt like a dark cloud hanging over you both, even as he leaned in for that quick goodbye kiss before you left the car.

The second day of the fair turned out to be even busier than the first. You felt grateful that Zoe had taken time off from her job, as managing the booth alone was quite challenging. As much as you wanted Harry by your side, with his busy schedule, it was unreasonable to expect him to be there all day. Still, you couldn’t fault him; he had a lot on his plate at the company right now.

As the hours flew by, visitors showed a growing interest in the products at your stand. They kept asking about the shop, inquiring when it would open and expressing eagerness to visit, Zoe included.

“Have you signed the lease for the shop yet?” she asked while you arranged cupcakes on the display.

You replied, “Harry's a bit swamped at the moment, but we're just waiting to hear back from the shopkeeper about the lease terms.”

“Oh, I really hope everything goes smoothly. I can’t wait to be a waitress at your shop – my current boss is driving me crazy. He’s acting like I faked my sprained ankle to just chill on the couch all week or something,” she complained.

“What a jerk,” you said, frowning before a smile broke through. “I hope so too, girl.” You often daydreamed about the day when Zoe would be working alongside you as a waitress, serving customers the desserts you made while you managed the cash register, chatting with them and baking treats in your shop. That day didn’t seem so far off; it felt incredibly close.

You were on the verge of realizing your dream and had a wonderful boyfriend in your life. Everything was falling into place, and your life was almost perfect.

As you shared stories about how your dinner at Harry's mother's house went, two familiar faces approached your booth.

“Danilo! Bruno!” you exclaimed with excitement.

"Ciao, cara mia!” Danilo greeted you with a warm hug.

“I've missed you so much! How have you been?” you laughed, reminiscing.

“You won't believe it but Jack sent Melanie to a religious camp for young adults, and it’s been blissfully quiet at the manor. We're all finally finding some peace."

You sighed, “Damn it, Jack. He will never change.”

“Great boss, terrible dad,” he chuckled.

“Hmm, molto delizioso! Good job, cara mia,” Bruno chimed in as he sampled one of your cupcakes.

“I learned from the best,” you replied with a playful wink.

“I taught you well,” he grinned with pride.

Danilo let out an awkward laugh. “How can you claim that after just a few months? I’ve taught her countless tricks during our three years together, right, honey? I'm a master chef after all.” he said, narrowing his eyes.

You were about to respond when Bruno cut in again, “You mean a master chef at being jealous, Danilo? What she learned from me equates to five years of experience, not just three. I sped up her internship.” he added with a smug grin.

In that moment, the two began bickering in their native language. Zoe leaned closer to you. “Are they always like this?”

“I've seen them argue over the phone, but I’m shocked they are worse in person,” you chuckled.

By evening, you felt thankful for Danilo and Bruno’s company; their presence made the long day feel more bearable. You checked your phone but found no messages from Harry. Unlike yesterday, when his busy schedule hadn’t stopped him from sending silly texts that brightened your day, today was different. You opened the messaging app to find your lunchtime selfie still unread with a note:

Sopapilla pie is a hit at our booth today. Thanks for the idea ol'man.

Maybe he was just too busy to answer, you thought. Lost in your thoughts, Zoe’s voice broke through, “You need to see this,” she said, her expression anxious as she handed you her phone.

Nervously, you took it, bracing yourself. The screen displayed a tabloid article that sent your heart racing.

Is Castillofunds.co going under? Shares of Harry Castillo’s company have taken a dramatic nosedive, a major player in NYC's Financial District!

The next piece of news hit even harder.

Tense moments at Castillofunds headquarters. After the company lost shares quickly, founding CEOs Harry Castillo and his childhood friend Gerardo Armada reportedly got into a heated argument.

“Oh no. Harry,” you murmured, heart racing. You immediately dialed his cell, but it went straight to voicemail. You tried calling Oliver next, but he didn’t pick up either.

Anxiety wrapped around your entire body. What could have happened? Yesterday, Harry hadn’t said much; there hadn’t been time for a proper talk. How could he keep something so serious under wraps? Or, if he wasn’t aware, how could he fail to see the company spiraling down? Questions raced through your mind, and for a moment, you just wanted to escape and get to him. Your anxiety was overwhelming, and a sick feeling settled in your stomach. With Zoe and Danilo by your side, you asked them if they could cover for you at the booth while you stepped away. Thankfully, they agreed without hesitation.

You needed to reach Harry; you were worried about him.

As you made your way to the subway, your phone buzzed with a text message. You opened it right away, and your heart sank—it was from Alan.

Your boyfriend's downfall has begun. Just so you know, honey, this is only the beginning.

You froze, feeling a mix of anger and shock hit you as you remembered your last conversation with him.

That bastard.

Of course, he was behind this.

But no matter what he did, you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. You believed Harry's company would weather this storm.

Every company faces tough times, right?

When you arrived at the company building, you were taken aback. A furious crowd had gathered, waving banners and shouting slogans, while paparazzi filmed the chaos that was unfolding. Security was struggling to maintain control.

But things got even worse.

One of the paparazzi caught sight of you and pointed, drawing the attention of all the cameras. You felt frozen; you had never experienced anything like this before. Well, there was that one time with Melanie, but usually, the spotlight was on her, not you. 

But now, the roles had flipped. 

They all rushed toward you, and the questions began to come flooding in like bombs.

"Miss, is it true your boyfriend Mr Castillo's company is on the verge of bankruptcy?" 

"Will this financial mess affect your relationship?" 

"Did Mr. Castillo and Mr. Armada actually get into a fight?"

"Is it true that Mr. Armada is unable to pay his gambling debts and has been siphoning funds from the company?" 

"What’s your take on all this?"

You swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond.

Suddenly, Oliver’s voice broke through the crowd. He reached you, grabbing your arm, and together, you hurried into the building, security guards ushering you past the relentless paparazzi and shouting crowd.

Just as the security team managed to slam the doors shut, you turned to Oliver. “Where’s Harry?”

“He's upstairs. Come on,” he replied, guiding you to the elevator.

“Ollie, what’s going on? Where did all this come from?”

He let out a troubled sigh as he pressed the button for the office floor. It was clear he was feeling the weight of the situation. “Gerardo. In Harry's absence, he got involved in illegal betting and gambling, attempting to cover his debts using company resources. He tried to bail out the company with post-dated checks, hoping Harry wouldn’t find out when he returned to NYC. But it backfired horribly. We’ve been trying to figure out how the finance and accounting teams missed this, but it seems part of the larger scheme.”

“What do you mean?”

“Alan has been deliberately concealing his identity while orchestrating the issuance of post-dated checks. The finance team, the accounting department, even the last company we did business with—he’s got them all in his pocket. It looks like he’s been plotting against us for a while. Gerardo fell right into his trap. He’s messed everything up. I can’t imagine how we’ll pull through this; we’re backed into a corner.”

Your chest tightened, and dread washed over you as the elevator reached the floor with Harry’s office.

The reminder of Alan's text kept bothering you, making you feel pretty guilty.

How did you underestimate him like that?

It all made sense now why Maria was acting so strange that day. You wished you had talked about it with Harry.

As you approached the office, you spotted Harry inside, deep in conversation with his lawyers and PR team.

Your heart sank.

It wasn't only his sad condition that concerned you; there was a wound marring the edge of his eyebrow. The paparazzi’s reports were true—he had been in a fight. Oliver slipped into the office without you noticing, as your attention was fixed on Harry's face. He leaned in and whispered something in Harry’s ear, prompting him to turn and look at you. When your eyes met, you offered him a weak smile, but it faltered as he didn’t return it.

The meeting wrapped up, and everyone filed out, looking grim. Harry stepped toward you.

“What are you doing here?”

Your hand instinctively reached out to his face, gently examining the small band-aid over his eyebrow. “I was worried. Are you okay?”

He sighed, weariness evident in his voice. “I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine,” he replied, lacking conviction. Taking your hand, he brushed your hair back with a faint smile. “Let’s get out of here.”

Making your way to the car was a daunting task; the paparazzi and remaining crowd persisted with their incessant questions and shouts until you finally managed to slip inside. As the car pulled away, you noticed the writing on the protesters' banner.

WE ARE HERE, WHERE IS YOUR CONSCIENCE?

YOU TOOK OUR DREAMS, AT LEAST GIVE US OUR MONEY BACK.

GIVE BACK OUR KIDS' FUTURE.

WE DEMAND JUSTICE.

You couldn't bear to watch any longer; it was just too frustrating. The sadness etched on Harry's face filled you with sorrow. Who knows how deeply he must be feeling all this? He chatted on the phone the whole way, but it seemed like everything was spiraling out of control. You didn't want to overwhelm him with questions, so you kept quiet; he was already struggling enough. You had asked him to take you to the fair after leaving Zoe there alone. Although you didn’t invite him to stay since he was feeling down, you agreed to meet up at home afterward. As the fair wrapped up, you should have felt happy that everything you cooked at the booth was cleared out. The attention had been great, but your thoughts were consumed with Harry. Nothing else seemed important while he was struggling through such a difficult time.

When you came home and saw him sitting at the counter, sipping whisky, you had planned to talk about the shop, but those thoughts quickly faded. Instead, your attention shifted to the glass he held. “Harry, how much have you had?”

The bottle was nearly half-empty.

"Hmm..." Looking up at you, he pursed his lips and held up his fingers—first one, then two, and finally all five on his palm. You chuckled at his expression and sighed, taking the glass from his grasp. “That’s enough, ol'man, move your ass.” He reluctantly agreed, allowing you to guide him to the couch, where you both sank down side by side.

“Things aren’t getting any better, are they?” you asked softly.

He closed his eyes, tilting his head back as fatigue washed over him. “I’m doing everything I can, but it’s incredibly tough. We have to cancel all our investment deals. We’re left with just the company’s assets to pay the employees. Even if we manage to make it work, what about the victims?Thousands of families are suffering.”

“Can’t the lawyers file a countersuit? Surely there's a way out. We could argue that this is a setup, that the post-dated checks were signed without Gerardo's consent. If we prove Alan has a personal vendetta against you...”

Hearing his name made him open his eyes in irritation. “Lawyers? They’re all in on it. Don’t you get it? There’s no way out!” he shouted, his frustration palpable.

When he noticed the shocked expression on your face, his tone softened. He cupped your face in his hands. “I’m sorry, baby, I...”

You placed your hands over his. “It’s okay. I understand how you feel; you’re angry, tired, hurt. But I truly believe you’ll get through this, I’m sure of it.”

He withdrew his hands and let out a troubled sigh. “I really don’t know; this is way worse than I thought it would be. We’ve been through tough times before, but we always made it work together. I can’t believe he’s been hiding stuff from me. I trusted him completely, and he went behind my back. I just don’t get how he could do that.”

“Alan clearly orchestrated this. He must have lured him into a trap,” you said, deciding it was time to share what you had kept from him. “Harry, I saw Maria that day, talking to Alan.” You frowned, gathering your courage to continue. “She looked upset and asked me not to tell you I saw her. I’m so sorry for not telling you sooner.” You bowed your head, hoping he wouldn’t be too angry.

He lifted your chin gently, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Baby, that doesn’t matter now. What Gerardo did happened a long time ago. And Maria was probably trying to protect her assets. She must have been thinking about Mia. But I wish you both had been honest with me.”

“I thought it was something personal for her, nothing to do with you, so—”

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “It’s not your fault, love. You had nothing to do with this. I’m really sorry, but I’ll have to delay renting the shop for now. I promise that as soon as the economy improves, I’ll make sure to get the shop and hand it over to you.”

You gazed up at him. “Harry, I don’t care about opening the shop under these circumstances. We’ll figure things out, I’m sure of it. Everything will be fine.”

He smiled, resting his forehead against yours. “Thank you. I feel so fortunate to have you by my side. You’re my strength. I love you so much.” He leaned down to kiss you softly.

“Ow, you smell like a liquor store, baby.” you chuckled, standing up and tugging at his hand. “Come on, up you get! Let’s get you in the shower, and then we can hit the hay ol'man. You know what they say—a good night’s sleep can work wonders.”

Suddenly, he swooped you into his arms, effortlessly lifting you onto his lap. “You’re the only remedy I need, mi amor.” He continued kissing you as you made your way to the bathroom together.

The final day of the fair turned out to be far worse than expected. News that had started circulating online was now splashed across TV screens, and conversations about it filled the subway and the streets. Harry was in worse shape than ever, and seeing him like that tugged at your heartstrings, making you feel as if your heart were being squeezed. When his mother, Valeria, called and invited you over to her house, you agreed and left the fair early that day.

Upon arriving at her home, Valeria enveloped you in a tight embrace, tears streaming down her face. She spoke of her concern for Harry, saying she felt helpless about not being able to reach him. You tried to comfort her, assuring her that Harry was with you and would remain close. However, you refrained from sharing too many details, as it was clear she was deeply sensitive about her son’s plight. Before you left, she hugged you one last time at the door. “I’m so grateful you’re there for my son. I’ve felt terrible for being unable to leave this house, it’s never been this tough.”

“Valeria, please don’t blame yourself. As for Harry, there’s no need to worry; he’ll be okay. I’ll be by his side and do everything I can to help him through these hard days. We’ll get through this.”

Her eyes glimmered with a mix of gratitude and sorrow as she clasped your hand gently. “Thank you, dear. It eases my heart to know you’re there for him during these days when I can’t be.” You could feel the weight of her worry—like any mother, she was deeply concerned about her son.

Leaving her house and walking down the street, you were set on doing whatever it took to help Harry feel better. You thought about whipping up his favorite dessert or putting on that dress he loved, but first, there was something else you needed to do.

You had to meet Alan.

As you arrived in front of the hotel, you steeled yourself, gathering your courage. Perhaps you could persuade him to reconsider; you weren’t sure, but you knew it was worth a shot. If you could understand his motives, it might help you steer things in the right direction. In this battle, you had to make sure your man didn’t end up losing.

You were ready to do whatever it took to help him overcome all obstacles.

The doorman greeted you with a smile, recognizing you as you entered. Learning that Alan was in his room, you took the elevator to his floor. Nerves crept in as you headed to a hotel room, but you pushed them aside, determined to present a strong front.

As the owner of the hotel, Alan lived in the penthouse on the top floor.

The elevator opened directly into his room, and while you glanced around, feeling uncomfortable in his lavish space, you reminded yourself to stay focused.

“Hello, gorgeous.”

At the sound of his voice, you turned to see him lounging at the bar area, a drink in hand and a smug grin plastered across his face. Dressed in a satin robe, he glanced at his watch. “I expected you earlier; you’ve caught me by surprise,” he said, taking a sip of his drink, then he raised it. “Care for some?”

Asshole was acting as if nothing had happened.

Crossing your arms, you replied, “No, I don’t want anything. Look, whatever you’re doing, just stop it. I get that you want revenge—I lost my mother too—but this won’t bring her back. Besides, Harry is innocent in all this, he didn't deserve-.”

“How can Harry be innocent? That woman is his mother.”

“She’s already lost a daughter. What’s hurting her even going to do for you?”

He shrugged. “At least it gives me some relief. Watching them suffer makes me feel better, just like my mother suffered because of them.”

“Alan, listen—”

“Save your breath, sweetheart. What’s coming is inevitable. The Castillo family will pay for what they’ve done.” He finished his drink, setting the glass down on the counter. “The company was just the beginning. Tomorrow, Harry will lose his penthouse with the breathtaking view due to foreclosure and debts he can’t cover. And soon enough, his mother will lose her house too.”

You frowned. "That woman can't leave her house because of her illness. You can't do that. You can't be so cruel."

As he approached you, the look in his eyes made it clear he could, indeed, be that cruel. "Do you think I care? They deserve whatever’s coming to them. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do."

“It was a mistake to come here,” you said as you turned to leave, but he grabbed your arm to stop you. "But nothing is beyond repair. Maybe you can change this."

A flicker of hope ignited within you. "Me? How? What can I possibly do?"

He smiled, a chilling grin. “Don’t underestimate yourself, sweetheart; you have no idea how much you mean to me.” He reached out, intending to touch your face, but you angrily pushed his hand away.

"Stop it. Just tell me what you want. Oh, let me guess—you want me to break up with Harry?"

He chuckled. “Nah, I’ve changed my mind. I know you won’t leave him, no matter what happens.”

You tried to mask your surprise. “So, what do you want from me?”

“One night." He locked eyes with you. "I want you to spend just one night with me.”

The way he said those words sent a shiver down your spine. The mere idea made your stomach turn. “What kind of sick bastard are you?”

"I'm offering you a choice, and it comes with just one condition, sweetheart. If you don’t comply, you’ll have to watch your man falter and see the heartbreaking news about the Castillo family everywhere. Think it over. Harry's fate is in your hands."

"Do you think I'm an idiot? How can I trust you won't pull a fast one on me?"

He chuckled and leaned closer. "What other options do you have?"

You fell silent, realizing you had none.

"I'll draft a contract between us. I’ll ensure Harry gets everything he needs to stabilize the company’s stock, and I’ll drop the lawsuit. Would that satisfy you?"

Just like that?

That seemed too simple.

"What is this, a telenovela? Will you be satisfied when I sleep with you? Will you leave your revenge just like that?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Harry's been shaken up enough, and he's going to have a hard time putting the company back together, watching his misery that's enough to satisfy me. But of course as soon as you volunteered to satisfy my needs-"

You slapped him in the face. “You piece of shit!”

He put his hand where you hit him and smiled wickedly. “So you're not accepting my offer?”

Fuckin' asshole. 

You squinted at him, your whole body shaking with anger. "I would rather spend the night with Joffrey Baratheon. Yeah, I know he's a fictional character, but at least I could beat the bastard up and my night would be more interesting.” you said and turned around to leave. 

“Suit yourself,” he said behind you. "But remember, whatever happens to Harry next will be your fault. And about those telenovelas... They may be exaggerated and clichéd, but know that in the end they're always have a point.”

The next day, things took a turn for a lot worse. Just when you thought it couldn't get any shitty, everything spiraled out of control. The streets outside the company overflowed with an army of paparazzi, their cameras clicking like a relentless drumbeat, while protesters shouted, their voices rising in a tumultuous chorus of anger and despair. Even Forbes magazine, which had once celebrated Harry on its cover, was now reporting that his company was teetering on the brink of bankruptcy and that he had slipped off the list of the wealthiest people. When Maria and Mia came to visit you one evening, you watched them through the door as they talked about losing their home. They were filled with sadness and desperation. You couldn’t help but wonder what else could possibly go wrong, and then it did. The Feds and the SEC even IBRC got involved.

That’s when the last text from Alan arrived on your phone.

This is your last chance to save your man.

But it wasn't just the urgency in the text that spurred you to act; it was the sight of Harry himself. He looked so lost, so deeply unhappy that your heart ached for him. Maybe it was reckless, stupid, maybe he’d come to resent you for this decision—or maybe, just maybe, this was the only way to pull him back from the brink.

He would understand eventually, wouldn’t he?

That night, as you lovingly caressed his face while he slept beside you, your mind raced with turmoil. He had increasingly sought solace in alcohol, and fatigue clung to him like a shadow. He was your everything; you would do anything for him, anything.

The next morning, after preparing breakfast—he barely touched it—you sent Alan a text as Harry left for work.

Your fingers shook as you typed, tears in your eyes.

Tonight.

That evening, you slipped into the underwear and the dress you knew you would tear them off and throw them into the trash afterwards. You wrote a note to Harry, left it on the counter, and stepped out of the house.

But first, you had to see someone.

Jack.

You needed to prepare yourself for the big fish that wanted to swallow you whole, instead of being just another fish on the line.

It was around ten o'clock when you finally arrived at the hotel. Your heart raced with nervousness; you felt like a sacrificial lamb, and the thought of what could happen made you feel disgusted. How could you allow another man to touch you, especially someone you despised?

When you caught sight of the elevator, fear gripped you so tightly that you almost turned back.

But no, you had to summon your courage.

You were doing this for the man you loved. All Alan had to do was sign the contract you had arranged through Jack's lawyer.

You were ready to pay the price for that—a straightforward agreement. Seemingly simple, but a gnawing sense of dread gnawed at you from within.

You clutched the belt of your trench coat tightly as the elevator ascended, your nausea returning. Perhaps it was simply the tension building inside you. The elevator bell startled you, and your palms were slick with sweat. As you stepped inside, you felt timid at first, but upon seeing Alan and his unnecessary smug smile, you lifted your chin and approached him with purpose.

“There you are,” he said, his victory grin irritating you even more.

Taking a deep breath, you retrieved the documents from your bag and laid them on the counter. “Sign it now.”

He glanced at the papers. “What’s this? No kissing, no hugging—this is the kind of stuff escorts ask for, or somethin'?”

You shot him a withering glare.

"Well, I already had these documents prepared, sweetheart," he said, showing his briefcase.

“I don’t trust you, which is why I asked Jack to draft them. Sign them or I’ll go back,” you stated firmly, trying to keep your expression icy and unyielding.

He chuckled. “Hmm, clever. Fine, but I’d like to read them first.” He settled onto the barstool and began examining the pages. “There are some carefully crafted clauses in this contract that will benefit Harry's company and the entire Castillo family. But what about you? Don’t you demand anything?”

You understood his meaning but tried not to care. You had already made up your mind. “Are you going to sign it or not?”

He looked at you with a serious expression. “If I have to pay a price to get you out of those clothes, then so be it, honey,” he replied, starting to sign each page one by one.

A mixture of relief and anxiety washed over you. Your heart raced at the thought of what was to come, and you felt your courage slip away.

But there was no turning back now.

Once he finished signing, he slid the documents back across the counter towards you. As you reached for the folder, he seized your hand and pulled you closer. “I’ve done my part; now it’s your turn.”

A shiver ran down your spine, and you nearly burst into tears, but you steadied yourself. Putting the folder in your bag, you turned to him. “Just one thing: Harry can’t find out about this.”

He nodded, his impatience growing. “Okay, I swear.”

You untied the belt of your trench coat, took it off and put it on the chair. You were emotionless looking at him, or tried to be.

You felt like you were stuck in quicksand and you were sinking deeper and deeper as he approached you, staring at you like a hungry wolf.

You closed your eyes tightly when he reached out and touched your cheek. You tried to suppress the urge to sob as he slid his hand slowly from your cheek to your neck, your body shaking. Suddenly he wrapped an arm around you, pulled you to him and pressed his lips hard against yours. Instinctively you closed your lips tightly, it was so disgusting. You placed your hands on his chest and pushed him away while he kissed you more eagerly. 

But then suddenly he paused and pulled back. Only then did you realize that you were crying.

He looked at you licking his lips, grinning with disappointment. 

“Okay, that's it.”

You looked at him with your eyes wide open. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. "Wh-what?"

He walked back to the bar, sat down and poured himself a drink. You had a lot of questions, but the first thing you thought was that he backed out of the deal because you didn't kiss him back. "You signed the papers, you can't back out now."

"I’m not backing out; that was the agreement between us. It's done."

"But you said-"

"I prefer a woman who is eager to sleep with me," he said, looking at you angrily. “I'm not a fucking rapist. Now go, leave me alone,” he said and sipped his drink.

Confused but relieved, you picked up your trench coat and put it on. He didn't even look back as you walked to the elevator. But that was good, you sighed deeply to yourself. You hadn't imagined getting out of here like this.

With a strange sense of relief.

But then you remembered that bastard kissed you. "Ugh, that's disgusting. I should wash my mouth out with soap until it hurts. Eww.” you muttered to yourself while frantically wiping your lips with a wet tissue.

It wasn’t yet past midnight when you stepped into the dim corridor leading to Harry’s apartment. The elevator ride felt surreal, each floor ticking by as hope bloomed in your chest. You were grateful to return intact, clutching the crucial documents that could save both him and the company. Everything would be fine from here on out. You just had to sweep tonight's events under the rug, even if their stench lingered.

As you pushed open the apartment door, a wave of confusion washed over you. There, shrouded in the shadows, sat Harry, motionless on the counter.

When had he returned?

Oliver had mentioned he would be out late, and the stark absence of lights only heightened the weird atmosphere. Hesitant steps carried you closer, but the heaviness of your night weighed heavily on your mind. You inhaled deeply, attempting to steady your nerves, and called out softly, “Harry?”

His gaze pierced through the dark, and it made you falter. You had expected to find him with a drink in his hand, yet he appeared unsettlingly sober. On the counter, bathed in the soft glow of the city lights, your note rested beside an ornate ring box.

Something felt off.

“Baby, are you okay?” you ventured, your voice quavered as it broke the silence.

He absently glanced at his phone, muttering, “You’re back early.”

A lump lodged in your throat as you scrambled for your thoughts.

“‘I’ll be with Zoe. I might stay with her if it’s late,’” he recited, pointing at your note.

Clearing your throat, you forced out, “Well, yes. We finished up early and decided to head home.”

“Oh yeah?” he said, showing you his phone screen.

Your heart dropped like a stone.

There on the screen was a photo of you lingering in the hotel lobby, captured just hours ago.

Who the fuck... How?

You closed your eyes tightly, willing yourself to choose right words.

“Harry, let me explain,” you began, but he silenced you, lifting the ring box instead.

“This…” he opened the box slowly, revealing a stunning antique diamond ring that sparkled amidst the gloom, “was from my mother. I had intended to give this to you, to propose... later.”

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, awe mingling with pain.

“It is. It was. Everything was beautiful—until this night,” he spat.

“Wh-what do you mean by that?”

He stood up abruptly, his grip seizing your shoulders with a force that was both desperate and heartbreaking. “How could you go to him?”

“Harry, just listen. I... I did it for you,” you implored, your eyes wide with plea.

His eyebrows arched in disbelief as he tightened his grip. “For me?”

“Yes! Everything I did was for you.” You fished your bag and pulled out the papers, placing them before him. “I was going to give these to Oliver, but now that you know everything, they’re yours. Alan signed them all. You can save your company.”

“Fuck the company!” he bellowed, the sound echoing off the walls and making you jump. The fury in his eyes pierced right through you as he clutched your shoulders fiercely. “You were all I cared about! The company, everything else—it didn’t matter as long as you were with me. But you…” He shook you roughly, tears spilling over onto your cheeks. “How could you do this to me?”

“Harry, listen... You were so sad, and I thought—I thought I could help...” you swallowed, your voice breaking.

“What did you expect would happen? Did you really think I’d be fine with you sleeping with my enemy?”

“Please... I thought that was my only option. It was all I could think of to help you.”

He finally released you, his hands trembling as they fell away. Tears welled up in his eyes, catching the light like tiny gems. “Even if it meant losing me, everything we have?"

You sniffled, tears flowing freely now. “All I did was love you and think about you.”

“You were thinking of me? Yet you didn’t have me in mind when you went to him, did you? Maybe you were too eager,” he said, the sharpness of his words cutting deep into your heart.

In a moment of raw pain, you slapped him.

With the impact, he turned his head to the side, eyes squeezed shut, and sighed deeply.

How could he say something like that to you?

You waited for him to apologize.

But he didn't.

Did it truly not matter what you had done for him?

How could he be so cold?

With a shattered heart and a deep breath, you managed to get the words out.

“Goodbye, Harry.”

The simple farewell fell from your lips like a final breath as you turned and walked toward the elevator.

And just like that.

It was over.

He might have regain his company and his reputation, but in the end, he had lost you.

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[blueberrybirdsworld]

Collision 14/20

Summary:

Lando always had a type : blonde, models, not ready to settle down. Yet once he met her, all his world is changed and he slowly start to realises maybe he was wrong all this time.

It's a prequel story of The Cat Distribution System, on how Lando Norris fall in love with Ariana. Could be read seperatly.

Pairing : lando norris x original female character

Genre : SMAU, Fluff, slow burn, enventual smut and angst

Warning : angst, Lando is kind of a jerk in this (sorry)

CHAPTER 14 :

Serie Masterlist

Morning light spilled across the villa like honey, warm, golden, deceptive. It painted everything in the illusion of peace. But peace was a lie.

Ariana blinked awake slowly, lids heavy from dreams she couldn’t remember. She reached instinctively to her left, expecting the curve of his body, the lazy warmth of Lando’s arms wrapping around her waist like always. Her fingers met nothing but cold sheets and absence.

Her heart stuttered.

The blankets were undisturbed on his side. Not just cool, untouched.

He hadn’t slept there.

Her brows furrowed as she pushed herself up, heart already starting its slow climb toward unease. Maybe he’d wake up early. Maybe he couldn’t sleep.

No.

She felt it.

Like a fracture in the atmosphere. Something was wrong.

She slipped out of bed, wincing slightly as her healing ankle bore weight. Pulling one of his oversized hoodies around her, his scent still faintly lingering, she padded down the hallway in bare feet, her steps quiet, hesitant.

From the kitchen: laughter. Light and familiar. The others.

She followed it, hopeful, needing him. But as she turned the corner, everything shattered in slow motion.

There he was.

Lando.

Sitting at the table. Silent. Still.

Hunched over his coffee like it was the only thing tethering him to earth.

He didn’t laugh. Didn’t speak. Didn’t see her.

She stepped into the room. Watched him carefully. Smiled, soft and uncertain.

He didn’t lift his gaze. Not when she sat across from him. Not when her foot brushed against his by accident.

Nothing.

Not a flicker.

Just ice.

Her throat tightened. She didn’t taste her breakfast. Didn’t hear the conversations around her. All she could feel was the void stretching between them, loud in its silence.

And then the little cracks started forming.

When she offered to grab them both coffee later, he didn’t look at her. Just muttered, “Don’t go out of your way for me.”

When she gently touched his arm in the hallway, trying to get him to stop and talk, he pulled away like her skin had burned him.

At lunch, she tried to make him laugh with some ridiculous inside joke from last week, one that used to light up his whole face.

He didn’t even smile. Just said flatly, “You should save that charm for your other ‘friends.’”

She blinked, stunned, heart stammering.

But when she asked him what that meant, he stood and walked off like she hadn’t spoken at all.

The silence between them stretched longer. Louder.

Every time she got close, he moved away.

When she reached for his hand under the table during a card game with the others, he pulled it back like her touch was poison.

When she asked if he was okay again later, quietly, he didn’t even pretend this time.

He just said, “Why wouldn’t I be? You’ve clearly got other people to worry about.”

She sat frozen, mouth slightly open, the weight of his words wrapping around her chest like a noose. The others hadn’t seemed to notice, but to her, it was deafening.

Everything felt wrong.

Twisted.

Unspoken.

Until finally, as the sun began to drop toward the sea and the others dispersed, poolside books and lazy lounging, Ariana followed him.

Her limbs trembled and her voice almost caught before it left her throat.

He stood in the living room, facing the windows, the sea beyond.

She approached like someone tiptoeing into a minefield.

“Hey…” she whispered.

No response.

“Lando?” she tried again, voice cracking with confusion. “Talk to me.”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t breathe, it seemed.

“Did I… do something? Please, if I did, just tell me.”

He turned. Slowly. Like it took effort. Like looking at her cost him.

His eyes were cold. Detached.

Not familiar.

Unrecognizable.

“I’m fine,” he said. Flat. Mechanical.

Her heart sank. “No, you’re not.”

“I said I’m fine.”

The words sliced through her. No emotion, no warmth.

Her voice wavered. “Why are you being like this?”

A breath. A bitter scoff. “Maybe I just see things differently now.”

“What does that even mean?” she whispered.

He wouldn’t look at her. So she stepped in front of him, forcing herself into his line of sight.

“Lando, you’re scaring me,” she said, barely holding herself together. “What’s going on? What did I do, is it about the other night ? You were jealous, it's okay I understand."

His jaw ticked. His arms crossed tighter.

And then, like a match to gasoline, it all went up in flames.

“You lied to me,” he said.

The words felt like a slap.

“I… what? What are you talking about?”

He grabbed his phone, scrolled furiously, then shoved it into her hands.

Photos.

Dozens.

Her. Him. The other dancer. Laughing. Smiling. Too close. The night of the Opera. The one she brushed off. The one he asked about.

Her chest collapsed inward. “Where did you…?”

“Twitter,” he spat. “The whole damn world seems to know more about your past than I do.”

She looked up, confused, still trying to breathe. “Lando—” 

“Don’t lie to me now,” he barked. “Don’t give me some speech about how it was years ago. Don’t tell me he’s like a brother again. Because if that’s how you treat your friends...” he laughed bitterly, shaking his head, “...then maybe I should start worrying about the entire damn company.” 

“Lando—” 

“Seriously, Ariana. What do you do, huh?” he sneered, voice rising. “Go from one partner to the next? Flirt your way through rehearsals? Let them hold you, pretend it’s all just dancing?” 

Her mouth parted, stunned. 

“Is that what you say to all of them? To every guy who’s lifted you across the stage? Every one of your precious company ‘friends’ ?” His laugh was hollow. “Should I assume you’ve slept with all of them? Or just the ones who look like him?” 

Her hands curled into fists. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Don’t I?” 

His voice was venom now. 

“I asked you, Ariana. I asked you. I gave you the chance to be honest. You told me he was just a friend. That there was nothing. That it was professional.” 

“It is!” 

“Not according to half of the internet.” 

She stepped back, shaking her head slowly. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” 

His chest was heaving now. “Your boyfriend.” 

“No,” she said, voice deadly calm, “you don’t get to call yourself that if you think this low of me. If you think I’m some girl who just sleeps her way across the company. If you think I lie to you.” 

“I think,” he said, quieter now but just as sharp, “that I was wrong for trusting you.” 

She flinched.

“That’s not fair,” she whispered.

“You know what’s not fair?” His voice broke. “Letting me fall in love with someone who wasn’t honest with me. Letting me think I mattered, when you clearly didn’t think I deserved the truth.”

She took a shaky breath. “You do matter. That’s why I didn’t tell you. I was scared of this. Of exactly this. You twisting something meaningless into—”

He laughed, bitter and wounded. “Into what? Proof? That I was always just a temporary high ?"

Tears filled her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. “You think so little of me ?"

“I think,” he said quietly, “that I don’t know you. Not really.”

Those words.

They gutted her.

Her lips trembled. Her heart shattered behind her ribs, piece by piece, slow and brutal.

She swallowed hard. “If you don’t know me… if you think that low of me… then maybe you never actually saw me at all.”

He said nothing.

Just stared.

So she nodded slowly. A breath. A whisper.

“Okay.”

Something broke in her gaze, quietly, painfully. 

Then… she stepped back. 

One step. Then another. 

She didn’t speak. Didn’t cry. Didn’t yell. 

She just turned. 

And walked away. 

Lando stood there, chest heaving, eyes burning. 

He told himself he didn’t care. 

That she deserved that. 

That she should’ve told him. 

That he had every right to be angry. 

To feel like the fool. 

To feel like he had opened every part of himself to her, only to be left wondering if he’d ever truly known her at all. 

But as her footsteps disappeared down the hall and the door closed behind her with a soft, final sound, the silence that followed didn’t feel like victory. 

It felt like loss. 

Taglist : @angelluv16, @httpsxnox, @anunstablefangirl, @chocolatemagazinecupcake, @mayax2o07, @freyathehuntress, @verogonewild, @lilyofthevalley-09, @esw1012, @its-me-frankie, @linneaguriii, @ezzi-ln4, @rlbmutynnek, @actuallyazriel, @sofs16, @thulior, @sltwins, @knivesdoingcartwheels, @henna006, @stylesmoonlight12, @lilaissa, @sideboobrry11, @l3thal-l0lita

Let me know if you wanted to be added to the taglist !

[cxvii666]

“DOWN WITH THE TRUMPETS”

“when i get down, i get respect now”

feat. denki k.

wc: 780

mdni 😴

“don't talk with your mouth full, it's bad manners.”

denki kaminari is a yapper.

he can talk for japan.

about nothing, and everything. about his little hobbies and interests, like the time he got really into origami for two weeks and folded fifty paper cranes before getting distracted by baking videos. about a bug he saw one time that kind of looked like pikachu if you squinted. about an anime he watched five years ago that reminded him of a tiktok he saw yesterday—actually, no, it reminded him of two tiktoks, and he’ll pull them both up even though you’re in the middle of eating.

he doesn't even realize he's doing it. he just talks.

before you started dating, he once spent two full hours explaining the entire five nights at freddy’s lore to you. he even brought a whiteboard. he drew a timeline. there were arrows, names, color-coded events. he kept glancing at you nervously, like he was waiting for you to run. you thought he was fucking psychotic, but according to all his friends that was his weak attempt at flirting.

he talks in his sleep too. full conversations. one night, around 3 a.m., he whispered, “gregory… you have to hide.” and you just laid there, staring at the ceiling, wondering what choices in life had led you here. he was completely out. you even poked him and he just mumbled something about “security breach.”

you didn't sleep much that night. he did.

you hear him on the phone all the time. he’s loud. his voice carries. you don’t even need to be in the same room to catch half the story. in group calls, he’s that guy—never letting anyone finish a sentence, always jumping back in because he just remembered another detail, or because he needs to relate something someone said to a completely different topic.

he narrates everything he does. it’s like living with a one-man podcast. making a sandwich? you’re getting a full tutorial with sound effects. brushing his teeth? he gives ratings to the toothpaste flavor like he’s doing a mukbang. finding a sock under the bed? live drama, complete with shocked gasps and a full backstory on how the sock ended up there.

he doesn't mean to talk so much, honestly, he can't help himself. he just… gets excited. he thinks out loud. he loves sharing things. his brain moves fast, and his mouth just tries to keep up.

"s-so sorry baby, your pussy just tastes so—mmf."

so sometimes you have to shut him up. the only way you know how.

his long eyelashes flutter against flushed cheeks, those bambi eyes of his wide and glassy as he looks up at you from between your thighs.

his fingers gripping the fat of your thighs as he drags your pussy back down onto his mouth. tongue greedy, he mouths at you like you're divine. slow, wet, sloppy kisses, tongue flicking then flattening, dipping in and out like he’s tasting something sacred. he hums against you, needy and messy and so, so fucking eager.

but as he pauses to catch his breath, you realise, he's still running his mouth.

with eyes locked onto the sticky mess he's made, his mouth is still moving, lips slick and parted as he mumbles god knows what into your pussy. eyes fixed on the mess he's made, like he's hypnotized. and the worst part? you can feel it. the vibrations, the breathy whispers, the praise he's spilling straight into your cunt. you strain to make out the words, and between the rush of blood in your ears you catch bits and pieces. "t-thank youuu, so fu-ucking good for me, you’re perfect, so warm, so wet, love you, love you, love yo—"

you roll your eyes and cut his praises short with a forceful tug of his hair. not too hard. just enough. it makes him whine into you, the sound all breath and heat, and you feel his hips twitch against the mattress. he loves it when you take control. he melts for it.

"denki, sweetie, what have i told you?" you sigh contently when his tongue starts doing circles on your clit, "no talking while you're eating."

he doesn’t answer with words—he knows better. just moans, all obedient and desperate, nodding his head so fast his blonde locs shake. sweat glistens on his forehead, some strands of hair sticking to it. you brush them away gently, and his amber eyes snap up to meet yours.

they're wide. glassy. brimming with devotion.

he's docile, pliable. he listens, does what he's told.

and for now, he's quiet.

but you'll keep him here until he's learnt his lesson.

[h66nki]

hi sochi, can u do smt plz? nerdy jake (with glasses) & reader doing cowgirl, he grips her ass and sucks her tits that hickey stains were appearing, reader kisses him and his face is filled with lipstick stains, then reader sitting on his face while he pleasure her with his mouth and tongue and she overstimulated & squirted in his mouth, jake end up drinking licking all of it. Tysmm!!

warnings; pussy eating (kinda pussydrunk!jake), face sitting, squirting, cum eating (jake swallows his own cum lol)

jake looks so beautiful when he cries. it's a strange thought if you really analyze it. the way his eyes fill with tears and his lips form an imperceptible pout makes you clench around his cock.

"babe..." he whimpers, as you ride him. his large hands rest on your lower back. you feel so good, so good that he can't help but cry and bite his lips until they bleed.

"making you feel good, huh?" you tease, caressing his cheeks, splattered with your red lipstick. jake looks at you through his glasses, his eyes shining.

"i always feel good when you ride me. you take such good care of me."

you smile proudly, never stopping your hips. jake is so deep inside you that you feel every inch of him as he nibbles at your tits, covering them with bruises.

your orgasm is building but, unexpectedly, he cums —hot semen filling your fertile womb. your legs give way, buckling against the sides of his hips.

he seems ashamed.

"i'm sorry, baby... i couldn't stand your warm cunt squeezing me any further. i'm sorry," he moans, pouting as his hair clings annoyingly to his forehead.

"it doesn't matter, baby," you whisper, watching him still lost in his ecstasy.

he feels bad about himself. you took such good care of him, but he hasn't been able to give you the same treatment. he hasn't been able to make you cum like you did to him.

his cock is sensitive and softening, so sensitive that the fact that you're slipping out of it makes him curse under his breath.

"let me fuck you with my tongue," he begs, licking his lips. "please?"

he looks at you so sweetly, so willingly... you can't refuse, not when he came so soon and you didn't have time to keep up.

"okay. you can eat my cunt."

jake smiles at you, tired but willing. "sit on my face. i want you to ride it." his hands work quickly to remove his glasses and place them on the nightstand. he adjusts himself on the mattress, leaning his back against it as he breathes heavily. excited to make you feel good.

you crawl up until you're sitting lightly on his face, your slit directly at his mouth. jake begins to lick tentatively, like a kitten. he takes a long lick from your hole to your clit, savoring your taste.

he doesn't flinch when his cum begins to seep from inside you; on the contrary, he swallows it all. he swallows his cum from your used hole, moaning against your pussy at the feel of your combined juices.

he licks between your folds, paying attention to your clit with his tongue in irregular patterns. he sucks the specific spots that make you see stars and thrusts his tongue deep inside you, as if he's searching for any trace of his cum inside your soaked pussy.

jake takes his time sucking everything off: it's his apology for cumming inside you so quickly, like a teenager.

his cock twitches when you grab a handful of his hair and start using his face to cum. the tip of his nose brushing against your clit works wonders, as do his licks.

"baby..." you whimper, pressing yourself down on him. "i'm going to squirt all over your face... take it like a good boy..."

jake smiles against your hole, sucking and licking with more passion, practically making out with your pussy.

you finish in his mouth, making a mess as your juices drip down his face, shoulders, and the sheets. jake's tongue never leaves your cunt, licking and taking everything you have to give him.

when you're done, he helps you get off his face, smiling and proud at the sight of you in a trembling mess.

"drank all your juices, doll. i made your cunt feel good so you can see im your good boy."

thank you for your req love im barking at my phone. hope you like this.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Cupid's Arrow

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x F!Reader

Summary: You and Joaquin don't get along. He doesn't take things seriously and he think you don't loosen up. Well now you two are paired up on a mission and, well, it doesn't go well.

prompt #1457

“Have your eyes always looked like that?”

“Excuse me?”

“You know, the purple color… and like the pretty specks? I’ve never seen someone with eyes like you.”

“You think they’re pretty?” from @writers-are-writers

Warning: mentions of experimentation on a minor

Joaquin Torres Masterlist

Like many enhanced individuals, your backstory isn't sunshine and rainbows. You were a teenager when you got sick and you dad was desperate. After losing your mom, he couldn't bare to lose you. So when someone at the hospital said they could help you for free, your father immediately jumped at the chance.

Turns out, they were rogue doctors messing with otherworldly substances, trying to create the ultimate cure. They injected you with the "cure" and, while it did take away your sickness, it gave you purple eyes and dangerous powers.

The doctors convinced your dad to let them keep you, under the guise of making sure your sickness doesn't come back. In reality, they started to train you. They poked and prodded and pushed you to your limits until you couldn't take it anymore.

When you finally escaped, you tried to look for your father. Turns out, he was killed because he saw and knew too much.

"He was collateral damage," one doctor rasped out before you snapped his neck with your mind.

Now you're an adult. You've done some pretty shitty things in order to live, but now you're making up for it. Hence why you're now working with Captain America and his sidekick, The Falcon.

"Amethyst, you and Joaquin take the lower levels. I'll take the upper levels."

"Copy that," you grumble through your comms and follow Joaquin up various flights of stairs, checking each floor for any hostages or hostiles.

"I think I know why they call you Amethyst."

"Oh really?" you ask in a deadpan tone.

"It's 'cause of your eyes, right?" you don't answer him, instead keeping your dagger filled hands up in defense, "That's totally it right? I mean, it's kinda obvious now that I think about it. Originally I thought it meant you would should like crystals out of your hands or something. But then I read your file-"

You snap your head towards him, your purple eyes practically glowing in the dim light, "You read my file?"

He shrugs, "Background checks," he says nonchalantly as he inspects every room on the left.

You continue to search the rooms on the right, "So you saw the notes about how I was experimented on as a kid and trained to use my powers for evil?"

"I-Yeah."

"And did you see what the project was called in regards to me?"

"...Was it Amethyst?"

You pause and look and look at him, "It was. Because of the amethyst colored liquid they pumped me with that gave me my powers and changed the color of my eyes. If you're going to read up on me, at least read everything. I'd rather have that than you come up with shitty theories." You continue to search, eventually reaching the end of the hall.

"I was just trying to make conversation."

"It's not the time for that, Torres. Read the fucking room. We're trying to save lives and you wanna do ice breakers?"

"I'm just trying to lighten the mood!"

You scoff, "That's the problem with you! You never take things seriously! You always make light of a situation!"

"Maybe because you're so fucking serious that it dampens everyone's mood!"

"Well sorry for being so serious when it comes to people's lives! At least one of us cares about them!"

"And there you go, twisting my words to make me sound like a dick!"

"Because you are one! And you-"

Something whizzes past your ear and lands in Joaquin's chest.

"Shit!" you cry out and immediately turn. Your eyes glow a bright purple as you lift the assailant with your mind and throw them up to the ceiling and let them fall.

They groan and you lift them to the ceiling, letting them fall again. This time no sound comes from them and they remain still.

You turn back to Joaquin and assess him. A pink and red arrow is sticking out from his chest, "What the fuck?" you murmur to yourself.

A sheen of sweat is forming over Joaquin's face, "What's your verdict?"

You immediately call Sam on comms, "Sam? Sam! Joaquin's hit. A hostile got the jump on us."

"Shit, is he okay?"

"He got shot in the chest with...a pink and red arrow."

"What? You know what doesn't matter. I'm on my way. Hang tight."

"We're on level three."

"Copy that. See you in a bit and keep Joaquin awake."

"Got it," you clear the comms and put your attention back on Joaquin, "How're you feeling?"

He gives a lazy grin, "You called me Joaquin."

"That's your name."

"Yeah, but you always call me Torres. My name sounds good coming from your lips."

You cock a brow at him, "Uuuhh okay?"

“Have your eyes always looked like that?” he asks, slowly pointing to them.

“Excuse me?”

“You know, the purple color… and like the pretty specks? I’ve never seen someone with eyes like you.”

“You think they’re pretty?”

"Yeah. Like you. You're...so pretty."

You immediately call Sam back on comms, "Where the fuck are you? Torres is getting delirious!"

"Incoming!" Sam yells as he flies through a window. You shield yourself and Joaquin from any glass.

Sam retracts his wings and rushes to Joaquin, "Oh shit. How are you feeling, kid?"

Joaquin looks up at him with a sort of hazy look in his eyes, "Isn't Amethyst pretty? Her eyes. Her smile."

"See what I mean?" you gesture to the fallen Falcon.

"Alright, c'mon, kid. Let's get you looked at," you help Sam bring Joaquin into his arms.

"Don't touch the arrow. It was probably laced with some sort of drug."

"Right. Got it. Let's go. Redwing cleared the other levels. We're good. The others will take care of the rest."

You follow him out of the building and the waiting med truck that take him and rush him to the nearest hospital.

___________________________

Even though you and Joaquin don't get along, you still worry for him. You hoped the arrow didn't hit anything vital, you hoped whatever drug that was in his system didn't kill him. You hoped he'd get out alive because, sure, he was annoying and happy all the time, but it was a little refreshing. Refreshing to see someone not drowning darkness and despair like you are.

You're in the waiting room with Sam sitting in silence. Your leg is bouncing and your mind is all over the place. When you start to spiral, things in the room start floating and Sam has to nudge you to bring you back.

"Sorry."

"It's okay...honestly, it's good to see you worry about him. Thought you hated him," Sam says with a smirk.

You roll your eyes, "I don't hate him. I just...find him annoying sometimes...and too cheery, and so unserious. Honestly-"

Sam holds a hand up, "I get it. He can be a lot sometimes, but give him a break. He's young."

"So am I."

"True, but not all of us are hardened by our hardships."

You snort, "Not yet. You're getting there, though," you playfully nudge his knee with yours.

"Captain?" a doctor calls for Sam and you and he stand.

"How is he?"

"He'll recover, from the wound at least. It didn't penetrate deep or hit any vital organs or arteries. But whatever that arrow was laced with, it's something we don't have in our database."

"Did you save the arrow?"

"Yes," the doctor hands Sam the bagged arrow.

"Thank you. Are we free to see him?"

"Yes, but we'll keep him here for a seventy-two hour hold just to make sure whatever he was laced with doesn't give him lasting affects." The doctor then looks at you, "I'm assuming you're Amethyst?"

You look at her suspiciously, "Yes, why?"

She chuckles, "He's been asking for you. I'm sure he'll be very happy to see you."

"Oh, uh, thanks," you give her a polite smile and follow Sam down the hall to Joaquin's room.

Sam enters first and you stay by the door, "You get knocked down and you get back up again. Maybe we should change your name to Phoenix instead of Falcon. Always rising from the ashes."

Joaquin chuckles, "Nah. I'll stick with Falcon." He turns his head towards you and his smile grows, "Hey gorgeous. What're you doing all the way over there?"

You let out a tired sigh, "And the drugs haven't worn off yet."

"What drugs?"

"The drugs that are making you talk nonsense."

Joaquin frowns, "I'm not talking nonsense. You are gorgeous. You're also smart and witty and-"

You interrupt him, "Joaquin, we don't get along. We can barely stand being around each other for a minute without arguing."

He shrugs, "All couples argue."

You laugh in disbelief, "We aren't a couple."

"Oh...wanna be?" he gives you a smirk and a cocked brow.

Sam holds in a laugh, "Alright, Romeo, why don't you rest up and heal first before you go all Mr. Romantic?"

Joaquin looks at you with hopeful eyes, "Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?"

You really want to say 'no'. You're tired and sweaty and don't think you can stand hearing Joaquin flirt with you more. It's so...unlike him. But then Sam gives you a look that basically says, 'You better say 'yes' or else', and it makes you grit your teeth.

"Fine," you murmur and Joaquin settles further into the bed, "Awesome."

It takes two hours for Joaquin to fall asleep. Despite you wanting to leave earlier, you feel bad for doing now. So you decide to stay back and keep him company throughout the night.

______________________

When you wake, you see Sam standing over you with arms crossed over his chest and a smirk on his face.

You groan as you sit up, stretching your arms and legs, "Don't. I just felt bad leaving him."

"Whatever you say," he responds with a chuckle.

Joaquin eventually stirs awake, "Hey."

You stand up and get some distance to stretch out your body. Sam takes up your spot, "How're you feeling, Casanova?"

Joaquin looks at his mentor confused, "Casanova?"

Sam chuckles, "Yeah. You were hit with Cupid's Bow and was trying to wine and dine, Miss Dark Cloud over here all night."

You roll your eyes, "Leave him alone, Sam. He was drugged. He didn't mean anything by it."

Joaquin sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, "What'd I say?"

"You were calling her pretty, asking her out. Really laying on the charm."

"Oh...sorry," he says, shyly looking at you.

You shrug, "I know you didn't mean it."

"I...But I do think you're pretty," he looks at you, no hint of sarcasm or joking behind them.

You suddenly feel very warm, "Oh, uh, thanks. I-I guess." You look away, "I'm going to get the doctor so they can check up on you," you hastily exit the room, trying to calm your racing heart. Just yesterday, you would've scoffed and told Joaquin to fuck off. But...But now why are you suddenly okay with him thinking you're pretty? Maybe you got some of the drug in your system through second-hand or something....

Joaquin slumps in his bed, scolding himself for making you uncomfortable, last night and now. He sighs and looks at Sam, "So...cupid's arrow? That's what you're calling it?"

"I mean it was pink and red and it made you all lovey dovey. Tell me, what else would you call that?!"

[followthestarliight]

the LI the LADS Men are jealous of

featuring - Xavier x F!Reader, Rafayel x F!Reader, Sylus x F!Reader, Caleb x F!Reader, Zayne x F!Reader

a/n - Sylus's is kind of sad, im sorry...

XAVIER

Every single one, but none of them elicit a stronger reaction from him than Caleb.

It's a little funny, because while Xavier doesn't usually express emotion unless he's with you, his expressions take you out when he sees Caleb. He either pouts, glares, or stares very, very intensely at the Colonel - as if trying to will him out of existence. He finds it very hard to keep a straight face around your childhood friend, and you find it even harder to keep yourself from laughing.

It was very rare for Caleb to visit you in Linkon. He was so busy that you usually went up to Skyhaven to see him, though you hadn't gone in weeks due to the influx of missions you'd been assigned. So you were in the middle of planning a trip to Skyhaven, Xavier having insisted on coming with you this time.

"Xav, won't the Hunters Assoc-"

"I've asked for a few days leave."

"You don't need-"

"I want to," he said so sweetly, with an even sweeter smile, his bright eyes never failing to make you melt.

"...Okay."

But now, as you two were looking for accommodation - you figured that offering to stay at Caleb's was out of the question, even if you had a key - there was a knock on your apartment door.

"I'll get it," Xavier stood up, walking over to open it. His body tensing moments later told you exactly who was at the door.

"Colonel," your boyfriend greeted him formally, stepping aside, "What brings you to Linkon?"

"Just wanted to see my pipsqueak," Caleb grinned, oblivious to the sharp, terrifying glare that followed him as he walked deeper into your apartment.

Xavier hated that nickname. More than he hated Wanderers.

"Caleb!" You beamed, jumping up from the couch.

Did the Colonel really need his eyes? Xavier wondered, as he came up with a dozen different ways to kidnap and blind your poor childhood friend, who was really doing nothing wrong.

Not only did Caleb have a very annoying nickname for you, but he had also grown up with you. He was close to you in ways Xavier could only dream of being, and he knew everything about you - mannerisms, habits, favourites, likes, dislikes...much more than Xavier knew, because he was still discovering all of that. You had spent your entire childhood with the Farspace Fleet Colonel, whereas Xavier had only thus far had just over a year of time spent with you.

And...maybe he was also jealous that Caleb was more outgoing, more expressive, than he was. The stark differences between them gnawed at him, like an itch that wouldn't go away.

Xavier joined you on the couch quietly, his eyes flitting between you and Caleb as the Colonel asked you if you've been eating well and getting enough sleep. Why was he asking? Xavier took care of you, and he did it well. You ate together, and fell asleep together. He was perfectly capable of-

"Xav, you okay?" You cut off his train of thought, a worried expression settling on your face at the look on his. He looked like he was going to take out the whole city block's lights.

"I'm fine," he replied calmly, in his usual tone. Though you knew him well, and you noticed the slight pout on his lips and you picked up on the jealousy in his voice.

Once Caleb was gone - everyone had agreed it might be best if he stayed in Xavier's apartment while Xavier stayed with you - you sidled up to the pouty Hunter on the couch.

"Xav," you poked his cheek, "Were you jealous of someone I only consider an older brother?"

"No," he mumbled, trying to appear cool and collected.

You laughed, resting your head on his shoulder. Your hands slipped into the warm pockets of his hoodie, earning you the slightest of smiles.

"You don't have to worry, I love my sleepy Hunter boyfriend more than anyone," you kissed his cheek. "I'm yours, for as long as you want me."

"Forever."

RAFAYEL

Rafayel asserted multiple times that he did not ever get jealous - but for every time he made that preposterous claim, there was a time that he very obviously got jealous of Xavier.

"It's always the quiet ones!" He would retort, when you chided him for being so hostile towards your partner.

"He's harmless! To you, anyway!"

"Sure...until one day I wake up and you're gone...with him!"

Your poor, overdramatic fishie would never admit it out loud, but he was jealous of the Hunter's ability to stay calm in any situation. He was quiet, reserved, mature - not dramatic, loud and childish like Rafayel was. He was Rafayel's opposite, and sometimes...sometimes the fear got the best of Rafayel and he'd think one day you'll be tired of his antics and run off with the Hunter. Xavier also didn't necessarily need a bodyguard, so that also worried Rafayel - his deepest insecurity when it came to this one-sided rivalry was that he was too reliant on you, unlike your partner.

Today he seemed to be especially bothered by your association with the blue-eyed 'menace' - Rafayel's "insulting" nickname for him.

"Do you have to go?" He pouted, bottom lip sticking out so adorably that you were almost tempted to stay and cuddle him longer.

"Yes, I do. But I'll be back soon," you kissed his cheek.

"Mhm," he crossed his arms, sulking. "I'll give you one hour, then I'm going to drown him in the ocean for thinking he can steal you away from me!"

"He doesn't-!" You laughed. "Where did you get that idea??"

"Shhh, go now before I spit bubbles at you."

His indignant tone forced you to bite your lip so you wouldn't provoke him further with your amusement.

When you returned, the weariness drained from your system as your eyes widened, becoming comically large at the sight of the painting that was adorning the wall before you - the painting that your boyfriend was currently working on.

Red.

That's pretty much all you saw.

On the surface, it was a beautiful painting with no clear meaning or no visible references. But because you knew Rafayel, and you knew how he could be, you immediately knew that the blue and silver laced together within the chaos of the red was meant to symbolise Xavier.

"What is this?" You asked him, amused but also a little frightened.

"You like it?" His voice had an uncharacteristically unstable edge to it, "It came to me right after you left."

"...Yeah...I'll bet..."

You approached him, ready to give him a kiss, but he didn't climb down to meet you like he usually did. His eyes remained fixed on the canvas, his paintbrush moving swiftly. You tugged on his pants, thinking he didn't see you standing there, but he stubbornly refused to give you any attention.

"Rafayel!" You smacked his calf, making him yelp and drop his paintbrush, red paint splattering all over the tiles.

He finally looked at you, his expression a mix between a pout and a glare, "Yes?"

"Can you please come down?"

"That depends, are you actually going to stay with me this time or run away with your Prince Charming?"

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose, "I'm considering the latter."

That got his attention, an undignified screech leaving his lips as he practically hurled himself at you. The two of you hit the ground in a tangled mess of limbs, his arms wrapping around you like tendrils, tightening when you tried to struggle.

"Rafayel!"

"Sorry, not sorry, cutie," he grinned at you, peppering your face with kisses. "I caught you, so by rule you are mine to keep."

"Technically, I caught you..."

SYLUS

Sylus never struck you as the jealous type, but you soon learned that he was not always as composed as he made himself out to be, especially whenever the name Zayne came up in a conversation.

It was harmless, too, a comment that you didn't think would be problematic. But it sparked some unwelcome thoughts in his mind.

"I'm fine, Sylus. Doctor Zayne was there. He helped finish off the Wanderer and then took me home after treating my wounds."

Sylus's jaw clenched. Why was another man taking care of you? Why was another man taking you home? That was his job, and his job alone. You were dating him, not whoever this Zayne was. So yes, maybe his possessive streak flared up a little.

So he did his research.

This doctor was well-known, and had earned a very respectable reputation. He also earned well enough to live luxuriously, but seemed to choose a simpler life instead. Humility.

He found himself scoffing as he read more and more.

But that may have been an attempt to hide his growing insecurity. He knew he wasn't good for you - quite the opposite in fact. His reputation, what he did for a living, how he handled things...he always knew you were too good for him. Before, it was easier to ignore because you were happy.

Now?

Much harder, knowing that you had someone who could take care of you just as well as, if not better than, he did. Someone who was just as pure as you, someone who lived in the same place as you and could see you whenever he wanted.

Sylus didn't tell you about this. He didn't want to make you choose. Or maybe, he was avoiding it because he was scared...that your choice wouldn't be him.

When you finally got to the N109 Zone, Sylus couldn't stop himself from engulfing you in what felt like the tightest embrace he'd ever got you in. Like he was trying to crush you, though not intentionally.

"I missed you," his deep voice was muffled by your hair.

"I missed you too," your expression softened, a warm smile on your lips as you wrapped your arms around him. "But what's prompted this sudden, unexpected affection?"

"Can I not just miss my girlfriend without having an ulterior motive?" He chuckled, pulling away to give you a once-over. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Doctor Zayne-"

Behind Sylus, Luke and Kieran shook their heads frantically, as if trying to tell you not to say what you were going to say. They were trying to be discreet, but then you frowned.

"Luke, Kieran, out," Sylus commanded, without even looking.

"Do you not like Zayne?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, now it's Zayne, hmm? What happened to 'Doctor'?" He chuckled, clearly trying to brush this off.

"Sylus."

He sighed, "The doctor seems...nice." Saying even that was clearly a struggle for him.

You laughed.

"Is my misery amusing to you, kitten?" He asked, though his eyes betrayed his own amusement. "You like seeing me suffer?"

"Nooo," you giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck, "I just...it's so unexpected. I didn't think any man in existence could make you jealous...since you're the guy making other boyfriends jealous. Or, well you would, if you spoke to any other women..."

His amusement only increased, though your words did bring him comfort, "Would you like me to speak to other women, then? Test out your little claim."

"Absolutely not."

Sylus's laugh was rich, deep and full of joy.

CALEB

Like Xavier, Caleb is jealous of every single one of the LIs, though his Operation: Get Rid of The Other LIs didn't officially start until he found out about your encounters with Sylus, the head of Onychinus.

In this situation, his concern over your wellbeing (and your constant visits to the N109 Zone) warred with his intense jealousy and possessive nature. He didn't know whether to be more worried about you going into such a dangerous place so often, or worried about you being around Sylus more than he'd liked.

You had met Sylus before you found out Caleb was alive, that much he knew. The only way he could rationalise your behaviour in this regard was that he hadn't been there to stop you.

And now you spoke about the Onychinus leader as if he was a saint - which he was far from being.

"Next time you need to go to the N109 Zone, for whatever, tell me," he murmured in your ear one night, as you lay in his arms watching a movie.

"That's random..." You looked up at him, "What made you think of that?"

"Promise me," his eyes darkened.

"Okay, okay, I promise. But don't you think...that the Farspace Fleet's Colonel being in the N109 Zone would draw some...unwanted attention?"

"Last I checked, pipsqueak, you did that by yourself," his tone lightened, turning teasing.

"Hold on," you raised an eyebrow, "Are you-"

"Nope."

"You didn't even know what I was going to ask!"

"Yes I did," he flashed you a mischievous smile, "You were going to ask if I was joking. Which I wasn't."

"I wasn't-"

"Shhh, the movie is playing."

"Sylus."

Immediately the Colonel tensed beneath you. His arms tightened around your body, almost squeezing the life out of you. His hot breath warmed your neck, before he bit you.

"Don't say that name," he was trying to sound playful, but the dark undertones made you shiver. "Don't even think it."

Caleb was trying his best to keep calm. But hearing you say the Onychinus leader's name, even playfully, was really pushing his limits. His low growl was an indication of that, if his possessive bite wasn't.

"You're jealous," you laughed, amused and slightly disturbed.

"And you're mine," he growled once more. "Mine."

"That wasn't in question-"

"That guy," he pointed to a character on screen, one of the worst developed characters in the movie, with the worst appearance, "Reminded me of the Onychinus leader."

"You mean Sylus?" You laughed.

"No, the leader of Onychinus."

"So....Sylus."

"Stop that!" He growled.

"We're saying the same thing!"

"Every time you say his name, pipsqueak, I'm going to bite you. Hard."

Despite that sounding like a good thing, you shivered. When Caleb wanted to bite you as a punishment, it definitely was a punishment. He latched his teeth onto your shoulder, and kept them there until you squirmed uncomfortably and tried pushing him off. Usually leaving indents that you could not, for the life of you, make an excuse for in public when anyone saw it.

"...Alright fine...Caleb."

"Much better."

ZAYNE

Rafayel's new painting this, Rafayel's new painting that. Zayne was, ironically, sick and tired of hearing those words. Those specific words. He was a patient man, so it wasn't the other women in the hospital talking about Rafayel that got to him.

It was when you spoke about him.

Zayne was well aware that Rafayel had hired you as his bodyguard, which really wasn't a problem. You were a good Hunter, you could be trusted. But could Rafayel?

Zayne often wondered why you'd chosen him. Especially when he comes across men like the purple-haired artist. He knew he wasn't the most lively or fun person, he could be stern and restrictive, and he absolutely did not know how to flirt or be romantic in an 'aw, that's sweet' kind of way, the kind that makes people swoon.

He worked late, he couldn't spend much time with you beyond morning office visits and very rare lunches or dinners, and sometimes he had to leave during those, too.

Yet you endured everything, with a smile on your face.

And Zayne was content, for a while, knowing you had no qualms about all of this. But then you met Rafayel, the eccentric, bright-eyed artist that had a knack for flirting and making you laugh. The man whom you had much more fun with, always off doing something dangerous, or something simple like one of his art exhibitions or going to the carnival.

Things Zayne was too busy to do with you.

"Zayne?" Your voice brought him back to reality. "Are you alright?"

The doctor blinked, lifting his head to see you settling into the chair across from him, on the other side of his desk. A brown paper bag sat in front of you, and your eyes were studying his face worriedly.

"Hmm? Oh, yes, I'm fine." He adjusted his glasses. "Is this-"

"Yes," you finished eagerly, your eyes brightening, "I figured you would want some. You barely had time for breakfast this morning."

"And you think a brownie will fill me?" He asked, not realising how badly that came out until his eyes landed on your face, watching it fall as hurt flashed in your own eyes.

"Oh, well, I-" You reached for the bag. "I'm sorry, I'll-"

"Don't," he gently grabbed your wrist. "Please, don't go."

You sat back down, but stayed quiet.

"I'm sorry," he sighed, taking off his glasses, "I was just thinking about how much time you have spent with the artist, and it reminded me that we haven't spent enough time together."

"Rafayel?" You frowned. "Why-"

"Some of the nurses were talking about him," he leaned forward, his arms coming to rest on his desk. "You always laugh when you talk about him."

Your eyes widened, realising what was wrong, and then you reached over to take his hands in yours, "Because he's an idiot. Seriously. I tune out half of the things he says!"

"But...you have fun with him," the doctor frowned, as if your response didn't make sense.

"Yeah, but not the kind of fun I have with you," you smiled, then realised how that sounded. "I-I mean, not that kind of fun, but the kind of fun that...oh forget it." Your cheeks burned.

Zayne chuckled at that, "I understand." His heart fluttered at the implication.

"Ah, the romantic kind of fun, that's what I mean!" You looked proud of yourself, for finally saying it. "The dates, the cuddling, the short but incredibly sweet moments we share...Zayne, I don't have that with anyone else and I would never want to. You're what I want, and certainly what I need. A grounded, responsible man to keep me from doing stupid, reckless things."

"You do them anyway," he pointed out, though his smile was now a little bigger.

"Yes, yes, details," you waved his extremely logical point away, "What I'm trying to say here is...I like our dynamic best. You, the mature and responsible one, and me, the reckless and playful one. I don't want another me in a relationship!"

That's when Zayne laughed, a genuine laugh that only you ever heard. And you smiled, because being able to ease his worries was something you enjoyed doing more than anything else.

"I love you, Zayne. Only you."

[nephynes]

afab reader finding out boyfriend!jake has a huge dick (fulfill my fantasy please)

fantasy fulfilled!

MDNI

══════════════════════════

You're giggling into Jake's shoulder, the both of you tangled up in his sheets, half-dressed and entirely wrapped in each other. It's warm, safe, and so stupidly comfortable that you almost forget you're in someone else's bed and not in your own.

He made some dumb joke about your favorite romcom, and you shoved at him with a mock glare before collapsing back against his chest.

"God, you're annoying," you laugh breathlessly.

Jake grins, flushed from how close you are. "Am I really?" You roll your eyes, shifting to sit up a little, using your hand to push yourself up by his thigh.

Jake flinches, groaning sharply as your hand lands squarely on something very much not muscle or bone. You freeze. He slaps his forearm over his face like he's embarrassed and laughing all at once.

"Fuck—ow," he winces with a strangled chuckle.

Your eyes widen, your face heating up fast. "Oh my god—Jake, I'm so sorry, I thought—I thought that was your thigh!"

He's still wheezing under his arm, teeth sunk into his bottom lip like he's trying to hold it together. "It wasn't, baby," he mumbles, peeking at you through a grin that's somehow both smug and bashful. "Definitely not my thigh."

You're still hovering over him, hand clutched to your chest, mortified. "Wait... but—" You glance down, then back at him. "Jake. That was like—halfway to your knee."

Jake groans again and lets his head fall back against the pillow, arms thrown out like he's giving up. "I didn't want to freak you out," he says, quieter now. "We've been taking it slow, and I didn't... I don't know. I like you. A lot. I didn't wanna rush you or scare you away."

You blink, lips parting slightly. "You were worried your dick would scare me off?"

He nods, a little sheepish. "Deadass."

You bite your lip, trying not to laugh because he's being honest, but you're still mildly in shock. "Jake. You've made me cum with your fingers. Twice. You think I'm gonna run away over your dick?"

"I didn't know!" He lifts his hands in surrender. "You're so sweet and soft and perfect, and I didn't want to be the guy who—who whips it out and ruins everything. I meant it when I said I don't care if we have sex or not. I just like being with you."

Your heart twists a little at that, warm and fond. You reach out and touch his cheek gently. "I'm not going anywhere, Jake." He leans into your touch like it soothes something deep. "Yeah?"

You smile. "Yeah. Also..." You tilt your head playfully. "Now I'm kinda curious."

Jake groans again, dragging a pillow over his face. "Lord have mercy." You stare at him with wide eyes, one hand tentatively cupping him over his sweatpants, and the outline alone has your head spinning.

"Jake," you whine, your voice pitching higher with disbelief. "It's not fair. You've been hiding this from me."

He's propped up on his elbows now, looking absolutely wrecked already just from the way you're touching him. His chest is rising and falling faster, and the flush on his cheeks runs straight down his neck.

"I wasn't hiding it," he breathes. "I was trying to be good."

"But I wanna see it," you say, tugging at the waistband of both his sweatpants and briefs. "Please?"

Jake lets out a choked sound and lifts his hips just enough for you to slide them down. You weren't even trying to tease, but the second he springs free, your breath catches audibly. Your hand wraps around the base, then your other joins—and there's still length left over. You look up at him, slack-jawed.

"Jake."

"I know," he whispers, voice wrecked.

"I can't even..." You try to close your fingers over it, both hands working slowly. "My hands don't fit. How am I supposed to—"

Jake's watching you like he's starving, his eyes heavy-lidded and fixed on your mouth as you lean closer like you're going to try. But then he cuts in with a voice so low it makes your stomach flutter.

"Sit on it."

You blink up at him. "W-What?"

He reaches out and strokes your cheek, guiding your face up so you're looking at him fully. His touch is gentle, but his voice is firm. "C'mere, baby. Sit on it. Let me feel you."

Your entire body lights up. It's not like this was the plan, but the way he says it, like he's offering you the sun and begging you to take it, it has you trembling a little as you climb into his lap.

"Are you sure?" you ask, fingers clutching at his shoulders. Jake groans, one hand gripping your waist, the other slipping down to cup you through your panties. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

And when he slides them aside and runs two fingers along your folds, the heat in his gaze turns molten. "You're so wet already," he mutters, kissing your throat. "Fuck, baby, you're gonna take me so good."

You whimper when the tip of him nudges at your entrance, your thighs shaking as you start to sink down. You're halfway down and already shaking, nails digging into his shoulders as your thighs tremble around his hips. "Jake—" you gasp, breath catching. "It's—it's too much—"

He cups the back of your head and presses his forehead to yours, voice strained and low. "You can take it, baby. Just breathe for me." You do—shaky, shallow little breaths, but it barely helps. Every inch of him stretches you wider than you've ever felt, your walls fluttering around the thick pressure of him splitting you open.

"Fuck," he groans, hips barely rocking up into you. "You feel so tight baby, like your pussy's never been touched before." "Gonna flip you over, okay?"

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as he does so, pushing in deeper, slow but relentless, like he's determined to mold your body to fit him. You cling to him helplessly, whimpering when the head of his cock nudges something that makes your stomach flip.

"Look at me," he murmurs, brushing your hair back, gaze dark and wild. "Gonna stretch this sweet little pussy out, yeah? Make it fit me. Make it mine."

You nod fast, lips parted and teary-eyed, and he groans at the sight, gripping your hips harder. "So fuckin' small," he breathes. "So damn tight. Can feel every twitch—baby, you're squeezing me like you don't wanna let me in."

You cry out when he shifts his hips and finally sinks the last few inches, fully seated inside you. You're trembling all over, overwhelmed and breathless.

"There," Jake hisses, jaw clenched as he holds still, trying not to lose it. "Fuck, you did it. You took all of me. Knew you could." He starts moving, in short shallow thrusts.

"Fucking perfect," Jake snarls against your throat, one hand fisting your hair while the other bruises your hip. "So tight—squeezing me like you were made for it. You were, weren't you? Made to take this cock."

You can barely nod, tears on your cheeks, your moans coming out broken as he thrusts into you—deep and filthy, every snap of his hips knocking the breath from your lungs.

"Look at you," he groans, watching the way your tits bounce with every rough stroke. "So fucking pretty when you cry—so fuckin' good for me. Bet your pussy's never been stretched like this. It hasn’t right? I’m the biggest you’ve ever had? Gonna keep you stuffed until you can't even walk straight."

And the way he has you pinned down, fucking into you like he's starved, you know he means it. Jake's obsessed—wrecked. And now that he's had you like this, he's not stopping until you've cum on him again and again and again.

You're not just his favorite, you’re his new addiction.

And he's gonna ruin you for hours.

══════════════════════════

• a/n: spent the whole day working on velvet vice and writing hard thoughts, i need a sunghoon req next please.

[pitchsidestories]

How fast the night changes II Aitana Bonmatí x Reader

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | word count: 1945

summary: Reader and Aitana dreamed of debuting together. Now, she watches from the sidelines—still part of the game, still part of her. requested

author's note: hey, we hope you enjoy this oneshot — as always, we really appreciate any feedback or thoughts you’d like to share with us. 💙❤️

disclaimer: everything in this fanfiction is purely fictional and nothing corresponds to reality.

Every pass floated smoothly across the wet grass. You didn’t even need to look, you always knew where Aitana was on the pitch at all times.

There was this quiet understanding between you, your playing styles matching puzzle pieces. When one had the ball, the other one simply knew where to go. You just worked, like clockwork.

You played the pass blindly, slipping it perfectly between two defenders. And as the stadium erupted, you knew without seeing it, that Aitana had received the ball like you knew she would.

Everything that happened next was second nature. Aitana would cut inside. She would send the ball into the box. You only had to make the run, and it would be an easy goal. You knew that.

But as you took the first strides, accelerating from a light jog to a full sprint, it happened. A sharp pain in your knee, as your studs caught in the grass. Your knee gave in with a loud pop.

Pain blurred together with the sudden realisation of what had just happened.

You found yourself on the grass, unable to move. Screaming, from pain and frustration, tears started to slip from the corners of your eyes.

The faces of your teammates appeared over you, worried and afraid. From their expressions you knew it.

It was over.

You didn’t want to see any of them, there was only one person you needed right now.

“Y/N!”

There she was. Aitana ran toward you, calling out your name.

You tried to reach for her, let her hold you and comfort you but the medics already lifted you on a stretcher. Your fingertips barely touched hers and then you were already carried off.

“Y/N?”

It was Aitana again, her voice soft this time.

You blinked. There was no football stadium and no stretcher. Just your bedroom.

Early morning light filtered into the room.

You blinked again, trying to find your way back into reality.

“Bon dia.”, Aitana smiled at you. Her hair was damp, her skin warm from the shower. She must have been awake for a while.

Once she recognised the disturbed look on your face, her eyebrows knotted together.

“Nightmare?”, she asked gently.

You nodded, sitting up slowly. Your voice cracked slightly: “I… yeah…”

It had been years since the injury, it shouldn’t haunt you anymore, but it did.

Aitana sat down on the empty side of the bed, reaching for your hand: “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No… it’s the same one I always have.”, you said, shaking your head. Back when the injury happened, and the doctors rather quickly confirmed it had ended your young career, the nightmares were even more frequent keeping you awake most nights.

So many questions kept circling in your head at the time, making your heart pound: Who were you, if not a professional athlete? What would your career path look like now?  

Then, as in the present, Aitana had always been there for you.

In this moment, the brunette gave you an empathetic smile: “Oh, amor. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”, you assured her.

Slowly, Aitana got up from the bed and declared: “Wait here. I’ll make us some coffee.”

Her spot was quickly taken over by your beloved black cat, who elegantly curled up in your lap. Despite their reputation, she always knew exactly when to come—and when you needed her quiet comfort.

It didn’t take your girlfriend long to return with two steaming cups of cappuccino, and you gratefully took one into your hands.

“Thanks, amor.”

“You’re welcome.”, Aitana replied with a smile, settling down opposite you.

“Appreciate it.”, you muttered.

Lightly, she teased: “Feeling better, coach?”

“Don’t, Tana.”, you grimaced.

The midfielder bit her lip, looking apologetic: “Too soon? Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you said warmly.

 Invitingly, you opened your arms, setting the cup down on the nightstand—which had little space left, mostly taken over by books: “Come here for a bit.”

“Our cat seems to be enjoying it too.”, Aitana observed with a smirk as she gladly accepted your invitation, the three of you settling down together.

Mirroring her grin, you agreed: “She’s very cuddly today.”

“Yes, the little one can sense that you needed this after the bad dream.”, she hummed. For a moment, the brunette closed her eyes, savouring the peacefulness, until they flicked open again and landed on the clock.

Quietly, your girlfriend cursed: “Shit, we need to get ready!”

“You’re right.”, you chuckled, amused by how your usually composed partner was anything but, in this moment.

Mockingly, Aitana raised a finger: “You work or don’t work. Hey!”

“I always work.”, you replied, playfully tossing a pillow in her direction.

As a sign of peace, she offered: “We’ll be faster if we shower together.” Apparently, she’d already forgotten she’d had one just an hour ago.

“Oh, I’m sure this is purely about time management and saving water.”, you laughed, thoroughly amused.

Innocently, your girlfriend helped you out of bed, the two of you holding hands as you stepped into the bathroom: “Definitely. Come on.”

Unlike your younger, more anxious self, you had managed to find a job that kept you as close to the pitch as possible. You were just beginning your journey as a coach, learning under the guidance of the Barcelona B team manager.

Although the environment was familiar—after all, both you and Aitana had come through the ranks of La Masia—coaching within the system posed an entirely new kind of challenge.

“Hi, y/n, I’ve got a suggestion for you.”, he greeted you.

Surprised, you looked at him: “You do?”

He nodded calmly: “I spoke to Pere. He offered to let you intern with him for a while.”

Your eyes widened.

“Oh, I’d love that.”, you stammered, overwhelmed with emotion and struggling to put it into words.

“I think it’ll help your development to see all teams here.”, he added.

“As you know, I want to learn everything. ”, you said, voice full of conviction.

He smiled briefly: “I know. That’s why I talked to Pere. You can start right now.”

Right now?

You blinked at him for a moment but had no time to process it. He gestured for you to follow him, and you did, walking together until you reached the training pitch.

Training was already in full swing. The players were busy with an intricate passing exercise when Pere strode over with a warm smile and his hand extended.

“Hi y/n.”

You shook his hand.

“Hi, Pere. Thank you for having me here.”

“Oh, no worries. Hansi and I were both very impressed by you. And I wanted to have you here first.”, he grinned.

You paused, unsure if you heard that right. The men’s teams coach?

“You what?”

“You heard me.”, he chuckled.

You sceptically raised an eyebrow: “You were fighting over me? After like one training session you watched together?”

“Well…”

You snorted: “So yes.”

“Yeah.”, he admitted with a wry grin.

The whole exchange made you laugh but the praise from two seasoned coaches made your chest swell with pride.

“Wow.”, you said simply.

“But that’s not important now.”, Pere said, leading you further onto the pitch.

You smiled up at him: “Right. Tell me all your secrets.”

He chuckled softly: “That’s your plan? You’re just collecting all our secrets and become the best coach of all time?”

“Exactly, that’s the long term plan.”, you laughed. You let your gaze drift across the field, stopping when you found what you were looking for.

“My girlfriend is one of the best players, so I got to catch up.”, you added, never taking your eyes off Aitana.

Pere followed your gaze.

“Your girlfriend had to work hard to find her own style on the pitch. And you will have to find yours off the pitch now.”

“I will.”, you said, serious now before switching into coach mode and seizing the break in the players training to greet them.

“Hi, girls.”, you called out with a wave.

Aitana’s face lit up the second she saw you: “Amor!”

 “No, amor, I’m working right now.”, you told her quickly, feeling your cheeks flush red.

She corrected herself swiftly, giggles from the Barcelona teammates audible in the background:” Sorry. Coach?”

“Yes. Stop laughing, children.”, you warned the younger players, biting back a grin yourself.

Having attended almost every match Aitana had played in, you knew the squad inside out—from the youngest to the most senior. You’d even played in the youth ranks alongside some of them, like Ona.

“We’re not doing anything.”, Vicky replied innocently.

Smiling, Sydney added: “Yeah, we were just saying what a power couple you two are.”

“Power couple?”, Aitana repeated, frowning.

“It’s obvious. Coach and player.”, Salma shrugged.

“Well, we even played together once.”, you offered.

A fond smile tugged at Ona’s lips: “I remember that.”

“She says that like it takes away from the whole power couple thing.”, Salma sighed.

The defender shook her head:” No, it doesn’t. The two of them were unstoppable—always scoring.”

“I told you. Power couple.”, Vicky grinned, as though she’d just won a courtroom case.

You tried to steer the conversation back to more professional ground: “If you say so. What do you think of Pere as a coach?”

“He’s alright.”, Salma replied dutifully.

You looked at the footballer curiously: “And what would your ideal coach be like?”

“Amor, there’s no such thing as the ideal coach, and you know it. Stop chasing perfection.”, Aitana said softly.

You folded your arms across your chest: “You’re a perfectionist yourself.”

“I know, Aitana whispered proudly, “but you’re already so good.”

You ran a hand nervously through your hair—compliments always made you feel a little uncomfortable: “Oh, thanks, but I didn’t really do much today.”

“It’s because you keep flirting with your girlfriend. Let’s get back to work, girls.”, Pere called out, clapping his hands, clearly keen to resume the training session.

Amused, Alexia turned her head to glance back at your girlfriend: “Who knew Aitana could get distracted?”

“Ale!”, Aitana protested, snatching the ball from the captain’s hands to prove just how motivated she was.

Still smirking, Alexia reassured her: “No, I love it. But let’s focus now.”

At the gym, her teammates continued to tease her, especially as your girlfriend focused intently on her arm workout—she knew how much you loved her strong arms.

Later, back at home, the two of you relaxed on the balcony, enjoying the last rays of sunshine.

“It’s good to see you smiling again,” Aitana remarked softly. “I know it hasn’t been easy.”

Quietly, you admitted: “No… but it feels good to be back on the pitch. Even if it’s not as a player.”

She nodded happily: “Yes—and you’re still part of the game we both love.”

“Just in a different way now.” It had taken you a while to realise that different didn’t have to mean worse.

“Exactly.”

Aitana leaned in, pressing a heartfelt kiss to your lips as the sun gave way to the moon and stars.

A few weeks later, your girlfriend spoke about you in her speech as she added yet another award to her already impressive collection.

When the midfielder returned to her seat, you lightly tugged at the fabric of her elegant dress: “Tana, you don’t need to mention me every time.”

“I do,” Aitana countered, unwavering. “You’re such a big part of my life—these trophies are partly yours too.”

“We’ve been, and still are, a good team.”, you acknowledged with a gentle smile.

“On and off the pitch,” she added, her beautiful doe brown eyes shining.

And at long last, your nightmares had stopped too.

[pagesfromthevoid]

Walk Through Darkness | r. r.

Robert "Bob" Reynolds x superpowered!reader

She will walk through the darkness to find him.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Mentions of depression and hypomania, panic attacks, depressive episodes, self-loathing behaviors, established relationships

Author's Note: Companion to Honey & Glass but you don't need to read it to understand!

Talk to Me! | AO3

Some days are better than others.

Bob said it himself, when they first met: sometimes he has high highs and then he crashes, and those days are the lowest of lows. 

She knows this, and she understands. Bob doesn’t think she does, and he tries to shield her from it whenever he has bad days. But it’s not the bad days that she worries about; the bad days, she can get through to him a little more. It’s those high days –the days when he suddenly thinks he’s invincible (it does not help that he technically is). When he thinks that he’s cured of his self-loathing, and he’s better than he’s ever been. 

It’s harder to get through to him on those days.

Bob gets happy –touchy, feely, confident –during these days. The first time he has a manic episode, she doesn’t realize it immediately. She thinks –maybe stupidly, maybe selfishly –this is a good sign. He wants to go out on a date; he wants to see a movie and “make out in the back row like a couple of dumb teenagers.” He’s even combed his hair, thrown on something that’s not his favorite sweater and sweats, and tells her to get ready. She’s all for it too –gets dressed up some, puts on makeup and a cute dress –and they go to the movie theatre.

Well, they try. 

On the walk there, he gets distracted by an art exhibit taking over Times Square, tugging her hand to pull her along to look at the screens as they shift images of colors and shapes. He completely forgets they’re supposed to make a seven o’clock movie, caught up in the colors and the people and everything going on around them. He wants to tip every street performer and is wrapping his arm around her shoulders like he’s going to lose her if he lets go. 

Then he refuses to go home. 

He says they should stay out all night; that there’s no reason to go back to the WatchTower because he can protect them from whatever’s out on these streets.

“I’m the Sentry,” he reminds her, and he’s purposely walking towards a not-so-good neighborhood. 

This is when she realizes something is wrong. Maybe she should have noticed it before, but the distractedness isn’t uncommon for Bob, and she was just…really happy he wanted to go out, honestly. 

“Bob,” she warns, pulling him to a stop. He’s beaming down at her, but his eyes are also shifting towards a dive bar that does not look like the kind of place she wants to go to. “I want to go home, Bob,” she insists, tugging on his hand.

“Why?” He asks, and he is –in fact –stronger than she is and doesn’t budge. “It’s fine –I won’t let anything happen. Seriously, it could be fun –,”

“Please take me home,” she says, more firm now, and he makes a face as he feels the pin prick of her powers in his head.

“We can go home if you get out of my head,” he counters, frowning deeply. His eyes are flickering that golden hue and she knows that she’s pushing him too far. 

She nods, slipping away from his thoughts and he sighs. Then he groans, and runs his hands over his face. “You’re mad at me. I fucked up, didn’t I?”

“I’m just tired,” she tries again, motioning to her feet. “I wasn’t prepared to walk all over –I would have worn anything but heels, you know?”

This seems to make more sense to him and he nods some. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry, I could have carried you –,”

“Please do not carry me,” but she’s laughing a little, trying to ease the tension. Then she reaches out to take his hand again. “Let’s just go back to the Tower –we can watch a movie there.”

“I was really looking forward to that back row kiss,” he sighs, wrapping his arm around her shoulder again, holding her hand still.

“Next time.”

She knows what to look for now though –it’s still hard to bring him down. But it’s not impossible.

The low days are bad too –don’t get her wrong. They’re just harder in a different way. 

The low days, she’s not worried he’s going to try to be all powerful. She’s more worried he’s going to sink into those shadows again. Those are the days that it takes more energy to mask his nightmares; where his thoughts are so loud and so frantic that they scare her. 

But she promises him that she’s not scared of him. She’s scared for him.

The low days always follow the high days, but they last twice as long. He recedes into himself; refuses to talk to her (or anyone for that matter). They give him a day –they watch from afar, they make sure he eats and drinks water –but they give him that day. But after a day, the team picks him up. She picks him up.

Sometimes it’s just all of them sitting together and watching movies. He doesn’t exactly join –he sits in his corner, with his books and his chaise, but he’s in the same room. She sits on the floor next to him, because she knows he doesn’t want to be touched just yet. 

These are the days she lets him decide what he wants from her.

But this episode –it’s worse than the first one. Not as bad as what happened the first time they had met, but still bad enough that the shadows are staining the edges of the Tower before anyone really notices. He’s been coming out and talking to people –short, barely audible interactions, but they’re there. He’s touching her hand, just enough to remind her he’s there. But he’s tired, and they can tell, and Alexei suggests he go lay down. They’d come to check on him in a bit. He just takes a bottle of water and walks away.

She’s one that checks on him. And that’s how she sees the shadows, inching their way into her room.

He’s locked himself in her bedroom, because her bedroom has a lock and his does not, for his own safety.

The code pad has been overridden and she can’t get the door to open.

“Bob,” she pleads through the door but the shadows are moving faster, slithering over her feet as they flood under the crack of the door. “Bob, please open the door.”

When he doesn’t answer, she yells out for someone –anyone, really at this point –to help her get this damn door open. Bucky is who responds the fastest, prying her door open just enough for her to squeeze inside. The shadows scatter, only for a moment, before they swarm again. Then they’re wrapping around her. Bucky is trying to get the door open entirely, but there’s an unseen barrier that’s blocking the rest of them from entering the room. 

“Hey,” she whispers, kneeling into the shadows that are surrounding him. 

He’s shaking, cross legged on her floor, holding a vinyl in his hands that’s melted against his palms. Gently, afraid that she’ll scare him if she moves too fast, she pries the remainder of the vinyl from him. Then she throws it away. The shadows practically hiss at her as she shifts to sit cross legged in front of him, mirroring his position. 

“It’s…he’s so loud,” he murmurs, his voice shaking as he holds back tears. “It won’t stop. I…I can’t get him to stop –,”

She hushes him gently, holding her hands out, palms up. He doesn’t move, and she doesn’t force him. The shadows are pooling in her lap, and she can hear their whispers –whispers of her misdeeds, of his, of darkness. Trying to coax them both into the Void and the shadows. They’re trying to consume her but her mind is easier to shield than his, and she refuses to let the Void win.

The shadows are creeping up his hands now, and she finally moves cautiously to take his hands in hers. The shadows recede, as if fearful of her touch. The reality is that, in his mind, when she touches him like this –letting the shadows slink around her like snakes and brush against her skin –he is reminded of how much he is cared about. And that care, no matter how much he fears it will go away one day –staves off the darkness just enough. Because she’s telling him that she is not afraid of him. 

She will walk through the darkness to find him.

The shadows have stopped spreading but they have not gone away. Bob finally looks up at her –eyes red rimmed, puffy from crying. His entire body is shaking –but he cringes when she presses into his mind. She’s gotten better at smoothing out the thoughts; of softening them. She only does it when he asks, or in moments like this, where there is a danger of him falling again. They both know he needs to learn to handle them himself, but she refuses to let him suffer in these darkest moments.

Her hands slide up his wrists, over his arms, up his biceps. They rest just below his jaw, thumbs running over his cheeks gently as she pushes something softer into his mind. The shadows hiss further, retreating from the light, and she can hear the Void in his mind –cursing, threatening. Reminding Bob that he’s nothing to everyone, including her. How can he be a hero when he can’t even help himself? Why do you waste your breath on a man that’s not whole? He’s nothing, and deserves nothing. You’re going to leave anyway.

“No one is whole,” she reminds him gently, pressing her forehead against his gently. “We’re all made up of broken pieces, and every person who loves you is a stitch that puts you back together.”

Bob closes his eyes, nodding slowly as his breathing evens out. The shadows recede –slowly, reluctantly pulling away and returning to the darkest corner –and the barrier keeping the team out drops. Bucky pries the door open but Yelena stops them from entering. The team doesn’t leave, but they don’t interrupt.

“I’m sorry,” he says, though his voice is sluggish and it's clear that he’s exhausted. “I didn’t…I wasn’t trying to –,”

“You don’t need to apologize,” she promises, pressing soft kisses to his cheeks. His hands reach out to grip her wrists, anchoring himself in the softness that’s spreading across his mind. Letting it wash over him as the Void slowly but surely is washed away for the time being. “Can I tell you a secret?”

He nods, though his eyes are shut still. She taps her thumb against his cheek, telling him to look at her. Bob’s eyes open, and the gold glow that takes over is gone, freeing the blue that always reminds her of the sky on a cloudless day. His gaze is unfocused for a moment, glossy, as he blinks away the tears and the darkness before he finally settles on her face.

“What’s the secret?” He asks, voice small as the thoughts she plants slip away and leave him to fend for himself. There’s a flinch, but she doesn’t feel the shadows returning so she lets him handle it himself from here on.

“I love you,” she confesses, though it feels silly to confess something that has been obvious for several weeks now. “Let me safety pin the pieces of you together until we have the right thread.”

From the corner of her eye, she sees Yelena shoving everyone away from the door. She’s shushing them, especially Alexei, who is trying to celebrate for the two. But the team disappears and leaves the two be, knowing they would be okay without support now.

“You…you don’t mean that,” Bob tries to argue; tries to pull away from her touch. But she holds him there. “You don’t want to love me –,”

“Robert Reynolds, I walked into the shadows without knowing if I was going to die,” she reminds him, forcing him to look at her. “And I didn’t even know you when I did that. I wasn’t a superhero, I wasn’t an assassin, or a supersoldier. I was an assistant. I did not walk into those shadows because I wanted to save the world, I walked into those shadows to save you. And I will walk into the shadows every single day if it means I get to love you another day.

“I do mean it when I say I love you, because you are easy to love, and you are worthy of it,” she continues, and there’s tears starting to form at the edges of her eyes as she takes a deep breath. “I love you more than…than I think I’ve ever loved anyone, which I know probably sounds insane because we’ve only been dating for like two months, but I can’t help it.

“So do not tell me I don’t mean it, and that I don’t want to love you. Because I do mean it and I do want to love you. And there’s nothing you could do to make me stop loving you.”

He wants to argue, she can see it in his eyes and the way his brows knit together in frustration. But there’s something behind his eyes –something that says he desperately wants to believe her. So he doesn’t argue, and slowly nods.

“I…I love you too,” he finally breathes, blinking away his tears. She smiles at him with watery eyes and shaking hands against his skin still. “I’ve never…I never thought I’d find someone like you. After everything –all the things I’ve done before the superpowers and even after –I just…I know I’m hard to love –,”

“Hey, no,” she interrupts. “It’s not hard to love you. It’s like breathing –,”

“You can’t mean that –,”

“I do –,”

“It doesn’t matter,” he finally settles on, and she bites her tongue. She’ll bring it up later, when he’s less stuck in his head and remind him. “I just…thank you. For loving me.”

She wants to tell him that he doesn’t need to thank her but she pauses, deciding to just…accept it for now. “You’re welcome, Bob. Thank you for loving me too.”

His hands drop from her wrists, rubbing his eyes. “Can we…can we take a nap?”

“A nap does sound really nice right now,” she admits with a soft laugh. 

She stands up, holding out her hands to pull him up. When he’s up, he doesn’t release her, though, and instead pulls her into a tight hug. His arms wrap around her shoulders, clinging to her tight, one hand cradling the back of her head. She curls her arms around his middle, pressing her forehead into the crook of his neck, sighing into his skin. 

“I love you,” he repeats into her hair, squeezing her tight.

“I love you too,” she promises.

They stand there like that for a while.

[elleaitch22]

Terms of Endearment

Chapter 7: Just a Little Bit of Your Heart

A/N: Please forgive any errors! Lmk what you wanna see next, and I'll try to make it happen :) As always, I hope you love it! xx Elle

Warnings: Using religion to shame, homophobia, manipulation

Word Count: 3.5k

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Paige was intentional when she every choice she made that night. She chose anything that might show she could be soft, safe, and secure. From what Ice had told her about Azzi’s ex, she figured comfort and trust were the most important things she could offer.

The white set she wore was one of the most comfortable outfits she owned. She was planning on driving her Maserati, but that car is loud and flashy – nowhere near the right tone. Instead, she changed to her Land Rover Autobiography. It was same car she used when she was driving with Soleil in the car. Familiar. Warm. Safe.

The Capital Grille was a nice restaurant, one that afforded guests with privacy. She hoped that Azzi would be able to relax without so many eyes on them.

The ride was quiet, comfortable though. Azzi looked out the window, eyes tracking skyscrapers shining against the night sky.

Say something. She’s not going to fall for you if you don’t speak.

Azzi smelled like something sweet, almost like a vanilla cupcake. The scent filled the car, not overpowering, but enough to notice if you paid attention.

“You look really nice.” Azzi’s brown eyes meet blue. “Orange looks good on you.” Paige offered, fighting the urge to cringe as she felt her face heat.

Azzi glanced down at her dress, courtesy of Paige. Her fingers fiddle with the hem nervously. “Thank you. I like your outfit too. It looks really comfortable.” Soft smile.

She wanted to figure out how to make Azzi look that way all the time.

“Do you want a set?” Paige asked.

Azzi’s eyes flashed quickly. “No, thank you.” She turned back to the window.

So, don’t offer to buy her things? That makes her comfortable. Might need to backtrack on furnishing the apartment.

The silence was stiff after that, and Paige had never been so happy to see a valet up ahead.

Paige placed her hand on Azzi’s lower back, guiding her into the restaurant. They were led to the private room quickly.

Paige had been stressing about how to talk to Azzi about her job. As soon as they were alone, she opened her mouth.

“KK told me what happened with your boss.” She wanted to drop her head to the table.

Azzi tensed, “Um, yeah. I’m trying to figure out what to do.”

“I’m so sorry, Azzi.” Paige started; composure regained. She covered Azzi’s hand with her own. “I didn’t mean for this to cost you your job.”

She shook her head, “I mean, I should have thought about it. After seeing how they reacted to you, I’m not surprised.” She took a sip of water. “I should be fine though. There’s a national teacher shortage.”

“I could get your job back, if that’s what you want. If they don’t at least apologize to you, I’m pulling Soleil out. You could be her private tutor. Or you could not work at all; something tells me you don’t get nearly enough rest.”

Azzi studied her skeptically. “I – I’ll think about it and let you know what I decide tomorrow morning. It’ll be early though; they want me out by 7.”

Paige clenched her jaw, “I’ll have Morgan be ready to drive you then.”

The waiter came in with the appetizers, and Azzi was ecstatic at the chance to change the subject.

“So has Soleil always been like that?” She smiled softly. “Bright. Happy. Literal sunshine.”

The brightness of Paige’s smile matched her daughter’s name. “Yeah. I didn’t name her that in hopes that she’d be unnaturally cheerful or anything. She was sunshine. My Sunshine. After everything, she represented goodness, strength, a new beginning.”

As composed as she was, Paige was secretly giddy. This would give her the perfect opportunity to help Azzi be more comfortable with her.

“I guess it’s time for you to hear the story. Everyone else in the family already knows. And I want you to, too.”

Paige paused, gathering her thoughts.

“I started Kairos with one of my professors during undergrad. It’s a private equity firm – we buy companies, streamline their operations, and decide if we want to sell. I built a formula my junior year that basically changed everything for us. My mentor, Dr. Martinez was the best. He was the only person who really believed in me.”

She exhaled slowly. “He died in a car accident seven years ago. He left his share of the company to his kid, Emmanuel. Manny. He said he’d sell me his shares if I married him.”

She caught Azzi’s eye. She looked shocked. Azzi figured it was because everyone knew Paige Bueckers is a lesbian.

I think he wanted to control me or maybe humble me. He knew who I was from basketball and saw me as arrogant. I don’t know. It was a bad marriage. He hit me. Hurt me in ways I won’t get into. I didn’t think I had another option, so I stayed.”

Paige looked at a small wrinkle and swallowed to keep her voice steady. “When I found out I was pregnant, I knew I had to get out. I called Nika for the first time in years, and she helped me make a plan. Then, I found out I was having a girl – I knew I didn’t want her growing up thinking she had to change who she was or disappear to get away from someone hurting her.”

Her hand tightened around the champagne flute. “Manny died in a car accident, and I was free. And four months later, I had Soleil. That whole situation was so awful, but she was so good, so perfect. She was light in my life. She gave me strength and a purpose I didn’t know I could have. Manny didn’t have a will when he died, so everything went to me.”

She shrugged. “I promised myself I wouldn’t let anyone else hurt my family like Manny did, so I threw myself into work and being a good mom.”

The room was quiet. Paige looked up from the wrinkle in the tablecloth she’d been fixated on. She had no idea how Azzi would react.

“I’m so sorry you went through that, Paige. You’re so strong.” Azzi’s eyes shone with tears. “You’re a great mom, one of the best I’ve ever seen. You’ve been fighting for Soleil since you found out she existed.

Paige swallowed hard. “Thank you, Azzi. I just want you to know the truth. The walls, the façade, it’s to keep the girls, to keep Soleil, safe. It’s hard for me to let them down, but I am trying.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Azzi’s heart ached. She never would’ve guessed all the things Paige had to do to survive. She couldn’t imagine dealing with someone like that while being pregnant.

Paige seemed like she was bracing for impact and judgement.

“I know I haven’t lived what you did, but I–” She started, getting flustered. “My ex was a little like yours. I still hear his voice sometimes. So if you wanna talk, or vent, or anything, I’m just a few floors down.”

She could see the tension melt from Paige’s shoulders, and she felt her own doing the same.

“So, Ice showed me the choices for your place You’re going to live in a sunrise.” She smirked.

Azzi’s lips turned down in a small pout, “I think pink, orange, and yellow look perfect together…and I love sunrises!”

Their conversation was interrupted when the waiter came back in, listing the five options the women had for their entrée.

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Paige remembered what Ice and KK told her about Azzi’s deep-rooted aversion to making choices because of her fuck ass ex.

“We’ll take all five, thank you.” Paige said, leaving no room for rebuttal.

Big brown eyes stared at her in surprise. “You just ordered five entrées.”

 “You looked like you were having an existential crisis trying to decide.” Paige said, sinking into the velvet chair. “I don’t think you should have to pick if you don’t want to. Try them all and take the leftover for lunch.” She smirked into her water glass.

“So is this a thing with you?” Azzi squinted. “Going overboard?”

Paige gasped dramatically; a mannerism Soleil had inherited. “Overboard? I’ll have you know this is what caring about people looks like.”

Head tilted to the side, and cheeks pink, “Why did you offer to do this? Why do you care?”

“Most people don’t care. They don’t care about children, or even see them as people, but you do. You made sure Soleil was treated equally, and she loves you. I don’t think you will ever understand how much she loves you, Azzi. You became family the moment you fought for her when I couldn’t.”

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The rest of the evening flowed smoothly. Conversation was easy and the vibes were surprisingly warm. Paige was playful and sharp in a way Azzi never would have assumed. And she was so kind the entire night. She held doors open, guided Azzi with a hand on her back, and even buckled her seatbelt for her.

Azzi didn’t know if it was the champagne or the company, but her shoulders felt much less tense than normal. As she briefly gazed at Paige on the way home, she was appreciative of the quiet. Of the way Paige hadn’t demanded anything of her.

She could feel her thick, tall walls shaking with the kindness and lack of expectations Paige had shown her. She opened every door, pulled out every seat, and even buckled Azzi’s seatbelt for her, like it was a normal thing to do.

You can’t trust her just because she’s pretty, rich, and nice. People can change in a split second.

When they arrived at the Aurelia, Paige rode to the 59th floor with Azzi, walking her to her door.

“I’ll be taking you to the school tomorrow instead of Morgan. I’ve convened a meeting with the board of St. Paul’s.”

Azzi wanted to tell Paige she didn’t need to before she realized Paige was still trying to take care of her.

And then—impulsively, gently—she leaned in and kissed Paige on the cheek.

The blush that bloomed across Paige’s face was worth every inch of vulnerability.

That was definitely a date.

She closed the door, resting her head on the cool oak. She was blushing. Just like the girl she’d just kissed. What the fuck was that. Ohmygosh. She ignored the butterflies in her stomach as she rationalized with herself; she was just saying thank you.

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Azzi looked around her classroom, smiling. She knew Paige would be coming to help pack up her class, but Ice, Jana, and KK joined as well. It was a small gesture, but one that warmed Azzi up inside.

“Azzi, can I take this book home?” Soleil held up Love You by Heart, the book that got everything started.

Azzi smiled, hearing the question for the seventeenth time. “Of course, Soleil.”

“You’re not gonna have any books left if you can’t tell her no, Ms. Fudd.” Paige threw a playful smirk her way.

Azzi shrugged, “That’s fine. With my new part time job, I’ll be able to afford to buy new books.”

Before Paige could come up with a sarcastic reply, Jana spoke. “Pause. Why are we packing up your classroom if Paige is gonna bitch them out until they give you your job back?”

Heat rushed to Azzi’s face. She wasn’t sure if she even wanted to work at St. Paul’s after seeing how they treated people with different views than them.

“Thanks for the reminder, J. Come of Az. It’s time to head to the conference room. Ice, please don’t let Soleil trick you into letting her paint.”

Azzi didn’t hear anything after Paige called her Az. She had a nickname. To Azzi, nicknames were a way to show love and affection. While Az wasn’t super personal, she felt a little brighter knowing someone cared enough to give her a nickname again.

“Azzi.” The blonde’s voice interrupted her stream of consciousness. She stood up sharply, following Paige into the hallway. Her hands fiddled with the hem of her old UCLA sweatshirt. A warm hand covered hers. “Relax, Azzi. No matter what happens, you’ll be good. I promise.”

“Thanks, I’m just nervous,” She muttered, looking at her shoes. “I just – I’ve never really been in trouble like this before, and it’s not even over something I can control.”

As someone who had attended private school, Azzi was intimately familiar with hiding her sexuality to avoid conflict. It never made sense to her; hating someone because of who they love. It’s not like they could control it.

“Fuck em. They think you’re weak, but you’re not.” Paige’s voice dropped. “You’ve survived worse, and you got us now.”

Brows furrowed, Azzi gave a small nod, held herself higher, and opened the door.

The long conference room table had ten people around it, Mr. Smith and the nine board members. There was a chair opened at the end of the table, with one seat available next to it.

Azzi felt inferior in her leggings and tennis shoes, while all the board members wore suits. She glanced at Paige. She looked perfectly composed, despite being in a gray Nike tech fit.

“Ms. Fudd, Ms. Bueckers, thank you for coming this morning.” Mr. Smith said, standing. “Let’s get started, since it’s a holiday and all.”

Each board member introduced themselves, and if it was a different scenario, Azzi would have laughed at all of them being named after a saint.

When the last member, John Paul James (three saint names), introduced himself, he added something to the end. “I was assuming this meeting would be with you, Ms. Bueckers. You said something about donations?”

“She’s here for me,” Azzi replied before Paige could speak. Despite her nerves, her voice came out even. “We are here to discuss my termination.”

Peter Kingsley rolled his eyes subtly. “Ms. Fudd, you’ve been a valued and effective teacher at St. Paul’s, but we cannot retain a teacher who lives in direct opposition of what the Bible teaches.”

Azzi inhaled sharply. “Excuse me? I –”

“For this reason God gave them up to dishonorable passions. For their women exchanged natural relations for those that are contrary to nature; and the men likewise gave up natural relations with women and were consumed with passion for one another, men committing shameless acts with men and receiving in themselves the due penalty for their error. Romans 1:26-27.” Another member says.

“1 Corinthians 6:9-10. Or do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: neither the sexually immoral, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor men who practice homosexuality, nor thieves, nor the greedy, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God.” A deeper voice calls out.

“You are a teacher, Ms. Fudd. You are supposed to be a moral example for your students. We don’t want you do lead those children astray.” A woman spoke sternly.

Azzi inhaled sharply. “I’ve always shown them to live a life of love. I have never taught them anything that goes against–”

“You are trying to cause these children spiritual harm, and we will not stand for it.” Mr. Kingsley sneered. “Matthew 18:6 says but whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a great mill–”

“I would never do that, I love my k –” Azzi’s voice wavers, eyes shiny with tears.

“You are leading them to hell–”

“Enough.” Paige’s rings out sternly. The tone is so intense that no one dares to speak.

She rises slowly, face controlled, shoulders tense. She stands tall behind Azzi’s chair, placing a gentle hand on the back of her neck. The panic that has Azzi’s body wound up melts a little. She quietly wipes the tears from her face.

“I’ve been biting my tongue out of respect for Azzi. Trying to let her handle it, but you won’t even listen to her. And I won’t sit here and listen to you berate my girlfriend for something she can’t control.”

Her hand leave Azzi has she stalks around the table. “I chose this school because of her.” She pointed. “I looked up reviews of every preschool teacher in the city, and she outshined the rest by miles. Soleil is a shy child, and I needed a teacher who would look at the whole child. Someone who would make every kid feel loved and special, and that’s what Azzi Fudd does.”

The classroom’s temperature has dropped ten degrees as Paige paused. “And you want to fire her? I would love to see you try. Let’s talk about the ramifications of firing Ms. Fudd.”

A smirk works its way onto her perfect, pale face. “I’m St. Paul’s largest donor. I have already donated triple the amount than next highest donor. I am covering the tuitions of fifty students, one of whom bullied my child because I’m gay. I have donated the money for that new state of the art library and have had documents drawn up for a science lab. You fire her, you lose the best teacher, you lose my daughter, you lose me, and every penny I bring in for this school.”

All of the board members tense at her threat.

“This is supposed to be a Christian institution. You like throwing scripture at people, huh? John 8:7. Let you without sin cast the first stone. Galatians 5:22. The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. I want you to look me in my eye and tell me which attribute Azzi is lacking in.”

She bends down, getting eye level with Mr. Kingsley. “You preach about shepherding children, and she does it. She does it well. Why do you think all her families love her so much?” Blue eyes throwing an icy glare at the man. “What you’re doing isn’t righteous, it’s pharisaical.”

Paige walks back to Azzi. “We’re leaving.”

Azzi rises on shaky legs. She’s never had someone stand up for her like that.

“Ms. Fudd,” Mr. Smith grits out. “Perhaps we’ve been a bit hasty with our judgement. You are more than welcome to stay at St. Paul’s, with a few guardrails of course.”

“No thank you,” Azzi smiles softly. “Jesus said they will know we are Christians by the love we have for one another. I want you to think if you have shown me the love and grace that you should have, and I hope you won’t make this mistake again.”

She walks out. She doesn’t look back, walking proudly until they got back to her classroom She made a beeline to the restroom, and finally let herself cry.

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Paige was feeling…a lot of feelings. She was proud of the way Azzi stood up for herself. She saddened knowing the damage this would do to the woman. She was furious at the close-minded attitude and greedy nature of the board members. But she was enraged hearing Azzi’s sobs.

They didn’t deserve her sorrow. They didn’t deserve her tears. Paige paced in front of the classroom, trying to burn off some of her fury.

“Aye, you good, P?” KK questioned cautiously.

Paige’s head snapped up, remembering where she was, and who was present. The classroom was bare, everything in boxes except for a few pieces of paper and a box of markers for Soleil.

Her daughter’s big blue eyes met hers sadly. “Mommy, why is Azzi cwying?”

She took a deep breath, kneeling to her daughter’s level. “Some people here said some mean things to her, so she’s upset.”

Soleil’s dark brows furrowed. “We should make hew feel bettew.” Lips turned down in a frown. “We go get ice cweam!” She exclaimed.

Paige smiled at Soleil’s zeal. “That sounds like a good idea, Sunshine.” She turned to her friends. “Let’s get these boxes in the car so we can go before I lose it.”

Jana, Ice, KK, and Paige loaded up the two SUVs and sat in the classroom, joking around, and waiting for Azzi to come out.

No one noticed what Soleil was doing until it was too late. “Come on Azzi! Time fow ice cweam!”

“Lei! We’re just gonna wait til she’s ready.” Paige rushed to scoop her up.

The door cracked a little, “No, it’s okay. I’m ready.” Azzi said, softly.

Soleil wiggled until her mom put her down. She threw herself at her teachers. “I’m sowwy they was saying mean things to you.”

Azzi hoisted her up, Lei’s little legs wrapping around her waist. “Thank you, Soleil.” She turned to the adults. “So, I heard we’re getting ice cream?”

Paige watched a smile stretch over Azzi’s face, a matching one lighting up Soleil’s face. And for a second, Paige let herself want a future that looked just like this.

[aro-culture-is]

Aro culture is seeing the signs that your friend is in a toxic relationship but they refuse to acknowledge it when you tell them and say "we're in love, you wouldn't get it"

hey, something I've noticed is that people... don't know how to bring up signs of toxicity. and the thing is, the major "do not" is to directly call the relationship abusive/toxic, or the other(s) in it such, which is also the thing almost everyone I talk to says they did in your position.

quoting from a New York state gov site about domestic violence:

Here are some examples of how you can Start the Conversation: - “I noticed that sometimes [insert partner’s name] does this [insert concerning tactic that you’ve seen]. Does that happen a lot? How does that make you feel?” - “I’m concerned about your safety. Is it okay if we talk about it?” - “I’m so glad you told me about [insert disclosure of abuse]. How can I help or support you? What do you need?” - “I noticed lately that you’ve been [insert survivor’s behavior like “getting hurt a lot lately” or “not going out as much”]. Is everything okay? If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here for you.” - “I know this can be really hard to talk about. I promise I believe you and won’t judge any of your choices or experiences. I care about you and just want you to be safe.” - “I recently read/watched/heard [insert book, article, movie, podcast about domestic violence]. Have you read/seen/heard it? What do you think?”

These are all adaptable to toxic relationships, high control groups like cults, and generally, someone experiencing distress. For example,

"I've noticed that sometimes [person/group/work] does [concerning tactic, addressed as factually as possible. ie, talking over you, making jokes you don't seem to enjoy, grabbing you, etc, NOT 'being a bitch']. Does that happen a lot? How do you feel about it?

Then, DO NOT say how you feel about it without letting them speak! Don't launch into "I saw them do it 8 times today, and I think you're ignoring it because you think you love them, and that's bad!" Let them tell you what they notice, do not blame them for staying, and do not call the situation bad until they do!

If they say, "oh, I don't think it's that bad/that frequent.", you don't have to agree, but you could say, "I thought it happened a few times today, but if you aren't worried, I'll try not to push. Just know you can always talk to me if it does change."

If you DO push too far, and that happens, be careful. The main problems from that are 1) they feel like you're judging them, so they stop engaging with you. 2) they tell the abusive group, who WILL try to stop them from contact with you, 3) this actually pushes them FURTHER into the toxic situation, because now someone who cares is inaccessible. Dial it back.

"I'm sorry I came across so strong. I shouldn't have been so accusatory, I was worried and got carried away. You can always talk to me if things change, but I shouldn't have gone about it like that even if it were that bad."

Good luck.