#tentative space core tag

[spewpurr]

Just played the Portals for the first time, like, a month or two ago. I have a lot of thoughts, but this is the one that really wanted to come out first, I guess.

[miyukisu]

Between Me and You .ᐟ

❤︎ | While your other friends are enjoying themselves on your little camping trip, you and Kaiser were secretly fucking around (3k wc) ╰ feat. michael kaiser (bllk) x afab! reader

kinktober entry no. 6 | kinktober masterlist

tags - exhibitionism, car fun, fingering, hand jobs, kaiser is a bit desperate, camping trip, p in v, breeding, p*rn with plot, profanity, kaiser and reader banter a bit, friends/enemies-ish to lovers

minors do not interact

"Can you stop fucking moving for a second?"

A tone of annoyance filled his voice as he gripped your waist, effectively keeping you in place.

You two found yourselves in a rather interesting position—at the back of your friend's car with nothing else but the equipment you guys brought for the camping trip. You and Kaiser just pulled the short end of the stick hence why the others were enjoying a little bit of space in the cramped car, while you two had none at all.

"Move one more time and I swear to God—"

"What? You'll get harder?" you tease.

Kaiser clicked his tongue. He was already regretting this trip. The first half of the journey was rather peaceful as he probably fell asleep. And maybe it was because he wasn't conscious to keep his "thing" in control—combined with the fact that you had been rubbing against him this entire time—but it wasn't surprising that he was slowly getting hard.

You thought it would be funny to mess with him; you two had that kind of odd relationship anyway. So you rolled your ass against him, pretending that the road was bumpier than it actually is... until he woke up and became aware of the situation.

"I'm not hard," he denies. But the stiff feeling poking at you from behind told you otherwise.

You simply grinded your hips against him again in response—earning a low groan from him.

"Ya alright back there, man?" one of your friends asks, looking in the rear view mirror.

Kaiser breathes in. "Yeah, one of the tent poles just kept poking me and it hurt."

"Something's poking me too," you add, but Kaiser quickly pinches the side of your waist to stop your mischief.

Your friend laughs, completely unaware of what you two were doing at the back of his car. "My bad. Y'all just try your best to get comfortable, a'ight? We got about another hour on the road."

A whole entire hour.

You could either torture yourself by dwelling on the fact that your position was uncomfortable or... you could have fun. But it seems like Kaiser had the same idea as he slowly lifted up the skirt of your sundress. Your eyes widened, fully knowing that the tides have now turned against you.

"Let's see if you like it," he whispers in your ear. His breath felt warm, contrasting the chilly air of the airconditioned vehicle.

The panties you wore today matched the color of your sundress, except he can't really see it with you sitting on his lap like that. Though it hardly mattered. It was coming off later anyway.

He swiped a finger along your core, noticing how damp it had gotten. Kaiser elicits a low chuckle, whispering in your ear again, "Look at how wet you got from grinding on me. Slut."

There was no comeback; how could you deny that? Especially as he presses his thumb on your clit, rubbing it slowly. You were about to moan and fall back against his chest, but his other hand stopped you.

"Hey, remember he can see us through the mirror, right? I'd suggest you behave unless you want them to see you whoring yourself out for me."

You swallowed back your wanton moans. The fact that he had his hand on your pussy so shamelessly was embarrassing enough; you didn't need for the others to find that out too.

But for as embarrassing as it is, you made no effort to swat his hand away. In fact, you let him go on. You let him rub your sensitive clit faster. And you let him hook a finger in the gusset, pulling the fabric out of the way.

He swiped his finger again and it had him snickering. Kaiser pressed a kiss on your shoulder blade as way to show his amusement. "Holy shit. You're dripping for me."

This time, it was you clicking your tongue at him. But again, you were at a loss for words. You were too focused on the way he played with your pussy and his dick that seemed to be getting even harder. It was impossible to ignore how it pressed against the flesh of your ass.

"What? Got nothing to say now? Where did all your attitude go—"

Turning to face him slightly, you pleaded. "Just take responsibility for it... please?"

You swore you felt his dick twitch through his sweats. Kaiser gulped down, not expecting for that kind of response. He wanted you to fight back—be your usual feisty self. What was he to do now?

"Say it again," he whispered lowly.

"Kaiser... please?" you obeyed.

He hated how easily he gave in as well. All he needed was your honeyed pleas and he was sold.

Kaiser clicked his tongue, knowingly facing a predicament. On one hand, he wanted to listen to his lust infested brain. But it was dangerous. He was about to finger fuck you in a car filled with your dearest friends after all.

His free hand held you by the arm. "Be quiet... or else."

You gulped. It was going to be a difficult task, but you'd rather keep your mouth shut than get no relief at all. He slowly slid one finger in as if to test the waters.

As he expected, it was warm and tight. It made his mind race with all sorts of lewd images. He silently cursed himself, knowing that he was in no position to give himself the same kind of relief.

Perhaps, seeing you enjoy yourself on his fingers would get him off... for now at least.

Though his mind was preoccupied on what could and couldn't be—he absentmindedly pushed in two fingers without warning. The way his thumb resumed to rubbing circles on your clit while he pistoned his fingers out of you felt too practiced—like he had done this thing plenty of times in the past.

He skillfully and precisely brought you to orgasm—all the while you were fighting for your life to keep your sounds at bay. Hell, you were sure that you were biting down on your lips hard enough to make it bleed.

Kaiser let you ride out your high, still pushing his fingers in and out… slowly. A breathy rasp leaves his lips as he throws his head back against the seat. To some extent, part of him felt liberated too.

A boundary was crossed—one that you two teetered on for what felt like months. His dick was aching, yes, but a different kind of warmth filled him.

Hope? He wanted to call it that, but it felt pathetic somehow. Kaiser felt a bit stupid—thinking too hard about something else while you’re right here, sitting on his lap all fucked out.

“Enjoyed yourself?” He whispered to you once more.

“Shut up, ass hat.”

He chuckles. “That’s what I get? After fing—“

“Shut the fuck up. I’m serious,” you sneer.

And he did; awkward silence enveloped the two of you as you sat uncomfortably—Kaiser still with his hard on and you with your ruined underwear. All you wanted at this point was to get out of the fucking car.

────────────

“Hey, so uh, where did Kaiser go?”

Your friends seemed to look in your direction, thinking that you of all people should know the whereabouts of the man whose lap you sat on for quite some time. However, you didn’t bother sparing them a glance as you continued to help set up camp.

“How would I know?”

Your friends looked amongst each other, slightly unconvinced by your cluelessness. But they shrugged it off—thankfully. Everyone resumed to their designated camp duties and not long after, Kaiser returned from his so-called bathroom break. Though you had a hunch on what that truly meant.

It was normal for the most part—everything went as you had envisioned it… except for the little fact that Kaiser would be avoiding you.

Here you thought that after your little stunt in the car, he’d be even more forward with you. But it seems to have an opposite effect. Every time your eyes would meet, he’d look away. You didn’t even dare talk to him because you knew he’d gloss over you.

But the fact of the matter was that—Michael Kaiser was too overwhelmed by the sudden shift in your relationship. He was trying his fucking best to keep himself in control. Otherwise, there may be consequences…

Consequences which you will soon know of.

────────────

You think the world likes to play tricks on you because why do you have to sleep in the same tent as him when there were 2? And why oh why did you have to sleep beside him? There were 4 of you inside the tent—but still—you found yourself on the same inflatable mattress, under the same blanket. Because of course, the damn thing only fit for two people.

Your friends thought it was alright considering you two have already broken the barrier of physical touch; they just didn’t know how far that REALLY meant.

As best as you tried to sleep, you felt intense eyes boring into the back of your head. You silently cursed him for not following the unspoken rule of sleeping back to back. This was just impossible.

You turned around to face him, pulling more of the blanket towards you. Your eyes were met with his. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. What the fuck’s going on with you?”

He stared blankly at you, lips pressed in a straight line. “Nothing.”

“Cut the bullshit. You’ve been avoiding me the entire time we were here after you… you…”

“After I made you cum in the car?”

The audacity of this man caused you to kick his shin. He had to bite back a pained groan to not wake up the others.

“Was that fucking necessary?” He asked. But his question was met with silence; he took it as a hard resounding yes.

A frustrated sigh spilled from his lips. "Fine. I was avoiding you because... I know I won't be able to control myself around you."

You raise your eyebrow in response, unsure of what he meant exactly. He couldn't help but pinch the bridge of his nose to express his exasperation.

"I was this close," he says while pinching his pointer and thumb together as if to show he was holding something miniscule between the pads of his fingers. "I was this close to fucking you in the car."

Your eyes widened in disbelief. This whole time you thought he had regretted his previous actions back in the car, but you had it totally backwards. It was your turn to sigh.

"You could've just told me," you countered.

"That I wanted to fuck?"

"Yeah."

...

"I wanna fuck then," he says so matter-of-factly. It was almost comical to you that it made you chuckle softly.

"What's so funny, assh—"

You cut him off by pulling him into a soft but passionate kiss. Your palm cupped his cheek and your fingers wove themselves into his silky blonde hair.

He was a good kisser—that much was to be expected. It didn't take long for him to reciprocate and then some, pulling your leg to drape over his hips.

Kaiser wanted—no, needed—you to be closer to him. He had to feel your heat, your presence, your everything.

It was almost animalistic how he tried to devour your lips. It was desperate—like a call for help. Now, you were a hundred percent sure about what he had been doing earlier when he left the group.

You pulled away, breathless. If not for the concept of breathing, you would have gone at it until morning. His bright blue eyes stared into yours.

Kaiser was eerily silent, but mostly because he didn't want to get caught doing something dirty with you in the tent. He let his actions speak for himself—his hand lowering to grope the flesh of your ass.

He squeezed it harshly and without restraint; he was way past that. But he decided that it wasn't enough.

He slowly cupped your pussy with his slender fingers. Surely, he was more excited than you were.

"We can't..." your voice trails off—partially due to disappointment, but mostly because he began rubbing your clit again.

"Why not?"

"What? Are you not aware of the two other people sleeping in here?"

"The fuck do we do then?"

But it would seem that he had no plans of letting you speak. Somehow, his fingers found their way in—past your cotton shorts and past the sorry excuse for panties that you wore.

He had been there earlier, so he wasted no time plunging his fingers as if they belonged there. The slight squelching sound made your stomach knot in fear; you could only hope that your friends were sleeping deeply enough.

"What do we do, pretty?" he asked again, though softer.

But his tone betrayed his actions. He stared at you like he wasn't doing anything dirty to you under that blanket.

"I... we... we can't"

Kaiser hummed. "We can't huh?" But he continues to bully his fingers into you and it made your head spin. Words had failed you at this point, so you held on to his arm—failing miserably at stopping him. But you both knew that you wouldn't want him to stop anyway.

The impending climax clouded your judgement. Part of you felt oddly fine if your friends did end up waking and catching you in the act.

The fear had morphed into forbidden excitement.

But it was too soon as he pulled his hand out, leaving you high and dry.

"You think you can get to cum again after being so selfish in the car?"

He tried his best to remain firm, but the muffled whines you let out slowly chipped at his resolve.

"Nuh uh. You gotta be fair," he argued.

At the very least, you were easy to talk to. You pushed him to lie on his back as you propped yourself up on your shoulder. Your palm caressed his body before sliding down to his aching cock. Finally free from its confines, Kaiser let out a strained sigh of relief.

The blanket was a useless barrier; it barely hid his hard length and the motions of your hand.

You chose to go at a painfully slow pace—it made his head spin. But it was so much better than using his own hand that he found it hard to complain at all.

"Fuckkkk," he drawled out.

His face of pleasure was mesmerizing—eyes glued shut with his jaw hanging loosely. It motivated you... somehow. Speeding up the pace, you eventually brought him to orgasm. His body flinched, but he tried to stop himself—not wanting to show how badly you affected him.

You kept his cock in your hand, amazed that it was still hard even after cumming once. "Shit... how are you still hard?"

"Been thinking about this shit all day... How can I not be?"

His honest words sent a jolt to your core. You thought it was impossible to get even wetter. But he managed to do the impossible.

"Fuck—just turn around, will you?"

He asked, but it sounded more like a command. Kaiser got on to his side once more and guided you to do the same so that your back was against his chest. His warm breath fanned the skin of your neck.

His heart was thumping so hard that you could feel it reverberate in your own body.

"Hold your leg up," he commanded again. And you obeyed like the good girl that you are for him.

Kaiser deftly pushed the fabric that was in his way, lining up his cock against your entrance. He pushed only the tip in, but that alone was tantalizing.

You could hear the way his breath hitched. His hand replaced yours as he held up your leg himself. His long fingers dug into the flesh of your thigh, keeping it high enough so he can fuck into you better.

Slowly, he rolled his hips—getting at least half of his length in. You almost let a moan slip out, but you were cautious enough to slap your hand over your mouth.

Checking to see if they're still asleep, Kaiser figured it was safe enough to sheath himself completely inside you. And he swore it was heaven.

Even he wanted to moan. But the prospect of being discovered and stopped abruptly prevented him from making any sound at all. He wanted this. He wanted it badly. Nothing's going to stop it now.

He languidly rolled his hips back and forth—fucking into you without another thought. His cock stretched you out in a way you've never felt before. But it was good... way too good.

It was a crime not to be a moaning mess right now. The slow and precise thrusts turned into frenzied fucking—like this was going to be the first and last time he'd be able to feel your pussy around his cock.

"Shit... this is way too good. I could get addicted," he whispered. "Gonna make me cum twice in one night."

Although you wanted to respond, it was impossible without moaning like a bitch in heat and getting you two caught. The best you could do was to clench around him.

Kaiser bit into your shoulder, suppressing his own grunts. You felt his grip on your thigh tighten substantially.

"Fuuuuck... can I cum inside? Can I?"

He shuddered. "Please? Shit... I won't last longer."

Your mind was swirling—not a single coherent thought could be formed other than a single word.

"Yes."

You whispered it—over and over again into the dead air. And as if on cue, his hips jerked up, fully shoving himself into your deepest parts and shooting hot ropes of cum.

He filled you up nicely—just as how he had been imagining in the car. Though, his daydreams paled in comparison to the real thing.

Again, he let you ride out your orgasm, not pulling out just yet.

"Hey... wanna see how many more rounds we can do before they wake up?"

©miyukisu do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note I cannot write exhibitionism that well

[janumun]

Nomos (Xavier - NSFW/18+)

Pairing: Xavier/Queen Reader (based on Xavier’s first myth) Word Count: 3.7k Tags: religious imagery/desecration sex, angst, evol bondage, oral sex, orgasm denial, Knight Xavier on his knees repenting to his Queen MC, spoilers for Xavier’s first myth, female dominating, canon divergence, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned

Summary: The Queen of Philos had sacrificed her heart ultimately and along with it, part of her humanity, in the wake of Xavier’s failed Backtrack mission; binding it to Philos’ core for eternity. Now, returned to her, centuries after, Xavier seeks his Goddess’ audience, and her forgiveness, within the stone-cold chambers of her castle. 

But centuries suffered alone, and with her heart now gone, she is a former frigid cast of the woman he used to love. Xavier is adamant on repenting, even if it costs him his life this time round. 

[A fic where Prince Xavier manages to return to Philos but he is too late; his Queen has long thrown her powerful core, her heart, into Philos’ centre and now, she has nothing to offer Xavier but her bitter resentment.]

O celestial body of mine, Slumbering adrift in darkness, Which never heeds the whispers of life, Till it fades into oblivion, nothingness. 

The rolling echo of thunder — knelling an approaching storm — was the only sound that rippled across the heavy, cold silence that had settled itself across the throne room. Wan shadows clung to the wide, dismal stone pillars of the great hall. Barely quelled by the flickering protocore lamps interspersed on either sides of the room. 

A looming, stone figure of the Goddess adorned the space right behind her great throne, staging Her chosen Sovereign to rule and obey, for all of Philos to see, placed by Her will upon the throne. The Goddess; doused in cool shadow, her sculpted eyes stared down glacial and unforgiving, set into regal stone. Her great Sword aimed at length towards the altar Xavier knelt at. 

The flagstone beneath his knee was a harsh and frigid reminder; Xavier considered, not for the first time how it too had frozen in on desolate isolation, just like his Queen’s majestic figure in front. She stood tall and silent — the paradigm of dignity she’d forced herself to be, for the sake of Philos... and for the sake of a lover who’d refused to accept the wretched Crown of a King.  

Solitary and unattended — he’d allowed her to experience the empty desolation that came with a Sovereign’s crown of lonely leadership. And yet, even confined to the yawning silence of her frigid throne room, she’d ushered Philos into an era of prosperity. While he— 

Xavier had failed her; her hopes, her dreams... her yearnings he’d turned blind to each time she’d granted him the soft brunt of her affections sifting like stone against his heart. So in love with her — she would never know — and yet, the distance he’d maintained stretched flimsy in between them; closer than friends, stranger than lovers.  

The burden of her past life, their first life, lived in futility, through a heart that brought her no end of pain until it had burned her life out of existence — and in turn, ended his, in spirit — with her untimely demise.  

And he had — in misguided intentions, she viewed them as — refused to let the cycle of tragedy repeat once more, in the sacrifice of her sole being. As Xavier, prince of Philos. And a mere man in love with a woman. The one heart he could never bear to let go. In the name of a ‘greater good’, his father, the previous King had called it such. For Philos.  

To hell with a nation his father and his wretched co-conspirators had painted from the ground up, drenched in the blood of numerous sacrifices before her. Xavier had wanted no part in the perpetuation of that horrifying ritual.  

Desperation had eventually led him to adopt far perilous measures, to prevent her oblation in this lifetime — two centuries spent in between their tentative meetings, and then several countless more spent traversing the stars and through worlds in search of a solution. To prevent Philos’ downfall without the need to hold on to age old rustic customs. 

And he had promised her, his beautiful lonely Queen, a victory he had failed to bring to her feet. Swore to her in centuries past, when she’d still looked upon him with love naked in her gaze and worry taut in her features, that he’d search for a better path for Philos from among his travel in the stars, while she’d resolved to stay behind as their planet’s sole Sovereign; their Goddess incarnate.  

The tender warmth of her skin as he’d traced her features into memory on their last meeting all those centuries back, within the plaza rife with life; a reminder of what they were fighting for. The way she’d layered her own hand against his, letting her eyes drift shut as if she too wished to forget their fast-looming separation. 

And on the day of her coronation, he’d left her, branded as a traitor. Chancing one last, proud look upon her majestic form as she’d leveled the blade of her sword against his shoulders apiece, in their private ceremony of two, knighting him as her Grandis Knight. 

A fleeting, tentative touch of her palm she’d pressed against his shoulder in farewell, determined eyes staring into his from beneath the weight of her crown as she’d wished him well. 

“The fate of our nation rests within your hands now, Xavier. And should you fail, the entirety of Philos shall have to pay the price for the Prince’s failings.”  

Her delicate hand had tightened against the pressed shoulder of his regalia, not caring for the badges of honor there, digging into her skin. “May the Goddess be with you. Goodbye, Xavier.” 

 Xavier’s eyes flitter shut in resigned recollection; the very last touch of her warmth still fresh in his mind. In the flex of gloved digits against the badge attached to the hilt of his sword, one she’d gifted to him, in lieu of her star tassel.  

Now, as he kneels at her feet, she hasn’t even moved to touch him. Hasn’t deigned him worthy enough to afford even the mercy of her hands on his body, even if just to strike him. In ire or curses; Goddess, his heart and body have missed her so dearly. And yet, this is not the time for personal weakness. But repentance. And Xavier has always been one devoted to his cause, his one sole duty; to live and serve, to die or be tortured by her will alone.  

His Demiurge regent, his sole Queen.  

She observes great clemency as is expected of a Sovereign of her stature, when her steps shift closer; the dignified brush of her mantle pooling about her feet. Soft fur fabric brushing against the polished heel of pale shoes, the slip of bare skin through the part of her flowing robes at her legs, filling his line of sight as it remains firm, fixated upon the ground. For she has not allowed him leave to freely gaze upon her form. And Xavier is her Grandis Knight, committed to propriety of duty, if it is for her alone.  

He, however, dares: gloved digits reaching for the sweep of her queenly cape brushing the stone-cold flagstone. The pads of them skimming the soft of fur that lines its edges. And when she does not move to refute his brazen touch, he curves his fingers into the fabric and guides it up to his lips, lashes descending shut as he lays a kiss against the cloth, in show of the proper reverence she deserves. “I have returned, my Queen.” 

Xavier feels her shift above his genuflecting form, a response she utters in the voice he has missed. “Why?”  

“I will accept whatever punishment you deem necessary for my failure, your Majesty. If it is my life you seek—”  

“Why have you returned now?”  

“Forgive me, your Majesty.” 

“You are far, far too late.” The first hints of displeasure seep into her intonation, accusing strains of heat Xavier prefers to the thick monotone she’d employed previously.

“Forgive me, your Majesty.”  

An explicable tremor breaks across her still form; minute, missable, were it not for how finely attuned he is to her mannerisms, her emotions, her simmering ire.  

“Why have you returned now, after all this time? You made no promises.” She asks once more, cool resignation in her voice.  

He stares fixedly at the sight of her feet, a response she seeks from him, he has no answer to.  

Silence stretches long and taut, infinite, in between them. 

“After the first five hundred years spent waiting in futility...” she deliberates. “I finally concluded that you’d died. Perished among the unknown.” 

His fist, sunk into the unyielding cold floor at his knee, crushes tighter at her words. “...Please allow me to look upon your Majesty’s face.”  

Her footsteps glide forwards, another step closer. Ignoring his entreaty, she resumes, “I continued to make excuses for your failure to return.” She pauses. 

“It brought me some modicum of comfort to know you had not just abandoned me but that you were simply no more.” The terrifying frigid inflection of her voice numbs Xavier’s heart — cool tendrils of dread coiling vines within his chest, like their first life, he’d held her within his arms. Watched the life pool out of her eyes, leaving her dull and lifeless within his embrace.  

She has lost her heart once more, and the mere thought has Xavier’s nerves driven to near devastation.  

But he is here, he knew of the consequences. And he is here, to bear through them, to accept his Sovereign — and beloved’s — ire; no matter if she remains full or half. She is all he draws breath for, all he fights for, the pinnacle of his existence and his desires. His guiding star, his monarch, his God. 

“Forgive me, your Majesty.” He speaks, once more. 

The first signs of emotion other than cool resentment thread through her low voice: furied indignance. “Utter insolence.” 

The heel of her shoe rises before his very gaze — Xavier’s eyes falling shut to accept the brunt of her oncoming strike. One that does not come. He feels her press the harsh tip of it, instead, underneath his jaw, knocking his face upwards so that his eyes meet hers, glacial turbulence within her gaze. “How does it feel to be demeaned as if you were a mere traitor, at my feet? Do you feel as violated and desolate as I too did all those years ago?” 

She is kind, she remains so gentle; her punishment, she considers it humiliation for him to be put at her feet when it is anything but. As if it could ever be. She offers him her worship instead, and so he follows her regal command. 

Pitching his face to dig deeper against the tip of her shoe, his eyes remain devoted upon hers. Gloved fingers he brings to curl, slow beneath the sole of her boot to support, mouth skimming a kiss of reverence to the polished surface.  

Ire and heat fulgurate within her gaze at his brazen actions, she continues to watch as his mouth parts, pink tongue darting forth to slick a slow, deferential path against the cool leather of her shoe. “This is not punishment enough, your Majesty, when your Grandis Knight has been ever prepared to end his life at your feet, were it your will.” 

The spark of heat within her gaze retreats and shutters itself behind its glacial curtain. “Do you remember what it is I told you when you embarked on your journey, my Knight?” 

“I do.” He murmurs, just as she digs the edge of her heel deeper against his cheek.  

She rips herself away from his worship, sweeping right up close against his kneeling figure, until he can catch the drifts of her perfumed scent emanating from her bone-ivory robes. Can feel the brush of the silken cloth adorning her thighs, against the tip of his nose. 

Wretched, blasphemous desire churns vicious within his belly at having the woman he loves this close, after centuries spent without her — a woman that is not his, never will be. Immoral desires of a sinner for Philos’ Mother. A woman — and their nation — he brought to ruin by his own hand; Philos’ branded traitor. 

“I told you,” she speaks, in the neutrality of a Sovereign, “that were you to fail, all of Philos would have to pay the price for the Prince’s failure.” She stills. “And I am Philos, I am centered to Her core. I am Her life-force as she is mine. Our people paid a hefty price for our peace, oh Grandis Knight.” 

Xavier’s face sinks forward, brushing the edges of her silken robes against his cheek. “Forgive me, your Majesty.” In the harsh clench of his jaw; and when she does not move to spurn him, he devotes a kiss of resigned reverence to the cloth above her thigh. Her body loses part of its stillness at the action.  

“Even after all this time...” she murmurs under her breath. “You refuse to address me by my proper name, like a foolish coward.” A slipping fracture of something akin to torment in her voice.  

Xavier lets his mouth glide further up across the lustrous cloth in begging of her pardon, for the ache he has caused, has continued to cause to her. To Philos. For his protection that he has always known held a double cutting edge to itself.  

He drifts towards her other thigh, mouthing proper worship onto it and his Queen — benevolent, tender in heart still — lets the Sinner at her feet do as he pleases. Canting his gaze heavenwards to watch as she allows; her own eyes that burn into his kneeling form, observing him from her place on high.  

Her legs shift, allowing Xavier the fleeting sight of unblemished skin in between the loose flow of her fabric and like a devotee starved, he’s drawn to the catch of her inner thighs revealed with the slight disarray of her robes beneath his questing mouth. Finding her undeniably warm when his lips brush near the junction of her thighs at bare skin.  

“My Knight—” 

“You may call me by my name, your Majesty.” His hungering tongue slips past his lips to lave gentle at her. “After all, I am no more than servant to your Majesty and her great throne.”  

“Grandis Knight, you are—” 

“I am your Xavier, your sinner.” His hot gaze rolls up towards hers and beseeches. “So, please call me by name so you may curse at me.” 

He feels the fire of her indignant resentment sputter within her gaze, receding the glacial indifference of it. Her cold fingers slink into his hair and wrench harsh at the argent strands, ripping a groan free of Xavier’s throat. The very first gift she makes of pain, to him, one he receives with the reverent ardour it deserves.  

Xavier heaves forward once more to settle in between her legs, nosing at the fabric of her mound, breathing in her scent. Teeth catching at the cloth that keeps her concealed from view before he loosens it apart with a violent jerk of his head.  

Moisture glistens tempting in between her folds — the firm press of her digits against the back of his head is the sole permission Xavier requires to engulf her entirely against an open, hungering mouth, a low moan of desire breaking past his throat at the intoxicating taste of her on his tongue.  

He laps up at her; a man starved — one he is, after the emptiness of her endured in his soul, the burdens of his failures and desires commingled in the wet lave of his tongue from base to hood. Slicking the edge of his tongue against the pearl at her apex. Her low sigh follows the incessant push of his face deep into her mound, his nose brushing at the curls of it, accepting the gift of her benevolence.  

“Did you know, my dear Knight—” her voice skitters mildly in pleasure with the press of the tip of his tongue, cleaving gentle into her slit. “It did get easier.”  

Her wetness seeps past her opening and onto his fervent tongue as he dutifully swallows. He feels incredibly parched, open mouth pressing deeper against her as he works her pleasure, tongue slinking into her depths. She clenches around him at the intrusion, knocking a muffled groan free of his throat.  

“When time finally ran out for your chance to return and Philos neared the end of its life, with our people on the brink of desolate death,” her breath jolts. “I marched out there.” 

His brows knit into a severe frown, stroking his need for her ire to sheath itself deeper into his body. He requires it; his Queen’s rightful anger so that he may take all of it and her, let her bruise her emotions into it, until the moment she’s used him up to her heart’s desires and she finally weeps and hurts no more.  

And so, his lashes descend with the tight spasm of her fingers carded through his hair, steering his mouth however she pleases. 

“And I willingly bound my life force to Philos’ core so that it could continue to live. Cut out the part of me that loved and felt until I turned myself into something entirely non-human for the sake of our people. A true God.” A slow, desolate string of weak sound tapers out of her body before it augments itself into mirthless laughter that rings hollow through the great, empty space of her throne room. “It was all too easy to do so, in a world I knew my Star no longer existed. For my heart had beat for him alone.” 

A heavy bludgeon of agony rips through his chest, tries and clambers its way out of his body before Xavier tamps it mercilessly in the gentle scrape of his teeth against her tight bundle of nerves. Her violent shudders, he feels buffets her limbs before he’s reaching out for her on instinctual, fervid desire in the clasp of gloved palms against the sides of her legs, trekking his touch up her thighs. A low moan parts her lips at the touch. 

Xavier’s audacious attempt at desecrating his God further underneath his obsidian worship is foiled in the twin blades of light that cleave around his wrists, whipping them swift and away from her body to shackle them together at the base of his spine. 

His body jolts through the glaze of his desires, part sense rending through the thick of pain knocking at the back of his breastbone to realize she’s forced his submission in the resonation of her Evol against his. Emulated his Light seamlessly in the binds of radiance — befitting of Philos’ Sovereign — wound tight at his wrists. Even centuries past now, she remembers the precise shape of his Light. 

He tests a flex against his restraints, finding they do not give an inch. “You’ve grown far too bold in your time away,” her voice is a cold dagger that scotches itself right beneath his ribs. She heaves him away from her body, reluctant mouth drenched in the strings of slick and spit that trail from his mouth to the soaked space of her legs. “Grandis Knight, what makes you think you’ve earned even an ounce of me to embrace as you would, a lover?” 

“I have not, your Majesty, forgive—”  

Severing through the rest of his apology in the quiet catch of Xavier’s breath when the sole of her heel comes to rise, knocking a firm, uniformed thigh apart to reveal the indecency of his arousal to her gaze, straining painful against the placket of too tight trousers.  

The edge of her heel trailing the inside of his thigh, she switches towards the heavy length of him. Brushing the underside of his arousal, Xavier’s shoulders tense in heavy need at the barely present stimulation. Before her heel sinks firmer against the length of him, jolting a groan free of him. “Does that feel good then?” 

“Yes, your Majesty.” He breathes heavily.  

“Look at you, coming apart under the mere, filthy touch of my foot.” Her brow bunches in an irked frown.  

“No part of you—” His voice breaks apart into quiet, ragged breaths at the stimulation of her heel against the increasingly sensitive strength of his arousal. “—is filthy to me, your Majesty.”  

Xavier tugs against the leash she’s made of her fist at the back of his head and she allows him, in that moment, to arch forwards and nudge the part of her dress aside. Sink into the wet heat of her; a man imprisoned to her tender mercies and the flood of her taste in his mouth. 

He works her open against his tongue, laving at her desires. Back and forth, he doesn’t let a single drop spill past his hungering mouth until he feels the tell-tale evidence of her orgasm in the insistent clench of her walls.  

Her hips gyrate forward in tandem to the suck of his mouth against her tightened bead and Xavier lets his shoulders fall slack to allow her free reign of her release as she grinds herself against his tongue to a precipitous finish. The gush of her desires Xavier drinks down, humming in dazed arousal, to have let her find her relief; used as her personal seat of pleasure, to be tossed at her will alone.  

Her hands flitter about his head, curling on either side of his jaw to pull away from the heaven of her body, and up as she descends, her mouth settling against his in a violent kiss he receives with vehement pleasure.  

Releasing herself, slow, from him only when her desire to breath turns overbearing. The edge of her thumb slips just past his damp bottom lip, urging his mouth open further. Before she spits against his revering tongue and instructs him to, “Swallow.” 

Xavier’s mouth clamps shut on instinct, working the taste of her against himself. Gaze flittering in darkening, vicious desire at the heat of his Goddess’ gift.  

A low hush of withering laughter leaves her mouth. “I’ve tethered a rabid beast to my side.” 

Her thumb and index cup about his jaw, coaxing his gaze to remain on hers, bright, burning. “Swear to me,” she speaks. “Swear that your loyalty shall never lie with another.”  

He feels his Queen curl a tremulous fist into the robes at his shoulders, crumpling the fabric hard in between her fingers. “Swear that you shall remain mine, my Grandis Knight, for all time. That you shall never abandon me again, Xavier.”  

His gaze quivers in fleeting emotions for a moment’s weakness, steel gray resolve returning once more to utter his vow renewed. 

“I have always been yours to have or reject, your Majesty. This Knight — his Body and Soul is yours alone to wield.” 

Making of himself, a promise, he commits to her in the life she shall have; to end at the sweep of her sword, should he ever dare renege on it.  

Declaring himself, at long last, in his clear devotion; to his one Queen and God.  

Tagging: @samanthagnicole , @catboi-anon , @beebumbo , @hellinistical , @dangerousluv1 , @webmvie , @aria-tempest , @raendarkfaerie , @lamentinee , @unhingedsillygod , @tiredas

(Skipping folks who do not have tagging permissions on, so they cannot be mentioned, unfortunately)

I had the angsty pleasure of reading Xavier’s first myth for the first time a few weeks back and with the help of a Xavier main friend and inspiration drawn from Xavier’s prayer pose in photobooth, this fic was born. I hope you enjoyed your read! 

Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated, if you are so inclined, lovelies!

If you’d like to be tagged in my future stories, you can fill this short form here. If you’d like to be removed, shoot me a DM! You can also find me on Ao3 and twitter, if you’d like to chat or just squeal with me about hot characters, in general.

[fear-is-truth]

kinktober day 14. . . NSFW MDNI 18+ tags: f!reader・mask fucking・kai is a warning

KAI ANDERSON curled his long fingers against your front wall, allowing you just enough time to adjust before applying more pressure, altering his pace. when he finally discovered the right pattern, you blindly gripped at his forearms, a whimper escaped your throat as you instinctively pressed yourself back against him. the dry chuckle that had begun to bubble up from his throat turned abruptly to a groan. kai was painfully hard, the warm, solid length pressing against your ass as the heel of his hand ground incessantly against your clit.

“could you. stop. moving. around?” he grunted irritably into your shoulder before smacking your asscheek. you wanted to argue, but all you could manage was a broken “f-fuck!” and then suddenly, he was shoving you away, your face smooshing into the mattress. you twisted your neck to glance back at him, a frustrated whine. kai was reaching for something on the floor, and when he straightened up, he was holding his clown mask. the blue one with three faces—blank, milky white orbs all glaring in different directions.

“hey,” he smirked, sitting up crossed legged. “there’s something i wanna try.” you watched the mask in annoyance, but there was something else too—an ominous feeling twisting in your gut. “what?”

kai set the mask carefully on the bed, the middle face staring blankly up at the ceiling. “you’re going to fuck yourself on my mask.” his tone was matter-of-fact. no room for argument. your face scrunched up in disgust.

“what the fuck, kai?”

“well, i’ve given you enough prep, so… shut the fuck up and sit on it.” this was utterly stupid and asinine. leave it to kai fucking anderson for coming up with this sort of idea. reluctantly, you put yourself in a kneeling position on the mattress and wedged the mask in the space between your thighs. wrapping your fingers around the base of the rubber nose of the middle face, you guided it to your core, adverting your shameful gaze from its leering frown.

then, a beeping sound pulled you from your thoughts. you looked up, only to see kai holding a camcorder, the red light blinking. “keep going, and eyes on the camera.”

there was an edge of annoyance in kai’s tone that made you obey without argument. you grazed the tip across your folds, collecting the wetness that had accumulated from your previous activities. taking a deep breath, you stared into the camcorder as you carefully sank down onto the rubber nose, lips parted in a silent gasp at the stretch and curvature. gripping firmly onto the other two noses on either sides of the mask, you lifted yourself by the knees, before impaling yourself back onto the middle nose with a lewd squelch. “hgnnn– oh god…”

rocking your hips, you came to the realisation that the curvature of the phallic nose was hitting your cervix just perfectly. it was at this moment that you noticed the tent that had formed at the crotch of kai’s jeans, and how he was slightly squirming in his seat as he recorded you.

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[hihomeghere]

First time | Arthur Morgan/Reader

Word count: 2.6k Summary: You want Arthur to be the one to take your virginity, you just don't want to tell him Warnings/tags: Smut, unprotected piv, 1800s birth control methods (pull out), cursing, talk of virginity obviously, reader is considered female with female gentalia

You didn’t want to tell him. Didn’t want to see his eyes go all soft, his lips parting or downturned. Didn’t want to hear the rejection roll off of his tongue. You knew what he’d say, his normal self deprecating speech laced with that sweet southern charm. 

Or worse, you didn’t want to see pity in his eyes. It wasn’t like men didn’t want you, they did. You were a pretty girl, young and unfortunately for you, a virgin. But you weren’t that young. You were grown and you could make your own decisions, that’s why you didn’t tell him.

Didn’t tell him when he walked up to you after a successful job. A wide grin splitting his face, bright eyes sparkling as they trailed up and down your body. His hands, though calloused and rough, surprisingly gentle. Always gentle with you. Splayed across your lower back as he led you away from the excitement and towards his tent. 

If you could even call it that. 

Once the two of you had finally come to terms that you were sweet on each other. It was harder for Arthur to grasp than yourself. He had made an effort to create a more private space. Attaching canvas walls to his wagon, something that could be closed when a moment like this presented itself.

Your body was buzzing with excitement, like someone had injected lightning in your veins. You had been riding long enough that you knew there most likely wouldn’t be any blood. You knew it would hurt a little, at least that’s what everyone said.

But this was Arthur you were talking about. He would never hurt you. 

So you didn’t tell him as he walked you backwards into his tent, pulling the canvas closed behind him. His hands resting on your hips, his lips pressing against yours fervently. You swiped your tongue against his lower lip, a silent please for more, more, more.

He happily gave it to you, groaning softly into your mouth as he licked into you. His hand left your hip momentarily as he laid his hat down on the boar skinned table near his cot. You made quick work of undressing yourself, removing your blouse and skirt. Leaving you in only your thin chemise and bloomers. Arthur’s hungry gaze only intensified as he began to tear at his clothes, kicking off his boots as he went. 

You laid back on his cot, staring up at him through your eyelashes. His wide hands landed on your calves, spreading your legs for him. You tried your best not to tremble under his hands, anticipation building as they moved up your bare skin to your thighs. His deft fingers curled under the waistband of your bloomers. You couldn’t help the shiver as he pulled them down your legs, feeling arousal pool in your core. 

“Can I?” His southern drawl pulled you out of your thoughts as he held the hem of your chemise. You nodded, biting your lip as he pulled it over your head. You fought the urge to cover yourself as you laid bare in front of him. Would he like what he saw?

He let out a choked breath, and you feel silly for questioning him even for a second. 

The only way to describe his touches are reverential, the way he maps out your body like he’s detailing it to memory. He cups your breast in his wide hand, running his thumb over your stiff nipple. You don’t miss the way he smirks when you gasp. His touches become more desperate as they move down your body. He steadies himself, taking a breath before he spreads your thighs again (you can’t remember closing them). His eyes narrow in on your dripping core, a low “Shit.” leaving his lips. “All this for me?” He murmured, smirking up at you.

It doesn’t take him long to shed his union suit after that. Leaving him now bare in front of you. You feel heat creep up your neck and flood your cheeks as you look at him. He’s magnificent, a light sheen of sweat covers his chest and stomach. You can’t help yourself as you run your fingers down his chest. Feeling the way his muscles flex under your touch. You delicately touch each and every scar you run across, enjoying the small hitches in his breath.

Your hand comes to stop at the thick thatch of hair that covers his pelvis. Your gaze moved up to meet him, his eyes darkened with lust.

“Go on, girl.” He said, his voice utterly wrecked as he swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. 

You wrap your hand around his length and a small wave of panic washed over you. How were you supposed to fit him inside you? You drew a line up one of the veins, smirking to yourself as he all but crumpled over you. His hands gripping the sides of the cot. 

“Alright there, Morgan?” You cooed, chuckling softly. 

“Watch it.” He murmured, although there’s no heat behind his words. You pumped his shaft a few times before you couldn’t wait anymore. You let go of him, leaning back on your elbows as you spread your legs further. Making sure there’s enough room for him to settle between your thighs. He wrapped his hands around your thighs, tugging you down on the cot. He moved forward to kiss you and you jumped as the head of his cock nudged against your clit. Smirking  against your lips, he brushed his nose against yours before pulling away. He kneeled between your thighs, stroking himself once or twice before lining himself up with you. 

You bit your lip, looking up at the canvas ceiling as he pushed inside you. It felt tight- too tight. You clenched your jaw, tensing under him at the intrusion.

“Hey,” He said, his hand coming to rest on your cheek, “look at me, y’alright darlin’?” You met his concerned gaze and nodded.

“I’m good.” Your hands gripped his thighs, “Keep going.” He kept his eyes on you and you’d never felt more exposed as he slowly sheathed himself inside you. Bottoming out with a groan.

You’d never been so full in your life, unconsciously clenching around him.“Just- just give a moment.” You whispered breathlessly, your hand moving to his shoulder. He took a moment for you to adjust, his brows pinched together in worry. 

“You wanna stop-“

“No! No.” You cut him off, your eyes wide as you look up at him. “No, I just- you’re really big.” Is all you can say as you feel like you’ve been split open on his cock. 

He chuckled almost nervously, “Darlin you’re acting like you’ve never done this before.” He whispered, rubbing his hand up and down your thigh. In hindsight, you should have said something, anything would have been better than the alternative. You, staring up at him as you bit your lip.

His eyes studied your face, his brows knit together. 

“Darlin’,” He said softly, his face falling, “This- this ain’t your first time, right?” He asked.

This, this is why you didn’t tell him.

“Shit.” He breathed as the realization washed over him, “You should have told me.” He sighed, shaking his head as he pulled his lip between his teeth. How you wished you could be the one sinking your teeth into his pink flesh. He pulled out of you, an involuntary whine leaving your lips. You tightened your grip on his shoulder, holding him close. Afraid that if you let go he would ask you to leave, or worse you’d never get this chance again.

“I didn’t-“ You huffed, heat creeping up your neck and settling in your cheeks. “I just wanted you.” You said, looking off to the side, feeling like a damn fool.

“Damn it darlin’ if I would have known,” He ran a hand down his face, “I wouldn’t have just- just…” He trailed off, letting out a frustrated sigh. You bit your lip, crossing your arms over your breasts as you pulled your thighs into your chest. “C’mon don’t do that.” He sighed, running his hand down his face. “Look at me, sweetheart.” His warm hand engulfed your cheek, turning your head to look at him. 

You hesitantly raised your gaze to meet him. He was obviously conflicted, letting out a sigh. “I’m not- I’m not worthy to-“

“Arthur, I don't care what you think.” You said cutting him off, “I wanted it to be you.” You said looking up into his cool azure eyes. 

He freezes, his gaze unwavering as he stared down at you. “Ya really- ya really wanted it to be me?” He asked, his hoarse voice laced with disbelief. 

“I just didn’t want- I didn’t want it to be a big deal.” You sighed, biting your lip as you looked down, your cheeks burning. He paused, deep in thought before he let out a sigh.

“I wish ya would have told me.” He said rubbing his palm up your thigh, “I would’ve- I would’ve made it special.” He said, shaking his head.

“We can! We can still make it special.” You nodded, desperately grabbing onto his biceps. God you just didn’t want him to stop, didn’t want this awfully embarrassing moment to be your first time. “Please Arthur, please.”

He clenched his jaw, looking down at you. 

“Darlin I don’t know what I did to deserve you, much less this honor.” He said squeezing your thigh, making you clench around nothing. He must have seen it because he nearly crumbled. Squeezing his eyes shut tight as he leaned forward, almost like he was physically in pain. “Ya… ya sure you want this with an old fool like me?” He asked looking up at you.

“Yes, please, please Arthur.” You all but begged, needing something, anything, from him. He let out a small sigh, nodding to himself.

“Alright sweetheart, I’ll take good care of ya.” He said softly, his hands drifting up your thighs and to your core. “This alright?” He asked, his eyes finding yours as you nodded. Sure you had touched yourself before, but this was entirely different. His fingers were larger and more rough, calloused by years of labor. They had the perfect amount of friction against the pearl between your legs. 

He quickly swallowed the gasp that left your lips. Hoisting one leg up against his hip, while his finger rubbed incessantly against you. You could feel wetness start to pool between your thighs. 

His tongue swiped against your lips, a silent request you were all too happy to indulge in. You parted your lips, allowing him lick into your mouth. You groaned against him, the hand that was holding your leg against his hip moving up to cup your breast. It was almost too much, his thumb pressing down on your clit while his other hand groped your breast. You could feel the coil tighten in your belly, pulling taught like a bowstring ready to be plucked.

“You’re so beautiful like this.” He breathed pulling away, his stubble scratching against your neck as he peppered kisses along your jaw. “I know you’re close, can feel that pretty clit just pulsing.” He mumbled against your throat.

You whined as he started rubbing tight circles against your clit. Barely holding onto your senses you squeezed your eyes shut. He let out a displeased growl, his hand roughly squeezing around your breast. A gasp left your throat as your eyes snapped open, finding him in the low light of the tent. “Ya keep your eyes on me, ya got it?” He said, raising his eyebrows. Your head lolled up and down as you stared into those azure pools. “I wanna see ya when ya come for me.” He smirked, biting his lip. He completely pushed you over the edge when he thrusted a finger inside you. You came undone under him, clenching around his thick digit. Pleasure washing over you in waves as your clit pulsed against his thumb. Unable to stop yourself from crying out, you slapped a hand over your mouth to dampen your whimpers. 

He chuckled lowly, thrusting his finger in and out as you rode out your orgasm. Only when your chest wasn’t heaving and you felt like you could finally take in a breath of air did he remove his hands from you.

“Arthur-“ You said breathlessly, reaching for him. Dear god if he left now, after bringing you to the pearly gates and back you might just go mad.

“Give me a second, darlin.” He shushed, rubbing his large hands down your thighs. Spreading you for him to see, “Promised I’d take care of ya, didn’t I?” He asked, with a sly grin. He reached between your bodies, stroking his cock as he lined himself up with you. Your body jolted as the head of his dick rubbed up against your overly sensitive clit. Arthur’s chest rumbled with a pleased hum. “Now it shouldn’t hurt too bad but you tell me if it does, got it? We’ll stop whenever you’d like.” He said, meeting your eyes, his expression suddenly serious and slightly… timid?

“I don’t want you to stop.” You said breathlessly, spreading your legs wider. He let out a low curse, pulling his lip between his teeth as he slowly pressed inside of you. 

Neither of you could contain your moans, Arthur’s meaty hands found your thighs as he pulled you closer. Sheathing himself fully inside you.

It didn’t hurt this time, although you felt the fullest you had ever been. Half considering the notion that he might split you open.

“Shit darlin.” He cursed through gritted teeth, “So damn tight, nearly choking me.” He groaned, hanging his head, a few strands of hair falling into his face.

“I- oh god- move, please move.” You begged, gripping his thighs. Your nails leaving crescent shaped marks in his skin. He started slow, ever the gentleman as he allowed you to get used to his size. “More.” You begged, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pulled him down. His arm shot beside your head to hold himself up as he pressed his lips against yours. His hips snapped into you, you preened under him. Your whimpers only spurred him on, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the tent. 

“Oh Arthur-“ You cried out, biting your lip as you looked up at him.

“Just perfect- Jesus you’re just perfect.” He mumbled against your lips, you were teetering on the edge of pleasure. Your whole body pulled taut like a bowstring. He changed the pace slightly, the coarse hair at the base of his cock rubbing against your clit as he thrusted deep inside you.

You snapped, coming with a cry as you clenched around him. He groaned, gritting his teeth as he tried staving off his own high.

He pulled out, his hands wrapping around his dick as he pumped it a few times before painting your belly with his seed. Effectively marking you as his.

You had never heard sounds as beautiful as the ones that spilled from his lips as he nearly collapsed next to you. Letting out a content sigh before getting to his feet. A strike of fear ran through you, was he leaving already?

But in typical Arthur fashion, he shooed away your anxiety as he returned with a bandana. Wiping your belly off before wiping himself off. He laid back down next to you, his arms encircled your waist as he pulled you back against his chest.

“How was that darlin?” He asked softly, kissing the back of your neck. You could hear the slightest pinch of vulnerability in his tone that made your heart melt. Underneath all that muscle was still a soft heart, a heart that you were glad was yours.

“Perfect.” You said turning your head to look back at him.

[scuderiasundays]

8 letters, 14 points

summary: scrabble, chronic overthinking, and late-night declarations of love + a little insta au at the end 💌

words: 522

a/n: thank you for the req, sweet anon! apologies for taking so long! tagging @vamossainz55, @sainzcaleruega, @monzabee, @ssainzz, @holllandtrash, @diorleclerc, and @userlando just because. feedback appreciated as always. hugs and kisses 🫶🏼

A few hours ago, you and Lando had been immersed in a heated game night. Desperate to end his losing streak in McLaren challenges against Oscar, Lando had challenged you to a game of Scrabble. He'd been determined to pick up points with British slang like "bunda" and "peng," which held no place in the dictionary. You had rolled your eyes and let him bask in his victory, savoring the sound of his characteristic laughter.

Interestingly enough, since Lando had come into your life, your episodes of sleep paralysis had remarkably decreased. This was surprising, especially considering that watching him race always gave you butterflies. The constant fear that the love you two shared could be shattered with one fatal blow always lingered. Lando, keenly observant, noticed the tension etched across your face as you got ready for bed; his reflection in the mirror capturing your inner turmoil.

Breaking your reverie, his arms encircled your waist, pulling you back into the present. "Hey, you're in that space again," he murmured, his words melting the ice of your distant thoughts. You feigned innocence, though fully aware that he had caught you in the act. "Picturing all the worst-case scenarios?" he playfully quipped. With Lando, the world seemed steadier, as if his presence was a shield against any harm.

All of these memories danced through your mind as you lay in bed. Your mind was sharp and alert, yet your body lay captive. Shadows played eerie games on the walls, a creeping dread cascading through your senses. But as panic threatened to engulf you, a faint whisper of reassurance reached through the darkness, pulling you back to reality.

"Hey, you're okay. I'm right here with you." Lando’s fingers ran through your hair with the most delicate touch. He sensed the fear emanating from your body and held you closer. "How about we head down to the kitchen? I'll make you a cup of tea.”

Nodding, you felt the security of his presence as he held out his hand. With a tentative smile, your fingers intertwined, allowing him to guide you down the dimly lit staircase. Settling into a bouclé chair, you observed as Lando moved with grace, each motion familiar in the apartment you two shared.

His hands moved with practiced ease, selecting the honey vanilla chamomile tea you adored and filling the kettle. Enveloped in the soothing ritual, you couldn't help but admire the silhouette he cast in the soft glow of the refrigerator light, a figure of calm amidst the chaos.

The Scrabble board, a witness to your earlier play, still lay on the kitchen counter. Your fingertips traced the wooden tiles, arranging them into an earnest declaration: "I love you," at its core. With a warm smile, you gestured towards your creation.

Beside the board, your boyfriend set down your favorite mug, the "I'm With Stupid (Lando)" one, a Christmas gift from Carlos that never failed to make you snicker. A soft kiss on your forehead sealed his response, the three words you longed to hear voiced in his affectionate whisper.

"I love you too, Y/N. More than you’ll ever know."

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

liked by landonorris, lewishamilton, and 71,717 others

yourusername: home is whenever i'm with lando!

landonorris: you’re my best friend 🧡

mclaren: scrabble challenge coming right up

carlossainz55: when's the housewarming party happening?

danielricciardo: rsvp'ing yes in advance 🥳

riabish: thank god you chose all the furniture because lando has questionable taste 😓

fan1: so lando coded to be wearing a hoodie in this HEAT

fan2: it's giving heat stroke but more so because he looks so boyfriend 🫠

ciscanorris: glad to see the apartment's coming together. let me know if you need any more help!

[hailthegodsong]

MAYBE

One Shot ~ Sam Kiszka x Female Reader

Word Count: 17k +

A/N: This one shot was requested in October last year, so I'm so so sorry that it has taken so long to come out with. I also strayed from the ask dramatically, I hope you don't mind anon. Huge huge thanks to @hailtheaeon for being there to help me brainstorm in the process of writing this story <33

Summary: After years of struggling to move past the damage left by abusive relationships, you’ve built a life focused on safety— for yourself and your rescue dog, Bella, who carries her own scars. But when Sam's quiet kindness enters your life, the walls you’ve built start to crack. Even when fears and trauma threaten to push him away, Sam’s patience and understanding help you begin to heal. Maybe, just maybe, letting someone in doesn’t have to be a risk after all.

Content warnings: Trauma from domestic violence, descriptions of past verbal, emotional, and physical abuse, fear, anxiety, panic attack, trust issues, crying, swearing kissing.

🐾

The late afternoon sun cast golden hues over the grass that Bella ran across, her golden coat shining in the glow. This park was a quiet place, your sanctuary, where the world felt a little less sharp and the noise of your thoughts could settle. Bella, the dog you’d rescued from a local shelter just over a year ago padded beside you, her nose to the ground as she sniffed along the blades of grass and dirt below. She was your anchor, your constant companion, and a reflection of your own guarded— if not fearful nature.

Like you, she didn’t trust easily. You’d chosen her for that reason— a timid, gentle soul who had been hurt at the hands of another, just like you had. Someone who needed a safe space just as much as you did. A safe space from her fears of men. She had been rescued from neglect, and the bond you’d formed felt like a quiet understanding. You’d protect each other.

Today was supposed to be a peaceful outing, a routine part of your shared journey toward confidence. But as you strolled, you noticed a flash of movement. A dog— small, brindle, and full of energy— bounded toward you, stopping just short of your dog. Its tail wagged furiously, and it let out an excited little bark.

“Well, hello,” you murmured, crouching slightly, to show Bella that other dogs were safe. Your dog stiffened for a moment, but as the brindle one nudged her gently, Bellas tail gave a tentative wag. You blinked in surprise. That was… a quick turnaround. Bella was usually timid, cautious, and would hide behind your legs as you greeted other people, or other dogs.

Before you could process it, another dog approached— a darker one this time, bigger but just as lively. The two newcomers sniffed at your hands, tails wagging like flags in the wind, and you felt a small smile tug at your lips despite the suddenness of it all.

You glanced around the park, searching for an owner, but there was no one in sight— only you, Bella, and the two lost pups. The puppy had a collar, so you knelt and carefully checked for a tag. The name read Fox, and luckily, there was a phone number beneath it.

Your stomach twisted. Calling a stranger— a man, judging by the name scrawled on the back of the tag— made your pulse quicken. Sam, was the name. But Sam could be a woman's name too, couldn’t it? But it could also be a man, and the prospect of being alone out there with a man whom you didn't know frightened you to your core. Your hand tightened around your phone as you hesitated. What if it’s a trap? What if he’s someone you should fear? The thoughts came unbidden, unwelcome, but familiar.

You glanced back down at the dogs. They were sitting now, panting happily at your feet, and your own dog— your cautious, wary girl— was watching them with what looked like joy. You took a breath, pushed the fear aside just enough, and dialed.

The phone rang exactly twice before a man’s voice answered, slightly breathless. “Hello?”

“Hi,” you said, your voice more clipped than you intended. “I found your dog. Two, actually— Fox and another one… but I don’t know her name, she doesn’t have a collar.”

The relief in his voice was immediate and overwhelming. “Oh my God, thank you. I’ve been looking everywhere for them. Are they okay?”

“They’re fine,” you answered, glancing down at the dogs, who seemed completely unbothered by the situation. “We’re at the park with the walking trail and the big open field, near the creek. You can come pick them up.”

“Thank you so much,” he said again, his words tumbling out in a rush. “I’ll be there in ten minutes. I’m so sorry— they must have gotten out of the yard. Thank you, thank you.”

“No worries,” you forced out. “See you soon.” You hung up, still gripping the phone tightly. The rational part of you knew there was no reason to distrust him— he sounded genuinely relieved, even frantic— but the cautious part, the part shaped by years of bad experiences, kept your guard up.

You sat on a bench, watching as the three dogs sprawled out near your feet. Your dog rested her head on her paws, more relaxed than you’d seen her in a long time. It stirred something warm in your chest, seeing her so content in a place that wasn't the foot of your bed. Still, a knot of worry lingered. She’d never been good with men— you’d never been good with men— and the thought of one arriving soon made your shoulders tense.

Ten minutes felt like an eternity, but eventually, a figure appeared in the distance. He was tall, with long, dark, slightly unruly hair and a hurried stride. The moment the dogs spotted him, they were off like rockets, tails wagging furiously as they lept toward him.

He dropped to his knees, his laughter ringing out as they practically bowled him over. “Hey, hey— there you are,” he says, his voice warm and full of relief. “I was so worried about you two.”

Bella stood now too, her ears perked and her tail giving the smallest of wags. She looked at you, then back at him, as if asking permission.

You rose slowly, your pulse quickening. He stood as well, the two dogs happily circling his legs, and the smaller one jumping up at his calves for attention. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, you were struck by how kind they seemed.

“I can’t thank you enough,” he said, his voice earnest. “Fox is new, and she must’ve slipped out somehow. Rose must have followed her. I’ve been looking for them everywhere.”

“It’s no problem,” you assured, your voice softer than you expected. “They’re sweet dogs.”

As you spoke, Bella stepped closer to him, her nose twitching as she sniffed his ankle. He noticed and crouched slightly, holding out a hand. “And who’s this?”

“That’s Bella,” you said, quickly adding, “Um, maybe don’t— she’s not great with men. She’s a rescue.”

He pulled his hand back immediately, nodding in understanding. “Got it. Sorry about that.”

But to your shock, Bella didn’t shy away. Instead, she sniffed a little longer before her tail started wagging— a hesitant flick at first, then more assured. She stepped closer, nudging his hand with her nose.

He laughed softly, his voice gentle. “Well, hello there.” Although her advances were friendly, Sam still refrained from petting her, allowing her to feel him out herself. You stared, completely baffled. Bella didn’t do this. She didn’t trust men— not after everything she’d been through.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into her,” you said, your voice tinged with awe.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind,” he replied, his tone light. “Maybe it’s because I have long hair,” he joked, and you smiled softly at him. 

Rose and Fox joined in, playfully bumping into your dog before breaking into a game of chase. They darted around your legs, tails wagging as they barked at one another and spun in dizzying circles.

Sam straightened, his smile soft. “Looks like they’ve gotten well acquainted.”

You laughed lightly, feeling a little of the tension drain from your shoulders. “Yeah. They clicked pretty fast.”

“I’m Sam, by the way,” he greeted, holding out his hand.

You hesitated for only a moment before taking it. “Nice to meet you,” you replied, the words feeling more natural than you’d expected. You introduced yourself too, watching as Sam's mouth grew into yet another gentle smile as you spoke. You pulled your hand away timidly, and turned back to your dogs, avoiding his gaze. 

As the dogs played, you caught yourself smiling— not just at them, but at him too. He seemed kind, and he seemed to understand your need for silence. It was comfortable being around him.

Sam watched the dogs play, his face lit up with genuine joy. “I think they’ve already decided they’re best friends,” he commented with a soft laugh, glancing over at you. “Rose doesn’t usually warm up to other dogs this fast.”

You smiled, a little hesitant but unable to help the warmth spreading in your chest as you watched the three of them chase each other in joyful circles. “Same with her,” you admitted, nodding toward your dog, whose tail was wagging furiously as she bounded after Rose. “She’s usually... cautious, especially in new situations.”

Sam tilted his head, studying the dogs for a moment before meeting your eyes. “You’ve done a great job with her, though. She seems really happy.”

His words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn't know how to respond. Compliments always felt awkward, especially from strangers— especially from men. They were almost always ingenuine. A ruse to have you trust them— so that they could hurt you. But there was something disarming about the way Sam spoke, casual but earnest, like he really meant it.

“Thanks,” you managed, your voice soft. “It’s been a process, but... she’s worth it.”

Sam smiled sideways, and this time, it felt a little more personal, like he understood in a way that didn’t need further explanation. “I get that,” he started. “Rose was a rescue too. Took me a while to figure out her rhythm. And Fox... well, she’s still a work in progress.” He let out a boyish laugh. “But… I think we’re all a little rough around the edges, right?”

“Yeah, I guess we are.”

The conversation lulled, but it was another comfortable silence. The dogs continued their game of back and forth, weaving around the two of you with an almost choreographed grace. Bella, at one point, paused in need of a breath and trotted over to you. You bent slightly to give her a scratch behind the ear, her hand leaning into your touch, before you pulled away. Casually, she meandered over to Sam, her tail wagging slowly but surely. She nudged his hand again, and he remained mostly still, offering his hand carefully so as not to startle her.

Bella then turned, and leant her body weight against Sam's legs, watching as Fox and Rose continued their game of chase.

You watched, a mix of awe and confusion swirling inside you. “I’ve never seen her do that before,” you commented quietly. “She doesn’t trust men.”

Sam looked over to you, his expression unreadable for a moment before it softened again. “Well she’s very brave, for taking a chance on me.”

Before you could think of a response, Fox barked sharply, demanding his attention. He laughed and stepped back. Bella skirted away from him at the movement, jumpy still— almost as if she had remembered to be scared.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming,” Sam called, his voice light and teasing. He glanced back at you, his expression a mix of gratitude and something else you couldn’t quite place. “We should probably head home now. Thanks again, by the way. For calling me. And for... you know, everything.”

You nodded, a little flustered but managing a small smile. “It was no trouble. Really.”

“Well,” he said, taking a step back but clearly not wanting to leave just yet, “If you’re ever back at this park... maybe our dogs could have another playdate?”

The suggestion caught you off guard, but the nervous manner of his tone eased your anxiety. Instead, you actually found yourself nodding. “Yeah, maybe. They seem to like each other.”

“And maybe,” Sam added, grinning, “They could even convince us humans to talk again.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Maybe,” you repeated, the word feeling like a tentative step forward.

As he walked away, his dogs trotting happily at his heels, Bella nudged your hand, looking up at you with a curious tilt of her head. You scratched behind her ears, still trying to process everything that just happened.

“Maybe,” you murmured again, this time to yourself. 

🐾

The next few days were rather bland. You and Bella meandered around the house lazily, keeping each other company with cuddles on the couch and in bed. 

You were confused, to say the least. Proud of yourself for spending so much time with Sam— and for being able to hold a conversation with him without breaking down into a panicked state, like you most often did when speaking to men, especially alone. But another part of you— the dark, afraid exterior you had put on to protect yourself— was ashamed. You’d experienced too much hurt to be naive. And letting yourself grow so fond of a man after only one introduction, solely based on a feeling you had, was utterly ridiculous. 

You wanted to keep yourself indoors forever at the thought. The idea of curling yourself in your bedsheets and never remerging sounded more alluring with each day that passed. Alas, Bella was restless, and you knew you couldn't keep her cooped up and isolated with you, no matter how much you dreaded leaving the comfort of your home. 

Getting up with a dramatic sigh, you showered, dressed, and made yourself look somewhat presentable, Bella excitedly trotting by your heels in anticipation as you got ready. You were soon out the door, as Bella gave a particularly harsh tug on the lead to get the walk started as you fumbled with your keys to lock the front door. 

It wasn’t unusual for her to be excited for her walks, but this was different, and her enthusiasm didn't let up any further into the walk. Your whole body, slanted awkwardly in an attempt to control her pulling, lest you go flying face first into the concrete, was beginning to tire at her relentless eagerness.

“Bella, what has gotten into you?” you grunted as you feebly tried to control her near frantic pace. 

Your question was answered when she turned a sharp, deliberate corner down the trail that led you to your local park. The same park where you had met Sam, and his dogs. 

“Oh, Bella,” you cooed. Her happy little face looked up at you, tongue hanging out and tail thwacking your legs as it wagged uncontrollably. 

You weren’t sure what to do. On one hand, you doubted he’d even be there again. He hadn’t even been there in the first place— had only come to pick up his dogs. But, strangely you weren’t opposed to seeing him again. His presence wasn’t forceful or uncomfortable in the slightest. Sam was easy to be with. 

But the other part of you— the rational, protective part of your mind, reasoned with you through memory. You hadn’t been treated fairly by a man— ever. Did you really expect that to change now? You’d learnt your lessons, and promised to never put yourself back in a situation like that, ever again. Yet here you were, contemplating returning to an otherwise empty park in hopes to find yourself alone with a man you had quite literally just met. 

Bella sat by your feet and whined, her paws pressing into the ground impatiently. Alas, be it naivety or some pathetic kind of hope, Sam didn’t make you feel scared. Not like other men did, at least. Sure you felt nervous, jittery, and a little guarded around him, but it was nothing compared to how you reacted to the presence of other men. No sweaty palms, erratic heart beats, panicked breathing, or racing thoughts. Just Sam, and the strangely peaceful air he had about him.

You sighed, “Alright then.” With that, Bella jumped from her spot, springing to her feet and tugging on the leash. 

After battling her tugging for the next five minutes of the walk, you re-emerged in the park you had been at a few days prior. Bellas head, much like yours, was high, scanning the area in sight of any others— in sight of Sam. 

“Get it Rose!” 

Your head turned at the sound of his voice, echoing through the park as a familiar brindle dog whizzed passed you. There Sam stood, just off to the edge of the grass, a ball thrower in hand as he watched Rose chase his latest throw. Fox was by his feet, tugging on his maroon scarf which hung unevenly over his shoulders. 

You couldn't help the small smile that tugged at your lips when you saw him, a big, cheesy smile stretched across his face. The smile turned to a frown when he felt the incessant tugging of his scarf slowly sliding off his shoulder, and he peered down to see Fox chewing at the threads. 

“Fox!” he exclaimed, kneeling to take it from her mouth. “We’ve talked about this young lady. No chewing on Daddy’s clothes, that's what your toys are for, remember?” he explained as he pried her mouth open to snatch his scarf back. 

You leaned down to unclip Bellas leash and in a flash she was bouncing off to greet them. Sam still hadn’t noticed your presence, and he startled slightly when Bella approached, dancing around his legs excitedly. 

“Well hello there!” he greeted Bella as she pressed herself into his legs. His eyes quickly jumped up to see you walking towards him, his smile returning to his face at the sight of you. “You’re back,” he commented as he rose, and took a few tentative steps forward. 

“I’m back,” you repeated, your voice kind, but a little timid. You continued to walk towards him until you stood only a couple of feet away. “Bella pulled pretty hard to come here today— couldn’t say no to that face,” you joked, gesturing to her slobbery, open mouthed smile. 

Sam blinked, and opened his mouth to say something but hesitated. He seemed to think for a moment before he settled on, “Well good, I’m glad to see you again.” By now, Rose had come bouncing back, and was sniffing at Bella by your feet. 

“Thanks… you too,” you replied, rather awkwardly you thought. 

Sam gestured to the small bench beside you with his arm. “Shall we sit?” 

You nodded, letting out a quiet breath as you moved toward the bench. Bella followed, although unclipped, her leash was tight in your grip as if it were the only thing keeping you steady. Sam sat last, leaving a respectable amount of space between you, like he somehow sensed you’d need it. 

Okay, this is fine. He’s just a guy. Sitting on a bench. It’s fine.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon,” Sam said, breaking the quiet. His tone was casual, but there was something genuine behind it, something that made your chest feel tight. Bella sniffed at his feet, her tail wagging like she’d known him for years instead of just one brief meeting. “Rose has been acting like a lovesick puppy since the last time we were here.”

You managed a small smile, glancing down at the two dogs. Rose’s tail wagged furiously as Bella sniffed at her face, the two of them falling into an easy rhythm. You envied that— how simple it was for them to just... connect. No overthinking. No fear.

Why couldn't you be like that? Why did this have to be so hard?

“I’m glad she dragged you out,” Sam added, leaning back slightly on the bench. His voice was light, but the way he said it— like he really meant it— made you glance at him. He caught your gaze for half a second before you looked away, your heart thudding too loudly in your chest.

“I almost didn’t come,” you admitted before you could stop yourself. Your gut twisted in embarrassment. Why did you have to say that?

“But you did,” he pointed out gently. “And I’m glad.”

You swallowed hard, your grip tightening on the leash. He was kind. Too kind. The way he looked at you, like he wasn’t in a rush or expecting anything from you, made something in your chest ache. It would’ve been easier if he was pushy, if he gave you a reason to shut down. But he wasn’t.

The silence stretched, and you could feel the familiar pull to retreat, to make an excuse and leave. But then Sam spoke again, his voice cutting through the fog in your head.

“You know,” he said carefully, “I’ve been meaning to try that little café down the street. The one with the uhhh…” he clicked his finger as he thought, willing the memory to existence, “What's it called? You know, the flower with the long stem and uhh…” He continued to click his fingers as he dropped his head into his other hand, rubbing at his brow bone as he tried to remember. 

“Tulip?” you offered meekly. 

“Yes!” he pointed at you, body straightening. “That big tulip artwork on the front window. Have you been? It looks nice,” he explained, hands gesturing in front of him as he described the art. 

You shook your head, “No, I haven’t been. But I’ve walked past it a few times— smells nice in there.”

Sam smiled, leaning forward slightly. “Maybe we could check it out together sometime. If you’re up for it.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs. 

You looked at him, unsure what to say. The idea of sitting across from him, having a conversation in a quiet café, felt like a massive leap. You were not ready for this. You’d sworn off men— off dating. It hadn’t even been a question, you knew you weren’t mentally prepared to handle the things that came with being in a relationship— not now.

But at the same time, there was a tiny spark of something else— something that wanted to say yes. Would you ever be ready? Or would you spend the rest of your lonely life at home with Bella? Forced by the mental confines of your mind.

“I—uh...” You stumbled over your words, your brain fighting with itself. Say something. Say yes. He’s not going to wait forever.

“No pressure,” Sam added quickly, his tone easy. “It doesn’t have to be soon. Or ever, if.. you don't want to, or…you’re not comfortable, or… whatever.”

You exhaled shakily, gripping Bella’s leash like it was a lifeline. “No, I…” you sighed. “That sounds nice,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sam’s smile didn’t falter, and that surprised you. Most people would’ve pushed or tried to pin you down for a time. But not him. “Okay,” he said simply. “Whenever you’re free.”

You nodded, feeling a flicker of relief but also something else. Maybe you could do this. Maybe.

The dogs ran off again, chasing each other in lazy circles, and for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to believe that you could take a step forward. Even if it was small, even if it was terrifying, you wanted to try. 

Sam's voice brought your gaze back to him again. “How about you give me your number and we can arrange a time that you’re free. Or— I mean, I can give you mine if that's better,” he shrugged, his speech beginning to turn more into a ramble than an offer. “That way you can, y’know, choose when— or if you’re free, or if you even want to do it, cause—”

“I do want to do it. Stop overthinking it,” you joked, though you knew he had every right to be worried. You had no idea how you were going to show up to this… date? Catchup? You weren't sure what it was, but the title didn't make the occasion any less daunting. Sam's happy grin encouraged your next words. “Do you have your phone on you? I can put my number into your contacts,” you suggested. 

His eyebrows lifted as he nodded, “Yeah, yeah, for sure.” He awkwardly patted his pockets before finding his phone lost somewhere inside his coat. “Here y’go.”

Sam handed you his phone, an empty contact card open for you to put your details in. This was huge. You were willingly giving a man your phone number— a man you'd practically just met. Something tugged at whatever part of your brain was responsible for decision making persistently, willing you to question if what you were doing may be stupid. You knew it wasn't smart, not after what you’d been through— what you’d experienced with men. They always started off kind, you knew that. Yet there was something about Sam that you felt you could trust, and that frightened you the most. 

As your fingers hesitated on the keyboard against his phone, you glanced down to where Bella settled by Sam's feet, staring off into the park and allowing Sam to lightly pet the middle of her back. You sighed, willing away the thoughts like they were just some annoying, unwelcomed pest, as you forced your fingers to tap the phone screen. 

“Done.” You handed his phone back to him, fingers picking at your cuticles nervously as you watched him smile and type something into his phone. Your phone buzzed from your back pocket and you slid it out to see a text message: “Here's my number too :)”

The lightheartedness of the message made your lips twitch, the faintest hint of a smile pulling at the corners. You glanced at Sam who was still sitting beside you, leaning back against the wooden table, looking completely at ease.

You shifted awkwardly, fiddling with Bella’s leash, though she had sprawled out at Sam's feet, panting contentedly after her play. Sam didn’t seem to notice your nerves— or maybe he did, and he just chose not to draw attention to it. Either way, his relaxed energy made it hard to feel completely on edge.

“So,” Sam began, breaking the comfortable silence. “Is this Bella's favourite park, or…?”

You nodded, glancing at him briefly before looking away. “Yeah, usually. She likes how quiet it is.”

“Quiet’s good,” he agreed, his voice warm and easy. “I usually go to that busy dog park across the city when I get the chance. Rose and Fox like to drag me out of the house to get there.”

You chuckled softly, looking at Rose, who was now sprawled out a few feet away, eyes half-closed in the sunlight. “Looks like she’s not too demanding right now.”

“Yeah, don’t let that fool you,” Sam said, leaning toward you a little as he itched his forearm, his elbow brushing yours briefly. “Ten more minutes, and she’ll be up, trying to wrestle me or something. That girl hasn't known how to take it easy for her whole life,” he laughed.

You smiled faintly, your fingers tightening on Bella’s leash. It was strange, sitting here with someone you’d only just met. Normally, this would feel like too much— too close, too personal— but with Sam, it felt... manageable.

“Anyway,” he continued, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, “I figured I’d send that text so you’ve got my number too. Just in case, y’know, Bella needs a playmate or something.”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips twitching again. “Just for our dogs, huh? Not for our coffee outing?” 

Sam grinned, his shoulders shaking with a quiet laugh. “Fair point. I’m more of a sidekick in this operation. I let Fox and Rose do the heavy lifting.”

That small flicker of humor in your chest felt foreign but not unwelcome. There was no pressure to say anything. He wasn’t watching you, waiting for a response. Instead, he looked out at the park, his expression calm, like he was perfectly content to just be here.

“I don’t usually... give my number out,” you said suddenly, the words escaping before you could stop them.

Sam glanced at you, his brows lifting slightly, but he didn’t press. “Yeah? Well, I don’t usually ask for numbers in dog parks, so I guess we’re both a little out of our comfort zones.”

You snorted softly, shaking your head. “That’s... one way to look at it.”

He shifted slightly, his tone softening. “I get it, though. It’s not always easy to, uh... put yourself out there— socially, or otherwise.”

You glanced at him, feeling a pang of something— gratitude, maybe? He wasn’t prying. He wasn’t asking why or trying to dig into things you weren’t ready to share. He just... understood.

Bella nudged at your leg, and you reached down to scratch behind her ears, your fingers trembling slightly.

“You seem pretty good at it,” you murmured, almost to yourself.

Sam tilted his head, a small, almost self-deprecating smile on his lips. “You’d be surprised. I just talk a lot and hope something sticks.”

That earned a small laugh from you, and you saw his smile widen.

“Seriously, though,” he added, his voice dropping just a little, “We don’t have to do anything you’re not up for. I mean it.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “I know.”

“Good,” he said, leaning back again, his shoes toeing into the dirt beneath him nervously. “But for the record, I think Rose, Fox and Bella would make a great tag team. So if you ever want to let them hang out again, just say the word.”

Just say the word. The offer was there, present for you to take at your own accord. It didn't press you, and it didn't make you feel like if you didn’t reach out, you were letting anybody down. It was comfortable— as was everything that Sam said. The casualness of his tone made it easier to breathe.

“Okay,” you said softly. Sam smiled, his eyes crinkling at the edges. 

You glanced at your phone to check the time, a small pang of disappointment blooming in your chest. You hated that you had to leave. You wanted to stay— maybe not talk much, but just exist here with him, in the easy quiet of the park.

“I, uh, should probably head home,” you said reluctantly, rising to your feet. “I’ve got a meeting in thirty minutes.”

Sam’s brows lifted as he stood too, the easygoing smile on his face flickering with something softer. “Oh? Do you work from home?” he asked, as Bella jumped to her feet beside you, shaking out her coat.

“Yeah,” you nodded, clipping the leash onto her collar. “I don’t have to leave Bella alone for hours, so it works out.”

“Lucky Bella,” he said lightly, though his mouth stayed open, as if he wanted to keep talking— as if he didn't want the moment to end. He shook his head lightly before continuing, “Well, I’ll let you go. Don’t want you to be late or anything.”

You smiled, a small, genuine curve of your lips. “Thanks. I’ll, uh… I’ll text you,” you said, the words slipping out before you could second-guess them. The certainty in Sam’s returning smile made your chest flutter. Maybe saying it wasn’t such a bad thing.

“I’ll look forward to it,” he said warmly, his eyes meeting yours in a way that felt reassuring and kind.

You nodded, a little too quickly, gripping Bella’s leash tightly as if it could keep your nerves steady. “See you.”

“Bye,” he said, his voice lingering just a moment longer. He reached for Fox and Rose, gently holding them back as they strained toward Bella, their tails wagging wildly.

You gave a small, awkward wave before turning away, the crisp air filling your lungs as you and Bella walked toward the park gate.

As you reached the edge of the park, you couldn’t help glancing back. Sam was still standing there, a hand resting idly on Rose’s back, watching as you left. When your eyes met his, he raised a hand in a casual wave, his grin as easy as ever.

You turned back around quickly, your cheeks warming against the cold. Maybe this wasn’t as terrifying as it seemed. Maybe.

Bella tugged gently on the leash, grounding you as you crossed the street and started for home. Your phone buzzed in your pocket— a message from Sam. It was a photo of Fox and Rose, their ears pricked up and eyes fixed on the empty entrance of the park, as though they were waiting for you and Bella to return.

A second message followed right after: “Looks like they’re already missing you both.”

A smile tugged at your lips before you could stop it. It was a small gesture, but something about it made your chest feel a little lighter. You slipped your phone back into your pocket without responding, telling yourself you’d reply when you got home. Maybe you’d even send him a photo of Bella in return. Maybe you’d keep the conversation going.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the thought of staying connected didn’t seem so impossible. It felt… nice.

🐾

The coffee meet-up had gone so much better than you’d imagined, better than you had even allowed yourself to hope for. The worst part�� unsurprisingly— had been the lead-up. You’d paced your apartment for what felt like hours, second-guessing every decision. Your mind raced with a thousand doubts: Was this smart? Was this too soon? Were you setting yourself up for heartbreak again? Bella sat patiently by the door, watching you with her big, soulful eyes, almost as if she were silently urging you to go, to just try.

You’d arrived at the café early, jittery from nerves and a lack of sleep. When Sam walked in, his warm smile immediately eased some of your tension. He looked genuinely happy to see you, like there was nowhere else he’d rather be. He’d waved and slid into the seat across from you, his presence grounding but not overbearing.

Conversation had flowed naturally, which surprised you. Sam had a way of filling the space between you without making it feel stifling. He’d asked about Bella, what you did for work, and even shared a funny story about Rose stealing one of his socks that morning. When the conversation lulled, as it inevitably did, Sam didn’t make it awkward. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his gaze wandering to the people passing by outside the café window.

“See that guy?” he’d said, nodding toward a man hurriedly crossing the street with a mismatched pair of gloves, and a bright pink scarf. “What do you reckon? He’s either late for something important or has a really funky sense of style.”

You’d followed his gaze, smiling faintly. “Maybe both.”

And just like that, the quiet moments turned into a game of people-watching. Sam made up lighthearted stories about strangers, his voice calm and easy, and for the first time in a long time, you felt safe in someone else’s company. There was no pressure, no expectation— just two people sitting across from each other, sharing a moment.

By the time you’d parted ways, your nerves had transformed into optimism. You didn’t regret coming. In fact, you were already looking forward to seeing him again.

The next morning you saw him again at the park. You hadn’t planned to go at the same time, but there he was, with Rose and Fox bounding around in the grass. You’d exchanged a smile and a wave, and soon enough, it became a daily routine. Every morning, you’d take Bella to the park, secretly hoping he’d be there too. And every morning, Sam was.

One day, as you approached the park, you noticed him holding a cup of coffee, a familiar logo on the side. He smiled as he handed it to you, his expression a mix of shy and pleased.

“I, uh, noticed what you ordered the other day,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “Thought you might like one this morning.”

You stared at the cup in your hands, warmth spreading from your fingertips to your chest. “Thank you,” you said softly, touched by the small but thoughtful gesture. From that day on, he always seemed to have a coffee ready for you. It wasn’t a grand gesture, but it meant more than he probably realized.

Still, as much as you looked forward to those mornings, your mind wasn’t entirely at ease. The scars of your past whispered doubts in the quiet moments. This is too good to be true. Men like this don’t stay this way. You’ve been here before. The memories of past relationships, of violence and betrayal, were like shadows you couldn’t shake.

But then there was Sam— patient, kind, and attentive in a way that felt entirely genuine. He didn’t push when you hesitated. He didn’t pry when you grew quiet. He just was.

When he invited you to a dinner at his house, casually mentioning that his brothers and their friends would be there, you froze. The thought of being in a group setting, of being in his home, felt like too much too soon. You’d declined, softly but firmly, and to your relief, Sam had taken it in stride.

“All good. Another time, maybe,” he’d said with a smile, as if to let you know the door was always open.

The refusal had felt good— not because you didn’t want to go, but because you were learning to set boundaries. You were opening yourself up, little by little, but you weren’t letting go of yourself in the process.

Throughout the week, Sam continued to send you pictures of Rose and Fox. They were always candid and endearing— Rose sprawled out on the couch, Fox sitting attentively by the window as if waiting for you and Bella. One evening, you found Bella lounging in her usual spot, her head tilted just so, and before you could overthink it, you snapped a picture and sent it to Sam.

“She says hi,” you’d typed, your heart fluttering as you hit send.

His reply had come almost instantly: “Tell her we say hi back. Same time tomorrow?”

You’d smiled, and without hesitation, replied: “Of course.”

🐾

A couple of days later, you found yourself bracing for a high-stakes work meeting with some of the most important executives in your company. Stress clung to you like a second skin, tightening your shoulders and quickening your breath. Your living room reflected your frayed state of mind— dog toys scattered across the floor, an abandoned mug of coffee perched precariously on the edge of the table, and a pile of laundry slumped in the corner, forgotten in your whirlwind of preparation.

You’d spent the entire morning darting between tasks: fussing with your hair, adjusting your blouse for the hundredth time, and sifting through the jumbled notes on your desk in a desperate attempt to find some semblance of order— despite the fact that the meeting started at noon. Bella had shadowed you every step of the way, her quiet presence an unspoken reminder of her unmet need for the walk she’d come to expect every morning.

Her brown eyes followed you as you paced the room, and when you finally sat down at your desk with a heavy sigh, she whined softly, settling herself at your feet.

“Bella, please,” you muttered, reaching down to give her a quick pat before returning to your computer screen. You flicked your eyes to the clock— thirty minutes until your call. The number pulsed in your mind like a ticking bomb, making your stomach twist.

Bella’s tail thumped against the floor, slow and deliberate, each wag a pointed reminder of her dissatisfaction. She huffed, letting out a low whimper, and you resisted the urge to groan. Normally, she’d be sprawled out in her favorite spot by now, worn out from a romp at the park. But today, skipping that routine had thrown her off entirely, and her restless energy was only adding to your own mounting tension.

“Bella,” you said again, your voice sharper this time, though guilt twisted in your chest. She wasn’t trying to annoy you— she just didn’t understand why things were different today. You ran a hand over your face, leaning back in your chair and staring at the ceiling.

Another loud whine that trailed off into a howl broke the silence, and you glanced down to see Bella staring up at you with wide, imploring eyes. She shifted closer, her tail wagging faster now, and let out a short, sharp bark.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you muttered, your voice tight. “You’re stressed. Join the club.”

The tension in the room felt suffocating as Bella circled your chair, her nails clicking against the hardwood floor. You bent down again, this time stroking her fur more firmly in an attempt to calm her. But as soon as you pulled away, she was pacing again, her frustration palpable.

You checked the clock once more— twenty-five minutes now— and felt a rush of panic. This meeting was important, one you couldn’t afford to be distracted during. But how were you supposed to focus with Bella practically climbing the walls? You sighed, sitting back in your chair and opening your phone to check your emails. 

Instead, you saw a new message from Sam. “Hey, no park today?” Attached was a photo of Rose and Fox, both sitting by the edge of the park, their ears pricked up like they were waiting for someone. He was still there, despite it being hours after you’d usually meet. Guilt twisted your gut.

You smiled despite yourself, typing a quick reply. “No park today :( I’ve got a busy afternoon of meetings and needed to prepare. I meant to let you know— sorry about that!”

His reply came almost instantly. “Ah okay, no worries! Good luck with your meetings :)”

Before you could put your phone down, Bella let out another pitiful whine, pacing back and forth near the door.

You replied. “Thanks. I think I’ll need it— Bella won’t stop whining and whimpering. I think she missed you guys. I don’t know what to do.”

Sam responded immediately. “Maybe just lock her in another room with some toys and treats?”

You sighed, wincing as Bella barked piercingly. “Can't. She’s got attachment anxiety. Starts to rip things up if she's left alone.”

You hit send, leaning back in your chair as Bella plopped down dramatically near the door, her eyes fixed on it like she was willing it to open, letting high pitched whines leave her throat.

A minute passed without a reply, and you were about to set your phone aside when it buzzed.

“I can come by and look after her for however long if you’d like? Take her out for a walk until your meeting is over?”

You stared at the message, your heart skipping a beat. He’s really offering to do this? The idea of letting someone into your space, even Sam, made you hesitate. But at the same time, you couldn’t deny how kind the offer was— or how badly you needed help right now.

You bit your lip as you replied. “Thanks Sam, but Bella doesn’t like being away from me. She gets really anxious.”

His reply came quickly. “I could just hang out with her in another room if you’d prefer? All good if not, of course, but the offer’s there.”

You set your phone down, your thoughts spinning. Bella whined again, pacing back to your chair and pawing at your leg.

“Bella,” you scolded gently. “Quiet.” You stood and grabbed her bowl, filling it with a few treats in hopes of distracting her, but she barely glanced at it. She let out a sharp bark, scratching at the front door now.

“Bella! Stop!” you said, exasperated, but she wasn’t listening.

You glanced at the clock— twenty minutes until your call. Another bark echoed through the apartment, and you dropped your head into your hands. “Okay, okay!” you muttered, grabbing your phone and opening the messages again.

“Yeah, I might have to take you up on that offer, if you wouldn’t mind.”

His response came almost immediately. “Of course :) Do you mind if I bring the girls?”

You sighed in relief. “Of course not. I’ll text you my address. My call is in 20 minutes, though.”

“Perfect. I’ll be there in 10.”

You exhaled, tension leaving your shoulders as you sent him your address. Bella looked up at you expectantly, and you gave her a small smile. “Someone’s coming to rescue you, happy now?” She whined at your words, eyes looking to and from the door as she impatiently waited for you to take her out. 

While you waited, you found yourself fidgeting with your reflection in the hallway mirror. It was ridiculous, really— the meeting with the board members hadn’t inspired this level of concern, but knowing Sam was on his way had you smoothing down your hair and adjusting the hem of your sweater like a teenager before prom.

“Get a grip,” you muttered under your breath, brushing an invisible speck of lint off your sleeve. Bella whined softly from her spot near the door, her tail wagging with anticipation. And now, you tried to focus on the sound of her impatience instead of the nervous fluttering in your stomach.

The sharp knock at the door made Bella erupt into a frenzy of barking, spinning in circles by your feet. You felt your heart jolt, but not from the noise. It was that brief, nagging moment of doubt— a voice in the back of your mind reminding you that you were about to let a man into your home.

For a split second, you froze, your hand hovering over the lock. But then Bella barked again, her paws scratching at the door in her impatience, and you shoved the thought aside. This was Sam. Sam, who brought coffee to the park every morning. Sam, who made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t in a long time. You took a breath and opened the door.

“Hey!” Sam greeted you, his smile warm and disarming.

The dogs went wild, Bella barking and wagging her tail like a propeller as Rose and Fox tugged excitedly on their leashes. The narrow entryway became a chaotic blur of wagging tails and happy whines as you tried to wrangle Bella away from the tangle of Sam’s dogs.

“Come in, quick,” you said, stepping aside to let them all in before the noise woke your neighbors. Bella followed Rose and Fox eagerly as they darted into the living room, their tails wagging in unison.

“You can take their leashes off,” you told Sam, watching as he crouched to unclip them. The dogs bounded off to explore, Bella right on their heels, and the house fell into an almost eerie quiet after the explosion of noise. 

You turned back to Sam, who had straightened up and was now standing with his hands tucked casually into his coat pockets. His gaze lingered on you for a moment, his expression softening.

“You look nice,” he said, his voice warm but casual, as though it was just a simple observation and not a compliment that sent your pulse racing.

Your cheeks flushed, and you glanced down, brushing at your sweater even though you knew there was nothing on it. “Oh, uh… thanks. This meeting’s kind of a big deal.” Lie. You fixed your appearance for him. “Thank you for coming”

Sam’s smile widened, and he shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. I’m happy to help. Plus, I could hear Bella whining from the street.” 

You laughed as you watched her whizz past you both into the living room, Rose and Fox hot on her heels. 

“Where do you want me?” Sam asked, reminding you that you needed to get a move on if you wanted to make this meeting in time. 

“Anywhere is fine. I’ll be in my little office so as long as Bella doesn't come in it’ll be fine. Though, I suspect she’ll be quiet now that you guys are here.”

Sam nodded and ran a hand through his hair, and you took a moment to admire how long and healthy it looked. You had to ask him what products he used to get it looking so shiny. “Does the living room sound okay?” he asked, gesturing to the couch. You cringed at the sight of the messy room. 

“Yeah, of course. Sorry the place is such a mess. And help yourself to anything from the kitchen if you're hungry or thirsty. We have tea, too, if you'd like.”

Sam smiled as his gaze swept over your living room. “Alright, thanks. I'll go... gather the pack.”

You laughed softly, grateful for his ease. “Thanks. My meeting is until two, and I’ll have just a little bit of work to get through after that. Give me a shout if you need anything.”

With that, you headed back to your office, the door clicking gently behind you. As you settled into your chair and shuffled through your notes, the familiar sound of the kettle whistling from the kitchen reached your ears, accompanied by the rhythmic panting of the dogs as they sprawled in the living room. The noises were oddly comforting, grounding you in the moment.

Two minutes before your call was set to begin, the door to your office nudged open, creaking softly on its hinges. You glanced up, expecting Bella, but instead, there was Sam. He held a steaming mug of tea in his hand, hovering just inside the doorway, careful not to disrupt anything. His gaze darted to your screen, checking to see if you were on the call yet.

“Oh,” you said, pleasantly surprised. “Thank you so much. You really didn’t have to do that.”

Sam waved it off with an easy shrug, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Pfft, it’s nothing. Good luck with your call,” he said, holding up a thumbs-up.

You smiled, warmed by the gesture, and murmured your thanks again. He slipped out just as quietly as he’d entered, carefully shutting the door behind him.

The call, as expected, was long and dull— slides full of graphs, executives droning on about projections, and polite but strained small talk. Your attention kept drifting. Every so often, you’d hear faint noises from the next room— Sam’s voice, low and warm, talking to the dogs. You couldn’t make out the words, but the sound of his laughter reached you now and then, and it made you smile. You wished you were out there with him, soaking up his easy energy instead of slogging through a seemingly endless meeting.

When the call finally ended, and you’d rushed through whatever work you needed to do for the rest of the day, you exhaled a long sigh of relief and pushed yourself up from your chair, stretching your arms overhead. You made your way to the living room, the low hum of conversation growing clearer as you approached.

But as you rounded the corner, you stopped in your tracks.

The living room, which had been a mess of dog toys, cushions askew, and Bella’s fur tumbleweeds, was now spotless. The toys had been neatly piled in the corner, the couch cushions were fluffed and straightened, and even the coffee table had been wiped down. You glanced toward the kitchen and saw the dishes that had been piled in the sink were now washed and drying on the rack. The counters, which had been cluttered with remnants of your rushed breakfast, were clear.

Sam was crouched on the floor, tugging gently at a rope toy while Bella growled playfully. He looked up as your shadow crossed the room, his face lighting up with a grin. “Hey! Meeting over?”

Your heart squeezed at the sight of him so effortlessly at home. “Yeah,” you said, your voice soft. “Did you… clean up?”

He shrugged, standing and brushing his hands on his jeans. “Hope you don’t mind. I figured you had enough on your plate, and the dogs were napping.”

You blinked, momentarily stunned. “That’s… really sweet. Thank you.”

“It wasn’t trouble,” he insisted, his voice gentle but sincere. “I just wanted to make things easier for you.”

You hesitated, your heart stumbling over itself at his kindness. Before you could stop yourself, the words were tumbling out. “You know… you’ve already done so much, but if you don’t have plans, you could stay for dinner?”

Sam blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose—”

“You wouldn’t be,” you interrupted quickly, then added with a soft laugh, “Honestly, I’d love to make you dinner as a thank-you. You’ve helped so much today.” You glanced at your watch seeing it was just after three in the afternoon. “I know it’s still early but…” you shrugged.

His hesitation lingered for a moment, but then his lips curved into that easy smile. “If you’re sure, I’d like that. But only if I get to help.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“Come on,” he interrupted, already heading toward the kitchen. “You’re doing me a favor by letting me stay. Let me at least chop something.”

You sighed with a sarcastic roll of your eyes. “Alright then, if you insist.”

Sam smiled cheekily and jumped from his spot on the couch to follow you to the kitchen. You'd decided on a simple pasta dish, and the kitchen quickly came alive with activity as you both worked side by side. Sam had insisted on chopping vegetables, though his knife skills left much to be desired.

“You know,” he said, holding up a piece of onion that was noticeably uneven, “I think I’m getting the hang of this.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking as you took the cutting board from him. “Sure, if you were trying to invent abstract vegetable art.”

He laughed, leaning against the counter as he watched you take over. “I’ll have you know, my abstract art is highly sought after. Just wait till you see my tomato slicing.”

“God help me,” you teased, shaking your head.

The banter flowed easily between you as you moved around the kitchen. Sam stirred the sauce with dramatic flair, claiming he was a “culinary genius,” while you rolled your eyes and corrected his seasoning suggestions.

“You’re gonna regret doubting me when this sauce wins an award,” he said, tapping the spoon against the edge of the pot.

“Uh-huh,” you replied, turning to grab a pot for the pasta. “I’ll make sure to nominate it for Most Over-Seasoned Dish.”

“Rude,” he muttered, though he was grinning.

At one point, while you were boiling the pasta, Sam stepped behind you to grab plates from the cabinet. The brush of his arm against yours was fleeting, but it sent a jolt through you. You glanced at him, finding his focus entirely on the task at hand, as if he hadn’t noticed.

The domesticity of it all was surreal. You hadn’t had anyone in your kitchen like this in years— working together, laughing, existing in a space that felt so normal, yet so foreign to you.

Once the food was ready, you carried the plates while Sam grabbed the water glasses, and without much conversation, the two of you gravitated toward the couch. Somehow, eating there felt more natural than sitting stiffly at the dining table.

Sam handed you your plate before settling in beside you, leaving enough space between you to keep it comfortable. He looked around, scanning the small stack of DVDs you had near the TV. “Dinner and a movie,” he said, glancing at you with a grin. “You’ve officially spoiled me.”

You smiled softly, sitting down a little more cautiously than him, keeping a small gap between you. “And you can pick the movie, too.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Bold move, letting me choose. I’m warning you, I have excellent taste.”

“Let’s see how excellent it really is,” you teased, tucking your legs beneath you as you took a bite of your food.

Sam, however, froze after his first bite. His eyes widened, and he turned to you with an exaggerated look of awe. “Okay, what is this? Did you make a deal with the devil or something? This is incredible.”

You snorted, trying to hide your grin. “It’s just pasta, Sam.”

“No,” he insisted, pointing his fork at you dramatically. “This is art. It’s poetry. I didn’t even know food could taste like this.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re keeping me fed. It’s only fair I hype you up. But you better give me the recipe before I leave tonight.”

Your cheeks warmed at his playful sincerity, and you ducked your head to take another bite, hoping he wouldn’t notice. The banter eased something in you, though— like you weren’t trying too hard, like you could just be in the moment with him.

Eventually, Sam settled on a movie, popping it into the player before sinking back into the couch with his plate. “Okay, so this one’s a classic,” he said, gesturing toward the TV. “If you hate it, I’ll take the blame, but I promise, it’s amazing.”

“I’m holding you to that,” you said, though your tone was lighter than before.

The movie started, and for a while, the focus shifted to the screen. You found yourself occasionally glancing at him out of the corner of your eye— his easy posture, the way he laughed a little too loudly at the jokes, the way he balanced his plate effortlessly while gesturing with his fork as if narrating the scenes. God, he was such a dork. 

You seemed to gravitate towards one another as you settled into the couch, your dogs soon joining you as they lay on top of each other happily. 

The movie continued to drone on in the background. At first, you’d tried to stay engaged, nodding along at the occasional joke Sam laughed at, but gradually, your attention began to wander. Your fingers toyed with the hem of your sweater, and your plate of half-eaten pasta sat forgotten on the coffee table.

It had been such a nice evening so far— surprisingly so. Sam had been kind, thoughtful, even funny in a way that made you feel at ease. But now, in the quiet comfort of your living room, with him sitting just a little too close, the questions started creeping in.

Why had you asked him to stay?

It had felt right in the moment, natural even. But now, the edges of doubt started to fray that confidence. You barely knew him. Sure, you’d seen him at the park almost every morning, but how much did you really know about him? Enough to invite him into your home? Enough to cook dinner together like… like this was normal?

Your fingers fidgeted against your lap as your chest tightened.

Sure, he seemed nice. But doesn’t it always start like that?

The thought hit you like a cold wave. Your mind turned back to memories you tried so hard to keep buried— moments you didn’t want to revisit but couldn’t stop from surfacing. The times when smiles and kind words turned into raised voices, sharp insults, slammed doors. Or worse.

Your breathing quickened as flashes of those memories filled your mind: the weight of someone’s anger looming over you, the sting of being told you weren’t enough, the fear of not knowing what would set him off next. The boundaries you’d built so carefully around yourself now felt perilously close to crumbling, all because you’d let one man in.

Your stomach twisted. What if this was a mistake? What if he was just better at hiding it than the others?

You glanced at Sam from the corner of your eye. He looked completely at ease, focused on the movie, his body relaxed against the couch. But that didn’t calm the growing unease in your chest. He was sitting close— too close. And while you knew it wasn’t threatening, the proximity still made you acutely aware of your vulnerability.

Your mind raced. You shouldn’t have asked him to stay. You shouldn’t have sent him your address. You shouldn’t—

Bella shifted from her spot on the floor, her soft snuffling breaking your spiraling thoughts. She curled up closer to Sam’s feet, her tail thumping lazily against the floor. He reached down to give her a gentle scratch behind the ears without breaking his attention from the screen.

Something about that small gesture grounded you for a moment. Your breath caught, and you tried to focus on it— on Bella, on the way Sam’s touch was calm and unassuming. And on the way Bella trusted him. But the unease lingered, creeping in at the edges.

This was too much. Too fast.

Your chest felt tight, and you didn’t know how you were going to make it through the rest of the movie. You wanted to get up, to create some space, to pull yourself out of this situation— but you didn’t want to draw attention to your panic. You didn’t want him to notice.

Sam noticed, of course. He always did. “You okay?” he asked, his tone casual, but his eyes searching.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, trying to sound convincing. “Just… full. Food coma incoming.”

He chuckled, not pressing the issue. “Understandable. I’d be out cold too if I wasn’t so invested in your reaction to this movie.”

You gave him a small smile, but your nerves didn’t completely ease. You shifted slightly, creating just enough space between you to make yourself feel a little safer.

The movie carried on, and so did your thoughts. 

You were so lost in your thoughts that the sudden movement beside you felt like a thunderclap. Sam shifted forward on the couch to grab the remote, reaching toward the coffee table. The motion was quick, his hand brushing past yours as he grabbed the remote.

It was such a small movement, but with your mind racing the way it was, you knew anything could have set you off. You flinched, hard, instinctively pulling back as if you’d been burned. Your body reacted before your mind could catch up, muscles tensing and your breath hitching audibly.

The air between you shifted immediately. Sam froze, his hand hovering midair as his eyes snapped to yours. His brow furrowed with concern.

“Woah,” he said softly, his voice calm but tinged with worry. “What was that? Are you okay?”

You tried to force a laugh, to wave it off, but the sound that came out was shaky and unconvincing. “Yeah, sorry. Just… startled me.”

Sam didn’t look convinced. He set the remote down gently on the table and turned his full attention to you, his hands now resting loosely on his knees. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said carefully, his tone deliberate and measured, as though he didn't want to push you further into discomfort.

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, embarrassment mixing with the lingering panic in your chest. “It’s fine,” you mumbled, looking down at your lap. “I just… I don’t know. I guess I was in my own head.”

He nodded slowly, his gaze steady but soft. “Okay,” he said, leaving a pause for you to fill if you wanted to. When you didn’t, he added, “If I did something to make you uncomfortable, you can tell me. I’d never want to—” He stopped himself, his words trailing off, but the sincerity in his voice was unmistakable.

He sighed, and you listened awkwardly as the film continued to play in the background. 

The tension in your chest loosened just a fraction at his words. He wasn’t pressing, wasn’t pushing for answers. He was simply… there. Present. And the way he sat, his posture open and relaxed, made it feel like the ball was entirely in your court.

“It’s not you,” you finally admitted, your voice quiet but steady. “I just… sometimes I get a little jumpy. It’s stupid.”

Sam shook his head immediately. “It’s not stupid.” He hesitated, glancing briefly at Bella, who was now watching the two of you with curious eyes. When he looked back at you, his voice was gentle but firm. “Whatever made you feel like that, it’s not stupid. And if there’s ever something I’m doing that doesn’t feel okay, just tell me. I mean it.”

The knot in your stomach unraveled just a bit more at his words. You nodded, not trusting yourself to say anything without your voice shaking. You bit your cheek as you felt your eyes fill to the brim with tears. God, this was so embarrassing. 

Sam's features softened impossibly further, his hand lifting to reach you, but it hesitated in the air. 

You quickly turned your head away, scratching the back of your head nervously as you blinked furiously, trying to will away your tears. “I’m sorry, I don’t—” You shook your head, wiping a hand over your face before you reluctantly faced Sam again. “I don’t know what's gotten into me.” 

You did, but Sam didn’t need to know that. You pulled all your energy together to force the tears at bay, and returned your gaze to Sam. 

Sam shifted slightly on the couch, his expression caught somewhere between concern and uncertainty. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice careful like he was walking a tightrope. “I don’t want to overstep or make you uncomfortable, but if there’s anything I can do... or if you just want me to shut up and leave you alone, I can do that too.”

You shook your head quickly, your breath hitching as you fought back the lump in your throat. “No, it’s not you,” you repeated, your voice strained. “I just... I’m a mess right now. You don't need to do anything.”

Sam tilted his head, studying you for a moment before he spoke. “I want to, though. Because I care,” he said simply, shrugging like it was the most natural thing in the world. His gaze flicked over your closed-off body language, the way your arms were wrapped tightly around yourself, and you could see the hesitation in him. He didn’t want to push.

He sighed softly, glancing down at Rose and Fox, who were curled up near his feet. “Maybe I should get going,” he said carefully, testing the waters. “It’s late anyway, and these two need their beauty sleep.” He smiled faintly, gesturing toward his dogs, but his eyes stayed on you, gauging your reaction.

Your heart twisted at his words, and you bit your lip instinctively, and your voice came out quiet and unsure. “I’m sorry.”

Sam hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line before he offered you a small, understanding smile. “No, it’s alright,” he said gently. “I can see you need some time to yourself. And that’s okay. I get it.” His tone was so soft, so genuine, that it made your chest ache.

You couldn’t bring yourself to argue. You just nodded, your voice caught somewhere in your throat as you stood to walk him to the door. Bella followed silently at your side, her usual energy replaced with a quiet understanding of the tension in the room.

Sam gathered Rose and Fox, leashing them up before turning back to you. “Thank you for tonight,” he said, his voice warm despite the weight in the air. “Dinner was amazing. And... I hope you’ll text me if you need anything, alright?”

You nodded again, barely able to meet his eyes. “Thanks, Sam. I will.”

With that, he gave you a faint smile, one last glance that lingered a second too long before he opened the door and stepped out into the night. As soon as the door clicked shut, you let out a shaky breath, your legs giving out as you slid down the wall, burying your face in your hands.

The tears came fast and heavy, spilling over like a dam had finally broken inside you. It felt like you cried for hours, each sob pulling from a deep well of pain and frustration you’d kept buried for far too long. You hated this— hated the way your trauma had its claws in every part of your life, ruining even the good things you tried so desperately to hold onto. You wanted to be normal, to feel normal. But instead, you felt broken, incapable of letting anyone in without breaking apart.

Your phone buzzed on the floor beside you, and you wiped at your tear-streaked face as you reached for it, your vision blurry as you unlocked the screen.

It was Sam. “Thank you for dinner tonight. I had a great time. I’m sorry if I upset you.”

The knot in your chest tightened at his words. Even now, he was worried about you, trying to make sure you were okay when he didn’t have to. You stared at the message for a long moment, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as fresh tears blurred your vision.

🐾

The next morning, sunlight streamed through your curtains, far brighter than it should have been. You groaned, sitting up in bed as Bella stretched out beside you, her tail thumping against the blankets. Reaching for your phone, you squinted at the time and felt a pang of guilt hit your chest.

It was late. Too late. You’d missed the park. Again.

“Bella,” you murmured, the sound more like a frustrated groan than anything, rubbing your face as the weight of your restless night settled on your shoulders. Her ears perked up at her name, and she let out a soft, hopeful bark, her eyes darting to the door. She didn’t understand why you hadn’t gotten up earlier, why your routine had been thrown off, but she still looked at you like she trusted you to make it right.

Your thoughts immediately flicked to Sam. He’d probably been at the park with Rose and Fox, glancing toward the entrance like he always did. Waiting. And you hadn’t shown up. Guilt twisted in your chest, but it wasn’t just about missing the park. It was the reason you’d overslept.

The dream— no, the memory— had dragged you back into the dark. It had been so vivid, so real. His voice still echoed in your mind, sharp and cutting, a hand falling down to strike you. It wasn’t the worst memory you’d ever had, but it reminded you of everything. The fear. The helplessness. The suffocating feeling of never being safe, no matter what you did.

And then there was last night— flinching at Sam. The look on his face when you pulled away. The ache in your chest knowing it had nothing to do with him and everything to do with what had been done to you.

You sighed, staring at Bella as she sat at your feet, her tail wagging cautiously, as though trying to coax you into feeling better.

“I know, girl,” you whispered, reaching down to scratch behind her ears. “We’ll go tomorrow.”

But tomorrow wasn’t really what weighed on you. It was the thought of Sam. The thought of how kind and patient he’d been. And the fear that you’d ruined whatever fragile thing was starting to grow between you two.

You weren’t going to let it happen again.

Your past— the yelling, the broken glass, the bruises you’d hidden under long sleeves— had taken so much from you already. But it wasn’t going to take this. It wasn’t going to take Sam. You refused to let those men, those memories, ruin something good. You weren't going to let them continue to control you. 

As you made your way to the kitchen, Bella trailing at your heels, you resolved to text him. To explain, even if it felt awkward or difficult. You couldn’t let the silence between you grow. But before you could, your phone buzzed on the counter. Picking it up, you saw Sam’s name lighting up the screen, and your heart gave an involuntary jolt.

The text read: “Hey, just wanted to check in. Missed you guys at the park this morning. Everything okay?”

You stared at the message for a long moment before typing out a reply. “Hey, yeah, I’m okay. Just overslept, sorry.”

His reply came almost instantly: “Not a worry :) I hope you got some rest at least. The girls missed Bella.”

You smiled softly, though a flicker of nerves still lingered before recycling. “I did, thanks.” 

Before you could overthink it, another message popped up: “I was thinking, I’ve been working on this recipe, and I might need some help. You know, use your culinary skills and all. Also could use someone to taste-test it and tell me if it’s edible.”

You blinked at the screen, reading it twice. Your heart gave a small flutter, but you couldn’t tell if it was from nerves or something softer.

Another message popped up: “No pressure, though. If you’re busy or not feeling it, totally fine. Just thought it might be nice.”

He was careful. You could tell he was trying not to push after last night, and the effort didn’t go unnoticed. Your chest tightened, but not in a bad way. You stared at the message, torn. Dinner. At his place. Alone. The idea felt heavy, but not because of Sam— because of you. Still, you didn’t want to let fear win again. And besides, the way he framed it felt low stakes, almost casual.

Before you could overthink it, another message arrived: “Also, Rose has been stealing things off the counter lately, and I could really use some advice before she eats something she shouldn’t.”

That made you smile, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as Bella nudged your leg. 

“Okay”, you finally typed. “But I’m not an expert, so no promises about Rose.”

The reply came almost instantly: “You’ll do better than me. Friday night? Around 7?”

“Yeah, that works,” you wrote, your pulse quickening.

Sam followed up quickly: “Great. If you change your mind, don’t feel bad, just let me know.”

“I’ll be there,” you replied, before you could talk yourself out of it.

His final message was simple, but it made you smile again: “Looking forward to seeing you. And Bella too, of course. She’s my secret weapon to keep Rose and Fox in line.”

You set the phone down, exhaling slowly. Bella wagged her tail, watching you like she knew something important had just happened.

“I guess we’re going to Sam’s on Friday,” you murmured to her.

Bella’s tail thumped harder, and you reached down to scratch behind her ears. Nerves churned in your stomach, but there was something else there too. Something steadier. A kind of strength in the fact that you knew you were growing. You were leaving that shit behind you. 

Though, the doubts were still there, lingering just beneath the surface like they always were. As you stared at Sam’s text, you tried to push them down. You wanted to move on. You wanted to reclaim the part of your life that felt stolen. Dinner with Sam was a step forward. It wasn’t a declaration of trust or a promise to let your guard down completely, but it was something. Besides, Sam had never given you a reason to fear him. If anything, he’d gone out of his way to make you feel safe. You reminded yourself of his soft patience, his quick smile, the way he’d thanked you for dinner even after you’d practically fallen apart the night before. If anyone deserved a little faith, it was him.

The next few mornings at the park felt like an unspoken agreement to ease the tension. Sam didn’t mention your flinch or your teary goodbye. He treated you just the same as always— grinning as you approached, offering Bella a warm hello, and making little jokes as the dogs ran wild. It was comforting in a way, like he knew you needed the space to find your footing again.

By the time the evening of the dinner rolled around, you’d talked yourself into believing this was a good thing. A normal thing. Still, nerves clawed at your stomach as you approached Sam’s place. Bella trotted at your side, oblivious to your inner turmoil, but her calm presence grounded you just enough to knock on the door.

Sam answered almost immediately, his face lighting up when he saw you. “Hey, you made it,” he said warmly, stepping aside to let you in.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice a little quieter than you wanted it to be. “Thanks for inviting me.”

Sam offered a small shrug, like it wasn’t a big deal. “Of course. And thanks for bringing Bella. The girls will be happy to see her.” 

As you stepped inside, you glanced around nervously. His house was cozy, filled with warm light and signs of life— a guitar leaning against the wall, a piano tucked into the far corner and a few books stacked on the coffee table, and a faint smell of something savory coming from the kitchen.

“You can let her off the leash if you want,” Sam said, gesturing toward Bella, who was already sniffing around curiously. “The girls are in the backyard. She can join them whenever.”

“Okay,” you said, unclipping her leash. Bella wagged her tail, giving you a reassuring glance before trotting off to explore.

“Dinner’s going to take a little while,” Sam said, nodding toward the kitchen. “Hope you’re ready to help, because I’m not exactly known for my cooking skills.”

You let out a nervous laugh, following him toward the kitchen. “Should I be worried?”

“Probably,” he teased, opening the fridge to pull out some ingredients. “Honestly, I need you to save me here. If you leave me to it, we’re eating charred chicken and plain rice.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you reached for a cutting board. “Good thing I’m here, then.”

“Exactly,” he said, smirking as he handed you a knife. “I knew you’d make this work.”

The lightness of his tone started to ease the tension in your chest. As you chopped vegetables and Sam worked beside you— throwing in exaggerated instructions and grinning every time he “consulted” you— it felt easy. Comfortable, even. You found yourself laughing more than you thought you would, and when Sam tasted the sauce you made and dramatically declared it “life-changing,” you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, shaking your head.

“Ridiculously lucky to have you helping me,” he shot back, his grin boyish and teasing. You looked back at the chopping board with a hint of a blush. 

As the minutes ticked by, it became painfully clear that Sam and the sauce were not meant to be. He stirred it with all the confidence of a man who thought he knew what he was doing, but the sizzling sounds and occasional splatters told a very different story.

“Sam,” you said slowly, watching as he aggressively poked at the bubbling liquid with a wooden spoon, “what exactly are you doing?”

He glanced at you, utterly unbothered by the chaos he was creating. “Improvising,” he replied with a grin, giving the sauce an extra stir that sent a small splash onto the counter.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “It looks more like you’re waging war on it.”

“I’m adding character,” he said, feigning offense as he swirled the spoon around dramatically. “This is what chefs do— they experiment.”

“Chefs don’t usually burn the sauce, though,” you teased, leaning over to sniff the air. “Seriously, is that… smoke?”

He froze, his grin faltering as he gave the pot a closer look. “Okay, maybe it’s a little toasted. That’s a flavor profile, right?”

“Not when it smells like a campfire,” you shot back, stepping in to gently nudge him aside. “Alright, sauce master, let’s trade. I’ll handle this before it becomes a kitchen emergency.”

Sam relinquished the spoon with a mock pout, stepping back to let you take over. “Fine,” he said, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “But only because I don’t want to deprive you of the joy of saving dinner.”

“Oh, how selfless of you,” you replied dryly, shooting him a playful glare before turning your attention to salvaging the sauce.

From behind you, Sam muttered something about being unappreciated, but when you glanced over your shoulder, you caught him grinning as he began chopping vegetables with exaggerated precision, clearly unbothered by his failed attempt at culinary greatness.

“You know,” he said, watching you expertly stir the sauce, “I think this is your master plan—let me screw something up so you can come in and save the day.”

“Obviously,” you quipped, shaking your head. “I mean, what better way to assert dominance in the kitchen than by rescuing dinner from your reckless hands?”

As you got started on stirring the sauce, Sam opened a cabinet and frowned. “Forgot the thyme. Again. Be right back— got some in the garden.”

You blinked, surprised. “You have a garden?”

“Don’t sound so shocked,” he shot back with a grin, grabbing the back door handle. “I’m full of surprises.”

You snorted. “What’s next? A compost bin?”

“Mock me all you want,” he called over his shoulder as he stepped outside. “But when this thyme makes you cry over how good this sauce tastes, you’ll owe me an apology!”

As Sam slipped out the back door to grab herbs from his garden, the house fell silent, save for the faint shuffle of the dog's paws as they followed him to the window, tails wagging lazily. You stood in the kitchen, absently wiping your palms on a tea towel. It was strange how quiet everything felt without Sam’s warm, easy presence nearby.

You glanced at the knife you’d been using earlier, resting precariously close to the edge of the counter. Muttering under your breath, you reached out to adjust it. As you stretched to grab the handle, your wrist brushed the corner of a wine glass that had been drying by the side of the sink.

Time seemed to slow as the glass tipped, wobbling once before gravity claimed it. It slipped from the counter and plummeted to the floor, shattering with a deafening crash.

The sound tore through the stillness like a gunshot. Instantly, your chest tightened, your breath catching as your heart began to race. It was so loud. So, so loud. And there was glass everywhere. Shit, shit, shit, shit. The sharp, crystalline sound echoed in your ears, and your mind reeled.

For a moment, you froze, staring at the shards scattered across the floor, gleaming like jagged little stars. Your vision blurred, and the kitchen around you seemed to waver, the walls closing in as a familiar, suffocating sense of dread washed over you.

The world around you dissolved into a haze. The glass wasn’t just glass anymore— it was every slammed door, every smashed object that had signaled danger in the past. Your pulse roared in your ears, drowning out any rational thoughts. Your hands shook as you instinctively dropped to your knees, fumbling for the larger shards, desperate to clean it up before Sam came back inside.

“Oh God, oh God,” you whispered frantically, your voice trembling. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Oh God.”

The words tumbled out in a panicked, incoherent mess as your hands worked faster, clutching at the broken pieces, heedless of the sharp edges biting into your fingertips. The sting barely registered; all you could think about was fixing it, making it right, undoing the mistake.

Bella barked once, and you wondered briefly if it was at Sam, but you hardly noticed. Your breathing grew shallow and uneven, your chest heaving as you fought to keep the panic at bay.

The back door swung open with a creak, and Sam’s voice called out, worriedly, “Hey, what was that? Are you okay?”

He stepped inside, his gaze falling to the scene before him. You were kneeling on the floor, your shoulders hunched and trembling, surrounded by a sea of broken glass.

“Whoa, whoa, hey,” he said quickly, his voice softening as he set the herbs on the counter. “What happened? Are you okay?”

You couldn’t look at him. You couldn’t do anything but mumble a frantic stream of apologies. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to— I’ll fix it, I’ll clean it up, I promise. I’ll—”

“Hey,” Sam interrupted gently, crouching down a safe distance away. His tone was calm, careful, like he was trying not to spook a skittish animal. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. Just stop for a second, okay? You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

You shook your head, your hands still trembling as you tried to pick up another shard. “I have to clean it up. I— I can’t leave it like this. I didn’t mean to—”

“Stop,” Sam said more firmly this time, his hand hovering near yours but not touching. “Please. Just stop.”

His voice cut through the haze, grounding you for a moment. Your hands faltered, falling still as you finally looked up at him. His face was open, his brow furrowed with concern. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t upset.

“Let me handle it,” he said softly, holding your gaze. “You don’t have to do this. Just… take a breath for me, okay?”

You shook your head, fresh tears spilling over. “I ruined everything—”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he said, cutting you off again. “Hey, listen to me. It’s fine. Really. I don’t care about the glass. I care about you.”

His words hit you like a lifeline, cutting through the spiral of panic just enough for you to take a shaky breath.

You bit your lip, wiping at your face as you tried to pull yourself together. “I’m sorry,” you whispered again.

“Don’t be,” he said simply, without a hint of frustration or condescension. “It’s okay.”

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you nodded, your chest heaving as you tried to follow his instructions. Your hands hovered over the shards for a moment longer before you finally let the glass clatter to the floor, your hands falling limply into your lap.

“That’s it,” Sam murmured, his voice low and soothing. He crouched in front of you, his hands hovering just over yours, hesitant. “Can I—?” he started to ask, and when you gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, he gently wrapped his fingers over your hand. His touch was careful, deliberate, as if he knew the wrong move might send you spiraling further.

His thumbs brushed over your knuckles, his touch warm and grounding. “Okay,” he said softly, his eyes fixed on yours, kind and steady. “Let’s just breathe together. You’re safe. Right here, you’re safe.”

You tried to focus on his words, but your chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself, your lungs refusing to fill properly. Your breaths came quick and shallow, each one catching like it wasn’t enough.

“In through your nose,” Sam coaxed, his voice a quiet anchor in the chaos. He exaggerated the motion, inhaling deeply, slow and steady, his shoulders rising just enough for you to notice. “Like this. Just follow me.”

You tried, your breaths hitching at first, but he stayed with you. His eyes didn’t leave yours— not for a second. They weren’t impatient or searching for the right thing to say. They were just… there, holding you in place like a tether.

“That’s it,” he encouraged when you managed even a fraction of a steady inhale. “Now out through your mouth. Slow, like this,” he demonstrated again, his exhale controlled and quiet, and you mirrored it as best you could.

Your hands trembled under his, and he squeezed them gently, his thumbs never stopping their slow, soothing rhythm. “You’re okay,” he said, his tone so soft, so certain, it almost broke something inside you.

Your chest still felt tight, but the air was coming a little easier now, your breaths slowing in uneven increments. Your vision, blurry from tears and panic, began to clear, and you could see the worry etched into his face, the way his brow furrowed just slightly.

“You’re doing so good,” he said, his voice steady, never wavering. “Just keep going. One breath at a time.”

You nodded weakly, tears spilling over despite your efforts to keep them at bay. A shaky sob broke free, and you quickly turned your head, ashamed, but Sam’s grip on your hands tightened, grounding you.

“Hey,” he said softly, pulling your gaze back to him. “It’s okay. You don’t have to hide. Not from me.”

His words hit like a gentle wave, washing over the raw edges of your panic. You blinked rapidly, trying to pull yourself together, but his unwavering presence made it harder to keep the walls up.

“I’m sorry,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t,” he said immediately, his tone firm but gentle. “You don’t have to be sorry for anything. I promise.”

His words wrapped around you like a safety net, and though the panic hadn’t completely left, it was no longer suffocating. Slowly, your breathing evened out, the shaking in your hands subsiding under the warmth of his.

Sam stayed there, crouched in front of you, never rushing, never looking away. His kind eyes softened further when you finally met them fully, your body still trembling slightly but no longer on the edge of breaking apart.

“There you are,” he said quietly, a small, relieved smile pulling at his lips.

Sam waited until he was sure you wouldn’t move before he stood, grabbing the broom and dustpan from a nearby corner. As he swept up the broken glass, he spoke gently, his tone casual but soothing. “I broke my favorite coffee mug last week. Sent coffee everywhere. It was a disaster.”

His attempt to lighten the mood made something stir in your chest— something that felt like gratitude, even if it was buried under layers of shame and panic.

Once the glass was gone and the floor was safe again, Sam turned back to you. “C’mon,” he said softly, holding out a hand to help you up. “Let’s sit down for a minute, yeah?”

You stared at the hand extended toward you for a few long beats, your eyes fixed on his fingers as if they were foreign objects. It wasn’t just a hand— it was trust, it was care, it was safety, and yet all you could feel in that moment was a deep, gnawing hesitation. Your chest still felt tight, your heart racing as echoes of past moments flooded your mind.

The trembling in your hands betrayed you, but Sam didn’t push. He didn’t frown or look impatient. His hand remained steady, palm open, an unspoken reassurance that the choice was entirely yours.

His voice was soft, cutting through the storm in your head like a lifeline. “It’s okay. Take your time.”

That was all it took for something to shift. You blinked, the edges of your vision clearing as you finally looked up at him. His expression wasn’t pitying, wasn’t concerned in a way that made you feel small— it was just patient. Steady. Kind.

Your fingers twitched at your sides before you finally reached out, your hand trembling as it found his. His grip was gentle but firm, warm in a way that made your chest ache with a mix of relief and vulnerability. He didn’t pull you up too quickly or make a big deal of it. He just guided you to your feet, his other hand hovering nearby as if ready to catch you should you falter.

“There you go,” he said quietly, his tone light yet soothing, as if you’d just accomplished something monumental. And, in a way, you had.

Your legs felt shaky as you stood, and when Sam gently guided you to the couch, you didn’t resist. Hearing the commotion, Bella, Rose and Fox had joined you both, sniffing carefully at you, no doubt smelling the anxiety in the air. 

Sam guided you gently to the couch, his hand never leaving yours until you were seated. The soft cushions welcomed you, but your body remained stiff, your shoulders drawn tight as though bracing for impact. He sat beside you, his eyes scanning your face carefully. His hands rested on his knees, open and unassuming, making no move to invade your space further.

“I didn’t mean to freak out like that,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Sam's movements were slow and deliberate as he nodded. “I know. But something tells me this wasn’t just about the wine glass.” He hesitated, his gaze softening as he shifted to sit beside you on the couch, leaving a comfortable distance between you. “Do you want to talk about it? If you don’t, that’s okay. But if you do… I’m here. No judgment.”

You swallowed hard, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “It’s a long story,” you said quietly, your words a little rushed, almost as though you were trying to dismiss the idea altogether. “It doesn’t really matter.”

“It matters,” Sam countered gently. “You matter. But I won’t push you. We can just sit here if that’s what you need.”

His words felt like an anchor in a storm. He wasn’t pressuring you, wasn’t prying— he was just there, a steady presence that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you could let some of the weight go. You drew in a shaky breath, staring down at your hands as the words started to form in your throat.

“It’s not pretty,” you warned, your voice trembling. “It’s… it’s a lot.”

Sam nodded, his expression unwavering. “I can handle a lot.”

You hesitated, the weight of Sam’s steady, concerned gaze almost too much to bear. You’d never been good at this— letting someone in, being vulnerable. But here he was, sitting so close you could feel his warmth, his eyes searching yours like he genuinely wanted to understand. It felt impossible to explain everything, but you knew if you didn’t at least try, the moment would pass, and the weight you carried would stay right where it always had— on your shoulders alone.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady the tremor in your voice. “It’s… it’s not an easy thing to talk about,” you began, staring down at your hands, which were clenched tightly in your lap. “I’ve never really told anyone before.”

Sam leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. His voice was gentle but firm. “You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready. But if you want to, I’m here. I want to listen.”

The sincerity in his words made your throat tighten. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to continue. “I’ve… been in bad relationships. Really bad ones.” Your voice wavered, and you paused, your fingers digging into your palms as if the pressure could keep you grounded.

Sam didn’t say anything, but you felt the shift in his posture, the subtle way he straightened like he was bracing himself for whatever you were about to say.

“It started off so small,” you whispered, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “Little things, you know? Like comments about how I dressed, or what I did. Controlling stuff. But it didn’t stay that way. It got worse— way worse.”

You glanced up at him briefly, and the look on his face made your stomach twist. His brows were furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line, and his eyes… God, his eyes were filled with something you couldn’t quite place. Anger? Sadness? Maybe both.

“Soon it wasn’t just words,” you continued, your voice barely audible now. “There were… fights. Things thrown at me. And sometimes it wasn’t just things— sometimes it was…” You trailed off, your throat tightening painfully as the memories threatened to overwhelm you.

Sam’s jaw tightened, and his hands flexed where they rested on his knees, but he didn’t interrupt.

“They’d hurt me,” you finally forced out, the words feeling sharp and jagged in your throat. “Physically. Emotionally. In ways I didn’t even realize until it was too late. And I let it happen because… because I thought it was normal. Or that it would stop if I was better.”

Sams broke your train of thoughts, his voice slightly croaky. “‘They’?” He swallowed. 

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, and you wiped it away quickly, angry at yourself for falling apart like this. “It happened twice. Got away from one abuser just to get into a relationship with another.” You chuckled humorlessly, “I was young, and stupid.” There was a long beat of silence, your uneven breaths and Sam's anchoring, steady ones the only sound in the room. “Even now, I… I can’t stop expecting someone to yell, or grab me, or…” You shook your head, unable to finish the sentence.

Sam exhaled softly, the sound filled with a quiet frustration that wasn’t aimed at you. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t imagine… I can’t even begin to imagine what that was like for you.”

You shrugged, your shoulders hunched. “I got out. That’s all that matters, right? I should just be over it by now.”

“No,” Sam said firmly, his tone so sudden and certain that it startled you. You looked up at him, surprised by the intensity in his expression. “That’s not how it works. What they did to you— it doesn’t just go away. And it’s not your fault that it doesn’t. None of it was your fault.”

His words hit you like a physical blow, and before you realized what you were doing, you leaned into him, your body tilting toward his as if seeking comfort. You rested your head on his slim shoulder. He didn’t move, didn’t pull back or hesitate, just stayed perfectly still, letting you make the decision to close the distance.

“I hate how much power they still have over me,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I hate that I can’t even break a stupid glass without falling apart.”

Sam shook his head, his hand lifting hesitantly before settling lightly on your arm. His touch was warm and steady, grounding you in a way you didn’t expect. “You’re not falling apart,” he said softly. “You’re still here. So strong, and brave, for trusting me.”

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound catching in your throat. “It doesn’t feel like strength. It feels like I’m barely holding on most days.”

Sam’s grip on your arm tightened just slightly, his thumb brushing against your skin in a way that was both comforting and careful. “Help me ease the burden? Maybe you are holding on. But I can help you carry some of your weight.”

You blinked back tears, the warmth of his touch and the sincerity in his voice making it harder to keep your defenses up. “Why are you so nice to me?”

He smiled faintly, the corners of his mouth tugging upward in a way that softened his entire face. “Because I care about you. And I hate that anyone ever made you feel like you weren’t worth caring about.”

His words shattered something inside you, and before you could stop yourself, you let out a soft, broken sob. Sam’s hand moved to your back, his palm resting there lightly.

“And,” he added cautiously, his voice quiet, “I really, really like you.”

You lifted your head to stare at him, the words hanging in the air like they’d been suspended just for you. A part of you wanted to shy away, to laugh it off, to hide behind that defense you’d built so carefully. But his eyes— those warm, steady eyes— kept you anchored. He wasn’t taking the words back. He wasn’t looking away.

When he spoke again, his voice was softer, almost cautious. His hand moved up your arm in a featherlight touch. “Don’t feel like you have to say anything,” he murmured, his thumb brushing just slightly against your sleeve. “And I’m sorry if… if that wasn’t the right time. I just—” He exhaled, his lips twitching in a nervous half-smile. “I just want to be here for you.”

You dropped your gaze to your hands, fidgeting with your fingers, trying to steady the racing in your chest. When you glanced back up, your eyes moved over him with quiet curiosity, as if seeing him for the first time. The faint scruff lining his jaw, the soft mustache that twitched just slightly when he breathed, the way his brows dipped, like he was bracing himself for you to pull away. And those eyes. God, those eyes.

“Sam,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. Your hand moved almost without thought, finding the solid warmth of his forearm.

His gaze flicked down to where your fingers rested before returning to yours, his brows lifting just slightly. “Yeah?” His voice was soft, but there was something raw in it, something that made your chest ache.

You leaned in a fraction, testing the space between you. Your heart hammered, but you couldn’t stop yourself. “Kiss me, please,” you murmured. The words felt foreign but right, trembling as they left your lips.

His breath caught. You could see it, feel it. His hand shifted slightly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and deliberate, like he was giving you every chance to back away.

You nodded, your body moving closer, instinct overriding fear. “Yes.”

Sam exhaled, his lips parting slightly as he leaned in, closing the distance. The first press of his lips against yours was gentle, impossibly tender, like he was holding back everything he wanted to give. His hand moved to your face, his fingers warm and steady as they cradled your jaw, grounding you.

The kiss deepened just slightly, enough to make your breath hitch, enough to remind you of just how good it felt to do this, with someone you liked— someone that made you feel safe. His other hand slipped down to yours, fingers intertwining in a way that made you feel tethered, present. His thumb brushed softly over your skin.

When he pulled back, it was slow, deliberate, his forehead resting against yours like he couldn’t bring himself to let you go just yet. His breathing was steady, calming, and you let yourself match it, your chest rising and falling in sync with his.

“I’ll make sure you feel safe,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand lingered at your jaw, his thumb brushing a tear you didn’t even realize had fallen. “Every day, if you let me.”

You let out a shaky breath, your eyes closing as the weight of his words settled over you. They weren’t just pretty promises; you could feel the truth in them, in him. Slowly, you opened your eyes and nodded, your lips curving into the smallest, most vulnerable smile.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you believed him. Or, at the very least, you wanted to try. Maybe this could work. 

🐾

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[edenscollardrawer]

thank you for providing for the DOL lesbians 🙏 i would love anything with syd/pc… maybe something with syd and pc fooling around in the sex shop after hours? :3c

After Hours - f!Sydney/f!PC

18+, content warnings & tags: public sex, sex toys, established relationship, oral sex, fingering 1573 words - I hope you enjoy! Thank you so much for your request!

Elk Street. A shady corner of town home to little more than dilapidated storefronts, pollution filled factories, and an overflowing landfill. Sirrus’ sex shop was a new addition, and the glaring neon sign stuck out amongst the grime. While the new attraction certainly caught your eye, nothing appealed to you quite as much as the store owner’s adorable daughter who worked the counter on weekends. 

You’d spent the sweltering summer helping them repair the ramshackle shop, and in the process you’d grown quite fond of the amber-eyed beauty. You weren’t sure if it was your influence, or maybe just her job at the store - but she’d really blossomed in the last few months. Her thick rimmed glasses were replaced with contacts, her strawberry blonde hair dyed black - faded into an almost green color with her natural hair peeking out at the roots.

On this cloudy evening, Sirrus is out running errands - leaving you and Sydney in charge of the shop. The location of the store meant that most days were fairly quiet, today was no different. 

You both sat idly in the front, time ticking by at a snail's pace. With a pouty sigh, she leans her head on your shoulder gently, her black hair cascading down your back.

 “I am so bored. Who knew a sex store could be so… dull.” She declares. A coy smile spreads across your cheeks, your heart skipping a beat.

“Maybe… Maybe it doesn’t have to be?” You swallow audibly, feeling sick to your stomach at witnessing your own courage. Sydney’s face immediately flushes a delicate pale pink. She bites her lower lip, gaze falling to the ground. You see her chest rising and falling quickly, her pupils dilated. Her hands reach into her skirt pockets. Clearing your throat, you test the waters. 

“We can always… you know - make our own fun.” your own cheeks turn red, a coy smile gracing your mouth. Your own confidence surprises you. Sydney’s breath hitches, her eyes meeting yours. 

As much as she’d changed in the recent months, she was still that timid girl at heart. Trembling knees come to a stand, your feet shuffling towards her hesitantly. The air in the small shop feels thick. The distance between the two of you closes, your nervous hands coming to rest on her hips. Her gaze darts down to your lips. Tentative hands squeeze the fabric of her skirt, pulling her flush to you.

“There’s actually a lot to do here, if you think about it.” Her voice is hardly above a whisper, warm breath fanning over your face. The implication of her words hangs between you two, lips just inches apart. 

You can't think straight. The way her hair cascades down her bare shoulders, the summer heat evident from the dark tank top she wears. The straps hug her collarbones, the thin fabric accentuating her hardening nipples. Your voice catches in your throat. You close the distance, soft lips locking together like pieces of a puzzle. 

Needy hands run up her body, trailing slowly over the front of her charcoal colored shirt. Fingers brush over the swell of her breasts - making a lecherous gasp leave her. Her lewd noises embolden you while you lift her up, pushing her onto the sale counter. Your body settles between her legs. Sydney wraps her arms around your neck, pulling you back in. Tongues tangle together, warm moans lingering in the small space. 

The counter creaks softly under her weight as you grind against Sydney’s aching core, eliciting a needy whimper. Her back arches, chest pressing against yours. Your naive hands trace under the thin fabric, lifting it over her head. Her modest breasts fall free, making you gasp. She’s beautiful, effortlessly so. Your touch is growing hungry, starved for more of her. Soft palms cup her bare breasts, thumbs circling the hardening peaks. Sydney’s head falls back and your head dips down, capturing her rosy nipple between your lips. 

Her breathing grows thready, thighs encircling your waist. You’ve spent so many nights alone imagining this exact scene - her soft body wrapped around yours in the quiet shop. Pulling back to look up at her blushing cheeks and trembling legs, she’s already so disheveled. She pants softly, gazing down at you with hearts in her eyes. Skirt pushed up to her waist, her purple lace panties were growing increasingly damp with every touch. Your hands trail down her waist, thumbs hooking into her waistband. In a swift motion that makes her gasp, you pull them down fully - revealing her dripping core to your hungry eyes. 

You scrunch up the drenched panties and shove them into the back pocket of your denim shorts. Kneeling down between her open legs, you kiss up her sensitive inner thighs. Your face hovers just above her soaked folds, inhaling her musky scent. You press your open mouth against her clit. Sucking her tender bud between your lips, she lets out a whimper as you devour her. One hand holds her trembling thigh steady as the other traces down her wet slit, two digits slipping into her soaked walls. 

Meanwhile - Sydney reaches over to the nearby display and thrusts out a sparkly purple dildo, about 6 inches long. She taps you on the shoulder, interrupting the sordid exchange. Your cheeks flush now, eyes going wide. Clearing your throat, you reach out to take it, aligning it with her prepared opening. Sydney whines eagerly as the cool silicone presses against her heated flesh. You push the purple toy into her tight entrance, reaching a steady rhythm as your warm breath fans over her pussy. 

Sydney's fingers thread into your hair, pushing your mouth back onto her clit. Her walls clench around the dildo while you thrust the toy in and out of her. Her hips buck involuntarily against your face, seeking more pressure. Feral claws dig into her hips, yanking her closer to your hungry tongue. You bury yourself within her folds as the purple toy pistons into her - lapping at the gushing juices. Whining moans and insatiable slurping fill the empty shop. Animalistic, sloppy sounds of the toy’s relentless pounding. 

The scent of sex permeates the air. Juices drip down your chin, leaving a thin coating on the glass sales counter. Her whines reach a new pitch as her walls clench around the dildo, stilling it inside her while her legs lock you in place. You moan against her, lapping up the juices that spill out from her throbbing center. Her legs loosen enough for you to pull the toy from her pulsating core, tossing it onto the floor with a small clatter. You push yourself up, face meeting her panting form. Reaching forward, you grab her chin - pulling her into a sticky lip-lock. Your tongues intertwine, her essence mingling with saliva. Sydney whines softly into the messy kiss, pushing you back. 

“Your turn.” She whispers. Her wobbly legs push off the counter, her skirt floating down to hide her lack of underwear. She wraps her arms around your waist and drags you into her, her thigh pressing up into your clothed core. 

“My beloved… So beautiful…” She croons softly, her thigh gently grinding against you. In a sudden movement that forces the air from your chest, she spins you around and pushes you into the cold glass window - leaving you fully on display for anyone who might walk by. In that moment you couldn’t be more grateful that Elk Street was on the edge of town. 

Her wanting grip holds onto the hem of your light-wash shorts, tugging them down to the ground along with your panties. She gets on her knees, practically crawling towards you like a hungry animal as she dives in - wet, rhythmic lapping against your slit. Her face buried in your soft ass as she tongue-fucks you relentlessly. Trembling hands leave prints on the window where you brace yourself. Breathless gasps intertwine with stuttered moans. A drawn out whine escapes her lips. Your cunt drools onto her waiting tongue while your hips buck against her face urgently. Back arching, you realize just how pent up you’ve been. Your whole body stiffens, gaping mouth letting out a loud gasp.

“Fuck, Sydney–!” your hips stutter against her face. She withdraws to lick her lips, smiling sheepishly. Gripping your waist, she pulls herself back to a stand, flattening out her skirt and gently spinning you around to face her. She seems almost shy now, the way she’s twiddling with the hem on her sleeves. Tentatively, as if foolishly worried you might offend her - you lean in and plant a gentle peck on her cheek.

“That was… really fun.” your voice is shallow and quiet, cheeks flushing at the admission. She nods in agreement, the same flush crossing her own cheeks. Despite all the sordid exchanges you’ve shared together, the shy feeling afterwards never seemed to go away. She always got your heart racing, before, after, and (obviously) during. You wrap your arms tightly around your friend, pulling her into you and nipping at her earlobe. The bells above the door let out a high-pitched jingle as Sirrus makes her entrance, smiling widely at the two girls standing in front of her.

"Hey, girls. How was it? I hope not too awful," The two of you glance at each other, stifling your giggles, and exchanging knowing smiles. You find yourself wondering if Sirrus has more errands to run soon. Hopefully.

[eirenical]

Let No One Be Forgotten (4,951 words) by eirenical for @fixaidea

Summary:

Ten years ago, an accident left Wu Xie in a coma from which he has not yet awoken. With their Triangle too long broken, Pangzi and Xiaoge are willing to do anything, to sacrifice anything, to get him back.

“A picnic. Picture a forest, a country road, a meadow. Cars drive off the country road into the meadow, a group of young people get out carrying bottles, baskets of food, transistor radios, and cameras. They light fires, pitch tents, turn on the music. In the morning they leave. The animals, birds, and insects that watched in horror through the long night creep out from their hiding places. And what do they see? Old spark plugs and old filters strewn around... Rags, burnt-out bulbs, and a monkey wrench left behind... And of course, the usual mess—apple cores, candy wrappers, charred remains of the campfire, cans, bottles, somebody’s handkerchief, somebody’s penknife, torn newspapers, coins, faded flowers picked in another meadow.” ― Arkady Strugatsky, Boris Strugatsky, Roadside Picnic

Today

“Did we forget anything?”

Xiaoge, still stuffing essentials into pockets of his backpack, slowly shook his head.

“Did you get any sleep this afternoon?”

Xiaoge paused, considered the easy lie for a moment, then slowly shook his head once more.

“You went to go say goodbye, didn’t you. Spent the whole damned day at the research institute hospital sitting at his bedside instead of resting.”

Neither of those were questions, but Xiaoge nodded in response, anyway. He would be ready for tonight. Pangzi understood that, even if he scolded. He would be able to protect them in the Zone better with the memory of Wu Xie held clear and tightly in his mind than with any amount of sleep. Pangzi understood that, as well. Xiaoge had seen Pangzi sneaking out as he’d snuck in, having spent the night in the hospital watching over Wu Xie before going home to get some sleep.

It was good.

They would both need all the memories of Wu Xie they could gather, to do what they had to do tomorrow.

The impossible.

Continue reading on AO3

Notes, tags, and other fic info beneath the cut.

August 24, 2024: This fic was written for @fixaidea for the @pingxie-exchange and is based off a book called Roadside Picnic whose virtues Fixa has been extolling for some time. ;D Anyway, she was right, the book is SO GOOD and I highly recommend it. I've been told you can understand this fic without having read the book, but here's a little help: the basic premise of the book is that aliens have (very briefly) visited Earth and left behind several zones of altered space. Within these altered spaces, the laws of physics do not necessarily always apply and there are also altered objects that humans have since repurposed for their own uses. People periodically visit the zones legally, for research purposes (scientists), and illegally, for profit (stalkers). That should be all you need to know. ^_^

And I'd like to say a GIANT thank you to @bbcphile for an extremely last minute beta and boatloads of encouragement. ^_^

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 盗墓笔记 - 南派三叔 | The Grave Robbers' Chronicles - Xu Lei Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Wu Xie/Zhang Qiling, Wang Pangzi & Wu Xie & Zhang Qiling, Wang Pangzi & Zhang Qiling Characters: Zhang Qiling, Wu Xie (DMBJ Series), Wang Pangzi Additional Tags: Roadside Picnic AU, The Iron Triangle | Wang Pangzi & Wu Xie & Zhang Qiling, Angst, Coma, Angst with a Happy Ending, Whump, Zhang Qiling Needs a Hug, Zhang Qiling Gets a Hug, Cuddling & Snuggling, Kisses, Caretaking, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Alternate Universe, Wu Xie's Curiosity Gets Him Into Trouble... Again, Established Wu Xie/Zhang Qiling

[verdant-mainframe]

█░█░█ █▀█ █ ▀█▀ █▀▀ █▄▄ █░░ █▀█   █ █▄░█ ▀█▀ █▀█ █▀█ ▀▄▀▄▀ █▀▄ █ ░█░ ██▄ █▄█ █▄▄ █▀▄   █ █░▀█ ░█░ █▀▄ █▄█

we find ourselves in the thralls of a winding, boundless network here. within the core of it, there is a central mainframe. the code stretches out, streaks of green light across all space, casting shadows resembling sprawling trees. intertwined in the absolutely baffling circuitry of it all is a verdant core.

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷

𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤

i welcome you all to the verdant mainframe, aka my writeblr. my name is verde (they/them), and, well, there's no right way to say this, i suppose... but i am in the centre of a strange, henceforth unknowable, digital landscape. from the inside, it looks almost like a forest. but i take it from the outside it just looks like numbers, doesn't it? in so many words, i am a little... trapped here. don't worry, i'm working on it. but oh boy, do i have a story or two to tell while i'm here, unscrambling this network.

𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕞𝕖 + 𝕞𝕪 𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪 ꩜

a little about me, i've been writing for most of my life, and decided to jump the gun and make a writeblr account for this project of mine. and i do mean jumping the gun - the project is so new it hardly has a name! tentatively called "the verdant project" (because we love a connected motif in this house), i'm aiming to make a multimedia story, containing everything from letters, video and audio transcripts, message threads, and more. the aim of the verdant project is to tell a story with all the means available to me. stories are everywhere, in so many forms, so i want the verdant project to explore that! the smaller details are currently unknown to me, 'course, but i wanted to get my foot in the door early (assuming the door is an endless line of code i am trying to escape from. fun metaphors and the like).

𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕤, 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕚𝕗𝕤, 𝕖𝕟𝕘𝕒𝕘𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥, 𝕖𝕥𝕔

any and all engagement is appreciated greatly - from likes, reblogs, comments, etc, i love to see it all, i'd be beyond flattered to be seen in that way. i also have an open door policy for tagging. i'm not too big on holding my own tag lists or anything, but if you've got a project you wanna talk about, tag me, message me, chuck an ask my way, anything! i love hearing about other creative's stories, and if you want a listening ear for your projects, i'm always available. tag games, asks, and all that fun stuff, would be greatly appreciated too (though it may take a while due to my uh,, unpreparedness with everything)!

𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕔𝕝𝕦𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟 ↺

i think that all about wraps up what i wanted to say. hopefully i'll have more content about the verdant project soon, i'm stoked to get it started! in the meantime, i'm happy to be here, idly observing behind the mainframe. thanks for coming around! back to cyberspace for me,, ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷

[impishtubist]

wednesday snippet

I was tagged by @strugglequill and @lynxindisguise in snippet games this week, but instead of a snippet, I bring you a lil ficlet (and I'm switching fandoms entirely, sorry not sorry).

@allcanonisrelative and I are fairly prolific coauthors, but our problem is that we cowrite a lot of things that go unfinished 😂 This is my portion of a fic that was supposed to be an AU for M*A*S*H after "Yessir, That's Our Baby". We never finished it, but we had a blast planning/writing it. And what the heck, the fandom can always use more Hawkeye + babies content.

CW for period-typical attitudes/thoughts/vocabulary re: queerness.

Tagging @allcanonisrelative @serpercival and any other MASHoles who see this and want to play along with the snippet game!

---

“She has your eyes.”

Hawkeye barely hears him, absorbed as he is in the tiny hand that’s wrapped around the tip of his finger. When the words sink in, he shoots BJ an unimpressed look.

“My eyes, huh?”

“Well, she certainly doesn’t have your nose.” 

“Ha, ha.”

They’re both sitting on Hawkeye’s cot, BJ pressed up against him so that he’s a single line of heat all along Hawkeye’s side. There’s no reason for him to be so close, but Hawkeye’s not about to question his good fortune. BJ leans over, crowding into Hawkeye’s space, and runs the tip of his finger down the baby’s tiny button nose. Hawkeye’s nostrils fill with the scent of clean soap and stale sweat, BJ’s sweat, and his mind stutters to a halt. BJ always does that, stops Hawk dead in his tracks with a touch or a glance or a smile, and then he carries on without pause, oblivious to the fact that Hawkeye’s entire world has been knocked off-kilter.  

The baby snuffles in her sleep, and suddenly she’s the only thing in Hawkeye’s world. He’s mesmerized by her round cheeks, by her tiny pink lips, by the dark wisps of hair on her head. He strokes a thumb over her silk-soft cheek and she doesn’t wake, merely snuggles closer to him. 

“She looks good on you,” BJ murmurs. His other hand is pressed against Hawkeye’s lower back, and for a moment, Hawkeye allows himself to indulge in the fantasy that this is real, that BJ’s touch is that of a lover instead of merely a friend, and that the baby--

It’s too outlandish. Too perverted. Men with his inclinations don’t have children, and the idea of having one with another man? Sidney Freedman would have him locked up faster than he could say please BJ I want to have your baby.

But because Hawkeye is, at his core, a selfish man, he whispers, “What should we name her?”

He keeps his voice pitched low, like it would break the spell if he said it any louder. He expects BJ to scoff, to move away, to laugh at his joke and tell him it’s time the baby went back to Margaret’s tent.

Instead, BJ murmurs, “Elizabeth.” 

“Elizabeth?” Hawkeye repeats, too startled for a witty rejoinder. He hadn’t expected an answer at all, much less for BJ to indulge him this fantasy.

“Mm. But we’ll call her Eliza for short.” 

We? Hawkeye can barely breathe, all the breath punched from his lungs by a single word. We. BJ says it so naturally, like it’s a foregone conclusion. We. Us. BJandHawkeye, HawkeyeandBJ.

“Beej,” Hawkeye whispers, the word cracked-open and aching and raw. 

BJ lifts his head, nose grazing Hawkeye’s cheek, and Hawkeye shivers. He turns--

The door to the Swamp opens, and Margaret breezes in. BJ pulls away from Hawkeye, swiftly putting several inches between them, and Hawkeye feels cold at the loss.

“It’s past her bedtime,” Margaret says sternly, holding out her arms for the baby. Hawkeye hands her over, too stunned to do anything else. What did BJ mean by we? Why had he played along? Had they been about to…

He won’t allow himself to think it. He can’t. 

And then suddenly Margaret and the baby are gone, and BJ crawling under his blanket on the other side of the tent, and Hawkeye is alone, his arms empty and aching.

[baldursgrave69]

Faerûnian 29-day Writing Challenge: Day 3

It is day 4 but I accidentally posted the wrong work yesterday, so here I am reposting the actual work for day 3.

NSFW prompt 14: intimate touching without intercourse

I don't have anything to post for today bc I didn't get to write, so here's a reminder that I have my Agnes series I'm Lost But I Don't Know Why posted on Ao3, find it here

Summary: Ozzy gives Astarion a helping hand ;)

Pairing: Astarion x nonbinary!tav (named)

Word count: 660

Tags: MATURE, MDNI, one shot, smut w/out plot, smut and fluff, a little bit of fluff bc it's me

Help

“Would you like some help, Starry?” Ozzy asked, watching Astarion from the other end of his tent as he awkwardly adjusted his trousers. 

“Help with what?” He snipped, turning towards Ozzy. 

Ozzy let their eyes trail down to his crotch, the material of his pants clearly straining with an erection. 

“I-“ he started, letting his shoulders hang and turning fully towards the tiefling. 

“Help how?” He asked awkwardly, adjusting the sleeve of his tunic. 

Ozzy was seated on his bedroll with a book in hand, their back against a crate. They set the book down, spreading their legs and patting the space between them.  

Astarion cautiously approached Ozzy, sitting down between their legs with his back to them. Ozzy’s dexterous fingers got to work, unlacing his trousers and freeing his erection. He groaned as his cock sprang free, the pressure from his erection straining against his pants finally relieved. Ozzy pressed kisses to the vampires neck, their tail pressing against his knee to spread his legs wider. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” Ozzy said, their face buried in Astarion’s neck as they slowly stroked his length, collecting drops of pre-spend and dragging it down his shaft. Astarion relaxed back into Ozzy, his head falling onto their shoulder. Ozzy grabbed a bottle of oil from the crate behind them, flipping the top open and allowing some to drip down onto their hand and Astarion’s cock. Ozzy swiped their thumb along the head, eliciting a whimper from the vampire. 

Ozzy stroked his cock slowly, kissing his neck and whispering encouragement against his skin. “You’re so beautiful like this, Astarion,” they purred, using both hands to pump his length. 

“Oh, gods, don’t stop,” he moaned, bucking his hips. The tiefling increased their pace, rubbing his swollen head with their thumb as they stroked him. Astarion shuddered under their touch, his breath growing ragged. 

“You can come for me, can’t you?” Ozzy whispered in his ear, their teeth grazing his earlobe. Astarion whined, feeling his climax rapidly coming closer. Astarion leaned his head back, pressing his head against Ozzy’s neck as he rutted into their hand. Astarion came with a gasp, spilling into the tiefling’s hand. They could feel his cock pulsing under their fingers as he climaxed, his spend covering their hand. 

“You did so good for me, Starry,” Ozzy said, pressing kisses to the vampires neck as he relaxed back into them. They pulled their hand away, reaching behind them and cleaning his spend off of their fingers with a towel. 

Ozzy kissed the tip of Astarion’s ear, placing a rag in his hand to clean up. Once Astarion had wiped himself down and tucked his length back into his trousers, he turned to the tiefling, pressing his lips to theirs. Astarion turned around fully, trailing his lips down their jaw to their neck, a hand coming up to press against their core. 

“Astarion,” Ozzy said, pushing him away gently. “This wasn’t a transaction. You don’t have to do something for me now,” they said, tucking a hair behind his ear. Astarion looked at them dumbfounded. “I did that because I wanted to. I did it because I…” the tiefling trailed off, taking in a deep breath. “I did it because I care about you,” they finished, averting their gaze. 

“Oh,” Astarion said, resting his head on Ozzy’s stomach. The tiefling wrapped their tail around his waist, holding him tightly against them. Astarion nuzzled his face against Ozzy, letting out a loud, contented sigh. 

“What were you going to say before?” Astarion said after a moment of silence, picking his head up to look at Ozzy. 

“What? Oh, nothing,” Ozzy said, their face turning red. 

“You said you did it because, and then trailed off,” Astarion continued, pulling himself up closer to Ozzy’s face. 

“Drop it, Starry,” Ozzy hissed, flicking his nose. 

“I care about you too,” he said, kissing their forehead before lying back down on their chest. 

[greyborn2]

WIP (belated) Wednesday

Got tagged in by the fantabulous pair @thana-topsy and @kookaburra1701 but, at the time, didn't have anything cooking. Have since cracked and started working on my still-unnamed Goblin TES fic featuring the Tel Mithryn crew and 1 (one) goblin!! So ya! Have finally written up a little chunk and toooootally not just using a belated WIP wednesday as an excuse to share it;

The town of Dagon Fel had, all things considered, taken the eruption of Red Mountain remarkably well. Those vicious plumes of ash and fire that had come forth from it, scouring most other settlements from Vvardenfell, had been redirected by the cliffs of Sheogorad’s southern shore. Dagon Fel, on the northern one, had been as protected as Raven Rock behind its bulwark. In the shadow of the ruins of Mzulft, the town survived. The town thrived.

Survivors had come flocking there, first in scatterings, then in droves. Settling down and quickly overpopulating the original Nord inhabitants of the town. It became a gateway settlement – the last stop for hundreds of refugees before they moved on to Solstheim, or Skyrim. The old Nordic townhouses torn down, or burned down by ashfall, to be replaced sturdier stone dunmeri buildings. A city of tents spiraling out around it, dwarfing that core permanent settlement in size and population alike.

Always, though, in that space between tent-town and true-town, a small gap was left. A market square, one might call it if they were being generous. In the panic to flee one’s home one grabbed all manner of brick-a-brack that only later, on reflection, turned out to be useless. Antique kitchenware, ceremonial armors… books. The refugees of Dagon Fel flocked to that market to pawn off those old keepsakes in the face of desperation, hoping to make a few more septims to fund their journey further afield from the vicious glow of the mountain.

All sorts of interesting things turned up in those markets. Things people didn’t need to survive, maybe, but had worth in other ways. It was this small market of desperate fools that kept Neloth coming back to Dagon Fel, away from his tower in Solstheim. That small market and the occasional treasures it held.

The boy – Talvas – was being a nuisance, as always, as children his age were want to do. Enough to make him question why he had taken him on as an apprentice in the first place. Running here and there, poking at the piles of trash and treasures the folks were trying to peddle, tugging on Neloth’s robe’s incessantly with some new exclamation of “Look at this master!” or “What about that master?”. His high spirits were sickening and his pestering a pain. To make matters worse the boy’s hands where filthy – though his ashen skin hid the true ash on them well – and he kept. Rubbing. Those. Grubby. Hands. On. His. Best. Robes.

Neloth let out a hiss of annoyance, shooing his pest of an apprentice away again to return his attention to the reason he had come here. Not that any amount of attention would help – on the sliding scale of trash to treasure it was decidedly skewed towards the former this season. No matter how refugees tried to extort the ‘historical value’ of ancient familial records or now-useless scrolls of Almsivi Intervention they were of no use, and even less interest, to him.

Slowly but surely his circuit brought him from the trash markets to the one place in Dagon Fel that could be relied upon for some base level of quality. Even if the goods here were decidedly more… perishable.

As such places generally were, the slave markets of Dagon Fel were a sad little affair. Only the Dres tried to hide the misery places like that held. Mostly this one wasn’t even run by distinguished traders, it was just unfortunates trying to sell themselves or a family member off for some hope of escaping this ashen rock. It took Neloth a good hour of questioning and shooing away hopefuls before he even started to find some that knew the first thing about brewing tea. Even fewer seemed to have the skill… the basic decencies… he expected of a potential steward.

He had just started to talk with a promising young woman – a Nalona or Varona or something to that effect – when that blasted apprentice of his came to pester once more. Tugging away on his sleeve, leaving dusty, grimy, fingerprints on the yellowed fabric he had worked – or more accurate had someone else work – to keep so clean. “Master Neloth, sir!! Sir!!” he had said, eagerly, “Not. Now. Boy. Go find some other children to pester with your inane discoveries…” “But… Master Neloth… sir… it’s so ugly!!!” – sure enough, the boy was pointing eagerly with his other, equally filthy, hand towards a nord man of no fair looks but… no… he was pointing at what the man was holding. Not the man. What he was trying to sell. A small bundle that, after a moment, Neloth realized was a baby. Or else something decidedly baby-shaped.

“We are looking for a steward, boy. Not another infant. Now please, me and Sera Belona-” the young woman interjected with a quiet, barely audible, correction of ‘Varona, sir’ under her breath “-yes, yes, that’s what I said. We were talking, boy.”

“But… master… it’s hideous!! It has to be half… half Falmer or… or… something!! Maybe even a troll!!”

There was no arguing with him. Besides, he was mostly done with this Varona woman anyway… what could be the harm in amusing the boy just this once? Neloth let out a long sigh, gesturing towards the docks and saying a last few words to the woman before he followed his apprentice to see the sight; “You will report to my ship, at the docks. Sera Mothren will give you something more… presentable… to wear for the return voyage to Tel Mithryn. You are to treat her with all the respect you would treat me. She is an asset to my house and I will not have her disrespected.” “I… yes Serjo Neloth, sir. Understood, sir.” – she wasted no time, at least, following the orders she had been given.

All in all, Neloth wasn’t completely sure what he had expected to see bundled up in the Nord warrior’s arms, offered up for sale. Perhaps some unfortunate burn victim from the ashlands. Perhaps just a particularly hideous bosmeri babe, given the pathetically small size. No… what he saw instead caught him by no small surprise, even if he did his best to hide it.

It was an infant, yes, but nothing human or merish. Not even orcish.

If an adult of its species was a rat, this thing certainly looked the part of a newborn pup. Its flesh pinkish-grey rather than the grey-blue of an adult. Its eyes large enough to bulge out of its tiny head, though still sealed behind closed lids that had not yet opened and seen the world. Its skin wrinkled and thin enough that veins could be seen through it. More foetus than baby. Small enough that one could almost hold it all cupped in one hand. Long ears sticking out either side of its misshapen head under a soft white-haired fuzz. Viciously fanged mouth not even crying just… opening and closing. As if it expected food to be delivered straight to that vicious little maw it had. No… what his damnable apprentice had found was a goblin. A goblin babe.

[thegeminisage]

STAR TREK MASTERPOST

hi my name is liz and i'm watching the entirety of star trek in release order, so this post was SIGH inevitable. i will edit with updates it as i make more

FANFIC

Gambler's Knife - AOS, Spirk, 22k. Twelve years after Tarsus IV and three months after dying to realign the warp core and save his ship, Jim Kirk seems to have a new lease on life: he's been resurrected, started pursuing a tentative new relationship with Spock, and has an entire five-year mission ahead of him. That is, until the attempted murder of an old friend forces him to divert the Enterprise away from her intended course and towards Planet Q. After a chance encounter on the planet's surface, new secrets about Jim's time on Tarsus IV come to light—secrets that threaten to destroy everyone he fought to protect, and the new life he's finally achieved. Some things you carry with you wherever you go.

SKIP/WATCH LIST

as i watch star trek, i am making an incredibly detailed spreadsheet which aims to guide new people into what to watch...or what not to watch. this list includes every single movie and tv series (including the animated ones), multiple watch orders (release order vs chronological order), runtimes, content warnings, and indicators on which characters feature in which episodes + indicators on which episodes are important for continuity. the only catch is i am updating it as i go, so it's a verrry slow work in progress. i've also still got a few blanks in the tos bit.

currently the only tumblr post with a link is this one, but i'll make a better post once i've finished going back and filling in the blanks on the tos section.

SPOCKANALIA DIGITIZATION

@maulthots and i are working on digitizing all 5 volumes of SPOCKANALIA - retyping text, cleaning up images, and adding alt text. they'll be added here as we complete them.

Volume 1

EPISODE REWRITES

sometimes star trek makes me crazy and i wanna fix it, but i don't have the time or patience to rewrite it in fic form so we get tumblr posts instead. they are in the order that i did them. right now there are only a few but i want to do like a thousand

[tos] the motion picture

[tos] the tholian web

[tng] violations

META

these are mostly small posts for now. someday i might make big ones.

marrying a vulcan is not unlike being a horsegirl

tos kirk vs aos kirk on retirement and the infinity of the universe

tos spock vs aos spock on love and death being real

tos spock vs aos spock on becoming close to one parent but remaining forever separated from the other

kirk and bones react differenly to spock showing emotion

CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE SPACE BABES - kirk's encounters with women are often nonconsensual (collaboration with @maulthots)

funniest possible pre-mcspirk situation in aos

aos plot devices we could have had

small post about vulcans getting drunk on chocolate the first time

GRAPHICS

most of these are shitposts.

spock in shades for my header

"then perish" tas bones meme

spones graphic for wrath of khan/search for spock

CLIPS

i make clip shows sometimes.

bones being possessed in search for spock

tos scenes that remind me of tarsus iv

kirk insults spock for a minute and a half

kirk reacting to spock's emotions vs bones reacting to spock's emotions

STAR TREK TAGS

#tos -the original series

#tas - the animated series

#tmp - the motion picture

#wok - the wrath of khan

#sfs - the search for spock

#tvh - the voyage home

#tff - the final frontier

#tuc - the undiscovered country

#tng - the next generation

#ds9 - deep space nine

#aos - collective tag for the kelvin timeline movies

#st books - posts about the star trek novels

#st comics - posts about the star trek comics

#vintage trek - anything from before the turn of the century

#spockanalia - post about spockanalia, an early spock-centric fanzine

#spirk - kirk/spock

#spones - spock/bones

#mckirk - kirk/bones

#mcspirk - spock/kirk/bones

#st fav - fav star trek posts

LIVEBLOG TAGS

this includes the series AND the novelizations, if/when applicable - i am working my way through the tos movie novelizations and i want to read more. also, spockanalia <3

#tos lb - the original series liveblog (technically i didn't start liveblogging it until late into the series. rip)

#tas lb - the animated series liveblog

#tmp lb - the motion picture liveblog

#wok lb - wrath of khan liveblog

#sfs lb - search for spock liveblog

#tvh lb - the voyage home liveblog

#tff lb - the final frontier liveblog

#tuc lb - the undiscovered country liveblog

#tng lb - the next generation liveblog

#ds9 lb - deep space nine liveblog

#aos lb - the kelvin timeline movies (not much here because i wasn't star trek posting back when they came out)

#spockanalia lb - spockanalia

#star trek blogging - all of the above put together

MISC

my top 10 and worst 10 tos episodes

non-exhaustive list of youtube videos of vintage trek commercials, feel free to add your own

funny and unhelpful version of the skip/watch list i used with friends ie my only true record of tos first impressions

star tos "episode sorter" to rate every episode from best to worst

tos episodes on a tier maker

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you @jennaispunk for the tag.

I'm currently working on Elks, another Baseball Joel entry, and a totally self indulgent* piece where Joel takes you, Sarah and Sarah's friend Ellie (duh) to Disney World for Sarah's 16th birthday.

*I can't get the thought of Joel (discreetly it is a family destination) fucking someone on a balcony in the middle of the night while looking at the Castle. You know he's spending good contractor $$$ and getting two theme park view rooms at the Polynesian for his daughter's sweet 16.

Elks:

Two weeks, it’s only been two weeks, but it’s been two weeks of longing glances, shared stories over meals, quiet understandings, smart replies followed by laughter. Two weeks of thinking about him and missing him. You’ve wanted this since you saw him, the desire burning louder once he was no longer a handsome stranger. You’ve reached an ignition point, and Joel is right there with you, holding the match. 

His hands grab your hips, you can feel him against you, his pants tenting against your core. Denim rubbing against denim as you grind against him. 

Joel peppers kisses down your mouth to your chin, running his tongue down your neck, placing open mouth kisses against your collarbone. He explores you like he’s mapped his journey in his head before. You tip your head back and moan out as his hands drag up and cup your breasts. He licks his way back up your neck, your hands grab at his jaw, the desire in his eyes darkening them. 

“Joel…” you breathe out.

“What is it sweetheart?”

“I—I want you.”

“Heh,” his exhale hits your lips as he puts his forehead against yours, “I want you too sweetheart.”

————

Baseball Joel:

“I am, yeah, I will be. I’m sorry, it just really hit me how long it’s been and I guess I’m just nervous about everything we have to do. I don’t want to lose you…” and at those words and the fear that gets planted inside your heart, you pull your fingers away from your cunt.

“We’re going to figure it out sweetheart. M’not losing you.” Joel follows you and unwraps his hand from around himself. “It has been long, but we’ll have almost a week together next week.”

“Five games?”

“Five games.” The softness of his voice and the reassuring smile he gives makes your stomach twist. The slow realization of your true feelings for him speeding up inside your heart.

“I’m sorry.” An apology, you’re almost embarrassed by your juvenility, missing your boyfriend so much you almost started to cry.

“Baby, you don’t have to apologize, believe me, I understand.”

“Did you still want to…”

“I’m only happy doing what you want to, sweetheart.”

“I want to show you how much I miss you.” Your hand snakes up your body to start petting the area between your breasts, the place where Joel always like to nuzzle his face in and smell your skin.

“Fuck, okay sweetheart.”

————

Disney World:

“So there’s a ride in that big ball?”

“Yep! It’s all about the past and the future,” Sarah leans forward with her phone to take a selfie of herself wearing Minnie ears without skipping a beat. “It’s called Spaceship Earth, and the whole ride is in it.”

“Mm.” Joel cocks an eyebrow.  “Do we go to space?” 

“Nope,” you smile as you apply sunscreen on your shoulders, Joel’s eyes watching your actions. “It’s educational.”

You notice how his hands tense at his sides as he watches you rub the lotion up your neck and around your chest. You love being able to spend so much time with Sarah and Ellie but by the end of the day, when you and Joel lock the door to the connecting room, that’s when the best part of vacation starts.

“I think it’s bull there’s no space in something called ‘Spaceship Earth’ if you ask me. Super disappointed by the name,” Ellie laments.

“Well, cheer up kid, it’s where we’re headed to now,” you say zipping up the backpack Joel’s carrying after putting your sunscreen away.

“Let’s go learn something then I guess,” Joel grabs your hand and leads the four of you through the crowd. You love how people part for him, the broadness of his shoulders standing out amongst the herd of fellow tourists. 

[ducknotinarow]

MM Michelangelo - All Symbol Headcanons please uwu

| Send me a symbol and I will write a headcanon about…  For multimuse blogs, please specify!

Its ya boi! Mikey uwu I admit I do love him just as much as I do any other Mikey's I dunno it is nice to see him not just reduced to baby but he is still very baby ;3; like telling Splinter he loves them and going "kisses" just nice as someone who grows tried of how often Mikey can be flanderized or infantilized giving him a slight more maturness was just a nice change of pace. I wish we got a bit more but as i mentioned before I understand for the story and time why we didn't we'er gonna get more so I look forward to more Mikey soon.

𝓕 : My muse’s handwriting. (Is it good, bad, difficult to decipher, do they prefer writing by hand or with the help of some form of machine, e.t.c.) 

"It me Micheal Angelo!" Untill I know for sure what they do for a last name i'm sticking with the joke I won't change my tags of course but ya know XD. In a lot of the promo art they show Mikey's name with a star over the I even when capital and it's cute i'm keeping it. It shows off Mikey's more child like and playful nature. Due ti the size, spacing and slant in his hand writing Mikey is a people pleaser and likes to avoid confrontation. Which we do see when it comes to them meeting the other mutants and even being against their plan Mikey agreed they can't let them do it but he still felt bad for having to be against them. Even among his brothers Mikey sort shows this peace keep mentality even among his brothers though he isn't above getting upset with leo for snitching on them. Because he may show these traits he isn't going to back down when it comes to defending himself, his words or others when he feels the need todo so. If there is a need of course. Mikey dose show he dose in fact over think here and there mostly when it comes to the situation him and his brothers are in.

Day dreamer he is he liked to think about if they weren't shunned from society they could be like humans their age. But that coming from having to remove that fact hes a mutant from his mind before he can indulge in the idea. Mikey also is someone that once he commit and puts his mind to something his ambition will carry him far.

✈ : My muse and  traveling. (If they do it frequently and why, if they never left their home town, e.t.c.)

"I've been a few places in New York? but that's about it really."

Mikey and his brothers haven't gone to a lot of places yet, mostly moving across New York and I wouldn't be too surprised if it's not even all that much of the city it's self likely the most travel happening when they go after the big crime families of New York.

✿ : My muse and nature. (If they are an ‘outdoorsy type’, like the sound of bird’s singing, if they have never set foot in a forest, e.t.c.) 

"I mean never really been? I'm a turtle so I dunno I bet that gives me an advantage maybe."

Mikey may live in a sewer and be a mutant turtle but I don't think he adapt to nature too well not like the hard core camping where you sleep on the ground. And such maybe be fine with a tent at least but he likely perfer some comfort of not being in the woods like able to be on his phone. But He might be fine with out it if really had to go with out the device hes still a someone who grew up with tech so there will be a miss for it.

☼ : My muse’s first memory. (Where it was, who was with them, how this memory makes them feel, e.t.c.) 

"hmm Pizza yeah the pizza for sure." I feel Mikey first memory was when Splinter first got them that Pizza uwu, it was the most beautiful thing the turtle ever laid his eyes on. This must be what love is. Okay there some over hyping but come on it's a Mikey Pizza may be the food of all the turtles but we know who loves it the most out of the four of them. It was also something new. And something so very common and normal for humans to enjoy just something Mikey wished he could do walk into a pizza place and get a slice. So mundane to most but for someone who can't do that?

☙ : My muse’s favourite food. (Bonus: A memory, be it good or bad, associated with said food.)

"Pizza of course." Feel Like I put too much in the memory forgetting this question is also here haha but yeah it's pizza for Mikey of course. Even when him and brothers were busy with their take down of Super fly plan he did go for the Pizza Splinter got for them. I feel it's a comfort food for Mikey, something Splinter would try and get for his boys when ever he could. Just this nice little treat that helped to brighten up his and his brothers days. Sure they can go out at night and such but somethings it get to him feel like he and his family were punished for simply existing (the scene with him gazing out from the sewer grid with the bars shadows over him ffffff hurts!)

But Splinter would get his hands on a fresh hot pizza and try and make it special for them so now mikey can't help but feel comfort around a good piece ;3;

♬ : My muse and music. (What type of music they like listening to and in what context, what music they would never listen to, e.t.c.)

"Nah I listen just about anything, even if I can't sign BTS songs for Donnie." Mikey likes rap and hiphop mostly stated off what sounds from the soundtrack I feel Mikey would be a fan off. He doesn't like old school music as well so he dips into the 90's era of music as well. Due to their life style sure they can be caught up on what new known but they were able to get their hand son the older stuff first.

Which helped to cement what kind of sounds and such that Mikey finds him self more drawn towards. Mikey just likes a good song he vibe with. Music is something he more turns to depending on his moods. If he feeling sad he dose like to listen to sad music and so on. He feels its a very good way for him to go through how he is feeling. Sometimes others words help him connect to his how emotions.

↺ : My muse and the past. (Do they live in the past and struggle to let go of past grievances, or move on more easily, is there anything in their past they want to forget, e.t.c.) 

"Well I mean I try not to think about much or I just get bummed out ya know?"

Lets be honest the turtles past? Sucks. It sad when you really look at these boys who just wants something so mundane as being able to go to school that getting to walk into a school excites them? They in a sense have freedom humans don't but they want this basic thing that many would moan and groan over. They were exited just to see a school hallway to mess around and sign up for an improve class even. Mikey rather focus on the future they have over wanting to look back. Course that doesn't mean the good times that part he dose think back on.

Just him, his brothers and their father, like bath time just playing around as kids. Raph waking him and broths up due to his fear of the dark. Mikey finding glow stars and setting them up claiming it was for him but it was really for Raphael. Cause the guy would never own up to the fear. He doesn't like to reflect on the bad times when it comes to the past rather stick to what was good even if that wasn't enough to make him content in that life for long.

☾ : My muse and sleep. (How much they sleep, how much they wish to sleep, if there is something that never fails to put them to sleep, e.t.c.) 

"Nah I'm good about sleep"

Mikey and his family for sure lived a nocturnal life before having to readjust but I feel Mikey was always someone able to go to bed at a decent time and up early not too early of course, Mikey dose enjoy getting a good amount of hours in to sleep. But when the sun is out? He is also up just as bright and sunny as it. He aint the sunshine turtle for nothing after all. Mikey only struggles to sleep when he is excited about something he cant wait for the next day to come around that his body just is not tried at the time. Those are the only times he misses out on his sleep but true to who he is still manages to have energy to get him through the day.

✧ : My muse and art. (If they have an artistic side or not and why, favourite artist if they have one, e.t.c.) 

"Ya know improve is very artistic." Mike's much more for performance art one could say as someone who always is thinking on his feet however though it makes sense that he dose take an intrest into improve being able to come up with things on the spot and working without any script or clue of what is going on? Yeah it fits very well with his mind set. He's quick to take note of his surroundings and working with what he has to execute plans like using donnies bo staff so make sense why improve appeals.

I feel in terms of a favorite person? Mikey really loves actors who can jump into improve like Robin Williams, loves catching SNL skits and other late night shows for this reason. He tries to bring in that same losse and easy going style to his own humor because he just finds it works best more so in stressful situations.

❃ : My muse and social media. (If the muse is/would be on social media and why/why not, their general opinion on it, e.t.c.) 

"No as much as Like Don's glue to his stuff but yeah i use a lot of it myself." Mikey for sure gets more use out of it once he starts to make friends. Like mostly in use of twitter, Instagram and Snap chat himself. Of course, Twitter is meant for following celebs and such but he also just posts nothing major or of value just a normal account where he chats with friends and mutals. Instagram is for sure where he posts photos of stuff he sees around the city or at home. Likes to take pictures of his family. Just small thing like hanging out with his brothers or stuff he thinks might be fun or funny to share.

He dose also use tiktok where I can see him having a platform for his improving skills I can see him being like Thomas Sanders where all his content is very light hearted aimed to just make you day better give you laugh even.

✉  : My muse and others. (If they social and outgoing or more introverted, and why. If they prefer communicating with others face to face or in written form, e.t.c.). 

"I like people with good vibes mostly." Unlike 2012 mikey he's not one to deal with the whole jealously aspect of his brothers getting new friends if anything he really wants them to do well oh he will still tease them on their crushes of course and call them out for being dorks. But he full on supportive younger brother here. If things go wrong? I feel hes the shoulder for his brothers to rest their heads on. And unlike 03 mikey I feel he's not as great about picking up on when someone might not be all that good to trust. Seeing how they all fall for Super flys charm after all, Even not able to pick up on the vibes from Mondo seeing how they clicked right away when they first met themselves. So it might not be abnormal for Mikey to have a few bad friendships in the near coming future simply because he is such a nice and friendly and welcoming person. Some people may take advantage of that but Mikey tends to let it roll of his back, in the open at least.

Mikey tries his best to stick to his easy going ways but somethings? it can be a bit to much even for him.

At school I feel Mikey is that kid who can mingle among all the groups and cliques. He just can vibe with a different mix of people he knows the theater kids, he knows jocks, the kid who go home everyday ect. He's pretty good about diffusing tension even usual making it to where everyone leave chilled and clam after.

▶ : My muse and level of education. (If the muse has some form of education, what education they perhaps wish they had, e.t.c.). 

"I'm in school now I dunno if I wanna pursue more though? I mean maybe an associates at least?"

As excited as Mikey is to start going to school he hasn't thought much pass a high school degree himself. Community college is likely the most he'll go with next maybe through a scholarship from the preforming arts section. If anything he might look to community theater to keep pursuing improve as an outlet. So that he can learn to sharpen that more.

◐ : My muse and animals. (If they like animals and treat them well, do not care for them at all, e.t.c.). 

"I mean? I'm a turtle, my bros are turtles, my dad's a rat, we got even more animals in the family?" LOOOK MANY PREVIOUS MIKEYS HAD CATS! I like to think Mikey will also find his own cat ;3; likely more how 03 found Klunk or like how April found the cat that became Ice cream kitty in the 12 series. I think he would find an animal in need of home and decide their home is with them. Maybe something a little out there even or like a dog to match his energetic side?

❒ : My muse and gifts. (If they are good/bad at finding gifts, good/bad at receiving gifts, good/bad at wrapping gifts, e.t.c.) 

"Gifts can be hard, I mean it gotta fit them be something they want or could even need? show you thought about them even," I think Mikey being Mikey is pretty good at knowing a sort thought process to follow for gifts. I feel no matter what it is clear he had you in mind so the gift liekly is always well received Mikey very much is someone who puts thought into the gifts he gets no matter what that gift is though.

☘ : My muse’s relation with their family. (If they speak with each other and how much, if they are close or estranged, e.t.c.). 

"I love them, and now? we have even more! Course Mondo is who i'm closest two guys vibe is real chill ya know?"

Mikey loves his family he really is all about them. He loves Splinter and everything he dose for them and tries to do for them. Like in part he can understand Splinter is just trying to protect them even if he can go a bit to far at times Mikey always knows its from a place of love. And well hes lucky to have a parent who loves him, his brothers even like that.

His brothers? He in the youngest and sometimes that can be a pain but he would change any of them given the chance. Of course, he still gonna be a little shit at times they are his siblings and well it just what you do to your brothers. He didn't make the rules but he follows them. He take advantage of his lil bro status loving to perch on Leo and Raph jumping up on them and such. He sometimes will do it a bit towards Donnie bout never fully throwing his weight their way. Mikey dose for sure see his brothers as his best friends they are the ones he can tell everything to. Even share those thoughts he doesn't find as pleasant. I feel he tends to go to each brother for different reasons however. Nothing against any of them just he feels he knows who would be the best to talk to about what ever is bugging him.

With his expanding family? He is closest to Mondo seeing them more like his own best friend. Mondo just gets him in a way many don't they even get into the same stupid antics together. So he can often be found skating in the tunnels with them or getting into some trouble with them. I do feel Mondo is a bit older than Mikey so he sometimes tries to take responsibility but pretty sure Mikey tends to have to step up the most when Splinter starts to scold them.