#the man was processing so much he could not move

[astraeus-tree]

Chapter 1

『For we're all that we need』

Disparities Between Our Souls

You were enjoying a peaceful lunch with your husband when you two were transported into your home-universe that you hadn't been in since 5 years ago

Disclaimer: This chapter focuses on Miguel and Reader, Batfam is only implied/mentioned. They will appear next chapter

Prologue <- Chapter 1

The halls of the Spider HQ were big, never failing to amaze you. The abundant amount of spidermen had surprised you when you first woke up here and to find out you were one yourself was even more of a shock.

Never in your life would you have expected to be transported into another world and become some sort of mutant, but you definitely wouldn’t change it. Especially now as you swing to your dear husband’s office.

Miguel O’hara, the leader and founder of the Spider HQ and also the one who chased after a 16 year-old boy. Yep, that was (un)fortunately your man. Thankfully that whole fiasco was over before you even arrived. From what you heard, he eventually ended up realising and coming to terms that canon events weren’t so canon and they could be altered, depending on the universe.

But enough of that. You were here today, swinging around the HQ to deliver your husband some food because you knew he would be busy taking care of the spiderverse—or as he likes to call it, ‘The Arachno-Humanoid Poly Multiverse’— to take care of himself.

With a plate of food in your hands, you swung up to the platform he was on.

“Darling, I have some food for you. Take a break and eat with me?” You asked him.

“Mi corazón, I’m busy, you know this.” He stated, almost groaning but in a teasing way.

“Miguel.” You stood your ground and watched him as he sighed, moving closer to you and pulling the screens closer. Fine, you could compromise with this, as long as he ate. “How have you been, dear? Need any help dealing with the anomalies?”

“No, not now at least. For now, they’ve mostly been in low numbers and the new recruits are usually able to deal with them themselves.”

“Alright then. Any leads as to why they’re still appearing though?”

“Still none. I would’ve hoped that they’d had disappeared when Morales was finally dealt with but they’re still ongoing. Lyla’s theorising something else it at play here and I fear she could be right.”

You stayed quiet, deep in thought. These anomalies were off, something about them had given you the wrong feeling, especially when you were on-field fighting them. You had mentioned it before to Miguel, but you both chalked it up to the fact that in technicality, you were also an anomaly, a similar but also vastly different case to Miles Morales.

“Do you think I’m related to the anomalies in some way?” You blurt out.

“As much as I hate to admit it, it’s most likely.” Your brows furrowed in concern. This further complicated the matter at hand. Being an anomaly yourself meant you were already connected to the others in some way, but if there was any chance that this relationship between you and the anomalies was any deeper, danger was most certainly waiting just around the corner. You two spent the next few moment in silence, slowly processing that possibility.

“Well enough of that. I came here so that you would finally eat, so take some.” You nudged a roll of pandesal towards him, alongside a cup of coffee. You had your own right pair next to you, standing on a makeshift table made of webs.

He sighed before muttering a small thank you under his breath and the smallest smile on his face. Well, you’d take what you could get. You both enjoyed your food and drink in silence as you sat on the ledge of the platform and Miguel continued working. It was a comfortable quiet, unspoken words of love were understood and picked up by the both of you. A small respite in both of your usually chaotic lives.

But as luck would have it, this peace did not last long. You didn’t even have time to finish your food when a portal opened up in front of the platform. You stood up quickly, stance in a fighting position, Miguel also suddenly on alert, his arm in front of you in a protective manner.

Portals were a normal thing for the both of you, an everyday use even. Yet, this was weird. No portal had ever opened up in this room. Most respected the privacy of their leader and always opened the portals outside of his office. That wasn’t even the most off-putting thing. This portal was different, the shapes and colours were all wrong, all different from the ones spawned from the gizmos on your wrists. Yet, it seemed familiar to you. Like you saw it once and then stored it at the back of your mind to forget about it. That couldn’t have been right though, any portals you’ve seen are the ones made by the watch.

You didn’t have time to worry about this though. Danger could be come out of that opening at any moment and you needed to be ready. But danger would not come to you. No. It would pull you into it instead. Quite literally when both you and your husband were tugged into the portal.

The journey through the portal was short, but most certainly not smooth. With being pulled in unexpectedly and the inside itself feeling like it was tossing you around, the landing was rough. It felt like you were picked up and were thrown away carelessly with indifference.

Miguel regained to his feet before you and held out a hand for you to help you stand up. As you oriented to your surroundings, you could feel your blood go cold. The sky was dark, vastly different from the midday sky that you were previously in. Even though it was night, stars didn’t light up the night sky, instead smog filled the skylines. Buildings stood tall, reaching for the sky but always too short. The streets were quiet, like a the silence of a forest when a predator is near. The rain dripping onto your head was the final confirmation.

You were in Gotham.

You were back in the city you grew up in. The city that raised you to be the person you are now. The city you had so many conflicting emotions about. You were not ready for this confrontation. In fact, you might never be.

So, like the coward you were, you quickly pulled your mask back to cover your face and turned to Miguel. He quickly takes the hint and puts his on as well.

“We have to get home. We can’t stay here.” You fiddle with your gizmo, attempting to open a portal back up to the HQ, but nothing. Miguel looked at your struggle and tried to get his own to work as well but it was a futile attempt. Nothing seemed wrong with the gizmos, except for the fact the no portal was opening up. You hoped that everything else was working fine.

Miguel had no knowledge of this strange world. All he knew was that you didn’t want either of you to stay here, and who was he to doubt your words? The situation was alright at first. Yes, it was suspicious that you two were dropped off here by some unknown entity, but there seemed to be no immediate danger and you two could easily open a portal back to the HQ.

At least he thought so.

But when both of your gizmos failed, he could feel worry start seeping in. No, this is fine, he could fix the gizmo. He didn’t have any tools though. What was even wrong with it? It had been working perfectly fine before you were dropped into this foreign universe.

He could see you pacing back and forth on the rooftop you two were on. Although he couldn’t see your face, he knew there was a frown etched onto our face.

“Mi corazón.” He called for you, but you were still in your trance. “Corazón.” He called out a little louder, and still nothing. He quickly gave up on words and walked over to you, softly grabbing your hand to pull you out.

“What?” You snap at him before regretting it almost instantly. You take a big breath and try to calm yourself down. “I’m sorry, I’m just stressed.”

“It’s alright mi vida. Can you tell me what’s got you so worried and where we are?” He spoke to you softly. You take another breath, mentally preparing yourself for the conversation you were about to have.

“We’re in my home universe.”

“Ah.” That was all he needed to know. He had heard enough of your ramblings about your old life to know why you were reacting this way.

“Why isn’t the gizmo working?” You ask, point-blank.

“I’m not sure. Maybe there’s something about this universe that’s stopping us from being able to communicate with the others. I attempted to get in contact with other spidermen but no response.” The Spider HQ must be a mess right now, with the sudden disappearance of their leader. He hoped you two could quickly make it back home or else you two would be coming back to chaos.

You opened your mouth to say something but were interrupted when you felt your spider senses tingling. You could see Miguel’s signature scowl form on his face, it seemed he could hear the danger you were sensing.

You both take a look around at your surroundings, and not too far off into the distance you see a Doc Ock terrorising the poor citizens of Gotham.

No, that wasn’t right. Your universe shouldn’t have a Doc Ock, hell you didn’t have any of the standard spidey villains. There was only one reason for this

An anomaly was in your universe.

Farther into the distance, you could see the bat sign light up the night sky. Shit. You needed to hurry before your family could get to this. You and Miguel looked at each other and nodded. A silent agreement to continue the conversation later and also take this anomaly down as soon as possible.

Taglist

@kik1010 @cxcilla @00hellohello00 @bluepanda08 @frankie-moon3 @guyfuitty @lumi320 @type-ink @kye-chen-r @sugasweettea @sillyheartmoonnyx @definitely-not-sammie @birbtweettweet @itsberrydreemurstuff @bellethesleepypotato

Another chapter done, yippee! I'm sorry this is focusing more on Reader and Miguel, but I needed to introduce some plot points and it ended up being too long for the batfam to make an appearance

As said in a previous post, I don't speak Spanish, so if those nicknames are cringe or something then please do tell me how to improve it and I will gladly change it

Anyways this has been another busy week. I finished my prepL, took my license photo, started watching the bayverse transformers movies and prepared for the start of the school year on Tues

Speaking of school, I have no idea if that will affect my upload schedule but it most likely won't until a few weeks in.

As per usual, you are free to point out any mistakes. I don't edit my work cuz my ADHD won't allow me to and I don't have a beta reader so I am bound to have some mistakes here and there

Fun fact, my titles (except for the story title) come from songs. The Prologue came from Never Love An Anchor by The Crane Wives and this chapter's came from Abandon Ship by Fin. I recommend you listen to them, they're so good!

Have a great day everyone <3

[libingan]

simon riley is a munch it’s canon

simon “ghost” riley was absolutely obsessed with you—specifically, with your cunt. it was an addiction, a fixation, something primal that he couldn’t shake. he didn’t care where you were, what you were doing, or if you were even ready. the man would drop to his knees without hesitation, like he was born for the sole purpose of worshiping you.

—

you could be at the counter, chopping vegetables for dinner, humming to yourself as you moved about. simon could be supposed to be setting the table, but instead, he’d be standing behind you, staring at the way your ass swayed with every movement.

“you expect me to just sit here and eat dinner after this?” he’d ask, his deep voice thick with hunger.

before you could respond, his hands would be on your hips, and he’d be tugging your shorts and panties down in one smooth motion. you’d gasp, but simon wouldn’t give you a chance to protest.

“let me have a taste, love,” he’d murmur, sinking to his knees and spreading your cheeks apart. his hot breath would fan over your folds, and you’d tremble as his tongue darted out to lick a slow, deliberate stripe up your cunt.

“fuck, always so perfect,” he’d growl, his lips pressing wet kisses to your clit. “could spend hours here. don’t need anything else.”

your hands clutch at the counter for support, your knife long forgotten, as simon devoured you like a man starved.

—

you could be curled up on the couch, lost in your favorite show, when simon walked in. you might not notice him at first, but the second he’d see you—legs tucked under you, wearing one of his t-shirts—he couldn’t help himself.

he’d sit down beside you, his hand sliding up your thigh as he leaned in close. “you smell so fuckin’ good,” he’d mutter, his voice low and rough.

“simon, I’m watching—”

“don’t care,” he’d cut you off, already pulling at your panties. “need you right now.”

before you could protest, he’d pull you down the couch, spreading your legs over his broad shoulders as he settled between them. his lips could brush against your inner thigh, and he’d look up at you, his eyes dark and hungry.

“gonna talk to you, love,” he’d murmur, his voice a mix of reverence and lust. “gonna tell this sweet cunt how much i love it. how fuckin’ perfect it is.”

and then his mouth would be on you, his tongue circling your clit, his lips sucking gently as he moaned against you. you could feel him rutting against the couch, so worked up just from the taste of you.

—

it could be early morning, and you could still be half-asleep when you’d feel him stir beside you. you’d think he was just shifting, but then his lips would be on your thighs, trailing slow, lazy kisses up to your center.

“simon,” you’d mumble, voice heavy with sleep.

“shh, love,” he’d whisper, pulling the blankets down to expose you. “just need a little taste. promise i’ll be gentle.”

you’d barely have time to process his words before his mouth would be on you, his tongue slipping between your folds with practiced ease. his hands could grip your hips, holding you in place as he worked, his groans vibrating against you.

“this cunt,” he’d mutter between licks, his voice muffled and desperate. “could fuckin’ die happy right here. don’t even need to be inside you. this is enough.”

and it would be true. simon wouldn’t care if he got off or not—just having you like this, tasting you, hearing your moans, would be enough to send him over the edge every time.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Omni-man being defeated in battle and subsequently dominated? Maybe the trophy wife concept you mentioned in the NSFW alphabet for him?? I just love him

Nolan Grayson x Galactus inspired male reader

Headcanons

Imagine a big evil smirk growing on my face when I saw this request. set somewhere after Nolan leaves earth and Mark has taken Oliver back to earth.

Readers inspired by Galactus. Because I go apeshit for extreme size differences. I wanted this to be smutty, but it just ended up getting kinda cracky...

had a lot of fun writing this reader, would love to write him again.

You were an ancient immortal being known for devouring planets for power, feared across the universe and multiverse. You fought many battles with the people of viltrum, mainly because of how powerful you were and how much of a threat you posed. Of course, they never won, which wounded their ego.

But at some point, you guys struck a deal. You would stop attacking them and they would stop attacking you. You guys would stay out of each other’s way and territory. Sometimes they would even offer you planets if your heralds found it worthy of consumption.

How Nolan fell into your lap could happen in many ways, but I find the most interesting being him leaving Andressa and Thraxa. Maybe he travels so far, he succumbs to exhaustion like when he left earth, and he just happens to fall right into your giant palm.

You weren’t mindlessly evil, but you weren’t good either. And the small violent viltrumites had always intrigued you. You had always wanted one of them to be a herald of yours, but you also knew you wouldn’t have their loyalty.

Nolan would wake up well rested and healed, curled up on a hard purple surface which he would later realize is your palm. You had been floating through the universe simply holding him like one would hold a little bird or mouse, or maybe more a small vulnerable flower petal.

Nolan has most likely lived long enough to have fought you before, so he knows who you are, what you can do, and the deals he’s broken by ending up in your territory. Maybe hes just too depressed to care about himself, his people, anything.

To you, hes kind of like a little pathetic creature, like how we see a baby animal missing a leg and coo, wanting to keep it and care for it. well, maybe its more like you want to own him. A being like yourself don’t experience emotions like everyone else, but there’s interest.

It’s a bit sad to see a viltrumite so wilted and weakened. You had expected a fight, and order your heralds to try and goad him into one so you can crush his will yourself. But Nolan just sits on your palm with a blank look in his eyes, even as you devour planets right in front of him.

The whole “wife” process kind of starts up after Nolan and you have shared silence for a while, who knows how long. The universe is vast, and you guys just keep moving from one planet to the next.

Maybe he just starts telling you about his life on earth, his wife, or wives, his sons, how he’s starting to think everything he’s learned maybe isn’t right. How he’s tired and feels like he doesn’t have a purpose.

In the beginning you offer to make him one of your heralds, but being able to enter people’s minds you also pick through his memories, wants and deeper wishes.

A being like yourself has never had much interest in a spouse, at least after ascending into what you are now. There is the fact that you will exist until the universe ends completely, how you travel the dark emptiness of space, and how you are one of the most evil beings in the universe, if others ask.

Sliding the mental image into Nolans head, of being your so called “wife” is the first time you get a major reaction out of him. Maybe its viltrumite instinct or his own pride, but he wont just take it laying down.

Fighting him isn’t a challenge for you, you could have crushed him very easily, but you make it seem like you put in an effort to calm whatever struggles Nolan might have in his mind. It’s only after you’ve defeated him, and there’s literally nothing else he can do that Nolan will shyly agree.

To him theres no life to return to, so why not live out that little fantasy of his. It’s not like you’ll demand him to do more carnal wifely acts… right?

(spoiler, you will, but that comes later when you guys gain a deeper more intense attraction to each other. And when that time comes Nolan agrees very willingly)

In the beginning there isn’t really any change in the relationship you guys already had. Being a literal cosmic being means you normally don’t feel a lot of carnal urges or wants, so it’s all up to Nolan to make a move.

You visiting Herald almost choked when they saw Nolan floating up to your massive face and kiss your lips, even if he only is able to kiss your bottom lip.

The other Heralds also have a similar reaction when you start referring to Nolan as your wife. They can’t question you, and some of them just give Nolan a “good luck” and are on their way.

You don’t really care whatsoever about gendered terms, and as much as Nolan blushes and denies it, your mental bond lets you feel how much he likes being called Wife.

Its digging around Nolans mind that you see his deeper fantasies and start bringing out the things that go along with it. like, materializing a skimpy “slave” outfit for him, in purple and blue of course so he matches you.

When you order him to shave his beard Nolan almost, almost, blows up and starts arguing. But deep down he also knows its what he wants, to disconnect himself completely from who he was before and just allowing himself to be someone new.

At some point you start referring to him as your “viltrum slave” and later just “slave wife” because it gets Nolan really excited, if you know what I mean. Being mentally connected means that Nolans pleasure is your pleasure. You technically could shrink and enjoy the throes of the body with him, but being so much bigger excites both of you.

It does worsen your already horrible image somewhat, and give people stupid ideas. Planets start trying to offer you women, or their species version of it, to try and make you leave their planet. Its always denied though.

When planets realize you don’t want women, they start trying to offer you “wives” that look like Nolan, which just makes Nolan pissed, because he’s as possessive as you. On those planets you let him indulge in his viltrumite urge for destruction, before you devour it.

Nolan will regularly forget just how strong he is when he’s around you and your heralds. They start referring to him as your “pet” or “wife” too, just playing into Nolans little fantasy. And who are you to stop them? Happy wife, happy life.

This also just means that Nolan can shock himself by wiping out entire planets in hours. In the past it might have taken months or weeks, but with the cosmic powers from you as well, nobody really stands a chance.

It will be very fun if rumors get back to earth somehow that you have “kidnapped and enslaved” a rogue viltrumite. I’m not sure they’d send anyone to save Nolan, but they gotta live with that.

Maybe you pull up to earth for one reason or another. Big chance its because your scantily dressed wife has been fantasizing about this one gelato Nolan used to eat on the regular, so of course you have to go get it.

You could have sent your heralds or just teleported maybe Nolan to do it but… you want to go on a date…

So, you shrink from “I swallow planets whole” size to “im big enough to knock down this skyscraper” size, and just… appear on earth. Cue huge chaos and extreme fear, because you can’t tell me Cecil wouldn’t know of you at least.

Cue guardians of the globe pulling up, and someone, probably Rex, going “hold up… isn’t that your dad?” to Mark, because of course Nolan is sitting all pretty and “enslaved” looking on your shoulder.

The whole “slave” outfit also put these shackle looking things around Nolans wrists and ankles, as well as a collar, to make it look like you were somehow suppressing his powers. Sometimes they actually did that if you wanted them too. Most of the time it was for looks.

Its… very awkward. Nolan would be embarrassed if he hadn’t wiped out an entire planet wearing only a purple bra and panties once. This one is at least more like Leias slave outfit than the almost nonexistent stuff you sometimes had him wear.

Theres a chance its more surprising to see Nolan without his moustache honestly, than it is seeing him in the bra and fabric ensemble.

I have a feeling you would, in your powerful godly cosmic entity voice, booming loud enough for the entire state to hear, tell mark that he may refer to you as stepfather, if he would like.

Someone, Rex, would start wheezing so hard with laughter he would struggle not to pass out. I have a feeling most of the guardians would start snickering, except for the more serious ones like Rudy, who knows you could snuff them all out if you wanted.

For some comedy and crack, Debbie gives you, devourer of planets and immortal cosmic being, the shovel talk. Nolan is impressed that you seem more attentive to her words than entire planets begging for mercy.

Nolan doesn’t return to earth, or to Debbie or anything, but you do offer your stepson (Mark groans and covers his face), that you will help him out if he needs it. you also offer to play baseball with him, or take him to “the game” (you still don’t really understand what that is), for family bonding.

You keep eating planets, Nolan keeps being your little trophy wife, but maybe the ending of this universe won’t be the same as in the comics, since Mark now has his “sigh… step father” on his side. You and Nolan just keep being a happy married couple, in whatever way someone like you two can be.

[mayonayys]

Cold Reunion

Tags: Caleb/FMC, Nondescript MC, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence Rating: T+ Words: 1,763 Summary: He was dead. So who was he to stand before her now and question her? He had left her all alone and the grief had nearly killed her. But here he was. And she was angry.

A reimagining of Empathetic Interrogation.

AO3 Link

Her stomach turned as she tried to process what was happening. The man before her was him, there was no question about that now. But his voice was too harsh, his actions were cruel.

He was different, but here he was, right in front of her.

He leaned in close, running the lie detector down her throat and pressing it into her chest.

Her heart felt heavy, bottom lip quivering as her mind tried to make sense of what was happening.

She shifted, pulling at the arm restraints, but stilled when he inched even closer. She could feel his breath fan across her face. Her stomach turned, her senses on high alert.

"I'll ask again." He tilted his head as he pressed the lie detector in harder, causing her to flinch away. "Did you come to Skyhaven for the Aether Core?"

Her mouth twisted into a frown as he glared down at her, the caring and kind man she once knew was nowhere to be found. She started to retort, ask him a question in turn, say anything to help her figure out what was going on.

"Answer me," he sneered out, his eyes holding a venom she never thought was possible in that lilac gaze.

This couldn't have been her Caleb—not anymore.

"Remember," he said slow and low, "the camera is watching. You must tell the truth."

It was almost like he was warning her—he was never that good of an actor though, was he? She didn't feel any warmth from him, she was just prey caught oh so perfectly in his clutches. She winced as the lie detector pressed into her chest and the arm restraints bit into her wrists.

She gritted her teeth and let out a shaky breath.

She would just have to be as good of an actor as he was, then.

"I'm telling the truth." She said slowly, calmly. "I'm not related to anything involving an Aether Core."

Something flickered across his features, but her blood was boiling too much for her to be able to read his expression properly.

"This is your last chance." He adjusted his grip on the lie detector, letting out a deep breath that brushed over her face and had her pulling at her restraints again, wanting nothing more than to push him off of her and rid herself of this false image of him.

"I don't know anything." She reiterated through gritted teeth. She could feel her pulse raising as the device began to beep, soon to reveal her fate.

But his grip shifted on it again, a subtle click meeting her ears as the buzzing stopped and the screen went blank.

He pulled back, just a little, his expression unreadable.

She couldn't help the shaky breath that left her and she swallowed to ease the drying ache in her throat.

He looked her up and down one more time before standing to his full height, towering over her.

"You passed." He finally said and just as she blinked in confusion he seemed to slowly morph before her.

He was still the Farspace Fleet's Colonel, but there was a familiar softness around his eyes now.

She flinched as the lights came on and she instinctively raised her arms, expecting the resistance of the arm restraints, but they clicked open just in time to allow her to shield her eyes from the too bright lights.

She blinked, letting out a small noise of confusion as she moved her arms, looking at him through the gap.

He was smirking.

She felt a new wave of emotion course through her and her jaw tensed as she balled her hands into tight fists.

"You…" Her voice came out strained, anger, confusion, and hurt bubbling up to the surface.

He didn't seem put off by her tone, instead he leaned down, and in a too familiar gesture, his hand went to rest on her head, his thumb brushing at her bangs.

"Surprised? Sure it's been a while, but you already forgot about me?" He chuckled.

She swatted his hand away from her.

"You, Caleb, you're dead!" She lost her cool, voice louder than she would have liked, but her rage bubbled up too quickly for her to control.

The look on his face shifted, the amusement in his smirk deepening.

"If that were true, how could I be standing right here?" He leaned forward again, hands going to take the collar from around her neck.

She pushed his hands away from her again, standing quickly.

Her face heated with rage and his smirk faltered for a nearly imperceptible moment, the hard gaze he wore before threatening to slip back onto his face.

He reached for the collar again and caught her arm when she went to push him away. His gloved hand was cold on her sore wrist, his long fingers applying just enough pressure to make her flinch and try to jerk away.

"Just let me get this, okay?" His tone was soft, he was trying to soothe her now.

After all that, it didn't work. He was no longer her childhood protector, he was a man who evaded death and left her alone to grieve him for far too long. He was cold—cruel even, if she were to go by the force he'd already used against her.

The collar snapped off and he tossed it on the table behind him.

His hand was still around her wrist, but his grip loosened. When she didn't pull away his hand left her wrist, inching down to clasp her hand in his.

"Did I scare you?" He asked and it would have been reassuring if she wasn't still trapped in an interrogation room.

"You…" She shook her head, feeling her face heat as all her feelings came to a head. "You left me!" She blurted out and she could feel tears of anger and grief pricking at her eyes.

He didn't say anything as she glared up at him, but he shifted their clasped hands, his fingers threading through hers.

He tugged her gently forward and she stumbled, reaching out her other hand to brace against his chest. She scoffed as she looked up at him, shaking her head. She didn't pull her hand from his grasp, instead she squeezed her fingers, hoping that her small grip in his large hand could at least cause him a moment of discomfort, but he didn't even flinch.

He pursed his lips, eyes searching her face as she glared up at him with as much venom as she could muster.

"I didn't leave you," he finally said, voice soft. He looked truthful, but how could she believe him after the display he'd put on?

"You did." She hissed out, taking a step back.

He tugged at her arm again, not letting her get far.

She snarled at the action, rage still at the forefront. She pulled at his grasp and when he was unmoving, she raised her other hand, quickly striking out.

The sound of her hand across his face rang out in the silent interrogation room, but he didn't make a noise as his head turned to the side. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes seemed to darken, twinkling with a barely contained rage.

Her fingers stung, even with her glove to buffer the impact of her hand on his cheek. She took a step back, only stopped from going farther by his grip on her hand.

He wasn't looking at her yet and she watched him with a quiet fear rising, taking place of the anger she'd felt before.

His lips parted, tongue just barely flicking out to wet them, but she caught the sight hint of a red liquid tinting his tongue and staining the few teeth she got a peek at.

He finally turned back to her, gaze hard, and her breath left her.

He tugged her forward again and she struggled against his grip, letting out small pleas for him to let her go to no avail.

Her other hand landed on his chest again, fingers gripping at and wrinkling his uniform coat.

She did her best to glare up at him, despite the way she sucked in shaky breaths.

His face was stony and she flinched back when he leaned forward. She could feel his heart beat under her palm, calm and steady, while her own was erratic, pounding loudly in her ears.

His breath fanned out across her face again and she turned away from him, wincing at the faint smell of iron on his breath.

His free hand reached up, gloved fingers ghosting over her jaw before he gripped her chin, turning her head and making him face her. She cringed away from his hard gaze, but as he leaned in closer, his expression seemed to soften.

She couldn't help the small whimper that left her mouth as she felt his lips nearly brush across her cheek.

"I didn't leave you," he finally said, voice soft and reassuring. His thumb gently brushed her jaw, the hand gripping hers loosening and going to rest on the small of her back.

She almost broke, but took in a shaky breath, turning her face ever so slightly, meeting his softened eyes.

"I won't ever leave you, I promise." He said, pressing his forehead to hers.

She blinked and her unshed tears finally fell, stinging her hot face. Her lips trembled as she held her breath, closing her eyes as she leaned into him, his now tender touch overwhelming her.

He pulled her closer, their bodies pressed flush to one another and her sob finally broke. She wrapped her arms around him, burying her tear streaked face into his chest.

"I thought you were dead, Caleb." She managed to get out, voice muffled by her tears and the fabric of his jacket.

He held her tight to him and she could feel him press a gentle kiss to the top of her head. He moved, hand stroking her hair, and he pressed his lips to her temple, the sound of his soft breathing soothing to her senses.

"No matter what," his voice was gentle in her ear and his fingers caressed up her spine. She felt herself clinging to him further, sucking in a breath, breathing him in. "I'll always be by your side." He pressed another soft kiss to her temple, holding her tight until her sobs died down.

She was angry, her heart heavy with grief, but he was her Caleb and he was here, in her arms, once again.

[ariadnes-elixirs]

thinking about a yandere forgotten god...

(male yandere x gn mercenary reader)

part 1

tw: manipulative behavior, reader was lost at sea before the story began, reader also has self-worth issues

you felt soft, cool hands shaking you awake. your head felt like it was full of cotton, but you could faintly hear a masculine voice excitedly speaking, "good morning! sorry to wake you up, but i can't have you dying on your first day here!"

as you feel yourself waking up, you try to rack your brain to figure out how you got in this situation. you slowly become aware of the sand beneath your body and the feeling of waves ebbing and flowing near your legs. are you... on a beach?

you struggle to open your eyes, but you can feel those same hands prop you up into a sitting position. you feel a cool hand against your forehead, and you lean into the hand before you can stop yourself.

you hear the voice again, "you poor thing! you're burning up!" the voice sounded concerned, but through your muffled hearing you could also make out concealed... excitement?

you feel one arm move to support your back and another underneath your knees. you begin trying to open your eyes again, and as you do you can feel yourself being lifted off of the sandy beach. the voice pipes up again, "let me bring you inside! it's been so long since someone has washed up on my island!"

as you finally muster up the strength to open your eyes, you see the source of the voice you've been hearing and the person carrying you. he's a taller man with a dark, tanned complexion. he has long hair, with some strands styled into braids and gold adornments scattered throughout. one notable feature that stood out to you was golden, almost inhuman looking eyes.

a sudden wave of fatigue overwhelms you, as you feel the desire to sleep grow. you try to force yourself to stay awake, but you can only delay the inevitable for so long as your exhaustion catches up to you.

the person carrying you is still muttering, whether he's talking to you or himself is unclear, but it slowly fades out as you lose consciousness.

~

you wake up to a faint floral scent and the feeling of a soft, plush bed. you feel the silken sheets beneath you, nicer and cleaner than anything you've slept in within the past several years, possibly even your whole life. your head is resting on a downy, fluffy pillow, almost moulding to the shape of your head as you lay there.

during your years as a traveler and mercenary, you have become accustomed to the rough and scratchy sheets, rock-hard pillows, and damp musty rooms in whatever inn you could scrounge up enough coins to stay in.

you vaguely remember taking a job as a guard on a merchant's ship, but struggle to remember how you ended up in a bed that was definitely too nice to be something you belong in.

as your sleepy mind is processing as much as it can in your tired state, you hear footsteps approaching.

you start moving your arms and legs to sit up in the bed as you hear the voice from before. "oh! you're awake! i made some food for you, i'll be right back!!" followed by the sound hurried footsteps leaving whatever room you're in.

as you finally sit up and open your eyes, you start to take in the room you've found yourself in. it almost looks like... a cave? the walls are rocky and uneven, but still covered in ivy and lush vegetation. there are pieces of furniture you would expect to see in a normal bedroom, but there are also flowerpots all over the room, each filled with plants and flowers you've never seen before. you also notice a couple... bird nests? just... where are you?

you didn't even know who brought you here or how you ended up here. something about this situation felt off to you, and you start to process that this is somewhere you should not be and definitely don't belong.

suddenly you hear the sound of footsteps rushing back towards you and as he enters the room you can finally get a good look at the person who brought you away from the shore.

you vaguely remember seeing his dark skin and hair with gold pieces in it before, but you didn't remember much else. you immediately notice his clean, white clothes. which is typically impossible to attain and then maintain by people who have to dirty their hands for a living. a piece of fabric is draped over his shoulder, but most of his chest appears to be exposed. in addition to his hair adornments, his ears, arms, and neck are all covered in gold accessories. you also didn't notice just how long his hair was, reaching down to the middle of his back. you can tell that it is very well maintained and taken care of.

he walks over to you, carrying a tray of food. he smiles at you before stating "i found you washed up on shore, but i couldn't let you just lay there. you appeared ill when i found you, so you should definitely eat something healthy and rest as much as possible while you recover."

he places the tray of food on your lap as you process his words, "...thank you," you reply, "but... why would you help me?"

"well... it's not every day someone washes up on the my island's shores!" he giggles.

you think momentarily before replying, "so... how often does this happen?"

the question appears to catch him off guard, and his smile falters for a second as he looks away. "well... uh... this is... it's probably been... a couple hundred years, actually."

you process his response and start to pay closer attention to the feeling of unease thats been steadily growing within you as you interacted with the stranger.

if he was telling the truth, that would make him some kind of immortal being. a nymph? a god?

you were just some mercenary looking to make a living, and you certainly weren't strong enough to take on any kind of immortal. you feel more uncertainty creep in, there's no way he would actually care about some mercenary... he's... this has to be a trap, right?

he seems to notice your unease and anxiety regarding your current situation. he sighs gently and looks at the floor, "look, i know this must be scary for you. first being lost at sea and then washing up on some strange island. but... i really do want to help you," he smiles, "please, just let me take care of you, at least until you recover."

you still feel unsure, but what could you do? he has already helped you, he brought you into his... house... and let you sleep in his clean bed. which is... more than some mercenary deserves already...

you slowly shift your gaze down to the food on the tray he set on your lap. soup, bread, and some chicken. you pick up the spoon sitting next to the soup, submerge it in the soup, and sluggishly bring it to your lips.

it's... the best soup you've ever tasted.

he smiles at you as you eat and suddenly you remember you never asked for his name. "so uh, who exactly are... you?" you ask.

he giggles, "no one you would know, but i suppose humans do love their little names for things. now that i'm not alone anymore, maybe having a name would be a nice change of pace."

his word choice suggests the length of your stay will likely be... longer than you would have anticipated. but it's too late, he's definitely not going to let you go. he finally has someone to talk to, spend time with, embrace, love. why would he let this opportunity pass him by?

"you can call me cal, dear~" he chuckles to himself before continuing, "now eat up before your meal gets cold~"

a/n: yeah so he is definitely inspired by calypso from the odyssey eoriskwksla. i thought it would be a neat concept, especially if the person on the island did not have a significant other. he genuinely just wants to be around another person after being cursed and then forgotten after hundreds of years. he is super soft and sweet towards you though. however in classic yandere fashion, he also intends to make sure you never leave :)

[cherryblossms]

it only made sense, to garam at least, that he'd worry about disturbing anybody's peace. he was my boyfriend and i had to worry about annoying him. the words garam thought but didn't dare actually verbalizing. he'd already eluded to axel enough, he didn't want to directly speak of him and risk ruining the air between himself and angel right now. he was also afraid of angel possibly being hurt by the fact that garam was thinking about his ex in a moment like this. "just tell me if whatever i'm doing bothers you." at least if he found out early on, he'd know how not to behave going forward. "and i mean anything. if i snore too much when i'm asleep or if i chew too loud, talk too loud, or breathe too loud." the last one was a habit he only found himself doing when his focus was intense while gaming, something he had to break himself out of since it was commented on a lot pretty early on in his career. but outside of his fanbase, nobody else had found the sound of his breathing to be bothersome. it took him a moment to gather the courage to drop his hands from his face and, when he did, his cheeks were so red. he was beyond just embarrassed, especially after angel continued to question him. everything after good boy essentially went in one ear and out the other without his brain having the chance to process what was said to him. he was only pulled back to reality once the other tugged at his earlobe, a soft moan leaving his lips snaping his attention. then most of angel's words began to register, his brows beginning to furrow as he instantly moved his hands to his lap to provide himself what little coverage his hands could give. "you can't say things like that to me." he whispered, shaking his head. it just wasn't fair, anybody could get garam to do whatever they wanted with the smallest amount of appraisal. even if it wasn't necessarily in a sexual or physical context. his gaze dropped down to his own lap, brows furrowing even more as he grew frustrated with himself for getting turned on by those words; good boy. he really did want to eat breakfast with angel, he wanted to go out shopping together and just spend the day with him. but his body wanted something more than that, more than what was already given to him. garam looked back to up angel, doing all that he could not to look as desperate as felt he was to be touched by the man again. "i don't want you to think i'm some sex addict or anything like that, because i'm-i'm not." but how could anybody believe that when angel had gotten him hard, in some sense, three times now in less than a twenty four hour timeframe. maybe it was because it'd been such a long time since he felt excited for something as simple as physical touch, knowing that there was true emotion behind angel's words and his actions weren't driven by the desire to come by any means. "you've always been so careful with me, you've always gone out of your way to care for me. how am i not supposed to be turned on by you? emotionally—" he felt guilty, knowing that others could see that garam used angel emotionally before he had the chance to realize it, himself, "i'm so sorry for having done this to you. i mean, i'm sure you've had lovers in the mean time but waiting and watching the things i've done, how i've behaved, who i associated with... i'm not a good boy, i shouldn't be rewarded when i've been so bad." he slowly moved his hands away from his lap, letting them fall from his thighs to rest on top of the mattress on each side of his calves; his fingers grasping at the material below them. "we should eat," he blurted out, thinking if he changed the subject quick enough, angel wouldn't have a chance to process what he'd said and respond. "you're hungry and i'm hungry. and-and there's a lot i have to buy and i don't want to be out too late... you know, just in case." the last thing he wanted was to risk running into axel and have their day together ruined.

Hearing Garam ask him to join the hunt for warmer socks was enough to put him at ease. What Angel didn’t expect was the man’s full confession. He sat there quite with a blank stare. But because he wasn’t listening but more from shock. All of this was going on in his mind? Angel thought himself unable to fathom how Garam even functioned with all of that going on. However, he stayed completely silent until he seemed the man ran out of breath from his gasping. Angel’s eyes softened as he leaned forward and kissed the other man’s hands. “I’m sorry I wasn’t clear about my feelings. Each word followed with a soft kiss to Garam’s hands. “Since when do you care about annoying me? Garam you are my best friend first before anything else. That will never change.” Angel smiled as he moved closer looking at the way the man was sitting. Angel always found him cutest like this. So flustered and unsure, “I don’t regret what we did Garam. Not right now. I’m still working through some things. Some days I’m okay and some days it hard to get out of bed. But what I want you to focus on is how I feel about you. That is what I was trying to say earlier.” He continued wanting to cover everything Garam said. Angel wanted to show him he was listening and took all his words seriously. “Well baby, you made a rule and I made a rule. We have plenty of time to work up to that. What a beautiful mess you would make. Don’t be scared I’ll never do anything you are not comfortable with. And I’ll never do anything I don’t want to do. I appreciate you being worried for me but I’m a big boy. I’ll speak up for myself” Angel cooed putting his face inches from Haram’s hands, “please look at me baby, I want to see your handsome face” he whispered kissing his hands once more. Angel smirked as he leaned closer to the other man’s ear, “So you thought about me? What exactly did you picture Garam? You don’t think I want more of you? Hearing you moan for me, like the good boy you are?” He was having too much fun with this. How could he not get turned on by the way Garam was talking. However, he pulled back when the man invited him once again out with him shopping, “Tour deer really caught me by surprise. Just warn me next time they are freezing. But I would love to help you shop for anything you need. It’s still early we can cuddle some more…or you know I could go another round?” He grinned as he playfully bit the man’s ear lobe before pulling away. “After I can cook for us and we head out shopping. How does that sound?”

[szariahwroteit]

Doll House: A Jude Bellingham + Orginal Character Erotic Series.

18+ Minors DNI

Chapter 13

Although Jude valued the opinions of his loved ones, the playful teasing from Marcus didn’t possess the bite it used to.

He’d mindlessly told Marcus that he had dropped Tori at a doctor’s appointment one morning before training. Honestly, he hadn’t put the same thought into it as his best friend did; that morning, she had stayed over at his place. He had time to kill, and she had somewhere to be.

Jude didn't mind his brother's playful remarks and had no issue reminding him that, regardless of the person he had in his life, he was still very much a single man.

However, things took a less playful turn when the following Thursday arrived. Marcus and his girlfriend Charlotte had come to spend the weekend in Madrid to watch Jude and his teammates as they took on rivals Barcelona. With them, they had brought Anastasia, a friend of Charlotte’s who was previously familiar with Jude.

Letting out a breath he’d been holding as he sat on the edge of his bed, Jude pinched the bridge of his nose as his mind ran wild with thoughts of Tori.

“What am I supposed to tell her?” Jude asked Marcus as he opened his eyes, his voice tinged with frustration. Marcus leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, an amused glint in his eyes.

“Honestly, I didn't mean to put you in hot water like this. But when you introduced me to Tori in Dubai, I thought she was just your piece for the trip. Had I known it was more, I would have never brought Anastasia along.” Marcus snickered, a hint of remorse creeping into his tone.

“She means more than that,” Jude replied sharply, a flash of irritation sparking in his chest. He instantly regretted the bite in his voice but kept his eyes locked on Marcus, who raised an eyebrow.

“Oh? So, you’re telling me you and Tori are… more?” Marcus pressed, his voice lacking the amusement it once held. “When you told me you were single over the phone, I figured Anastasia would be a welcomed surprise.”

“I am single, but the things we’ve been doing… the way we've been moving, I'd be doing Tori dirty by entertaining anyone else,” Jude divulged.

“The way you've been moving?” Marcus repeated.

“The appointment I took her to was for her to start birth control,” Jude blurted out, his gaze flicking to the floor as he felt the heat creep into his cheeks. He could practically hear the gears turning in Marcus's mind.

“Fuck,” Marcus said slowly, processing the information. “You're really feeling her then. This isn't just some fling?”

Jude sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not. I care about her, and it’s becoming more than just physical.” He hesitated, his thoughts tumbling together unceremoniously.

“Look,” Marcus said, straightening up, the teasing tone dropping altogether. “We can get Anastasia to stay in a hotel for the weekend, but she is still going to be in Madrid with us. She is going to cross paths with Tori continuously.”

Jude leaned back on the bed, feeling the weight of Marcus's words settle over him like an unwelcome blanket. The thought of Tori and Anastasia interacting filled him with a mix of anxiety and dread. He had known Anastasia sporadically during their former years, her sharp wit and playful demeanor often leaving an impression, but their connection fizzled out over time. Since meeting Tori, Jude’s attention hadn't been anywhere else, regardless of titles.

"What do you suggest then?" Jude asked, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. The room echoed with uncertainty.

Marcus pushed off from the doorframe, stepping closer. “Look, just be upfront with Tori. If you’re serious about her, let her know what’s happening. You don’t want her to feel blindsided or like you have no regard for her feelings.”

Jude nodded, the weight of Marcus's advice settling heavily on his shoulders. "You're right. I just... I didn't plan on this. Tori isn't my girlfriend, but she is where my head is and a priority of mine," His voice trailed off, uncertainty creeping in.

“Then make it official in your head first,” Marcus advised, his tone steady and encouraging. “You don’t have to label everything right now. Just be honest about how you feel and where you stand. If she knows where your head is, there should be no trouble.”

Jude exhaled, mentally wrestling with the idea. Would laying his cards on the table only complicate things further? Would it change the light, free-flowing nature of what they shared? Yet a small voice reminded him that avoiding the conversation wouldn’t help.

“Theoretically, but she's going to be here soon, and when she turns up, a girl that I used to fuck is going to be sharing space with the girl I am with. Tori is understanding, not a pushover.” Jude spoke, the tension in his voice revealing the swirl of emotions churning inside him.

Marcus considered what he said momentarily, his expression shifting from playful to severe. “Look, it’s going to be awkward, but if she’s as understanding as you say, then she’ll handle it. Being upfront is the only way to avoid misunderstandings. Trust me—communication is everything. If you want me to, I can explain that this was on me.”

Jude felt Marcus's seriousness resonate within him. Communication had always been essential in relationships, yet he had taken the easy road, gliding along on the surface without diving deeper into what was unfolding with Tori. His heart pounded with the possibilities that awaited—both enticing and terrifying.

“Yeah, but what if I mess this up?” Jude sighed, searching Marcus’s face for answers that would put him at ease. “It’s just… this is all new territory for me. I genuinely enjoy what Tori and I have; I don't want to fuck it up.”

Marcus stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on Jude's shoulder. “You won’t mess it up unless you don't communicate. Trust your instincts, Jude. You’ve got this. You know Tori better than anyone. If she’s as special to you as you say, then you owe it to her to be honest.”

Jude nodded slowly, allowing Marcus's words to sink in. He could feel the weight of responsibility pressing down, and with it, a fierce determination began to bubble up within him. He cared about Tori more than he had admitted to himself, even in the solitude of his bedroom.

“Okay,” Jude finally said, his voice steadier. “I’ll talk to her when she gets here. It might be messy, but I’d rather deal with the mess than leave anything to chance.”

“Good,” Marcus replied with a nod. “And hey, if it helps, I’ll look into a hotel for Anastasia to stay at. Charlotte and I will take her there once we figure everything out.”

Jude felt a wave of relief wash over him at the thought of his friends intervening, easing the tension that had begun to unravel him. "Thanks, man. I appreciate it. Just thinking about Tori and Anastasia in the same room sends my stomach into knots."

"Understandable," Marcus said with a sympathetic smile. "But you know Tori well enough to handle it. Just be honest, and the rest will fall into place."

Jude leaned back on the bed, staring at the ceiling as his thoughts drifted to Tori. He could still feel the warmth of her body next to his, the laughter they shared over late-night snacks, and the way she challenged him to be better both on and off the field. It felt different with her—more substantial than any casual fling. He needed her to know how much he valued what they had built.

After a moment of silence, Marcus clapped Jude on the shoulder. “I’ll let you have some time to gather your thoughts. Just call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Yeah, thanks. I’ll definitely take you up on that.”

As Marcus left the room, Jude's heart raced with anticipation and anxiety. He pulled out his phone, glancing at the time. Tori would arrive any minute now, and as ready as he was to lay his cards on the table, he couldn't deny the nerves that swirled inside of him.

He had already ironed things out where Anastasia was concerned. She knew she had been invited by mistake, and despite his look of embarrassment as he explained he had someone in his life now, she had been gracious, understanding his position. It was a good start but only heightened Jude's awareness of the delicate situation.

The anticipation felt like a weight pressing down on him with each passing moment. What if Tori had other expectations? What if she saw their relationship differently? He couldn’t shake the doubt but knew he had to deal with things head-on. He couldn't afford to leave things up to interpretation.

The sound of his doorbell ringing through his spacious home made his heart leap into his throat. There it was—his chance to face the music. The weight of his indecision felt almost unbearable as he took a deep breath and went downstairs to the door, his mind racing with thoughts of what to say.

He opened the door, and there stood Tori, a smile breaking across her face as she spotted him. She looked radiant, her hair cascading over her shoulders, her eyes shining with a warmth that eased and intensified his nerves.

“Hey!” she smiled sweetly, stepping across the threshold and into Jude’s arms.

Jude enveloped her in a warm embrace, pulling her close and savoring the familiar scent of her hair—a mix of coconut and something sweet, truly Tori. For a moment, he lost himself in the comfort of her presence, letting her laughter wash over him. It was a fleeting distraction from the weight of the conversation looming ahead.

“Hey! You made it,” he replied, his grin matching hers. “You look incredible.”

“Thanks!” she giggled softly. “I just pulled on the first thing I could find when I got home from rehearsal.”

Jude's heart swelled at her radiant smile, but the thrill of the moment was tempered by the conversation he knew he had to initiate. He wanted nothing more than to relish their easy banter and the tangible connection between them. Yet, the gravity of his unspoken feelings weighed heavily on him.

Stepping back slightly, he gestured for her to come inside. “Tori, we need to talk.”

The lightness in Tori’s expression shifted to one of curiosity, her brows knitting together in gentle concern. “Talk? About what?”

Jude closed the door behind them, feeling an electric tension settle in the room. He needed to keep his tone casual, but the weight of his words felt monumental. “It’s... about us and the weekend ahead.”

Tori tilted her head, taking a step closer, her gaze searching his face for answers. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” he reassured her quickly, wanting to dispel any sense of unease. “It’s just that Marcus and Charlotte brought along Anastasia, and I didn’t realize how complicated it could get.”

He watched Tori’s face, her expression shifting as she processed the information. “Anastasia? Who is she...?”

“She’s a friend of Marcus’ and someone I—” Jude hesitated, searching for a way to frame it delicately.

“And she's here in your house?” Tori asked cautiously.

Jude nodded, feeling a rush of heat creep into his cheeks. “Yeah, but it’s not what you’re thinking. We had a history, but it’s... it’s not the same anymore. I just wanted to be upfront with you because I care about where we’re headed.”

Tori’s brow furrowed as she stepped back, crossing her arms as if to shield herself from what she was perceiving. Jude could see the surprise and confusion play across her beautiful features, and he felt an immediate pang of regret for springing this on her.

“Okay. So, Anastasia is staying with you for the weekend, too?” she prompted, her voice laced with uncertainty.

“Marcus is sorting a hotel for her,” Jude replied, his heart pounding at the building tension in the air. “But she will be around this weekend.”

Tori took a deep breath, her eyes narrowing slightly as she processed his words. “I appreciate you being honest with me, Jude, but why didn’t you mention her earlier? I wouldn't have come here.”

Jude swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her disappointment. “I want you here, Tori,” he said, his voice steady but low. “I didn’t know she was coming over with Marcus and Charlotte until they landed earlier.”

Tori regarded him with a mix of incredulity and concern, her eyes searching his for sincerity. “Do you have feelings for her? I mean… she’s from your past. What if she’s trying to rekindle something with you?”

“No!” Jude immediately countered, desperation creeping into his voice. “It’s not like that at all, I promise you. Anastasia and I have history, but it’s ancient history. I haven’t thought about her or anyone else in that way since you came into my life; she’s been nothing more than a past chapter.”

Tori’s gaze softened slightly, but the tension still hung thick in the space between them. “Then why does it feel like you're gearing me up to walk into some kind of competition?” The vulnerability in her question cut deeper than Jude anticipated.

Jude's ex had turned up unannounced with his best friend and his girlfriend. Regardless of what Jude had to say, their lives were obviously intertwined.

Jude felt the weight of Tori’s words settle heavily in the air, the silence between them stretching uncomfortably. “It’s not a competition,” he insisted, his voice tinged with desperation. He stepped closer, trying to bridge the emotional gap that had sprung up. “I care about you, Tori. I thought we were building something special, and I still want that. I want you.”

Tori tilted her head, eyes searching his for the truth amidst his assurances. “You’re saying all the right things, but this situation is… complicated, Jude. I just don’t want to feel like I’m the second choice while you have someone from your past around.”

“I get that,” he said, his heart racing as he grasped her hands, holding her gaze. “But I’m not looking back; I’m looking forward—at you.”

Her expression softened slightly, but unease lingered in her eyes. “So, if she’s here for the weekend, how do we navigate that? I mean, it’s not exactly easy to just pretend everything’s fine.”

Jude took a deep breath, steeling himself for the weight of the conversation ahead. “I want you to know that you are my priority. We can talk about it if it becomes uncomfortable for you, and I’ll handle it. I’d rather lose my pride than jeopardize what we have.”

Tori’s lips parted as if to speak, but her voice faltered for a moment before she found her words. “You realize how it sounds, right? You’re telling me that you’re serious about us, yet we’re dropping right into this chaos with someone who shares your past… It feels unfair to me.”

“Unfair?” Jude echoed, frustration bubbling beneath the surface as he struggled to keep his voice calm. “No, what wouldn’t be fair is if I didn’t bring this up with you. I want to be transparent. You deserve that, Tori. I have feelings for you—real feelings—and I’m trying to be honest about everything. I’ve only had my focus on you.”

Tori's brows furrowed, her expression flickering as she considered his words. “I appreciate your honesty, I do…” she trailed off, her voice softening. “But it’s just hard to reconcile that when Anastasia is literally right here... The thought of you two being around each other, of you having any history—it’s crazy.”

Jude could sense the turmoil brewing within her, the agitation playing out across her features. He felt the walls he once thought would hold a sense of safety now beginning to crumble under the weight of their reality.

“I wish it were simpler,” he said earnestly, running a hand through his hair. “But I can’t ignore the fact that she’s here for the weekend. That said, I also can’t ignore how I feel about you. You mean so much more to me than whatever I had with anyone else in the past.”

Tori blinked, the strength in her posture weakening slightly as she searched his eyes for sincerity. “You mean that?”

“More than anything,” he replied, taking a step closer, allowing the honesty in his gaze to shine through. Hooking a finger beneath her chin, he tilted her face toward his, searching her eyes for the truth of her feelings. "You’re different.“

Her gaze softened, though the tension still lingered. She was clearly trying to reconcile the feelings swirling within her. "Jude, I don't want to come off as jealous or insecure. I'm just trying to understand everything because it feels really overwhelming right now."

“I get that,” he said, voice low and sincere. “Please just trust that I won't do anything to disrespect or hurt you.”

Tori gave a slight nod, her eyes searching his, and for a moment, they stood in silence, each feeling the weight of what lay between them. Jude could see the internal battle playing out in her eyes—as if she was trying to make sense of it all while she wrestled with the emotions that threatened to spill over.

“Look,” Jude said softly, trying to coax her into a more relaxed state. “Let's take this one step at a time. I want you to be comfortable this weekend, and if that means we need to set some boundaries regarding Anastasia, I'm all for it.”

Her expression shifted slightly, gratitude dawning amid the uncertainty. “I appreciate that, honestly. It’s just... this feeling of sharing space with someone that I know you’ve been with before. It’s unsettling.”

“I understand,” Jude replied, his heart aching for her. “But I promise you, my focus is on you. Anastasia is just an echo of my past. Can we work together to make things feel okay for both of us? I want this weekend to be special for us.”

Tori took a deep breath, her resolve mingling with her vulnerability. “Okay,” she said finally, her voice steadier. “I think as long as you keep communicating, I can manage. It’s just hard because—”

"Because you want assurance," Jude finished for her gently, his heart pounding under the weight of her words. "I get it; you're not just navigating my past; we're trying to establish a future."

Tori nodded, a flicker of relief spreading across her features as she stepped closer to him. The warmth of her body eased the tension in the air. "Exactly. I don't want to feel like I'm constantly competing for your attention. I want you to be present with me, Jude."

"Then let's make that the priority," Jude said firmly. He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, marveling at the softness of her skin and the tangible warmth between them.

Her breath hitched slightly as he leaned in a bit closer, the air crackling with unspoken tension. “I promise you, Tori. I want this weekend to be about us. No games, no distractions.”

Tori's eyes shimmered with a mix of hope and resolve. “Okay, I trust you. But you have to understand, this is an adjustment.” She paused, her expression softening as she stepped back just a fraction, realizing they stood on the precipice of something deeper.

“I understand,” Jude replied, positioning himself closer as he sought her gaze, his hands coming to rest on her hips as their eyes met.

Leaning into her, a soft hum ripped from Jude’s throat as their lips met in a delicate, tentative kiss. It was soft at first, carrying the weight of their conversation, but it quickly blossomed into something more passionate and urgent. The world around them faded, and it was just the two of them, their connection deepening in the embrace.

Tori responded to Jude’s intensity, her arms winding around his neck as she melted into him. He could feel her heartbeat against his chest, a comforting rhythm that synced with his own. It was as if they were both reminding each other just how right this felt—beneath the uncertainties of the weekend and the looming presence of Anastasia, what mattered was their shared connection.

Lifting Tori off the ground so her legs wrapped around his waist, Jude deepened the kiss, savoring the taste of her lips, the softness of her body pressed against his.

A soft gasp escaped Tori's lips, her fingers tangling in Jude's hair as she nestled closer to him. The sensation of her warmth against him made his heart race, igniting a fire within that he hadn't realized he craved so much. They stood there for a moment, forgotten in the world outside—a world that suddenly seemed far less important than the intimacy they shared in that instant.

“Jude…” she breathed against his lips, her eyes glimmering with an emotion he could only begin to understand but desperately wanted to explore.

“Yeah?” he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur as he pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, searching for answers in the depths of her chocolate-brown eyes. The seriousness of their earlier conversation still lingered, but the electric thrill of their kiss had shifted the atmosphere from tension to something deeply intimate.

"I just don’t want to lose what we have," Tori admitted softly, her fingers sliding from his hair to rest on his shoulders. “This weekend, with Anastasia... I can do it, but I need you to promise me we’ll navigate it all together. No bullshit.”

“No bullshit,” Jude repeated before his lips were back on hers, drawing her closer yet again, letting the warmth of their connection dispel the remnants of tension. It was a promise that they both felt, evident in the way their bodies instinctively responded to one another.

Unbeknownst to both Tori and Jude, Anastasia stood just out of sight, watching them from the hallway, her expression caught between surprise and intrigue. The way Jude held Tori, the softness of their shared kiss, stirred something in her — a curious mix of nostalgia and an unshakeable feeling of jealousy. She had known Jude once upon a time, and while their past had been filled with thrilling moments and hot sex, it was evident to her that she was witnessing something deeper.

Anastasia felt her heart tug as she observed the undeniable connection radiating from Jude and Tori. Memories of their brief romance flickered in her mind, but they felt distant now, overshadowed by the intensity of what she was witnessing. She had come to Madrid expecting a weekend filled with laughter and good times, but the sight of Jude and Tori together ignited a complicated mix of feelings.

Should she interrupt? Should she turn and leave? The moment felt so intimate that she almost felt like an intruder. But she was also acutely aware of the fact that she needed to assert herself in this situation. This was her chance to rekindle something with Jude, and seeing him with Tori stirred something deep within her—a sense of longing for what they once had but also a realization that things had changed.

As she hesitated in the shadows, Charlotte appeared beside her, raising an eyebrow at the scene before them. “Looks like we’ve interrupted something,” she whispered, a smile creeping onto her face.

Anastasia shot her a look, a mix of irritation and contemplation. “I didn’t expect to walk into this,” she replied quietly, her eyes still locked on Jude and Tori. “Why didn’t Marcus mention he was seeing anyone seriously?”

Charlotte shrugged, crossing her arms. “Maybe he didn't know either. But Jude looks pretty smitten, don’t you think?”

Anastasia's heart sank a little at Charlotte's words. The chemistry between Jude and Tori was palpable, the way they moved together like two pieces of a puzzle that had finally found their match. It stung to see him so at ease with someone new, someone who clearly brought out a different side of him—one that she hadn’t seen in a long time.

“Yeah, I guess,” Anastasia replied, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m here now. I can't just back down. I need to make my presence known.”

“You sure about that?” Charlotte asked, her voice laced with concern. “It looks like they’re pretty serious. Do you really want to interrupt?”

Anastasia hesitated, torn between her desire to reclaim what was once hers and the realization that she might have already lost.

“We’ll see where the weekend takes us I guess,” she said, a hint of determination creeping into her voice. “But I can’t just sit back and watch them together. I owe it to myself to at least try.”

Charlotte regarded her with a mixture of sympathy and caution. “Just be careful, okay? You don’t want to disrupt something that seems to be blossoming between them. Sometimes, letting go is harder than holding on.”

Anastasia felt the weight of her words, but a spark of defiance ignited within her. “I know what I want, Charlotte. I want to remind Jude of what we had. He hasn’t really moved on, not completely. I could see it in his eyes when I got here.”

“He has arranged for you to go to a hotel instead of staying here with us; I think he's making his intentions pretty clear.” Charlotte pointed out.

Anastasia's resolve wavered slightly at Charlotte's words, but the fire in her belly refused to be extinguished. “Just because he’s with Tori doesn’t mean he’s forgotten about me entirely. We had something real, and I know that part of him still misses it.”

Charlotte shook her head, concern etched across her features. “You might be right, but you also might be setting yourself up for disappointment. Jude looks genuinely happy with Tori, and that’s not something to take lightly.”

Anastasia sighed, her heart heavy with conflict. “I get that. But I can’t just let him slip away without at least trying to remind him of what we had. I deserve that chance.”

Charlotte studied her for a moment, her expression softening. “Just be careful, okay? You don’t want to hurt anyone, least of all yourself.”

“Trust me, I know where the lines are,” Anastasia replied, a steely determination settling into her posture. “But I’m not going to let this weekend go by without making my intentions known. If I have to compete, then I will.”

With that, Charlotte stepped forward to make her presence known. Unlike her friend, she was excited to meet the girl who had Jude so captivated. The tension that had been hanging in the air felt thick and charged, and Charlotte sensed the unease radiating from both Anastasia and the couple in the living room.

“Hey, you two!” Charlotte called out, her voice light and cheerful as she approached Jude and Tori. “We didn’t mean to interrupt! We just wanted to introduce ourselves.”

Jude and Tori broke apart, their cheeks flushed from the shared kiss, and Jude felt a wave of heat wash over him as he briefly met the eyes of a small segment of his past. Tori’s expression shifted from surprise to a mask of polite friendliness, though he could feel the tension radiating from her.

Jude's heart raced as he sensed the shift in the atmosphere. Tori's expression transformed, a cautious smile replacing the warmth that had just enveloped them. He could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him, the air thick with unspoken words and the intensity of the situation.

Tori wasn't his girlfriend by definition, but she was undoubtedly his.

And now, with Anastasia stepping into the room, the boundaries of that definition felt precariously thin. Jude could sense the tension coiling tightly around them, and he was acutely aware of how much was at stake.

“Hi, I’m Tori,” she said, extending a hand toward Charlotte, trying to maintain her composure despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Charlotte smiled brightly, taking Tori’s hand warmly. “Nice to meet you too! I’ve heard a lot about you from Marcus. He mentioned you’ve been keeping Jude on his toes.”

Jude could see Tori’s smile falter for just a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features before she regained her footing. “Yeah, I guess you could say that,” she replied, her tone light, but Jude could hear the underlying tension in her voice.

Anastasia stepped forward, her presence commanding yet casual. “And I’m Anastasia,” she said, her gaze sweeping over Tori with a hint of curiosity. “It’s great to meet you.” The words were innocuous enough, but Jude could sense the underlying challenge in her tone.

“Likewise,” Tori replied, her voice steady but her body language betraying her discomfort. She shot Jude a quick glance, and he could see the uncertainty etched on her face.

Jude felt the weight of the moment pressing down on him as he stood between Tori and Anastasia, two women from different chapters of his life. The apprehension was palpable, and the air felt charged with unspoken words and emotions.

“So, what brings you to Madrid?” Tori asked, her voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in her stomach. She was trying to maintain a sense of grace and poise, but Jude could see the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.

Anastasia smiled, her demeanor confident as she replied, “I came along with Marcus and Charlotte to enjoy the weekend and catch up with old friends.” The words hung in the air like a challenge, and Jude could feel the heat rising in his cheeks.

The tension in the room felt like a live wire, crackling with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. Jude stood between Tori and Anastasia, acutely aware of the weight of the moment. He could feel the air thickening with uncertainty and the palpable energy of two worlds colliding.

Tori took a deep breath, her gaze steadying on Anastasia. “I hope you enjoy your time here. This city has so much to offer.” Her voice was polite, but Jude could sense the underlying tension, the way she was bracing herself for any potential blows.

Anastasia flashed a bright smile, though Jude could see the challenge lurking beneath the surface. “Thanks! I intend to make the most of it. It’s always nice to reconnect.” Her gaze flicked to Jude, and he could feel the unspoken challenge in her words, a bold reminder of their history.

As Marcus rounded the corner, his eased smile faltered as he realized what he had walked into.

“Is everything okay here?” he asked, the tension in the air heavy as he came to stand beside his girlfriend.

He anticipated Tori and Anastasia’s meeting being awkward, and had he known the seriousness of Jude’s feelings for Tori, he would have never taken it upon himself to invite her.

Now, standing in the midst of the consequences of his decision, Marcus felt its weight heavily. In hindsight, he should have asked Jude before inviting anyone.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Jude replied, his voice steady but strained as he tried to navigate through the uncertainty now pulsing in the room.

“I’m just getting to know Jude’s surprise guest,” Tori added, her tone matching Jude’s effort to play it cool despite the undeniable tension between her and Anastasia.

“Sorry about that, Tori,” Marcus said, immediately recognizing the discomfort in the air. “I should’ve given Jude a heads-up before inviting anyone.”

“It’s all right,” Tori said, forcing a smile, though Jude could see a hint of hurt behind her eyes. “It’s all good; no, if you'd excuse me, I'm going to go and put my bag upstairs in Jude’s room.”

Turning on her heel, Tori grabbed her weekend bag and made her way upstairs towards Jude's bedroom, with him following close behind. This action didn't go unnoticed by Anastasia.

Anastasia's gaze shifted between the two of them, a tight knot of jealousy forming in her stomach as she watched Tori ascend the stairs. Jude’s attention was solely focused on Tori, and the flicker of disappointment in Anastasia’s chest grew.

“Jude, wait!” she called out, her voice cutting through the heavy air as she stepped forward, determination shining in her eyes.

Jude paused at the base of the stairs, glancing over his shoulder at Anastasia, his brow furrowing slightly in apprehension. “What?”

“What’s your plan here?” she asked, crossing her arms, her tone assertive yet not unkind. “Are you just going to ignore what happened between us?”

“Anastasia—” Jude began, but she cut him off.

“No, hear me out,” she insisted, her expression shifting from frustration to something softer, more vulnerable.

“Anastasia, I can’t. Tori is my priority; she’s the girl I want.” Anastasia’s expression flashed with disappointment, a mix of old feelings and raw emotion that tugged at the edges of her heart. “So that’s it? You’re really willing to just brush our past aside because of this… this new thing with her?”

Jude took a deep breath, his heart pounding with the weight of her gaze. “Yes, I am. With you and anyone else.”

Heading up the stairs without a second glance at Anastasia, he followed in the same path that Tori had taken into his bedroom.

As Jude entered his room, he found Tori already setting her bag down on the floor, her back turned to him. Jude took a moment to soak in the sight of her—how at ease she was in his space, almost like she belonged there. The warmth of the moment felt bittersweet as the weight of their conversation threatened to return, but he couldn't shake the need to reach out to her.

“Tori,” he began softly, taking a step closer. She turned to face him, her expression a mixture of apprehension and vulnerability.

“Hey,” she said, her voice steady but her eyes betraying a swirl of emotions. The uncertainty hanging in the air between them felt suffocating, a looming cloud of unresolved tension.

“I know things just got a bit… complicated,” he continued, his hands finding a resting place on his hips as he tried to gauge her mood. “I didn’t mean for you to feel like there was a competition or that you’d walked into some mess.”

Tori let out a breath, her shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “I know. It's just… hard, Jude. I didn’t expect to deal with this as soon as I walked in the door. Learning that someone who used to be part of your life is going to be around all weekend—it's unsettling.”

“I understand,” Jude replied, moving closer until he could reach for her hand. He squeezed it gently, hoping to convey how much he valued her presence. “But you are the one who matters to me. All I want is to focus on you this weekend. I want us to be okay.”

Tori's gaze softened as she looked down at their intertwined fingers. “I appreciate that, Jude. I really do. It's just that I feel like I'm walking on eggshells here. The last thing I want is for you to feel pressured because of me.”

“What I want is for you to feel secure,” he said earnestly, the intensity of his words hanging between them. “If that means I have to set boundaries with Anastasia or make it clear to her that I’m choosing you, then that’s what I’ll do.”

She met his gaze, a glimmer of hope igniting in her eyes. “You mean it?”

“Absolutely,” he said, nodding firmly. The realization of how much she meant to him ignited a fire he hadn’t fully acknowledged before—a resolve to ensure that Tori knew she had him.

[girlyrafe]

──── ʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴍᴇᴛ .ᐟ

ᡣ𐭩 ❝ ꜰᴀʀᴍᴇʀꜱ¡ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ ⟡ ݁₊ ❞ 

⌗ with rafe cameron .ᐟ.ᐟ

ᝰ summary .ᐟ Rafe cameron meets you, the farmers daughter for the first time and well—well you kinda change his life

₊ ⊹ ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

Rafe Cameron, Rafe was a typically hard-working guy, but this job at your dad's farm definitely changed his work ethic, and it’s all down to you.

For the first few days of his job, Rafe didn’t even know you existed. That was, until he heard the sound of raised voices, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone crying from inside the house. He wiped the sweat from his brow and adjusted his worn jeans, feeling the weight of the heat and the long hours of farm work. He walked around the front of the house, unsure of what to expect.

Before he could fully process what was happening, you came bursting out of the door, slamming it behind you. Tears streaked down your face, and your lip trembled as you stood there, arms crossed tightly over your chest. That pout of yours, so undeniably cute and full of frustration, stopped him dead in his tracks. You were on a mission, and in the rush of your emotions, you almost collided with him.

“Whoa there, kid.” He chuckled a little, and his large, calloused hands found your shoulders; Jesus, you were pretty, especially in this cotton pyjama set with your hair in two braids, and you looked like an angel.

You had to tilt your head back to look up at him, which wasn’t the worst thing in the world—especially when you realised just how handsome he was. He had that rugged charm, the kind that made him hard to ignore. His soft, dirty blonde bangs fell into his eyes no matter how many times he pushed them back, adding to the boyish yet rugged look. His arms were strong, muscles clearly defined beneath his worn shirt, and the sheen of sweat on his skin only made him appear even more imposing.

You sniffled, trying to find the words. “Are you... you work for my daddy, right?”

Rafe nodded, his expression softening just a bit as he gave you a reassuring smile.

Before you know it, he's gently guiding you into the barn, the soft crunch of hay beneath your feet. He helps you sit on one of the hay bales, his presence warm and steady as he kneels in front of you, his hands resting on your thighs in a comforting way. He crosses his arms over them, a protective, tender gesture, while you spill out everything—crying, ranting about the argument with your dad, about how much you hate him, how unfair everything feels. Rafe listens quietly, not taking it too seriously, because let's be real, most teenagers go through phases like this—especially when their parents won’t drive them into town. He gets it. After all, it’s not your fault you were born on a farm.

You didn't even notice the way he moved the rough pads of his thumbs under your eyes, brushing away the tears while you rambled, and he just nodded and let out a few "mhms." To keep you going

Later that night he started to feel guilty, creepy even, because you were just some innocent teenage girl, even if you were probably 16 or 17: a cute one at that, like really gorgeous and pretty with your pout and sassy mannerisms towards what your father had an argument with you about, and those eyes were hypnotic in the way they were so huge and deep even with tears. While he was, well, he was a man in his late 20s working for your father, but it was fine, right? He was only being a nice guy to someone that was upset. Sure he’d told himself that...

Sure that’s why in the dead of night all that could be heard from his room, thankfully a cabin away from the main house farm was loud whimpers and heavy breathes as he fisted his throbbing cock into his now boring hand, lip bleeding from how hard he’s biting down on it and eyes squeezed to tightly shut trying to stop anything from the real world invading his visions of you. Also trying to imagine this was your delicate hand wrapped around his cock right now as you innocently asked if you were doing good.

So, that’s how Rafe met you—so effortlessly, and yet, it sent his world into a dizzying spiral. He couldn’t help but think about you constantly, imagining all the ways he could be with you. You were so sweet, so innocent, with your soft words and that carefree way you moved. But it wasn't just the gentle side of you that stuck in his mind. No, there were those other moments—like when you’d wave goodbye, skipping out the front door in that little gingham dress that clung just enough to tease him, a glimpse of the curve of your ass making his heart race.

Sometimes, he'd catch himself groaning under his breath, quickly readjusting before you noticed, his mind wandering to places it probably shouldn’t. You were everything to him—sweet and soft, but with an undeniable magnetism that left him tangled in thoughts of you every second, especially when you went off to feed the animals, speaking to them so softly, as if they were the only ones who could understand you.

He's sure he would never work as hard again as long as you’re around.

But nothing could even happen, right?

[a-babe-without-a-name]

Sit Next To Me Before You Go

Chapter 2: Wanna See a Magic Trick?

You had created two rules for yourself. Rule One: You could do whatever you wanted. Get the degree you want, party when you want, cancel plans when you want, love who you want. Whatever you really wanted to do, you were going to do, anxiety and guilt free. Rule Two: You could do whatever you wanted, except for have relationships with classmates. No sex, no dating. If they were on the same course roster as you, they were off limits. Easy enough, right? ...Right?

Viktor x Female!Reader - 18+

A.N. Chapters 1 &2 were supposed to be 1 chapter and then it got wayy too long. So the first 2 chapters of this fic are done, and the rest is being written. If you like it, let me know! It helps the process for sure. If you don't like it, eh, that's fine but keep it to yourself.

Read on AO3

“Do you want to make out?” You tipped your head to the side innocently, but were unable to hide your amused smile, encouraged by the second of shock on his face.

“You are very abrasive,” He frowned, but looked more conflicted than angry.

“So is that a no or…” You snarked, rolling your eyes.

He looked down at you next to him, amber eyes watching yours, searching for something. Slowly he ducked his head, face inches from yours as you looked down to your lips. 

“Tell me when to stop,” He breathed, his words sending a jolt of electricity down your spine. 

When you didn’t reply, his eyes moved back up to yours, expectant, waiting. You gasped for breath, the skill of breathing escaping you as you nodded too quickly. He snorted a laugh at your eagerness, the corner of his lip pulling up just slightly. He moved closer again, open mouth ghosting against yours, like he was giving you one last chance to back out. Normally you’d become irritated when a man decided for once in his life to take it slow when all you wanted to do was go fast. This was different, he was different. You felt like you were drowning in everything about him and he hadn’t even kissed you yet. 

And when he did, you decided you could drown in him forever.

Slowly he pressed his lips to yours, soft and warm, eyes falling closed as he tasted you. You tilted your chin up, wanting more of him. His tongue pushed against yours, the taste of mint and gin mixing with the weed you two had been smoking. He pulled your bottom lip between his teeth, biting hard enough to elicit a whine from your throat. 

Without breaking the kiss he twisted his back and scooped an arm under your shoulders. He cradled you halfway under him, the other hand gripping your waist. You forced the pace to quicken, moving your mouth against his with almost bruising force. He fought back, the hand on your waist moving to your jaw, his fingers moving tenderly against your cheek, forcing you to slow down. When you relaxed, he moved his hand back to your waist, fingers brushing against the hem of the borrowed t-shirt. 

He pulled back, trying to hide how hard he was breathing. He fluttered his fingers against the hem of the shirt, “Is this okay?”

You quirked an eyebrow at him, “Did I ask you to stop?”

He swallowed hard, eyes fluttering shut at your tone. His mouth found yours again, settling on a pace somewhere between what you and him wanted. It worked. It was perfect. His hands were slow, cold against your burning skin. He splayed his hand flat against your ribs, trying to hold as much of you as he could in his palm. You sucked his top lip into your mouth, biting gently and wishing you could leave marks on him. He cupped your breast in his hand, kneading gently and flicking his thumb across your nipple. 

“Fuck,” You panted, unable to help the way your head tilted back, your back arching up into his touch. You would’ve been embarrassed by the reaction to such a small thing, but in the moment you really couldn't be bothered to care.

He took the opportunity to attach his lips to your neck, messily kissing your skin. Your hand tangled into his hair, pulling gently at the soft chestnut strands. The whimper he let out made your thighs snap together, and you pulled on him harder, dying to hear it again. He gave you exactly what you wanted, the sound tumbling from his lips like a hymn. He let you pull his neck back, panting with half lidded eyes and a blush that would rival a peach, the beauty marks on his face standing out against the color.

His lips pulled back over his teeth in a dazed smile as he looked down on you, your hand still tangled tightly in his hair. He tried to move towards your lips again, but you pulled him away by the hair, forcing his head sideways so you could bite down on the pale column of his neck. You could feel the shift of the couch as his hips gave a microscopic and involuntary buck. You wanted to fuck him. You needed to fuck him.

You dragged your knee up, slightly unsure of where to actually go in the position you were in but he got the hint. His hand left your chest, moving up to grab your jaw. He held your face as he licked into your mouth, kissing you like you were the last thing he’d ever taste. When he was sure you weren’t going to pull away again to attack his neck he dragged his hand down your side, at just the right speed and pressure to make you burn for more. He grabbed the back of your knee, pulling your leg up to drape across his waist. He squeezed the back of your thigh with a content sigh, moving his fingers over your skin like he wanted to map every pore, every freckle, and scar. His fingers wandered higher, cupping the curve of your ass and pulling you closer. You clung to the front of his shirt with one hand, the other on the side of his neck. Fingertips brushing against his hairline. 

He pulled away, more like forced himself away, panting above you with his eyes screwed shut, a hard line between his eyebrows.

You kissed his jaw gently, reaching up to smooth the lines of his face, “Relax, Pretty Boy,” You practically cooed, “I’m not going anywhere.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, eyes searching yours again. You weren’t sure what for. Regret? Hesitation? Fear? When he didn’t find anything telling him no, he grabbed your waist, pulling you upright.

“C’mere,” His voice was shaky, holding back, “Please.”

You giggled and pecked his lips, “So polite,”

“Just, uh, carefully,” He told you, keeping a grip on your leg to guide it. When you quirked your head he gestured to his own leg.

He wore a brace, extending from his mid thigh to mid calf. You hadn’t noticed it, the black material almost faded completely against the dark denim of his jeans, not to mention the high and your distraction with other parts of his body.

“Oh, sorry,” You said without thinking, trying to shift away.

“For what?” He asked, raising an eyebrow, grip on your leg keeping you in place.

“I…I don’t know,” You chewed on your lower lip, wishing you hadn’t said it, “I just, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m not gonna break, darling,” He assured you, gently forcing you to straddle his lap, “Just don’t put all of your weight on that one leg, and we’re all good.”

You hesitated, suddenly aware of your every movement. He didn’t seem irritated with your concern, luckily, but he definitely wanted to dispel any worry. He grabbed your face with both hands and pulled you into a rough kiss.

“I mean, if you really need to put all your weight on my thigh,” He panted into your mouth, “You are more than welcome to ride the other one.”

You couldn’t help but whine into his mouth. His hands moved from your face, he grabbed the back of your knees and yanked you closer to him, forcing you to stop your hovering and press down flush against him. He was so hard, the feeling of his cock beneath his jeans releasing all the nervous tension in your body. You let yourself settle against him, creating even more contact. 

“Good girl,” He muttered, doing his best to keep from rutting up against you. Trying to have some self control.

Heat pooled between your legs as you kissed him, tongue invading his mouth as you gave one hard roll of your hips, practically begging for more friction. 

“God, don’t hold back now,” You teased, licking along his jaw as you ground down against him now. You wished you had worn the skirt, “I’m not gonna break, darling.”

He scoffed as you quoted him, the sound caught off by a groan as you pushed down again, biting on his neck at the same time. He gave in, rolling his hips against yours, finding a steady rhythm that was satisfying without being too obscene. 

Your hands found the buttons of his shirt, you easily opened them until his chest and stomach was fully exposed. When you pulled away, you could practically drooled over him. The beauty marks from his face were scattered across his torso. Dark constellations against a pale sky. Like his hands, his body was slender but not delicate. You ran your nails down his chest, tracing from one beautiful mark to the next. He watched your face as you chewed on your lower lip, fingers tracing the delicate trail of hair from his navel to the waist of his jeans.

“You’re gorgeous,” You couldn't help but to admit, he blushed under your scrutiny, eyes falling shut as you dragged your hand back up his chest. You gently wrapped your fingers around the base of his neck, not squeezing just holding. You felt his Adam's apple bob against your palm, “Such a pretty boy.”

“Not fair that I’m showing more skin than you,” He tried to joke, opening his eyes halfway, fingers moving under the hem of your shirt again. 

“You can just ask me to take my shirt off, ya know.” You teased, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his sternum, looking up at him through your lashes, “I mean, I kinda like being told what to do sometimes…only if you want to.”

He took a slow breath, you could practically see the gears turning as he thought of his next move. You rest your chin against his chest, still looking up at him expectantly. 

Finally he grabbed a fistfull of your, right at the base of your skull. You could feel both his desire and concern. You gave a small encouraging smile, urging him on. When he yanked, you let him pull you back with a gasp, the feeling making our head go fuzzy.

“That’s more like it,” You panted, head still tilted back, you looked down your nose at him, “Now, tell me what you want Pretty Boy.”

“Take your shirt off,” He nodded his chin at you, voice hesitantly firm,“Now. Please.”

“Still so polite,” You smiled, gripping the bottom of your shirt, “I appreciate it.”

When you pulled your shirt off, you made sure to give him a show. A reward for doing what you asked. You pushed your chest out, arching your back in a way that made your hips press down into his cock. When you were free of your shirt, you froze under his eyes. His jaw hung open slightly as he drank you in. His eyes traced every line and curve of your body. He was looking at you like you were a specimen, like he could learn so much just by studying your figure and form. You were happy to let him.

He reached out, fixing a rogue strand of hair on your head. The gesture was softer than you expected, making you pull in a shaky breath. He grabbed your hands, taking the shirt away and tossing it to the side. Gently he pulled your arms past his neck, encouraging you to lean into him. He kissed you, deep but soft. His cold hands moved up your back, fingers moving against your spine so delicately goosebumps rose across your skin. The sudden change in pace almost making you forget you were in a dingy garage and that he was a stranger. 

You realized you had completely abandoned your movements, hips still in his lap. The short seconds of tenderness made you panic. This was not the place and he was not the person.

You bit his lip again, hands tangling in his hair as you rocked your hips against him again. The layers between you dulling the feeling. He caught up to your pace, one hand moving around your side to grab at your chest, and the other wrapping around your waist, holding you close as you bucked up into you. You felt like you were gonna soak through your shorts. You dragged a hand down his front, letting your nails leave faint red lines on their way down. At the waist of his jeans, you tugged at the button undoing it easily.

“Is this okay?” You asked against his lips, wanting to be sure.

“Fuck yes, please.” He panted, hands moving up your back to hold onto your shoulder blades, practically bracing himself as you undid the zipper on his jeans, tugging them down enough to palm him through his boxers. 

He hissed at the contact, head falling onto your shoulder as you teased him. He bit down on your shoulder, hard enough to make you wince. You hoped it would bruise.

You grabbed his hair, pulling him off you and placing a kiss to his lips before shoving home back against the couch. 

“Tell me what to do.” You told him, sitting back a little, careful not to put too much weight on his bad leg. 

“Touch me.” It was more of a beg than a demand, but you appreciated the effort. 

You pulled him out of his boxers, sucking in a breath at the sight of him. Even his dick was pretty, the trail of hair you had touched earlier ended tidily at his base, a slight delicate curve up, perfect pink tip already leaking, precum dripping down his length. He was big too, certainly over average, almost to an intimidating degree. You could suppress a soft laugh at the thought that crossed your mind.

His face dropped in horror, “Absolutely not cool to laugh in this situation,” He choked out.

“I’m sorry!” You said, waving a hand at him, “It’s just…it’s always the skinny guys that are so big.” 

His face flamed red, he swallowed hard and looked to the side, “Shut up.”

“Well, I could,” You told him, tilting your head and taking the base of him in your hand. Your fingertips didn’t meet. He gasped, hands clinging to your thighs and eyes fluttering shut as you stroked him slowly, spreading precum over him. You rubbed your thumb over the slit at the tip, enamored with how he felt in your hand, “But then, I couldn’t tell you how perfect you are. Which I really want to do, ya know. I want to tell you that you have the most perfect cock I’ve ever seen.” He gasped, stomach muscles flexing as he twitched in your grasp, “I bet you taste amazing. So pretty and big, god, I love how you feel in my hand. I can’t wait to feel you inside me.”

“Ah, fuck.” He gasped, without hesitation he hands flew to the button of your shorts, yanking them open with desperation. 

You yelped, fingers brushing over your tummy in just a way to tickle you, “Hey, careful,” You joked, “I like these shorts.”

“I wish you were wearing a skirt,” He muttered, doing his best to focus on the button and zipper of your shorts with his dick still in your hand. 

“Tell me about it,” You rolled your eyes, cursing Lest. 

With your free hand, you helped him out, popping open the tight button. He didn’t waste a second in shoving his hand between your legs, feeling you through your underwear. You gasped at the simple contact, his hands cold against you. 

“God, you’re so fucking wet,” He growled, your hand gripping into his wrist, definitely leave crescent shaped nail marks on his skin, “This all for me, baby?”

You looked at him through hooded eyes, pleased with his sudden confidence boost. You nodded, jaw falling open as he pressed the tips of his fingers against your clit. 

“Fuck, yes, please,” You muttered, unable to form a proper sentence, “Need you so bad.”

You ground down against his fingers, not able to help yourself. You took him in your hand again, pumping your first and leaning forward to kiss him. Suddenly he froze, it only took half a second for you to follow suit.

“What?” You asked, fully present and incredibly worried you had done something wrong or hurt him.

“I… I don’t have a condom, fuck.” His jaw hung open, he looked like he had seen war.

“Oh, hm,” You sat back as his finger retreated from your shorts, “Wanna see a magic trick?”

“What?” His face contorted in confusion, your question throwing him completely for a loop.

“It’s a good one, I promise,” You giggled, letting go of him and sitting up on your knees, shorts sliding down your hips a little. 

You reached behind the couch, tits practically in Pretty Boy's face, despite the situation he took the opportunity to pull one of your nipples into his mouth, tongue swirling around the hard peak. You gasped, blinking through the feeling to resume your mission. You reached farther behind the couch, praying to any god that was spying in on you. You grinned when your fingertips found exactly what you wanted. You tried to sit back, but he held you where you were, not finished with you just yet. His hands squeezed your ass as his mouth traveled to the other breast, giving it the same attention. 

“Ah, fuck,” You grabbed his hair when you couldn't take anymore, pulling his mouth off you with a soft pop. 

You sat back on his lap, holding the condom up in front of you with a proud smile.

He tilted his head to the side, “Was that…behind the couch?”

“Yeah,” You laughed, mentally thanking Mel and her need to be fucked whenever she smoked, “Uh, this couch is…well worn in. It’s best not to think about it too much.”

He glanced at the fabric beneath him, nose scrunching. You held the condom out to him dramatically, “A gift for you, sir.”

“Thank you very very much, miss,” He replied, taking it from your hand, “now take those god forsaken shorts off.”

You scrambled off his lap, watching him intently as you wiggled your shorts off. The cuff was wide enough for you to step out of them without taking your shoes off. You stood between his spread knees in nothing but your underwear and high top sneakers. He looked like a deity, or maybe an angel, lazily leaning back against the couch. He opened the condom wrapper with his teeth, watching you as he rolled it down his length. You couldn’t help but stare, shirt split open, his cock laying pink and heavy against his pale stomach, you watched as he lifted his hips, pushing his boxers and jeans just a few more inches down his legs and then grabbed himself, giving a few slow strokes as he stared right back up at you.

“You’re-”

“You’re-”

You both started at the same time, making a laugh bubble out of your chest. 

“No, I get to say it this time,” He pouted, sitting up. His hands slid up the side of your thighs, all the way up to your waist before settling against your ass, the cheeky cut of your underwear giving him full access to your skin. He pressed his nose to your stomach, breathing in deeply before resting his chin against you, looking up at you, Pupils completely blown out, his irises the smallest amber rings, “You are so beautiful.”

 His teeth dug into the soft flesh, tongue smoothing over the redness when he let go, he continued this along your hips and down to the waist of your underwear, pulling back slightly to look at them. He traced a finger along the lacy edge.

“I love pretty things meant to be taken off,” He told you, looking up through his lashes.

When you didn’t say anything, he brought a hand down on your ass. Not hard enough to really hurt, but enough for you to gasp and straighten up. 

“What was that for?” You asked, blinking down at him with wide eyes. 

A grin split his face as he looked up at you, then he shrugged, “I don’t know, I just wanted to do it.”

“Okay, brat,” You rolled your eyes, and scoffed jokingly.

“Come here,” He laughed, grabbing your knees and pulling you down to straddle his lap again.

You braced your arms against the couch, caging his head in. You watched him lick his lips before sliding his hand between your things again, this time he pushed your underwear to the side. His fingers ran smoothly against you, traveling up and down your slit, stopping to rub slow circles around your clit. You couldn’t help the moans that slipped past your lips, eyes falling shut.

“No, look at me,” He told you, voice filled more with want than demand.

You blinked your eyes open, blushing as he watched your every move. You felt his fingers tease at your entrance, a question in his eyes. You gave a small nod and easily slipped two fingers into you. You cried out softly, forehead falling against his as you panted, curses falling from your mouth. He tilted his chin, kissing you as he curled his fingers against your walls, thumb pressing to your clit. 

“Fuck, fuck, oh fuck.” Your voice shook against his mouth, he smirked.

“Quite the vocabulary,” He teased you, fingers moving slowly in and out.

“Yeah, top of- ah!” You gasped when he separated his finger in you, stretching you wider, “Top of my english classes.”

“Oh I’m sure,” He snorted, and then kissed you as he pulled his fingers out and away from you, swallowing the whimpers you let out, “You said you wanted to feel me inside you right? Can’t keep my fingers in there at the same time.”

“You could certainly try,” You joked, brushing your hair out of your face. 

“Hm, maybe try taking just my cock first, yeah?” He asked, laughing softly.

“Will do,” You said seriously, watching as you studied your wetness on his fingers. Before you could protest, he put his fingers in his mouth, eyes on yours as he tasted you. Your face burned as his eyes fell shut, tongue swirling between the digits, groan coming from deep in his throat. 

He pulled you down, sighing as you ground down against him, finally free of the layers of fabric. His length slid smoothly between your folds, making both of you go dumb for a moment. Unable to wait any more he grabbed your hips, getting you to sit up a little higher on your knees. 

“Tell me if it hurts, okay?” He told you firmly, looking up at you for confirmation.

“Yeah, yes I will,” You promised, eagerness ripping at your insides. 

He lined himself up, tip teasing at your entrance. He watched your face as you sank down onto him, your lips parted and eyebrows furrowed.. He gasped as you took him in, unable to keep his jaw from hanging open, all his energy being used to keep his hips still until you were ready. He filled you in the most amazing way, stretching you more than probably anyone else. You wanted more of him, you needed all of him.

“Hey, I usually have stuff to help,” He told you, “You don’t have to go all-”

His own strangled cry cut him off as he bottomed out, your pelvis flush against his. You dropped your head to his shoulder panting heavily.

“Fuck, are you okay?” He asked, concern filling his voice, “You didn’t need to do that.”

You tilted your head back to look at him. His breath hitched at the sight of your face, pupils huge, cheeks red, lips swollen, looking completely fucked out all ready, “I wanted to, need all of you in me.”

“Ah, fuck.” He groaned, dropping his forehead against yours, his voice strained, “Fuck, let me know when I can move.”

You kissed him, letting yourself adjust for a few more seconds before rocking against him. You lifted yourself into your knees a little, his cock sliding halfway out before you pushed back down. He whined, bucking up against you. When you were confident this wouldn’t result in a very embarrassing ER trip, you picked up your pace, sliding up and down on him. The feeling sent sparks across every muscle in your body, you licked into his mouth, trying to quiet your moans as much as possible. He jerked up into you, throwing off your rhythm for a moment. 

When you found the movement together, though? You swear you had died and gone to some filthy sticky version of heaven. You cried out, clinging to his shoulders. He wrapped an arm around your waist to steady you, the other on the back of your thigh helping you move with him. 

“Ah, fuck baby, feels so good,” He moaned, biting and licking at your jaw, muttering, “cítíte se skvěle, naprosto dokonale.”

You could have taken him for hours, drunk on the ways his hands moved over you, obsessed with the feeling of his cock filling you up. He bit down on your collar bone, you couldn't be bothered to care about the mark he was definitely going to leave. The way he twitched inside you made your entire core tighten up, your walls crushing around him.

He gasped, hand moving between your thighs. He began rubbing your clit, helping you regain the pace when you faltered. You grabbed him by the hair, yanking his head back to kiss him again. It was messy and rough, your teeth tapping together as you devoured each other, tongues invading every area of flesh. 

“Come for me, Lasko,” He begged, pumping into you harder, fingers working against you fast, He licked into your mouth, arm around your waist tightening, “Come on my cock like a good girl.”

The feeling of him, against your clit, inside of you, his hands and mouth and breath and spit. It all pushed you closer, and closer to the edge. Every muscle in your body tightened and then released with the most intense pulsing.

“Good girl,  so good for me,”  He practically cried, taking his hand away from your clit, but fucking you through your climax. 

The stuttering of his hips told you he wasn’t far behind. You kept up your movements, ignoring the overstimulation as you continued to slide in and out. You clenched around him involuntarily, finally drawing it out of him. With a whimpering moan he came, both arms wrapping around your waist and his head buried in your chest. He gave a few more stuttering bucks as he filled the condom. You dropped your cheek against the top of his head, both of you breathing like you had just run a marathon. 

He pressed a kiss to the base of your throat, still clinging to you, all his muscles suddenly useless. You brushed your fingers through his hair, dragging your nails across his scalp gently. He pulled back, hands moving up and down your back. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, looking up into your eyes.

“I’m great,” You told him, a soft laugh passing your lips. He flinched, the tensing of your muscles around him way too much to handle. He lifted your hips up, pulling his softening dick out of you. You winced at the sudden emptiness, “Are you good?”

He readjusted your underwear and pressed a kiss to your lips, “I’m perfect, amazing even,” He smiled, you were grateful he was still kind after cumming.

He held onto your waist, leaning you backwards as you reached for something on the table. He pulled back a metal water bottle, offering it to you. You took it gratefully, it was cold and heavy and in your eyes might as well have been holy water. You unscrewed the lid and tilted it back, drinking from it for a few long seconds. He smiled at you fondly, brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. You wiped your mouth on the back of your hand and handed it over to him, watching his tired face as he drank. Still pretty.

Now back in the real world, you realized how exposed you were. You glanced over your shoulder at the unlocked garage door, the sound of music and people still coming faintly from the house. Pretty Boy reached over and grabbed the borrowed t-shirt, turning it right side out and giving it to you. You pulled it on, content to be covered again. He pulled your face to his, kissing you slowly. His tongue tasted like you and was cold from the water. He kissed the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then your neck. All gentle.

When you pulled away, he tilted his head at the frown on your lips, “What’s wrong, Lasko?” You were dying to know what that meant. You were also dying to stay with him. To go back to wherever he lived and never leave his bed. Fuck it, even locking the garage door and staying here forever would work for you. But the others would be looking for you at some point, if they weren't already. 

“I should probably go,” The sadness in your voice betraying you.

“Do you want to go?” He asked, all sincerity. 

“No,” You scoffed, unable to lie while he looked at you with all the trust in the world, “But I have to. My roommate is probably looking for me, I was definitely gone a little longer than I said I would.”

“Hm, okay,” He brushed your hair behind your ear again, fingers lingering against your cheek. 

You kissed him again, just softly on the lips, before standing up. Your whole body ached, but the joints and muscles of your legs were impossibly stiff. You groaned, stretching your whole body up until your spine cracked with a satisfying pop. 

“Ah, nice,” He complimented, stretching out his own back. 

You bent down stretching your legs as you reached for your toes, a swift smack on your ass made you gasp, “Rude,” You scolded, standing back up.

“I’m just a man,” He said dramatically, making you roll your eyes as you stepped back into your shorts. He peeled the condom off, cringing as he tied it up and wrapped it in a paper towel, setting it on the ground, “I will deal with that in a second.”

“Yeah don’t forget it,” You warned, holding back a laugh.

He lifted his hips pulling his jeans and boxers back up and tucking himself away, “I’d have to drop out or kill myself… maybe both.”

“That’s fair honestly,” You nodded, watching his pretty hands button up his shirt. You missed them on you already. 

“You’re heading out?” He asked, though it sounded more like, ‘please don’t head out’.

“Unfortunately,” You leaned over him, hands on the back of the couch caging him in, you pressed your forehead this, “Thank you for a very good start to the semester, I appreciate it.”

“Likewise,” He punctuated his words with a kiss, lips slotting against yours, tasting you one last time. When you pulled away, he opened his mouth to say something, then sighed, “Have a goodnight, get home safely.”

“Will do,” You kissed the top of his head and turned around. You didn’t look at him as you walked to the door, knowing you’d walk right back to that couch. 

Outside, the summer air was practically freezing in comparison to how you felt minutes ago. You straightened your clothes and smoothed your hair as you walked back towards the house, music growing louder as you approached. When you put your hand on the handle of the sliding back door, you froze.

Every cell in your body was screaming at you to turn around. To walk back into the garage, ask for his name, his number, his hand in marriage. All of the crazy thoughts that come with really really good sex. You looked at your fingers wrapped around the handle, imagining them against his cheek. You could still feel him on your skin, against your lips. 

Why didn’t you ask his name? You wanted to beat yourself up. It would have taken two seconds, it would have been normal. More normal than not asking his name, honestly. Who does that? Who fucks someone who’s name they don���t even know. You needed to know.

Just as you released the handle and stepped away from the door, it slid open loudly, making you jump. Music poured out of the house, overwhelmingly loud. Lest stood in front of you, perfect face creased with stress and her bag on her shoulder.

“Where have you been?” She snapped at you, and then took a deep breath, calming herself, “You scared me half to death! You left your phone, I was actually on the verge of calling the cops.”

Dramatic as always, it was what you loved about her, “I’m sorry, I was just in the garage. Why didn’t you come get me?” Thank you, thank you, thank you for not coming to get me, you thought.

“What? Jayce said he saw you come back in the house?” She frowned, grabbing your wrist and pulling you inside, you stood close to the cold glass as she spoke.

“It must have been someone else,” You shrugged and reached out for her arm to calm her, but dropped your hand when you realized you should probably wash them first, “I’m sorry, I didn’t even realize I didn’t have my phone on me.”

Lest sighed, “It’s okay, I’m just glad you're okay.”

You have no idea how ok I am, you thought, laughing to yourself.

“What?” She asked tilting her head, “Are you high? Were you smoking by yourself?”

“Nothing, I, yeah, I was.” You lied, hoping she couldn’t tell.

“That's- you shouldn’t do that,” She scolded, “It’s dangerous…and sad.”

You gasped, punching her shoulder gently, “Hey, there is nothing wrong with a little alone time.”

“Okay, whatever you say, freak.” She said, trying to hide her smile.

“Were you wanting to go home?” You asked, remembering that she was holding her bag. You looked around the house, people were definitely leaving, but it wasn’t odd for you and Lest to hang out with Jayce and Cait and the others until it was just your friend group, fighting sleep in favor of each other's company. 

“Oh, uh, yeah,” She looked sheepish, “I don’t feel super great. I know it’s still kind of early for us, I don’t mind going home by myself if you don’t want to leave.”

If you stayed, you could go back to Pretty Boy in the garage…

“Nah, I’m down to go home,” You told her, praising yourself for showing even a modicum of self restraint, “We ubering or walking?”

“Oh cool, ubering for sure,” She nodded with wide eyes. 

You laughed, “Good, I'm gonna go say bye, I’ll meet you outside?”

“Eh, you might just want to text them,” Lest cringed, “Jayce and Mel already snuck off to his room and Cait and Vi we’re only sticking around down here to keep the place from burning down. Not like either would notice with the way they were sucking face.”

“Ew, don’t say that,” You stuck your tongue out at the childish phrase.

You followed her through the house, grabbing your bag on the way out. When you sat on the curb to smoke a cigarette and wait for your ride, you couldn't help but to glance at the front door. Hoping every time it opened it would be Pretty Boy, leaving the stuffy party to catch his own Uber home. Or maybe walk if he lived close enough. Maybe you’d offer him a drag and ask his name. Maybe he’d have a different girl on his arm. Maybe you would both pretend to not recognize each other. 

Luckily, he never gave you the chance to find out.

[ibijau]

mdzs daemon AU / On AO3 It's likely the last thing I'll post for this AU because much as I love it, I just don't know what more to write in it. So we're closing with some JC have a bad time, because that's always fun!

The first time it happened, Jiang Cheng shrugged it off as a coincidence.

He was in Yiling, helping clean up the last traces of the siege on the Burial Mounds. Jiang Cheng had left the living spaces to the other sects, refusing to be the one destroying the cave where Wei Wuxian had lived and, presumably, been happy at last with people who weren’t Jiang Cheng.

Because they weren’t Jiang Cheng, a part of him still thought. That was why Wei Wuxian had come there, because it was the only place he could go where Jiang Cheng couldn’t follow.

Wei Wuxian had chosen death over Jiang Cheng. That said it all, didn't it? 

His thoughts filled with rage and grief, Jiang Cheng didn't look around him as carefully as he should have. He knew there were traps everywhere, created to protect those people Wei Wuxian had loved more than him, and yet Jiang Cheng didn't look where he was going. 

Later, he reflected that if he had stepped into that array, he would have been torn apart from limb to limb. But he didn't take that last step. He didn't, because he heard a familiar voice crying out his name, and saw from the corner of his eye a flurry of dark feathers. 

A wild hope had seized Jiang Cheng, because he knew that voice, that shape, and they hadn't found Wei Wuxian's body. If he had survived after all, if he had tricked them, if he had sent Pashou to warn Jiang Cheng… but no trace of the daemon could be found aside from that voice no one else heard, that dark shape no one else saw. 

At least, Jiang Cheng hadn't told anyone what he’d been looking for, hoping to protect Wei Wuxian even when it was unearned. Even Fengyu hadn’t known, he’d had her supervise another part of the clean up process.

From this shame he was spared. 

-

The second time he saw Pashou, Jiang Cheng was tracking a demonic cultivator causing trouble near Yunmeng. Not an uncommon occurrence. Since the raid on the Burial Mounds, all those shady characters who used to gather there had now moved closer to Yunmeng. There was a rumour going on that Jiang Cheng had captured Wei Wuxian and was keeping him alive, hidden away in the Lotus Piers.

To counter that rumour, Jiang Cheng had gotten in the habit of being merciless toward any demonic cultivator he encountered, nearly to the point of savagery. It worked, to a point. Now, instead of saying he was hiding Wei Wuxian, people were starting to say he was looking for him. A small difference, but it mattered and let him keep face in front of other sects. Once or twice, some small sect or other had even reached out to him to help deal with demonic cultivators in their own area of influence.

Being a merciless killer was better than being a fool, Jiang Cheng figured.

But the particular demonic cultivator he was tracking that day had more skill than he’d expected. The man had no qualms killing civilians and cultivators alike. Took pleasure in it, even, and it wasn’t until he’d seen it that Jiang Cheng realised how bad Wei Wuxian had become, near the end. He’d had that same crazed look in the Nightless City, that same terrible smile after Jiang Yanli had died and he’d no longer cared who got hurt by his antics. When he’d no longer remembered that Jiang Cheng was still alive, could still be killed. But of course, Jiang Yanli had always been the one Wei Wuxian truly loved. Jiang Cheng just happened to also be there.

“Focus,” Fengyu hissed at him.

Jiang Cheng glared at her, then at the man they were hunting. He was standing in a lotus pond, doing who knew what over the water, half obscured in that moonless night. Jiang Cheng and his most skilled disciples had encircled him, but they were waiting for the right moment to strike, unsure what horror that man could unleash if he felt threatened. No matter what, the pond would have to be cleansed, Jiang Cheng thought. Whoever owned it would have to be reimbursed for the loss of their harvest. More money coming out of his always fragile finances, all because Wei Wuxian hadn’t known when to stop messing with things he shouldn’t have.

“He’s trying to create a waterborne abyss,” a familiar voice said behind Jiang Cheng. “He’s almost managed now. If you don’t attack now, you’ll lose men.”

Jiang Cheng refused to turn and look. Fengyu did, and she let out a soft whine, as if she’d been kicked. So she’d heard it too, she could see it too. It was a relief. It had to be a relief, Jiang Cheng thought, and yet he just felt furious.

Rage was good, though. Rage got things done.

Rage allowed him to lunge at that demonic cultivator before he could cause more damage. Rage let him take down that man and leave nothing of him but a bloodied corpse, barely recognisable anymore.

When the fight was over, Jiang Cheng finally dared to look back.

Pashou wasn’t there anymore, but that was no surprise. She’d flown away somewhere, back to wherever Wei Wuxian was hiding.

Perhaps Jiang Cheng ought to feel grateful that Wei Wuxian still cared enough to send his daemon to help.

But gratitude was a hard commodity to come by these days, and Jiang Cheng had run out of it long ago.

-

On some nights, Jiang Cheng and Fengyu discussed it. Only if Jin Ling was in Carp Tower and wouldn’t risk overhearing. Only if they were drunk enough, to dull the pain.

Over the years, they’d seen Pashou a few more times. It was Pashou as she used to be before the war, they’d noticed. Not the dull little pet she’d become since the Sunshot Campaign, but the proud and clever black swan from before. She never stayed long, and only appeared if there was danger ahead that they hadn’t noticed.

Of Wei Wuxian himself, they’d never seen a trace. He had to be hiding well, supposing he was alive.

At first, Jiang Cheng had assumed that Pashou being around meant that Wei Wuxian had survived somehow. But one day Pashou had appeared while there were others around, humans and daemons both, and none of them had noticed that black swan standing next to Jiang Cheng. She’d spoken, and only he heard her. She moved, and his eyes were the only ones following her.

“It’s not just that,” Fengyu told him one night as they reminisced, her head on Jiang Cheng’s lap. “It’s really like she’s not there.”

“What do you mean?”

“She smells of… not even of nothing,” the dog daemon explained. “She’s like a negative smell. Like the absence of something.”

“Like a ghost,” Jiang Cheng said, who had heard his daemon and others try to explain that concept before. “But daemons don’t have ghosts. They can’t, they just dissipate when their person dies. I’ve never heard of a daemon ghost.”

“Me neither,” Fengyu admitted, nervously climbing on his lap even when she was too large for it.  “But Wei Wuxian liked to do the impossible.”

Jiang Cheng said nothing, and just scratched her ears to comfort her, to comfort himself. What could be said? Wei Wuxian had been so insane near the end, it wouldn’t have been impossible for him to do something terrible to his own daemon.

-

Ten years had passed since the disappearance of Wei Wuxian, and then more. Jiang Cheng had grown used to his old friend’s absence, and to Pashou’s spectral appearances. His life wasn’t what he’d ever thought it would be, but it wasn’t a terrible life by any means. He’d reached a balance that would have seemed impossible at the time of the Sunshot Campaign. His reputation was that of a dangerous but just man, which he liked. His sect was as great as it had been in his father’s time, greater perhaps. He had no wife, no children, but he had a first disciple who would succeed him someday, and he had a spoiled brat of a nephew whom he loved more than anything in the world.

Things weren’t bad.

Then Wei Wuxian returned.

Initially Jiang Cheng wasn’t sure that it even was Wei Wuxian. The manners were the same, the fighting style too, but this was a different body, and that Mo Xuanyu person had a raven daemon at his side instead of Pashou.

But as Jiang Cheng tried to get that Mo Xuanyu handed to him for interrogation, he’d spotted Pashou nearby.

On instinct alone he’d tensed, because Pashou never appeared unless there was danger. But she didn’t warn him of anything that time, didn’t point at someone’s hidden weapon. She only stood behind that Mo Xuanyu person and stared at him looking as angry as a black swan could be. Jiang Cheng had forgotten how Pashou could be, when she was furious.

What had Wei Wuxian done to his daemon to anger her like that?

And this was Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng knew it the moment he saw Pashou. Only her own human could have provoked such intense emotions in her.

Wei Wuxian was back.

He was back, and still trying to hide away from Jiang Cheng.

Some things really never changed.

-

Jiang Cheng remained alone on the pier, Suibian in hand.

He’d gone back inside of course, and asked some passing people to try and unsheathe the sword, in vain. Nobody could. Nobody could, except him.

He’d left to be by the lake, fighting a growing nausea.

He’d known Wei Wuxian had grown insane toward the end. He’d never realised that the insanity had started long before anyone could notice. And it was insanity, what Wen Qing and Wei Wuxian had done. Something like that…

Jiang Cheng clenched his fists. Fengyu, concerned, licked his knuckles, trying to comfort him. Trying to process it herself. She couldn’t have stopped it, not with the state she’d been in after Jiang Cheng had lost his golden core, but he could feel her guilt anyway, his own guilt for never noticing what had been done.

He should have known. He should have guessed. Now that he knew the truth, everything made sense. Wei Wuxian’s odd behaviour, his refusal to use his sword, Pashou’s state, and…

Pashou…

Without thinking, Jiang Cheng turned around and found the black swan daemon standing behind him. She was silent, looking at him as if she’d never seen him before.

“I didn’t remember,” she told him. “I didn’t remember anything except taking you to Wen Qing.”

The barely controlled rage in her voice led Jiang Cheng to believe her. And with the way she’d been during the Sunshot Campaign and after… 

“Did you think I was him?” Jiang Cheng hissed. “Is that why you followed me, all these years?”

Pashou tilted her head, and laughed. She’d never been one to laugh much, unlike Wei Wuxian. She’d always been too serious when they were young, before turning too quiet after the war.

“I knew who you were, Jiang Cheng” she claimed. “I just didn’t understand why I was still here. I suspected it had something to do with our golden core, but I couldn’t be sure, and I didn’t have Wuxian to discuss it with. But if Suibian reacts to you, then it makes sense I do as well. He’ll be fascinated when he hears about it.”

Without thinking, Jiang Cheng nodded. Of course Wei Wuxian would be excited. Anything new and ill-advised excited him.

“Why haven’t you shown yourself to him?” he asked.

“I don’t know if I can,” she said, then paused and shook her head. “No, that’s not… truly, I’m angry at him. I know why he did what he did. I understand, you were more important. But he never took a moment to think what it would do to me. He destroyed me and never cared that he did, because he never cares about anything.”

In his heart, Jiang Cheng knew this to be wrong. He hadn’t understood at the time, but he remembered how concerned Wei Wuxian had been about his daemon in the early days of the war, and then for a while after the Sunshot Campaign. Every trick that could be thought of to strengthen a daemon, Wei Wuxian had tried it, then written down the result it’d had on Pashou. None, usually. But it hadn’t stopped him from trying and trying and trying again, putting more effort into that than he ever did in helping Jiang Cheng rebuild his sect.

He’d done the same, trying to fix Jiang Cheng’s broken core.

What did it matter, though, when the result might have done worse damage than the problem they had before?

“What will you do now?” Fengyu asked. “Are you trying to be Jiang Cheng’s daemon, now that you have a right to it?”

That suggestion startled Jiang Cheng, who immediately put a protective hand over his dog daemon’s head. She was his. She would always be his. Even when she’d been half killed by Wen Zhuliu’s core melting hands, turned into nothing more than a weak pet, she’d still been his, and nothing, nobody could replace her. No matter whose golden core was inside his body, Fengyu was Fengyu, she was his and he was hers.

“I’m not his daemon,” Pashou replied, preening haughtily. “I’m not Wei Wuxian’s, either. At least, I don’t think. He has that raven now. He doesn’t need me.”

“He doesn’t get along with Mo Xuanyu’s daemon,” Fengyu protested.

“Then he should have thought of that before doing… whatever it is he did to me,” Pashou retorted. “I feel no connection to him now. I’m not even there most of the time, anyway. I don’t even know where I am when Jiang Cheng isn’t in danger. Those are the only times I still exist.”

“He has to miss you,” Fengyu insisted. “I know you miss him too.”

Pretending not to hear, Pashou went on preening herself, pulling too hard on her feathers and messing them up instead of smoothing them.

As angry as he still was at Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng felt sorry for Pashou at least. Poor thing, turned into a monster. It was terrible, what had been done to her, to him. That it had been done out of love didn’t make it any less horrific. Perhaps it made it worse, in fact.

Wei Wuxian had loved them and abandoned them. Jiang Cheng, Pashou, even Suibian, if a sword could feel… and it could, to some degree, or it wouldn’t have sealed itself.

Remnants of Wei Wuxian’s love, left broken by his affection for them now that he was moving on to better things. Why should Wei Wuxian care about the horrors that remained of his first life, when he’d found better people to stand with him in this second chance he’d obtained?

But Jiang Cheng was his mother’s son. He wouldn’t let himself be so easily discarded.

“Let’s find out when Wei Wuxian and those other two have gone,” he said. “We’re going after them.”

“What for?” Pashou asked. “It’s pointless. He doesn’t want us.”

“He’ll get us anyway,” Jiang Cheng retorted. “His daemon, his sword, his shidi, I’m giving all of them back to him. He might be willing to move on, but I won’t let him forget us that easily.”

[zzbubblegumbitchzz]

just some good ole fashioned friends to lovers smut.

wc: 1.3k

cw: unprotected p in v, one mention of daddy, use of pet names, Quinn’s a yap, use of y/n like once, oral (f receiving), belly bulge, big dick quinn.

Everything was going wrong. Work cut my hours, my car needs work, Quinn’s looking more and more appetizing and he shouldn't be. I shouldn't be looking at him like he's a snack that I so desperately want to taste. He was such a fucking distraction, so much so.

Each night dragged on. My body begging for its release, brain panicking over the fact it's Quinn’s face I'm seeing as my fingers work small circles. It's always so fucking close before im betrayed by my brain and I just cant find the end.

Quinn was meant to be gone all day tomorrow, that had to be the timing I could finally do it. No Q, no thoughts, no guilt over craving the man’s mouth on mine. Just some music and myself. I can do this.

The room felt hot, my body was beginning to cave in. Everything was so close, it was sitting in the palm of my hand when everything was ripped away.

"Fuck!" I yelled. Disappointment, anger and the tears building up. Threatening to fall at any moment now. "I just wanna cum. That's all."

The door ripped open before I had any time to process the man in front of me.

"Y/n, what's wrong? Why'd you-" his voice cut off as his eyes wandered down my body, stopping right where my hand met my cunt.

"Oh my god, get out!" the panic was all my body needed as the green light for my tears to fall.

He was standing at the foot of my bed before I knew it, big hands gripped onto my calves. "I can help, sweets. Just gotta ask. Can't stand to see such a pretty baby cry."

My chest felt tighter than usual, my body surely hot to touch at this point. "Quinn, what are you- fuck." His fingers rubbing soft circles on my inner thigh.

"Wanna help, that's all. I've heard you so close the last couple of nights. Thought at first you were just edging yourself, ya know? Bein a little mean. But sweetheart, it's okay to ask for help. Let me help, promise you'll feel so good. She's crying out for me, think she knows i'm so close and i'm just leaving her hangin. That's not very nice of me huh?"

Nodding down at the man settled between your thighs, "cmon pretty baby, ask me. I know you want to, too."

I could feel his breath so close to my core, god and I wanted him so bad, wanted his help more than anything. "Uh huh, please? Can you help me?"

His tongue licked a stripe all the way up and pressed a kiss against my clit. "Sweetest cunt i've tasted, jesus." His nose settled against your clit, he inhales a little bit before in and up my folds.

"Oh," you gasp, hands falling to his hair. Legs already threatening to close, but you know you can't. His tongue fucking the tight hole, his nose rubbing gently against your clit. "Mmm, Q."

His kisses, open mouthed, and so wet. He wraps his lips around your clit. His fingers digging into your thighs, forcing your legs up. He sucks, unrelenting, until you whine. And then his tongue flicks at your clit for a few moments before it goes back to fucking you. "Fuck. Feels so good," hands gripping his hair, he groans against your cunt. "Oh my god!"

He's moving slow with it, savoring every piece of you. Remembering the pattern of your body, memorizing the taste against his tongue. His cheeks pink, eyes closed. And you can't help but wonder of all the opportunities you missed out on him doing this. You're pulled out of the thoughts when you feel his finger against your hole.

His thick, long finger slides in with no resistance. His finger curling up, while his tongue flicks at your clit at a relentless pace.

Grinding against his hand, a yelp leaves your throat. Head thrown back. "Fuck, yeah? That the spot, baby?" You rock against his hand, unable to speak. Chasing the high you feel building up in your stomach. "More, please."

He chuckles at you, "you're a greedy thing." His middle finger slides in, it's a squeeze. Slowing his movements and giving you time to adjust to the stretch. Watching your face turn to comfort, he curls his fingers back up and mumbles against your bud.

"You gonn cum? Feel you squeezin' me. You're so fucking tight. Gonna need to go slow with you, it's gonna feel so good huh? Cmon, give it to me. There she is."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck-"

He stays steady, pace unwavering. Hitting that spongey spot, he brings his mouth back to your clit. Tongue rapidly flicking against it, he reaches his arm around your waist holding you against the bed. Nothing but his name falling from your mouth, like he was your god and you were praying to him and him alone.

He's pulling away, letting you catch your breath. "Fuck, can I feel you? Need to feel you."

"Yeah, yeah. Please Quinny," he's shimming his pants off before you finish your sentence. He sees your eyes widen, "know it's big, i'll be slow okay? Your pace, I promise."

Not willing to waste a moment longer, Quinn finds his way back on top of you again, sliding himself in between your folds. His thumb's at your clit again and you shiver, mouth falling open.

"You ready?" he asked softly, dragging his cock against your entrance.

"Uh huh, just, slow."

Your eyes widen as he presses into you. You exhale shakily. "I know," He coos, "you're doing so good. Just relax for me."

"Kiss me."

His forehead presses against yours, his lips hovering over yours. "Here?" He's teasing you, he thrusts forward a little more. Presses his lips onto yours before you have time to speak. Moving his mouth so perfectly. He tastes like a hint of mint and you, and you could get lost in it if he'd let you.

He pulls his hips back, then slides in. Another inch.. You gasp against him and his tongue slips into your mouth. He moans feeling you clench down.

"Let me in, baby. Please. Wanna feel you cum so bad."

You nod at the man, a little lost in your mind. Fuzzy, and hot. Rocking your hips against his, "more, please please. Need to feel more."

He kisses up your neck, "you sure?" he mumbles against your skin.

"Uh huh," your brain is so fuzzy you don't even realize it coming out. "please, daddy."

"Oh fuck," he pulls out and thrusts back in to the hilt. "can't just say shit like that."

His hips find a pace, in and out. Punching the air out of you with each thrust.

The tears start to swell again, you're so close. So fucking close.

"Hang on," he's pulling out of you and grabbing your calves and folds them as close to your chest as he can before pushing back inside you, setting his pace quickly.

Your cunt squelches around him, his hand going to set on your stomach. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god-"

"Shit." He groans, "Fuck, feel me?" he's pushing down on your stomach, "I'm right there baby. Fuck,"

"I'm gonna cum," you're rambling now.

"Cmon let me feel it, shit. You're squeezin my cock so good. doing so good."

He pulls out of you quick, he cums against your pussy.

His breath was unevening, eyes staring at his load dripping down to my bed. "Fuck, i'm sorry. I know I need to help clean you up, I just can't look away yet." He reached over to his pile of clothes on the floor, fishing out his phone, "can I take a picture, sweetheart? I can't ever forget this. Gonna think about it until I die, swear."

Fuck. Brain still hazy, "uh huh."

"Gonna take you out, can't ignore it anymore. Don’t care if Jack gets mad. Stuck with me now. Hope you're okay with that."

[glasvera]

Adornment

Adam Warlock x GN!Reader

Description: You enjoy a peaceful, private moment with your boyfriend and develop a newfound appreciation for gold in the process.

Warnings/Disclaimers: Smoochies? Nothing, really. I mean, Adam's in a speedo I guess but you'll just have to imagine that. This is alllll fluff.

A/N: There's no way I'm going to keep up posting like this long term, but my gods am I going to ride this Golden Boy high while it lasts.

Word Count: 850

You never were much of a gold person. 

Silver always seemed to compliment you better. Sure, you'd had a few gold pieces here and there, gifts from family and past lovers, but it had never been your favorite. 

It just never suited you.

Now, as you find yourself dragged along the beach by your rather excited boyfriend who only took the time to grab your wrist, you think you might understand the appeal. Those golden fingers of his look terribly lovely on your arm.

Maybe it's the way he glitters, not just because of his golden skin, but as a person. His very soul shines so brilliantly it almost blinds you. You stumble a bit in the loose sand, lost in thought as you are, and he’s quick to catch you and steady you. He is nothing but love, sweet, syrupy, and suffocating in the best way.

And when he smiles? Oh… the very warmth of it could rival the glory of the sun itself.

Of course he attracts the attention of everyone around you no matter where you go. Especially dressed as he is here, in his shiny new red and gold speedo, it’s hard not to look at him. It honestly fills you with a sense of pride, knowing that the perfect man chose you out of anyone in every universe.

When he finally stops at the top of a hill, overlooking the water as the sun sets slowly down amidst vibrant hues of orange and magenta, your breath catches. Of course you had caught glimpses of it as he led you up here, but you had been so distracted then… and it truly is beautiful. The scene is framed by palm trees that grow at the base of the hill, and the surrounding area is secluded with nary a soul to disturb you. He stands behind you, wrapping his arms around you like a beautiful golden scarf as he nuzzles his face into your hair.

“It's wonderful…” you breathe, relaxing in the warmth of his arms.

You can feel him smiling when his arms lower to wrap around your waist and he moves to bury his nose into the crook of your neck. And you can feel the warm, tingling sensation that flutters across your skin when he presses a gentle kiss there.

“Just like you,” he hums.

A chortle thrums in your chest, and you take a moment to look down at where those strong arms hug you tightly. Your own personal, living golden corset. It reflects the setting sun onto your skin, bathing you in delicate patterns of warm light. 

“If anyone around here is reminiscent of the golden sun, I'm pretty sure it's you,” you tease lightheartedly. Your cheek presses against the silky hair that tickles your face.

His chuckle vibrates against your skin. “I think gold is much more becoming on you, my love.”

Something about those words makes your heart flutter. Your face presses more insistently against his head and he takes the hint, lifting his head just enough to press his lips to yours as you crane your neck towards him. Soon after you turn to face him properly, still caged in those strong arms of his as yours come to rest around his neck. He's so warm, so full of life and love that he is eager to show you while his lips part and mold against yours.

He lowers the two of you to the ground, sinking into the soft sand as he hovers over you. One arm remains wrapped tightly around the small of your back while his other hand comes to rest at your hip. You can’t help but hum contentedly as he kisses you again, and your fingers find their way into his perfectly soft golden locks. No one else, nothing in the world matters to either of you in this moment. Lips press upon lips just as readily as skin meets skin, and breathy sighs blend with the sounds of waves as they lap upon the shore. You could stay like this forever.

When you break apart, staring into those dazed, pearly eyes of his, you smile softly. He tilts his head to the side curiously while his thumb traces tiny circles into your lower back. The entirety of his face is bathed in the reds and purples from the sky above you, and part of you thinks that might just be prettier than any sunset you'll ever see. Unbeknownst to you, he can see the way those colors bounce off of him and onto you, scattering across your flushed face and complimenting the warmth that radiates off of you. It nearly takes his breath away.

“I think I'm starting to agree with that,” you say finally, lowering one hand to gesture at his arm before you trace your fingers along his bicep. “I quite like gold on me now.”

A lazy smile draws upon his face, giving it that dazzling brilliance once more, and he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I will gladly adorn you any time you wish.”

[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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[28harryssunflower]

I know it’s quite late but I liked the idea and couldn’t wait so..

All I want for Christmas

The snow outside fell softly, blanketing the street in a quiet stillness that only winter could bring. Inside the cozy warmth of your living room, the fire crackled gently, filling the space with its soft, comforting hum. The Christmas tree glowed in the corner, its branches sagging slightly under the weight of mismatched ornaments. Some were from your childhood, some you and Ella had made together, and a few were ones she had picked out with Harry over the past two years.

The floor was littered with scraps of wrapping paper and ribbon, remnants of the morning’s excitement. Harry sat on the couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him, wearing the slightly garish Christmas jumper Ella had begged him to wear. It had a reindeer with a flashing red nose on it, and while most people would’ve looked ridiculous in it, Harry somehow pulled it off effortlessly.

You sat cross-legged on the floor, a mug of hot chocolate warming your hands as you watched the two of them. Ella was perched on her knees in front of the coffee table, her small hands eagerly tearing apart the wrapping paper. Her squeals of delight filled the room every time she unwrapped a toy, and Harry’s deep, warm laugh followed every time.

For the past two years, Harry had been the glue holding everything together. He had come into your life when you weren’t sure you could manage much more on your own. Raising Ella alone after her father walked away had been the hardest thing you’d ever done, but Harry never made you feel like you had to do it alone. He was patient and steady, the kind of man who offered comfort without asking for anything in return. But what truly melted your heart was the way he loved Ella. She adored him, and he adored her right back.

“Alright,” Harry said with mock seriousness, sitting forward and rubbing his hands together. “I think it’s my turn now. What else is under there for me?”

Before he could grab the last gift under the tree, Ella shot to her feet, clutching something tightly in her small hands. “Wait! Harry, this is from me!” she exclaimed, her face alight with excitement and just the tiniest hint of nerves. She shuffled over to him and held it out: a card with slightly crooked lettering on the front, clearly drawn by her.

Harry grinned, his dimpled smile softening as he reached out to take it. “Oh, Ella, you made this for me? Thank you, sweetheart.” He glanced over at you, his eyes warm with affection, before turning his attention back to the card.

Ella stepped back, rocking on her heels, watching him intently as he opened it. Inside, the words were written in big, slightly messy letters:

“Merry Christmas, Daddy! I love you loads.”

The room went quiet. Harry stared at the card, his expression shifting from surprise to something so tender it made your chest tighten. He blinked a few times, as if trying to process what he’d just read.

Ella, noticing his hesitation, shifted nervously. “It’s okay if you don’t want me to call you that,” she said quickly, her voice small and wobbly. “I just thought… I mean, it’s fine if it’s too much.”

Her words hit like a punch to the gut. You opened your mouth to reassure her, but before you could, Harry was already moving.

“Hey, hey, no,” he interrupted, his voice thick with emotion as he set the card aside and reached for her. He pulled her onto his lap, his arms wrapping securely around her. “It’s not too much. It’s perfect.” He looked into her wide, nervous eyes and smiled softly. “You can call me that. You can call me whatever you want, Ella. I love it. I love you.”

Her little face lit up with relief, her smile returning in full force. “Really?”

“Of course, really,” he said, his hand gently brushing her curls back from her face. “You’re like my real daughter. Actually, no, scratch that.. You are my real daughter. We’re a family. A happy family, yeah?”

Ella beamed and threw her arms around his neck, giggling as he hugged her tightly. “I love you, dad,” she whispered into his shoulder, the words muffled but clear enough to make your heart swell.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, holding her close like she was the most precious thing in the world. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

From your spot on the floor, tears pricked your eyes as you watched them. This was everything you had ever wanted but had been too afraid to hope for. Harry opened his eyes and caught your gaze over Ella’s shoulder, his own eyes glistening. He mouthed, “I love you,” and the tenderness in his expression stole the breath from your lungs.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your voice cracking slightly.

Ella eventually pulled back, her giggles filling the room as Harry playfully ruffled her hair. She hopped off his lap, immediately returning to her presents with the kind of excitement only a five-year-old could muster.

Harry leaned back into the couch, his eyes still on her, the card resting on his knee. “You’ve got a pretty amazing kid,” he murmured softly, just loud enough for you to hear.

“She’s got a pretty amazing dad,” you replied, your voice steady despite the overwhelming emotion in your chest.

Harry reached out, taking your hand in his and squeezing gently before placing a soft kiss on your lips. And in that moment, as the snow fell quietly outside and the room filled with the sound of Ella’s laughter, you knew this was the start of something beautiful - the three of you, a family, exactly where you were meant to be.

[galilea-naerie]

Galilea’s mind wandered often to Rhys. She had grown used to the sound of his voice, the steady strength in his presence. When he had asked her earlier if nymphs required sleep, she had explained simply, “We do, but not in the way humans do. We don’t fatigue as quickly, so if we sleep regularly, three to four hours are enough. But if we push ourselves too long, we might need a much longer rest, sometimes up to twelve hours.” She had noticed the curiosity in his gaze, a silent thirst for understanding her, though his focus always remained tethered to his people and their plight. There was no space for her, and much less being a nymph. Now, hours later, Rhys’s sudden arrival at Aimon’s home pulled her from her thoughts. His voice carried relief, tinged with concern. Galilea offered a small smile, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “We’ve been working through the night.” She replied warmly. Galilea exchanged a glance with October before turning back to Rhys. “ We have found the cure.” She had barely finished speaking before Rhys crossed the room, scooping her up in his arms and spinning her around. Galilea gasped, laughter escaping her lips as the unexpected boldness of the gesture left her momentarily breathless. When he set her down. Her heart raced, not just from the movement but from the closeness. He smelled of strength, of earth and leather, yet there was a faint sweetness, like honey lingering in the air. The combination was intoxicating, and it perfectly mirrored the man before her. October cleared his throat loudly, breaking the moment. “Bold move there, Rhys,” he teased with a playful smirk. “You trying to sweep her off her feet, or?” Galilea shot October a warning glance but couldn’t stop the flush that crept into her cheeks. Thankful when Rhys questioned what the plan was. Galilea began to explain, regaining her composure. “We’ll make a small incision on the patient and drop a tiny amount of the liquid directly into the wound. Their bodies should react and naturally multiply the antibody, and they’ll likely expel the worms in any way they can. Through vomit, or worse.” They moved quickly. They worked tirelessly, discreetly administering the cure to as many as they could. Some were hesitant, but desperation often won out. Those who had seen loved ones succumb to the disease were willing to try anything. Rhys and Aimon stood by, offering reassurance and solidarity, while October and Galilea carried out the treatments. As the day wore on, Galilea noticed October growing unusually pensive. She had suspected for some time that something weighed on him, and when they finally returned to Aimon’s home, the truth came to light. “I’m staying,” October announced suddenly, breaking the quiet as Galilea packed her belongings. Her hands froze mid motion. “What?” She questioned. “I’m staying,” he repeated, meeting her gaze with a mixture of resolve and vulnerability. “I want to explore what I’m feeling for Aimon. And someone should stay to oversee the healing process and send updates on the disease. I can do that.” Galilea stared at him, stunned. “October…” She searched his face, trying to grasp the weight of his decision. Healing nymphs rarely acted out of personal desire; their purpose had always been singular, helping others. For October to make this choice was both admirable and deeply surprising. “You don’t need to worry,” he said, answering the unspoken questions in her eyes. “I’ll be fine. And Aimon will, well, I’m curious to see where this goes.” She approached him, her expression softening. “You’re sure about this?” Her voice was gentle. “I am,” he said simply. Galilea smiled, though her chest felt tight. She hugged him tightly, holding on for a moment longer than usual. “I’m proud of you. But be careful. It’s not going to be easy.” October chuckled, though there was a hint of nervousness in his voice. “Since when has anything ever been easy?” Releasing him, she glanced at Rhys and Aimon. “Take care of him,” she said firmly.

October, ever the joker, interjected, “They won’t need to. I’ll be the one doing the caring.” Despite herself, Galilea laughed, though her mind was far from at ease. Healing nymphs rarely sought out personal desires, it wasn’t in their nature. Yet October was willing to try, and she couldn’t help but admire his courage. She turned back to her belongings, finishing her packing in silence. The room seemed heavier now, every motion more deliberate as she prepared to leave. When she finally stood at the door, Rhys was there, waiting. She met his gaze. “Well, this is it,” she said, her tone light but her smile faint. “I’m not good at goodbyes,” she admitted. “Say goodbye to Sandrina and Carina for me.” She spoke. Galilea hesitated but then leaned up to hug him. His arms wrapped around him, all strength and hardness. And for a moment, she allowed herself to simply exist in his embrace. He was warm, grounding, and she felt safe for the first time in a long time. “You’re strong, Rhys,” she said softly, her voice muffled against his shoulder. “Your people are so lucky to have you. I’m lucky to have met you.” When she finally pulled back, her dark eyes met his. “Be careful. Whatever lies ahead for your path ahead.” October appeared at the door, holding the reins of her horse. “All set,” he said, though his usual humor was absent. Galilea pulled her cloak tighter around herself and stepped outside. Mounting the horse, she glanced back at Rhys one last time. “Goodbye, Rhys. Take care of yourself.” As she rode into the forest, the weight of their parting settled over her. Returning home felt like a dream, but the thought of leaving Rhys behind made it bittersweet. She pushed the feelings down, focusing on the road ahead. Whatever had begun between them, it would not, could not, be nurtured. But the memory of his embrace, his scent, and his unwavering determination would stay with her.

Rhys smiled at her when he noticed her cheeks warm and she laughed, a sound that he was sure would be etched in his memory until his dying day. It felt exhilarating to make her laugh, to cause her to smile. And what torture it was to feel as though he could not act on it at all. Aimon and October were different people to himself and Galilea. He did not feel he could make such a move on her especially knowing it would not be likely for him to see her again after all this was said and done. That thought gave him an uneasy feeling. Like it was absolutely wrong for him to never see her again, but he knew it was what was meant to happen. Their lives were so different and he had such a calling that he knew he would find himself leading his people in some sort of revolt to success or not. And if not then that would surely mean his death. It would not be for nothing though. He hoped to at least inspire some hope in his people, to help them strive for better together. That was where the gods were most urgently guiding him. "You say it is just soup, but for me it is the meal of a king." And it was. Their food was rarely flavored with more than salt or onion if they managed to grow. The state of his people was that bleak. Once all this was over. That statement seemed to linger heavily above them for a moment. There was the suggestion that they should see each other again. But also the suggestion that there would soon be an end to all of this. Rhys was unfortunately saddled with the knowledge that even if they figured out the cure for the disease plaguing his people and cured them their fight was still far from over. Life would not be able to continue on as it was. They needed more and all of this had only forced right into their laps the knowledge that their king did not care about them and was content to let them die. To what benefit of his own was unknown to the people. And Rhys did not care. It was unacceptable and it would not be allowed to continue. His attention was brought back to her as she talked about the foods of her land and Efaja. They sounded like beautiful and flavorful places. Rhys wished he could see such lands, experience their foods and, maybe, experience what it was like to not be perceived as just the poor plebeian of some kingdom run by yet another human despot. He smiled at her as she stopped herself abruptly, he hadn't minded listening to her talk about such beautiful sounding places. It gave him something to fantasize about, a little way to escape into his mind where he could have some kind of life with her in one of those places. It seemed too ideal for him to ever achieve for himself, but he was happy to know that there were good beings like Galilea that got to experience such beautiful places. "Do you not need rest like humans do?" he asked her, genuinely curious. He knew elves rarely needed sleep, but he knew little about nymphs. He looked to her as she spoke the thoughts he had been having, his doubts about the king. Not even doubts any longer, they were fully grievances with plenty of reason for him to have them. He wanted to respond, to delve further into what he was facing, but soon her fingers were pressed against his wrist feeling his pulse. He felt a temptation to turn his hand and grab her by her wrist and pull her against himself, to hold her there in his arms in that bed and feel her body against his, but the moment was broken by the interruption of October. When the nymph said it was Mrs. Lindly again Rhys quickly rose to his feet and walked into the other room where he was greeted by the widow and also her daughter, Della. The women greeted him warmly, thought noticeably less warmly the two nymphs in his company. "Rhys," Mrs. Lindly started with a smile, "You remember Della, of course." Mrs. Lindly said, but her gaze was more focused on Galilea as she said it. Rhys looked to Galilea who soon dismissed herself and left the room with October leaving Rhys to sit there and make small talk with the two women and catch up with Della, a beautiful woman who he had been childhood friends with.

At one point he might have had a crush on her, but it was long left in his childhood. But the sight of a familiar face was never unwelcome. Especially in times of disease that killed so many. It was relieving to see someone known to you. It was a pleasant enough conversation and it was clear to Rhys what the intention of Mrs. Lindly was in bringing Della over to see him, but for now it was something he did not wish to concern himself with. He would deal with it all once he had dealt with the disease afflicting his people. He saw them out when the conversation eventually died down. Night had fallen and Galilea and October had left, presumably to gather supplies or the like. Rhys had intended to wait up for them, but as he laid on the cot his exhaustion overcame him and he slept through the night. The next morning after checking on Sandrina he brought Carina over to one of the neighbors. The nymphs had not returned and worry had begun to tug at him. He decided to start with Aimon's home and made his way there swiftly. To his relief he found both Galilea and October there as well, "There you are." He said as he walked through the door. "I was worried." He said and looked down at the table where they had been working over night, "Any progress?" He asked. A wave of relief rushed through him when they revealed to him that they had found a cure. He picked Galilea up in his arms and spun her around, but soon caught himself and set her back down. "Sorry, that's just wonderful news. We should start treating people at once. How long do you need to make batches for the sick? What all do you need from me to make it happen?" He asked her, if she needed more of his blood then he would give it to her gladly, whatever it was. Aimon sat up from his bed in the other corner of the room, "Aimon!" Rhys shouted, "You're going to go out of business. They've found a cure!" Rhys announced, true happiness in his voice. Aimon rubbed his eyes and chuckled, "Well, it'll be a welcome break from burying the dead from morning to night. Maybe I'll have energy to do more than sleep." Aimon's eyes shifted over to October and he smiled at the nymph. "Get a room." Rhys teased and looked to Galilea. "Thank you." he told her earnestly, "And now let's get to work." He told her. Many batches were made and soon Rhys began taking Galilea and October out to treat the sick. Everyone welcomed the aide, some cautious and skeptical at first, but soon relenting when they realized there weren't many other options except to wait and die if they did not try the cure. Through these visits Rhys was quickly learning that he was not the only one with his sentiments about the king and it was becoming more and more evident to him that something would need to be done with the anger born of grief that their entire people were experiencing.

[brewing-mischief]

Imagine you finally meet up with the guy who stole both your wives from you

And his first threat to you is "now it's your turn"

Like Adam sure did hesitate with his attack for a hot minute there and can you blame him? Man was having his world wrecked before the fight even started.