#the thing that triggers the other thing time

[wwinterwitch]

friendly banter — bucky barnes

summary: sam asks for your help on a mission. you're reunited with him, Joaquín and Bucky. the last one really likes to banter. you think it's just a friendly exchange. it's actually a bit more than that

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader (+ platonic friendships with sam and joaquín)

word count: 5k

tags: friends to lovers, sharing feelings (awkward but cute), reader is a hacker and former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, fluff, undisclosed feelings (mutual), kissing

note: this was kind of a mess but i'm back after a long time on not writing any fics! i'm currently in my last months of studying to become a lawyer (yay) and writing fics has proven to be very therapeutic during this time. this may or may not suck but i enjoyed writing it so i hope you enjoy it

please reblog and/or comment if you enjoy!

all masterlists | marvel masterlist

"Got eyes on it?"

You stop walking as soon as you hear that question, staring ahead in disbelief. "You mean...the huge panel in the middle of the room?" you ask with obvious sarcasm, trying to speak as quietly as possible through your comm as you make your way further inside the darkened room.

It’s a typical security room with tons of cameras pointing to every corner of the building. To your relief, the presence of your group is apparently still unnoticed as your eyes wander across the various screens in front of you, noticing no commotion or an unnecessarily large group of unfriendly-looking guys rushing to find you. The large panel control installed in the middle of the desk before you is the thing that immediately gets your attention as you walk closer, always keeping in mind the task at hand.

All you really have to do is hack into the system to disable the security protocols long enough for Sam and Joaquín to sneak into the top floors of the building to retrieve the data that they wanted from the bad guy's records in order to find out more about the gang they'll be (hopefully) putting behind bars soon.

This is not the first and definitely not the last time you'll be doing these kinds of favors for Sam. Your friendship goes way back, when you were still a nobody at S.H.I.E.L.D. that somehow managed to get on Captain America's good graces after that whole Washington fiasco. You're still unsure why Steve always thought so highly of you. Then again, he was the type of guy who never failed to see the potential in other people, even when they couldn't quite see it themselves.

Now, you get to help the new Captain America, who's also as dear to you as the previous one was...perhaps just a tiny bit more annoying, but one of your dearest friends regardless.

As you rush over to the panel, you have to jump over the unconscious body of a security guard that Bucky (another dear friend you met thanks to Steve) took care of before you walked inside, quickly taking a seat in front of the large keyboard to start doing your part of the job.

You hear the unmistakable chuckle from Joaquín as you quickly type in a series of codes and commands. "Jeez, I missed having you on our missions!"

"Awwh!" you mutter with genuine endearment. "I missed being part of these missions too, buddy!"

"And we're still going out for drinks after this, right?"

"Are you genuinely asking me that, Joaquín Torres?" you ask, sounding overly offended on purpose.

You hear him laugh again, but before he can say anything back, you hear Bucky interrupting the exchange. "How about we focus on not getting caught here and then you guys can discuss your night plans?"

"Uh-oh, old man got upset," you joke soon after, finishing to type in the last few codes to fully disable the security system. Surely they have some backup protocol that would soon trigger the alarm to alert these guys of an unwanted visitor, but by then all of you will be long gone. It really is a very simple mission.

"He's jealous you're not taking him out for drinks," Sam jokes back, and then you immediately hear Joaquín agreeing with him.

It's a normal occurrence for Sam to be making those kinds of jokes involving you and Bucky. He has been making those types of remarks for as long as you can remember, fully convinced the two of you "have something going on" as he has put it before. You really try not to think too much about it because, first off, Sam loves to say shit just for the sake of pissing you and Bucky off and, second...you really don't want to let those comments get to your head.

You don't want to let yourself wonder about the what if's of that. There was a time in your life when you did allow yourself to fantasize about the possibility of actually "having something going on" with him, but you learnt to shut off that part of your brain in order to avoid getting your hopes up regarding a situation that just wouldn't happen outside your imagination. Hearing Sam’s silly remarks would only bring you back to those days.

Bucky has been one of your best friends for years and he has never shown the slightest of hints that he might be interested in you in the way you would like (at least not that you're aware of), and there was absolutely no way that you would ever make the first move and risk embarrassing yourself in front of him or, even worse, losing the friendship you two have. You eventually just got comfortable in the abyss of eternal friendzone and learned to accept it. If there was ever going to happen something between the two of you, surely it would've happened by now.

Still, Sam seems to be holding onto that rope for dear life and refuses to let it go. You can't deny it’s a bit uncomfortable to hear those jokes though. They somehow make you feel like somehow you got caught and everyone knows you have a secret crush on Bucky, but you've learned to adapt over the years.

"First part's done.” Leaning back on the chair, you watch the percentage bar on the screen before you, completely ignoring Sam's little joke. "A few more seconds and you're up guys!"

"Hallway’s clear," you hear Bucky say, still guarding the room where you're currently in. "How much time do we have to get out of here?"

"Uh...I can't say for sure. Anywhere near five to thirty, maybe?"

"Minutes?"

"Seconds."

"Oh, great," he mutters ironically.

"Well, I'm sorry. We're hacking into a very sophisticated system that I don't entirely know how it works!" you snap back at him. "Besides, the whole point of this is to give Joaquín and Sam enough time to sneak inside without having to deal with a bunch of guards going straight for them. Bad guys will know we're down here and they'll come looking for us first."

"Isn't hacking your whole thing? How do you not know how it works?" he asks, and just by the tone of his voice you know he's trying to piss you off, because he knows that's exactly the type of comments that would make you upset. If that type of comment came from a stranger you would be strangling them right now, but it’s Bucky, and he seems to enjoy annoying the shit out of you.

"Big talk coming from someone who still asks for my help because he barely knows how to unlock his own phone."

The sound of his faint chuckle immediately makes you smile, perfectly picturing the way he's probably rolling his eyes just barely right now, trying to suppress a smirk as if you could possibly see him right now, knowing he hates when you point it out to him.

"You have to give me some credit, though. I know how to program emails on that thing now. Soon enough I'll be taking your job, so you better watch out."

You can't help but laugh at his reply, slightly shaking your head as you realize you’re getting distracted by him, trying to keep your focus on what you're supposed to be doing right now rather than indulge in a never ending back-and-forth with him. As soon as you type the last codes and the large SECURITY SYSTEM: DISABLED alert pops on the monitor, you quickly rise up from your seat. "You're up guys, hurry!"

"On it!" Sam replies as you rush outside the room.

Before he even says anything to you, Bucky is quickly guiding you down the hallway with the intent of getting out of there as soon as possible, turning to look at you with a confused expression when you stop walking and, instead, start yanking his arm to go in the opposite direction.

"What are you doing?"

"The exit is that way," you point out as if it’s obvious.

He looks even more confused now, and slightly annoyed. "Don't think so. That's the way we entered, but there's another way of leaving this place a lot faster."

"No, we can't change the plan!"

He definitely looks annoyed now, trying not to snap at you. "I'm not changing the plan. Exiting that way has always been the plan. If we go that way, we'll-"

Before he can say anything else, the loud sound of an alarm blasts through the entire building, signaling that you've been discovered and you'll be having company very soon. As if that wasn't enough, the door of the room you were previously in opens violently, and the guard that was previously unconscious on the floor is frantically alerting more people through his radio.

“Oh, that’s great,” you point out, slightly panicking right now because you’re still inside the building. “You decided to wake up early, huh?”

Bucky immediately grabs the guy by his bulletproof vest to throw him against the wall, taking his barely regained consciousness to his advantage. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice about six other guys coming towards you, turning around the same corner you wanted to run towards as part of your escape plan. Sadly, that's when you realized maybe the direction Bucky was suggesting was better.

You’re unsure of what to do now. It's not like you haven't been taught how to take down a few bad guys, but your specialities have always involved computers rather than physical combat. Almost as if he could read your mind, Bucky turns towards you for a quick second. "Go! I'll catch up to you." Again, almost as if he knew that you'd try to ask if he was sure about it, he immediately shouts yet another "Go!" before you're finally deciding to do as he says, running down the hall in the direction he has intended to go before.

Hours later, second after second that passes by, you’re more and more convinced that you'll never hear the end of it. If only you could go back in time and just agree with Bucky's plan rather than trying to argue with him. It would have spared you a lifetime of him reminding you how he was right and you were wrong.

Turns out his exit plan was the one you should've followed all along, because it actually led to the engine room which immediately meant being in a much less crowded part of the building to escape without risking bumping into more people.

All of you had enough time to change into something more comfortable to go out for drinks. Initially it was something you and Joaquín had planned alone, but evidently the two of you didn’t hesitate to invite Sam and Bucky. Of course they accepted the invite, and of course Bucky has done his very best to keep reminding you of your little mistake.

"Listen, if you don't want shit like that to happen again, just let me know your plan beforehand."

"But I did let you know. The problem is that someone is not really a good listener."

"No. Letting me know- like, properly letting me know, would've been telling me before we got inside that building."

Bucky smirks as he leans back on his chair, and it's obvious to you he's really enjoying this banter. "Plan changed at the last minute. If you would've just followed my lead, we could've left that building a lot faster."

"Ah, so you do recognize that wasn't the original plan!" you exclaim with a triumphant grin, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "You changed it all by yourself and didn't tell me."

"Changed at the last minute," he repeats, as if to correct you. "You wanted me to stand there and explain every detail to you?"

"Oh, as if explaining it would've taken you hours! You’re always so dramatic."

"Children," Sam commented, interrupting the banter with an unamused expression. "I had to trust the operation to literal children."

Bucky scoffs at that comment, watching as Sam lets out a chuckle, shaking his head after witnessing this whole interaction between the two of you.

"Kinda makes you appreciate having an actual professional around, huh?" Joaquín says right after, flashing a charming smile in Sam's direction.

"Oh, please!" you, Bucky and Sam reply in unison, earning an offended look from Joaquín.

Soon after, Bucky is speaking again. "You know what? I'll give you some credit. You managed to do your part of the job…decently."

It’s obvious he wants a reaction from you, but even if your banter is entertaining, you know you can't keep bickering the entire night. Once again, you can’t help but to feel embarrassed, as if everyone at that table knows your little secret regarding your feelings towards Bucky. As if some innocent banter between friends could ever give it away. Besides, the four of you are here to celebrate your mission was a success, and the fact that you haven't seen the trio in a long time makes it the perfect opportunity to catch up.

Pretending to fully ignore his last comment, you turn to look at Sam from across the table. "You. I haven't seen your lovely face in a while," you start, watching him physically get ready for whatever silly comment you might come up with. "Tell me what you've been up to...I've seen the photos of you shaking hands with the President," the reference to Everett Ross sounding anything but endearing.

Sam sighs, shrugging. "Yeah, well, I guess you can say it's part of the job," he simply replies before taking a quick sip of his beer. "I can't say I'm thrilled about it, but I figured it's best to compromise a bit and keep the man happy. As long as he stays in line, I'll cooperate."

"Of course you're not thrilled about it, Sam. That's the same guy that put your ass in a prison in the middle of nowhere like you were some kind of top security criminal!" you reply almost immediately, still in disbelief at the revelation of any sort of alliance between him and Ross. Sam's expression lets you know that even he is still conflicted about it, not really knowing what to say. After taking a brief pause, you try to say something else to lighten the mood, not wanting him to think like you’re judging him for it. "Hey, I understand having to keep up appearances. I get it. And please accept my deepest condolences for having to deal with that piece of shit."

Your last comment makes the three of them laugh, and Bucky takes the opportunity to change the subject. "And what have you been up to?" he asks, sounding genuinely curious. "It's been a while since any of us has seen you."

"Well, my life has been all over the place the last few months. As all of you know, I moved into a new apartment. I loved my roommate, but I felt it was time to just live by myself, you know?"

"So no plans of leaving New York to move to D.C., huh?" Joaquín asks with a smile.

You return the smile immediately. "As fun as it would be to live closer to all of you weirdos, no. I plan to stay in New York for now. I'm just really comfortable there with the new apartment, the promotion I got a few months ago, the fact that most of my family and friends are there..."

"But not all your friends," Sam quickly points out, pretending to sound incredibly offended by your last statement. "But since we’re talking about friends and just social life in general...are you still single?"

"Why are you always so interested in my love life?" you joke with a playful grin, taking a sip of your margarita to leave him wondering the answer just a few seconds more. "Yes, I'm still single. Queen's full of creeps," you added shortly after. "Are any of you seeing anybody?"

"Proudly and happily single," Joaquín replies, raising his drink up as if to cheer before taking a sip.

Sam gives him a very visible side-eye. "Yikes," is all he says regarding that, turning back to you. "I'm not interested in dating right now, to be honest. I’m quite a busy gentleman, you know?" 

“And you say ‘yikes’ to me?” Joaquín says immediately after, looking dumbfounded.

You chime in before any of them could add anything else regarding that. “Bucky?” you ask, turning to look at him as you await his answer.

It was a bold move to directly ask him that question. On one hand, you know Bucky has always been a loner so you’re almost certain that he’s single. But there’s always that tiny percentage of probability that you’ll learn a truth you’re not sure how you’ll handle. He’s your best friend, of course you’ll be happy if he’s happy…but the idea of him revealing to you that he’s dating someone might actually make you physically sick.

You notice Bucky gets uncomfortable right away. “I’m single too.”

The pleasant feeling of relief lasts just a few seconds. The fact that Sam laughs at Bucky’s reply has your mind spinning, not understanding why he would laugh at that. Why the fuck is he laughing? Should you start panicking already?

"Actually, our buddy has been on a few dating apps, I believe."

Oh no. 

Even when you try to remind yourself not to care about anything remotely romantic involving Bucky- or at least, not to care more than a platonic friend would, you can deny the news of him possibly dating someone or even just randomly talking to any person in those apps makes your stomach turn. It really wouldn't be dramatic to claim that you could quite literally throw up right now at the thought of him and someone else right now.

It's not common to hear any sort of updates regarding Bucky's love life because...well, there's never any developments. He's never shown interest in anyone, and as far as you know he's never had any sort of relationship with anyone like that�� serious or casual. What if he's interested in exploring that part of his life now? What if he has found someone already and you're about to hear him talk all about them? It makes you genuinely sick, but you try your best to act as unbothered as you possibly can, forcing you to mask your disgust and heartbreak with pleasant surprise.

"Is that so?" is all you say.

He looks even more uncomfortable by the subject, choosing to look down at his almost finished beer. "It's not...I was just trying to put myself out there," he says awkwardly, shrugging. "Long story short, online dating is not for me. I hated it."

You could tell he doesn’t really like talking about this subject, so you try to quickly ease the tension with a bit of humor. Besides, you're probably better off without hearing anything regarding that topic anyway. "It's because you couldn't figure out how the whole swiping thing worked, isn't it?"

Bucky immediately seems to relax with your joke, chuckling a bit. "It took me a few days actually." He takes a quick pause before continuing. "I probably should've asked you for help."

If there was any hidden message behind his last statement, it completely goes over your head because you genuinely thought it was just part of your playful banter regarding his lack of skills when it comes to technology. You laugh, and in return Bucky offers you a smile because that's as much hinting as he dares to do out loud, especially if Sam and Joaquín are sitting right there. He's incredibly used to you never getting his subtle implications anyway.

In front of you, the other two guys are watching this exchange unfold, and it's hard to tell which one of them has a bigger urge to tell you to stop being so fucking oblivious already. As subtle as he can be, Joaquín pokes Sam's side with his elbow to give him a quick heads-up before speaking. "Considering everyone's almost finished, Sam and I are getting another round of drinks."

The two of them are standing up when they notice you're grabbing your purse and standing up as well. "Oh, I can go with you. I have to go to the restroom anyway."

The two of them want to yet again yell at you to please get a grip on the situation, but Sam just silently takes a seat as you and Joaquín go over to the bar, quickly telling him what you want to order before heading towards the restroom.

A few drinks later the four of you are finally leaving the bar. Sam and Joaquín left to their respective houses while you and Bucky shared an Uber back to his own place. He was kind enough to let you crash in his spare room for the night. It's not like this is the first time you've ever stayed at his apartment when you visit the boys, but you can't deny the idea is both thrilling and terrifying- not like anything would happen to make you feel like that...you two are just friends...but, still...your silly head likes to get silly ideas sometimes.

Deciding not to indulge in your little fantasies, you decide to start a conversation. "Update on the food?" you ask, turning to look at Bucky, who sits comfortably on the sofa of his living room.

"Like ten minutes away," he says, taking a quick look at the screen. "How come you haven't congratulated me for knowing how to order food with this thing?" he added with evident surprise, making you chuckle.

"Because you keep saying 'this thing' like it's some mysterious device completely unknown to mankind," you reply, and before you can stop yourself, you continue. "It's cute, I guess, so congratulations."

Bucky's grin grows wider. "Oh, so it's cute?"

You try really hard not to panic, feeling incredibly embarrassed. The fact that he seems to be enjoying what you just said makes it even worse, because you know he’ll use that to tease you now. He just finds any possible excuse to do it. "Cute as in lame."

He chuckles. "Right."

Not knowing what else to say, you clear your throat before walking towards him, taking a seat next to him as you try to come up with something else to change the subject immediately. "I'm starving," is all you say, mentally scolding you for such a poor effort.

As soon as you're sitting, you unsuccessfully try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach when he leans just a bit closer...perhaps if you weren't hyper vigilant whenever the two of you are too near you might've missed it. And then, he stretches his arm across the back of the sofa, right behind you.

For a second, you even thought of mocking him for such a move, but bringing more attention to it would only make you that much nervous, and you really don't want to embarrass yourself. And most importantly, you don't want your silly mind and your silly heart to get their hopes up. You're just friends, nothing else.

"Me too," he agrees, the playful grin on his face still not disappearing. "Might have to steal a few fries from you."

"Oh, I'd really like to see you try stealing my food," you reply in the same playful tone, leaning just a little closer to him without even noticing that you were actually doing that.

"I think I deserve some compensation after what happened today. You know, for all the unnecessary ass-kicking I had to do."

"Just when I thought you had moved on from that!" you reply, jokingly slapping his knee. "It wasn't my fault, it was yours for not telling me the plan on time!"

"You should've just trusted me," he insists. "But you always have to be right on everything..."

You know he's joking. There's something about bantering with you that seems to absolutely fascinate him. "Yeah, and you always want to piss me off."

Bucky chuckles again, and that's when you feel his hand gently resting on your shoulder, his arm fully around you. What the actual fuck is going on. "What, you think I like pissing you off?" he asks, tone slightly lower than before, which inevitably makes the butterflies in your stomach multiply. "Is that why you think I do it?"

You were quiet for a moment, your brain not entirely registering what's happening. "I mean...yeah."

He stops for a second, and you almost see a hint of hesitation on his face before he speaks, letting out a frustrated sigh. "For someone who claims to be so much more clever than anyone else, I would've expected you to figure it out sooner," he starts, shaking his head with a soft smile. "I've been actually flirting with you, doll."

The comment evidently takes you by surprise and all you can do is to stare back at him like a complete fool. His arm around your shoulders, the proximity, the fact he had the fucking audacity to call you that nickname...did you somehow fall asleep on his couch without noticing and this is the type of oddly-realistic dream your brain decided to come up with? Are you still standing there like a fool just fantasizing and this one just got way too immersive? And did he really just say that he's been flirting with you?

Noticing you weren't saying anything, he decides to continue, looking a little hesitant and disappointed with your silence. "You know, it'd be really nice if you say something..."

"Awful way to flirt," is all you could come up with, which immediately makes him burst out laughing. 

"Maybe," he agrees. "But I can’t believe you didn’t figure it out. I mean…Sam and Joaquín did a long time ago."

"The three of you share the same brain cell, of course they figured it out a long time ago,” you reply, still in complete shock to be having this conversation with him. Were you really that blind? "You could’ve just asked me."

"You know I'm not direct like that," he replies, and the shy look on his face almost makes your heart melt. "Like I said, I was relying on your impressive intelligence to figure it out."

You let out a soft chuckle after his last comment, immediately giving him a warning look. "Don't." He looks back at you for a few seconds, almost wanting to challenge you after noticing the way you’re looking at him. Soon enough, he’s unable to hide his smirk anymore. "There it is," you point out, knowing he hates that.

Bucky lets out a soft grunt as a complaint, resting his head on your shoulder. Encouraged, you immediately move a hand up to his hair, affectionately playing with it. The two of you stay like that, simply enjoying being so close to each other. It feels incredibly right.

"So how do you feel?" he eventually asks, perhaps feeling braver to ask now that he doesn’t have to look into your eyes when he does.

You don’t reply right away, still feeling incredibly nervous despite knowing he does like you back. Eventually, you do build up the courage to say something. "I like you. Like, a lot."

Bucky moves back to look at you know. The look on his face gives you the impression that he wasn’t expecting you to be so honest with your answer, perhaps expecting another silly joke or sarcastic remark. And even though you thought about the possibility of choosing a more humorous approach, after keeping your feelings for him locked up and stored away for so long, you really needed to just say it.

Instead of saying something back, Bucky tightens his grip around your shoulders just enough, using his other hand to grab your chin right before kissing you. It certainly takes you by surprise, but you're quickly returning the kiss as you just completely melt in his arms, still trying to convince yourself that this is not some kind of hyper-realistic dream.

His hand swiftly moves to your cheek as the kiss continues, the gesture so incredibly delicate, a sharp contrast with the pure need he’s transmitting through the kiss. It’s desperate, passionate, intense…like he’s been waiting an entire lifetime to finally be able to experience this, grateful for the absolute privilege that it is to kiss you.

One of your hands moves up to the back of his neck and your touch seems to encourage him that much more because before you know it, he's taking the opportunity to gently bite your bottom lip, right before continuing to make out with you.

Much to yours and Bucky's disappointment, the sound of his apartment's doorbell echoes through the apartment, indicating the food you previously ordered has arrived.

He reluctantly pulls away with a soft grunt. "Food's here," he comments out loud, offering you a soft smile. He takes a brief moment to look at you, brushing his thumb against your cheek in an affectionate manner, dreading the idea of having to leave this couch. "I'll get it."

"I can help," you offer almost immediately.

Instead of replying right away, he leans in for a short kiss. "I'll get it," he insists, quickly making his way to the door after another buzz could be heard.

You sat in his living room in complete disbelief of what just happened, thankful that he's not here right now to see your goofy smile and blushed cheeks. He'd probably tease you to no end if he did see that.

Not knowing what else to do, you immediately reach for your phone, opening your messages. You knew exactly who would be the right people to share the news with.

'uhm so we just kissed??????' you texted, the first message in the group chat you just created with Sam and Joaquín.

Joaquín is the first one to reply. 'HELL YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!'

'FUCKING FINALLY.' Sam texts shortly after.

[seb-boo]

Highlights from Seb's Interview with Sky Germany (Jeddah 2025):

Seb's kids don't want him driving (cause they like him home so much)

He regretted that when he got the chance to ask Michael a question, he asked about what he did to stay fit

He apparently hates swimming?

He recently broke his finger doing handy work

His son has started to ask about his career

How self-doubt played a role in his career and ultimately poor results were not satisfying to him in the end, especially when he could have been spending time with his kids

He was surprised at his first drivers' briefing how catty everyone was—this later, in addition to safety, was a motivator to reform the GDPA and actually have community amongst the drivers

He feels that Multi 21 made him and Mark closer (ala Baku 2017)

He is open to the idea of taking over Marko's job and discussed how their approaches are very different

He texted Lewis after his China sprint win

His projects allow him to be involved with F1, but keep enough distance to feel comfortable

His favorite thing to do is psychoanalyze the drivers (he also thinks reading people is his greatest gift)

He is struggling with grasses and herbs at agricultural school (but seems to do well on an impromptu quiz)

He's a control freak (he trusts his choice in restaurant and music over everyone else in F1 for a party—oh, and he would pay)

Direct quotes ↴

"I would say, well. It's my own perception, but I think pretty well. The, how do you say, the family peace still exists. [You're not annoying at home?] *laughing* I don't think so. I am still wanted. The kids also said I shouldn't start driving again because it's so nice that I'm there. That's great to hear something like that."

---

"When I imagine myself as a little boy, I can remember the key moments when suddenly Michael was standing there, maybe said something, and the question I asked was, 'what do you do to be fit?' And then you think afterwards or later I thought again, I should have asked so many other things. And then he told me that he does this and that and swims and so on, and I thought, 'oh no, I don't like swimming at all!' These are such small things, but yes, it meant the world to me at the time[...] because my hero listened to me in that sense."

---

"It's about intuition and what really drives you and what you really want, and yes, I think I might not be able to fully answer that question for a long time, or ever, but that's also what triggers curiosity somewhere. But to feel it and, yes, to develop more intuition, I think, was a big point for me and perhaps still is. And it's exciting to get to know yourself again like that. I don't know why I had this drive, after stopping, not to commit myself to a task or a job or, I don't know, partnership XY, but to be free first, for myself, to then feel myself and see, okay, what do I want at all, where is my journey going, and how do I deal with this, in quotes 'emptiness first,' before I immediately jump into the next project?"

"Agriculture has kept me quite busy in the last year with the training that I am now hopefully successfully completing and passing, and I have learned a lot of new things. Yes, there is always something to do around the house and things that have maybe been left undone in recent years, where I am still, yes, skilled. It's relative, I recently broke my finger, but yes, I do a lot and try a lot, and so the days actually pass quickly. I enjoy that. I enjoy the time as well, and this other life, but of course, I watch and follow what is happening and how the guys are doing, and I am still in contact here and there, so yes, it is a big part of me, and it will remain so."

[So the identity as a racing driver will remain. How is that now, for example, at home? For the children, they are 10, 11, I think, then six or so, five?] "Yes, five." [Do they also ask about moments from your career, or is that not a topic at all?]

"Yes, it's funny. We were watching recently, just now, the race in Bahrain or qualifying, and then when it was finished, my youngest said something like, 'I would like to see where you were driving.' Then I said, 'Okay, I have to look first.' I couldn't find anything quickly in the media library, I had to rummage around, but yes, it is interesting. The girls, I think, have taken it in and perceived it a bit more. He was still too young. Yes, it would sometimes be interesting to know what the children think. Here or there, they notice it when we are out and about and perhaps meet people who remember and you stop for a moment and have a chat. But yes, my own perception and then the perception from the children's point of view is very interesting. I think we are coping well with the situation and of course we are trying to give the children a childhood similar to the one we had, in a normal sense, really."

[I also looked at how you have developed as a personality over the years, starting with your time in Formula 1. If you look back at your early years at Toro Rosso, maybe also a bit of the time at Red Bull, how would you describe yourself then?]

"Well, I think very focused, very goal-oriented. I knew exactly what I wanted. I had a very clear vision of where I wanted to go, and then of course I had this incredible time, the years when it felt like everything went well for me. Then with the move to Ferrari, of course, a big challenge, but also a lifelong dream that I could fulfill. The big success, the very big success that I had firmly set my sights on, the title, did not materialize. Now, of course, you can talk for a long time about why and how and why not, but I believe that in retrospect, the time was much more important, the people I met, the experiences I had, and the lessons as well."

"From, I don't know, a certain insecurity, self-doubt also played a big role, then to the last part of my career where I think I opened up more and also came out of myself more in the sense that I not only talked about racing but also addressed other topics and topics that were important to me, and so I gave room to a new side of myself and could develop. And yes, of course, I had a great privilege associated with it, that I was in a position where people might have listened to me or perceived me in that sense, and I actually had very, very many positive experiences with that. Of course, there were also people who said, 'That doesn't belong to you now, and you shouldn't focus on that, and rather focus on driving because things aren't going well there,' and so on. I think there was also a lot of humility in the sense of, yes, when you have a good run at the beginning and then everything picks up speed and you are in teams where things are always moving forward and faster and in big teams, then in that sense, I don't want to say falling behind, but switching to a team that is in this building phase and getting the momentum back was a nice time. "

"But of course, in terms of results, it was a very tough time, a tough pill to swallow, because suddenly you are, I don't know, not in oblivion, but from my point of view and own feelings, you have slipped to results that no longer matter, that are no longer relevant. Whether I was 8th or 12th or 14th, was for me, insufficient for me. Especially when you have already been at the very top, then that is no real fulfillment. But also dealing with that and getting to know that side of myself, I think I have matured extremely in recent years and knew more and more what I wanted. And then in that sense, that I see and want other things in my life and want to have time, especially for the children. Time is limited, and then I had the courage, I think, to say, okay, I know I can do more and I know maybe more is yet to come, but yes, I want to have time for other things and get to know other sides of myself."

---

"And I think our society has changed, that yes, young people or generally, that you now address certain topics and don't stop before certain topics anymore. And that you have to take a position in a certain way. Perhaps a piece of the freedom to withdraw has been lost, but I think that has a very positive overall effect. When you address topics in sport that are perhaps more political or play a role outside of sport, I think it has a lot of impact. So if the values are the right ones that you represent and it is good topics that you address, of course, it's not for me to judge what is good and bad and right and wrong, but I think if you stand up for others and draw attention to things, then that is a good thing."

---

"I remember my first drivers' briefing as a Formula 1 driver. I was somewhat shocked that no one was talking to each other, but rather talking about each other, sometimes with a bit of arrogance, and this difference in status, "I am here, you are there." Yet in sport, in Formula 1 or in life generally, our passion connects us, and then to seek points of attack instead of the things that perhaps distinguish us, I find much more sympathetic, because even if we weren't the best friends in that room of 20 back then and still are today as drivers, even if we weren't the best friends, there was still this great connection and the passion that we all shared or cared about, right?"

[Or I mean, towards the end of your career, you brought the drivers together, but this is now commonplace, right?]

"Because I simply thought or felt that this community was missing, and also to help establish the GPDA, and I went to Alex, to Alex Wurz, who is still involved, and said, 'Alex, we somehow have to manage to bring the drivers together.' Of course, safety is a topic that connects us all, but also generally, let's talk about the other topics when we feel that something is wrong, or that we simply get into an exchange. I think the space is good that you can, apart from statements you have heard about others, find this space to also go out for dinner in the evening and exchange ideas and get to know each other better. You spend so much time together, it feels like, and at the same time, everyone is so absorbed in their team with meetings and, I don't know, meet and greets and appearances here and there, that you actually don't have any time together, and that is really a shame."

[With Multi 21, for example, with Mark Webber back then, such an action, how do you see that now, from your past, do you say that was totally okay, or do you think it was difficult?]

"Especially, I think, that our relationship was strained until then. Or very, yes, we were very big competitors, so Mark. Of course, then also within the team, but I think that ultimately, clearly, it wasn't a nice event, but I think it led to us understanding each other much better today and having much more respect for each other. So, we talked afterwards, I told him what I didn't like about it and why I felt it was unjustified. He expressed his opinion, and yes, even if you don't completely agree with and adopt the other person's opinion, that's not what it's about. It's about talking to each other in the first step, and we were much better at that afterwards."

[Sebastian, when you look at the situation right now at Red Bull, it's funny that your name came up today because I was talking to Ralf about what you yourself once mentioned as a potential successor. Is that a role you could fundamentally imagine?]

"I think there is only one Helmut, and his role, clearly, is his. But yes, I think that generally, the exchange is also very inspiring, and of course, you have the experiences you have, and Helmut is similar in a way. He also grew up in motorsport, a completely different time, but the wheel still turns the same way in a way, and the similar and same things matter today as they did, I don't know, how many years ago, even if Formula 1 has changed significantly."

"Yes, I think there are many things and perspectives or parallels or things that one could pass on. Whether that will be something in the future, we'll see. I am still in contact with him, I also asked him a few years ago how much longer he wanted to do it, and he said not much longer, and he is still here. *laughs* So as long as he still enjoys it and feels up to the job, I think, yes, he is in a unique role, especially with the experience and the team dynamics. He knows that best, and from the outside, it is always difficult to judge, and perhaps you sometimes wonder here or there how this happened or what's the point, but of course, he has a completely different perspective and completely different experiences. And yes, it will be a shame when he leaves or steps down from the position at some point, but of course, then, yes, it has to develop in a new, different direction."

[I visited him recently in Graz, he had just come from the forest, it was 11 in the morning, he said he had already been there for 3 hours, and then he said he talks about it often with you too because you are also a forester and you have different approaches, right?]

"Yes, completely different views, but we both have respect for each other. He is more of the old school. I am more of the modern perspective, that you sometimes leave the tree lying there, and thereby cultivate or promote the beneficial insects, or in his view, pests, and thus ensure balance. But yes, neither of our views is just right and just wrong."

---

[I also said recently, after three races we say someone is great, and then they make a mistake again, and then they go down again. So this patience also to have with development, for example, with Lewis Hamilton. I think you wrote to him after the sprint victory in China, didn't you?]

"Yes, of course."

[Yes, he was probably happy because you texted him. How do you see that? I mean, you also made this move from Red Bull to Ferrari. What is this big adjustment that you need as a driver, and why does it take so long, maybe half a year, as Ralf, for example, said?]

"Well, maybe it takes even longer, depending. I think so many things depend on it. I think the car was less of a change for me back then. Everything was different. The car drove completely differently. But yes, I was able to get used to it quite quickly in that sense. But of course, it's other people, a different environment, a different language, a different culture. So I think the whole thing overwhelms you, and everyone is different. One person might need longer, another less long with one situation or another. I don't think there's any doubt that he can drive. There's no doubt that he can do all the things that are now demanded of him. But it's also completely normal to need a little time. And I think nothing is lost there either, in that sense. If the development suddenly takes the right path, then I think Ferrari is in a completely different position again. They were very strong last year, narrowly missed the Constructors' Championship, so you shouldn't write off the whole team and the two drivers now."

---

[If you could choose a role again in Formula 1, I know that you were, for example, in Monaco, we saw each other very briefly there, you came out of the Red Bull hospitality, you had an appointment with Stefano Domenicali. When people see you now, also with your experience regarding social projects, everyone would ask, why isn't Sebastian integrated into Formula 1 anymore with his past? What's the answer to that?]

"I have many, but would you like to do that? I am in contact with Stefano, we are talking about it and perhaps still refining and tinkering with what it would look like exactly. Yes, but I also don't want to push myself in any way. I think ultimately it has to fit for both sides. I don't know. I mean, I follow the sport with great interest, and now also with enough distance that I don't feel like it's a problem anymore. The first few races were perhaps a bit more difficult, but now after a relatively long time, it is no longer a problem."

"Yes, I don't know what it could be in the future. Of course, it would be nice to see that the goals that Formula 1 sets for itself are realistically approached and achieved regarding the future and regarding responsibility. So whether it's climate neutrality by 2030 or certain projects and aspects to use the impact of Formula 1 to really live, exemplify, and bring about good change. On the other hand, of course, as I said, staying close to the drivers in a certain role, I don't know what kind of role that will be in the future, is certainly something one can imagine, which I can also imagine."

[Simply because you have had so many experiences that you couldn't evaluate during your active time, but now I think with more distance, you see many things.]

"I watch the races, of course, I see the same things as everyone else, which tires, which strategy, and so on. But I think what tactic or what mindset is behind it, what is going on in the driver's head, I think I already have more insight, perhaps not better than everyone else, but more insight. And of course, yes, because it's perhaps still so fresh, I can still draw more from it. 'Does he feel comfortable now, and where is perhaps the problem? Maybe it's not the tire set or the strategy, but perhaps something else.' That's what I find interesting, the person behind it."

[I just wanted to ask you a few quick short questions at the end, including a quiz question about your training. I'm curious if you can answer it. Perhaps first, what are you learning right now that you are not yet good at?]

"Grasses and herbs."

[Okay...alphorn playing?]

"Alphorn playing! I still remember that, I put it aside but haven't completely given up. I heard something again recently and thought, oh yes, I must get it out again."

[What is your greatest gift?]

"Of course, you could talk about racing because I had some success there and so on, but I think, yes, this reading people, it sounds a bit much, but I think I can sense what is going on in people and in certain situations, and then, of course, when it comes to sport and performance or results in that sense."

[Looking back at your Formula 1 time with all the people you met, regardless of who they are, a really good evening, a final evening, perhaps. Who chooses the restaurant?]

"Me!" [Ja?] "Ja!"

[Do you have good taste?]

"I don't know, but I think I have learned over the years that, yes, I really enjoy doing that. Let's put it that way."

[Who is responsible for the music?]

"Also me. If I'm throwing the party, then at least the food and music. Music can either be right and you don't really notice it, it's in the background and it fits. But if it's wrong, it's already too late when you notice it. So, yes."

[What do you like to listen to? What's your favorite?]

"Everything. But when eating, yes, it has to be something calmer and something that fits the time and the setting."

[Yes, who pays?]

"I would also like to, I wouldn't have a problem." *laughs*

[Who leaves first?]

"That depends on how many people are there."

[But who would be the one you'd say, yes, okay, the slightly grumpy one.]

"Christian always left first!"

[Okay, okay, okay. And who locks the door at the end?]

"Adrian."

[Really? Such a party person?]

"Yes, well, there are others there too, but yes, he always had fun anyway."

[So Sebastian, the last question now. Now I'm curious. I hope I'm not putting you on the spot. So you are doing your training now in Switzerland, right? Agriculture? I think you are in the vocational school in Pfäffikon. Did I pronounce that correctly?] "Ja." [Watch out, now I have picked out a question. So, which plant is often referred to as "green gold" because it improves the soil and serves as animal fodder? Is it A) Wheat, B) Clover, C) Corn, or D) Rapeseed?]

"It's clover because it's a legume and the only plant that can store nitrogen in the form of nodule bacteria on the roots. You can even see them with the naked eye, and it's not only good for the soil and the plant, but also good for the animals."

[That's great. You passed the test!]

[not-so-superheroine]

a lot of chatter in the comments about not owing people anything.

a. yes you do. the world is falling apart right now in part because of this attitude. you owe your fellow human consideration.

babies can't help but to scream. but most adults can and therefore shouldn't be screaming in the grocery store just because they're angry.

you can buy headphones or wait til you are alone. preferably your house. headphones are easier.

b. i confront people who blast things in public enclosed spaces. i can't stand it, so i do what i can about it. i often carry spare headphones to lend out so i can ask in a "nice" way. i'm gonna start bringing cheaper earbuds with an adapter now that i've been inspired.

people don't like confrontation and generally turn it down/off and refuse the offered headphones.

i'm not above moving next to them and blasting something more annoying if it doesn't click.

don't be inconsiderate and contribute to making the environment we share worse than it is out of selfishness.

you will eventually run into a me. and you can either adjust then or make a huge ass of yourself in front of a bunch of other people likely agree with me/them. i/they will publicly shame you by causing you to publically shame yourself. it seems humiliating as they often look admonished/abashed. very few people like feeling or looking like an asshole.

i'm not extremely confrontational, but this is a pet peeve. i can't handle the stimulation and YES i am already wearing expensive noise canceling headphones pretty much at all times. even to sleep.

if you think it is safe enough, confront the person doing it. i suggest being kind about it.

"could you please turn off the sound? i'm autistic and have a hard time with that. i am wearing noise canceling headphones but it's still pretty loud."

"that's pretty loud. do you have headphones? would you like to borrow my spare headphones?"

that don't work. (to the extent you are willing to go) get more drastic. make them uncomfortable as you are.

people who do this make me so mad, y'all. and they back down damn near every time after the kind approach.

dangerous in the usa ig bc people have guns and trigger fingers, but i take the risk in public spaces.

to clarify, I'm not talking about on the street, at parks, or at the metro station even. buskers gotta play to make cash.

but in an enclosed space? a library? a plane? doctors office? come on.

i'm literally begging people to relearn how to use earbuds and headphones. i don't wanna hear your fucking tiktok while im waiting for my flight.

[keferon]

Evil thought: was one of the pilots that Prowl buried Bluestreak? (Getting that tfp angst going)

YES YES YES IMAGINE

Imagine if there’s a giant invasion and Quintessons start using some kind of bio weapon. A toxic gas maybe? Rust plague? And no one knows what to do with it because it comes out of a portal and that portal CANNOT be closed from just one end. So Bluestreak goes through it. To destroy it from the other side. And him and Prowl has to blow up the whole thing at the same time and Prowl is FREAKING THE FUCK OUT because his brother (twin?) is gonna be left to die and he practically has to pull the trigger.

Blue spends the last seconds over comm to tell Prowl that everything is okay and they have to do that. Because it’s their duty.

While Prowl is begging for him to change his mind and come back.

Maybe it’s Bluestreak’s death that makes Prowl “like that”. Obsessed with upgrades and improvements. Because if only he was quicker or smarter and anything really. If only he was better back then.

[dameronspector]

Getaway Car (Part 2)

Pairing: Manny Alvarez x GN!Reader, Joel Miller x Platonic!reader, Ellie Williams x Platonic!Reader

Summary: After a tough escape to Jackson, you end up getting taken in by none other than Joel Miller. Still hurt by Manny's actions and the heartbreak, you discover for the first time what it means to be surrounded by family since you were 14 years old. And you'd do anything to save this family, but you were still holding out hope for your love to come back home.

Warnings: Cursing, Angst, Hurt/Comfort from Joel, Joel is a father to Reader, Reader misses Manny so much, Mentions of Depression and Panic Attacks, Death, Blood, Gore, Starvation, Joel Miller Is Saved, Reader hates Abby and the group, Manny begs for forgiveness, reunions, that’s all i think!

AN: this part includes: how did Reader build relationships with joel, Ellie and the others. And ofcourse the incident and how Reader saves joel. I’m deciding to split this into three parts now because this is just inspiring me sm. (Sorry if this isnt good I’m editing this at 4 am help)

PS: I don't know anything about the game, my characterisation is based off the wiki information, the show and my own imagination. Plus, I headcanoned the QZ where they first met as Miami because that's Danny's hometown.

Somewhere near Jackson, 2023

You don’t know where you are or what day it was- all you knew that you had to keep going—you had to keep moving and stay vigilant. Max, your beloved horse, was a strong and supportive companion in your lonely journey. You thought he might’ve sensed your heart ache somehow as he would nuzzle closer to you every time you touched foreheads. In return, you made sure to find food and shelter for him, if not for you, as you were too depressed and tired to think about your own health.

Travelling solo across the country was triggering, as you were reminded of the time that you were on the run with your parents. And since then, you were always accompanied by Manny or the others. When you camped down at night, you kept yourself awake by revisiting all the happy moments with your Manny or by crying over him. The way he caressed your head when you were sleeping, the way he held your hands, the way he would crack jokes to cheer you up, his stories from back home—everything. You missed his scent, you missed that he wasn’t here to warm you up in the biting cold at night. You knew he must be losing his mind right now, the inability to protect you and not being able to see you making him insane. But you also knew you had to do this. For you, and as a human being.

The journey wasn't easy. You had some encounters with clickers and managed to roughly escape some raiders with minimal injuries. You tried your best not to stay at one place for a long time and even if you did, you would either hide out in high rise buildings or abandoned homes. Somewhere that had four walls to protect you and Max. Camping out in the open sent your mind went into overdrive as even the smallest of sounds sent you over the edge. So you tried your best to avoid open spaces. All of this was taking a toll on you mentally as you grew more and more paranoid, Manny’s smiling face in the back of your mind was the only thing that kept you alive.

According to the map, you were closer to Jackson now, the thought keeping you motivated to keep pushing. You hadn’t had a proper meal in days. You felt dehydrated and hungry, the feeling of exhaustion taking you back to when you were 14. You tried focusing your eyes in front of you, lazily guiding Max, but you could feel that fuzzy feeling in your head, your eyes slipping shut and your hands constantly dropping the reins, the crisp and cold air making it harder to focus. Max nodded his head and tried to get your attention with a grunt, but you were too far gone and you eventually passed out against his mane, leaving him grunting and neighing, standing still on the spot until he heard someone approach.

Jackson, 2023

“Joel! I see a horse!”, Ellie yelled out to get Joel’s attention. Joel rushed over to Ellie’s side. “You see someone on it?” “I don’t think so, can’t see properly from here.”

Joel nodded and slowly made his way over to the horse, his gun raised and a hand asking Ellie to stay behind the bushes. As he approached the horse, he noticed how the horse kept nodding his head and tried to turn his head behind, as if asking Joel to look over there. Joel held out a hand to soothe the horse and that’s when he noticed someone passed out on the horse’s back.

“Hey, easy, easy. That’s it, that’s a good boy”, he cooed to the horse to calm him down and walked over to check on you. You looked…bad, to put it simply. Your skin was pale, clothes dirtied and you looked sickly because of the lack of food and water. Joel furrowed his eyebrows- he could tell you had come alone, all the way to Jackson, from somewhere far and he understood that the moment he took a look at you. You carried a single backpack, probably filled with essentials only, no visible weapons on you or anything suspicious. You looked young, Joel noted- must be in your late 20s.

Joel stuffed his gun back into the holster and shook you by the shoulders, “Hey- hey, kid? You okay?” You stirred a little at his voice but you were so weak that you slipped from the saddle. Joel immediately caught you in his arms and carefully got you down from the horse. “Fuck- hey-Ellie!”, Joel grunted out. Ellie rushed out from her hiding place and came over to support your legs and helped Joel lift you in his arms.

“Shit, are they okay?”, Ellie asked in concern, taking in your pale and fragile form. Your head lolled into Joel’s chest and he let out a sigh.

“No idea. Likely dehydrated and passed out from exhaustion. Don’t see any injuries or nothin’”, eyebrows furrowed in concern, Joel looked you over once again. You stirred lightly against him, your eyes blearily opened and tried to focus on the person holding you. “Manny…”, you slurred out, Joel strained his good ear to hear you clearly, but to no avail as you were delirious and your speech unclear.

“They’re out of it. We need to take ‘em to the clinic right away. You take the horse to the stables, have him checked, okay?”, Joel instructed Ellie and she nodded her head before carefully taking away Max with her. Joel hoisted you up in his arms and made his way over to the clinic.

-

You woke up to a persistent beeping. The first things you noticed were that your head was pounding, your body aching all over, mouth feeling like someone had stuffed cotton in it and you felt a soft surface under your body. Opening your heavy eyes took a lot of effort, your vision blurry and your mind confused about your whereabouts. When you finally managed to focus your eyes, you noticed the room you were in, it looked like a hospital room and you were lying on a bed. Your initial reaction was to panic, thinking the Fireflies or FEDRA managed to capture you somehow. Your heart rate shot up on the monitor and the nurse came over to soothe you, “it’s okay, relax. You’re safe, I promise.”

You opened your mouth and winced at how dry it was, licking your dry lips to get some moisture back. The nurse seemed to notice this and offered you a glass of water, which you drank gratefully. “Where….am I?”, you managed to croak out in a scratchy voice. The nurse gave you a sympathetic smile, “You’re in Jackson, sweetheart. You were out for a full day.”

You paused. You reached Jackson? You actually managed to reach Jackson? Your eyes immediately filled up with tears out of relief. And then you remembered Max. “M-my, my horse? Where is he? Is he okay-” “Yes, he’s alright! We got him checked, he’s healthy. Joel and Ellie saved you, honey. You looked very weak, they found you passed out on your horse. Thank god Joel decided to bring you here right away”, the nurse struck an idle conversation while she checked your vitals.

You froze. Joel saved you? The person whose arms you felt was him?

“W-where is he?”, you whispered. “Ah, must be home right now. He was here to check on you this morning. He’s said he will come back before dinner. And what’s your name, honey?”

You swallowed, your throat swelling up with emotion and gratitude. “Okay, thank you. I’m (Name)”, you replied to the nurse in a soft voice. She flashed you a smile and went back to writing something on her writing pad. You promptly fell asleep after that conversation, your body too exhausted to stay up.

-

The next time you opened your eyes, they fell on a shadow of a man next to you. For a moment, your foolish heart jumped, thinking it’s Manny but once you focused clearly on the man, you realised he wasn’t. Tall even when sitting, broad shoulders covered by a flannel, hair cropped yet messy, his face was handsome- aquiline nose looked like it was made especially for him, lines of age and gray hair marked his hair and stubble. He suddenly snapped his head up to look at you and your eyes were captivated by the brown pools of his eyes, their colour as rich as coffee and the way they shined with warmth and sadness at the same time.

“Oh, you’re up. How you feelin’ now?”, his low baritone echoed in the empty room. Your face must’ve expressed confusion and he cleared his throat to introduce himself, “Sorry, ‘m Joel. Found you by the perimeter fencing. And don’t worry, your horse is safe in the stable”, he reassured you in his smooth voice. Your eyes widened in realisation, “Joel?”, you breathed out, “T-thank you for saving my life. I’m sorry for coming into your town like that but I had no other option. I just- thank you, Joel.”

Joel’s face flashed with surprise. For someone who was probably traumatised from the journey, you were a very courteous person. Joel was kind of impressed and suspicious of your attitude. He’s had enough experience to know the cheap tactics of enemies, acting kind at first and striking later was a classic move. But he didn’t get that vibe from you. Here you were, exhausted and grateful with tears in your eyes, miles away from home and yet you looked like you wanted to be here.

Joel nodded his head, a look passing over his eyes, “Yeah. You rest now. The doctor said you’ll be discharged by today evening. You can ask the nurse if you wanna get somethin’ to eat, she’ll tell you the directions. And uh, you’ll have to debrief with Maria, the council head. Nothin’ serious, just normal stuff like where’d you come from n’ all that. Okay?”

Your face twisted in stress, the thought of going out in a community and facing people while knowing that you’re an Ex-Firefly was enough to send you into a panic attack. You weren’t sure how to proceed with this information and how would you talk to Joel about it. They’d shoot you then and there, you’re sure of that. Joel seemed to have sensed this, “Hey, kid, relax. Nobody’s gonna hurt ya. I’ll come with you, if you want. I’ll send Ellie to keep you company till then, okay?”, Joel tried to soothe you. You swallowed painfully, your throat still scratchy, and offered him a short nod.

-

Joel left your room and Ellie took over his place. You liked her right away, she was a really lovely and funny girl and so helpful, you thought you’d already made a friend in her. She helped you get discharged and kept you distracted with her idle chatter. “You wanna get something to eat? We can go to the canteen to have something, it’s dinner time anyway. Or you can come over to our-Joel’s house and eat there? He’s asked me to keep an eye on you, so”, she asked casually while helping you walk out of the room.

“Um-I don’t really want to…eat in front of everyone”, you replied hesitantly with a hoarse voice. You haven’t talked much since you got here. Ellie looked at you with sympathy, she understood that you felt uncomfortable to be around so many people after being alone for days. “Yeah, of course. I’ll drop you off at his house and get a plate for you, that okay?”. You nodded your head tersely.

The two of you made your way out of the clinic and a shadow appeared next to you. “How’re you feeling, kid?” Joel.

You looked up at him and gave him a weak smile. “I’m okay.”

“You goin’ somewhere?”, he asked Ellie and she explained that you weren't comfortable with eating in the canteen and wanted to be somewhere away from judging eyes. He seemed to contemplate for a moment before offering, “If ya want, you can come to my house. You'd give company to Ellie as well”, he mumbled that last part and looked at Ellie with hope in his eyes. Ellie side eyed him and shifted her gaze away, focusing on the street in front of her. Your eyebrows quirked in interest and you paused, is Ellie the same girl..?

You looked at him solemnly. “Is that okay with you? I can totally just eat in the canteen, I don’t mind”, you rushed to add, not wanting to impose in anyway. Ellie looked you and shot you a shocked smile, not expecting the formality, they didn’t see that often. Joel gave you a small nod. “Yeah, that’s okay. C’mon.”

Ellie left you with Joel and walked away to get you a plate of food. Joel watched her go in worry for a moment, and you two began walking towards his house. They had finally given you some layers to put on, the autumn breeze was crisp, making your face cold in a pleasant way. Joel didn’t talk much, only speaking when spoken to or when he had to lay out any information, and you were glad for it. Your mind was too noisy to make any conversation right now and your eyes were too busy taking in Jackson. This was an actual town. You still couldn’t believe it. The people, the laughter of children, smoke coming out of chimneys, wires overhead, a constant mumble of chatter around you- your ears were ringing. You haven’t heard or seen such a normal and mundane scene in years.

The wonder and overwhelm must’ve been clearly visible on your face because it got a chuckle out of Joel. You turned your head to look at him. “Swear Ellie had that exact same look on her face when we walked through the gates.” You froze at his words. If Ellie was with him when he came here, then- oh god. She was the girl who Jerry was operating on. You felt bile rise up your throat. She was so young. The gravity of the situation hit you harder and you felt your insides curl with anger at the Fireflies, at the WLF, at Abby and at...Manny.

You forced yourself to let out a chuckle, your cheeks warming up from embarrassment. “Haven’t seen so much…life around me before. I swear I might even hear the electricity buzzing through the wires”, you joked lightly. Joel gave you a half smile, “Yeah, I get that. We jus' got here as well, few weeks ago.” You swallowed in guilt at that but also grateful that him and Ellie could escape Salt Lake and settle down here. “Yeah? That’s-that’s great. I’m glad you found a place to settle down”, you replied in a quiet voice and Joel stared at you in question, sensing a slight change in your mood. He decided to let it go and chalked it up to you still recovering.

You two finally reached his house and you took a moment to just stand on the driveway to stare at it. This was a whole, functioning house. An actual house that wasn’t just a hideout or a shelter or some dilapidated building. A house that looked like someone lived in it and that sent a pang through your heart, wishing you had Manny next to you. This should’ve been you and Manny entering your own house, him cracking jokes and flirting with you while your giggles echoed through the garden. You don’t even know where he is right now or if he was even alive. That thought made your eyes well up with tears and your chest hurt.

Joel turned around to see that you had stood still on the driveway, seemingly in a trance. Eyes shining with tears, you couldn’t avert your gaze from the house. Joel furrowed his eyebrows. You were so out of it since you got here, not even speaking a word to anyone or complaining about anything, Joel thought that you must’ve experienced something so numbing that you had lost all your energy and spark—he could relate to that. The way you kept making them comfortable as if you weren’t the one who was new to their town and as if you didn’t need care, almost made him laugh, in a good way. You were a good kid, he thought, feeling his fatherly instincts take over. He made his way over to you to shake you out of your trance.

“(Name)?”, he lightly shook you by the shoulders and you jumped. He raised his hands up and stepped back from you. “It’s okay, we’re here. This is my house. You wanna come in?”. You blinked your eyes rapidly to get rid of the tears and curtly nodded your head, making your way towards his living room.

You got hit by a comforting warmth and a smell of coffee as soon as you stepped foot into his house. The dark interior making it look cosy, like a library. There were several paintings hung around the house and it was decorated in little knick knacks, the dining table and coffee table having two forgotten cups each and a blanket thrown over the couch. It was home. And you didn’t know him, but it somehow screamed Joel.

You took a deep breath in, inhaling the comforting scent of coffee and wood and closed your eyes in contentment. After living an unstable and rough life since you were 14, you finally had a place where you could be you. The apocalypse was still out there, but here? Here, you could pretend that everything was okay and here, you could wait for your love to come back home. Joel noticed your reaction and his eyes shined with sympathy, tossing a small smile towards your way.

"Uh-after you have your dinner, we'll have to drop you off at the courthouse right away. That okay?", Joel asked you, breaking you out of your trance. You nodded and he spoke up again. "I didn't ask before but, where'd you come from?"

You stiffened up. You weren't going to drop a bomb on him right away so you decided to lie, you knew you would regret this later because Joel was too sharp to miss it. "I-I’m from the Miami QZ. Before coming to Jackson, I was at the Denver QZ", you confessed shakily.

Joel furrowed his eyebrows in shock. "You came all the way from Miami and Denver alone? That's halfway across the country", he questioned you gruffly. You swallowed thickly, this was a mistake. Joel was way too wise and experienced to catch your lie, you knew that. "Uh-yeah. I mean- I was alone from Denver. Left behind the group I was travelling with…we had left Miami a few months ago for Denver."

Joel narrowed his eyes at you, "A group? Why would you leave your group behind?"

You cleared your throat before answering, "Well, I wanted something else. Didn't agree with their ways, so I decided to move on", you shrugged, your hands clenched in tight fists. Joel stared you down with that steely gaze of his and you almost faltered before he nodded his head. “Alright, well, Settle down.”

-

After Ellie came back, you had your food and you ate it in silence, minus the chatter and questions from Ellie. You noticed some tension between her and Joel but kept quiet because you had just met them. She asked you your name, where you were from, how did you find Jackson, and so on and you answered her questions sincerely, hiding some of the facts for now. She was such a curious kid, it made you sad to even think that if it wasn’t for Joel, she wouldn’t have been here. Her infectious energy even made someone as stoic as Joel let out some chuckles. You felt a clear bond between the two- Joel always looked at her with so much care and love that it made you jealous. You haven’t had a parental figure to look over you since you were 14. You missed them. You blinked away the tears and focused on your food before they walked you to the town courthouse.

There were 6-7 people sitting on the panel. And you assumed that the two people sitting in the middle were the heads of the council. “(Name)?”, the dark-skinned woman sitting in the middle addressed you. You squeezed your fingers together, shifted nervously in the chair. Clearing your throat, you finally spoke up, “Yes.”

“I’m Maria, Head Counselor of Jackson. This is Tommy and the rest of the council. We just want to ask you a few questions about you and how you came across Jackson, is that okay?” Your eyebrows raised in recognition, so this was Maria. You nodded and Maria begun, “Can you state your full name and age?”, you gave her your full name and age and observed as she wrote it down.

“Okay, do you mind telling us where are you from?”

“Yes, I-I was originally from the Miami QZ. But, had to move to Denver a few months ago due to overpopulation in the zone”, you confessed as if you had practiced this lie. Maria nodded her head but her eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “Wait, you traveled across the country alone?”

“No, I had a group with me from Miami to Denver. But I left them behind in Denver because I didn’t agree with their ways and I had learned about Jackson. Was tired of being on the run so…thought I might as well move on.”

The man next to her, Tommy, leaned forward and stared at you in question. You couldn’t help but notice that he looked a lot like Joel and Manny. “You sure you came here just to settle? No people following you or any other motives?”, his gruff voice echoed in the room.

You shook your head vehemently, “No! I came here alone and in peace. I just want a place to stay, lost my parents when I was 14 so I haven’t had a proper home or stable life since then. I totally understand if you don’t trust me but, I promise, I came here in peace”, you confessed truthfully. While yes, you had omitted certain parts of your life but you did want to escape to Jackson to live a peaceful life, hopefully with Manny, but you weren’t sure when would that wish come true. You didn’t tell them about the situation with Abby yet because you needed to talk to Joel, directly first. Involving the council meant you had to go through ‘legal’ processes and you didn’t need all that, nor did you have the energy for it.

Tommy looked at you for a moment before nodding his head in agreement and Maria let out a sigh. “Okay, we’ll have to check your pack before we hand it back to you. I’ll help you pick out a house after we’re done renovating. Till then, you can stay with Joel, if you want”, Maria offered. You simply nodded your head and they excused you. You couldn’t believe it- you were a member of this community now, you were torn between crying in happiness and sorrow. Ellie dropped you off at the house before promptly leaving to hang out with her friends.

There was a pit in your stomach because of the lies that you told in the court but you had decided that you would speak to Joel right away. You stepped into the living room and called out for him, “Joel?”, you walked over to the hallway and called out once more, “Joel? Are you home?”, you noticed a door that was ajar and peeped through it to see Joel sitting a desk, head lowered and hands working on something.

You knocked at the door twice, but didn’t get any response. You furrowed your brows and decided to approach him instead, “Joel?”, he flinched and reached for a tool before he noticed you and put the tool down before letting out a sigh. “Sorry! I’m so sorry, I-i called you out twice and knocked on the door but you didn’t hear me I-” “s’okay, kid. Sat with the bad ear facing the door, not your fault.”

You grimaced. “Bad ear?”

“Yeah, apparently using a gun too many times can do that to your ears”, Joel scoffed and reached for the sanding paper to sand the sculpture in his hands. Your eyes widened in realisation, he was deaf in an ear- no wonder why he didn’t hear you.

Your attention spanned to his work bench. It was littered with wood, tools for woodwork, and a few sketches splayed across the table. “You’re a sculptor?”, you asked in interest, leaning closer to watch his skilled hands work.

Joel let out a breathy chuckle. “Somethin’ like that. Was a contractor back in the day. Noticed some wood lyin' around here and thought I might as well make somethin' out of it. Works as a distraction too."

Your mouth took an 'o' shape as you watched him sand down the sculpture. You smiled to yourself, finding it endearing that someone as gruff as Joel made sculptures in his free time to keep himself busy.

"Why'd you ask for me?", his voice snapped you out of your thoughts. You straightened up and cleared your throat. "Joel, there's something you should know. I needed to tell it to you first", you confessed in a quiet voice, your face twisted in pain like you were dreading this conversation. You noticed how Joel's body visibly stiffened and he turned his attention back to you, his sharp gaze judging you. "What is it?"

You swallowed thickly and shut your eyes. "You can kick me out if you want to but I—I used to be a Firefly. I was stationed at St. Mary's", your voice slipping into a whisper by the end of the sentence, not needing to elaborate further as Joel's eyes widened and his heart pounded against his chest. He knew what you were referencing. He gritted his teeth and clenched his hands into a fist.

"What the fuck are you doin' here? You came here to take her away? To leak whatever information they want? Get out of my house before I-" "No! No, please. Joel, listen to me. I promise, I didn't come here to harm you or Ellie, I swear. Just- hear me out, please", you begged him, your hands stretched out in a placating gesture. Joel clenched his jaw and observed you closely. You weren't carrying any weapons or anything, might as well give you a chance to explain yourself. He nodded at you to continue, and you let out a sigh of relief, your eyes burning with tears.

"Joel, I admit I was a Firefly. But, I don't do that anymore. Not after I found out what they were gonna do to Ellie. It's why I left them and came here, alone. I swear, they abandoned me the moment I disagreed with their plan I-"

"What plan?", Joel asked sharply.

You took a deep breath in and told him the truth, "Joel, they want to kill you. They will come for you. That doctor you killed? He was the father of one of my group members. She's- Joel, she's gone insane. Blinded by rage and vengeance. She's manipulated the whole group into seeking you out and killing you. I couldn't sit and watch so I took out information from the nurses you spared and I left overnight", your voice wavering because of the lump in your throat.

Joel stared at you in disbelief, "Why would they not follow you? Why are you doing this for us? We ain't even know you", he questioned you, unable to understand your motive.

Your face scrunched up in pain, "Because, The Fireflies killed my parents!", you cried out and Joel froze. "Because they keep hurting innocent people and I've been trying to bring them down since I was 14, Joel. They manipulated me into joining them after they killed my parents in front of me. I-I've saved countless of their victims before but if i had stayed back anymore, I would've been killed or abandoned for disagreeing with them or disobeying protocol. When I heard what they did to Ellie...i felt sick and disgusted with myself", you confessed before running a hand across your face to calm yourself down, "And no, they wouldn't follow me because...because someone close to me will cover up for me. But, that doesn't mean they won't find you. The nurses already told them some information on you. Their only aim is to hurt you, to kill you", you let out in a breath.

Joel was standing so still, that you thought he'd stopped breathing. He knew his luck would run out someday, his demons coming back to hurt him but hearing it from you, a stranger, made it very real. He thought of that day in the hospital and he thought about your story. You were nothing less than a guardian angel for him, he was in awe of your perseverance and the humanity that you possessed, to try and bring an evil organisation to an end since you were Ellie's age. Then, he thought of all the nasty work he's done in the past and thought- he doesn't deserve your kindness. That maybe, he's had it coming for a long time and he should just accept it.

He swallowed thickly and responded in a hoarse voice, "Don't tell any of this to Ellie. I'll figure somethin' out. Thank you for telling me the truth, you didn't have to."

You stared at him dumbfounded, "What? Joel-" "She'll lose her damn mind and stop talking to me altogether, I know. But still, don't tell this to anybody, y'hear me? This'll stay between you and me. I won't tell about your past to anyone else either", Joel pleaded in a soft voice.

You stared at him in confusion, your eyes shining with unshed tears and you reluctantly agreed to his conditions. What Joel didn't know, was that you were going to save him from Abby, no matter how much he refused to be saved.

-

Jackson, 2025

It's been 2 years since you were officially a Jackson resident. There were days where you still couldn't believe that this was your life now. You slept on an actual bed, had proper meals, had good clothes to wear, you woke up every morning and met with people, with families, around you, attended community dinners and events- it was surreal. You had a family of your own now-Joel, Ellie, Tommy, Maria, Dina, Jesse and the newest addition to the family- little Benji Miller.

You spent your days either looking after Benji, helping around town or going on patrols with the others. Joel even taught you some wood carving and it helped to bring you and him closer. Soon enough, you looked up to him as a father figure, the way he would fuss over Ellie making you crave that parental affection. He was a natural at that, being a father, his caring and doting side slipping through that cold and gruff exterior naturally. He'd bring you coffee, you'd accompany him on patrols where you jeered with each other, he'd teach you the guitar, you'd go on walks with him- like a normal father and child would.

After that confession, you were sure that you Joel would stop talking to you. But instead, he asked you to move into his house and Ellie was over the moon. She'd spend most of her time with you or her other friends, chatting away or helping with tasks around the town. Very soon, you had found out that her and Joel weren't on good terms ever since Salt Lake and it made you feel guilty that you were somehow connected to that. Joel never brought up that fateful day, trying to bury it ten feet under and asking you to do the same.

As days passed, you found out that Tommy was actually Joel's younger brother and him and Maria were married with a baby on the way. It made you tear up, happy that Joel and Ellie had a family of their own and made your chest hurt in heart break. Joel also shared that he had a daughter that he lost on the day of the outbreak. It made your heart break for him even more and made you understand why he was so protective of Ellie.

It's been two years since you left Manny and you still broke down in his memory. You would never get over it, you were sure of that, for he was such a huge part of your life that it was impossible to forget him and he always left an impact on people with his charm. You often found yourself zoning out and refusing to leave your room, your body numb with the pain in your heart. Joel managed to coax you out most days, Ellie dragging you out the others, but you'd be functioning like a robot. They didn't know why you acted the way you did, assuming it was just because you missed home, but still, they tried to keep you alive. Today was another day like that—you were standing on the porch, holding a hot mug of coffee in hand, staring blankly at the trees lining Joel's fence.

"Good mornin', Kiddo", Joel's quiet yet gruff voice mumbled next to you. You jumped and snapped out of your trance turning to face Joel. "Morning, old man", you threw a smirk at his way, him rolling his eyes in return.

"Ellie..?", he trailed off and looked at the garage longingly. Oh yeah, Ellie recently moved all of her stuff in the garage and has been avoiding Joel like the plague now. You saw the way his heart broke at that, everyday he looked at the garage door with sadness and disappointment lining his features and it broke your heart to see him like that. You had asked him if he wanted you to talk to Ellie but he'd politely shut you down.

"No, Joel. She's gone with Jesse and the others already", you let out an apologetic sigh. He blinked rapidly to get rid of the tears and bit the inside of his cheek. Your heart twisted in empathy for him. "I see...well, how're you? Feelin' alright?"

You pressed your lips into a thin line and turned your attention back to the trees, "I guess." Joel stared at you for a moment before letting out a sigh and sipping his coffee. "Have you ever been in love, Joel?", you asked him quietly.

He froze before inhaling deeply. "Well, there was Sarah's mom. Then, there was Sarah. She was my everything, my whole world revolved around her", he chuckled softly. "I...there was someone but...lost her when we were on our way to Jackson", he admitted quietly. You looked at him with sadness coating your tone, "How did you get over the pain? How did you forget them and move on?"

Joel's eyebrows furrowed. "You don't forget them. They're always in your heart, even if you can't see them. It's their memory that keeps you going", he replied carefully.

"It hurts to remember, Joel", you whimpered. Joel straightened up, alarmed at your sudden display of emotions, and laid a strong hand on your shoulder. "Hey, what's wrong? You wanna talk about it?"

You looked up at him with your tears in your eyes and sniffled. "I- i loved- love someone. But he betrayed me and I left him behind to come to Jackson. We were supposed to spend the rest of our lives here. I don't even know if he's alive now", you broke down in a sob towards the end of that sentence.

Joel's eyes flashed with empathy and he brought you close in a hug, caging you in his safe arms, your head pressed to his chest and whispered a simple reassurance, "Don’t jump to conclusions, Kid. It's okay, let it out.” You hugged him tighter and let out all the bottled up emotions that were choking you for the last 2 years.

Jackson, 2029

Joel was your surrogate father, at this point. Comforting you every time you burst into tears after missing Manny or patching you up after a bad patrol. At first you thought he was just filling up the space that Ellie left in his heart by taking care of you. But one night, he confessed to you that if Sarah was around, she’d be exactly like you and that made you cry like a baby, your arms thrown around Joel and him comforting you like your father would. You had started to jokingly call him ‘Pops’, enjoying the annoyed grunt he would give in return.

You had gotten closer to Tommy and Maria as well, Benji taking a special liking to you since you basically babysat him ever since he was a year old. You were basically a Miller now, Ellie was too, just a little distant and you tried to reassure Joel about it everytime. He thought you didn’t see his sad little face around her, but you did and you subtly tried to distract him by poking fun at him.

It had been tense at the Miller house since last night. Joel and Ellie got into a little disagreement at the New Years Party to which, you had a little disagreement with Ellie because you didn’t like her reaction. Joel was just trying to help her, you’d never forget that look of embarrassment and hurt on his face after she yelled at him, which lead to you telling her to get it to together (do not put a teenager and a 30 year old in a room together). After that altercation, you left the party to follow Joel to the house and gave him company, him strumming the guitar while you read your book and chatted to him idly.

Come morning, you knew something was wrong the moment you woke up. You were supposed to patrol with Jesse but Ellie would be joining you because Joel let her sleep in and went on patrol with Dina instead. It would be awkward with Ellie joining you but you couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was going to happen today.

-

And something did happen today.

Actually, what didn’t happen today would be a better question. Jackson was hit with the worst blizzard it had ever experienced in the last 5 years. And you, Jesse and Ellie were stuck in the middle of it, your radio signals complete busted. Jesse managed to find a rundown 7/11 and you three took shelter in it. You holed your horses into a nearby stable and hid away in the 7/11 for god knows how long. It was then that your radios were suddenly firing away, Amy shouting into it.

“Joel—Dina—-seen them?”

You and Ellie exchanged a look and rushed to stand close to the radio. Jesse picked up the radio and yelled in it for someone to reply before Ellie snatched it from his hands. Ellie asked what happened and you caught Amy’s broken words- Joel and Dina were both missing. You and Ellie were panicking, rushing out of the store to grab your horses. Jesse tried to ask about the directions but Ellie simply told him to go Southwest while you and her would be going Northwest.

Ellie and you rode your horses like your life depended on it. The blizzard was getting worse, harsh winds whipping against your face, ice crystals freezing on your eyelashes and making your vision blurry. Your poor horses- Shimmer and Max- doing their best to run in the knee deep snow. Your breathing was laboured from the amount of effort you had to put in riding your horse, the cold air entering your lungs and making it harder to breathe.

Just as you were feeling like you were running in circles, you came across a lodge and two horses tied to the fence. Joel and Dina’s horses. You looked at Ellie and booked it for the lodge, getting off your horses as quickly as possible and entered into the lodge. The basement was full of wrapped and broken furniture, you and Ellie scanned the area with your guns raised. Just as you were about to take the stairs, you heard noises. Several of them. Some in pain and the two of you rushed up the stairs, you watching Ellie’s six.

Ellie broke open the door from where the noises came from and you saw your nightmare playing out in front of you. Joel was lying down on his stomach, his face bloody, a pool of blood surrounding his knee and he was barely conscious. There was a blonde girl repeatedly punching him when someone tackled Ellie to the ground and that’s when you noticed that it was Abby who stood over Joel.

Your eyes widened and you screamed, “Abby!” The entire room stilled. Every single person in the room turned to look at you and in your panic, you didn’t notice the one person you were dying to see for the past 5 years- “(Name)?”, Manny whispered in disbelief.

But you couldn’t hear him, your ears ringing with anger at the psychotic look on Abby’s face and Joel’s helpless face. Your entire body shook in tremors, you grabbed your gun and fired a shot directly into Abby’s kneecaps. Abby howled in pain, falling next to Joel and Owen rushed to stop you but Manny pushed him away, “Don’t fucking touch them”, pointing a finger at him and coming over to stand in front of you. “Hey, angel? You’re okay? Oh my god, I-”, Manny’s voice cracked and he tried to hold you but you pushed past him to get to Ellie.

“Get your fucking hands off her, Nora”, you threatened Nora with your gun to her head. She looked at Manny and he seemed to have nodded his head and released Ellie, who rushed into your arms. You held her by her shoulders and approached Joel, who was now shakily reaching for you and Ellie.

“Joel…oh my god. Joel. Get up, I’m here now. It’s okay, you got us, Pops”, you offered him a weak smile and he simply whimpered in response. Your lips quivered and Ellie let out a cry before holding Joel’s hand in hers, trying to comfort him. Your eyes then fell on Abby, writhing next to Joel in pain and you clenched your jaw shut before crouching in front of her. You stared at her in disgust. “A coward and a fraud, just like your father, aren’t you?”, you snarled and she stared you down with her bloodshot eyes.

You waved her off and stood up, facing the rest of them and that’s when you finally noticed him- standing next to Owen, his eyes shining with tears and his cheeks splotched with red, his curls were longer now, yet he still looked handsome as ever. He still looked like your Manny and then you remembered the way he had tackled Ellie.

You made your way over to him and harshly fisted the collar of his jacket, your eyes bloodshot with tears and hands shaking in anger. “You…asshole. How dare you touch my sister like that? How could you betray me like this? Why?”, you cried out and released his collar forcefully.

“(Name), please-” “I cried for you. Every single day for the last five years. And he”, you pointed at Joel, “he was the one who reassured me that you’d come back. He was the one who took me in like his own. He was the one who gave my a family. And you…you cowards were cornering an old man to kill him off in a secluded lodge? For whom? For Abby’s fraud of a father?”, you growled, your voice hoarse from the tears you were shedding. “Some fucking friendship you have that you can’t even hold your friend accountable”, you turned around to address them all. Manny averted his gaze in shame, Mel was crying her eyes out, Owen and Nora had the decency to lower their gaze.

“You’ve always been the odd one in the group-”

“Oh, shut the fuck up before I put another bullet in you”, you roared at Abby, shutting her up effectively. And then your eyes fell on another body lying on the ground- Dina. “What the hell did you do to her?!”, you cried out before making your way to Dina and placed her head in your lap. “She’s- she’s just unconscious, I promise. It’s just a sedative”, Mel explained to you in between sobs. You trusted Mel so you nodded your head and removed your jacket before folding it and placing it under Dina’s head, running a hand over her beanie covered head.

You made your way back to Joel, sitting next to his head, rubbing a soothing hand over his shoulder. You couldn’t look at his mangled face without bursting in tears so you chose to look at Abby and channelled your anger and pain towards her. “I’m giving you a choice. You’re either gonna leave with the rest of them peacefully or you’re gonna make it difficult and get a bullet in your heads, each”, you threatened her and looked straight into her eyes before diverting your gaze to look at Manny, who looked like he was fighting with himself.

Abby looked at you in agitation and spoke up, “I’m not leaving before I end this-”, you cut her off and fired another shot, this time on the same arm that was punching Joel. She screamed in pain once again. Owen rushed over to support her and you noticed Manny clenching his hands into fists to stop himself from joining Owen, knowing it’d make you more upset.

You smirked at that, “I warned you, didn’t I? Yet, you chose to do this. And yet, I was waiting for you to come to me, had a whole house picked out for us and everything. I was stupid and I still am, stupid”, you let out a maniacal chuckle which made Manny and Ellie look at you in worry.

“(Name), hey, that’s enough. We- we’ll leave. Please. Stop this”, Owen placated. You turned to look at him, a crazed look in your eyes. “You better leave, because god forbid she is in front of me any longer…I don’t think any of you will be walking out of this room, alive.” Owen swallowed thickly and ordered the others to start packing their stuff.

He picked up Abby in his arms and she struggled against him, hurling loose threats towards you, Joel and Ellie. “I’ll fucking find you, and end the three of you. All at once. Slowly, just like I did to him-”

“I’d like to see you try, Abby. I’ll be waiting for you”, you replied nonchalantly, her threats mere words for you and shifted your focus towards Joel and Ellie. Owen shook his head and carried Abby out of the room, Mel and Nora quickly following him.

Manny was frozen to his spot. “Manny?”, Nora asked him, breaking him out of his trance. His jaw was clenched so tightly that his cheeks were shaking, wet from tears that he didn’t know he shed. He swallowed thickly, all of your memories together rushing through his mind and your agonised face haunting him. He had barely survived these 5 years, believing you to be dead after the first. He decided to push forward like a robot, his face and body devoid of any emotions. Your scarf had lost your scent after the first month apart and he had a breakdown because of that. The more he thought of it, the more he knew that he wanted to stay back with you. He’d do what he had promised himself 5 years ago- beg on his knees for your forgiveness.

Part 3

-

AN: sooo originally it was supposed to end here, but I’ve got too many ideas for their patch up. So strap in! 👀

tag list: @taylorsroxy @parkersjoy @aomi-recs @serendipity-29 @lucycarlisleswife @laurenjbb @onmyknees4kai @groovycass @spideybrie @yvonne-dump @monselxo @this-girl-is-tired

(sorry if some of y’all didn’t get tagged!)

[maudie-duan]

"When did these statues posing as men arrive? Another stereotype pretending to be understanding, pretending to want the things that you wanted, but like a statue, there was nothing beneath the surface, a cold indifference to everything you were or ever wanted to be. His superficial point of view forever unmoving, incapable of the warmth that love requires, the forgiveness it takes."

Word Count: 7.5k

Pairing: Harry x Ex-Girlfriend Fem!reader

Warnings: HEAVY ANGST, (a scene of)Verbal Abuse, Dark Themes, Emotional.

When had the romance died?

At what point did you become the impending doom at the end of his day? Because when it was all said and done, this would be the part that would never make sense.

When had his love become the razor-sharp edge of a papercut, igniting with a sudden sting across your tender skin? The burn a superficial pain cutting across the flesh of your life with a sharp intensity that only seemed to wake in his presence the second he took one look at you.

Always angry, always misdirected.

Where did the anger come from, when had it become the tiny microscopic cuts sliced across your skin, stinging with every acidic word that left his mouth, wakening the wound each time you managed to forget it was there. You thought this was a passing phase, but lately, his anger was becoming a harsh reminder that seemed to linger, and your only way of coping was to forget until nights like these, when his words were out like knives.

These were the times you found yourself retreating inward, to a place you had never really mastered, but found yourself floating somewhere between the reality of your awareness, a mental tug-of-war between your presence and your absence. You were there now, you had been there all night, and now, as your vision staggered down to the wine glass trembling in your hand, the crimson liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim, you couldn't remember how many you’d had.

Was it three, maybe four?

You didn’t think to keep track, but you remember feeling the pleasant numbness at some point in the night, the kind of numbness that nestled into your limbs, making evenings like these with Bryan’s friends bearable until now—until Bryan's voice is cutting through all the mundane chatter, his tone unnecessarily sharp, with a cold edge that left a silencing chill as it slowly settled over the room.

"You always do this," he spits, his first slice catching you off guard. It wasn't like the room went quiet right away, but you felt the attention shift, their eyes moving like predators sensing weakness. "You drink too much and then you say stupid shit."

And you blink, trying to process what the trigger could have been this time. Had you said something wrong? And you stood there, your mind rewinding through the foggy haze of the evening, searching for the offense. Maybe it was your comment on his story about work, something about how his boss didn't appreciate him. What did you even say? Something about maybe considering a different approach?

"I don't think I—" you start, but it's too late because Bryan is already building momentum.

"No—that’s it, right? You never think, do you?" As he said the words, you stared into his cold eyes, remembering a time when his blue eyes reminded you of clear summer skies. Now all you saw was ice—beautiful but dangerous, and you felt the chill running down your spine as he continued.

"That's the problem with you. You just fucking talk and talk without considering how it makes me look."

That’s when your eyes darted around, the eerie silence almost as loud as Bryan’s words. The room held a stillness that ached in your bones as six pairs of eyes watched the scene unfold, some with discomfort, others with a twisted morbid fascination. Here was the retreat, and as you began to slip away, you buried yourself inside until there was nothing but a focal point.

These were Bryan's friends, not yours. Never yours. You were always the accessory, the girlfriend who tagged along, who tried too hard to fit into spaces that didn't reflect who you were; it was never a space that you didn't have to force yourself into.

But now, as Bryan's words cut through the sterile silence, you felt that familiar ache of isolation—the kind of isolation that made you question your existence, something you were growing accustomed to, one that was always lurking beneath the surface, waiting to be awakened.

You knew you were alone in this room. Completely and utterly alone.

"I was just saying that maybe—"

"Maybe what? Maybe I should let my boss walk all over me like you let everyone walk all over you?" His voice rose then, not quite shouting but loud enough to make you flinch. "Christ, you have no fucking backbone. It's embarrassing."

Each of his words landed like a physical blow as your body began to slouch, as you started to feel your body cave in on itself, and you stood there, taking it, rooted in place, the wine in your glass now perfectly still as your hand gripped the stem with white knuckles.

Whatever shame you felt before for drinking too much was pushed to the back of your mind. You could feel the alcohol at work now, dulling the edges of the pain, almost happy for its relief, but it couldn't eliminate it entirely because something about the tantrum Bryan was so obviously throwing was different this time. Bryan had never exposed you like this—had never skinned you alive, never peeled back the layers of your flesh to showcase to a room full of people. He kept all his gutting within the walls of your home, but now he was opening you up, tearing out all of your insecurities as if you were some kind of cadaver on an examination table.

Someone—was it Mark or David? It didn’t matter at that point—clears their throat awkwardly. "Hey, man, maybe we should—"

"No—she needs to hear this," Bryan interrupts, his fierce focus shifting to solely dismantling you piece by piece. "I’m sick of her walking around like she's so smart, so put together, but look at her. She can’t even handle her alcohol. Can't even have a normal conversation without making everything about her."

Who the fuck was this man standing across from you?

Because this couldn’t be the man you had fallen in love with. When had the love died? Somewhere along the way, it had transformed into this ugly, twisted thing that now stood before you wearing the mask of a man who once used that vicious mouth to whisper sweet nothings against your naked skin in the dark. You found yourself searching his features for any trace of the man who had promised to cherish you, to protect you, to love you until the end of time.

Where had he gone?

All you saw was this stranger, and the agonizing truth was that he was just another man—another man parading through your life, selling dreams of security, of partnership, of forever. This man that you had built up was nothing more than an ordinary man, maybe even considered a nice man to someone else, his strong hands selling strength and stability, promising that they could hold you, keep you safe from the harshness of the world.

When did these statues posing as men arrive? Another stereotype pretending to be understanding, pretending to want the things that you wanted, but like a statue, there was nothing beneath the surface, a cold indifference to everything you were or ever wanted to be. His superficial point of view forever unmoving, incapable of the warmth that love required, the forgiveness it takes.

Even as Bryan continued his tirade about your supposed inadequacies, what struck you most was the innocence his blue eyes still held. It was disorienting—this disconnect between the cruelty of his words and the boyishness that still lingered behind his harsh gaze. It struck a sense of fear that lived somewhere deep within, the kind of fear you never forgot, the fear that haunted you in moments like this—a reminder that you would never lose your youthful fear of grown-up men. To never forget their ability to inflict harm while sheltering behind the naive certainty that they could remain blameless, that every action could be justified in their conviction, the misuse of power as they wielded their moral superiority like weapons, leaving you to shoulder the aftermath.

It scared you, this realization, and the fear swept in like a rising tide, drowning out the voices around you.

"Are you even listening to me—?" He snapped, cutting through your thoughts. "This is exactly what I'm fucking talking about. You just check out when things get difficult."

And you nod, not trusting your voice, your throat burning with all the words you wanted to toss back, but what could you even say? Was it a fight he wanted, or was he just using you as a punching bag for his own insecurities? You knew there was nothing you could say in this moment that wouldn't fuel the fire.

"I think we should go," you finally managed, your voice as small as you felt.

Bryan stared at you for a long moment, and you held your breath, waiting as you watched him decide whether to continue his public execution or grant you a temporary reprieve, and when he finally gave you a curt nod, and said, "Fine. Let's go." your heart hammered in your chest reminding you that you were alive, that you could leave—just leave and escape this nightmare.

But the nightmare wasn't over; it was just beginning.

Because now you would have to say your goodbyes.

So you plastered on your best attempt at a smile as you made your way through the room, feeling the weight of those six pairs of eyes burning at your neck. No one spoke, no one moved to say goodbye. They just sat there like the fucking cowards they all were, frozen in place, spellbound by the show of ruthlessness they had just witnessed. Did they all agree? Or did they too feel disgusted, who was the asshole in this situation?

Did they believe the lies coming from his mouth?

You could feel yourself sinking, your feet treading the ground like mud as the awkward tension ripped through the room, and for some reason you risked a curious glance over your shoulder, but all you were met with was sympathetic glances that raked over your skin like burning coals, while the others averted their eyes as if you were a dog slinking away from a scolding, tethered to Bryan's leash as you trailed behind him. No one had stood up for you. No one had intervened. They had watched as Bryan tore you apart, and they had done nothing—a reminder that you had no allies in this life you had chosen.

The car ride home was worse—a suffocating silence that stole every ounce of oxygen you could muster. You hated yourself, and the statue beside you even more. Bryan drove with both hands gripping the wheel, his skin stretched tight around his knuckles, his jaw clenched, his stone wall continuing to block you out. You couldn't look at him, let him see you sulk in the misery you were slowly becoming, so you stared out the window, watching the streetlights blur together through the tears you were fighting back.

It was in these silent moments lately that you felt your mind drifting across the ocean, to another man, one whose voice carried the inflection of London streets and eyes the green of spring rather than the cold blue of winter. He would have never looked at you the way Bryan had tonight. He wasn't the kind of man who used your vulnerabilities as ammunition. He had seen you—the real you—not as an extension of himself or a trophy to be displayed, but as a person. A man who had loved all your vast complexities, a man who knew you were worthy of gentle handling.

In Bryan’s eyes, however, you were the slaughterhouse—somewhere to process and discard his building frustrations for the world and what he thought was owed to him, all the shortcomings that went beyond your mind's eye, leaving you marked by the deliberate brutality of his words. These wounds would linger far beyond tonight, invisible scars altering your very movement through life—scarred by the cruel intentions of a man who claimed to love you but only knew how to destroy you in the end.

The car came to an abrupt stop in the driveway, and you ripped your eyes forward, taking in the home you had created together, taking in its beauty, already yearning for the warmth it once brought. Once it was a sanctuary, a prideful manifestation of the love and commitment you had shared with Bryan. Now, as you peered out the front windshield, it loomed before you dark like an empty mausoleum, waiting to house the decaying remains of what you once believed was forever.

The tension was still palpable as Bryan killed the engine, but out of instinct, you made no move to exit the car. You didn't know what was coming, and so you waited, hand on the door handle, unsure if another storm was brewing.

"I'm sorry," he finally spoke up, but the words were hollow, performative like you knew they would be. "I shouldn't have said those things in front of everyone. I've just been stressed with work, and you know how I get when I drink..."

That burning lump is back, searing the back of your throat, and you silently nod, accepting the apology that wasn't really an apology at all: another justification, an excuse, a way for him to absolve himself without taking any sense of responsibility—now, add this to the growing list of why this isn't going to work out, and the shittiest part about it all is that you're too tired to fight, too drained to demand more, because when you've been worn down this much, even the slightest kindness granted can feel like a token of salvation.

And that's the part that makes you sick.

When did the promise of silence become such a welcoming factor in your life? A different kind of silence, the kind of silence that doesn't extend the gracious hand of peace to relieve you of your misery. The sort of silence that isn't really silence at all: It's the type that tortures, that amplifies all the noise in your mind, becoming an echo chamber of all the memories, all the doubts, that seem to slowly morph into a self-inflicted punishment the longer you sit in the isolation, in the rejection, in the cowardly absence of the validation you know you deserve. That's when the distance continues to stretch, and each time it happens, you wonder if you'll ever be able to speak again—spill all the words that are aching inside, desperate to be let loose, to be finally heard.

To remind yourself that you are not powerless—that you have a voice.

Yet the silence would remain, and you nod again, succumbing to your fate as you slip out of the car and trudge up the path to the house, feeling Bryan's eyes bore into the back of your skull as you go. The silence that followed you into the house, up the stairs, and into your shared bedroom was deafening as Bryan thumped behind you, each footfall a reminder that the real torture would be sleeping next to this man, this stranger, that maybe for the first time in your whole relationship might have showed his true character, and it shook you down to your very core.

You undressed in the quiet, every inch of your skin screaming with awareness as the chasm stretched between you—a void that seemed to widen with each passing second despite sharing the same suffocating air. The rustle of fabric was like sandpaper against your raw nerves, and you wondered if you could peel away your flesh with it, rid yourself of the evening entirely. When Brian's shoe hits the floor with a soft thud, your eyes sweep to his feet as the other follows, echoing in the room like stones dropping into the grave of what you once called love.

Because in that moment, you knew you didn't love this man anymore.

Somehow, you had managed to avoid his eyes the entire time you had been home, but as you climbed into bed, you felt drawn to his face, meeting his eye, finding that same innocence still lingering behind his gaze as if tonight's events had barely registered, and as you stared into his blue eyes, you had to resist the urge to recoil, to shy away from the impending doom, from the weight of your own mortality casting its long shadow over you.

In the silence, you longed for the taste of London in the air, the scent of green grass and fresh rain, the press of a gentle hand against your cheek, and the soothing lilt of a voice you had once longed to hear—until the bed creaked in protest snapping you back to reality as you and Bryan crawled under covers that might as well have been continents, and you ached with it, the wordless motions between you so dense it crushed your lungs with each shallow breath, and you wondered if you would ever be happy again.

This ordinary routine was like marking a grave—slowly twisting into a eulogy for your relationship that sounded in the hollow space where words should have lived, where apologies should have flowered, where truth could have breathed new life into the air between you. But there was nothing. Just the fucking unbearable weight of all that remained unsaid festering between you like an open wound neither of you dared to acknowledge.

Just as you settled, eyes peering up at the ceiling, Bryan turned to you before switching off the lamp, his face a mask of repentance that didn't reach his eyes. "I really am sorry, babe…You know I love you, right?"

Before you could respond, he leaned in, sealing his half-assed apology with a quick kiss to your cheek, his lips dry and cool against your skin, and you held your breath, your stomach churning with revulsion at the very thought of his mouth touching you; it made your skin crawl. Never again, you thought. Never again would you allow yourself to be diminished, to be treated as less than.

"It's fine..." you lied, the words tasted like ash on your tongue. "Night.”

That was enough for Bryan, and he turned over, his back to you, now a wall of indifference. Within minutes, his breathing had deepened and slowed, and you lay there seething. Why did his journey to sleep get to be unbothered? It didn't feel fair, Bryan lying there in the untroubled sleep of someone who believed they had been forgiven, a spineless man who had successfully transferred their burden onto someone else's shoulders.

And as you lay awake, staring at the ceiling, listening to the rhythmic sound of his breathing. You felt the hatred build within you, a slow-burning fire consuming the remnants of whatever love you once felt. You kept circling back to the thought of his hands on your body earlier that week, how you had closed your eyes and endured, how you had played out the motions, praying for it to end.

You felt sick to your stomach, physically ill at the idea that this was your life now—an endless cycle of performances, of a love that had rotted to its core. Where had the woman you had once been gone? Because there was once a time she loved fiercely, laughed freely, lived wholeheartedly—now she was fading, slowly slipping through your fingers like sand.

When had the flesh between your thighs become a punching bag for men who only saw you as a body promising fantasies of forever? At what point had you genuinely believed that this was all you deserved? The grass on your side of the ocean was dead, trampled underfoot by men who claimed to love you but treated you as if you were some kind of afterthought, a convenience, a vessel for all their desires and frustrations.

You needed to get out of this fucking hell hole.

This cage that was closing in.

The thought hammered in your mind, growing louder each minute as you lay there perfectly still, staring at the ceiling. You needed to leave, you needed to put as much distance between you and this toxic life as humanly possible. This wasn't your home anymore; it was a prison masquerading as a sanctuary.

The longer you lay there, the more your mind drifted to the only place that's ever truly felt like home. To the man who had once held your entire world in the palm of his hands—his compassionate touch that had honored every contour, every quirk, every perceived flaw with the devotion of someone who saw not imperfections that come with being a human but a masterpiece worth exploring, worthy of listening to.

Maybe Bryan felt this way before, but it was never the same.

That's when you let the thoughts creep in, trickling in one by one: What would the grass on his side of the ocean feel like under your feet? You kept thinking back to the solid ground you had when he was in your life, the garden you had weaved together with sacred intentions. How his green eyes had seen the human in you, not this shell resembling the flesh of the woman you once were. His hands had always been delicate in their touch, strong in the way they held you, not to possess but to support.

The memories were both balm and torture. They seemed to painfully soothe the raw wounds Bryan had inflicted tonight. While all at once reminding you of what you had lost, what you had walked away from in pursuit of what you thought would fit the trajectory of your life, because is this life if you have to bend and shape yourself to fit into someone else's?

That was when you knew you couldn't lie there any longer. You couldn't bear the sound of Bryan's peaceful breathing while your insides mangled in the grief of regret and self-loathing. So, carefully, you slipped from under the blankets, your movements slow and deliberate to avoid waking the beast, and you padded silently across the bedroom and out into the hallway, rushing down the stairs as quietly as you could.

You could feel the downstairs bathroom calling to you, and when the door came into view, it promised a temporary escape. The second your hand turned the knob and you closed it behind you, turning the lock with a soft click it felt like freedom. The clawfoot tub dominated the space, its white porcelain gleaming in the dim light that filtered through the small round window. This bathroom had always reminded you of a lighthouse—now it would be your temporary haven as your life churned before you like the mystery of the sea.

And as you approached the tub, you felt relief wash over you.

This tub was your favorite thing, yet the irony of it now made you sick. Bryan had surprised you with this tub when you first bought the house together. "For those long bubble baths you love so much, babe," he told you with a proud smile, and his arms wrapped around you from behind as you both admired the vintage beauty. The gesture had truly touched you, and you thought, wow, here's the proof, this attentiveness, his desire to make you happy.

What else could you need?

Now the sight made your heart sink in your chest. Another prop in the play you had been performing, another set piece in the life you had constructed around a love that had never been real, and as you climbed into the empty tub fully clothed, your back pressed against one end, your knees drawn to your chest, you felt the chill taking way. The porcelain was cold against your skin, a haunting testament of the chill that seemed to be settling in your heart, and you peer down at the phone clutched in your hand, the screen illuminating your face in the still darkness.

It was already 9 A.M. in London. Would he be awake? Would he even answer a call from the number he had once known by heart? Would he have deleted it, blocked it, erased all traces of you from his life as thoroughly as you had tried—and failed—to erase him from yours?

Because he was never truly gone; never far from your thoughts. No matter how many miles you tried to put between you, his echoes clung to every inch of your soul. He had become the touchstone for everything you had experienced since walking away, the benchmark by which you measured the hollow promise of happiness in this life you chose, and as your thumb hovered over his contact, still saved after all this time, because lets be real, you had never been able to delete it, you had never been able to sever that final connection. It was the only lifeline you kept tucked away, a glass-break-in-case-of-emergency type of moment you never allowed yourself to use.

Until now.

Because this was that moment, and you were just drunk enough, the alcohol still coursing through your system, giving you the much-needed courage you had always lacked when you needed it most lately, and before you could second-guess yourself you pressed the call button, the phone fumbling in your hand as you brought it to your ear with a trembling hand.

Each ring seemed to stretch into eternity of misery, each tone a heartbeat, a moment in which you could still hang up, could still take it back. But anxiety was cruel, and for a moment, you even considered retreating back to the safety of your desperation because then you wouldn't have to face it all, face him with the failure your life had become.

One ring. Two. Three.

That was when the panic set in

You could feel yourself ready to give up.

Your nerves beginning to falter, your finger ready to move toward the end call button.

Then, a click. Silence. And finally, a voice that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Hello?"

His voice was exactly how you remembered it—warm, like velvet, running through you like a smooth caress, his British rasp halting your racing heart as you tried to compute what was happening, and when you opened your mouth to respond, nothing emerged. Your throat seized with the simple greeting, suddenly choked with every emotion you had been suppressing all night.

But there was nothing you could do. The silence seemed to be all you could give. So when the silence stretched, he didn't hang up. He waited, patient as ever, giving you the time you needed—a quiet understanding, a silent willingness to sit in the discomfort you knew he had to be feeling because you could feel it to, but this was the type of person he was, always allowing someone else the space they required, and this part seem to tear at your heart the most, because it was exactly what you longed for, something you had walked away from.

"Take your time,” he nudged, his tone gentle, curious rather than annoyed.

You forced a shaky breath through your nose, willing yourself to speak. "Harry..." you managed, the single word barely audible, your voice ragged on the verge of crying.

"It's me..." you breathe.

When Harry doesn't answer right away, there's a heavy pause, one of recognition, and you hang tight, granting him the space he just so freely gave you. "I knew it was you...it's why I answered the call," and then he says your name, each syllable leaving his mouth was like a revelation, a prayer, a question.

And all you could say was "Yes," the tears now flowing freely down your cheeks.

"Yeah, It's me."

The sound of movement comes through the line—sheets rustling maybe, a door closing softly. Harry was creating privacy for this unexpected call, this ghost from his past reaching across time and distance, and you held your breath waiting for his words.

"Is everything okay?" he asks, his concern immediate and genuine. Even after everything, his first thought was about your well-being.

"No," you sob out, the honesty a relief after months—years—of pretending. "I'm not alright, Harry. I haven't been alright for a long time."

"What's happened? Are you safe?" And the urgency in his voice made your heart constrict. He still cared. Despite everything, he still cared, and the ache of that knowledge pounded in your chest, a heaviness that seemed to expand with each passing breath.

"I'm safe," you gasped out, but the word felt hollow because you knew physical safety wasn't the issue. "I just... I just needed to hear your voice." and you suck in a breath waiting for the words to land.

"Tell me why you're crying," he asks so tenderly that it physically hurts, and your head falls back against the rim of the tub as you stifle a sob, forcing its way up your chest, and you pull the phone away, not wanting him to hear.

"Talk to me, love. What's going on?" he adds as you bring the phone back to your ear.

This endearment, so casually offered, seemed to break every resolve you were fighting to hold back, breaking open that desperate hollow inside you. The longing like a dam bursting open, and suddenly you were telling him everything—about Bryan, about tonight, about the slow death of your spirit in a relationship that had never been what you pretended it was all this time.

"He just fucking—he tore me apart in front of all his stupid friends," you confessed, your voice catching on a sob. "And I just stood there like a fucking idiot and took it. I didn't even defend myself. I didn't even walk away. I felt paralyzed."

Harry was quick to speak up. "That's not your fault," Harry said firmly. "I've met People like that. The kind that wears you down over time. They want you to believe that you deserve it."

"But--I should have been stronger, you know I should have—"

"No," he interrupts, but it's gentle, insistent. "Darling, don't do that to yourself. You're calling me now, aren't you? That takes strength, right?"

And you let out a bitter laugh, "Or desperation. Or too much wine."

When the rasp of his laugh fills the line, it sends a flutter to the pit of your stomach. "Maybe all of the above," he follows up, and you can hear the small smile in his voice. "But you're reaching out. That's the first step."

And here was the pain again, the pressure building in your chest, your lungs heavy. His kindness was almost unbearable, pulling at your flesh with a visceral ache you couldn't seem to shake. You didn't deserve it, not after how things had ended between you, not after the choices you had made. You knew you shouldn't have called, that this conversation was a mistake, that you were only torturing yourself, making this whole nightmare infinitely worse, but the words kept tumbling out.

"I miss you, Harry," you confess, the words escaping before you could stop them. "God, Harry, I miss you so fucking much it literally hurts sometimes."

Then the silence swept in, the line empty except for the faint sound of Harry's breathing, and our whole body went still in anticipation, waiting for his response, terrified of what he might say—or not say.

"I miss you too," he finally said, his voice lower, more guarded. "But—we can't—"

"I know," you interrupted quickly. "I know we can't go back. I'm not asking for that. I just... You were the only man who ever really loved me. The only one who saw me, all of me. I don't even know how to explain it—you never ran away. You didn't try to change me, use me, or break me down."

"I just feel empty--" and the words die in your throat as you finish.

"That's not love," Harry says softly. "What this Bryan is doing—that's not love. You deserve better than that."

"I had better," you whispered. "I had you."

And for a second, you both let the words hang between you, heavy, loaded with the history of your ending, with the regret that lingered, with the weight of what might have been.

"Do you ever think of me?" you finally asked, unable to stop yourself. "Do you ever wonder what would have happened if I had stayed?"

When Harry sighs, a rush of static comes through the phone. "My love—please.."

"Harry...," you plead. "I need to know. Even if it hurts... It's okay, I promise."

When silence takes the line, you exhale a weighted breath, quietly drawing in another breath, letting a glimmer of hope fill your chest. When he spoke again, his voice was measured, careful. "Yes, I think of you. God—I don't know...probably more than I should.. There are always like these tiny moments, you know, like a song on the radio, a certain smell, someone laughing in a particular way—and suddenly you're there, in my mind, as vivid as if no time had passed at all."

His words ignited the devastation you knew they would bring, but here was that hope, a violent crash of heartbreaking possibilities that seemed to wake your decaying soul. The confirmation you knew somewhere deep down that you needed, that he hadn't forgotten you, that you still occupied space in his mind, was both validation and torture, conflicting as joy soared through you.

"But—" he continued, his tone shifting, becoming more hesitant, "thinking about what might have been... It's not healthy. For either of us."

"I know—I swear I know..." you answered, swiping tears from your cheeks. "I just—I can't help but wonder if I made the biggest mistake of my life when I left London...When I left you...?"

But your words floated out like a question rather than a declaration, the statement stripped of pretense and laid bare in its painful authenticity. As you waited for his response, time seemed to suspend in your lungs, but you forced yourself to breathe, waiting for any sign that he shared your regret, that he shared the same longing, knowing Harry had always been a constant undercurrent pulling at the back of your mind.

"I don't think I can answer that for you, love," Harry finally divulges. "Only you know what was right for you at the time. We were young, you know, we were in different places in our lives. Long-distance is hard under the best circumstances. I would have never asked you to stay...because I probably would have lost you forever."

"Do you not think we could have made it work?" you asked, as desperation crept into your voice. "If we had tried harder, if I had been braver—"

"Love, it takes two people to make a relationship work," he reminded you gently. "And two to let it fall apart. I wasn't perfect either. I had my own issues, my own fears. It wasn't just you..."

As you let the word settle, you forced your eyes closed, remembering the arguments, the tears, the painful phone calls across time zones when you were exhausted and frustrated. The memory was a cruel contradiction playing on the hurt of wanting the one thing you know you couldn't have right now because, yes, you knew it hadn't been all sunshine and roses, you knew that. But the good had so outweighed the bad, your connection so deep that even now, years later, you felt its absence like a phantom limb.

"You were the best thing that ever happened to me," you said quietly. "And I threw it away for... for this. For a life that looks good on paper but feels like dying a little more every day."

"Then change it," Harry urged. "Not for me, not for anyone else. For yourself. You deserve to be happy."

"Harry, I don't think I remember how to be happy anymore," you answer, really believing the words falling from your mouth. "I don't know who I am anymore without all this... this fucking performance I've been putting on...God—It's so pathetic..."

"You're not pathetic, love...You're still in there. I can hear her clearly," he assured you. "The woman I knew—she was strong, passionate, full of life. That doesn't just disappear. It gets buried sometimes, but it's still there, waiting. Trust me...I know the feeling."

And maybe he was right.

Maybe you couldn't feel it now, but there was a sense of peace tingling up your spine. Here he was putting faith back in your world. This was new for you both, evidence that time could heal old wounds, that people could become better with distance. This Harry was wiser, more mature, and you wondered what else was new. What else about him had changed? Who was this man on the other end of the line now? The thought was overwhelming, and all you could do was let the tears flow, silent rivers of grief, of gratitude for the man who was giving you permission to grieve, who was holding space for the loss of the life you thought you wanted.

For the life you had forged without him.

And then you're letting it all go, hot, messy tears streaming down your face as every ounce of your being gets lost in the chaos of emotions shuddering through you, but you didn't stop. How long did you sit there, letting the sobs wrack your body, while Harry listened in silence? Occasionally, he would murmur a tender reassurance which seemed to help lessen the hurt, but eventually, the storm passed, and you found yourself feeling strangely lighter, as if you had shed some of the layers, some of the heaviness that had been weighing you down.

"Thank you," you whispered. "For answering. For listening. For being here...for being you."

"Always," he replied, his answer simple, but you knew he meant it.

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"Are you happy? I don’t know…like, truly happy?"

Maybe you knew the question was selfish, but you needed to know. You needed to hear that at least one of you had found peace, built a life worth living.

Harry hesitated, but only for a moment, then cleared his throat. "I'm... getting there," he said carefully. "Some days are better than others. But overall, yes, I think I am."

Something in his tone made you pause, and you wondered what he wasn't saying, but before you could question the feeling any further, he sighed, the sound unnaturally loud through the phone.

"To be honest...I just broke up with my girlfriend," he began, his voice taking on a new quality—cautious, almost sorrowful.

And your heart stuttered at the news, instinctively bracing for the impact of where this conversation might go. "Are you okay?"

Harry let the line go silent this time, his breath shallow on the other end. You could almost see him running a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he had always had when his nerves got the best of him. Where was he? What was he doing when you called?

"I actually ended it last night..I don't know...it's all kind of fresh," he confessed, "For some reason I just had this feeling like it wasn't right...like I wasn't meant to be with her."

"Then you called this morning...and maybe it's crazy. But I think it might be a sign..."

And it was like the world stopped spinning for a moment. Of course, the universe would do this. Of course, it would happen this way--a cosmic joke exposing the perfect punchline with cruel timing—Harry finally free just as you were realizing your own captivity. It felt like a taunt, the stars aligning only to illuminate the path you could have taken, should have taken, the road now visible but still impossibly distant.

You hated this about the universe sometimes, its depraved sense of humor, dangling possibility before you only after you had convinced yourself to stop reaching, stop wanting, stop dreaming of those green eyes and the London rain. This reality wasn't a door opening, no, because that's too good to be true; this was only a view from the universe's window of possibilities, allowing only a glimpse of what lay just beyond these prison walls without offering escape. 

"Oh..." you somehow managed, the single syllable becoming the lack of words building in your chest. You knew this was too complex to answer in a single line. "I don't know what to say..."

"I know—I'm sorry—that was a lot..." he said softly, and you knew he wasn't apologizing for his blunt statement, but was sorry for adding to the pain on this already tricky night.

"Don't be...I'm just processing, that’s all," you insisted, forcing brightness into your voice. "It's just that I've thought about this before...if we ever got the chance—"

"To try again—" he interjected, his sincerity unmistakable as he finished your sentence. "It's a bit overwhelming, yeah? A bit scary?"

"Scary...yeah..." you whispered.

There was a comfortable stillness that nestled as you both began to process the weight of what had just been said, how it threatened the very foundation of the lives and choices you had settled for in each other's absence. It was shaking up your foundation now, the life you were no longer willing to settle for, and in the silence, you let your broken spirit reach for him in the ways you had been longing for this whole time.

In your heart, you knew this wasn't supposed to happen like this. You weren't supposed to get a chance to repair this ache. There had always been this unspoken agreement—a pact between you that you both honored when you said your final goodbyes, that no matter how much it hurt, how impossible it felt to walk away, you both needed to do it in order to move on, to heal the damage.

But then, here you were, back in this moment, back in this conversation, and the very thought of the possibility of a second chance was enough to send your head spinning.

Because what if...?

What if this was the sign you had been waiting for all along? What if this was the universe's way of telling you that you were meant for something more, something bigger than the cage you had built around yourself?

The cage you could break free from at any point.

What if...

"What are you thinking?" Harry asked, his voice barely above a whisper, almost as if he was terrified to voice the question out loud.

And you knew your answer before the words even left your lips.

"I'm thinking about you...about us," you breathed.

"About coming home."

He lets out a breathy laugh, "Was England home?" He asks.

"You were home..."

It would never be as easy as deciding that, of course. Rebuilding any relationship takes time, patience, and a hell of a lot more maturity than the two of you possessed when you were last together. It would require unraveling years of hurt, of regret, of lessons learned. But for the first time in longer than you could remember, the prospect didn't fill you with dread. There was hope, a spark of something you had nearly forgotten—a flame that could reignite, burning bright if you let it.

"Harry?" you spoke up, your voice steadier, more sure.

"Yes, love?"

"I think...I think I'm ready to come home."

You swore you could hear the smile in his voice as he replied, "Good, I'll be here waiting."

"It's going to take a while..." You force tears now welling in your eyes.

"I know," he says. "And I'll wait however long you need me to, my Love."

And with that, you knew in your heart, this was the beginning. The start of reclaiming your life, your voice, your freedom.

"Harry...where are you?" You whisper.

"I'm watching the rain fall outside my office window..."

And you squeeze your eyes shut, picturing the view from his window, "I loved the rain in London," you laughed, sniffling away the last of your tears.

Harry cleared his throat, "I know you did, love. I haven't forgotten."

Then you nod, even though he couldn't see it. "Harry...I have to go...it's late."

"I figured that was coming..." he murmurs, "Don't forget what I said. Be brave and take care of yourself. You deserve to be happy. I'm here whenever you need me, anytime, I promise."

"Okay…" you breathe, holding the phone a bit closer, holding it as tight as you wished you were holding him, "I'll call you soon."

"I'll be here."

And you nod again, knowing that if you said another word, you would lose it all over again, and as you swallow past the lump in your throat, you pull the phone away from your ear, your finger hovering over the "end call" button for a moment. Then, with a deep breath, you press it, and your lifeline to Harry disappears.

A/N: This story was inspired by the song Romance by Ex:Re . If you haven't listened to it, it's brutally haunting and beautiful, and sad, but the message is powerful and if you haven't listened to it, please give the song a listen. Let me know what you think!

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[fafodill]

The exact wording of the ask I got was: 'what if someone was asking deprived!Snape (read my whole essay about him) to "break them off a piece of that KitKat bar?" How would they go about it?'

So today we're going to discuss this. Buckle up people.✨

SO his reaction will largely depend on the context and their current relationship but one thing that will happen FOR SURE every time before anything else is that he's going to think they're messing with him.

What else could it be? This man had been so heavily bullied as a teen his self-esteem is buried and has its own tombstone.

"Here lies Snape's self-image. Spit to pay your respect."

We don't have any canon proof of it happening but many people headcanon that some of the bullying might have been people being dared to come up to him and fake attraction or compliment him (so funny omg) only for him to realize they were just messing with him. It's totally the kind of immature stupid shit kids will come up with (speaking from personal experience here). Not funny but deeply scarring for one's self-image. So being told he's attractive would trigger him in his adult life. Any potential suitor asking him out would be welcomed with him immediately closing up and getting angry at them. They'd need to find a way for him to believe them first.

If you're thinking "this already sounds like a pain", yes it is. Welcome to deprived!Snape. Welcome to Snape, basically. If they want a piece of him, they have to brace themselves for the long run.

He will get angry and leave a lot. Fleeing the situation - since it's a very vulnerable subject for him - will be his go-to move. The whole ordeal will require patience. So what should this person do?

Friend or Stranger?

If it comes from a DE he'll think it's an angle. If it's from a member of the Order, he'll think it's a joke. If it's from a colleague at Hogwarts, he maaaay be a tad less suspicious? In any case, it will depend on how close they are. The more time they have spent together, the closer he'll be to not flip out... too much.

I'm a bit torn about his reaction if it was coming from a stranger. Either it's easier because he can lean into the idea that maybe they're lying about their attraction and he doesn't care (and if he's horny then why the fuck not, it won't affect him as much since they both now they're here for physical release) OR he might not be into it at all because he actually needs a real connection (and I think this is more realistic). Severus is a feral cat, he needs time to trust people.

What else? He could also maybe open up faster with someone not from his usual inner circles (a foreigner or a muggle) as the interactions wouldn't be charged with the same deep-rooted habits and expectations.

I also believe he'd unconsciously feel way more at ease with someone coming from a modest background. A pureblood aristocrat hitting on him would have little chance of getting past his natural distrust of them (unless he knows them very well).

So what should they do?

Build trust

The quality of their interactions and conversations will have a huge impact. Do they have an interesting personality? He needs someone capable of taking him on and keeping up intellectually. Can they keep up with him and challenge him?

Severus has a temper. Can they deal with his bullshit and not give up on him at the first scowl? Argue with him? It doesn't mean they can't be nice, but I don't see him get worked up over someone cowering under his gaze.

They need to be stubborn. He's a Capricorn and he's got the horns. He's hard-headed. They need to not back down when he bites or dismisses their attempts at flirting. One of Severus's classic tactic is to hurt people so they leave him alone, so they need to be able to dodge the attack, make fun of him or retaliate.

If they manage to deal with his temper, they will start to see what's on the other side of the snarky exterior. Then, they'll be able to start kneading the dough (Severus is the dough).

Convince him the attraction is real

That person could go the gentle/honest way, assuring him they're not kidding and explaining what they find attractive about him (he'd be super wary and need days to digest it - if he can). Genuine compliments could work quite well as he's good at reading people but it would be a process and it shouldn't be too much at once. He's NOT USED to compliments so if the person goes too hard, he's going to get overwhelmed, distance himself and reject it. A good trick would be to compliment his intelligence and magical skills alongside physical traits. A 2/3-1/3 ratio would be a good start. He would trust compliments about his big brain way more than anything regarding his cute butt.

Complimenting his presence, aura, voice might be good too as it's not directly related to physical traits. Else, physical starters could include hands and eyes. But I also love the idea of taking him by surprise and complimenting his nose. Might weird him out in a good way.

Or they could go the blunt way (or what I now refer to in my mind as the @maxdibert way) and be like "dude, I really think you're hot, deal with it" and leave him to sort his feelings out like a big boy.

The two strategies can be mixed of course. But at the end of the day, the real problem is that Severus as approximately a thousand confirmation bias in his mind telling him this is not happening. So what could they do to help ease this process?

Make him horny

Less overthinking = more chances to get this piece of ass.

Severus Snape needs to be warmed up. And as stated in my previous essay, he's plagued with the core beliefs that he's ugly, ridicule and undeserving. These beliefs need to be kneaded and challenged enough (not healed, this would take decades and it's not their job), so that he can relax and open up to the idea of intimacy.

Here are a few strategies to do so.

First, de-dramatize the subject. Making the topic less taboo by talking about it in a lighthearted way (no flaunting! certainly not!). A good move would be to joke about it. Deprived!Snape isn't comfortable with the subject but it's because it's evaded him and then he convinced himself he wasn't concerned or interested.

-> Here are some of the things he could benefit from hearing: that sex is not a big deal at all and we can laugh about it. It should be fun, a shared moment, trials and errors are part of it and there should no be judgment about experiences and preferences. People with a high 'body count' aren't necessarily good lovers, it's all about presence and intent etc.

His potential partner could share funny mishaps that happened to them and - when there's an opening - ask him what he would expect from a pleasant intimate moment (that's a very advanced move, don't forget he's bad with words)(it would only work in my opinion if they're both drunk and have been going at it for a while).

Also sharing experiences is a great way to build trust and intimacy (and arousal). He thrives on knowledge so learning more about his potential partner might ease his mind in some way (and give him some free intrusive thoughts). See it as added ingredients to make him simmer.

Though they shouldn't talk too much about the number of partners they had and said partner's skills. This might make him retreat. Again: low self-esteem and always on the lookout for an excuse to sabotage it.

Wait what about drunk!Snape you say? That's a trope we enjoy around here. Although I headcanon him as not being a heavy drinker (if a drinker at all because of his father) it would be a great way to lower a bit his inhibition. A DE would have a hard time sharing a drink with him, same for an Order member (he never stays after meetings but could be coerced), but a colleague could maybe drag him to the Three Broomsticks with other members of the staff and then leave early with him. wink wink Come on, rub his foot under the table and look at him choke on his ale. He'll skin you alive with his eyes and you can just raise a suggestive eyebrow back.

Persistence, persistence.

Of course a bit of physical baiting could help with his dusty libido. After all, they'd kinda be dealing with an teenager, experience-wise. Nothing too bold (though I headcanon that his sooty Cokeworth self would get way more worked up over unabashed desire than delicate courting but he's buried a bit too deep at the moment) but a nice cleavage, some leg showing, a fitting pair of pants or robes might not be a bad move. Since he might be uncomfortable with words, they could flaunt the goods in his face! The man has eyes, let him look and scold himself for looking. Also a few heavy looks, biting a lip and lingering fingers could go a long way for such a deprived man, especially if it's directed at him.

At the end of the day, the trick is to make him able to put his worry aside (or snap, if you find the word sexier).

They could go the provocative way, being insufferable and making him want to shut them up.

They could try some endless teasing until he's a lost hot mess, unable to express what he wants except by going 'fuck it' and going for it.

They could go slower and create a safe space with a weekly ritual (every Friday night meeting for a drink/to grade essays/to hang out) which can lead to a late night snog (floating candles optional).

They could be blunt and go 'I want to kiss you so bad right now' as they leave Hogsmeade together and are walking on the dirt path towards the castle. A gust of wind will prevent him from hiding himself behind his hair and they'll see the flush creeping on his face.

They could hammer the compliments and validation, because Severus craves recognition (is there a praise kink in there? yes). So first it could be his mind, his work, his skills... then the way his cape suits his frame so well, his silky voice... and then bam, hitting the nail on the head with complimenting his mouth. Blabbering mess guaranteed. Might flee but blush deliciously. Or might stop dead in his track and then it's time for them to claim these lips.

Kissing

Clumsy. Tentative. Awkward.

But earnest.

He might freeze at first. Wait, these lips knew how to do that once upon a time... how does it go again? He'll need a bit of time to remember but the best way to (re)learn is practice.

It will be a lot for him. As he's extremely touch-deprived he'd be literally rediscovering human contact. So much to feel, the supple of the lips, their shape, the softness, the wetness.

Honestly, deprived!Snape could get really worked up just from kissing.

(They could honestly make him cum just from this and some grinding. Amen. If he does he'd need reassurance after and still might flee and hide and snarl for a few days because male performance blahblahblah. Hopefully they'd be able to skip this step at this point in the relation.)

But I believe he'd enjoy it greatly and this might be a step he'd want to stay at for some time before going further.

Undressing

I headcanon deprived!Snape as being very self-conscious about revealing his body so it might only be possible with someone he really trusts. It might be painfully difficult for him (might require dimmed light if not obscurity but I mean come on, they're here to look at him and it'd be better for him to rip the bandaid... but giving him the option might help).

Either he'll be too aroused to care (or act as if he doesn't) or he'll feel very self-conscious and look for cues to confirm his belief that his partner will find him disgusting. It's the right moment for them to express their desire.

If for some reason he gets too triggered and leave, they wouldn't be back to square one but again, patience is key. He needs time. Or maybe they could convince him to stay and try to resolve the situation by stopping the intimacy and just talk about something else. It could be good practice to show him this isn't a big deal and that everything is fine.

But at this stage, complimenting him sincerely (no coddling) whilst not hiding their arousal could work nicely. Sprinkling some of the fantasies they had about him as well. ('I've been dreaming about these hands on me', 'You have no idea how much I've been wanting to kiss these lips to make you shut up', 'I laid awake at night thinking about touching this part of you'). Showing appreciation with touch could convince him more though and it has the advantage of preventing him to think too much.

But really, he won't like to focus on his appearance as it's something he has no control over so they should -unfortunately- bite their tongue and keep the flood of horny compliments to themselves at first. A new one might be fed to him once every two weeks to slowly build his confidence.

In Bed

Deprived!Snape is: prideful, yearning for control and very sensitive.

Now honestly I could make a whole other post with the different scenarios where he'd be more top or bottom. Instead, I will focus more on what would happen either way.

He'll want to learn. Because Severus is nothing if not a scholar. He's got a very curious nature regarding topics that interest him so if his partner is showing him how they like something, he'll get super serious about it. He will try to touch them in the exact same way at first and he's a fast learner so once it's mastered, he'll experiment. And he's going to be good at it.

That man got dexterity and an inventive mind. And that's canon.

But his focus on his partner might also be a way to keep control during this highly new situation. Depending on how self-conscious he is about his inexperience, shifting the focus on him might be a challenge. Maybe letting him take the lead could be a good idea. But maybe shoving him against the mattress and seizing control is the way to go here.

Now, he will be very sensitive, won't he?

Yes, he might. He might be a whimpering mess in no time. His partner should be cautious and gentle with him. Severus letting his guard down and letting them touch him is a very big effort coming from him so they should savor it and be sure to make it feel safe if they want this to happen again. Help him relax, let him breathe, don't hesitate to pause if he gets nervous. The walls will be destroyed, moan after moan.

But what if he isn't sensitive?

That's a possibility as well. He's been by himself for years and his wariness of intimacy and people is wired in his cells at this point. He's disconnected from his own body and never pays attention to it. He might also tense heavily once in bed with his partner, the vulnerability of it accentuating the disconnection. He might not feel pleasure, might get frustrated and feel angry or inadequate.

This situation - which I find very interesting and seems like a realistic follow-up to him wanting to kiss for a long time and struggling with undressing - is tricky and will require diplomacy and more patience.

But maybe this could be a dealbreaker for him. If the payoff isn't worth the discomfort, he could easily take it as a confirmation bias that intimacy isn't for the likes of him. The best course of action could be to focus on non-sexual aspect of intimacy.

But this essay is way too long already so I'm going to stop here.

What should I write about next? Is there something you wish I had addressed here? Is there something you'd like me to discuss next?

UPDATE: so a few people seem to be mad at me, demanding I keep on elaborating SO. Let's say I'm done here for the 'how to bed him' part (which was the premise of this essay) and I'll do another one following thoughts and possibly... focusing on the different roles in bed (top/bottom/switch) for our dear Severus. See you there.

TLDR: He's gonna be a pain, his partner needs to have calming draught for their nerves but in the end it will be very rewarding because he's starved and inventive.

[htchnr]

꩜ intimacy hc's 𑣲 B. POINDEXTER.

𖦹 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭. 𖦹 𝐛𝐮𝐲 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐤𝐨-𝐟𝐢!

「 ꜜrequest,, "i'd really love to see more of your intimacy hc's about Dex!!". author notes at the end. 」

「 ꜜcontent,, nonsexual cockwarming ⋆ ocd triggers ⋆ Dex's overall mental health ⋆ my personal thoughts ⋆ panic attack mentions ⋆ intense & obsessive cuddling. ꜜwc,, 0,9k. 」

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 𝐇𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐑. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!

𑣲 i saw someone post about this last week i think-- that they hc Dex to not be sexually attracted to people-- and i agree.

꩜ like he for sure enjoys the act with someone he's close with, but for emotional value and connection reasons-- being close and extremely intimate with you. i don't see him being a one night stand person AT ALL.

𑣲 back to my kissing hc from my fic-- in my eyes the press of a forehead to another, or the bump of a nose as much more intimate for him. he doesn't mind kissing perse, but he highly prefers the other mentioned ways.

꩜ needs, needs. to end and start his day with said way of kissing. a firm, but caring press of his forehead against yours while he nudges his nose against yours. if it doesn't happen at the start and end of his day, he spirals. like a compulsion he can't fulfill or a routine suddenly cut off. it drives him insane. and he can't calm down until his completed the action.

𑣲 on to possibly my fave hc, (besides this kissing one) cockwarming. while he does enjoy the act of sex, cockwarming doesn't count as sex to him. neither of you are having your needs fulfilled in the sense of 'releasing'. to him, it is the most intimate and deeply soothing position he can possibly be in with you.

꩜ your usual routine of soothing him out of a panic attack doesn't work? cockwarming. his day spirals because his image of you of your relationship briefly slips? cockwarming, while you hold him impossibly close and reassure him, over and over and over that it'll alright.

𑣲 it send every sense of his into overdrive-- being swallowed whole by you. your warm, wet walls suffocating him and leaving him with no room to entertain the scary or peace disturbing thoughts. neither of you usually cum from it, though if he ever needs the release, you never mind helping him through it.

꩜ for his birthday after being together for a while you gift him a usb stick with hours and hours of audio footage of you coaching him through various things. any situation you thought he could possibly ever get into, you've thought of it.

𑣲 a break in his routine? a bad trigger of his ocd? a really bad case at work that somehow ends up really bothering him? he somehow feels that you're distancing yourself from him? you've thought of everything, and then even more.

꩜ the moment he gets it and you explain, he downloads it all onto his phone. you laughed, warning him that his phone will run out of space-- but he didn't care. everything could run out of space, and he'd still find some way to make space for you and your help.

𑣲 keeps headphones on him at all times. ready to able to listen to the audio files at any given moment if he needs. sometimes, after a long day at work and a case he can't get home from, he'll just listen to a few just to hear your voice. slowly soothing him to sleep. and even of those moments you've thought of, filling the remainder of the storage with hours of idle chatter material of you talking about hobbies, or just the sound of you humming or singing as you do chores.

꩜ when he can't listen to the audio files? well, that's a time we all don't want to think about.

𑣲 is 100% a service switch. i think he has his few moments where he craves to be in charge, but mainly he craves your praise. lives to hear your voice praise him following your lead or your orders. he just wants to be good for you.

꩜ doesn't mind hand holding, but muchhhh prefers linking your foot with his when you sit beside him. it might seem silly or odd, but just a simple gesture of your foot resting on the other side of his is soothing. grounding.

𑣲 suffocates you in bed at night. you know he needs it, but it can be intense from time to time. he needs to be wrapped around you, and you have to face him. it's like he's got a sixth sense for it, cause if you turn away in your sleep, he wakes up immediately somehow. and he will either manoeuvre over you to your other side for him to face you, or turn your body or face to face him.

꩜ my last thought that i can think off at the moment, is his absolute love for doing your hair-- if you've got hair long enough to braid, it's one of his most favored ways of relaxing. you on the couch or bed, in front of him as he sits behind you and braids your hair.

𑣲 the rhythm of braiding the strands of hair really soothes him. though, it can most certainly also be a trigger for him. if the mental process of the braid feels off, he will do it over and over again and it soothes him instead.

「 authors note,, this was all that i've been able to think about while also being busy with other fics in my head 😅 but i hoped you enjoyed nonetheless! and once again, requests are open for Dex and Wade Kinsella! 」

𑣲 join the taglist ٠࣪⭑꩜.ᐟ

[mrsknowitallll]

Come Hell Or High Water

Sammie (Preacher boy) x Black Plus Size Reader

Summary - What was supposed to be a night full of fun, a night filled with passion turns into something else entirely, something that’ll change the trajectory of both your lives forever.

Warning: Child abuse and neglect, smut, murder, foul language, violence

A/N - This one is a little bit heavy with some sensitive topics. If any of the things mentioned above trigger you I highly recommend skipping this fic, I have more in my masterlist pinned on my page that are much lighter. Hope you guys enjoy! I just loveeee me some Sammie. 🤭

You sighed heavily, wiping the sweat from your brow as you finished sweeping up the kitchen.

Your father was away visiting some relatives up north for a few days so you had the place to yourself for a while but that didn't mean that the work ever stopped.

"Keep up with the land and keep my god damn house clean, if I come back to some mess we gone have a problem you hea?" He grabbed onto the back of your neck roughly.

"Yes papa." You stiffened in his hold, nodding as best as you could.

But the weekend was just around the corner and after the week you had, you just wanted to relax a bit, take some of the edge off.

When you heard about the opening of Club Juke you just had to attend. Word spread that they were gonna have great food, top notch music and some and the world’s finest liquor, you’d be a fool to miss out. You weren't quite old enough to drink but you were old enough to get in and that's all that mattered to you.

You put on your best dress, a silk number that was a deep shade of red, it hugged your curves real nice, your ass especially.

You wrapped a matching shawl around your shoulders and slipped on your heels.

You grabbed your purse as you headed for the door, but not before looking at yourself one last time in your small kitchen mirror.

"Aren't you a little young to be here miss?" Cornbread questioned as you stepped near the entrance.

"I'm old enough and my money just as good as everyone else’s” You waved a few coins around, a few dollars you saved from babysitting.

His eyes followed the money, snatching it from your hands without hesitation and stepping aside to let you in.

Your ears perked up at the sound of singing, a smooth soulful voice coming from the small stage which was surrounded by people dancing so you couldn't quite see.

You walked over as if you were in a trance pushing people out of the way earning several curses from the other club patrons.

You eventually got to the front staring up at the culprit.

You felt heat pool from the top of your head all the way to the tips of your toes as you locked eyes with him.

His skin was smooth as silk, a pretty dark brown that seemed to glisten even under the dim lighting in the club, he was dressed in a simple suit, nothing too fancy, good enough for the little joint, just right for him, and his slender fingers strummed his guitar beautifully, fingers dancing over the strings like magic.

You drank him in like a glass of wine, eyes eventually sliding back up to meet his once more.

He grinned down at you, shooting you a wink.

You looked away feeling your face flush, thank god it wasn't visible.

After a while you settled down at the bar, still stealing glances at the boy from across the room, him doing the same.

Finally he began to approach you and you did your best to act casual, if casual was adjusting your outfit and asking the bartender if you looked okay.

"My, my aren't you pretty." He whistled eyes trailing your frame causing you to squirm.

"And you're quite the charmer." You smirked trying to play it cool.

"You enjoy the show?" He questioned taking a seat next to you.

"Absolutely, you sure can blow." You shot him a compliment causing him to grin.

"That ain't the only thing this mouth of mine can do." He leaned in, hand brushing your thigh.

"If i didn't know any better i'd say you was tryna sweet talk your way into my drawls. You don't even know my name, how you know i ain't a serial killer?" You teased.

"It would be an honor to die by these pretty hands of yours." He intertwined his fingers with yours, kissing your knuckles sweetly.

"You wanna get out of here?" You squeezed your thighs together, staring at him hungrily.

"Sure thing." He placed his hat on his head, placing his guitar over his shoulders.

You giggled as his lips trailed from your neck down to your exposed chest, his hands gripping your wide hips tightly.

"As much as i would love to take you right here right now, i think we better go somewhere more private." He glanced around the dark woods wearily.

"My house is near by, my pa gone for the week, it'll just be you and me." You pecked his lips smiling wickedly.

He scooped you up in his arms, and took off running, surprising you with his strength.

You laughed until your stomach started to hurt, hitting his shoulders, squealing for him to put you down.

He finally did once he reached your porch, setting you down gently.

As soon as you unlocked the door he was on you, hands sliding beneath your dress, grabbing ahold of your thighs and lifting you up, placing you on your kitchen counter, lips attacking yours in a rough, sloppy kiss.

He unbuttoned his pants quickly, slipping them down just enough to pull out his hard length.

You spat on your hand, wetting it before grabbing his dick, stroking painfully slow.

He ripped your panties off, fingers dipping into your core, your arousal soaking them.

Just before he could sink into you the door was slung open, revealing the one person you weren't expecting to see for at least another day or two.

You jumped from the counter quickly pulling down your dress.

You shook in fear as he surveyed the scene, his face contorting quickly, from shock to blind rage.

"I leave you 'lone for a few days and i come back to you spread open on my kitchen counter like some hooker!" Your father screamed sending a harsh slap across your face.

"Now wait just a minute mister ain't no need for all that, it was me that came onto her." Sammie struggled to his pants up.

Your father swung on him, landing a clean hit on his jaw causing the boy to stumble.

You ran over to him, holding his face in your hands.

"You alright?" You questioned, tears brimming your eyes.

He nodded.

"Come hea!" Your father grabbed you by your hair suddenly, dragging you out the front door and tossing you onto the lawn.

He proceeded to stomp on you like he was putting out a cigarette bud, not beating the life out of his daughter, his only child.

You placed your arms over your head protectively, screaming in agony, the pain unbearable.

It all abruptly stopped when you heard gunshots ring out.

Sammie stood beside you, your father's shot gun in hand, his lifeless body now lying next to yours, blood staining blades of grass.

You stood on shaky feet wincing, arm gripping your middle.

You spared a single glance at your father, face blank.

You weren’t fazed by his death, that man never loved you, never cared for you, hell he began beating the daylights out of you the moment you learned to walk and talk so why should you give a fuck if he lived or died?

What you were worried about though was Sammie, you snatched the gun from his hands tossing it to the ground.

He shook rapidly, tears streaming down his face like a waterfall.

"Hey, hey! Look at me, don't go there okay? Come back to me." You tapped the sides of his face attempting to snap him back into reality.

"I- i gotta call Sm-Smoke a- and Stack, We gotta get rid of him we gotta get him outta here." The boy grabbed your father by his feet and began dragging him back into the house.

You took ahold of his arms, helping him.

“You stay here ight? I’ll be back soon.” Sammie adjusted his clothes.

“Like hell I am, I ain’t letting you go nowhere by yourself, not with the state you in, nor am I staying here with a dead man, i’m going with you!” You persisted, slipping your shoes back on.

Sammie knew there was no point in arguing with you so he just let you follow him.

“Well i’ll be.. damn lil man I ain’t know you had it in you!” Stack crouched down in front of your father’s body, observing the bullet wound.

You huffed in annoyance at the man’s antics.

He had been cracking jokes since the two of you went and got him, nothing bout the situation y’all were in was a laughing matter.

“Look, Stack was it? I don’t know if you noticed but Sammie’s not taking this too well, see he just killed a man and while that may be a tuesday for you and your brother it’s obviously a life changing experience for him, he’s clearly traumatized and now is not the time for games. You gone help us get rid of this motherfucker or is your comedy special gone run all night?” You crossed your arms stepping into his face, gritting your teeth.

Sammie grabbed your hand squeezing tightly, a silent show of gratitude.

You just glanced over at him smiling weakly.

Stack pursed his lips, eyes widening slightly.

He burst out laughing after a few seconds, holding onto his gut like you said the funniest thing in the world.

“My fault little lady, I ain’t mean no harm.” He held his hands up in surrender.

“She a keeper lil Sammie.” He briefly glanced over at the boy, winking.

“Me and Smoke gone take care of this here, the two of y’all just worry bout getting the fuck outta town.” He looked between the both of you.

“What?!” You spoke in unison.

“Y’all killed a man a skip and a hop away from a club full of people, you think they ain’t hear them gunshots? You think niggas ain’t gone ask questions? They gone notice this motherfucker is gone sooner or later and connect the dots. Don’t you got family? You think they ain’t gone wonder what the fuck happened to this nigga? That they ain’t gone come snooping round? Y’all gotta get the fuck up outta here, quick ‘fore the sun come up.” Smoke glared at the two of you.

“My entire life here in Mississippi, i can’t just pack up and go, leave everything i know behind.” You stared at the man in disbelief.

“We ain’t got no choice.” Sammie spoke gruffly.

You turned toward him, a “you can’t be serious” expression on your face.

“Look I get where you coming from, ion wanna leave mississippi behind either, my ma and pa, my brothers and sisters, but we ain’t got no choice in the matter now, what’s done is done, we gotta go.” He grabbed your hands intertwining them with his pulling you closer to him, planting a sweet kiss on your lips.

“Enough of that lovey dovey shit get the fuck on.” Stack waved them off.

You packed as many clothes as you could into a small duffle, gathering some of your father’s old clothes for Sammie as well.

You tossed the bag in the back of the car, hopping into the passenger side, Sammie on the drivers side, the engine already running.

“You stay safe, keep yo eyes peeled and yo head down.” Stack pat Sammie on the head.

“And protect ya lady, that mouth of hers gone get y’all in a world of trouble.” He teased.

You flipped him off causing him to chuckle.

After you said your goodbyes you and Sammie took off down the road, wind whipping against your faces, minds running a mile a minute.

You placed your hand on the back of Sammie’s head, fingers kneading through his hair gently, soothing him.

“I’m sorry I got you into all this mess, if it wasn’t for me you’d still be with your folks in that club, playing music, having yourself a good time.” You sighed heavily staring down at your feet.

“Hey look at me.” He took his eyes off the road for a moment to look at you.

You glanced up meeting his soft gaze.

“I ain’t worried bout none of that nonsense, the club, the music, none of it. If I didn’t do what i did that man would’ve killed you and i definitely wouldn’t be able to live with myself then.” He shook his head.

“Plus I been unhappy here for a long time, I always said i wanted to see the world, now’s my chance.” He confessed.

“And music don’t just exist in the Delta, it lives right here within me.” He pointed at his chest.

“No matter how far I travel the music ain’t gone ever leave my side.” He smiled pridefully.

“I got all I need right here, just you, me and the blues.”

[peachhcs]

my girl

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

on a similar note of will not playing about samy, here's him comforting her up at the lake house after finding about the ed she's been struggling with all school year & basically making sure she knows she's loved and has a whole group of people for her to lean on in through the tough times

i didn't think i'd make a part 2 to this but i got inspired and this came to me :) (p.s. i know the hughes lake house isn't on lake michigan but let's pretend for the au)

warnings: depiction of ed, mental health struggles, please read with caution if this triggers you

au masterlist | part 1

it was a warm morning on lake michigan. the slow rising sun was the perfect temperature to sit outside and soak up the early morning rays, so that was exactly what samy did. she woke up early this morning and not wanting to wake up will with her constant tossing and turning, she decided to just get up. the girl wandered outside hoping the quiet morning would help refresh her foggy mind.

she sat with a bowl of yogurt jack brought out for her since him and quinn were awake trying to tinker with things that needed replacements after being gone a whole year. the first few weeks back on the lake house were always so like this as her brothers got things up and running again.

unfortunately, the yogurt had hardly been touched for almost an hour now. it sat unmoving in the girl's lap, the thoughts in her brain still running wild with anxieties and what ifs. she didn't know what it was because no matter how hard she tried pushing those thoughts away, they just came back stronger with a way more vicious bite.

you're gonna get fat. you shouldn't be eating this. it has too much artificial sugar. what would will think of you if you gained weight? you're gonna be unconditioned come soccer season.

those were just a peak of what plagued samy's mind on a daily basis.

she forced herself to eat a few bites when luke sat with her knowing she needed to be proving to her brothers that she was getting better even though she really wasn't. that was their deal. samy ate the things they gave her and they wouldn't get their parents involved. it seemed so easy.

oh how wrong the younger hughes sister was.

when luke got up and left samy stopped forcing herself to eat and then another half hour passed without another bite being touched. samy's stomach rumbled for something more, but she just couldn't do it. instead, she needed to move, so the girl left the bowl on the table and decided to head down to the dock.

with it being so early still, the boats wouldn't be out yet, so it'd be the perfect spot to just listen to the quiet splashes of waves hitting against the dock.

will shifted to his other side, expecting to find his girlfriend but finding nothing except a cold space where her body once was. the boy's eyes quickly opened, groaning when the sunlight went right into his vision. he reached for samy's side to check one more time that she wasn't there and when he felt nothing for a second time, he opened his eyes again.

he half expected her to be somewhere in the room, but he quickly realized that she wasn't anywhere close by. will grabbed his phone, groggy eyes reading the time. 8:45am. he knew samy was a morning person, but this early in the summer? her absence forced him up to do a more thorough scan of her room to make sure he didn't miss her somewhere like the bathroom or something.

her phone wasn't on the nightstand though which confirmed to will that she left the room. the blonde frowned a bit as he found a shirt to throw on and pulled a hand through his bed head to go downstairs. he heard some noise coming from the kitchen and will perked up hoping it was samy.

it still wasn't her. quinn and jack glanced his way when he entered. "morning, smitty," jack grinned.

"you're up early," luke commented from the counter.

"have you seen samy?" will's voice was heavily laced with sleep still.

"she was outside last time i saw her. on the deck," luke nodded his head towards the door.

the sharks rookie pressed his face against the glass and frowned again when there was no sign of his girlfriend out there. "not there," he mumbled, but he did see a hardly eaten bowl of yogurt on the table.

"she was out there. maybe she went to do something," luke shrugged.

"all i see is a bowl of yogurt."

will noticed how the three brothers exchanged a glance he couldn't really read when he said that. a mix of worry and something else sat in their expressions, but the younger boy didn't ask because he didn't wanna pry. he knew samy was struggling with her eating disorder, but he hadn't dared to ask yet how bad it was or if she had gotten better at all when gabe told him a week ago. will figured she hadn't made a lot of progress yet based on the full bowl of yogurt outside.

that idea made his heart sink.

will looked out the glass doors again hoping samy was out there somewhere and he just missed her the first time. finally, the blonde spotted a figure all the way down on the dock and this time he knew it was samy.

"i think i found her," the boy mumbled and grabbed a blanket off the back of one of the chairs before making his way outside.

quinn, jack, and luke exchanged another glance but for a different reason this time. they watched as will went down the yard to the water figuring he saw samy all the way down there. "he'll get her better, i know he will," luke mumbled.

"you think so?" jack wondered.

"he will. he's got her," luke nodded.

samy didn't hear will coming until she felt gentle hands wrapping a soft blanket over her shoulders and a kiss on her head. the brunette looked up, somewhat surprised to see her boyfriend above her.

"hi, pretty girl," he rasped still full of sleep.

"did i wake you?" samy wondered worriedly as she watched him sit down next to her.

"no, you didn't," it wasn't a lie, will never heard her leave. his body just woke him up because samy wasn't near him anymore.

"what are you doing down here?" samy hugged the blanket closer to her body.

"i saw you down here," will said simply and samy blushed. "you looked like you could use some company," the boy added which deepened samy's red cheeks.

"you're sweet. i appreciate the company," she leaned further into him and will reached out to wrap his arm around her shoulders. he landed another kiss on her temple.

"sleep okay?"

"yeah, i guess. i felt kind of restless," samy admitted.

"any reason why?" will was never one to pry too much. he always wanted to samy to tell him things on her own without him having to get her to say it which is why he was trying to ease his way into this conversation.

"oh, i dunno. everything. i always got a lot going on in my mind."

"penny for your thoughts?" the little saying made the girl giggle. will loved saying that whenever they were trying to talk but the words weren't coming easy.

samy hesitated for a moment though. she knew she could tell will anything, he was her boyfriend after all, but talking about the eating disorder she's been struggling with the past year actually didn't come easy. she never really spoke to him about it. back at that boston college game, she played it off as everything just overwhelming her even though samy knew deep down that it was inability to eat anything without stressing herself out.

knowing that it was an issue back then and she couldn't even admit it made it hard for her to admit to it now, especially to will because they promised no more secrets.

will caught onto her hesitation. he squeezed her arm and then made her look over at him. "i don't wanna force you to talk about it if you don't want to, but you know i'm here for you, right? i always am," the blonde hummed.

his soft words were almost gut wrenching because samy thought he should be mad at her for not telling him about this and making gabe tell him for her. the brunette ashamedly looked away, struggling to find her words.

it broke will's heart to see her like this. maybe he didn't notice it right away because he didn't see her frequently, but looking at her now, he could definitely tell.

"i feel like i don't know how to get better," the soccer player finally admitted in a whisper will nearly missed it.

he cupped her chin so she'd look at him again, "baby, you are foing to get better. it won't be easy, but you will."

his soft tone brought the tears again and the hockey player's heart broke into a million pieces seeing his girlfriend so distraught. he's never seen her so upset before, but he brought her into his arms nonetheless because she needed that comfort.

"i'm right here. it's okay. it's gonna be okay," he rocked her similarly to how luke rocked her a few weeka ago after finally admitting to her brothers the reality of the situation. will felt her cry even harder into his shoulder.

"you should be like..mad at me for not telling you. you didn't even know," samy pulled back.

"i'm not mad. i'd never be mad. maybe i'm a little upset i didn't know, but this isn't something where you just know. it's there, it's not, it's there, it's not. i'd never be mad at you for something like this, baby," will wiped her tears away with his palms.

"i should have told you sooner or someone sooner..i just..fuck..i didn't even know what wad wrong with me. or maybe i did and i just didn't want to think it was this. god, will, i'm so scared i won't be able to get better," samy buried her face in his chest.

will's known samy her whole life and never once has he heard her become this deprecating about herself. it hurt real bad seeing her struggle, but not being able to do much about it. instead, he hugged her to him hoping the comfort of his arms would ease some of those racing thought for a few minutes.

"you are going to get better, samy, i promise. you have so many people wanting you to get better too. we're all here for you through this."

"what if you start fucking hating me or wanting to break up with me because i gained weight or because i'm so pathetic i can't even eat anything," will knew it was her head talking, but he hated hearing it so much.

"first, you're not pathetic. second, no matter what you do or what you look like, you will always be my girl. nothing can ever change that for me, okay? i love you," will promised seriously. samy flushed, but she believed him. her heart fluttered hearing him call her "my girl."

"what can i do to help you through this? do you want me to make you something every day? eat with you? sit with you while you eat?" will offered options he thought could be helpful.

"maybe eating with me? not that i wanna force myself, but eating with someone helps me eat because i feel obligated to," samy admitted and she knew that was something she needed to work on so eating wasn't some obligation in her mind.

"okay, i can do that. i'll eat with you all summer, even when i'm away," will grinned and the smile on his lips made samy smile too.

"i love you," the brunette kissed her boyfriend's cheek where his slight stubble scratched her lips. she ran her finger along it where will flexed his jaw under her touch.

"i love you, baby. you got a lot of people here this summer looking after you. you're gonna get through this," he clasped her trailing finger into his hand where he brougt it up to his lips to kiss.

the couple stayed out there as early morning became late morning and the rest of the house woke up. jack peeked out of the doors again while a soft smile spread acorss his lips seeing samy and will out there together.

"how is she?" ethan yawned while making his coffee.

jack scraped the yogurt she didn't eat into the garbage, "with will, i think she'll be just fine."

[bullet-prooflove]

The Porn Boom: Dennis Whitaker x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @cosmic-psychickitty @sargeant-sad-eyes @caffeinatedwoman @hooks-martin

Companion piece to:

Peppermint - The taste of peppermint will always have a special place in Dennis’s heart.

The Morgue Thing - A miscommunication between you and Dennis almost ends things before they begin.

Written In The Stars - Your first date with Dennis takes place underneath the stars.

In The Park - Dennis reveals a secret after the two of you spend the night together in the park.

Virgin - There's a rumour going around about Dennis.

Debauched (NSFW) - Karaoke night ends a lot differently than it did the first time around.

Symphony (NSFW) - Dennis has never eaten pussy before...

Pretty Boy (NSFW) - You and Dennis take the next step in your relationship.

Permanent Marker - Your protectiveness over Dennis shows when you find out about the betting pool.

Being with you is a sexual revelation, one that Dennis never expected to have. He’s not just talking about the intercourse, the positions that you introduce him to. He’s talking about the other stuff, the stuff he hadn’t realised he needed to take the edge off the really shitty day he’s just had.

Like your hand wrapped around his lubed up dick, bring him to the edge for the third time tonight. Your lips on his throat, teeth grazing the soft skin as you build him back up slow, relentless strokes until he’s a desperate mess in your sheets.

“Oh pretty boy.” You whisper, lightly nipping at his ear. “If you want to come in my pussy, you’ve got to show me how bad you want it. Fuck my hand a little, show me what I’m missing.”

His cheeks colour, flushing that pretty pink hue but the way you touch him, he has no choice but to obey. He thrusts up into your fist, the silky lube coating him and it feels like heaven wrapped around his dick.

“Fuck Lola. I need you.” He whispers, his cheek pressing against yours. “I need to feel you around me. Need to come with you.”

“Alright Denny.” You whisper, straddling his hips. “Let’s do it together.”

You sink down onto him and he cries out at the sensation because your pussy, it’s perfect, just like the rest of you.  

“Don’t move.” He whispers against your lips because he’s on a hair trigger and he needs you to be right there with him when it happens. Your palms grip his shoulders, fingertips digging into his skin as he reaches down between the two of you, seeking out your clit.

Your breath hitches as his fingers trace delicates circles across that sensitive bud and it feels like tiny rays of sunshine blossoming within your nerve endings as you clench around him. Your hips begin to rock against his but his arm circles your waist, holding you close stopping your movements.

“I told you not to move.” He murmurs, his teeth grazing your lower lip as he increases the pressure of his fingers. You moan at the sensation and he smiles against your mouth because he has you right where he wants you, on the edge with him, tightening around his cock.

“Come with me baby.” He murmurs as he starts to fuck up into you. “Let me give that pussy what it needs.”

It takes three strokes and you’re climaxing all over his cock, gripping him so hard that his entire body combusts like a thousand stars bursting into existence. He comes with you in long, hot spurts, clasping you to him as buries himself deep, his eyes fixed on yours in that moment of rapture.

“You liked that didn’t you.” He murmurs against your jaw as your heart thunders against his. “Me telling you what to do a little?”

“Yea.” You whisper, your forehead coming to rest upon his. “I don’t usually like enjoy bossy men but you… you’re sweet with it. You make it about me, you don’t…”

You trail off and his thumb runs over the apricot blush across your cheek.

“I don’t what?” He asks you softly.

“Most the men I’ve been with, they grew up in the porn boom. They learned to fuck like that. They replicate those videos, the moves and the terminology…”

“I don’t understand.” He says because your farm boy, he’s so fucking innocent sometimes it’s endearing.

“They pound you like you’re nothing but a hole to fuck while calling you their dirty little  whore.” You summarise for him. “Because those videos with all that degradation, they’re geared towards men, they’re not about what a woman wants, it’s about cum shots and submission. You’re not like that, when you get a little dommy, it’s about taking care of me, not about where you’re blowing your load.”

“I will always take care of you.” Dennis says fiercely. “You are far more to me than something to get my dick into on a Friday night-”

“I know that.” You reassure him. “You are different to any other person I have been with and I love that, I love us and the things we’re doing together. I just want to make sure you know where I’m coming from, that there are certain things that are off limits for me.”

“And we will not do any of those things.” He murmurs as he guides you down onto the mattress, your thighs still locked around his hips. “We’ll only do the things you dream about, the things we both want to do.”

“Is that what you’re all about?” You tease as your fingertips trace intricate patterns along his back. “Making my wildest dreams come true?”

“Yea.” He promises you, his mouth brushing over yours. “Every single one of them.”

Love Dennis? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[tedwardremus]

Do you think Harry is emotionally abusive or neglectful of Ginny? What kind of husband would he be?

I’m pretty confident that the boy who had an endless well of compassion and understanding, even for his worst enemies, would never be neglectful or abusive toward his wife.

That said, I do think Harry would have a lot of growing to do. He’s not an easy person to be around all the time. He keeps things to himself, he can get hyper-focused to the point of shutting others out, he carries the weight of complex grief, and he was an abused child himself.

He’ll need to learn how to be more open and communicative. He’ll need to develop patience. He’ll have to figure out how to separate his work from his home life and truly be present. But while I think he’ll struggle with all of that, I also believe he’ll work hard to overcome those habits. Especially with Ginny by his side, and with Arthur and Molly there to help guide him toward a more stable emotional space. And he loves Ginny. He’s always had an easier time connecting with her than with almost anyone else.

Harry will be attentive. He notices the small things. He’ll be supportive. He’ll bring home flowers because he thinks they smell like her. He’ll write her funny notes when she’s away at matches. He’ll learn household charms, and they’ll cook and clean together and build a life full of domestic, shared joy.

Harry will mess up. He’ll retreat into himself. He might get too angry or too quiet. But he’ll keep learning, keep working to understand his triggers, because he finally has the space and safety to do that kind of healing.

Harry will be a good husband to Ginny, not because it comes easy, but because he wants to be. Because he’ll put in the effort. Because he loves her.

Harry has always been at his best when it comes to understanding and giving love. That’s kind of his whole thing.

[meganwritesfanfics]

How to Save a Life (Dr. Jack Abbott x Reader) Part 4

Word Count: 1807

Trigger Warnings: Discussion of Blood, and injuries. angst

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Robby yelled as he rushed to Y/N side. “Go get Langdon!” He yelled at Dana. 

“Y/N, keep your eyes on me baby. Keep looking at me. You are going to be fine, you are going to be just fine.” Jack pleaded as he scooped her up into his arms. The room was swarmed with police, most of their focus was on Driscoll’s body, but some had surrounded Robby and Abbott. “I need you all to fucking move!” Jack screamed as he pushed past them running to trauma one. 

“We will need to interview…” One of the officers said. 

“Not now.” Robby snapped as he followed after Jack. 

“We need to get people back, she is going to need…” Jack started when Langdon burst in. 

“Jesus fuck,” He gasped as he rushed to gown and glove up. 

“The bullet punctured her lung, there is no exit wound so we need to retrieve the bullet we…” Jack’s mind was realing, he was trying his hardest to stay in doctor mode to distract himself from fully spiraling. Y/N quickly reached out grasping his hand tightly. 

“I’m so sorry.” She mumbled. 

“Y/N, no you have nothing to apolgize for.” Jack’s voice cracked as he leaned over the bed, he could feel Robby and Langdon rushing around behind him. “I love you so much.” 

“Kiss me,” Y/N pleaded knowing there was a possibility this may be the last time she would kiss him. 

Jack let out a soft sob as he leaned down and pressed his lips to Y/N. The minute their lips connected, Y/N couldn’t help but remember their very first kiss. 

They had been friends long before they had even felt anything more. They worked along side each other flawlessly. It’s almost as if they could read each others mind. If Jack was going to try something on a patient, Y/N was next to him with everything he would need without him ever even saying anything. And vice versa, he would appear in the moments when she started to feel overwhelmed, and all it would take would be his whisper of “You got this.” And she was filled with confidence. 

And their friendship wasn’t just a work. He often invited her out after a shift, and they would talk for hours. Jack wasn’t one to let people in easily. He was a quiet person and he liked his quiet life. But she surprised him. She showed up and turned his world upside down. She was smart and funny, and being around him made him feel so much lighter. Y/N brought some light to his dark world.

He knew the exact moment he fell for her. It has been a normal day nothing super eventful. She was sitting down charting her latest patient and she had pulled out her glasses, ones she didn’t like people seeing her wearing, and she was heavily focus. So much so, that she had her tongue sticking out slightly. His heart swelled and he knew his feeling towards her had changed from friendship to more. But he didn’t want to ruin what they had. She was far to important to him to lose her. And he knew that he wasn’t the easiest to be in a relationship with, if his long list of exes were any indication. So he was respectful, he kept his feelings at bay. Plus he didn’t think she felt the same. 

But little did he know, she had fallen for him around the same time. Every single thing on her shift had gone wrong, not in a bad way but just little things that were annoying. She misplaced her stethoscope, her badge stopped working and everytime she needed to buzz in anywhere, she had to ask for help like a child, and she got vomited on. After changing into new scrubs she headed up to the roof, just to clear her head. She had barely stepped out when it started to rain. She groaned and reached back for the door handle when it snapped off in her hand. She froze for a moment not fully believing that it had actually happened. The small drizzle of rain quickly turned into a downpour. She tried putting the handle back, she pounded on the door hoping that someone would hear her, she even thought about trying to jump down to the other balcony that was a story down. Finally in desperation, she tried to use her badge to try to shimmy the lock open and miraculously it worked. She rushed inside and back down to the Pitt. 

“What happened to you?” Shen asked. 

Suddenly there was the sound of someone laughing. Like gutteral laughter the kind that is absolutely addictive and hard not to laugh along with. As Y/N looked up she could see Abbott bent over in laughter. Normally she would be annoyed but with Jack she found it endearing. 

“I’m glad you find this so hilarious Doctor Abbott.” Y/N sneered. 

“You really have had the worst  day.” He laughed as he walked past her. He was gone for only a second when suddenly she felt a blanket wrap around her. “Come on let’s give you dried off.” He said and her heart skipped a beat. 

They day of their first kiss had been horrible. There had been a multiple car pile up and they lost 5 patients in total. One of them was a four month old baby. At the end of it all all Y/N wanted was to curl up in a ball and stay there forever. But she also knew that Jack needed her. And she needed Jack. They are the only ones who could possibly understand the pain they were feeling. 

She knew exactly where he would be, and made her way up to the roof. 

When she got out there she found him in his usual spot, he was standing on the other edge of the railing staring down at the ground below. 

He turned slightly acknowledging her and then turned back. 

“What are you doing up here?” He asked but Y/N didn’t say anything as she made her way towards the railing. When she reached it she quickly climbed over. “Whoa, what are you doing. Y/N you are afraid of height you…” 

He went silent as he hand found his and she gave it a soft squeeze. They both just stood there taking in the world before them, finding comfort in each other’s presence. Nothing had to be said. Her head slowly lowered onto his shoulder, and he felt like he everything bad that happened that day didn’t matter, not when he had her by his side. 

“Can I kiss you.” He suddenly blurted. 

Y/N’s head lifted off his shoulder as she looked at him eyes wide. 

“I don’t know why I said that, I have never felt anything like what I feel when I’m with you. I don’t feel like I have to pretend to be someone else when I’m with you I…” 

Y/N cut him off by pulling him in for a kiss. 

When they broke apart it was Jack’s turn to look surprised. 

“You ramble when you are nervous.” Y/N smiled. “I find it very adorable.” 

Jack pulled her back in for another long kiss. 

As Jack pulled back he found that Y/N eyes were shut and she had a slight smile on her face. 

“Y/N,” He called as he shook her slightly. “Y/N baby, open your eyes.” He shook her more vigorously this time. “Baby, open your eyes.” He quickly checked for a pulse. “She doesn’t have a pulse!” He screamed as he started compressions. 

Robby moved quickly. “Langdon take over on compressions. Jack you need to back up.” 

“No, Robby I got this, get the defib ready.” Jack insisted. 

“Jack you can’t do this.” 

“Micheal please. I need to do this. I will not lose her.” 

Robby looked one more time at Jack before he sighed. “Intubate her Langdon.” 

“Come on Y/N, come on.” Jack pleaded. 

Robby worked around him as he got ready for the shock. 

“Clear,” He snapped but Jack just kept working. “Jack,” 

Jack threw his hands up and watched as Y/N’s body convulsed with the shock, but still no pulse. 

“Starting compressions again.” He called and he could feel Y/N’s ribs cracking under his pressure. “Y/N, come back to me, please, come back to me.” 

“Clear.” Robby called again, and Jack flew back, watching, waiting for the sound of the heart monitor to go but it still remained silent. 

“No,” Jack said tears streaming down his face. “No!” He screamed starting compressions again. “No, that asshole does not get to take you from me. We have a life waiting for us baby. Hell we are just getting started. Y/N please. Don’t leave me.” 

“Clear,” Robby called one more time and he hoped and prayed they could get her back. He knew Jack would be devastated, but also he knew the Pitt would never be the same without her. 

Jack never thought the sound of a heart monitor beeping would bring him such joy, but as the sound filled the room, he let out a loud sob as he brought Y/N’s hand to his mouth. 

“Oh thank god,” He breathed kissing it over and over. 

“Garcia is ready for her.” Langdon said as he hung up the phone. 

“Jack,” Robby started.

“Please let me stay with her as long as possible.” He pleaded. 

“Ok, come on, I’ll go with you.” Robby said as the two of them rolled her up into surgery. 

“Micheal, if something happens, if they can’t save her, I need you to be the one to tell me.” Jack said as the rode up in the elevator. 

“Jack I can’t I…” Robby’s voice cracked. 

“Please, if I hear it from one of those surgeon assholes I’ll lose it on them. Please.” 

“Ok, Jack I can do that. Do you want me to stay up here with you? I can call Shen, see if he can come in early?” 

“No, it’s ok, the staff is going to need you after everything that happened. Plus one of us is going to have to talk to Gloria and it cannot be me.” 

Robby chuckled slightly. And as the doors opened they found Garcia and her team waiting for them. 

“We’ve got this now.” She said giving Abbott a sad look. “We will do all we can.” 

“She’s pregnant, 8 weeks, please try to save the baby as well.” 

Garcia just nodded and Robby could see she had tears in her eyes. As they vanished, Jack crumble,d and Robby quickly pulled him into his arms and held him up as he sobbed.

tag list: @rosewritesitout, @brnesblogposts @emma8895eb

[pankowcrumbs]

Dad's best friend X Pedro Pascal

MasterList

Trigger warning: Dad's best friend trope - slightly inappropriate

I’d always known Pedro. He’d been friends with my parents since before I was born. The kind of familiar face who showed up at Christmases, barbecues, and birthdays, usually with a bottle of something fancy and a laugh that filled the room. For as long as I could remember, he’d been Pedro, just Pedro funny, charming, warm-hearted Pedro who used to ruffle my hair when I was little and call me chiquita.

But everything changed when I turned twenty-five.

It wasn’t like I woke up one morning and suddenly saw him differently. It was more like a slow unfurling. A glance held too long, a touch that lingered half a second more than it should have. He’d look at me like he was remembering something, and I’d look at him like I was hoping he’d forget how wrong it was.

I hadn’t seen him in a while. Work had kept us in different cities me on a new indie project in London, him flying between press tours and studio lots but when I walked into my parents’ summer garden party, there he was.

Leaning against the stone wall near the kitchen doors, sunglasses perched on his nose, glass of white wine in hand.

He hadn’t changed much. Still rugged in that careless, maddening way. Greying a little more at the temples, his beard trimmed short. He caught sight of me across the lawn and smiled like the sun had finally come out.

“Mira quien es,” ("Look who it is") he said, setting down his glass and opening his arms.

I went to him, trying to act normal, like my heart wasn’t thudding against my ribs. His arms wrapped around me, warm and strong, and I hated the way my body reacted to him the way my skin prickled with awareness, the way my fingers ached to stay curled into his shirt.

“You look good,” I said when we pulled apart. Too breathless. I tried to school my voice, but my cheeks were already warming.

“So do you,” he replied, looking at me a moment too long. “Too good.”

There it was again that unspoken thing between us, floating in the air like a match held too close to dry grass. I cleared my throat, took a step back. My parents were watching from across the garden. Smiling. Clueless.

“How long are you in town for?” I asked, grabbing a drink from the passing tray just for something to do.

“Week or so. Might stick around longer if I can.”

Dangerous words. But I nodded, forcing a smile.

Two days later, we were the last ones in the kitchen after a small dinner. The others had drifted off to bed or to the patio with coffee and desserts, but we stayed behind, finishing our wine and leaning against opposite counters like magnets forced apart.

“It’s been a while,” Pedro said quietly. “Since that night in L.A.”

I closed my eyes briefly. That night. A wrap party. Too much tequila. A moment on the balcony where the world had fallen silent. He’d leaned in, eyes searching mine, and I’d let him kiss me. Soft. Gentle. Terrified.

We never spoke of it after.

“I thought we agreed it was a mistake,” I murmured.

“Did we?” he asked. “Because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

My stomach twisted. I set my glass down.

“Pedro…”

“You’re not a kid anymore, Y/N.”

“No. But you’re still you. You’re my parents’ friend.”

“And you’re the woman I can’t stop looking at like a bloody idiot every time we’re in the same room.”

Silence settled thick between us.

“I know it’s wrong,” he added, voice low. “But tell me you don’t feel it too.”

I hesitated. The truth tasted like guilt and longing. I hated how much I wanted him. How much I’d wanted him for months, maybe years. I hated that this thing between us would never be easy, never be understood.

But I couldn’t lie.

“I do,” I whispered. “I feel it too.”

He crossed the room slowly. Stopped just in front of me. One hand lifted, hovering near my cheek like he didn’t quite have permission.

“You scare me, mi cielo,”("My Darling") he admitted.

“You break my heart,” I replied.

And then he kissed me again.

We kept it quiet.

Which wasn’t hard, considering he wasn’t meant to be staying with us that week. A hotel nearby gave him privacy, and I found every excuse I could to “run errands” or “go for walks” or “help him with something” excuses no one questioned. They trusted him. Trusted me. God, the guilt gnawed at me constantly.

But so did the hunger.

There was nothing casual about what we were doing. Every touch felt stolen. Every kiss a risk. Every moment behind closed doors lit with something reckless and wild and desperate.

It was the best and worst thing I’d ever done.

“I hate lying to them,” I said one night, tangled in his arms on the bed of his hotel suite. Rain tapped softly on the windows. His thumb stroked a lazy circle on my hip.

“I know,” he murmured. “We’ll tell them. When it’s time.”

“When will that be?”

“When I figure out how not to lose them.”

He didn’t say you, and that hurt more than I wanted to admit.

Of course, secrets don’t stay buried forever.

It was my mum who saw us first. At a Sunday market, of all places. Pedro’s hand in mine, our heads tucked together, laughing over some stupid pun at the coffee stand. Her eyes locked with mine across the stalls, and I saw the exact second her face changed.

Shock. Confusion. Betrayal.

She didn’t say anything then. Just turned and walked away.

The fallout came later.

Shouting. Crying. The kind of disappointment that settles in your bones. My dad barely spoke to me for a week. They didn’t say Pedro’s name again. Not once.

He left two days later.

No goodbye.

No word.

Just gone.

It’s been a month.

I still check my phone too often. Still wake up half-reaching for him. Still dream of his voice calling me mi cielo like it meant something only we understood.

I thought maybe he’d call. That he’d fight for us.

But silence can be louder than any words.

Today, I’m back at the house, sorting through some things for my next trip. The doorbell rings and I hear familiar voices downstairs my mum, someone else. I don’t think anything of it until footsteps sound on the stairs and then...

“Y/N.”

I freeze.

Pedro.

He looks exhausted. Beautiful, but exhausted. His curls a little unkempt, his expression soft with something like sadness.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, barely above a whisper.

“They invited me.”

“What?”

“Your mum. Your dad. They… they miss me. They want to talk. About us.”

I stare at him, unsure if I’m breathing.

He steps closer.

“I never should’ve left like that,” he says. “I thought it was the right thing. I thought it would make it easier.”

“It didn’t.”

“I know.” He looks at me like he’s afraid I might vanish. “I love you, Y/N.”

The words hit like lightning. I want to throw my arms around him. I want to scream at him. I want to cry and laugh and kiss him until we forget everything but this.

But I just say, “It’s not going to be easy.”

“I don’t care.”

“There’ll be judgement. Whispers. They’ll always look at us like...”

“I don’t care.”

His hand reaches mine, tentative at first. When I don’t pull away, he holds it tighter.

“We’ve both spent our lives caring what everyone else thinks,” he murmurs. “Don’t you want to live for you now? For us?”

I do.

God, I do.

So I nod. Just once.

And for the first time in weeks, I smile.

Pedro’s hand tightened around mine as we stood at the top of the stairs. Below, I could hear my mum in the kitchen, the familiar clinking of cups, her voice low as she spoke to my dad. The smell of coffee drifted up, warm and grounding.

My stomach twisted.

“Are you sure?” I whispered, glancing up at Pedro.

He gave me a small smile nervous, but steady. “No,” he said truthfully. “But I’d rather be scared with you than safe without you.”

That was enough.

We descended the stairs together. I half-expected my mum to turn the moment she sensed us, arms crossed, mouth tight, her expression unreadable. Instead, she just looked up from the mugs she was placing on the counter, her gaze flicking to our intertwined hands. She didn’t say anything. Neither did my dad.

Pedro cleared his throat.

“Can we talk?” he asked gently.

They nodded. Wordless. Tense.

We sat in the lounge me and Pedro on the sofa, my parents across from us like we were about to give them bad news. Which, in a way, we were. Or… we had.

There was a long silence before Pedro spoke again.

“I want to start by saying I’m sorry,” he said, voice low but firm. “For how it happened. For not saying anything sooner. For leaving when I should’ve stayed and explained.”

My dad's jaw clenched, but he didn’t interrupt.

Pedro continued, “What’s been happening between us… it didn’t start when Y/N was young. I would never ever cross that line. Not then. Not even close.”

I nodded quickly, needing them to hear it from me too. “He’s telling the truth. Nothing ever happened before. You both know what he was to me growing up like an uncle, a friend of the family. I never looked at him like this until…”

“Until last year,” Pedro finished.

My mum’s brow furrowed. “Last year?”

Pedro met her gaze directly. “At a party in L.A. We ran into each other on the balcony. We’d both had a few drinks, but it wasn’t the alcohol, I swear. It felt...” He paused, looking at me. “it felt right.”

My dad let out a slow breath. “And that was… the first time?”

“Yes,” I said. “And we didn’t do anything more that night except kiss. We knew it wasn’t something we could just act on. We didn’t even speak about it again for months. We thought we were doing the right thing by ignoring it.”

“But we couldn’t keep lying to ourselves,” Pedro added.

Silence fell again.

My mum stood, walked slowly to the window, arms folded over herself like she was shielding something inside. “You have to understand how strange this is for us,” she said finally. “I’ve known you for nearly thirty years, Pedro. You’ve been in our lives since before Y/n was even born.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “That’s why I stayed away. That’s why I didn’t fight when you were upset because I knew how it looked. I just didn’t know how to explain what it felt like.”

“And how does it feel?” my dad asked sharply, eyes narrowed.

Pedro looked at me again. And then he said, clearly, like it cost him nothing to admit it: “It feels like the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And I know it’s not traditional. I know it’s not easy. But I love her.”

My breath hitched. Hearing it in front of them… it felt heavier somehow. Like he’d handed them both his heart and asked them not to drop it.

My dad turned his gaze to me. “And you?”

“I love him,” I said, voice steady despite the tears forming in my eyes. “I love him in a way I’ve never loved anyone. And it’s not some impulsive, silly thing. I know how it looks. I know people will judge. But I’ve never been more certain about anything in my life.”

My mum turned from the window, her expression softening just slightly. “You’re twenty-five,” she said carefully. “You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. We just… we never imagined this for you. We always hoped you’d find someone closer in age. Someone you could grow with.”

“I am growing with him,” I replied. “He challenges me. He listens to me. He respects me. I’m not some starstruck girl chasing after a fantasy I’m a woman who’s spent months falling for a man who makes me feel like the best version of myself.”

Pedro’s hand squeezed mine again.

Mum looked at him. “And you? You’re fifty.”

He nodded. “I’ve thought about that every day since this began. I know what people will say. I know how much it asks of her. But it doesn’t change how I feel. And it doesn’t change the fact that I would never have acted on it if I didn’t believe it was real.”

My dad stood slowly, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “This is going to take time,” he said finally. “It’s not what we wanted or expected for either of you. And, frankly, we’re not comfortable with it right now.”

Pedro nodded, accepting it with quiet grace.

“But…” Dad looked at me, then at Pedro. “We love you both. And if this is what makes you happy if this is real we won’t stand in your way.”

I let out a shaky breath, tears threatening to spill. My mum came forward, sat beside me on the sofa and took my hand.

“You know this is going to be hard, right?” she said gently. “The press. The fans. Even friends won’t always understand.”

“I know,” I said. “But I don’t care. Not if I have him.”

Mum gave a faint, bittersweet smile. “God help me, I never thought I’d say this, but… you two do make sense. In the weirdest, most unexpected way.”

Pedro gave her a sheepish grin. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched.

“Don’t push it, Pascal.”

That night, as Pedro and I lay in bed in his hotel room properly together now, without secrets I turned to face him, running my fingers through the light grey in his hair.

“Do you think they’ll come around fully?” I asked quietly.

He looked down at me with that soft, familiar warmth. “They already are. Slowly.”

“And the rest of the world?”

He shrugged, then smiled. “Let them talk. Let them guess. As long as you’re here I don’t care what they say.”

I rested my head on his chest, listening to the slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

For the first time in weeks, it didn’t feel wrong.

It just felt right.

It began with a photo.

We’d been careful impossibly so for the better part of a year. No hand-holding in public, no glances that lingered too long at industry events, no trace of affection on social media. We were like ghosts moving beside each other, tethered only behind closed doors.

Until Italy.

It was my birthday, and Pedro had whisked me away to a quiet village near Lake Como. It was off-season, calm, just the two of us. Or so we thought.

A single photograph. Taken from a distance grainy, zoomed in, barely lit but there we were: me, barefoot on a balcony, wrapped in one of his shirts, and Pedro behind me, arms around my waist, kissing my shoulder. Intimate. Inarguable.

The photo hit Twitter before we even had our morning coffee.

Pedro saw it first.

He held out his phone, eyes wide but calm. “It’s out.”

I stared at the image. My chest thudded.

“Do you want me to deny it?” he asked gently. “Say it’s doctored? That it’s not what it looks like?”

I shook my head.

“I’m tired of pretending.”

He smiled small, proud and leaned down to kiss me again. “Good.”

The headlines came thick and fast:

“Pedro Pascal, 50, Spotted Getting Cozy With his best friend's much younger daughter” “Age Gap Shocker: Inside Pedro and Y/N’s Secret Romance” “Is It Love or a Midlife Crisis?”

The internet, in typical fashion, exploded with takes.

Some fans were supportive. “She’s grown. Let her live!” or “They’re kind of adorable tbh.”

Others… not so much.

I stopped checking comments after day three. My publicist handled statements. Pedro gave a simple, beautiful interview where he said:

“She’s smart, strong, kind and I love her. That’s all there is to it.”

Still, the whispers didn’t go away. The jokes. The memes. The side-eyes from industry friends who didn’t know the full story. I felt like I was defending us on a loop to strangers, to journalists, even to myself on bad days.

But every time I spiralled, Pedro was there.

“You don’t need to explain us to anyone but ourselves,” he’d whisper, pulling me into bed, wrapping me up like the world couldn’t touch us there.

And it couldn’t. Not really.

Because somehow, through all the noise we were happy.

Christmas came quicker than expected.

My parents, who had kept a respectful distance since we’d come clean, sent an invitation mid-November:

We’re doing a quiet holiday in the Cotswolds. Just us, firewood, wine, and snow. You’re both welcome. Come if it feels right.

I showed the text to Pedro that night while he was brushing his teeth.

He paused, foamy toothbrush mid-air. “Do you want to?”

“I think I do.”

He turned, smiled at me through the mirror. “Then let’s make peace with the people who matter.”

It was awkward at first.

My dad greeted Pedro with a half-hug, still stiff but less guarded. Mum offered him a glass of wine and said, “You’ve got more grey in your beard since we last saw you,” which was her roundabout way of saying she missed him.

The cottage was stunning stone walls, timber beams, a fireplace that crackled all day, and windows that framed fields dusted in snow. There was a tree in the corner, half-decorated with mismatched baubles and biscuits I was fairly certain were from the early 2000s.

We brought fresh ones. Mum teared up when I hung a “Baby’s First Christmas” ornament from my birth year.

By Christmas Eve, the tension had cracked enough that we all sat around the fire with mulled wine, laughing about old holidays. Pedro told the story of the time I was seven and made him wear a tutu at my birthday party. My dad snorted. Mum showed him the photo album proof.

It felt… warm. Real. Like something healing beneath the surface.

Later that night, as I sat on the garden bench wrapped in a blanket, Pedro joined me, handing me a steaming mug of tea.

“I think they’re thawing,” I whispered.

“I think your mum offered me a second helping of trifle without twitching.”

I smiled, resting my head on his shoulder. “She likes you again.”

“She never hated me,” he said. “She was just scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of how much I love you.”

I turned to face him. “That scares me sometimes too.”

He kissed my forehead. “Love’s meant to. That’s how you know it’s real.”

On Christmas morning, we opened presents around the fire. Pedro handed me a small, simple box. Inside was a silver locket old-fashioned, delicate with a tiny photograph of the two of us tucked inside. The picture from our first trip to New York, taken in a photobooth where he’d kissed my cheek and I’d accidentally knocked over the stool laughing.

Inside the lid, he’d engraved:

Everything else fades. You don’t.

I cried, obviously. And Mum passed me a tissue without comment.

When we left the cottage on Boxing Day, my dad walked us to the car.

“You know,” he said to Pedro, “I still don’t fully understand this. But I believe it’s real. And I believe you’d walk through fire to protect her.”

Pedro nodded, voice hoarse. “I would.”

“Then that’s enough for me.”

As we drove away, snow flurries catching in the trees, Pedro reached across the console and took my hand.

“You realise,” he said with a grin, “we’ve officially survived the hard part.”

I laughed. “Babe… we haven’t even told your sister yet.”

He winced. “Right. That’s next.”

“Good luck.”

He glanced at me. “No, no we. We’re in this together, remember?”

Always.

[museanddream]

You’re reading is SO CUTE 🥹🥹 How do you think Ona/Lucy’s first conversation/confession about R went? Do you think Ona put 2+2 together, or did Lucy come clean immediately?

Well, anon, I think it goes a little like this:

One Night Prequel Drabble Collection

Summary: Some little glimpses into just a few of the conversations that led to Ona and Lucy inviting you into their bed.

Word count: 1.8k

Disclaimer: I wrote this in about 2 hours tonight. It’s raw, unedited, and probably not very good, nor do I have any intention of ever finessing it. But the anons got my brain working and I had to scribble it down. It’s also really fucking hard to write a fic about an unnamed OC (aka the reader in the main story) from the point of view of two other people while also trying to avoid the icky use of “Y/N”. Anyway, enjoy. And keep chatting to me about the fic - I’m enjoying it and maybe it’ll help inspire me to continue the next chapter.

……

“Sit down.”

Ona has barely made it through the door into Lucy’s apartment - their apartment, now that Ona is back in Barcelona - when Lucy practically manhandles her into a chair in the kitchen.

Any doubt that Ona might have had about the severity of the situation is squashed completely with the four ominous words that follow.

“We need to talk.”

“What is it?” Ona asks. “Is there something wrong?”

“You heard the rumours today about our new signing, right?” Lucy asks, worry etched on her face.

The question triggers a memory in Ona’s mind.

“Yes! Aitana mentioned we were signing her for free from -”

“Well, the thing is…” Lucy interrupts, before Ona can finish. “I used to play with her at City. The first time I was there.”

Ona must be missing something critical, because she doesn’t understand how the prospect of reuniting with an old friend and teammate can cause Lucy to radiate this much anxiety as she paces around the kitchen.

“It’ll be nice for you to play with her again,” Ona says.

“I didn’t just play with her though.”

Lucy doesn’t say anything else. Just watches Ona and waits for her to figure it out herself. The words swirl through Ona’s brain for a long moment, wondering if something has got lost in translation, before it all clicks into place.

“Ohhhhh,” Ona says, eyes widening in realisation. “She’s your ex?”

“No! Or yes. Kind of.” Lucy stumbles slightly over her explanation. “We never dated. It was just sex.”

Ona considers it all. Lucy’s nerves, her serious expression as she asked Ona to sit down, the eventual confession about something that must be years in the past.

And then, she laughs.

“What?” Lucy frowns. “What’s funny?”

“Dios mio, Lucy,” Ona says exasperatedly, shaking her head once she’s got her giggles under control. “You had me worried for a second. I thought you were about to break up with me. Or announce you were transferring to Mexico, or something.”

“You … don’t care?” Lucy asks, like she’s the one not quite understanding things now.

“You’re not still sleeping with her, are you?”

“No! Of course not!”

“Then why would I care?” Ona asks, getting to her feet and closing the gap between them, one of her hands seeking out Lucy’s hip. “I know you had sex with other people before me.”

“I know,” Lucy mumbles, letting herself melt into Ona’s touch. “It’s just … I haven’t seen her in years and I wanted you to hear it from me before she suddenly shows up at training and tells you herself, or something.”

Ona pushes up onto her tiptoes and presses her lips to Lucy’s in a quick kiss, still not quite believing that this is her life now, that she gets to kiss Lucy whenever she wants.

“Then thank you for telling me.”

……

“She’s pretty,” Ona comments, as Lucy drives them home from their second day of pre-season training.

The slight hesitation before Lucy answers hangs heavily enough in the air that Ona knows Lucy is playing stupid, rather than actually confused by the comment.

“Who?”

Ona rolls her eyes.

“You know who. She’s hot. Don’t pretend she isn’t.”

Lucy doesn’t agree, but her silence isn’t a denial either.

“You’re hot too. Obviously. I bet you were hot together.”

There’s a little noise from Lucy’s side of the car. Not quite a snort, but enough to tell Ona that Lucy has an opinion about Ona’s comments.

An opinion that she keeps to herself.

“And she seems really nice,” Ona continues, when she gets no verbal response from Lucy. “Really funny. I think she’ll be good for the team.”

Still nothing from the driver’s seat. Just silence.

“You must have done something really stupid to fuck it up with her.”

Lucy brakes a little too suddenly as the car reaches a red light.

“I didn’t…” She turns in the seat to look at Ona. “Why do you think it was me who fucked it up.”

“Because, cariño,” Ona practically sings. “I know you. And because Jorge told me exactly what you were like when you were younger. What was that English word he taught me?”

“Prat,” Lucy supplies, with a little grumble.

“Yes!” Ona says gleefully. “He said you were a prat when it came to girlfriends.”

“I love that you get on with my brother so well,” Lucy says, as the light turns green and she shifts the car into gear once more. “But the only prat in the family is him.”

……

“Was the sex good?”

Lucy chokes, perhaps on a piece of Ona’s hair considering the placement of Ona’s head against Lucy’s upper chest, and Ona realises that maybe her timing of the question, as they lay together in a post-coital tangle of sweaty limbs, is probably not the best.

“Am I supposed to give you a rating out of five, or…?”

Ona laughs and lifts her head to look into Lucy’s l eyes.

“Not with me.”

“Please tell me you weren’t thinking about me shagging somebody else while I was literally inside you.”

Ona decides that the best course of action is to remain silent and let Lucy fill in the gaps.

It takes a few seconds before Lucy’s eyes widen and she follows up with, “You were thinking about that?”

“You make me feel really good,” Ona tries to explain. “Like, really good. Best-I’ve-ever-had kind of good. So maybe sometimes I wonder how you learned to do some of those things. And who taught you.”

“Maybe it’s just natural talent,” Lucy brags, raising her eyebrows smugly.

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

“Sleep with her yourself if you’re that desperate to know,” Lucy jokes with a roll of her eyes.

Ona thinks of her new teammate, who is exactly her type and who she might already be a little bit enamoured with, who she might already be thinking about sleeping with, if she wasn’t already head over heels in love with Lucy.

She hesitates for just long enough that Lucy reads the direction of her thoughts.

“Oh? You want that?”

“No,” Ona is quick to answer, settling back against Lucy’s chest to avoid having to continue to make eye contact with her girlfriend. She pauses to think, then adds, “Not without you, anyway.”

Ona feels the rumble of Lucy’s chest beneath her as she chuckles.

“You’ve been thinking about it. Don’t lie.”

“Maybe a little bit,” Ona admits, fingers tightening against the bare skin of Lucy’s hip where it rests beneath her hand.

“A lot, more like.”

“Not a lot. Just a bit.”

Lucy’s lips press into the spot where the wisps of Ona’s hair at her temple meet her forehead, arms wrapping tighter around Ona’s back.

“Then let me tell you this,” she says, her voice impossibly low. “Yes, it was good.” In an effortless display of strength, Lucy rolls them over so that Ona is on her back on the mattress, with Lucy holding herself above her. “Now why don’t you tell me more about those fantasies of yours while I make you come again?”

……

“I don’t think she even likes me.”

Ona knows exactly who Lucy is talking about as they wander around the grocery store after training.

“She does.”

“No she doesn’t. We were paired up in the gym today and she didn’t say a word to me.”

“You didn’t talk to her either,” Ona points out. “She likes you.”

“No she doesn’t,” Lucy counters.

“She does,” Ona insists. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you when you’re not watching. She still fancies you.”

“You’re just seeing what you want to see.”

“I’m not,” Ona grins. “She stared at your ass in the dressing room for like, a whole minute today.”

Lucy rolls her eyes, then turns to walk away, the shopping basket caught in the hook of her elbow.

“And who can blame her?” Ona calls after Lucy. “It’s a great ass to stare at!”

……

“I can stop talking about her if it makes you uncomfortable.”

One brings it up one night over dinner, a few months into the season.

“It’s fine,” Lucy answers, pushing her food around her plate with a fork. “I know you’re close to her.”

“But if it’s weird for you…”

“It’s not weird,” Lucy is quick to say. “I promise. I … I still like her. There’s a reason we used to be so close. She’s a good person. I’m glad you two are friends.”

“But…”

“No buts,” Lucy interjects, looking at Ona earnestly across the table. “I don’t mind you talking about her. I don’t even mind you teasing me about her. In fact, I … when I was away with England, I …” Lucy sighs and puts her fork down. “I was thinking about what you said before about your fantasies. The three of us together.”

Ona puts her own fork down too and leans forward in her seat.

“Tell me,” she urges Lucy in a low voice.

Lucy’s eyes flicker up and meet Ona’s over the table.

“I touched myself thinking about watching you two together. More than once, actually.”

Ona feels all the blood in her body rush south. The food lies forgotten between them, hunger replaced by a different kind of hunger.

“Yeah?”

“You put it in my head. I know you’re probably joking when you bring up wanting her to join us, but…”

“I’m not joking,” Ona interjects. “Not properly.” And then, to explain, “Like, if it’s something you were interested in…”

“Are you interested in it?”

Ona pauses to think.

The answer is yes, of course. But Ona doesn’t know if admitting that will hurt Lucy. She doesn’t want Lucy to think that she spends all her time fantasising about somebody else, when Lucy is already more than enough for her.

“I think so,” Ona answers. “I like spending time with her. And she’s hot.”

Lucy smirks across the table.

“So you keep saying.”

Ona feels her cheeks start to burn with embarrassment.

“I don’t need it,” Ona continues. “There’s nothing missing from what I already have with you.”

“But…” Lucy prompts her, gesturing with one of her hands for Ona to continue.

“But it would be fun, no?” Ona replies, as if it’s that simple.

Lucy picks up her fork again and smiles down into her plate of food.

“Then invite her over,” Lucy says.

As if it’s that simple.

It’s been weeks of teasing, weeks of making occasional comments to Lucy about her history with the new signing. Weeks of Ona only saying things because she knew it would never actually mean anything.

Or so she thought.

“Really?” she asks Lucy.

Lucy shrugs like it’s no big deal.

��I already told you the idea turns me on. Invite her over. Or don’t. It’s your decision. But if you do, I’d be down.”

Ona watches Lucy’s face, waiting for some kind of sign that Lucy is just joking, that this is all part of some cruel test of Ona’s loyalty to her.

But it never comes.

So it’s decided. She’ll make it happen.

There’s only one problem. How the hell do you proposition one of your teammates for a threesome without making it weird?

Ona will just have to take a risk and try.

[catssluvr]

sensitive, natalie scatorccio

natalie scatorccio x fem!reader (1k words) (request)

in which you go out hunting with nat and have to kill an animal for the first time

warnings: panic attack(?), killing an animal, soft nat, too many kisses, fluff <3

⭑.ᐟ ⭑.ᐟ

Your hands shake slightly as you zip up the backpack in front of you, regretting your earlier choice by the second.

The reason is appealing, you want to spend more time with Nat and it’s something that’s getting harder and harder.

But hunting is anything but appealing to you. It was a bad idea, you know it for sure now. All this time you’ve doing all the things the other chores available, not being able to stomach the thought of taking an animal’s life.

Nat’s fingers slide up your arms, pulling a gasp from you at her sudden appearance. They slide up to your hair, pulling it away from your neck to give access to her lips.

“Hey. Ready to go, doll?” She asks, smiling against your warm skin.

Natalie had been the first to be reluctant about letting you come with her, having observed the way you avoided the sensitive topic. But the confusion had quickly turned into excitement at the opportunity to be alone with you.

“Sure.” You answer with a tight smile, thanking the fact that she can’t see your face properly.

She turns you in her arms, humming lazily. “If we’re quick to find dinner we can… i don’t know, maybe find a nice spot and hang there.”

You nod approvingly, pressing a quick kiss to her nose before pulling the backpack to your shoulders.

“Let’s not waste another second, then.” She smiles teasingly, pulling your hand to drag you into the forest.

You both walk for a while, chatting about whatever comes to mind. You speak a bit louder than you usually would, feeling bad for sabotaging the hunt on purpose. You're glad Nat probably doesn't have the heart to tell you to tune down.

At the point you've settled that you are not coming again, thinking of a good excuse to tell to Nat as to why you wouldn't want more time alone with her.

Suddenly her palm presses to your mouth, "Shh, look."

She points ahead silently, your eyes landing on the rabbit nibbling on some plants a few feet ahead. And fuck, you might actually tumble to the ground.

"Want to do the honours?" She asks in a whisper that you hope is loud enough for the sweet animal to hear. It isn't.

She's just trying to be nice, you know it. Showing you she thinks you're capable of doing it and definitely not aware of the anxiety creeping up your chest at the sight of the gun in her hands.

"I guess so." You reply shakily, accepting the gun into your hands. "Of course." You repeat as reassurance.

You point it up, pulling the safety trigger with fingers slippery from the sweat building up in your hands. You angle it carelessly, silently hoping the training was no good to you and that it runs as soon as the shoot misses.

"Here, grab it a bit more firmly." Nat reaches to steady your arms, helping you settle your finger against the trigger.

She knows your nervous, you realize. Just doesn't notice what the real motive for it is.

You pull it, stomach sinking as you do the perfect shot. The rabbit squeaks quietly before falling the ground, but it’s enough for the sound to be engraved in your head.

You try not to hyperventilate, adverting your eyes from to the rest of the surroundings in hope of forgetting it.

"Good job. Fast learner, huh?" Nat squeezes your arm before brushing past you, picking up the rabbit.

"Yeah." Your voice feels chocked as you speak, like at any moment the words will get stuck in your throat.

"Come on, maybe we'll be lucky enough to find a deer soon." She says, the idea of having to help her carry a deer makes your stomach do flips.

You close your eyes for a moment, trying to tell your legs to move as Nat starts walking. But you seem to take too long as her steps falter quickly.

"Baby?" She asks, confused. "What's going on?"

You turn to her, eyes filling up with distressed tears and chin wobbling as your lips move into a pout. You try to say something but even your own breath feels stuck, air not enough to fill your lungs.

"Hey, hey. Look at me." She drops everything, holding your cheeks between her hands as she helps you concentrate in her. "You did great." She repeats.

Nat tries to look calm, eyes searching for an expression that will help her understand what you're feeling.

She pulls one of your hands to her chest, right above her heart. Her breath guides your, taking deep exhales to make it easy for you to speak.

"I killed it, Nat." It comes out as a sob, your frightened face finally making sense to her.

The tears fall freely down your face, but it's now more of a post scare than the anxious feeling from before speaking up.

"Sweetheart." She breathes, tucking your face into her neck as her arms wrap around your frame. You feel bad for the tears (and probably snot) that sweep to her shirt, but Nat doesn't seem to mind, pulling you as close as possible.

"It's okay, i got you." Her own breath fans your ear, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your cheek.

"'M sorry." You croak, starting to feel embarrassed for what feels like an outburst.

"Don't apologize." She asserts, "You don't have to do this, you know?"

"I want to- i mean i don't." You huff, rubbing at your cheek frustratedly, "I wish i wanted to." You decide.

"It's not a problem if you don't. I'm right here, baby." Natalie smiles, helping your troubled mind calm down.

"Just wanted to spend time with you." You mumble honestly, making her smile turn giddy.

"Well, no one has to know i'm the one getting the job done. It's not usually a problem." She jokes, successfully making you giggle as you lightly punch her shoulder.

"Are you sure?"

"I don't think you'll ever catch me wanting to not spend time with you." Nat speaks, tucking your hair behind your ear and wiping the stray tears left on your cheek.

"Come on, i think they can manage with doing something else for dinner tonight." She intertwines your fingers as you start walking. "Besides, we have a lot of kissing to catch up on."

"Dork." You shake your head with a smile, the heavy weight on your chest completely dissipated.