#they could bond!!! they should be friends!!!!

[pearlispunk]

How'd that get there, Mr. Miller?

pairing: dbf! joel miller x female reader summary: you’re sent to spend the weekend in a cabin by a lake with joel because your dad’s off to a work trip. tags: 18+ (minors please dni!), big unspecified age gap but reader’s in her twenties, DBF JOEL, smut, unprotected piv, f masturbation, m masturbation, oral (f receiving), pussy pronouns, pet names, soft! joel, daddy kink (??), praise kink, cream pie, no outbreak, no sarah word count: 2.9K

a/n: i recommend playing shades of cool by lana del rey while reading this, keep it on loop and enjoy °༄ !

“Well? You comin’?” Joel asks, tilting his head as if to get a better look at you. He’s just asked you to come with him to spend the weekend in his cabin by a lake. “Your dad’s asked me to bring you anyway so I dun’ think you have a choice, kid.” He clicks his tongue, his palm placed by the edge of the table. 

Alright, what could go wrong? Joel’s your dad’s friend, they bonded over work– he’s a great guy. You’ve been in his place a few times, mainly ‘cause of barbecues and sports nights– he’s neat. He’s always there when you ask for help around the house or your car– he’s handy. So, what could go wrong?

“‘Right then, ‘ya should go pack up. We leave early, angel.” He says with a nod, finally walking out of the house. 

Curse your dad for leaving you for an entire weekend due to a work-related thing. Curse your dad for making you spend the weekend with Joel. 

Joel. 

Joel, the man that you ogle at every Sunday morning when he’s out mowing the lawn. Joel, the man who always hikes his sleeves up to his forearms whenever he worked on your car. Joel, the man that calls you any pet name and leaves you blushing and well.. wet.

Joel, the man that you fantasize about at night, when you’re three fingers in, mouth agape, and whining about how he would fill you up much, much better. 

Snap out of it. What were you thinking? The man’s around your dad’s age– hell, maybe even older. 

You hurry upstairs to your room, pulling out a travel bag big enough for an entire weekend. You settle it by packing one red gingham bikini– for swimming, of course. Two sun dresses, a tank top with matching shorts for sleeping, one loose polo for covering, and then a summer hat. Alright, you’re set.

The drive was a blur. You immediately dozed off to sleep when your head hit the pillow by the car window. 4 hours later, Joel’s voice causes you to wake up, his hand placed on your shoulder– gently nudging your senses awake. “We’re here, doll.” He lets go as you stir, a small grin playing on his lips as you yawn. 

As soon as you step into the cabin, you place your things in the guest room. “Y’know, we can switch rooms. I know that mattress is a ‘lil too old, feels weird on the back.” He leans by the doorframe, his hands making gestures that match his words. “I’m alright here, Joel.” I let out a chuckle, shaking my head. 

“Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn ‘ya.”

“Need some help around the cabin?” You hum aimlessly from inside the cabin. Just then, the front door opens, his tall frame shadowing the entrance, “‘M alright, sugar. Don’t want such a pretty girl like you doing any kind’f work.” He’s shirtless. Changed into something more comfortable when you set down your things. His chest displayed beads of sweat, his arms looked rugged, and his hair was tousled into perfect curls that almost resembled a halo. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was flirting with you.

Well? Do you know any better?

The afternoon hours dragged slowly, and you were bored out of your mind. Joel was working around the cabin, breaking wood for fire and fixing a few things for his truck. He’s caught you staring a few times now, a smirk tugging on his lips whenever he did. How could you not? When he’s right there outside your window, all his glory displayed for your eyes to witness. His shorts seem unbelievably tight, seeing as how you can practically see the outline of his cock. His arms, his hands.. they were so big, big enough to have them all over your body, over your mouth as he fucks you from behind, or over your breasts as he kneads and teases your nipples. 

You backed off from the window, shaking your head as you tried to bring yourself back to reality. Sighing, you grab your bag– changing into that red gingham bikini. You let your hair down, brushing it with little care through your fingers. You reach out to the sunscreen lotion by your nightstand, applying a thin layer on your body. Think about something else, go do something else, anything else– instead of checking out your dad’s friend. 

You look at yourself in the mirror, the bikini a stark contrast to your skin. You let your hands run down your sides, your hips, your thighs, your heat. You caught your bottom lip between your teeth as your index finger reached in, slowly rubbing your clit in small circles. It slips in, and your mouth forms an ‘o’ shape, whispering his name so sweetly. 

Joel. 

Need you, Joel. 

You walk back down on your bed, laying on your back as you start fingering yourself in front of the mirror. Your other hand finds its way down your body, taking care of your clit. You add another digit, your walls clenching around your fingers. 

Ah, fuck- would’ve been much better if it was you, Joel. 

Your back arches and you squeeze your eyes shut, your thoughts lingering on the sight you beheld earlier. Your hips start to meet the rhythm of your fingers, your mouth whispering obscenities as you chase your release. You tear your eyes open, looking at yourself in the mirror. Your legs are spread, two fingers buried in your cunt, and a dazed-out expression. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

You hear the squelch of your skin combined with your essence, and you let your head fall back. Your hips stutter up as if to grind on something, on someone. You let out a whine, burying your digits in your cunt as you lay still, letting your orgasm wash over you. You catch your breath, regaining your consciousness as you let yourself melt in the bedsheets. Your eyes instantly snap open as you swear you heard the squeak of your door. Your neck cranes towards the direction of the door, seeing as it slightly creaked to the right, you knew.

He was watching you. 

Two can play this game, you decided. You took your bikini top off, putting on just the loose white polo. You left the last two buttons as it is, not bothering to cover your peeking cleavage. Bikini top in hand, you left the room. Joel was nowhere in sight, but the front door was open– letting the afternoon sun spill into the cabin. 

You walked towards his room, the door was open, but he wasn’t there. And so, you hurriedly slipped inside, dangling your bikini top right between your fingers. You place it right by the headboard, stepping back to look at it. You nod, a smile creeping on your face as you exit the room.  

It would be funny, you imagine. Him coming to find that in his room, a silent acknowledgment that you knew. Getting the Joel Miller all flustered as he sees what you’ve left for him. 

After your little adventure, you grab your summer hat and walk outside towards the lake. You reach the end of the porch, sitting on it as you let your feet sink in the water.

About a few moments later, you decided to go back to the cabin to help yourself with some refreshments. You figured Joel was somewhere near the cabin, gathering more wood or whatnot. 

As you stepped inside, you heard muffled grunts. Your head perked up, your body slowing your steps as you approached the door to his room. 

Was he..? 

You pushed the door open, revealing Joel on the edge of the bed, his left hand stroking his cock as it leaks pre-cum. On his other hand, you can see the piece of clothing you left. The red gingham bikini top. His cock almost looks angry with the pinkish-red tip of it, and you can’t help but admire Joel’s frame. His face, contorted into a look of pure bliss. His chest, heaving laboredly with beads of sweat. His large hands, the other stroking his cock rabidly, the other clinging on to that bikini like some kind of lifeline. 

“How’d that get there, Mr. Miller?” 

Your words pry his eyes open. The grip over his cock tightening as he lets out a breathy chuckle, “How’d this-?” He holds up the piece of garment, “You really are somethin’, huh?” He stands up, tossing it aside as he backs you up against a wall. “Actin’ all innocent, like you weren’t just touching yourself and moaning my fuckin’ name.” He says the last bit in a whisper, his eyes locking with yours. “Think I don’t notice the way ‘ya look at me, angel?” He nudges the tip of his cock against your covered heat and you buck your hips up to meet it with friction. He hisses, his hands landing on your hips to make you stay in place, “You want this, baby?” He looks up at you with an earnest expression, his thumbs circling the plush of your hips as he waits for your response.

You nod, almost frantically, as you start to unbutton your garment. You’re impatient, crashing your lips on his as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. His hands fall under your thighs, pulling you up and carrying you. It’s an effortless task for him, picking you up like you’re all but a peach. His tongue swipes over your bottom lip, seeking entrance. You tilt your head to the side, your right hand tangled with his hair, the other on his cheek as you deepen the kiss and your tongue meets his. You feel his hands grope your ass, his hips grinding his cock up your clothed heat. 

You let your garment fall off your shoulders, exposing your chest to him. You pull away, resting your forehead on his as you try to catch your breath. “So beautiful, angel.” He murmurs, moving his head and latching his lips on your neck. The nickname feels so contradicting now, and though you’ve heard it so many times before, this time it just felt so… good. “So beautiful, and all for me.” He hums against your skin, leaving a trail of love bites as he sets you down on the bed. 

“Open up and show me.” Were his words as soon as you felt the soft bedsheets. You felt the rush of blood racing to your cheeks, painting you red. You squirm under his gaze, your knees touching as you look at him. 

“Now don’t get all shy on me, darlin’.” He kneels in front of you, both hands on the flesh of your thighs, urging them apart. He dips his head down, kissing your knees up to your thighs. You hesitate for a second before finally giving in, spreading your legs apart. He lets out a low whistle, fingers hooked on the sides of your bikini as he pulls it down. “She needs me,” He smirks, his fingers rubbing along your folds, “Look at that, all wet and ready for me, hm?” He looks up at you as he pushes a finger in. 

“J-Joel.” You strain.

“That ain’t my name, sweetheart.” 

“Daddy.” You sound it out, whimpering as he pushes another finger in. “‘S more like it.” He leans in, his tongue licking on your clit. He drags it out slowly, allowing himself the pleasure of properly tasting you. Two fingers from him were three from you, and right there and then you knew you were fucked.

His other hand reached up to your breasts, taking a nipple between his fingers and rolling it teasingly. You lay your back, arching against his mouth. Your hands reach out to his arm, holding on to it for dear life as he laps you up greedily. At the same time, he put his fingers to work, your walls clenching around his invading digits. 

“T-Think I’m gonna–” You squirm beneath him, hips bucking up to grind more of yourself against his mouth. He looks up at you, practically committing the sight to memory as he keeps the steady pace of his fingers and mouth. He encourages you, muffled grunts omitting from his mouth– causing vibrations to ripple through your cunt. This snaps something inside of you, and you finally let go. Your grip on his arm tightens, the heels of your feet digging into his back, a string of moans leaving your mouth as he slowly exits his fingers from your aching core.

He brings his fingers to his mouth, never letting your eye contact break as he brings it up to his lips, his tongue darting out and licking circles all over it. “Feel good, angel?” He asks softly, leaving kisses on your inner thigh down to your knees. You nod, trying to catch your breath. Your eyes widen in shock as he stood up, the tip of his cock leaking more of his pre-cum– still red with anger, with interest. It was twitching too, more so when he looked at the state of your gaping hole. 

“Think she can take me, sweetheart?” He asks with a rasp, leaning over you to rub the tip over your dripping cunt. You say nothing, your mind is too distracted by how good he feels just by rubbing the tip against you. “Figure that’s a yes, right, sweet girl?” He holds your chin, tipping it up to face him. 

There was something in your eyes, a tinge of desperation, perhaps. Whatever it was, it’s what caused Joel to snap his hips, pushing all of his length inside you. You hook one of your legs by his waist, your arms over his shoulders as you adjust to the girth of his cock. “Feel so f-full..” You mumble, looking up at him. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before pulling away, “Doin’ so good f’me, angel.” He pulls his cock out til the tip is what’s left inside you before slamming it back in. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your back arching so far up on his body that your tits press up against his chest. He groans, his hand snaking around your back for support. He keeps an unforgivable pace, the tip of his cock reaching all the spots that make you see stars. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, your nails digging on his back as your cunt clamps down on his cock. “Drivin’ me crazy,” He pants against the side of your ear, “You take me so well, angel.” He praises, leaving open-mouthed kisses by your jaw. 

“Like y’were made for me.” He speeds up his pace, and the sound of skin slapping echoes throughout the room. His other hand reaches down to your clit, rubbing it with fervor. At this rate, you feel a knot tighten by the pit of your stomach, desperate for release. 

And just then, he pulls out. 

“Joel–” You start to whine, your cunt squeezing around nothing. You feel his hands by your waist, lifting you off the bed and flipping you over to your knees. Your mind had very little time to process what had happened before he slams his cock back into your needy cunt. “Shit- ah, d-daddy-” You slur on your words, lifting your ass up to meet his cock. “Mhm, doin’ so good for me, sweet girl.” He starts to move relentlessly, wanting you to break. 

“Look so pretty like this.” He moans lowly, fucking into you rapidly. You arch your back, pushing your ass back against him. That earns a groan from him, “Jus’ like that, angel.” He thrusts his cock, no– buries it in you, punctuating every word with the movement of his hips. 

His hands dig down on your hips, pulling you impossibly closer to him. You can feel his cock twitching inside of you, and his hips start to stutter and go out of rhythm. Your hand continues down on your clit, combining the pleasure with his cock. He holds out, wanting to feel you come undone on his cock before he fills you with his spend.

“Come on, angel.” He coaxes you, and you swear you saw heaven flash before your eyes. You moan out his name, your head collapsing on the bed as your arms give out. “Daddy–! Fuck, fuck, fuck.. Fuck!” You feel your juices gush down to your thighs, your legs trembling as he fucks you through your orgasm.  

He leans down, latching his lips on your neck and biting down on the flesh, positively leaving a mark on it as he pushes one last thrust in you. “Fuck, look at you.” He pants, burying his cock further in, flooding your walls with thick, white ropes of cum. “Milkin’ it all out,” He squeezes the flesh of your ass, pulling his cock out to reveal your stuffed pussy, a string of cum connecting you both. A gush of cum creeps its way out of your cunt, and you can feel his fingers push it back in you. 

You try to catch your breath, your mind completely fucked out as your body melts into the sheets. He lays down beside you, pulling you close til your head leans on his chest. “Such a good girl f’me, angel.” He kisses the top of your head gently, “Did so great, sweet girl.” He wraps his arms around you, his head leaning down on yours. 

Well, you got what you wanted, didn’t you? 

red gingham divider by @issysh3ll , yellow divider by @strangergraphics ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ !

a/n: this is my first ever work, so please feel free to correct me about my mistakes T w T, i hope you guys enjoyed it as much as i did writing it! i'm actually thinking of making a part 2 for this but i'm not so sure ab that, reblogs, notes, or any kind of interactions are deeply appreciated!! xo, pearl!

tags ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ @pedrostories @syd-djarin @knockk0ut @joelscowgirl @rav3n-pascal22 @joeldjarin @tokkiwrites @taeslarityy @tcmmysheiby @magpiepills @joelsrose @slowdivinqs @mssalo @il0ve-urm0m @ladybirdswritings @fuckyeahdindjarin @joeloverture @wannab-urs @amyispxnk @yxtkiwiyxt @littlcdarlin @joelscurls @goldenispunk @coquettepascal @hellishjoel @joelslastofus @punkshort @iamasaddie @almostempty @gutsby @arcanefox207 @sanarsi @pedrohub @katiexpunk

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° i'd choose you and me...religiously

♡ a/n — for my new childhood friends to lovers series :)

♡ word count — 2.3k

♡ content — karasu tabito x fem! reader, fem! reader, childhood friends to lovers, reader is very normal and quiet, goes through 3rd grade to the U-20 vs Blue Lock game, reader doesn't understand soccer, cuddling, kissing, some cussing

♡ synopsis — Karasu Tabito has always been moved by the ordinary things in life. Your love, your laugh, just you, so ordinary because you just...fit in his life so perfectly.

Tabito Karasu had always been moved by ordinary things. The way rain left trails on windows, the sound of soccer cleats tapping against pavement, the smell of freshly cut grass on the field. Ordinary moments stayed with him long after they’d passed, as if they were somehow more precious than the extraordinary ones.

And then, there was you.

He noticed you before he ever talked to you, always quiet and off to the side, a book or sketchpad in your hands while the other kids played and shouted around you. You weren’t like the rest of them—you weren’t loud, flashy, or attention-seeking. To most, you might have seemed unremarkable.

But to Tabito, you were something special.

He just didn’t realize it until the day he saw you crying.

The afternoon sun was bright and unforgiving, casting sharp shadows on the concrete playground. Tabito was sitting on a bench, juggling a soccer ball between his feet, when he noticed the commotion.

A group of kids stood in a semi-circle around you, taunting you about being “too quiet” and “weird.” You didn’t say anything in return, but your teary eyes and the way you hugged your knees gave everything away.

Before he could think twice, Tabito was on his feet, marching over.

“Hey!” he barked, startling the group. He planted himself between you and them, his hands stuffed into his pockets as he glared them down. “Why don’t you piss off and leave her alone?”

The kids hesitated, their bravado faltering under his sharp gaze. Eventually, one muttered something under their breath before they all dispersed.

He turned back to you, his face softening. “You okay?”

You nodded but didn’t meet his eyes. “Thanks...”

He grinned, crouching beside you. “No problem. But you owe me big time. The teacher’s totally gonna yell at me for this one.”

Sure enough, he was called out for his language later, but he didn’t care. By then, the two of you had already cemented an unspoken bond.

From that day on, Tabito Karasu became your first—and only—friend.

By the time junior high rolled around, Tabito had become a name everyone knew. He was a rising soccer star, his talent and charisma drawing people to him like moths to a flame. But no matter how busy his life got, he always made time for you.

You, on the other hand, stayed much the same. You kept to yourself, stayed out of the spotlight, and quietly supported him from the sidelines. Every game he played, you were there, clapping and cheering along with the crowd—even if you didn’t fully understand the rules.

“You seriously don’t get it?” Tabito asked one evening, his breath visible in the crisp autumn air as the two of you walked home.

He had just finished explaining the mechanics of offside for the fifth time.

“I mean... I get that the ball should go in the net,” you said hesitantly. “But everything else is... kind of fuzzy.”

Tabito groaned dramatically, raking a hand through his hair. “It’s not that hard! Okay, think of it like chess—”

“Tabito, I don’t know how to play chess.”

He stopped dead in his tracks, staring at you with exaggerated disbelief. “You’re kidding me. You’ve been watching my games for years, and you don’t even know what’s happening?”

“I know you’re good,” you offered, laughing. “That’s all that matters, right?”

He sighed, shaking his head with a fond smile. “Hopeless. Absolutely hopeless.”

By high school, Tabito had become your anchor, and you had become his.

No matter how many people surrounded him or how many girls vied for his attention, he always found his way back to you. He walked you to your classes, saved you a spot at lunch, and invited you over to his house whenever your parents were working late.

One night, after a particularly heavy rainstorm, you ended up staying at his place again. His mom gave you a pillow and blanket for the floor in his room, but when you lay down, the hardwood felt unbearably cold.

“You seriously gonna sleep there?” Tabito asked from his bed, leaning over the edge to look at you.

“Where else would I sleep?”

He rolled his eyes. “Here. Come on.”

“Tabito, your mom said—”

“The floor’s freezing. Just get up here.”

You hesitated, but the warmth in his voice and the ease of his grin convinced you. Moments later, you were lying beside him, your head resting on his chest and his arm wrapped securely around your waist.

“This is too close,” you muttered, though you made no effort to move even though there was plenty of room on his bed.

“Shut up,” he replied, laughing softly.

After a long silence, you spoke again. “Someone asked me what my name was today. We’ve been going to school together since junior high, and they didn’t know my name.”

Tabito’s hand slipped under your shirt, his fingers tracing soothing circles on your back. “That’s their loss,” he murmured. “You’re unforgettable.”

You tilted your head to look up at him, your heart beating faster than it should have. “Tabito—”

Before you could ask what he meant, his lips were on yours.

When he pulled back, you opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off, his voice low and steady.

“I don’t care what happened. I’d never forget your name.” He kissed you again. “Your face.” Another kiss. “Your goddamn voice.”

You stared at him, your cheeks burning, and he grinned. “You’re mine, okay? Have been for a while.”

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the window as Tabito’s mom opened the door. She froze, her eyes widening at the sight of the two of you curled up together in his bed.

“Tabito Karasu!”

Breakfast was... awkward. Over toast and eggs, you and Tabito sheepishly explained your newly minted relationship, only to be rewarded with an impromptu birds-and-the-bees talk.

Tabito groaned, hiding his face in his hands while you tried—and failed—not to laugh.

The letter came during your senior year.

You sat under a tree in the park, the letter in your lap as Tabito leaned back on his hands, staring up at the sky.

“This is it,” he said softly. “This is how I make it big.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I’m proud of you.”

His grin faltered when he looked at you. “You don’t look proud.”

“I am,” you insisted, forcing a smile. “I just... I’ll miss you.”

“Hey,” he said, reaching over to take your hand. “It’s not forever. Just until I make it. Then I’m coming back for you.”

You knew he would, because when Karasu set his mind on something, he would get to it, no matter what it took.

You just wished that he wouldn't have to leave for an uncertain amount of time, but you wouldn't say that. He was still yours, always would be, no matter how long you were apart.

When Tabito left for Blue Lock, he packed light—just the essentials. But tucked carefully at the bottom of his bag was something that wasn’t on any checklist: a collection of your letters.

Some were filled with words of encouragement, like the time you’d written after his first big loss, telling him that failure didn’t define him and that he’d always be a winner in your eyes. Others were playful, teasing him about his ego while reminding him to eat properly and not slack off during training. And then there were the ones you wrote late at night, when the ache of missing him felt too heavy to ignore. Those letters carried lipstick marks on the edges, small imprints of your love pressed onto the paper as if they could somehow close the distance between you.

He read those letters often. Whenever the loneliness crept in or the pressure of Blue Lock’s brutal competition threatened to overwhelm him, he would pull one out, smoothing the creases and letting your words fill the silence. Your voice, even through ink and paper, was his anchor.

One day, during a rare quiet moment in the dorms, Otoya noticed one of the letters poking out of Tabito’s duffel bag. Curiosity piqued, he reached over and grabbed one, holding it up with a mischievous grin. “What’s this?”

Tabito, who had been lounging on his bed, immediately sat up. His sharp glare shot across the room like a warning. “Put it down, Otoya.”

But Otoya, ever the instigator, was already opening it. “Aw, come on, don’t be so uptight—” His eyes scanned the first few lines before he froze, his smirk widening. “Oh-ho, what’s this? A girlfriend?”

Tabito was on his feet in an instant, snatching the letter back with a scowl. “None of your business.”

Otoya leaned back, hands raised in mock surrender, but his laughter rang out, echoing in the small dorm room. “Didn’t think you had it in you, Karasu. You’ve got that whole ‘too cool for relationships’ vibe going on, but here you are, all sentimental. Lipstick marks, too? Damn, she’s really got you wrapped around her finger, huh?”

Tabito stuffed the letter into his bag, his jaw tight. He didn’t bother responding to the teasing; it wasn’t worth his energy. Instead, he turned his back to Otoya, muttering under his breath, “Shut up.”

But as Otoya’s laughter died down, Tabito’s fingers brushed the edges of the letter. He could feel the faint ridges of your handwriting beneath the paper, the weight of your love in every stroke of the pen.

A small smile tugged at his lips, one he didn’t let Otoya see.

Because Otoya was wrong about one thing: you didn’t have him wrapped around your finger. No, it was deeper than that. You were his lifeline, his reminder of everything waiting for him back home.

The teasing didn’t matter. The competition didn’t matter. What mattered was the thought of you—always cheering him on, always believing in him.

One day, he promised himself. One day, he’d read those letters with you sitting beside him, not miles apart. And when that day came, he’d show you just how much your words, your love, had carried him through.

For now, though, he folded the letter and placed it carefully back in his bag, ready to fight his way to that future.

Watching the Blue Lock team play against the U-20 team almost put you into an early grave, you swear, Blue Lock won, of course. ( You totally weren't praying on some of the U-20 team's downfall during the game...not at all)

The crowd’s roar was deafening, a wave of cheers and chants reverberating through the stadium. You stood on the sidelines, heart pounding as the Blue Lock team celebrated their hard-fought victory on the field.

You had come all this way to watch him, to see for yourself just how much he’d grown. And yet, even after all these years of supporting him, nothing had prepared you for this moment.

Your eyes darted across the players, searching, until—suddenly—you felt arms wrap tightly around your waist. Your feet left the ground as you were spun around, a loud gasp escaping your lips.

“Tabito!” you exclaimed, laughter bubbling out of you.

When he finally set you back down, you turned to see his grinning face, his hair damp with sweat and a few stray blades of grass stuck to his jersey. He looked different—stronger, sharper, more determined—but when his eyes met yours, the warmth in them hadn’t changed one bit.

“You did it!” you said, reaching out to touch his face as if to make sure he was real. “You actually did it.”

“Of course I did,” he replied, his tone cocky, but his grin softened when his hand came up to cup yours. “I told you I would, didn’t I?”

You nodded, tears welling in your eyes as pride swelled in your chest. But before you could say anything else, the words you’d been holding back for years tumbled out:

“Tabito, I finally got it today!”

He blinked, caught off guard. “Got what?”

“Soccer!” you blurted, your voice trembling with excitement. “I mean, okay, maybe not all of it, but at the kickoff, I just... I got it! I understood why you love it so much. I felt it. When the game started, I was so excited I almost screamed! And when you got close to the goal, I was on the edge of my seat. I wanted you to score so badly.”

His eyes widened in surprise before his expression melted into something softer, something that made your heart ache in the best way. “You... really mean that?”

“Yes!” you said, gripping the front of his jersey like you’d never let him go. “I finally understood why you’ve worked so hard, why this means so much to you. It’s amazing, Tabito. You’re amazing.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his mouth slightly open as if he couldn’t find the words. Then, with a sudden burst of energy, he pulled you into another spin, your laughter echoing above the noise of the crowd.

When he set you down again, he didn’t hesitate—his lips found yours, and the world fell away.

He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours. “You’re the one who’s amazing,” he whispered. “And you know what? That was the only goal I needed today—hearing you say that.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly as you wiped away a stray tear. “You’re so cheesy.”

“You love it.”

“I do,” you admitted, your voice barely audible over the roar of the stadium.

He glanced around, the chaos of victory still unfolding behind him, but all his focus was on you. “Hey,” he said, his tone suddenly serious. “Will you follow me? No matter where this takes me?”

You didn’t even have to think about it. “Anywhere. Always.”

His grin returned, wider than ever, and he kissed you again, as if sealing a promise. And as the stadium lights bathed you both in a golden glow, you knew you’d never stop cheering for him—on the field or off.

Karasu Tabito has always been moved by the ordinary things in life. Your love, your laugh, just you, so ordinary because you just...fit in his life so perfectly.

i take him to my pent house and i FREAK IT

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated

[rothpie]

❝FIDELITY❞ |part14

MASTERLIST -`✮´- Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank

Summary: Kook!Reader’s world is upended by betrayal, and her only way forward might lie with the most unlikely person—JJ Maybank. But as they build a new life together, old flames and past mistakes refuse to stay buried.

Warnings: none (I guess)

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Witnessing Something You’ve Never Experienced 

There are moments in life—like when someone’s laughter makes you laugh, when you share their joy, or when you cry together—that are impossible to put into words. Watching someone else’s happiness is priceless. Maybe that’s one of the best things about being human: feeling their happiness as if it were your own. 

These were the simplest, purest emotions. And yet, when you saw Cleo and Pope smiling at each other, it was hard to keep your own happiness in check. It almost felt like it wasn’t their story, but yours. Like their vows added something to your life, too. 

You’d never been married. In fact, you’d never even come close to it. But as you listened to Cleo and Pope exchange vows, for a moment, you forgot about that emptiness inside you. Standing barefoot on the moonlit beach, watching them hold hands, it felt like everything was exactly as it should be. 

A gentle breeze mingled with the sound of waves breaking on the shore, creating a serene melody in the background. Standing on the sand, you realized how special this moment was. Everyone around you was smiling, even JJ. 

He stood a little apart from the crowd, lazily swirling a beer bottle in his hand as he watched the ceremony. His trademark smirk was there, but something about him seemed softer. As if he was sharing in the happiness in his own way. 

“You ready to head back?” JJ’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. He had come up beside you, gesturing toward the lights at the edge of the beach with his beer bottle. 

You weren’t in the best shape, to be honest. 

You’d only known Cleo and Pope for four years—a long time, but not forever. You met them through JJ, yet your bond with them felt deeper than just friendship. Cleo, especially, felt like a sister to you. You loved them both and wanted to share in their happiness. 

It had been years since you’d felt like this. Your attachment to alcohol had ended alongside everything with Liliana, or so you thought. But now, Liliana was weaned, and you’d found a rare moment to be on your own. 

Cleo’s wedding wasn’t a grand affair; it was intimate, with close friends, family, and a few others. Your parents had even come. While they wished the same happiness for you, they also took Liliana with them when the reception started. It was their way of giving you a rare night of freedom. 

It wasn’t lost on you that they were doing this for you. Liliana was your baby, but in their eyes, you were still theirs. It was one of the rare times you could just be. A night to be young again. 

And JJ—well, you could tell your parents were secretly grateful for him too. They’d told him as much when they thought you weren’t listening. Your dad had even helped him out with work, quietly making sure JJ stayed on track. 

You were thankful for this time. For a little while, it felt like the old days. Not reckless or wild, just... young. 

And maybe you’d gone a little overboard. You’d been drinking and dancing all night. You weren’t sure how much, but it was enough to notice some concerned glances from people here and there. 

Still, it wasn’t just the alcohol. There was tension in you that you hadn’t let out. You hadn’t told JJ that you’d seen Rafe earlier. You just wanted to forget. But seeing him—especially when you were with your daughter—was a heartbreak all its own. 

After a moment of hesitation, you nodded. You didn’t feel sharp enough to respond with words, yet somehow, you felt like a genius. “I miss my house,” you mumbled, kicking at the sand. 

JJ chuckled, shaking his head. “Which house?” 

He grabbed your wrist gently, steadying you as you stumbled a bit. His touch moved to your hand, and you couldn’t help but follow his movements, your gaze dropping to the sand. 

“All of them,” you replied, your voice a little dreamy. Your answer made JJ laugh harder, the sound blending into the soft music playing in the background. His laughter—it suited everything, like it was a perfect fit for the moment, maybe even better than the music itself. 

“All of them? How many houses you got, sweetheart?” he teased, keeping a steady eye on you as if ready to catch you if you fell. 

“Two.” You held up two fingers to show him, wobbling slightly. JJ’s hand darted out to catch you by the arm while his other hand held yours firmly. 

“Yep, that’s our sign to head out,” he said with a smirk. His hand slipped to your waist as he pulled you closer, keeping you upright. Your bodies brushed against each other, and in your tipsy state, you didn’t have the energy to fight the thoughts that came next. 

You couldn’t help but look at him. JJ was one of those people you just had to look at. Admire. Worship, even. Had he really been right in front of you this whole time? What a snack. 

“So, one house is in Asheville,” he said, steering you toward your table to grab your bag. “Where’s the other one?” 

“You and Liliana.” 

JJ’s eyebrows shot up as he looked at you, his mouth opening slightly like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. For a moment, he froze, trying to process what you’d just said. 

Then his gaze shifted, and he waved at Sarah and Pope, who were chatting nearby. He clearly chose to distract himself. It was just drunken rambling, right? No need to read into it. 

He knew better than to press the issue. You were drunk. That was all there was to it.

And while you were utterly drunk, he was completely sober. He’d only had one beer, because if you were falling apart like this, someone had to stay grounded to take care of you. The trip home had to be safe. That was his job, and he’d always make sure of it. 

You left the beach together, walking slowly. As the sand turned into a gravel path, the wind picked up, biting at your cheeks. JJ shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and tilted his head back to gaze at the sky. Almost entirely leaning on him, you looked up with glassy eyes. “The stars look so beautiful, don’t they?” you asked, your voice carrying an unusual softness.

The house you’d rented wasn’t far. You had intentionally chosen a place close to the beach, for Liliana. When you arrived, JJ opened the door, turning to flash you a small smile. “Come on, let’s get inside. The wind’s going to make you sick,” he teased with a playful tone.

As you stepped inside, the happy scenes from the wedding were still vivid in your mind. Something felt different about tonight, though you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. 

JJ couldn’t believe you had made it all the way home. He was sure you’d pass out halfway through, but here you were, still standing—well, barely. He held you steady, watching as you stared at the house like you were seeing it for the first time. You smiled faintly as you spoke. 

“I can’t believe how much you drank. I mean—I didn’t even know you could drink that much.” 

He raised an eyebrow as you pursed your lips, clearly preparing a rebuttal. Despite your foggy brain, you still managed to respond. “I only had two shots,” you said confidently, holding up your fingers to emphasize your point. The attempt, however, was far from accurate.

JJ reached out to steady your hand, trying to refocus you. “Two shots and, what, a whole bottle of vodka?” he replied with a smirk. 

You threw your head back, laughing loudly. JJ’s lips quirked into a grin as he listened to your laughter, his hand brushing against your back in a comforting way. He had watched you all night—dancing with him, going wild with Cleo, chatting with Sarah—and at every moment, a drink had been in your hand, always nearing empty. 

“No!” you exclaimed, poking his chest with your finger as if trying to push him away. JJ didn’t budge an inch. Instead, when you stumbled back, he placed both hands on your waist to steady you.

“Alright, come here,” JJ said gently, his tone calm yet firm. He figured you needed to sit down before you hurt yourself. “Let’s get your shoes off before you end up face-first on the floor,” he added, a teasing lilt in his voice. He guided you back to lean against the wall. 

He crouched down to untie your shoes quickly, his movements brisk but careful. It was obvious he was afraid you’d trip and hurt yourself. When he finished, he set your shoes by the door and stood up. His gaze immediately met yours. You had been watching him the entire time, tracking his every move. 

You threw your arms around his shoulders and looked at him with a drunk, adoring smile. “Your eyes are blue,” you said in awe, studying his face as if it were the first time. 

JJ raised his eyebrows, his lips parting slightly. He wanted to pull back and figure out if you were serious, but then he remembered how drunk you were. His lips twitched into an amused grin. “Wow. Five years of living together, and you’re just now noticing?” he teased.

You had no idea what you were doing. You felt like a fool, detached from any sense of self-control. Your thoughts were jumbled, and logic had left the building. You leaned in closer, your heavy-lidded eyes fixated on his face. “Your dimples… they’re really cute,” you whispered.

JJ took a deep breath, shaking his head slightly. His heart raced, which annoyed him more than anything. He tried to pull away from your embrace, turning his head as he gently pried your arms off his neck. “Yeah, you’re definitely drunk,” he muttered, letting your hands drop but still holding onto your wrists to keep you steady.

Suddenly, your breath hitched, and JJ’s attention snapped back to you. His expression shifted as he watched your face, now filled with a mix of worry and sadness. “I didn’t kiss Liliana,” you said in a mournful tone. “Before bed—I didn’t give her her goodnight kiss. I have to do it.”

JJ froze for a moment, trying to process your words. Liliana had been gone for hours, staying with her grandparents. She wasn’t even in the house, and there was no way you’d remember that right now. “Hey, hey. Liliana’s asleep, okay? You can’t kiss her now. You’ll wake her up,” he said soothingly, doing his best to calm you down. He didn’t dare remind you she wasn’t there; that would only lead to a meltdown.

You rested your head on his shoulder, your voice soft and sad. “But I needed to kiss her…”

JJ smiled faintly, brushing his hand over your hair. “It’s alright, sweetheart. You can kiss her in the morning. Let her sleep now.”

Lifting your head, you looked at him intently, your gaze almost too focused for how drunk you were. JJ frowned slightly, sensing the shift in your demeanor. There was something behind your eyes—something determined. It made his chest tighten with unease, a feeling he couldn’t quite place. 

“You’re awake,” you said suddenly, as if realizing a profound truth. 

JJ raised an eyebrow, looking at you in utter confusion. He took a step back. "Huh?"

Despite his retreat, you stepped closer. JJ swallowed hard as you approached, suddenly feeling trapped—vulnerable, even. Thoughts he had no business entertaining were creeping into his head. After all, it was you. You. His friend. His roommate. Yet, he could tell by your innocent tone that you meant nothing by it, and maybe that’s what he hated the most—because those innocent words were pulling his mind into places it didn’t belong. 

“You’re awake, so I can kiss you,” you said, your voice far too nonchalant for the chaos it stirred in him.

JJ quickly stepped back, holding up a hand to stop you, his face turning away as if looking at you directly might break his resolve. “Let’s get you to bed,” he said, his tone soft but firm. You were drunk, and there was no way you meant what you were saying. If you were sober, those words wouldn’t have left your lips. No matter what you said, he was getting you to bed and leaving you there to sleep it off.

“Why? If I can’t kiss Lily, can’t I kiss you? You’re awake! Besides—this is just a goodnight kiss,” you insisted with a faint smile, your tone bordering on teasing. 

Those words sparked something deep within JJ, something unfamiliar and unsettling. You two had never crossed this kind of line before. He’d never seen you look at him like that. And for the first time in years, you were drunk. He knew you hadn’t touched alcohol since Liliana. He also knew how much of your life had been shaped around her absence. Tonight, though, was different—you were drunk, and it was obvious your body wasn’t handling it well.

Even though he knew your words were soaked in alcohol, JJ couldn’t stop the heat creeping up his neck. It wasn’t just what you said—it was how it made him feel. 

JJ exhaled and shook his head, a defeated sort of gesture. He knew you meant nothing by it. There was no way this was anything more than innocent—it had to be. Besides, you were drunk. “Alright, fine. You can kiss me on the cheek,” he said, hoping to diffuse the moment, to get you to let this go. You were speaking without thinking, but his brain was taking your words to places he wished it wouldn’t.

JJ turned his head slightly, offering his cheek as he braced himself, standing as still as a statue. It wasn’t as if this was the first time you’d kissed each other on the cheek. It was a friendly gesture, a sign of affection. You were close—roommates raising a kid together. You spent almost every waking moment together. It was impossible not to care deeply for each other—as friends, of course.

But this? This felt different. Something about the situation was wrong. Whether it was the alcohol he’d had earlier, his own overthinking, or something entirely to do with you, he couldn’t say. All he knew was that, for the first time since you’d moved in, his mind was wandering into territory it had no business exploring. It was like he was just now realizing—or maybe finally acknowledging—that something had shifted between you two.

JJ couldn’t shake the unease in your presence tonight. He was used to being around you, practically glued to your side at all times. But this? Drunk you? That was a new one. Well, aside from those wild parties in your younger days, though even then, he’d usually seen you from a distance—usually surrounded by people. Or… with that fuck-face.

And now here you were, just the two of you, and it felt like uncharted waters. JJ had been drunk around you before, sure, but he could hold his liquor. He didn’t drink often, but when he did, it wasn’t new territory for him.

JJ glanced at you out of the corner of his eye as you took another unsteady step closer. His hands were still on you, steadying you, keeping you upright. He felt his tension rise with every passing second, his stomach twisting in knots. All he wanted was to let you kiss his cheek, put you to bed, and be done with this excruciating moment.

Then he felt it—your fingers slipping from his grip, brushing against the stubble on his freshly-shaven cheek. The light, almost hesitant touch sent a shiver down his spine. He couldn’t even turn his head fully to face you; he just stood there, keeping his gaze flitting between you and the floor. Your touch was nearly enough to make him close his eyes and lean into it, but the reminder of your drunken state snapped him back to reality.

As you swayed closer, your weight pressed into him. JJ quickly steadied you, hearing the soft giggle escape your lips. “Oops,” you muttered, your laughter muffled against his chest. 

He hated this—hated everything about it. Hated the situation, his thoughts, and most of all, how he was feeling. For the love of God, you were drunk, and the thoughts running through his mind were nothing short of sinful. How had he sunk so low as to let his brain spiral like this over a drunk woman—his best friend?

When your lips finally pressed against his cheek, JJ exhaled shakily, his gaze dropping to the floor as his heart pounded furiously in his chest. You’d kissed him on the cheek plenty of times before, but this? This felt different. This kiss lingered too long, carrying a weight he couldn’t explain—a spark that was entirely new and unsettling.

When your lips didn’t move away, JJ gently pulled back, clearing his throat as he steadied you by the waist. As he turned his head back toward you, his eyes briefly—and accidentally—flicked to your lips. He quickly dragged his gaze back up to your eyes, cursing himself internally. He shouldn’t have looked. 

Clearing his throat again, JJ felt his face flush with heat. His prayers for composure were no match for the image of your lips—now cherry red, like they’d been painted that way. It wasn’t the lipstick you’d put on earlier. That had smudged and faded hours ago. Had your lips always been this red? Or was this something he was only now noticing? 

The moment he realized his eyes had drifted back to your lips, it felt like death itself. He needed to stop this. It was weird—no, terrifying. You were drunk, and he was completely sober. 

JJ took a deep breath and looked at your face. It was like you were staring straight into his soul, as though trying to pull everything he was out of him with just your gaze. "Okay," he muttered, trying to compose himself. He leaned on the thought that you'd forget this by morning, that you wouldn't remember any of it. If you were sober, he wouldn't dare let his eyes linger on your lips this long. "Well, since we’ve got the goodnight kiss out of the way—" 

JJ stopped mid-sentence when he felt your hand on the collar of his shirt. The proximity was already absurd—he’d only been holding onto you to keep you from falling—but this? This was nowhere near what he’d expected. Your grip tightened, and before he knew it, you pulled him closer. His eyes widened, and in the next instant, he found himself on your lips. 

His mind blanked. He didn’t even have the sense to close his eyes, as if keeping them open might confirm the absurdity of this moment. It couldn’t be real—it shouldn’t be real. 

The shock rendered JJ motionless. This wasn’t a passionate kiss. You weren’t moving; you just held your lips against his. Yet JJ was sure he was about to have a heart attack. 

Just the touch of your lips sent his heart into a frenzy. He was either dying or dreaming, and neither seemed plausible. 

But it didn’t take long for reality to sink in. He pulled away quickly, stumbling back. His hand darted out to steady you, but he didn’t dare come any closer. He had no idea what to make of what had just happened—or how he was supposed to feel about it. 

God, you were drunk. So drunk. 

“Stop,” he said firmly, though his voice shook slightly. He’d messed up. This wasn’t supposed to happen—none of it. And yet he swore he could still feel your lips on his. He regretted this. You wouldn’t remember it tomorrow, but he wouldn’t forget. “You’re going to regret this when I tell you in the morning.” 

He wouldn’t tell you. He couldn’t. Losing your friendship wasn’t a risk he was willing to take. More than that, he couldn’t bear the thought of being cut out of your life—or Liliana’s. No, he couldn’t lose the family he’d found. Not over one night. 

The words had only been meant to stop you, to get you to back off and let the moment end. He needed you to listen. Then he could put you to bed and get through the night without ever feeling your lips again, without remembering how soft they were or the feeling of having you this close. 

Shit. 

“I won’t,” you said stubbornly. 

JJ squeezed his eyes shut, running a hand over his temple as if trying to think straight. You had no idea what you were doing. You were drunk. You’d regret kissing him. And if he ever saw that regret on your face, he didn’t know how he’d handle it. 

Even though you were the one who kissed him, he still felt responsible for this. He shouldn’t have let you get this close. He should’ve gotten you to bed and let you sleep it off. 

JJ took a steadying breath, searching your gaze for something—anything—that might reassure him. Maybe a glimmer of awareness, a sign you understood what was happening. But you were too far gone. You wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning. And even if you could think straight, the kiss was wrong. And you saying you wouldn’t regret it? That was wrong too. “You will,” he said softly but firmly, his voice unwavering. He wrapped an arm around yours and started guiding you to your room. He just wanted to erase this moment from his memory. 

Not because he didn’t like it—he couldn’t let himself think about that. Whether or not he liked it didn’t matter. You were drunk, and you’d crossed a line. Worse, he’d let you. If you were sober, you wouldn’t have kissed him or gotten this close. And that hurt more than anything else. 

You went quiet as you leaned against his arm. The silence persisted as he helped you to the edge of the bed. Gently, JJ eased you down to sit. You stared at the floor, saying nothing. JJ hated the silence. This shouldn’t have happened. It wasn’t supposed to happen. Finally, his voice broke the quiet, low and strained. “This is wrong... We’re friends.” 

JJ knelt in front of you, meeting your eyes. He knew that. You knew that. But the weight of your actions was already heavy on him. You’d kissed him, and he was already regretting it. He couldn’t stop himself from wondering how you’d feel when he told you in the morning. Would it change things between you? He wasn’t ready to lose you—or Liliana. He wanted a lifetime of memories with both of you, of raising her together and laughing through it all. He couldn’t lose that. “Yeah, we’re friends,” you murmured softly. 

The silence stretched again, and then, out of nowhere, your shoulders began to shake. You couldn’t stop the tears from spilling, your quiet sobs breaking the stillness. JJ’s eyes widened in shock. Seeing you cry tore at something inside him. He didn’t even know why you were crying. Maybe a piece of your clarity had returned. He didn’t want that—not now. 

Hesitating for only a moment, JJ pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. “Hey, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” he asked, his voice laced with worry. 

You didn’t answer. JJ tilted his head, resting his forehead against yours. The warmth of your breath ghosted over his skin as you shifted. When your nose brushed against his, JJ inhaled sharply, his eyes fluttering shut. His hands slid down your back, settling at your waist. You still didn’t speak, but your movements spoke volumes. JJ exhaled shakily, like he’d just lost a battle with himself. “You need to stop…” he whispered. 

Suddenly, you lifted your head, and the space between you seemed to vanish. JJ’s breath hitched. He wanted this to stop—he needed it to. He knew he wouldn’t be able to control himself if it didn’t. He’d never thought of you this way, never imagined having your lips on his. But now that it had happened, everything felt… right. 

Except it wasn’t. 

You were drunk, and this was so, so wrong. 

But when your lips touched his again, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. 

When JJ felt your noses brush again, he let out a shaky breath, unable to open his eyes and meet yours. He wasn’t even sure who had started it this time. But when your lips met again, JJ felt... found. Like he’d discovered something he hadn’t known he was searching for. In that moment, he pushed everything else aside—all the rules, all the lines he wasn’t supposed to cross—and tightened his arms around your waist. Instead of pulling back, he gave in, even if just for a moment.

As your lips moved together in perfect rhythm, JJ could feel his heartbeat pounding in his chest. If he’d known it would feel this right, he wouldn’t have waited until now to kiss you. Hell, he’d have done it ages ago. When your hands gripped his collar and tugged him closer, JJ didn’t resist. Taking advantage of the way you shifted back on the bed, he let you guide him, following your lead as his hand instinctively slid to your neck.

The kiss broke momentarily as you both gasped for air, but before either of you could even think, your lips found each other again. JJ forgot everything—every rule, every fear, every reason this wasn’t supposed to happen. The only thing that mattered was you. Just you. 

When your fingers tangled in his hair, JJ realized he was completely at your mercy. You were insatiable, like you couldn’t get enough of him. And when your kisses turned more fervent, more desperate, he understood the shift. This wasn’t a sweet, affectionate kiss anymore. This was raw, unrestrained desire. When a soft, breathy moan escaped your lips, JJ froze.

Self-loathing hit him like a freight train. He couldn’t believe he’d let it happen again. With a jolt of awareness, he pulled back abruptly, putting distance between the two of you. As he took in the scene—the two of you on the bed, him hovering over you—he felt sick to his stomach. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t let himself take advantage of you like this. 

“You’re drunk,” JJ said, his voice unsteady, his breath uneven. “You don’t know what you’re doing.” His hands trembled as he held himself back. Deep down, he wished you weren’t drunk. He wished this could be real.

Your gaze met his, and tears brimmed in your eyes. “I’m sorry,” you said, your voice cracking. But JJ knew he was the one who should be apologizing. Tomorrow morning—if he ever found the courage to bring this up—it would be on him. He was the one who was sober. He was the one who should’ve known better. He shouldn’t have let you pull him in, shouldn’t have let himself fall for it.

JJ took a deep breath and carefully helped you lie back on the bed. He brushed your hair back gently, his chest heavy with regret. Not regret for kissing you, but for doing it when you were drunk. For crossing a line when you wouldn’t even remember it. “Get some sleep, okay?” he said softly, trying to push the guilt from his tone.

As he started to pull away and leave the room, you caught his hand. “Don’t go,” you whispered.

JJ swallowed hard, his throat tightening. He shook his head slowly, refusing to look at you. “I can’t,” he said quietly. Staying would only make it worse—make him hate himself even more. But then he looked at you, and his resolve crumbled. He cursed himself silently. This wasn’t supposed to happen. None of this was.

“Please,” you said, your voice barely audible. JJ’s eyes fluttered shut, his jaw clenching. The second he walked out of that room, he knew he’d be sick. He couldn’t believe he’d let things go this far, couldn’t believe he’d put you in this position. You were his friend, and you wouldn’t remember any of this. Not a single moment.

God, he wished you were sober. If you woke up and remembered everything—if you looked at him with disgust—he wouldn’t be able to handle it. He couldn’t.

“Fine,” he said, defeated. He was terrified—terrified of you waking up and hating him. “Close your eyes,” he murmured without thinking. He couldn’t take the way you were looking at him. That look only made the guilt gnaw at him even more.

You did as he asked, your eyes fluttering shut. JJ let out a long, heavy sigh and sat down beside you. He leaned his head back, running a hand through his hair as he muttered to himself under his breath, “Why do you make me hate myself like this...”

It was close to 3 a.m., and you still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. You’d been awake for hours, but the dull ache in your head and the strange fog clouding your mind refused to lift. Some parts of last night were blurry—there were flashes of laughter, dancing, the wedding… but the details were frustratingly out of reach. 

You sat curled up on the corner of the couch, sipping your coffee slowly, the warmth doing little to ease your unease. Across the room, JJ was in the kitchen, fiddling with the kettle as if it was the most intricate puzzle in the world. Normally, you were used to his easygoing, morning-person energy, but this wasn’t it. His movements were precise, almost tense, and his face carried a weird stiffness. You couldn’t make sense of it. 

“My head hurts,” you finally said, breaking the suffocating silence. You were tired of his strange behavior. 

JJ glanced over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. With a faint, almost forced smile, he said, “Not surprised.” But his tone betrayed something deeper, something unsaid that hung in the air. 

“Not surprised?” you asked, frowning. “You’re acting weird, JJ.” 

He shrugged, putting the kettle back down and leaning against the counter. His fingers raked through his hair, a telltale sign that something was bothering him. Still, he avoided your eyes. “I’m just… tired. You know, long night and all.” 

But you knew it wasn’t just exhaustion. You could feel it. “Did something happen?” you asked, studying his face carefully, hoping to find a clue. 

“No,” he said too quickly, his voice sharp before softening a beat later. “No, really. Just… the usual.” 

His vague response only unsettled you further, but you decided not to press him. Not right now. Your headache and the foggy haze in your mind were draining enough without getting into a confrontation. 

When you glanced at the clock and noticed how late it had gotten, you suddenly straightened. “I need to pick up Liliana,” you said abruptly. 

JJ hesitated, his head turning to look at you like he was searching for something in your expression. “Alright,” he said cautiously. “Are you good to drive?” 

“Yeah,” you replied, grabbing your bag and standing up. “She’s probably missing us by now. I should get going.” 

JJ didn’t respond right away, just nodded slowly. His gaze stayed on you, heavy with something unspoken. It was like he wanted to stop you, to say something, but couldn’t find the words. 

As you headed to the door and bent down to put on your shoes, you could still feel his eyes on you. It was unnerving. Pausing for a moment, you glanced back at him. “We’ll talk later,” you said, keeping your tone light but purposeful. 

JJ gave another nod. “Yeah. We’ll talk.” But his words carried a weight far greater than they should have. 

Sliding into the driver’s seat of your car, you couldn’t shake the strange feeling in your gut. JJ’s behavior, your pounding headache, and the scattered, blurry memories from the night before were all swirling together, leaving an uneasy knot in your stomach. 

As you started the car and pulled onto the road, your phone lit up on the passenger seat. The screen showed Sarah’s name flashing as she called. Reaching over, you grabbed the phone, the knot in your stomach tightening as you answered. 

Rafe hadn’t felt this vulnerable in a very long time. When he left Sarah’s house days ago, his steps were slow and heavy. Inside, a storm was raging. His thoughts collided, each crashing harder than the last. Talking to Sarah had been like a slap in the face with the truth he’d tried so hard to avoid. Hearing the things he didn’t want to hear—it had turned his whole world upside down. 

Once, he’d believed the life he was living was normal. Or maybe he’d just convinced himself of that. The life he’d shaped with his own choices, every step calculated to reach his goals... He had sacrificed everything for them. Absolutely everything.

And now, there was an emptiness inside him. He’d achieved the goals he’d fought for with relentless ambition and passion, but what had they given him in return? Monotony. A quiet restlessness. His soul was weighed down with a sense of suffocation he couldn’t even admit to himself. 

The moment he saw you and Liliana, everything changed. That’s when it all hit him. The scene played over and over in his mind—your icy gaze, Liliana’s delicate features that mirrored his own... her tiny hands, her green dress... Those images were burned into his memory. No matter what he did, he couldn’t erase them. 

He couldn’t sleep peacefully anymore. The moment he closed his eyes, he found himself lost in a vivid dream. He was holding you in his arms, playing games in the garden with Liliana. In those dreams, he clung to the illusion of a life he might have had, a life as a father with his own family. But every morning, he woke to the harsh truth. You weren’t his. Liliana wasn’t his. That life wasn’t his. 

Even throwing himself into work hadn’t helped. His mind wandered constantly, his thoughts overpowering him. There seemed to be no escape. For days, he’d stopped working entirely. Maybe, for the first time in his life, he allowed himself to just stop. To think. To try to figure out what was right. 

But he never expected to see you again. For four years, there had been nothing from you. He’d lost count of how many times he’d tried to find out where you or your family were. But you’d completely cut him off. You’d disappeared from his world. 

And now, after seeing you again, he didn’t know what to do. Should he fight to bring you back into his life, or was he meant to keep paying for the mistakes of his past? 

Every night, he dreamed. He dreamed of making you and Liliana part of his world, even though he knew it was impossible. In those dreams, Liliana’s laughter echoed, and you smiled at him. But that smile had been lost to him in the real world long ago. 

Calling Sarah had been a desperate act. He just needed to hear something—anything that could help. Again and again, he’d been met with Sarah’s irritated tone on the other end of the line. “What do you want now?” she’d asked, her exasperation unmistakable. 

And Rafe’s answer was always the same: “Hey... I just... I need a favor.” 

Rafe had realized his life was an illusion. The structure he thought he wanted was nothing but a trap. Seeing you had made that painfully clear. The dream of a life he might have had—holding you in his arms, hearing his daughter’s laughter, playing with her—had carved itself into his mind. But could those dreams ever become reality? Or had the wreckage of the past already swept everything away? 

These questions had no answers, but Rafe had made a decision. For the first time, he felt truly lost and defenseless. The only promise he made to himself was not to repeat his mistakes. Or at least, this time, he would try. 

To start, he knew he needed help. Calling Sarah, asking for her help—it meant swallowing his pride, but there was no other choice. “I just need to know where she is, Sarah,” he’d pleaded over the phone, his desperation seeping into every word. 

Sarah’s reply had been sharp and definitive. “Cut the crap, Rafe. I’m not giving you her address. And if you bother her one more time, I swear you’ll ruin what’s left of the relationship between us too.” 

The call ended. It hit him like a cold slap, but Rafe didn’t give up. He called again. Sent messages. Pushed Sarah to the edge of her patience. Eventually, he got a sliver of information. She mentioned a gas station stop. It was his only chance. Today.

He didn’t hesitate. He jumped into his car and sped off, his mind a whirlwind. His heart pounded, his hands gripped the steering wheel like a lifeline. 

When he arrived at the gas station, his breath caught in his throat. His eyes searched for you, and finally, there you were. Through the store window, he saw you picking something off the shelf. Your eyes narrowed slightly, as if lost in thought. 

For a moment, all he could do was watch. His feet felt rooted to the ground. But then he took a deep breath and forced himself forward, one heavy step at a time, toward the door. His heart raced faster with every step, his mind repeating, Is this the right thing? But he had no choice. He needed to see you. He needed to talk to you. 

When he opened the door, the bell chimed softly. You turned your head, your eyes meeting his. In that instant, the world seemed to stop. Your gaze held a mix of surprise and anger, but no matter what, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. 

Rafe shoved his hands into his pockets, hesitating as he walked toward you. His shoulders slumped slightly, his eyes unsure. He stopped a few steps away, took a deep breath, and opened his mouth, but no words came out. 

“Hey,” he said finally, his voice trembling just enough to betray him. 

He watched as your eyes scanned him, waiting for a response. The silence between you felt heavy. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your tone flat, devoid of any warmth. Your brows furrowed, and your lips pressed into a thin line. You didn’t take your eyes off him. 

Rafe had expected anger, maybe even an outburst. But the coldness in your voice—it stung in a way he hadn’t anticipated. It hit him somewhere deep, leaving a dull ache in its wake. 

Rafe cleared his throat and briefly lowered his gaze to the floor. He’d imagined seeing you before he arrived but hadn’t thought about what he’d actually say. He tried to slip his hands into his pockets but stopped himself. His shoulders slumped, and his eyes stayed fixed on the ground. "I—I just wanted to say hi." 

Your face fell into an impassive mask. The disdain for him was clear, and Rafe felt like he couldn’t breathe under the weight of it. "Alright. Hi." 

Rafe forced a smile as he looked at you, his expression nervous but determined. "Hi." The silence between you stretched, thick and uncomfortable. Desperate to shift the mood, Rafe mumbled, "You look really beautiful, by the way." 

Your face immediately hardened, and your eyes flashed with anger, as if you couldn’t believe what he had just said. The hiss that escaped your lips made Rafe regret his words instantly. He’d crossed the line. "Cut the nonsense, Rafe. Can you leave, please?" 

Rafe tensed but took a step back. His hands remained buried in his pockets, and he dropped his head slightly, cursing himself. He’d had one chance, and he’d ruined it—like he always did. He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled before lowering his hand again. "I—I’m sorry. Really." 

He had barely turned to leave when your voice stopped him cold. 

"For what?" 

Rafe froze, his shoulders stiffening. Slowly, he turned back, confusion etched across his face. He understood the question, but was this really the time for this conversation? Of course, he expected you to hate him. He just hadn’t thought he’d get under your skin so quickly. "What?" 

"For what are you apologizing?" you repeated, your voice shaking but firm. Despite being in a public place, you struggled to keep it down, your anger barely restrained. "Did you honestly think you could just show up and casually talk to me? Like this is some kind of fucking joke?" 

Rafe raised his hands in a helpless gesture. Of course, you were right. What had he been thinking? "No. I—I just wanted to see if you were okay." 

Your brows knitted together as you crossed your arms, stepping closer to him. Rafe felt his entire body tense. "That’s none of your business. Why do you even care if I’m okay? You didn’t care five years ago." 

Rafe dropped his head. No matter what you said, you would always be right. He didn’t even have the words to defend himself. "I know." 

"You know?" Your voice climbed, sharp and incredulous, as you jabbed a finger toward him. "Fuck off, Rafe!" 

His breathing quickened, but he didn’t back away. This wasn’t how he imagined this would go, but—what did he expect? That you’d run into his arms and forgive everything he’d done? He had deluded himself into thinking you were still the person he used to know. "Look, I’m trying—" 

"I don’t want to hear it!" You raised a hand to cut him off, your voice louder than you intended. 

Rafe took a step closer. "I swear—" 

"I don’t want to hear it!" you yelled, your voice trembling but resolute. Rafe exhaled deeply, defeated. He hated this. Hated himself. He’d never be anything but a source of shame in your eyes. 

Rafe fell silent, guilt etched into every line of his face. He ran a hand through his hair, then took a step back. The quiet between you became unbearable. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes as the words forced their way out. "It’s over. It’s been over for years. That’s it. You didn’t want—" 

"Don’t say it," Rafe interrupted, his voice low but thick with emotion. Every word was weighted with regret. 

"You said, ‘Get rid of it!’ You didn’t want it! That’s why it ended," you snapped, your voice breaking as tears welled in your eyes. You didn’t back down, though. Rafe hated seeing you like this, hated knowing he was the reason for it. 

Rafe spread his hands helplessly, unsure of what to do. If you had told him back then, he would’ve accepted it with joy. But back then, he’d been a fool—a selfish, spineless coward desperate for his father’s approval. "I wasn’t thinking straight!" 

"Don’t give me that shit, Rafe." A bitter laugh escaped your lips, almost like you were exhaling your pain. You turned your gaze away, shaking your head. 

"I wasn’t in a good place," he whispered. But even he knew that no excuse could erase what he’d done. He wasn’t trying to absolve himself—he couldn’t. He was just…lost. 

Your laughter cut through him, sharp and bitter. "Right. Because your mistakes were all about your ‘bad mental state.’ Not because you’re just a shitty person! Enough, Rafe! This conversation is pointless. You’ve got a new life—without me. And we’ve got ours—without you. Let it go." 

You gave him one last look, lowering the finger you’d been pointing at him. Turning on your heel, you took a step to leave. 

Panic flared in Rafe’s chest. He couldn’t let it end like this. He’d made every mistake imaginable, but he couldn’t bear to add another one to the pile. He had to try. And if it didn’t work—well, at least he tried. 

"I want to meet her." 

You stopped in your tracks. The step you were about to take hung in the air before slowly retreating. You turned to him, eyes blazing with fury. 

"Liliana—" 

"Don’t you dare!" you shouted, pointing a trembling finger at him as you stormed toward him. Rafe stayed rooted in place, letting your fury wash over him. Of course, you were angry. You had every right to be. He just wished—wished he could turn back time and fix everything. "How dare you? Do you think it’s that simple?!" 

Rafe recoiled slightly, carefully choosing his words. He didn’t want to hurt you more than he already had—or dig himself into an even deeper hole. "I don’t mean to say the wrong thing." 

"I don’t care what you mean!" you snapped, your voice cutting through him like a knife. He watched as your expression shifted, protective and fierce. "You’re not meeting her!" 

"Don’t make me use force," Rafe said, his voice trembling but firm. He regretted it instantly. He shouldn’t have said it. It wasn’t true. He’d never do that. Never. It was a fleeting moment—an impulsive lapse. He needed to think before speaking. Shit.

You flinched. Then, with a bitter laugh, you stepped closer and shoved him in the chest. Rafe let you. He shouldn’t have spoken like an idiot. He should’ve stayed calm. 

“What are you going to do? Sue me? Go ahead! Does your father even know you have a kid? Everything you’ve built—your stupid little empire—it’ll all crumble! Are you really going to do it? Because you won’t. You’re a coward, and you always have been.”

Rafe’s eyes hardened. “I will,” he said, his tone low but sharp with determination. He could. He had the power. Lawyers, connections—it was all on his side. But he couldn’t do it to you. 

You froze, staring at him in shock. 

Rafe stepped closer, taking a deep breath and holding out his hands as if trying to calm the storm. He didn’t want this to escalate, and he knew you didn’t want it either. "But I won’t do that. That’s not the point. I want to be in Liliana’s life. I’m going to tell my father.”

You watched his brows furrow as he exhaled. You were right—if he wanted to be a father, his family needed to know. And if you allowed it, they had a right to be informed. But even if you didn’t allow it, he’d still tell them. They wouldn’t take it well. He couldn’t predict what would happen, but he was done hiding. He was done being a coward. 

“What?” you asked, disbelief and frustration tightening your voice.

“I’m going to tell them. No matter what.” He took a deep breath, his voice softening. It was almost as if the confident man standing before everyone else had deflated before you. He could barely hold your gaze. He knew he didn’t deserve you.

“You’re lying,” you said, stepping back. Your voice carried not just doubt but a deep-rooted unwillingness to believe him. You didn’t want to.

“I swear I’m not.” Rafe lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours with a certainty that startled you. He would do it. In fact, he should have done it from the beginning, back when you told him you were pregnant. He was already too late.

You didn’t want to believe him. But the resolve in his eyes—he’d never looked more sincere. 

Rafe drew in a deep breath and spoke, his gaze never wavering from yours. “I want them to know. Everything. I—” His voice cracked, but he pressed on. “I’m not making any more mistakes. I can’t afford to.”

Your brows knit together, your face hardening. You took a long, deliberate breath, though it was clear you were barely keeping your emotions in check. “Rafe, if this backfires on us—I don’t want it. I don’t want Liliana or me dragged into this mess.”

Rafe hesitated for a moment, then shook his head firmly. “It won’t. I promise.” He wouldn’t let it. Not ever. 

Your voice rose, insistent. “Rafe—”

He cut you off, stepping closer. “No. I won’t let that happen. I’m not that stupid, irresponsible kid you left behind anymore. That person...he’s gone. He’s gone for good.”

You let out a sharp breath, rolling your eyes as you shook your head. “I don’t trust you. I just—can’t.”

The guilt etched deep into Rafe’s face made him drop his gaze. He nodded silently, as if accepting it. He hated himself for this. If one of his friends had done what he had, Rafe would’ve ripped them apart for their irresponsibility, for being such a terrible person. And he knew—that’s exactly what he was. A terrible person. 

“I know. It’s going to take everything to prove myself to you, and I get that. But…”

You squinted at him, your eyes sharp and wary. “Liliana thinks her dad’s in space,” you said flatly, your voice dripping with sarcastic calm.

Rafe blinked in surprise. His eyebrows shot up, lips parting as the faintest spark of humor lit his expression. His heart raced at the absurdity of it. “What?”

“Yes,” you said, shrugging. “I told her her dad’s an astronaut. He’s so far away he can’t come see her. If you step into her life, there’s no stepping out again. If you think for one second you can’t handle this, don’t even bother starting.”

Your voice was firm, your gaze sharp as steel. “And—I need time to think.”

Rafe nodded but never took his eyes off you. “I’m not going anywhere. I won’t leave her again. No matter what, I won’t lose Liliana. I swear it.”

For a moment, silence hung between you. His seriousness, his unyielding resolve—it threw you off balance. You studied him with narrowed eyes, his words echoing in your mind. They made you uneasy. You hated feeling this way. 

“Fine. I’ll think about it,” you said at last, your voice tempered, the anger giving way to a measured determination.

Rafe exhaled deeply, relief softening his expression. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice quiet.

You lifted your chin, your eyes cold as ever. “I’m not doing this for you.”

This wasn’t a decision you could make on your own. It never had been, and it never could be.

When you returned home with Liliana, you had every intention of explaining everything to JJ. But as soon as you walked through the door, Liliana insisted on playing a game with JJ. Knowing you couldn’t discuss something this heavy in her presence, you simply went along with it. But JJ was no fool. He had picked up on something being off.

He’d been tense since you’d seen him that morning. While playing with Liliana, he would steal glances at you, checking on you like he was trying to piece together a puzzle. 

You had no idea what was bothering him, but that nagging weight in your chest wouldn’t go away. You wanted to just tell him and be done with it. You couldn’t handle this alone—especially not when you and JJ shared a home and were raising a child together.

This wasn’t just your decision to make. No, it would affect JJ too. Practically speaking, the two of you were living together. Sure, JJ had his own place, but he barely used it. He’d take Liliana to school sometimes, decide what she’d eat, and even join you for her daycare events. 

Whatever you did for Liliana, JJ did as well. He cared for her as much as you did. At night, he’d kiss her goodnight just as you would. The choice ahead of you wouldn’t just impact your life or Liliana’s—it would alter JJ’s too.

You had to talk to him. You needed to unload this unease and find some relief.

When Liliana and JJ finished playing, your eyes immediately sought his. He was already looking at you. When you held his gaze for a second too long, JJ quickly turned back to Liliana. “Go on, give Mommy a kiss, then you can go upstairs and play with your dolls.” He planted a kiss on her hair and stood up.

Your attention shifted to Liliana as she waddled over to you. “Want some coffee?” JJ asked just as Liliana climbed onto the couch and wrapped her tiny arms around your neck.

“Yes, please,” you replied as her kisses landed on your cheeks. Smiling, you kissed her back. “Now I’m going to play with my dolls. I love you, Mommy,” she chirped, pulling away.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” you said, watching as she clambered down and carefully made her way upstairs. Your eyes lingered on her until she disappeared at the top of the stairs.

JJ headed to the kitchen, and you felt the weight of your discomfort pressing down on you. You knew he’d bring you coffee, just like always, but this time, sitting in silence and ignoring the elephant in the room wasn’t an option. You had to talk. The life you shared, the responsibilities you both carried—everything had been thrown off balance by Rafe’s unexpected move. And you needed to know where JJ stood on all of it.

When JJ returned with two cups of coffee, the exhaustion etched on his face hit you immediately. He set your cup in front of you and sank into the opposite chair, staring down at his coffee in silence. You recognized this—the way JJ withdrew when something weighed heavily on him. You’d seen it many times before.

“JJ,” you said, not bothering to hide the determination in your voice. He hesitated for a moment before finally lifting his gaze to meet yours. The calm you were used to seeing in his eyes had been replaced by something much harder to read.

“Something happened,” you said, noticing the way his brows instantly furrowed.

“I know,” he murmured, his voice steady but tinged with something fragile. “I’ve been waiting for you to say it. Go ahead.”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm within you. “Rafe,” you said, hoping that single word would convey everything.

JJ’s expression hardened instantly. He straightened in his seat, his protective instincts kicking in. “What happened?” 

Your hands tightened around your coffee cup as you steadied yourself. “He… he wants to be in Liliana’s life,” you said, the words feeling heavy as they left your mouth. “He told me as much. And it doesn’t feel like something I can decide on my own. It’s not just my decision to make.” You trailed off, watching JJ’s face shift—from shock to anger and finally to a resigned sort of disbelief.

JJ’s gaze dropped to the floor. His hands remained on the cup, his fingers whitening with the grip, but his eyes stayed fixed on the ground. You wanted so badly to read his thoughts, but he gave nothing away. He just sat there, silent. And that silence unnerved you more than any outburst ever could.

It was driving you mad. You waited for him to speak—to say yes, no, anything. When it came to Liliana, your emotions were always raw, and thinking clearly was difficult. You needed JJ to ground you. “Say something,” you whispered, your voice betraying the helplessness you felt.

“Are you meeting him?” JJ finally asked, his voice barely audible. The room felt eerily quiet, the kind of silence that pressed down on your chest. You noticed his knuckles whitening further as he clutched his cup, his gaze still glued to the floor.

You shook your head quickly. “No. He came to me. I didn’t go to him. I didn’t call him—he found me. I would never willingly see him.” You paused, your voice trembling. “He… he saw us a few days ago. And today, when I went to pick up Liliana, he was at the gas station.” You swallowed hard, bracing for JJ’s reaction. You wanted him to lash out—to yell, to be angry at someone—but he didn’t. He just sat there.

“You’re her mother,” he said at last, his words cutting like a blade. His tone wasn’t comforting—it was almost dismissive. You’d hoped for guidance, for support, but his response left you feeling more alone.

“JJ—” you began, but he cut you off sharply. His gaze never lifted as he leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of his coffee. His reactions were impossible to decipher.

“This is your choice.”

“You know it’s not that simple,” you countered, your heart pounding as you leaned forward, trying to draw his attention. You needed him to look at you, to see you, but he remained where he was, unmoving.

“Alright, suit yourself.” JJ’s voice was flat, his tone monoton once again. You could feel your frustration rising, but you knew it stemmed from sadness. 

“Wait,” you said, your voice trembling. You couldn’t make this decision alone. 

“No, this is your choice.” JJ took a sip from his coffee. You had no idea how to change his mind. He kept throwing out these ridiculous comments and expected you to agree. And—it wasn’t like him at all. He spoke as if—as if he’d never been part of Liliana’s life. As if he hadn’t been there raising her alongside you.

“JJ—”

“Maybe you should move in together. You, Liliana, and Rafe. Picture-perfect family, what do you think?” His lips curled into a sarcastic smirk, and your jaw dropped. That bitter smile on his face made you feel utterly defeated. Did he even realize how ridiculous he sounded? These weren’t your words at all.

“Maybe you’ll rekindle your great love, hmm? Have another kid—” You couldn’t take it anymore. Did he not know you at all? Hadn’t he seen everything you’d been through? How could he talk like this?

Besides—you had come to him for advice. To figure out what to do as a team. It’s not like you had run to JJ impulsively to say yes to Rafe’s offer. You hadn’t even accepted it!

“You know I didn’t say that!” you yelled, unable to hold back your anger any longer. The realization that Liliana was upstairs hit you hard, and you closed your eyes tightly, taking a shaky breath to calm yourself before opening them again.

“I came to you for advice,” you said, the words catching in your throat. “To tell you this isn’t a decision I can make alone. And you’re—you’re saying all this to me?” The disappointment was written all over your face. You wanted to talk this through together, not deal with it on your own.

JJ gave a hollow chuckle as he stood up. When he slammed his coffee mug onto the table, you flinched. He ran his hands through his hair, pacing. “Maybe you’ll leave Asheville, move back to the Outer Banks. Start over with Rafe.” He turned his back on you, one hand resting on his hip while the other rubbed his temple. A frustrated sigh escaped him.

His words hit you like a slap. You stood abruptly. “You’re being cruel,” you said, your voice shaking. You cursed yourself as you felt your lips begin to tremble. You hated crying.

JJ’s face hardened. The anger seemed to drain from him, replaced by that same flat tone. “It’s not my place to decide. You’re her parent.”

“Me? Just me? So you weren’t her parent when you changed her diapers, stayed up with her when she cried at night, or showed up for her daycare events? Do you not see that Liliana views you as a father figure in her life?” Your voice cracked, as shattered as your emotions. You couldn’t stand how foolish he was being—or how he was acting. He wasn’t listening to you. “Does being a family only count if there’s blood involved?”

JJ paused for a moment, then sighed deeply, shaking his head. “Rafe’s her father. If he wants to be part of her life, you should let him.”

You threw your hands up in exasperation. “Stop talking like that!” you cried, desperation creeping into your tone.

JJ turned to you sharply, frustration etched into his features. He stepped closer, pointing a finger at you. “Didn’t you ask for my opinion? I just gave it to you. But know this—if he’s in her life, he’ll be in yours too. Whether you like it or not.”

That final sentence struck a nerve, and the storm inside you intensified. Before you could respond, JJ cut you off again. “You’ll fall for him again—” His smile was bitter, filled with pain.

You couldn’t take another second of this. “Do you think I forgot what he did to me?!” you shouted, interrupting him. “He left me when I was three months pregnant! Do you think I’m stupid enough to forgive that?!”

“I didn’t say that,” JJ muttered, his voice lower, but his words cut like a blade. “But you won’t be able to control your feelings.”

“You have no idea how I feel!” you snapped, anger and heartbreak tangled together in your voice. When you noticed a faint smirk tugging at JJ’s lips, your brows furrowed.

“You’re absolutely right,” he said, his tone strangely hollow. He nodded as if conceding your point, his tongue running over his teeth. “I really don’t.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, shaken by how cold and distant he had become. His words were so cryptic, so frustratingly vague, it felt like he was mocking you.

“I don’t know. What do I mean?” he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he shook his head. You couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew something you didn’t. 

It felt like you were trapped in an endless loop. When JJ began gathering his things from the table, your heart clenched. Despite everything, you didn’t want him to leave. No matter what he said—you couldn’t bear for him to turn his back on you. This couldn’t be happening.

As your anger faded into pure worry, you watched him with rising panic. You took a step forward, but he had already packed up. No. This couldn’t be it. You couldn’t let Rafe ruin your life all over again. “Where—JJ, wait. Please.”

JJ headed for the door, and you quickly followed, grabbing his arm. When he turned to face you, your eyes brimmed with tears. You didn’t want him to leave. You didn’t want this to end in anger and heartbreak. “Please—please, don’t go. Don’t.” 

“I need some air,” he said, his voice soft but firm. His eyes locked with yours, and for a moment, his expression softened. 

“I’ll stop talking, I swear—” you rushed out, desperate to keep him from leaving. You were ready to beg if it came to that. This wasn’t worth losing him over, not something so small. It didn’t have to escalate like this. 

“I’ll come back,” he said. His tone was steady, reassuring. But you didn’t want him to go, not even for a moment. Even if it meant sitting in silence together, you needed him to stay. You weren’t used to him walking away. 

“I really will stop—” you started again, your voice trembling. Your hands briefly reached for his arm before falling back to your sides, unsure of what to do. 

JJ looked away, threading his fingers through his hair in frustration. His fingers raked through his blond strands, his face tense and brooding. His brows were furrowed, and the muscle in his jaw tightened slightly. When he finally turned back to you, his gaze was a mixture of emotions—no anger, but a deep, aching disappointment. 

“I don’t want you to stop talking,” he said, his voice lower than usual, but it carried a quiet intensity. “If I stay, we’ll just hurt each other more.” He hesitated, drawing in a long, controlled breath before stepping back further. “I just need some space to calm down. I’ll come back.” 

“I’m sorry—” you murmured, your hand instinctively reaching out to him again before stopping mid-air. You were scared to touch him, scared it might push him further away. 

“Don’t.” JJ stepped back another pace, lifting his hand slightly as if to hold you at bay. “I’m not mad at you.” His gaze met yours, and beneath the resolve in his eyes, you could see how fragile he felt, even if he didn’t want to admit it. 

“Yes, you are. You’re mad at me. I shouldn’t have brought it up,” you insisted, your voice barely above a whisper. 

JJ froze for a moment, exhaling deeply as he looked away. His hands fell to his sides, and he shook his head slowly, as if wrestling with something. “Why shouldn’t you have brought it up?” he asked, his voice rough around the edges. When his eyes met yours again, there was pain in them, not directed at you but at himself. “This has always been your choice. I only said what I did because I care about you. I’m not angry at you—how could I be? How could I ever be angry at you?” 

He paused, his gaze drifting somewhere distant. His fingers fidgeted unconsciously near the pocket of his jeans, and his lips pressed into a thin line before parting again. “I’m angry at myself,” he admitted quietly, so quietly you almost didn’t hear him. 

His words stopped you in your tracks. Looking at his face, you realized there was something he wasn’t saying, something he was holding back. But you couldn’t bring yourself to ask. Asking might shatter the fragile tension that still tethered you together. 

JJ stood motionless for a long moment, then turned and walked toward the door. He stopped just before opening it, resting his hand on the frame. His fingertips gripped the edge so tightly they turned white. Without looking back, he stepped out. The door closed with a soft but final thud, the sound echoing through the room, leaving the air heavier than before. 

[fireheartpages]

interlude | b.d

bodhi durran x reader chapter two. series masterlist summary: So, he made a plan. He would work his way into your atmosphere. Get your attention somehow, manage to win you over. He didn’t know what it was, only that his interest would only be satiated by one thing: knowing you. word count: 1.8k notes: kind of second person pov, it's mostly all bodhi's pov though. canon-typical violence. bodhi is such a sweetheart ok. this is a little brain baby because i wanted to dive a little more into his brain so i could get a good feel of where this was going! pls enjoy reading bc i really enjoyed writing it, i love a good character study and that’s well and truly what this is!

When Bodhi had seen the dragons after parapet as a first year, he had almost been apart of the group that ran.

They were menacing—terrifying, and for a brief moment, he wondered why more people didn’t have the common sense to turn around in their presence. Leave them be. Simply try something else. Like maybe something that encompassing and powerful should just be left alone.

His anxiety had eaten through every nerve ending in his body until he was barely able to stay on his feet. But he did. He stayed standing, and when Garrick leaned over and whispered to him not to move—lest he incur the wrath of such a colossal beast—he listened. He planted his feet on the ground and kept his head held high. This was his life now. This was the card he had been dealt, and deal with it he would.

It was this attitude that had gotten him bonded to his own dragon: Cuir, the massive green with a quick tail and even quicker tongue.

She was a mother hen if he’d ever met one. Half the time she was making sure Bodhi had an adequate meal and enough sleep, and the other time she was the backbone he’d grown and hardened in the quadrant.

She’d gotten him through all of the hardest things he’d done within the quadrant. His first year had been rough—not incredibly eventful by most standards, but enough to put him through the wringer.

Nothing had made him feel more inadequate than watching all of his friends develop signets while his own lie dormant. Cuir had started channeling almost immediately. Her trust in him was implicit, but he had worried it was misplaced. He worried he would just never develop one. Worried that he would just burn up and never amount to anything.

But there never seemed to be a danger of it. Never seemed to be a surge of power with the threat. He could feel it, and he could channel into lesser magics, but there was no signet. Nothing.

Everyone else in his squad had a signet. They had even been developing and training them. But not Bodhi.

It was only a few weeks before the end of the year, going on a mission for the rebellion and suffering through Xaden’s taunting when he realized his signet had developed. He just hadn’t used it yet.

Xaden had swarmed his feet with shadows, nipping at his ankles like they were viscous animals, and they all watched as the shadows seemed to burn up.

No one was more surprised than Bodhi was.

“Light?” Garrick had asked.

Xaden shook his head. “No, I—I felt that.”

Then, during War Games, he realized what it was.

Some asshole from first wing was a fire wielder, and he had it out for Marked ones. He sent a wall of fire at Bodhi, completely intent on killing him, and Bodhi had thrown his hands up. And then nothing happened. The flame sputtered out, and—oh.

A twist of his hand, and he had rendered the asshole incapable of using his own signet.

The other rider tried again, and Bodhi was intentional with it this time. He twists his hand again, imagining it was a dial on someone else’s power, and he watched as the flames seemed to retreat back into him.

Satisfaction was a tangible thing in his chest. Pride filled his bond with Cuir. There was a roar from someone behind him, and Bodhi couldn’t help but just fucking smirk at the guy.

“Nice try.”

“I’m gonna fucking kill you, Durran!”

“You’re gonna have to try a little harder than that!” Bodhi called as he mounted his green, knowing it was a taunt. He was top of his wing in sparring. He’d lost to one other person during challenges ever. In that moment, Bodhi felt unstoppable.

He suddenly became the most useful tool his squad—hell, his whole wing. Needless to say, they won War Games that year.

The Executive Officer title came as no surprise, not after the display of power he had shown in the latter half of the year. It did, however, paint a target on his back. No one liked that Marked ones were working their way up in the ranks. Him, Garrick, Xaden, they were the pentacle of everything leadership had hoped rebellion kids would never become—good at their fucking jobs.

But Bodhi had decided he refused to show them what they were looking for. Including anything less than perfect. He would be a powerful rider. He would master his signet. He would be a just officer. He would do everything he could to help with the rebellion. He would be the perfect soldier for Navarre, so they could never suspect he was an even better soldier elsewhere.

And then he watched you make a dance of the parapet.

He couldn’t resist the interest that followed, the way you captured his attention simply by being there. You were meant for a stage, not the hardened walls of Basgiath. And yet.

You were incredible. Skilled and talented. You were kind, and witty, and good gods he would give anything to be the center of your attention. You were like a drug he couldn’t get enough of.

So, he made a plan. He would work his way into your atmosphere. Get your attention somehow, manage to win you over. He didn’t know what it was, only that his interest would only be satiated by one thing: knowing you.

Step one: observe. Figure out your likes and dislikes, your habits and interests, who your friends were. Xaden’s weird interest in Violet helped, gave him an excuse. He watched you during challenges, even got the chance to spar with you. Would watch you slip those gloves on your hands every morning as you run to catch up with your squad. Watched you dominate the Gauntlet despite the odds stacked against you.

Step two: get an in. Ané was the cadet in the healer quadrant that always seemed to be stuck with him when he came in with any particularly nasty wounds. A sprained wrist, too-deep cut, and one time, even a broken rib or two he’d gotten on a very much not sanctioned flight to drop off some weapons over the border. That was all his fault, but it was hard to explain away when no one had observed it. But Ané was kind, like you, and when he explained what he’d seen of your hands, Ané seemed to know what it was. And have a solution.

Step three: delivery. It had taken Ané minutes to make a balm for you, and he kept it on him until the next time he saw you. He had felt like he was ambushing you, jogging up to you in the courtyard as you headed back from the infirmary, but he was excited. To say the least. Not being able to do so had never crossed his mind, so when you’d nearly rejected it, he had almost crumbled right then and there. But then you’d taken it from him, and gods, the look on your face—he wanted to bottle the feeling in his chest, the light in your eyes. And when you’d told him about home? Trusted him with little pieces of yourself—the cold you hated, your mom’s role in the damn rebellion, how you’d ended up in the quadrant. The high he felt was better than winning War Games.

Step four: make you like him. You were a hard shell to crack, but he was working on it. He was doing his damndest. He would give you as many little pieces of himself as he could. Find you during Threshing and talk down your anxiety. If you could admit your history to him, he could tell you a little about his. You weren’t Marked physically, but from the burden you carried, you were marked in another way. On your soul.

Step five: make you fall for him. Not that he’d fallen for you. He wasn’t, like, in love with you or anything. He just—liked you. Yeah. Really, really liked you. Cuir thought he was full of shit, but she didn’t know everything. (Even though she reminded him many times that she, indeed, did.) And the more he got to know you, the more he liked. He would teach you how to spar, and make you give him something in return. He didn’t care about flying like you. In fact, you were terrifying in the air. Said you weren’t meant to be a rider and yet you rode like you were born for it. He just wanted to spend time for you. And if he got to touch you while you sparred? In the most innocent way, of course. No funny business. Unless you have the green light, then—

Then you started pulling away.

He missed seeing you for days at a time, sometimes an entire week. He felt it like a phantom limb.

It had only then occurred to him then just how thoroughly you had encompassed every part of him. Just how easily he had gotten you mixed into every aspect of his day. How much he looked forward to seeing you until he was deprived of you. Until he didn’t have access to your wit and your laugh anymore.

Seeing you on the flight field had been nothing less than a shock. He had recognized Shocair before she had even seen them. He was still thinking of the most recent drop when their little group had stumbled across her.

And somehow, deep in his gut, he knew. He knew that if you discovered them, found out what they were doing, that they were working with the resistance… You wouldn’t say a word. In fact, he knew you would jump to help.

Those thoughts had sprung forward without him realizing, and it was like they were caressed, cupped in his head and—it was a weird feeling. Almost like someone ran a hand through the pond that was his mind. Not unlike the one he got around Xaden sometimes. The one that flared something in his channel.

And then Shocair’s wing lifted and you stepped out and Bodhi’s heart about stopped beating. You looked run through. Tired. Still beautiful. Beaten down.

Xaden had gone on offensive, but you handled it with ease. With the support of Shocair, of course. When you said you slept on the flight field, it was like his world had stopped spinning.

Something was wrong, something was deeply, deeply wrong. He would have done anything to fix it.

But you kept icing him out. And it hurt like hell.

He wasn’t going to push, but damn him if he wanted to. There was a moment there where he thought he might have cracked you. But he wasn’t a fire wielder, so he couldn’t melt your ice, and he wasn’t an inntinnsic, so he couldn’t figure it out for himself.

So he walked away. And he felt like a damned coward for it.

[inchidentally]

this is such a sweet quote and Lando's said exactly the same as well <3<3

but askfgsalfg why is this proving what I've kinda been suspecting and Zak doesn't rly fit in with landoscar and has largely not had as much to do w the driver partnership as he used to

we already knew from Andrea that Lando and Oscar do their own little separate debriefs and they were so excited about getting their own door separating them from everyone where it used to be in a shared hallway (including Zak)

but the golf, the dinners and the marketing stuff is all referring to Carlos' and Daniel's eras. Oscar couldn't even be bribed to play golf, is literally famous for not wanting to do marketing/contrived PR content and not being good at it, and the only "dinner" situation after Hungary was Lando and Oscar eating fast food with other drivers and then playing board games with Alex on the flight home ?? we also know that these debrief dinners don't happen otherwise bc Oscar usually goes home to sleep or out with Lily and Lando goes out being a very single guy or gaming w Max and BanKai etc. that post race debrief finishes and those two peace OUT. and tbh the amount that they've chosen to fly together to and from things now Oscar lives in Monaco, they've taken even more of that debriefing into their own hands!

like I just get the vibe that Zak doesn't rly have the boys club anymore and Andrea being Dad to his two kids is how things are rly being managed. even down to him sometimes wanting to be the bad guy that the two kids bond over hating sometimes even tho they love Dad really. that's just not a dynamic I see Zak fitting into. (and ngl probably some of the Daniel era in particular those tensions needed to be managed between him and Zak but aaaaaanyway)

I say this as someone who fully expects Lando and Oscar to have normal teammate fights at some point where there's the strong words to the media and angry radios etc etc - the fact that they decided so early on in their relationship to do a teammate version of 'private but not secret' couple thing of keeping fans and media out of their business, both good and bad, means they're absolutely discussing and strategizing about this (bc especially after alpinegate and taking Daniel's seat, it would've been very handy and easy for them to go a bromance angle!). which as a charlos veteran and also someone who knew the Max and Lando fight would blow over faster than anyone thought it would, I'm never going to be fazed by a fight between Lando and Oscar - but I'm also just not sold on it ever getting as out of control as so many people want/expect it to. and I feel that way partly at least bc I think there's been sort of a gen z gender neutralling happened to McLaren bc of this partnership (not as much of the usual of masculine/boys being boys energy*)

but also bc there's only one big personality/celebrity instead of two. off the track, Lando and Oscar perfectly compliment each other's personalities including how their friendship is a quiet thing rather than a big media-beloved bromance so they don't have the burden of managing fan expectations and reactions about it. you can kind of parallel it with the Lando and Max fight last season bc those two are genuinely involved in each other's lives as friends and spend the most time with each other than any other driver, including Lando being a regular fixture in Max's little family - but Max doesn't do PR at all so a lot of people still don't know how close they are. so the assumption was that their fight was this massive thing and the end of their relationship but a lot of us were like pfffff this'll blow over and Penelope's uncle will be back before she could even notice.

in the same way, Lando and Oscar doing all their bonding time out of the public eye and being the only two people who truly know how they feel about each other at any time means they are the only authority anyone should listen to! when they say 'fight over' they mean fight over! when they giggle and laugh waiting for a plane together after Monza or smile in relief at each other immediately after getting out of the cars in Hungary, then that's the truth! they're choosing not to let fans and the media in on this so that fans or the media can't feel they know better and contradict them!

and that's where I think Zak is more on the outside of things too. when even Andrea is like yea these boys are talking about things before speaking to their own teams then it feels like that's a real shift away from the explosive teammate dynamics everyone keeps referring to.

*which I'm not saying is inherently bad or toxic! esp since the dynamic of it with Lando and Carlos and Daniel was of scrungly little brother and adoring loud big brother <3

[rhiannonsknife]

okay, i don't wanna give spoilers, since you said you hadn't finished it, so.. first episode feels safe ??

fucking your cousin's is normal. it's a vault, there's limited selection. nobody blames you. but fucking your best friend.. well, that's a little much for lucy. not because your a girl. no, that's not- that has nothing to do with it, she promises. she just doesn't want to change your bond, that's all.

or super convoluted way to say lucy has a crush on you and refuses to admit it. mayb ?? idk if this makes sense sorry

also first ask i've sent that's not just conversation, so.. should probably put a name to my claim.

- 🦴 ( if possible </3 )

── KISS ME ONCE, THEN KISS ME TWICE, THEN KISS ME ONCE AGAIN

— summary: you and lucy decide to ‘practice’.

— warnings: friends to lovers. mostly fluff with some nsfw-ish content. so mdni.

the hum of the vault’s fluorescent lights buzzes overhead, the sound so constant it’s easy to forget it’s there at all until everything else is silent.

you and lucy are sprawled on the bed in her quarters, your shoulders pressed together as you share the same faded book, its pages worn from years of careful reading. the vault’s limited library doesn’t get restocked, after all.

“you ever think about what’s out there?” you ask suddenly.

lucy doesn’t look up from the pages, though her grip tightens slightly, the paper under her thumb crumbling. “not really,” she lies.

“come on!” you press, nudging her with your elbow. “you’ve never wondered what it’s like? the open sky, fresh air…”

at that, she snorts. “fresh air? you know the stories! it’s nothing but radiation and monsters out there!” lucy flips the page, her eyes fixed on the paragraph in front of her.

you roll onto your side, propping yourself up on your elbow to look at her. “you don’t think everyone out there is bad. you’re too nice for that!”

she finally glances at you, her lips quirking into a small smile. “you think i’m nice?”

“well, of course,” you say, your tone teasing. “i mean, you could just tell me to shut it and read the book, but here we are!”

lucy laughs, a quiet, breathy sound, and looks back down at the book. she doesn’t turn the page.

“okay, maybe i do think about it,” she admits after a moment.

it reminds you of childhood. of sitting in the quiet dark of the quarters, exchanging hushed secrets in the comfort of her presence.

“but not the way you do! you’ve got this whole…” she gestures vaguely, her eyes flicking back to yours. “…adventure thing in your head. like the outside world’s just waiting for you to show up and save it single-handed!”

“and you don’t?”

“nope.” she smiles. “i mean- eventually. once it is safe for all of us to return back. maybe our children will?” she clears her throat and nudges you with her shoulder. “anyway, why would i want to leave when I’ve got you around to drive me crazy?”

you grin, making a point of ignoring the way her words make your heart flutter. “lucky, lucky you!”

“don’t i know it?” she says, rolling her eyes, but her smile lingers, softer now.

the silence settles again, this time heavier with the book no longer her only focus. you don’t notice but lucy’s eyes keep darting your way, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the paper.

she’s fighting a battle in her head. one she’s been losing for weeks, maybe months.

lucy’s been told, more than once and by multiple sources, that making out with your cousin, for example, is normal. perhaps expected, even, just to have some sort experience secured.

but wanting you? her best friend ever since she can remember? that’s something different. something that makes her palms sweat and her stomach twist in ways she can’t explain whenever she tries to picture it.

“hey,” you say suddenly, pulling her out of her spiral. “are you okay?”

“yeah,” she says quickly, her voice too bright. “why wouldn’t i be?”

“you’re fidgeting,” you point out, reaching to still her hand.

the touch is light, casual even. something you’ve done a hundred times before. but it feels different now, with pictures of your lips on hers flashing through her mind. lucy knows it’s not your fault. it’s hers. it’s always hers.

“i’m fine,” she insists, pulling her hand away and crossing her arms. “just…tired, i suppose,”

you don’t look convinced, but you let it go, lying back down and turning your attention to the book. lucy stays sitting up, her eyes on you instead of the page.

she shifts awkwardly, trying not to fidget again. you've started having that effect on her, and it's driving her crazy.

“you know,” you say suddenly as if you'd been reading her mind. “people in the vault are always talking about how it's normal to…y'know, experiment?”

lucy's head jerks toward you so quickly it's a miracle she doesn't pull a muscle.

“experiment?”

“yeah," you hum. “like...with other people…everyone says it's no big deal. ‘limited options,' and all that!”

she swallows hard, her palms suddenly clammy again. “uh...sure,” she says, trying to sound disinterested. “i mean, that's just how it is, right? have to keep the gene pool going or whatever,”

now it’s your turn to snort. “i'm not talking about marriage and babies, lucy. i mean..." you trail off. “practice.”

“practice?” she echoes, her voice an octave too high, the words catching in her throat.

“for when we do get married someday,” you clarify, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. there's a pause before you quickly add: “not to each other, obviously,”

lucy feels like her brain is short-circuiting all over again. you can't just say things like that and expect her to function like a normal person. “right….gee, of course not to each other!” she parrots.

you sit up fully now, visibly excited. “but think about it! vault life does mean limited options, right? most people are already making out with their cousins to 'prepare for marriage!” you pull a face, the very idea making you wrinkle your nose in distaste.. “at least this way, we're...helping each other out. as friends!” “as friends,” lucy repeats, as if saying it out loud will make it true. “you…you’re serious?” her voice wavers, and it’s humiliating. god, why couldn’t she just sound normal?

“why not?” you shrug. “it's not like it has to mean anything!”

she wants to tell you it already does. that it's meant something to her for as long as she can remember. that it could never not, when it’s with you.

but instead, she stammers, “i- i don't think-“

“oh, come on!” you tease, your grin widening. “what? are you scared?”

that does it. lucy always had a stubborn streak, and you’ve learned exactly how to poke it.

“i'm not scared,” she insists, sitting up straighter.

“then prove it!”

lucy freezes. the air between you charged with something she doesn’t quite know how to name. every ounce of logic in her brain is screaming bad idea, but it’s drowned out by the overwhelming desire to close the space between you. just this once. ust for the sake of practice.

“this is...for practice,” she says finally, the words shaky, as if she’s reminding herself more than you.

“exactly.” your voice is soft now, steady. reassuring.

she hesitates for a heartbeat longer, her eyes searching yours for any sign that this is some cruel joke, a trap, a mistake. but all she sees is you: familiar and warm and impossibly close. before she can talk herself out of it, lucy leans in.

the kiss is tentative at first, her lips brushing yours with a softness that surprises even her. it’s careful, until you don’t pull away. when you lean into her instead, it deepens. the warmth of your mouth sends a jolt through her entire body, a shiver that starts at the base of her spine and works its way up.

her hands hover uncertainly in the air before finding your shoulders and holding on for dear life. lucy senses you smiling against her lips, and feeling the curve of your mouth against her own sends her poor heart stumbling in her chest. stumbling, then falling. falling deeper than it ever has before.

your lips taste like the chapstick she applied on them earlier, reasoning that they’d been looking a little too dry when -in reality- all she wanted was an excuse to get to see you from up close.

now, that same gloss smears against lucy’s own, leaving the faint taste of cherry in her mouth. she wants to taste of cherry everywhere, overcome with an unexplainable urge to drown in the flavor altogether: a sweet trail drawn slowly along the zipper of her vault jumpsuit. perhaps even lower, after, so that when you’ll come back up to lucy’s mouth, you’ll taste of her instead of cherries and she’ll get a taste of that, too.

when you are the one to pull back first, heat rushes to her cheeks. you're both breathing a little harder, the space between you buzzing with something electric.

“well,” you begin, your tongue darting out to wet those lips. lucy finds herself watching, mesmerized. “that wasn't so bad, was it?”

her heart is pounding so loudly she's sure you can hear it from where you’re sitting. “uh...no. not bad!”

you grin, leaning back on your hands like nothing monumental just happened.

“we're definitely ready for marriage now,” you conclude, teasing.

later that night, after she’s made sure that the doors to her room are locked, lucy slumps down into the comfort of her bed.

her pillow is still crumpled where you sat earlier.

when lucy presses it between her legs, her face in the bedsheets to stifle her sighs, she smells cherries.

the door to lucy’s quarters hisses shut behind you.

lucy stumbles backward, her lips already pressed to yours, her hands fumbling against the curve of your waist to steady herself. the room feels smaller than usual, the bed barely a few feet away.

“just…practice…” she murmurs between kisses, her voice breathless and a little shaky.

“exactly,” you whisper back, your lips brushing hers again before moving to her jaw.

lucy hums in agreement, though the way her hands tighten on your waist as your lips find her neck suggests she’s not really thinking about marriage prep, potential husbands, or the repopulation anymore.

after that first kiss, something shifted between you. something neither of you could explain but could not resist either. what once was supposed to be casual, a vault-sanctioned form of bonding, a way to keep things ‘normal’ in an environment that was anything but had turned into something way more the moment your lips touched hers that night in her quarters. ‘normal’ went out the window then.

it’s become a familiar pattern over the last few weeks: a fleeting glance across the cafeteria, a brush of hands in the halls, a whispered promise to meet later when no one’s around.

not that you ever talked about it. with all the rules in vault 33, the unspoken one between you both was the most important of all: keep it light, keep it safe. you never pushed further than kisses, never ventured beyond the safety of your blue and yellow vault suits. anything else would be too much, too real.

still, it didn’t matter how many rules you set for yourselves; staying away wasn’t an option. not anymore.

lucy’s back hits the edge of the bed, and she lets out a quiet laugh, her cheeks flushed. “we’re getting really good at this,” she teases.

you grin, leaning down to press another kiss to her lips. “we’re dedicated to the craft,”

her laugh softens into a sigh as you pull back slightly and she can’t chase your mouth with hers, your foreheads touching.

“this isn’t weird, right?” she asks suddenly, her voice quieter now.

you tilt your head, brushing your nose against hers and drawing another chuckle from her. “weird?”

“yeah.” lucy swallows. “i mean, we’re best friends. and we’re…”

“practicing,” you finish for her.

“right,” she nods quickly. “practicing!”

you don’t say what you’re both thinking: that this doesn’t feel like what it was supposed to be. that it never did, to begin with.

instead, you kiss her again, slow and deliberate, letting the moment stretch. lucy’s hands finally settle on your waist, pulling you closer as her nerves melt away.

all these weeks of making out under the disguise of practicing for a hypothetical marriage neither of you had ever shown any interest in had been good already. great, even. better than anything else you’ve ever known. which truthfully isn’t that much, but it still counts for something that you’re more than willing for lucy to be your first.

the only inconvenience to your little escapades would come later, after sneaking out of her room: the shameful feeling of your arousal, a stubborn reminder that you could not truly be casual about any of this.

still, leaving lucy’s quarters with your wetness pooling between your legs uncomfortably would always be worth having the little of her that you'd been granted.

perhaps one day, it would actually feel like enough. until then, you'll continue with the familiar pattern you've both fallen into. you'll let her touch you through the way too restrictive fabric and say a little prayer that, one of these days, she will go straight for the zipper instead.

[starstruckgoateepuppy]

the cut that always bleeds

park jihyo x f!reader

synopsis: jihyo has been grieving over the loss of her sister, as much as you try and help her move on she seems to get more agitated and bitter which causes the biggest argument of your relationship.

warnings: drinking, kinda toxic jihyo, death and anything else i didn’t say

wc: 1.8k (its short im sorry)

a/n’s note: oh my god its been so so so long 🥲🥲 thank you @cry4mina for encouraging me and giving me ideas your soooooo nice and sweet for reaching out to me ☹️🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷x infinity

You and Jihyo have never had many arguments—mostly just bickering. This is largely because you both are understanding and mature with each other. The few disagreements between you aren't serious, and you typically make up quickly. You love Jihyo, and everyone close to you knows it. No one would have thought things would turn out like this.

-

day one

It was just your typical morning routine with Jihyo, and you nevertheless cherished every moment of it. You lived in an average-sized apartment with her, and both of you were very satisfied and content with your living arrangements.

You had been married to her for quite a while, and it was quite obvious that would not change anytime soon.

While at the table, having your hands on the delicious avocado toast that was made by Jihyo, there was suddenly a tense moment as she picked up her phone and answered the call that had been made while she was in the midst of brewing coffee. She was in such distress that you could tell something was very wrong. After a few minutes of giving her time, she put the phone down and mumbled, "My sister... she's not here anymore... she's dead." You looked at her face, her eyes glistening in the light as tears filled her eyes. You just hugged her as she sobbed into your shoulder.

You held each other for what felt like twenty minutes before gently guiding her to sit down. You assured her that everything would be okay and that her sister was in a better place now. Through her tears, she spoke about their close childhood bond and her deep regret about not interacting during the holidays. from the little times you met her sister, it was clear that she was really a nice and kind woman, it also pained you seeing how wretched she was processing all this.

you called out from work and took the next 2 weeks of just to help jihyo and her family out.

-

day 7

it has been a week since the death of your sister in law, who is now 6 feet buried underground. jihyo still hasn’t taken in the fact that she would never be able to see her sister again.

-

day 90

3 months has passed since the tragic loss of jihyos childhood best friend. to say jihyo was still taking it hard was an understatement. jihyo hasn’t been able to do much other then work and go on her phone reminiscing the memories of her sister. every chance you get, you try and get her to go out and spend some time together but she always seems like she’s out of it. as much as you try to help, she pushes it away and ignores it.

-

day 365+

it has been a year since the death of the park sister and jihyo has still yet to move on. although you still insist in trying to help her deal with her feelings and emotions, she becomes more insistent about being able to deal with herself. and you really can’t lie about how aggressive she has been lately and how much it has been frustrating you. you really just care for her and want to know if shes okay, but how could you if shes trying to push you away? you’re her wife and you feel like you should be responsible for her and her emotional needs. now she’s making you feel like you haven’t been caring and doing your responsibilities as a wife.

all of this causes a big change in her attitude towards you. her being more agitated and angry made you feel like you shouldn’t be talking to her as much anymore than you should. it gets to the point that you try to start avoiding her, worried about making her angry.

-

The clock was hitting 1 in the morning and you still weren’t home. The door clicked open, slowly creaking wider. She saw your familiar shoes and flowy silky black hair tip inside the door. The lights were turned off, just her sitting on the sofa staring at the television in front of her. You slipped off your shoes, placing your sweater on the door. you slightly jumped when you saw her figure get up from the sofa walking towards you.

“hyo? baby why are you awake?”

“don’t even think about talking to me in that sweet tone. what have you been doing at this hour? there cannot be an excuse reasonable enough for this!”

“jihyo you know i would never do such a thing! what kind of person do you take me for? its like you dont even know me anymore. you never try to even bring up a conversation with me!” you fired back at her. She was mainly the dominant one in the relationship. You never made statements like this. “i have been through so much this year and you still treat me like this like its nothing!” its like she was made to make people feel in the wrong, like she purposely wanted to make you feel terrible, like how she has been how the pass few months, and you don’t want to deal with it anymore. You didn’t want to feel like that anymore, you wanted to tell her the truth. “I have been doing my best to help you cope and deal with your grief for months and all you have been doing is pushing me away! how do you think i feel jihyo? i have feelings too! i also am devastated that my sister in law passed away! i also had connections with her but i had to care for you too!”

she stays silent for a little while, taken aback by your words. you thought it was done, maybe she started to understand that what she did was wro- “excuse me? are you trying to tell me that me grieving over my dead fucking sister is crazy? i spent my entire childhood with her, you don’t get it! i am her sister, you are her sister in law. its very different from what i know, or what? are you gonna tell me what i know is wrong too? i am never right to you, is that right?” you were left speechless, unable to process what you had just heard. “no way you just had the nerve to tell me that..” she just raised her eyebrow as you both stood there. you decided that you didn’t want to hear her voice anymore so you took your coat, packed up and left, ignoring whatever protests she was doing.

you got in you car, rethinking everything she had done and how much she neglected you. all the effort to make her feel better, all of that pushed down the drain so easily. all of that and she still called you the problem. you didn’t even know what to do and where to go. your mind was still trying to process everything that had happened in the past 15 minutes.

meanwhile, you could say that jihyo was astonished. she never knew you would go this far and leave the apartment, but she definitely knew that she did something terribly wrong. she was probably sitting on the couch, head in her hands in the most distress she has ever been. obviously she still loved you, but the loss of her sister took a toll on her and she started losing her mind not being able to deal with the pain and grief. she was starting to realise how much she messed up and had a pang of guilt hit her. she called and texted you, pleading that you would give her another chance, that she wouldn’t push you away from helping her. whatever she did you just didn’t answer, she was without a doubt starting to get worried.

it has been hours since you left the house and you genuinely didn’t even know where you were anymore. all you knew was that you weren’t ready to go back to where jihyo was. you were afraid that some unintentional words might slip out which would cause an even deeper misunderstanding with her. you hesitated checking your phone, aware that there would be tons and tons of messages and missed call notifications from her who is named as “my loml 🧡”. you needed a place to stay for the meantime, but you didn’t want to stay at her members place.

if you went to a members house they would probably question you (which isn't unreasonable at all because who the hell shows up uninvited at nearly 3 in the morning?) unfortunately you didn’t want to deal with that with how dazed you were. you knew they would very surely take you in without any protests, you just hated the fact that you would have to explain everything and make even more conflicts and problems.

after the hours of driving and reflecting on your situation. your last hope was to sleep in the backseat of your car. fortunately you had some blankets to keep yourself warm. sleeping in the backseat of your car in the parking lot of your apartment complex, something you never thought you would have to do one day.

-

at 6am

3 hours of minimal sleep, you drove to the nearest convenience store and got yourself some coffee to keep your mind running while on the verge of breaking down again. you didn’t get yourself any food, you doubt you were gonna eat it anyway and it would go to some pigeons in a park or something. you were trying so hard to prevent yourself from having to return back to your house.

you genuinely wish it could start over. things shouldn’t have been like this. there was no one to blame. no one should be forced to get over it.

-

it hits you. your facing what she faced. your sitting at a graveyard, in front of a tombstone.

there it marks the words.

“here is the forever home of

Park Jihyo“

you cry again and again, begging her to please just come back.

why did it have to end like this? you hated it, you wish you had never left the house. she wouldn’t have to go looking for you. then she wouldn’t have gotten into the car crash.

this whole thing could’ve been avoided. if you just continued giving her the time and she would’ve just allowed you to help her.

you wanted to blame the stupid drunk driver. but who are you to blame when she was driving to look for you? you made her worried? driving all around all alone. you thought losing a sister in law was one of the worst experiences. your sister in law will never know she was a reason her sister died just a year later.

[shiorihyugawrites]

The Devil's Bride

Aurora Jaeger, Eren's long-lost childhood friend, was taken from him when they were children. After years of suffering under Marleyan control, Aurora is reunited with Eren while he’s undercover in Marley, igniting a bond neither of them expected. Despite her gentle nature, Aurora breaks her vow of pacifism to save Eren’s life, solidifying their deep connection. Secretly married before the Raid on Liberio, Aurora is swept into Eren's world of chaos and destruction. As the Scouts learn of her existence, tensions rise on the airship home. Mikasa’s heart shatters, and Levi demands answers. And Eren will stop at nothing to protect the only light left in his dark world—his bride, Aurora.

In this journey of love, loyalty, and war, Aurora must reconcile her innocent heart with the brutal reality of the man she loves, while Eren faces the truth of what he’s become. (Eren x OC)

Chapter Thirty Four

Floch stood outside the closed door, his ear pressed close enough to catch every word of Eren and Aurora’s conversation. His face twisted in displeasure as he listened to the emotional exchange. Aurora was crying, pleading, and what did Eren do? Comfort her. Forgive her. Let her off with nothing more than a scolding. Floch’s jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

Two months. She had lied to Eren, to all of them, for two whole months about something so critical it could have endangered the entire operation. If Porco had attacked the compound, if the Queen had been harmed—Floch didn’t even want to imagine the chaos that would have unfolded. And yet, here was Eren, brushing it all aside because it was Aurora. His precious wife who, in Floch’s eyes, could do no wrong.

Floch rolled his eyes, his disdain growing as he recalled Aurora’s earlier hysteria about a "ghost." He thought it was nothing more than a convenient ploy to make herself appear vulnerable and sympathetic, diverting Eren’s attention from her wrongdoing. And of course, it worked. Eren, blinded by love, fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

"Ridiculous," Floch muttered under his breath.

His thoughts turned darker as he considered what Aurora’s presence had done to Eren. The once single-minded soldier, determined to secure Paradis’s future at any cost, was now "playing house," coddling his pregnant wife when he should be focused on the mission. Floch’s lip curled at the thought. It wasn’t just Eren either—now even Queen Historia was entangled in some idiotic romantic drama with the Jaw Titan.

“We’re fighting for our survival,” Floch thought bitterly. “And they’re losing themselves in love stories.”

He could feel his frustration boiling over, but he knew better than to voice it. Eren wouldn’t listen. His judgment was compromised. Floch sighed through his nose, straightened his posture, and cleared his throat sharply.

Knocking on the door, he waited a beat before pushing it open. He found Eren sitting on the edge of the bed next to Aurora, his hand still resting protectively over her baby bump. Aurora’s tear-streaked face turned toward Floch, but he ignored her entirely, his gaze fixed on Eren.

“Eren,” Floch said crisply, his tone tinged with impatience. “The scouts are waiting. Captain Levi is ready to begin Galliard’s interrogation.”

Eren’s jaw tightened slightly, his expression unreadable as he looked at Floch. Without a word, he rose from the bed, straightening his posture as his piercing green eyes locked onto Floch.

“I’ll be there,” Eren said firmly, his voice low but commanding.

Floch gave a curt nod but couldn’t resist letting his gaze flicker toward Aurora one last time. He didn’t trust her—not now, not ever. She was a distraction, dangerous, a liability, and he feared what further damage her presence might cause.

Eren caught the subtle shift in Floch’s expression, his brow furrowing slightly, but he chose not to address it. Turning back to Aurora, his expression softened, and he cupped her face gently.

“I’ll be back soon,” he said, his tone softening for her.

Aurora nodded, her eyes still glossy from their earlier conversation. “Okay,” she whispered.

Eren stepped past Floch, his demeanor sharpening as he left the room. Floch trailed after him, his own thoughts still simmering with resentment.

As they headed toward the basement where Levi and the scouts awaited, Floch dared to speak up. “You’re being too soft on her,” he said quietly, his tone just barely masking his disapproval.

Eren stopped mid-step and turned, his expression so cold it made Floch’s words catch in his throat.

“Watch your mouth,” Eren warned, his voice sharp and cutting. “That’s my wife you’re talking about.”

Floch swallowed hard but didn’t reply, his frustration bubbling just below the surface as he followed Eren the rest of the way in silence.

But Eren’s irritation simmered beneath his calm exterior as he walked alongside Floch toward the basement. His annoyance wasn’t new—Floch had a knack for getting under his skin—but the audacity to involve Aurora in his petty critiques was the last straw. It was one thing for Floch to be insubordinate or to question orders, but dragging Aurora into it? That was a line Eren wouldn’t tolerate being crossed.

Truth be told, Floch’s attitude grated on him. Ever since Floch had taken it upon himself to hunt down Levi and Mikasa without permission, Eren had found it increasingly difficult to even look at the man. Floch’s actions were reckless, and his blatant opposition to Aurora, though subtle, wasn’t lost on Eren. Yet, as much as Eren disliked him, he grudgingly acknowledged his utility. Floch had proven to be an effective leader for the Jaegerists, rallying them when the old brass faltered. His conviction, while often misguided, was unshakable, and the Jaegerists followed him without hesitation.

It was convenience, nothing more. Floch was a tool, a necessary evil to keep the Jaegerists in line. Beyond that, Eren couldn’t care less about him.

The sound of their boots echoed against the stone walls as they approached the basement. The air between them was thick with tension, but neither said a word. Floch’s silence was unusual—likely a calculated move to avoid provoking Eren further after his earlier remarks. Eren’s expression was unreadable, his green eyes fixed ahead, but his clenched fists betrayed his simmering anger.

When they reached the basement, Mikasa was already there, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. Her dark eyes flicked between Eren and Floch, immediately sensing the tension between them. She raised a brow slightly but said nothing, opting instead to observe.

Eren pushed the heavy door open, revealing the dimly lit space where Levi was waiting. Porco was restrained in the center of the room, his limbs still healing from Levi’s earlier assault. His sharp gaze flickered to the newcomers.

Levi stood near Porco, arms crossed, his expression as sharp as ever. “Took you long enough,” Levi said flatly, his voice carrying its usual edge. “I was starting to think you were having a tea party upstairs.”

Eren ignored the remark, stepping inside and allowing the door to close behind him. Floch followed, his posture rigid as he positioned himself near the wall. Mikasa remained in the doorway, her gaze shifting between the occupants of the room.

Porco’s smirk widened as his eyes landed on Eren. “Jaeger,” he drawled, his tone mocking. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

Eren didn’t respond immediately, his gaze locking onto Porco with an intensity that made the room feel smaller. “You’ve been real comfortable here for someone who was supposed to kill Historia,” Eren said coldly, his voice low and dangerous.

Porco’s smirk didn’t falter. “What can I say? Your queen has a way of changing a man’s priorities.”

Levi’s expression darkened, his hand instinctively moving toward his blade. Mikasa tensed slightly, her eyes narrowing at Porco’s remark. Floch’s lips curled into a sneer, his disdain for Porco evident.

Eren took a step closer, his green eyes burning with barely restrained fury. “You don’t get to talk about her,” he said, his voice sharp enough to cut. “Not after everything you’ve done.”

Porco raised a brow, his smirk finally fading. “Funny. You’re angry with me, but your real problem should be with the people around you. Your wife, your queen—seems like everyone’s keeping secrets from you.”

Eren’s jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. The mention of Aurora was like a spark to dry kindling, reigniting his simmering frustration. Mikasa noticed the subtle shift in his posture and took a small step forward, ready to intervene if necessary.

Levi’s voice cut through the tension. “If you’re done playing therapist, we’re here to get answers, not hear your opinions.” His tone was icy, his patience clearly wearing thin.

Eren exhaled sharply through his nose, his gaze never leaving Porco. “Start talking,” he said, his voice steady but laced with an undercurrent of anger. “Why are you really here? And don’t waste my time.”

Porco’s gaze flickered between the group, his smirk replaced by a wary expression. The tension in the room was palpable, the weight of the situation pressing down on everyone. Floch shifted uncomfortably against the wall, his usual arrogance momentarily muted by the intensity of the moment.

The tension in the room thickened as the door creaked open and Hange and Armin stepped inside, their expressions somber. They exchanged brief glances with the others before focusing on Porco, who sat chained and bloodied in the center of the room. Mikasa stood behind him, her blades drawn, her sharp gaze fixed on his every move.

Levi leaned against the table, his arms crossed, his glare unwavering. “You’re going to tell us everything,” he said coldly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Every detail of what you’ve done since you landed on Paradis. And if I even think you’re lying, you won’t have hands to bite anymore.”

Porco’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Fine. I’ll tell you everything.”

“Start talking,” Levi snapped.

Porco took a deep breath, his gaze briefly flickering to Eren, whose narrowed eyes burned with distrust. “After the Cart, Armored, and I failed to capture your wife or kill your queen during the first attack, I stayed behind. I... I couldn’t leave,” he admitted, his voice wavering slightly. “I’ve been hiding in the woods near the compound, meeting with Historia.”

“And what exactly have you two been doing?” Levi pressed, his voice sharp.

Porco hesitated, glancing at the floor. “Talking. Planning. We tried to figure out a way to stop all this—stop the Rumbling, stop Marley, stop the killing. But every plan we came up with fell apart. Every path led to someone dying, whether it was Paradis or Marley. There’s no winning here. Someone has to lose. And the truth is, it’s going to take blood to end this, no matter which side you’re on.”

The room grew heavy with his words, the weight of the revelation settling on everyone’s shoulders. Armin shifted uncomfortably, his brows furrowed as he exchanged a worried glance with Hange. Mikasa’s grip on her blades tightened, her knuckles whitening. Even Levi, usually unshakable, looked grim.

Eren’s voice cut through the silence like a blade. “We already knew that,” he said bluntly, his tone laced with impatience. “You’re wasting our time. Tell us something useful. When is Marley launching their attack?”

Porco’s eyes met Eren’s, and he let out a dry laugh. “You’re just as ruthless as they said. But fine, I’ll tell you. Marley’s gathering their forces. They’ll launch a full-scale attack in five months. Maybe six if their alliance with the Global Allied Forces holds steady.”

Eren’s jaw tightened. “And Zeke?”

Porco hesitated again, glancing between the faces in the room. “Zeke’s on his way here. He’s supposed to rendezvous with your forces in two months.”

The air in the room shifted. Levi’s eyes narrowed. Mikasa adjusted her stance slightly, her blades glinting under the dim light. Hange rubbed her chin thoughtfully, her mind already racing with the implications.

Armin broke the silence, his voice quieter but no less resolute. “So it’s true. Zeke’s still part of Marley’s plan. Eren, you... you don’t have to do this.”

Eren’s gaze snapped to Armin, his green eyes hard. “Do what?”

“The Rumbling,” Armin said, his voice firm. “There has to be another way.”

“There isn’t,” Eren replied sharply, his tone cutting. “You’ve seen what Marley and the world think of us. You’ve seen what they’re willing to do. They’re not going to stop until every last one of us is dead. The Rumbling is the only way to ensure Paradis survives.”

Armin stepped closer, his expression pleading. “Eren, you’re talking about genocide. Millions of people. There has to be another solution. We just... we need more time.”

“Time we don’t have,” Eren shot back. “You think Marley’s going to give us time to figure this out? They’re coming, Armin. They’re bringing their armies, their bombs, their hatred. And when they get here, they won’t care about negotiations or peace. They’ll destroy us. All of us.”

The room fell silent again, the weight of Eren’s words hanging heavy in the air. Hange adjusted her glasses, her expression conflicted. Mikasa’s gaze flickered between Eren and Armin, her own thoughts carefully guarded.

Levi finally spoke, his voice low and steady. “We’re not here to debate philosophy. We need to focus on the threat at hand. If Zeke’s coming in two months, we need to prepare. The enemy isn’t going to wait for us to sort out our moral dilemmas.”

Eren nodded, his gaze shifting back to Porco. “You’re going to tell us everything you know about Marley’s plans. Every detail.”

Porco stared at him for a moment before nodding reluctantly. “Fine.”

As the interrogation continued, the tension in the room remained thick. But for Eren, his thoughts kept drifting back to Aurora—her fear, her tears, her guilt. He pushed the thoughts aside, forcing himself to focus. There was no room for weakness now. Not with everything at stake.

…

Meanwhile, Historia paced the confines of her quarters, her chest tight with guilt. Aurora’s distressed face lingered in her mind, the hurt and fear in her friend’s eyes weighing heavily on her. She had been selfish. No matter how much she justified her actions with Porco, involving Aurora had been wrong. She should’ve handled it on her own.

Determined to set things right, Historia squared her shoulders and moved toward the door. Two Jaegerist guards were stationed outside, arms crossed, their postures rigid.

“Where are you going, Your Majesty?” one of them asked, stepping into her path.

“I’m going to see Aurora,” Historia said firmly, her tone brooking no argument.

The second guard frowned. “Under Floch’s orders, we’re to keep you confined to your quarters.”

Historia’s jaw tightened. “Confined? Am I a prisoner now?”

The first guard hesitated. “It’s for your safety, Your Majesty—”

Historia’s voice sharpened, cutting through his excuse. “I am the Queen of the Walls. My safety is my concern, not Floch’s. I will not be confined in my own home.”

The guards exchanged uncertain looks, but neither dared defy her further. With a nod of dismissal, Historia brushed past them, her steps resolute as she made her way to Aurora and Eren’s quarters.

But when she reached the door, she hesitated. Guilt and shame pooled in her stomach. She had been a horrible friend, asking Aurora to carry her secret for months. What had she been thinking? Taking a deep breath, she knocked softly.

The door creaked open, and Aurora stood there, her eyes wide with surprise. Her face was pale, her eyes rimmed red from crying. 

“Historia?�� Aurora’s voice was soft, almost disbelieving. “What are you doing here?”

“I needed to see you,” Historia said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. She shut the door behind her and turned to face her friend. “Aurora, I owe you an apology.”

Aurora blinked, taken aback. “Apology?”

“Yes.” Historia’s voice trembled slightly, but she pressed on. “I was selfish. I never should’ve asked you to keep my secret. It wasn’t fair to you, and it put you in an impossible position. You’ve been nothing but kind to me, and I used that kindness for my own benefit. I’m so sorry, Aurora.”

Aurora stared at her, her hands resting protectively over her growing baby bump. Her lips trembled, and she shook her head. “I just wanted to help you, Historia. You’ve been such a good friend to me, the first real friend I’ve ever had. I didn’t want to let you down. But I—” Her voice broke, and she looked away. “I realize now that I shouldn’t have kept it from Eren.”

“You’re right,” Historia said softly. “You shouldn’t have. I should’ve handled it on my own. I didn’t think about what it would mean for you to keep this secret. I put you in an awful position, and I hate that I did that to you.”

Aurora’s gaze flickered back to Historia, tears shining in her eyes. “Eren was so hurt. He’s never talked to me like that before. It’s my fault.”

“It’s my fault,” Historia said firmly, taking a step closer. “Don’t blame yourself for my mistakes. I dragged you into this mess, and I’m going to fix it. I promise.”

Aurora looked at her for a long moment before finally nodding. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Historia reached out and took Aurora’s hands, squeezing them gently. “You’re a better person than I deserve as a friend. I’m so sorry, Aurora. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.”

The two women stood there for a moment, a fragile but genuine understanding passing between them. For the first time in weeks, Aurora felt a flicker of relief. Maybe, just maybe, they could both find a way to fix the chaos that had unfolded.

…

Back with the scouts, the room was thick with tension as Eren, Levi, Hange, Armin, and Floch huddled together, discussing their next moves. The interrogation of Porco Galliard had been exhausting, yielding a trove of critical information about Marley’s military plans and the timeline of their invasion. Six months. That’s all they had left. But Zeke’s arrival in two months complicated things even further.

Hange leaned against the table, arms crossed, her brows furrowed in deep thought. “Porco’s information is valuable, I’ll give him that. The details he gave us about Marley’s military coordination could give us an edge if we use them strategically.”

Armin nodded in agreement, his hands clasped in front of him as he spoke. “If we combine his knowledge with ours, we might be able to come up with a plan that doesn’t involve the Rumbling. Maybe... maybe there’s a way to target Marley’s leadership or military infrastructure without resorting to genocide. If we’re smart about it, we can buy time.”

Eren let out a sharp exhale, his arms folded tightly across his chest. His green eyes were dark with mistrust. “Porco’s information is only as useful as the truth behind it. How do we know he’s not feeding us lies to stall or manipulate us? He’s a Marleyan soldier—one trained to hate us.”

Mikasa stood beside Eren, her hand on her blade’s hilt, her expression unreadable. “Eren’s right. We can’t let our guard down around him. Just because he’s in chains doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous.”

Floch scoffed from his corner of the room, his face twisted with disdain. “You’re all wasting time debating whether or not to trust him. It’s simple. We feed him to someone loyal to us, someone we can actually trust, and gain the Jaw Titan’s power for Paradis. We don’t need him alive.”

Hange turned sharply toward Floch, her voice laced with irritation. “Do you ever stop thinking with your fists, Floch? Porco’s not just a titan shifter. He’s a resource. If we lose him, we lose access to Marleyan strategy, insights, and potentially any connections we might exploit. We can’t afford to squander that.”

Armin interjected, his voice calm but firm. “And feeding him to someone isn’t as simple as you make it sound, Floch. Choosing a successor isn’t something we can do lightly. If we make the wrong choice, we could end up in a worse position.”

Floch crossed his arms, glaring at Armin. “You’re just delaying the inevitable, Armin. He’s the enemy, and keeping him alive is a liability. What if he escapes? What if he betrays us?”

Levi, who had been silently observing the argument, finally spoke, his tone icy. “Porco isn’t going anywhere. As long as I’m here, he won’t get the chance to try anything. But Floch isn’t entirely wrong. The Jaw Titan’s power in the hands of someone we trust would give us an edge.”

Eren’s gaze hardened as he leaned forward, addressing the room. “Zeke’s arrival changes everything. Once he’s here, I’m going to make contact with him and activate the Rumbling. That’s the only plan that guarantees our survival. We can’t afford to waste time chasing alternatives that won’t work.”

Armin’s frustration bubbled over, and he slammed his hands on the table. “And what about the rest of the world, Eren? Do you really think wiping out countless lives is the only way to secure peace? You’re not even giving us a chance to find another way!”

Eren glared at Armin, his voice cold and resolute. “I’ve given you plenty of time, Armin. You’ve spent months trying to come up with a better solution, and where has it gotten us? Nowhere. Marley is coming for us, and we can’t negotiate with people who want us dead. It’s us or them.”

The room fell silent, the weight of Eren’s words settling heavily over them. Hange sighed, rubbing her temples. “We need to think about the bigger picture. Porco’s information could give us leverage, but we need to be smart about how we use it.”

Floch, unrelenting, muttered under his breath, “Or we could stop wasting time and take action.”

Levi’s sharp gaze snapped to Floch, silencing him immediately. “Enough. We’ll keep Porco alive for now. But if he so much as twitches the wrong way, I’ll handle it personally.”

Hange nodded, trying to lighten the mood slightly. “And maybe we should all take a moment to breathe. We’re not going to solve this tonight.”

Eren, still seething, turned away from the group. “I’m done here. You can keep debating if you want, but I’ve made up my mind.”

Without waiting for a response, he strode toward the door, his mind already racing. He couldn’t shake the image of Aurora’s tear-streaked face from earlier. He’d deal with her betrayal later. For now, his focus had to be on the battle ahead.

Mikasa watched him leave, her expression unreadable. “He’s not going to change his mind.”

Hange sighed, leaning back against the wall. “No, he won’t. But we still have to try.”

As the door shut behind Eren, the room fell into an uneasy silence, the weight of their collective decisions hanging heavy in the air.

But Eren halted in his tracks as he stepped into the hallway, surprised to see Historia standing there, her posture tense and defiant. Right behind her was Aurora, her head bowed slightly, still trailing after the queen. She was supposed to be resting, and Historia wasn’t supposed to leave her quarters under Floch’s orders. What were they doing here?

Eren’s brow furrowed in irritation, his voice sharp. “Historia, what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in your quarters.”

Historia didn’t flinch under his tone. Instead, she straightened her back, her chin held high. “I’m here to see Porco.”

Aurora shifted uncomfortably beside her, avoiding Eren’s gaze. The tension between them from earlier was still palpable, and Eren’s jaw clenched as he glanced briefly at his wife before returning his glare to Historia.

“No,” Eren said bluntly. “You shouldn’t even be here right now. Porco’s fine, but you’re not seeing him.”

“I don’t need your permission,” Historia shot back, stepping closer. “I’m the queen, Eren. I have a right to see him.”

Eren’s frustration bubbled over. “The only thing you have a right to do is stay safe. You should be guarded right now, not wandering around the compound.”

Historia didn’t back down, her voice firm. “I’m not here to argue about my safety. I want to see Porco.”

Eren scoffed and crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing. “The answer is still no. He’s under heavy surveillance for a reason.”

At that moment, the door to the interrogation room opened, and Levi emerged, dragging Porco by his chains. Porco’s eyes immediately darted to Historia, his expression softening for a brief moment before he forced himself to look away. Levi’s sharp gaze flicked between Historia and Porco, his irritation obvious.

“Great,” Levi muttered under his breath. “More love drama. Just what we need.”

Historia stepped forward, her determination unwavering. “Captain, I need to speak with him.”

Levi raised an unimpressed eyebrow, his tone flat. “No, you don’t. And he’s not speaking to you.”

“Why not?” Historia demanded, her voice rising in frustration. “You’ve already interrogated him. What harm could it do?”

Levi rolled his eyes, his patience clearly wearing thin. “For starters, he’s under surveillance. Until he proves he’s not a threat, he’s staying far away from you. That’s non-negotiable.”

Historia clenched her fists, her face flushing with indignation. “I can make my own decisions, Captain.”

Levi’s tone grew sharper. “Not when they involve endangering everyone else on this island because of some foolish romance.”

Porco bristled at Levi’s words, his voice tight. “Don’t talk to her like that.”

Levi turned to him with a steely glare, his blades glinting faintly at his sides. “And you—shut up. You’re lucky you’re still breathing.”

Historia opened her mouth to argue further, but Levi held up a hand, cutting her off. “Enough. I need to debrief you, alone.”

Historia’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Excuse me? You can’t just—”

“I can, and I will,” Levi interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. “We need to make sure your stories line up. I’m not taking any chances that you’ve been influenced by this idiot.”

Porco stiffened at the insult, but Levi’s cold glare kept him silent. Historia, however, wasn’t so easily silenced.

“I’m not some criminal, Captain,” she said, her voice tight with anger. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

Levi’s expression didn’t waver. “Maybe not, but I’m not risking the safety of everyone here just because you decided to play house with the enemy.”

Historia’s cheeks flushed with both anger and embarrassment. She turned to Eren for support, but his expression was unreadable. His gaze flicked briefly to Aurora, who stood silently beside Historia, her hands resting protectively over her bump.

“Captain Levi’s right,” Eren said finally, his voice quiet but firm. “You need to clear this up.”

Historia’s shoulders sagged slightly, the fight draining out of her. She gave Levi a sharp nod, her eyes blazing. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

Levi gestured for her to follow, giving a sharp tug on Porco’s chains as he began dragging him back toward the holding cell. As they moved away, Floch appeared in the hallway, his expression smug as he took up position near Historia’s quarters, clearly prepared to enforce Eren’s earlier orders.

Eren turned his gaze to Aurora, his expression softening slightly. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Aurora, you should be resting. Go back to our quarters.”

Aurora hesitated, glancing at Historia’s retreating figure before nodding reluctantly. She began to turn away, her heart heavy with guilt and worry. As she walked back down the hall, she could feel Eren’s eyes lingering on her, the weight of his unspoken thoughts pressing heavily against her back.

Her steps grew heavier with each passing second as she walked toward the quarters she shared with Eren. Her mind, already fragile from the guilt and tension between them, spiraled into a whirlwind of tormenting memories.

The lies to Eren—her partner, her husband—gnawed at her conscience. The chilling image of the "ghost" haunted her. The memory of being hunted and nearly kidnapped flashed vividly, her breaths growing shallow. She could still feel the weight of the blade in her hand when she nearly killed Captain Levi, the Premier’s blood on her hands when she ended his life, and the chaos of the raid on Liberio filled her ears with the echoes of gunfire and screams.

Her knees wobbled as the image of the Marleyan soldiers she killed in the cabin surfaced, their lifeless faces etched in her memory. Then came the memory of Eren, his hands wrapped around a man’s throat, the life draining from his victim’s body as she watched helplessly. She was drowning in the horrors she had lived through—her life as a slave, her mother’s slow and agonizing death, and the sight of her father being consumed by Lara Tybur, who became the War Hammer Titan.

Her breaths hitched as the memories kept coming, crashing over her like relentless waves. Aurora’s steps faltered, her shoulders trembling as sobs wracked her body. She stopped entirely, clutching her baby bump instinctively as her vision blurred with tears. She couldn’t breathe—her chest was tight, and her heart pounded erratically. Panic clawed at her, gripping her throat like a vice.

Eren, who had been watching her walk away, immediately noticed her faltering steps and the way her shoulders shook. The sight of Aurora breaking down struck him like a dagger to the heart. In an instant, he was moving, his feet carrying him to her side in long strides.

“Aurora,” he said firmly but gently as he reached her, his hands immediately coming to rest on her shoulders. She flinched slightly at his touch but turned toward him, her tear-streaked face crumpled in anguish. Her wide, panicked eyes met his, and Eren felt his chest tighten.

“I-I can’t,” Aurora stammered, her voice shaking. “I can’t do this anymore, Eren. It’s too much—everything is too much.” Her words were barely coherent between her sobs.

Eren cupped her face with both hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Hey, hey, look at me,” he said softly, his voice steady even as worry churned in his stomach. “Breathe, Aurora. You need to breathe. Deep breaths, okay? Focus on me.”

She tried to do as he said, but her breaths were shallow and erratic, her body trembling. Eren leaned closer, his forehead touching hers as he whispered, “You’re safe, Aurora. I’ve got you. Nothing’s going to happen to you or the baby. Just breathe with me.”

He inhaled deeply, exaggerating the motion for her to see, and then exhaled slowly. Aurora struggled but tried to follow his lead, taking a shaky breath in and letting it out unevenly. Eren stayed with her, breathing with her until her panic began to subside. Her sobs quieted to soft whimpers, though her tears still fell.

“I’m sorry,” Aurora whispered, her voice breaking. “I’m so sorry for everything—for lying, for putting everyone in danger, for being weak—”

“You’re not weak,” Eren interrupted, his tone firm. “You’ve been through hell, Aurora. Anyone would break under what you’ve had to endure, but you’re still standing. You’re the strongest person I know.”

Aurora shook her head, tears spilling anew. “It doesn’t feel that way. I feel like I’m falling apart.”

Eren’s hands moved to cradle the back of her head, pulling her into his chest. “You don’t have to hold it together all the time. That’s why I’m here, Aurora. To catch you when you feel like you’re falling.” He rested his chin on top of her head, his arms wrapped protectively around her. “I’m not going anywhere, and you’re not alone in this.”

She clung to him, her hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt as she cried into his chest. Eren held her tightly, his own heart heavy as he felt the depth of her pain. He kissed the top of her head and whispered, “You’re not weak, and you’re not alone. We’re in this together, Aurora. Always.”

Aurora’s breathing gradually evened out, and she nodded against his chest, her sobs subsiding. She pulled back slightly, looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes. “I love you, Eren,” she whispered, her voice raw.

“I love you too,” he replied without hesitation, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “More than anything.”

He leaned down and kissed her forehead, letting his lips linger there for a moment before guiding her back toward their quarters. “Come on. Let’s get you off your feet. You need to rest.”

Aurora nodded, letting Eren lead her back inside. Despite the lingering weight of her emotions, she felt a small flicker of comfort in his unwavering presence.

He guided Aurora to their room with gentle care, helping her ease into the bed. He brushed her hair from her face as she sat on the edge, her eyes still puffy and red from crying. Her body was exhausted, but the whirlwind of emotions and memories left her mind restless. Eren knelt in front of her, unlacing her boots and setting them aside before wrapping her in the warmest embrace he could muster.

“You’ve done enough for today,” he murmured softly, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. “You need to rest.”

Aurora nodded weakly, letting Eren guide her into the bed. He pulled the blanket over her and slid in beside her, wrapping his arms protectively around her. She nestled into his chest, her head tucked under his chin, and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her ear began to soothe her frayed nerves. His fingers combed gently through her hair as he whispered, “I’m here, Aurora. You’re safe. Nothing’s going to hurt you.”

Her breathing evened out, and before long, she slipped into a deep sleep. Eren sighed in relief, holding her a little tighter. His heart ached seeing her like this, but he was grateful that, at least for now, she had found a little peace in his arms.

But Aurora’s "dreams" were unlike any she had ever experienced before. The warmth of Eren’s embrace faded, and she found herself standing in an otherworldly expanse. The sky above was dark, but not menacing, illuminated by a network of glowing paths that stretched infinitely in all directions, crisscrossing the air like celestial rivers. At the center of this ethereal realm stood a massive, otherworldly tree-like structure, its gnarled roots and branches twisting and sprawling in a way that defied logic. The sight was breathtaking, and Aurora was struck with awe and confusion.

“Where… am I?” she whispered, her voice echoing faintly.

Her wonder quickly turned to unease as she caught sight of her "ghost." The pale blonde girl stood a short distance away, her vacant, sorrowful eyes fixed on Aurora’s belly as usual. Aurora stiffened instinctively, her heart racing with fear. But this time, something held her back from running or screaming. There was no malice in the child’s gaze—only overwhelming grief and sadness.

Aurora’s breath hitched as she forced herself to stand still, her eyes never leaving the ghostly figure. “Who are you?” she asked softly, her voice trembling but curious. “What do you want from me?”

The girl didn’t answer. Instead, she took a hesitant step forward, her bare feet soundless against the shimmering path. Aurora’s pulse quickened as the girl closed the distance between them, her small hand reaching out. Before Aurora could react, the girl’s cold fingers brushed her forehead.

It was as if a bolt of lightning had struck Aurora. Her vision blurred, and a jarring sensation overtook her as she felt her consciousness being yanked out of her body and placed into another. Her surroundings changed abruptly. She was no longer in the strange, celestial realm but in a dark room illuminated only by the dim glow of an oil lamp hanging on the wall. The air smelled faintly of coffee, and she saw a steaming mug on the table in front of her.

Aurora’s senses felt strange and foreign, as if her body didn’t belong to her. She noticed the petite, frazzled-looking brunette standing across from her. There was something hauntingly familiar about the woman, but Aurora couldn’t place where she’d seen her before.

Her gaze drifted to the mirror on the wall. She turned to it hesitantly, and when she saw her reflection, a scream tore from her throat. Staring back at her was a tall, scruffy man with long, unkempt blonde hair and a beard. His piercing eyes held a resemblance to Eren’s, but they were sharper, colder. Aurora stumbled back, her hands flying to her face, only to find that the reflection moved with her.

“What is this?!” she cried out, her voice echoing unnaturally. Her senses spun as panic clawed at her chest.

…

Aurora jolted awake with a scream, her body trembling violently as she clutched at her chest. She was back in her bed, in her quarters, but the feeling of displacement and the terrifying vision of the man in the mirror lingered. Her heart pounded wildly, and her skin was clammy with sweat.

“Aurora!” Eren exclaimed, sitting up in alarm. He reached for her, his hands resting firmly on her shoulders. “What happened? Are you okay?!”

She stared at him, her wide, terrified eyes searching his face as if trying to confirm that he was real. “I-I don’t know,” she stammered, her voice shaky and raw. “I saw… something… someone.”

Eren pulled her into his arms, cradling her against his chest as he rocked her gently. “It was just a nightmare,” he whispered, though his own worry crept into his tone. “You’re safe now. Whatever you saw—it’s not real.”

Aurora clung to him, her breaths coming in short, uneven gasps. “Eren, it felt so real,” she murmured. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

Eren’s jaw tightened as he held her close, stroking her hair in an attempt to calm her. His mind raced with questions and unease. Something was clearly happening to Aurora, something beyond her control. And Eren vowed to get to the bottom of it—whatever it took.

…

Meanwhile on the other side of the sea in Liberio…

The dimly lit room was suffocating, its silence broken only by the rhythmic ticking of a clock on the wall. An oil lamp flickered faintly, casting long shadows that seemed to dance with unease as Pieck and Reiner stood before Zeke Jaeger. A steaming mug of coffee was on the table in front of him and the air was thick with tension, their faces grim. Marley’s plans to massacre the Eldians were no secret to them, and the weight of their next steps pressed heavily on their shoulders.

Pieck crossed her arms, her usual sly demeanor replaced by a rare seriousness. “We can’t do this alone, Zeke,” she began, her voice steady but low. “You know what the generals are planning. They want to wipe us out—our families, everyone in the internment zone. They’ve decided they don’t need us anymore.”

Reiner, standing beside her, nodded. His jaw was clenched, the familiar haunted look in his eyes even more pronounced. “This isn’t just about Paradis anymore. They’re not going to stop with the island. Marley wants to end every Eldian life—ours included.”

Zeke sat at the table, his fingers laced under his chin as he listened. The light of the oil lamp above cast shadows on his face, obscuring his expression. He looked contemplative, though not in the way Pieck and Reiner had hoped.

Pieck leaned forward, her tone growing more urgent. “You’re the only one who can help us, Zeke. You’ve always been a step ahead. If we can find a way to stop this genocide, we need to act now.”

Zeke’s eyes shifted to meet hers, but there was something detached in his gaze. He exhaled slowly. “I’ve known about Marley’s plans for some time now,” he admitted.

Reiner stiffened, his fists clenching at his sides. “And you’ve done nothing? They’re planning to kill everyone. Your own people.”

Zeke’s lips curled into a faint, almost pitying smile. “I don’t think you understand, Reiner. My plan goes far beyond what Marley intends. If we succeed in making contact with Eren, we can use the Founding Titan’s power to put an end to this cycle of hatred. No more suffering, no more war, no more Eldians.”

Pieck frowned, confusion lacing her features. “What are you talking about?”

Zeke leaned back in his chair, his voice calm but laced with conviction. “The Euthanasia Plan,” he said. “With the Founding Titan’s power, we can render every subject of Ymir incapable of reproduction. Marley won’t need to fear us anymore. The world will no longer have a reason to hate Eldians, and we’ll fade away peacefully.”

Reiner’s face twisted with rage. “You’re talking about killing our people—our future—just to appease Marley?”

Zeke raised a hand to silence him. “I’m talking about salvation. You don’t see the bigger picture, Reiner. The hatred won’t stop. This is the only way.”

Pieck opened her mouth to argue, but before she could, Zeke’s body stiffened. His eyes widened as if he’d been struck, and he let out a strangled scream that echoed in the small room. Pieck and Reiner exchanged alarmed looks as Zeke’s hand shot to his forehead.

“Zeke!” Pieck stepped forward, her voice laced with concern. “What’s wrong?”

But Zeke wasn’t in the room anymore.

He was standing in a place he’d only seen fleetingly in the past: the Paths. The dark sky stretched endlessly above him, and the massive tree-like structure loomed in the distance, its roots sprawling in every direction. Zeke’s heart raced as he took in the scene, his mind spinning with confusion and dread. Why was he here now?

Then he saw her.

A little girl stood nearby, her blank eyes staring ahead. The sight sent a chill down Zeke’s spine—he recognized her. She was the same child who appeared each time he visited the Paths, the very essence of the Founding Titan’s power. Ymir Fritz.

But this time, she wasn’t alone.

Standing beside her was a woman—petite, graceful, and radiant. Her distinct platinum blonde hair shimmered faintly in the dim light, cascading down her back like a waterfall of moonlight. Her eyes were closed, her expression serene yet haunting. Something about the shape of her face struck Zeke as eerily familiar.

His breath caught in his throat. “No… it can’t be.”

The woman’s resemblance to Dina, his mother, was uncanny. But it wasn’t Dina. And that hair… Zeke had heard stories of her—Eren’s wife. Aurora Jaeger.

“What is this?” Zeke whispered, his voice trembling. “Why is she here?”

His mind raced with possibilities. This should have been impossible. Aurora wasn’t a Titan shifter. She wasn’t even supposed to have access to the Paths. Unless…

The thought made Zeke’s stomach drop. Could she be a member of the royal family?

Before he could process the revelation, the little girl reached out and touched Aurora’s hand, and the scene began to blur and fade. Zeke felt himself being pulled back, the ethereal world of the Paths slipping away like sand through his fingers.

Zeke jolted back into his body with a gasp, his eyes wide and wild. He was disoriented, his heart hammering in his chest as if he’d run a marathon. Pieck was leaning over him, her brows furrowed with concern.

“Zeke!” she exclaimed. “What happened? You screamed.”

Zeke’s hand went to his chest as he tried to steady his breathing. He looked at Pieck, then at Reiner, but he couldn’t bring himself to answer. His mind was spinning, replaying the vision over and over.

Aurora Jaeger… in the Paths.

It was impossible, yet it had happened. And if she was truly connected to the royal family… the implications were staggering.

His mind was spinning like a wheel in mud, unable to find traction. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he paced the dimly lit room. The oil lamp on the wall flickered, casting jagged shadows that seemed to taunt his chaotic thoughts. Pieck and Reiner exchanged confused glances, their concern mounting as they watched him unravel.

“Zeke,” Pieck said carefully, her voice calm but firm. “What the hell just happened? You looked like you saw a ghost.”

Zeke froze mid-step, his eyes narrowing as if she’d hit too close to the truth. He turned to her slowly, his face unreadable, but the tension in his body betrayed his inner turmoil.

“Did you…” He hesitated, his voice tight. “Did you see anything unusual? Hear anything?”

Pieck frowned, crossing her arms. “No. You screamed, asked “What is this?” and went pale. That’s why I’m asking you what’s going on.”

Reiner stepped forward, his towering frame looming over Zeke. “We don’t have time for you to keep secrets, Zeke. If something’s wrong, you need to tell us.”

Zeke’s jaw tightened as he weighed his options. Should he tell them? Could he tell them? This wasn’t just about him anymore; this revelation had seismic implications. If Aurora Jaeger was connected to the royal family, it changed everything. It wasn’t just a coincidence that she had appeared in the Paths. It couldn’t be.

“I… need to think,” Zeke finally said, his voice low but steady. He turned away from them, running a hand through his hair as he tried to organize his thoughts. “Give me a moment.”

Pieck’s brow furrowed deeply. “You need to think? Zeke, you screamed like you were dying. What happened to you? Are you sick? Did something happen in your head?”

“Pieck, I said I need a moment!” Zeke snapped, the rare outburst startling both her and Reiner into silence.

Pieck exchanged a wary look with Reiner, who crossed his arms but said nothing. She sighed and leaned against the table, keeping her sharp eyes on Zeke as he turned his back to them.

Zeke’s mind raced as he replayed the vision in the Paths. The little girl—Ymir Fritz, without a doubt—had been standing there. That part wasn’t new to him. But the woman… Aurora. Her platinum blonde hair, her serene yet otherworldly presence—it couldn’t have been a hallucination. She wasn’t a Titan shifter. She shouldn’t have been there.

Unless…

Zeke swallowed hard, his throat dry. The only explanation that made sense was one that filled him with equal parts dread and fascination: Aurora Jaeger must truly be tied to the royal bloodline.

But how? His mother, Dina Fritz had been the last known royal, and she was long dead. His mother had told him once she had a younger cousin who supposedly died that she grew up withm but she never went into detail about her. And besides, the intelligience they from the Tyburs shows that Aurora Jaeger was born to an Eldian slave who worked for the Tyburs and a Marlyean who also worked for the family. Those two were far from any royal connections.

 It didn’t add up, yet the Paths didn’t lie. Ymir Fritz didn’t manifest someone there unless they were significant.

“Zeke!” Reiner’s sharp tone cut through his spiraling thoughts, grounding him back to the present. “Enough. You need to explain what’s going on.”

Zeke sighed heavily and turned back to face them, his expression grim. “I… I saw something,” he admitted, his voice quiet but deliberate.

“What kind of something?” Pieck pressed, her arms still crossed but her posture less rigid.

Zeke hesitated. Should he tell them everything? The weight of the revelation pressed against his chest. He settled on partial truth. “It was in the Paths,” he said. “Something… unexpected happened.”

“The Paths?” Reiner repeated, his eyes narrowing. “You mean the Coordinate?”

Zeke nodded. “It’s more than that. It’s a connection to Ymir Fritz. To the Founding Titan’s power.”

“And what did you see?” Pieck asked, her voice cautious now.

Zeke’s eyes flickered toward them, measuring their reactions. “Aurora Jaeger,” he said finally, his words heavy with implication.

Reiner and Pieck froze, their confusion palpable. “Aurora?” Pieck said, disbelief coloring her tone. “Eren’s wife? How? She’s not a Titan shifter.”

“That’s what I thought too,” Zeke said, pacing again. “But she was there. In the Paths. Standing beside Ymir Fritz.”

Reiner’s brow furrowed deeply, his arms falling to his sides. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would she be there?”

Zeke’s lips pressed into a thin line. “There’s only one explanation I can think of. She might be… connected to the royal bloodline.”

Pieck’s eyes widened slightly, but her skepticism remained. “That’s a pretty big leap, Zeke. Aurora was a slave in Marley. How could she be related to royalty?”

“I don’t know,” Zeke admitted, frustration leaking into his voice. “But it’s the only thing that makes sense. Ymir doesn’t bring just anyone to the Paths. It has to mean something.”

Reiner shook his head, his expression clouded with doubt. “This doesn’t change anything. Royal or not, Aurora’s not going to stop Marley’s plans or help us figure out a way to end this.”

Zeke stopped pacing and looked at them both, his gaze intense. “It changes everything,” he said. “If Aurora has royal blood, it means she has a connection to the Founder’s power.”

Pieck and Reiner exchanged uneasy looks, the gravity of Zeke’s words sinking in.

“So what do we do?” Pieck asked finally, her voice quieter than usual.

Zeke’s expression darkened. “We find out the truth. And we use it to our advantage.”

~

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[rafayelsbelovedbride]

Okay, I have something to say.

I would defend Caleb to the ends of the world, but honestly, I'm deeply disturbed by the way some people defend him. The fact that "step-siblings" being a common trope in Asian media is absolutely not a reason to normalize this trope??? Especially if you consider many cases of child-on-child SA happens between siblings/step siblings??? Especially if you consider just last year many chatrooms were exposed in Korea where men and boys share intimate pictures of their siblings/mothers taken without consent, create deepfakes, and talk about how to SA your sister????? (I'm sure you can give an example from many other places, I'm just giving this as this is something that comes to my mind first) Labeling being sensitive about this situation and trope as a western viewpoint is just part of the problem???

For Caleb's case, they were both adopted by Josephine because she was the only one who could be a guardian for them. So, I would like to focus on their relationship as two kids who were being taken care of by the same woman who regrets her past actions. Caleb and MC both care a lot about each other, and their relationship is built on a bond they formed as they were growing up. So I'm not really against the label of childhood friends. And, I feel like it describes their relationship better without bringing out unnecessary tropes.

What I'm not understanding is why seeing step-brother trope as an issue is being painted as a western concern as if every Asian on this planet is somehow completely okay with it just because people refer to anyone who is older than them as older brother????? That's not the issue????? Issue is this relationship between siblings brings grooming into the question. And you should approach this topic with a little criticism????

I think we must stop and think about what is actually a part of the culture and what was infiltrated into that culture through misogyny.

[yazzwrites6962]

please write more of your niragi fanfic!! i really loved it and im addicted to your writing!! 💗💗

Redemption ♡ Suguru Niragi ♡ Part Three

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Suguru Niragi x Fem!Reader ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Part Two: Here

Author's Note: UNEDITED! Not much Niragi is mentioned in this chapter. It's mostly you, Chishiya, and Kuina bonding! I know this chapter is pretty short. I promise I'm working on more! I should have the next chapter for this out pretty soon. I don't own any characters or images!

Genre: A little angsty

Summary: After your last game, you're left swirling with the pain of betrayal. Luckily, you have Kuina and Chishiya to help you recover.

Word Count: 1845

Warnings: OOC Chishiya and Niragi, talk of injury, blood, and betrayal

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Trust and loyalty. The two most difficult things to find in the Borderlands. In a world of betrayal and death, rarely anyone was stupid enough to whole-heartedly believe in the good of another person.

Except, you did.

You trusted Niragi, for some silly reason. Despite all the warnings, you had faith in him. When you called out to him for help, you believed he would he there to give it to you.

Then you watched him walk away. As your blood ran down your arms and you were so close to making it out, you watched him turn his back on you. It was only a matter of seconds now before death would find you. It was sickening. The pit in your stomach felt bottomless.

You couldn't just wait to die. You had to keep going. You were so close, even without Niragi's help. Maybe you could still make it. You pushed yourself further, the barbs on your rope digging into your soft flesh as you reached for safety.

You couldn't see. You couldn't breathe. There was only pain. The sting of betrayal made it no easier to endure, but somehow, you endured. You clawed your way to the top, finally completing the deathly challenge, without the help of the man you thought was your friend.

You hazily found your key and pushed through your door. Your mind was foggy, and you couldn't remember much. You could only hear the sound of your heart beating in your ears.

Then, your vision went black. Yet, your heartbeat endured.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

You felt your soft sheets beneath you as an echo of hushed voices surrounded you. Your body ached, and your head felt heavier than usual. Your eyes peeked open, and you were thankful to find yourself in your room with Chishiya and Kuina by your sides.

"Y/N!" Kuina cried, seeing your eyes open a crack. You attempt to sit up, putting pressure on your injured palm. The pain is excruciating, and you fall onto your back once more. Kuina gingerly helps you sit up, positioning you against the headboard.

You're covered in bandages. Around your chest, neck, arms, and legs. You feel almost like a mummy. Memories come flooding back to you. Hazy, but painful memories.

"Shinji! Did he make it out?" You suddenly recall the young boy who you had grown fond of during your game. Kuina and Chishiya give you a confused look, as if not really knowing who you're referring to. Of course, they wouldn't know. The Beach is filled with hundreds of people.

"What happened during your game?" Chishiya inquired calmly. "You lost a great amount of blood. Luckily your injuries were nowhere near fatal."

"Did you patch me up?" You study the wrappings around your body. They look clean. Professionally done. Chishiya shrugged, as if not really wanting to answer your question. "My game... It had three stages. I got these from the last one. I had to... I had to climb a rope that resembled barbed wire. I tried to wrap up my hands, but it didn't work exactly."

"I'm just glad you made it out." Kuina sighed. How did you make it out? You don't remember much. Only the pain and frustration you felt as you hoisted yourself up the rope. You vaguely recall the key, and your bloody fumbling hands pushing through your door seconds before the game was over.

"Niragi. He made it out, right?" You ask, your voice sounding weak. He left you there, struggling. Why? Why would he betray you like that? Just when you'd thought you were getting through to a softer side of him.

"He's the one who brought you back." Chishiya spoke up. "He carried you back to your room while you were unconscious." Kuina nodded, leaning forward to add on to Chishiya's statements.

"Chishiya and I noticed him hauling you up the stairs. We followed you guys all the way back here. We thought maybe he was going to... Do something to you, but no. He just left you here with us."

You hum, not revealing what had happened between you and Niragi during the game. Silence filled the room as your mind raced. Chishiya stared at you quizzically.

"Are you hungry?" Kuina stood, picking up a plate from the table in the corner of your room. "You missed breakfast, and lunch. We didn't want to wake you, but we brought you food."

"Thanks." You muttered softly, taking the plate from her. The food was cold, but you didn't have much of an appetite anyway. "You guys are great friends. I appreciate you." Kuina uncomfortably shifted, glancing at Chishiya. He stood; his hands hidden in his pockets as usual.

"We will give you space to rest." He said, removing a hand from his pocket to wave Kuina towards the door. "Should you need anything, you know where to find us."

With that, the pair exit your room. You're alone, with a pile of cold food and a sore body. You now understand that you can't fully trust Niragi, as much as you wanted to.

Yet, you would've never guessed the conversation going on right outside your door.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

"Chishiya..." Kuina whined as your door shut. She didn't need to elaborate further on her thoughts. Chishiya already knew what she was going to say.

"We do not need to discuss this here." He began walking down the hallway, Kuina trailing behind him. She twiddled with her fingers nervously.

"She's nice. She's a good person. We can find someone else. Anyone else. You pick anyone else, and I promise I'll just go along with it." She pleaded.

"Kuina." Chishiya scolded, glaring at her. "We can explore your proposition. Just not here." Kuina's face lit up, now knowing that Chishiya was considering using someone else for the plan.

"Thank you." She sighed with relief, recalling your limp, fragile body being carried back to your room. She simply couldn't betray your trust like that.

"I don't consider it for your sake." Chishiya replied shortly. Kuina's better judgement told her not to question what this meant.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

It felt like you'd been couped up in your room for an eternity. Kuina would bring you meals, and Chishiya often checked on your bandages. Fortunately, he claimed you were "healing nicely". All you had to pass the time were a couple of books and a sketchpad.

"I'm bored." You complained while shoveling food into your mouth. "I feel fine enough to walk and all. Can't I just go out and enjoy the sun by the pool?"

"Swallow your food before you begin speaking." Chishiya rolled his eyes. "Your wounds aren't entirely healed. While you are making good progress, it could still get infected. Imagine that disgusting pool water making its way into your bandages."

"The things people do in that pool are disgusting." Kuina sticks her tongue out, slumping beside you on the bed. "I can't even imagine what kind of germs are in that water. Does anyone even clean the pool?"

"Tatta does." Chishiya adds. In the past few days, he has grown slightly more talkative than usual. You find it pleasant to see Chishiya opening up more.

"I don't have to go by the pool. Just on a walk, or something." You finally swallow your mouthful of food. "I promise I'll be careful, and I won't run into any trouble."

"Why do you try to appeal to us?" Chishiya raises an eyebrow. "I'm not your keeper. I only advise that you remain here and rest. Yet, you are an adult who can make her own decisions."

"I don't know." You giggle, shifting yourself so your legs hang off the edge of the bed. "I guess you two are kind of like... Parents? Mama y Papa, y'know?" Chishiya and Kuina flash disgusted looks at one another.

"Okay, Y/N. Maybe you do need some fresh air. You're losing it in here." Kuina chuckles, helping you out of bed. Had they not found painkillers for you, you would be in agony.

Chishiya left the room as Kuina helped you get dressed. As much as you tried to hide it under your cardigan, your bandages still showed through your bathing suit.

"You still look beautiful." Kuina smiled, giving you a gentle hug and trying to be mindful of your injuries. "Now c'mon. We'll accompany you on your little outing."

"We will?" Chishiya groaned from outside the door. You laugh as you turn the knob, coming face to face with the blonde. He looks as though he would rather be anywhere, but out on a walk with you and Kuina.

"We will." Kuina huffed, interlocking her arm with yours carefully. "Don't be such a party pooper. Y/N is still hurt. Besides, it'll probably do you some good too."

Chishiya shrugs, shifting his hands comfortably in his pockets, before following you and Kuina down the hall. The stairs were a bit tricky, but you felt incredibly accomplished making your way all the way down to the ground floor.

As you make it through the doors of the building, you took a deep breath. The windows in your room didn't really open, so it was nice to feel fresh air filling your lungs.

You and Kuina dominated the conversation, chatting about life as the three of you walked through the front garden. Chishiya listened and followed along from behind.

"I'm still worried." You say, watching people pass you by. "I haven't seen Shinji at all. You know, the boy from my game?" Your eyes drop to the ground as you continue. "I... I don't think he had the time to make it. He was so... Young?"

"I'm sorry, Y/N." Kuina comforts. "It's cruel. What happens in these games... It's not fair. It's like all the best people are getting hurt and killed."

"I was unconscious the whole way back here. I don't know what happened. I don't know if he made it back to the car or anything." You sigh, carefully rotating your body as you and Kuina turn a corner.

"Ask." Chishiya finally spoke for the first time during the walk. Both you and Kuina turn your head to face him, questioningly. "Ask if he made it back to the car, if it's weighing so heavy on you."

"Who would I even ask?" You scoff. Your mind wandered back to who was in the car with you. The only person you really knew was Niragi, and you were terrified at the thought of facing him again.

"Him?" Chishiya motioned to somewhere ahead of you. You turned your head forward again, facing the direction he was pointing your attention towards.

Several meters away, stood Niragi. The one person you didn't want to see. His gun was slung over his shoulder, and he stared directly back at you.

Did he remember how he watched you struggle? Did he see the blood running down your arms as you reached to him for help? What was he thinking when he turned away from you?

And what was he thinking as he began to walk towards you now?

[godlynott]

ART DECO - THEODORE NOTT.

A fluff based on my fanfic, you can find it here 💟

(i also posted this on tiktok. my tiktok is the same user as here!)

Theo couldn’t help but glance at Rory from across the room, a quiet tug in his chest that he couldn’t explain. It was a strange thing, really. They had once been the best of friends, a bond as strong as the winds that swept through the hills of Italy where Theo spent his summers. Now, years later, all they shared was a quiet war—words sharp and gestures colder than any distance could make.

But in those fleeting moments, when their eyes met or when Rory’s lips curved into that rare, unguarded smile, Theo swore he could still see the ghost of the person he used to know. And just for a moment, just for that split second, everything felt right again.

“Che strano,” Theo muttered under his breath, realizing that maybe it wasn’t just the past pulling him toward Rory, but something else—something he couldn’t quite name, something that had never really disappeared.

Rory, noticing Theo’s soft gaze, smirked. “What? You finally missed me, Theo?”

A breath caught in Theo’s throat, and he almost felt like he could breathe again. “Something like that,” he replied, his voice quieter than he meant it to be.

Rory raised an eyebrow, stepping closer, her teasing smirk softening just a bit as she glanced at him. “You know,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost like a secret she wasn’t sure she should share, “you never really got over it, did you? All those years…”

Theo’s heart skipped, the weight of her words sinking in. He could feel the pull of her like gravity, everything inside him screaming for something he thought he’d buried long ago. But it was Rory—how could he ever truly bury something so complicated, so… hers?

He took a step forward, the distance between them suddenly too wide, and his voice was low, almost hesitant. “Maybe I didn’t want to.”

Rory didn’t say anything at first, just watched him with those eyes that always seemed to know too much. Then, with a small, almost imperceptible smile, she reached out, brushing her fingers against his. The touch was electric, a jolt that sent a spark of warmth through his chest. It was as if, in that moment, the years apart had melted away, and the ghost of their old friendship whispered in the silence.

“Funny,” Rory murmured, “I didn’t want to either.”

Theo stood frozen for a moment, the weight of her words hanging between them like a delicate thread. He wanted to say something—anything—but the truth was, he wasn’t sure what to feel. Every part of him had been trained to keep his distance, to stay cold, to guard his heart like it was something fragile, something worth hiding. But now, standing so close to Rory, with her fingers still lightly brushing against his, it was like all those years of silence had built to this one moment, this one breath.

“You always did know how to get under my skin,” he muttered, trying to keep the conversation light, but the intensity in his voice betrayed him. His heart raced in his chest, and he could feel the heat of her hand against his, even though it was just the faintest touch.

Rory chuckled softly, but there was something different in her eyes now—no longer playful, but… open. “Maybe that’s because you let me,” she said, her voice quieter, more thoughtful than he had expected. “You always did let me, Theo.”

He stared at her, caught between the impulse to laugh it off and the truth that was beginning to stir inside him. Was that what it had always been? That easy surrender to her presence, to the connection they shared? He wasn’t sure, but something about the way she looked at him now made it feel like everything was finally coming into focus.

“You don’t make it easy,” Theo replied, his voice a little rougher than usual, the words slipping out before he could stop them. He wasn’t sure if he was talking about the past or the present, about the rivalry or something else entirely. But Rory’s smile deepened, and in that moment, he couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, the sound surprising him. It felt good, like a release he hadn’t realized he needed.

Rory tilted her head, studying him for a moment, and Theo couldn’t help but feel like she was seeing through him, into the places he kept hidden. “You never did like things easy, did you?” she said softly, her voice tinged with something deeper, something unspoken.

Theo swallowed, feeling the pull between them growing stronger. He stepped closer, the space between them narrowing with every breath. His hand brushed her cheek, just a light touch, but enough to make the world feel like it had shifted. Rory’s gaze flickered to his lips, and for the briefest moment, he wondered if she was thinking the same thing he was—that maybe, just maybe, the lines between them weren’t as clear as they once seemed.

“I don’t think I’ve ever known anything easy with you, Rory,” Theo murmured, his thumb gently tracing the curve of her jaw. “And I don’t think I ever will.”

Her breath hitched at his words, but instead of pulling away, she leaned into his touch, her lips barely a breath away from his. “Good,” she whispered, her voice like a promise, “because neither have I.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. It was like the whole world had faded away, leaving just the two of them in this quiet, electric space between what was and what could be. And when their lips finally met—slow, tentative at first—it felt like coming home. Like all the time they’d spent apart had only been building up to this, to the soft press of lips against lips, to the fragile, beautiful moment where the past and present collided.

It wasn’t easy. It never had been. But maybe, just maybe, that was what made it worth everything.

As they pulled away, neither of them spoke immediately. The silence between them felt different now—not awkward, not heavy, but comfortable, like something had shifted in the air. Theo looked at Rory, his heart still racing, his mind struggling to catch up with what had just happened. Was this the beginning of something new, or was it just a fleeting moment in time? He wasn’t sure.

Rory, for her part, didn’t seem to have an answer either. But when she met his gaze, there was a softness there—a quiet understanding, as if they were both realizing, at the same time, that whatever had brought them together in the past was never truly gone. Maybe it had always been waiting for them, just buried beneath the layers of time and distance.

“You’re still a pain in my ass,” she muttered, breaking the silence, her smirk returning as she brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. But the edge was gone from her voice, and something deeper lingered there.

Theo chuckled, the sound low and full of warmth. “Says the girl who’s never made anything easy.”

Rory rolled her eyes but didn’t pull away when he reached for her hand again. She let him, fingers intertwining as if it was the most natural thing in the world. The tension from the years of rivalry, the hurt, the confusion—it was still there, but now, it felt like something they could face together, not as enemies, but as something more.

“So,” Rory began, her voice playful but with a hint of uncertainty, “now what?”

Theo paused, glancing down at their intertwined hands. “Now,” he said slowly, looking back up at her with a grin, “we figure it out.”

And for the first time in a long while, Theo didn’t feel like he had to have all the answers. Because with Rory standing beside him, it felt like the journey was just beginning.

[theartofcollapse]

Would you write f reader x alex in which they’re friends and reader has been secretly pining over alex for a while but hears some rumors about alex and olivia so she starts pulling away and avoiding alex to avoid getting hurt?

a/n: thank you for requesting! I hope you like it. summary: read it above pairing: Alex Cabot x female reader warnings: none word count: 1.2K

masterlist

Misunderstood - Alex Cabot

You’d never been one to believe in clichés, but the moment you’d met Alex Cabot, it was as if every love song, every romantic movie montage, every cheesy metaphor you’d ever rolled your eyes at had suddenly made sense.

Her golden hair fell in perfect waves around her sharp jawline. Her suits were always tailored to perfection, exuding power and grace. But it wasn’t just her looks that captivated you. It was her fire, her unwavering dedication to justice, her quick wit, her rare moments of softness.

You were friends. Just friends. At least, that’s what you reminded yourself every time your heart fluttered when she smiled at you, every time your stomach somersaulted when her hand brushed yours, every time you caught yourself daydreaming about her lips.

You’d kept your feelings locked away, convinced she’d never see you as more than a friend. Alex Cabot, the brilliant, gorgeous ADA, had no shortage of admirers, and you didn’t dare risk ruining the friendship you cherished so deeply.

But lately, something had changed.

It started with whispers.

You were working late at the precinct, finishing up paperwork, when you overheard two detectives talking in the breakroom.

“Cabot and Benson, huh?” one said with a smirk.

The other chuckled. “Yeah, it makes sense. They’re always together. Heard they were seen having dinner last week, just the two of them.”

Your heart plummeted.

Alex and Olivia? You’d always known they were close, their bond forged through countless trials and tribulations. But you’d never considered…

The rumors followed you like a shadow, growing louder in your mind with every passing day. You started noticing things you hadn’t before: the way Alex and Olivia exchanged subtle smiles, the way they lingered after meetings.

It was unbearable.

The thought of Alex being with someone else, especially Olivia - someone who seemed so perfect for her - was like a knife twisting in your chest. You couldn’t face her, couldn’t risk letting your feelings slip and humiliating yourself. So, you did the only thing you could think of: you started pulling away.

At first, Alex didn’t seem to notice.

You stopped lingering after work, stopped accepting her offers for coffee or lunch. When she texted, you kept your responses short, polite, and vague. You told yourself it was for the best, that creating distance would help you move on.

But it hurt. God, it hurt.

You missed her laugh, her sharp insights, her warmth. You missed the way she’d lean in close when she was telling you a secret, the way her eyes would light up when she was passionate about something.

Still, you held firm.

Until one evening, when Alex cornered you outside the precinct.

“Y/N,” she called, her voice laced with confusion and frustration.

You froze, clutching your bag tighter. “Alex. Hi.”

Her piercing blue eyes searched yours. “What’s going on?”

You blinked, feigning innocence. “What do you mean?”

She crossed her arms, her expression a mixture of hurt and determination. “Don’t play dumb. You’ve been avoiding me. Did I do something to upset you?”

You hesitated, your heart pounding. You wanted to tell her the truth, to confess everything, but fear held you back. Instead, you shook your head. “No, of course not. I’ve just been busy.”

“Busy,” she repeated, her tone skeptical. “Y/N, we’re friends. You don’t think I’d notice when something’s wrong?”

Friends. The word stung more than it should have.

“It’s nothing, Alex,” you said, forcing a smile. “Really.”

Her gaze softened, but the hurt didn’t leave her eyes. “If you say so.”

For weeks, the distance between you grew. Alex tried to reach out, but you kept her at arm’s length.

Then, one night, you found yourself at a bar with some coworkers, trying to drown your sorrows in a cocktail. You were just about to order another when a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Y/N.”

You turned to see Alex standing there, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable. She looked stunning, as always, in a black blazer and fitted jeans.

“Alex,” you said, your voice shaky.

“We need to talk.”

“I don’t think—”

“Now,” she interrupted, her tone leaving no room for argument.

She led you outside, where the cool night air hit your flushed cheeks.

“Enough is enough,” Alex said, her voice firm but not unkind. “I don’t know what I did to make you pull away, but I can’t just stand by and watch you shut me out.”

Tears pricked your eyes as you struggled to find the right words.

“You didn’t do anything,” you said quietly. “It’s not your fault.”

“Then why?” she pressed, stepping closer. “Why are you avoiding me?”

You looked down, unable to meet her gaze. “Because it hurts.”

Her brows furrowed. “What hurts?”

A tear slipped down your cheek as you finally let the words spill out. “Being around you. Pretending I don’t feel the way I do. Hearing everyone talk about you and Olivia and knowing I’ll never—”

You broke off, your voice cracking.

Alex stared at you, her eyes wide with shock.

“Y/N…” she began, her voice softening. “You think… you think I’m with Olivia?”

You nodded, your throat tight.

She let out a breathless laugh, shaking her head. “God, no. Olivia’s like a sister to me. Those rumors - whatever you heard - it’s not true.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “It’s not?”

“No,” she said firmly. “And even if it were, it wouldn’t matter. Because there’s only one person I’ve been thinking about. One person I’ve been wanting to spend more time with, if she’d let me.”

Your breath caught as she stepped closer, her blue eyes locking onto yours.

“Y/N,” she said softly, her voice trembling ever so slightly. “It’s you.”

Time seemed to stand still as her words sank in.

“It’s me?” you whispered, hardly daring to believe it.

“It’s you,” she repeated, her hand reaching up to cup your cheek. “I thought I’d made it obvious, but I guess I wasn’t as clear as I thought.”

Tears streamed down your face as a disbelieving laugh escaped your lips. “I’m an idiot.”

She smiled, her thumb brushing away a tear. “You’re not an idiot. Just a little oblivious.”

A nervous laugh bubbled between you, and then, before you could overthink it, Alex leaned in and pressed her lips to yours.

It was everything you’d ever imagined and more, soft, warm, and filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache in the best way.

When she pulled back, her forehead resting against yours, she whispered, “Please don’t pull away from me again.”

You nodded, a tearful smile spreading across your face. “I won’t. I promise.”

For the first time in weeks, your heart felt whole again. And as Alex pulled you into her arms, you knew you’d never have to hide your feelings from her again.

You were hers. And she was yours.

Finally.

[acourtofthought]

It would also be really anti-climatic if Elain and Lucien were fake mates and Az and Elain were real mates.

"Gosh, gee, it would have been nice if we had figured this out four books ago because then Lucien and I wouldn't have been staring into one another's eyes when I should have been paying attention to my sister who had just come out of the Cauldron and he wouldn't have had to go through such absolute shock at finding out Jesminda wasn't his mate which he believed for centuries only to later find out I was also not his mate either. He also wouldn't have needed to spend weeks worrying about my safety when he thought I'd been kidnapped to the NC, fleeing his home to find me without his magic then stressing over my mental health once he saw the state I was in. I would have never had to tell him how I heard his heart beating through the stone and we would have never needed to sit down at the healers suggestion which led to my feeling him tug at something within me and he wouldn't have been so sad at the thought that I wanted someone else that he went on a dangerous mission that even Az wouldn't let Rhys do beyond a certain point and I would never have felt the need to watch him leave, nearly stopping him but not having the courage to call out to him. And then I would have never had to ignore him after the war because of our mating bond which was something I wasn't emotionally prepared for because my fiancé had just rejected me. You know, because my mating bond with Lucien was actually fake this whole time and he wouldn't have felt like he had to stay away from the NC because he sensed that I needed space and then he wouldn't have spent the last two years longing for me and I wouldn't have needed to spend the last year ignoring him. And Az, if you didn't think Lucien was my mate then maybe you would have cared more about me when I was traumatized by the Cauldron and lost my entire future. Maybe you would have never drawn straws to avoid guarding me and maybe you and not Cassian would have been the first say you'd rescue me from Hyberns camp and then you wouldn't have had to go on and stare at Mor with longing while I sat in the room with you during my first Solstice in the NC. And maybe if you had known Lucien wasn't my mate you could have actually been my friend the past year instead of avoiding me because you were too much of a sad wittle boy to handle the scent of my fake mating bond.

But it's ok now because you're my REAL MATE and it only took 4 books for us to figure it out while you let some other guy who was only my fake mate act more like a mate than you ever did!

Sometimes I feel dumb posting these because it’s pretty obvious and straightforward when you read the books but here we go.

First quotes are from “A Court of Thorns and Roses”. Rhys called to Feyre at the end of the book. Feyre feels the pull of the bond. We later learn in “A Court of Mist and Fury” that this is the mate bond, and not the bargain:

Then moving onto this quote from “A Court of Wing and Ruin” we see a very similar scenario with Elain and Lucien:

This is just another reason why I think it’s obvious that the Elucien mate bond is very real and not faked.

Obviously there are countless other examples in “A Court of Wings and Ruin” and other books in the ACOTAR series that prove that their mate bond is real as well. However, I’ll attach what Sarah herself has said as well:

I hope this helps.

There’s a lot of misinformation spreading like wildfire through the fandom recently. With lots of outlandish “theories”. Again, I hope this helps.

And if you ship Elain with a different person that’s totally fine, but don’t expect them to be Elain’s “true mate” when she already has one. His name is Lucien.

[silverselfshippingchaos]

guys I just think my s/i and a.xel/l.ea should be friends

[ikiprian]

Clone’s Best Friend

“Cute dog!” the girl says. “What breed is he?”

“Uh,” blinks Kon. "Are you asking what breed Superdog is?"

“Uh, duh?”

Well. She’ll have to forgive him his stunned expression, ‘cause he doesn’t usually run into other dog walkers on this path. This is, of course, because “path” is used in the loosest sense, the one that connotates direction and not tread ground, and the “walk” bit is entirely inapplicable, with all of them currently flying one thousand feet above sea level.

“Cujo’s a rescue,” she continues, swinging her feet in the sky, “so we don’t know for sure, but my sister thinks part husky, part shar pei. Half-and-half, like me!”

Cujo is also, apparently, half green and half glowing. He wiggles happily in a play-bow. It’s very cute, except for the way he’s the size of a small house.

Krypto’s tough, though. He barks and chases his new friend through cloud cover. Gamely, Cujo flees. They frolic in the chilly condensation, occasionally poking a head out before diving back in, like a fox in a snowdrift.

Neither of them see anything surprising about this. It’s all good fun. And, well. Krypto’s always been a good judge of character.

Kon turns back to the girl and gives her a megawatt smile.

“He’s Kryptonian. Like me. But he looks like a white lab!”

[hauntingblue]

making a collection

making another collection with a threatening aura