#1) conflict interrupted by love | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lauraneedstochill · 2 years

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Can’t help falling in love

summary: 5 times Aemond was in love with you + 1 time he finally confessed his feelings

warnings: friends to lovers (at the age of 9, 10, 15, 17, 19), a pinch of angst (Aemond healing after losing his eye), but overall so fluffy and sweet you may want to skip dessert

words: ~ 5500 (I got reeeally carried away with that love confession)

Aemond is weeks away from his tenth birthday and he feels as miserable as ever. That feeling is an iron weight upon his heart, his mood irritated and face features grim more often than not. He is still without a dragon — and it’s the only thing he can think of, day and night, steadfast and stubborn in his obsession that most of his family finds to be blown out of proportion. It might have stang him less if only it wasn’t for the constant teasing and pitiful jokes that added to his distress and the never-ending heartache. He learns to keep a straight face and act as if he doesn’t really care, but deep down he does, way more than he’ll ever admit.

His training sessions are a way to channel his anger, and he lashes out at a straw man, again and again, clinging to the thought that, at least in these moments, he is not entirely powerless. He keeps his focus on the target, attentive to Ser Criston’s advice — “Soften your knees”, “Keep your feet light, your hands heavy”, and for a couple of hours he forgets about his misery.

It’s when the training comes to an end, the dreaded realization sinks in again, and Aemond is lost in his thoughts, mindlessly twirling the wooden sword in one hand, his gaze wandering around the yard.

And then his eyes fall on a bright green spot — and all of a sudden, he sees you. A girl of his age, the hem of your green dress a bit dusty, boots covered in dirt, a few strands of hair fallen loose, a coy smile on your face. You meet his gaze and wave at him excitedly.

Aemond looks dumbfounded. A girl in the training yard. Waving at him. He blinks once, twice — and in the next moment, you’re standing merely a few steps away, glancing curiously at his sword.

“It looks so hefty! Is it heavy? What is it made of?” a string of questions, your voice sweet and joyful.

There’s a brief pause and maybe you mistake his stiffness for arrogance as you are quick to add:

“Oh, my manners!” gasping but showing no actual regret. “Forgive me,” you curtsy, your smile growing even wider. A timid smile appears on his face in return and he finally comes to his senses.

“It’s made out of red oak. It’s not very heavy, you get used to it,” Aemond raises the sword, letting you take a closer look. Within another blink of an eye he finds himself talking to you, your questions endless and maybe a bit naive but he genuinely enjoys it.

That’s until you both hear a loud cry.

“Lady Y/N!” your nanny comes running in, out of breath and scowling. “I told you not to wander around...,” she chokes on her words at the sight of the young prince. She curtsies, too, but it isn’t nearly as cute as when you do it.

She sprints decisively in your direction. “It wasn’t very polite of you to interrupt the prince’s training, you little menace!”

And then Aemond, to his own surprise, moves to stand in her way.

“She didn’t interrupt a thing,” he disagrees, lips thinned into a tight line.

The nanny stops and looks at Aemond dubiously, switching her gaze from him to you.

Ser Criston is the one to resolve the conflict — he comes from behind, with a polite smile plastered on his face.

“Young lady can watch from the balcony. The guests are very much welcomed,” he calls for the maid to escort you and your nanny up there. While you’re away, he looks at Aemond with a grin:

“Already wooing the ladies, my prince? Let’s hope you are as good with your sword as she thinks you are.”

He does make Aemond work for it but the prince fights back, winning one bout after the other. He keeps glancing at you and you wave at him every single time.

Aemond is too young to know what love is, too shy and guarded to even entertain the thought of it. But when you look at him, with your childish grin and your eyes bright with mirth, he doesn’t feel lonely anymore. 2.

It’s been two weeks since Aemond lost his eye and he hasn’t left the bed. The pain is still blinding, burning and constantly making his only eye water. But what hurts even more is the humiliating disability. The triumph of claiming Vhagar died down, and now the prince was faced with the harsh reality he needed to adjust to and the process wasn’t an easy one. The fever has only recently gone down, leaving his body weak and freezing from the lack of movement, but he couldn’t bear the thought of stepping out of the room.

His mother wouldn’t leave his side and even Aegon often came to visit, clearly blaming himself for not being there for his little brother. Yet their presence barely brought Aemond any comfort and most of the time he would pretend to be asleep to avoid any conversations. He knew they only meant well and he was being cruel but he couldn’t help it as his pride was shattered and he gave in to sadness.

That is until one night he wakes up to a weird sound. He’s only half-awake when he hears a vigorous tapping that clearly comes from the outside. Except it's not from the other side of the door — but rather outside his window.

He’s startled by this guess and suspiciously walks closer. It takes him a few seconds to focus his gaze and discern a human’s silhouette — and then another few to realize that it’s you standing on the window sill. He feels like his heart will jump out of his chest as he rushes to open the window.

You climb through and clumsily drop to the floor. But before he can get worried, you are on your feet again, eyeing him with concern.

“Oh, Aemond,” your gaze and voice are both so soft, it makes his lower lip quiver. You carefully approach him and put your hand on his shoulder, gently sliding it on his back in a soothing motion and then cuddling him. He welcomes your company with a sigh of relief. You smell of oranges and you give the best hugs.

“They told me no one was allowed into your chambers,“ your hushed whisper burns his ear. “The silliest thing I’ve ever heard!” you pull away from him, still lightly panting, cheeks flushed and hair messy. “I knew I had to find a way to come see you.”

You examine his face, frowning at the scar that’s still healing.

“Does it hurt?”

He only nods, afraid that if he opens his mouth, he won’t be able to hold back a sob. You move closer, resuming the gentle motion of rubbing his back.

Ever since that day in the training yard, you kept in touch, regularly sending each other letters, chatting about everything and nothing, sharing your little secrets and observations. You recently mentioned that your parents allowed you to come see him again, but with the tragic change of events, Aemond completely forgot about the preplanned visit.

“I will take his eye,” you say out of the blue, caressing the unharmed side of his face, your voice laced with anger. Aemond thinks he might’ve heard it wrong.

“...Whose eye?”

“Luke’s! I shall take his eye, as payment for yours,” you tell him with zero hesitation. For a girl of your age, you’re way too eager to plan such a thing, yet he somehow has no doubts that you can actually do it.

Aemond shakes his head.

“You shouldn’t,” his voice quiet but firm. “The King was very adamant about that, no payment is needed.”

“Well, maybe he is too old to think straight,” you retort. “You are his son and you lost an eye! Justice must prevail,” you tilt your head at him, clearly thinking that you’re in the right.

And he knows that you are but he also knows no justice will be served. It’s the last straw for Aemond — he looks away in shame as tears, hot and angry, start falling down his cheek. You waste no time hugging him again, letting him cry on your shoulder, and the two of you stay like that for what feels like an hour.

And then, in the comfortable silence of your embrace, he hears you asking, very seriously:

“Are you sure I can’t take his eye?”

At that moment, he can’t stop himself from letting out a laugh — a weak one and barely audible, but still, he laughs, for the first time in two weeks, and you are the sole reason for it.

Your cheek is pressed to his, your fingers running through his hair, and Aemond realizes he can’t lose you.

He begrudgingly persuades you that taking Luke’s eye isn’t worth the trouble.

By the age of fifteen Aemond becomes quite accustomed to the eyepatch and it gives him a boost of confidence. Losing an eye only made him train harder and his persistence pays off when he’s the one to win, time after time, no matter who his opponent is. His hair grows longer, now silky smooth and with no sign of his boyish curled ends, his face features sharpen. He learns to walk with his head high and hands clasped behind his back, mastering the intimidating look that makes most people want to stay away from the one-eyed prince.

His tricks could’ve never worked on you, though.

You come to visit him a few times a year, and he eagerly awaits your arrival. All the days in between, you keep talking through letters, them getting longer as you get closer. He keeps those letters locked in a hidden compartment of his table. And sometimes, for no specific reason — or maybe for the reason he can’t yet formulate — he is drawn to reach for them, which always ends with him rereading the letters for hours. Some of them he knows by heart and yet it never stops him from having the pleasure of seeing your handwritten stories and little jokes that were only meant for him.

Today is no exception and Aemond is so enthralled by reading, he almost misses the knock on the door. The sound brings him to reality but he is in no hurry to react. The knocking comes again, and the prince groans, annoyed at the maid’s persistence. He carefully puts the letters back and goes to the door, armed with his cold gaze.

And then he opens it — and it’s you standing in front of him.

Aemond barely has time to register what’s going on when you launch yourself at him, your arms immediately enveloping him in a tight hug, your laugh ringing in the air. He hugs you back and, while you can’t see it, he’s grinning from ear to ear.

“I swear you’re getting taller every time we meet!” you look up at him, beaming, and he lets you in. “I soon will need a ladder just to hug you properly.”

“I’ll be sure to let my body know of your disapproval,” he sneers and you stick out your tongue.

“While you are at it, shall you also work on your friendly face? I overheard the maids being frightened to go into your chambers,” you try giving him a scolding look but end up giggling at his reddened cheeks.

“I am friendly enough!”

“Yes, nobody glowers quite like you,” you snicker and flop right on the floor, the move always making him smile. Aemond tried persuading you to sit on any other surface that’s actually meant for sitting but you insisted that his fluffy rug works just as well, so he eventually gave up, deciding to join you. He never complained since.

Before he knows it, he’s immersed in the conversation while you enthusiastically share the recent news and everything that’s happened to you on the road. Only about half an hour in, he notes a small bag you’re clasping in your hands.

“You come bearing gifts?”

“Oh, I almost forgot I had it,” you laugh, abashed. “I decided I should bring you something to replace this crumpled-looking thing”.

It takes Aemond a minute to realize that you’re talking about his eyepatch. But he has no time to protest as you silence him with a gesture of your hand.

“I took it upon myself to count for how long you’ve been wearing this one already,” your tone gets serious. “I must say, that number is disturbing.”

There’s a moment of silence and then he clears his throat, his voice unsure. “Very kind of you to think of that, I shall replace it later on.”

He reaches his hand to take the bag but you quickly cover it with yours, fingers brushing over his, and he freezes.

“Are you still not convinced that I can take a look at it?” you try to make eye contact but he averts your gaze.

“Aemond, I was with you and I think I’ve seen enough back then — none of it scared me.”

“It is not a sight for the faint of heart,” the prince mumbles, his bravado faltering.

“Well, I don’t remember fainting the first time. You should have more faith in me,” you try to reason, holding his hand.

Aemond ponders for another minute — or maybe ten, he isn’t sure, and you patiently wait, not wanting to press him any further. Then he finally makes a decision and, after taking a long, sad sigh, he removes the eyepatch and looks at you, the sight of him is the very definition of insecurity.

You stay silent for about five seconds before concluding:

“Oh, it healed so nicely!” with no hint of uncertainty in your voice. Your smile reassures him a little as you peer at the sapphire, looking very pleased.

“The gem compliments your eye very well,” you give him your verdict, taking the new eyepatch out.

“We might have a different understanding of what a compliment is.”

“This is me trying to say that I really like the way it looks,” you chide him lightly. “And I consider myself to be quite understanding, thank you very much. Will you stop pouting and let me put it on?”

At this point he surrenders, giving you permission, and you move closer, giggling with excitement. You gently fix his hair, making sure it’s all combed back, and then lean to put the eyepatch on. You have a habit of biting your lower lip when you’re too concentrated on something, and Aemond can’t help but gaze at that part of your face while your teeth graze over the pillowy surface.

He’s never let anyone this close — and not just in the sense of physical proximity. The moment is very intimate, and the softness of your movements tugs at his heart. He is suddenly very aware of the very short distance separating you two, and he holds his breath. You are oblivious to his stare and soon lean back, satisfied with the result and glancing at him with something akin to fondness.

He wishes he could paint a picture of you right at this moment, so tender and caring and sitting by his side.

He also wishes he could kiss you — and that thought scares him to death. And yet, once it appears, it never goes away.

Aemond is seventeen and his life has been pure torture since you stopped visiting him. He hasn’t seen you in over half a year (seven months and eleven days, not that anyone is counting). It’s not your fault as your father has unexpectedly fallen ill and you couldn’t leave his side. The prince exhausted the maester with questions, asking for advice to write back to you, worried sick that your separation would be stretched for way longer than he could handle.

Luckily, the Gods took pity on him, and he was glad to learn that your father got better, and you will come to King’s Landing soon. Your visit coincided with Aegon’s birthday, but Aemond didn’t care about the feast, his mind only occupied with the thought of seeing you. He was both nervous and excited to the point of not even hiding it, which led to Aegon teasing him relentlessly. Helaena, on the other hand, wholeheartedly supported Aemond’s feelings for you.

“She will be delighted to see you, too, I am sure of it,” his sister tells him the day before the event.

“But the reason for it might be of a different nature,” Aemond remarks, and Helaena gives him a compassionate look.

“You will never know her true feelings unless you ask,” she encourages. “The two of you are so close, I consider her part of the family.”

Aemond knows that he’s of age and his mother hinted that, despite him showing no interest in courting, some ladies still found him attractive. He dismisses the idea but then finds himself thinking of it from time to time. When the realization forms in his head, it’s nerve-wracking but oh so compelling — he thinks he would’ve really wanted to marry you. He just doesn’t know how to tell you about it.

The day of your arrival comes, and Aemond wakes up at dawn in anticipation, determined to confess his feelings. He tries to come up with a speech, but it feels wrong and sounds weird, and he decides it will be better to improvise. He all but runs to the courtyard to be the first one to greet you. However, when you step out of the carriage, smoothing your dress, and your eyes meet, Aemond stops dead in his tracks and the world around him stands still.

His confidence might’ve blossomed — but not nearly as much as your beauty did. Somehow in those recent months, you’ve matured into a woman that takes his breath away.

It’s not a drastic change, it’s all in the details: the contours of your face are more defined, the cheekbones prominent, your hair knotted up high in a perfect style and even your pace is much slower and gracious. You walk towards one another, both suddenly cautious. But when you are a couple of meters apart, a well-known smile appears on your face and you hold your arms out to him and he finally hugs you again, after all this time. Aemond relaxes, inhaling the familiar scent of fruits that you undoubtedly munched on your way here.

“You look exactly as I remembered you,” you say as you slip from his embrace.

“And you are a sight to behold,” he breathes out, taking you in, and your cheeks heat up at the compliment. You’ve never been shy with him before, so this is also new. He wonders what might’ve caused this change.

As the two of you walk around the castle, it feels a bit awkward at first, and you keep glancing at him with emotion he can’t read. But Aemond is too happy to see you to give it much thought, and within an hour you ease into the conversation, too. By the time the evening comes, the tension disappears, and you are laughing at his sarcastic remarks again, and he savors every second of it.

The feast in honor of Aegon is lush and crowded, but you stay by Aemond’s side, enjoying each other’s company, and he only has eye for you. When the music gets too loud, you sneak out and soon find yourselves in his chambers, just like in the good old days.

Aemond is in the middle of telling you about Aegon’s recent foray to the Flea Bottom, when you say. “It’s just the two of us,” your fingers sink into the fluffy rug. “You don’t have to wear it with me. You know it, right?”

He wears the eyepatch with everyone, only taking it off before going to sleep. Moreover, he actually cherishes it because it’s a gift from you.

Aemond hesitates. “I thought you quite liked it.”

“I only gave it to you because yours started to look like it was pulled off a dead man’s body!” you laugh.

Before he can think of an answer, you lean closer — your shoulder brushing his, your hand touching his face, the same gentle warmth he remembers so well, — and remove the eyepatch yourself. The sight doesn’t bother you in the slightest as you confess:

“I accept you the way you are, Aemond,” and then, a moment away from him opening his mouth and saying the thing that’s been on the tip of his tongue for the duration of the day, you add, “That’s what friends are for — and you are my best friend.”

And just like that, with this word alone, his plan goes out the window.

A friend. Aemond can’t even be upset at the reveal, because, honestly, being your friend feels like a blessing in itself and he wouldn’t trade it for the world. How could he be so selfish and foolish to even think about risking it all, risk losing you?

So he keeps his feelings to himself, locking them away deep in his heart, and doesn't argue with you.

Maybe he should have.

By the age of nineteen Aemond reaches the conclusion that he wants to take the risk. Otherwise, he thinks he might actually die as his heart can not hold all his feelings anymore. In two years' time, there isn’t a single thing about you that he hasn’t come to love, and keeping it a secret becomes harder with each day.

Aemond is ridden with doubts to the point where he can’t hide it any longer and he decides to seek advice — and the prince can’t think of a better person to talk to than his mother. Unbeknownst to him, Alicent was the first one to notice. Years ago, when you were kids, she quickly sensed the effect you had on her son, and it brought her joy as she watched the two of you get closer with time.

So when Aemond bursts into her room, anxiety radiating off of him as he starts jabbering away, his pacing erratic and voice trembling, it takes her about a minute to realize what's going on.

“My dear, I think you must talk to her,” she approaches him, an understanding look on her face.

Aemond cuts his speech short, eyeing her with wonder:

“You don’t seem surprised.”

“Your affection for her is as bright as a fire blazing,” Alicent chuckles. “I believe she is the only one who doesn’t see it.”

“Should I tell her...?” he doesn’t dare say it out loud, not yet.

Alicent briefly takes his hands in hers, squeezing them. “You should tell her the truth.”

Her encouragement gives him a dash of hope, lifting a weight off his chest. Aemond knows in an instant that the letter won’t cut it, and you must have the conversation face-to-face. Fortunately, your next visit is in a month, so his suffering won’t last for much longer.

Aemond almost reaches the door but then sharply turns to his mother again, his cheeks flushed:

“Will you give me your approval?” and this time, he looks straight at her as he wants to see her genuine reaction.

Alicent smiles, quick to reassure him. “Yes, Aemond. Your betrothal would only make me happy.” The prince feels elated, almost euphoric, as he finally goes to meet you and runs the remaining distance from his chambers to the yard. But when he sees you, the smile disappears from his face because he notices that something is wrong.

You look visibly upset, your eyes watering and fingers fumbling with the dress, even though you try to force a smile in return. The hug you give him is weak and you keep looking at your feet.

“What is the matter?” he’s never seen you this sad, but you brush him off.

“It’s just a headache, no need to worry.”

Yet that’s exactly what he does, offering to call for the maester, or to prepare you a warm bath, or bring you some tea...

“A cup of water would be nice, thank you,” he leaves you in the hallway to go and get it himself, the task only takes a couple of minutes. When he returns, you stand with your back to him, your shoulders are shaking — and he hears quiet, muffled sobs. If it wasn’t for the nearby table, he would’ve thrown the cup away, his focus on you alone. As he rushes to envelop you in a hug, you don’t fight it, instead nestling your face against his chest, not hiding your tears anymore.

Aemond gives you some time before asking again.

“This doesn’t look like just a headache. What is the cause of your anguish?” now he’s the one running his fingers up and down your back.

You let out a sound that’s a mix between a groan and a whine.

“My father says I am to be betrothed soon. He says I am of age already and... and he wants me to meet some of my cousins,” you sniffle. “I told him I have no wish to get married but he refuses to listen,” you bite your lip, not wanting to cry again.

Surely, that’s not how Aemond wanted to ask you. But he decides to take his chance.

“Mayhaps there is another way out that could make you feel better.”

“Please don’t tell me Vhagar will burn them down,” you jest but the smile doesn’t reach your eyes. Aemond thinks your idea isn’t that bad — but he has to try his first.

“If he insists you should marry but doesn’t have a particular candidate, maybe you can pick one yourself?”

“I’ve met all my cousins — and half of them are imbeciles, the others are too old to survive a wedding,” you scoff.

“Then pick someone you are not related to,” Aemond suggests.

“Do you have a particular candidate in mind?” when you ask with a tinge of annoyance, you don’t think he will answer. And then you look at him — and see him grinning before he says:

“Me”.

You glare at Aemond with eyes wide and mouth agape, the expression frozen on your face for a good minute.

“Are you laughing at me?” you manage to say.

“I wouldn’t dare,” his nerves are as tight as a wound-up string.

In the blink of a moment, your face lights up. You are looking at him indecisively, searching for words, agitated. But Aemond mistakes your confusion for rejection.

“At the very least you will marry someone you know,” he tries to reason — but it backfires, wiping the joyfulness off your face.

Taken aback, you inquire. “You pity me?” He doesn’t grasp the poor choice of his words yet.

“You pity me and that’s why you want to marry me?” you give him a look of disbelief, your eyes glossy, and he can’t get his head around what just happened.

“Oh, it was so silly of me to think that...,” you choke back a sob, putting your hand over your mouth.

Never in his life he thought he would be the reason for you looking so heartbroken. Aemond covers your hand with his palm — and you let him, as he tries to gather his courage.

“I only meant to say that I —”

And then you recoil, snapping your hand back.

“Aemond, don’t,” you take a step back from him, then another one. “You have said enough. Please, let me be,” you turn away and leave the hall in a hurry before he can utter another word.

... 1.

He finds you at your usual spot, under the blossoming cherry tree. You’ve always said you liked the color of it, little white flowers reminding you of early spring, your favorite time of the year. You don’t know that Aemond insisted on planting that tree specifically for you. Just so he can sit nearby and, as you were basking in the sunlight with your eyes closed, he would get a chance to look at you with all his unconditional love and have those moments engraved in his memory.

Come to think of it, he had so many memories of you — and every single one of them was bliss, and he can recall them so easily like it was yesterday.

And so he does.

“When we first met, you wore a green dress,” his voice startles you, but you don’t turn to face him, sniffling with your arms folded. “It was the color of forest trees. Black lace around the hem of it, the matching hair ribbon that you kept losing,” he keeps his distance, his hands shaking.

“Yes, I remember it pretty well,” you sigh, avoiding his gaze, baffled by his sudden outburst.

“The second time was when you climbed through my window, almost gave me a heart attack,” there’s a hint of a smile in his voice that you catch even without looking. “Blue dress, you tore a huge piece of it and couldn’t care less. You were the first person to make me laugh in two weeks even though it seemed impossible. But not with you.”

He sees your eyebrows furrowing, hands sliding down to rest on your knees.

“Helaena’s name day came next, your dress was bright pink. Luke tried to make fun of it and you threw a cup full of water in his face. To this day, it’s one of my fondest memories.”

You dare to look up at him, perplexed, your eyes wet from crying.

“Three months after was the light-blue dress, then the peach one and the brown one. Then the white one which didn’t survive the horse riding lesson, and Helaena gave you one of hers. Light green, too long for your liking, even though you pretended otherwise to please her,” the corners of your lips tremble, your face softening.

“Then for a year you only wore violet, much to your nanny’s dismay as she thought it made you look ill. And I thought you were the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, no matter what dress you were in,” he can’t take his eye off you.

Your face expression melts into a stunned one.

“I didn’t realize it back then. Or maybe I didn’t know how to call it. I just knew that your visits only brought me happiness,” he takes a step toward you, uncertain, but you don’t move from your spot.

“When you were fourteen, you picked the autumn colors — orange, dark yellow, deep red. Your started braiding your hair, tried to braid mine,” you can’t hold back a smile. He was fussy when you first voiced the idea but he ended up loving the process so much, he would allow it just to feel your fingers flowing through his hair.

“I think you actually enjoyed it,” you mumble, and Aemond smiles, too.

“I did. I enjoyed every minute that I got to spend with you.”

You stand up then, feeling your pulse quickening.

“The day you brought me the eyepatch, you wore emerald green. I was terrified to show you the scar,” he pauses, catching his breath. “You assuaged my fears with your kindness. But then I was terrified to learn that I wanted to kiss you.”

You think you are dreaming. Is it possible that you fell asleep under the tree? You don’t want to get your hopes too high, but when he looks at you like this, your own fears start melting away.

“Then was the black dress, the grey one, another white one. The golden one you wore to meet Vhagar,” when he saw you that day, he almost forgot how to breathe. You showed no sigh of apprehension as you fearlessly approached the dragon. He was absolutely besotted.

“And then came the agony of not seeing you for over seven months,” he closes his eye for a second, overwhelmed. He almost misses it when you speak:

“Seven months and twenty-five days. Not that I was counting,” his eye snaps open, instantly on you again.

You gravitate toward each other without even noticing. Aemond’s heart skips a beat when you’re at arm’s length, your eyes shining and lips slightly parted. Even in the state you’re in, you look so beautiful, it’s mesmerizing, and the words are stuck in his throat. You are the one to break the silence.

“Aemond, please don't give me false hope,” your heartbeat is too loud, you don’t hear your own voice. He does.

“I do not wish to marry you out of pity,” Aemond takes the last step. “I want you to be my wife because I am in love with you,” he wipes away the remaining tears off your face, his fingers linger, making you shiver. “I’ve been in love with you for quite some time. For a few years, actually,” his voice gets low. “For what feels like an eternity,” Aemond murmurs.

“Why haven’t you told me?” you pout, nervously toying with the collar of his shirt.

“I was afraid you didn’t feel the same. I still am but maybe... Maybe I am wrong?” his gaze is fixed on you, one of his hands following the contour of your waist, your body warming at the touch.

“Tell me that I am wrong,” he whispers, begging.

You look at his lips, the soft curve of them that you’ve dreamt of for so long.

Aemond always thought yours were the most kissable he’s ever seen.

You don’t know who closes the distance first — but his mouth is suddenly on yours and the sensation leaves you disarmed. Kissing him is like being swept with a wave of tenderness, and you’re floating in it, his lips so fervid and supple — truly perfect — your head is spinning. The kiss is not awkward nor modest as you hastily cling to each other, his hands gripping your waist, your chest pressed into his.

Aemond feels like he’s drowning, and he wants more of you — all of you, and then your fingers tug at his locks, eliciting a groan from him, and it is simply a miracle that his heart doesn’t explode. You move in impeccable sync, in the passionate harmony that erupts from years worth of mutual pining. His lungs burn but he resists the urge to break the kiss and stretches it out the best he can until you are breathless, too.

“Never knew that you were so fascinated by my wardrobe choices,” you tease, and his hum turns into a chuckle.

“You know what my favorite memory is?” you ask, your forehead resting against his.

“When we were ten-and-three, and you were teaching me how to hold a sword. I tackled you to the ground and scraped my knee,” you both smile at your then enthusiasm. “And you set everything aside to spend the rest of the day with me even though it was hardly a wound. And I remember thinking,” you hook your finger under his chin, “that there’s nowhere else I would rather be than with you, with this favorite boy of mine.”

The air around you is tense, and you are enchanted by each other.

“Did that help to prove you wrong?”

“I may need some convincing,” his breath fans over your lips.

“You can take your time,” you laugh — and then the sound of it is muffled by his athirst mouth. His favorite memory will be this.

And every other moment with you that’s to come.

author’s note: I’m sorry if this came out messy and rushed. I tried my best to write a shorter fic (this is short for me lmao) and idk how I feel about it. I much rather prefer them longer because I’m a sucker for stories about two people getting to know each other and falling in love BUT I get it that others don’t want to read long ass fics (which kinda breaks my heart but I'm being so very brave about it) anyways, thank you for reading! 💙 the longer version of this fic might have looked like this (yes, this is a shameless plug! because I adore this one to pieces!! bite me) 🎵 the title is a quote from Elvis Presley’s song (duh). there are quite a few covers of it but one of my favorites is by Twenty One Pilots. there’s also a female version — by Ingrid Michaelson — and I think both of them fit the story really well. 💞 my masterlist P.S. I’m also on AO3 (lol, who isn’t), in case you prefer to read fics there.

English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes!

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jgracie · 6 months

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SAY YES TO HEAVEN — PERCY + DAUGHTER OF ZEUS

masterlist | rules

❝ hiii can i ask for a percy and daughter of zeus hc but in a non stereotypical way? where reader is quite literally the princess of olympus and no one would even think zeus is her dad ❞ — anon

in which percy dates a daughter of zeus

pairing percy jackson x zeus!reader

warnings none

on the radio . . . say yes to heaven (lana del rey)

an they have phones in this sorry !

You met Percy through Jason, your brother dearest

When you’d arrived at camp in the winter, getting claimed as soon as you stepped foot into the border, he’d been there for you and explained everything you needed to know about life as a demigod

One of the first things he told you when you got claimed by Zeus is that you, “aren’t like his other kids.” You didn’t think much of it at first, but then others who got to know you started saying the same thing - you were much too kind to be Zeus’ kid

Despite this, he seemed to have an affinity for you, for he’d claimed you immediately and had a weapon ready in your cabin for you. Once others caught wind of this, they started dubbing you “princess” as you had a heart of gold and seemed to be Zeus’ favourite child

As the months went by, you heard stories about all the quests people had done, the most spoken of being a quest prophesied about in the great prophecy. Your brother, along with six other demigods, saved the world from Gaia

Jason told you all about the six other demigods, but only one of them intrigued you - Percy Jackson

See, Jason wasn’t the only person who’d speak about Percy. You’d always hear his name pop up in random conversations: the great Percy Jackson, two-time saviour of the world. When they talk about him like that, you can’t help but be interested

So when Jason told you that Percy would be arriving at camp soon and to let him in if he shows up at your cabin, you were a little excited

You didn’t meet Percy at Cabin 1, though

It was a particularly hot summer day and after hours of trying to cool yourself down with your wind powers - which had started giving you an awful headache - you decided to go to the beach

Grabbing a packet of biscuits, you ran to the shore, desperate to be rid of the heat around you

When you got there, the first thing you did was make your way to your dear pegasus, Lovely. A month into your being at camp, you found her at this very beach, which you thought was strange as all the others were at the stables. Still, she grew on you, and now you regularly visit her with biscuits

“Hello, Lovely,” you said, giving her a biscuit which she immediately chomped down as you petted her nose. You smiled, breathing in the salty air of the shore

Suddenly, someone interrupted your peace, “what’re you doing with Blackjack?” He asked, an accusatory tone laced in his voice

You turned around, confused, “her name is Lovely, she’s been my pegasus for a couple months now,” you explained, not wanting any conflict to arise

“No, his name is Blackjack. He’s a guy, and he’s been my pegasus for years!” The pegasus neighed and whinnied. You didn’t know what he was saying, but the guy did, as he smirked and gave you a look that clearly said, ‘I told you so’

You made your way over to the guy, “I’m sorry, I only arrived this winter. I haven’t seen you around before, and no one told me this was your pegasus.”

He smiled and you breathed a sigh of relief, glad to know he wasn't offended, “it’s fine, he really enjoys your company. I’m Percy Jackson.”

That was the day you fell in love. All you could think about was Percy, and getting to know him didn’t help either. To you, he felt like a breath of fresh air. He was easy-going, charming, and everything you could ever need in a man

Percy had fallen for you too. He never thought he’d ever crush on a daughter of Zeus, out of all people, but there he was. Everything he hated about your father was absent in you.

You made shapes out of clouds for the younger kids and used your voice to advocate for good

As June turned into July then August, the two of you spent more and more time together

Your crushes on each other remained, of course, but neither of you were willing to do anything about them due to something Jason had said on the day you met

After the Blackjack-Lovely incident, Percy decided to walk you back to your cabin, partially because that’s what his mother drilled into his head when he was 13, and partially because he desperately needed to know more about you

When you got to the front door, you decided to invite him in, not wanting to say goodbye so soon. He accepted, glad to not have to leave you already.

Jason was already inside and they shared a brotherly reunion before he noticed you were there too, “I see you’ve met my sister, Y/N,” he said, smiling at you

While Jason was usually pretty oblivious when it came to love, he noticed a spark had formed between the two of you. With a teasing smile on his face, he said, “well, you two better not start dating!”

You respected your brother’s wishes. He’d been so kind to you when you first came to camp, not dating his best friend was the least you could do

And although Percy was notorious for not following directions, he couldn’t help but obey Jason’s rule, as he didn’t want to create a wedge between you and him

He tried to stay friends with you for as long as he could, but the sea does not like to be restrained

One day, Percy woke up feeling unable to push down his feelings for you anymore. Even if you rejected him, he knew he had to tell you. So he went to the beach, where he knew you’d be

Percy took a deep breath and sent a quick prayer to Aphrodite, “Y/N, I have to tell you something.”

Turning, your lips pursed in confusion and concern at the seriousness of Percy’s voice. You left Blackjack and walked towards the boy, “is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, don’t worry,” he began, “it’s just that I really like you, Y/N. No, actually, I love you. I’ve loved you for so long. From the moment I saw you on this beach, I was a goner,” he sensed you were about to tell him you can’t date because you didn’t want to upset Jason, so he continued, “I know Jason said we couldn’t date but trust me, I’ll prove my worth to him. I’ll even prove my worth to Zeus if you ask me to, I’d do anything just to be yours. Please, can’t we try?”

You felt tears prick your eyes at his heartfelt confession. Who were you to deny him? “Okay,” you said, before throwing yourself onto him, lips interlocked

You promised Jason to train with him first thing in the morning. When he woke up and found that you weren’t in bed, he decided to look for you at the beach, knowing how much you loved Percy’s pegasus

He was, of course, right. You were at the beach. You also seemed to love Percy more than the pegasus. Jason smiled, happy to see his sister and his best friend finally confess to each other, “Y/N promised to train with me, but we can always do that later.”

Immediately, the two of you started explaining yourselves, apologising for not following Jason’s wishes, confusing him, “why would I be upset about this?” He asked

“You said we better not start dating, remember?” Percy replied

“Guys, I was joking. Couldn’t you tell? I was clearly teasing you.”

You vowed to teach Jason how to properly make a joke after that day

Percy couldn’t be happier. Every morning, he’d show up at your cabin just to walk you to breakfast

He also sits at the Zeus table now. He gets judging stares for it, but he doesn’t care

When people found out you and Percy were dating, he started receiving lots of threats from random campers detailing what they’d to to him if he even thought about hurting their princess

Zeus also left a letter on his bed. That was scary, but he was glad the God didn’t blast him all the way down to Tartarus

Your guys’ favourite place to hang out is on the roof of your cabin. As a child of Zeus, you enjoy being in places with high altitudes, and after Percy had caught you up there a couple times, you decided to teach him how to climb up

You always watch the sunsets and sunrises from up there together <3 they become your thing. Whenever you’re apart, you send each other pictures of the sky so you can still sort of watch the sun rise and set at the same time

Blackjack loves you more than Percy. If he's with Percy and glimpses you from afar, he gallops over to you and nuzzles the crook of your neck

Jason is lowkey sick of you. Especially when he enters HIS cabin to relax on HIS bed and finds you guys making out

Its okay though because you’re camp's prince and princess

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson #percy jackson x fem reader #pjo #pjo x reader #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson headcannons #percy jackson x zeus reader #percy jackson x daughter of zeus #zeus pjo #children of zeus #daughter of zeus #cynwrites

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byunpum · 9 months

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Mama's Boy | Part 5

Pair: Jake x neytiri x human reader (trio couple) x sully children's

Warning: cozy moments, conflict, family problems

Note: I hope you like this part, the next one is gonna be the final part...Thank you sooo much!! btw I recently opened a KO-Fi…. if you want to leave any tips or support I would appreciate it (it would help me to buy real coffee xD).

AVATAR MASTERLIST | Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6(final)

The previous day's argument was very intense. Leaving the family in a very delicate state. Even you decided to sleep alone in a kind of bed you made. You were so upset with jake, you couldn't understand why he was like that with lo'ak. Sometimes you thought Jake was ashamed of lo'ak…ashamed that you were his mother. You had been sitting quietly in the marui all day, still feeling a little bad. You were taking care of tuk, the girl was by your side. Making a necklace for you, while she was telling you everything she did in the morning. "Love be careful…you can hurt yourself" you help tuk with the needle she was using. At that, you can see how jake enters the marui, he had a basket full of fish. Looking quickly at you, walking towards where he used to leave the food that had to be prepared. You decide to ignore him, and be playful with tuk.

"baby…can we talk?" asks jake, the man had approached you, sitting down next to you. You on the other hand were acting like he wasn't there. You look up, and sigh loudly. "Tuk honey, why don't you let mommy and daddy talk alone" you help the girl pick up her materials, and wait for her to come out of the marui doing some jumping jacks. You smile a little to see how happy tuk was, oblivious to what was going on. "Tell me?" you speak, looking at jake waiting for him to start talking. "Is it true that you are thinking of leaving? "jake looks at you, you could tell he was worried. It was too dangerous for you to go back to the jungle. The RDA was looking for Jake, and when Jake's name was on the line his whole family was involved. The months you had to be alone, you never left the lab.

"I see neytiri told you everything" you say, trying not to make eye contact with him. "Love…we can fix this" Jake touches your hand, but you push him away. "Jake it's not with me that you have to fix things, it's with your son. Your behavior towards him…it's terrible." You speak, trying to hold back your tears. "Y/n you're misunderstanding things I" jake speaks, but is interrupted when you turn around and are now looking directly at him. "Jake… I have a question for you, what does neteyam like the most?" you ask. "A-ahh he likes hunting, he likes to ride his ikran. He's also a great talker," says jake.

"Okay, now tell me what lo'ak likes?" you speak up, knowing jake wouldn't answer quickly like the other question. Jake gets nervous, looking around for a moment. "He likes…he likes being with his brother. " jake speaks timidly, watching as your eyebrows draw together in anger. "Lo'ak likes to ride around and investigate things. He loves to practice with his bow, he likes to spend time with his sister kiri and all he looks forward to is his father telling him he did a great job" you were already very annoyed.

"I know…" jake speaks softly. Shaking his head, look embarrassed. "Jake your sons are not soldiers…they are children. Children who need love and attention from their father. Neteyam is not the only one here who needs to be trained. Lo'ak too, he needs you to treat him with respect and love. What does it cost you to do that?" you speak, watching as jake pulled his knees up to his chest. Becoming more like a little ball. "I just…want them to be strong and …. I'm afraid they'll be weak and won't be able to survive this chaos we live in" jake tries to explain. And yes, he was a little bit right. But that didn't justify the preference he had over neteyam. "Jake, I know all that" you wave your hands all around you. "This is all chaos, I know this isn't our home. I know what we're going through, but what does lo'ak have to do with it? Why can't you treat him like you treat kiri or neteyam or tuk? What did he do to you?" you speak, getting up from the floor. You had to walk, because the rage was consuming you. You hated it when jake tried to avoid trouble. Telling you smith answers to distract you. "He didn't do anything" jake follows you with his eyes.

"I feel like sometimes you just treat him like that, because he came from me. Because he's not completely na'vi." You had tears in your eyes, you didn't know why you were so sentimental. Even though this situation always broke your heart, you wanted lo'ak to feel loved. "Y/n never say that… this has nothing to do with you being his mother" jake in one swift movement. He takes your arm, to pull you closer to him. "I wouldn't ask for another mother for my son, you are an excellent mother" jake lets his head lay on your chest. He is silent for a moment, you didn't want to keep arguing with him. You loved your family, you loved jake, you hated being upset with him. "Lo'ak is how I was…he is so much like the stupid jake who betrayed and endangered people he cared about. That stupid jake got innocent people killed" jake speaks, you knew he was talking about grace. She had been so important to you.

You take jake's face in your hands, pulling his face up so he could look you in the eye. "But that stupid jake was the one who saved a whole clan, that stupid jake is strong and brave. That stupid jake was the one I fell in love with" you speak softly. Tears streamed down Jake's cheeks. "I want you to be the person that stupid Jake needed, for lo'ak. He needs you…" you speak, feeling jake hug you. You both stand there for a moment. "I don't want him to make mistakes that he'll regret later," jake says. "He'll get in trouble if you don't help…try to be a better parent to him. That's all I ask of you" you start walking away from jake. Picking up some things tuk had left on the ground, you go to look for the girl.

"Do you think you would have been happy if instead of me, tom was the one in this body?" jake asks you. You knew this was tormenting Jake. You had been tom's girlfriend just before he went to earth. And there he was murdered. When jake came to the RDA and took tom's place. For you it was a big shock, Jake was just like your ex-boyfriend, but so different at the same time. You had to admit that Jake was the only thing that kept you sane those months. Not to mention the relationship that formed between the two of you. Jake allowed you to see neytiri again and get closer to the clan. Jake could be a fool, but the fool you liked the most. The rest is history.

You turn around before leaving the marui, tears in your eyes. "Believe it or not, I am very happy…but I wish your insecurities didn't affect this family" you speak, walking out of the marui leaving jake alone with his thoughts. You liked that Jake opened up to you, but you would like to see him try to improve his relationship with his children. Because it wasn't just lo'ak, neteyam was also affected by jake's treatment. You pause for a moment, taking a deep breath and wiping away your tears. You calm down a bit, and start looking for tuk. Luckily for you, the girl wasn't far away. She was sitting with neteyam playing.

You approach the children, see how they look at you and their eyes light up. "Hello" you greet them, sitting down next to tuk. "Look my love, you forgot these things" you hand the things to tuk. The little girl thanks you, she didn't dare to come back for them. "Thank you mommy" tuk says, now sitting on your lap. You can feel neteyam's eyes glued to you, he knew things were not good between his parents. The news that you were likely to leave had destroyed him. Neteyam could be strong, and always be by Jake and Neytiri's side. But you were his refuge, where he could go and be a child again. If he was to be judged for a second. "Mom?" neteyam speaks to you, you look at him quickly. "Mmm?" you are helping tuk, when you feel neteyam sit down next to you. "Is it true that you are going to go and leave us?" neteyam speaks waiting for you to answer. "Mom? You are going to leave us?" yells tuk. You sigh, you had gone through a pretty strong disappointment a few minutes ago and you wanted to control yourself.

"Where did you hear that neteyam?" you look at the boy, you thought you had argued in private, but you guess your screams were too loud. "We heard it by accident, I promise" neteyam gets nervous, but you hold his hand to calm him down. "mom if you go…can I come with you?" neteyam was getting sentimental, you caress his face a little. Laughing a little and tapping your arms to give him support. "I'm not going anywhere…but if I did. Of course you can go with me." You speak, watching as neteyam pouts. You joke a little, in order to change the topic. You didn't like them getting involved in adult issues, you knew they had been through a lot. At such a young age.

It wasn't long before you started to feel a little dizzy. You tried to hold your child tighter in your lap, but you felt like you were about to throw up. Never having felt like this before. You push tuk a little so that the girl slips out of your lap, placing your hands on your stomach, you were in a lot of pain. Neteyam noticed this, and quickly began to help you. "What's wrong mom?" neteyam holds your shoulders. The vomiting was something you couldn't help, and you swore you were emptying yourself alive. neteyam held you so you wouldn't mess yourself up. "Mom!" the boy whines, he has never seen you like this before. It was so strong that as soon as you recover, your sight goes blank.

You start to get up, you could hear some voices around you. You didn't open your eyes yet, but you could distinguish them. One was from neytiri, and the other was from ronal. You could feel some warm things on your body, and some parts were wet. You start to become conscious, opening your eyes a little at a time. "Ma Y/n!!!" neytiri sounded so happy, she had a nice smile on her face. On the other hand, ronal was moving away from your body. You could tell she looked exhausted. "What happened?" you try to get up, but you barely had any strength. "You fainted again and neteyam warned us" neytiri explains, stroking your hair. Something seemed curious about neytiri, she was supposed to be worried and she looked so happy. "You are sick…you need to rest and take medicine" said Ronal, the woman was already looking in some containers for the herbs to prepare the medicine you had to take. The more you woke up you realized that you were in the marui that Ronal used to take care of the sick na'vi. "And the children?" you look weakly at neytiri. "They are with Jake, don't worry," Neytiri speaks, settling in closer to your side.

You rest a little, but you feel how Ronal starts to remove the towels that were warm before. Drying your exposed skin a bit. He had been using compresses and hot towels to try to get you up. "The medicine is a little strong, but it won't hurt the baby," says Ronal, holding out a jar of carracol. Your eyes widen in surprise, what the hell was this woman talking about, pregnant? This woman is crazy. "Baby? No, I'm not pregnant" you speak, now you had recovered all your strength. You were surprised. You look at neytiri, but she had a look that was worrying you. "ney" you push her a little, you needed her to speak. "Y/N I thought you are…since the symptoms" neytiri can't contain her joy. "Plus we did an abdominal test and we could feel something" ronal looks at you, handing you the drink. You are confused, and now you were about to vomit at the news. How could that be possible, you were sure you weren't pregnant.

Hey, you and Jake had been together. Well…ever since you had joined the clan. You two hadn't kept your hands off each other. Well… the three of you. You were sure neytiri knew you weren't pregnant. The idea of having a baby doesn't enter your head, not now that the atmosphere is so tense. You take the drink, you notice how Ronal is watching you. Making sure you take all the medicine. "Ahh it's disgusting" you complain. Listening to neytiri laugh, you liked seeing her like that. It's been a long time since you've seen her this happy, it was genuine happiness. "Well…I'll let you rest here. I'll come by later and check on you" ronal gets up from the floor, and walks out of the marui. Leaving you and neytiri alone. You were exhausted, but you can feel neytiri touch your stomach. Causing you to look at her with surprise. "We will have another baby ma y/n" neytiri smiles. "But when?" you had many questions, when you found out you were pregnant with lo'ak it was because norm did a test on you. But now it had been a natural test that na'vi women did to find out if they were pregnant. "I think it was the day at the beach" neytir laughs a little, blushing. You start to remember and you want to curl into a ball. You were scared, really scared.

"Hey, don't be scared. I'll be right here with you. And we've been looking for this for so many years," says Neytiri. And she was right, it got to the stage where the pregnancies were more about the two of you. They were very intimate between you and Neytiri. You wanted to be in on the whole process, including the excitement of being pregnant. It would build on the bonds that would be formed with the children. "I know…but this news is very unexpected…and even more so now that I want to kill Jake," you say. ""You haven't talked?"" asks neytiri, she wanted this to be resolved. "Ney…I need him to be a better father to lo'ak and you know I'm right" you speak. Neytiri is thoughtful for a moment, she knew you were right, and she would support you in whatever decision you make. And even more so at this moment. "Well, I'm going to let you rest. Ronal said he would come later. I'll come later." neytiri wanted to break the news to everyone in the family. A baby was big news for her, and she knew everyone would be happy. Giving you a soft kiss, and another on the palms of her hands. You swear you saw Neytiri jump a little in happiness, her tail wagging from side to side and the smile on her face was beautiful. You lay back on the comfortable bed and closed your eyes. You had to rest, otherwise you were going to die of madness.

"Ok, but you have to cut it like this" jake was with lo'ak. The man had decided to go looking for his son after the argument he had with you. Inviting him to go fishing, obviously this was a strange thing for lo'ak to do. But spending the afternoon with his father was making him very happy. Lo'ak was cleaning the fish as jake told him to, looking carefully at the instructions. "And what do I do with this?" lo'ak points with disgust, at the fish's stomach. "Remove it…that's disgusting" jake mimics lo'ak's wince as they both laughed. It was a very nice moment for both of them, jake had to admit that he had missed a lot of moments with lo'ak. While lo'ak and jake were busy, kiri, neteyam and tuk were sitting somewhere in the corner of the marui talking and playing with each other. When they noticed how their mother came in with a happiness. "I have good news," said neytiri.

"How is mom!!!" lo'ak gets up quickly, running to neytiri. "she's fine…but" neytiri pauses, walking over to jake to sit next to him. "What's wrong, she's supposed to just be sick at her stomach" jake says. The last he heard from you, neteyam had taken you to see ronal. And that you had a lot of stomach pain. "It's not a bad thing…come here everybody, come on!" neytiri makes the signal for everyone in the family to come over. Everyone sits around, neytiri looked so excited. "This is so big for this family… Y/N is expecting a baby" neytiri sounds the news, jake gets so excited he hugs neytiri right away. "No way!!!" shouts kiri hugging tuk and the little girl was already very excited. "Another sully to the family" says neteyam, excited. But apparently the news had not gone down well with everyone, "WHAT?" Lo'ak literally screams, capturing her parents' attention. "Lo'ak what's wrong?" neytiri is now confused, this is supposed to be a big surprise.

"Why is mom going to have a baby? She can't have one!!!" Lo'ak was getting a little upset. This was a jealous reaction, and neytiri and jake could tell. "hey lo'ak I need you to calm down" jake tries to calm him down. But the boy stands up in annoyance, getting out of the marui. "Lo'ak needs to stop having tantrums, he's too old to be having these dramas" kiri says. Neytiri taps her knee, kiri complains. Everyone in the family knows how lo'ak was with you, everything that had to do with you affected lo'ak twice as much. Jake was about to get up and go talk to the boy. But he feels neteyam's hand stop him. "Dad…I'll talk to him" says neteyam. Jake looks quickly at neytiri, who signals him to let his brother go get him. Neteyam gets up from the ground and leaves the marui to look for his brother. It doesn't take him long to find him, he was relatively close. Lo'ak was sitting in the sand, he could tell he was crying.

"Little brother…you're jealous" says neteyam. Listening as lo'ak whined. "What do you want you idiot!!!" lo'ak grudgingly replies to neteyam. But neteyam ignores him, laughing and sitting down next to him. "I know you must be feeling jealous," says neteyam. Lo'ak rolls his eyes in white. He didn't want to be messing around with neteyam, sometimes he could be very annoying. "You know…when you were born I felt a little jealous, but when tuk was born I must admit I couldn't help but feel very jealous. Our moms were with her all the time and didn't pay attention to us. " said neteyam. "Yes, but my mom has always paid attention to me" lo'ak says sounding a bit smug. Neteyam laughs, he had to admit that his little brother looked adorable. "And she's always going to love you, I'm the big brother. And having to share everything…but the love mama has for you is special and no one will ever change it," Neteyam speaks. Lo'ak is silent, neteyam stands up and taps his brother on the shoulder. Stepping away to let him think for a moment.

That same afternoon…

You were already up, and it was getting dark. You had to admit that you were pretty bored. Ronal was taking longer than usual. You wanted to be home, you felt a little better. And now that you knew you were sick and the pregnancy symptoms were making it worse, you felt somewhat reassured. Although the news of your pregnancy was not something you were very happy about. Sure, you were happy to have a baby. You had waited for this opportunity for so long, but it had to happen right now. Just now when the situation with lo'ak was very active.

You were so wrapped up in your own thoughts, that you didn't notice when Ronal entered the marui. The woman can see that you were a bit lost. "The news of the baby surprises you, doesn't it? Because it does to me," says Ronal, putting some things she brought to refill. You look at her a little startled, and became a little alert at the tone of Ronal's voice. You weren't friends, and ronal tolerated you and treated you well because tonowari told her to. "Yes…it's a surprise," you say. Trying not to sound awkward. "It seems kind of unreal to me…that one" Ronal scans you up and down. "Human is pregnant, I have doubts even with your supposed child" ronal speaks, she could be quite direct. She didn't mind hurting other people's feelings. "Excuse me?" you get more comfortable in your bed. "Don't take this the wrong way…but it's weird" ronal chuckles a little. You decide to ignore her, you didn't want to argue because you still felt a little bad.

Ronal prepared more medicine for you to take in the next few days. Supposedly some food had made you sick. After several days you are supposed to be left with only the symptoms of pregnancy. She might be a little mean, but she wouldn't hurt you. You get up carefully, leaving Marui. Ronal all this time had been making uncalled for comments about you and your child. But at no time did you want to answer him, you didn't want to cause trouble. "Hey by the way" Ronal starts talking. You stop, and look back.

"I heard you wanted to go back to the jungle…and you know what" Ronal laughs again to herself. You didn't understand what you had done to this woman, but she seemed to hate you. "I think it would be best for your family. Even for that child…lo'ak. When you weren't here, we barely heard the sully. And as far as I can see all you've done is mess everything up around here," Ronal says, turning to continue working. You sigh, you weren't going to give her the pleasure of her seeing you cry, getting out of that marui as fast as you could. Back to the familiar marui, you couldn't help but get Ronal's words out of your head, maybe she was right. Maybe they were better off without you. And now you had one more problem.

P.s The reason I wrote that the reader was pregnant is that the original request asked for two children. Lo'ak and the baby on the way. Second, the reader is still upset with jake, but I wanted to fix things up a bit. Because I want it to focus more on the relationship between lo'ak and his mom.

Tag: @baybaybear1@hoodiepandaninja16@teyyyteyyy@anika-rose-walker@victoria2054@raviolisblog@jessi-dan@neteyams-wh0re@jimfiqs@bitchykittenconnoisseur@chershire23@holynightnacho@danilezilla@thepotatoislost @esposadomd @ratchetprime211 @juneonhoth

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vetteltea · 9 months

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Love Will Always Show | CL16 & CS55

Summary: The choice of a lifetime is yours to make, your husband and lover both longing for your heart. They face conflict, choices and most importantly, one another.

Word Count: 8.4K [& a bit more]

Warnings: angst, mentions of cheating and dishonesty, manipulation, hospital talk.

Note: The fact I was a newbie to F1Blr when this started and now...here we are. I want to thank each and EVERY person who has ever read this series. It's changed everything for me, it is truly my love letter to you all and I hope you enjoy the finale. You are all forever in my heart and I cannot thank you all enough.

PART 1: A House, A Home | PART 2: Where Do We Go? | PART 3: ‘You Think, You Know’ | PART 4: 'Love Will Always Show'

Love is a gentle hand cradling your back.

Time had suspended when your body had collapsed onto the rough floor outside of the Scuderia Ferrari hospitality. Immediately, several scarlet-clad personnel were running over, shouts echoing across the open space, somebody mumbling that they needed to get you somewhere safe and warm before your body temperature dropped dangerously.

There’s a question of who to call; your father wasn’t in the country, ever since your mother’s funeral, he’s become silent, your siblings having been lovingly sent to stay with a close aunt. He had been absent from the previous Ferrari meeting, his assistant having sent a message to say he would be absent for a little longer. Clearly, the death of your mother was taking a toll.

The next obvious choice of course, was your husband. However, with the win that he had been craving for oh-so-long, he was currently wrapped up in press, endless ‘congratulations’ messages from celebrities and presenters alike. Nobody would know where to find the monegasqué right now, let alone how to tell him of his wife’s status whilst surrounded by endless television cameras and sly reporters.

There’s no need for him, anyway. Leaving the media pen after vigorous questioning of his loyalty to the team and his current emotions on a premature end to the race, Carlos’ dark eyes quirk to the side, registering the crowd of bodies circling the hospitality area. They only widen when the realization dawns on his clouded mind that it’s you, your body is the one thing they are all crowding around.

His steps break into a run, no signal being given to his media manager nor his cousin. He speaks a few sharp, spanish words, creating a break in the circle, able to insert his toned body into the sea of red, immediately squatting, one hand coming out to elevate the back of your head. He knows how particular you could be with your hair, how you insisted on now sleeping on silk pillowcases to keep it healthy. Asphalt ground was not comfortable nor hygienic.

There’s talk; talk about whether to take you to the hospital, whether to wait for your husband to return and make the decision. Carlos feels his blood curdle at the use of marital status. His teammate, the man who had treated you no better than the way he had treated bonds of trust, was the one to make a choice of your health and wellbeing.

He simply cannot stand for that.

“We need to take her to the hospital.” He interrupts the commotion, the strong tone settling over the panicked employees. “Surely that is the best place for her if she is unconscious, no?” The whispers and mumbles which echo the surrounding members of the team signify agreement.

There’s a discussion of how to bring you in without drawing attention to the media. Surely, if a giant ambulance or even a medical car was to storm through the paddock, no doubt endless media outlets would be creating headlines before even bothering to speak to anybody present. The Spaniard is already making his own choice, using his arms to gently adjust your body.

He shouldn’t; he really shouldn’t be moving you, not when you haven’t been checked for broken bones or concussion. Yet, the idea of the most beautiful girl, Mariposa, lying on a hard floor with no form of comfort or safety sickens him to his stomach. Carlos is still gentle with the movements, letting your head lean into his stomach, one hand is supporting your back, tanned fingers digging gentle patterns into the curve of your skin. The other one traces once, twice, three times around your cheekbone, dark eyes transfixed on your features.

You must have hit your skin when falling to the ground; there’s a graze dancing across your cheekbone, specks of dirt resting in between each knock. The man cradling you is gentle, moving his shirt just enough up his body that he’s able to take the hemmed end, feather it across your cheek in an attempt to remove the offending chunks.

Someone nudges Carlos’s shoulder, more in an attempt to tell him somebody was just outside the Paddock; that they could drive you to the hospital right now. He…he can’t bring himself to leave you. A strong grasp lifts you from the ground, holding you close to his chest, murmuring that he would get you there, and he supposed somebody would have to find Charles.

The area grows quiet; Carlos’ pace draws away from the Paddock and to the back entry. He was thankful that the entirety of the drivers were still either trapped in the media or with their own teams, celebrating or commiserating. He had enough of that for one day; an entire six laps was barely worth speaking about.

You’re still unconscious, still limp in his arms. However, there’s a rise and fall of your chest, you’re still breathing. That’s all he could ask for at this present time. He silently promises himself there and then that when you wake up, he’s making his final move. Where Charles has been playing chequers, he is playing chess; he had proven that even whilst you were stuck with your estranged husband, he would love you regardless.

There’s a people carrier in the car park, he’s certain he’s seen various drivers use it before; a built-in stretcher lies in the back, it’s ideally a discreet ambulance. The media could be brutal with gossiping when any driver had to leave the track. It would look worse if Charles Leclerc’s wife was seen leaving the paddock with his teammate. The driver of the vehicle nods when seeing the two get closer, stepping to sit in the driver’s seat whilst Carlos adjusted his grasp.

He lays you down onto the stretcher; it’s secured, you’ll be safe for the drive. The man can’t help but feel a draw of protectiveness over you. What on earth had caused it to collapse? Had he done something? Blood boiled, if your husband had done anything to cause this, he could personally guarantee that Charles would not be finishing any races for the remainder of the season. He would make sure of that.

His attention is caught by the glimmer of silver on your left hand; your wedding band. When he reaches the car, tucks you into the seat carefully and makes sure the seatbelt is secure around your frame, his fingers glide over your hand, removing the band and putting it in his own pocket.

‘It’s for your own good,’ he tells himself. ‘If your fingers swell up, they may need to cut it off.’ He could tell himself this story a thousand times; it doesn't hide the fact that his true intention in this moment is simple; for once, he could be the devoted husband, taking his wife to be nursed back to health.

The Spainard leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your forehead, murmuring that you were going to be okay, that he would stay with you the entire time. The driver shouts, telling him to take a seat so they could get there before the press figured out something was wrong. He kisses your skin once more, before closing the doors, sprinting to the backseat, throwing his body in carelessly.

Angst overtakes his senses, shouting at the driver to start the car, he doesn't care about being strapped in. This way, he’s able to lean over the backseat, one hand reaching out to clasp at your own. You need to know that somebody is there, that he is there for you. He’s always been there for you. The car pivots out of the parking space, beeling for the main road and to the hospital.

Love is a scream for your name.

“Charles, tu dois ralenir!” Joris is insisting he needs to slow down the car; turning the current Leclerc in hospital into a duo would not be a satisfying outcome.

Ever since he’s been told, all your husband can see is red mist. One Ferrari employee had sprinted up to him whilst he was in the midst of cameras, the grin on his face as he’s finally able to seek his wife out, wanting nothing more than to skip on the Scuderia celebrations and take you instead, your beaming smile radiating the energy he had been bathed in.

It’s funny how life can change in the matter of a few moments; one second, he’s on top of the world, the next, Charles is pushing through every media outlet, fan and celebrity, barging himself into his driver’s room. He doesn't have time to remove his fireproofs, to pick up any of his belongings apart from his car keys. He isn’t communicating, french profanities fall from his lips, shaking his head in rage that nobody could find him to tell him. Tell him that his wife had been taken to hospital.

Joris had been the one to sprint after him; he knew better than most, when Charles saw nothing but mist, there was no getting to him, not whilst he was determined to do something. The driver knew in his heart his best friend was not to blame; after all, he had no idea of your disappearance, he had been with Charles almost the entire time. And yet…he can’t bring himself to even speak to Joris. Not until the duo make it to his rented car, Charles is adamant he is driving.

He only starts speaking when his best friend tells him to slow down. The driver barely does, only drawing to a slower pace when he sees the traffic lights start to build in front of him. Even in a panic, he respects road rulings. Drawing to a stop, the man finally has a second to take a shaky, unbalanced breath, angry tears pooling at the bottom of his eyes.

“Why did nobody tell me my wife was at the hospital?” His voice is strained, he’s clearly holding back tears, whether they’re angry or fearful is a different question. “She’s my- she’s my wife!” He can’t stop repeating it, as if it’s a prayer. His wife. His wife.

“She’ll be okay.” Joris knows that’s quite possibly the worst thing he could say to his best friend, but it’s the only thing he can bring himself to say. “She will be. C’est juste par précaution.”

“Putain!” Charles’ words are sharp, immediately pressing on the acceleration as the light switches to green, overtaking three cars in a matter of moments. He’s a man of regret, he has been ever since he realized how much he adores you. In that moment, he can’t help but think of everything he could have done differently that afternoon. He could have come and found you right after the podium, could have given you his jacket and told you to stay in his driver’s room, he would come and get you after. He could- he could of-

He could of waited with you after the funeral. He could have come and picked you up from Milan when you went to spend time with Carlos. He could have deleted his mistress’ number, and told her he was married.

“Tourner à gauche.” Joris tells his best friend to turn left, the Hospital Car Park coming into view. Charles turns the car, immediately eyes are roaming for any space, anywhere he could put the car. A sharp whistle and point from his best friend shows him a space right by the Emergency Department, parking the vehicle in possibly the worst way he ever has done. Within three seconds, the engine is switched off, seatbelts are unbuckled, and he’s shouting to Joris to pay for the parking, he needs to get inside.

For a driver, his sense of direction is becoming worse. It takes him a solid minute to read a sign, before his legs break into a sprint, skidding into a bustling Emergency Room. There’s old men, leant over in pain, convinced they’re dying. A child snuffling, masses of paper towels on her head. A woman with a twisted ankle, her attention engrossed by the magazine in her grasp. It smells of hand sanitiser and bleach, the yellow walls are hurting his eyes.

A woman behind the desk taps the counter, drawing his attention. “Hey- Sir!” She snaps. You can’t blame her; it’s hour thirteen of her fifteen hour shift. “You can’t be in here unless you’re hurt-”

He shouts your name. It’s as if he completely forgets he’s in a building. Charles is embedded in a maze, even if a lady in front of him can pull up your immediate location, he needs to find you himself, and he needs to find you now.

It isn’t until Joris comes in, having heard his best friend scream your name, that he overtakes Charles so overcome that he’s now hiding his head in his hands, unable to say anything that wasn’t your name. His ears prick up when the second man starts speaking, giving the woman your first name, your last name- Leclerc- and when you had been bought in. There’s a light tapping of the keyboard, she tells Joris you are in the department round the corner, room ten-

Charles is gone before she can finish her sentence, catapulting down the hallway, dodging round endless people, frantically searching for doors with numbers, not names. He sees the number four. Six. Eight.

Number Ten rolls into view. Without a single word, his hand latches around the door handle, pushing so violently the door smacks onto the inside wall. His eyes immediately fly to the bed, you’re lying there, so unconscious, still so beautiful, some strips over the graze on your cheek. Still, arms to either side, one hand connected to an IV, clearly in an attempt to rehydrate you. His first question is the location of your wedding ring, where on earth was it? Has it been taken away? It’s a question he completely forgets about when his gaze travels further.

The other hand is being held by a Spanish man he knows all too much about.

Love is notes left on a coffee cup.

Both men stood, silently hovering over your body whilst the nurse came in to run a course of tests, check your blood pressure, the IV line, make sure you were being cared for in the best capacity. Each held a coffee cup, Charles’ still primarily full, he couldn’t stomach anything; he felt sick from seeing you lie here, not laughing, smiling, speaking. Carlos had downed the drink bought in by Joris in a matter of moments; to him, it was fuel. Something to keep him awake until you woke up.

Whilst Charles was the one to ask questions; ‘Do you know what caused this? Is she going to have any long-term issues? Does she need any assistance when she wakes up?’ Carlos has captured the marker which has rested alongside the clipboard of your notes, his tongue poked out in concentration. The marker grazes along the cup, leaving a note, drawing a tiny picture of a butterfly- Mariposa- and placing the cup on your table, a silent message for if you woke up and god forbid- he wasn’t there.

The nurse draws away from your body, diverting her next task to the two men.

“I need to continue the examination but…” She looks to the door. “I cannot have you both in here. You need to wait outside, the Doctor will come in for further tests-”

“Can one of us wait here?” Carlos is the first to interrupt, the look on the woman’s face tells him he’s made a mistake.

“Both.” She clarifies, pointing at himself, then at his teammate. “One and two. You need to wait outside. If she wakes up or there’s any…issues, we will let you know.”

It turns out, both men are hesitant to leave you; Charles moves first, crouching by your side, running a gentle hand over your hairline, pressing his lips carefully to your temple. He’s murmuring, french words of adoration and comfort, that he will be right there when you need him.

When one steps away, the other comes forward. Carlos doesn't say anything, instead tracing a gentle finger across your cheek. His touch tells you everything, it speaks volumes. He loves you, he’ll be outside, don’t be afraid to come running into his arms like you had done once before. The nurse begins to lose her patience, ushering both men out into the corridor, telling them to sit in the plastic chairs provided or go somewhere else; she really didn’t care.

The scene is reminiscent of two boys sitting outside of the principal’s office; Charles’ head hides in his hands, leaning forward, still dressed in his fireproofs. He’s tied the sleeves around his waist, the dark undershirt now drenched in sweat from the driving, both on track and to the hospital.

He feels movement next to him, Carlos’ hand dips into his pocket, pulling out something small, silvery. Her wedding ring. He supposes Carlos means it as a sign of goodwill, that he kept it safe. In the Monégasques mind, it’s the fuel to light the fire. Scoffing, he snatches the jewelry off of his teammate, placing the band onto his pinky finger, it’s the only one it would fit on, the only way he could keep it safe.

“Funny. You took it off her.” He’s growing mad, aggravated that Carlos wouldn’t just go away and leave him and his wife alone. Hadn’t he done enough already? “Why don’t you go back to Natasha?” The blonde ex-media woman for their team is referenced. Carlos opens his mouth, ready to snap back, it was a low blow for Charles to reference his history with the woman.

“I know what you did.” He huffs. There’s something…different. Different in the way he speaks to Carlos now compared to every other day. The polite, civil conversation is gone, the fact he couldn’t pass judgment because of his own actions has evaporated. “I know you invited her to Madrid just to make a move.” He remembers seeing the instagram stories, how your eyes were wide, full of life. He made you remember life is beautiful. “You kept her close. You wanted her and didn’t like that she was mine.”

“Yours?” He scoffs. “She’s not your property, Charles.”

“No. But she’s my wife. I’m the one she lies next to every night, I’m the one who will care for her in sickness and health, who’s shoulder was leant on through every bad time.” He pauses. “Who picked her up after you coaxed her into your bed.” He laughs. Actually, laughs. The memory replayed in his head, how sleepy you looked as he guided you back into the SUV, how your heart sank when seeing the blonde approach his front door. In that moment, you had convinced yourself you meant nothing to Carlos apart from lust.

Charles was a jealous man; he had taken pride in stripping off his teammates' clothing, wrapping you in his own, soft hoodie. You were his. Carlos wouldn’t care for you the way he did, he was a man too full of lust. He was convinced the Spainard didn’t make you laugh, didn’t make you smile, didn’t make you come-

“You corrupted her, Carlos.” He finishes. “I know what you did-”

“-And I know what you did.” Carlos snarls. He doesn't care about anything more; he knows all too well that his teammate could go crying to the Ferrari bosses, have him removed from the team in a blink of an eye, throwing some false information out which he would have to comply with. But he doesn't care. His affection has grown too strong for that.

“I know everything, Charles.” He’s monotone, he’s stating facts. “I know how she waited at home for you on her birthday, whilst you were in your mistress’ bed.” Carlos remembers asking you about your plans the previous week, how you had brushed them off. “I know how she made you dinner every night, how you refused to eat it.” Charles feels his stomach drop, the endless leftovers stacked neatly in the fridge, the meals he had never bothered to try. “I know on your wedding night, you came into the hotel room drunk, covered in bites and she slept on the sofa-”

“Enough!” Charles’ voice shouts, standing up from the plastic chair in the corridor. He doesn't have to hear this, he can’t bear to hear this. One mistake a day was something he was always able to brush off. Hearing each and every one of his infidelities laid out in front of him sent his mind into overdrive. “You have no right to comment on-”

“On what?” The Spainard is standing up now, chest out and arms folded. “On your marriage?” He laughs, he smirks. “Can you call it that? A marriage is a bond between two people who love one another-”

“I love her!” Charles cuts him off, stepping closer. “I love her.” He repeats himself. Carlos looks gobsmacked, shaking his head in denial.

“You have a really weird way of showing her you love her.” He continues to poke, to prod. “Sharing a bed with another woman is not how you show love-”

“I admitted to my mistakes!” He’s quick to defend himself, how the restraining order was placed and a lawsuit filed, how he promised if you wanted to know anything, see anything, he would let you. How he would spend the rest of his days always feeling dread and regret. “I fixed them-”

“Who says she still loves you?” Carlos has snapped.

Charles hates to admit that he may be right. Is it really fair for him to expect your love after everything that has happened in the past year? It didn’t matter how many times he begged, he pleaded or promised. The man you had married had spent the better part of 365 days in the arms of another woman, a woman that as he stood here, clinging onto any hope of his marriage, meant absolutely nothing to him.

His slim fingers trail down, circling the cool band which rested on his left finger. He had decided there and then, he would keep it on, always. There would be no more reasoning, none. If Lewis could wear his earrings, Charles would wear his wedding ring. He looks back up, Carlos still boring into him with dark eyes, the anger he radiated almost entirely visible.

“Do you love her?” He presses. He needs to know; he doesn't bring himself to care that you had spent a night in his arms, not when he had done it to you a thousand times over. The idea makes him sick, but nothing compared to the idea that you are in love with somebody that isn’t him, not when he needs nothing but for you to come home, back to your home with him.

Charles swears he feels vomit rise into his mouth when Carlos nods. He’s not stupid, not really. He knows how he fell for you properly in the past few weeks, how for Carlos who has been in awe of your affection and attention, the center of every race weekend you had reluctantly attended. It may have been to support him, but you could still enjoy the fact that Carlos would be there, too.

Your husband isn’t sure what he wants to do anymore. If there wasn’t an examination happening, he would have run into your private room and locked the door. Instead, his glassy eyes gaze up, catching Carlos’ dark ones. It hits him at once; his teammate, somebody who he once considered a close- no, best friend, was the one who had taken his wife away from him. His brain can’t catch up with his body movements, the red mist clouds over once more.

Charles Leclerc punches Carlos Sainz in the nose.

He doesn't intend for it to be a strong punch; Formula One drivers are a lot stronger than they realize, and the contact not only causes the Spaniard to knock back, shouting out in pain, but a sharp sensation rockets through Charles’ clenched fist, wiggling his fingers as they relax. Carlos’ nose is immediately red, becoming scarlet by the moment, though no blood has fallen. Your husband’s immediate reaction is ‘Should have punched him harder.’

He doesn't have time to think about anything else, not before he has two strong hands on his chest, shoving him harshly. The sudden sensation causes him to lose balance, falling to the floor and landing on his back. A shock radiates through his body, Carlos looming over him, clearly ready for a second punch.

That thought is drawn away when the door to your room opens, both men immediately staring at the nurse, her hair worn and eyes tired. Before either man can throw a question at her, she speaks.

“She’s still not awake, we’re going to bring her around in an hour, but she’s going to have to stay overnight for observation. If one of you could get her some overnight things-”

“I can.” Charles immediately cuts off the nurse, pulling himself to sit up and stand from the floor. “I’m her husband. I will get them.” It’s a subtle jab to the man in front of him, Carlos still holding his nose, convinced it was about to start bleeding any moment. He would have gone and sought out attention for himself, if he hadn’t felt a sharp vibration in his back pocket, a phone call. In any other time, he would have ignored it. But he knows who it is, he knows how important it is.

Without a word, Carlos answers the call, rapidly speaking in Spanish as he walks down the hall.

Love is a pocket square at the bottom of a suitcase.

The contrast of Charles leaving the hospital was night and day to him arriving. He hadn’t spoken a word to Joris, apart from expressing that he needed to go back to the hotel to get your overnight items. Although it was barely a ten minute drive away, every minute felt like a century; he wanted nothing more than to go back to the hotel, sit by your side and hold your hand until you woke up.

He could have sent Joris back, given him the room key and told him to grab some things, but it didn’t seem right. The idea of his best friend going through your suitcase didn’t sit comfortably with him. Moreover, he didn’t know. Charles knew; he knew what pajamas you found the most comfortable, what outfit would be easiest for you to travel back in, how you wanted your panties and socks paired together and how your phone charger had to loop clockwise.

The ornate hotel room looks dull without you; your suitcase still rests in the bottom of the wardrobe; you had hung up evening wear, dresses for the inevitable after-parties. Folded in your suitcase remained your other clothing. Charles is quick to select his items; the tropical cotton pajamas. You had bought him a pair in the same fabric, telling him that they would be the comfiest thing to sleep in. Your stitched jumper and comfiest jeans. You had worn those jeans when you had tagged along to his photoshoot for the Ferrari livery, holding his water and the APM Monaco jewelry he couldn’t wear. Your outrageously expensive hairbrush. You had brushed his hair through after a particularly bad race, whispering promises that it would get better, that the car was going to evolve for him, the best driver on the grid.

Bile rises to Charles’ stomach and with no warning, he sprints to the bathroom, dropping to his knees by the toilet and throwing up the barely-there contents of his stomach. He had barely eaten, barely drank any water, but couldn’t help the sickness in his tummy.

He pulls away from the toilet basin, eyes watery, breath trying to catch up with the speed and cries.

Charles doesn't realize it’s happening at first, he hasn’t cried like this in so long; the kind of crying where you can’t fathom words, you don’t make a sound because you’re crying so deeply. The kind where your chest is exploding and your heart feels like it’s going to explode. The kind where all he wants is for his mother to cradle him like she did when he was five, run her hands through his hair and whisper him words of comfort.

This time, he doesn't want his mother, he wants you.

It’s selfish, it’s so incredibly selfish and it hurts to know that it’s taken him until now to realize what you mean to him. It would never happen, but his wound-up head can only close his eyes and visualize you running in, pulling his head into your chest and running your hands through his dark tufts, pressing cool lips to his forehead and promising him over and over that it was going to be okay. You were going to be okay.

He lets himself cry for five minutes; he times it because he wants to collect your things and make his way back, Joris was waiting in the car. When the five minutes are over, he pinches his nose, taking short, ugly gasps until his eyes remain bloodshot but not blurred. The sound of the toilet flushing echoes through the hotel room, making his way out of the bathroom and to the items he had hurriedly dropped atop of your suitcase.

Nimble fingers cradle each item, carefully rolling and tucking them into a pillowcase; he didn’t have a bag big enough to suffice each item and couldn’t bring himself to bring your entire suitcase along, it almost seemed as if once you had it, you could disappear from his life. At least this way, he could have one final farewell if you chose to leave. The items are almost secure, until his grip on the pillowcase folds, glassed eyes catching a glimmer of blue hidden at the bottom of the case. With no hesitation, he pulls on the fabric. His heart drops on the realization of the item.

It’s a pocket square. More specifically, it’s his pocket square from your wedding.

You don’t know when you had started packing it, but you supposed it was from your mother’s own doings. After her wedding to your father, she had always carried around her ‘something blue,’ as a gesture of good luck, of safety. After the first time you had found out about Charles’ mistress, you had discreetly tucked the fabric into your bag, carrying it around, a silent hope your husband would return to you.

It hadn’t worked in Jeddah. In Imola. In Spa. In Monaco. You had reluctantly taken it from your bag one evening, on the plane home from consoling your family, using your pen to doodle in the very corner ‘Mr and Mrs Leclerc,’ a silent fantasy of the loving marriage you had dreamed of.

That night was the first time you and Charles ever shared a bed.

The fabric lingers between his fingers, the blue contrasting against the silver of your ring, still resting on his pinky finger. Now changed into his own clothes, he slides the ring off, wrapping it gently in the pocket square and sliding it into his trouser pocket. As he does, he recognises your handwriting, the titles printed in the bottom of the fabric.

He can’t help the tears rolling down his cheeks once again.

Love is a desperate telephone call.

Carlos is still pacing around the outside courtyard of the hospital, having been on hold for a grand total of seventeen minutes. He is not a man of patience, he is not a man of quiet.

The phone buzzing in the corridor had been a welcome call, despite the situation. His lawyer, finally ringing him back after what felt like days of apprehension. He had dipped from the public eye to try and grab hold of some privacy, slipping in his wireless headphone so as not to hold the device to his ear for hours upon hours.

Almost thirty minutes ago, his lawyer had called him, confirming his thoughts of the previous days.

"You're not wrong." His lawyer has already clarified it once, twice, three times. "If there is evidence beyond a shadow of a doubt, then it is the correct term for a divorce.

Carlos feels his blood run cold. He loves her, he's as certain as that as he is of the fact that the sky is blue and his win in Silverstone. The man wants nothing more than to make her feel cherished, adored. Taking a bite out of his teammate was just a bonus feature.

That had been a few days ago, when the anger had surpassed him after Natasha’s return, how that made him look as bad, if not worse than Charles. He’d immediately sent her packing, blocked her on every form of media, gone as far as to insist if she ever came for a visit, he wouldn’t be present.

The second part, the evidence, had been laid out all too perfectly.

The line suddenly clicks, signaling his lawyer had returned. Carlos doesn't wait for a verbal queue, the audible sign of his return is more than enough.

“Do you have it?” He asks, barely any time to let the man on the other end of the phone respond. “You must have it, no? It should have been sent. I made sure it was sent.”

“I have it.” He clarifies. “I have them right here.” A rustle of paper is heard from the other end of the telephone, content of an envelope being spilled onto his desk. “Are you sure you want me to send these to be confirmed as evidence? That the women in the photographs will not retaliate?”

Carlos had not been entirely honest with you. Not about his knowledge of Charles’ situation. Ever since the confession all those months ago, the understanding that you knew of Charles’ affair, he had been playing a long, patient game. He had photographs, evidence of the mistress’ appearance at each paddock, her arms snaking around Charles’ body, kisses between the duo. How he could continue to do so, whilst you, the epitome of beauty, sat in his drivers’ room, playing the doting wife. At one point, he had considered going directly to the press, directly to Ferrari themselves to out their ‘Golden Boy.’

And then…he had seen you with him in the Paddock that one race, looking through the window of his driver’s room. How your fingers latched onto one another, how genuinely shattered you looked when she had shown up yet again, lingering outside of the hospitality area. The guilt snuck through him, how he had seen her arrive, and yet failed to mention to you, give you any warning of her presence.

Even if he had been the one to invite her. Even if he had been the one to press her about sending the photographs to Charles, not blackmail. Merely a reminder of his actions, how much he supposedly missed his mistress.

“She wouldn’t.” He’s quick to respond. “She wouldn’t care.” He’s not wrong, his mistress being in the limelight would only elevate her status, with the way his teammates’ brain worked, it would more than likely draw them back to one another.

“And Mrs. Leclerc?”

It’s the first time Carlos has hesitated. Even if he couldn’t admit it to himself, he knew that your relationship with Charles had grown, that ambient it was made paper-thin, the trust was slowly beginning to come back. He thinks about how your eyes blinked widely, in awe of your husband on the podium earlier that day, how it supposedly didn’t matter he had spent most of your marriage wrapped in her arms, you still looked at him like that. Did you look at him like that? Like the way he looked at you.

This action could draw out a multiverse of reactions but at the end of the day, he had settled with two. The first was that you understood, that you would see the evidence, and understand the case. Divorce Charles and marry him, even if it meant he would give up everything.

The second is that you would see the chaos he caused and you would never speak to him again.

“Mr. Sainz?” The voice at the end of the telephone draws him from his questioning, running a hand across his red, swollen nose. It wasn’t broken, but god it was hurting. Bruised, most likely. “I need an answer.”

He needed to speak to you.

“Can you just-” He huffs, running a hand through his dark hair, his fingers almost getting caught in the strands. Of course his hair was tangled, he’d been doing nothing but pulling on it ever since he arrived at the hospital. “Let me speak to her. Hold it for 24 hours. You can do that, yes?” It’s not even a question now, nor a request. It’s a demand. He can’t do this, he can’t openly destroy your marriage for his own sake without speaking to you, without knowing for a fact that you love him.

Your name is carved onto his soul, onto his skin. The first thing he thinks about in the morning, and the last thing he would think about at night. There is no life he wishes to live in if you’re not there. Even as his friend.

There’s suddenly a light tap against glass, snapping the man’s attention from his device. He mumbles something in Spanish, telling his lawyer he would call him back, dreading who was coming out into the private courtyard.

He visibly relaxes when he sees it’s just a man, sneaking out whilst tears pool on his lower lashline, giving Carlos a warming nod.

“You don’t mind if I join you, do I?” The Spainard shakes his head. “My wife- she’s just being induced and wanted some space. She’s…” He gestures, trying to explain to a complete stranger how a few minutes ago, his wife wanted to cry and shake her head, but wanted nothing to do with him. It was all his fault.

Carlos offers a warm hand on his back, patting him firmly. “Congratulations. Do you know what you're having?” He’s invested, anything to distract him from his previous phone call, the weight of a decision on his shoulders.

The stranger grins. “A girl.” He smiles harder. “I don’t mind, as long as they arrive happy and healthy. But god- a girl, just like her.” He thinks. Carlos thinks. In an alternative universe, he’s sat by your side, pressing kisses and praises to your skin, holding you tighter as your daughter enters the world, ready to meet her mother and father. She would be like you; your eyes, hair, smile. It would be another you to love, to adore.

“Your first?” Carlos presses his question. The man sighs, shaking his head, shoving his hands into his pockets as he looks into the polished corridor.

“No. She’s…” He pauses. “We got together after hiding how we felt for so long, how we wanted to be with one another.” He looks to Carlos, clearly ashamed and embarrassed of the situation. “I know how it sounds, but sometimes you can’t help it. I- I love her.”

A band snaps in Carlos’ stomach; love knows no bounds.

Love is waking up to think of your person.

The first thing you register when you come around is brightness. You’re not in the soft glow of the luxurious hotel room you and your husband had been given, nor the candle-lit bedroom of Carlos’ apartment. No, the light is bright, blinding. An off-white which made your eyes squint.

Your senses are heightened; the only scent which flares through your nostrils is hand sanitiser and overpowering lilies. Nose scrunched, you attempt to wiggle your body upwards, aware of the IV line pinned into your hand. Panic immediately settled through your tummy, until your eyes flickered to the bag, realizing it was just water, they just wanted to rehydrate you.

Hesitantly, you wiggle each part of your body. Arms, hands, fingers. You’re able to move, though you couldn’t…you couldn’t remember why you got here. Memories are hazy, you remember Charles’ podium, the way he kissed you so deeply, so lovingly. Carlos’ hand on your waist, pulling you back to stop you from the champagne trickling over your body. You were overwhelmed, overworked and…you guessed it just all became too much.

You just about manage to turn your body, the first thing you’re aware of is that your cushion smells familiar. Warm nodes, sandalwood and seasalt. It’s a smell you’ve grown all too accustomed to, burying your face into their chest whilst you took refuge in his arms, in a hotel room. Charles had been there, already. His celebrations had clearly been cut short, whether or not it was for show or because he cared.

The second thing is the coffee cup. Cardboard, the contents clearly already drained, but handwriting etched onto the side in a thick, black marker. The handwriting, the doodle of a tiny butterfly. Carlos had been there, too.

There’s a sharp pinch on your cheek, fingers reach up to your skin and feel the butterfly strips against you. Immediately, a thousand questions come back to your mind, none of them being answered through your own memory. Instead, the door opens, a nurse in clean, bright uniform walking in, closing the door behind her. She beams at the realization you’re awake, shoulders relaxing.

“You’re awake!” Her tone is incredibly warm, seemingly very happy you’ve decided to wake up on your own terms. She’s quick to move to your bedside, pressing the back of her hand to your forehead. “How are you feeling? Have you warmed up?” You’re not sure what she’s referencing, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She takes the look on your face as unknowingness, able to fill in the gaps.

“You collapsed on the track.” She’s trying to get through everything she needs to tell you. “We did some tests, you’re incredibly dehydrated for a start, you need to try and get some rest.” She pauses. “It’s nothing to be concerned about, we have collapses from dehydration every so often, more than you would realize.” Her eyes flicker down, finding it hard on how to phrase the next part of the question. “You also seem…incredibly worried.” You’re not sure how she could tell that from simply examining you, but you nod in confirmation. “Your blood pressure, it’s incredibly low. That’s why you fainted.”

“Yes.” You pause. How on earth were you about to explain the past twelve months to a nurse, a complete stranger? “There’s been some…reasons. You know, for the stress.” Her eyes soften, but the questioning continues.

“Are you trying for a baby?” You shake your head. “Moving house?” A shake. “Have you…lost somebody recently.”

You freeze, memory flickering to your mother, how in the midst of fixing your marriage, discovering your affection towards another, she had disappeared from the world. This time, you nod your head, drawing your knees up to your body, shivering. The nurse is quick to wrap a blanket over your shoulders, closer to the answer.

“I lost my mother.” You breathe out, shaking your head. “I lost my mother, and she’s the only one I can go to.” Now you’ve started speaking, you can’t finish. “I want to make them happy. I want to make him happy.” There’s tears glassing over your eyes.

You want him. You want him right now.

She sympathizes, she understands. “Sometimes, all you need is for them to tell you it’s going to be okay, right?” She lets her words trail off, turning to the door of your room. “He’s outside. He’s been waiting to see you.”

Your blood freezes.

“Would you like me to get him?”

You nod before you’ve even realized, your body clearly knows better than your mind. The nurse stands up straight, pacing towards the door as you feel your heart begin to race harder, frantically. She steps out of the room, a minute mumble on the other side, clearly a warning to be incredibly careful. It’s barely a minute before the door swings back open, dark hair and frantic panting.

You glance up, your heart softens at those eyes.

The eyes that you, the reader, wanted to see as you glanced to the door.

GREEN EYES [CL16 Ending]

BROWN EYES [CS55 Ending]

This is everyone who asked to be tagged! @Mac-daddy-210 @aundercover@barnestatic@omgsuperstarg@chimchimjiminie16@caelum-the-part-time-nihilist @magicalcowboyarbiter @gaslasysblog@junetto @beatrizmel-472 @motorsp0rt@crowdthena@screemqueen@lewislvr@styles-sunflower@itspaddockprincess@adeptustemptations @amalialeclerc @meetmyblondemuffins@formulanando@lorarri@christianpulisic10@gaypoetsblog@thisbitxhs-blog@goldsainz@ru-kru@magical-spit@hrlzy@nooshytushie@gaslysainz@marvel-at-stucky@sugarvibez@adeptustemptations@roseseraj@leclercdream@pjofics@hecatesfavoritechild@poseforme@thisbitxhs-blog @adalynneva @meganlikes2purr @sabrinaselina55 @laneyspaulding19@heavenlyiecreature@pink-teddy-bear@nooshytushie@strawberries-and-racing@milasexutoire@ohthemisssery@florkt@obsessedwiththeideaofyou@ru-kru@myhomeworksnotdone@ineedafictionalman@bregarc@allywthsr@summerslike11@wildcupcake@willowpains@marlenamallowan@leclercloml@katzenwahnsinn@be-your-coffee-pot

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nejiverse · 6 months

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UNTIL I FALL ASLEEP

Sae Itoshi [pt2 to 'his amnesiac']

In which Y/n unravels the mysteries shrouding her lost memories. Fem! Reader

part 1

cw: c/n is cat's name, reader owns glasses, angst

1980 words

"I'm your wife but to me, you're a stranger".

Wife.

Sae's words were caught up in his throat. Even before the accident, him and Y/n weren't married yet, only engaged.

In spite of this, Sae always used to call Y/n his wife and it would never cease to make her flustered.

The fact that she referred to herself as his wife made him extremely happy.

Pitter-patter noises interrupted the loud silence between them as Y/n turned her head to the side. Sae had no reaction seeing as he already knew who the culprit was.

A snowy white cat made its appearance from behind the couch and immediately made itself cozy in Y/n's lap.

She was startled at first but found herself smiling as she reluctantly brought her hand down to pet it.

Sae could see the brightness in her eyes from the mere presence of the cat. Y/n was always fond of them and it took weeks of convincing for Sae to finally give in and let them get a cat.

"What's its name?", she asked, her hands fiddling with the dainty bell of the collar around the cat's neck.

"Just cat", he responded.

"Are you serious?", Y/n chuckled lightly.

"Well you called her (c/n) but I always thought cat was just fine", he shrugged his shoulders.

Sae's eyes fell on the large clock hanging opposite them, turning away to prepare dinner. "You hungry?", he asked.

"She's got eyes just like yours".

Sae's feet stopped.

————

Y/n gasped.

"This one! This is the one I want".

She oohed and awed at the cat who pawed at her feet, taking the feline in her arms and shoving it Sae's face.

"She's adorable isn't she!".

"You said you wanted to come in here for a 'look' not to take one home", Sae raised a brow. He wasn't fond of the thought of cat fur everywhere.

"Aw but Saeee", she drawled out, inching closer to her fiancé. "Can we please take her home?".

Sae internally scolded himself for being so weak to Y/n's pleading eyes. He grumbled under his breath and sighed in defeat.

"I suppose..", if it made her happy then he'd buy the whole store.

"You're the best!", she spoke as she held his cheeks in her hands and placed a kiss on his lips once, twice, before pulling away and taking the cat up in her arms again.

"Slate outer rings with teal all the way to the black".

"What?".

With that smile he grew to love so much, she asked. "Wanna know why I chose her?".

"Why?".

"Cause she's got eyes just like yours".

————

His eyes stung. So bad. He needed to leave before he let his emotions get the best of him, and he did just that.

Entering the kitchen, Sae closed the door behind him and leaned against it, his arm coming up over his eyes and his teeth clenching together.

He missed her so dearly. The old Y/n. The one he fell in love with.

They say you don't know what you have until it's gone. It was a phrase Sae heard a couple of times in his lifetime.

And now that he was living this phrase, he understood it all too well.

She was like a blessing sent from above, and what did he ever do deserve such a gift? Nothing. Sae doesn't think he's ever done anything in his life to be deserving of such a blessing. Maybe that's why it was all taken from him.

What an unfortunate life.

Dinner was quiet— nothing new.

Y/n was conflicted. And the quietness only gave room for negative thoughts to pile up in her head. She felt like the body she was in wasn't hers. She felt like an intruder.

She looked at her reflection in the spoon she held in her hand.

She was so different.

"Sae", she spoke.

She said his name.

If Sae was a puppy, his ears would've perked up by now.

"Tell me more about your fiancée", she said.

Y/n knew what kind of person she was, and how she lived her life before the accident. But she didn't need that version of herself because no one who knew that her was around anymore. She needed to know who she was in Sae's life because he's the only person she has left.

"My fiancée..", he repeated, his spoon tapping against his plate and his eyes falling onto the carrots at the side of his plate that he had no intentions of eating.

He didn't even know where to begin with describing her... he was starting to believe there were no words to describe her. She was just so perfect.

He opted to describe what she liked and her occupation.

"My fiancée, she was a neurosurgeon. Well not an official one, she was still doing her apprenticeship. She also loved romance movies. That was how our Friday night always went. She was the best cook to ever exist, ever since we started dating I could barely survive a day without a home cooked meal. She was so kind that we never had an argument. She always opted to sit down and talk about it. That is until the day of the accident..but that was different. It wasn't her at all, it was me. I provoked her to anger", he tightened his hold on his spoon.

"And she was way too beautiful for her own good. She always beat herself up about her looks and I would always do anything and everything to reassure her that she was wrong. Actions speak louder that words right?".

Y/n's eyes widened and she covered her red cheeks, flustered as to what Sae was implying. Suddenly the old grocery list stuck onto the fridge with a magnet that said 'Mallorca' couldn't have looked more interesting.

"She was also..", Sae pushed the glasses case that laid on the far side of the table towards her. "As blind as a bat", only when it came to reading though but regardless, Sae always teased her for squinting her eyes when she was too lazy to put on her glasses.

"You're really lovesick, Sae", she laughed. "I'm sure your fiancée would've made fun of you for it". His words really helped her mind settle down.

Of course he was lovesick. In fact, he used to think love was stupid and was only for fools who had no aspirations for themselves. He never thought he'd fall in love, let alone with someone as gentle and as kind as Y/n.

What Sae wouldn't give to be able to turn back time.

Bed time was less awkward.

Y/n glanced around the room which her and Sae used to share, it felt so familiar, yet she couldn't recall a single instance where she slept or rather did anything at all in that room.

Y/n opened the wardrobe and ran her hand across the variety of clothes hung up neatly, looking for pyjamas to change into.

She had no luck so she searched the chest of drawers across from the large king sized bed and luckily found a nightdress in which she could change into.

Y/n was once again help captive by her train of thoughts as she undressed. The familiar smells lingering around the room made her head ache from trying to pull the forgotten memories deep in her mind forward.

She pulled her top up over her head as it fell onto her lap, her eyes coming in contact with the framed photo of her and Sae in a country she knew was nowhere near Japan displayed on the dresser. She had no recollection of posing for that picture and it was breaking her heart because she looked so happy in it.

Was it really possible for her to regain her old life?

In that same instance, Y/n heard the bathroom door swing open, making her turn her head sharply.

"I'm changing!", she blurted without a second thought.

Sae shut the door again until it was slightly ajar.

"Oh sorry. This is new for me too", he spoke in a neutral tone.

Y/n bit the inside of her cheek, feeling a bit bad for her reaction. Did she even have the right to react that way? They were engaged before the accident and Sae was merely doing what came natural to him.

This naturalness was something he deeply missed. Especially when he used to sneak up behind her right after taking a shower and embrace her, purposefully getting her clothes damp.

He would've been able to do just that if only he had apologised that day.

How he longed to be able to touch her again.

"It's okay", Y/n retorted, slipping into the nightdress. "Can you show me to my room please? I'd like to go to bed now", she spoke in a voice just loud enough for Sae to hear. She was sure a good night's sleep would help her get rid of unpleasant thoughts.

Upon arriving at the spare room, it was the first time Y/n had gotten time to herself after the accident.

She sat on the bed and let out a sigh that seemed to have been stuck deep down in her chest for a while now.

She wished this was all a joke. She wished someone would flick on the lights and jump in front of her rambling on about how easily she fell for it.

That would never happen though.

The moonlight would be the only source of light the bedroom would receive unless she got up and flicked the lights on herself, and most certainly, no one would jump in front of her because it was only her in the room.

Her attention was drawn to the lengthy mirror standing in the corner of the room. Y/n narrowed her eyes at her reflection.

"I've changed so much...I find it hard to believe this is me", she uttered to herself, her hands making their way up to her face.

Y/n got up and stood before the mirror, her reflection a stranger staring back at her. The person she saw was familiar yet foreign, a jumble of features she couldn't quite place. Her hand trembled as she reached out, fingertips grazing the cool surface of the glass.

With a shaky breath, she whispered, "Why did this have to happen to me of all people?".

The words hung heavy in the air, unanswered.

It wasn't fair.

As she gazed into unfamiliar eyes, she felt her vision begin to blur and her legs tremble just like her lips.

Y/n collapsed onto the floor and hid her face in the palms of her hands, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Each sob ripped through her chest, a symphony of anguish echoing in the silence of the room.

Sae paused in the doorway, the faint sound of stifled sobs pulling at his heartstrings. His mind told him to just let her be for now but his heart disagreed. Soon enough he found himself outside her room.

He knocked on the door before opening it and for a moment, he stood frozen, a myriad of emotions swirling within him. His heart ached at the sight of her pain, aching to ease the burden she carried.

But there was little he could do, and he felt so useless for that.

Y/n wiped her eyes upon sensing the presence of a second person and turned her head towards the man behind her.

"This might be a bit selfish of me Sae but, can you stay with me? Until I fall asleep".

masterlist :)

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patolemus · 5 months

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Sterek fic recs: Time Travel AU Edition

As I promised @oldefashioned here is the start of my unending sterek fic reccing. I’ll go by category because this post will never end otherwise.

1. song of the phoenix by graveltotempo

In a last ditch effort to save Beacon Hills after everyone else has died, Stiles channels all of his energy and magic into cleansing the Nemeton and the magical core of the town. But he is more powerful than he knows, more connected to the Nemeton than anyone can guess, and a group of kids, teenagers and adults wakes up in the middle of the night ten years earlier with a second chance they didn't know they needed and a bond they don't understand. Stiles though? Stiles wakes up with a little more.

Notes: It's just. So good. It's kinda hard to explain but basically no one knows what's going on but at the same time it works. Kinda. They're working on it. Stiles is awesome in this, I especially love his relationship with the Hales, because of course I do. It's ongoing.

2. Twice And For All by novasillies

“Derek,” he said despite himself. The werewolf’s eyes sharpened. Scott gave him a distressed look. “Do I know you?” He asked tensely, and Stiles grinned in return. “Oh, no,” he answered, “Not yet.” - In which a well-timed conflict between the magic of the Ghost Riders and Stiles' spark sends him back to the day Scott got bitten. Stiles pointedly changes nothing and so God complexes, needlessly complex romantic drama, and pure, unbridled silliness ensue. (Updates every Thursday wink wonk)

Notes: This is to date one of my favorite time travel fics of all time, across multiple fandoms. Stiles in this one is just *chef's kiss*. Completely unhinged, I love him. Also, the sterek? Easily one of the best dynamics I've read. It's ongoing, only four chapters left!

3. Fly a Little Faster by mirrorkill

Everyone knows when you go back in time, you shouldn't step on an ant, just in case you accidentally kill your own grandparent or something. But what happens when you go back in time and, uh, accidentally interrupt the one event that apparently made the Grumpiest Alpha in Town into a ball of mindless manpain? Well, if Marty McFly can do it, so can Stiles Stilinski. All he has to do is get Derek and Paige to fall in love before he gets pulled back to his own time. And before he makes anything worse. That's easy as pie, right? Right?

Notes: I liked this one because it's not the typical Stiles travels back in time after everyone else in the pack dies. It's got a different premise, still somewhat canon compliant (maybe??? canon enough), and it's amazingly done. It's complete.

4. Daybreak by TheObsidianQuill

"There . . ." Stiles swallowed and looked down at the bottle in his grasp as he slowly swirled the amber liquid inside. "There's really nothing left. For me. Everyone is . . . gone, and it feels like I haven't thought of tomorrow in years." His words rang in the air like a gunshot, he took another heavy drink. "I would trade every last breath I take to just have another shot—not even a guarantee, just a chance to make things right and bring back even one of them." ----- The pack was gone. He had nothing left. He had no one. With nothing to lose, Stiles puts everything on the line to go back in time to try to prevent the future from becoming his past. Broken, guarded, and haunted by his past, only one overgrown-pup of a wolf seems able to get past his defenses. Changing the future? Easy. Finding a place for himself in the Hale Pack? Impossible.

Notes: So good! Stiles is a traumatized bean and the Hales are just everything! It's complete.

5. The A Spark of Hope and the Butterfly Effect series by Phlinting

It's been eleven years since Scott was bitten by a feral werewolf and, despite his pack's many victories along the way, Gerard Argent's influence lives on. As the knowledge of the supernatural spread to the general population so did the hatred and fear of the unknown. The McCall pack has been picked off one by one and Stiles, Sheriff Stilinski, and Peter Hale are the only three left, on the run and barely surviving. But Stiles has found a spell. He has the magic, the spark, and his belief. He has his dad and Peter to help power it and he has the will and desperation to succeed. He's going back to the Hale fire and this time he's going to stop it ALL before it starts. It's the perfect solution. Too bad things never go quite according to plan...

Notes: The Sheriff and Peter are *chef's kiss* here! I really don't know how to explain all that happens here but it gets a little out of control in the best way. It's complete.

6. The The Long Way Round series by exclamation

A magical accident sends Stiles back in time. Now he's stuck in New York, living with Derek and Laura, and the only way to get back to his own time is to learn to use magic. Meanwhile, he must figure out how much he can tell them about their future. Can he warn them about the dangers they face? Can he change his own past? And can he trust the creature known as Bookworm, who seems to know him better than he knows himself?

Notes: This series had me in a chokehold, I cried so much but it was absolutely worth it! Stiles doesn't plan to travel back in time on this one, this just... happen, and it all spirals a bit out of control. But don't worry! You may have no idea of what's going to happen, but the author certainly did and they did an amazing work. It's complete.

7. It’s Happening by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

Derek stopped listening to him, brain going a mile a minute. Derek, it’s fucking happening! Derek, please! He would recognize that fucking voice anywhere. Two years. Two fucking years had passed, and now this little shit was standing in front of him, speaking his name, and grinning like an idiot. “It’s you,” Derek said, earning him a confused look from Stiles. “The phone call. Two years ago. It was you.” (SNYE - January 2nd - Time Travel)

Notes: This is not canon compliant. It's a whole other universe, actually, and it's so good. Good ol' Derek is losing his mind over here, but it's alright! Things work out just fine. It's complete.

These ones are not time travel, but dimensional travel. It’s similar enough so here you go.

8. The play it again series by metisket

In which Stiles goes along with one of Derek’s plans and ends up in an alternate universe as a result. He should’ve known better. He did know better, actually, and that means he has no one to blame but himself. “Laura wants to lure the kid in with food and kindness and make a pet of him, like a feral cat. Derek wants to have him arrested for stalking. They’re at an impasse. (And the rest of the family is staying emphatically out of it in a way that suggests bets have been placed.)”

Notes: I honestly don't know how to show the whole of my appreciation for this series. I think I've read this about five times since I found it last year. Stiles lands himself in a whole other dimension, where the Hale House fire never happened and Scott is human. It goes about as well as you can expect. It's technically not complete, but the main piece is.

9. The Home Across The Universe series by TricksterShi

You can lose your home and spend your whole life looking for it, sometimes you may even find bits of it again. But sometimes home goes out searching and finds you first. ~ The day he loses his father and his pack, Stiles is transported to a parallel world where his counterpart is nine years old and seemingly small changes have had a huge impact on the course of events in Beacon Hills. At first sticking to the shadows as a vigilante to protect his otherworld father and younger self, Stiles is soon drawn out into the light and onto a path that forces him to confront the traumas of his past so that he can make a place for himself in this new world.

Notes: Just. This absolute beast of a universe is seriously so well done, and so good. Imagine play it again, but much more depressing and waaaay longer. The angst is on point! The Stilinskis are the best in this one. And Derek and Laura have my heart, love my pookies. Stiles is not having the best times, but he'll be looked after, don't worry! Also technically not complete, but all the pieces in the series are done.

10. The Ley Lines series by forestofbabel

Stiles is back in town after many years, angry and bitter and disconnected from anything you might call pack. It might as well be a tradition at this point that he gets drunk and wakes up in the woods. Only, this time, something is different. The ghosts that have weighed in his heart are alive and well, and Stiles gets to witness a life that could have been his. There is one thing he knows, though. No matter how much he may want to stay, he has to go home. If the ley lines you should follow, and your dwelling at the end, and find your presence has been hollowed, your hereafter is to amend." *** Stiles is faced in this new world with someone he had been avoiding for a long time. Himself. The Double Walker cannot survive where the Double Walker dwells *** Derek had an itch under his skin. There was something missing. He knew exactly what it was. Who it was. His regrets paraded themselves in a steady stream, and he had to watch as Stiles left time and time again, knowing it would be the only way to let the ley lines heal. That didn't make it hurt any less. Still, some part of Derek hoped.

Notes: I honestly just read the first part, but I thought I'd add the whole series so people know what they're getting into. The first part can be read as a stand alone, so if anyone wants to stop after that they absolutely can. The fic itself is a bit sad, but it has a happy ending! Stiles travels to another dimension, and shenanigans follow. The series is complete.

#hope you like this!#fic recs #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #eternal sterek #one day I'll come here and post my own time travel sterek fic #today is not that day #time travel au #teen wolf #sterek fanfic #ao3

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teambyler · 3 days

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New Mil*ven footage: There's a reason they get interrupted (Byler analysis)

Whoever posted this new footage said they're "not breaking up" because El is smiling?

That's presumptuous of you ;)

Source

Maybe they're not breaking up in THIS scene. Or maybe they are, and making clear that things are alright between them. It's possible to be on good terms with someone you break up with. (Shocker!) And even crack a smile while you're wishing the other the best.

One really can't conclude either way. The body language does suggest honesty between them though. (Something not seen in s4.) But that honesty could be about anything.

WHAT'S MORE IMPORTANT IS THAT WE GET THE INTERRUPTION TROPE LOL:

If you ask me, this is CONFIRMATION that not everything's sunny in Mileven land. This is not a "will they or won't they?" interruption of a kiss, because they're already a canon couple. No, this is something closer to the Pineapple Pizza Interruption scene(TM) where SOMETHING the audience is WAITING to be said is NOT said:

In s4, the GA was supposed to think Mike was going to say "I love you." (Or perhaps he was going to call it off after thinking the painting was from Will? Can't say for sure.) POINT BEING: the Interruption Trope is a writing device to tease something, only to deny it. The purpose of it is to set up an IMPORTANT conflict/tension in the story that will be resolved later.

(EDIT: After writing all this I realize that there's another time interruptions happen: AFTER a scene achieves resolution. Will and Mike had one of these in 4x4 with "It looks like it'll be up to us again." "It always is, isn't it?" and Jonathan barges in. For Mike and El, the Painting Lie still needs resolution and is almost certainly related to this conversation. So everything I say here might actually not get interrupted and is actually SAID, leading to a new phase in their relationship. I just think it's less likely because any frank discussion of the Painting Lie makes a Byler conclusion too obvious. Okay, on to the likelier theory!)

Now what is this NEW unspoken thing between Mike and El? Season 4 was all about Mike being unable to say "I love you" to El. And now he has already SAID IT. On paper -- what Milevens call "canon" -- the Mileven relationship is fine and healthy.

So why prepare the audience for a NEW development in their relationship if it's not a breakup, or at least an emotional confession of some kind that threatens the last canon development that made everything "fine"?

The Painting Lie is Chekhov's gun. If this scene is indeed early in s5 (there are very few scenes with Mike and El together in the s5 teaser, perhaps she's with Mike only at the start of the season), then there's very little time for the writers to prepare something ELSE "waiting to be said" that is NOT related to the Painting Lie.

So what is being interrupted? Is it:

Mike asking if she commissioned the painting?

El saying she didn't commission it and telling Mike she thinks Will loves him?

Mike has realized the painting was from Will and is about to confess he doesn't know how he feels about him?

One of them is initiating a breakup?

WHATEVER IT IS, the Painting Lie challenges the stability of Mileven because it was core to the Pizza Freezer Confession(TM) that was supposed to tie up Mileven in a neat bow at the end of s4. The moment the Painting Lie is mentioned, this tells the GA that not everything will stay the same between Mike, El, and Will.

By the time Mike and El get interrupted, (1) the audience has already been made to expect something to come to light between them (likely related to the Painting Lie), and (2) resolution of this plot point will not happen right away and is IMPORTANT to s5.

That's because Stranger Things follows nearly 100% of all TV/movie writing in following a three-act structure. The start of each season sets up the conflicts and character motivations that drive the rest of the season. (Just as the first episodes of s4 set up El's "problem" of feeling like she's the monster and why she went on a journey of self-discovery.)

It's hard to imagine the writers setting up Round THREE of Mike struggling to say "I love you" to El. No, what's being interrupted is the next development, which has to do with the Painting Lie and its ramifications for Mike, Will, and El.

Add to this the fact that all the teasers we're getting suggest that El is separated from Mike and most of the others for some chunk of the season. What's left unsaid between them might remain unsaid. And we know that Mike and Will are side-by-side much of this season. (As promised, Mike said they will "be a team.")

Which begs the question: WHAT is interrupted between Mike and El, and what is it setting up plot-wise? Is it something whose RESOLUTION involves multiple scenes of Mike ALONE with the boy who canonically loves him and made the painting that made him feel so wonderful? Someone who Mike confessed he REALLY missed and Hawkins "isn't the same" without him?

The conflict's GOT to have something to do with Mike's feelings for Will. It FAR surpasses any other possibility, given how much set-up there has been for it.

Another plot point for season 5: on Will's end, he still hasn't come out of the closet. Doesn't part of his "emotional arc" have to include coming out to his BEST FRIEND? This is probably set up in the first episode, also.

That, together with the interruption of Mike and El, helps prime the GA to look at every scene with Mike and Will, reading every interaction and figuring out what will happen between these 2 best friends who have never lied to each other, until now. We'll even see a flashback of when they were younger. How their relationship changes after the inevitable revelations is central to s5.

The ENTIRE SEASON will be the Interruption Trope for Mike and Will, while they confront the full danger of Vecna together. It will be "the painting tucked away in Will's backpack" times a hundred.

-teambyler

(My own theory of how Byler will culminate, in case you haven't seen it!)

#anti mileven #byler #interruption #teennsiiiooon #gay tension #will they or won't they #new footage #new bts #mike wheeler #el hopper #jane hopper #will byers #painting lie #paintinggate #platonic elmike

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kalixora · 1 month

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Tfp Bumblebee x reader

Summary:

A skilled autobot sniper, frustrated by their lack of hand-to-hand combat abilities and hidden feelings for Bumblebee, trains intensely to prove themselves, while the team offers support, unaware of the sniper's inner conflict.

1/2

Once again, Bumblebee saved you from cons. You grumbled walking back to base, feeling a mix of frustration and gratitude. You weren’t the weakest but definitely not the strongest, not like the wreckers with their brute strength or quick like Arcee with her agility.

You were a sniper, skilled at taking down enemies from a distance. Your strength lay in your ability to blend into the shadows, moving silently and striking precisely.

However, in hand-to-hand combat, you often found yourself at a disadvantage, unlike Bumblebee, who excelled in it.

“You okay, N/N?” Raf asked you with a smile.

“I need to train,” you answered back with a low groan.

“He saved you again, didn’t he?” Raf snickered, closing his laptop.

“I don’t wanna hear it—“

Raf laughed, “N/N! It’s okay! You’re a stealth scout, not a brawler. You play to your strengths.”

You sighed, leaning against the wall. “I know, I just need to be able to handle myself in a fight alone.”

Raf nodded thoughtfully. “You know, maybe you could ask Bulkhead for some training. He’s tough and knows his way around a fight.”

“You rolled your optics. “I’m not asking that jumbo bot for nothing. I’d rather suffer.”

“You’re suffering now,” Raf remarked gently. “Why does it bother you so much that Bumblebee helps you? You guys are on the same team after all.”

You looked away, frustration and embarrassment heating your face plate as you stormed off to the training room. In your hurry, you accidentally bumped into Ratchet, causing him to drop his toolbox with a clatter.

“Y/N! I needed that!” he shouted after you.

“I need to train!” you shouted back, your voice echoing down the corridor as you continued on your way.

“Geez, what’s her damage?” Ratchet muttered to himself, shaking his head in confusion as he picked up his things.

“Bumblebee saved her and asked for a bridge back, and she’s upset,” Raf explained with concern in his voice.

“She’s one of the best weapon specialists in the making. What does Bumblebee have on her?”

“Hand-to-hand combat,” Raf replied softly, recalling the many times you’d voiced your frustration over it. Ratchet raised his optical ridge and let out a gruff chuckle. “Seriously? That’s it?”

Raf sighed, sensing the weight of your struggle. “I’m starting to feel a little bad, Ratchet—“

“There’s no need, Rafael,” Ratchet interrupted. “Y/N’s feelings for Bumblebee are the only reason she feels she needs to be better.”

“Wait—Y/N has feelings for Bee?” Raf repeated, surprised.

“Always, it was plainly obvious,” Ratchet shrugged, moving towards his work station. “She’s too stubborn to admit it, so it’s not my problem to solve.”

Raf hesitated, considering the revelation. “Maybe I can help…”

“Good luck with that. Just leave me out of it,” Ratchet waved Raf off, already engrossed in his work.

Meanwhile, in the training room, you continued to focus on your drills, unaware of the discussion unfolding outside.

As Raf pondered how to approach the situation, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of responsibility towards helping you navigate your feelings. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, but he was determined to find a way to support you, even if Ratchet preferred to stay out of it.

The ground bridge opened, and the other Autobots came in, all of them seeming cheerful and in good spirits.

“Oh man—and the way I took down that con was awesome! I wish Miko was there; she would’ve loved it,” Bulkhead exclaimed.

“Jack would’ve been screaming his poor lungs out if he saw that,” Arcee chuckled. “But I really gotta hand it to you, Smokescreen. You’ve improved a lot out there. I’m impressed.”

Smokescreen rubbed the back of his helm. “Ah, well, what can I say? I was made a natural talent. Kinda like you, Bee.”

Bumblebee whirled with excitement, exchanging high-fives with the others before heading over to Raf.

“Hey Raf! Where’s Y/N? I gotta show her something I found before she left,” Bumblebee beeped and whirred in his unique language.

Raf nodded and pointed to the corridor. “She’s in the training room, oh and Bee, she’s a little upset right now, so be a little easy on her.”

Bumblebee nodded, concern flashing in his optics. He headed towards the training room at a light jog. Entering the room, he saw you in the middle of your drills. “Y/N,” Bumblebee beeped softly, trying to catch your attention without startling you. “I found something cool I wanted to show you.”

You paused mid-strike, turning to see Bumblebee standing there, his optics shining with genuine excitement. The frustration you felt earlier mingled with a sense of warmth at seeing him.

“What is it, Bee?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Bumblebee held out a small, intricate piece of Cybertronian tech, something rare and valuable. “I thought you might like this. Optimus said it’s a tool used by the old weapon specialists back on Cybertron. I found it in the wreckage during the mission before you left.”

Your optics widened in surprise and curiosity as you took the item from Bumblebee’s outstretched servo. “I haven’t seen this before, Bee. Thank you.”

Bumblebee smiled, glad to see a spark of happiness in your optics. “Why are you training? Aren’t you tired?”

You looked down at the tool, trying to hide the mix of emotions swirling within you. “I just… I need to get better. For myself.”

Bumblebee tilted his helm, a concerned whir escaping him. “But why?”

You hesitated, your face plate becoming warm, you turned your helm away. “I just have a lot to prove, so you don’t have to keep risking your neck to save me all the time.”

Bumblebee placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “I’m always here to help.”

You nodded, feeling a bit lighter. “Thanks, Bee. That means a lot coming from you, but— I need to work harder.”

You nudged Bee’s shoulder away then gave him a meek smile before walking out.

Bee stood in the room slightly lost, “Was it something I said?” He beeped.

. . .

A few days later, the others hardly saw you. The only times they did was when you were going into recharge or going on missions with Optimus after much begging that they obviously didn’t know.

You stood in the middle of a field waiting for Optimus to ground bridge to you so you could continue your training with him.

“What’s taking so long—“

The ground bridge opened out came not Optimus but Bumblebee and the others.

You froze in place as you saw Smokescreen waving at you with a smug expression.

“Scrap,” you muttered as you crossed your arms.

“Sorry to crash your date N/N, Optimus wanted us to tell you that he got stuck doing something with Agent Frowler.”

“Rude, how dare you ruin our alone time,” you rolled your optics with a smirk on your face plate.

“So you gonna tell us why you’ve been with Optimus so much or do we have to guess?” Arcee asked walking up closer to you.

“Nothing really, just extra training and learning how to use this tech Bumblebee gave me,” you answered truthfully, showing Arcee your sniper with the added tech while switching your servo.

“Ooh, Knockout was going crazy for that thing. I’m shocked you managed to grab it, Bee,” Bulkhead chuckled. “Nice! We are freakin’ awesome.”

Smokescreen and Bulkhead high-fived each other while Bumblebee laughed, and Arcee smiled, placing her hand on her hip.

You turned around and walked further into the field, a scowl on your faceplate. The further you went into the field you saw a small rock poking out off to the side. You walked closer to it unsure of what it what, still hearing the laughter and banter behind you didn’t bother to turn around.

Hearing footsteps behind you, you looked over your shoulder pad seeing Bumblebee. He gave you a small friendly wave before beeping, “What’s that?”

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tikosblogg · 2 months

Text

A Helping Hand Pt 2.

Part 1 Here

Summary: Noah ghosts you, so you decide to find someone else to help you out. Until…

Warning: SMUT. PIV sex. Rough sex, Virginity loss, Dom!noah, sub!reader, unprotected sex(a big no no), TINY bit of degradation, spanking.

A/N: ya’ll…..I ain’t even gonna lie….i got carried away there…but I love this one. I did good with this one if I do say so myself! I hope you guys like it just as much!!❤️ not proof read I apologize it’s once again 2AM🥹

It’s been a whole week since I’ve seen or spoken to Noah. We had exchanged numbers before he left my apartment that night. Claiming he would talk to me soon. yet it’s been nothing but radio silence. I decided to not tell my friends, since Noah obviously changed his mind about the whole thing. I didn’t want to be hammered with questions, or it was embarrassing enough that I was ghosted I didn’t wanna talk about it. So I just stayed quiet. The girls were invited to one of the campus frat parties tonight, and asked me to come a long. Since it was a Friday, and I had no other plans I decided to go.

We got ready, and headed to the fraternity house. Once we get there, the house is packed, over flowing with drunk and rowdy college kids. The music is so loud it shook the entire house. We got our drinks, and socialized with other people just having a good time. After about an hour, I excused myself from the group of people we were talking to, to grab another drink.

As I stood at the makeshift bar in the cramped kitchen, the deafening bass of the music thudded around me. People were laughing, shouting, and stumbling through the narrow hallways, creating an adrenaline-fueled chaos that was just the kind of distraction I needed after a week of nothing from Noah. I thought we had shared a spark, a connection so intense that I could still feel the electricity humming in my veins, but it felt like I had been left hanging in the void since he walked out of my apartment that night.

"Hey there, beautiful," a voice interrupted my thoughts, making me jump. I turned around to see a guy standing there, blonde tousled hair, twinkling blue eyes, and a smile that instantly disarmed me. “I’m Jake. What’s your name?”

“Y/n,” I replied, trying to appear casual even though my stomach flipped. I couldn’t help but notice how he leaned in closer as he spoke, filling the space between us with an undeniable tension.

“Nice to meet you, y/n. You know, you might just be the most gorgeous person in this whole room,” he said, his voice dripping with charm. I felt my cheeks flush ,it had been a while since someone had directed attention toward me like that, other than Noah of course. “What brings you here?”

“Just hanging out with some friends,” I said, glancing over at Layna and Clara, who were busy talking and flirting with a group of guys. “What about you?”

“Same. Just trying to find a reason to stick around this party.” He smirked, leaning on the counter beside me. “I’d say I found it.”

His confidence was intoxicating. I couldn’t shake the memories of Noah's smile and tender words, but part of me wondered if maybe Jake could provide a nice distraction.

I hesitated, thinking about how Noah had claimed he'd “talk to me soon”. The weight of that silence felt almost like a betrayal. I could feel Jake’s gaze sharpening, as if he read the conflict in my eyes. “Why don’t we grab a drink somewhere quieter?” he suggested, the invitation both thrilling and terrifying.

“Sure.” I decided then and there to let go of Noah's lingering presence. Maybe I was being impulsive, but I was tired of waiting for someone who had left me hanging. Besides, a one night stand sounds like exactly what I need.

Jake led me out of the chaotic kitchen, through the crowded living room, and up the stairs into a random bedroom. The bass was muffled here, allowing us space to talk without shouting. I took a seat on the neatly made bed, finally allowing my guard to drop a little. I looked around the room, the lighting a dull blue color from the LEDs hung around the ceiling. In front of the bed against the wall, was a desk with an expensive looking PC set up. Lastly to my right, was a sliding closet door, that doubled as a mirror, the entire length of the wall.

I looked back at Jake his body language was confident as he walked closer, taking a seat beside me. drawing me in with his lively aura and unyielding charm.

We talked for a few minutes, his hand sliding up my bare thigh, inching closer and closer to the hem of my blue Jean skirt. He started to lean forward Until the bedroom door slammed open, making us jump apart.

Noah stood there, his silhouette framed in the doorway, a furious glint in his eyes that pierced through the dimness. The atmosphere shifted, the warmth between Jake and me evaporating like fog.

“Get the fuck out.” Noah’s voice was low, and dangerous. He shifted his weight, fists clenched at his sides, and his stance radiated authority. It was the kind of rage that felt palpable, as if it could reach out and strangle one of us, and from the looks of it… it would be Jake.

Jake sprang to his feet, a defiant smirk tugging at his lips despite the tension. “I’m busy, man. Why don’t you find another room?” He gestured dismissively.

Noah took a daunting step closer, towering over Jake, his presence like a shadow looming over us. “This is my room, dickhead. Get the fuck out.” His voice cut like glass—sharp, brittle, and full of anger.

“Whatever,” Jake countered, shaking his head as he rolled his eyes, a flicker of nerves darting beneath his bravado. His gaze moved to me, encouraging me to follow him, to leave Noah’s fury behind. But the moment my ass left the mattress, his hard gaze reached mine.

“Sit down,” Noah growled, his tone turning as fierce as a thunderstorm. Alarm, mixed with curiosity coursed through me as I complied instinctively, my heart racing. There was something possessive in his eyes, something primal, and it sent a shiver rippling through me. My cheeks flushed crimson, a rush of embarrassment kindling between the anger and the flickering desire I thought I had just moments before.

Jake grimaced, clearly irritated, and I could see the tension rippling across his shoulders like a taut bowstring. “Fuck that! She’s with me!” There was an edge to his voice as he shot a defiant glare at Noah, stepping forward, seeming ready for a confrontation.

Before I could register what was happening, Noah harshly shoved Jake out of the room almost effortlessly, his strength undeniable. “Not anymore.” The door slammed shut, the finality of it echoing like a gunshot in the suddenly quiet space.

I sat there, heart pounding as the silence enveloped me. It felt so wrong but so thrilling at the same time—the unyielding power Noah had in that moment, the way he took control without hesitation. I could hear Jake’s frustrated mutters on the other side of the door, mixed with the still pounding bass of the music being played throughout the house, but it faded into white noise, overtaken by the thumping of my heart and the electric tension hanging between Noah and me.

Noah turned to me slowly, his expression softening just a fraction. “Are you okay?” His voice lowered, a flicker of concern breaking through the anger.

“I... I’m fine,” I stammered, grappling for something to steady my racing thoughts. But my gaze fell to the floor, unable to meet his intense stare.

He stepped closer, the space left between us melting away like ice in the sun. “You know he doesn’t care about you, right?” His voice was firm, and there was something heartfelt buried in the fierce facade.

I glanced up, the conflict swirling inside me, a humorless laugh leaving my mouth. “Oh and you do?” I couldn’t believe what was coming out of his mouth. Yet, I couldn’t ignore, the way my skin prickled with anticipation.

His brow furrowed slightly, confusion knitted with concern as he sought my eyes. “What do you mean? Of course I do.”

The sincerity in his words throbbed in the air, making the small room feel larger, the weight of his gaze pulling me in. I took a deep breath, drowning in the torrent of emotions swirling around us. Noah stepped closer, and the walls felt like they were closing in, the space between us charged with something unnameable.

“Oh so that’s why you completely disappeared on me?” I hissed, hurt overshadowing any anger I felt. “You said you were gonna help me out, and then just left me hanging! So I went found someone else, so what?” I glared at him, as he just stood there silently.

His expression shifted. At first, it was just surprise, but as I spoke, a spark of annoyance flickered in his eyes. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the door. “So that’s what this is about? You’re such a desperate whore, you couldn’t go a few days without me? You had to find some stupid dickhead to replace me?”

His words hung in the air, taunting and challenging me. I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of my own admission suffocate my pride. Any other time, I would punch a guy for calling me such a degrading name, but coming from Noah’s lips…it only made me want to completely submit to him. Fall to my knees, and let him do whatever he wanted to with me. My self respect has left the chat.

Before I could respond, he reached behind him locking the door. The sound reverberated in my chest, both thrilling and foreboding. “It’s pathetic actually…You really think anyone else will make you feel as good as I do?”

Noah stepped closer, invading my space, and suddenly the atmosphere was full of suffocating tension. A tension that crackled between us, charging the air with an unmistakable heat. We were almost chest to chest—his breath mingling with the faint scent of his cologne lingering on his skin. I could feel the warmth radiating from his body, pulling me in like gravity.

Time felt suspended as he scrutinized my face, searching for honesty in my eyes. And then, without warning, his hand shot up, gripping my throat with a gentleness that belied his strength. I felt my heart race. I was trapped yet electrified; a paradox I could hardly understand.

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice low and steady, sending shivers down my spine. “Admit that you don’t want me to fuck you.”

The words hung thickly in the air, woven through my thoughts like a tangled cord. I wanted to deny it—to hold onto the shreds of my resolve. But the truth was there, dancing just out of reach. I could feel the heat pooling in the pit of my stomach, the yearning I had buried beneath annoyance and pride.

I opened my mouth to speak, but the words caught in my throat. I wanted to hate him for making me feel this way, for ghosting me, and for showing up like this with his magnetic pull. But I couldn’t shake the undeniable truth every second we stood here only deepened my desire for him.

His grip tightened slightly, pulling me closer to him. “You can’t lie to me,” he breathed, his eyes locked onto mine, dark and smoldering. “You want me…not him.”

A shaky breath escaped me, and I finally nodded, barely able to speak. “I—” I faltered, not wanting to make the admission, but it was too late. The warmth of his body pressed against mine ignited everything I had been trying to suppress, and I was suffocated by the truth.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against mine. “Say it.”

A rush of vulnerability flooded through me, and I broke. “I want you to fuck me.” The admission slipped from my lips, both thrilling and terrifying.

Noah’s grip loosened, just enough for me to feel the shift as he realized the power he held. The annoyance morphed into a smirk as he stepped back, putting space between us but retaining an air of challenge.

“Was that so hard?” he asked, that familiar teasing smile, and spark in his gaze igniting a fire in my chest. “I-I’m sorry” I whimpered, not even sure what about, all I know is that I want him now, and if apologizing is what I have to do to have him, then I’ll do it a million times more.

His sheer dominance pulling me back into the orbit of his presence. In that moment, the game shifted. I was no longer the pursuer, but a willing participant in his teasing game.

I felt my heart race, a mixture of fear and exhilaration coursing through my veins as Noah’s grip on my throat loosened just enough for me to breathe but still held enough power that I didn't want to struggle.

He leaned in, finally kissing me with so much heat. The kiss was demanding, igniting a fire deep within me. I melted into the intensity, surrendering to the moment. As his hand flew into the back of my hair, pushing me down to my knees, my senses sharpened. The warmth of his presence enveloped me, and I could feel the weight of his gaze as he settled on the edge of the bed.

With one swift motion, he pulled me closer, positioning me between his thighs. His fingers tangled in my hair, a mix of lust and control flowing between us. I looked up at him, and my breath caught in my throat as our eyes locked—a swirling storm of desire and dominance mirrored in his gaze.

His thumb brushed against my bottom lip, a teasing gesture that made me whimper in response. It ignited something deep within me, a craving that begged to be satisfied. But amidst this whirlwind of emotions, he grounded me with a question that cut through the haze “What’s your safe word?”

My heart raced. The thrill was intoxicating, yet the responsibility of consenting to this moment made my body tingle with anticipation. “Red,” I breathed out, the word heavy with meaning. It was a signal of trust, a boundary I was both eager to explore and determined to protect.

Noah smiled, a predatory glint in his eyes. “Good choice.” His lips attacked mine again, before he pulled away, our lips barely brushing, his breath warm against them as he whispered, “now show me how sorry you are.”

I timidly nodded my head, before reaching for his pants pausing. I quickly looked up, nerves and insecurities suddenly filling my body. He must’ve noticed my sudden change in demeanor, as his hand softly cupped my cheek, bringing my eyes to look directly into his. “What is baby?”

His dominate aura suddenly changed, his voice now softer. His thumb rubbed against my cheek back and forth, waiting for my response. “I just- I’ve never done…” my sentence cut short, as anxiety of not being good enough entered my thoughts. His voice suddenly bringing me back to the present.

“Hey…I’ll help you..just take your time. Don’t force it okay?” I nodded, as all the bad thoughts started to slowly dissipate. I’m safe. He knows I’m new to this. This is why we are doing this. I gave myself a short pep talk, and reached for his pants again.

He slightly lifted his hips, as I dragged his pants and boxers down just enough. When is dick finally released from its confines, he sighed in relief. My eyes widened, at the sight. He was huge. I was instantly intimidated, but didn’t let it show. I carefully reached up, wrapping my hand around him, my already small hand looking even tinier compared to it.

I slowly stroked my hand, up and down his length as he groaned above me. “Fuck baby, just like that.” His praise gave me a new found confidence, as I slowly leaned down kitten licking his painfully red tip. He moaned again, his hand finding my hair once more, gripping it softly.

The sounds leaving his lips, only made me want to hear more. I opened my mouth wide, as I took him into my mouth as far as I could. Once he hit the back of my throat I hollowed my cheeks sucking softly, before dragging my lips back up. He threw his back, releasing another loud groan. “Holy fuck y/n..” I did it again, this time stroking the rest of him that my mouth couldn’t reach, with my hand.

His grip on my hair tightened, as I let him take control. I propped my hands on each of his muscular thighs, keeping my mouth hovering over his dick. In time, his hips were thrusting as he fucked my mouth.

I moaned, and gagged around him letting him use me as he pleased. My panties no doubt soaked at this point. Tears were falling down my cheeks, as he suddenly pulled my mouth off of him. With his grip still tight in my hair, he turned my face to the right. With tear filled eyes, I saw my reflection staring back at me. “Look at yourself” he hissed, his dominant side coming back out to play.

I was a mess. I had mascara streaked down my face, from my tears. My shimmery lips gloss smeared across my cheeks. My hair looked like I had walked through a wind storm….but I loved it. I felt sexy.

He pulled my face back towards him, as he leaned down shoving his tongue damn near down my throat. I whined, as I sucked his tongue softly. It drove him fucking crazy. He stood up, pulling me from the floor, and onto his bed.

When my back hit the mattress, he was on top of me instantly. He grabbed my shirt pulling it off, before basically ripping my bra from my body. Next went my skirt, and panties. Throwing them somewhere in the room, he leaned down taking my nipple in his mouth.

I gasped, as he softly sucked it while squeezing my other tit in his hand. I felt warmth spread across my skin the longer he sucked and nipped at my tits, each rough touch igniting a fire at my throbbing cunt. I shivered, turned on more than I have ever been in my life, a flush spreading across my cheeks as I caught his gaze.

Noah pulled back, his lips hovering tantalizingly close. His breath fanning my skin as he began to taunt me, his voice low and rough. “You like that baby?“ he whispered, the dominance in his voice sending shivers of anticipation down my spine. “You think he could have made you feel like this?.”

I opened my mouth to respond, to articulate the jumbled emotions swirling within me, but no words came. Instead, I shook my head slightly, my heart racing as I whimpered. He smirked, a knowing smile that made my breath hitch in my throat.

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded, his tone dropping an octave, lacing his words with a challenge. It was his way of pulling me deeper, inviting me to surrender myself completely. My mind raced through a hundred possibilities, and each one was wrapped in the comfort of him.

“You,” I managed to breathe out, the word escaping my lips like a secret.

“Good answer,” he said, his grin widening over a shared understanding. He leaned closer again, capturing my gaze with his, with a final kiss and I felt anchored, surrounded by his intensity.

He lightly drug his tongue, from between my breasts down my stomach, to the very top of my aching cunt. I groaned his name, softly bucking my hips up. He smiled, before poking his tongue out, and running slowly over my sensitive clit.

I gasped, arching my back against the mattress. My hands instantly finding his hair. “Fuck I’ve missed this pussy.” Before I could say another word, his two middle fingers sank into me. He wasted no time, pumping them hard and fast.

“Fuck Noahhhh.” I whined, as he continued his thrusts, his face coming to hover over mine. “This sweet pussy is mine, right baby? His voice still held that dominant tone, but almost sounded like a whine. Just that could have made explode, but I held back.

He snatched his fingers away, making my head shoot up in confusion, before his hand came down smacking my already throbbing pussy, with his hand. I gasped, my body tensing at the new found pleasure filling my body. “Answer me.”

He growled, shoving his fingers back into me. I nodded my head, before releasing a breathless “yes..” rutting my hips against his skilled fingers. Another smack landed on my clit, before his deep voice filled the air again. “Yes what?”

So lost in the feeling, I said the first thing that came to mind as I gasped at the sharp sting against my clit “Yessir” he smirked, sitting up on his knees. “Good girl.” His shoved his fingers into his mouth, groaning at my taste.

I whined at the loss of his touch, as he watched from above me. A cocky smirk on his face. “I’m not even touching you anymore, and you’re still going crazy for me.” I panted beneath him, meeting his dark eyes. “Please Noah…I need you.” I cried, desperately wanting to feel his touch again.

He wasted no more time, taking his shirt off and kicking his pants and underwear the rest of the way off, throwing them somewhere behind him. I marveled at his hard muscular body, completely covered in beautiful tattoos. He himself was a work of art, I couldn’t help but appreciate.

He leaned down, capturing my lips in another kiss, as we both just tasted each other. The rest of his body, lowered onto me. I widened my thighs as far as I could, so I could feel him completely. His hips bucked softly, dragging his cock through my folds at an achingly slow pace.

His lips left mine, as we both panted. He reached down, sliding an arm under the bend of my right knee pushing it up and against my chest. Spreading me open for him.

He just looked at me for a moment, trying to read my face. I quickly nodded, pulling him into a soft kiss. “Please” I whispered up at him, ready to finally feel him inside of me.

He dropped his head into the crook of my neck, leaving soft nips and kisses as he slowly pushed inside of. I groaned at the stretch, my pussy welcoming the new feeling. He groaned into my neck, the deeper he got.

Once he was completely bottomed out, he sat still. He pulled his face from my neck, the look in his eyes burning into mine. I could see the way he was fighting with himself not to lose control and fuck the shit out of me.

But I wanted him to. I loved the pleasure, and the pain that came with it. I nodded my head confidently, as his resolve started to crack. I brought his lips close to mine, brushing against them as I spoke. “Don’t hold back.”

His whole demeanor went dark, before he pulled his hips back, slamming them back against mine with a small grunt. I gasped, my nails clawing down his back. I felt so full, and never wanted to lose that feeling that only he could give me.

“You’re so fucking tight baby.” He groaned, as he continued roughly snapping his hips against mine. I whimpered, running my hands up his back and intertwining them behind his neck. He laid his forehead against mine, as we breathed each other in.

Suddenly he stopped, pulling out of me. I released a whine, at the sudden empty feeling. He grabbed my sides sliding me up to the middle of the mattress, before rolling me onto my side facing the mirror.

I was confused, before he quickly slid up behind me, pulling my body flush against his chest, and sliding back into me with a low groan. The sight was beautiful. He propped up on his elbow, so he could see over me, as his other hand grabbed my thigh lifting it up.

Holding my thigh up, gave me a clear view of his cock pumping in and out of me roughly. It was erotic, so hot. He has ruined me, in the best way possible. His eyes met mine in the mirror, as a smile slowly formed on his face. He thoroughly enjoyed the fucked out mess he saw in the mirror.

His hand that was holding my thigh, slowly slid up my body, as I kept it up myself, not wanting to lose the perfect view of him completely destroying my pussy. His hand continued its path up my body, pausing at my tit to give it a firm squeeze, before moving up again.

His large hand finally made it to its destination, firmly gripping my throat. He turned my head the slightest bit towards him, his lips brushing against my tear stained cheek as he roughly spoke. “Look how pretty you are, taking my cock like a good girl.”

Nothing but a whine of his name left my lips, too fucked out to form words. His thrusts sped up, his hips slapping against my ass, roughly. “So fucking pretty, huh? Say it.” He growled against my cheek, before turning my face back towards the mirror.

“Say it! His voice rose in volume, his thrusts never letting up. I panted, watching our bodies in the mirror, before staring myself in the face. “I’m— oh fuckkk- I’m so pretty.” I whined, as my eyes met his smirking face.

“Thats fucking right baby, my pretty little slut.” He breathed, his fingers tightening a bit more around my throat, slowing down my blood flow, making my head feel fuzzy. “ All fucking mine.” I nodded slightly the best I could, agreeing with him. Nobody would ever compare to Noah. I’ll forever be his.

After a few more rough thrusts of his hips, he pulled out again, shoving me onto my stomach, and pulling my hips up. His hand shoved my back down, making me arch my ass as high as I could. Without another word, he thrusted back into me.

His hips pounded into me, while he reached his hand around me rubbing his fingers against my clit. I pulled my face out of the sheets, catching his eyes in the mirror for the tenth time. Moaning at the sight of him. His brows were furrowed in pleasure, his face and body covered in a sheen of sweat.

His eyes blown out, almost black. His teeth caught his bottom lip, as he watched my face twist with pleasure. My jaw hung open, basically drooling. I could tell he loved the sight of me like this, which only egged him on.

“You gonna cum for me baby?” He asked, with an almost mocking tone. My eyes closed in bliss, before is other hand came down, leaving a harsh slap on my ass. My eyes shot back open, as they found the mirror again. “Fucking watch yourself. Watch yourself fall apart for me.” He grunted, as I kept my eyes on myself in the mirror.

I was a complete fucking wreck, and I loved it. His fingers pressed harder against my clit, and I felt my orgasm reaching its peak. “Fuck noah..yes yes yes please.” I cried out, as my body shook finally releasing all over him.

Noah groaned, as he continued fucking me through my high. My face fell into the mattress, as his thrusts became sloppy, finally finishing right after me. He groaned, as his hips slowly came to a stop. We were both panting loudly, as he bent forward, leaving a soft kiss on my spine.

He slowly pulled out, making me whine at the loss. I slowly turned over, both of us staring at each other before breaking into stupid smiles. I giggled as he pulled over to him, kissing my lips, nose, and forehead. He stood up, walking over to the bathroom, and grabbing a towel.

After wiping us off, he threw the towel in his hamper, and pulled on his boxers. He bent over grabbing his shirt, and walking over to me slipping it on me. I smiled, as he crawled back into bed, placing the blanket over us. I turned to face him, with a small smile. “Thank you.”

He smiled back before shaking his head. “Don’t thank me… I think we both know this was more than just me giving you a helping hand.” His hand came up, softly brushing a piece of hair from my face cupping my cheek. He leaned in placing a soft lingering kiss to my lips.

He pulled back, his thumb softly caressing my cheek. I smiled at him, softly nuzzling my face into his warm palm. He’s right. This was so much more than that….and I don’t mind it one bit.

#noah sebastian smut #badomensband #badomenscult #best friend noah #noah sebastian x reader smut #daily folio #jolly karlsson #smut #noah sebastian imagine #noahsebastian #bad omens smut #badomens #nicholas ruffilo #fuck it up folio

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alotofpockets · 1 year

Text

Replaced | Part 2 | Natasha Romanoff

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Stark!Reader, and Tony Stark x Daughter!Reader

Story warnings: heart disease/failure, loss of a parent, absent father.

Story summary: Your father, Tony Stark, has been rather absent in the recent years of your life. What will happen when you show up at the Avengers Compound after you lose your mom?

Masterlist | Marvel masterlist | Words: 1.8K

Part 1 | Part 2

While you were sound asleep in Natasha’s arms, Peter looked very conflicted in the common room. “What’s troubling you, kid?” Your dad continued the nickname like what you said never happened. “You never told me you had a daughter.” Tony shrugs, “I barely see her, I didn’t see the point of mentioning it.” Peter gets up and heads towards his room as well. “Come on, kid, not you too.” He looks back in disbelief, “I know exactly what it’s like to lose a parent, and the fact that you’re acting like it’s nothing to your own child, while you should be the one comforting her, does not sit right with me.”

When you wake up you realize you fell asleep on Natasha, you look up and she's already looking at you. “Good morning, how did you sleep?” You sit up, “I slept good, but I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you, I’m sorry.” Natasha smiles, “No worries, you’re all good. I do have to go for a bit, I have a short meeting. If you want you can have some breakfast in the kitchen, grab whatever you want.” You thank her before she gets up. “I’ll meet you after?” You nod with a small smile.

In the kitchen, Wanda was already busy making pancakes, “Hey, y/n, would you like some?” You sit down at the counter, "Yeah, I would love some pancakes, they smell amazing Wanda." Wanda puts a plate with two perfect pancakes down in front of you. "Let me know if you want more when you're done, I'm making them for everyone, so I'll be cooking for a bit." You take the first bite, "They're amazing Wanda, thank you! Where did you learn to cook like this?" Wanda gives you a faraway smile. "When I was younger, every moment my mom spent in the kitchen, I was right by her side. She was always so happy in the kitchen, I wanted that too. She taught me everything she knew. Her recipe books were one of the few things that were left after the bombing. I keep them very close to my heart, and make her recipes as often as I can, to remember her and my family." You hadn't realized that Wanda's youth had gone that way. "Oh, I’m sorry, Wanda. I didn’t know. I’m glad your mom can live on through her recipes and the memories you’ve made together.” - “Don’t worry, I enjoy talking about them. It keeps the memories alive, you know?” You nod and continue your breakfast.

When you were done with your first pancake, Peter walked in. He nervously walks towards you, “Hey, y/n, I wanted to apologize for yesterday. I had no clue Tony had a daughter, I never meant to take your place or you know, be a part of the reason your connection with your dad isn’t good.” You pat the empty chair beside you, silently asking him to sit with you. “You have nothing to apologize for, Peter. None of this is your fault, I promise. Plus my connection with my dad hasn’t been good long before he met you, so please don’t feel guilty. I don’t blame you in any way.” That seems to relieve some of the tension the boy was feeling. Wanda placed a plate in front of Peter, without saying a word, careful to not interrupt the two of you. You and Peter quietly eat the rest of your breakfast, until your dad walks in. Both of you look up at him, “Ah, Peter, y/n, I see that you two are getting along well.” You roll your eyes and excuse yourself from the table.

You walk outside and follow one of the paths, not knowing where it will lead you. Eventually, you make it to the waterfront and decide to sit down. You’re just staring out onto the water, deep in thought, when you hear someone walk towards you. Looking over your shoulder you see Wanda approaching. “Hi, Wanda, how did you find me so easily?” Wanda points to the ground next to you, “May I?” You nod and she sits down next to you. “I can read minds, is how. I try not to listen to people's thoughts because it’s generally not appreciated, but sometimes a person's thoughts are too loud for me to ignore. So, I just wanted to check in on you.” You talk with Wanda for a while until her phone buzzes, “Hey, it’s Nat, she’s looking for you. Are you okay with me sharing where we are?” You nod your head, “Yeah, we were planning to meet up after her meeting.” The three of you spend the rest of the morning at the water, getting to know each other better.

A couple days later you’re at the funeral that you arranged. Most of the team was there for support, as well as a few relatives and even some regulars from the bookstore. It was by far the hardest thing you had ever done. After every person that attended shook your hand and said their condolences, Natasha walks up to you. “Hey, you look like you need a hug.” Without saying a word you fall into her arms. She wraps her arms tightly around you and lets you cry into her chest. Her hand rubs soothing circles on your back, trying to bring you as much comfort as she possibly could. Once it feels like you have no tears left, you loosen your grip on Natasha. “Thank you, I needed that.” Natasha moves to your side and keeps an arm around your shoulder. “Any time.” You look out the doors of the room. “Did he come?” - “Yeah, he stood at the back, but left before the condolences. I think he wasn’t sure if you and your family members wanted him there.” You nod, not sure why you cared to know.

The next week you opened back up the bookstore. You were looking through your notes with a frown on your face when Natasha walked in with two coffee’s. She hands you one of the cups and takes a sip of the other, “How are you holding up?” You sigh deeply. “Okay, I guess. It feels so strange without her.” Natasha nods along as you tell her how you’re feeling. “And what about the notebook, what were you looking at?” You grab the notebook and flip through a few pages, “The funeral costs were most of my savings, and since we’ve- eh- the store has been closed all week, I didn’t get any income from it. So, I was trying to come up with ideas on how to earn more money here. So far everything I’ve written down is only going to cost me more money.” Natasha looks through your notes to see what kind of ideas you had come up with. “Do you want to brainstorm some ideas together?” You like the idea and start firing ideas at each other. It must have been an hour later when Natasha came up with the following. “What if we did something with the Avengers? Like maybe we can organize events to read books to kids or something, or we can have the team make book suggestions. That will surely attract more people to the store, right?” - “That sounds like a great idea! But do you really think the team is willing to help?” Natasha takes your hand in hers and gives it a soft squeeze, “I’m sure they will. I think it would be good for us too, we’re always looking for opportunities to connect with the community more. This would be perfect.”

Every free moment of the next few weeks you spent together with Natasha. It started out as planning your idea, but soon you realized that you were not only working on the idea anymore. After planning Natasha stayed over and you watched movies, more than once she stayed the night and you cuddled up after falling asleep during unfinished movies. You don’t remember exactly when it happened, but you knew that somewhere along the line you had crossed the line of simply being friends. When you weren’t working you were either at Natasha’s or she was at your place. On days that Natasha was free, she would join you at the store and prepare things for the first Avenger reading event.

Then the first ever Avenger reading event was finally there. The whole store was full of children and their families, eager to meet the Avengers. You introduced today's readers to the audience, “Please welcome Captain America, Black Widow, Hawkeye, Scarlet Witch and Spider-man!” The event went amazing, you had no idea how it was going to turn out this morning, but this many people was definitely not something you had expected. The team sat and interacted with the kids as their friends were reading a book. They walked around the store with kids and helped them pick out books. Almost all of the families left the store with at least one book. “Thank you all so much! This was incredible, I am so grateful for all of you.” You told the team as they were heading out. Natasha stayed to help you clean up, the rest offered too, but Natasha assured them that it was fine.

When you had cleaned everything up you sat down on one of the couches. Natasha walked up to you with two drinks in her hand, “We should celebrate, today was a big success.” You lean into her as she sits down next to you. “Yeah, we should. What did you have in mind?” Natasha shrugs, “I don’t mind, as long as it’s with you.” You lift your head and look in her eyes. Her eyes move down to your lips, you smile as a warm feeling forms in your chest. You reach up your hand to place a loose strand of hair behind her ear and let your hand linger. Natasha leans into your hand and then forwards until your lips meet. You kiss her slowly, her hands move to your waist pulling you closer. She deepens the kiss and gently pulls you on top of her lap. When you part you smile at her, “So this is what you call celebrating?” - “Hm, only with you.”The next steps for the bookstore made you excited for the future. You were adding two new sections to the store. One called ‘Assembled by Avengers’, a section with recommended books by each of the Avengers. The other was dedicated to your mom’s favorite books. Besides the new sections, more reading events were planned, you expanded it to multiple age groups.

Another thing that excited you for the future was the woman that was currently sound asleep next to you. You turn to your side and scoot closer to Natasha. After placing a soft kiss to her forehead, you cuddle up to her and close your eyes as well.

---

Tagging the people that asked for a part two, thank you for wanting to read more!

@romanoffsgal @my-skeleton-hats @natasharomanoffswife17 @justyourwritter69 @brooke7x @pandafuriosa60 @winter107th @cherlenovix @demonicangel69 @natasha-1million

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #black widow fic #natasha x reader #avengers x reader #the avengers #tony stark #tony stark x daughter!reader #stark reader #natasha romanoff x stark!reader

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riaarivic · 10 months

Text

HIS - KNJ x F!reader: 2 Clean

💗Pairings idol!NamjoonxReader

💗 Genres idol!AU, Smut, Angst, Romance, Enemies to lovers to enemies to lovers

💗 Rating 18+ minors DNI

💗 Summary Three years have passed since the last time you saw Kim Namjoon. But now he was right in front of you, with the same stupid warm smile that made your good judgment (and underwear) disappear without a trace. You haven't seen him for four years. But now here you were working for BTS again. Having to see his insufferably attractive face every day of your life again.

But there's something Namjoon doesn't know. The little girl with almond eyes and dimples in her smile clinging to his ex-girlfriend's hip, not only looked too much like him. But she was… His.

💗 Warnings for the chapter: reader has very conflictive emotions about the news of her pregnancy at the begining. This chapter will have some back and forth time skips, miscommunications, pinning, SO MUCH PINNING, Hurt/comfort.

💗 A/N: ⚠️ dialogue in BOLD is intended to be in English if not, they are speaking in Korean. ⚠️

Love, Ria

💗 Chapter wordcount 4,8k

💗 Series index: 1 2

“The drought was the very worst, ah-ah. When the flowers that we'd grown together died of thirst It was months and months of back and forth, ah-ah, ah-ah. You're still all over me like a wine-stained dress I can't wear anymore” -Taylor Swift

💗💗💗MARCH 2022💗💗💗

Your daughter, Hana.

Amid the rapid-fire questions echoing in Namjoon's head, his pulse raced as you introduced the unexpected star of the show—

Who had just barged into the already tense conference room.

Like a small– But charming tornado.

"Everyone, this is my daughter, Hana. Baby, say hi; they will work with mommy." You said sitting her on your lap.

"Hello, I’m Hana. I’m Three years old.” Hana greeted, her innocence oozing charm.

She spoke korean.

That made Namjoon smile.

Cute.

"Baby Hana, do you know who we are?" Jimin asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

She nodded. Did she?

"You are Jimin, Jk, V, Jin, J-Hope, Suga, and… Rap Monster?” Hana’s innocent attempt earned laughter from everyone.

Everyone but Namjoon.

He halted what he was doing, a sudden realization hitting him like a ton of bricks.

She was three years old.

And she looked like him.

Too much like him.

“She’s so polite!” Jimin exclaimed.

“That’s so cute!” chimed in V.

“Are you an army, baby Hana?” Jin inquired, curious.

“No,” Hana replied. “I like Seventeen more.” Jin's shocked expression made everyone burst with laughter.

“Oh! But we’re cooler than them!” Jin tried to protest.

“I’m sorry; she has her interests, and right now, she’s obsessed with Wonwoo from Seventeen.” you tried to explain. But Seokjin was already about to get into a fight with a three year old to prove that, In fact, BTS were much cooler.

Not that Namjoon had a problem with Seventeen.

But he considered himself objectively cooler than them.

He stopped mid thought. Why the hell is he caring so much of what a toddler thought?

"Hana! Here you are!" A tall man with glasses emerged, breaking the charm of the moment. "We apologize for the interruption. Our Hana tends to run too fast. I am Eric Lee, Stardom’s chief financial operator and Y/N’s husband," he added, the unnecessary detail sending a ripple through the room.

The oblivious members resumed their excitement, but Namjoon felt like a computer crashing and about to explode. The mathematical calculations in his head were on the brink of causing a stroke.

If Namjoon's eyes could kill, Eric would be a bloody stain on the floor. Jealousy surged within him, a feeling he knew he didn't deserve.

But your daughter, she was three.

That meant you met this person around the same time you broke up.

You surely moved fast.

The Eric guy apologized again and took Hana from your arms to take her outside. She smiled at everyone and waved goodbye.

Her dimpled smile made Namjoon’s heart do a somersault.

The meeting continued as if background noise, but Namjoon's focus shifted to you, studying your face. That girl, she looked too much like him and nothing like this whoever-I-don’t-care guy.

It couldn't be possible.

He admitted he hurt you. But you would never do that to him.

Right?

If that girl was his.

You would have told him.

But he looked too much like him.

And he needed to talk to you.

💗💗💗FEBRUARY 2017💗💗💗

The conference room hummed with tension.

As the team gathered for a crucial meeting on the North American leg of their Wings Tour. Namjoon, the usually composed leader, wore a furrowed brow and an air of defiance. The discussion centered around their press schedules.

Namjoon's frustration boiled over as he voiced his stance, "I won't be a clown for them. We're artists. I won't subject the group to this circus. Where the only thing they ask us if we had ever eaten a hamburger"

You, seated across the table, shot him an incredulous look.

"Namjoon, we can't afford to cut the press schedules. If we want BTS to break into the mainstream music market, we need exposure. Press appearances are non-negotiable."

He scoffed, "Exposure won't matter if they don't take us seriously. I won't compromise our art for popularity."

The heated exchange drew the attention of the other members and the managers.

This was the third time this week.

And the main managers were starting to think if you were worht all this tenssion.

But you did get them an appearance on the three main late night shows in the US for their tour promotion.

So you two had to learn to get along.

The room crackled as you shot back, "This is not about compromising your art, Namjoon. It's about strategic promotion. We need the media to understand and appreciate you, all of you."

Namjoon's eyes flashed with anger, and just as the confrontation seemed to reach its peak, J-Hope intervened.

"I think it's enough. This is about the success of the group. We'll do what it takes to keep BTS in the public eye, and that includes press appearances."

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of the decision sinking in.

Yoongi, who had remained quiet, finally spoke up. "I get where Namjoon is coming from, but we have to adapt to the market. If this is what it takes, then we'll do it. And Namjoon, you have Y/N's support. She won't let us down."

You nodded, your frustration simmering beneath the surface. The resolution hung in the air as the team grudgingly agreed to move forward with the press schedules.

The future of BTS in the North American market now rests on the delicate balance between you and him.

And none of you would give the other the satisfaction of a win.

After the intense meeting, you needed a moment to decompress. So you headed to the lounge to join the stylist crew for lunch.

The atmosphere was more relaxed here, a welcome change from the tension in the conference room. The aroma of delicious foods filled the air as you settled at the table with your colleagues.

As you unwrapped your lunch, the stylist crew delved into a gossip session.

“Y/N-ssi, Do You know Ha-young? She’s from the makeup team” You nodded. “She just confessed to PD-nim that she caught one-sided feelings with one of the members” the younger stylist said leaning closer to you “Bad girl. She should have known better”

“My money is on Jimin” one of them said and the others giggled. You couldn’t help but feel a bit bad for the girl who had just lost her job.

Their director was unforgiving.

Just like they have told you on your first day here. Having any type of personal relationship with any of the members was the cardinal sin.

Poor Ha-young, was going to be blacklisted from the industry, a harsh punishment for what was deemed reckless and unprofessional behavior.

Listening to the gossip, you couldn't help but shake your head.

The idea of jeopardizing your career for a simple crush seemed both reckless and foolish.

As the chatter continued, you found yourself silently reaffirming your commitment to keeping personal and professional boundaries intact.

That will never be you.

💗💗💗NOVEMBER 2019💗💗💗

“I am really sorry, doll,”

Yoongi murmured, his eyes filled with genuine concern.

“I don’t understand anything that’s happening,” you admitted, the weight of the situation heavy on your shoulders. You patted Hana’s back as she slept peacefully unaware of the deep wound on her mother’s heart.

One that you would have to mend.

To have the strength to raise a child…

By yourself.

“You know it takes time for him to wrap his head around things. He’ll know better, give him time,” Yoongi offered, his voice reflecting a hint of confusion and frustration with Namjoon's actions.

“I wish I had that luxury, Yoongi. But she’s here. She’s alive, she needs things. I can’t just go and say that I need time. She needs a parent… Both of us.” Yoongi sighed, understanding the gravity of the situation.

“I considered it, you know? Not Having her” your heart sank confessing this for the first time outloud “But, I guess I was selfish, and I resent myself for it. The selfish side of me wanted to at least have this. But she’s so much more than just us. She’s so special.”

“I can see that,” he replied, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“You hate babies, Min,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“This one’s alright. She’s a part of you too. And that makes her special.”

“I’m scared,” you confessed, vulnerability seeping into your words.

“I know, doll,” Yoongi reassured, his tone softening.

“I don’t know if I can be a good mom to her. I can’t do this alone.”

“First of all, you are not alone. Second of all, you are the most capable, hardworking, and kind person I’ve met. It’s going to be fucking hard? Yes, I’ll not sugarcoat it. But you got this.”

“I want to punch him in the face so much.” You felt the first tears start to fall from your eyes.

“I know, doll. Me too,” Yoongi admitted, the unspoken understanding between you two creating a bond of shared frustration and support.

Yoongi placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, his gaze filled with both empathy and frustration. "Look, Y/N, I know Namjoon, and this is so unlike him. We've been through everything together for more than ten years, and he's not the type to turn away from responsibilities. There has to be something else going on."

Your eyes filled up with tears again, a mixture of sadness and anger. "I just don't understand why he sent his mother, with an envelope full of money instead of facing us himself. It feels like he's treating us like a burden."

Yoongi's expression hardened, a rare sight for someone known for his calm demeanor. "He messed up big time, and he needs to face the consequences. You and Hana deserve better."

"I thought he loved me. I thought we meant something to each other," you confessed, your voice cracking.

"He does, Y/N. I can't explain his actions, but I've never seen him act this way. Whatever it is, he needs to sort it out. Meanwhile, you focus on being the amazing mother I know you can be."

Tears spilled down your cheeks, and Yoongi pulled you into a tight embrace. "I'm here for you, Y/N. We all are. BTS isn't just about the stage; we're a family and both of you are a part of it. Families stick together, no matter what."

As you let out a shaky breath, a mixture of gratitude and sadness, you whispered, "Thank you, Yoongi."

"Anytime, doll. You’ve got this," he reassured, his words carrying a promise of solidarity and support. The hotel room, once filled with the weight of uncertainty, now held a glimmer of hope amid the storm of emotions.

You’ve got this.

You had to.

💗💗💗MARCH 2017💗💗💗

They just got nominated to an international award.

Everyone else was celebrating their milestone.

But Namjoon just couldn't enjoy it as much as he wanted to.

He was happy.

For the first time in his life he felt like they were finally receiving the praise they deserved for their art and their hard work.

But the weight of their public persona and the fine lines they could never cross as idols in Korea, was growing heavier by day. And the endless possibilities of major exposure scared the fuck out of him.

They were on their six date of the tour when he felt like he was going to die.

The air backstage in Newark was thick with the aftermath of Namjoon's exhaustion-fueled breakdown.

You found him leaning against a wall, a cigarette between his fingers. He couldn’t hide the trembling of his hands.

"That's an awful habit you have right there," you commented, eyeing the smoke.

"I can say the same to you," he retorted, nodding at the Coca-Cola can in your hand. "What can I say, everyone picks their own poison." you smiled at him honestly. For the first time.

Surprisingly, it led to the first civil conversation between you two.

You leaned against the wall beside him, sipping your cola, the fizz providing a rhythmic contrast to the quiet.

He broke the silence, "You know, sometimes I feel like I'm just a puppet, dancing to whatever tune the media plays."

"It’s okay to feel tired sometimes, you know?" you offered.

"I do, but being their leader and their spokesperson. I can’t afford to be nervous or too tired," Namjoon admitted. "I speak for myself in these interviews. It is a huge weight on my shoulders to speak for everyone. Sometimes they might not agree with what I’m saying."

"Yeah, I reckon Panda Express being your favorite restaurant in America is a pretty controversial opinion," you teased, earning a hearty laugh from him.

"Do you think they are going to ever take us seriously?" he asked with a laugh and a touch of desperation.

"They better do. You guys will own this industry one day."

He shot you a grateful smile, and for a moment, the weight on his shoulders seemed to ease.

"That is a pretty controversial opinion. I am a 'what’s your favorite American food' away from literally losing it," he confessed.

"You know," you began, changing the topic with a playful grin, "I think your controversial opinions are what make you more human to your fans. They love you for being real."

Namjoon chuckled, the tension dissipating. "Maybe I should start a blog—'Kim Namjoon's Unfiltered Thoughts.'"

"You might break the internet with that," you joked, enjoying the rare camaraderie.

As the conversation lightened, you both shared a laugh, finding solace in this unexpected connection. The backstage chaos seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of understanding.

"You'll do fine. You always do," you reassured him.

"Thank you."

As a friendly gesture, you pulled a small disinfectant from your pocket.

"Manager Sejin was looking for you; you better use this before he finds you. You don't want him scolding you for the smell." you said before turning away to head back inside.

Namjoon chuckled, taking the disinfectant. "Thanks, Y/N. For being here."

"Anytime, Joon," you replied, the use of the nickname a testament to the newfound camaraderie

He smiled, and the scent of the disinfectant mixed with your fragrance, like flowers in the air.

As Namjoon walked away, disappearing into the backstage hustle, he took a moment to collect his thoughts.

"Y/N!" A familiar voice called out, it was Sejin, the ever-watchful manager, threading through the maze of crew members and equipment.

You approached him, noting the stern expression on his face. "Mr. Sejin, you were looking for Namjoon?"

He nodded, "Yes, he needs to wrap up the interviews and rest. The schedule is tight, and we can't afford any delays."

You couldn't help but feel a sense of protectiveness toward Namjoon. "He's doing his best, Sejin. But he's human, not a machine."

Namjoon was about to walk to where you were but that coment made him freeze on his feet.

Sejin sighed, his stern expression softening. "I know, Y/N. I just worry about them all. The pressure is immense."

"It is, but moments like these," you gestured to the chaotic backstage, "it is good remind them that they're not alone."

He offered a small smile, appreciating the sentiment. "You're right. Well, let's make sure Namjoon gets some rest."

As you both navigated the backstage maze, you didn’t know he listened to the conversation. And he couldn't shake off the unexpected warmth that had emerged from the brief encounter with you.

The chaotic world of stardom was vast, but in that moment, a connection had formed—one that hinted at the resilience and humanity behind the larger-than-life personas.

Maybe you weren’t that bad.

💗💗💗AUGUST 2021💗💗💗

You had gone to a therapist when Hana was two.

The therapist's office had become a sanctuary for you, you needed guidance on the hard task of being a single mother to Hana.

She was going to ask the inevitable questions about her father one day. And you needed to know what to say. But no amount of therapy could have prepared yourself for this day.

Hana was smart, too smart for her age.

And when you came back from a playdate at her friends house.

She wanted answers to her questions.

"Why don't I have a daddy?"

You two were back in her room getting ready to sleep and you knew that question was coming.

You took a deep breath as you sat next to her, trying to find the right words. "All families are different, baby. Some have a mommy and a daddy. Some have two mommies or two daddies. Some, like ours, have a mommy and all your uncles and aunts. Isn't that fun?"

"It is fun," she replied, but the dissatisfaction lingered in her eyes. She had more questions, and you knew your initial answer wasn't enough.

And now she discovered kpop.

And she was obsessed with it.

You felt like throwing up everytime you saw him on your screen.

The bitter reminder that she deserved to know the truth. However, you weren't ready to shatter the illusion just yet. Telling anyone that her father was the leader of the biggest music group in history seemed unbelievable.

You knew how crazy you will sound.

Even your therapist had a hard time believing your story the first time you went to her.

But, your daughter was the living image of her father.

And you had shown her your old Big Hit contract for her to finally believe you.

"So I don’t have a dad?" Hana's expectant eyes pleaded for an honest answer.

"You do have one. He is living his dream, making millions of people happy," you stammered, your hands trembling as you combed her hair. Even though Hana was still a child, she sensed the discomfort and wisely chose not to press the topic any further—for today.

Later that night, as if the universe mocked you, he appeared on your TV screen. "I want to be a dad," he confessed to the interviewer, his smile was radiant as always. It felt like a punch to your stomach, the wine glass slipping from your hand and staining the new rug.

Fuck him.

He was a dad. He just chose not to be one.

The fandom even had the joke that he had a hidden wife and kids.

You entertained thoughts of shattering his public image, creating rumors that could strip away the disarming smile he flaunted. But the truth was, you could never inflict that pain on your daughter.

As the wine stain marred your rug, you vowed to shield Hana from the harsh realities as long as you could. But beneath your composed exterior, a storm of emotions raged.

Just for a little longer.

She will soon be old enough to understand.

But you didn't look forward breaking her heart with the news that her father didn't want her in his life.

💗💗💗FEBRUARY 2018💗💗💗

Everyone was tense.

The word disbandment floated heavily on the air.

After this morning’s team meeting things were pretty rough.

They were tired.

They felt like nothing was working in their favor.

Some of the members wanted a break.

Some of them wanted to keep going.

He had to remain unbiased.

You knew how unfair it was.

For him and for all of them.

Message from NJ: meet me upstairs. studio.

You knew what that meant.

He wanted to fuck the frustration away.

And you would be lying if you said you didn’t want to.

This was the riskiest thing you've ever done yet. You knew how dangerous it was for you especially. You were breaking your own rule and you were being careless.

You knew perfectly well what were the consecuences of what you were doing.

But you couldn’t get to care enough to stop you from hurriedly hitting the lock combination of his Studio.

His tired eyes greeted you. And a second later you were pinned to the wall behind you, hands everywhere and not enough at the same time.

And you wanted to ignore how much it hurt you that you were just this to him.

A relief.

“I missed this” he whispered against your lips. His tounge tasting your lower lips. Wanting to savour everything before devouring it all at once.

You missed it too.

But you were too stubborn to say it outloud.

And he was too, trying to pretend that he missed this whatever you had going on.

Instead of just you.

As always it started like a fight for dominance. His kisses carrying a hunger that transcended mere physical release. The urgency in his touch revealed a deeper need, one he was too stubborn to acknowledge.

Namjoon steps between your thighs and you can feel how much he needed this. His body is warm against yours as he lowers his lips to kiss down the column of your neck.

"You smell so good" you feel the soft breeze of his breath against your skin. And before you could reciprocate his words you felt the sharp pain of his teeth biting the same spot of your skin he just kissed a second ago.

"Namjoon-" a small whisper leaves your lips and a wave of conflicted feelings wash over his body.

He wanted to drown the world around you.

Where only the two of you existed.

And that scared him.

How much he really needed you.

He lifted you, his grip momentarily loosing his balance, and both of you erupted into laughter as you tumbled onto the sofa. "I'm so sorry," he said, his eyes holding a vulnerability that surpassed the laughter. "I'm just... I'm so tired."

His heart was breaking.

With a gentle smile, you cupped his cheek, your thumb wiping away his tears. "It’s okay, Joonie. Everything is going to be okay."

Your words rendered him defenseless. He was so tired of pretending he didn’t feel safe in your arms. He wrapped his arms around you and you could feel his body trembling with sobs.

He called you to fuck his frustration out of his system.

Just like you’ve been doing for a few months now.

But now on his studio floor he had a realization he wasn’t ready to confess just yet.

Everything else he had been saying to himself about you was a lie.

How he didn’t care; that you were just a passing crush. That he was too tired and too frustrated and that you both enjoyed each other’s company. That you were only good sex to him.

All of that was a lie.

As he kept crying and hugging you on his studio floor.

Both of you came to the same conclusion silently.

This wasn’t just sex; friends-with-benefits secret thing you had going on.

It was something much more complicated.

Something that could potentially destroy you.

The two of you stayed in silence on the floor, still wrapped on each other's arms.

That was the moment Namjoon realized.

He called you for sex.

But he just needed you.

💗💗💗MARCH 2022💗💗💗

A Battleground.

That's how the room felt like it had become a battleground of emotions, the air thick with tension as memories and unspoken words lingered between you and Namjoon.

He dragged you into a conference room. It had been a week since you had met again and they were preparing to go back to Korea.

There was silence.

The air froze between the two of you. Alone for the first time in three years, you imagined this moment so many times. You could almost play out how it was going to go.

Last time you were alone in a conference room he told you he loved you. Whispered like an oath against your lips.

Just like the one you were in.

Today he stared back at you, all his movements were calculated. As if he was making sure it was real. That the girl who was playing outside in your office was just a dream…

Or a joke.

It felt like a joke.

And you both were the punchline.

Namjoon's gaze intensified, the atmosphere heavy with unsaid words. Finally, the tension snapped as he demanded, "Is she... mine? That girl, is she my daughter?." His voice, sharp and accusing, cut through the room.

For a small heartbeat of time you considered lying.

But what was the point? He knew. He just chose to ignore it.

"Yes, Namjoon, she's your daughter," you replied, your voice strained, trying to keep a semblance of control. “Her name is Hana Lee.”

Two heartbeats passed before he spoke again. And you realized This was a Namjoon you did not know. The young man you once knew, was filled with raw emotions and always had something to say. Usually, he spoke way before he thought.

The man before you was a diplomat. You could see his mind working, calculating all the right words to say next.

He was deflecting, you knew what he was doing.

You trained him to do that.

He was controlling his real emotions and speaking like at a press conference.

“Lee?” His voice started to fill with an anger that seethed beneath the surface. Like molten lava fighting the cracks of a volcano to rise to the surface.

You were too civil, faking control and composure. And you both knew it was a matter of seconds before all hell broke loose.

"You gave another man's last name to my daughter" his eyes darkened in disbelief and you couldn't help but chuckle at his nonsense.

If he was going to be this cruel.

You could play the game just as well.

You both were used to tearing each other into pieces anyway.

"You weren't there to give her yours, so." your voice sounded even more cynical than you intended it to be “She has my husband’s last name.”

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

A sour chuckle escaped your lips “Did you expect a wedding invite?”.

He clenched his jaw furrowing his eyebrows. “I meant… the fact that I have a daughter.”

"I did," you shot back, frustration bubbling over. "Got on a plane for sixteen hours with a baby on my lap. But you didn't want to see me. You sent money and told me to stay away. What was I supposed to do?"

Namjoon's eyes narrowed in disbelief. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You don't know what I’m talking about” You repeated, bitterness lacing your words. “Let me refresh your memory, shall we? Your mother and Sejin handed me an envelope full of money, told me to disappear." You were shouting now, you realized. You didn’t know when you started to shout.

All the things you have wanted to say for three years started to flow out of you like a dam that had just broken.

And the water would destroy everything on its way.

Starting with the both of you.

Namjoon's expression twisted in confusion. "I would never do that to you." his tone was accusatory now “I didn’t know. There has to be another reason.”

“And what other reason would I have to raise a child by myself? With no more than two suitcases and sleeping on Hyung-Joon’s couch for a year.” Anger surged within you. "Oh yeah. Because having an unplanned child out of wedlock would have 'destroyed you and Bangtan,' as your manager put it. Since you just didn't have enough balls to say it to my face."

Namjoon's features shifted from confusion to a hint of regret. "I... I didn't know. I would never have done that."

“I don’t understand what game you’re playing right now Kim Namjoon, but I’ll tell you something. It 's over. I will not let you make fun of us anymore” Your throat tightened and the tears started to itch your eyes. “You left me a letter, remember? and the text message after that. “I hope you understand”.” you said, mocking his voice.

He was about to speak but you didn't let him.

"They said you didn't want anything to do with us. And that if I ever came back, they would take Hana away from me. That I was just a minor mistake, an experience you just needed to have'' Tears were falling down your cheeks, you couldn’t pretend anymore. It hurt too much. "Riding the white horse isn't what you call it, right? And that my daughter was just the consequence of my own carelessness. That I should have known better."

“That didn’t… I didn’t”

“You didn't do what?” You turned your face to see the windows, unable to look at him anymore. "You can't just waltz in here and pretend like you didn’t know," you said, your voice cracking with rage. "You missed everything, Namjoon."

“Y/n” his voice was barely a whisper as you felt his finger touch your wrist. Electricity traveled through your whole body. “I was waiting for you, but you never came.”

“Bullshit”

“Why didn't you come back to me?" Namjoon's voice softened, regret coloring his words.

Your laughter was bitter, filled with the pain of betrayal. "You sent me away, Namjoon. I couldn't just come back after that."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I waited for you at the hotel. I called you so many times that day." he said, desperation lacing his voice. "I waited for hours and you never came. Do you really believe that I wouldn't have taken responsibility for my daughter? That I would send her away? Send you away?"

He was close, too close to you now.

You could bear his presence from a distance.

But not this close.

This close you couldn't pretend that your heart wasn't reaching out to him.

"I don't know, Namjoon. When you have a child, a life to protect. You would do anything to keep them safe. From anyone and everything. Not that you would know any of that" The words slipped from you before you realized how low of a blow was that. But you couldn't find yourself regretting it.

"Because we both know what you would choose if it came between the group or us." You stopped and smiled at him bitterly "And I understand, Namjoon. I truly do. You were finally living the dream you sacrificed everything for. I don't blame you anymore for it."

"I understand"

And you truly did.

You knew how much he sacrificed.

He fought for his success with teeth and nails.

They all did.

And you knew how unfair it would have been to ask for him to drop everything for you and your daughter.

You understood him.

And that was the worst of it.

"I could never do that to you. I love you, and I always have," he said, desperation lacing his voice.

There were those words again.

Whispered in the quiet peace of an empty conference room.

Last time they were the mischief of a shared secret.

Today they felt like a confession to a crime.

You were about to respond when you heard a small knock on the door. Your eyes never left Namjoon's, the intensity of the unspoken words lingering between you like a heavy fog.

Namjoon stepped back, breaking the physical connection between you. He cleared his throat, the diplomat persona returning, but the vulnerability in his eyes betrayed the turmoil within. "We're not done," he said, a mixture of command and plea in his voice.

As the door creaked open, your eyes darted to see a petite figure standing there, a shadow in the doorway. Hana's eyes mirrored yours, wide and uncertain as she looked between the two adults. The air thickened with tension, the past colliding with the present in a collision of conflicting emotions.

"Mommy, who is he?"

Hana's innocent voice cut through the charged atmosphere. Her gaze shifted from you to Namjoon, her curiosity evident. You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself.

Namjoon's eyes softened as he looked at Hana, and for a moment, the hardened exterior cracked. "I'm... a friend of your mommy's," he said, his words carefully chosen.

"A friend?" Hana repeated in Korean, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. She might be young, but she wasn't oblivious to the undercurrents in the room.

She was smart. Even for her age, she was quick to understand the things that were in front of her.

Just like him.

You knelt down beside her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Yes, sweetheart, just a friend," you assured her, shooting a pointed glance at Namjoon.

The distance between you felt like an unbridgeable abyss.

Namjoon, sensing the tension, attempted a reassuring smile, but it looked strained. "I heard you like drawing. Do you draw a lot?" he asked, trying to engage Hana in a conversation that felt more awkward than casual.

Hana nodded, her gaze never leaving Namjoon. "I like drawing flowers," she replied, the tension in the room momentarily diffusing as she shared a piece of her world.

Namjoon crouched down to her eye level, a genuine smile softening his features.

"Flowers are beautiful. Maybe you can show me your drawings sometime?" he suggested.

Hana's eyes flickered between you and Namjoon, processing the complex dynamics in the room. "Okay, but only if Mommy says it's okay," she declared, a hint of protectiveness in her voice.

Namjoon glanced at you, seeking approval. You nodded slightly, acknowledging the silent agreement. Hana's presence had inadvertently shifted the focus, giving you a momentary reprieve from the emotional confrontation.

As Namjoon and Hana engaged in a tentative conversation about art and colors, you retreated to the periphery, watching the scene unfold.

The wounds of the past were still raw, the emotions tangled, but for Hana's sake, you found a fragile truce with the man who once held your heart.

The journey from enemies to reluctant allies had just begun, and the path ahead was uncertain, shrouded in the complexities of a shared history that demanded resolution.

"Y/N, we need to talk" Hyung-Joon reappeared at the door, his voice filled with urgency and you nodded.

You knew this shouting match with Namjoon would bring consequences.

And you felt for a second that you just stepped into the past.

💗💗💗💗💗💗

Well hello!

First of all, THANK YOU. I am so happy to see all the love this story is getting and it means the world to me. Every comment, like and repost I appreciate it from the bottom of my heart.

And now, some notes for context:

This story is inspired on real events and people. But it is not a real representation or is trying to say that any of this happened IRL. With that beign said I'll take some creative licenses and adapt things that happened to the plot of the story.

2. I fucked up.... math is not my thing guys. Hana is three years old not four. Im sorry.

3. We all want a supportive friend like Yoongi in our lives.

4. The story is written in time skips, but the main storyline is March 2022 'The present' And some dates WILL be changed for the story to make sense.

I'm really exited for you guys to see what's next!!

Love,

Ria. 💗💗💗💗💗💗 TAG LIST: @felicityroth @cuteipat @jjinjo @mochimommy2002 @amarawayne @canarystwin Ps. If you want to be on the tag list drop a comment below!! 👩🏼‍💻✨

#bts fanfic #bts smut #bts imagines #bts #bts au #bts namjoon #bts fic #namjoon smut #namjoon #rm #bts rm

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arkashas · 3 months

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tbh will not loving hannibal but desiring him and being conflicted about his attraction to him - in every sense of the situation here seems not impossible. After all bedalia was emphasising how hannibal was deep distracted by him but he seems to be more simmering in rage and vengeance for having been seduced and letting his shell of humanity die out

sorry anon, I disagree. and i'm going to get in depth into why i disagree. verrry in depth. first we gotta examine the whole show through a narrative lens.

it's hammered into us the whole show that hannibal and will are mirror images of each other. and that's also true for the respective arcs/journeys they each undergo.

take for example, season 1 and season 2. season 1 is about will allowing hannibal to see him and being manipulated and betrayed by hannibal. season 2 is about hannibal allowing will to see him and then being manipulated and betrayed by will. season 3 is actually two seasons condensed into one, because the show was cancelled and they didn't have the budget to stretch the whole thing into two seasons. that means season 3a and season 3b follow the same formula as season 1 and season 2, with the two seasons being reflections of each other.

season 3a is the season where hannibal tries to live without will, and fails. he absconds with bedelia, then slowly realises his life is empty without will and tries to get him back. but, at the same time, he also realizes how terrifying his love for will is for him, because it causes him to "betray" himself, i.e. lose the control he's always had over his emotions and his life, and this is terrifying to someone like hannibal.

dolce is the episode where both hannibal and will want separation from each other for different reasons. hannibal because as stated, will upended his life and makes him lose control, and will because his magnetic attraction to hannibal makes him feel and act like a murderer, as chiyoh helps him understand.

it's hannibal who almost succeeds in this when he saws open will's head, but he's interrupted by mason verger. later at the verger estate, when alana sets him free, hannibal still has an opportunity to let will die and save his own life. and he doesn't take it. he chooses to save will, mowing down like 13 of mason's associates to get him. he risks getting caught tucking him into bed, and then gives up his freedom for will.

all of this is hannibal making a decisive choice. it's him realising will is more important to him than anything else in his life. remember what he says to dolarhyde about reba?

he's talking from experience. he's no longer worried about feeling love for will, he wants him alive. because will is more important to him than his self control, than his comfort, than his luxuries, than his freedom. everything.

so that was hannibal's attempt at rejecting his feelings for will and then him subsequently giving in to his feelings for will. a self contained arc within the show.

as I mentioned, hannibal and will are on twin journeys, which means will will follow the same arc as hannibal.

just like how hannibal runs off with bedelia, will marries molly, but he's unfulfilled and secretly longs for more. will giving up his perfect life of fishing and dogs and choosing to go back to the "madness" hannibal warns him about in his letter mirrors hannibal getting fed up of his perfect life in florence of art and dinner parties and wrecking it in favour of will's company.

will's attempt at killing hannibal was stopped by chiyoh, just like how hannibal's attempt at killing will was stopped by mason. so will trying to get hannibal killed at dolarhyde's hands is the actual attempt at separation that mirrors hannibal having an opportunity to let will get killed by mason and cordell, and just like hannibal tried to kill will because he makes him "betray himself", will tries to kill hannibal because, once again, he was sucked into hannibal's orbit, and that led to the attack on molly and walter and chilton's immolation. hannibal brings out the "enemy inside" that will tries so hard to repress.

and finally, will saving hannibal from dolarhyde mirrors hannibal saving will from mason and cordell.

WHICH MEANS, in TWOTL, will is now at that stage hannibal arrived at in digestivo. where he's no longer worrying about his love for hannibal, and is choosing to have him alive. when hannibal asks him, "save yourself, kill them all?" he answers with this:

this quote is further put into context by what will says to hannibal in su-zakana:

will doesn't know if he can be saved from being who hannibal perceives him to be - a killer. in a more literal way, he's also saying he doesn't know if he can kill hannibal and dolarhyde to save himself from hannibal's influence and from certain death at dolarhyde's hands. and he says, maybe that's just fine. when he saves hannibal from dolarhyde, kills dolarhyde together with hannibal, and goes over the cliff with hannibal, he's made a choice. it's no longer a maybe. he's accepted he can't live without hannibal and be without him. he's given in. he's given up everything for hannibal just as hannibal did for him.

and when he killed dolarhyde with hannibal, that was the greatest moment of will's life. will finally understand what hannibal wanted to show him all along - and he says it's beautiful. is he mad his humanity died out? well yeah, but he's never felt this fulfilled. it's something worth giving up his humanity for. will also can't really stay mad at hannibal, no matter how hard he tries, and in TWOTL i never got the sense he was simmering with anger and hatred. all i see from him is resignation. and finally, relief and acceptance.

so at the end of season 3, will has realised he can't kill hannibal by proxy - he couldn't watch hannibal get killed by dolarhyde. he can't kill hannibal with his own hands - he tried in dolce, it failed, and the whole reason he co-opted dolarhyde into his plans was because he knew he wouldn't be able to finish the job personally. he couldn't even keep away from hannibal while hannibal was in prison, which was an attempt at separation without having to kill hannibal.

the cliff dive becomes will's last and final attempt at separation, and since it's confirmed they live, he no longer has other choices open to him. all that's left is making peace with his love for hannibal and trying to build a life with him. which is what season 4 would have been about, will diving headlong into his life with hannibal and whatever it entails. and given how fuller and co. have spoken about that season, the plot seems to be about will's mind fracturing and possibly entering alternate realities to deal with the murder husband identity while he's on the run with hannibal. and season 5 is when will is apparently happy, so I think they're somehow going to reconcile will's darker side with his lighter side. somehow!

I think I went off on a tangent here, but this is why will continuing to fight his feelings for hannibal, resenting him and trying to kill him, etc. doesn't make sense to me post season 3. it would be played out. it would be frustrating when we've already seen 3 seasons of will denying hannibal and himself. and lastly and most importantly, it wouldn't fit the narrative arc set up.

remember, hannibal never diverts after he gives in to his feelings for will. he doesn't hurt will again even when will threatens his sense of control (except emotionally) - he sends dolarhyde to the cabin when will isn't home. he agrees to the plan to fake his escape even while expressing doubts to alana about his own safety and telling jack he's aware will will wreak vengeance on him as the lamb of god. he let's will threaten him with getting killed by dolarhyde and doesn't do anything when he's shot until will makes a move himself.

so that's why i don't agree with hugh dancy that will wasn't motivated by being in love with hannibal in season 3, whether he meant that will wasn't aware of the love, whether will wasn't acting on the love, or whether will wasn't accepting of the love. will's own words and actions show he is aware of his feelings for hannibal, at least by TWOTL. will leaving everything in his life behind to bring about hannibal's escape, saving him from dolarhyde, and then embracing him and going over the cliff is him acting on that love and him accepting that love.

you can't say "will was on a personal journey, realising things about himself, and that was more important than his relationship with hannibal" because will's relationship with hannibal is will's relationship with his darkness and desires. you can't separate the two of them.

#hannibal #hannibal meta #hannibal lecter #will graham #asks #i finallyyy answered this and i'm sorry for taking so long #EDIT: i edited this to be better ^_^

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