#I was waiting so long for the new chapters to come and am disappointed now

[ceyanabbiolo]

CONTRACT // C.S [14]

Summary: Christopher Sturniolo, a 26-year-old billionaire CEO, agrees to a strategic marriage with Aurora Devereaux, the 21-year-old daughter of his rival, to save his company during a crisis. Raised in a cold, arrogant environment, Chris is used to control and detachment. Aurora, a final-year fashion student, is forced into the arrangement by her powerful father and struggles with the fear of losing herself. As the two navigate their unexpected marriage, they begin to confront emotional walls and develop a connection that challenges everything they thought they knew about love and trust. But with their families’ influence looming, will their bond be strong enough to survive—or will it fall apart?

Warnings: smut. (fingering, blowjob, humping, making out). slight angst. crying.

wc: 5883

Chapter 14: We Can Meddle About

Chris and I had spent five unforgettable days in Greece. Tomorrow morning at 10 AM, we’ll be flying back.

New Year’s Eve was something out of a dream—we spent the countdown in Fira, the capital, surrounded by lights and music in the town square. Everything shimmered with celebration, but all I remembered was holding his hand as fireworks burst in the sky above us.

New Year’s Day was quieter. We stayed at the villa, curled up on the couch, watching movies, trading lazy kisses, and simply existing in each other’s warmth. I hadn’t felt that kind of peace in a long time. Not with everything going on.

For our final night, Chris had brought us to Lycabettus Restaurant. We sat on the open-air terrace, the Aegean Sea stretching into darkness just beyond the cliffs. The restaurant's golden lights cast a warm glow around us, and the soft sound of waves below filled the silence between bites.

I glanced across the table at him, that familiar, relaxed look on his face. “I don’t want to leave yet,” I admitted softly, resting my chin in my palm. “This trip felt like hitting pause on everything else.”

Chris let out a low chuckle from across the table. “As much as I hate to disappoint you, ma, I think it’s time we have to head back.”

“I know,” I sighed, offering a mock pout. “Real life’s waiting to punch us in the face.”

“Maybe…” I started, tracing the rim of my glass. “Maybe we can come back. Again. Just us.”

Chris’s fingers brushed mine again, slower this time. “Maybe… after the wedding,” he said, voice quiet but deliberate.

I blinked, looking up at him. “After the wedding?”

He held my gaze. “Yeah. Maybe we can come back then. No pressure”

“Chris,” I said, tilting my head at him. “That’s five months away.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah? So?” He leaned back, fingers still lightly tracing mine. “It’ll go by fast. You’ve got your show coming up, then school wraps up... and then it’s us.”

There was a strange comfort in how he said it—like everything that felt so uncertain could still fall into place. I let out a breath. “Five months isn’t that long when you say it like that.”

I wasn’t going to lie, I was everywhere in my mind. The reality of this trip was that it was only a momentary escape. 

I looked back up at Chris, a certain question floating in my mind—one I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer to.

“Can I ask you something?” I said quietly.

He met my eyes, his expression softening. “Of course.”

I hesitated, chewing on the inside of my cheek. “I know we like each other now. I mean… we’re close, and it’s real, but—” I paused, searching his face. “Do you actually think this is going to work? Like… in the long run?”

His brows furrowed, clearly caught off guard. 

“What do you mean?” he asked.

I looked away, letting out a soft breath. “I mean, if this were a regular relationship-no, no contract, no engagement deal—would we even be this far in? We'd probably still be in the early stages. Figuring things out. Instead, we're getting married in five months. Sometimes I wonder if we skipped the part where people actually decide if they’re right for each other.”

Chris didn’t answer right away. His jaw tightened just slightly, and he leaned back in his chair, eyes flickering over me like he was trying to read between every word I’d just said.

“So… what are you saying?” he asked finally, voice low. “That you’re not happy? Do you want out?”

My heart sank a little. “No—no, Chris. That’s not what I’m saying.”

I reached across the table, my fingers brushing his. “I’m not saying I want out. I’m just being honest. I care about you. A lot. But sometimes I think about how fast all of this is moving. And how much of it was decided before we even had the chance to just… be. Us.” 

Chris leaned forward, his voice suddenly hard. “Aurora, I need you to get something straight.”

His tone made me sit up a little.

“I don’t give a damn how this started,” he said, eyes sharp. “You think I’m here playing fiancé because of a contract? No. I don’t waste my time like that.”

I opened my mouth, but he didn’t let me.

“Maybe at first, sure. It was nothing, but now? I’m in it, and I’m not the type to half-ass something once I’m in. So, no—I don’t sit around wondering if this is gonna work. I’ve already decided it will.”

He paused, jaw tight. “You don’t have to feel the same. But don’t question where I stand.”

I could see his whole demeanour change, and it made me suddenly regret my question, and I felt uncomfortable. 

“I didn’t say I don’t feel the same way…” I mumbled, eyes fixed on my lap.

Chris didn’t respond.

I heard him call the waiter over and quietly ask for the bill. A few moments later, he stood up and told me we were leaving.

Earlier, I’d thought about suggesting we walk back to the villa—just to soak in our last night here. But now, I kept that to myself. All I wanted was to get back and disappear into a dark room somewhere.

I didn’t fully understand why he got so worked up. But deep down, I knew—Chris hated having his loyalty questioned, especially by people he cared about.

The car ride was quiet. I kept my eyes out the window while he stayed on his phone. At one point, I peeked over and saw he was texting one of his brothers—probably Matt, judging by the name at the top of the screen.

My fingers were fiddling with the edge of my dress, heart heavier than I wanted to admit. I wasn’t trying to upset him. I just wanted to know where we stood—for real. 

When we got back to the villa, Chris paused near the entrance, turning to me briefly. His expression was unreadable.

“I’m heading to bed,” he said flatly. “Make sure you’ve got everything packed for tomorrow.”

Before I could respond, he was already walking away, disappearing down the hall to his room. No goodnight. No glance back. Just silence and distance.

I stood there for a moment, letting the quiet settle around me before dragging myself to my room. I peeled off my dress and stepped into the shower, letting the warm water roll over me, hoping it would wash away the tight knot in my chest. It didn’t.

Afterward, I slipped into a thin silk nightgown and towel-dried my hair before settling into bed. I picked up the book I’d brought for the trip—a romance novel I’d been looking forward to for weeks—but the words blurred together, refusing to hold my attention.

Every few seconds, my eyes flicked to the door. Waiting. Wondering.

Was he still mad? Would he even come talk to me tonight? Was I overthinking everything? Fuck. 

I had half-expected him to come into my room tonight, like he had for the past three nights, but the villa was too quiet now, too vast and empty. It felt cold in a way that the warm Greek air outside couldn't touch. I set the book down on the nightstand, my mind far too restless to focus on anything.

I tossed and turned, staring at the ceiling, trying to push thoughts of Chris out of my head. But the more I tried, the more they lingered. Eventually, I couldn’t lie to myself anymore—I needed to see him.

I threw the covers off and stood up, walking down the hall to his room. My heart was pounding, and I hesitated just outside his door. After a few moments of uncertainty, I knocked softly.

"Chris?" I called quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

There was no answer.

I knocked again, louder this time.

"Chris?" I repeated.

Still nothing.

I stood there for a moment, defeated, my hand lingering on the doorknob. What had I expected? That he would be waiting for me on the other side, ready to pick up where we left off? I sighed, turning to walk back down the hall.

But just as I took a few steps, I heard it—my name.

"Aurora."

I turned, startled by the sound of his voice. Chris stood in the doorway, wearing a grey sweater over a plain black tee, his hair still damp from a recent shower. He looked tired, but something about his eyes told me he hadn’t been sleeping much either.

“You okay?” he asked, his gaze drifting over me, searching. “Do you need something?”

I shifted on my feet, suddenly unsure of why I’d even come. “No. I’m fine,” I mumbled, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, my voice quieter than I intended.

He raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t look like it.”

I looked down, my fingers fidgeting with the hem of my sleeve. “I just couldn’t sleep. That’s all.”

A beat passed between us, heavy but not tense. I could feel his eyes still on me.

“Come here,” he said quietly, gesturing with a tilt of his head.

I walked over slowly, stopping just a few inches from the wall, unsure of what to expect.

After a beat, I finally asked, “Are you mad at me?”

Chris looked at me—looked—and I caught the slight flare in his nostrils before he exhaled through his nose.

“No, ma,” he said, voice firm. “I’m not mad.”

“Really? You seemed pretty upset earlier,” I added, trying to get him to open up.

“Yeah,” he said bluntly. “I was.”

I waited, but he didn’t leave it there this time.

“I just don’t get it,” he said, shaking his head. “Why is it you are always having second thoughts?”

My brows pulled together. “It’s not—Chris, I’m not having second thoughts.”

“Yes, you are,” he snapped, not angrily, but with a kind of heat that made me straighten.

“You said it yourself—‘Do you actually think this is going to work?’ That’s not nothing, Aurora. That’s you doubting us. Again.”

I opened my mouth, but he didn’t give me time.

“You always act like I’m the one who kept pulling away, who was unsure—but now that I’ve made up my damn mind, now that I’m actually here, it’s like you’re the one constantly questioning everything. Me, this engagement, if we’re real.”

His jaw tightened, chest rising and falling heavier now.

“I don’t get it,” he said again, quieter this time, but with more weight. “You wanted me to care. You wanted me to choose you. I did. But the second I do, you start pulling back.”

“I’m not pulling back, Chris…I just wanted to know,” I said, my voice quieter than before, hands slightly shaking at my sides.

He stared at me, unmoving. The space between us felt dense, like even the air was holding its breath.

“Know what?” he asked, his voice low but sharp. “That I’m not gonna leave? That I’m not faking this? That I’m not just in this because someone told me to be?”

I swallowed hard, unable to answer fast enough.

“Because if you don’t know that by now, I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do.”

My chest tightened. “That’s not what I meant,” I murmured.

His eyes were colder now, less soft, less patient. “Then what did you mean?”

I looked away, focusing on a spot on the floor, trying to find the right words.

“I just—I’ve never had something like this,” I said. “Not something that feels like it could actually matter, and it scares me that maybe I’m the one who’ll ruin it.”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then he stepped closer, not touching me, but close enough that I felt the heat off him.

“You’re not the one ruining it,” he said, voice low and tense. “But you questioning me like that? It makes me feel like I’m the only one all in.”

I looked up at him finally, eyes meeting his.

“You’re not,” I whispered, barely getting the words out as the weight of everything crashed into me. My chest tightened, and before I could stop them, the tears started slipping down my cheeks—slow, quiet, stubborn.

Chris noticed instantly. His expression shifted, the tension in his jaw easing as he reached out and gently cupped my cheek. His thumb brushed away a tear, his eyes fixed on mine with a quiet intensity, no longer guarded—just open.

“What do you want, Aurora?” he asked, voice low but firm. “Do you want to be with me?”

I looked up at him through glassy eyes, my breath caught in my throat. My lips trembled as I tried to respond, but all I could do was shake my head at first—not in denial, but in disbelief at how much I did. Then the words finally broke free.

“Yes,” I said, my voice breaking. “I do.”

Chris’s grip on my face tightened just slightly—not in anger, but to anchor me there, to make sure I didn’t look away.

“Okay then,” he said quietly, wiping away the remaining tears with his thumb. He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to my cheek, “Be with me,” he murmured against my cheek.

I nodded, barely, my breath hitching. I looked at him, really looked at his steady gaze, the tension still resting in his shoulders, the way he was holding back.

Chris leaned in, kissing me slowly—softly, and deliberate, like he wanted to make sure I felt every second of it. His lips moved against mine with a kind of patience that made my chest ache, as if he was trying to say everything he couldn’t with words.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, our breaths mixing in the stillness between us.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, voice low but serious.

I looked up at him, surprised by the question. His eyes searched mine, steady and intense, like he needed the truth more than anything else.

“I do,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “I really do.”

He nodded once, his hand still resting at the back of my neck. “Then stop fighting me,” he said. “Stop pulling away every time.”

I blinked slowly, the sting of his words lingering, but not in a cruel way. He wasn’t trying to hurt me. He was asking me to meet him where he was, to stop hesitating.

“I’m not trying to fight you,” I said.

His lips found mine again—firmer this time. No hesitation. Just him and me, like the weight of everything had finally been shaken off, even if only for tonight. I kissed him back, letting myself fall into it. Into him. 

His hand slid from my cheek to the back of my neck, pulling me impossibly closer, while his other arm wrapped around my waist, holding me firm against him.

I melted into it, my fingers gripping the front of his sweater. His kiss deepened, rougher around the edges now, like he couldn’t get enough. His mouth trailed down to my jaw, slow and hot, then to the curve of my neck, leaving a trail of heat behind.

“Chris…” I breathed, my voice barely a whisper.

He paused for half a second, his mouth hovering near my skin, chest rising and falling fast. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he said, voice hoarse, lips brushing against my collarbone.

I shook my head, the words catching in my throat. “Don’t.”

That was all it took.

He pulled away for a moment, his breathing still heavy, then took my hand firmly in his.

Without a word, he led me out of the hallway and down the stairs, his grip never loosening. The villa was dim, quiet—only the soft hum of the waves outside filled the silence.

“Where are we going?” I asked, glancing at him as we stepped into the living room.

“My bed’s a mess,” he said, glancing over his shoulder with a faint smirk. “I was packing.”

Before I could react, he guided me toward the large lounge chair facing the glass doors that looked out at the sea. With one gentle push, I landed against the cushions, big enough for both of us. The cool fabric contrasts with the heat rushing up my neck.

He hovered above me, eyes darker now, jaw tight.

“Here’s better,” he muttered, before leaning down again—this time, slower. More deliberate.

He leaned over, hands on either side of me, “You’re driving me insane, you know that?”

His gaze dropped, lingering for a moment where the hem of my nightgown had ridden up, just high enough to reveal the curve of my thighs and the soft lace of my underwear.

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “So you don’t wear anything under these little gowns,” he murmured, voice low, teasing.

He leaned in, his hand grazing the bare skin just above my knee. “I always wondered. You walking around the house like that—had me guessing since the first night you moved in.”

His words sent a heat rushing up my spine, especially when his fingers traced along the edge of the fabric.

“And I like it,” he muttered, brushing his lips against mine again. 

My body was starting to get this needy feeling, the same one I felt a week ago, the first time Chris went down on me.

He sat up slightly, his eyes trailing down the length of me. He took his shirt off, probably for more comfort. Gosh…he was hot. 

“Take it off,” he said, voice low.

I looked up at him, caught off guard. “What?” A slow, lazy grin pulled at his lips. “Your gown. Take it off.”

“I–” my cheeks turned red. I didn’t have anything on other than my underwear. I don't wear a bra to sleep. 

“I’ve already seen most of you, beautiful,” he said, lifting the hem of my gown slightly. “No need to be shy.”

I shifted, tucking my feet beneath me as I slowly rose to my knees. My eyes stayed on his while his gaze stayed locked on mine. I lifted the gown over my body, pulling it off in one motion. Now bare, my chest exposed, I watched as his eyes finally dropped. 

“fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

“What?” I asked, instinctively covering myself, a sudden wave of insecurity washing over me.

Chris immediately reached for my wrists, gently pulling my hands back down. 

“Don’t ever hide yourself from me, Aurora,” he said, his voice firm but low.

He leaned in, kissing along my collarbone, then lower, his lips lingering just above my chest.

“May I?” he asked, eyes flicking up to meet mine—asking for permission.

I gave a small nod, breath caught in my throat, and the moment his mouth met my tits, a quiet moan escaped me.

A stray thought crossed my mind—God, this would feel amazing during my period.

Chris leaned down, placing a final kiss on each of my tits. Next, he removed my underwear and put it to the side. My wetness on display for him–my inner thighs sleek with arousal. 

Chris suddenly pulled back slightly, his hand still wrapped around mine. I looked up at him, confused. He held my gaze for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Touch yourself”, he said, his voice low but steady. “Show me what feels good to you.”

I blinked, caught off guard by his request. “Chris,” I said with a nervous laugh, unsure if he was serious.

But his expression didn’t change—there was no teasing in his eyes, only quiet patience. “Show me what you do when you’re alone,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to the back of my hand. “At night, when it’s just you.”

A flush crept up my cheeks. I looked down, then back up at him. He placed my hand on my chest, slowly dragging it down my lying body. His gaze never leaves mine. 

He guided our joined hands down slowly, stopping just at the center of me. My breath hitched when he pressed my palm gently against myself. The warmth of my touch startled me—and yet, his steady presence beside me grounded the moment.

Chris didn’t say anything, but the way he was watching me—attentive, calm—gave me a quiet confidence. I didn’t feel embarrassed. I didn’t feel pressured. I felt…understood.

So I didn’t pull away. I let myself keep going. 

I felt the pressure buildup in me. My eyes started to shut on their own, but from the slight opening I was able to see Chris looking down at my hands moving. 

My legs started trembling, a familiar sensation down from my stomach. I needed something more. 

“C–Chris…” I gasped, my voice barely a whisper as my hand slowed, finally stopping. “I–I need you.”

He looked up at me then, eyes dark but focused entirely on my face.

“You need me, ma?” he murmured, his voice low and deliberate.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he gently took my fingers and brought them to his mouth, tasting the traces of me with a quiet kind of reverence that sent a shiver down my spine.

He placed his hands on me, finally. I let out a soft moan of pleasure when his slightly rough hands moved down to my aching clit. He slowly rubbed his thumb in circles. 

“o-oh my gosh…Chris,” I let out a whimper, my back arching off the lounge chair. 

He stopped rubbing but instead took his index finger and put the tip of it into me, “This good?” he asked. I nodded, and he shoved the whole thing into me. 

I let out a cry of pleasure, his finger inside my walls feels amazing. 

His fingers started to pump in and out of me, stretching my walls out perfectly–hitting all the right spots.   “Feel good, princess?” He asked, his free hand caressing the side of my thighs. 

I couldn’t speak, I just started to nod frantically, whispering to him to go faster. 

I felt the knot start to form in my stomach. 

“G-gonna cum..” I managed to speak despite the pleasure. My back arched against the lounge chair, and I felt the knot in my stomach feel like it was about to burst.

Chris’s fingers moved with unrelenting precision, and the moment he murmured, “Let go for me, baby,” I shattered beneath his touch. 

My orgasm came crashing. The feeling is making me stutter. 

I let a minute go by, letting the feeling subside. I felt amazing. His touch was amazing. 

“You okay princess?” he asked me, his voice caring. I nodded, feeling the comfort and warmth of his embrace.

I nodded, my eyes drifting from his face down to the outline beneath his pants.

Chris started to move off me, but I gently caught his hand.

“You’re forgetting something,” I murmured, glancing downward.

His eyes followed mine, and a gentle smile tugged at his lips. “I didn’t forget anything.”

“Then let me,” I said, my voice soft but steady as a wave of confidence rolled over me. I reached for the hem of his sweats, pulling him gently back toward me.

Chris caught my hand, stopping me with a quiet firmness. “You don’t have to, Aurora.”

“I want to,” I replied, gently moving his hand away.

He exhaled, his resistance faltering. “Aurora…” he said again, but this time it came out more like a breath than a warning—like he was trying to convince himself.

I pulled his pants and reassured him, “It's okay”. 

 He nodded slowly, his breathing deepening, the tension between us thick in the air.

“Okay then,” he murmured, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Stand up.”

I rose to my feet, facing him, our eyes locked for a moment until he sank back into the chair.

His hand rested gently on my shoulder, guiding me downward with quiet intent until I was kneeling in front of him, heart racing.

He slowly lowered his boxers, and when he was fully exposed, my breath caught in my throat. Oh my…he was well, bigger than I expected. Like big, big. His pre-cum was evident at the top. When I looked up, he was already smirking, clearly amused by my reaction. That tease. “Go on, baby,” he said, stroking himself a few times before letting his hand fall away. “Show me how you want to help me.”

My fingers tremble slightly as I touch him, my hands wrap around him, fingers struggling with his skin to properly hold his girth. I was slightly unsure what to do, still being new to this all. 

Chris groans sharply, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his chest rising and falling unevenly.

“Here,” he rasps, his voice strained “move your hands up and down for me”. 

I did as he said. 

His head falls back slightly, his thighs flexing, and his hands struggling to hold onto the lounge chair.

“Fuck….y-yes that’s it, ma.”

I watched him curiously. I’ve never seen Chris like this before. In a way, him being in this flushed state made him even more handsome. 

Chris groans again, his head tilting back further, his body tensing beneath my touch. 

“Go a bit…faster,” he muttered, his voice low and uneven. I hesitated, my thoughts suddenly catching up with me. My hands paused, unsure.

Chris looked down at me, his brows furrowing in concern. “Hey… everything okay?” he asked. “Do you want to stop? Because that’s fine–”

I cut him off and quickly shook my head. “No, it’s not that”. 

Hesitated, then looked up at him, nervous but honest. “I just… wanted to ask if you wanted me to…You know, use my mouth?”

His gaze flicked up to meet mine, surprise flashing in his eyes, but it quickly turned into a smirk. 

“Are you asking to blow me off, sweetheart?”

I nodded twice, shyly. 

“Only if you want to, ma.”

I swallow, heat curling into my stomach. Chris looked wrecked and desperate. 

I looked up at him.

“Tell me how to do it,” I said, shyly leaning down to press a few gentle kisses on his tip, his thighs clenched. 

“Fuck.”

I parted my lips and inserted him slightly into my mouth. His skin pre-cum hits my tongue. 

“Good, beautiful,” he murmurs. “Now, hollow your cheeks for me, and go down a bit more.”

I do as he says, taking him a little deeper, my tongue swirled around, trying to experiment. Chris’s hips jerked forward instantly at that, a hiss escaped his lips.

We began to find a rhythm, and with every passing second, I felt myself growing more comfortable. That heat, that familiar ache, started to stir in me again. Without thinking, I shifted slightly, subtly grinding against the back of my heel for some relief.

Chris noticed instantly. His hand reached out, gently but firmly tugging at my nipple, drawing a gasp from me. “Don’t do that, baby,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “Right now, I want you focused here.”

I nod and he lets out a low chuckle, his thumb tracing my lower part of my breast, before letting you continue.

I started to move my hands and my mouth against him now. 

“Fuckk, sweetheart- ”

His lips parted, his fingers tilting my chin up slightly, a deep, strangled groan slipped past Chris’s lips as he watched me swallow him. 

“My beautiful fiance…you were–urgh–made for me.” 

He says, suddenly thrusting himself slowly into my mouth, while I was still working on him as well. 

His fingers flex on my jaw, his chest panting. “I’m-I’m gonna cum, ma…f-fuck.” 

“Take your mouth off–Aurora…I’m gonna cum into y-you”. 

I didn’t though, I kept my mouth on him, and sucked harder, just like how he’d go faster on me when I said I was close. 

It worked because with a sharp whimper, he came hard into my mouth. His cum released into my mouth and I swallowed what I could, the rest dripped down the side of my mouth. 

Chris took his hand and wiped it, shoving it back into my mouth. 

“My perfect girl,” he said, watching me, while he was still subsided from his orgasm. 

His striking blue eyes flicked between my face and the way I was still kneeling. For a moment, we just stayed there, the air thick with tension. I shifted slightly, and Chris noticed again.

“Come here, baby,” he said softly, his voice firm but gentle.

He leaned back into the lounge chair, eyes still on me as he waited. Slowly, he reached for my hand.

“Get up,” he said, pulling me gently.

I rose to my feet, and he guided me to sit with him, pulling me into his lap. I was straddling him, his hands steady on my waist, his gaze searching mine.  

“You still need me, huh?” he asked teasingly. I nodded immediately. 

I saw him take him still hard dick, and bent it onto his chest and looked up at me. 

“Sit on it,” he said, nudging me forward. I did just that. 

“Now move, back and forth, baby.”

I slowly started to grind my pussy onto his dick. The sensation immediately hit me, and it seemed to hit Chris too. His legs jerk a bit. He put his hands on my hips, moving me himself. 

One hand came up to gently cradle my jaw. “My beautiful fiancée,” he murmured.

The words settled into my chest, heavier than I expected—warm and intimate. A knot twisted low in my stomach, not just from the way our bodies were pressed so closely, but from the weight of those words alone. 

I looked down at him, and a quiet wave of admiration began to rise in me. There was something in the way he held me—steady, patient, unwavering—that made me feel safe. With Chris, I never felt judged or rushed. When we weren’t fighting, he was my calm, my grounding force. That moment, I realized how deeply grateful I was that he always let me move at my own pace.

“I’m gonna cum a-again Chris” I started to move faster and he started to jutt me against him faster. 

“Come with me sweetheart”, he said, his voice just as wrecked. 

In a few moments, we both unraveled together, our moans tangled in the quiet air between us. My hands pressed gently against his chest as I tried to steady my breathing, heart still racing. Chris’s release squirted onto his chest. 

A minute passed in silence, our bodies slowly coming down from the high. He reached over to the small table beside the lounge chair, grabbing a tissue and wiping himself clean. 

Then, without a word, he wrapped an arm around me and pulled me gently into his chest, cradling me against him. His hand traced slow circles along my back, and I let myself melt into the safety of his hold.

Chris’s fingers moved gently through my hair, his other arm still wrapped around my waist. I could hear the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear, grounding me.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, his lips brushing my temple.

I nodded against his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin and the soft thrum of his voice vibrate beneath my cheek. “Yeah. Just… tired.”

He smiled, I could feel it more than see it. “You wore me out too, ma,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “But I got you.”

Neither of us said anything for a moment. The silence wasn’t awkward—it was warm. Full. His heartbeat thudded steadily beneath my cheek, grounding me in a way nothing else could.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured, his voice low and soft.

I smiled against his chest. “I like it like this.”

“Yeah?” His hand paused, then resumed its slow path across my back. “Me too.”

I felt him rub slow circles onto my back. My breathing started to be normal again. 

“You okay, pretty girl?” he murmured, “Did I hurt you at all?”

I shook my head. “No, not at all.”

Chris shifted slightly beneath me, his fingers gently brushing my back. “Come on, baby,” he murmured, kissing the top of my head. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

I hummed sleepily in protest, not wanting to leave the comfort of his chest just yet.

He smiled softly, then reached over the side of the couch and grabbed the thick throw blanket draped there. Without a word, he sat up and carefully wrapped it around me, tucking it snugly under my arms, covering me. 

I looked up at him, my heart squeezing at how gentle he was. He held out his hand, waiting for me to take it.

“Come on, pretty girl,” he added with a small smirk, “before we fall asleep like this and wake up glued to each other.”

I let out a quiet laugh and took his hand, still wrapped tightly in the blanket. He led me toward the bathroom in his room. His other hand on my back the entire way—protective, warm, and steady. He wasn’t wrong when he said his bed was messy earlier. 

Inside the shower, the warmth was immediate. Chris stayed close, his touch slow and gentle. He helped rinse soap through my hair, fingers massaging my scalp with so much care it nearly made my knees weak. When I closed my eyes, he pressed a kiss to my temple, and I leaned into him instinctively. 

“This is my second shower of the night,” I giggled. 

He smiled down at me, “Mine too”. 

I felt… safe. Not just because of how tender he was being, but because I knew, deep down, that I could be fully myself with him.

When we stepped out, he wrapped me in one of the soft towels like I might break. Then he took another and began drying my hair, his hands still so gentle. No teasing. No rush. Just this quiet comfort I never knew I needed so badly.

Chris tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear before pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. I was already dressed in one of his black t-shirts, it hung loose and comfortable on me, smelling like him.

We made our way to my room quietly. I grabbed a pair of underwear from my luggage and slipped into bed, pulling the covers over myself. Chris followed right behind, wearing just his boxers, and slid in beside me.

He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me into his chest. His warmth surrounded me, and I sighed, feeling instantly at ease.

“You’re not done packing,” I murmured sleepily, my voice muffled against his shoulder.

He gave a tired little hum. “I’ll finish in the morning,” he said, already sounding half-asleep.

A thought popped into my head, and I lifted my face a little. “My nightgown and some of your clothes are still in the living room.”

He chuckled softly and kissed the top of my head. “Guess the living room’s seen enough tonight,” he teased. “I’ll grab them later.”

“Mmhm,” I said, nestling closer. “You better.”

Chris just smiled against my hair, holding me tighter. “Goodnight, baby.”

“Goodnight,” I whispered, letting my eyes close with his arms still wrapped around me.

This was a trip well spent, with not much meddling.

READ ALL RELEASED CHAPTERS HERE!

[a/n: Who gets the song lyric in the title? If you do your special. Next chapter, soon. Sort of busy this week, but I'm aiming to get stuff out quick. Like, comment, and reblog. mwah] –Ceyana

tags: @loser41ifee @bluestriips @mattsfrenchtoast @slvtf0rchr1s @courta13 @emeraldsturns

(I want to add a lot of people to this tag list, so comment! Don't be shy. kisses <3)

[delicatebarness]

i cant read your mind | chapter one

Summary: It has been six months since half the universe came back, six months since Steve left, six months since you lost Natasha, and three months since finding out the man you were sleeping with wanted to end it.

Warnings: MCU Spoilers. The Falcon and the Winter Soldier spoilers throughout.

Word Count: 1600

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A/N: I have watched TFATWS at least 6 times this week so I am prepared for this.

Tags: @blackhawkfanatic | @cjand10 | @wintrsoldrluvr | @missvelvetsstuff

As Sam addressed the crowd at the Smithsonian, you listened to his every word by Rhodey’s side. You let yourself laugh at the appropriate moments and fought back tears as your friend paid tribute to another. Your heart ached as you watched him pass on the shield, the symbol that guided you to become the best agent you could and more.

“I can’t do this,” you murmured almost inaudibly as you slipped away from the crowd, retreating to the quiet street. You steadied your thoughts, taking a few deep breaths. Retrieving your phone from your purse, you hesitated before dialing a number. “Come on,” you urged as the ringing persisted. 

Disappointment washes over you as you realize there’s no answer on the other end, you stand there for a moment. Staring at your call lost, feeling the loneliness creep in as you see that none of your calls have been picked up. Taking another deep breath, you put your phone back and start walking. Each step is a deliberate effort to move forward. 

While navigating the streets of Washington, your thoughts are focused on the events at the Smithsonian. The passing of the shield symbolized the end of an era for you. An era that had taken over your entire adult life. 

~

You enter your quiet apartment and sink onto the couch. The weight of the day, flight, and lack of food were starting to seem heavier, you couldn’t bring yourself to get changed out of the formal black dress you had been wearing since half four that morning. You retrieved your phone from your purse once again, your fingers hovering over the screen as you debated whether to try calling again. 

You knew it was getting late but you dialed the number again, heart pounding with anticipation. As the phone rang, you tried not getting your hopes up, but they were crushed when it went to voicemail. 

Sighing deeply, you set your phone down as you got back up from the couch and made your way back out into the street. You were proud of yourself for not letting the tears spill down your cheeks. 

The streets were quiet, and the soft glow of the streetlights offered a semblance of solace. With no destination in your mind, you wandered as the hunger gnawed at your stomach. Searching for a nearby restaurant for a late-night bite, you approached the diner you knew as Izzy. 

Your heart lurched in your chest as you recognized the figure through the window, sitting opposite a woman, she seemed to be laughing at whatever it was he was telling her. Playing a game of Battleship and drinking. “Not like that’s going to affect him,” you thought as you took in the sight. For a moment, you stood frozen in place, the tears you previously held back now beginning to spill. 

~

Once you were home and washed the day off of you, a hint of optimism rose from within you. Deciding to open yourself up to a new experience, you downloaded a popular dating app and uploaded all the photos of you in dresses that hugged your body just the way you loved. The way he once said should be for his eyes only. Swiping through profiles, it didn’t take long for you to come across someone who caught your eye, and match with them. 

You exchanged messages for the rest of the night, at some point agreeing to meet for brunch the next morning.

~

Your date was waiting for you when you arrived at the cafe, a friendly smile lighting up his face. Exchanging greetings, he pulled out a chair for you and helped with your coat and bag. You thanked him, finding yourself relaxed in his company. 

Settling into conversation, you shared stories, laughed, and began feeling a genuine connection. You hadn’t allowed yourself to truly feel this happy in three months, letting yourself let go of the weight that had been pressed into your chest for so long.

“Is that? Is that The Winter Soldier?” your date asked, his focus moving away from you and instead toward the entrance of the cafe. Turning your gaze over to where your date had been looking, it felt like time stopped as you looked into the eyes of a furrowing James Buchanan Barnes. His fist clenched under his leather gloves. 

“Here we go,” you mumbled under your breath as you noticed him making his way over to you. With trembling hands, you reached for the glass of champagne that sat on the table in front of you. Tilting the glass back, you swallowed every last drop of it in an attempt to calm yourself down. 

“I need to speak to you,” Bucky growled, his voice low and commanding as he towered over you. As much as you’ve wanted nothing more than to be around him for the last three months, you kept your gaze fixed on your date. “Now.” 

“I’m on a date,” your tone even with a hint of defiance as you responded to the super soldier. You watched as the eyes of your date filled with fear and amazement. 

“I can see that,” he replied dryly, sarcasm dripping in his tone as he gave your date a pointed look. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, sensing the tension between you and Bucky. 

“Whatever you have to say, it can wait,” your voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins. “I’m here with someone else,” you added emphasis on ‘someone else’ as you sensed him tense up beside you. 

Your date cleared his throat, shooting a hesitant glance between you and Bucky. He spoke up, his tone polite but uneasy. “Perhaps I should… give you two some privacy?” He began to stand from the table, making his way over to the restrooms. Bucky quickly sat in the seat he had previously occupied. 

Your gaze was ablaze with a mixture of hurt and frustration as you finally made eye contact with Bucky. “What do you want?” your voice trembled slightly. 

Bucky couldn’t suppress the sarcasm that came from his tone as he looked over toward the restrooms. “Well, he seems like a real charmer,” his tone full of irony. 

You shot him a disapproving look, eyebrows knitting together in a silent warning. “Again, what do you want?” Bucky looked back at you, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. Rolling your eyes, you defended the man you had known for less than 12 hours. “He’s a nice guy,” 

Leaning back in his seat, Bucky folded his arms across his chest as he sent you a knowing look. “If you say so,” he remarked. If it wasn’t for the dry and snarky tone, you’d have thought he was backing down. “And, I’m sure he can handle a doll such as you,” he continued while sending you a wink. 

“Can’t you just go back to ignoring me like you have done for the last three months?” you sighed, picking up your fork and using it to move food around your plate.

“I saw the pictures you used for your little dating profile,” he glared at you when he noticed a smirk now taking place over your lips.

You shrugged nonchalantly and replied with a calm tone. “Yeah, and?”

His jaw tightened at your response, frustration simmering beneath the surface. “Thought they were only for me?” he pressed.

Your expression softened, remorse flickering over your features as you looked back at him. “Things change,” you murmured, your voice tinged with regret. “I waited five years for you to come back, five years of not even knowing if you were coming back,” your voice quivered with emotion.

Bucky’s gaze softened, and he straightened his posture. “I know-” he began to speak but you cut him off before he could finish.

“No, Bucky, you don’t” you shot back at him, your voice rising with each word. “You couldn’t possibly understand what it was like, not know where you went, or if you were alive or dead, or if you’d even come back,” 

His jaw once again clenched, “I waited over 90 years for you to come into my life,” he confessed, his voice thick with emotion and vulnerability. 

Your eyes widened at his admission, you were both surprised and in disbelief, “But yet, you only waited three months before jumping into bed with someone else,” you accused, voice thick with bitterness. “How was your night of Battleship, by the way?”

His hands balled into fists on top of the table, his voice raised to match yours. “Firstly, I didn’t sleep with her,” he retorted. “And secondly, what the fuck is this?” he gestures toward your date as he started to make his way back out of the restroom.

“I’m sorry,” your date now interrupts your conversation with Bucky as he makes his way back over to you. “I didn’t know you two are exes,” 

“He’s not my ex!” 

“She’s not my ex!”

~

Alone in the dimly lit apartment, you allowed yourself to have a moment to rest, closing your eyes and taking a few deep breaths. The weight of your date pressing down on your shoulders. Surprisingly, he asked for a second date. Once Bucky had left, he offered to take you out again another time. You happily agreed.

As you began to drift into a state of relaxation, the sound of the television caught your attention. “... it is with great honor that we announce here today that the United States of America has a new hero. Join me in welcoming your new Captain America.” 

“What the fuck?!”

---

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[mauvecherie-writes]

the kaleidoscope theory: l.hamilton.

• pairing: lewis hamilton x black!oc kalani halloway

• chapter warnings: none

• w.c: 3.8K

• ru’s 💌: First thing first, I want to apologise for how long it took to post this. With school and placement taking up a lot of my time, amongst other distractions and my mental health just not being the best for a while, writing has not been my main priority, and I am trying to make up for that now. Updates will be slow, but they won’t be non-existent. Please don’t forget to like, comment and re-blog.

• tip: kofi | paypal

series masterlist

CHAPTER ONE

PRESENT DAY

“ARE you sure that you want to keep doing this with him Lani? Like I love you and I’ll always be in your corner, but I have to agree with your therapist here. What are you gaining from continuing to sleep with Malik?”

The bluntness of the question almost knocked the wind out of Kalani’s lungs. Over the decades of their friendship, she had come to know that Julian did not pull any punches when it came to honesty. It should not have shocked her that her best friend would react like this to the revelation of such news. Maybe it was the exasperation and disappointment that she picked up in his tone that made Kalani want to shrivel into herself from shame.

“Lani!” His voice boomed through the car speaker, breaking her train of thought. “Are you still there?”

“Yeah, I’m still here.” She mumbled as her hands tightened around the stirring wheel.

“Well, are you going to answer my question or not?”

“It was a moment of weakness okay!” She exclaimed, finally admitting it to herself and to her best friend. “There was always an excuse to get me alone. To discuss the divorce or something about the kids. And he’d just … he would charm me, and I would be reminded of why I fell in love with him in the first place then I’d give in.”

“Tuh.” Julian scoffed. “Talk of the divorce like he’s not trying to distract you from the fact that he has not signed those papers.” He added, the truth causing her shoulder to sag as she leaned back into her seat.

“I know.”

“Baby, I’m not trying to make you upset —.” He sighed, speaking in a much tender tone. But it was too late. The shame that had been brewing in her stomach for so long had bubbled back up her throat.

“I just need you to really think about this. It has been two years since you have asked for the divorce, Malik keeps stalling signing the papers, under the guise of trying to make it work. But we all know that he is still with that bitch. Like he can’t have his cake and eat it too. He doesn’t have any regard for who he’s hurting and that is you and the kids. I need you to be better than your weakness for him. It’s not fair.”

His words were hurtful to hear but Kalani could not argue against them because she knew that they were true. That is why she had decided to begin therapy. She had not slept with Malik in over six months since she had started her therapy session. This round, Kalani had finally shared the truth that she had on tinted with intimacy with her ex-husband despite the separation.

“I KNOW.” Kalani sniffed as her tears threatened to spill over. The tremble in her voice could not be hidden and Julian picked up on it.

“Lani, listen-.”

“Hey, so um — I gotta go. I need to pick up Princess from my aunt’s place.” Kalani quickly spoke out as she rounded the corner into a residential street. “Talk later.”

She did not wait for him to respond as she ended the phone call. Kalani took a deep breath as she put the car into an empty parking spot. She continued to sulk in her seat as the heaviness in her chest had returned. Everything that Julian had said to her were all things that she knew and had known from the first time, she had slept with him after they split.

Stuck in the moment, every time they had done the deed had felt good. In some way, it had felt like she had been reclaiming her power. It felt good to know that in some way, her ex still wanted her. In Kalani’s need to be desired by the man that she was married to for nearly twenty years, she had momentarily lost herself and had forgotten what was important.

The happiness of her children.

So Kalani took in a deep breath and exhaled, wiped away her tears and re-applied her lip gloss. She practised her smile in the rear-view mirror until she was satisfied with a more approachable facial expression. She got out of her car and fixed the legs of her pantsuit before she walked a short distance on the pathway and onto the property.

It did not take any time from her opening the small front gate for the front door to be opened.

“Mummy!” The excited shriek of her young daughter sounded through the air as her little feet carried her as fast as they could towards her. Kalani immediately dent down to her level and opened her arms, waiting for her daughter. She dived into her arms and Kalani could just feel all of that heaviness began to lift away from her heart. As her daughter squeezed her little around her neck, Kalani immediately felt better.

“Hi, my Princess!” She smiled at Tiara. Princess’s little giggles were what she got in response as she pulled back to look into her mother’s eyes.

“I missed you so much, Mummy.”

“I missed you too! Did you enjoy school and time with Auntie Angie?”

“Mhm!” Tiara nodded her head as she played with Kalani’s earrings. “Today, I learnt what a doing word is! And then Auntie Angie baked me a banana cake.”

“The cake is for all of you, not just you baby.” Aunt Angela spoke from behind Tiara which caused Kalani to chuckle as a frown appeared on her little girl’s face.

“Emi doesn’t like banana cake as much as I do!” Tiara exclaimed.

“I know baby. But can we at least save a piece for brother first?”

“Okay.” Her small voice of defeat made Kalani’s heart swoon. She cradled her daughter’s head to her chest as she walked towards the door where Angela had been standing with Tiara’s belongings and the wrapped up banana cake.

“Hi sweetie.” Angela had greeted her as she awkwardly hugged Kalani.

“Hi Auntie.” She replied. It was like she could feel the love outpouring from the embrace. And it took all of her strength to not break down then and there.

“You okay?” Angela asked her. Kalani softly nodded her head, not trusting her words in that moment. She took a deep breath before offering a smile of re-assurance.

“Just need my baby.” Kalani replied. “Thank you for looking after her today.”

“You never have to thank me for that. I love Princess and I love spending time with her.”

After a couple of more minutes of casual conversation, Kalani and Tiara said their goodbyes and then left her aunt’s home. On the journey to pick up Emil, she sang along to the current kid bops that Tiara was currently enjoying. Her daughter filled the car with chatter about what her day at school was and repeated stories of previous adventures. Kalani did not mind at all. Hearing her daughter talk was far more enjoyable than being left with the chaos that was her thoughts.

~

When they had arrived at the local sports and leisure centre, Kalani noticed that by the outdoor astroturf, there was a larger crowd than there should be for a practice on an early Wednesday evening . She walked hand in hand with Tiara towards the grounds and smiled when she noticed the crowds full of young and old cheering on.

No matter how much Emil had tried to teach her, there were still aspects of the game of football that she would never understand. However, that never changed how much Kalani cheered on Emil and supported him. She knew that he had fallen in love with football due to Malik’s love for the sport, his passion came from within, and Emil had the talent to match. If Emil was willing to play, then Kalani was going to do everything that she could to make sure that he continued to play to his greatest heights.

From where Kalani stood, she could tell that it was an intense game for a practise but neither the Red nor Green sides seemed to care. When Emil touched the ball, he sprinted across the field with incredible of the ball and passing by the red players who were trying to defend. Emil then passed the ball to another green player who was open. This player then quickly shot the ball into the net, scoring the winning goal.

The crowd, including Kalani and Tiara cheered for the green shirts.

The game came to an end and with the crowds beginning to disperse, Tiara shot away from Kalani’s side and ran towards his older brother as she screamed his name. She smiled as she watched Emil pick up his little sister and throw her into the air, catch her and then spin her around.

As she proudly watched the moment, she caught a growing crowd from the corner of her eye. She noticed a man standing in the middle with the biggest smile on his face as he tried to greet every one that was surrounding him. That bright smile with the small tooth gap was the first thing that caught her attention. His twisted strands were in a ponytail, but his sides and beard were nicely trimmed in a way that brought attention to his chiselled facial features. Kalani’s eyes travelled to his large and muscular tatted arms that even with his bronzed, umber complexion, the design of the tattooed sleeves stood out. He was dressed simply, in a black, sleeveless knitted vest and what looked like black trousers. Kalani had spent too much time staring at him for her to notice that his jewellery was expensive and some of it was probably custom made.

As if picking up on her inquisitive eyes, the man looked up and stared right at her. She had never seen such an intense yet sincere pair of eyes that were the smoothest of chocolate brown. Kalani bit her lip in embarrassment at being caught looking when he smiled at her. She quickly averted her gaze to her children, who were walking towards her and tried not to think about why the stranger felt vaguely familiar.

“Hi Mum.” Emil greeted her as he placed Tiara down on her feet before reaching towards her and giving her a sideways hug. Kalani reciprocated the hg and patted his sweat drenched curls.

“Hi baby, you were great out there.” She complimented him which caused him to grin.

“Thank you.” He smiled at her.

“Any particular reason why you guys were playing like it was the finals of the Premier League?”

“Oh! The owner of the centre is here, and we just wanted to impress him I guess.”

“You were out there acting like he’s like a talent scout.” Kalani chuckled.

“He might as well be. He used to be a sportsperson, so he knows a lot of people.”

“Like Mbappa right?”

“Mbappé, Mum. Mbappé.” Emil corrected her with a roll to his eyes.

“Well, whatever his name is.” Kalani shrugged her shoulders and then picked Tiara into her arms. “Anyway, go get your stuff. We need to be home before 8:30.”

For a fraction of a moment, she saw her son’s gleeful demeanour slip. He nodded his head and then jogged away. Kalani watched as he stopped and talked to the same man that she had made eye contact with. The joy in his face was back once more and it eased the tension within her. She was sending them to their fathers’ for the weekend as she needed some time to herself to re-charge before she embarked on a large project at work.

However, Emil had made it abundantly clear that he wanted nothing to do with the man that he had once idolised. Emil confessed to enduring the visit for the sake of Tiara, who was still trying to adjust to the separation.

When he came back, they all hurdled into the car and they drove back home, not before stopping for a takeaway pizza collection.

After they had arrived back at their home, Kalani rushed her children to take their evening showers before preparing their bags.

Kalani stayed downstairs as she prepared their dinner. Alongside the pizza, she made a simple arugula salad with cherry tomatoes, feta cheese and a balsamic dressing. Once she had set the table and could finally take a sip of her white wine.

She dreaded the weekends when her children were away. Because it forced her to think. It forced her evaluate every single decision that led to this very moment that she was currently residing in.

Her hatred for Malik increased.

Memories of their past floated in front of her. Her and Malik dancing around the kitchen as they cooked whilst Emil set the kitchen table and Tiara narrating stories from her vivid imagination.

They were so happy.

They were so in love.

Where in the fuck did he ever find the time to cheat on her? She wondered.

That was a question that she never got an answer to. And it was a question, she was afraid of what the answer may be. It just was not something that she was ready to confront. Kalani was left to deal with all of that harbouring anger all alone.

“Mummy look! Me and Emi are matching!” Tiara rushed rushed down the stairs with Emil in tow. When Kalani turned her head towards their direction, a laughter full of elation burst from her when she noted that the duo were indeed matching. Tiara was dressed in a hot pink Nike tracksuit that was a contrast to Emil’s grey one.

“She wasn’t going to wear anything else.” Emil commented as they entered the large kitchen area, approaching the sink to wash their hands.

“That’s okay. Princess just wants to be like her big brother huh.” Kalani smiled as she smoothed her daughter’s hair.

“Yep!” Tiara gave them her dazzling smile. “Except, I don’t like football, and he doesn’t like banana cake!” The little girl stated before her focus shifted to the slices of banana cake on the table. “Ooouuu caaaakkee.”

“Not so fast, young lady!” Kalani spoke up which stopped Tiara in her tracks. “Can you eat some pizza first before the cake?”

“Okay, Mummy.” She pouted as she moved to sit down in her chair by the table. Emil shook his his head as he plated a slice of pizza for himself before sitting down.

They sat in silence as they ate their food, but Kalani could tell from her son’s solemn expression that something was bothering him.

“You okay baby?” She asked him as a worried expression marked her face.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He offered her a smile that she didn’t believe.

“You sure? You know that you can always talk to me, right?”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just -.” Emil stopped talking before he let out a sigh. He then turned his attention to Tiara who was focused on trying to do a cheese pull. “I’m not ready to talk about it.” He concluded.

Kalani swallowed as she tried to not be disappointed with his response. Outside of the pure anger that was palpable whenever his father was mentioned, Emil had concealed his emotions about the divorce from her, always giving her that same answer of not being ready to talk. She had offered for him to go to therapy but he refused, saying that he did not need it.

“I caught him cheating Mum, not killing somebody.” He had said to her after the therapy suggestion. She dropped it then, however as her sessions continued, the more she wanted to push for Emil to go. But she was not going to force his hand. He’d go when he was ready.

“How’s this? When you come back, I’ll take the day off work and break you out of school and we do whatever you want. Just the two of us.”

“I’d like that.” Emil replied as a small smile returned to his face. Kalani reached over and softly pinched his cheek.

“That’s my boy.” She wicked at him.

They finished dinner in a much better mood with Emil updating her on his coming football schedule so that she could make time for it in her diary. And it wasn’t long after they had cleared the table did the doorbell ring.

Kalani glanced over to the clock on the wall. It was 8:40pm.

A cloud of tension suddenly covered the serenity of their home as she realised who was at the front door. Kalani looked at her son, who was already moving to collect Tiara from her position in her play area by the living room.

“Give me five minutes, I need to talk to your father about something.” She said to him. Emil nodded his head.

“Princess come on, gotta make sure that you have all of your toys ready.” He said before picking her up and giving her a piggy-back ride up the stairs which caused her to squeal with each step.

Kalani mentally prepared herself as she dried her hands with a hand towel before she headed to the door.

With one more pep talk, she swung the door open and met her ex-husband with a close-lipped smile with her body blocking the entrance.

Standing shy of 6 foot 2 inches with a rich, tawny complexion, a shaved head and trimmed goatee – Malik was a physically handsome man. At forty-three, he kept himself fit, had an impeccable wardrobe (that she introduced him to) and a gorgeous smile that her daughter inherited. Full lips with slick words that could charm the pants off a recluse. She would know, they’d been working on her for close to two decades.

“Hi Lani.” He smiled down at her.

“Hi Malik.” Her tone was curt, which caused his cheeky expression to slip by minor fraction, but she caught it.

“How are you?” He asked. “You look beautiful as ever.” He complimented her, trying to work his charm as he had done so many times before.

It wasn’t going to work this time.

“Thanks.” She narrowed her eyes before she moved to step outside. She drew the door close and left it slightly agar.

“I need to talk to talk to you about something.”

“Are the kids okay?” He worried.

“They’re as fine as they can be. But that’s not what I want to talk about.”

“Then what?”

“When are you going to sign the papers, Malik? You’ve been putting them off for far too long now.”

“What do you mean sign?” He frowned in confusion. “I thought that we were taking this time to figure things out.”

“What things?!” Kalani sternly exclaimed in a hushed voice. “You refused couple’s counselling. Emil doesn’t want therapy and wont talk to me about it. Tiara thinks you’re working on a big project at work because she doesn’t understand that we’re separated.” As the words spat out of her mouth, the angrier she became. “Let’s not fucking forget, that little girlfriend of yours is still around and you thought that I didn’t know about it.”

“She’s not Kalani!” Malik quickly tried to shut down her accusation.

“Oh please!” She scoffed as she looked at him up and down in disgust. “Her perfume is lingering on you right now. I should know, I was washing it off for years!” She hissed.

Kalani watched as Malik tried to sniff his clothes and that disgusted her even more as she could see the gears in his mind churning up an excuse.

“Listen, it’s not like that.” He began to say.

“I don’t give a shit what it’s like. I want those divorce paper signed and delivered to my office by Monday. If not then no more nice Kalani, I’ve put up with your shit for too long.”

Without giving Malik a chance to reply, she opened the door just as she picked up on the patter of feet rushing down the stairs. Tiara zoomed past her and dove into her father’s legs, hugging them.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” She chanted, bouncing with excitement. Malik picked her up into his arms and gave him one of his practised smiles as he peppered her face with kisses.

“My gorgeous girl! You’re getting so big!” He said which caused Tiara to grin.

“Look! My tooth fell out and the tooth fairy gave me one pound and Mummy told me to add it to my piggy bank!”

“Oh, that’s so awesome Princess!”

“When all my teeth fall out, I’m gonna be rich!”

“Oh, I bet!” Malik tickled her sides which caused another high-pitched squeal to leave Tiara. In all of her rage, it was the joy of her daughter that mattered to her. Emil trotted to her side, holding their weekend bags.

“You got everything baby?” She asked him. He nodded his head.

She hated having to send him with his father, but she did not trust Malik to care for Tiara without Emil’s assistance. She brought in her son for a tight hug and kissed the side of his head. “It’s just two days and you’ll be back.”

Emil sighed at those words before nodding his head. “Bye Mum.” He mumbled before he kissed her cheek and walked past Malik without acknowledging him. She could see that Malik was trying to not let that get to him but kept a brave face for Tiara. It may be horrible to admit but it felt nice to know that there was one more person who hated his guts the way she did.

‘Right, Princess, you’re going to be on our best behaviour for your father, okay?” Kalani said to Tiara.

“Mhm.” Tiara nodded her head before Kalani placed a kiss on her forehead.

“We’ll talk about what we talked about later.” Malik glared at her.

“Unless it’s about that signature, then we have nothing to talk about.” She glared back.

Kalani waved goodbye to her children as Malik drove away. Once she shut her front door, she let out the biggest sigh of relief as her body relaxed. She had not realised just how tense she had been in the minutes Malik was here.

It had felt like hours.

With her body on autopilot, Kalani finished cleaning up the kitchen and packing away Tiara’s toys before she grabbed her bottles of wine, forgoing the glass and dragged her body up the stairs to her bedroom. As she prepared for her evening bath, she put her favourite playlist on and danced to the music as she stripped down to her bathing suit.

Once her tub was full of hot water and bubbles, she sank down, laying down her head on the towel. She took a large gulp of her wine and get the bottle down.

With only the sultry voice of Sadé as solace, Kalani let her walls down and cried to her hearts content.

reading list: @queenshikongo3 @dhlfastestlap @saintslewis @serpenttines-library @saturnville @hopefulromantic1 @cocobutterqwueen @bluesole16 @chaneajoyyy @emjayewrites @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @sapphireheaven @olyvoyl @lewisroscoelove @lh44adore @hellomadamebutterfly @scorpiobleue @laneywrld @qveenmelanink @tremendousstarlighttragedy @bekindbecoolbeyou @greedyjudge2 @itsapurrfectstorm @createdbylivingclocks @omgsuperstarg @peyiswriting @miyuhpapayuh @blowmymbackout @purplelewlew @henneseyhoe @perfecttrashface @alianovnaromanovanatalia @leilaxaliel @hotfudgeslug @iamryanl @pickingupmymercedes @eleetalks @ambs-06 @annisassintchaska @boujiestpoet @nayaesworld @nat-lh-44

[ashblooddragons]

The Red Queen (Chapter 7/?)

112 ac

Alicents pov

I sit next to Myrielle in the royal box waiting for the tourney to start and for Rhaenyra to show. I have no idea how she gets away with all she does, if I did even half the things she’s done today I would be forced to be a Septa by my Father, only love and lust for the gods.

I sigh and look over at you and your friends smiling as you excitedly show them your new necklace, you had shown me it soon after so excited and only wanting to show me your new gift.

“Ali! Look! Look! Kepus gave this to me, don’t you think it’s pretty? Oh, I love it so much!” You say and I can’t help but notice you have seemingly had your hair fixed into a proper style. I’ve been needing to fix that, wonder who did. I think to myself. 

“Ah, let me see.” I say kneeling down so I can face you properly as I lift the garnet pendant watching as the rich red of the stone catches the light making it even more beautiful. “Lovely, a beautiful gift for a beautiful girl.” I say smiling when you beam with joy at the compliment.

“Mam– Ali do you have any jewelry that your family gave you that was a ancestirs?” You ask curiously as you play with the sapphire necklace around my neck. Your correction isn’t lost on me but I let you think I missed you almost calling me Mama.

It is moments like this one, where I know I am not alone in the feeling that I am your Mother. I may not have birthed you, nor carried you in my womb but you are my little girl.

“Ancestors,” I correct gently before I touch the necklace on my neck. “And yes, this used to be my Mother’s before she passed. I have many other necklaces, rings, bracelets, and earrings, that used to be hers.”

I know the moment you catch that my Mother is dead, I hae never told you nor have you most likely ever heard this fact so the tears that come to your eyes are not surprising. 

“Your Mama is dead? Is there any way to bring her back, so you can have her again?” You ask seemingly trying to find any way to take my pain away from her passing which seems to bring your young mind to necromancy. 

I can’t help but giggle at your young and innocent idea. “No, and besides she is in a better place, she is happy with the Stranger now, walking through fields of lilies and havig the sun kiss her skin at all times of day.”  I saw with a mournful smile. 

“Is the Stranger kind?” You ask wiping away your tears with the back of your dress sleeve. 

“Very kind.” I say before teaching you more about the seven and what each one is for and why they are important.

I’m snapped out of my thoughts when I hear the King start his speech before the tourney starts. “Be welcome! I know many of you have traveled long leagues to be at these games. But I promise, you will not be disappointed–”

The King pauses when Rhaenyra tries to sneak in and take her seat. I suppress a scoff when she sits down smirking thinking she got away with something again, and to be fair she probably did with how the King bends to her will.

“When I look at the fine knights in these lists, I see a group without equal in our histories. And this great day has been made more auspicious by the news that I am happy to share, the Queen Aemma has begun her labors!” 

With that announcement the crowd erupts into applause and cheers, small folk and noble alike rejoicing at the future heir to be born. I turn to look at you and see you nervously biting ad chewing on you lower lip it is already getting bloody and chapped. I at times worry if my nervous habit with m fingers has led you to do the same only with your lips. I reach over to hold your hand comforting you the only way I can. you may not say it or show it, nor understand it, but I can tell you worry for the Queen and your future sibling.

“May the luck of the Seven shine on all combatants!” The King says finally finishing his speech witha sigh and sitting on his mock throne. 

I turn to look at you after you tugged on the sleeve of my dress. “Yes, darling?” 

“Where’s Kepus? He said he was going to be in the games, but I haven’t seen him yet.” You are confused as you search for your dear uncle, or should I say Kepus. 

“He will be out soon, but first we have to watch Ser Cole and Ser Aldwin Sarwyck joust.” I say gently smiling when you nod, you don’t seem to like this information but you also seem to understand.

You’ve never cared much for tourneys, finding them too long and too boring. And I can’t blame you, as soon as it gets entertaining it is determined you must not see such violence at your young age. So when Ser Cole unmounts Ser Aldwin you don't clap nor cheer as loud as the rest, only clapping as you know you must.

“Princess Rhaenys Targaryen! I would humbly ask for the favor of ‘The Queen Who Never Was’.” Lord Boremund Baratheon declares holding his jousting stick up to the balcony.

You can hear the chatter of the courtiers gossiping. Do they ever stop? Probably not. I think to myself scowling when I see one of them point to you and your friends giggling over lemon cakes and tea.

“Good fortune to you, cousin.” Princess Rhaenys says obviously not happy with he cousins behavior but putting on a good face.

The less things for this court of vipers to gossip about you, the better. Or that is at least what my father loves to tell me when I even think of running through teh halls. 

“I would gladly take it if I thought I needed it.” He says pompously like any true Baratheon would. 

I hear a pained gasp beside me and turn to see Myrielle looking up at her brother and the lady Cerelle Celtigar seeming to be holding hands and talking. I had heard they are now bethrothed and getting ready to marry in three moons. Such a quick wedding has raised eyebrows as to why they are wedding so quickly, I have yet to hear one that makes sense. 

“Are you alright, Myrielle?” I ask worried as to what has he nearly in tears. 

“Yes, yes, sorry I must have gotten something in my eyes.” She says clearly lying but I pretend to believe her for her sake. That is until I hear Rhaenyra scoff.

“Is that what is’s called when you almost lay with your brother? You know it’s wrong right, to want to fuck your brother or family? That is at least what the rumors say.” She says crudely. 

I turn back and see tears rolling down Myrielles cheeks, whether that be because of shame or rage I can not tell. I can’t believe Rhaenyra’s hypocrisy, she has always found the conquers marriage as beautiful, and yet she sits there berating a girl over a rumor? It must be this that pushes me to speak up, to try and take Rhaenyra down a peg. 

“As if you Targaryens have any room to talk. Were the conquers not brother and sisters, or had I read the history books wrong?” I ask with a smirk knowing I’ve backed her into a corner.

I can see Rhaenyra is ready to lash back when the King clears his throat and when we turn to look at him, he’s glaring at Rhaneyra making her slump back into her chair with a scowl upon her face.

I turn back to Myrielle who is smiling thankfully. “I do not know if this is true, but as far as I’m concerned it is only a rumor about the new lady of court.” I say squeezing her hand reasuringly, before turning back to watch as the Rouge Prince comes riding into the jousting ring. 

I can’t help but smile when you perk up at the sight of him, for if he can bring that smile of pure joy to your little face can he truly be that bad? 

I was so distracted by your excited chatter that you had finally been allowed to make a favor for a knight that I missed the way Myrielle and my eldest brother, Lorent, were staring at each other. If I had I would have noticed the blush on Myrielles face and the look of lust in my brother’s eyes.

“Who do you think he’ll pick?” You ask as you watch Prince Daemon moving his horse up and down the line of knights to choose from. When I see my brother Gwayne I get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach put push it down and smile down at you,

“I have no idea, though they musat be a extraordinary knight to be choices for the Prin–.” I say only to stop when I see he picked the one person I hoped and silently prayed he wouldn’t, Gwyane.

“Who’s the one with the tower helmet?” You ask curiously as you lean into me on the seate we are sitting on.

You do this often, looking for my touch and comfort, besides the Prince I am the person you seek out the most.

“My brother.” I say fighting the urge to bite and pick at my cuticles. It is not for my sake but for yours for I will not let you gain such a harming habit because of me, because of my anixites. So I will push them down for your sake. 

“He must be a very good knight for Kepus to pick him.” You say in wonder. 

Or the son of the Prince’s greatest enemy. I think coldly.

I hold my breath as I watch the joust, my brother seems to have almost knocked the Prince off his horse. But on the next joust, the Prince leans his jousting stick downward so it trips the horse making the horse and my brother flip through the air landing with a resounding crash that makes everyone gasp. But I do not get much time to recoup until the Prince is in front of the balcony smirking up at us, or should I say, my father.

“Nicely done uncle.” Rhaenyra says with a smirk batting her eyes ar him. I have to fight the urge to slap her as she seems to forger my brother was just carried out of the tourney ring. 

“Thank you, Rhaenyra, now I am fairly certain I can win these games but what isn’t a little extra luck from the most beautiful maiden here?” He says smiling when you walk up with your friends smiling and waving at him.

“It would be my honor Uncle.” Rhaenyra says breathlessly getting ready to grab her favor when the Prince stops her.

“Not you, I meant the Realms Darling over here.” He says pointing his jousting stick towards you.

The look of pure joy crossing your face mixed with Rhaenyra’s look of betrayal and embarrassment almost made my brothers injury worth it, almost.

You run over to grab your favor only to run back and almost tripping and falling from your excitement, it’s a good thing I caught you or else you may have fallen off the balcony. 

“I made it myself!” You say excitedly as you reach over just barely able to reach before letting your wreath slide down.

“It is a lovely favor, it is sure to make me win.” He says making you giggle as he rides off.

“He’ll win with my favor right?” You ask as you hold my hand as we walk back to our seat.

“If he does not then he must have terrible luck because you are the luckiest girl in the world.” I say tickling your sides making you giggle uncontrollably. 

As the match goes on we don’t notice how slowly but surely the crowd seems to becomes mournful. It is only after your uncle lost his bout and whispered something to Ser Cole that we finally hear the news.

“Ali, please say it’s not true.” You plead tears rolling down your little face. 

When I can’t find a response you burst into tears and sob into my chest as I hold you close praying I could take all your pain and put it onto myself. But there is no gods, or magic that would let me so I sit there holding you and carrying you to your chambers as you cry your little heart out as any little girl should after losing their mother.

This is the necklace I see that Alicent was wearing, the one made of Sapphires from her mom.

Series Masterlist

Special thanks to my bestie @sugutoad for making the header for this fic! I swear I be lost without you Girly!

Also Nymeria and Myrielle are my besties @sugutoad ocs so give her the love for these magical and beautiful characters!!

Taglist: @sugutoad @ilikefelines @mmogurl @classicsimpforaaronwarner @baybaybear1 @sachaa-ff

[twice-inamillion]

The Company

Newest Recruit 

Story Building and Fluff

Chapter 8

3,160 Words

(You and Mina’s family have a talk about her enjoying the company. Jessica goes to America to buy her new home. A new set of trainees arrive to the company from a different company.)

After talking to Mina and the choreographer, you ask them for an appointment to talk to her parents. Mina agrees and calls her mom to see when the best time to talk to them both. 

You return to your hotel and talk to your assistants about recruiting her into the company. As you’re going over some possible offers, you can make you receive a phone call from the choreographer telling you that Mina and her family can meet tomorrow evening. I am glad about the rapid response and that you prepared everything for your meeting.

It’s the following day, and you’re standing in front of her house and ringing the doorbell. It doesn’t take too long for the door to open, and you see an older female, assuming to be the mother. “Good evening; you must be here because of Mina, correct?”

“Yes. Thank you for inviting me to your home.”

“Come, take a seat. I’ll call Mina and her father over.”

“Thank you,” walking to the living room and sitting on the couch.”

You see Mina walking down the stairs to the living room, “Good evening,” she shyly waved her hand. She sits on the couch across from you and waits for both her parents to arrive. 

From the kitchen, Mina’s parents and the choreographer walk to the living room with drinks and snacks.

“Sorry for the wait; we wanted to bring snacks for us to enjoy.”

Once everyone is seated, you introduce yourself as the CEO of Olympus Entertainment, surprising everyone. Knowing some information about the company, the choreographer briefs the parents on the benefits offered to the trainees and the education they get.

Both the parents smile when they hear about the great benefits offered and the chance to finish their education, unlike other companies.

“We like that your company allows them to finish their studies. We want Mina to finish her schooling if possible,” says Mina’s dad.

“Yes, we understand that joining the entertainment business isn’t what some parents see as an ideal job. Here, out of our company, we want everyone to receive higher education in case the trainees decide to change their career path. We also allow them to gain experience in the field by applying to be staff in our company.”

Her parents seem a bit more comfortable hearing that there is a backup plan just in case she doesn’t want to continue. You go over on why you want Mina in your company and what you are willing to offer. 

“I’m glad you think highly of our daughter and her talents. She’s been a good girl, and we think she should make this decision on her l own,” says Mina’s mom. 

Mina shyly speaks up, “I want to go. I’m a bit nervous, but I think it’d be nice to meet other people who enjoy dancing.” 

“Are you sure, Mina?” asks her dad.

“Yes, Ceo-nim complimented my dancing a lot, so I don’t want it to go to waste.”

Her mom then asks, “Okay, then it’s decided. Please take care of our daughter and her future.”

“I will.”

Mina and her parents sign the contract. You congratulate both of them and assure them they won’t regret it. 

“Do you need her to fly to Korea now?”

Take care of your schooling and enjoy a small break. I’ll personally come and you all to the company and give you a tour and see our facilities.”

As you’re about to leave, Mina walks up and grabs the edge of your jacket, “CEO-nim, I won’t disappoint you,” as she plays with her fingers.

——————

It’s been a few days after signing Mina to your label, and you have been preparing for her arrival. During the week, you also had Jessica living with you after collecting her items from her apartment. She tells you about her plan to return to America and set up her own fashion brand. 

During her stay at your place, Jessica has looked online for possible houses to buy during her stay back in San Francisco. “What do you think about this one?” she asks. 

“That one looks nice; it has a nice backyard, and it's not directly in the middle of the city.”

“I like this one too, but it seems busy.”

“You said you want to relax, so maybe something where there are not too many tourists.”

“It has been nice to see them in person.”

“If you want, I can schedule a few open houses; I’m almost done with what I have to do.”

“But how are we going to get there without getting noticed? I don’t want the public to see me like this.”

“We can take my plane there.” 

“You got a plane?”

“Yes, I don’t want to go through the hassle of chartering a plane, so I just bought one myself.”

You arrive in San Francisco two days later and go to multiple open houses. Most of these homes are in the millions, but you’re willing to spend that much for your child. After a few days of looking, Jessica makes up her mind, and you sign a contract to purchase the house. The both of you stopped by her parents' house to drop off some items before heading back to Korea. Jessica is about to open the door when you hear, “Jessica, is that you?” Out comes a younger version of her, her sister. She looks at you in annoyance and says, “Is that the guy that knocked you up?”

Jessica reacts and smacks her, “Shut up!” The sister runs back inside as Jessica tries to hit her again but fails. “Sorry for the rude girl over there, but that is my younger sister, Krystal.” You try to introduce yourself to her sister, but she ignores you. 

“So, I heard from Mom and Dad that you bought a house nearby.”

“Actually, he bought the house,” she said as she looked in my direction.

“Hmph… that’s the least he could do after getting you pregnant and causing you to get kicked out.”

“Krystal, be quiet.”

“But it’s true. He was the cause for everything.”

“It’s partially my fault, too, not just his.”

The two of them continue to discuss with each other, and you say, “I’m going to be heading back to the airport. I’ll be back to help you move in. Also, send me the information on the fashion line.” Jessica turns around and kisses you on the cheek before you head out. 

————-

A bit over a week has passed, and you are headed to Japan to pick up Mina and her parents. 

They board the plane, and during the flight, you give them the rundown of what they will see during their stay in Korea. 

“After arriving, we can have lunch and tour the campus. I will lead the tour while your items are taken to the hotel I reserved for you during your stay. The second day would be reviewing some fine details about Mina’s stay and looking at the dorms she would be staying in. You then have the next few days to tour around and do as you wish, and the company will pay for it.”

“Ceo-nim, you don’t have to do that,” says Mina’s mom.

“I want to. Mina is the first idol I personally recruited, making it a special moment. Plus, your daughter has a lot of talent, so it would be rude of me not to respond in kindness.”

Mina and Mina’s mom smile while her dad agrees that his daughter is worthy of such consideration.

You all arrive at the company and walk into the main building. You take them through the meeting room, cafeteria, and main practice rooms. The next stop is the education center, where most trainees have classes to finish their education, take extracurricular activities, or want to study. 

The last place is the large building where I have practice rooms for small to large groups or for individual practice. “The place is so big and new,” says Mina’s mom. 

“We want all our trainees and idols with the opportunity to succeed, so we provide them with the best, anywhere from education to mental health.” 

“What about security, like the safety of the trainees and idols?” asks dad.

“The campus is normally closed to the public. Most areas require a security clearance based on the position you have in the company. For example, we separate the trainees and idols to prevent any potential conflict, such as education builds and dorms. Since most of them have a regular schedule, we tend to know where they are at. If there are any irregularities, we use these bracelets to know where they last were since they are used to access building doors.” 

“What about if they get sick? How do they get treatment?” asks Mina’s mom. 

“We do have a health center that can deal with common issues and is planning to build an in-house hospital for all company employees, trainees, and idols.”

“Seems like you all have things figured out,” says Mina’s dad. 

“We want to ensure the safety of everyone here and make it as easy for them to concentrate on their goals. 

After the tour, all of you go out to dinner before calling it a night. “I’ll leave you all for the night and see you early in the morning. You’ll get to experience our cafeteria and see the dorms.”

————-

Early in the morning, you meet Mina and her parents outside the cafeteria. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Ceo-nim.”

“How was your sleep?”

“It was great; the beds were really comfortable.”

“That’s good to hear. We use the same mattress for our dorms here.” 

“You hear that, Mina. Make sure not to sleep in too much,” says her dad.

“Otōsan… not in front of the Ceo,” whines Mina and covers her embarrassed face.

“It’s fine; I sometimes enjoy a good rest.”

The four of you head to the cafeteria. Mina is surprised by the number of food options that the area offers. “We offer meals three times a day and have cafes and small shops throughout the campus. You can even order a custom meal if given prior notice.”

Mina walks to the line, gets various dishes, and walks out of the line with a gummy smile. 

“Seems like our daughter is going to get accustomed to here in no time,” says Dad in a joking manner.

We all laugh, and Mina turns red again from her dad teasing her. We continue to have breakfast. When we are done, we head out to the dorms where she will stay. 

“The dorms are not that far away but separate from the rest of the campus. We have multiple types of dorms for those who are over of age and who are not. We keep them separate since they have different schedules and rules. Once placed in a group, you are moved to a large dorm based on the number of people within the group. They have a kitchen and more space to get to know each other better and build relationships.”

“So does that mean I get to room with another person?”

“We actually have a room available that is meant for two, but you’ll be using it on your own. Obviously, when we get more trainees, we will pair you up with someone who has similar interests.”

As we walk down the road to the dorms, her parents are amazed by how well-maintained they look. Mina cannot help but comment on how they look like college dorms and is excited to see her own dorm. “Is this my dorm?”

“Actually, yes. The one on the left.” 

You take out your phone and call the dorm manager. She came outside and introduced herself as the one in charge of managing the building and dorm RA. 

She leads the group to the second floor of the building and into the unoccupied wing. “You won't be in this wing, but we are going to use it as an example. Here are the shared bathrooms with multiple stalls and showers cleaned frequently. You are all divided in wings so there are not many who use the bathrooms. There are also individual restrooms throughout the building.”

She then walks to a room and opens it, “This is an example of a double room; there are two beds, a large closet for, and a table.” The parents walk around and seem to like the room, “it’s big. I think you’ll like Mina,” says her mom. “Next, we’ll see a triple room, and it’s much bigger than the double.” 

After the demonstration, the manager walks the group to the dorm that Mina will be occupying. “This will be your room, Mina. It’s a double, but you won't have a roommate as of now. We expect a new round of incoming trainees, so you might be paired up soon.”

“Look, Mina, it has a nice view,” says her dad. 

You comment, “I think you’ll like it. You are more than welcome to return tomorrow so you can help with the move-in process. Let’s return to my office and discuss some minor details.”

You are all in your office and take out two large folders, a copy for the parents and one for Mina. “These will be your copy of the contract, the expectations and the list of benefits, and some of the options we offer in extracurricular activities. Also, we don’t ask for any payment from the parents, and it's covered by us until they debut. After that, we do take out a share of what was invested for training.”

“That sounds more than reasonable; I heard of other companies asking for large amounts of money upfront,” says the dad.

“Yes, some do, but since we are a new company, we want to separate ourselves from them.”

As you and the parents talk, Mina looks at the extracurricular catalog and tries to decide on what she wants to join.

“Do you have an idea, sweetheart?” asks Mina’s mom.

“There are so many options, I can’t make up my mind.”

“It’s okay, Mina. Take your time; choose whenever you are ready.”

Her mom looks through the dance section and says, “I see you don’t offer Ballet.”

“Yes, unfortunately, we don’t have many trainees that practice. It was something that we wanted to have and actually have a room for it, but it's not completed.”

“What do you think, Mina? Do you still want to practice ballet?” asks her dad.

“I don’t know. I want to try other dances, but I also want to continue.”

“If you want, we can complete it for you. I would be more than happy to see you dance again.”

“See, Mina, the CEO himself said that we want to see you dance and is willing to finish its construction just for you,” says her dad.

You see, Mina thinks about it and fiddles with her fingers, “Do you really like my dancing, Ceo-nim?”

“Yes, I really did.”

“Umm… if you like it, then I’ll be more than happy to continue.”

“Aww, sweetie, that’s good to hear,” says her mom. 

“That would be amazing, Mina. Then, I’ll make sure we finish the construction of the studio. You’ll be our first user so it would be like your personal dance studio, haha,.”

“See, Mina, your own studio,” says her mom.

“Thank you so much; I’ll try to live up to your expectations of me,” says Mina shyly.

After that conversation, a member of the trainee team came in and explained the clearance system and the bracelet that Mina would be wearing. This will give her access to her room and other facilities. “We have your information in our system. This bracelet serves as a smartwatch and access key to your room, the buildings you are cleared for, your health profile for the health center, and the cafeteria.”

Mina confirms her information, and the bracelet activates. The team member puts on her bracelet and shows her how it works and what type of data it shows on our end. “This information is kept on our private servers and are not shared anywhere. So when you scan it in a certain location, it only shows based information and nothing else. Try using it here.” 

The screen shows Mina’s basic information as a trainee and a picture. “Okay, it seems like you’re all ready to move in.”

————— 

It’s been a few weeks since Mina moved into the dorms, and she’s been slowly adjusting to her new environment. You call her a few times a week to ask how she is doing or if she needs anything. Like always, she’s shy and soft-spoken. 

Today, you called her to your office to give her some news that will affect her position as a trainee. “Good morning, CEO-nim. I’m here because you wanted to see me.”

“Yes, good morning Mina. Come over and talk a seat.” 

“Is something the matter?”

“Yes. I have been in contact with JYP Entertainment, and we are going to collaborate. The company will receive a couple of its idols as part of an agreement. You will be placed together with them since you’re one of the newest trainees.”

“Do you know how many trainees will be coming over?”

“There will be fifteen others; some of them have trainees for a long time while others have just a few years.”

“Does that mean I'll be getting a roommate?”

“Yes, they should be arriving within a week, so try to make them feel comfortable.”

————-

“I hope you treat my trainees well,” says Park Jin-young.

“Don’t worry. They’re going to enjoy their time here.”

“I hope so.”

You then step forward and introduce yourself, “Hello, everyone. Welcome to Olympus Entertainment. I hope you enjoy your time here and build friendships with those around you.”

All the trainees from JYP, in unison, stand up and say, “Thank you for having us, CEO.”

“All of you already know why you’re here, but, as a formality, introduce yourselves.

“Hello, my name is Im Na-yeon.”

“Hello, my name is Yoo Jeong-yeon.”

“Hello, my name is Hirai Momo.”

“Hello, my name is Minatozaki Sana.”

“Hello, my name is Park Ji-hyo.”

“Hello, my name is Myoi Mina.”

“Hello, my name is Song Min-young.”

“Hello, my name is Park Ji-won.

“Hello, my name is Kim Da-hyun.”

“Hello, my name is Son Chae-young.”

“Hello, my name is Chou Tzu-yu.”

“Hello, my name is Lee Chae-yeon.”

“Hello, my name is Kim Eun-suh.”

“Hello, my name is Jeon So-mi.”

“Hello, my name is Lee Chae-ryeong.”

“Hello, my name is Natty.”

“Welcome once again, all sixteen of you.”

[holmesianlove]

Chapter 4 - Hats

“I look ridiculous!” John cried out.

“John this was the best I could think of, to cover up the green. You know I need you with me on cases.”

“You don’t, though,” he snapped. “You could take that bloody skull from the mantle and set it down on the ground and just yap away to that while you do your deductions, for all the use I am,” John scoffed.

“John Watson,” Sherlock scolded. “If you really think you are no better than a lifeless skull to me, I’d be disappointed. I think I’ve proven otherwise many times. But I can take you back home if it’s what you really desire...” Sherlock knew perfectly well that John was going nowhere but he made the offer and then left the silence to drift between them.

John said nothing, which Sherlock knew was a firm confirmation he was staying. Despite everything. Sherlock knew he was too stubborn to let a skull actually take first place. Or for Sherlock to win this green-bodied stand-off. And besides, John would be just as desperate to see a good crime scene. It had been far too long.

They stood in silence looking in the mirror. “Well in any case, not this one,” John finally said. “And if I’m wearing a stupid hat, so are you.”

“I will follow your lead,” Sherlock said kindly with a gracious bow of his head - a risky move given John’s current mood. But a necessary one.

John wandered the store, picking up options and looking at them, holding them up dramatically to observe the hats at various angles. Sherlock was sure he was milking it on purpose. Finally he settled on one. “This,” he said with the beginnings of a smirk.

Sherlock opened his mouth to argue and thought better of it. He grabbed it from John’s hands and put it on. He mumbled angrily to himself, under his breath. John managed to catch “ear hat,” and “death frisbee” amongst the grumblings but waited, brows raised, giving Sherlock space to get used to the idea.

“That one actually comes with a matching cape,” the shop assistant called out from the side of the room.

“No—“

“We’ll take it,” John said loudly ignoring Sherlock’s pained expression.

“Now me. The cover all makeup is helping but—“

“Wait, I know!” Sherlock rushed over to the counter and had a quiet word with the assistant. They perked up and then disappeared into the shelving and returned with two items.

“Ah it seems this one has an accompanying garment too,” Sherlock said excitedly, as if he didn’t already know.

John simply glared at Sherlock. “You’re really that petty? Because you have a cape to wear?”

“Not at all, John. it’s just a little strange to wear a face covering without any explanation. Unless you want to become the new wife I’ve acquired in the Middle East… I thought that one looked quite fetching on you earlier,” he teased.

John blushed and was once again thankful for the green colouring. “Don’t be ridiculous. Give it here,” he said with great annoyance reaching out for the garment and disappearing into a change room.

Minutes later he surfaced in a full beekeeper’s outfit.

“Oh that’s perfect!” Sherlock cried out excitedly, clapping his hands together. “Do you have a large shotgun?” he asked.

“Shotgun?!” John cried out.

“Not a real one obviously. But yes, if I’m dressed like hunting gentry on the royal estate… and you can be my… beekeeper…” he said, clearly trying to piece together the ensembles and their backstory. “Then I will need a gun.”

“I’m fairly certain that isn’t going to throw them off the scent. I suspect just telling them we were on our way to a costume party will be sufficient Sherlock. We don’t need a backstory,” John reassured him.

Catching a glimpse in the mirror, he could appreciate that, while they did indeed look ridiculous, the skin coloured make up and the mesh from his hat did indeed cover the fact that he was green. And the gloves helped, since his hands had also taken the brunt of the product responsible.

“What kind of party warrants this kind of costuming?” Sherlock asked, fussing with the hat’s position on his curls.

“Oh I can think of five theme options already,” the assistant called out, with no remorse for how invested they were now in this adventure. “You’d be surprised at some of the themes people tell me when they come in. Perhaps “a weekend in the Sussex countryside?” he suggested.

Sherlock smiled. “That would be nice. And these would fit there.”

“Fine,” John said impatiently. “I suppose… if we’re really doing this…?” He lifted the netting and raised a brow at Sherlock, who took one final dismayed look in the mirror and nodded.

They grabbed their belongings and paid to hire the outfits for the day and walked back to the cab which was thankfully still waiting. John did not enjoy the looks they were getting from passers by, though he supposed it would have been much worse if he was green and walking about.

The cabbie had a good laugh as they got in. “Well, I suppose if you both look ridiculous no one will question it,” he said.

“On to the original address,” Sherlock directed, his tone blunt. John was back to silent gazing out the window which Sherlock didn’t particularly like. He much preferred his doctor feisty and communicative. He reached out and put a hand gently on John’s knee, surprising his friend.

“Sorry,” he said gently. “I really am sorry, John.”

John looked down at the hand on his knee, Mrs Hudson’s well meaning, but confusing advice swirling around in his head.

“It’s fine;” he said simple and returned to his window gazing.

——

Thanks for reading. Let me know if you want to be tagged!

@notjustamumj @lisbeth-kk @helloliriels @totallysilvergirl @221beloved @safedistancefrombeingsmart @givemesherbet-blog-blog @naefelldaurk @a-victorian-girl @phoenix27884

[dragon-kazansky]

Heart of the Dreaming

Morpheus x Female Reader

Soulmate AU

You are the daughter of Rodrick Burgess. You find out about the "demon" in the basement and decide you want to see it. Things take an unexpected turn when your soulmate connection is made with the man you find down there. You are the one he has been waiting for, and you're being taken away from. Not for long. Dream will protect his soulmate.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Eight - Our purpose

☆☆☆

A knock on your door breaks you out of your thoughts. You sit up and look at your door. You're not sure how long ago Lucienne had left and expect that it's probably her returning to tell you he has come back.

You rise from the bed and walk over to the door, opening it carefully. It is not Lucienne standing there but Dream himself.

"You're back."

"Yes."

The silence between you is thick and awkward. You feel strange standing in front of him again. He seems different, somehow.

"Can I come in?" He asks.

"Oh right... Yes." You move and let him into your room. He closes the door behind him and turns to find you sitting on your bed again.

"Are you well?" He asks.

"Yes."

He stands there silently. It's rather intimidating. You feel anxious under his gaze and find it easier not to look at him. He might think you're being rude, but you're really not sure what else to do.

"Come with me," he says flatly.

You look at him. "Where to?"

"I am going to meet with my sister. I want you to come."

You feel his honesty in his words. He does want you to go with him. You feel like you should mention that you wanted to leave, but now it didn't seem like the right time.

"Alright."

☆☆☆

You find yourself sitting on a park bench beside Dream. In his hand is some bread, which he's slowly breaking apart to feed to the pigeons.

You sigh quietly as you look around you. The world was new to you. There was a lot to see and do. There are a lot of things you'd need to learn. You had been locked away in that house for so long.

He hasn't spoken much to you.

A ball comes flying from the game being played in front of you, and Morpheus catches it with one hand. You look at him in awe.

It impressed you. Morpheus impressed you.

The young man playing the game came over and apologised. He looks at you and then back at Morpheus. Neither of you say anything.

He takes the ball and returns to the game.

You look up and see a woman approaching. She smiles at you as she comes over. You have no idea who she is, or maybe you do. You keep your eyes on her as she walks closer and sits down next to Dream.

"What you doing?"

"I'm feeding the pigeons," he replies.

Death looks at her brother and then glances at you. She smiles and then turns back to her brother.

"You do that too much, you know what you get?"

Morpheus shakes his head gently.

"Fat pigeons." She smiles. "That's from Mary Poppins. Did you ever see it?"

"No."

A little girl runs past through the birds and startles them. Death smiles as she watches her go.

Morpheus is very silent. Death looks at her brother and asks, "what's the matter?"

"What do you mean?"

Dream glances at you and then turns back to the birds. "I don't know what's wrong, but... You're right. Something is the matter."

Death sits back and shows him she's listening.

"When they captured me, I just had one thought. Vengeance. It wasn't as satisfying as I'd expected. Meanwhile, my kingdom had fallen apart. My tools long since stolen and scattered. And so I embarked upon a journey to find them. Which I did. I'm now more powerful than I have been in eons. And yet..."

He goes silent. Death understands. She leans forward again. "Here you are, feeding the pigeons."

"You see, until then, I'd had a true quest. A purpose beyond my function, and then suddenly, it was over, and... I felt disappointed. Let down. Empty."

You look at him curiously. He was so strange. You didn't quite understand how he works and how his mind ticks. You didn't understand him. Then again, you hadn't had much time to learn about him.

"Does that make sense?" He asks, looking at his sister. "I was so sure that once I got everything back, I'd feel good. But in some ways, I feel worse than when I started. I feel like... Nothing. There. You asked."

"You could have called me, you know." Death tells him.

"I didn't want to worry you." He says back.

"Oh, I don't believe it. Let me tell you something, Dream." She takes the bread from his hand. "And I'm only going to say this once, so you better pay attention. You are utterly the stupidest, most self-centered, pathetic excuse for an anthropomorphic personification on this or any other plane. Feeling sorry for yourself because your little game is over and you haven't got the balls to go out and find a new one. You're as bad as Desire. No, worse."

Death throws the bread back at him, and he catches it.

"And, who are you, if i may ask?" Death looks at you.

"Oh, um..." You feel like you've been put on the spot. Does she know? Doesn't seem like it. Is it your place to tell her?

"My soulmate," Dream tells her.

Death looks at you in awe.

"Soulmate?" Death asks. She glances between you and her brother. "Wait, are you serious? When did this happen?"

"Um. Well, you see... Dream was captured by my father. He was under the house for years... and then I went to take a look one day, and I got this." You hold out your wrist. Death looks at the scar. Suddenly, she grabs her brother's arm and pulls up his sleeve. Her looks at her, unimpressed.

"Curious." She smiles. "That is rare indeed."

"How rare?" You ask, wanting to know more.

"Well, no other of the Endless have a soulmate. Just Dream." She smiles at you.

"What does that mean?"

You avoid looking at Dream. You're too embarrassed to meet his eyes right now. It felt strange finally talking about this thing that connects the pair of you.

"It means you're special."

"I didn't ask to be special." You say to her.

Dream looks down at the ground. He hadn't really had time to sit down and talk to you. He probably should have before coming to speak to his sister. You didn't know him. He didn't really know you. There was a lot of space between you both, and this bond, despite being so real, felt barely there.

"Dream?"

He looks up at his sister.

"You've found your soulmate. You need to connect with her. You have something we don't. Don't spoil it."

Dream turns to look at you. "I am sorry for how I have behaved."

You look at him confused. "You? I think I'm the sorry one. I was so freaked out by everything, and we went straight to looking for your tools... everything is a mess. Sure, you're intimidating, but that doesn't mean I should be rude to you."

It was his turn to look confused.

"Look, I don't know anything about all this soulmate business. All I know is that we are connected. Being soulmates doesn't mean we have to fall in love or anything. It just means we're connected, and that's okay with me." You offer him a smile.

Dream finds himself pleasantly surprised by your words. You've made him feel rather comforted and welcome. It has been a rocky start, but maybe it's time to start again.

"Then we can be friends?" He asks.

"If you'd like."

Death look at her brother with a smug expression and then say as to you, "he doesn't have many friends."

"Well, he has one now." You smile at him.

"Two. He has two friends now." Death grins.

You look at her as if to ask who the other is, but she doesn't respond. She looks around smugly. Dream doesn't say anything either, which leaves you rather curious.

A moment of silence falls between you all before Death speaks again. "Did it never occur to you that I would be worried about you?" She asks.

"I didn't think you-"

"Exactly. You didn't think."

The ball comes flying again, and this time, Death catches it. Morpheus lowers his gaze to pigeons in front of him. While Franklin, the young man playing ball, talks to Death, you look at Morpheus.

"You're as good as your... friend there."

"He's not my friend. He's my brother. And he's an idiot."

"I'm just feeding the birds." Morpheus says.

"Look, I can't stay here all day. I've got work to do. You can come with me if you want, or you can stay here and sulk." Death tells him.

"I'll come with you, I suppose." He replies.

"Well, don't do me any favours." She smiles at him. As Morpheus rises, she chuckles. "You're invited too," she says to you.

You stand up and look at Dream. He looks at you and gives you the subtlest of nods. You join him by his side and walk with him as he follows Death through the park.

"Where are we going?" You ask softly.

"To watch Death work."

Death takes you both on a walk. It's a sunny day, and there's lots of things going on here and there. She stops at a stall and looks at the apple.

"Three please."

"None for me, thank you," Morpheus says.

"You could have it later," Death suggests. He just looks at her. "Just two then."

The vendor chooses 2 apples for her and hands them over. She smiles and turns, holding one out for you. You take it and smile at her softly in thanks. She looks leased that you took it.

Dream watches you as you bite into the apple. Your eyes seem to light up pleasantly as you chew. He wondered when the last time you had an apple was. Judging by your reaction, it had been a while.

Death smiles and loops her arm with her brother as they continue walking. She bites into her apple. Dream glances at you as his sister drags him away slowly. You chuckle softly, following behind them.

"You are good with them," Morpheus says to his sister.

"Apples?"

"Humans." He clarifies.

Death holds up the apple to him. "Bite?"

"No, thank you."

"Have you seen any of the others since you've been back?" Death asks Dream. He confirms he hasn't. Death mentions the last dinner they had together.

The others? You look between the siblings and wonder. They are peculiar in every way, yet you're fascinated. Of all the things your father did and tried, these two were the most interesting of them all.

Death. The being your father tried to trap. You feel awful thinking about it.

You hear Death tell Dream he was missed, along with their missing brother who left some time ago. When he keeps quiet, she teases him by pretending he's asking her questions and then she answers them.

You smile. You never had this kind of relationship with your brothers. Perhaps life would have been different had it been.

Morpheus finds it amusing and looks at her, asking, "How are you, my sister? How have you been keeping?"

"I'm worried about my brother." She replies. "And I'm enjoying this apple." She turns around and looks at you, smiling softly.

"Don't hide back there. Come join us. He has two arms, you know." She chuckles. She's teasing you both. You sigh softly and join Dream on his other side. You don't touch him, but you do walk closely beside him.

Morpheus notices this.

As you walk a little further along, you hear violin music coming from an open window above you. The three of you stop to listen.

"I know this piece." Morpheus says softly. "I haven't heard it in 200 years."

"Come on." Death urges him softly to follow her. You look at Dream and follow him inside. The violin music plays as you enter the apartment. When you reach the room, it's being played from, it stops as the man coughs. Death approaches the man.

"Don't stop, please." She says gently.

You stand beside Dream and watch as his sister approaches the man. There comes a moment of surrealism. The man is dead. She has come to see him to the other side. You feel strange.

She lets the man say a prayer before he takes her hand. Morpheus looks at you as she goes into the other room with him. You can hear her wings.

"Are you alright?" He asks.

You look up at him. "Yes."

Death returns. She smiles softly. "Come." She leaves the apartment, and you both follow her out. Death walks beside you.

"Has my brother been looking after you?"

"Oh, um. Well, I suppose. He came back to rescue me, and then we went looking for his tools, and now I'm here."

"Is that all?" She asks softly.

"Well, yes."

She glances back at Dream, who stares at her quietly. You switch your gaze between them as you wait for someone to say something. Death looks almost disappointed in Dream.

"What do you think of my brother?"

"Well... He's unusual. I don't know..."

"Do you think he's handsome?" She asks outright.

You stutter softly. You can feel his eyes on you, and you avoid looking up at him just in case. Death smiles softly and realises you're not going to answer her verbally. She winks at you and then carries on walking away.

Eventually, you all come to a stop. She begins to remove her boots.

"My father... it was you he wanted to trap..." You say, watching her. She looks at you with a soft expression.

"I know."

"I'm so sorry..."

"Whatever for? It was your fault." She smiles.

"No, but... My family is the reason your brother was trapped for all those years. We were the reason people suffered..."

Death places a reassuring hand on your shoulder and gives you her kind smile. You feel comforted by her. "You are not at fault. Had they never captured my brother, he never would have found you."

Your face feels slightly warm. You can tell Dream is listening.

"I suppose."

Death doesn't say any more on the matter. She leads the way down to a grassy bank. You find yourself walking beside Dream again. Having him beside you was beginning to feel comforting. You stop to watch Death approach a man. He has drowned in the canal. You watch Death do her job. You watch the wife of the man run to her husband's body and cry. People gather around. You drop your gaze.

"I was going to ask if you'd let me leave, and we'd never have to see each other again now you're free," you say, not looking at him.

Dream turns his head to look at you.

"Now I think I'd rather like to stay." You turn to him now.

"I'm glad," he says.

You hear the sound of wings.

Death watches you both from where she stands. She smiles softly. This soulmate thing could be good for him. She's certain of it. Especially if he falls in love with you.

The two siblings eventually join sides again and walk. You follow on the other side of Dream. He asks her how she's does it. Death confides in him about how she feels about her role. "I have a job to do. And I do it. When the first living thing existed, I was there. When the last living thing dies, I'll put the chairs on the table, turn out the lights, and... lock the universe behind me when I leave."

You listen to her talk. She's putting the world into a new perspective for you.

"I'm not there for all of them. There are exceptions." She says. "Mad Hettie. And then there's your ongoing project."

You look up when she says that.

"How's he faring up after all this time?"

"Who? Hob Gadling?"

"Hob Gadling?" You question, looking between them, but Dream continues to talk to Death.

"I was forced to miss our last appointment." Dream tells her.

"Well, I'm sure he'd love to see you." Death looks at him. "Maybe take her with you. She could meet your other friend."

Dream knows Death is talking about you.

"They're never too keen to see me, though."

"Does it not bother you?" Dream asks.

"I actually used to think I had the hardest job in all our family."

"Oh, did you?" Dreams looks amused.

"They fear the Sunless Lands, yet they enter your realm every night without fear."

"And yet I am far more terrible than you." He says.

You smile at the two.

They talk some more. As they talk, you lose yourself in your thoughts. The world was vastly different than you remember it. Just like Dream, you had been a prisoner at that house. You had missed out on so much. You look at Dream and realise that he's your chance of a future. You don't fit into this world anymore, but you have him.

You hear Death confess that she had thought about giving up. Dream looks bewildered by her statement. You follow her into a house and find yourself freezing at the door. Morpheus sees the crib and then looks at you. Death gives you an apologetic look as she picks up the baby.

Morpheus comes to stand in front of you. You find yourself startled as he reaches for your hand. You look up at him. The sound of wings fills the back of your mind.

Life was unfair sometimes.

"Are you okay?" He asks.

You nod silently.

He lets go of your hand when you all leave the house, but he continues to walk right beside you. He keeps his eyes on you as you all walk.

Dream learns a lot from his sister. He learns a lot about humanity. He also learns quite a bit about you. He has seen the way reaches to everything today. You were lost in your own world, but you have chosen to stay by his side. He was thankful.

Eventually, you slowly start to make your way back to the park. You and Dream walk side by side. Death walks on the other side of her brother.

"I used to think I had to do this all by myself."

"But you do."

"No. At the end, I'm there with them. I'm holding their hand and they're holding mine. I'm not alone when I'm doing my job. And neither are you. Think about it. The only reason we even exist, you and I, and Desire and Despair, the whole family. We're here to serve them."

Dream listens to her.

"It isn't about quests or finding purpose outside our function. Our purpose is pur function. We're here for them. Since I figured that out, I realised I need them as much as they need me."

Morpheus seems pleased by her words.

"I've seen so many cool things and people and worlds. I've learned so much. Lots of people don't have a job they love doing, do they? So, I think I'm really very lucky."

You smile. She liked her job. Maybe you can help Dream with his.

"Listen, I've got to head back soon."

Morpheus takes her hand. "You've taught me something I have forgotten. I thank you, my sister."

Death smiles at Dream.

"Aw. That's what family's about, little brother."

Death turns her gaze to you, "Look after her, won't you, Dream?"

"I will," Dream says. He looks at you softly.

There's a screech of a car, and then Franklin comes over when he sees Death and starts talking to her. Dream smiles and starts guiding you away.

Death calls out to him. "Don't be a stranger, okay?"

He nods and continues leading you away.

"Where are we going?" You ask softly.

"I'm late for an appointment."

You walk with him in a comfortable silence.

☆☆☆

@deniixlovezelda - @missdreamofendless - @kpopgirlbtssvt - @meganlpie - @thoughtsfromlayla - @ladyjbrekker

@mwaaaaaugh - @bluespecs14 - @intothesoul - @lady-violet - @navs-bhat - @krahk - @oldsoulmagic

@rubyrose2014 - @lorkai - @roxytheimmortal - @star-maker-rain-dancer - @intothesoul - @gemini-mama - @whotperlinda

@dreamingblueberries - @the-shadow-of-aurora - @novavida - @blackgirlmagicforever

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 - @hopshusushi - @sloppyzengarden - @thecraziestcrayon -

[chrisevansonly]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨: 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: the day had finally come to bring little matteo to the track. charles had been waiting for this day since he was born, but made sure to wait until you were ready. now matteo is 6 months old and his father couldn’t be more excited to show him everything he could about f1

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mentions of anxiety, harsh media but other than that, lots of fluff!

𝐚/𝐧: here she is! chapter two and man have the past few days been taxing on me, i’m just trying to focus on writing and ignoring everything else so, i hope your enjoying this series and are looking forward to this chapter! it’s a bit on the shorter end but i hope that’s okay, i haven’t been feeling well lately<3

𝐰𝐜: 900 ish…?

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

It was finally the long-awaited day, well for Charles at least, where little Matteo was finally going to be heading to the track to watch the grand prix. Well technically you had agreed to qualifying day and if all went well then you would come back for the race on Sunday. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to bring your baby boy to watch his father do what he loves, you were still just an anxious new mom, and your husband knew that.

“Okay, extra bottles…his pacifier, pluto the dog”

“Baby, I think you have everything..”

Shaking your head you paused

“Charles, I need to make sure I have everything because if I don’t and he freaks out I-I just”

“Whoa..okay..”

Charles placed his hands on your shoulders, your eyes coming up to meet his which of course were full of nothing but love for you

“Are you sure you want to come?” he asked, no hint of disappointment at all

“Yes, I do..Char I promise I do..I’m sorry I just am all over the place I suppose”

Charles nodded, understanding exactly where you were coming from, thankfully the two of you were able to have a quiet moment together as Matteo napped before you had to leave

“It’s okay, I know you’re anxious, but we’ll take it one step at a time okay? When I can’t be with you I know Joris or Marta will be right?”

You nodded

“You also know if you need anything at all you can have someone from the team get me right away right..?”

He waited until you nodded once again before pressing a kiss to your forehead

“Right…no you’re right..okay I think I have everything ready to go then”

“Good, then let’s go get the little man and head out!”

-

Monaco was a beautiful city, but on race week and weekend it seemed to get that much more magical. The paddock was no different, familiar faces and friends could be spotted easily, Charles’s family around as well which was perfect for Matteo

“Bonjour petit ours!”

At the sound of Arthur Leclerc’s voice, Matteo squealed as he began to wave his little arms around, the younger Leclerc brother quickly coming over and taking him from you, before leaning forward to pull you in for a hug, placing a kiss on both of your cheeks

“Bonjour chouchou”

“Hi Thur, nice to see a familiar face”

He smiled

“Yes I would think so, this year is a bit crazy, I was just about to walk over to the Ferrari garage if you want company?”

“I’d love that! Where is Carla?”

Matteo placed a hand on Arthur’s cheek as he babbled away, his little eyes looking at everything around him

“Oh she is on her way, i’m sure she’ll be glued to you both”

Ever since you’d started your relationship with Charles and had the chance to meet Carla when she came into Arthur’s life, you’d been super close to one another, it was like having a little sister all in one.

“Well he seems to be quite content to be here”

You smiled as you looked at your little one, his eyes still enamoured by the sights and noises

“I’m surprised, I was so anxious he’d be scared of everything”

“He is a Leclerc, he was born for this.”

Arthur sent you a wink as you both arrived at the garages, truth be told the comment he made had sent a bit of worry throughout you. Charles grew up karting, and it was something he had begun to talk to you about with Matteo, and you were absolutely terrified. Terrified at the thought of him getting in that little kart, terrified to watch him go fast and potentially get hurt. It was a thought for another day.

Matteo had settled back into your arms as his uncle kissed his head and then walked away towards some of his F2 friends he’d spotted, giving you time to bring your baby boy over to the garage. It wasn’t long before he let out his tell tale excited squeal, and it meant he had either spotted his father, or Max Verstappen. Matteo’s relationship with Max was something so adorable, he’d gotten close to the dutch driver from a young age, and he and Kelly had always been two of the first people you’d call to babysit, besides your mother in law of course.

“Hey there little speed demon!”

You rolled your eyes at Max as he was quick to come over and take Matteo from you

“Oh sorry Y/N didn’t even see you there” he teased

“Sure, no I totally understand, I’m virtually invisible when I’ve got this cutie with me”

Max went to rebuttal when an arm slipped around your waist and a pair of lips pressed to your temple

“Tu n’es jamais invisible pour moi, chérie”

“Aww merci bébé!”

Leaning into Charles you laughed as Max was quick to cover Matteo’s eyes

“Come on, we need to escape, too much grossness here for you baby leclerc!”

“Bring him back before quali please!”

Charles yelled as Max began to walk away, the red bull driver yelling a ‘you got it!’ back before it was just you and your husband.

“How are you feeling now?” he asked letting you lean further into his side, knowing you needed a bit more comfort, especially when Matteo wasn’t around

“A bit better, Teo’s been loving every second..I should have known everything would be okay”

“No, it’s okay to be anxious you know that, it’s his first time here…I know you’re anxious right now knowing he’s not with you”

You hated how easily he could read you, and man did he know you inside and out like a book

“He’s safe with Max, i’m sure he’s gone to see Kelly as well, if you want I can call him?” he offered which had you shaking your head

“Oh no, let him enjoy his time, though i’m sure Maman will be over soon begging to take him, I think she’s jealous of Max”

This had Charles laughing as he nodded in agreement

“Yes she was telling me the other day that he spends far too much time with Max”

“We’re so lucky aren’t we?”

“We are.”

It always occurred to you that unlike some families you would never ever run out of love, in fact you had an abundance of it. From your friends and family, to Charles’s friends and family. Matteo would always grow up with so many people around him that adored him just as much as you and Charles did.

Even if there was a deeper conversation waiting and gnawing at you to be had, it could wait for another day. Right now you only wanted to focus on your family and Matteo as he got his first taste at Formula One track life. Nothing could wipe the smile off your face seeing how happy your boys were. Charles had settled into being a father so gracefully, managing his time at work and at home in a way that had you so grateful.

“It’s almost quali..we should go find Teo”

“Good idea, Max has stolen my son enough!”

Shaking your head, Charles took your hand and began to walk towards the one spot you knew where he would be. Soon enough, you saw your little boy laughing and clapping as he was entertained by not only Max but Christian as well.

At least you knew if Ferrari didn’t pick him when he got older Red Bull would.

english translations:

Bonjour petit ours - hello little bear

Bonjour chouchou - hello sweetheart

Tu n’es jamais invisible pour moi, chérie - you are never invisible to me baby

Aww merci bébé - thank you baby

ʚlittle karter series tag list

@goldenmclaren @a1leexxa @piastricodedfr @treehouse-mouse @therealcap @goldenalbon @wintfleur

[wa1kerbait4592]

planet of the apes 🦧

dude… i have now seen the new kingdom of the planet of the apes in cinema twice and the first time around i wasn’t all that impressed and i left the theatre kinda disappointed but the second time around i left a little more impressed and a little less disappointed.

the movie was still weak compared to the first three films, (the rise, dawn and war) but im glad it was made.

as a whole i believe this franchise is criminally underrated on multiple different levels. The poetic nature of the films is something i don’t think i would ever articulate or write on paper to perfectly capture how beautifully made these films are, they are just chefs kiss

proximus caesar was a funny villain that i think deserved more screen time and back story, it makes me kinda sad to think that we wont really see his character again.

the symbolism that links all four films together is incredibly well done and throughout the entire series there are crumbs of the films that came before them, which is a part of the reason why i love these films so much. i like how they made noa so similar to caesar, not only in his appearance but in his characteristics. i like to believe it was intentional that noa and caesar (particularly in dawn of the planet of the apes with malcolm) cautiously but willingly trusted a human. noa is so incredibly similar to caesar it would be criminal to suggest otherwise.

dude these films are so visually well done you almost forget you are watching cgi. the visual effects alone blow my mind but the accuracy and attention to detail when it comes to the mannerisms of the apes is out of this world and deserves more recognition. in terms of cinematography planet of the apes have always been amazing at beautifully capturing emotions from all the apes and even better at showing the wonders of a post-human run world. the forests and surroundings that the apes find themselves in continue to amaze me, especially in this newest film were we see a variety of different landscapes.

as much as i am growing to love kingdom of the planet of the apes, i feel as though we could have waited for noa and his story. i think cornelius and the others that were left behind after caesars death deserved a closing chapter. i would have loved to know how the community handled the loss of their leader and saviour and how they all moved on. also i feel as though we needed back story on how the apes separated and became different clans spread all across the continent. as an example i would have also loved to see how the misinterpretation of caesar and what he stood for became so strong and wide spread, as well as why noas clan and their elders knew nothing of caesar or chose to leave him out of their history. there were a lot of open ends and unfinished stories that deserved more screen time, but in saying that, that could mean an eternity of story telling that everyone may not want to see.

at the end of kingdom of the planet of the apes they left it open for another film which i am looking forward to seeing where they take story line. are they going to fully circle around to the original films were they capture more humans and start to use them as slaves or will the story begin to get repetitive? i hope repetition won’t sneak its way into these films like is has with so many other franchises, but we can only hope right?

anyways-

long live monkeys… i love monkeys and we need more monkey movies

also- i know i don’t really do this sort of this thing on this account but i was beginning to genuinely tweak if i didn’t word vomit my thoughts on these movies <3

[amilovesworld]

Checkered Hearts||4||

Chapter 1| Chapter 2| Chapter 3| Chapter 5| Chapter 6|

Summary: Y/n, a young journalist chasing her dream in the world of sports, never imagined her path would lead her to F1—or to Carlos Sainz Jr., a driver whose charm and sarcasm quickly blur the lines between professional rivalry and something more. As they clash, argue, and share unexpected moments, Y/n's life is turned upside down, forcing her to make choices she never saw coming. But in a world of speed, fame, and pressure, can she hold on to everything she’s worked for, or will she find herself racing toward something—someone—she never planned for?

Genre: Fluff/ Enemies to lovers/ Slow burn

Pairing: Carlos Sainz jr. x Indian reader

Warnings: looonnng Chapters, long series, slow burn, eventual smut.

Carlos was still buzzing with adrenaline after the qualifying session at the Belgian GP. The car had felt sharp, and he’d delivered a solid lap, but as he stepped into the media pen, something felt... off. He looked around, scanning the crowd of journalists for a familiar face. Normally, she’d be there—mic in hand, sharp eyes ready to catch him off guard with her witty questions. But she wasn’t there. Instead, a new journalist approached him, smiling nervously. “Mr. Sainz, could we get a moment?” the man asked, holding out a microphone. Carlos blinked, caught off guard, but quickly masked his disappointment with a polite smile. “Sure,” he said. The interview went smoothly, but his mind wasn’t entirely present. It was strange how much her absence affected him. He knew she’d been reassigned to cricket—she’d told him herself—but it hadn’t hit him until now, standing here without her usual banter to ground him. It wasn’t just the teasing or her knack for making the most mundane questions entertaining. It was her. Once his media duties were done, Carlos didn’t hesitate. He pulled out his phone and opened their chat.

Carlos: So, you’ve officially abandoned me, huh? Not even a warning?

He stared at the screen, waiting. The reply came quicker than he’d expected.

Y/N: I told you I was moving to cricket. What more of a warning did you need? A press release?

Carlos: Yes, actually. Maybe a heartfelt goodbye too. Something dramatic.

Y/N: You’re unbelievable.

Carlos: And you’re a traitor.

Y/N: I really don’t have the energy to deal with your stupidity right now.

Carlos: Stupidity? You left me, Y/N. I’m hurt, and now you’re calling me stupid? This is too much. I’m even more hurt.

Y/N: Stop being a drama queen, Carlos, and let me sleep.

Carlos: It’s 8:45 PM. I know you don’t sleep this early.

Y/N: Carlos, I’m in India. I’m four hours ahead of you. It’s 1 AM here. Bye. Good night.

Carlos huffed, staring at her last message. India. She was so far away, and yet her absence felt even closer—like a hole he couldn’t quite fill. Just as he sighed and locked his phone, it buzzed again.

Y/N: All the best for tomorrow. I’ll be rooting for you.

And just like that, his mood lifted. A small smile tugged at his lips as he re-read her message. Even miles away, she had a way of making everything feel right. Carlos put his phone down after reading her last message, but he couldn’t shake the smile from his face. She was rooting for him, even from across the world. As much as he hated her being gone, her texts still managed to make him feel grounded.

_______________________________________________________________

The next morning, as the paddock buzzed with pre-race energy, Carlos tried to focus on the task at hand. But every now and then, his mind would wander. How was she? Did she miss F1 as much as he missed her being here? He almost tripped over a cable at the garage, earning a raised eyebrow from his engineer. “Long night?”Alex teased. Carlos just shook his head. “Something like that.” After a solid race that morning, Carlos finally had time to himself in his hotel room. Exhausted but restless, he grabbed his phone. _______________________________________________________________________

Meanwhile, in India, Y/N sat in a cramped media box at a cricket stadium, watching the match unfold below her. She should have been excited—this was cricket, her first love. She was covering her first international match, surrounded by the buzz of the game she’d grown up watching. But something didn’t feel right.. F1 had wormed its way into her heart in a way she hadn’t expected. She missed the sound of roaring engines, the rush of the paddock, and—if she was being honest—she missed him. Her phone buzzed on the desk beside her, pulling her from her thoughts.

Carlos: We won’t talk about the fact that I looked for you in the paddock today again.

Y/N: Carlos, the paddock is the size of a small city. Surely you’ve figured out by now I’m not hiding in a corner.

Carlos: You say that, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you were. Are you sure you’re not secretly here? Maybe in disguise?

Y/N: Yes, Carlos. I’m currently dressed as a Ferrari mechanic. Totally inconspicuous.

Carlos: No wonder Charles' car had an engine failure today.

Y/N: You’re ridiculous. How was the race?

Carlos: It was good. P4. Could’ve been better if I had a stubborn  journalist grilling me in the post-race interviews.

Y/N: Still fishing for compliments, I see.

Carlos: Always. So, how’s cricket? Do you wear a helmet like we do?

Y/N: ...Carlos.

Carlos: What? I’m genuinely asking. I know nothing about cricket.

Y/N: Clearly. No, I don’t wear a helmet. I’m a journalist, not a player.

Carlos: Shame. Would’ve loved to see you in one.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at his absurdity, earning a few confused glances from her colleagues. She quickly composed herself and went back to work, her mood significantly lighter.

Y/N had been trying to immerse herself in the cricket world, but it wasn’t easy. While the game itself was familiar, the environment was anything but. The cricket press box lacked the high-octane chaos of the paddock. There were no engines roaring in the background, no drivers sprinting by in a blur of race suits. It was quieter, and she hated it.

Still, she worked hard, diving into interviews and match analysis. When she wasn’t working, she found herself in the group chat she shared with the drivers, her besties or texting Carlos, who had become her go-to for venting.

One day, as she nervously sat in the media lounge, preparing for her first-ever interview with Virat Kohli, her phone vibrated incessantly. Tired, she finally checked it, only to find her group chat, Chaos Land, buzzing with messages. It was a group she had named Chaos Land because it was the perfect combination of three drivers' names and their personalities. 

Chaos Land

Charles:BREAKING NEWS: Max Verstappen just got pranked by Alex. He put tape on Max’s helmet visor. Max almost went nuclear.

Carlos: Oh, it was so fun to plan that with Alex.

Lando: He planed that with you?

Carlos: Have you guys forgotten, Alex and I are teammates. So yes, we planned that together.

Charles: What a great prank Chilli.  Watching Max lose it was absolutely priceless.

Y/N: Oh, what an Inchident!

Charles: Very funny, Y/N. 😏

Lando: LOL, we need to prank Carlos next. Y/N, back us up here!

Y/N: Guys, I’m not even there anymore. Do your own dirty work. 😒

Carlos: Thank God you're not here. I don’t need another instigator. 🙄

Lando: You miss her. Just admit it.

Carlos: I don't. Stop projecting. 🤦‍♂️

Y/N laughed, her mood lifting slightly. She hated to admit it, but these conversations kept her sane. The gossip, the teasing, and the sheer ridiculousness of these boys always brought a smile to her face.

The next morning, while scrolling through Instagram during breakfast, Carlos saw Y/N’s post—a picture of her with Virat Kohli. The caption read: “Dream come true! An honor to interview the legend himself!”His jaw tightened. He wasn’t sure why he felt a pang of... something. Jealousy? Annoyance? Whatever it was, it made him open Chaos Land immediately.

Carlos: *Screenshot*

Carlos: So, you’re fangirling over cricketers now?

Lando: Ooooooh, he’s jealous.

Y/N: Carlos, It’s Virat Kohli. VIRAT KOHLI.

Charles: Who?

Lando:🤦🏻 He’s like the Lewis Hamilton of cricket.

Charles: Got it. Sounds impressive.

Carlos: I’m not jealous. I just think it’s funny how quickly she’s moved on from us.

Y/N: To be fair, I was always a cricket fan first, you guys just bombarded my life.

Carlos: Oh, so now we’re just a "bombardment"?

Y/N: Yep, you guys came crashing into my life like race cars.

Lando: You didn’t mind the crash, though.

Carlos: First Virat, now Lando? I’m hurt.

Y/N: I’m allowed to fangirl over whoever I want.

Charles: Can I fangirl over Y/N too?

Lando: Isn’t that what you do every time you see her?

Carlos: I think she’s more of a Carlos Sainz fan, honestly.

Y/N: Of course I am, Carlos Sainz Sr. is a world champion.

Carlos: I walked into that myself, that's on me.

These text messages were what keeping Y/N sane.

Y/N was waiting in the crowded airport terminal, her phone buzzed in her bag. She fished it out, expecting the usual barrage of updates, but instead, it was a message from Carlos.

Carlos:What’s up?

She smiled, her fingers itching to text him back. She quickly typed, her eyes on the departure board.

Y/N: Heading to London. Next match is at Lord’s. But guess what? I finally got to go home.

Carlos: Wait... you went back to the Himalayas?

Y/N: Yeah. For the first time in... forever. It was just me, my parents, and my sister.

Carlos: I’m so happy for you.

Carlos: I know it’s not the same as being with me, but I’m glad you got to go home.

Y/N chuckled softly, a small laugh that only Carlos could be so full of himself.

Y/N: You’re unbelievable, you know that? Always so sure of yourself.

Carlos: What can I say? You inspire confidence.

Y/N: Thanks, and bye—heading to boarding.

Carlos: Bye, have a safe journey, and don’t miss me too much.______________________________________________________________ It was a busy day at Lord’s as Y/N covered the intense India vs. England match. The stands were alive with energy, the crowd cheering at every turn, but then there was an extra burst of excitement. A loud roar erupted from the crowd, and Y/N’s eyes instinctively flicked toward the commotion. She froze for a second, her heart skipping a beat when she saw them—Carlos, Charles, Lando, and Oscar—standing near the VIP section, casually waving and smiling at the crowd.

She knew instantly what was coming. The speculation, the gossip. She couldn’t avoid it. So, she quickly pulled out her phone, sending a message to their group chat, Chaos Land.

Y/N: What are you guys doing here?

Charles: We were in the city for a bit, so thought we’d drop by. 

Y/N: You guys know how many theories are going to be made, right? This is a crisis in the making.

Carlos: Does it look like we care? Let them speculate. It’s fun.

Lando: Don’t act like you’re not happy to see us. 

Y/N rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips. It had been a while since they’d all been together, especially since she had been deep into cricket coverage and they had their own racing schedules.

Y/N: You guys really know how to make an entrance. Can't believe you all just decided to show up here unannounced.

Charles: It’s not unannounced. We just thought we’d surprise you. How are you?

Y/N: Busy as usual. But I’m glad you guys are here.

As the match wound down, Y/N quickly wrapped up her coverage and made her way to the designated VIP area where the guys were waiting. She could see them all standing there, smiling at her. The familiarity of their faces was enough to melt some of the exhaustion she felt from the day. It had been a while since she’d had time to just breathe and have a good laugh with them.

“Y/N!” Carlos called out as soon as he spotted her. “We were beginning to think you were going to bail on us.”

She laughed, walking up to them, shaking her head. "As if I could. It’s been ages!"

Oscar stepped forward first, giving her a casual hug. "It's been too long. You look... less stressed than when we last saw you."

“Probably because I’m not covering F1 for once," Y/N replied, eyes glinting with humor.

“Oh, please,” Lando chimed in, grinning. “You miss it. We can see it in your eyes. F1 is your true love."

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Sure, Lando, but cricket is my first love. You’d understand if you ever actually gave it a try."

“Maybe one day,” Lando teased, but his grin softened. "But seriously, how's everything going? We haven't caught up in ages."

"It’s been a whirlwind,” she admitted, looking at each of them. “But it’s good to see you guys. Feels like we’re back in Chaos Land again." She grinned at the name, knowing it was their little inside joke.

Carlos leaned closer, his trademark smirk making her heart do a little skip. “Well, you know, we had to make sure you were doing okay. Been missing our debates."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Please. You know I can’t resist mocking you every time.” She couldn’t stop the smile creeping up her face.

As they all chatted, there was an undeniable sense of warmth, like no time had passed since they last saw each other. The playful banter was still there, just as it had always been. She hadn’t realized how much she missed it until now.

The night moved on, and they all decided to grab dinner together. At the restaurant, they were a picture of chaos themselves—laughter, teasing, and stories flying in every direction. Y/N found herself falling into the rhythm of their jokes, their bond. It was effortless, comfortable, and it felt like home.

As the night came to a close, the group began to part ways. The guys were heading in one direction, but before Y/N could make her way out, Carlos stepped up to her, pulling her into a tight hug.

"Take care, alright?" he whispered, his voice just low enough for only her to hear. "It’s been good to see you again."

Y/N’s heart skipped at the sudden tenderness in his voice. She hugged him back, her smile softening as she felt the weight of the moment. "You too, Carlos. Seriously."

Carlos didn’t let go immediately. He pulled back just enough to look at her, his expression a mixture of something unspoken, his eyes intense yet gentle. Without another word, he leaned in, brushing a lock of her hair out of the way, and placed a soft, lingering kiss on her forehead. For a second, Y/N froze, her breath caught in her throat, unsure of what just happened. It was so unexpected, yet so perfectly Carlos.

"See you soon. Hopefully, for more than just a quick dinner next time," he murmured, his voice low and sincere.

Y/N blinked, still processing the moment, her hand instinctively rising to her forehead as if to trace the imprint of his kiss. “I—I will. Goodnight, Carlos,” she stammered, her voice softer than usual.

Carlos gave her one last look, his lips curling into a small, knowing smile. "Goodnight, Y/N."

As she stepped away, she felt the lingering warmth of the kiss and the unexpected connection it sparked between them. She turned back once more, her heart still racing. The guys were already heading toward the exit, but she could feel Carlos’s eyes on her, a mixture of affection and something deeper in them—something neither of them was ready to define yet.

And with that, Y/N walked away, a small smile playing on her lips, the warmth of the evening and that fleeting kiss staying with her long after. ___________________________________________________________

That night, Y/N was about to go to sleep when she thought of checking her mails only to get a shock. She just couldn't believe what was in front of her. There was an email.

From Sky Sports F1

Subject: Offer for Lead Sports Journalist - Formula 1

Dear Y/N,

I hope this email finds you well.

We are pleased to extend to you an offer to join the Sky Sports F1 team as our Lead Sports Journalist for Formula 1 coverage. After reviewing your portfolio and speaking with our senior staff who have had the pleasure of working with you during your time in the paddock, we are confident that you would be a great asset to our team.

Your unique insights, passion for motorsport, and sharp journalistic skills are exactly what we need to enhance our Formula 1 coverage. The position will involve handling in-depth reporting, interviews, and exclusive content creation both during race weekends and across our broader digital platforms. We are excited about the possibility of you joining the team.

Please review the attached offer letter for the details of the role, salary, and other benefits. We would be thrilled to have you on board and look forward to hearing from you soon.

Warm regards, James Hartley Head of F1 Journalism Sky Sports F1

She sat in disbelief, staring at the email in front of her. She reread the words over and over again. This was the opportunity she had been working toward for years, the moment her hard work and passion for F1 finally paid off. Her dream was coming true, and the timing couldn’t have been more perfect.

She quickly drafted her response, hitting send before she could second-guess herself.

To Sky Sports F1

Subject: Re: Offer for Lead Sports Journalist - Formula 1

Dear James,

Thank you for this incredible opportunity. I am thrilled to accept the offer and join the Sky Sports F1 team. I look forward to contributing to the channel’s renowned coverage of Formula 1 and taking on the responsibilities of this role.

I am eager to begin this new chapter and bring my expertise and passion to Sky Sports. Please let me know the next steps for me to finalize everything.

Best regards,Y/N

________________________________________________________________________

A few days later, Y/N sat in Mr. Grant’s office, her hands slightly trembling as she handed over her resignation letter.

Mr. Grant looked up at her, his expression shifting to one of surprise. “Y/N, this is unexpected. I thought you were happy here.”

“I appreciate the opportunity, but I’ve decided to move on,” she replied, keeping her voice steady.

He leaned back in his chair, frowning. “And you’re leaving for Sky Sports F1? After all we’ve invested in you?”

Y/N’s resolve didn’t waver. “I’ve worked hard for this. I’m not abandoning you, Mr. Grant. I’m just taking a step forward in my career.”

“Right,” Mr. Grant said, crossing his arms. “But don’t you think this is a bit...disloyal? You’ve been with us for what, a year? You don’t even know the first thing about managing a whole sport, and now you’re ditching us for F1?” He sighed dramatically. “This isn’t how you leave a job, Y/N.”

Y/N clenched her jaw. She wasn’t about to let him guilt-trip her.

“You want to talk about loyalty, Mr. Grant?” she began, her voice controlled but steady. “How about the time I was assigned to document the training camp while I was meant to be with my family? Or when I was given F1 when all I wanted was to be in cricket? Or when I was finally getting a handle on things in F1 and you pulled me out for cricket again?”

Mr. Grant’s face flushed with surprise and irritation.

“You didn’t even try to listen to what I wanted. You pushed me into something I didn’t want, and now when something better comes along, I’m the bad employee? I’ve worked hard for this job. But every time I showed any passion, I was dismissed. This isn’t about loyalty—it’s about me finding the place where I belong.”

She stood up, her decision final.

“I’ve given you a chance to support my career, but you’ve only seen me as a tool for your convenience. So, yes, I’m leaving. I don’t need to explain myself further.”

Mr. Grant’s face twisted with frustration, but Y/N was already walking out of his office. This was the moment she had to take. Her future was waiting for her.

____________________________________________________________________

It was the Pirelli Grand Prix, and the atmosphere in the paddock was electric. Fans filled the stands, teams were buzzing with excitement after a long, thrilling race, and media personnel rushed to get the final interviews.

Y/N was finally back. The feeling was indescribable. It had been far too long since she last stepped foot in the F1 paddock, and the rush of excitement coursing through her veins felt just like the first time she’d ever interviewed a driver. She kept her secret, walking around with a smile that only she knew the true reason for. Her heart fluttered every time someone would glance her way—mostly because the surprise was finally about to unfold.

As the drivers trickled into the media pen after the race, Y/N casually stepped forward, mic in hand.

Charles: (eyes widening) "No way! Y/N?" Y/N: (grinning) "Missed me, Charles?" Charles: (laughing) "I knew the peace and quiet wouldn’t last long."

Lando: (walking in) "What’s all the commotion—wait, Y/N?!" Y/N: "Surprise!" Lando: (dramatically) "My life just got a hundred times better. Carlos is going to lose his mind."

They chuckled before starting the interview. She had saved Carlos’ interview for last, hoping to catch him off guard. When Carlos finally walked into the pen, sweat still glistening on his forehead from the race, his eyes scanned the room. At first, he didn’t notice her—she was standing slightly to the side, waiting for the perfect moment.

Y/N: "Carlos, congratulations on P3. How does it feel to podium in your home race?"

His head snapped toward her, his expression shifting from confusion to disbelief, and then to something warmer—something that made Y/N’s heart skip a beat.

Carlos: (grinning) "You’re here?" Y/N: "I heard Pirelli Grand Prix interviews are impossible without me." Carlos: "No one told me you were back." Y/N: "It was supposed to be a surprise. Did it work?" Carlos: "Let’s just say this is the best surprise I’ve had all season."

The way he said it made Y/N blush, but she quickly masked it with professionalism. Soon she conducted his interview with the same professionalism she always did. It had been months since their playful banter, since their flirtations. The thought of being this close to him again made her feel like she was coming home. _______________________________________________________________________

The media session wrapped up, and the crowd began to thin out, leaving behind the usual crew. Y/N was wrapping up her notes in her small media room when she heard footsteps behind her.

Carlos, unable to contain himself any longer, stepped up behind her and before she could turn, he placed his hands on her shoulders and spun her gently around. Their eyes met, and in that instant, the playful teasing of their past felt like a distant memory. All the professional barriers they’d kept between them in front of cameras vanished.

He pulled her waist closer, his other hand resting at the small of her back, and for a moment, everything felt suspended in time. Then, without saying another word, he leaned down and kissed her, at first she’s shocked but soon she gave in. It started softly, as if testing the waters. But it wasn’t long before the kiss deepened, the overwhelming sense of missing each other evident in the way they moved together.

When they finally pulled away, breathless and with hearts pounding, Carlos whispered in her ear, his voice thick with emotion: “God, I missed you so much.”

Y/N’s heart raced in response. Her chest tightened with a mixture of relief and affection she hadn’t expected. “I missed you too,” she whispered back.

Carlos smiled, his eyes sparkling with that familiar, irresistible charm. "You sure know how to make an entrance. I thought I was dreaming."

“I thought you’d appreciate the surprise,” she said, feeling the warmth of his embrace.

“You have no idea how much,” Carlos replied, his hands brushing lightly against her sides as they stood there, the world outside the paddock fading into the background.

And just like that, in the quiet of the paddock, everything was as it should be.

[aloneinthehellfire]

Chapter Eighteen: "Safe"

Gates Of Hell

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: angst central, mentions of death, guilt, needles, mentions of a hospital

[A/N: Part Three is going to be the biggest part of the story yet, just you wait (as told by the exhausted writer who just handed in her final degree project ahhhhhsbsjsksbsklak and must now sleep for 3 years to catch up) but I am so excited to be able to write whenever I want without the looming threat of a degree! let's goooo]

"Safe"

Don’t forget me.

Don’t forget me.

Don’t forget me.

Don’t forget-

“Steve?”

Steve runs his hands down his face, straightening back up from where he had been hunched over the table, eyes bleeding onto the map from the intensity of his stare. He takes a glance to his right, the young boy he called a friend stood anxiously in the doorway.

“We’re, uh…” Dustin shifts on his feet, sneakers barely crossing the barrier of the door frame. “We’re all worried about you. You’ve been up here for hours.”

Steve blinks, turning to the window to be met with his reflection against the pitch black sky. The darkness outside was no match for the circles under his eyes. When was the last time he slept?

“And you look like shit.” Dustin comments, a hint of a smirk twitching his lips when Steve looks back at him, attempting a smile. He hadn’t managed one of those for a while now.

“Thanks, buddy.” He drawled off sarcastically with enough conviction to earn himself a toothy grin. “I just got distracted, I’ll be down in a minute.”

Dustin seemed wary but satisfied with that answer, giving him a nod before he disappears down the staircase. When he heard the last echo of descending footsteps fade, Steve returned to the map and placed his head in his hands, frowning.

Not one gate had opened since he left the Upside Down.

He and Hopper had been waiting for one to appear for weeks now. Five weeks. And three days. 38 days of sitting in what little patience remained, hoping and praying for once in their lives that a gate to a supernatural dimension would open in Hawkins just long enough for them to find you and bring you home. Just like you wanted.

“Don’t come back for me.”

Your voice had been haunting him for weeks, reminding him of the bitter lies that spewed from his mouth every day since.

He told Hopper and the others that you wanted them to find you, that you were very much alive. Maybe they’d be thankful he had spared them the tormenting truth, though Steve very much doubted it.

The worst part was that they believed him. They had hope. Every single one of those people currently sat downstairs positioning their next mission into the apocalyptic ruins of Hawkins will, and do, believe anything he says. Because they trust him.

All but one, however.

El had doubts. Steve saw it on her face any time she pulled the fabric away from her eyes and shook her head at the others, wiping her bloody nose with a suspicious look sent his way. She had been searching for you in ‘the void’ Dustin so ominously named.

At first, she agreed with Steve; “Maybe because the gates are closed, you can’t find a connection.”

But each day her wary eyes grew sharper, almost seeing right through him the longer it took to find you. And if anyone was going to call out his lies, it would be the girl with a superpowered mind.

What happens then? El tells their friends of his deception and he would have to watch each one of their faces drop into utter disbelief, disappointment.

Even if he does find you- no, when he finds you- would he be able to live knowing he had betrayed the people he loved?

Another 20 minutes passed him by before he begrudgingly left the solace of his own torture, entering a brand new means for internal torment. Steve wasn’t sure if he could handle normality in this head-space he’s cornered himself into. Although, with this particular group of people, nothing would ever be normal.

“Woah, hey, you can’t cast fireball!” Mike crosses his arms in objection, brows furrowed.

“Why not? You want them gone? I give you a ball of fire.” Lucas counters, leaning across the table with a pointed stare.

“We are in an enclosed space.” Dustin offers, surrendering under the glare he was shot.

“I. Cast. Fireball.” Lucas throws his hand down on the table and Mike groans.

“Fine. Fine. You cast fireball and…” He gives a dramatic pause, clicking his teeth. “Oh, wow, look at that. You all burned up because of how small the room is. You failed.”

“What?!” Lucas stresses and Dustin shakes his head.

“You burnt to a crisp.” Mike enunciates. “You died.”

“Fire and small spaces, dude.” Dustin sighs, burying his face in his hands.

“Great, so we lost the campaign?” Lucas pouts at his friends. “Now what do we do?”

“How about you join the real world and pretend like you aren’t losers?” Max’s voice calls from across the room and they all turn around to face her. She smirks. “Just a suggestion.”

The boys were sat around the large wooden table in the corner of the room, the surface covered in dice and figurines. They start packing up, ignoring Max’s giggles from the other side of the room. She was sat in an armchair braiding El’s hair, who sat cross-legged on the floor in front of her, staring down at an old picture book found from the forgotten bookcases scattered across the house.

Steve still wasn’t used to the sight, entering a room in his own home and it not being completely devoid of life.

Since Hopper found Steve practically in a pool of his own blood and tears in the motel 6 basement, their town had only gotten worse. Beasts from hell were terrorising what little population remained, vines were growing with no source and crushing the buildings that made Hawkins so historic in nature. The military had quarantined the area, at least that’s what Steve heard. Anyone who hadn’t managed to escape were trapped, it seemed, and Steve was just thankful he wasn’t a lost soul out on his own.

He still remembers the ride to the ‘safe house’. Steve beside Hopper in his nostalgic jeep, sat bruised and bloody with a forlorn attitude. He watched the father’s grip tighten on the wheel every so often, resisting his urge for tears. When it was finally revealed where the others had been living over the three weeks you were stuck in the Upside Down, Steve had his doubts.

The Harrington household was the best option for them to set up base of operations in Hawkins. It was big, it was empty, and it was just far enough out from the centre of town to be safer from the monsters still crawling around on the surface. Someone had fixed the garage door, the windows had been covered completely in either wood or fabric. But no matter how much they changed, Steve would never be able to forget it was his childhood home. One he assumed he would reside in until the day he died, even against all his efforts.

That possibility was looking more and more likely.

The usual parlour of the house was now ‘communications’. Dustin and Mike had set up a radio system, not unlike their equipment from the AV Club, and had a running list of all the stations still playing something other than nauseating static. Every now and then a brief interruption of a person’s call for help would come blaring through and Hopper would take a team to go rescue them. Unfortunately, no new residents ever found safety in the Harrington home.

The lounge Steve would spend most his evenings sinking into the couch was now filled with D&D boards, comic books, and many blankets. It was a space for the kids to hang out, and it was probably the only room Steve found himself smiling in. If he could find the energy to smile, that is. Even if they couldn’t remove the kids from the dangers of the forbidden world, they could at least try to let them be kids. Play fights, campaigns, board games. Steve sometimes would peer into the room and wish he was 13 again. Part of him knew his younger self would have no chance dealing with the apocalypse, much unlike the younger friends who had more tenacity than he ever could.

Upstairs had four bedrooms, but none of them were designated to any particular person or group. The kids generally preferred sleeping in the lounge unless instructed otherwise. And with everything happening on the other side of the boarded windows, there was never any time to sleep longer than 4 hours at most. Everyone had different sleeping times and shifts, meaning if a bed was free, it was yours.

Steve, however, had been using one of the bedrooms to study the maps Hopper had brought. It was just another guest room before he had dragged in a desk and shifted the bed over to the corner. His own room was too big for one person, he realised. And with how selfish he had been lately, he didn’t want to feel guilty for anything else. The adults usually slept in there, and Steve made no attempt to question their sleeping arrangements. It wasn’t any of his business.

And lastly, there was his father’s study. Hopper had been using it for the exact same reasons Steve had redecorated the guest room; to find you. He spent most of his time cooped up in there, only ever leaving to announce a new plan or to walk out on a new mission. It makes Steve’s stomach lurch anytime he thinks about how miserable the father must be.

A father who was doing everything in his power to get you back, taking the operation seriously. All the while Steve was simply barrelling head first into gut feelings, almost ruining everything.

The first week Steve was back was the busiest. He and Hopper had made detailed plans, taking care and consideration into their next actions. The beginning was fine, Steve almost felt at ease knowing he was doing something. But he grew tired of the wait.

After that week, he started to lose his mind. He found himself running all over town looking for another way back to the place he had so longed to escape, praying for another gate, and trying every signal point in Hawkins for even just a glimmer of communication to reach you. Hopper almost had to physically restrain him when things got messy, telling him to pull himself back into reality before something bad happened. He should have listened.

“See? I told you he’d be here.” Dustin grins as he spots Steve stood in the doorway, an array of eyes shifting to him.

“You missed a wild campaign.” Lucas states and Mike throws a look, shaking his head in silent disappointment.

“Oh, yeah. I was on the edge of my seat.” Max mocks, “Thought I was gonna have to come rescue Lucas from invisible fireballs.”

“Why do you hate me?” Lucas asks bluntly, and Steve clears his throat before anything can escalate further.

“Where’s Will?” He suddenly realises the loss of a head count, frowning at the spare chair pulled up to the table.

“He… he hasn’t come out of that room.” Mike’s face falls, shifting on his feet. “He hasn’t really spoken much. Not since...”

A moment of silence plagued the room. Nobody really spoke about what happened a few days ago, a mission gone horribly wrong. The task was simple: get to Weathertop and use the ‘Cerebro’ Dustin built to break through the static of the Upside Down. Yet, it was far from simple in the end. It left a thick lump in Steve’s throat to even think about it. They had all become somewhat experts on ignoring the reality, Steve especially.

He couldn’t imagine how Will must be feeling.

“I, uh… I’ll go speak to him.” Steve says, surprising himself. “Just in case he needs anything.”

Dustin squinted his eyes ever-so-slightly, gazing right through Steve’s attempt at misdirection, knowing his older friend was nervous about socialising after the week they had. Yet, he didn’t comment on the matter. He just shrugged and mumbled something about bringing Will food later, fiddling with the small wizard statue on the table.

Satisfied with the silence, Steve takes his leave.

Not before clocking El’s eyes as he headed back out the room. It sent a chill down his spine to see her face like that, a red stain on the cuff of her jumper explaining all he needed to know. She was watching him. Studying him. He wondered if she was sharing her disbelief to the others, or if she was waiting for the right moment.

No, Steve thinks, leaving the room and turning to face the stairs, stop being so paranoid.

He was fiddling with the sleeves of his jumper when he made it to the top of the staircase, staring down the corridor to where Will was currently residing, holding his breath. He wasn’t sure what he should say, if he could say anything at all. The lump in his throat was building into a boulder, a telling sign that he wasn’t ready to talk about it.

A quiet speech of his name being called from behind him made him retreat from the original plan. He would be grateful for the interruption if door number two wasn’t another fear he needed to face.

As he approaches the study, he can just make out the figure through the three inch gap of an open door, pushing it further ajar.

“Did you want to speak to me?” Steve peers his head through, praying he had misheard.

“Yeah, come in.”

The man was leant back in his chair with a weary expression, running a hand down his face. If anyone was looking worse than Steve, it was Hopper. The father had barely eaten or slept for weeks, his every hour dedicated to locating his daughter and bringing her home. It made Steve’s stomach twist whenever he thinks about how his words were torturing him. Hopper only knew what Steve had told him; you were healthy and alive, waiting for a saviour. Two of those were lies, and the other unknown, but Steve had said them anyway in a moment of agony and recklessness, and now… now it had gone too far to take it back. The longer it took them to find what Steve had promised, the more damage it had procured to Hopper’s health, mentally and physically.

Staring at the thinning chief of police, Steve waits in bated breath for some kind of lecture. He had been expecting this for days now.

“Have you spoken to Will?” He questions and Steve is surprised, blinking through his answers.

“Uh… no. No, I- I haven’t yet. I was just on my way to-”

“It’s not your fault, Steve.”

A hitch in his throat was louder than anticipated in this quiet room, causing him to cough it away like it had simply been a mis-breathe of air. Hopper sent him a knowing look, leaning forward as Steve finally takes a seat.

“None of us could have seen the shapeshifters coming.” Hopper sighs, running a hand down his face. “It looks like more and more are appearing.”

Steve scrunches his face, trying to remove the bloody image from his mind. “Have you spoken to the military? Are they actually doing anything?”

“Well,” Hopper leans back again, clicking his jaw, “I’ve got word that they’re slowly minimising the quarantine. Which, unfortunately, could mean two very different things. They’re either killing these monsters, or they’re driving them directly into the town centre.”

“So, just as useless as ever, then.” Steve grumbles, met with a tired nod.

“I know how you feel, kid.” He says, glancing back down at the map with a mournful expression. “I… I want to find her just as bad as you do. She-”

His voice catches and Steve looks up to see him quickly wipe a tear away, sniffing with the intent of driving it away.

“She needs me. Us. And… and it’s killing me to know she’s waiting in that god awful place while I try and hunt down gates that don’t exist.”

Another jolt of guilt to his gut, and Steve grips the arms of the chair. “I’m sorry. For not… for not bringing her back. She- she was right there. I-I could have-”

“You did everything you could, Steve. Don’t ever think that you didn’t.” Hopper’s gaze is unwavering, ensuring Steve heard him loud and clear.

Steve knew better than to argue. Instead, he meekly nods and pulls in his lips, looking anywhere but at the familial reminder of what he lost.

“I just hope she’s okay.”

Beep…

...beep…

…...beep…

The repetitive imitation of a heartbeat was the moment that drove you to consciousness, irritated by the relentless noise against your growing migraine.

Beep… beep…

Two more tick by by the time you feel a twitch in your fingers, your whole body feeling sore and numb all at the same time. You’re trying to drag your eyes open, blinded by a piercing blur of light to your pupils.

Everything was white. The walls, the beam of a lightbulb, the sheets covering your body. It took 5 more heartbeats to realise you were laying in a bed.

You suck in a struggled gasp of air, becoming all too aware of the needle sat below the skin of your wrist.

Why were you here? How did you get in this bed? What happened?

You don’t remember anything at all.

“Help.” You say. Or, rather, you try. Your voice was so hoarse, the word didn’t even sound from your lips.

You try and move your body, but it starts to become clear that it wasn’t ready to be moved. How long had you been asleep?

Some memory starts to form back into your mind, one of a boy. Standing in front of a boy. And he was behind a wall. Why were you stood there? How was he behind a wall? The gap was closing, and some shadows were behind you. What were they? What happened-

“Steve.” You gasp, blinking back to reality. This time, the word echoed perfectly into the dull white room.

You didn’t recall learning the name, nor could you make sense of the blurry face that came with it, wisps of brunette hair. But you can remember standing in front of him, you can remember the feeling of guilt and heartache overcoming you. The rest was a mere mirage.

A tear rolls down your cheek, unbeknownst to you. Whatever the memory was, your body reacted to it like it was better to be forgotten.

The monitor beside you starts to beep quicker, a noticeable thump in your chest matching its rhythm. Was this… were you in a hospital?

As you try and shift your body one more time, you spot the object in the corner of the ceiling abruptly move to face your direction. With your eyesight returned to normal against the bright lights, you can just see a security camera pointed at you, a red light blinking ever so small.

A sudden click of a door merely a few feet from your bed catches your attention, a wave of panic flooding your body. This didn’t feel like a hospital.

This wasn’t a hospital.

And yet, the person who walked into the room was wearing a white coat, looking clean and kind as they came to your side, smiling.

“Where… where am I?” You struggle to speak, swallowing nothing. “Who are… you?”

“Y/n, you don’t need to be afraid.” A male voice soothed, pulling up a chair and reaching to a bedside table you hadn’t even noticed, picking up a plastic cup. “You’re safe here.”

He brings the cup to your lips and you can only take a sip of the water before its taken away from you and set back at your side. Your throat started to soothe, and you took care to practice the detail of this man’s face. You didn’t recognise him. He was an older man with white hair and a few cosy wrinkles, looking sympathetically at you with a stare that instantly pacified.

As your lips move to form a question, he beats you to the punch, introducing a name you’re sure you’ll never forget.

“My name is Dr Martin Brenner.” He smiles, tilting his head. “We have so much to talk about.”

Beep…

...beep…

......beep…

@toomanyfandomsimfanvergent . @sheisjoeschateau . @kthomps914 . @curled-hair-red-lips . @nix-rose .

@palmtreesx3 . @kryztalglear . @sattlersquarry . @hey-barnes-stole-a-jeep . @sadslasher13 .

@iliveonteaandbooks . @innercreationflower . @newyorkangelbaby . @totally-bogus-timelady . @pansexualhoor .

@kitdjarin1 . @chiliwhore .

[tgmsunmontue]

Season to Taste - 15/? WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another. Heading into this little world.

PROLOGUE/ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE

TEN ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FORTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

                He laughs as he enters the restaurant, Leandro and Silvia’s voices calling out to him and he’s very aware that they’ve arranged a party later for his birthday and also his new residency visa. He hadn’t been paying attention, hadn’t thought about it, until Ice had raised it last year in one of their phone calls and told him that his passport was going to expire and he needed to maybe consider coming home. Except he’d been gone for nearly a decade and it didn’t feel like home anymore. He hadn’t been able to fathom it.

                Then Ice had brought all the paperwork to him, walking into the restaurant himself and Bradley had hugged him so tightly because the anger has long since faded but the pride at not wanting to apologize for running away was still there. He has no regrets about running away, or how his life has turned out so far. He’s happy and has found a big family that has just enveloped him and made him one of their own and he can’t imagine his life being better in any way. Vi is his best friend, along with Giacomo, the three of them doing a road trip to Roma to the American Embassy to apply for his new passport in the summer.         

                “What are going to do to celebrate?”

                “Well, I know it’s maybe a little dramatic, but I thought of getting a tattoo.”

                “Yeah? What of?”

                “I’ve got some ideas.”

…            …            …

                Bradley watches as Jake dips every single piece of potato into sauce before eating it. He can’t believe how comfortable and happy he feels right now. They clear away the plates and wash up, before settling on the sofa, Jake’s head in his lap. They’re going to watch documentaries, because that and movies are apparently the only thing Jake likes to watch, which explains why he’s never seen Bradley on TV if this is what he prefers. Bradley himself doesn’t usually have time to watch anything, so it’s nice, just the novelty of sitting there and enjoying being close to someone else. He doesn’t even notice he’s snuck his hand beneath Jake’s t-shirt and been rubbing his thumb back and forth softly over his stomach until Jake’s hand covers his and he stills, goes to almost apologize and move his hand but Jake’s hand is firm, holding Bradley’s hand in place.

                “You’ve already ordered off the menu tonight, are you that insatiable you’re going back for seconds?”

                “Technically I think it’s thirds. And you did call yourself an all you can eat buffet,” Bradley jokes, but he really hadn’t been aiming to start anything, had simply been enjoying touching and being close.

                “Well, this buffet is closed sorry. Maybe after I’ve had a couple hours sleep we can reassess.”

                Bradley shakes his head like he’s somehow disappointed despite it not being the case, and he grins down at Jake’s upside-down face.

                “Mmm… it’s okay. If it gets bad enough I can always go self-service.”

                Jake snorts and Bradley can’t help but grin, it’s easy and fun and while a little part of him is worried it’s going to burn fast and bright before crashing and burning he can’t find it in himself to care. He doesn’t want to miss out on the right-now because of something that might happen.

                “Oh no… no no no. Hmm, wait. Maybe I wouldn’t mind watching that. Was going to say I could take care of that for you, but maybe I’ll just be lazy and watch.”

                “Well, it’s all hypothetical anyway, I wasn’t actually angling for anything more than a kiss…”

                “Ah, well, I am always happy to kiss you. You know, sticking with your food and sex philosophy… for me sauce is like kissing. No one needs sauce to make the food taste better, sometimes the food can be amazing without it. And I can eat it without it. But I’m always going to want to add sauce…”

                “And you’re always going to want kissing too huh?”

                “I wouldn’t say no.”

                “Come here then…” Bradley says, and he’s smiling as he bends down and presses his lips against Jake’s, his entire body thrumming with happiness as Jake’s nose bumps his chin and he pulls back, a sudden thought occurring to him.

                “You wouldn’t have sauce with dessert would you?”

                “Leo, babe, dessert is all the hand-holding, and cuddling and gentle touches. Of course I want sauce with them.”

                Bradley blinks, shakes his head.

                “No, I mean actual real literal dessert, like brownie or… ice cream.”

                “Oh. Huh. Well… I haven’t tried sauce with any desserts, but also I don’t have the biggest sweet tooth. Maybe because I can’t add sauce.”

                “Mmm. You are pretty sweet already.”

                “Oh, I know dozens of people who would disagree with you there but I’m glad you think so. Don’t mind being sweet with you…”

…            …            …

                Other than their serious conversation about starting a relationship, they haven’t had any deep and meaningful conversations. Yet. Until yesterday afternoon when he’d picked Leo up from Maria’s and then… found himself dating the guy. They’ve spent four nights out of five together, nearly every meal, and he’s well aware that he’s pretty much living with Leo in his not-so-little rental accommodation for the duration of his stay. He likes that it’s a neutral space for the time being, which has been good. Especially as he doesn’t exactly have a place of his own, his bedroom in Nicola’s apartment not exactly the most useful of places when he wants to hook up with someone, mainly because the apartment also usually contains Nicola herself.

                But if he’s going to date Leo, try having a relationship with distance between them, then he wants to share his little piece of home in his sister’s apartment. Show Leo the farm properly, because he’d actually seemed pretty interested in that yesterday when he’d mentioned it. He already knows that Leo’s parents are a minefield, but he’s going to ask because he’s going to gut himself in return. He knows he’s going to have to share bits that don’t make him happy, if they’re going to actually going to make a serious go of this. But he’s going to start small.

                “So, want to tell me about why you have a giant fuck off rooster tattooed on your leg?”

                “You don’t want to make a couple of guesses first?” Leo asks, rolling in the bed and giving Jake a mischievous grin and eyebrow waggle. God the man is a giant dork.

                “Because you’re a cock?” Jake asks, trying to make his expression sweet.

                “Close…”

                “Well, you’re not doing any false advertising.”

                “It’s my family name.”

                Jake frowns, because okay, he knows Leo’s name is Bradley Bradshaw, but he answers to Leo just as easily, which he knows is short for Leonardo…

                “My Italian family name. It’s Gallo, which means… well, direct translation is rooster.”

                “And a non-direct translation?” Jake asks. Leo grins again, looking smug.

                “Strong voice… good in bed…”

                “Oh, so you are a cock.”

                “I did say you were close.”

…            …            …

                He has to leave Leo in bed, which sucks for so many reasons but Leo looks fucked out and happy, already half-asleep and Jake presses a kiss to his bare shoulder.

                “I’ll be back in a few hours. In time for lunch. Let me know if there’s anything you need from the farm or grocery store…”

                He gets a muffled grunt for his trouble and Leo just shoves his head further into the pillow. Jake grins and heads for the door. He should be gone for about four hours to help his sisters on the farm. They have workers, but there’s always more work to be done and while many of them have other jobs they’re all still local and he gets to leave for months on end, and not have to deal with the realities of… home. He still needs to talk to Leo about that. Try and have a conversation that doesn’t lead to them immediately fucking. It’s a tall order. Maybe that’s where the distance might be a good thing.

                He pulls his truck into the yard and looks around at the assembled vehicles and rolls his eyes. Fucking great. They’re all here, the Seresin-sister grapevine clearly working as intended. God, he hopes Leo was serious about not getting scared off easy. He’s never introduced someone to his sisters before. Not someone that he’s actually serious about, and for all the shaking up that Leo has done in the last week it’s like a snow globe slowly settling and revealing the scene. He likes the view so far.

                He sits in his truck and drums his fingers against the steering wheel, wonders if he should maybe just start it again and drive away. He wouldn’t put it past them to drive after him, although Sandra and Amanda probably have their kids with them, so they might not chase after him. He sucks in a breath and throws his shoulders back. He can do this. His sisters love him and it’s just going to be embarrassing and maybe he can get the worst of it out of the way now and tomorrow night, when they actually meet Leo, they’ll manage to not humiliate him.

                He won’t hold his breath.

SIXTEEN

[bbcphile]

WIP Wednesday (at long last!)

After over six months of not posting any new writing due to my life exploding dramatically--moving twice, being poisoned by our apartments, and losing almost all our possessions (0/10 stars, do not recommend)--I am FINALLY able to write again, and am excited to share this passage from my MLC long fic with you! (You can find all previous excerpts here.)

I'm rewriting an earlier chapter than the last few excerpts, so, this is from right after DFS fled Lotus Tower, about to have a qi deviation, and FDB and LLH are arguing about what to do.

Enjoy!

**

Fang Duobing dropped his arm and took a step back, horror splashed across his face. “No. Don’t you dare give him the last of your Yangzhouman! It will kill you!” 

“It won’t! Don’t be ridiculous!” Li Lianhua said, frantically searching his mind for an appropriately convincing lie. “I  . . . meditated while you drove. I’ll have enough left over.”

“Li Lianhua!” Xiaobao yelled, stomping forward and shoving his finger in his face. “Do not lie to me! Not about this!”

“We can argue about it on the way.” Li Lianhua grabbed Xiaobao’s finger and used it to pull himself to his feet. “Just bring me to him first,” he managed, his voice strained from the effort.

“No!” Xiaobao wrenched his finger free and clamped his hands on Li Lianhua’s shoulders with an almost punishing grip. “I’m not letting you die for him. Neither will he.”

The world started to go gray around the edges of his already blurry vision. “Brat, this isn’t up for negotiation. He needs me!”

“He needs you alive!” Xiaobao’s hands tightened on his shoulders and shook him. “Don’t you know what your death would do to him? Find another way!”

“We don’t have time for this!” Li Lianhua wheezed, his breath coming in shorter and shorter bursts. “Bring me to him or get out of my way.” He shoved at Xiaobao and tried to push past him to take a step toward the door. 

“Xiaohua’er!” Xiaobao yelled, “Don’t–”

–His legs buckled. Xiaobao caught him in his arms before he could hit the ground. 

“Will you stop trying to–” Xiaobao cut himself off with a hiss, his eyes fixed on Li Lianhua’s neck. “How do I help? What do you need?”

“I told you,” Li Lianhua ground out through an ever-tightening throat, “take me to hi–”

“–Not that,” Xiaobao snapped, lowering him back to the bed. “For Bicha. Your veins are turning black. Can’t you feel it? What should I do? Can your Yangzhouman stop it?”

Oh. Of course.  Li Lianhua swallowed down a laugh that had more in common with a sob. 

 The floor creaked as Xiaobao knelt at his feet. “Do you not have enough? Here, take mine. As much as you need. Tell me when to stop.” 

Li Lianhua felt the air currents shift as Xiaobao brought a hand, index finger extended, toward his neck.

Forgive me, Xiaobao. “Stop,” Li Lianhua rasped.

Xiaobao stopped, his finger hovering a hair’s breadth away from the veins. “Not there? Alright, where do you need it? Tell me.”

Slowly, Li Lianhua turned to look at Xiaobao, to take in his earnest, loving gaze for the last time. Then he steeled his heart. “Take me to him, first.”

Those beautiful eyes blinked, narrowed, then went wide and watery with abject horror. “No. No! Don’t you dare. ” 

Li Lianhua managed his best attempt at a crooked smile. “Ah, but I do. Bring me to a-Fei, and I’ll accept your qi. Otherwise”–he shrugged, forcing down a rising cough–“I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.” 

“Xiaohua’er!” Xiaobao yelled, the name ripped from his throat. 

Li Lianhua closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see the tortured look on Xiaobao’s face. 

It was cruel, and Xiaobao would never forgive him, but perhaps that was for the best. Xiaobao might mourn him less if he hated him. A-Fei as well.

All it would take was a few more moments of waiting, and Xiaobao’s stubbornness would crumble. The fear of losing him now would triumph over the possibility of losing him later. He swallowed back another cough that tried to burst free.

“No,” Xiaobao said, his voice shaky but sure. 

Had he misheard? Eyes shooting open, Li Lianhua looked up at Xiaobao. Xiaobao stared defiantly back, his chin jutting out with a terrified confidence that was only part bluster. Li Lianhua shook his head to try to make his ears work properly and tried to focus his eyes enough to lip read. “What?”

“You’re going to stop the flare yourself or let me give you qi. Then you’re going to teach me how to heal a-Fei, and I’m going to find him and bring him home. I will. Not you. You’re going to stay here and rest.”

Li Lianhua snorted and raised an eyebrow. “Oh am I?”

“Yes. You are,” Fang Duobing snapped. “Because you need me to save him, and I’m going to”–he swallowed hard–“to leave him there, alone, if you don’t let me help you first.” 

Li Lianhua grabbed Xiaobao’s collar. “Fang Xiaobao,” he hissed, yanking him closer. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Fang Duobing jutted out his jaw further. “Holding his life hostage.”

“You’re bluffing,” Li Lianhua managed, fear choking him as much as the blood rising in his throat. “You–you care for him. You wouldn’t let him die. You couldn’t.”

“Of course I care for him!” Fang Duobing shouted in his face. “Of course I want to help him! I hate everything about this! But if you’re going to threaten me with your life, then I’m going to threaten you with his!”

“This isn’t a–a game, brat!” Li Lianhua managed, his shaking hands tugging hard on Fang Duobing’s collar. “He could die! Don’t you understand?”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Fang Duobing yelled, flinging his arms up and breaking free of Li Lianhua’s grip. “Do you think I want that? I want him home, Xiaohua’er, safe, and healed, with us! So we can take care of him, and show him he’s safe and won’t let anyone hurt him again, and try to undo the damage she and you caused!” His finger jabbed angrily into Li Lianhua’s chest. “But you keep trying to die and I can’t think of another way to stop you, so I’m going to do what a-Fei and you taught me, and threaten the person you love most!”

Fang Duobing took a slow, trembling breath, squared his jaw, and leveled a glare at Li Lianhua that very nearly hid the roiling panic underneath. “Teach me how to heal him and I will bring a-Fei home safely. But only if you stay alive. So please,” he begged, taking Li Lianhua’s hand and holding it tightly, “let me help you first.”

[uyuartik]

bad idea, right? (obi wan kenobi x f!reader) part iii

tags: angst, fluff, arguments, period typical misogyny (of course not from obi wan), just overall wealthy pricks being little shits, the trope of THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, but not really, do you believe in second chances (i don't) (💀), little smut compared to the rest because originally there was no smut in this (but i HAD TO use that idea), REPOST because i fucked up in the first place

a/n: welcome back for the finale!

well, i can't think of anything to say except this has been a blast for me, and i'm so happy that there are those who enjoys this madness as much as i do. hope you like the ending too. thank you all!

likes and reblogs are very much appreciated, and i can’t wait to hear your opinions! i am also crossposting on ao3, feel free to interact there as well.

part one | part two | part three | ao3

enjoy!!!

word count: 8.3K

chapter three: fuck it it's fine!

You don’t board that ship. A slight sickness you excuse, then spend your days sulking at home, still covered by the expanse of your lies. It is not totally untrue, though. You did really wake up with a swollen throat, and that put the integrity of your health during the journey at risk, thus with great grief, canceled the plans. Nobody knew that you’d not even mention the symptom on any other day, just requesting some honey tea and hardly noticing it disappear in the morrow. And it exactly worked out as predicted, more so, without leaving its discomfort for remorse. But after that, the hours stretched out each day, like you were living in a different plane where you were not welcomed. Perhaps you actually weren’t, for if you followed your fate, you’d be eating different foods, and walking foreign corridors. In an attempt to run away from that feeling, you try to socialize just a little, attending even the most dull tea parties. Also, your preference of company has to be specialized now, and that proves difficult sometimes.

So, that’s exactly why you indeed sulk at home, even though all your efforts.

But not tonight. 

Then again, perhaps you should've.

His presence has nothing to do with it, to be perfectly clear. On the contrary, he makes it a little endurable. The forced small talk and empty eyes you once feared dearly are not the case, even after your last encounter. Of course, there's a little awkwardness, an uncertainty about where the line of intimacy now stands, shadows of anger and disappointment still darkening the atmosphere, but the overall sensation comes down to longing. You both lost a great friendship, cast it aside in a blink, but your souls don't accept this new arrangement that quickly, trying to fall into the familiar rhythm once more each time you feel your walls break. You don't allow it, neither does he. Yet, it is about the only thing that turns this night into a not complete waste of time. Even a pleasant one, you'd dare say. 

If it weren't for literally everything else except this.

The hushed little uninformed jokes start during the dinner. It is the lord of the house that says them, to his close circle, barely hanging onto etiquette he had glimpses of. As minutes tick and glasses of wine roll, that glimpse is gone, and even in your seat at the end of the table, you hear him clearly. The pressed lips and masked mimics pretending not to be aware of it soon become apparent on every face, excluding you and Lord Kenobi. You glower the first time another of the guests feels confident enough to make his dirty contribution to the subject. Typical, you try to stay calm, tapping your fingers on the table. The world is filled with the likes of him, and the last thing they deserve is your attention. The reflex doesn’t go unnoticed by him, and he sends a sympathetic smile, showing that you’re not alone and accepting this invitation was a most regretful choice. He uses a few retorts to close the deal, let the dinner continue in different matters- or in silence, that would be fantastic indeed, but his smart wit and slight intimidation work only for a couple of minutes. Now it’s your turn to reflect that sad smile, and you do.

The sadness doesn’t come from the circumstances around you all, though. Your heart feels heavy, for not trying better ways to handle that morning. That guilt will haunt you, drag you into the gloomy pit you’ve been in, and maybe, you should stay there for some time, a penance for your mistakes.  

After dinner, when the ladies and gentlemen huddle around different interests, you get a chance to cool off. The soft peals of laughter and giggles fill the room, a much more pleasant sound than the roar of men. You get to entertain others with your stories of other cities you’ve been to, and they tell their interesting incidents, and make fun of their husbands, people who deserve, as their commotion spills out of the walls. The topic of their conversation, marriage, diffuses out into your circle in such a way, that once again, you’re restraining yourself, trying to listen to the problems one of the ladies is complaining of, and not to hear the crude comments going on on the other side. You’re stopped from rushing out of your armchair simply out of respect you have for the woman speaking when you pick up your name passing in their remarks. Plus, Kenobi’s words, you don’t flatter me by offending the lady, reach every ear in the room, sharper than a knife. Your cheeks burn with anger, then with gratitude, and at last, out of embarrassment, because how are you going to explain he’s just doing an honorable thing, that it’s his character to defy ill minds when he sees one, and this has little to do with his “pursuit” of you? Your breaths are shallow and quick as you focus on the discourse, and dodge every attempt to pull the subject towards your relations.

Though, the snake doesn’t give up on eating, even his own tail, it seems.

In less than half an hour, a joke about abduction is whispered, and you surge from your armchair, the screeching sound echoing. You murmur what resembles to be an excuse (you’re still deciding whether they are worthy of one), and send one glaring gaze at the group, enough to make one flinch, and walk out.

Out of the entire house.

Lucky for you, this is a night in which you carpooled with another guest, meaning you only have your own feet to carry you away in this pouring rain.

But of course, that’s not enough to deter you.

You take big steps, enforced by your fury. Thus, the house leaves your sight in no time, but not their audacity, still ringing in your ears. Implications about your freedom. Complaints of wive-hood. Humor about how perfectly reasonable is to get rich, by kidnapping a young woman… (Honestly, after all that, you don’t have mercy for them of the panic they might experience when they realize their guest is not refreshing in another room, and have left the estate altogether. Alas, that guest is you.) You string curses at them, the only form of thinking you have in regard, and feel the bulk of emotions resonate with every stomp, even spilling out of your tear ducts. Your dampening body, and the length of the road don’t make it any easier, feeding your frustration. Your only anchor is your self worth, the reason you began this path in the first place, and you desperately hope it will turn the tide in a while.

Though now, the picture you paint with those foul words and wet clothes isn’t exactly the brightest.

It is still among these moods, that Obi Wan catches up to you. You’re not exactly surprised to see him, his carriage closing the twenty minute distance you put between yourself and that damned house with a speed that you think can’t be that good for the horses in the long run. They stop abruptly at your side, and you have all those insults readied if it turns out to be that fucked up man or polite declines if it is indeed Obi Wan. 

But, you can’t speak them. The world feels like it freezes, the raindrops slowing down, and carrying away your burdens as they fall to the soil. The small door opens, and Obi Wan rushes out of it, with an expression that is so honest and raw. His fright vanishes at the sight of you, that scared gaze dissolving, eyebrows relaxing… You can actually see his lips move, Thank God. He is totally undisturbed by the downpour, already making his strands stick to his forehead. His hands find yours, and pull you close, almost like an embrace. You look into his eyes, how focused they are on you, as if they could burn you from the inside with their intensity. You have an undeniable urge to kiss him right now, and that has nothing to do with lust, but your wish to undo the last couple of weeks, uphold that strong connection once the two you had. Of course, you don’t, you can’t, thus, you let him lead you inside, and continue towards whatever destination.

Funny, how you feel much calmer doing the thing you thought you wouldn’t. Moreso, you have no woes about it either.

The silence is deafening, but nobody dares to open their mouth, the greatness of the storm of emotions you both are having too heavy on your tongues. He puts his less soggy jacket around your shoulders, you welcome it with a nod. That’s the moment you realize the redness on his knuckles. It’s not hard to guess the scene, and that has your head turned to the floor, processing the entire night. It is also at this moment that you become aware of your fresh tears, still sliding over your cheeks. Even if he notices them, he doesn’t do a thing about it, an indifference you’re grateful for. He just looks out of the window, and contemplates, same as you.

===

The tub filled with hot water doesn’t make you any wetter, but it helps with the temperature. You’re sorry that you exhausted the owners of the inn you had to stay in, (for it was getting impossible to travel in that rain) with this request, but a voice tells you that Obi Wan wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re unbelievably silent as he sorts it all out, staying in your bubble, unintentionally playing the part of the damsel in distress. You listen to his list of requests, for the horses, for three rooms (the best reserved for the lady, he insists), a tub to be prepared for you, and some tea-

“No need.” Your voice is weak, but it is clear. He would’ve protested this answer, but it is the first time you’ve talked after leaving the house, how ironic, and the realization sets deep in both of you. After that, you feel the words pile up on your tongue, but in a blink, you find yourself in a room. Alone.

“So sorry, I thought they gave me this room.” He stands at the door, holding it half open, face turned in the opposite direction.

“Obi Wan.” His gaze hesitantly finds your way again. God, he’s about to kill you with that blues… “Can we talk for a second?”

You name yourself a hypocrite for asking that, in this state, but you can’t breathe with all that untold things if you spend another second without explaining yourself to him, and apologize for all the trouble you’ve caused. And, isn’t this already proof of the trust you have for him, how vulnerable you can be in his presence?

And, there’s nothing he’s not seen before, after all.

He gingerly closes the door, locking it in a swift motion, and makes his way to you. You pull yourself together, and reach for his hand for him to help you out.

“No, stay. Your fingers are still cold.”

You can’t hide the small smile forming on your face as you settle back, careful to keep most of your body underwater. He, ever noble, keeps his eyes straight on your face, which somehow doesn’t help. There’s something about his rolled-up sleeves, the matching three-piece suit down to two for the damp jacket sits behind the chair in your back against the fireplace. His hair is drying up in all defiant shapes, and you have to stop imagining that morning he woke up next to you.

“I just wanted to say thank you. For everything. I- I never intended to cause this big of a mess, and make someone clean up after me. Certainly, not you, of all people. You shouldn’t have tired yourself this much, and I’m sorry for it.”

“You can’t expect me to do nothing.” The sentence begs for a dear to be added in the end, and he has to fight his throat to silence himself. Instead, there’s a kind tug at the corners of his lips.

“You’re right.” You nod. “But the truth is, I wasn’t thinking clearly. I needed to get out, I just couldn’t sit there pretend I didn’t hear all those nasty comments.”

His fist clenches at the reminder, and you once again spot the bruises settling in on his knuckles, filling with the desire to mention them, but you inevitably decide not to. “That asshole-“

”He was obnoxious since the first hour, and loud, but that doesn't scare me, for thus he has proven himself to be just a foul mouthed man. But, that title started not to cover the extent of it- it was too much and I couldn’t take it anymore. You may say it was obvious from the start, but I tried my best to not evolve this into a thing I would regret afterward. And I succeeded.”

“So you don't even regret ever setting foot in that house?”

A tinge of disgust seizes your face, but only for a moment. Even with all those words echoing in your ear, you don't have hatred in your heart, or any remorse. You're not so quite sure about its reason, nor do you wish to be, avoiding all analysis. Like you don't know the basics already. But the sudden change in your expression tells everything. “I don’t think I can ever regret it. At least, not in its entirety.” You say, hugging your knees and lowering your head. Hot steam no longer hits your skin, you realize in your attempts of distraction.

There's a second of silence in the room, despite the thunderstorm raging outside. You are as cold as in the beginning because of it, and you almost contemplate how good of an idea this conversation was, especially under these circumstances.

“I’d say the same.” Obi Wan speaks, and that's when goosebumps rise on your skin. Your eyes meet his, then flutter away quickly, overwhelmed. Does he mean-

Why is him meaning that any different than yours, huh? Why is it any worse when he says it?

“You should get out of there.” He reaches for a towel, and you shyly stand up, turning your back and pressing your arms around yourself. Nothing he hasn't seen before, right? As the coarse fabric is draped around your shoulders, you can’t help but feel afire, the imprint of his hand around your shoulders for a second lingering way more than it should, creating a tingling sensation.

“Thank you.”

“Well, I must return to my room now.” He folds his hands together, like trying to preserve where they’ve touched, and his eyes still stay respectfully up, causing your heart to lose its rhythm. There has never been a scenario that involved nakedness without… sexual intentions, and clearly, it’s not even crossing your minds right now. Your awareness of it takes up all the space in your mind, tosses every other idea out, and leaves you at the mercy of your soul.

“Obi Wan.” Fuck, the way you call his name, it is bound to weaken him every time. “Can you-” Oh, haven't you demanded enough from him? “I- I would like it if you stayed.”

His mouth hangs open for a second, with a subtle sharp inhale. His fingers tighten around each other, then relax all together, hanging free by his side. “Of course.” For all the words that come to his lips, it’s a most simple answer.

Not that you have any complaints.

You’re filled with another kind of thrill, being this open with your wishes, but having no clue whether they’ll take the night, having no clue where you want the night to go, or how to act in this very moment, half covered.  You just know that you prefer him, being in the same chamber as you. You’d prefer to listen to his idle talk or slow breaths, than the silence of the room. You’d prefer him to snore in your bed than to picture him in his own, lying awake. (Because let’s face it, it’d take a while for him to surrender to sleep, if left to his own devices.)

He takes a step towards the armchair, unbuttoning his vest and you come back to your senses, stepping out of the tub in the opposite direction, towards the nightgown the innkeeper gracefully lent to you. It’s slightly large for your body, definitely not tailored for someone close to your size, but if Obi Wan ever heard you commenting on the fact, he’d wholeheartedly claim you still looked like an angel. Since you don’t, he doesn’t too, but it’s obvious in the way he takes in your form, a battle of excess fabric against your movements. He has to bury a groan when your sleeve falls down your shoulder, a simple accident. He knows that shouldn’t have been seen by him, or you didn’t do it on purpose, that tonight is not meant for those activities, and it shouldn’t get him so bothered up, but it fucking does. Does it also make him want to slap himself? Yes.

Walking near the fireplace, you wring the excess water from your hair and run your fingers through the strands before rubbing that towel aggressively, for the fact that it is already soggy enough, and is not gonna do much. You despise sleeping with wet hair, it is an invitation for you to get sick, not to mention that you’ll be sharing the bed, leaving frustrating streaks of wetness on the sheets for them.

“Hey, hey, let me help you.” Is he a little bit scared? The answer is another yes. But he’s not gonna stand there and watch you fight with your hair. He takes the fabric, locating the most usable spots, and slowly massages your strands with them. Objectively, it’s not a lot different in terms of overall results, but it does more than that anyway. Despite the forbidden intimacy, despite the question of “How is he so good at it?”, you’re lulled by the constant movements, the tension in your muscles easing off. He keeps you by the fire longer than you would’ve stayed, and that achievement belongs solely to him. Frankly, he too is not sure how long the two of you could stand like that, or put an end to it. All that matters is that your hair is pleasantly damp, less bothersome, and he did that.

To be honest, with each minute he is in your presence; the task of holding onto his manners, respecting his broken heart, and following your lead is getting harder to manage.

“Thank you.” You murmur, eyelids barely held open, and he feels like a juggler, suddenly losing his sense of balance, and dropping one of his props.

“You’re welcome.” Perhaps he was the one to thank, for the pleasure. That’s the second prop, falling down.

Still, it’s obvious how that sentence misses a darling thrown out after it.

You climb the bed, and he follows suit. You both favor the edges of the mattress, and there’s a ridiculous distance between both of your bodies, but you’re both too timid to use it, even at the risk of tumbling down.

Only after the urge to find a better position kicks in that you move, and end up just a little closer, face turned to his side.

He’s already turned to you, eyes closed but definitely not trying to sleep, or relax if nothing. He opens them of course, after you rustled the sheets that hard.

“What if I get sick tomorrow?” Admittedly, that’s a silly question, but the scenario occupies your mind. All the elemental factors are present, and you only have a formal dress on your back. Also, the fact that it would be all your fault, yet you are the one to complain? You hate yourself for saying it out loud.

“Then we would stay ‘til you got better.” His point-of-fact words, softened with his bedtime voice, must be annoying. Must be. It is not. It is the raw truth, straight from his core. You won’t disrespect it, (again). “I would take care of you.”

(Doesn’t he, always?)

 A shiver runs down your spine.

(He’d name this place heaven, if it allowed you two to stay together a little longer.)

“Obi Wan.” Whispering, trying your best to break that ugly silence, not to crush under the weight of his words, but more importantly to let him know your truths, the alignment of your soul. “I- I never told you how much I appreciated you. Now just today, but especially today.”

He’s trying so hard not to sound rude, or leave you unanswered, but none of them are good enough. Thankfully, you are not expecting one. Your fingers ghost over his knuckles, afraid to hurt him. he’s not even sure you’re doing that, ‘til you hunch over, and press a small kiss over them.

That’s all the acknowledgment he needs, ever. It wasn’t becoming of a gentleman, obviously, but the situation didn’t require gentleman-cy, too. He has no recollection of how his fist ended up in that man’s eye, except for the exact second it happened, feeling his shirt slide from his other hand as the impact sizzled through his bones, and sent the man to the floor. He found himself in the middle of saying God knows what- he still doesn’t have a single clue, and thinks about the possibility of how they’ll resonate, ‘til it reaches his ears once again.

Though, he has no fear regarding that, or the altercation before it. Nor regret.

“I am honored that our names are spoken together, a testament of our likeness.”

The third prop.

It falls, most obviously, but he doesn’t show it. Not under these circumstances. No matter how you try to avoid the subject of love, or a future, he’s burning for it, burning for you. In that moment, it is settled that it’ll always be that way, forever. You’re absolutely crushing his heart, and maybe even crush yours in the process (for which reasons, he’s never sure), regardless of your intentions pointing otherwise, because he knows you’re pushing through your struggles to speak up, select the appropriate expressions, to honor your past. He’s touched by your effort, as well as your words, oh, your words… This is the only compliment he’ll ever accept, and it’s not even meant to be a compliment. Your voice is already etched into his brain, and there will not go a single day he’s not reminiscing about it.

Thus, with such strong emotions, his every muscle twitched with the desire to pull you closer, wrap his arm around your waist, card his fingers through your cool hair as your lips meet. He wants to kiss you slowly, savor your taste and caress your tongue with his, for the sole purpose of being close to you. You, throwing one leg over him… You, falling asleep in his arms as he gets to bathe in your enchanting scent… The feeling of your warm breath against his neck as you take refuge in there… He’s surprised he doesn’t have to chain himself not to act on any of these images.

(Oh, it very much feels like he has done that anyway)

Yet, it is probably the worst night to do so. It has all been too much, and all this on top of that is a recipe for disaster. A disaster he’s been struck with nonetheless, though, perhaps he can spare you from.

When it comes to you, he has always put his heart before his mind, (but never disregarding the latter part. It is the essential element to keep both of you safe, to never compromise your social statuses, to create the optimum atmosphere for your relationship to flourish (by your own unusual standards)). For the first time, he’s not following that code. Even he can’t imagine the consequences if he doesn’t.

You’re glad that nothing has changed. No response from him, no action. His relaxed expression tells you enough; the calmness of his eyes, his slow breaths and the slight curve of his lips… To be honest, you’re relieved to see your words reach their destination but also set with the urge to prove them. To press down your mouth on his, from which you hope for an answer; to hold his hand without causing any discomfort, or simply hug him for a second, eliminating all space between your bodies like your souls.

Alas, the role of the hypocrite is a part you no longer wish to play, and you’re perfectly willing to hurt yourself by not succumbing to your wishes, and refrain him from further confusion.

“Good night, Obi Wan.” You say, fingers grazing over his for the last time, and curl yourself into a ball.

“Good night, my dearest.”

 ===

The morning is unlike the previous example.

You wake up to him getting up, so there’s no way for you to know if your bodies drifted closer during the night, but considering the position of your arm, extended way beyond the middle, it is quite possible to assume some physical contact was present.

Considering you two are not facing each other, thus acknowledgment of the situation is not a matter, your embarrassment is half of what it should be.

Though, your cheeks burn brighter each second you can’t peel your eyes off of him, filling up the rest of that cup. Watching him walk around, the movement of each chiseled muscle on his back as he puts his shirt and trousers on quickly highlights another impropriety. He is perfection, even in that drowsy state of the human condition, there’s harmony to his every motion, the slow steps he takes, the way the fabric glides against his skin, the subtle fine arrangements of his fingers to make sure it looks decent, even how he breathes causes him to blend into the room, but also bedazzle it in his grace, make him stand out like a crown jewel, a masterpiece of arts that name the place.

You can only stop your ogling once he leans in and stirs the flames, which were already going strong since they were last fed before you went to sleep- wait, that doesn’t seem possible, did he actually sever his sleep to tend to it?

Is there any other explanation you need?

Your heart may flutter out of your chest after this realization, so you skirt out of the blankets. Of course, the sound draws his attention, and you’re caught, forced to react.

Yet, the unstoppable smile forming on his lips inspires a similar response on yours so easily, so naturally that you don’t feel obligated at all. On the quite contrary, that simple mimic banishes any pretense, showering you with reassurance and bravery, the motivation to act on your own true terms, not society’s or the ones you pressured onto yourself.

“Good morning.” The simultaneous greeting pulls a giggle from both of you, and it is all so small, yet so much. You sway away from his direction, casually reaching for your clothes, hoping he doesn’t notice the tremor of your legs when you shed the nightwear and put the chemise on. Because you know, he’s watching you. Divine justice, perhaps.

“Be careful, Obi Wan, I might start to think you enjoy watching me get dressed too much.” The snarky comment, fighting its way out of your mouth further softens the atmosphere, and it is like the first days of spring after a harsh winter, soothing your souls with relief.

“Guilty as charged.”

You shake your head, consumed by his usual forward banter. A scene taken straight out of your past. You shimmy into your dress instead of coming up with a cleverer response.

“You don’t sound sick.” He says, indicating that he’s been paying attention. 

Biting your lip, you turn away. “Actually…”

“Is there something wrong?” He ends up right beside you in a blink, as if the world changed by your unfinished sentence. 

Your heart picks up a different rhythm, hands raised in position to tie your ribbon but frozen. “It’s nothing, my throat just feels-”

“Do you want me to call a doctor?”

That was the exact reason why you started with it’s nothing. Alas… “No, it’s probably just my overthinking and coming up with strange sensations.” And if not, it depends on how well you spend tonight, so there’s not much room for intervention. Definitely not in medical terms.

“Pity.” His comment makes you scoff. After that, you can’t reward him with your concerns, can you? It is funny, ugh.

“Let me help.” 

Your heart can’t get any rest as the tension simply changes garbs, his fingers trailing over yours and leading a 180° turn, leaving a blazing line along your skin, to tie the ends of your ribbon together. Your arms tentatively fall to your sides, not sure what to do with their freedom. His breaths lick your neck while he attentively, slowly smooths his creation, and you’d probably freak out if you weren’t so focused on the sheer range of his skills.

(Also the mystery of how he comes to acquire it, but it’s only the deep, dark parts of your mind speaking. Moreover, you do not pride yourself in a position to be jealous. You absolutely are, on that tiny level, and no, you’ll never admit it.)

Though, you’re not gonna comment on that, not when your heart threatens to fly out of its cage. The sacredness of the action brings back the echoes of your concerns, not a single one strong enough to overtake you, but the cacophony of them loud enough to occupy the entirety of your capacity.

All that talk of past times… Coupled with a little hesitancy, and how the tables turn…

“T- thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Like he just didn’t flip the dynamic, he carries on with his outfit, tying his cravat. His beautiful hands work expertly, effortlessly, and the result is perfect, even without a mirror, eyes on you the entire time.

“Is it looking fine?”

“Yes.” You meekly answer. It is decent, like he always is. Somehow witnessing that feels as sensual as the previous scene, pulling you further down the whirlpool.

Embarrassed enough already, you busy yourself with your hair, accepting the mess that it is, and decide on a simple bun, as much as possible. The practiced moves bring you some sense of calmness and control, even if the result isn’t perfect. The silence helps too, along with his occupancy of tidying up the room.

“Do you want to have some breakfast?” He asks. God, how does he still sound that cheery?

“No, thank you.” You don’t want to keep your father worrying any longer, and it’s not like you’re going to faint. The memory of your last food in the most unpleasant company is still strong enough to expel any thought of hunger.

That answer may be the clearest thought you’ve ever had this morning, yet it is the one that whispers doubt into his heart. You are silent, turned away from him, and far too engrossed in whatever unnecessary thing you’re doing. Because now, he fears that if the two of you leave this room, this building, all your lives in it will be a part of the history, never to be repeated or worse, mentioned again, lost in the torn pages. The joke about residing here for however long- seems awfully bitter, perfectly demonstrating he’d rather hold on to the possibility than put an end to this.

How could that be love?

Perhaps you were right, accusing him of madness.

That’s the only reason he walks out of the room to prepare the carriages, instead of cocooning the both of you in.

===

“Father!” You wrap your arms around him, who’s standing by the main entrance to your estate, waiting anxiously. He does the same, unaffected by the eyes that watch, the staff, and a mere acquaintance, Lord Kenobi.

Now Obi Wan knows who you got your bravery from.

He stands quietly, hands folded in front of him, not sure what to do but damn sure not to leave. He had plenty of time to think about his madness on the road, and decided it was not anything pathological- it was pure love and desperation for you. Isn’t that the nature of most of your meet-ups? Consoling each other in the positively dreadful situations, and utilizing everything to spend a second more together?

He hears you reassuring him of your well-being, and summarize the thing in pretty understated phrases. Even that makes him stutter over his words in a fit of rage. Obi Wan agrees. You distract him by speaking of the help you’ve gotten from a valiant friend, and that’s how he enters the conversation.

“Good morning, Sir.”

How he keeps it all cool, sharing and shaping his anger, silencing any doubt that may arise in him is a surprise, though he’s called a great negotiator for a reason, right? His work in various cases in court has earned him the title. He’s not overtly a fan of flaunting it. Though, it helps him a great deal in this instance.

At least, enough to have a pleasant exchange in these unpleasant circumstances, and secure permission to talk to you again.

Alone.

It is weird enough as it is already, you and him spending the night at some inn, him casually chatting with your father like his clothes haven’t benefitted from the merits of ironing, not to mention his hair being on the wild side after a slight treatment of rain, and now he is requesting your attention? Not only yours, but your father’s too in extent?

His plans have never been so crystal clear.

“No.” You declare your objection so clearly, in one word as the door closes behind him, giving you the privacy of the room. “No, no, no, no.”

“I haven’t even opened my mouth!” He objects, though it is more of a principal thing, than an actual defense. He knows you’ve worked it all out already. God, could he expect anything less from you? Your watery eyes and trembling hands break his heart into a million pieces, reactions so strong even before he has a chance to utter their cause. He caresses his beard, reevaluating if he should continue-

He can’t live with the consequences if he dares not. He can’t live with what-ifs, or not knowing the reason why you are so repulsed by the idea or would you still feel the same, if he told you about his love for you. Of course, that would require some magic, considering the magnitude and intricacy of it. How is he supposed to put the purest feelings he’s ever had to mere words, the origin of the butterflies caged up in his chest, the wires of his brain getting tangled up whenever you’re not around, and the constant intoxication from the strongest liquor he’s ever consumed? He’d rather die than sober up, and a part of him already recognizes that it’s not a possibility. It is his poison and antidote. There’s not a moment that passes without either of them.

And surely, he has no complaints about it. Never will. It is a brave choice, but what’s braver is this moment.

“No.” You repeat, hands clasped together to stop them from shaking. Your voice is low albeit steady, as much as it can be.

Because you do not lift your eyes to meet him. “You can’t propose to me, because I can’t refuse it. But I will. Then the whole country will wonder what is so wrong with you, and me, and they will talk about it all the time, for years to come. The whispers will be the first thing that you hear in every room you enter, and you’ll see the mischievous glint in the eyes of every person you meet, them scrutinizing whether those rumors are true. Our reputations will be tarnished forever, and we will hate each other for it.” And you can’t stand that.

You don’t sound like this is the first time you’re putting these words together. In all your distressed state, you sound awfully logical in your own way, so focused on one improbable, insane possibility (damn those reputations, he can never hate you), but devising every little detail.

“Why?” He basically hollers, running a hand through his hair. Why does that potential is the one you envision? “Why can’t you marry me?”

One can only dream that someone outside isn’t listening.

“Because- I don’t know!” You take a desperate step closer, showing him your honesty. You truly can’t quite name your aversions, and isn’t that already enough of a reason to stay away, spare the person you’re facing?  “I don’t know how to be a wife! And I am scared. All my life I alienated myself from the idea of a marriage, I methodically dismissed every chance claiming it wasn’t the time, all the way ‘til I would say it was too late. I was content with that idea. Because I love- loved my life the way it is; I get more than I need from my father, and that is to remain unchanged when my brother takes over, and I am free as a bird, unbound by society’s expectations, traveling wherever, wherever and trying new things. I was, I am so happy about it that anything that may alter it I shun from immediately. And now I find myself in a place I never imagined, and I am scared. I don’t know what happens now. I don’t know what to expect. I don’t know what that future looks like for us.”

He moves towards you, his head tilted sideways in understanding, arms reaching for yours. Finally, finally hearing your justifications, the basis of your attitude, fills him with pride and compassion, and most importantly, gives him an opportunity to help you solve those problems, together. But, you hush him, squeezing his wrists in gentle guidance, with tears streaking across your cheeks. “I just know that I love you. I love you so much that my heart will always feel like a weight in my chest when I’m not with you, like a ship sinking, but never reaching the bottom. And I will continue to love you even if you stop loving me back, but I would rather lose you on my terms than by the burdens a marriage brings.”  

“Why do you so believe that a mere contract would change my feelings? Do you think my affections for you are that fragile?”

You frantically shake your head, causing the drops to fall faster. “No, I’m not saying that-“

“Then what?” He snaps, though not because he’s angry. He wants to learn every single reason that’s keeping you away.

“You don’t know what that will do to us.”

“No, I don’t! And I don’t care! It will never change my feelings.” This, he can shout freely. This is the simplest truth for all his remaining days on this earth.

You don’t know that, you want to object. “Obi Wan…” Is the response that comes out of your mouth. “I am not a good bride.”

“No.”There’s acceptance in his tone, a punch to your guts. “You’re the love of life, my companion, my everything.” When he pulls you even closer, and cups your cheeks, you let him. “Haven’t we been through all the struggles a couple could share already? Haven’t I seen all of you, and let you see all of me? Haven’t you claimed my entire soul, and occupied my every single thought? You made me break my rules, and painted a picture I never thought was suited for me- and I came to like that picture very much. In fact, it’s all I ever want my future to look like, with you in it. You, exactly in the way you already are, with all your unsusceptibility to the norms and striking habits. I know that can be scary. I am afraid too. But, anything worth doing starts like this, I know it. And we’ll be the biggest idiots in the world if we let our fear rule us.”

You can’t help but laugh a little, the joyful sound making his breath hitch. It is reflected on his face too, and it is something you’ll hold on to, alongside the tears that begin to form on his eyes. Fortunately, they sit there, despite him kneeling in front of you, his fingers never leaving the bend of your arm, only to follow the route they create, and hold onto both of your hands. “Please, marry me.”

You’re convinced, but your tongue is still tied, so you nod. Your entire upper body shakes with the gesture in seconds, making you look like an overexcited child, on the verge of losing their balance with the restlessness of their legs. You barely feel him kissing your knuckles before he stands up and embraces you, stabilizing both of you in both physical and emotional terms. Let’s be real, if he kissed you instead as he desperately wished to, you’d fall on the floor (and continue there- ‘til somebody discovered the two of you in very indecent terms). His chuckles quickly become your favorite song, you feel blessed as they delight your ears, and make your chest vibrate like his. He revels in the newfound proximity, despite the fact that you’ve been much, much closer in the past. This is new. This is raw love, uncombined with other emotions, strengthened by the absolute truth that you two are meant for each other, and with the promise of you’ll do something about it. He holds you ‘til your sense of balance is restored, for he now has urgent matters he has to attend to. He’ll get to hold you forever soon, and that revelation doesn’t change the herculean feat of letting you go now. He can’t help but wipe the streaks of wetness on your face, though it forms again. He solely doesn’t repeat himself because of the widest grin on your lips. You press yourself to his palm, eyelids closing for a moment, then place a small peck on it.

 “I- I’m now gonna go and talk to your father, get the papers right- and find a-” oh, that’s not “a”, he is going to require many others even if he keeps everything minimal, “I’ll be back in three, fuck, four hours, okay?”

“What? No!” You exclaim, almost giving him a heart attack.

“What’s wrong?” His fingers tighten, a slight tremble taking over them. You have to smile to get him to relax once again, and raise your eyebrows wittily, as if he is a fool for not imagining it already, reminding him of your nature.

“I’m only doing this once. I want everything to be right.”

He squints his eyes, grasping your chin. There’s a few seconds of silence, the time it takes for his nerves to settle. When it does, you’re struck by the intensity of his blue irises, the condensed calm before the storm. “So you want to stay as my fiance ‘til the next season starts, in eight months, succumbing to waiting as we get no freedom to ourselves, always in the center stage, enjoying the last of our bachelor states, the lonely nights and beds bigger than you can ever occupy.”

His other hand, wandering across your waist tells you exactly what he implies. While you actually weren’t planning on such a thing, it causes a surge of rush to overtake you, burning you from the inside. Pursing your lips as you free your face from his grip, with a contradicting shaky breath, you say. “I was always fond of winter weddings…”

To this, he laughs, echoing in the room, and you join him.

One can only hope whoever outside listens to this too, this moment of pure joy preserved in one more mind.

 === 

 “I couldn’t be happier to be married to you.” Obi Wan whispers, but the sentence is loud and clear to you, etched into where he takes nest in the crook of your neck, hot breaths burning your skin.

“We’re still not- ngh“ Yes, this is supposed to be the rehearsal, the night before the main event. You two should be at the reception downstairs, among your many relatives and friends and other members of the society, all gathered for tomorrow morning, when these words of yours will be invalid.

Of course, you are further making a hypocrite of yourself by the way you hold onto him, legs wrapped around his waist, arms locked around his shoulders as he burrows his cock into you. It was impossible to wait any further, as you were separated by the whole ordeal of preparations and the watchful eyes. The moment you found a clearing, you two slipped away, cue to now, where your back on the wall as he supports you against it. You didn’t even get one meter away from the door, you could basically reach the knob with a simple extension of your elbow, but in the end, who cares? Who cares when he fills you so deliciously, scratching the itch that has been building for some time, peppering you with all the love in his heart?

Still, your sentence is cut abruptly as he drives his hips faster, rougher- very much an act of pedantry, advising not to get lost in the details. It works, the correction dies on your tongue, though a quite loud moan takes its place. His hand flies to cover your mouth, and your eyes pop open, meeting his. The pressure of his palm against your face almost forces another sound out of you. Fuck, you adore those blue storms, even when they are focused elsewhere, turned to the door as if it can see past behind it, scanning for intruders. You do actually whimper when the danger dissolves, the vibrations running among his bones, and he keeps up his pace, hitting that sweet spot over and over again.

However, it is getting harder in terms of balance as he now has one hand to stabilize you, and despite your best efforts, it is quite hard not to slide off of the smooth fabric of his clothes. Remorsefully, you push on his shoulders, and he understands, pulling his cock out of you and burying his mouth on your skin. He stifles a sob in there, the frustration getting the best of him.

“Oh, you definitely had too much wine.” Look at who’s talking, you with those wobbly legs and bitten lips…

“No, I just had too little of you.”

Your heart flaps its wings out of your chest, as it does after his every cheesy compliment. You still cannot figure out how he makes you blush harder with those words, even as he ravages you in the meantime.

You reach for a kiss, it is always a good idea. He hums contently at the touch, grateful at the most basic form of contact. Obi Wan rocks against you unintentionally, and that’s how the unsatiated desire wages war, with desperate groans and roaming hands.

Then, his fingers tighten around your waist, and you find yourself supported against the vanity with your open palms, depositing most of your weight there (thank God, because you couldn’t trust your feet much longer). He pulls your hips back to his. Your back arches in a way that is most complementary to his chest, and fuck, it is a vision.

It literally is.

Fluttering your eyes open for only a second (that was your intention at least), you’re struck down with the image of the two of you in the mirror, faces contorted in the prettiest way that is possible in this dirty position, heavy lids and open mouths, fingertips whitened by the strong grasp you have on each other, the matching colors of your outfits…

Yes, even with that detail, you’re still on his side, agreeing you’d be idiots if you weren’t doing this.

Deciding to take the sight from its direct source, you turn your head to the side a little, looking at the adonis of a man you’ll soon call your husband, with his neatly trimmed beard and prominent cheekbones and long eyelashes you are slightly jealous of and so much more…

He meets your gaze, breathless with similar thoughts, that little tug on the corner of his mouth telling you all you need to know, but then he nudges your face to its previous state by a small clasp of your chin, and you’re watching him through the reflection, leaning forward when he starts to fumble with your skirt once again.

The moan that leaves you is totally incapable of being unobscured as he enters you anew. The change in the angle along with the visual stimulation has you teetering on the edge quite easily, like him, but he denies it, maintaining slow movements and choking out any noise that dares to leave him.

Of course, all is impeded when the door is knocked-

“Occupied!”

“Occupied!”

Your voices are synchronized, high and tight. The clock stops for a moment for your bodies, as if the stationary status makes it any less scandalous, and both of you fixated on the doorknob.

It never turns. Never.

Still, the dilated pupils remain a little longer, joined over the mirror, with big puffs of breath and shaking hands.

“Do you think they-“ There’s not an exact word that you can find to explain what has just occurred, but the sentiment is clear.

“Probably.” And the answer too is just as clear.

Well, the only thing lost is the trivial achievement of never being discovered before the wedding.

A wedding which is hours away.

So, you push back, wiggling your hips. His unrestricted sound is all you need to regain your spirits back, and you do it once more. Just like that, the wheels are turning. 

“You realize there’s a bed behind us, right?” He asks as he slowly thrusts into you.

“Yes, but I like the view better here.” 

[cialovesklopp]

chapter one — mercedes amg

summary — contract signed, license accepted and off we go — it should have been that easy but the transition wasn’t. and now all hopes were resting on her. she truly hopes she won’t disappoint.

song — dead man walking [ brent faiyaz ]

warnings — none ( however if there is something that should have been, pls tell me )

word counts — 3.1k

cia’s quick rambles — so sorry for the long wait, so many things were happening and i completely forgot it with all the exams also coming up. however I got ahead of myself and finished the first two chapters. hope i have part three finished by next week. enjoy, this is just the beginning 🫶🏾

( masterlist / navigation / previous / next )

— august 2023

𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐌

princessaaliyah

liked by evamueller, mercedesamgf1 and 8.927 others

princessaaliyah first day of work, wish me luck

view all 1203 comments

username so she’s the girl toto appointed as new chief technical engineer? ⤷ username i really wanna know why her ⤷ username she doesn’t exactly seem like the normal appointment

username am i the only one surprised, how quick people found her account ⤷ username same, like they are actually scaring me

mercedesamgf1 welcome on board aaliyah, we’re already looking forward to our time together  ⤷ princessaaliyah me too, thanks admin 

username so happy to see more and more diversity here ⤷ username definitely, f1 is going to fall off so hard when lewis retires

username she is so pretty and sweet

evamueller already miss you so much, it’s so boring here ⤷ princessaaliyah now you know how i felt when you did a month in greece  ⤷ evamueller taking the family jet now to come see you ⤷ princessaaliyah letting you know now that i’m broke and can’t bail you out this time ⤷ evamueller 😕

username i already love her ⤷username fr she seems to funny and sarcastic

susiewolff excited to meet you aaliyah, always nice to see a new female face ⤷ princessaaliyah thx susie, i’ve also heard so much about you ⤷ princessaaliyah think i’m hyperventilating 

username predicting it now, she’s gonna build a rocket ship

username i really hope she’s gonna be the female adrian newey and have lewis win his eighth ⤷ username never with the way mercedes has been for the past two seasons

username there’s something promising about her

username am i the only one who finds it weird that she just appeared in the middle of the season ⤷ username it’s called silly season for a reason

f1 welcome to the sport aaliyah  princessaaliyah liked this comment

username but why is there nothing about her? like her wikipedia page is almost blank, as if it’s been created yesterday ⤷ username maybe because she likes her privacy like normal people? ⤷ username apparently she’s still a student  ⤷ username how do u know? ⤷ username my cousin used to go to the same university, she also has a phd in physics and a bachelor in engineering already ⤷ username and she’s only 26

username this is gonna be a funny second part of the season

username just begging that she can finally give lewis his eighth ⤷ username and george his second win 

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄

to say she was amazed was an understatement. standing in front of the official mercedes amg quarters had her star struck. even though it wasn’t her actual dream workplace, the place reeked of excellence. and it felt good to be part of that.  

just as expected it was raining in england which had her stepping out with an umbrella in her hand as she walked towards the modern complex. it was seven o’clock in the morning and the building's modern, metallic facade gleamed under the morning sun which had her breath hitch. it was beautiful and yet terrifying. 

she was doing this for him, she reminded herself. this was all for him— a gesture toward redemption, a way to ease the guilt that gnawed at her in the quiet of the night.

aaliyah smiled when she saw toto personally waiting for her at the entrance in a black team rain jacket. it fit his darth toto vibe perfectly. 

and how did she know about that? well, one good thing in her life was being an overachiever. she did not go anywhere unprepared and it was the same for her new job. between getting the offer and actually signing the work contract, she had done a full research into the world of f1 and all the lore that came with it. 

and how did she know about that? simple: overachievers like her never went anywhere unprepared. she had a knack for digging into the details, and when the job offer came, she didn't waste a second. between getting the call and signing the contract, she plunged into the world of F1, reading herself into all the lore that came with it.

she could call herself a brocedes expert now. 

“i’m happy to see that you made it.” he greeted her and the two walked inside. they passed teams of engineers and technicians moving with a synchronized efficiency that spoke volumes about their skill and dedication. 

the hum of activity, the whir of robotic arms, and the occasional rev of an engine being tested filled the air with an electric energy. he would have loved this, she thought and a small smile appeared on her face. 

this was her world, her area where she would excel. she had promised him that much and even though she was way out of her comfort zone, this was where everything came together and that created a new kind of comfort. the perfect mix of engineering and luxury cars. 

“this is bigger than i expected,” she mumbled, still feeling starstruck as they continued. many walls were decorated by massive tvs and pictures displaying the latest amg models in action, zooming through picturesque landscapes and roaring down racetracks.

toto laughed. “well, the best for the best right?”

“so what’s the plan for today? it’s seven thirty now and the only thing we’ve been doing is walk.”

“well the next race is soon so today, you’re going to see the car in its full glory for the first time. lewis and george should be arriving here soon so they can tell you a bit more about it.” 

of course, the two mercedes drivers she would meet for the first time today. she had read about them, instantly taking a liking to lewis. and she had found george to be very likable from what she had seen and heard of him. but meeting them in real life was always something else. 

it was crazy for her when she thought back that two months ago, she had just been aaliyah prince. engineering student at munich university. and now she could add the title of chef technical engineer to her resumé. her life had gone from zero to 180 in the span of a month and there was no going back. 

everything was already official, she had gotten her badge, she had signed her contract and the official f1 account had publicly announced the change. she was all in now. 

after a quick tour of the factory that had been specially arranged for her, she and toto entered a huge gallery where all of the previous race cars had been stored. she stopped in front of the famous w11, cautiously touching its rear wing while her heart started beating quicker. 

“impressive, huh?” 

she turned around and found toto smirking at her. 

“it’s definitely something. i think this was the most perfect car in f1 history, it did give lewis his seventh championship.”

there was something spark-like in toto’s eyes. “nice to know that you did your homework. and with you, i’m sure we’re going to get his eighth.”

she opened her mouth, wanting to say something before closing it again. she didn’t want it to sound wrong but she had to know. she needed assurance that her secret and past stayed hidden and buried six feet underground. 

“didn’t they ask questions? why you suddenly chose to recruit a twenty-something student from university?”

“i’m the boss, i get to do everything.” 

“i just mean, people will want to know where i am from, look me up. and that’s what scares me.”

“aaliyah, if this is about what I think it is — i’m the only person that knows about it and should know about it,” he began and closed the door to make sure no one could overhear them. “ we both talked about it, i handled it, don’t worry.”

“i just don’t want anything to come out,” said aaliyah, her voice much quieter. “and with me being a public person now—”

“you don’t want anyone to know that you have an iq of 171 and are a certified genius.”

she snorted sarcastically. “175 and believe me, my brain has been more of a curse than a gift to me.”

toto softly put a hand on her shoulder. “and i’m here for you now. i may be your boss but i’m also your friend. so if anything, and i really mean anything,” he emphasized, both knowing what they were referring to, “comes up, you tell me. call, or even come to my hotel room. there’s always a solution.”

the tour neared the end and toto led her to a special section with lots of computers and graphics. there were sketches and designs with specific attention to detail that amazed her in one way. aaliyah could feel a deep sense of admiration for the talent and dedication of her new colleagues.

and in the middle, in all its black beauty and glory stood two w14, one with a certain green-yellowish embroidering while the other had a blue one. she felt more than fascinated with them — this could become an obsession for her. staring at the car in front of her should have made her back out, maybe even run for the hills if the reports that she had read about mercedes and their w14 were true. 

but instead it sent her brain into overdrive. 

in her head she was already going over all the things she could experiment, of course under regulation of the other mechanics. this was the car she had to turn into a rocket ship and she would be lying if she said she wasn’t excited. 

maybe that's why she sometimes viewed her brain as a curse. it was a relentless force, endlessly questioning and analyzing, never quiet. it burdened her with insights and thoughts that felt overwhelming, leaving her longing for peace she rarely found.

she edged closer to the car, her fingers brushing against its surface, the sensation almost dreamlike. the touch brought back memories of those old sundays, when life felt simpler. she recalled sitting with her father on the couch, watching the races when the cable worked, and how he loved to point out the drivers to little aaliyah, who only understood the allure of the cars.

it made her miss her dad so much. 

the car itself was at first sight a masterpiece of combining aerodynamics and engineering with the law of physics. she could practically feel all the effort and research that had gone into developing it. her finger graciously traced the carbon fiber bodywork along, the coolness of the material sending a shiver down her spine.

her thoughts darted ahead, a whirlwind of possibilities for the car's transformation. she could already pinpoint some areas ready for modifications, envisioning tweaks and upgrades that might unlock new speeds, each idea a wave crashing against the limits of her own imagination.

aaliyah found herself so mesmerized by the car, she did not notice the two other persons enter the room. lewis and george were clearly surprised when instead of the expected elderly man, they found a young black woman standing in front of them, completely lost in her thoughts as she played with the car. they were clearly curious because except for her name, they didn’t know anything about her. 

“you must be aaliyah,” said lewis in a warm tone and she turned around, nearly jumping because of the two new presences in the room.

great, she had already ruined her first impression and and it was lewis hamilton standing in front of her. 

thank god she couldn’t spot a blush or else her face would have matched a ferrari car. “yes, that’s me, aaliyah. the new chief technical engineer. and for the record, in my head this went way better.”

they all laughed. 

george took a step forward and held out his hand. “george russell, a pleasure to work with you from now on.”

damn, he’s tall. was height a requirement to work here? 

lewis snorted. “believe me, i asked myself the same thing. 

again, thank the lord her skin was too dark to blush. “i didn’t mean to say that out loud.” 

she suddenly felt small, smaller than she already was in company of the three men. lewis hamilton was beautiful, ethereal even — his iconic dreadlocks were neatly styled in a typical bun, he had beige trousers matched with the black team merch on and his fingers were adorned with all types of rings. but it was his smile that made him probably the most beautiful man she had ever seen. 

in other words, lewis reminded her of him. 

then there was george, whose tall frame and youthful energy were equally compelling and kind of attractive. she knew they would get along well, his smile was warm and genuine as they shook hands. it really did feel as if she could find her place here. 

“i’ll start again and just say, it’s an honor to be here. i can’t wait to work with you,” said aaliyah, smiling. 

“it’s great to meet you too, aaliyah,” george said, his handshake firm. “toto didn’t tell us much but looking forward to working with you.”

“it’s always great to see another female face working in this environment,” added lewis, a warm smile on his face. “and your hair looks amazing by the way. i love the afro.”

was she about to cry because the lewis hamilton complimented her hair? never. but was she about to have an allergic reaction because of that? perhaps. 

she passed a hand through her hair, untangling a few curls. “thank you, lewis. i appreciate the compliment.”

“always here if you need one, sweetheart,” he winked at her which had her laugh. 

they continued their small get-to-know-each-other as they discussed various aspects of the car and how the last races had gone for each of them. some of them were good, others horrible and manageable. the two drivers told her where they thought was the most to work on and the challenges they encountered concerning the speed. 

but as hopeful as they sounded, aaliyah knew she had to set limits to their dreams before she gave them too much and they would fall flat down on their arses. 

“boys, let me just say something,” her tone became a bit more serious, “from what i heard about the rules concerning changes, certain can give you penalties. the current setup is good, i already see some things i can change but i can’t do much for now because i need to see it in action.”

lewis nodded. “you’ll travel with us for the next races, won’t you? or will you work from the factory?”

“i think both, like i said, i need to see the car in action. so the next race, i’ll be there,” she explained. “also, i need to note that there may be several areas i believe that need significant changes from the reports i’ve been able to read. and not only will this take time but there’s a high likelihood we might need to take some grid penalties for those changed. i just want to make sure you’re both on board with this before we go any further with this.”

they exchanged a glance, both drivers listening thoroughly to what she had to say. they were already struggling and in a hard battle with the ferraris concerning the second place in the constructor’s championship. but on second thought, a few grid places lower were definitely manageable if it meant fighting at the top again. 

lewis was the first to nod again, this time towards her. “we’ll handle a few grid places. at this point, it’s anything to give those red bulls in front a fight and show them they’re not invincible,” he said firmly, determination clear in his tone. “we’ve been struggling with this car for a while now, the bumping may be gone but it’s still so slow. if you believe these changes will help us get back to the front, then we’re with you.”

“yeah, i absolutely agree. not going to lie, it’s been horrible driving this thing as it is. we trust your expertise, aaliyah. and if you think we need to take a step back to move forward, then that’s what we’ll do.”

aaliyah clapped her hands together. “that’s brilliant to hear. i promise i’ll do my best to give those red bulls a fight and make sure we come back as the famous silver arrows.”

she knew she could fix it—find the mistake and redo the equation. and if not for herself, then for him. there was no question in her mind; she was determined. she had never backed down from a challenge before.

[anincompletelist]

[ vol i | vol ii | vol iii | fic rec fridays ]

hi all! :D I have slowly but steadily been knocking things off of my tbr list, a few classics and a few newer fics, and they've been AMAZING! as per usual I wanted to share before the list gets too long for next time!

as always, please remember to leave kudos and a comment if you enjoyed the fic or show support in other ways, and be kind! mind the tags and if you come across something you dislike, please kindly (and quietly) move on.

happy new year and happy reading y'all! <3

Have you ever been alone in a crowded room? | @hgejfmw-hgejhsf | T+ | 5k

When the Legendary Balls-Out Bananas White House Trio New Year's Eve Party is interrupted by a security threat, Henry, Pez, Nora, June, and Alex find themselves locked in the White House library for their own protection with nothing but time, a few bottles of champagne, and some lighthearted conversation, until a single question threatens to change everything for Henry.

(+ read their first au fic here ahh!)

muscle memory | @dumbpeachjuice | E | 30k

It's been ten years since Alex was in London to stage a PR friendship with Henry after ruining the royal wedding. It's also been ten years since Alex dropped to his knees in front of Henry in a Kensington Palace kitchen. But now Henry's in the Hamptons for the summer, and who should he bump into? None other than Alex Claremont-Diaz, who happens to be working in New York all summer long.

You Are the Wave I Could Never Tame | bleedingballroomfloor | E | 12k

That should be it. Henry is doing his job; the pool is getting cleaned, and Alex shouldn’t think anything more of it. Then why does he feel the slightest bit of disappointment when he walks back to the pool house and Henry isn’t there? Or, the pool boy Henry AU that I couldn't stop thinking about until I wrote it.

if evil, why so cute? | @everwitch-magiks | E | 5k

Alex’s cat hates Alex, but loves Henry, the Bookstagram influencer who’s on vacation in Alex’s quiet seaside town. And while Alex is pretty salty about his grumpy cat’s inexplicable affection for a complete stranger, he must admit he can see the appeal; Henry is fucking gorgeous. It’s why Alex follows him on Instagram in the first place. It's just, Alex had never thought he’d be officially introduced to Henry by his own goddamn cat. Or: Henry takes a two-week vacation to a seaside cabin with the intent to read a lot of books. Instead, he has a lot of sex.

Just like that | @myheartalivewrites | E | 10k

When Henry comes home from a date frustrated by the guy’s lack of expertise, Alex starts having thoughts. And then, because he’s Alex, he sticks his big foot in his even bigger mouth.

(@myheartalivewrites listen I fell down a rabbit hole ok and if I could rec your entire ao3 here I would -- OH WAIT I CAN)

In His Wildest Dreams | @myheartalivewrites | E | 11k

Set in and around the Henry bonus chapter, this is a story about Henry and Alex’s hectic schedules, family appearances etc. pulling them apart, and about what starts to happen between them, in the quiet of night: their sleeping bodies turning to each other, finding their sweet spots and opening up. And Alex and Henry learning a lot about each other in the process

Be Worthy Love, and Love Will Come | @sparklepocalypse | E | 30k

"For Christmas this year, all I would like is a best friend who doesn’t mind too much that I’m a prince. Most of my classmates poke fun because of who I am, or treat me like I’m too special to be their friend. I want a best friend who knows me as much as my family does and still likes me. I know that you can’t wrap a best friend up in a box and put it under the tree, but you’re magic so you know the best way to bring one." (Movieverse canon divergence; Prince Henry, age 8, writes to Father Christmas wishing for a best friend. A few weeks later, he finds one.)

A Picture on Your Corkboard | bleedingballroomfloor | M | 23k

It happens on a random morning in May when Alex, age fourteen, pads into the kitchen to greet his mother and steal a waffle from June's plate and sees a man sitting at their breakfast counter, reading a newspaper, a cup of coffee raised to his lips. Like he belongs. Like it's the most natural thing in the world. June doesn't seem to give the man a second thought. She merely flicks Alex on the forehead and takes back the waffle. Ellen isn't worrying, either. In fact, she's talking to him. Asking what his schedule is like. Making plans for dinner. Alex has never seen this man before in his life.

I want to mark my skin (it is paper thin) | @violetbaudelaire-quagmire | M | 10k

To: alex@biconicink.com From: hjfox@rocketmail.co.uk Subj: Tattoo Reference Attached: 1 file (orionsketch.jpg) Hello, Attached you’ll find a line art drawing of the constellation Orion. The shoulder blade is the intended location. Best, H.J. Fox [OR: It's a Tattoo Shop AU!]

(Dil)Do It Yourself | @happiness-of-the-pursuit | E | 16k

“Listen,” Nora starts, turning her body once more so that she’s sitting sideways in the chair with her legs thrown across the armrest. “I did the math. There’s a 79% chance you’re gonna become a slut to the power of the prostate, and while we’re not dating anymore, it’s my duty as your fellow slutty bisexual to get this party started.” Or, when Nora drags Alex to a holiday dildo workshop, he doesn’t expect to find someone to use it with.

just a figure of speech | @congee4lunch | E | 17k

“Like I said: Alphas really don’t know how to fuck.” “And like I said,” Alex sets down his mug and steps closer to Henry. “I can fuck and I know how to fuck you so well, you’ll see stars, baby.” [henry, an omega, hasn’t had good sex in a long time. as his alpha roommate and friend, alex can help with that. in a totally platonic bro way, of course]

+

saving some for next rec, I'll see you all then! enjoy, and remember to show support if you did! <3

xx