#I would usually private this but I’m so sick of hiding

[lovingempress]

I am 25 and I’ve finally decided to forgive myself for becoming a NEET when I was a teenager. I’ve come to a few realizations (or well, remembered them)

Backstory- When I was 13, my sperm donor pulled me from public schooling. I had missed so much school that we had to go to family court. Mind, this was in our hometown, and my father was a lawyer who specialized in family court, so you could imagine how that went. He spun a pretty tale, and I kept my mouth shut even as he lied straight to the judge���s face. Even as he blamed it all on me. Typical day of my life, really.

From that point on, I was “homeschooled”, except… not really. That’s just what I told people, because I was scared and ashamed (because it was obviously my own fault for not having an education). That was our “secret,” and I had better keep it unless I wanted to be responsible for getting CPS on our asses.

Because, it’s obviously the teenager’s fault that she didn’t sign herself up for school. (Except she tried- I tried. My father refused. I found programs, I begged him to sign me up for something, anything. Distance classes, online schooling, homeschooling- hell, even tutoring! He refused. It was “my job” to do it. He said he would “sign the papers” if I handed them to him, but how was I supposed to navigate the ever tangled web of lies he already spun without getting myself and my brothers in trouble? Who was I to ask without causing CPS to appear?) In hindsight, by the time I had actually found the programs (15 yr) and he told me to just get my GED instead- the reason he refused was because it was too close to home and too easy for the lie to be exposed. If he had signed me up, they would have easily seen that he never actually had me homeschooled, and he would have gotten in trouble with the law.

My reputation at home and within my family was ruined, you know. I lost contact with all of my friends. All I did was sleep, panic at my failing life, and read. What did everyone around me see when they saw me? She was obviously desperate to stay away from socializing with her friends and getting an education. She’s a dirty layabout. She’s just ditching school because she doesn’t want to go. It’s not like she missed school because she was in so much pain that she physically couldn’t get out of bed (except she was). It’s not like she was sent to specialists and bounced from doctor to doctor before finally being told that she was just going to have to grow out of it and just deal with the pain (sincerely fuck you for telling a kid that debilitating pain was normal “because you’re a girl” and to just push through it). She’s fine. She’s not mentally disabled like the rest of her family, so she doesn’t need any help. She’s fine. She’s normal. (He sexually harassed my therapist into discontinuing our care just when I thought things were gonna get better) She’s a smart independent woman (She’s barely a teenager). She’s so pretty she could be a model! (The only thing she has of worth is her looks) She’s just being lazy, a typical uncooperative teenage girl. (She’s depressed and in agony). Everyone’s trying their best and she refused, this was the best we could do, honest! She’s fine. She’s fine. She’s just being dramatic! She’s not fine.

The judgment I faced from so many family members... “When are you going back to school?” They would ask me again and again. And, I would have to keep the lie and say I was being homeschooled, but they knew I wasn’t. They just accepted it and kept pushing me to go back to school. Me, like I was the problem here. I bit my tongue and lied, lied, lied. I let them believe that I refused to go to school. I made excuses, every time, because if I didn’t then it would be my fault for breaking up the family, for ruining my brothers’ life. Did I want them to get sexually abused?! If I made a fuss then we would lose our home and our food and starve to death (like he didn’t regularly withhold food anyways). I didn’t want to cause drama, so I kept my mouth shut and didn’t say anything; I took the blame, I placated, and I lied. And, it hurts so much. I ruined my reputation, and for what?

By the time I finally went to high school, I was 17. I had to sign myself up for a school over half an hour away before I was able to finally go to school, and the “plan” was for me to pass the placement tests and get my GED. My entire teenage years I was self-learning off of Khan Academy, all on my own. I had no structure, no homework beyond what I tried to assign myself. No lesson plan besides the ones I tried to make for myself. I tried off and on to keep up with my education, and somehow, it didn’t feel new. After all, when did my parents ever help me with homework? I’ve always been “independent,” a “strong self-directed learner.”

I failed the placement tests they gave me, you know. Do you know how embarrassing it is, to have the person who set you up to fail talk you up to your prospective teachers in a specialized school? I was an adult learner in high school, and I graduated the same year as my younger brother. Of course, he skipped over half his entire senior year because he was “bored” and “didn’t want to go”, but he’s autistic so it was “okay.” (It’s not like I wouldn’t have killed for the support and help he got, how unbothered he got to be around family as they congratulated him).

But you know what.

I graduated with a 4.0 in high school. Sure I graduated late, but I graduated, even when everyone else wrote me off. With honors even. Except for that one specialized math class, I got As in all my college courses; I’ve been in honor society my entire adult schooling. I passed my TEAS with an above average grade. I’m in nursing school now, in a program so small there are people who’ve tried for literal years to get into.

So, sincerely, FUCK YOU DAD YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT. I’m done being your scapegoat for shit I didn’t do

[moonstruckme]

omg mae bae happy bday and congrats on 7k wowie! would you do apple pie, ¹⁰⁾ a six pack of beer and an apology, with steve harrington? <3

Thank you lovely <3

cw: alcohol, spin the bottle

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

Steve finds you in the kitchen. You’ve procured a pair of scissors from somewhere, and you’re snipping apart those plastic rings that hold together six-packs. You glance up as he comes in but look away quickly, picking another up off the counter. 

“Turtles strangle themselves on these things,” you say. You snip a corner, the sound short and crisp. “I don’t know why we still use them.” 

Steve honestly doesn’t think much about sea animals when he’s drinking a beer, but he wants to agree with you. “Me neither.” 

“It’s like, we’re supposed to be this advanced society. Can’t we come up with something that doesn’t kill turtles?” 

“Mhm. Probably.” 

“I just think it’s dumb.” You push out a breath. It sounds frustrated, but Steve knows you well. You’re more stressed than angry. He’s not patient enough to wait for you to get around to telling him that yourself. 

“What’re you doing in here?” he asks. 

You look up at him again. Shrug. “I was sick of being out there.”

“You wanna go home?” 

“Do you?” 

It’s a fair thing to ask. Steve’s your ride, so leaving these things is usually a joint decision. But he feels like the question is pointed. “Do you think I wanna go home?” 

“I don’t know.” Some of the stress is seeping into your voice now, your terseness taking on a new hue. “You seemed mad.” 

He was mad (is mad?). He just hasn’t figured out if it’s fair for him to be, yet, so he wasn’t planning on making it your business. He thought that would be the nice thing to do, but you don’t seem to appreciate being left out of the loop. 

“Do I seem mad now?” he asks. 

You cut through the last plastic ring with a harsh snap. “Christ, Steve, I don’t know. Why are you asking me all this?” 

“I’m sorry,” he says, and though it’s automatic he does mean it. “I’m not trying to be mad at you.” 

Your eyes meet his, crushed before you can hide it. “But you are.” 

“Not—” He sighs, jamming his thumb against his brow bone. It’s an anxious habit, a preventative measure against potential headaches. “Not really. Not in a way that’s important.” 

“I think it’s important anytime you’re mad at me,” you say. Your voice has softened and smalled. Steve feels like his guts are in knots. He wants to make an excuse, to explain—It’s not that I’m actually mad at you. I haven’t decided if I should be. So we’re all good, right? For now, I mean. At least until I decide.—but before he get the chance to further fuck things up you ask, “Can you tell me what you’re mad about?” 

Steve drops his hand to look at you. “You really don’t know?”

You wince, and he thinks you do know. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. I’m sorry.” 

He feels his brows furrow. “For what to happen?” 

“For it to land on you.” 

“That’s not…it’s spin the bottle. You can’t control who it lands on. That’s the point.” 

You shake your head, almost to yourself. Your fingers are fiddling with the ends of your sleeves. “I shouldn’t have even played. I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have if I’d known that was gonna happen.” 

“What do you keep apologizing for?” Some accidental anger makes its way into Steve’s tone. “Who did you want to kiss?”

You blink. “No one.” 

“Nobody plays spin the bottle unless they want to kiss someone.” 

“Well, I guess I changed my mind.” 

“Why?” 

“Because!” Your voice rises, and you lower it just as quickly. You both glance to the kitchen entryway like the calvary is going to come force you back to that stupid party just because you almost yelled. “Because,” you say, quieter, “it was weird.”

Steve forgets to even try to keep his face in check. He feels it twist with hurt. “It was?” 

“Yes! Everyone was looking at us, and it was like a game—it was a game.” You pull your sleeves over your hands, shoulders winding up tight. “I guess I just feel like that sort of thing should be private.”

Awareness dawns upon him like a slow sunrise. Steve has never been known for his book smarts, but he’s not stupid. He knows what it feels like to be liked. He’s just never known what it felt like to be liked by you. 

A little laugh of disbelief stumbles out of him. “You said ‘ew.’” 

You’d been tipsier and fizzy with excitement when the game had started. Smiling and laughing at everything, your giddiness palpable. When your turn had come, Steve had watched you carefully to see if your eyes did that hopeful flit to someone in the circle, but all your concentration had been on the bottle, your smile slipping just a little as it spun. And landed on him. 

Ew, you laughed. No, c’mon, you can’t make us.

That’s the game, Marcy had reminded you gleefully. As a resister, you now had the attention of most of the circle. It wasn’t Steve’s first time playing. He knew how it went. 

Relax. He’d forced a smile, getting onto his hands and knees to meet you in the middle. It’ll be quick. Not too disgusting.

You’d made a face of humorous unwillingness, your eyes darting around the group as if seeking rescue. Fine, you relented. If it’s not a big deal to you, it’s not to me. 

Steve had done this more than once, but it felt especially awkward with you. Crawling into the middle of a circle of spectators, your hand knocking the bottle so that it clinked and rolled. True to his promise, he kept it brief, a short, painless press of his lips. Hardly enough to feel the impression of yours before you were both pulling away, Steve silent and you spewing a string of nervous giggles. 

You’d left before it was Steve’s turn to spin. 

Now you seem near to ripping the sleeves of your shirt, the material stretched over your curled fingers as you worry your lip. You’re back to not looking at him. “I didn’t mean ‘ew’ at you.” 

It had sure sounded like it. “Then what did you mean?”

“I meant it, like, I didn’t like how things were going.” You laugh at yourself, the sound stymied. “Like ew, we have to kiss in front of everyone, or ew, Chris is watching us way too intently.”

Steve makes a face. “He was?” 

“Is that what you’re mad about?” Something seems to dawn upon you now, too, your expression clearing. “That I said that?” 

He looks at you for a second. “Well, it sounds stupid when you say it out loud.” 

“No it doesn’t,” you say, but you look to be fighting a grin. “I’m sorry, it’s not stupid. I didn’t mean to be mean.” 

“It’s okay,” he says genuinely. 

You shake your head. “I wasn’t thinking. But that’s not what I meant.” 

Steve knows this now, but he teases you anyway. “Are you sure about that?” 

You hesitate only half a second before you catch onto what he’s doing. Your smile starts to win. “I’m sure.” 

“Kissing me doesn’t disgust you?” 

“No.” Your voice is bashful now, but your eyes are steady on his as you take a step toward him. 

The knots in Steve’s guts aren’t getting any looser, though there’s a different kind of commotion going on there now. “I don’t know if I believe you.” 

You reach for each other at the same time, his hands on your ribs and yours on either side of his face, and this time there’s no glass bottles to knock or rules to adhere to or spectators to appease. This kiss isn’t short.

[jksarchives]

THE SIX STAGES OF A BREAK-UP │04

➪ PAIRING; jungkook x reader

➪ GENRE; lovers to strangers, angst

➪ WC; 4.6k

✎ series masterlist

4. DEPRESSION

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

▍9 YEARS AGO — 13 JUNE 2013

The park was quiet, and its usual daytime bustle was replaced by the serene whisper of a gentle breeze through the trees. The night was deep, almost midnight, and the stars shimmered faintly above despite being obstructed by the forming rain clouds, peeking through the canopy of leaves.

You and Jungkook strolled hand in hand along the dimly lit path, your footsteps muffled by the soft earth beneath you. You both knew the dangers of walking in the park at such a late hour, and the countless stories of robberies and mishaps weren’t uncommon.

As youngsters who just graduated high school, you have both been warned countless times by worried parents and teachers about the risks. But tonight, those fears seemed distant, almost forgotten. There was a comforting sense of security that came from being together, a mutual trust that warded off the night’s unpredictability.

You weren’t oblivious to the dangers — you simply chose to trust in each other. The park was yours tonight, a private sanctuary where the outside world and its dangers felt far away.

Your hand fit perfectly in his, a connection as familiar as it was comforting. Every so often as you slowly strolled along the path, you would exchange a glance, a smile, or a soft word, basking in the peace of the moment. The world around you was still, the usual worries of the day melting away into the cool night air.

Jungkook looked at you beside him, his expression a mix of tenderness and concern. Your steps were slow, and though you tried to hide it, he could see the fatigue in your eyes. You had been very sick lately, and it had weighed heavily on his heart.

Breaking the silence, he gently squeezed your hand. “Are you feeling okay?” he asked, his voice soft, laced with worry.

You didn’t answer immediately. You looked up at him, your eyes warm but tired. Then you nodded slowly, offering him a small, reassuring smile. You hummed softly in acknowledgment before leaning your head against his shoulder.

As your head came to rest there, he leaned down and placed a soft peck on your head. He felt you relax at his touch, your breathing steady but weak.

For a moment, you both simply walked in silence, savoring the comfort of each other's presence. Jungkook wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer as you continued your slow walk through the park.

For a few minutes you both walked in silence, letting the gentle breeze blow over your faces. You broke the silence by letting out a big sigh, and Jungkook looked at you with a small frown.

“You good?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m just glad we finally graduated school” you answered and wrapped your arms around his arm.

“It’s like we can finally breathe now” you added.

“No more of Mr Lee’s bullshit” Jungkook giggled, reminding you of your homeroom teacher who you both had and absolutely hated.

You snorted in response, “I hate that baldy, he always found a way to pick on me” you said.

Jungkook couldn’t help but laugh as he threw his head back.

“I think he might have had a crush on you” he teased, nudging you.

You almost instantly elbowed him in the rib and shoved him away.

Jungkook winced in pain as he rubbed the aching area you just elbowed him, but the glint of mischief was still there as he laughed at you staring at him with horrified and disgusted eyes.

“Eww hell no! He’s like, what? Forty-years-old?” you almost gagged.

“Baby I’m just kidding” he lightly giggled as he pulled you in by the waist, and you smacked him in the shoulder as you rolled your eyes.

After a minute of silence, he snaked his hand around yours and intertwined his fingers with yours.

“I love you” he said, lightly pressing his lips against the side of your head.

You smiled, feeling your heart warm up at his tender touch. Giving his hand a light squeeze, you removed your hand out of his hold and wrapped them around his waist.

“I love you too” you said back.

You both continued to walk in comfortable silence, enjoying each other's presence without the need for words.

And after a few minutes, you approached a bench beneath a large oak tree, its branches stretching out like protective arms from the light droplets of rain that were starting to fall.

You sighed in relief as you wiggled your aching ankles, and the sage coloured crocs you were wearing allowed the cool night air to soothe your tired feet. You hadn’t realised how much they ached until you finally stopped walking. You leaned back against the wooden bench and let out another sigh of relief.

Jungkook, however, seemed lost in his thoughts. He was fidgeting with something in the pocket of his sweatpants, his fingers nervously moving in and out of the fabric. His gaze was focused on the ground, his lips drawn into a tight line as if he were chewing on words he couldn't quite bring himself to say.

You noticed. With the way his shoulders were slightly hunched, and how he kept nibbling on his lips, it was a telltale sign that he was nervous about something.

You reached out and placed your hand gently on his knee, “are you okay Jungkook?” you asked worriedly.

He looked up at you, his eyes wide and unsure. For a moment, he hesitated, as if struggling to find the right words.

Then, with a shaky breath, he pulled his hand from his pocket, revealing a small velvet box. The sight of it made your eyes widen and your heart skip a beat.

Jungkook couldn’t help but giggle at the look on your face, “don’t worry, I’m not proposing to you — yet” he said.

“I...I wanted to give you this,” he began.

He opened the box to reveal a delicate ring, a simple band with a small, shining stone set in the center.

“It's a promise ring. I know it's not much, but I wanted you to have something...something that shows how much you mean to me” his voice was almost a whisper.

Your eyes softened as you looked at the ring, then back up at him. You could see how nervous he was, how much this moment meant to him. The rain continued to fall around you, a light drizzle that only added to the intimacy of the moment.

Jungkook took the ring from the box and slipped it onto your finger. It fit perfectly. A smile spread across your face as you looked back at him with your heart swelling with love.

“It's beautiful” you whispered, your voice full of emotion.

“Thank you” you added in the end.

Jungkook let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding, his shoulders relaxing as relief washed over him.

“I just wanted you to know that I'm serious about us. I want to be with you, no matter what” he told you.

Taking your hands in his large ones, his deep and earnest eyes met yours.

“I love you, Y/n” he said softly.

“You’re everything to me. When I look into my future, all I see is you — us, together. I want you to know that I promise to love you, to cherish you, and to stand by you no matter what life throws our way”

The rain picked up, the sound of it on the leaves growing louder, but his words cut through it all.

“Even through the toughest storms, I’ll be here, right by your side. Forever”

Your eyes watered with unshed tears, and you couldn’t hold them back any longer. They began to spill over as they left a warm trail down your cheeks. Your lips trembled as you tried to speak, but the words were lost in the swell of emotions.

Even though you have been together a little over a year, you knew Jungkook’s love was genuine. You knew he was true to his words when he said he loved you, and he was never ashamed to prove it.

Without saying a word, you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck as. You held him close, tightening your hold and burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“I love you too Jungkook” your voice was muffled against his neck, but Jungkook heard it loud and clear.

“I love you the most, princess” he smiled, hugging your waist protectively.

━━━━━━━━━━

▍PRESENT

You found it difficult to digest the fact that the memory was of ten years ago.

And now, here you sat quietly on the couch with your knees drawn tightly to your chest, as if by compressing your body you could contain the storm raging inside you. Your chin rested on top of your knees, a position you had found yourself in often over the past few days.

Your hair was a tangled mess, strands falling limply around your face, a sign of how little you had cared for yourself lately. It was clear you hadn’t run a comb through it in days, maybe longer.

Your eyes, once vibrant and full of life, were now bloodshot from hours of crying, the whites tinged with red like an ominous warning light. The tears had dried up for now, but they had left their mark, leaving your eyes hollow and rimmed with dark circles.

Your face was ghostly pale, drained of all color as if life had been sucked out of you. The paleness only accentuated the deep sadness carved into your features — a sadness that seemed far too heavy for someone so young.

You stared down at the small, silver ring on your finger, the one you hadn’t removed in the ten years since he had slipped it onto your hand.

It had once been a symbol of hope, of a future you were supposed to build together. Now, it was a relic of promises that had been shattered, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to take it off.

You hadn’t moved from that spot for hours. Time had lost its meaning. The ring, once a comfort, now felt like a shackle, but still, you couldn’t remove it.

Taking it off would mean acknowledging that it was truly over, and you weren’t ready for that.

Not yet.

So, you just sat there, staring at it, as if by doing so you could somehow go back to a time when the promises it represented were still intact, and the world hadn’t yet fallen apart around you.

You could only laugh at your sheer twist of fate.

Jungkook always had a way of making you feel like the center of the universe, as if the stars themselves shone only for you.

You remembered the way his eyes would light up when he saw you, the way his voice would soften when he spoke to you.

He had promised you the world. He had promised you forever.

“You’re the only girl I’ll ever love,” he had said, his voice filled with conviction that made your heart swell with hope and certainty.

“There will never be anyone else.”

Those words had wrapped around you like a warm blanket, shielding you from the cold reality of the world.

He made you believe you were special, that you were different from anyone he had ever known. In his eyes, you were irreplaceable, unique, the love of his life.

But now, those words feel like daggers, stabbing into your chest with a pain that was almost physical. The man who had vowed to love you, who had sworn that no one could ever take your place, had broken your heart in the cruelest way.

He had moved on, found someone else, and left you behind in the aftermath of confusion and sorrow. The promises he made, the dreams you both built together, all shattered like fragile glass, leaving you to pick up the pieces alone.

You remembered how he used to call you late at night, just to hear your voice before he fell asleep.

How he would text you good morning every day without fail, making you feel like you were the first thing on his mind when he woke up.

How he would hold you close, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, convincing you that your love was unbreakable.

He had painted you the most beautiful art of love and trust around her, making you believe in a future that was never meant to be.

Now, that art was disintegrating, thread by painful decay.

No matter how much you tried to wrap your head around trying to understand what exactly went wrong in your relationship, there was no clear answer. There was no moment of revelation that explained why he abandoned you, why he chose to love someone else.

The nights are the hardest. When the world was quiet and still, your thoughts raced, taking you to dark places you never imagined you would go.

You sunk into your couch and laid your head back. You stared at the ceiling, the silence oppressive and suffocating. You thought of all the things you should have said, all the things you should have done differently.

Maybe if you had been more understanding, more patient, more loving, he would have stayed. Maybe if you had fought harder, he would still be yours

But deep down, you knew that it wasn’t your fault.

You gave him everything you had, every part of your heart and soul. You loved him with a depth and intensity that you didn’t know you were capable of. But it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t true to his words. He wasn’t the man you thought he was.

You had believed you were special to him, that your love was something rare and precious. But now you felt ordinary, replaceable, just another girl who fell for a boy who didn’t love her as much as he claimed.

The thought was almost unbearable.

How could you have been so naive? How could you have let yourself believe that you were the one for him, when he was never truly yours to begin with?

The silence surrounding you was broken by your raw, aching sobs.

You shut your eyes and let the tears flow freely. You felt like you were drowning in your own sorrow, unable to escape the pull of the memories that dragged you down.

His face flashed before your eyes, his smile, his touch, the way he used to look at you. It was all so vivid, so real, that it almost felt like he was still there with you. But he wasn’t. He was gone, and so was the love he had promised.

You gave him your everything, but in the end, it had all been for nothing.

He had walked away, leaving you to pick up the pieces of your broken heart. And no matter how hard you tried, no matter how much time passed, you couldn’t seem to put those pieces back together. They were jagged, incomplete, and no amount of tears could make them whole again.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

It was almost six in the evening, and you couldn’t be bothered to deal with anything or anyone right now.

So you ignored it at first, burying your face deeper into the pillow, wanting nothing more than to be left alone with your broken heart. Whoever it was, they would leave soon enough, you thought.

But the doorbell rang again. And again. Its insistent tone pierced through your despair, refusing to be ignored.

A part of you was annoyed by the intrusion. Couldn’t you even cry in peace?

With a sigh of defeat, you let the pillow fall from your grasp. You wiped the back of your hand across your tear-streaked face. But it didn’t really matter; your eyes were still red and puffy, and your cheeks still stained with tears.

Dragging yourself off the couch, you shuffled toward the door, your feet heavy with exhaustion. You didn’t care who it was or what they wanted. You just wanted it to stop.

The rational part of your mind told you to check the peephole, to make sure it wasn’t some stranger, but you were too drained to care. If it was an intruder, maybe they would put you out of your misery.

Your life had already been shattered, what more could happen?

You unlocked the door and swung it open without hesitation, almost as if you were defying the universe to do its worst. You were ready to face whatever awaited you on the other side, but nothing could have prepared you for the sight that met your eyes.

For a moment, you just stood there, blinking against the dim light of the hallway, the cool air from the outside hitting your face like a splash of cold water.

There he was.

Standing on the threshold was the one person you both longed to see and dreaded facing.

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart skipping a beat before it started pounding in your chest, a confusing mix of anger, longing, and despair crashing over you.

He looked just the same as he always had, the same messy hair that you used to run your fingers through, the same worn leather jacket you had borrowed so many times, inhaling the scent of him when he wasn’t around.

But now, all of that familiarity was like a knife twisting in your chest, reminding you of what you had lost.

You both stared at each other long with unreadable expressions.

You wanted to slam the door in his face, to scream at him for the hurt he had caused. But you also wanted to throw yourself into his arms, to let him hold you and make the pain go away.

The battle between your heart and mind paralysed you, leaving you breathing through shallow, ragged gasps.

“Y/n…” Jungkook’s voice was hoarse, barely a whisper, but it cut through the fog in your mind.

The sound of your name on his lips made your heart ache, bringing back memories of all the times he had spoken to you with that same softness, that same vulnerability.

You swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over once more. “What are you doing here?” you managed to ask sternly, but your voice trembled and betrayed you.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words seemed to get stuck in his throat, and he closed it again, looking down at the floor as if searching for the right thing to say.

The seconds dragged on, each one stretching out into what felt like an eternity, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge.

What was he doing here? After everything, why had he come back?

You searched his face for answers, for some indication of what he was thinking, what he wanted.

The longer you stared at Jungkook, you could see the guilt written on his face. He looked guilty, almost as if he was regretting everything already.

Was he here to apologize? To ask for forgiveness? Or was this just another cruel twist of fate, a moment meant to shatter what little remained of your heart?

Finally, he raised his head and broke the silence. “I, uh, came to get the rest of my stuff” he said. His voice was low, and almost filled with shame.

And just like that, the tiny spark of hope you clinged on to shattered immediately.

Right.

You felt the ground beneath you give way, your stomach twisting in knots as his words sank in. He wasn't here to apologise, to say he missed you, to ask for another chance. He was here to take away the last remnants of him that were still a part of your life.

You didn’t know what to say to that but just stared at him, while your eyes screamed for him to acknowledge the elephant in the room.

Was he just going to take his things and leave?

Was he not going to ask you how you were?

Wasn’t he going to apologise for breaking your heart and shattering your dreams?

Or was he going to act like nothing had happened, as if your love had been a fleeting whim and nothing more?

You wanted to scream, to demand answers, to make him feel even a fraction of the pain he had caused you. But the words wouldn’t come. They were lodged in your throat, suffocating you, as you stood there silently staring at him.

Nevertheless, your body moved, giving him space to enter what was once your shared haven.

Jungkook shifted uncomfortably before finally stepping inside, brushing past you as if he were a mere visitor in a stranger's home.

Slowly closing the door, you watched him move to your once shared droom. And you couldn’t help but follow behind.

You watched him collecting his things with a detached efficiency that made your stomach churn. He picked up his books, the few clothes he had left behind, and the framed picture of the two of you at the beach — one of your happiest memories.

For a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of something in his eyes as he looked at the photo, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

┄┄┄┄┄

As Jungkook gathered the last of his things in a box, he turned to face you with an unreadable expression. Your heart pounded in your chest, hoping that he would finally say something — anything — to acknowledge what he had done. But all he did was nod, as if that simple gesture could somehow erase the past.

“Well, I guess that’s everything,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion.

You felt a tear escape and trail down your cheek, but you quickly wiped it away, refusing to let him see how much you were still hurting.

“Is that all you have to say?” you finally managed to choke out, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you had kept bottled up.

Jungkook hesitated, his eyes briefly meeting yours before quickly looking away.

“Y/n, I…I didn’t want to hurt you. But it just… it just happened” he said.

The words hung in the air, as empty and hollow as you felt inside. How could he reduce the end of your relationship to such a meaningless statement? It just happened. As if falling out of love and breaking a promise were nothing more than a simple accident.

“It’s not even about the fact that you fell out of love with me,” you began, your voice cracking in the process.

“It’s the fact that you hid the actual truth and lied to me” you cried.

“I deserved more than this,” you whispered, “I deserved respect, and at least the decency of you being honest. Not this…betrayal”.

You didn’t care how awful you looked crying in front of him, the hurt inside you was too unbearable for you to care.

Jungkook sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know, Y/n. And I’m sorry. I really am. But there’s nothing more I can say” he said.

The apology felt like a slap in the face, not because it wasn’t sincere, but because it came too late — far too late and too short to mend the broken pieces of your heart. It was like putting a band-aid on a wound that needed stitches.

“Yes Jungkook, there is so much you can say. Starting off by telling me where exactly it all began to go downhill. Or what it is about me that you started to not like anymore that you felt another woman could easily replace me” you cried.

All you received was silence from him as he stared at you with guilt, nothing more and nothing less. His eyes were beginning to gloss, not that he was truly regretting but because he was ashamed of himself. As he should be.

“I deserve a proper explanation, Jungkook. I deserve to know why I wasn’t enough for you even after ten fucking years of being together” you sobbed.

Jungkook took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair once again. He looked like he was struggling with what to say, but you didn’t care. You needed to hear it, even if it would break you all over again.

“It wasn’t about you, Y/n,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. “It was me. I was lost, confused. I didn’t know what I wanted, and I didn’t want to drag you down with me”.

Your anger flared at his words. It felt like an excuse, a way to evade the truth.

“That’s not an answer, Jungkook. You broke my heart, and then you just moved on like I was nothing. Like we were fucking nothing!” you snapped.

Jungkook winced at your words, but he didn’t try to deny them. Instead, he took a step closer to you, his eyes pleading.

“I know I hurt you, and I hate myself for it. But when I met her…everything just clicked. It felt right in a way that I can’t explain. She was always there, especially during all my long and exhausting hours of office work. It wasn’t planned, it just happened, I swear. And I was a coward for not being honest with you” he tried to explain the best he could.

Your face fell at his words, feeling your heart shatter anew. You had loved him so deeply, had given him everything, only to be discarded for someone else, someone who apparently was right for him in a way you never could be.

“And I wasn’t?” you questioned.

"So then what was I, Jungkook?” you asked, your voice breaking. “Just a placeholder until someone better came along?”.

“No,” Jungkook said quickly, his voice filled with regret.

“You were never a placeholder Y/n. I loved you — I still care about you. But sometimes, love isn’t enough. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I didn’t give you the closure you needed. You deserved better than that” he said.

But all you could do was laugh in his face, humourlessly. You couldn’t believe him.

“If you were truly sorry, you wouldn’t have hid the truth from me and then me find out through fucking social media” you snapped.

“Even then you didn’t even have the balls to come forward and be honest with me. You just left me in a dark place questioning everything about myself and how maybe it was my fault for not being enough” you glared at him.

Jungkook stayed glued to the ground and he clenched his fists. He didn’t even know what to say. You had the right to be angry. You deserved honesty from him, a proper closure, even if it meant that it was going to put you in the worst unimaginable pain in the world.

Jungkook reached out as if to touch you, but you stepped back, shaking your head.

“Get out” your words stern but voice soft.

“We’re done, Jungkook. Completely done” you said.

Jungkook flinched at your words, a sharp intake of breath as if your anger and hurt had physically struck him.

He looked at you for a long moment, and you could see the sorrow in his eyes. But you didn’t waver. He wasn’t the victim here.

Finally, he nodded, his shoulders slumping as he bent down to pick up the box.

He gave you one last look before turning and walking towards the door. And as the door closed behind him, you collapsed onto the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

You knew it would be a long time before the wounds he left would heal, but you also knew that you would survive this. You had to.

NEXT ➜

[romanreignsbae]

Forbidden Desires - Chapter 1

R.R

Y/n was always what everyone considered blessed. Now, being the assistant for the tribal chief had it’s perks. For starters, you rode around in his luxurious bus, that only few people were allowed on.

You also, were granted with being able to fly on private jets to get from place to place, as well as exquisite hotel rooms booked and paid for.

Especially your schedule. Roman Reigns wasn't showing up to every pay per view. Not even every Friday night SmackDown. He made appearances when he felt like it. So you were usually home, that didn't mean you were off work, you had other things to handle.

Many people wanted to be you, or at least wanted your job. While these people we’re wanting your job and status, you were wanting the man you worked for, your boss, none other then Roman Reigns.

You’d been working for him for almost 4 years now. Ever since he pursued his heel character, you’d been hired as his assistant. Being his assistant wasn’t nearly as bad as you thought. You thought he’d order you around to do his dirty work, but working for him was nicer then excepted.

All you really did was keep track of his hectic schedule, pack his luggage for him, and follow him around during meetings and travels...even taking care of something he claimed to be more important then work. And not to mention the money was a plus. He paid you better then you deserved, you swore it was favouritism, for obvious reasons.

Over the years you worked for him, you two created a special bond. Yes, he was your boss. But, he was also your friend. You two would often spend time together even during non work related times. You could find the both of you at a bar together. Or having movie nights in each other’s hotel rooms. You loved it. And maybe loved him..

The only problem in your way was the age gap you two shared. You were in your early twenties whereas Roman was on the verge of 40. The age gap wasn’t even a big deal to you. But, if others found out you’d grown feelings for your boss. All hell would break loose. See, Roman, is extraordinarily popular with females.

Like seriously, he has some die hard female fans. Most around your age. If anyone found out about this little crush you’d developed..well..you’d for starters be fired, and your reputation would be completely destroyed.

So here you are, sitting in the tribal chief’s private jet, waiting to land in Las Vegas. “Alright, only about a hour to go” a familiar deep voice spoke. You looked up to see Roman sitting comfortably in his seat, staring intently at you. “Yeah..” you mumbled.

“Whats up with you? You been like this all flight, completely out of it. What’s wrong are you sick? Do you have a fever? The flu? Is- nevermind..” Roman spoke worried. “No no, im good” you spoke as reassuringly as you could. He looked at you skeptically before closing his Macbook and making his way to sit beside you.

He sat beside you and looked at you for a few seconds before speaking up. “What’s planned for today?” he asked you. You quickly opened your Ipad before checking his schedule. “Well..today your free, tomorrow you have a meeting in the afternoon, its a long one” you told him.

“Damn, I hate the long meetings” he spoke with a smile. “They are the worst” you agreed grinning. “Anyways, since i’m free today, why don’t you and I head out, go do something fun together, away from work..you know after we get settled in..” he spoke almost nervously.

You were surprised to say the least. You didn’t think he would wanna spend his free day with you. “Yeah sure. What do you wanna do?” you asked him while trying to hide your growing smile. “Anything you want. Actually you know what? Lemme take you shopping, Las Vegas is known for their malls” he requested with a wink. Your cheeks started heating up.

“Sure” you spoke softly. He smiled at you before striking up new conversation about some investors looking to partner with WWE. It kept yourself distracted from the mess in your mind. Before you knew it, you landed in Las Vegas, and your uber was here to take you and Roman to the hotel.

Once you arrived to your hotel, you and Roman headed to the front desk to get the keys to your rooms.

“I’m sorry sir but, only one room has been booked-” the hotel worker spoke.

“That cant be! You don’t understand, I called yesterday booking two rooms!” Roman spoke roughly at the worker. Your feelings were hurt to say the least. You didn’t think he’d be this avoidant at sharing a room with you, especially after the favor you did him. You instantly felt your heart swelling and tears coming to your eyes.

You refused to cry over this so you grabbed Roman’s arm. “I’m gonna head to the bathroom, i’ll be right back” you spoke softly. Roman slightly nodded his head before going back to barking at the hotel employee.

You took as long as you could trying to get yourself together in the bathroom. You had just arrived is Les Vegas and he was already making you feel like shit. You didn’t even understand what the problem was. Well, deep down you did...you knew he didn't wanna make the same mistake.

You made your way back to the lobby to see a more calm and quiet Roman standing by the elevators.

“So Y/n..they are all booked and it looks like me and you are roommates for the next few nights” he told me. “I’m really sorry..” he added ashamed.

Your eyes widened. Why was he sorry? He didn’t even do anything. Well apart side from almost making you cry, but thats besides the point.

“Roman..why are you sorry? It’s just a room..no biggie” you spoke, plus it's not like you haven't shared one before.

“Because well, I don’t want you to feel like i’m taking advantage of you..and I don’t wanna make things awkward and weird between us..” he went on nervously.

You both knew he was lying straight through his teeth. That wasn't the real reason.

You took his words in before responding. You reached out and touched his arm reassuringly. “Ro, that’s okay, seriously I don’t mind.” you let him know. You'd be careful this time. He smiled at you almost gratefully knowing you understood.

The hotel room the two of you would be sharing was nothing less then absolutely luxurious. But you weren't surprised, the tribal chief always needed the best.

After the two of you settled into your hotel room, Roman called for an Uber to take you two to the mall. Inside the uber Roman and you made small talk back and forth but no one could deny the elephant in the room.

A little secret the two of you shared was up in the air. Something no one could know about...otherwise everything would be ruined. He warned you, if anyone found out what the two of you shared, it was over.

Everything was.

That was the first chapter of forbidden desires that I've been putting off. I have a lot more sitting in my drafts for you guys that'll be out soon. Also what do you think the little secret is? Let me know what you think of this chapter.

[notjustjavierpena]

Doesn’t javier’s wife get tantrums when she is pregnant?

Unreasonable (Drabble)

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: She sure as fuck does. Javier is too in love with the idea of her carrying his child to get mad about it though.

Summary: First-time pregnancy and a husband who breathes a little too loudly is enough to make you rage.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: Domestic, pregnancy and all the following symptoms (e.g. puking), pregnancy rage, cravings, kisses, reader is hormonal and unreasonable

Word count: 1.5k

Unreasonable

“Could you breathe a little louder?” You ask from the bed. You throw your novel to the side, unable to concentrate, while sending daggers in your husband’s direction. 

You are sitting against the headboard of your bed with all the decoration pillows scattered across the sheets, unable to find one that seems to do the job of supporting your aching back during your first pregnancy. This second trimester is hell on Earth; morning sickness, sore breasts and back, hormones running amok in your system, and no way of getting comfortable. It doesn’t help that Javier seems physically unbothered, daring to move around with ease in your shared home while folding laundry. 

“Honey,” he says gently, turning towards you with a smile that you find provoking, “I’m not breathing differently than I usually do.”

You seethe from your position because you know he is right. The book you were reading amongst several candy wrappers lies face down next to you as if it’s hiding before Javier has figured that is what he should be doing too. You cross your arms over your chest but your boobs feel too big and sore for you to do it the way you normally would. Every instinct in your mind is telling you to attack because you have no way of seeming reasonable in this, “Do you have to squeeze a soccer ball out of your pussy in three months?”

Javier raises his eyebrows at your crude choice of words and your terrifying mental image, “No…”

“That’s right,” you huff and then suddenly you are off into a scolding interrogation that Javier can do nothing about but endure. Your stare can freeze the sun, “Let’s see. Do you have to pee all the time?”

“No…”

You go on, “Do you find yourself crying over commercials on the TV with no way of stopping it?”

“No.” 

“What about your pelvic floor?” You think smoke might be coming out of your ears, “Do you feel like it is going to rupture when you try to reach something you have dropped on the floor?”

“Honey…”

“Does your back hurt so much that you contemplate if it’s easier to just pee your pants instead of getting up?” You ask. Ironically, you have the biggest urge to get up and pace around the room like a caged animal.

“I could massage your back,” he suggests so sweetly but not even that can calm your rage. 

“Haven’t you done enough?” You growl, “This is your little fucking love-goblin growing inside of me and all you had to do was grunt like a caveman and roll over.”

Javier blinks, trying a feeble protest, “Baby… I don’t think tha—“

“Don’t you ‘Baby’ me!” You rage against him, heart beating rapidly in your chest, “I am here either suffering in bed or waddling around like a goddamn incubator! The least you can do is try to make me feel better!” 

“I just offered a massage that you declined so maybe you want some time for yourself instead?” He tries again.

“Time for myself? How on Earth am I supposed to spend time for myself when you are breathing so loudly that our neighbors can hear it?” You avoid his gaze. 

He opens his mouth to speak but you are not done.

“Not to mention the nausea that follows me everywhere I go. Quality time with good old nausea!” You throw your hands up in the air in exasperation, “If I had a dollar for every time I have puked up my guts since you put this baby in me, I could buy myself a private island and be rid of your wheezing airways!”

You inhale deeply and frantically as you run out of breath. It’s then you decide that you are done, scooting further down on the bed to lie down on your side with one of the pillows supporting your pregnant belly. 

You fume quietly. Javier stands immovable. 

Eventually, you pout too. Your husband moves to stand by your side but he doesn’t touch you, “How about we order some food? Do you want to order some food?”

“Actually, Javi, no, I don’t want to order some food,” you reply, still with an attitude. 

“Are you sure, baby?” He gently presses on. 

“Yes, obviously, otherwise I wouldn’t say it.”

“I’m gonna order some food for myself then,” he lets you know, walking back to pick up the laundry basket. 

“Yes, fine, whatever,” you sigh loudly, “I don’t care.”

But you do care. As soon as the doorbell rings with Javier’s food delivery, you have thought about the million different things that he might have gotten for himself to eat and it has caused your stomach to rumble. You pout for real this time. 

Eventually, it becomes too much and you get onto your feet, tiptoeing down the stairs to satisfy your curiosity. You don’t need the food; you just want to see if your guesses about Javier’s dinner menu are correct.

You peek out from behind the door frame, staring into the kitchen where he is placing the delivery bag on the counter. The whole house smells like pizza and fried food, the scent having dragged you downstairs to gaze longingly as your husband is rummaging through the plastic bag to empty it of its contents. 

You spot the box of french fries next to a strawberry milkshake and frown, shifting slightly where you stand and trying not to feel emotional about your stomach growling for food. You lean your cheek against the doorframe and sigh loudly. 

“Hola, mi amor (hello, my love),” your husband suddenly says and even if you purposely made him aware of your presence in the room, you still feel on the spot when he notices you. 

“Hi,” you try to get a better glimpse of what he has ordered for himself, “What are you having?”

“I decided on that pizza place on the corner where you also get your haircut sometimes,” he says nonchalantly and you curse your emotions for getting the better of you earlier. You love that place. 

“Really?” You whimper. 

“Yeah,” he continues and stuffs a few fries into his mouth as he takes out a pizza box from the bag, “I really wanted one of their shakes. You know… the ones made from three scoops of ice cream? And then I thought I might as well get some fries because you taught me about dipping them into it, remember that?”

“Y-yeah,” you suddenly feel your bottom lip starting to tremble. The idea of not having a strawberry shake in your hand and their pepperoni pizza with a stuffed crust is close to torture, making you so unbelievably upset that you start to cry big and ugly tears. 

Javier tenses. He abandons the food on the counter the second he hears you, taking long steps to get to you quickly. He wipes his fingers in his shirt so he can brush tears away from your face, cooing softly as you wail, “Honey, shhh… There’s no need to cry.”

“I’m sorry, I was so mean,” you blubber to the point where you are heaving for breath, pregnant belly jumping as your whole body trembles, “I didn’t know that I wanted their milkshake and pizza so badly and now it feels like I am missing out. It’s really stupid but… The baby wants that strawberry milkshake, Javi.”

“I know,” he soothes and laughs softly as he brings you into his arms, giving you a hug whilst you continue your miserable crying, “That’s why I got you one.”

“What?” You sniffle, pulling back to look at him and showing off your red, puffy eyes. 

“I got you a shake,” he clarifies with a small smile, “And I ordered you a pepperoni pizza too.”

Relief washes over you and you cannot help letting out a little, shaky laugh amidst your tears, “You did?” 

Javier nods, eyes soft and smile warm, “Of course, I did. Te conozco (I know you).”

“With a stuffed crust?” You ask, suddenly shy and looking innocently through your lashes. You feel like you’re thirteen again, crushing on your husband all over. 

“Stuffed crust,” he confirms and the smile turns into a grin. He presses a kiss to your cheek and blows a raspberry until you giggle, “No need to cry. El bebé sabe que su mamá está triste (The baby knows their mom is sad)."

“Can’t have that,” you wrap both arms around him and repeatedly kiss his face; nose, cheeks, lips, chin. He closes his eyes, taking each with a sigh that’s nowhere near annoyed. You kiss his lips in the end, “Gracias, esposo (thank you, husband).”

“De nada, mi amor (you’re welcome, my love),” he lets go of you after one last kiss, walking to dig out one more strawberry milkshake from the plastic bag and then handing it to you. 

You take a long sip and do a happy dance without thinking. Meanwhile, Javier gets out your pizza too and suddenly all memory of why you were so angry earlier is gone.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[starcrossedxwriter]

Babies on Board Part 1 (MBJ x Famous Black OC)

A/N: Sort of a part 3 to Falling Apart? Gonna be honest... this is just 5k words of Els and Bakari being cute lol there's no plot here... just fluff and cute pregnancy vibes.

12 Weeks

“Any concerns before we get started?” Simone asked as Michael helped Charlotte get situated on the examination table. 

Her initial response was a mere disgruntled huff as she flopped back against the cold uncomfortable material of the table. 

It would have been easier to list what was not a concern at this point. She was was not even close to done with teh process and was already ready for this baby to move the fuck out of her uterus to a new address. She was constantly uncomfortable, throwing up every hour of every damn day, dizzy and to make matters worse, she was gaining weight faster than she could have ever imagined. Limbs that never ached before seemed to now only know one setting: pain. And she knew it was only going to get worse.

The A list couple had made the conscious decision to not publicly announce their pregnancy yet. That decision had made the final week of their press tour decidedly miserable and their vacation did not fare much better as Charlotte fought off non stop morning sickness. While she enjoyed the first week of their trip, laying out on their private beach in Saint-Tropez, she was essentially sequestered to the cabin of their yacht during the final week as the deadly combination of morning and motion sickness hit her. She tried to power through but even she could not hide how miserable she was. So she was not shocked when Michael cut the trip short so they could get home and Charlotte could relax at home and be close to her doctor.  

They both knew their runway to announce this themselves was quickly running out as Charlotte had, much to her chagrin, already formed a small but distinct baby bump. Her wardrobe now consisted almost exclusively of Michael’s oversized clothes from his Killmonger days to hide it. And while it was cute and chic now, she knew it would not last without someone noticing soon enough. She knew it was not a secret they could hide forever but she thought they would have more time than this. 

The bump was the first physical and tangible sign that they were going to be parents and that their lives were about to drastically change. And every time she looked at herself, she was hit with this all consuming dread that she was not ready, that she had gone on this journey and she would not be good enough. Michael was ready, he had been born to be a father and his excitement was bright enough that she did not think he even noticed how dim her light was.

“Umm the only thing… I feel like I’m already gaining too much weight?” She paused when she heard Michael make an annoyed tsk noise, whipping her head around in frustration. “What? That’s my concern right now.” 

“That ain’t what we talked about, baby,” he sucked his teeth in annoyance, though his tone maintained its usual sweetness toward her. He knew she was struggling with all of this and the hormones certainly were not making it any better for her. 

Vain was not a word he would have ever used to describe Charlotte. She cared about her appearance and being a fashion it girl on red carpets but she never really harped on putting on extra weight or things like that. However, as her body started to make subtle changes week by week, she developed an obsession with her weight and figure. And every day she looked in the mirror and noticed something different or saw the number on the scale increase, it only added fuel to the fire in her mind. And while he understood all of that, there were real concerns that he did not want to get lost in her pursuit to maintain her weight despite being pregnant. 

She groaned, rolling her eyes as she folded her arms like a petulant child. “It was just the once, Bakari. And everything I read said it’s normal.”

“It wasn’t just once. And you know it’s hella convenient when you choose to listen to Google and when you don’t.” He turned to address his rant to Simone who merely sported an amused look on her face. “100 articles told her it was totally normal to start showing at 12 weeks but she’s convinced that can’t be right. But WebMD, which told her she had brain cancer once cause she had a fuckin’ headache by the way, is right about you faintin’ left and right??” 

“First, ‘left and right’ is dramatic… this isn’t a set, no need for theatrics.” She sucked her teeth in annoyance. “Second, there’s no reason to trash Web MD, real doctors submit that information and it is literally science…” she started to fuss at him when Simone cut her off, shaking her head at the couple’s antics.

“Ok, ok, ok. How about you tell me, an expert, you know years of schooling and residency and a mountain of debt, and I’ll tell you if it is normal or not?” 

“Well the two things are connected, in my opinion,” Charlotte responded. “When we got back from vacation around 9 weeks, I felt like I was already gaining a lot of weight so I increased my workouts a bit. Got dizzy a few times and someone,” she cut her eyes toward Michael, “insisted I cut back. But I already have a bump and it’s huge… I look like I could be six… EIGHT months pregnant!” Simone and Michael both snickered at her exaggeration but her hormones gave her a pass. “Don’t laugh at me, Michael! I’m serious! This all just feels too soon and I know it’s not my diet. I just started being able to keep food down all day like yesterday.” 

“She’s leaving a lot out,” Michael chastised, though his tone mirrored the loving and exasperated expression on his face. “We cut back because she’s fainting after her runs. And not just after runs, I bet she didn’t tell you about her fainting spell on our press tour.” 

“Once!” She cried out. “And I already compromised with you on this! And that was weeks ago… such a snitch,” she whispered the last part under her breath.  

“Twice,” he called out louder. “She fainted twice, once in the driveway and once trying to walk up the stairs after her run. She was alone the first time and I was behind her the second time thankfully. Or else, I would’ve been taking her to the damn ER. She could’ve been seriously hurt. And she’s been getting lightheaded and dizzy almost every day. Her compromise was to cut back from 5 miles to 3, which is the point of this argument that I’ve been having with her for the last 72 hours since I caught her from falling down the damn stairs. She needs to stop completely and she thinks she shouldn’t because of the weight gain.” 

Simone’s hand went to her heart as she made a small “awww” noise and wheeled around in her chair. 

“An overprotected husband and a wife who can’t slow down… you two are in for a very long 9 months,” she chuckled before turning her attention back to Charlotte’s chart. “Many women have a bump at 12 weeks. It’s jarring, which is totally fair, and can be overwhelming but it’s true. Everyone’s different. We’ll make sure nothing’s wrong. But Charlie, you’re gonna have to learn to accept the changes in your body as they come. I’m sorry but you aren’t gonna be able to outrun a baby bump. If there was a way, lord knows I would’ve done it for my kids. And you’re both right and wrong so that’s fun and please, for the love of God, stay off WebMD. Dizziness and fainting are common and there can be several causes but if they persist as time goes on, you should let me know. You are fine to work out for now but listen to your body and take it easy. I would lay off running outside and trails unless someone is with you thoug. Is that a good compromise for both mom and dad?”

“Fine, if Michael gets us a better treadmill than that janky one in the gym.”  

“If it keeps your ass from running through our neighborhood, I’ll buy 10 treadmills. I assume that’s in addition to your real push present?”

“Naturally. Diamonds, baby… lots of them. And a new car if you ever want me to go through this shit again,” she winked at him and pushed herself up to kiss him softly. 

Michael knew she was half kidding and did not expect all of those things, however, he would get them without question. In fact, he was already shopping for a new car for her and a new family car. He had not figured out her other gifts yet but they would most certainly be of the sparkly and expensive variety. His baby deserved every push present he could afford.

“Hope that Black Panther check is still coming,” Simone mused as she stood up with the ultrasound wand. “Alright, let’s see what we got going on in here.” 

Michael pressed his lips to Charlotte’s forehead to calm her as she nervously fidgetted. It was more than nerves, they both knew, she was terrified. Terrified that they had made it this far only for something horrible to go wrong. She would never admit it to Michael but she had barely forgiven herself for their miscarriage. If something happened this time, she did not know how she would survive it. 

She was thankful every day for Michael, his steadiness and calm. His face was already the picture of fatherly pride as he stared at the black and white ultrasound monitor. He was the only thing holding her together, the only thing keeping her ever present terror somewhat at bay. They waited in a slow silence until a soft thumping filled their ears. Charlotte let out a deep exhale of relief as their child’s heartbeat sounded through the room. 

Michael did not outwardly show his relief, even though he had been just as nervous as Charlotte. He was simply better at hiding it and did so mostly for her benefit. He could tell she had been keeping the pregnancy at arm’s length up until this moment. Her excitement was muted, she spoke in terms of ifs instead of whens as if she was convinced something would stop them from seeing that glorious finish line. While Michael had always been more of the optimist in their relationship, he was a bit surprised at how little Charlotte wanted to talk about or acknowledge her pregnancy until the first trimester was over. He imagined that was what fueled her obsession with her weight and the changes in her body. Those were the physical signs that she was indeed pregnant and that it was not something she could push to the back of her mind because she was scared. 

But Michael, regardless of his fears, had faith that this was their moment. Every day that passed assured him that this was different. He saw their child and future family so clearly, it was as if God was speaking to him. In a few months, they would have a healthy baby. His mind would not allow him to believe anything other than that. 

“And there’s our little one’s heartbeat. Very strong.” 

Charlotte squeezed Michael’s hand as they listened, both of their eyes filling with tears as they listened to the steady beat of their child’s heart. Proof that they had created this miracle together. 

“Thank you, baby. I love you so much,” Michael whispered as he kissed her lips.  

Before she could say it back, Simone interrupted them. 

“And… oh, give me a second. I see something that could be…” Simone continued moving the wand around, the heartbeat fading away as she studied the black and white ultrasound machine. The doctor was clearly preoccupied with whatever was on the screen that Charlotte could not hope to understand, her half completed sentence dying off much to the couple’s chagrin.

Charlotte glanced between her husband and her doctor, her joy souring into panic within an instant. This was the one moment and place she did not want her doctor to see anything that gave her pause. She glanced back at Michael whose face was no longer the excited one from minutes ago, but had gone utterly stoic. His eyes were the only thing that gave insight into his emotions, his worry swirling around in them despite his best efforts to shield his wife from it.

“W-what’s wrong?” She asked, clearing her throat, hoping she could keep the pure panic she felt out of it. 

“Relax, Charlie. Nothing’s wrong. Sorry, I just wanted to triple check but our friend has a friend in there. Hear that?” She moved the wand to another part of her belly, another heartbeat sounding. “You’re having twins.” 

Silence.

“W-what?” 

“N-No, no. That can’t be right. H-How’s that possible?” 

Simone laughed. “Well, sex… genes and pure luck, honestly. Can’t tell the genders yet but you definitely have two growing in there. Which would explain the weight gain and bump and lightheadedness… multiples can make symptoms more severe. So just listen to your body and take it easy,” Simone smiled. “You two look like I just grew three heads.” 

Charlotte let out a nervous chuckle. “No, no… I think that just wasn’t on our list of things you’d say today. Twins… whew… God’s just throwing us in the deep end, huh?” she laughed, glancing at Michael. She was excited, her eldest sister had twins and their bond was truly beautiful to see. However, she could not tell how Michael felt. They were doubling their household in one go and she could not tell if he was happy or utterly terrified. 

Michael merely smiled and kissed her. “We know how to swim,” he whispered. Michael knew he should be terrified at the prospect of two babies but he wasn’t. But with Charlotte, he knew he could tackle anything, they could do anything.

“Famous last words,” Simone remarked, enjoying their blissful excitement. 

***

New Years (15 weeks)

“Come on, bed. You’ve been on your feet all night.” 

Charlotte laughed and glanced back at him as they walked up the stairs to their master suite. “You gonna be this overprotective the whole pregnancy? You were damn near pushing me into every open chair all night, Bakari. I stood for maybe two hours total.” 

“Yea well, still too long. And you just started to feel better a few weeks ago. Bey did not care that you weren’t tearing up the dance floor. She’s been where you are. She said she was shocked you even made it out of the house.” 

Charlotte sighed as they both walked into their giant closet. Their garment bags were already hanging and ready for their matching New Years Eve fits to go back into their safe homes. 

“She has been amazing… so much good advice. And please… as if I was going to miss Bey and Jay’s epic New Year’s party. It’s the party of the year, babe. Though this year was not the same with my stellar dance moves.” 

“Drunk dance moves,” he whispered as he came behind her to help her take off her jewelry. 

“Don’t pretend like drunk Charlotte isn’t your favorite,” she teased. “Too bad she’s serving a ten month prison stint. I miss her,” she moaned quietly. 

Michael let out a barking laugh. “I love you in all forms, baby.” His eyes fell down to her boobs, which were straining against the deep v neckline of her dress that stopped right at the top of her belly bump. “Particularly this form,” he leaned over and sucked on a particularly sensitive spot on her neck. 

He loved every aspect of Charlotte’s body, always had. And while Charlotte continued to bemoan the changes her body was going through, Michael was not complaining one bit. Her boobs were bursting out of every top and her already perfect hourglass figure had started to fill out a bit more. She looked radiant and sexy as fuck. Michael could barely keep his hands off of her. All of his friends who were dads warned him that there might be a lot of cold showers in his future depending on how the hormones affected her. But that had not been an issue. When she was up for it, his honey bee was putting his high sex drive to shame. 

His hands rested on the sides of her perfectly rounding belly, which is why Charlotte decided to enter 2019 with on full display. She had Law only pull outfits that would accentuate her growing bump and new curves. She was still getting used to them but she knew she looked damn good tonight. And she was pleased that her husband thought so too. 

She let out a breathy moan. “Let me get out of this dress and shower first and then we can ring in 2019 properly.” She paused. “Oh! First, we gotta pick a photo for Instagram. Gotta get something out before the official photos get out there. I know we took those great ones before we left but… I kinda want to post one of the photo booth ones. They’re so fun.” 

“Sounds good. We can each post our favorite. You sure you’re ready to announce?” 

“Don’t second guess it after I basically told all of Black Hollywood babe! We don’t have a choice now. Besides, I’m tired of hiding under giant sweaters, it’s just getting weird.” 

“I hear you. Just wanna make sure you’re sure and don’t feel pressured to do it. We don’t owe people shit.” 

“I know. But we also deserve to share our news and joy… we’ve always done our thing on our time and I don’t want that to change. I’m just glad we waited till the second trimester. Now it feels good. ” 

Michael unzipped her dress, helping her shimmy out of it. “Are you excited now?” 

“I was always excited,” she muttered as she anxiously pulled the excess rings off her fingers, leaving her with just her engagement and wedding rings. 

“Lighthouse?” he whispered, kissing her bare shoulder. 

Her eyes clenched shut. That was their code, the one word they could invoke that demanded vulnerability and honesty, not assurances that placated the other’s feelings.

“I was always excited… my fear was just bigger,” she amended. “I didn’t want to disappoint you… or myself again. I know things that could still go wrong, b-but the fear is just different now, I guess.” 

Michael nodded as he started to take off his own outfit, carefully hanging them both back up and zipping their bags so they could be picked up the next day. He already knew everything she said, but Charlotte often needed to be pushed to voice the insecurities rattling around in her brain. And he knew that their relationship always struggled when they did not voice their fears and concerns. Neither of them were particularly good at being vulnerable and leaning on others but they were both working on it. He thought her subdued nature around the pregnancy was merely her fear of another miscarriage but there was still something that felt slightly off to him. It was something so subtle that he would have missed it if he did not know her so well. But this went beyond the typical fears of impending parenthood and he was determined to figure out why. 

“For the record,” he remarked as he pulled her over to their bed. He sat on the edge and pulled her between his legs, his hands resting on her sides. “You never disappointed me. What’s scaring you now?” 

Charlotte studied him for a few moments before shaking her head. She was not ready to share what weighed her heart down now, what terrified her. He would merely question why he decided to have kids with her and she could not take that. 

She ran her fingers down his arms and shrugged. “Just you know… scared of how fast everything is changing. Feels like we’re gonna run outta time before they get here. I’m excited, Bakari, I promise.” 

He decided to leave it there for now, knowing that she was not being entirely truthful. But it took time and perhaps she did not even know what bothered her yet so he would let it go… for now. 

“Excited enough to spend tomorrow in bed picking out baby names??” 

Michael could not explain it but he was particularly excited about picking out their children’s names. While Charlotte bemoaned the process of having to find enough combinations of names they liked to name multiples, Michael found pursuing baby name books and the internet to be oddly fun. He already had a list on his notes app of every name he loved. 

“Never met a man this excited about naming babies.” 

“How many men you tried to name babies with??” he asked playfully, gently tickling her sides. 

“Stop, stop, stop,” she begged as she broke out into laughter. She tried to move but his strong ass legs kept her trapped. He continued his playful assault for a few moments before giving her a reprieve. “Only you, I promise.” 

“That’s what I thought,” he kissed her belly. 

“Can we wait till we know the genders, please?” she pleaded. “Without that, it’s too many potential combinations to think about.” 

“It’s crazy that your mama can keep the lyrics to every musical ever created in that big brain of hers but she can’t keep names straight,” Michael whispered to her belly, causing Charlotte to roll her eyes. 

“Once upon a time, your mama was a musical savant,” Charlotte bragged with a playful grin. “Now, she can barely remember her own name. Let alone 100 combos of first and middle names. But as soon as we have genders, yes… we can pick out names. Aka review your list.” 

At his jaw dropping, she shrugged. “Daddy’s kinda tech illiterate, doesn’t even know that his notes sync to his laptop. It’s ok, y’all will teach them.” She offered to the two babies in her belly that could not remotely hear a single of their playful insults to each other. 

Michael pursed his lips before nodding. “Fine. Once we know the genders. No gender reveal… I ain’t waiting that long.”

“Deal. I hate that shit anyway.”  

22 weeks

"So Michael... this one learned how to slow down yet?" Malcolm called from the other end of the table, Charlotte covering her face jokingly with a napkin.

"Not a chance in hell," Michael joked as he gestured for staff to refill everyone's glasses. "Remember, mocktail for her," he motioned to Charlotte at the other end of the table. "I see she didn't tell y'all how I found out she was pregnant?"

"Some of us are more interested the story of how she got pregnant?” Chris joked, his husband playfully swatting him on his arm.

“Right because that’s an appropriate story for dessert?? But… maybe call me to tomorrow,” Charlotte winked at him jokingly, causing the entire table to erupt in laughter. "Michael's literally never gonna let me live this one down, yall. I may or may not have passed out right before our press conference."

"And then, check this out. Told our director to give her a minute and she'd be ready. As if we hadn't just picked her up off the floor?"

"Soooo embarrassing," Charlotte laughed. "And totally ruined my cute onesie situation that I actually had planned."

Loud chatter and laughter filled the Jordan home at their long farm-style table at a dinner party with some of their friends. A few of Charlotte's co-stars from her last musical and friends from the Hamilton were in LA for work so naturally Charlotte used it as an excuse to host, much to Michael's chagrin. Malcolm, Chris, Lin, Renee, Leslie and most of their spouses were able to come. And though he thought it was too much stress for her, he could tell that she was having a ball.

"Charlie never learned when to sit down and relax though," Chris mused as they dug into dessert.

Charlotte took one bite of the perfect tiramisu she had stood on her feet for half the day making before discreetly pushing it away from her. When she tasted it earlier, she had to make Michael hide it so she did not eat the entire thing. And now? The taste was so sickeningly sweet that it made her want to vomit.

She had not had too many insane cravings or issues over the last few weeks but when her body was turned off by something, it felt as if it was in active revolt. All night, despite the ravings of everyone at the table, Charlotte merely took one or two bites of everything before wanting to toss it out the window. Her body did not want any of this fancy stuff.

She wanted In & Out. But the host could hardly sneak away for a burger and animal-style fries run. So she transformed into her usual outgoing self, so talkative and bubbly that no one even seemed to notice she was not eating.

Well... no one except a very perceptive actor seated across from her.

"So what are you most excited about?" Lin asked. Almost everyone at the table were parents.

Charlotte glanced down at Michael for a moment before sitting up straight. "I'm excited about a lot... but I think I'm just excited to get to know them. See and experience their personalities and uniqueness. Michael and I are insane," she chuckled. "So we're in for a real treat with these two."

Michael grinned. "Yea same. I have so many memories with my pops... I'm just excited to spend time with 'em, you know? Build all those core memories that they'll remember when they're our age."

"That's beautiful. You two are going to be amazing parents. Those two don't know how lucky they have it."

Charlotte's hand rested on her belly, rubbing it gently. "Thank you... and thank you for all the advice. All of you are my parenting role models so I'm keeping you all on speed dial."

Dinner progressed and by the time Charlotte hugged their last guest goodbye, she was ready to collapse into their bed. The only thing stopping her was the gnawing hunger and craving she felt. But they had spent so much money and energy on this party and it had been her idea. So she was not too keen on admitting to her husband that she was still starving.

"Thank you for indulging me and my friends. Everyone had fun." Charlotte stretched onto her tiptoes and kissed him on the lips in their foyer after they closed the door. He had been a trooper all night and during Charlotte's planning.

"You have fun?" Michael asked as he pulled her flush to his chest.

"I really did. Though the only other party I'll be hosting before these babies move out is the baby shower. Cause fuck I'm so tired," she moaned, leaning her head into his shoulder. "You were right."

"Gonna savor this moment cause I know I'll never hear those words again," he whispered against her massive curls as he pressed his lips onto the top of her head. "But you can't crash yet."

"Why nottttttt?" She whined like a child.

"Because you need to eat."

"We just had dinner?"

"No... I and everyone else had dinner. You pushed your food around and acted if I was one of these oblivious niggas. You need real food. So what do you want?"

Charlotte's heart turned into a puddle and then the water works started.

"Oh baby. Els, don't cry."

"No... it's just, you're so sweet to me. A-and I spent all our money on this p-party and t-then all the food m-made me want to die a-and now you're gonna s-spend more money on m-me... I d-don't deserve you."

Michael chuckled as he rubbed her back. "You didn't spend all our money. I think I can afford a second dinner for you, honey bee." He leaned back so he could look at her. His fingers whisked away all her falling tears. "So, what sounds good?"

"In & Out?" She asked with a smile. "OH NO! The tacos... a-at that taco truck we went to. Fuck what was the name??"

Michael steered her toward the garage as she ranted about how delicious the tacos at this place were as if they had not gotten food from there almost once week for the last 4 weeks.

"Tacos it is."

"Thanks babe." Charlotte paused, squeezing his hand.

"For what?"

"Taking such good care of me... and CJ and MJ."

Michael pecked her on the nose before stopping. "Who tf is CJ and MJ?"

"Our children???" she gestured down at her belly, her tone signaling her appall at him not knowing her made up baby names.

"What do they stand for?"

"Charlotte Jr and Michael Jr? Duh!"

Michael almost doubled over in laughter . "We ain't naming our kids that, Els." He made sure she was settled in the passenger's seat before he jogged to the driver's side and climbed in.

"You don't like it because you haven't let me tell you the vision!"

Michael let out an exasperated laugh before he nodded, sliding his hand onto her leg, rubbing her soft skin as he drove.

"Don't think the vision will change my opinion, baby. But thankfully, tomorrow, you'll probably forget both those ideas... hopefully," he whispered the last part.

"Just for that, I'm gonna write them in your official brainstorm list," she grabbed his phone from the console, Michael playfully swiping for it. She let out an evil laugh as she added her objectively insane name choices to his ever-growing list.

"Pregnant you is a menace."

"I thought you loved me in all forms?" she teased.

He eyed for a moment before acquiescing. Pregnant Charlotte was certainly different... a more dramatic, hormonal, sour yet sweet, chaotic version of the woman he loved. And he wouldn't trade her for the world.

"I do," he pressed a soft kiss to her ring finger before squeezing it. "Except when you're hangry so let's get you some tacos."

26 weeks

“Alright, an Oreo milkshake for you, my love,” Michael handed her a homemade milkshake, the young woman practically dancing in her seat on the couch with excitement. 

After bursting out into tears one night at 4 a.m. because there was no place open to get the coveted milkshake her body craved, Michael started making them from scratch to her exact specifications. He made sure that every week on their grocery run, her emergency milkshake supplies were restocked so she never went without. 

He positioned himself at the end of the couch and slid her feet into his lap.

“Thank you. This is the exact brain fuel I needed for baby names. I still think, we shouldn’t rule out -” 

Michael immediately shook his head, he knew exactly where she was going with this. “No, absolutely not. The Michael alphabet-middle-name Jordan complex dies with me, baby. Besides what would they be? Michael C. And Michael D. Jordan?? That’s insane. We ain’t the Foremans.” 

She rolled her eyes. “You’re so stupid,” she laughed. “Not even a junior?? For me?” 

“No juniors. They deserve their own names, their own reputations. And I don’t like the idea of naming one after me and not the other.” 

They found out a week prior that they were having twin boys, which was exciting and terrifying in a mixture of ways. They both genuinely had not had any preference, they had hoped it would be a boy and a girl so they could get the best of both worlds. But neither of them minded at all. 

She moaned, frustrated. “Ugh, you hate me. Fine. What if, compromise… We could do your initials? MBJ, it's a nod but not a junior and we could find B middle names for them both and you had some M names on your long ass list.”

“My thorough list,” he corrected. “And I… am not against that. I do like when families’ names have a theme. I do love the name Miles.” 

“Miles Bakari Jordan… not too shabby. I think it’s really nice. Let’s write that one down?” she instructed Michael who was in charge of their official notes app note that contained their final baby name choices. 

“What’s another one?” 

“Maddox is cute?” Charlotte tried as she scrolled through a baby forum. 

“Yea if he was a white boy. You know any niggas named Maddox?”

Charlotte opened her mouth to rebut, however, immediately closed it and acquiesced. “Touche.” 

“Mason?” 

“So everyone can say I stole a name from one of those Kardashians? Fuck that. Nextttttt!” Michael laughed as they continued scrolling. “Malcolm?” 

“Malcolm Jordan? That’s awful. Maybe you should let me lead this, babe?” Michael joked, seriously questioning his wife’s naming ability. 

Charlotte jokingly swatted at him with a pillow while she laughed. “I really hate you. Umm… Oh I love the name Malachi?” 

“Miles and Malachi, I like them together. What middle name though?” 

“Ugh this is why I hate this! You land on a good name then you gotta come up with another name!” She threw her head back dramatically. “There are too many options.” 

“Boys… you’re gonna see pretty immediately why your mama has two Oscars.” Michael lowered his voice to talk to her belly as if she could not hear him. 

“Ummm why their mama is an EGOT… put some respect on my name in front of Malachi and Miles, please?” She grinned. “See? It just rolls off the tongue. Wow, I’m so good at this,” she mused, giddy as she took a long sip of her drink. 

Sometimes she finished it within seconds of Michael handing it to her, inhaling it so quickly that Michael was genuinely concerned, and others she held onto it to “savor” it. Tonight seemed to be a “savor” night. 

“Yes, you are. I dunno… I kinda thought it could be cute if we did your middle name for the other? You know… carry on something of your name too. But Malachi Bennett Jordan is a mouthful.” 

Tears welled up in Charlotte’s eyes causing Michael to smile and rub her leg. 

“Els… what’s wrong??” 

“That’s j-just really sweet… UGH these fucking hormones,” she pouted, hating how the smallest things made her start sobbing like a weeping willow. How did her body even produce this many tears?? “That’s super sweet of you, baby.” She shifted so she could crawl across the cushion and kiss him. She decided to just settle in his arms instead of returning to her spot, a content exhale escaping her. “My dad had two sons to carry on his name, he’s all set. I think it’s gotta be shorter. What about… Brooks? Malachi Brooks Jordan?” 

“I like it.” 

“Can we add it to the official list?” 

“Yes but… let’s pick one more back up.” 

“Michaellllllllll…” Charlotte groaned. 

She could tell he just enjoyed talking about it, putting names to these children who they’d been referring to as “the babies” 100 times a day. It did make them more real in her head, hearing them test out future names. She decided to indulge him, she loved Michael’s enthusiasm about all of these mundane and random aspects of pregnancy. He was not content with just sitting on the sidelines, he was active in every decision and step. How to decorate the nursery, baby names, the changes in their development week to week, the changes in Charlotte’s body, researching and buying every gadget and baby item that he thought would keep his future princes safe and sound and happy. 

One day last week, Charlotte literally burst into tears as she listened to Michael ask a list of 100 safety questions about the stroller they planned to buy. He was so excited about being a father, active and present and it just warmed her heart at every turn. 

“Fine but I need another milkshake, please?” She flashed him her signature puppy dog eyes, which had him up and in the kitchen before she could say please again. 

Pregnancy did have some perks. 

Tag List: @certifiedlesbianbaddie @bangtanxmegan @reelwriter19 @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @hi888888sworld @msniaimani @destinio1 @lynaye1993 @chaoticevilbakugo @blackerthings @pipsqueak-98 @miyuhpapayuh @passionxwrites @gopaperless @roguekiki @tythaitie

***

A/N: My brain sort of ran off with itself with this one lolol I just needed the fluff lol Thanks for reading!

[upsidedownwithsteve]

A message.

I’d like to start by saying once more (due to it being the cause of so many hateful messages) that I support Palestine.

I donate to charities that fund several of the organisations that help and I use my business in the best way I can to give my services for free to fundraisers that also raise money for these causes. Shy of showing you my personal bank statements and private emails between myself and my clients, I don’t have any ways of showing this on tumblr.

I have several social media platforms, I have a business that I run, I have friends and family I talk to, I have an entire life off of this website. I choose to use tumblr to post my writing and for the most part, it’s become a really important space for me. Writing is one of the few things I truly do for myself. I enjoy it immensely and it can really bring me a lot of peace.

I choose not to blog anything other my writing, other people’s writing and general fandom related things on my blog because I like to keep it as that small space for myself and one of the things I love most. I understand wholly that that is a privilege in itself and I will not shy away from that fact.

However, I will not condone being hunted for the choices I make. For the vast majority of you, I am a stranger online and no one, absolutely no one, knows what I do off of this website. I won’t allow anyone to judge me on what they don’t see and don’t understand.

The size of my following was not a choice I made, it was not something I deliberately aimed for and it was not something I tried hard to make sure I achieved. It wasn’t the goal of this blog. I don’t deem myself capable of “influencing” anyone in anyway. I’m a fanfiction writer. I’m not a politician, I don’t claim to be the most educated person on political and worldwide matters. I simply would like to believe that everyone tries to help in anyway they can. I know not everyone has the financial means to donate and instead they choose to raise awareness in other ways - that’s absolutely okay.

But I - and others - do not have to follow the rule book someone else deemed law. You see, I gave my views and reasons and it wasn’t good enough. And now, if I chose to reblog certain things, I’m pretty sure I’d be dragged for being performative, or “back tracking.” I fear that with some people, who like to hide behind an anonymous button, I cannot win. Despite an argument revolving around real life issues, I think I can safely say it came across as a very personal attack.

As other people have mentioned before, I also don’t enjoy the idea of writing smut and happy ever after’s about our favourite fictional men and then reblogging the death of others in real life straight after. I know that’s the world right now. I’m aware. I read articles, I watch the news, I follow accounts on Twitter, on Instagram and I try and keep myself as up to date and as educated as possible. I just don’t show that on this one platform.

As many of you know, I do run my own business. I’m also five months pregnant. I’m definitely experiencing more stress than I usually do. I’m very happy and enjoying my pregnancy immensely but I struggled with sickness and tiredness for the majority of it so far. Whats to come in the next four months and beyond fills me with excitement and anxiety and nerves. Coming onto tumblr and writing about fiction is a little reprieve from that - again, a privilege I am so aware of.

But I won’t be tolerating any more hateful messages, I won’t be arguing with anyone. I’m not lowering myself to it. You can talk about me passively aggressively, you can choose to hate me, that’s fine. I’m happy blocking people and moving on. Anons will be off indefinitely, it’s been proven that too many people are willing to hide behind them. After the messages regarding myself and my unborn child, quite frankly, there’s not a lot of trust left when it comes to knowing how far people will sink.

I’ve said all I’d like to say on the matter, I’ve told people where I stand, my views on the genocide that is occurring, what I’m able to do about it in my personal life and why I choose to keep this particular space the way I do.

I hope everyone can try to understand and respect that. If you don’t, that’s fine, that’s your prerogative. I don’t go out of my way to challenge, or police, or demand things from people I do not know. I hope that no one thinks that they have the right to do that to myself and others. I’m under no obligation to follow someone else’s rules.

I don’t know what the future holds for this blog, pregnancy and real life is very much taking priority over writing at the moment, but I do like to try when I can. I can’t lie either, the messages and their content that I received really left me feeling dejected and frustrated, this fandom really has turned into something rather poisonous. I’d like to be able to rise above it and in the mean time, even if I’m not always present, I’d like people to be able to access the stories I worked really hard on.

Thank you for reading,

Emmy 🧡

[fall0utmind]

MEDICAL LEAK AU PT 5 UP NOW

AO3 here

Gonna link pt 1-4 below tomorrow (I need to sleep) but for now, find them on my medical leak au tag on my page :)

I am so fucking sorry for the delay!!

Work has been manic, I basically rewrote this whole thing cause I hated it and now I am sick - woooooo

Anyways, I hope you enjoy it, I'm actually proud of this one, after the long rewrite.

Please, please, please come talk to me about what you think and what you wanna see!!! I need motivation to finish this.

Normal tags and warnings apply :)

(Tw/ suicidal thoughts, overdoses)

Alex had warned them that this is how Marc deals with things. He bottles it up until he can’t anymore, and then he goes somewhere private where he can lick his wounds and let himself fall apart. Watching Marc be so vulnerable, his usual mask of untouchable indifference falling away, is devastating. Jorge holds Marc closer as he trembles, small tremors wracking his frame. He looks incredibly young, curled up in between the older riders. Marc is completely lost in his thoughts now, distress radiating off him. He has been mostly silent, apart from the occasional miserable noises. Now though, he begins to cry, his face moving to press into Jorge’s shoulder as his body shakes with the force of his sobs, uncaring of who he’s clinging to. Marc and Jorge have never been that close, but the older man feels protective of him, in part because the 2015 fallout centred so much around his championship win, but also because of Dani’s soft spot for Marc. Jorge knows it was a big sign of trust for Marc to allow him to stay and witness this, especially from a man who is usually so guarded.

It’s unclear what Marc is imagining in the depths of his mind, but he has begun to slur words in between his sobs. Most of the words are incoherent, but Valentino’s and Alex’s names are clear, alongside the interchanging wrecked pleas to both end his suffering and let him live. Seeing so clearly the devastation Marc has suffered is horrific for them all, but Alex most of all looks gutted, like his heart has been shattered. He has heard those pleas before, back in 2015 when he found Marc and when he had saved his life.

It is this that prompts Jorge to gently shake Marc to awareness, knowing the pain is too much, too dark. Once the medication wears off, he will be ashamed of his weakness. It does not matter how natural or understandable his reaction is, especially after all the shit he has had to deal with; he hates vulnerability. The only thing his friends can do is sit with him during the fallout.

“Marc”

The younger man stirs slightly, choking on a breath as he sobs. He clutches at Jorge weakly, trying to catch his breath in between his cries.

“Cazzo, Marc, you’re ok, you’re ok.”

*

Marc returns to his body with a pounding head and a sore throat, which only ever occurs when he has cried himself dry. He’s a mess; the memories which assaulted him are still at the forefront of his mind, making him feel sick to the stomach. He is in the weird stage where the medicine is wearing off but still making him feel hazy; everything is soft around the edges. He doesn’t know how long he’s been out. He rubs at his face and notices his cheeks are wet. He would usually be mortified by the idea of crying in front of everyone, but he can't bring himself to care in the circumstances. He feels wrung out and over-tired. He knows his eyes will be red and his face blotchy and he frowns at the thought. Dani breaks the silence first, handing Marc some water.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like shit, but also somehow better. I’m sorry for losing it like that-”

Dovi interrupts him before he can finish that thought, fury simmering in his voice.

“Don’t you dare apologise. I don’t care what he taught you about having to hide away, but you don’t have to with us. We know you’re strong, but you don’t have to be strong right now. Not here, not with us.”

Marc gulps back more tears and instead smiles sadly at Dovi, unwilling to touch upon the reference to Valentino. Instead, he turns to look at his younger brother, who looks distraught; it makes him frown slightly. He hates the thought of causing his brother’s sadness. In Marc’s opinions, it is the worst thing he can do, and he has done it often in the last few years. Guilt spikes through him. Alex catches his eyes and shakes his head, knowing exactly what Marc is thinking, as fine-tuned as they are to each other's emotions.

“It’s not your fault, germà. I would take all your pain if I could.”

It makes Marc’s heart break a little. He addresses all of them, his little group of friends, of protectors. These people have seen him at his worst; they have refused to leave when Marc was on rock bottom, and they stuck with him when the world hurled abuse at him. Without them, he would be unmoored in the ocean, drowned by the waves.

“Thank you for staying.”

It’s Jorge who answers.

“Of course.”

*

The waning effects of the medication become clear as the bruises splashed across Marc’s body begin to ache. His shoulder is sore, and the muscles surrounding the joint are tight and stiff, causing him to shift uncomfortably. Alex catches his brother’s poorly concealed winces and hands Marc the rest of his approved dose without a comment. Marc tries to protest; the thought of having more drugs, of needing more, makes him feel queasy. Marc’s relationship with the medication is still rocky. It makes him feel weak and defenceless. It reminds him of dependence, hospital visits, and overdoses. Every time he has those little white pills in his hands, he sees Alex’s blurry face hovering over him, shouting his name, his panic choking him. He hates it. But he knows that if he wants to sleep tonight, he needs to take the stronger stuff that he is prescribed. After Jerez and his arm, normal ibuprofen doesn’t do much for his pain. Alex's eyes are pleading, desperately attempting to convey that Marc is safe here. That he can be vulnerable; he doesn’t have to sit with the pain. The others watch on sadly. Dani feels guilt clawing at him that he didn't notice in 2015 and beyond. When they were still teammates, Marc wouldn’t take the pain medication he was given. Dani always thought it was some weird pleasure of the pain that came from racing and crashing. And then later, perhaps a sick self-punishment for making a mistake. Although he now realises the latter is partially true, he is kicking himself for not digging up a further meaning. He’s not the first to notice Marc’s aversion to medication; it had been a weekly fight with Honda between 2015 and 2020. Nobody was aware of the reason. Why Marc went from hating the sight of the tablets to taking as many as he possibly could after Jerez was less of a mystery. For Marc Marquez, when choosing between not riding or traumatic memories, he’ll always choose the emotional anguish. He swallows the pills.

Alex smiles gently at him, pushing a container of pre-prepared food towards him. Marc turns up his nose; he had already eaten something earlier.

“Eat, you’ll be high as hell if you don’t”

“Not hungry”

Marc pouts, and Christ Alex forgot how obstinate and immature his brother could be, especially after taking his medication. The image of 31-year-old Marc behaving like a toddler makes Dovi chuckle in amusement.

“Marc, you have to eat something-”

“No.”

“Marc, for God’s sake, you can’t just not eat.”

“But I don’t want that. I’ll have a protein bar.”

Their fight is interrupted by a loud knock at the door and a voice calling from outside.

“Marc?”

Anxiety grips Marc, argument forgotten. Instead, he imagines another fervent Rossi fan clawing at their door. Alex jumps to his feet, freezing as the voice speaks again.

“Marc, come on, I know you’re in there, the lights are on.”

Confusion engulfs Alex as he approaches the front of the motorhome, trying to place the somewhat familiar voice. He cautiously unlocks the door and peeks outside, blinking against the darkness. Shock colours his features, his eyes widening as he stares before he comes to his senses and attempts to slam the door shut. The only thing keeping it from closing completely is the foot of their surprise visitor.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Alex practically growls

“Is Marc here? I want to talk to him. Please.”

Dani joins him at the door, ready to help if things get out of hand. Pecco glances between the two Spanish men before letting out a melancholy sigh. Bez is fidgeting behind the world champion, looking incredibly uncomfortable. Alex definitely fancies slamming the door then, even more unimpressed by the sight of the younger Italian.

“I hate that all of this has happened, and I hate even more that we’ve been pitted against each other for no reason. I just want to talk; please can I come in?”

Pecco looks so forlorn standing outside their motorhome, his face open and honest. Marc must recognise the voice more than Alex does, as he calls out to his brother.

“Let him in, Alex.”

Marc is most likely not thinking clearly, and Alex is on the verge of saying no. Instead, with a disgruntled sigh, he steps aside to let Pecco in, looks at Bez, and then grudgingly concedes that he cannot tell him to fuck off. After shooting an exasperated look at Dani, he follows him back to the group of athletes lounging on their couches.

It turns out 7 fully grown adults are a few too many in the cramped space. Pecco takes the empty seat next to where Alex has sat back down, Bez awkwardly squeezing next to him. Marc stares with wide, clouded eyes, his hackles raised; he wasn’t expecting Bez. Although his relationship with Pecco is fairly neutral (probably due to his ambivalence to the whole Valentino situation) Bez and Marc have never been on good terms, the younger always jumping at the opportunity to defend his mentor. Marc frowns at them, untrusting, while his friends protectively shift closer to him. Clearly, from their baffled expressions, Bezzecchi and Bagnaia did not expect to see Marc huddled with Andrea Dovizioso and Jorge Lorenzo on the sofa.

*

Pecco is trying his hardest to comprehend the scene before him; he had not anticipated meeting the three retired riders alongside the brothers. He tilts his head slightly, examining the way Jorge and Dovi appear exasperated but pleased to have a clingy Marc Marquez sprawled on them. Marc himself looks pretty content at their proximity, which is strange; he didn’t think Marc was that close to either of them. Bez and he have clearly intruded, obvious from the disarray of everyone in the room. Marc has been crying, which is surprising in and of itself. Additionally, he appears to have taken some pretty strong painkillers – unsurprising after his crash but surprising after the most recent news reports. He turns towards Alex to voice this, but the younger Marquez beats him to it.

“He doesn’t need supervision these days, but if he is bad or, you know, unhappy, I keep his medication and watch over his dosing. He’s fine.”

Pecco nods in understanding, some of his concern lessening. An awkward kind of quiet falls over the group, no one knowing what to say. Strangely, Marc cannot guess the meaning for their visit, too used to other riders only turning up to pick a fight. Pecco is not one for dramatics, preferring to reign in his emotions, unlike his mentor and his friend. Marc breaks the silence first, curiosity beating pride.

“What are you here for, Bagnaia?”

That earns him a wry smile.

“I want to know if you’re okay.”

“Why do you care?”

The others tense in anticipation as Pecco visibly steals himself. He has found the last 24 hours difficult, fighting an internal battle of morality versus loyalty ever since the fateful press conference.

“I don’t hate you, Marc, and I don’t want to. Honestly, I think with time, maybe next year, we could be friends. I respect your talent, and yes, of course, sometimes I think you ride like a maniac, you take risks, and you are brutal on the track. But that is what makes you so good, so impressive. It is why you have 8 championships; I would be a fool to disregard that. Not only that but you love fiercely. I have seen the way you treat your friends and family, and I admire that.”

Marc thinks he might be dreaming; he pinches himself to be sure. Jorge notices and pushes his hand away with a scowl.

“Don’t lie. You all hate me because of him and his lies. I do not need you messing with my head as well. I see the way your academy copies him, echoing his venom, believing every word and taking his side. My life was hell back then, and you weren’t there to witness it. He ruined my life and tore everything from me. I know he thinks that I ruined his career and whatever other poison the man he calls a best friend fed him. I know he was angry and upset. But I was so young. It has been a decade. He won’t leave me alone. Don’t you understand? I raced to die; I risked it all in a passive attempt to not return to the pits. I just wanted him to look back at me; I wanted my hero to forgive me. Then after Jerez, when he didn’t even say anything and I gave up hope, I just took medication to cope. But Valentino and your precious academy can’t see that. No, instead I am reckless and selfish, only thinking of myself. It is not fair; none of it is fair.”

He feels Jorge tense underneath him and that revelation and knows that he has shared too much, but it is too late now. Pecco is observing him with sad eyes and Bezzecchi looks horrified.

“No, Marc, I do not hate you. I am sorry for the loathing you have felt. People like to push Valentino’s legacy onto me. We are not the same person. This is not my battle, and I refuse to be sucked into Vale’s fights from before I was even on the track. It is stupid.”

His eyes are glazed over and wet as he looks directly into Marc's. The anguish in them makes Marc flinch.

“My sister fought similar battles; it was the hardest time of my life.”

He meets Alex’s eyes, sharing a look of understanding at their joint hurt.

“I know you don’t believe me; I see that you have been hurt before. I hate that you have experienced such awful things, and I hate even more how you are being treated for it now. I am sure Alex feels how I do about Carola; it was the worst pain in the world. I would have given my life ten times over for her. It still hurts you and maybe it will always be raw, but I wish it was not like this.”

Bez lays a hand on Pecco’s shoulder, a show of silent support, prompting Marc to turn towards the youngest Italian.

“And you, Bezzecchi? I know you hate me; you have made that abundantly clear, so why are you here?”

Bez looks away at the accusation, guilt filling him. It is not in his nature to question someone he is loyal to.

“I- I realised I maybe took too much at face value. It is true that I did not like you, or more so the way you ride. But I also didn’t understand you or what you were going through. I guess that I want to make amends for that. And I did not want to leave Franci alone.”

Marc hums, considering Bez’s offer, before he nods, too exhausted and intoxicated to give it any more thought. Whatever, if Bezzecchi wants to be here, then fine, so long as he doesn’t cause any more pain. Rather, Marc returns his attention to Pecco with genuineness in his eyes.

“I’m sorry about your sister. It is difficult. I hope she’s in a better place now.”

Pecco’s eyes widen in shock, and Marc huffs out a laugh.

“She’s doing better now, thank you. I think you will get on with her well next year; she comes to all the races with me and the team.”

The Italian smiles tentatively, and Marc smiles back, quietly pleased about this admission from his future teammate. Bez glances between them with a frown, still unsure about the tentative truce they have formed. Instead, he turns towards Dovi, who is still eyeing him suspiciously, and shoots him his very best puppy eyes. The older man rolls his eyes at the display before roping Bez and Pecco into a conversation in rapid Italian about the season so far. Dani and Jorge are whispering quietly, the latter still petting Marc’s hair gently. The atmosphere has returned to its tranquil state, once more lulling Marc into a hazy headspace.

Concern is vibrating through Alex as he watches his brother doze. He can’t help but feel like this has all been a little bit too easy. The boys had looked flustered when they turned up, like they had hurried over, as if something had happened just beforehand. He tries to shake off the feeling, standing up and heading into the kitchenette. He grabs a protein bar from the cupboards and chucks it at Marc when he re-enters the main room, causing his brother to startle and glare at him. Dovi snickers at their antics; of course Alex had not forgotten about their previous scrap, much to Marc’s annoyance.

“Eat it.”

Marc scowls but dutifully rips open the packet and starts munching the bar, not before sticking his tongue out at his brother.

“So mature, Marc.”

This prompts a fit of giggles from the older as he continues to eat. Bez and Pecco look on in bewilderment at this version of Marc, the drugs making him more relaxed than they have ever seen. They are shuffling awkwardly as if they’d be kicked out at any minute, feeling a sensation of imposition at seeing the soft person in front of them. Marc rolls his eyes, looking strung out but content.

“Stay?”

And that settles it.

*

In all his stubborn glory, Marc refuses to move off his friends, citing comfort and fatigue as justifications. Alex grumbles good-naturedly about his perpetual clinginess on pain medication, prompting Marc to snuggle closer to Jorge, rubbing his face into the older man’s shoulder and startling a laugh out of him. Pecco looks at Dovi questioningly, his forehead furrowed into a frown, looking for any indication of jealousy in the older Italian but not detecting any. Jorge instantly notices and does not attempt to conceal his laughter laughter.

“Do not worry about it. Dovi hogs Marc the rest of the time; I am allowed him now whilst he is still high as a kite”

Marc pulls away to pout at him, denial on his lips. Before he can begin his argument, though, Alex speaks up, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Tell me about it; you should have seen them earlier. Dovi was practically eating Marc alive with his eyes; it was fucking ridiculous.”

Marc goes bright red at this comment, spluttering out an excuse. Dovi just looks unabashedly smug, meeting Alex’s eyes.

“Hey, when there’s an attractive shirtless man on the sofa when you enter the room, what else are you meant to do?”

Marc directs his glare towards Dovi, an unimpressed frown on his face at the betrayal, but frankly, with the medication softening him, he just looks cute. Dani and Jorge are cracking up at the thought, which only causes Marc to get more annoyed, his cheeks flaming hot.

“Ah, I did not know that you two-”

Both Dovi and Marc jump to correct that assumption. Stumbling over each other to assure Pecco that they are not dating, despite what it looks like. Dani has been suspiciously quiet for most of the conversation, only now turning towards Marc with an insolent smile, meaning that he’s about to say something that Marc won’t like.

“Didn’t stop you from fucking in the past.”

You could hear a pin drop. Alex is whipping his head between his brother and Dovi, his jaw dropped in shock. Marc somehow goes even redder before shoving his face into his hands and groaning, confirming Dani’s statement and prompting the entire group to lose it. Dovi just looks proud and completely unashamed, turning back to Jorge and Dani with a raised eyebrow.

“Like you two can talk.”

“Touché.” replies Jorge with a shrug, hand on Dani’s knee.

Alex feels like he’s losing grip on reality,

“When? When the hell did you two hook up?”

“Ah, 2017, 2018, on and off” answers Dovi.

The others are laughing hard now, even Bez and Pecco giggling at the horrified expression on the youngest Marquez’s face.

Alex speaks once more, recovering quickly as though he is clearly used to his brother’s antics. There’s a teasing lilt to his voice,

“Jesus Marc, what is it with you and shagging older men?”

Pecco chokes at that comment, wheezing a breath through the shock. The others are basically in tears and even Bez is grinning. Marc just looks at his brother’s smirking face and promptly lobs a pillow in his direction - it hits him in the face, causing Marc to crack up. When they all catch their breath, Pecco broaches something that has played on his mind all day.

“Valentino had mentioned something earlier, about you and Dovi-”

Pecco immediately realises his mistake in bringing up Vale. The room pauses awkwardly, and all eyes turn to Marc, whose eyes are still foggy, his limbs lose. It causes him to speak without thinking.

“Ah, he is being a dick; he saw me in Dovi’s jumper and jumped to conclusions. Lord knows why he cares.”

“When the fuck did you see Valentino?”

“Ah, just before the sprint race, he cornered me, spilling some bullshit about ruining the race and being attention-seeking. You know what he is like. He always has loved to make sure I feel small.”

He turns his doe eyes towards Alex,

“It still hurts to hear him say those things about me. It hurts to look into his eyes and see fury and hatred. Not as much as it did then, but still”

Pecco realises then just how out of it Marc must be to let that slip. He gulps, uncomfortable with the pain in his voice, pain that he would usually hide away from the world. Bez looks away. Watching tonight’s interactions brings some new perspective to the academy riders- the quiet beginnings of doubt about their unquestioned deity. It’s difficult to reconcile Vale, their selfless teacher and friend, to Valentino Rossi, who had a rivalry with Marc so fierce the younger had been left picking up the pieces. The Marc in front of them is not the dangerous, deceiving rider they were taught about. This Marc looks at his brother and friends like they hold the universe; he is strong but soft around the edges. He is funny and unabashed in his affection. He loves fiercely and is loved unconditionally in return, a true sign of his character.

Alex is looking at his brother with such sadness in his eyes, reflecting his pain. He does not respond to Marc; he just holds out his hand. It is Jorge who speaks instead.

“I was so angry at Valentino in 2015. So angry at myself for not warning you. I saw it coming from miles away because Rossi could never deal with threats to his success.”

Bez begins to open his mouth, but Pecco elbows him, hard, well aware that now is not the time to stick up for their mentor, no matter how difficult it is to hear. Jorge goes to continue but is interrupted by another forceful knock on the door; it’s Alex who yet again opens it, finding himself face to face with an uncomfortable-looking Luca. The night is getting weirder and weirder.

“Is Pecco here? Or Bez? Nobody knows where they’ve gone.”

Alex opens the door wider, letting Luca see the two Italians on the sofas.

Luca steps inside, shutting the door softly behind him after glances outside worriedly. He gives the boys a pointed looks as he urges them up.

“Come on, we need to go!”

“What why?”

Bez was just starting to feel comfortable in this company; he doesn’t particularly want to leave right now. Luca looks away,

“Look, we just really need to go.”

There is another harsh knock on the door before it flies open. Valentino is standing at the threshold, staring blankly at the spectacle before him.

“What the fuck is going on?”

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

Spider Webs - König*Fem!Reader

He's obsessed with you, but you are more obsessed with him.

Content Warning: 18+ (masturbation, dirty imaginations), mdni , König is a pervert and so are you.

part 2 part 3 bonus chapter 1

König thinks people like you shouldn't join the military, you were too kind, too innocent for this place.

You were his assistant who joined KorTac a year ago.

You quickly became familiar with your colleague. You are friendly and considerate. You always remember what others like, notice the little details, and keep a mental note.

Even to someone like him.

Your job was to assist him, so of course you two interact a lot. You help him with the tedious paperwork, and when he is tired of writing the endless reports, and just starts to think about having some coffee, you knock on his door and come in with a cup of latte in your hand.

He never told you he likes latte before, he assumed you knew it from Horangi. At first, you tried different portions of milk, and you found out the amount of milk he loves to add to his coffee the day he asks for one more cup.

He usually thinks he hides his emotions and thoughts behind his hood very well — at least to others, until the day he squinted his eyes when he's talking to you a few times after drowning him in the pile of paperwork for too long and his eyes were sore.

That day after you left his office after reporting some news, he reached his hand under the hood, rubbing his eyes in order to relieve the pressure, and a few moments after, the familiar soft knocks resonated in his office, you came in with a warm towel in your hand.

"I think you might need this, colonel." You handed him the towel, it was lukewarm in his hands, but he felt like his heart was burning. "I hope you don't mind that I use my own towel since I didn’t find one."

He covered his eyes with the towel after you walked out of the office. The exhaustion vanished like it had been absorbed by the towel.

and it's the day he notices his obsession with you.

Like a moth flying into flames, he knows it is wrong, and he thinks he doesn't deserve you, but he can't help but indulge deeper in your warmness.

The towel you gave him is tucked into the deepest part of his drawer. He told you that he accidentally spilled the coffee on the towel, and he would buy you a new one, which you smiled and told him it was not a big deal.

The towel smelled just like you, having the elegant fragrance of your perfume always making him dizzy when he's near you.

He took it to his nostril, and inhaled deeply, letting your smell occupy his whole mind, inhaling you in, letting it merge with his blood, his every single cell, his soul.

He took it back to his room the day he felt extremely tired and wrapped it around his shaft, recalling the alluring figure he saw in the day, trying to remember the feeling your hand brushed against him when you handed him the coffee.

He bit the inside of his hood, but it did little to hide his moans. Your name slipped out his mouth like a motto, louder and louder, he imagined what you might be doing now. 

Were you taking a shower, with those bubbles covering your perfect body? Were you cooking something while swaying your hips along with the music you were playing?

Or, were you pleasuring yourself too? He hoped he was the one you were thinking of when you put your hands over your most private part, rubbing circles on your clit while whining with your honey-soaked voice.

Oh, you didn't know how he desperately wanted you to moan out his name too, like how you always call him by his rank sweetly, but he imagined you calling him König this time.

"Oh... Scheiße!...I- I’m coming..!" His voice picked up an octave, and after a grunt, he covered your towel with his cum.

You didn't know how guilty he felt when you greeted him with your cute smile the next day, reminding him how the white in contrast with the blue of your towel.

He realized he was totally a sick bastard when your scent finally faded from the towel after washing them the same night he used them to pleasure himself.

He was unable to sleep without your smell anymore, not when he couldn't let your smell become the last thing he thought about before he drifted into sultry dreams about you.

He went to the office you shared with other assistants at night, searching your table for another towel.

He found nothing. 

Your desk was clean and neat, without any personal things except a few pens you use.

No towel or handkerchief, no hair tie, no ornament he could sneak out.

so he went through the profiles of all workers of KorTac secretly, typing your name in the search bar, and opening yours with shaky breaths.

And there's your address, written under your name, he felt like the words are shining glaringly in the dark office.

"I'll be out for a few hours." He told you the next day, looking down at you, voices remain as calm as he could be.

"Okay, tell me if there's anything I can help you with." your innocent smile almost made him feel sorry, but he didn't forget to inhale the smell of your perfume under his hood.

He drove his car, heading towards your house, the address already imprinted in his mind after reading it repeatedly the last night.

Every red light makes him anxious and excited at the same time. What would your house look like? Maybe he could finally find some little decorations he could bring with him every second, but he was sure that your house would be tidy just like your desk at the base.

It was almost too easy, the fence around your house did nothing to stop him from climbing in, and he opened the front door with the tools he brought with him.

Once he stepped into your home, his knees became weak. Your house drowned him in your smell, adrenaline made his heart pounded strongly against his chest.

Just like what he assumed, your house was clean —almost too clean compared to a normal person's — and he instantly noticed your habit of closing every room's door before you went out.

He opened the first door he saw. It was a bathroom, but he found no towel in there, only a few bottles of shower gel and shampoo.

But weren't you a person who even kept one at your workplace? Why there wasn't any of them in your bathroom?

he opened the second door, happily found out that it was your bedroom, and he walked a little too swiftly to your bed, shoving his face into your pillow.

He indulged himself for a few minutes after his brain reminded him that he didn’t have much time to just lay here, he needed to find what he came for.

He opens your closet.

Oh, it is like a treasure house built only for him. He attentively rummaged through everything he could find so he wouldn't destroy the orderliness, taking a piece of any treasure he could — your fluffy towel, one of your golden earrings.

and a pair of exquisite undergarments which he is sure the white laces would bring out your already overwhelming beauty.

After putting all of them in his bag, he walked out of the bedroom contentedly and found out there was another room.

It was hidden from the sight of your front door, and he was too high to pay attention to it before he came into your bedroom, but he noticed the difference now.

The door was slightly opened, leaving a crack luring him to explore, so he opened it slowly.

A chill went down his spine when he took a good look at the inside.

His photos, which he didn’t even know when or how you took them, decorated every single part of the wall in front of your desk.

His breath became faster than before when his eyes flicked to the notebook you left open on your desk.

"2023/10/10 09:35 König tells me to make him a cup of coffee.

2023/10/10 10:56 König comes out of his office and goes to the training room.

2023/10/10 12:13 König goes to the cafeteria. He eats a chicken breast sandwich, 5 slices of apple, and 1 tangerine."

His hand flipped the pages, the record started from the first day you joined KorTac, and he let out a gasp when he suddenly heard your chuckles coming from the speaker beside the notebook.

"Like what you see, colonel?"

[fortisfilia]

Promised Part 7 - Tom Riddle x reader

Info: This is a rewrite of a story I've posted on my old account years ago. If it sounds familiar, that might be why :)

Summary: In this story, Tom didn't grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader's sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Warnings: Arranged marriage

Word count: 3.2k

Masterpost | Masterlist | Part 6 | Part 8

Part 7 - Gift Giving

“So this is the last part of the house,” you said, after giving Tom a tour around the estate, arriving upstairs in the corridor leading to the bedrooms. “The guestroom is right at the end of the hallway. It has its own bathroom, which is a bit small. I hope you don’t mind.”

Tom shook his head as he peered towards the half-open door to the guestroom, that the house-elves were preparing for him.

“This right there is Elsie’s room, next to it is the master bedroom. And this,” you said, leaning onto a door. “Is my room.”

Tom’s eyes met yours. 

“Want to come in?”

He nodded.

There was a sense of excitement in the air, letting Tom enter your room. It was something so private, it felt like you let him walk straight into your head. But it was the polite thing to do. Although he didn’t seem too crushed from the argument he had had with his grandfather and uncle, it surely would make him feel better if he knew he was welcome here. He wouldn't want to be treated differently than usual, you knew, but a little empathy couldn't hurt.

“Take a seat if you like. Anywhere,” you said, trying to hide the nerves that were making your fingertips tingle. Sitting down on the sofa next to the bookshelf, you folded your treacherous hands and watched him walk across the room. He glanced at your belongings, only in passing, one would think, if he weren't Tom Riddle. Surely he had made up his mind about every single thing he saw. Every book, each letter from Camille on the desk, and crumpled note in the bin. You should have cleaned. He stopped by the desk and picked up a framed picture of you and your family.

“Sorry about my mother,” you mentioned when you noticed what he was inspecting.

“What do you mean?”

“She can be a bit brash, you know. When she asked you to stay earlier. But she usually means well.”

“Oh.” He set the picture back down. “I didn’t mind actually. You know my family. They’re brash. And not the good kind.”

Absolutely not the good kind. “Is it always like that with them?” 

“Since I can remember at least.”

There was a moment of silence. 

“I’m sorry,” you then said. 

“For what? That’s just how it is. They have their ways and I have mine.”

Right. He must be used to them by now. What a sad thought. “Did you know they would bring up the unbreakable vow?“

“No… I had no idea. They’re idiots. Just stupid. Why ask for more each time? They always want to be a step ahead for nothing.”

“What did you say to them?” you asked, hiding that you already knew.

“That I wouldn’t do it. They took our word for it then and that should be enough. They can’t force us to do a vow.”

“How angry are they?”

“They’ll come around,” he shrugged. “It wasn’t our first argument and it won’t be our last.”

“It must be hard to put up with them. They seem… exhausting.”

“I don’t know any different.” His voice was neutral as he leant against the desk, still looking around the room. “It’s not that bad I suppose.”

“Not that good either, though. I know it might not be my place, but they’re so cold. I can’t imagine what living with them must be like.”

“Well, I can’t complain, can I?” he said, raising a brow to your unsolicited sympathy. “I was fed every day. The house was warm and the bills were paid. What more could I ask for?”

A lot more, one would say if the question wasn’t a rhetorical one. “Have you always lived with them?”

“Yes.”

“What about -” You cut yourself off. There were plenty of rumours about Tom’s parents, each of them too wild to be true.

“My parents?” His eyes were still on you, not in anger, yet the intensity of his stare threatened to burn holes through your skin.

Your retreat was subconscious when you could no longer withstand his gaze and nodded. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have.”

Tom exhaled sharply. It almost sounded like a laugh. “I don't usually talk about it because people just want to know about them so they can get something out of it. It’s not a sensitive subject for me though. I don’t mind.”

There was no irony in his voice, his features collected, so you dared to ask, "Do you miss them?" 

“Never have.”

“Really? You never wished to live with your parents instead of Marvolo and Morfin?”

Tom smiled weakly and shook his head. “Wishing for something won’t make it happen. And no. It would have been quite the same, I think. Maybe even worse.”

“Worse?”

“You’ve heard how Marvolo talks about my parents. His daughter and a muggle. A stain in the bloodline he said, didn’t he?”

“But if they loved each other that shouldn’t have mattered to him.”

His eyebrows rose in what looked like a strange form of amusement. “Well, that’s a whole other story.”

What did that even mean? “Have they-”

Tom shook his head, making it clear that he wasn’t going to talk any further about it. He walked across the room towards you, fiddling something out from the inner pocket of his jacket. 

That had been one question too much apparently, and it was unclear if he was pulling out his wand or was on his way out, but as you opened your mouth again, he sat down beside you.

“I’m going to tell you,” he said. “Not now though. You’re going to know everything about me eventually. Someday.”

“Someday then,” you repeated. “What have you got there?”

He held the thing from his jacket in his hand now. It was a package that seemed a bit squished as if it had barely fit into the pocket.

“Hold on,” he said and waved his wand at it, to smooth out the wrinkles on the paper. It was a present, a rectangular box, covered in dark green gift wrap. “I thought it would be impolite to come over for lunch without bringing at least a little Christmas gift.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have,” you said as he handed over the present. 

“Go on, open it,” he said and motioned with his hand.

So you did and quickly found out what the package contained. A small handwritten book, full of potions recipes. 

“Nicked it from my uncle when he wasn’t looking,” Tom said. “So you better don’t mention it to him.”

“Oh great,” you laughed as you flipped through it. “Wow, I haven’t heard of any of these.”

“None of them are taught in school. I thought you’d like them. Didn’t seem like the ones we do with Slughorn were much of a challenge for you.”

The book looked as if it had been used a lot. The thin black binder was frayed and faded, and the edges of the pages were crinkled. On every other page, the handwriting changed, so it seemed that many different people had written the recipes. Poisons, antidotes and bewitchments you had never heard of were all listed, neatly explained and completed with full lists of ingredients.

“Where did your uncle get this from?” you asked, still looking through it.

“I’m not sure. Knockturn Alley perhaps, or on some market. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had added a few ones himself.”

As peculiar as it was, not many people could say they got a book of dark magic and probably illegal potions for Christmas.

“What an unusual gift. I do like it. Thank you, really!” you said and opened your arms to hug him, out of pure habit, but froze when you saw his stern expression, your arms still open. 

He looked into your eyes again, seemed to think for a moment and finally nodded to let you hug him. Just like when you had held hands, he was stiff and rigid, it felt like he was uncomfortable. You retracted, but as soon as you let go, he wrapped his arms around you and held you a little tighter, extending the embrace for a few more seconds.

There was a ghost of a smile on his face when you sat back straight and he was about to say something when the door flew open.

Tummy, one of the house-elves, stood in the door frame. “Miss, the guestroom is ready. Mister Riddle, Sir, please follow me.”

“Great,” Tom whispered under his breath, got up and followed the elf.

You quickly hid the book under your pillow and called after them, “It’d be nice if you could knock next time, Tummy!”

“Sorry Miss! Will knock!” His voice echoed from the hallway.

When Mother called for dinner in the evening it was quiet at first. The turmoil from lunch still lingered in the air and no one had the heart to talk about it. The usual pleasantries didn’t last for long, so everyone resorted to picking on their food, which was better than exchanging uncomfortable glances.

“Tom?” Elsie said all of a sudden, breaking the silence.

“Yes?” he answered and you looked back and forth between the two.

“Did you know I’ll go to Hogwarts too next term?” Elsie went on, a very proud tone in her voice.

He grinned while picking up some green beans with his fork. “I did know that, yes.”

“I haven’t gotten the letter yet, so technically I don’t know if I’ll get in, but my parents said it will come on my eleventh birthday.”

“I’m sure it will.”

He had barely finished his last word when Elsie asked the next thing. 

“What’s your favourite subject?”

“Um… Defence Against The Dark Arts, I think,” Tom said. “It’s interesting enough.”

“Why?”

“Well,” he took a second to think. “I like to be prepared.”

“And you’re in Slytherin, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think I’ll get sorted into Slytherin?”

“Depends. Is it your favourite?”

You caught your parents exchanging looks and smiling at each other.

“Um… Well,” Elsie began. “I think they’re all nice. But Gryffindor is the best I guess.”

Tom clicked his tongue and shook his head jokingly. “Shame,” he said.

“Do you play Quidditch?” Elsie asked.

“No, I’m not into sports.”

“But can you fly?”

“Yes, I’m a decent flyer.”

She looked at your parents for a moment and whispered to Tom, “Do you think you can show me? How to fly a broom. I got one for Christmas, you see. And I-”

“Elsie,” Father laughed. “Let the boy eat, please.”

“No, I can show you,” Tom said. “It’s the least I can do to show my respect after you’re letting me stay here.”

“That’s very kind of you Tom,” Mother said. “And you can stay as long as you like.”

“Thank you. I won’t bother you for long though,” he answered.

Dessert was served and Elsie peppered Tom with questions about brooms until Father finally told her to leave him alone. 

Later that night, when you lay in bed, you pulled the book out from under your pillow and held it for a while. It probably wasn’t even meant to be so special, but the fact that Tom had thought of giving you a present for Christmas, was not what you would have expected.

And you hadn’t even wasted a single thought about getting him something. How ignorant. 

You wondered how he felt about that. If he even felt about that, one way or another.

Your fingertip ran up and down the book spine countless times while you stared up onto the ceiling. You had to get him something. Something special.

And then you wondered if he couldn’t sleep either. If he wanted to talk for just a bit as well. If he thought about lying next to you, too. You could try to sneak out of your room and over to the guest room. Your parents wouldn’t like that of course, but you were going to marry him. They had to get used to the thought. And if you were quiet enough, they wouldn’t even notice.

You sat up slowly, put the book back under your pillow and tiptoed to the door of your room. Turning the doorknob as quietly as possible and holding your breath, you looked out into the dark hallway. You wouldn’t even need light, you knew this hallway like the back of your hand. Fifteen, maybe twenty quick steps and you would be right by the door to the guest room. So you took the first step out of your room.

“Miss!” a squeaky voice whispered in the dark from below. 

It was Tummy, standing there alone. 

“Tummy?” you asked quietly. “What are you doing here?”

“Miss, Master told Tummy to keep watch all night. So that Mister Riddle wouldn’t disturb you in your room.”

Great. Your parents were a few steps ahead. 

“Can Tummy get you anything, Miss?”

“No, I… I just thought I heard something,” you sighed. “Does Father really force you to stay up all night? You can go downstairs to sleep if you want to.”

“No, Miss, no,” the elf said and smiled. “Tummy sleeps right here on the floor. I have very good ears, yes. I hear every little noise, you see? I will wake up whenever I hear something and alert the Masters.”

Unbelievable. They had thought of everything.

“I see,” you said. “But I’m not afraid Tom would disturb me. You really can go downstairs.”

“Miss, Tummy is thankful for your offer, but I must follow the Master's order. Tummy doesn’t mind it.”

“Alright then,” you gave up. “Hang on though.” You went back into your room, and fetched one of the three pillows from your bed. “Take this at least,” you told the elf and gave him the pillow. “It’s big enough for you to sleep on.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary. Please.”

“I insist.”

Tummy smiled, took the pillow and nodded. “Thank you, Miss. Tummy is very grateful.”

“Good night, Tummy.

“Good night, Miss.”

The following day went by quicker than you had wanted it to. Father, Tom and Elsie went outside in the late morning to give Elsie her long-awaited flying lessons. They were a great team, against all expectations. You watched them from the kitchen window and noticed how Father held himself back from helping. He kept a careful eye on the two when Tom showed Elsie how to mount the broom correctly.

Elsie listened intently to everything Tom told her, tried to follow each step precisely and could properly hold herself in the air after a while. Father and Tom seemed incredibly proud, not only of themselves but of your little sister.

You could have watched them for hours, but Mother had called you to the reading room, to go to Diagon Alley via the Floo Network. You had asked her to take her with you since you wanted to get some new quills for school and a proper Christmas present for Tom.

Thankfully Diagon Alley wasn’t too busy, yet it took you a while to find an appropriate gift. You hadn’t even known where to start looking, but when you finally saw it in the shop window, you knew it was perfect.

Back home, Elsie, Father and Tom were just walking back inside, their cheeks and noses all flushed from the hours they had spent out in the cold. Elsie jumped through the living room, raving about how high she was able to fly now. She had even attempted to do some advanced twists but almost had taken a fall.

Father patted Tom on the shoulder and thanked him for his time, which made Tom’s ears turn almost as pink as his cheeks and nose.

After congratulating your sister on her achievement, you turned to Tom. “Would you follow me? There’s something I want to show you.”

You took him to the reading room, where the parcel you got him stood under the desk.

“Long day, huh?” you asked when you closed the door behind you.

He nodded. "Successful though. Your sister is a quick learner. She could make it on the Quidditch team one day.”

“Thank you for teaching her,” you said. “We all appreciate it.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

Now that you were with him, you didn’t know where to start. Should you tell him about lying in bed with the book in your hand, thinking of him? That you almost would have knocked on his door in the middle of the night, if Tummy had not been there? That could sound terribly invasive. What if he wouldn’t have wanted you to come? Now that you thought about it, you were glad that Tummy had spoiled your plan. Nighttime certainly made you too reckless.

“So, is this a hint for me to leave?” Tom asked, pointing at the fireplace.

“No! I mean, it’s not. Are you planning on leaving?”

“I might go back home tonight,” he nodded.

“Already? Do you not like it here?”

A smirk crossed his face for a second. “Oh I do. I think I haven’t had a better night’s sleep anywhere, outside of Hogwarts.” He took a step closer. “If it wasn’t for the elf in the hallway, I’m sure it would have been even better.”

How would he also know about Tummy? Did he leave his room too? To prevent your mouth from hanging open, you bit your tongue and answered, “Father is overprotective.”

“Quite a shame.” 

“Certainly.”

The look on his face held something new, something previously unseen. Something that resembled banter or a cheeky joke between friends. It would not have been awkward at all if you had gone over to his room. Tummy be damned.

“Still,” he said. “I should go home to smooth things over before school starts again.”

“Of course. Before you go though, there’s something I want you to have. I thought of your present a lot. And I decided I had to get you something as well.”

“Not necessary. Your family let me stay the night, that’s more than en-”

“Stop it,” you snapped and went to get the parcel from under the table. “There’s not a lot of things I thought suited Tom Riddle. But this does, I believe.”

He took the box with both hands, placed it onto the desk and pulled off the top. “Oh.”

“Her name is Nagini. She’s not fully grown yet.”

Tom took a dark green, medium-sized snake out of the box and let it curl around his arm. 

“Did you know?” he asked.

“Know what?”

“That I’m a Parselmouth.”

“Yes,” you nodded. “People in Hogwarts were talking about it years ago and then I thought of your house and your relation to Salazar Slytherin. It made sense.”

“Thank you,” he said genuinely, looking into your eyes before he watched Nagini gliding from one arm to the other. “Stretch out your arm for me.”

You did and let your fingers touch his. Both of you now stood there with one arm pointing towards each other. The snake slithered around Tom’s arm, quickly making its way towards his outstretched fingers and over to yours. It hissed quietly while wandering up to your shoulder.

“She likes you,” Tom said softly. “A lot.”

Masterpost | Masterlist | Part 8

[mythos-writes]

Chelsea's Gardener

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Plot: (Y/N) was the head gardener at London’s Chelsea Physics Garden. She kept the garden presentable and running smoothly. One day a man who looked very out of place shows up…

For @runnning-outof-time 3K Follower Celebration! (Fluff Prompt 8: "Isn't it beautiful out here?")

Word Count: 778

Warning: None

(Y/N) got to the garden at the crake of dawn. The garden was hosting a gathering and she needed to ensure the garden was presentable. All morning she ran around the grounds, ensuring all the damaged or dying flowers were gone and no weeds were in sight. 

As she was running by the statue of Sir Hans Sloane, she stopped when she saw a man looking at the tulip garden beds that line the walkway. Usually, she doesn’t see men here by themselves, especially if they’re just walking around. 

“Isn’t it beautiful out here?” she calls out, startling the man. He quickly turns around and saw (Y/N) standing just under the statue. 

“Yes. Yes, it is,” he replies, finishing his cigarette and putting it out on the ground. (Y/N) grimaces at this action. The man noticed this, but instead of ignoring her, he picked up his squished butt. 

“So who are you?” he asked, breaking the silence. 

“I’m the head gardener here at the gardens,” she informs. He nods admiring the trees and flowers around her. 

“Does the head gardener have a name?” he asks. This shocked her a little, usually, she is in the background and not known for getting attention from attendees. 

“ (Y/N) (Y/L/N), at your service Mr….” she trails off, realizing she doesn’t know the man’s name. 

“Shelby. Thomas Shelby,” he replies, sticking his hand out to her. She took her hand, expecting just a handshake. He shocked her by placing a kiss on the back of her hand. 

“So what is Mr. Thomas Shelby doing here by himself?” she asks him, trying to hide her blush. 

“I’m here for the gala that is being held here this afternoon,” he says, gesturing to the party tents that are placed not far off. “But I got bored and slipped away for a little air.” She nods her head, acknowledging why he was there. 

“Well, since you are not wanting to go back just yet, would you like a tour?” she offers. Tommy’s eyes roam across her body, taking this woman in. Her dress was covered in dirt, and some holes scattered the bottom of the skirt. Her hands weren’t like any women that he had seen. They weren’t as soft as the normal women he would accompany in his daily life but be as rough as a dock worker. Her hands were strong yet supple. 

“Lead the way Ms. (Y/L/N),” he says. 

“Oh, I’m not married,” she corrects and they walk toward the greenhouses. 

“I see,” he replies, leaving the two in a small silence, as they walk the garden pathways.  

“What’s a nice-looking woman like yourself doing alone in London?” He asks. 

“Most days I’m too busy to entertain a man. If they even give me a look,” she states, fidgeting with her necklace, feeling a little ashamed at her answer. Tommy nods. 

“So what made you want to work here?” he asked. (Y/N) let out a breathy laugh. 

“My mother used to work here, I would come to work with her when I wasn’t in school. But then she fell sick a few years ago and took her place, as I knew everything about the garden,” she informs. 

“You are a strong and interesting woman,” he states, pulling out another cigarette.

“Thank you,” she replies as they get closer to the greenhouses. 

Just as they got to the greenhouse, a voice broke through the garden. It was calling out for Tommy. (Y/N) looked to him, confused, but he looked annoyed. 

“That would be my loving aunt trying to find me,” he informs, giving her the answer to the question she didn’t need to ask. 

“Another time I suppose,” she suggests, hoping he would want to see her again. 

“I’ll be in London for the rest of the week, how about I come back tomorrow and you can give me a private tour,” he offers. She felt her belly fill with butterflies. 

“I would like that. How about you meet me back at the Sir Hans Sloane statue tomorrow at noon,” she suggests. 

“The which statue?” he asks. 

“The statue where I found you wondering,” she says with a small giggle. She watches as some pink grow across his face. 

“See you tomorrow then,” he says with a small smile. 

“See you tomorrow,” she states.  

5 Years Later

Tommy stands by the Sir Hans Sloane statue, looking at his pocket watch. (Y/N) was supposed to meet him back in the gardens by 2, but it is growing closer to 3. Just as he was about to send some men to see what had happened, (Y/N) came running around a hedge wall. A sigh of relief falls from his mouth as he sees her run towards him. 

“Sorry for running late. My aunt didn’t seem to want to let me go from our afternoon tea,” she says out of breath. 

“I was about to send Finn and Arthur to see where you were,” he confesses, wrapping his arms around her hips, and bringing her closer. His anxiety was building before she crested the hedge, having her in his arms at this moment grounded him. 

“I’m sorry Tommy, I would have called to let you know if I knew my aunt would have held me hostage,” she slightly jokes. 

“Well now that you're here, how about a walk around the garden?” he offers. 

“ Would you like a tour?” she offers with a smirk. She still knows the garden like the back of her hand. 

“Lead the way, Ms. Shelby,” he says, gesturing forward. 

“Follow me, Mr. Shelby,” she requests grabbing ahold of his arm, starting to stroll through the garden. and

[scribble-dribble-writes]

My eternal flame

---

Pairing: Miguel o'hara x female reader

Content: been feeling a little low mostly because of the economy and how the future seems a little gloomy lol, so wrote this to cheer myself and I hope it cheers you up too. Just Miguel showing some tender love 🥰

Warnings: none

Word count: 1800

---

You were sprawled out on his lap while he fiddled with the monitor screens to read through his data and information. His hand rested on your waist but occasionally his eyes would peel away from the screens to monitor you. You hadn’t been feeling your best, today had been the worst. The usual light that lit up within you didn’t seem to burn and it made you feel like an indoor plant that longed for the sun.

You rested your head on his arm, your eyes flitting through the screens in front of you but your mind was elsewhere. Thinking about life and what not.

He leaned down to place a kiss on your cheek but you didn’t acknowledge him, you were lifeless in his arms and he began to worry. Thinking of ways to cheer you up without knowing what exactly was bothering you.

“Do you want to go home?”, he asked sweetly to which you whined a no as you snuggled into his arms.

“Alright.”, he chuckled quietly as he pushed away your hair from the side of your face, to trace your cheekbone. You closed your eyes upon his touch, it felt reviving, like he was your power source.

“Would you maybe want switch up your position –

You grunted with annoyance as you got up to now sit on his left thigh. Tucking your head into the crook of his neck to hide your eyes from the light as you then swung your legs over the arm rest.

-my hand is cramping up”, he finished with a huff as he felt the shift of your weight.

Your eyelashes didn’t flutter against his skin, so that could only mean you were resting. He felt the blood flow resume within his right arm as he flexed his fingers. This was rare, usually you would be on your own, only coming down to meet him once a day. But today you were coiled around him like a sick cat.

“You do know only I get to be the grumpy one?”, he asked as he kissed your forehead only to hear a cranky hum.

“You’ve rubbed off on me then.”, he heard your voice and felt at ease. He was getting somewhere.

“Venir, te haré algo de comer.”, he shifted in his seat, to try and carry you out but you placed your hand on his chest, to stop him.

“No, I want to be here, in the dark.”, he heard you as he settled in his seat. It struck him now, you were drained and tired.

He looked around his office, the fluorescent glow from the monitor screens mixed with the darkness, he too had taken comfort in this desolate place when his heart was broken. Hiding away from all the energy from the outside world, here he could grieve, he could cry and it stung his heart that you were feeling something similar. His ray of sunshine now bundled in his arms with a fading light.

Maybe he was rubbing off on you.

He sighed.

He wanted to make you better but he didn’t know how.

What would you have done? He thought back to a time he thought your presence was an annoyance.

He looked down to see your hand resting alone, so as he thought of a way, he intertwined his fingers around yours slowly to warm your cold hands.

You would have found ways to drag him out of his black hole.

You would have not rested till your got him to laugh.

His eyes had forgotten about all the work that was spread out before him, because his gaze was fixed on your slender form, your chest rising and falling slowly and the edges of his eyes began to tear up.

You went out of your way to brighten up his dark days, so today he would try to do the same.

“Alright, sleepyhead, I’m going for a swim and you’re joining me.”, he got out his chair carrying you with him, holding you tight as you wriggled in his hold.

“No.”, you grumbled to which he shushed you.

Your eyes had to adjust to the bright light as he emerged out of his office, he had his private areas within the main building. His own gym and leisure area where other spider people weren’t allowed. You weren’t interested in going for a swim, you just wanted to be forgotten as you laid in his arms and you grew tense knowing he was dragging you out.

He placed you down when the swimming pool came into view and the way the water sparkled as sunlight hit it reminded you of days by the beach near your hometown. And then you felt it, a sudden slight wave of warmth resurge though you. Not enough to get you to smile but enough to begin to enjoy this.

He got out of his suit and into his swim shorts when you realized that you didn’t have your swim suit with you. You began to object but he shook his head, not taking your objections as he got close to you.

His eyes lit up with a light from within as he took your hand and walked away from the pool to the patio that overlooked the city. On it were lounge areas and a hot tub with a tray of snacks to nibble on.

“I thought you said you were going for a swim.”, you furrowed your brows but he smiled, his patience extending beyond his usual limit.

“Well plans tend to change.”, he spoke as he guided you to the warm bubbling water, the smell of mineral salts and lavender wafting from the steam. It felt soothing just to stand by it that your body now craved to get into it.

“Ugh don’t talk to me about plans or the future.”, you cribbed and he felt relieved, he had struck a nerve, one that was causing your temper.

You heard him hum to your statement as he fiddled with the zipper to your suit. His eyes searching yours for your permission and so when you nodded your head, he softly peeled away your suit and held out his hand for you to get in first. You dipped your feet in and the water felt divine that as you got in, the water drenching your inner wear, you just wanted to sit in it for awhile.

He got in after you, relaxing once the water engulfed him too, he waited, sneaking glances at you to see if this was helping and with how you were threading your fingers through the bubbles he could tell this was working. As you sat quietly, he knew he had to break the gloom, so he took a second to angle his hand before he splashed you.

The water trickled down your face as you turned to him in surprise. He had an anxious smile plastered on his face, waiting for your reaction but only you felt the laughter that was beginning to bubble in the depth of your chest. You didn’t wait, you splashed him next and he retaliated and your eyes were blurred with the constant sensation of water hitting your face that in this sudden outburst, you couldn’t help but give in and laugh.

Somehow, the sound of your laugh had gotten him to stop.

“Stop, stop, I yield.”, you held your hands up but the laughter within you didn’t die down. When you caught his eyes, you stilled, because in it was the warmth of happiness and surprise.

“I missed the sound of your joy.”, he said, entranced by you.

You playfully swiped another wave of water over him to break him out of this trance and it worked as he laughed wiping the water from his face. You waded towards him, to sit on his knees as he inhaled a sharp breath.

“I know what you’re up to.”, you smiled, the gloom from before being washed away slowly.

“You… you do?”, he stuttered innocently pushing back his wet hair as you caught up to his plan.

“You’re trying to make me feel better”, you narrowed your eyes at him, resting your hands on his chest. But as you leaned in, you got caught up with how his eyes mimicked the sparkling water.

“The way you are lit from within, Miguel, it’s beautiful.”, you whispered causing him to light up further.

“I’m just a broken oil lamp,”, he said as he wrapped his arm around your waist.

“lucky enough to be lit by your eternal flame.”, he smiled radiantly, making you speechless as you derived the meaning of his declaration.

“I think it's only fair I give some of it back to you,”, his eyes softened as he reached up to cup your cheek.

“to revive you, because you are my sun and on days you can’t shine, I’ll try to shine for you.”, he said it to then excuse himself for being cheesy but it was exactly what you wanted to hear.

So you leaned in to kiss his cheek and he felt like he done something right for the first time. He inhaled deeply as you hugged him, his heart now at ease with seeing you become more lively.

“What did you hate about the future that it’s gotten you to feel so lost?”, he asked as you peeled away from him.

“It just … gets tiring after a while. When things don’t go your way.”, you got deeper into the water and he pushed away from the edge to join you.

“If all I get are disappointments, then how can I look out for calmer days or fulfilled wishes.”, you huffed, your spirit beginning to deflate.

“But there could be better surprises waiting for you.”, he replied and you pursed your lips.

“Like what?”, you shrugged your shoulders.

“Like this.”, he responded to then quickly place his lips on yours. It took you by surprise but then you hummed with delight, sure you were going to melt away into the warm water.

He pulled away, his eyes alive with mischief.

“Some surprises can be good.”, he smiled and you did too but his expression sobered as he reached for you again.

“Like when you came into my life.”, he said, his voice so tender you couldn’t help but mirror his smile.

“The future cannot be controlled, I’ve tried day in and day out only to fail over and over again.”, he tilted your chin up to meet his eyes as he spoke.

“I find it’s best when you don’t think about it, it gets me to be more present, to think of you instead.”, he spoke softly

“So much so that all I think about now, is you.”, he rested his forehead on yours and you felt your heart begin to shine again. He held you close and put aside the struggle of the past and the thoughts of the future. Because right now, this instant, it felt good. To be enveloped by his arms, to know he was holding you up when you couldn’t.

You settled into the warm water again as you told him what else was bothering you while he massaged your back quietly and intently listening to you. The sun had begun to set, painting the sky in a swirl of colours but you took solace in the fact that even if the world drowned in darkness, there will always be two little hearts burning a little brighter than the rest. Yours and his.

[ghouldtime]

Fun fact, I’m terrified of mimics, like terrified. I watched a show called haunted on Netflix and the first episode of season two was about a mimic and I’ve been scared of them ever since. Ok now that that’s out of the way, please I need more of mimic!Gaz if that’s ok? I feel like he’d be the only one that doesn’t make me wanna run far far away

I can't blame you. Mimics can be anywhere, anything, at anytime. They can take the place of someone you know in the blink of an eye, they can take the spot of your favorite pillow you swore you lost two days ago - that's what makes them so scary. THAT is what's scary, you never know what you're truly going up against

Also please note that my idea of a mimic may vary from others! Usually, I see them as something that can mimic their surroundings. Whether that be voices, people, or things to blend in

Some more about mimic! Gaz

Just because he's a monster doesn't mean he's a monster

Though he may be a mimic and may, by definition, be a monster - he's still retaining his humanity. He still has a set of morals, he still has his own aspirations, hopes, and dreams

He is, however, still very much a monster. A monster who can and does eat people. But that's not indiscriminately

Truth be told, though his kind is known for the whole 'eating people' deal, he's not a huge fan of it. He'd rather not do it because then he'll be questioning himself and where he stands

Doesn't mean he can't or won't. Being a mimic means he's effective at it, it's a great way to get rid of evidence and to take out anyone against him. He'd just rather reserve it to those occasions

He's still very much the Gaz we love! Even if his default form doesn't look close, the appearance we know him as is what he prefers. It's how he sees himself in his mind's eye after observing humanity for so many years, so it's how he presents

He feels the traits he chose represent him best after seeing them displayed on many people throughout the years and it really is how he feels. He combined them into an appearance he liked. He usually maintains and keeps himself in that form, he'll only shift back to the default state if truly injured or extremely sick. Otherwise, he's mainly looking like his normal, handsome self

(Technically, he's an 'original' being in his human form since everything about him was taken and melded into who he is from those who already existed before him who he interacted with)

The main thing you'll notice on him that may set off some alarm bells would be his canines. Those things are SHARP. But other than that and a few weird slightly not-normal habits (like seemingly not needing nearly as much rest as a healthy human should and being able to easily eat bones), he seems to be a stand up guy

He mainly takes the form of a human because humanity has interested him ever since he came into this world. Though he doesn't understand the full range of emotions, comprehending them and the world as a whole from their point of view was so incredibly fascinating

Not to mention, the human world itself is incredible too! He wanted to be apart of that, and not just in the background or hiding in the shadows

He understands why his kind aren't exactly liked and are feared, but in this day and age, it's significantly less of an issue for him since humans have mostly moved on past their fear of monsters and are so easily distracted with technology

He can mainly use his form to his advantage now, allowing him to easily blend in and out of the background as he pleases. It allows him to get into many private places (such as lecture halls) and into areas he otherwise never would consider or be able to access

He's a curious guy, he likes to learn. He still has a lot to know, even after all these years, but he isn't there to just eat people or betray your trust. He's not simple minded

He's just another being with his own thoughts, emotions, feelings, and past! He tries not to let his nature define him, even if it can distinguish him from being a human alone

You'd probably never know he's a mimic but if you're one of the few who expressed you really didn't care, you just like him for him, he'll be happy to change around you

At least it can make for great photo ops and is incredibly convenient for nearly any scenario you can think of

Seriously, be his pal, he's still just a guy! Just in a different body with a little bit of a different mindset :D

[rynnthefangirl]

do you have happy headcanons about aegon iii and viserys ii? or at least not that sad cause they already suffered enough in the canon

What a fun ask, I love having an excuse to gush about Aegon III and Viserys II! I’ll admit I’m usually drawn to angst, but some headcanons on the (somewhat) happier side of things:

Being a father did a lot to lighten Aegon III’s gloom (the broader realm/histories just didn’t observe this bc he was such a private person). This was especially the case with Daena. Daeron was always preoccupied with his martial training and Baelor with his faith, but Daena would spend long hours keeping her father company. She loved to hear stories about their family, and Aegon would tell her all about Rhaenyra and Daemon and his Velaryon brothers and childhood on Dragonstone. Aegon had spent so long trying to avoid those memories bc of his grief, but found telling his daughter about them therapeutic, and this helped him make some peace with his past in the last years of his life. He felt like he was doing right by his parents and brothers in passing down their memories. Daena would go on to tell many of those stories to her little sister Elaena and her son Daemon.

Aegon III got his three headed dragon necklace from Rhaenyra, and passed it down to Daena, who passed it down to Daemon. The necklace is still in the possession of Blackfyre descendents into the GOT era, and is considered a family heirloom.

Viserys used to climb into Aegon’s bed when he had a nightmare during their boyhood on Dragonstone. After their reunion, they would continue to share a bed on occasion, as they each felt most at peace in each others company, and this would help relieve some of Aegon’s insomnia. They did this most frequently in the years between Larra’s departure and Aegon consummating his marriage with Daenaera.

Aemon became Kingsguard in the last couple years of Aegon’s reign. Originally Viserys fervently argued against this, as he didn’t want his son swearing away the possibility of marriage and kids, but eventually Aemon convinced him that this was what he truly wanted. Gifting the white cloak to his nephew was one of Aegon’s proudest moments. When Aegon fell sick, Aemon was by his side helping care for him day and night, even beyond his duty as a Kingsguard.

Viserys didn’t tell Aegon he was going to name his son after him until after the babe was born. Aegon cried when he found out (stole this from another post).

Viserys didn’t call Aegon “Egg”, but Aegon did call his brother “Vis”.

It was Viserys who gifted Elaena her dragon egg. It wasn’t a cradle egg, but given to her when she was a few years old. Viserys hadn’t been able to convince Aegon to give eggs to his previous four children, but when Vis found an egg on Dragonstone that matched Elaena’s unique silver/gold hair, he took it as a sign. After much needling, Aegon finally relented, and from then on Elaena would carry around her dragons egg everywhere she went, just as her uncle had done years ago.

This one doesn’t count as happy, but I do think that one of the reasons why Viserys ascended the throne over Daena was because he believed that he was protecting her from sharing her brothers’ fates. I also think Daena proposed to unite their claims through marriage— citing Viserys' parents Daemon and Rhaenyra— but Viserys turned her offer down.

Aegon put off consummating his marriage with Daenaera largely because of his touch aversion, but also in part because he was just plain nervous. Cue Viserys “dad of three at 16” giving advice to his awkward 21 year old virgin brother. One night Aegon had resolved to finally bed Daenaera, only to hide himself away and not show up. Viserys dragged him to her chambers, and told him that if wasn’t ready to sleep with Daenaera that night he didn’t have to, but damn him if he is going to ditch his lovely sweet Queen after promising to spend the night with her. Aegon and Daenaera did not in fact consummate their marriage that night, but it did turn into a nice evening of getting to know each other better, and did much to ease both of their nervousness. Aegon thanked his brother later.

Aegon was never one for feasts and celebrations, but he would often make much more of an effort whenever Baela or Rhaena came to court (ofc under the condition that Morning either stay in Oldtown or be chained in the Dragon Pit). As such, Viserys would invite the twins to court whenever the found an excuse to do so, and they often celebrated their name day feast in Kings Landing. One time Rhaena even convinced Aegon to dance with her (albeit briefly) much to the delighted surprise of the court.

Viserys never remarried after Larra, but he did have a paramour in his later years that he was deeply fond of (got this one from a fanfic).

Viserys knew his brother didn’t have the best reputation in the Realm, and was very defensive of him. One day during Daeron’s rule one of the lords of the small council made the mistake of referring to Aegon as “the Dragonbane” where Viserys could hear. Viserys absolutely tore into him, threatening to ban the lord and his family from court for slandering their late king. Nobody made the mistake of using Aegon’s epithet in front of his brother again.

Viserys would often smile as he donned his Hand of the King pin during Aegon’s reign. He was beyond proud and honored to be his brothers right hand man. Aegon would sometimes refer to him as “my Lord Hand” because he loved how Viserys glowed at the title.

Many of these may be more bittersweet than "happy", but it's Aegon III and Viserys II so what's a girl to do🤷‍♀️

[alevicke]

Hi there! Can you do the continuation on The Pregnancy from TADC? I'm curious what Jax would be during the process and to his kids, you can do one by one! I don't mind,just don't pressure and get creative! Stay hydrated and happy!

Jax x pregnant!reader

I’m just going to do the pregnancy in general for now because I’m hella exhausted lately I’m so sorry ;^; I’ll write soon about them with their kids though! Don’t worry ^^ I’m just super slow as well, sorry D: Also only Jax, because this took so long

First part of this:

NSFW headcanons would make this way too long so I didn’t include them D: They aren’t too different from normal NSFW HCs if I’m honest

TW: No beta-read! Sorry! Some slight NSFW HCs, petnames 

Jax

After the great news, Jax needed a few days to adjust to everything. He didn’t think this could be possible so he was… Panicking a bit whenever the conversation was raised.

As said, at the very beginning when you started having morning sickness, two things happen. Jax laughs at you and then throws up after seeing you do it. 

It takes him days to finally get used to the situation AND more to be useful for you because he would still feel nauseous seeing you in that situation and would often gag while trying to hold your hair

But hey, he’s… He’s trying his best…

You also feel a lot more tired than usual in this first period so Jax stays by your side a lot. He isn’t really the most useful but he’s around I guess. You don’t really do that much in the circus anyways

Also expect him to throw a tantrum if Caine dares to make any single adventure that is slightly physical. He won’t say he’s protecting you but he will complain in all ways possible that he can imagine to make Caine change the adventure or cancel it if there is even the minimum chance of hurting you in any way or shape.

For everyone it is pretty obvious that the reason he’s doing this is to protect you but no one dares to say a thing because if they do, he gets pissed off and makes everyone's life a living nightmare. You being pregnant ain’t stopping him from being the asshole everyone knows. 

Your mood was already starting to become a roller coaster so Jax started being a bit more careful after the first few times he upsetted you. He continues teasing you and joking but not as much as before because to be honest, he doesn’t want to deal with you mad at him at this important time of your relationship, Don’t blame him too much because he still upsets you a lot of times, he’s kinda awful controlling himself when it comes to jokes and teasing.

He doesn’t want to pressure you but he is worried when you start rejecting the food. Sure, you didn’t really need it. But deep down he was scared the baby could need it

But turns out you just started disliking a lot of the normal food there and started having some weird craves. That was definitely the thing he liked to annoy you with the most. You eating the most bizarre foods you could think of was amusing to him. 

You realized since the first week that Jax started sleeping and cuddling with you letting his hand rest on top of your tummy. He kinda does this unconsciously but likes to do it to feel closer to the baby.

For the first months you both decided to stay quiet about the news. Pregnancy has higher risk to go bad in the very first months and you kinda don’t want everyone talking about your relationship and pregnancy, but rather keep it private for both of you

This basically causes everyone to be confused by the sudden change in Jax’s behavior. No one understood why he was being so overprotective of you suddenly when he used to be the first one making you pranks.

By the third month you both already feel good enough to tell everyone the news and suddenly everything clicks. You were successful hiding it from everyone.

As the second trimester comes, your sickness starts to fade away which is a relief to both of you. Waking up a lot of mornings to throw up was kinda annoying for both. Worse to you of course. But Jax wasn’t a huge fan of standing half asleep next to you in the bathroom holding your hair while you puked the awful 3D looking peas from last night. 

Something Jax realizes way too fcking fast is that your breast grows and believe me, this motherfcker is going to celebrate it. He’s just testing if they are good enough for the baby he’ll say. He’s just sacrificing himself for the baby by burying his face against both of your boobs.. Yep, sweet nice protective dad and nothing else. 

By the fourth month your belly finally starts to grow. And so do some of your insecurities. 

And hear me out

Jax ain’t the best when it comes to talking about feelings. But he’s being 100% honest when he says he sees you as beautiful and hot as the first day. He ain’t joking. You won’t see his libido going down so you can trust his word. He’s as horny as the first day and won’t doubt a second to get between your legs if you’re up to it. 

But Jax also notices that you’re out of breath quicker and sometimes you feel dizzy so he’s always next to you to hold you and teasy you how he’s so handsome he makes you lose contact with reality and makes you dizzy. He won’t let you fall but that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to annoy you, as always. 

You also start to feel the very first movements of the baby and Jax gets pissed off that you get to feel them but the baby NEVER moves when he’s touching your belly. 

“Hey, pipsqueaks? Daddy’s here, come on”. He’ll gently poke your belly but nah. Not working. But it’s still amusing to see him get jealous of something like that. 

By month 6, sometimes you have cramps which is your body preparing everything for the baby’s arrival. These are completely normal. But here is the thing. None of you have a medic to tell you this. And Caine has no information about pregnancies so both of you are on your own

And Jax is scared

Whenever he sees you complaining about the cramps he is internally panicking about you having the baby so soon or something going wrong. 

This fear continues for quite some time until the conversation appears with Ragatha. While she isn't a mother, she did know a bit about pregnancy and childbirth because she liked knowing that information in case she became a mother one day. She’s the one who tells you this is completely normal and unless something else comes with those cramps and they are painless, you’re both fine.

That doesn’t really calm Jax completely. He spends some nights looking at the ceiling in complete horror scared that something might happen to you and the baby. He often spends nights without sleeping worried about bringing a life to that world. But when he sees you next to him, those fears fade away. As long as you both are together, he is sure everything will be ok

As the third trimester arrives, things get more serious.Your belly is growing a lot and you both need to prepare for what’s coming. Jax seems to be a lot more nervous. He hides it pretty well for everyone else but you can notice he’s in constant panic worried something might happen and always checking on you by being by your side or around. Not that he’s controlling you, he’s checking that everything is going ok without actually saying it out loud. 

At this point, you have catched Jax several times during the night caressing your belly or softly murmuring to the baby. You know he can be an asshole when you point something out to him so you let him do it faking you’re asleep. This is probably the cutest thing you have ever seen Jax doing. You can feel in his voice how happy he is to be able to have a baby with you despite the initial panic. 

Caine helped you both to set a room for the baby, but Jax insisted for the baby to sleep in the same room as you both for at least the first days. He doesn’t like the idea of letting the baby alone even if your rooms are connected by one door. He barely sleeps so he likes the idea of being able to see the baby while being in bed and resting. 

The room is decorated in a kind of neutral theme because, being honest, neither of you know the sex of the baby and neither of you actually cares too much. As long as they are healthy it’ll be fine. You don’t even know if you’re having a baby, a bunny or whatever can come out in this digital world. 

Fun fact. You once had a bad cramp during dinner. Jax panicked and threw everything to the ground to prepare the table for you to have the fcking baby there. Everyone was in tears laughing but after Jax basically tied Gangle to a ball and threw her around the circus, no one really dared to make fun of him anymore  about that situation but you. Still, everyone considers it peak comedy to see Jax in panic throwing everything to the ground while Caine screamt about Bubble’s food being thrown. 

The last months Jax spends a lot of time cuddling with you with his head glued to your tummy. He smiles like an idiot whenever he feels the baby moving and talks to them even more often. 

“Hey Peepsqueak, time is running out, is time to get out of the bed”, “Tiny pea, excited to see your amazing daddy?”

You thought the pet names he used to use on you were silly and sometimes stupid, but damn, now hearing the ones he was using for the baby you consider yourself lucky to be honest. It was still adorable though! And funny. 

As the time for the birth was arriving, Jax became even more annoying to the rest. He was stressed and anxious and everyone could realize that. But he was also more demanding to Caine. Caine kept doing whatever Jax asked because it kept him distracted without annoying the rest of the circus and what he was asking for were not bad things.

He asked to decorate with you the baby’s room so he asked for a lot of plushies and stuff bunny related. I mean, you had no problem with it and it was suitable for a kid, all super adorable. So why not. And Caine thought the same and seeing you smile for the baby’s clothes was enough for him to be convinced so he spent a lot of days with you two creating clothes for the new member about to join the circus. Caine of course was so excited for something like that happening in his circus!

As your first cramps for childbirth started, you saw Jax look at you with eyes wide open.

This became too long and I’m kinda exhausted to do the childbirth here sorry !

Lil fic:

You laid down in the bed, tirelessly while softly yawning under Jax’s eyes. He was next to you with his head resting in his hand while looking at you. He knew you had one of those awful nights again. 

After 8 months of pregnancy, reaching the due date, your belly was already big enough to cause you problems sleeping. Your little one was also moving a lot of times so that didn’t help either. But it was fun for Jax to see the little kicks every now and then. His laugh didn’t make it worth it but it helped (a bit). He always had a dork smile, looking all silly and dreamy whenever you two were alone in the room hanging out till the time came. 

You already had everything prepared for the moment to come so you both just had to… Wait

Another sleepless night? - Jax questioned with his eyes locked on you. You knew he was worried, but his cheeky grin would fake anyone but you.

I’m afraid so. Our little one ain’t that small anymore. And he’s becoming really active lately

Yeah, no doubt he just wants to see his daddy already - he softly chuckled while putting his hand on your tummy. - Peepsqueak, when you coming out? 

You smiled as Jax talked to the belly, but his smile grew wider as he could feel the baby moving. 

I think they already have a favorite parent! - He looked at you with a mischievous smile, you knew he was teasing, but it worked every single time

Hey, no. Shut up. I’m the one carrying them. They just move because they want to kick you - you smiled proudly while he chuckled

He leaned closer to you and put the side of his head against your tummy. He closed his eyes peacefully in the embrace as you hugged him. He just wanted to cuddle with you.

So, are we going to name them Jack? 

Your expression was the only answer he needed while he chuckled.

[beetlecakes]

Do you think doc ever got seriously angry/disappointed with lightning? How did they deal with it?

Omg I think about this all time and was going to write something with this trope after I finished my silly little series on ao3

BUT

I think it would happen after a bad race. Lightning would get angry and frustrated and take his anger out on Doc and say things he didn’t mean, and of course Doc does the same because— well they’re literally the same person. Also I think the loss will make him be an asshole again (like how he was when he first crashed into radiator springs) and be a dick to his crew, so Doc really gets pissed.

He can handle Lightning yelling at him, but once the kid does it to his crew, that’s where he draws the line.

Doc takes Lightning to a private room and just SCREAMS bc like that’s not how he usually acts and he’s super hurt and disappointed. Of course, Lightning deflects and screams at him to leave him alone.

I headcanon that Lightning isn’t good at talking about his feelings and hides behind his ego to protect himself. He HATES vulnerability so talking about anything makes him petrified.

During the race, he was in his head. Probably about Harv and the anxiety of needing to win the race, so when he didn’t get 1st he panicked, which led to him deflecting with anger.

He doesn’t like talking about Harv because it usually worries everyone and he’s sick of the “you need to fire Harv” talk. But he signed a contract and they don’t understand how powerful that man really is.

I think a whole day would pass before any apologies were made. Lightning is in his room on the phone and Doc can hear Harv screaming at Lightning for losing. Lightning is apologizing and Doc can hear the shake and fear in his voice and realizes why Lightning suddenly got angry with him and his crew.

Doc is good at reading emotions because he’s a doctor obviously. He took a bunch of psychology courses and is quite knowledgeable in that field.

So when he walks in to room and sees his kid having a panic attack, he hangs up the phone. Lightning doesn’t protest but just mumbles a series of “I’m sorry’s” over and over again until he’s fully lowered into the bed or ground.

Obviously Doc reassures him that it’s okay. After a few minutes they have a long talk and finally lightning gets the courage to fire Harv and hire some lawyers (Sally most likely). And that he needs to go into town and apologize to everyone

Which, of course he does immediately

Also I think it’s important to add that Doc reassures Lightning that he will never be disappointed if he doesn’t get 1st or even the top 5.

He’s always super paranoid of letting everyone down but I think that fear slowly diminishes once he fires Harv.