#Where No Man Has Gone Before and Then Some | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

persevereforahappyending · 2 days ago

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No Man's Land |11|

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Reader

Summary: Sam can’t help but be drawn to the cute stranger from her gym, even if everything about them makes them the perfect suspect, just when Ghostface has returned.

Warnings: Talks of injuries, talks of killing, talks of attack

Word Count: 2.7k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

You sat on a bed in the ambulance as you got stitched up, again. For the second time, in one day, you had to have your wound from the previous day restitched, then on top of that you needed the wound on your leg stitched. For once you got lucky and the cut on your arm didn’t go deep enough for stitches, the medic just cleaned it and wrapped it.

Much to Sam’s displeasure you refused to go to the hospital, again. You were fine though, you had a slight limp at the moment but once you got used to the pain, you’d be fine, you just needed to walk it off. Besides, you couldn’t waste time going to the hospital, it would take too long and two attacks in a day meant Ghostface could do it again. You weren’t about to leave Sam and her friends alone just to get properly patched up.

You hopped out of the ambulance with a groan, clenching your jaw as you tried not to focus on the pain that radiated throughout your leg. You walked off, trying not to flinch with each step. You looked down, pulling at your shirt as you took in the new blood stain from your torn stitches, which wasn’t nearly as bad as the blood on your pants from that stab wound. If people didn’t know you had literally just been attacked, they’d probably assumed you committed a murder.

“Survived to tell the tale again,” Kirby said, approaching you just like last time. “Seems Ghostface got some hits in,” she tilted her head, gesturing at the bandage on your arm.

You held up your arm, giving the bandage a look, then scoffed. “Cheap shots,” you said with an eye roll.

Kirby gave a knowing hum. “That’s how he does things.”

“I’m learning that,” you mumbled.

You would be prepared next time. The first time, you didn’t have anything, but you caught him off guard, until the second one appeared. The second time you were caught off guard, forced to run into a territory filled with civilians, you won that one, but you didn’t finish the job. And now the third time, you were once again caught off guard, without weapons, your only priority had been to make sure the others got away, taking Ghostface out was your second priority. The fourth time would be different, you would make sure of it. The next time you went up against Ghostface would be the last, for every single one of them.

“You got everyone out,” Kirby said, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Not everyone,” you whispered. You looked across the way where you saw the coroner wheeling Quinn’s body out on the stretcher. A sheet was covering her face, but you knew she was under there. Bailey looked distraught as they stopped next to him, allowing him to say goodbye one last time.

You narrowed your eyes, Bailey was crying over his dead daughter, there was nothing out of the ordinary, it was the reaction anyone would expect from a father. Bailey had been the first on the scene this time, by several minutes before anyone else, as if he was already on his way there. There was a chance that was the case, he could have been coming by to see his daughter or update everyone on the case. There was something tugging at the back of your mind though, telling you not to take it at face value, Bailey was the last to arrive after the bodega attack, but the first on the scene to the apartment, which happened to be when his daughter was murdered.

You furrowed your brow; you and the girls had gone back to the apartment right after the attack. The only person who had left the apartment was Ethan, you knew the twins wouldn’t let some random stranger into the apartment, besides Quinn’s hookup, who was found dead in the bathtub. That meant Ghostface had to either have been in the apartment the whole time, which was improbable, there was no way he could have stayed hidden for so long. The other option was that he got in another way, possibly through one of the windows, which meant he had to climb up the fire escape. Your eyes tracked the fire escape from the ground up to where you knew Sam’s apartment was. The ladder wasn’t pushed down but the dumpster was close enough that if Ghostface jumped up on it he could have pulled himself up onto the ladder. It still should have made enough noise for someone to notice, but no one did, not until the phone call came in.

“I should get to work,” Kirby said. You nodded and watched her walk off towards the crime scene.

You looked around the area, seeing Chad with Mindy as she got patched up in the back of another ambulance. A medic checked out Anika right outside the ambulance, but you knew the worst Anika probably had was a concussion from being slammed into the wall. Sam and Tara weren’t too far from the ambulance as they talked to an officer. You noticed Danny standing off to the side by the gate and decided to walk over to him.

“Hey,” you said, giving him a nod.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, nodding at your arm.

“It’s nothing,” you waved it off.

“Almost bleeding out it my apartment doesn’t seem like nothing.”

You chuckled, you couldn’t help but nod. The cut on your arm and the tearing of your stitches really was nothing. The real issue was the stab wound on your leg, the knife had gone deep and was bleeding quite a bit before the medics got to you. Honestly, if you didn’t get help when you did you would have most definitely bled out, not that you were going to mention that to Sam or anyone else, but it was definitely something you should have gone to the hospital for.

“I just wanted to thank you,” you said. “That ladder stunt was crazy,” you smiled, shaking your head. “But it was fucking brilliant man.”

Danny chuckled and scratched the back of his neck like he was embarrassed. “Me? What about you?” he gestured at you. “Jumping from the middle of the ladder? Now, that,” he pointed at you. “That is fucking insane.”

You couldn’t argue with him there. That was one of the craziest stunts you had ever done, and you had jumped out of planes and helicopters before, though you always had a parachute. You were bleeding out, the ladder was unstable, if you had missed, if you didn’t fall to your death, you probably would have broken most of the bones in your body.

“Do you need a change of clothes?” Danny’s question caught you off guard. “I got some you could borrow since you look…” he gestured at all of you. You looked down at your bloody self, you wouldn’t be able to go back to your house and change again.

“Thanks,” you said. “But I got some in my car,” you pointed to your vehicle down the street. “But can I change in your apartment?” Danny nodded.

You made your way over to your car, fighting through the pain that shot through your leg at every step. You opened the back door and unzipped the duffle bag you kept back there; you made sure to always have a change of clothes and anything else you would need in your car. You grabbed your spare plain black t-shirt and black cargo pants. You were sure you’d look rather intimidating walking around in all black, but you needed to be ready for a fight.

You followed Danny up to his apartment, grimacing at the pool of blood on his hard wood floor. You would have to make sure to pay to get that cleaned up, you knew how hard blood was to get out of things. The cops had walked the apartment when they first arrived but because the attack didn’t happen there, they finished up after a few minutes and made their way over to the actual crime scene.

You made your way into Danny’s bathroom to quickly changed. You pulled off your bloodied shirt and had to do a double take when you caught site of yourself in the mirror. You were in great shape, spending most of your time training, when you weren’t deployed, but your body had been through a lot. The stab wound on your side and the cut down your arm was nothing compared to the rest of you. Even the wound on your leg didn’t seem like much. Your body was litter with scars from knife and gun shot wounds, all the times you almost died. You subconsciously brought a hand to the tattoo over your heart, it was the insignia of army special forces, with the initials of your teammates throughout. As your finger brushed over the tattoo you could feel the scar underneath, the bullet that should have killed you.

You shook your head, pushing the memories down as far as they would go. You couldn’t be thinking about that, Sam needed you at your best, you couldn’t let your own trauma get in the way of that. You gripped the sink until your knuckles turned white and kept your eyes pinched shut until you had completely pushed everything away. When you looked up again, you recognized the soldier in the mirror, the one that would do whatever it took to make sure the mission succeeded and right now the mission was saving Sam and her friends. You quickly threw on the clean clothes and made your way back down to the others.

“You fuck with my family, you die,” Bailey said just as you walked out of the apartment.

You furrowed your brow as he talked to Sam. You knew he was upset; it was natural for a father to want revenge on his daughter. However, it hadn’t even been an hour since Quinn was killed, it didn’t make sense for him to be so cold and logically already.

You made your way over to Sam and Tara’s side just as Gale Weathers walked up. “I’m glad you’re okay,” Gale said.

“Don’t even start,” Sam snapped.

“I’m not here for that.” Her gaze flicked to you; you could tell she still wanted to ask you questions but she didn’t.

“Bullshit.”

“Truly,” Gale tried again. “Off the record,” she rolled her eyes. “I found something you’ll all want to see.”

Gale didn’t say what she wanted to show everyone, she just said it was connected to Ghostface. Sam and Tara began gathering the others, you couldn’t help but furrow your brow when Ethan appeared. Chad kept flicking a glare at him, you weren’t sure what happened while you were changing but if Chad was suspicious of Ethan, then whatever happened certainly couldn’t have been bad. Once everyone was gathered you all made your way to the location Gale sent.

You stood close to Sam as everyone gathered at the front of an alleyway, as Gale explained the two kids from Tara’s class who were killed rented the building. It was broad daylight, making an attack unlikely but not impossible. Attacking someone during the day was a risk, higher probability of being seen, but it was unexpected, it was a way to catch the target off guard.

Gale and Kirby argued over how Gale found the place. You knew Gale was a good reporter and reporters had the habit of finding things they shouldn’t, but the fact that Kirby didn’t know the place existed was concerning, considering she was in the FBI and specialized in Ghostface cases. You glanced over everyone else, Chad stood next to Ethan, who had his hands shoved in his pockets, looking uncomfortable and out of place as usual. Mindy had her arm wrapped around Anika, whispering something in her ear. Anika hadn’t said a word since the attack, she just had a distant look in her eyes as her entire body shook. You had seen that look plenty of times, in soldiers after their first fight, in survivors after an attack, it wasn’t easy to get past, but everyone did eventually, with time.

You followed the group down the alley, with Gale leading the way. Gale swiped a card, unlocking a large metal door at the end of the alley. The door led down a dimly lit hallway, the dated red wallpaper was peeling, revealing the stained drywall underneath. You looked down, there was a thin dark red carpet to match the wall, though you could feel how sticky it was every time you lifted your foot. You came to a stop, furrowing your brow as Gale swung open a door and stepped into a metal cage of some sort, before swiping the card again and opening another metal door.

“What is this place?” Mindy asked.

“Just wait,” Gale said, before disappearing. She walked off to the side, a second later there was a loud click that echoed throughout the room, and then all the lights came on.

You couldn’t help the way your mouth fell open, it was some sort of old movie theater. “It’s a shrine,” Gale said as she rejoined the group. You looked around, seeing she had flipped the breaker.

“Holy shit,” Mindy whispered.

The theater was filled with display cases, all of them full of stuff you assumed was from previous Ghostface attacks. It even seemed that whoever created the shrine dressed up mannequins in the actual clothes from the killers and victims, at least that’s what you gathered from the bloodstains on the clothes in question. All the displays led straight to the stage, and in center stage was a set of nine Ghostface costumes, each of them in their own special display case.

You walked through the displays, your eyes scanning over all the information. You had heard bits and pieces from the news over the years, but you never knew it was anything like this. Whoever these new people were, they clearly had done their research, they seemed to have planned everything quite thoroughly. Everything from all previous Ghostface attacks was in one room, that definitely wasn’t a coincidence, you knew something bigger was at play, everything was too easy.

Kirby said she had been investigating the two college kids, they were stupid enough to get on Kirby’s radar before they ever even killed someone. Yet, this place was apparently theirs and hidden so well even Kirby couldn’t find it. On top of that, even if they were rich kids, there seemed to be too much evidence, there was no way they got everything by simply bribing cops.

You stopped at one of the displays, there were sketches of Sam and Tara. You figured it must have been from the attack last year. In the display was also crime scene photos, and photos of Tara. You flicked your eyes to Tara as she made her way up the stage towards her sister, just based on the photos she had endured one hell of an attack. Your eyes then fell on a picture of some guy, smiling at the camera, the nameplate at the bottom read ‘Richie Kirsch’ Sam’s ex-boyfriend. You wrinkled your nose at the picture, you didn’t know the full story, didn’t know anything about the guy, but you didn’t like him from a simple photo.

“So, what,” Chad said. “Someone killed these guys and took over?” you made your way up to the center of the stage where everyone else had already gathered.

“If this were a normal Stab movie,” Mindy said. “This would be the killers lair.”

“But this isn’t a normal Stab movie,” Kirby said.

This wasn’t a movie at all. You might not have been used to this whole thing, but you didn’t get all the movie references. This wasn’t a movie, even if some psycho was inspired by a movie, this was real life, real people died, and Ghostface was just a normal guy behind a mask. You wouldn’t deny that the place certainly looked like a lair, they were definitely right about that part. The idea that two kids created the whole space, only to end up dead and have someone else take up the Ghostface mantle and know about this room just didn’t seem plausible. All your senses were telling you to take nothing at face value, that there was something deeper going on.

Taglist: @thatshyboy1998 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @acutenobody @godamnityess

@luvwanda @rqizzu @riyaexee @bella423 @rayisaknight

@assgradiangod @canyonyodeler

#sam carpenter #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter imagine #samantha carpenter x reader #samantha carpenter #sam carpenter x fem!reader #melissa barrera #scream #scream vi #scream 6 #no man's land

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y3sterdaysproblem · 22 hours ago

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you’re not sorry - m.s.

summary: could’ve loved you all my life if you hadn’t left me in the cold

warnings: angst, sensitive topics, no happy ending.

{read with caution}

wc: 3k+

Another night.

Another night waiting up for your boyfriend who could never be bothered to let you know when he’d be home; if he’d even be coming home that night.

It was like this for months at this point. Day after day of you waiting up just for him to stumble inside smelling like alcohol and weed, clothes disheveled as he plows through your front door. You didn’t even know what had changed, but it had.

Things were so good, beyond good, to the point where you guys were considering marriage, considering a family. Maybe it was all too much for him, but that wasn’t your burden to bear.

Your perfect, loving boyfriend had turned into someone you barely recognized, having to look so hard to find pieces of the man you fell for in the man you no longer knew.

You were about to give up and head to bed when you heard keys jingling at the front door, the man outside clearly struggling to unlock it. You stayed planted on the couch, waiting for him to finally come crashing in and make up some excuse about what he was doing out so late. You never believed him anymore.

When the door swung open and your boyfriend stumbled through it, his eyes met yours almost instantly, a small, forced smile appearing on his face. “Hey, baby,” he calls out, shutting the door behind him and kicking his shoes off before he made his way towards you, tripping over his own feet once or twice until he sat down next to you.

You let out an aggravated sigh, standing up and walking away from the couch, not wanting to sit next to him and smell the alcohol leeching off of his breath. It was beyond disgusting and if the smell didn’t make you sick, the thought of everything would. The thought of your life crumbling in a matter of months was enough to make you cry so hard you threw up on multiple occasions, the depression caused by this man that swore he loved you being the culprit of so many breakdowns you couldn’t even count anymore.

“You’re drunk, Matt,” you grumble, crossing your arms.

His eyes trail up to you, shaking his head quickly. “I’m not drunk, just tipsy, I swear. I stopped drinking a few hours ago.”

Your heart dropped. A few hours ago?

“And where have you been in those last few hours, hm?” You question, not really knowing if you wanted to know the answer.

Matt groans, throwing his head back on the couch. “Here we fucking go. All you do is nag on me fucking constantly, why do you think I’m gone all the time? I’ll tell you. Because you can’t fucking shut the fuck up and let me live for two minutes. You’re always up my ass asking me what I’m doing or who I’m with.”

Your heart starts to race in your chest, knowing you’re about to get in another fight with the man you used to never argue with. You used to have perfect communication, always able to work through your issues and things that bothered you, but now it was like a flip switched and he wanted to argue about everything, sober or not.

“I never see you anymore, Matt! You’re never home to just spend time with me! All I fucking want is to lay in bed and watch a movie with my boyfriend who cuddles with me and tells me he loves me! You act like I don’t exist and it hurts and I’m trying to stay but sometimes I wonder why I do.” Your voice is shaky as you speak, the adrenaline and emotions quickly getting to you. You never were good at fighting without crying.

“Why?” Matt questions quietly, dropping his gaze to his lap.

You’re confused. “Why what?” You ask him dryly, arms still crossed in an attempt to protect yourself, almost like you were protecting your heart.

He’s quiet for a moment before he speaks. “Why try to stay? If I’m so awful?”

Your breath catches in your throat. Was this it? Was this the fight you’ve been fearing for the last few weeks? Has everything you both have worked towards finally hit a wall?

“Because… because I keep hoping this is just a phase and you’ll snap out of it and love me again,” you choke out, tears filling your eyes. “I don’t understand what I did to make you not love me anymore and every day that I sit here by myself and think about it, I can’t come up with an answer and you won’t tell me. I would do fucking anything for you and you can’t even tell me you love me anymore.”

Matt let out a big sigh, picking at a rip in his jeans absentmindedly. “I do love you, I just… I need some time to myself.”

You scoff, crying now and not trying to stop it. “You don’t think I would’ve given you time? Space? Matt, all you had to say was that you were getting overwhelmed and needed time think about what you wanted, I would’ve understood that. Do you understand the fucking weight behind that? You have a woman who would let you take a step back from a relationship just because she knows how much you value your own space and time and your own autonomy. You will never fucking find a woman that will treat you the way I treat you. You will never find someone who loves you unconditionally through everything, including this. I swear to god, Matt, you better get your act together before you come home to fucking nothing.”

“Maybe that’s what I want!” Matt yells suddenly, getting up from the couch to walk over to you. You weren’t afraid, you knew he’d never hit you, but he’s also never yelled in your face like this either. “Maybe every fucking night I come home hoping you’ve packed up all of your shit and left. Hell, you could pack my shit and I’d be happy, I don’t fucking care, I just want to come home and know that you’ve finally given up on me. Don’t you get it? I’m trying to make it easy for you. I’m trying to be the worst boyfriend I could possibly be and you still won’t leave!”

The moment he’s done speaking you swear you could hear a pin drop. You felt like your world had completely stopped spinning on its axis.

You’re lightheaded as you stare at Matt, tears flowing freely down your face. He really was completely unrecognizable.

“What did I do?” You cried, still wanting nothing more than to feel your boyfriend’s arms wrap around you and tell you everything was going to be okay. But he wouldn’t, and it wasn’t. “Why do you hate me so much?”

Matt listened to your cries with a straight face, barely even seeming like he cared. “I just… don’t want to be with you anymore. Our relationship has run its course.”

You drop your head and let out a broken sob, reaching a hand up to try to wipe away your tears, but it was to no avail, they would just keep coming. “I love you with everything I have, I… I need you, Matt, how could you do this?”

Matt is silent, feeling like he’s already said all he needed to say. If he cared at all, he really didn’t show it.

You pick your head back up and look at Matt, your own eyes red and puffy, when you see it. You think it’s a shadow at first, but the more you stare, the more you realize your eyes aren’t deceiving you. You take a step forward and reach towards Matt, pulling the hood off his head and tugging the collar down, another choked cry falling from your lips.

“Is that a fucking hickey?” You accuse, looking up to meet his eyes. “You’re fucking cheating on me, too?!”

Matt grabs your wrist and pulls it away from him, throwing your arm back towards yourself before pulling his hood back up. “Back the fuck up, dude, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You laugh in his face, shaking your head in disbelief. “You are so fucking pathetic, Matt,” you spit at him. “You are so much of a pussy that you couldn’t even be a man and break up with me, you needed me to do it for you. Do you feel good about yourself? Knowing you cheated on someone who would literally give you the world? God, I can’t believe I almost gave you a fucking kid, you’re a joke of a partner. I feel bad for anyone that has to deal with you for the rest of their life.”

Matt clenches his jaw tightly at your words, hating how you knew exactly how to strike a nerve with him. “You think I feel good about this? I fucking don’t but I didn’t know what else to do, you would’ve never listened if I tried to leave you, you would’ve talked me into staying and I would’ve been miserable for the rest of my life!”

“You are the one that said you wanted a family! The one that said you wanted to marry me and buy our own farm and live in the middle of fucking nowhere! You said all of those things, not me!” You wanted to hit him so bad. To shake him, to kick him, to do anything to make him see how none of this made sense to you. How could he say all of those things and turn on you so quickly?

You two were laid in bed under the blankets, neither of you ready to get out of bed for the day just yet. The sun shone through the blind, illuminating Matt’s face perfectly, his blue eyes reflecting the light in a way that had you damn near in a trance, unable to pull your own eyes away from him. “I hope our babies have your eyes,” you tell him quietly, both of you laying on your sides to face each other.

He smiled shyly at you, closing his eyes for a moment. “Stop admiring me, it makes me awkward.” He mumbled, making you laugh.

“I’m your girlfriend, I’m supposed to admire you. Plus, it helps that you’re really hot and easy to admire.” You reach up and brush your hands through his hair that definitely needs a trim, pulling it back from his face to get a better view. “I’m serious, though. Your eyes are so pretty compared to mine.”

Matt opens his eyes and shoots you an annoyed look. “Stop it, our kids would be lucky to have any of your features, you’re fucking stunning.”

You giggle and roll over onto your back, staring at the ceiling for a few moments before speaking. “Do you ever think about that? Like what our kids will look like? I think about it all the time. Especially like… a little girl, running around with your bright blue eyes and your big smile. I just know if we had a little girl she’d be so beautiful, Matt.” You turn your head towards your boyfriend to see him already smiling at you.

“I think about it all the time,” he starts, reaching a hand out to rest on your stomach that had been exposed by your shirt riding up, softly trailing his thumb back and forth. “I think about how protective I’d be if we had a daughter, or daughters. I think about how much of an honor it would be to raise a son with you. I think about what would happen if you got pregnant with twins or, god forbid, triplets.” You laugh at this, knowing it would be an absolute shit show. “I think about our kids, sure, but a lot of times I think to myself, ‘wow, if I love her so much now, I can’t imagine how much I’ll love her when she’s the mother of my children.’ That’s what I think.”

Your eyes become glossy and your vision goes slightly blurry as you stare at Matt, seeing the sincerity in his eyes as he spoke to you. “I love you,” you tell him and his face lights up, leaning in to place a small kiss on your lips.

“I love you more.”

“I did,” Matt shrugs his shoulders like it was no big deal. “But feelings change. People change.”

You shake your head angrily, not believing him. “No, not like that. Feelings don’t change like that, Matt. You met somebody else, didn’t you? All this time you’ve been seeing someone else.”

Matt groans, rubbing his eyes harshly. “So what?! It doesn’t matter, we’re over now, right? I’ll sleep on the couch and pack my shit tomorrow, can we just go to bed?”

You sniffle, the truth finally setting in that he’s completely given up and there was no getting him back. The Matt you once loved was gone forever and there was nothing you could do about it.

So you decided to land the final blow and make him realize how stupid he really was.

You grab his right hand with your left, facing it palm up as you reach your free hand into your pocket, grabbing the strip of paper you had kept in there, waiting for the perfect moment to drop this bomb on him. You slap the paper into his open hand before taking a step away, crossing your arms again.

“What is this?” Matt asks, staring down at the photos in front of him, panic setting in his chest. “Babe… babe, what is this?” He looks up at you, eyes wide. You swear you could almost hear his heart pounding.

“It’s an ultrasound, jackass.” You snap at him, completely over his shit.

Matt’s mouth opens, then closes, then opens again, eyes snapping between you and the photos. “You’re… pregnant?” He chokes out. Despite all the alcohol he’s consumed tonight, he feels the most sober he has in weeks, the reality of the situation crashing into him like a truck.

You laugh at his reaction, hating how he suddenly cared about you again. “Was,” you tell him bluntly, shrugging your shoulders like nothing you said mattered. “Turns out never getting any sleep and stressing out over your loser, lowlife boyfriend isn’t good for a baby.”

Matt lets out a huff of air like his lungs had collapsed in on him, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole. “You… you were pregnant, and now you’re not?” He asks quietly, his own voice now shaking.

“Yes, Matthew, I was and now I’m not. That’s how that fucking works.” You walk over and snatch the pictures from him, ignoring his pleas of denial. “While you were out doing whatever the fuck or whoever the fuck you wanted, I was here throwing up every day by my fucking self, barely even able to eat oatmeal without getting sick. I was here reading up on how to get through pregnancy or how to be a good mother. I was here shopping for fucking baby clothes and decorations. And I was the one here miscarrying in our bed, by myself!” You have no idea when you started crying again, but you were, and there was no stopping it this time. “I was the one going to doctors appointments and listening to our baby’s teeny tiny heart beating. I was here looking at pictures of her tiny feet and tiny toes, wondering if she’d look like you or like me. I was here picking up the pieces when I found out her teeny tiny heart had stopped.”

Matt’s eyes had filled with tears now, too, his bright blue eyes only made brighter by the reflection of the lamp lit in the corner of the room. “Her?” He croaked, voice failing him. “It was a girl?”

You let out a sob, nodding your head weakly. “I found out the day I found out she was gone,” you cry, voice entering a higher pitch from your throat tightening. “I wanted her so bad, Matt, and I was just waiting for you to come around so I could tell you, and… you just never did and now we’re over. I went from a girl who wanted nothing more than a family with the man she loves to being a girl who’s oddly grateful she lost a baby so she doesn’t have to deal with looking at her daughter that reminds her of the man that broke her heart.”

Matt reaches up to wipe the tears from his cheeks, releasing a shaky breath out. “I’m sorry,” he whimpers, looking you dead in the eyes. “I’m sorry, if I had known-.”

“If you had known then what? You wouldn’t have treated me like shit? You wouldn’t have cheated? That should’ve been the bare fucking minimum, Matt, and now you’ve let down who was supposed to be the two most important girls in your life.” You point your finger at him as you speak, wanting to drive your point home and let him know how badly he had fucked up. “I would’ve done fucking anything for you, including growing your baby, and you threw that away, not me.”

“I was just scared, it was all happening so fast!” Matt wails, reaching out for you. “I got overwhelmed with the thought of settling down and I freaked out, I’m sorry.”

You push his hands away, ignoring his pleas. “You said it yourself, Matt. It’s over. Besides, I can’t bring her back. I’m always going to look at you and remember how you treated me when I had your baby inside me, and how you treated me when I dealt with the loss of our baby.”

Matt sobbed, placing his head in his hands as his shoulder shook. “I didn’t know!”

“You shouldn’t have to know!” You cried, hands flailing in front of you as you spoke, or more yelled. “You shouldn’t have to know I’m pregnant just to treat me like your fucking girlfriend! I would’ve done anything for you, including give up my body for nine months to give you a family, and you couldn’t even be loyal, and you have to live with that for the rest of your fucking life.”

Matt sunk to his knees in front of you, head resting on your stomach as he wraps his arms around your hips. You just stare down at him, your tears dripping into his hair. “I’m so sorry, please let me fix this,” he sobs into your sweater, hands gripping the back of it. “I fucked up so bad, I see that now.”

The sight of him made you want to crumble. You wanted to give in, to comfort him, to forget these last few months and go back to being the perfect happy couple you used to be. You didn’t know how you were supposed to live without him after all this time.

But you deserved better.

“Get up,” you tell him quietly and he turns his head up to look at you, cheeks soaked with his own tears. You reach down and cup his cheek, thumb swiping under his eyes to wipe new tears that fell. “Get up, Matt.”

He sniffles and obliges, standing in front of you once again, closer this time.

“You’re not sorry you hurt me,” you start, voice surprisingly calm. “You’re just sorry it backfired so badly.”

Matt grabs your hand that still rested on his face, holding it close and leaning into it. “Please,” he says, voice raspy. “Can we spend one more night together?”

You break eye contact to drop your eyes to the floor, shoulders shaking with the sob that ripped through your body.

“Yes,” you croak out, immediately melting into the arms that wrapped themselves around you like you’d disappear if he let go, your face tucking into his neck that smelled like cheap floral perfume, the scent feeling like a dagger to your heart.

You ignored it, though. Anything for one more night with the love of your life.

taglist

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo fic #chris sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #matt x reader #matt x you #angst

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saioratral · 3 days ago

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forget - mysterious figure who happens to be good at manipulation? what could go wrong? (gn! reader) warning: mentions pills note: i 100% went off topic cause i took some flu tablets and now my brain is just everywhere so hopefully this fits your request :) i am one blink away from falling asleep on my table and i might rewrite if it doesnt fit your request ^^

another night spent mindlessly watching tv, your eyes glued to the screen as the world outside becomes a blur. you sat from sunrise, after watering your plants and finishing house chores. you didn’t move a muscle, except for the occasional shifts to get more comfortable. the subtitles become your reading material for the day once again.

you hear the door open, the clicking of the lock reminded you what time it was but you never got up. instead, you pulled your blanket closer to yourself, burying yourself in the fabric you felt safe in.

“still watching tv, love?”, a disappointed sigh follows from his voice

a plastic bag lands on the coffee table with a soft thud to accompany. you don’t make an effort to reach for it. your body was too relaxed to move a muscle. another sigh from him as he leans over, pushing the bag closer, his unfamiliar cologne being overshadowed by the smell of your favourite food.

“you keep forgetting to eat”, he murmurs, almost like he was reading a script. “how long will you keep doing this?”

he walked into your room, long gone from your vision. you shrug, sitting up from your seat with the blanket draped on your shoulder. you realise how inconvenient it would be for you to eat, so you get up and sit on the floor this time, using the coffee table as your dinner table.

you quickly open up the box and take out the spoon from the packaging. the smell of food hits you, and your stomach growls in response. your hands tremble as you pick up the spoon, ready to eat. heavens must have blessed you with a drink to accompany the food and you quickly take a sip before taking a bite-

wait… wait a minute

you stop the food entering your mouth, the spoon near your lips as if teasing you to eat it but you didn't. there’s a strange taste, something off about your drink. the condensation on the cup catches your eye, but that’s not what makes your pulse quicken. it’s the nagging feeling that something isn’t right.

"who brought me this...?" you whisper to yourself

the man, where was he? you saw him enter your room. bracing yourself, you get up and grab the plastic fork that came with the food and pull your blanket tighter around you as if it can shield you from whatever this is.

almost quietly, you flick the lights open but there was no one. your stuff were still in place. you look at the bathroom, the light off meaning it was empty… huh? you hear your front door close, a lock sound followed confirming your suspensions.

your body froze… just what the hell was going on here? you race back to the living room and everything’s the same except your food. it was closed shut, to keep the food warm and there was a tissue neatly folded under the drink.

turning left, you notice the light of your kitchen open. you slowly tip toed there, to catch whoever it was. you enter the kitchen and stop dead in your tracks. he’s there, looking impossibly calm, teal hair perfectly styled, a man who feels like a stranger, though you know you’ve seen him before.

“what are you doing?”, he asks

technically it should be you asking, but his question made you freeze. your throat does not allow a single sound to escape, and you stare at him for a minute. you stupidly stood with a fork aimed at him.

“who are you?”, you demanded him to speak. “and what are you doing in my house?”

“im rin.. your boyfriend? you forgot your pills again, didn't you”, rin’s eyes flicker toward you, lips curling slightly at the corners

pills? what pills? you don’t even know what he was even talking about. before you can react, rin has already closed the space between you. out of fear, you back up and point the fork more directly this time. he sighs, looking tired from whatever he was up to before he came home.

“enough”, rin says and forcefully snatches your fork

great. now you were defenceless and keep backing up from him. he moves closer, and instinctively, you back up until your legs hit the edge of the counter. he places a hand on your waist, lifting you onto the counter like you’re nothing, like you belong there.

"where are your slippers, love?" rin’s voice is sickly sweet, a tone that makes you feel like you're supposed to answer

“slippers..? i think i left them in my room", you stammer. “and you- you’re really my boyfriend?”

"you need this," he adds, offering the pill along with the drink from earlier

he finally pulls out an unfamiliar orange bottle from the cabinet. when did you ever have that? why can’t you remember? you look at him, as if asking what it was but his piercing teal eyes made you forget.

“take it”, rin demands softly, but you picked up the force in his voice. “don’t make this harder than it needs to be”

now, as a sane and intelligent person, you shouldn't consume a pill you aren’t familiar with. this hot man was handing you a pill, you should obviously deny it but you swallowed it like the kids that always enter the haunted house instead of just leaving. are you the main character of a movie? if so, you were doing a horrible job.

"i told you," rin leans in closer, his hand resting on the counter, trapping you in place as you struggle to keep your thoughts together."you need to take care of yourself. eat more. take your medicine."

“what was that medi-”

“i got gummies if it tasted bad”

rin cuts you off, offering a packet of your favourite green treats. you take it, opening it while looking at him weirdly. why were you suddenly feeling dizzy? how could you not remember who he was?

“take care of yourself properly. okay?”, rin asks for confirmation

you nod, despite the chaos of confusion in your mind. you feel like you're losing grip on everything, everything except him.

“look at me”, hand suddenly shifts, gripping your jaw with a sudden force that makes you flinch, but he doesn’t let go. “relax”

he leans in, resting his forehead on yours, allowing you to dismay all the alarming bells ringing in your head. his gaze shifts downward, and before you can even process the thought, his lips are on yours. the kiss is overwhelming, leaning more on controlling. your body responds despite the internal conflict, too lost to remember who you were before him.

because he's your boyfriend, right? he must be. he wouldn't hurt you. he wouldn't make you feel this way if he didn't care.

of course, he’s your boyfriend. he’s just taking care of you, isn’t he? he definitely wasn’t your old childhood friend from your hometown who made you take non prescribed pills to mess with your brain after you rejected him. he also definitely didn’t tamper with your drink to make the effects last longer.

why would he?

rin is your boyfriend after all, silly!

© saioratral 2024-25 -- do not repost, translate, alter, etc on any platform without permission. Any characters used in my work do not belong to me, they are created by their original creator. all images used are from pinterest

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi x you #rin x reader #itoshi rin #itoshi rin x reader #rin #rin blk #ᡣsaioratral⋆˙୧⍤⃝

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rookinthecrownest · 1 day ago

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Bedtime Stories For a Demon: The Day The World Disappeared, Part 1 (Lucanis x Rook Fanfic)

Rook is trapped in the Fade. Lucanis & Crew are determined to get her out.

Word Count: ~4500

Lucanis Dellamorte is a man with an excellent memory.

He can remember every part of his favourite childhood story, ‘The Joyful Wyvern’, with striking clarity. Reciting it in his head kept him sane in the Ossuary on some difficult nights.

He can remember the most minute details of a pages-long dossier for every job he has ever taken. It served him well to know every entrance, exit, chokepoint and weak point in case his plans went awry. Like that time he walked in on an orgy during a job in Minrathous, but remembered a note about a hidden servant’s entrance on the far side of the room he could sneak out of. Fail to prepare, and you prepare to fail, he would tell himself.

He can remember the meal preferences of every member of the Veilguard. It makes everyone’s life easier at dinner, even if it means he’s preparing up to three separate meals at times.

Yes, Lucanis Dellamorte has an excellent memory. And for much of his life, that memory was a gift.

Until the day Madeleina Mercar is sucked into the Fade, and he’s left with nothing but the image of her terrified face seconds before a Fade Rift swallows her whole, ripping her from the waking world with terrifying speed.

And he can’t forget.

He replays the moment in his mind on an endless loop.

Her green eyes – they only had a moment to widen before they’re gone from his sight. Her soft lips parted in confusion, then panic. No time to let out a cry for help. The ripples of raw magic as the Fade Rift collapsed in on itself sent everyone flying back, everyone but him. Spite’s wings unfurled and steadied them against the force. He braced himself, and walked forward, arm outstretched.

Only to pass through empty air.

First, came disbelief.

No, no, she’s not gone. She’ll pop back into existence in just a moment. She’s Rook, she always finds a way. But when the moments stretched on in deafening silence and Madeleina still hadn’t returned, white hot rage, fuelled by Spite’s power, quickly took the place of disbelief. The demon, who had become fond of Rook, barrelled forward and took over in a way he hadn’t done since Illario killed Zara in front of them.

NO. SMELL OF. LAVENDER AND ROSEWATER. NO THUNDERSTORMS OR SMOKE.

WHERE.! IS.! ROOK.! WANT.! ROOK.!

There is not much recollection beyond that. He thinks it took no small effort on Davrin and Bellara’s part to calm them down before they destroyed everything in sight. Zipping around the body of Ghilan’nain on purple-and-black wings as if he could whip the fallen God back to life and demand she bring Madeleina back. The Warden may have had to physically restrain them at some point – he doesn’t know. Doesn’t care, either.

Now, back in the Lighthouse, the void she left behind is palpable in every corner of this place.

He sees her reading on the couch in the library, long brown hair spilling over her shoulder, and brows drawn together in quiet contemplation. He sees her sneaking an extra dessert from the dining hall, one he made just for her because he knows she’ll want more. Chatting the hours away with Neve in her office, getting caught up on the latest comings and goings of Docktown – or, what’s left of it after the Venatori took over Minrathous. Excitedly debating magical theory with Emmrich and Bellara at dinner, or in the Professor’s study. She trips over herself when the topic shifts to something she has an interest in – her lips forming words faster than her brain can form them properly.

Then, the one that hurts the most.

Sitting across from him by the fireplace, telling a story. Face awash in soft blue light. Light green eyes sparkling with joy, crinkling because of her wide, warm smile. Her illusions dancing in the space between them. In his memories, she’s close enough to touch, instead of a world away. Close enough to kiss, if he had just leaned in closer. Lucanis tries not to remember the one time he did and pulled away at the last moment, crippled by his own fear and hesitation. The thought that he may never get to try again sinks his heart into his stomach, so he quickly turns to other memories.

And perhaps that’s why Lucanis has all but barricaded himself in her room for the past week. To surround himself with these reminders of her and take comfort in that because if he doesn’t, he’ll lose what little tether to sanity he has left.

He’s holding her gilded, silver hairbrush in his hand. It looks like the one from The Girl and the Glass Slipper. Something of hers to touch.

He lights the lavender-scented candles on the credenza. Something of hers to smell.

Casts his gaze over her room, eyeing her wardrobe – where a few pieces of clothing lie hanging on the open door. Then, to her magical contraption from her Circle days whirring and clicking autonomously on the round table by the window. Things of hers to see and hear.

Something, anything, to tie him to the remnants of Madeleina in this world. Proof that she was here, she was real. That he didn’t dream a saviour and a soulmate. Didn’t dream a love like the one in the romance novels he’s taken to reading with Bellara and Emmrich and Neve. A love like the ones in her fairy tales.

Lucanis can’t say how long he’s been holding onto her hair brush. Even at the best of times, telling the passage of the hours was tricky in the Lighthouse. Now, the days pass in a monotonous cycle, and there are no stories by the fire to measure the nights by. He grips the hairbrush’s handle tighter and exhales.

She’s here. Lost in the Fade, but not here. Not this part of the Fade.

Spite’s wrath crackles under his skin, begs and urges him to move. To fly off the edge of the Lighthouse and soar into the deepest recesses in the Fade to find her. The demon would take them to the edge of eternity to bring her back, and Lucanis would go to the edge of eternity for her. While he and the demon have struck an accord, in this moment in time, they are only unified by a singular thought:

We need to get her back.

Yet, where Spite demands action, Lucanis’ body doesn’t move. He has lain roots so deep in her chamber that even the strongest gale-force winds couldn’t dig them out. Lucanis feels the weight of her absence so deeply, it’s become an oppressive weight on his shoulders. It is a paralyzing loss – and inaction is something fundamentally contradictory to Spite’s nature. It doesn’t make for a quiet mind.

Lucanis Dellamorte is a man who has become entirely too accustomed to losing those he cares about.

His parents and aunts and uncles and cousins. For a time, his grandmother. His brother. Although Illario lives and walks free among the Crows (with every dagger at his back, albeit), he is lost to Lucanis until he is willing to face the uncomfortable concept of forgiving him. And that’s not something he knows he can even do, considering the magnitude of his betrayal.

Yes, he has lost much. Too much.

There is one thing that is not lost to him, however. It is the one thing of hers that he doesn’t yet have the strength to even look at.

Her father’s journal lays unopened, untouched on the table in front of the couch. Its faded leather is illuminated with flickering candlelight. Lucanis leans forward and steeples his fingers together. He stares at journal and releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

This journal was everything to her. He watched on so many nights as she handled it with the care one might use with a newborn babe. She held it so gently. Treated each page as if it were made of glass.

Lucanis takes the journal in his hands. He’s afraid to open it, like some terrible thing will leap from its pages if he does. Some secret he shouldn’t know. His thumb passes over the rough cover, and lets it linger.

Smells like. Rain in Spring. And mothballs. Like her. Sometimes. But Sharper. Older.

Gently, he pries the journal open to the first page. On the back of the cover, there is an inscription, written in an elegant hand.

Bedtime Stories for My Little Love.

Orpheus Arcturion.

He takes a deep breath and begins to flip through its contents. Most of the pages have been blotted out with bloodstains. They’ve dried a dark maroon, almost black. As if someone spilled a bottle of ink on the journal. In a kinder world, that is how the story of her family would have gone, but he knows better.

As he goes, he sees scrawled notes for stories – some familiar, some not. All as dear to him as the person who spent her nights bringing them to life so he wouldn’t be alone.

The Toy Solider. The Sleeping Princess. The Girl & The Glass Slipper. Swan Lake. Le Petite Sirène. Mother Gothel & The Rampion Babe…

Every title is like a mortar to his chest. His breathing comes deeper and quicker, as he is nearing the end of the journal, making out what he can.

Lucanis comes nears the end of the journal, he stops in his tracks when a few sentences scribbled in Madeleina’s familiar handwriting catch his eye. His breath hitches in his throat as he reads on.

The Charming Rogue & The Hapless Hero.

I know how to tell a good story but go figure I have no idea how to write one.

Bellara’s tried to help, but I don’t know if I can incorporate all of her suggestions (seriously, where are we going to find an inn with only one bed in a story like this?).

It starts with a Charming Rogue being held captive by a terrible, evil bitch Witch in an underwater prison. The Hapless Hero needs his help to slay two terrible monsters plaguing the land – I don’t know, is that too vague?

Ugh. I can’t do this. This is stupid. I’m stupid. Writing fairytales is harder than I thought.

I don’t know how to put the words – how to phrase it properly -.

Maybe I could try winging it with an illusion instead? The silly little fairy tale ending I want so desperately?

I’d make figures of us standing in front of a small cottage on a hill, somewhere in the country side. It has a tiled roof. I’ve painted the walls some obscenely bright colours – I’m thinking pinks, yellows, greens. There’s flowers of every kind in the window box. It has huge windows, to let the sun in from every direction. A nice spot on the windowsill for a cat to lounge on. I’d steal one of the strays from the Treviso market (I like the orange tabby who hangs by the lady who sells flowers). Dried herbs hanging from the ceiling for Lucanis (he will obviously be doing all the cooking). A small library for me so I can read all the books I’ve been meaning to, lost in their pages, but never lost alone.

A home. A little corner of the world just for the two of us, when this is all over.

Perhaps my magic will tell him what my lips cannot. That I love him. I have loved him for some time now.

I need to ask for Bellara’s help after all.

I don’t know what I’m doing. This would be so much easier if the world wasn’t ending. It would… right?

Maybe, just maybe he wants to share that dream together.

He is my happily ever after.

I hope I can be his.

M. Mercar

14 Ferventis, 9:52 Dragon

Lucanis grips the edge of the journal tight enough that the pages crinkle under his thumbs. He can feel tears welling up in his eyes, and bites down on his tongue to keep them from falling. He doesn’t want to ruin the pages, but he can’t help it.

A small part of him knew how she felt. He felt it too. That thing they were dancing around since that first outing at Café Pietra. The thing that neither of them had a name for until it was too late.

She loved him.

Loves him.

He loves her too, of course – hopes with every fiber of his being that she knows it wherever she is in the Fade but curses himself for never saying it aloud. If – when, he finds her again, he swears he’ll say it a thousand times over, until the words are burned into her very being, incapable of being forgotten.

Spite doesn’t understand love. But like any petulant child, he understands the sting of having something taken away from him that he holds dear, in his own strange Spite-like way. The demon bristles behind his eyes, stirring his thoughts again.

Smells like salt and coffee. Spite bellows, Time to Find! Lavender and Sweet Things Again! Find Rook.!!

“Lucanis?”

He snaps to attention at hearing his name. Lucanis hadn’t even realized someone had come in. Once again, he proves himself a poor assassin.

Bellara’s gentle and hesitant footsteps grow louder as she gradually makes her way towards the couch. She’s holding her hands together and looks like she’s almost afraid to approach him. A pang of guilt reverberates in his chest at seeing her like that.

“Bellara” He says, rubbing the backs of his eyes, pretending it’s sleep instead of tears he’s wiping away.

“Hey…” she whispers, coming around the couch to stand in front of him. She rubs her hands together and looks to the ground. “I’m … I’m sorry to bother you but – “

“Please, Bellara” Lucanis runs a hand down his face, “Don’t apologize. It’s no bother” He hates that he’s made her feel the need to apologize for coming to see him.

“I …” She starts but looks unsure of how she wants to proceed. Bellara takes a deep breath and steadies herself. “Emmrich and I think we may have a way to find Rook”

Lucanis’ eyes widen. He reflexively clutches the journal tightly in his hands. “Really?”

Bellara is quick to add, “We don’t know that it’ll work but … but we think it’s worth a shot”

Lucanis’ heart beats so quickly in his chest he thinks it’ll leap out and run away at a moment’s notice. He blinks away a few errant tears and sets the journal aside.

His Elven friend rocks back and forth on the balls of her feet nervously, “We’ll umm… we’ll be in the library when you’re ready. Make sure you bring the journal”

“The journal?” He repeats, tilting his head.

Bellara nods quickly. “It … it’ll make sense, I promise. Just come see us soon”

And with that, she’s practically jogging out the door, leaving him alone with his thoughts, and the key to Rook’s salvation beside him.

~*~

He finds the Veilguard gathered in the library, in the main building of the Lighthouse. Emmrich and Bellara are engaged in heated discussion. Manfred watches curiously. Taash is sitting on the couch, sharpening one of their axes. Davrin whittles a small figure of a griffon, and Assan lounges by his feet.

The room quiets when he enters, and you could hear a pin drop. They all turn to look at him as he slowly makes his way to the group.

Davrin clears his throat to break the tension, “Lucanis… you’re here”

He nods to Davrin but remains quiet as he stands beside Emmrich.

“Bellara tells me you may have a way to find Rook” He says. “Let’s hear it, Professor”

Manfred tilts his head at the mention of her name. “Rook” He hisses.

Assan perks up at her name and scans the room upon hearing it, one ear flopping wildly as he looks for her. Whines softly when he realizes she isn’t coming. Davrin gives the young griffon lying at his feet a soft, reassuring pat on the head.

“It’s alright boy, we’ll find her” The Warden smiles, and the Griffon settles again.

Emmrich’s expression softens at Manfred, before turning back to Lucanis.

“It’s… an idea.” He says, hesitantly. As if trying to measure his expectations, “We have no clue if it will actually work. And making it work will be exceedingly difficult”

“’Exceedingly difficult’ is becoming a specialty of ours” Davrin murmurs, as he blows some wood shavings onto the floor.

Bellara cuts in next, “We think we can temporarily weaken the Veil enough to pull her out” She pauses and runs behind the couch where Davrin and Taash are sitting. With some effort, she pulls out an Elven-looking contraption, with golden concentric rings and a blue crystal orb in the center. Bellara heaves it on the table in the middle of the room with a soft clank.

She wipes her forehead and lets out a breath, “This is a Resonance amplifier. We use them to stabilize weakened areas of the Veil in Arlathan forest”

Emmrich steps forward and points a finger, “Theoretically speaking, if Bellara can reverse the polarity of Resonance Amplifier’s magical effects, we can use it to weaken the Veil rather than strengthen it. We have a few of them, on loan courtesy of Strife and Irelin. Mages from the Veil Jumpers are on standby to help, but …”

Of course there’s a but.

“But?” Lucanis asks, folding his arms over his chest.

“She’s in the Fade. She could be anywhere” Taash frowns, pausing their work with the whetstone.

Emmrich nods, “Astutely observed, Taash. We can’t just go around weakening the Veil all over Northern Thedas. We could be searching for an eternity”

“How does the journal play into this?” Lucanis finally decides to ask the question that’s been burning in the back of his mind since he walked into the library.

At said question, both Bellara and Emmrich exchange nervous glances. It is Bellara who decides to speak next, after a tense moment of silence.

“We need something of hers that she has a strong connection with” Bellara explains, “The hope is that it would act as a beacon for her in the Fade and guide her home”

“Theoretically, of course” Emmrich adds quickly.

“Theory is better than nothing, Professor. If you think you can pull this off” Lucanis holds the journal out to Emmrich, “Do what you need to”

To his surprise, Emmrich gently pushes the journal back into his hands, “My dear Lucanis, it won’t be quite that easy”

Lucanis clutches the journal tightly to his chest and his brows draw together, “What do you mean?”

Emmrich hesitates for a moment and sighs.

“We are fortunate indeed to have a companion who hosts a being that can freely traverse the raw Fade”

Spite.

The demon feels like a bird fluffing its feathers in the back of his mind. Spite shakes his plumage loose, ready to take flight.

Find! ROOK! Me! YES!

Spite once pulled Rook into the Fade to help them. It’s only fitting he should pull her back out.

“That being said” Emmrich continues, his voice sombre. “It would require us to effectively destroy the journal in this world, that Spite might absorb its essence in the raw Fade and use it to find her. I know that journal means a great deal to her. I can only imagine the weight of its loss”

The pregnant pause after his explanation suggests he wants to add something else but thought better of it. The words left unsaid form in his thoughts.

I know it means a great deal to you as well.

He considers Emmrich’s words. Lucanis looks down at the journal. It was the only thing left tying her to her family. An entire lifetime before she was Madeleina Mercar. Before she was Rook. He grips the journal tightly and clicks his tongue.

“And you’re sure nothing else will do?” He asks quietly, but he already knows the answer.

Emmrich shakes his head. “It has to be something she has a deep, personal connection to. Something that…” He waves a ringed hand, and the soft clinking of his golden bangles fills the air, “Something that effectively embodies who Rook is – past and present. To find her in an endless, ever-changing landscape like the Fade, it has to be tied to her in a way no other object in her possession is”

Bellara’s voice is gentle, careful, as she adds, “Spirits … demons, are attracted to powerful emotions. For Spite to become an effective anchor and beacon, he needs to merge with something she’s going to react strongly to. If Spite has an attachment to the object too, we… well, we think it’ll work even better”

Lucanis runs his palm over the tattered, faded leather. This journal saw him and Madeleina through so many nights together. Memories come flooding of her as she flipped through its worn pages, bathed in the warm light of the fireplace. How her eyes lit up with mirth when she landed on the story of the night. The scent of lavender and rosewater. The warmth that settled in his chest. The comfort that she brought him. How he came to crave her company on the nights they couldn’t be together.

This journal was her story. Their story. To lose it forever…

Lucanis sighs.

If this journal is the key to bringing her home, to giving him another chance to say the words left unsaid – he has to try. He would take her anger and her tears at the loss of the journal. At least she would be around to be upset over it.

He looks back up at Emmrich, barely holding back tears.

“How do we do it?” He asks, voice hitching.

Emmrich puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder and gives him a warm smile. “All you have to do my friend, is go to sleep. Bellara and I will handle the rest. When you wake, Spite should have her location”

“This better work, Emmrich” Taash rises to their feet, axe in hand. “We lost too much already.” They didn’t have to elaborate. Taash had not taken losing Harding well. The team was afraid they might burn down the Lighthouse at one point. Eventually, they retreated to their room to work out, almost compulsively, as if they could punch the grief away. The fire-breathing Qunari made for the stairs to their room and was gone moments later.

“It’s a sound plan” Davrin added thoughtfully, nodding his head. “Let’s hope it pans out”

Assan gave an assenting squawk, before hopping up on all fours and bounding for the door.

“Hey!” Davrin calls after him, rising from his seat. Knife and wooden figurine in hand, he starts jogging after the Griffon trying to escape the Lighthouse. Manfred decides to give chase as well, because why not.

“Get back here, boy! It’s not dinner time yet!” Davrin cries, as the doors close behind him.

After Davrin and Taash make their unceremonious exits, the three of them left in the library start planning the ritual.

~*~

Spite Dellamorte has not been a demon for very long, and there are many things that are new to him. Chief among them, is his fascination with the young woman named Rook.

He has heard others call him Determination. He supposes he understands that well enough. One can be quite determined to be spiteful, after all. And he’s seen Rook possess determination in spades. The way she barrels through every obstacle in her path and relentlessly keeps going is something the demon thinks he could watch forever. Something he wants to watch forever.

Spite isn’t sure if living among the mortals of this world has changed him, but he is certain absorbing Rook’s journal did.

When he merged with her journal, he was bombarded with a flood of emotions and memories that were entirely foreign to him – because they were not him. They were hope, joy, love, compassion, sadness and so many more. But not Spite.

It was confusing and overwhelming. If he had a mortal body, he would have felt what Lucanis called ‘a massive headache’.

Spite Dellamorte stands in the Fade and begins his search for their Rook.

What he has heard the others refer to as The Black City hovers, much like the Archon’s floating palace, off in the distance. An imposing maw of sharp, jagged angles cutting the eerie green dreamscape of the Fade. No matter where he moves, he never gets closer or farther away.

He doesn’t linger on it, and instead, places a hand over his chest and feels for the piece of the journal resonating within his being. A faint blue light, mixing with his own purple glow, erupts outwards. Waves of resonating magical energy ripple out into some unknowable distance, and all Spite can do is wait until one of them comes back.

He stands in his lonely corner of the Fade. Emotions and memories that are not his own tumble back and forth in his thoughts, swimming around each other until they form new, unknown things he cannot understand.

Spite doesn’t know how long he’s been standing in his corner of the Fade, when he finally feels something pulling him in a certain direction. A ripple of that same magical energy, harmonizing with his own, drags his feet towards it. The demon does not have the patience to wait.

His wings unfurl and he flies, as fast as he can, towards that pull. He follows it through hordes of demons and spirits, with a fierce determination to find Rook. Spite is certain he’s never flown this fast in his short existence.

Time does not exist in the Fade, so he is unaware for exactly how long he has been flying. He follows the pull of the magical energy until he comes to a new landscape within the Fade. The Black City hovers in the distance as it always does.

There is a black void of nothingness vibrating in the middle of the landscape. That is where he feels the pull most strongly. He surmises that is where Solas has trapped Rook. Spite takes in his surroundings.

Tall, peaked mountains to one side. Bordered by a forest of high sycamore trees. Ruins of destroyed buildings. A lone house on the hill, decimated by demons. He’s seen this before. Lucanis has seen this before.

In one of her stories.

Arvanitum.

She’s back home.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Big thank you to @thewardenisonthecase and @teawithshakespeare for helping me with this chapter. Writing out the mechanics of how the team would actually find Rook in the Fade was tricky. Originally I wanted to write this all as one fic, but then I realized it would be like 20k words. Hopefully I'll get to the next part soon.

This is meant to be a bit of a standalone story within the larger 'Bedtime Stories for a Demon' series. I've intentionally left a lot of things vague because I technically haven't gotten to this part yet in the main fic. I might have to rework a few things depending on how things go.

As always, thank you for reading! I love seeing your comments, reblogs and tags <3 I appreciate every single one of you who has taken the time to do so!

#lucanis dellamorte #rook #spite dellamorte #spite #lucanis x rook #rookanis #lucanis x mercar #oc: madeleina mercar #datv #dragon age veilguard #datv spoilers #dragon age #fanfiction #rookie writes #fic: bedtime stories for a demon #angst #hurt/comfort #mutual pining #your honour they continue to be so in love its disgusting

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youcouldmakealife · 3 days ago

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SOTM: Luke/Andreas; wined and dined

For the prompt: Andreas and Luke meeting/hooking up the second time

I literally finished this before I realised you guys probably meant like, the second time they hooked up, not the whole second time 'round. Mea culpa, everybody. And for those who interpreted it the same way I did...you're welcome?

Andreas can’t remember the last time he was wined and dined.

Though maybe that isn’t the best way to describe it — Andreas has dinner meetings all the time, has sat beside clients at the best restaurants in almost every NHL city, sampled from the menus of half of New York's most exclusive restaurants. Always on the agency’s dime, of course, or his multi-millionaire client’s, or the teams they play for, or the teams who want to sign them.

There’s plenty of wine involved — though Andreas always restricts himself to a glass when it's business — plenty of dining. But a meeting’s a meeting, whether it’s in a conference room, patiently waiting for a GM who’s been around since there were still six teams in the league to figure out how to unmute his mic, or eating something exceptional at a Michelin Star restaurant.

So obviously that’s not what he means. It’s not that he hasn’t been dating either, though admittedly, he had less and less time to spare for it as he got older. And not that he hasn’t gone on dinner dates specifically, where he allows himself a second glass of wine, orders what he’d like, rather than ‘what he’s having sounds good’, unless, Andreas supposes, it truly does sound good. So there has been wining and dining, in fact. Possibly even a surplus of it.

And yet.

At a certain point Andreas thinks he just stopped expecting romance. It wasn’t any sort of resigned, jaded disappointment at the dating scene. Not that it isn't a shitshow, but it's probably better here than just about anywhere else. More an acknowledgment that most guys didn’t seem to be looking for romance, at least the ones Andreas was dating.

And that was fine, because Andreas wasn’t really looking for it either. Romance was undeniably nice, but he worked long hours, put almost all of himself into his job, and what he had left didn’t require much more than good conversation and some companionship, a spark of attraction, mediocre or better sex. Romance might have come along down the line, but things didn’t tend to last long even when he did find someone who met his simple — yet almost impossible to find — criteria.

That one, he thinks has more to do with him than it does with them. Andreas’ career is one of those things that’s attractive in theory, but significantly less endearing when he’s slipping in and out of bed at all hours, constantly checking his email or ducking out to make a call, flying off to who knows where, sometimes with plenty of notice, sometimes with none at all.

Maybe his life just isn’t conducive to romance. He doesn’t like to think that, but there would be worse things, wouldn’t there? He has a job that he finds fascinating, a job that offers something different every day, a job that, incidentally, pays him more money than he has the time to spend. He could retire tomorrow if he wanted to, live the rest of his life in comfort, dedicate all his time to searching for true love, but why would he want to? It sounds excruciatingly boring.

So he works — he works a lot, works more than he should, at least according to everyone he knows, including Dave, the giant hypocrite — and he — well, he works. But it’s fine. Most people have to search for meaning in his life, but he has his. If anyone asks about it — and they all ask, except Dave, that gem of a fucking man — he says he doesn’t feel like he’s lacking anything. He’s not lying, either.

That doesn’t mean something doesn’t squeeze tight when Luke conveniently ‘happens to be in town’ — though if there’s any town that actually applies to, it’s New York — when he figures they should ‘catch up’. Even as he tells himself that he’s just catching up with an old flame, one who doesn’t even live in the same country as him anymore. Even as he tells himself once for old time’s sake, and then twice doesn’t hurt considering they’ve still got chemistry, then when it’s been three, four, half a dozen, and if Luke’s got a return ticket Andreas doesn’t know when it’s for, but it doesn’t feel like it’s any time soon.

Luke has always been a romantic. He’d deny it up and down if Andreas said it, and it wouldn’t even be a kneejerk macho shit — Andreas doesn’t think Luke even knows he does anything out of the ordinary. Andreas doubts he was thinking ‘I’m going to woo Andreas’ as he asked him out to dinner, not the first time, or the second, not when he came with a bag of groceries and a bottle of wine from a vineyard Andreas mentioned in passing, said he’d cook for him, laughing as he fought with Andreas’ temperamental bottle opener, scoffing when Andreas impatiently intervened before he could ruin a good bottle of wine.

Technically, he doesn’t even know if 'wooing' is Luke’s aim at all. He could just need the change of pace, miss the city, the speed of it, the convenience, and while he was here, Andreas was just as convenient as the rest of it — good conversation, good companionship, Luke more attractive than ever, the sex still fantastic. And they didn’t even have to get to know one another. What could be easier?

But Andreas doesn’t think so, at least not judging by the way Luke’s started looking at him.

Andreas doesn’t think anyone has ever looked at him like Luke does, the complete focus of it. Looking isn’t a strong enough word — it’s more like he’s taking him in, trying make sure that he gets every single detail correct, the way Andreas imagines a painter would gaze at their subject, a poet at their lover. Luke’s no poet, but, well — maybe he is, a little, minus the words. There’s something about the way Luke looks at the world. Something about the way Luke looks at him.

It used to unnerve Andreas, a little, especially because Luke wasn’t only looking at him like that over romantic candlelit dinners and endorphin fueled pillow talk, but also during the most mundane moments. Andreas would be scowling at his phone, pecking out an answer to a client who decided he urgently needed to discuss his contract on a Sunday morning, a full season before it expired, and he’d look up and there Luke was, visibly taking him in. Sometimes there’d be a little smile on his face — the moments Andreas let himself be a little cranky there often was — but often there wasn’t, just Luke’s eyes on him, taking him in like he was never going to see him again.

It was — a lot. Luke was a lot, almost from the very beginning. Andreas thought he was going to get a regrettable hook up out of things, and then he thought it was going to be a few of them, and it was like a switch was flipped, and Luke went from the hot, fun, surprisingly good in bed client Andreas had completely unprofessionally fucked — and not just once, but a few times, and then a handful — to even more surprisingly good company outside of bed, to something Andreas didn’t quite have a name for. Someone who was gone even more than Andreas was, someone Andreas started to miss when he was gone. Andreas was the one staying put, most of the time, but Luke was the one always watching him like he’d disappear the moment he closed his eyes.

The look hasn’t changed, and Andreas imagines it means the same thing now as it did then, Luke who doesn’t blink, Luke who jumps both feet first, Luke the romantic.

It doesn’t feel as overwhelming now, though Andreas suspects he’ll be spending some time thinking about just how quickly Luke was on board. How quick they both were — Andreas can’t pretend he doesn’t know what’s coming, what’s already here, can’t pretend that isn’t something he wants, when he could end things with a word.

But he doesn’t. This time Andreas lets himself look back, and when Luke catches him at it, he doesn’t let himself look away.

#fic snippet #andreas krause #luke morris #SOTM

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hexlenx · 2 days ago

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I'D PICK HER OVER ME — james fleamont potter

note: I do not own any of the characters in harry Potter except for the plot in this small fic. This is purely made for entertainment purposes as well as cuz I am craving for some angst.

warnings!: mentions of death, angst

__________________

James was tired, he really was.

Being a single father was hard, plus being an auror for the ministry. His schedule from his work as well as being a father at the same time was harder than the war that had just ended four years ago.

James sighed in exhaustion as he covered his eyes with his arm while laying on his bed. He had just came back from a meeting in the ministry that ended two hours ago. The meeting ended very late and he hadn't had the time to rest until earlier before waking up in cold sweat.

James had nightmares. It was always the same.

Getting paralyzed by a spell, watching his wife get killed by a dark curse, his son almost dying but some miracle happened and the curse thrown at him was rebounded towards the killer, and repeat. All the same thing, every night.

So James did the only thing that helped him everytime it happened. Sitting up as he groaned, he began to stand up to walk towards downstairs and to the kitchen. Arriving at the location, he began to brew tea. Normally when he was still in his adolescence, he would drink firewhiskey to cope with the war, but now he settled for tea that he added a teaspoon of honey to cope with his loss.

It was what his wife always had whenever she was stressed, tea with a bit of honey. Something he never understood why that preference until now.

"Papa?" A timid voice of a young boy called out to James making him snap out of his daze.

"Yes, Harry?" James said to his son. Harry was a four year old boy, unruly brown hair like his father, circular black glasses on his face because of the poor eyesight he gained from his father. He was practically the carbon copy of James Potter but the only thing different is his son's eyes. It was his mother's, the only woman James had ever loved.

"Where's Mama?" Harry questioned. The air stilled but the small child was oblivious of it. It was a very sensitive topic but it is not a taboo. With sharp intake of breath, James knelt down to his son's height, putting his hand on his shoulder as he fixed his gaze on Harry's.

"Your mother." James started as he paused for a moment to think of a sentence to explain why his mother is gone. "Is in a far away land, at the moment."

"But why so far?"

"Because, Harry, she is trying to protect us from something and she needs to go away for a while." That's it, James. The father encouraged himself. He's still young, tell him when he is old enough. He continued these thoughts as he looked at his son's thoughtful expression.

"Will she come back?"

Silence. There was no answer to that question as James embraced his son in his arms, brows furrowed as tears were threatening to fall from its sockets. The truth was, his mother was not gonna come back but how could he tell that to his four year old son?

Finally having set his son to bed, James took one last glance to Harry before going downstairs to sit on the couch of the living room. The honey-tea has long gone cold as he sat in front of the fire that was slowly dwindling. James stared blankly at it as his thoughts were loud but at the same time quiet.

If only you were here.

"If I could pick on who would survive that day, I would've picked you." James muttered to himself out loud, quietly sniffling his tears that slowly fell on his cheeks to his hands.

"Because you would've known what to do.."

The crying of a baby echoed through the house in Godric's Hollow. The scene showed a master bedroom, two bumps could be seen under sheets of the bed. As the cry continued, one of the figures moved.

"Fuck.."

A deep male's voice cursed out as he sat up, not being able to fall asleep now because of the noise. Another voice moaned out from being awaken from the movement of the man.

"I'll take care of him, love. Just continue sleeping." The man coaxed to his wife beside him who blinked at him to ask if he's sure.

"You sure?"

"Yea, you sleep and I'll tend, yea?" With that, the woman went back to her dreams as the man carefully unravels himself from the sheets before walking out the bedroom to the nursery.

"Shh, it's okay, Harry. I got you, bud." He said the moment he took Harry from the crib and coaxed him in his arms. The man was James Potter, the leader of the band of misfits, Marauders is now a father. The one thing he never knew he would be with the war going on.

Harry, the baby, now stopped his fussing and opened his eyes that he got from his mother to stare at his father. Smiling widely, he giggled and tried to reach for James' hair.

"Hey now, not the hair you little twit."

"Do not curse at our child, James Fleamont Potter." A stern melodic voice spoke out from behind the father who flinched as James chuckled sheepishly.

"I'm not...." James trailed off as he looked everywhere but his wife, who rolled her eyes.

"I swear, I can't leave you alone for one second with Harry." You scolded your husband with a slight slap on his arm making him grin at you.

"You love me!" James teased to which you rolled your eyes again.

"Unfortunately." You said while grabbing Harry out of his hands and propping him up on your hip.

"What is that supposed to mean?!"

James leaned against the door frame of the kitchen as he wore a pink apron with a giant cute teddy bear printed on its front, courtesy of Sirius saying it was to look husband material and James agreeing to it because he was told it was husband material, he was listening to you humming a small song to Harry as you kept him occupied by holding up a toy on your son's face.

James was cooking up lunch because he wanted you to rest and let him handle household chores while you occupy your son. It was the least he could do for you as the war lead both of you into hiding your son from the Dark Lord because of a prophecy. He knew you wanted to spend more time with Harry before the worse happens, so he did all the chores while you spend your time with your child, even after so many of your refusals.

James smiled in content as well as fondness as he watched the both of you. How could he have such a wonderful family with how arrogant and stupid he was when he was a teen. He didn't think he deserved such thing after being such a prejudice prick towards Slytherins.

"Take Harry and run!" James yelled out to you as he tried to push the Dark Lord back even if it was just for a delay. He couldn't let him get to both of you, you're all that he had left.

Successfully stunning the Dark Lord, James then ran upstairs to be with you and Harry. It was the only thing he could do to help you run away before the Dark Lord catches up. Unfortunately, James underestimated the Dark Lord's recovery from a stunning hex. The moment James arrived at the doorframe of the nursery of where you were, he fell paralyzed by the spell the Dark Lord had thrown at him.

"No.." James mumbled as his eyes went wide in horror. He kept chanting the word like a mantra as he helplessly watched the scene in front of him. His mumbles becoming screams as he sobbed heavily. Sweat dripped from his forehead as his face turned red, eyes squinting, brows furrowing hard as tears kept flowing down like a waterfall from his reddening eyes.

No...not my family..

Not the one I just built..

Please don't do this to me..

A green light blinded the whole room as a loud thump echoed the room. Silence overlapped as the Dark Lord grinned viciously. James' brown eyes stilled as he watched the limped lifeless body of the woman he was proud to say was his, the love of his life, the mother of his son, his wife, you.

James was not spared from tragedy as he now watched his son getting cursed by the Dark Lord before he stared in disbelief as the curse rebounded and hit the one who casted it. Watching as a lightning bolt of a cut appeared on his son's forehead.

But the moment he was free from his trap, he screamed in agony, not from his wounds, but from the death of his love.

"Now, Harry. If I could choose on who would've lived between me and your mother." James said to his son who was now in his teen, sixteen, as they stood in front of a gravestone. A familiar name etched in the stone.

[ Your Name ] Potter

[ Birthdate ] — October 31st, 1981

"In loving memory of a great friend, sister, mother, and wife."

"I'd pick her over me."

"Why?"

"Because, she would've known what to do."

#aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson x reader #james potter x reader #harry potter #james potter #angst #light angst #james potter x you #james potter x y/n

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visibleclosedeyes · 1 day ago

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Gap in my heart (Literally)

pairing: Mr. Gap x reader

“Hello”

While you prepare to work in your bedroom–doing your makeup and hair, putting on your uniform–ready for the day ahead, a chilling but familiar voice calls you.

“Mr. Gap? Uh. Me not play,” You said without turning your head toward the voice. Since the day you managed to get out of that Otherworld, Mr.Gap has consistently shown up in your space in the gap in the wall, in different containers, and so forth. At this point, you kinda have a domestic relationship together. Boyfriend? You wouldn’t go that far, but something is there.

“Disappointed” Mr. Gap narrowed his eyes before asking another question

“Where go?”

“Same place every day, Mr. Gap. Working. uh–Me work, same work.”

“Why?” He asks, eyes still narrowed–displaying an unreadable expression that you guess to be some kind of discontentment. It surprised you really–Mr. Gap isn’t a high-maintenance type and he never asked you these questions before. What changed?

“Uh…Work hunger gone,”

“Work stop hunger?” He seems interested now.

“Not exactly. Work gives things, and things get food.” You try again to explain to Mr. Gap the concept of monetary exchange and bill to the best of your ability.

“....not understand, residents don’t need work. Why work?”

“Humans need work, me human…Mr. Gap, why curious now?” You ask a question of your own.

“Me bored, Stay,”

“Can’t. Need work,”

“Disappointed” He responds, the conversation sounds like it goes back to the very beginning.

“Give finger?”

“No,”

“Disappointed” He repeats yet again before disappearing.

Working is hard. Living in the human world is hard. You know this already but it seems like every day her co-workers really remind her of that fact. Today is just another day of demoralizing work days. Getting yelled at by your boss because of your co-worker's mistake is not fun. In the parking lot, you are sitting there with a cigarette between your fingers contemplating whether or not to murder your co-worker, literally speaking. Suddenly between the gap in the wall opposite to you, a familiar pair of eyes pop up.

“Hello”

“Mr. Gap??! How did you..? Oh right, you can show up in any gap,”

“Human trouble?”

“Its nothing, just hard day at work,”

“Me solve problem, give me finger,”

“What? No! Not give finger,”

“Boring. Goodbye,”

Almost every day was the same old same old—your co-worker is an annoying asshole who purposefully caused issues just so he could blame it on you.

“Where are the documents the boss asked you to do?” Speaks of the devil… the most annoying face among the co-workers in this shitshow of a company has shown up like a fucking ghost the moment she starts thinking about her job

“What? What documents?” She answers truthfully. What fucking documents? And why is she hearing this just now?

“Seriously, the boss wants you to be the one to do it. you’re seriously irresponsible. Why did they even hire you?” He said with such a fake shocked expression on his face. Wait, so the boss told him…

"Boss told you this and you never told me?” she asked him in disbelief

"You never ask me to tell you, you should have been more active,” He snickers with a smug smile. Oh, this irritating fucker.

2 months and 1 week. She has sworn off killing people for exactly two months. Like a proud ex-addict, she wears that pride quietly on her mind, unable to announce how prideful she is for not killing some random pedestrians who show up in an abandoned apartment. She wants to keep it that way, but this man seems to be testing her patience. She is going to lose it and kill this guy on his way home.

"There is still time left. You can take responsibility and be active for once. Give me a call once you are finished!”

your palms curl into a fist full of hate and rage–this man has no idea who he is up against. She fantasizes about the different ways she would go about killing him. Her regular method of a crowbar to the head would be the safest route but this guy is a piece of shit to her so far and she wants to do something special for him.

No, she doesn't want to kill these days. Hunting and killing seems to be a hobby she lost interest in a while ago. Now, she simply wishes for a more simple life after all those lives she proudly took.

(not finish)

One day, when she was working as per usual–she hears the sound of that asshole screaming from the restroom

"I swear! I saw it there! a pair of creepy eyes between the crack in the wall inside the male restroom!”

"some pervert looking into the male toilet?”

"No! I…I don't think it's human–when I saw it, it just disappeared into thin air!”

"I think you should go see a doctor”

“Yeah, are you I'll or something? Did you hear a voice in your head too?”

“S–shut up! Stop mocking me! I fucking saw it, Ok?!”

It seems like vacation comes to visit you early this year as she hears one of the best but most shocking of all week. Her asshole co-worker has decided to quit, it also seems like he has been scared shitless and borderline losing his mind at something that most people don't seem to understand. Many think that he cracked under constant pressure but she has a better idea of what might have happened. She didn’t think to ask of him at this current time but it seemed like he could read her mind somehow when she found him manifesting in her bag, a pair of gleeful, teasing eyes with an otherworldly smile somehow made her heart skip beats.

“Mr.Gap!”

“Hello. Me good resident.”

“I heard about the haunting spirit between the wall’s gap in the male bathroom—did you do it? The guy who tormented me quit”

“Me solve problems, me good resident,”

“Yeah, that was a good one. Good, thank you”

“Give good resident finger?”

“No”

“Disappointed”

#homicipher fanfiction #homicipher #mr.gap x reader #mr. gap #homicipher x mc #homicipher x reader #i swear next fic will be smut #mr. gap x reader

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kigieri · 1 day ago

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Resting Stars

Max Verstappen × Reader

What happens when you've reached your dreams and goals? Max Verstappen has just won his fourth world title, and before he has to race again, he shares a few moments with the most important person in his life.

A/N: Surprise fic! I had to post something for our man! Four-time World Driver's Champion! This was written very sleepily during the race, and I'm very happy with it. I hope you enjoy it.

This fic on AO3!

The flat was silent. She trotted into the kitchen after doing her morning routine in the bathroom. Max was already sitting at the table, drinking coffee from his favourite mug. He smiled when he saw her and she returned it.

His face was more contemplative than that of a fresh four time world champion should be. She made herself a tea, before sitting opposite him. "Are you still sure?" He looked at her and nodded. "Yeah, I want to do something else." She nodded too and took as sip from her mug. "Then it seems decided."

They shared a quiet breakfast before slumping down on the sofa. Their sleeping rhythm had been destroyed by Las Vegas, especially after the party they had had. Max had another race on the next weekend and there were still celebrations to be had and congratulations to be accepted, but for now they simply wanted to enjoy the peace and quiet.

"Are we going to get more cats?" She looked up at him from where she had laid her head in his lap. He shook his head. "I'm still going to race, just not F1." He looked over at the patch of sun where Donatello was laying. "When I'm old and gray and don't leave the house any more we can get more."

Silence settled over them once more, Jimmy jumped onto her stomach and rolled up, waiting for her to pat him, which she did. "It's going to be weird. Way weirder for you than for me."

He nodded his head. "Yeah, but I'm going to like it. Doing something else will be good." She looked back up at him from where her eyes had been focused on the cat. "You're going to miss it, even if you don't want to admit it."

He made a questioning face. "Won't deny that I'll miss it, but I'm going to enjoy doing something else, and I can always go back. Someone's bound to take me. But I don't think I will. I'll just enjoy life, racing, being with you, with the cats. Not a care in the world." She cuddled closer to him, if that was humanely possible, and let her eyes drift back to Jimmy.

Max looked down at her, thinking about the ring box that was securely hidden away between his Sim gear. Life would be very different, but he was more than happy with that. His time had come and gone, not in the eyes of others, but in his own. He had loved racing in F1 with his whole heart, but that heart beat for racing, not only in a single category, so he wanted to see more of the world, more of racing. There was so much to be explored, and he had reached his goals in Formula 1.

His retirement would surprise some, but not others. He would be happy with it, had made peace with it before he had voiced the idea for the first time. At this moment, while sitting with her head in his lap, looking out of the window into Monaco, he knew that this decision would change his life, but he also knew it would be a change he welcomed.

"Ik hou van je." His words were clear and steady and as she looked up at him her smile spread all over her face and her eyes were shinning. "I love you too." Max hand wandered over to hers, where she was stroking Jimmy, and squeezed it shortly, before also starting to stroke the cat. It would be a new, and very welcomed, part of his life.

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runraerun · 2 days ago

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Heard a random 90s rock song & it legit got me thinking about Steve & Billy meeting again in their twenties... Like what if s3 never happened? After the fight at the Byers, Billy kept his head down & avoided Steve? I see him as being consumed by a sense of guilt/shame & yet still not being able to apologise until, that is, the day of their graduation when he's suddenly overcome with a need to just get it off his chest. He's been crushing on this guy since he got to Hawkins & he blew whatever chance he had of even just a friendship with him, but it doesn't matter now cos he's getting out of this shithole as quickly as possible, but he can't have this guilt gnawing at him any longer...So maybe he deliberately makes sure he bumps into steve at some point and mutters out a: "Harrington. We need to talk." And sucking on a cigarette like his life depends on it, hands shaking, barely making eye contact, Billy gives the world's shittiest apology. And it feels like his heart's gonna beat out of his chest & Steve's just standing there, staring at him, an unreadable expression on his face, before saying something like: "yeah, man. I'm sorry for that night too." (In my mind either Max let drop something about Billy's homelife or Steve has deduced something's not right). Anyway. Billy finally feels like he's able to breathe again for the first time in months UNTIL steve unknowingly utters the world's most devastating sentence: "I think we could've been friends if, y'know, shit hadn't gone down the way it did...oh well." And steve gives a sort of little grin and a laugh as if what he said wasn't a major deal. "Heard you're headed back to California?" Steve asks, and Billy's barely able to nod, still struck dumb by Steve's previous offhand comment. And maybe someone calls Steve's name and suddenly that's it. The moment is broken & Steve's leaving with a "Guess I'll see you around, Hargrove... or not" and a goofy little salute. And Billy thought he'd feel better. But in fact he feels worse. Because holy shit. Steve just said they could have been friends. And that's gonna haunt him for years....

Cue a few years later and they run into each other in Chicago (listen, the idea of Billy returning to California only to realise it no longer feels like home and maybe it never did consumes me), but yeah. They bump into each other accidentally and holy shit. Steve Harrington. He looks almost exactly the same. Other than the fact he's grown out the mullet and holy shit, are those highlights in his hair??? And billy's stunned by what looks like a genuine grin of delight that crosses Steve's face once he recognises who he's walked into. And maybe they chat for a little while; Billy doesn't even know what he's saying he's so in shock at meeting his highschool crush again. But just like the last time someone calls steve's name and of course steve has a girlfriend, of course he does (joke's on billy, cos it's just robin) and suddenly the moment's broken again and steve's walking away with a casual "it was good to see you again, billy" and billy is gripped with the thought that he can't let steve slip through his fingers again. how many people get a second chance like this? he can feel his old highschool crush flickering back to life where it's buried deep in his chest and maybe steve will never like billy like that but holy shit. billy still remembers the day steve said that maybe they could have been friends if things had been different and things are different now so why not take a chance??? and billy has never felt so brave or so fucking scared in his life as he does when he steps forward and calls after steve: "Hey Harrington! Wanna meet up and catch up properly some time?" and Steve's attention is back on him and goddamn. Billy didn't even realise how much he missed those eyes until now. ANyway!! This got away from me!! But 90s Harringrove pls and thank. Also the song i heard was lightning crashes by live. like the lyrics aren't even that appropriate but there's such a nostalgic feel to it.

oh my god. OH MY GOD.

Anon, this whole message has got me in a chokehold. Like, it’s such a direct hit. 🎯🎯🎯Billy choking on an apology because he’s so painfully unfamiliar with the very concept, the absolute devastation of hearing the potential of being friends with Steve was there, but he blew it, the PINING… urgh. How Steve can unknowingly fatally wound Billy just like that.

AND THEN THE HIGHLIGHTS ARE YOU JOKING?!

I hope that things get away from you many many more times, because this was incredible.

Okay okay. Now, if I may, I will now attempt to match your freak.

ahem

—

By some serendipitous fuckin’ miracle, Steve agrees to exchange digits with him. They couldn’t find a napkin or any other god forsaken scrap of paper to write on, so they just scribbled their numbers down onto each other's arm. Billy was so fucking on edge that when he was peering down at the pale expanse of Steve’s mole-speckled forearm he damn near forgot his own phone number. Jesus, he’s a wreck…

At least whenever it comes to Harrington, anyway. Dude has like, Billy’s own personal strain of kryptonite woven in through his DNA or some shit. It would explain why his hands always get clammy and his knees feel like they’re made of fucking jello every time Steve flashed those pearly whites his way.

Christ, Hargrove, get it together…

Billy had spent the rest of the week running a finger along the wobbly looking numbers, fading more and more every day. Before they fade completely through, he finally finds his balls and dials Steve’s number.

A girl picks up, which… well, Billy knows Steve has a girlfriend. He didn’t know they’re living together though… but whatever, it don’t change shit.

“Steve around?” He asks, clenching the receiver in his fist so tightly that he can hear the plastic creak.

“Who’s asking?” The girl says, sounding pleasant despite her words. Sandy-haired, freckles. Cute, Billy remembers. Harrington always did go for the cute ones.

“Billy,” he answers, “Billy Hargrove. He’ll know who I am.”

“Oh, Billy,” The girl’s voice draws out his name like it’s an answer to a question that she’d been stuck on. “It’s about time you called.”

Which. That…

What the hell does that mean?

While Billy’s puzzling it out, she hears the girl holler for Steve, telling him Billy is on the line. His name is said with a weird amount of familiarity.

Billy switches ears and shakes out the stiffness in his hand. Focuses on breathing evenly instead of the steady flow of questions suddenly piling up in his head.

“Billy?” Steve’s voice, clear as a bell, asks from the other line.

Billy clears his throat, “hey, man.”

“Hey. I was just about to call you.” Steve says, doing that thing where he so casually drops bombs onto Billy’s world, leveling his cities with a passing word.

“Beat you to it.” Billy grins, and hears the little huff of a laugh on the other line.

“Always so competitive,” Steve teases, and Billy can just hear the smile. It makes his chest ache. It’s the sweet kind of ache, though. “Haven’t you ever heard it’s not winning that matters, it’s taking part?”

Billy shakes his head even though Steve can’t see him and sneers, “sounds like some shit losers say to each other.”

That gets a genuine laugh from Steve, all breathy and sharp, and Billy feels himself laughing along from the sheer thrill of getting Steve going.

“Jesus, I forgot how much of an asshole you are.” Steve sighs, but there’s no heat behind it. Just shit talk. It’s fine. What guys do.

“Yeah yeah. Can’t change my spots, or whatever.” Billy mumbles as he scuffs his boot along the floor. Fucking antsy. Jonesing for a cigarette. Just get on with it you piece of shit. He takes a breath and then takes the plunge. “So listen, we should hang out this weekend. I know a few good bars where we could catch up. Maybe get into some trouble.”

Steve makes a scoffing sound, “what kind of trouble are we talking here, Hargrove?”

His heart jackrabbits in his chest. He loves this part. Billy brings the receiver just a little closer to his lips. “The fun kind, Harrington.” He murmurs, voice pitched low.

There’s a brief, unbearably tense couple of seconds where Steve doesn’t speak. He just lets Billy dangle like a hooked fish. Static from the line. He doesn’t breathe. Then.

“Friday at 8?” Steve tosses the offer out, real casual-like. And with it, Billy feels the muscles around his neck and shoulders relax, like he got shot with a tranquilizer dart. Steve continues, “You wanna meet at the same coffee shop from before? I live in the apartment building just across the street from it.”

Fancy, Billy thinks. Of fuckin’ course. All the buildings on that block are the high end kind; with door men and balconies and working elevators. Billy only ever finds himself in that leg of the city when a pipe bursts or a sink gets clogged and Billy gets called in to fix it. Of course Steve’s living in the lap of luxury here in Chicago. Mommy and Daddy’s only child. Not that it’s his fault, Billy supposed. Some people are just born luckier than others.

“Sure, rich boy,” Billy grins, “bring your appetite though, I’m buying nachos.”

Steve heartily agrees. Because obviously. Who the hell could say no to that? Rich or poor, nachos are nachos.

It ain’t a date. It ain’t. It’s just two guys hanging out, y’know, catching up. For old times sake. Getting into some trouble, like Billy said. It ain’t date.

So what if he calls and asks Heather to pre-approve his outfit when everything he owns suddenly looks stupid on him? And who cares that he dabs double the amount of cologne onto his chest and triple down his pants—Billy likes to smell good, it ain’t a big deal. He wears a silver chain around his neck, the one that matches his earring, and undoes a few more buttons than usual to show it off. It’s cold this time of year but he figures they’ll be inside for most of the night anyway. Drinking, shooting pool, tossing darts. Shit like that.

Billy chain smokes as he waits outside of the coffee shop, sucking back one cigarette after the other, trying not to think about how he’s about to see Steve fucking Harrington again; the one who got away. Or, one one Billy never even fucking had a chance with in the first place, more like. He keeps wondering if he’s making a mistake. If he should just go home, forget he ever ran into that long legged, poofy haired, Bambi-eyed—

But then Steve’s there, handing Billy some froo-froo drink from inside (somehow they’d missed each other???) before he starts giving Billy a hard time for still not having a proper winter coat. Steve’s got highlights in his hair and eyeliner on his lower lashline and a spot of foam from his drink on the tip of his nose and Jesus fuck.

Billy’s in trouble.

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mohntilyet · 22 hours ago

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I want you to know you’ve indoctrinated both my friend and I into your path of thinking when it comes to Illario and the Envy demon.

I raise you this, since Illario isn’t even a mage before the Ossuary, consider the fact that Zara convinces Illario into also harboring Envy (like Spite, since Lucanis says he just ate something and he was stuck with Spite after that. Like she tells Illario he needs that dawg in him to become first talon, a double edged knife there (you aren’t good enough on your own you need that dawg in you aahhhh)). That would add a level onto why he kills her, Lucanis taking a crack at Illario and asking if he’s is good enough (I would’ve crashed out too tbh), and the lines in at the party with a romanced Rook (since that man also doesn’t have a healthy love life)

Envy is also twisted form of admiration/generosity/contentment, like how Spite was a spirit of determination, and the freak out Lucanis would have over his little brother’s admiration for him (an admiration he would NEVER admit to his big brothers face) becoming so twisted (by the same person!) that it’s also destroying him from the inside out.

Also Spite and Envy shenanigans would’ve been so fucking funny

YEAH!!!!!! i have been rotating this around in my mind and had the idea of that admiration v. envy thing for illario, especially if we're thinking about wigmaker's job where they cover for each others weaknesses. like a week ago i googled what the corresponding virtue for envy was and it was kindness and i was like yeahhhhh illario does not have that. we're going to have to go with something else. and i was thinking of admiration so this ask kind of made me cheer <3 thank god i am making some sense and someone else agrees because at any point i'm checking myself going 'actually would he do that'

i think they both have some level of 'i wish i could do that like them' but illario's is negatively tinged because their fuck ass grandma is right there saying all that too . like regardless of how great i think my brother is, there is no fucking way his accomplishments don't start looking twisted and unfair if my only parental figure obviously likes him more than me

i also like the idea of in some world where illario is less of a traitor and didn't set lucanis up (i have a rewrite powerpoint going on for my friends. so this part makes perfect sense to me but maybe not as much to you. i'm so sorry), and they both get kidnapped and possessed, spite-envy are the ones with serious beef vs. their unwitting hosts, who would actually prefer not to kill each other.

this messy au i have assumes a very fraught house dellamorte, trying to defend treviso while the crows splinter and follow either son. caterina refuses to let lucanis give up power and names him first talon, while illario has consolidated power in the year lucanis was gone and has several other loyal houses pledging to him instead. spite and envy exacerbate this situation, spite refusing to give up power + envy coveting it. this hypothetical plotline ends with uniting the crows under a single first talon (welcome back bhelen v harrowmont), and reaching an agreement with the others to work together. crow-on-crow violence you cannot be solved but you CAN reach a momentary tense agreement to protect antiva and the world <3

#in my mind this au quest also involves like. it gets easier if ur a rook de riva OR you're seen as an interloping outsider #but by the end of it there's a grudging respect that allows the talons to follow + fight alongside you #helped of course by lucanis who is either talon or simply backing illario #i think this would lead to character bloat. but none of that matters when its MY wishful thinking crow politics questline #that was only rly meant to be seen by fie/jane/saids. so.#they would have 'yes and'ed me forever and allowed the echochamber to continue. LOL #i'm adding and editing the idea as i go. if i ever get somewhere coherent i'll try to explain #but this fucking powerpoint has slide titles like 'We have to let caterina dehumanise her grandchildren. For feminism.'#so really dont expect too much #lucanis dellamorte #illario dellamorte #answered #long post

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plurapony · 2 days ago

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Regarding Astro (@/kingofantiendos)

So I was mutuals with Astro for a long while! And previously whilst I wasn't really a fan of his actions I just kind of ignored him and sent a private message that I didn't agree with his reply and went on about my day. Kay used to have a separate blog (now deleted) where she let out intrusive thoughts and it would have been hypocritical to call him out whilst one of our parts did a similar thing.

Note: At this point in time, he only really said "imma touch you" a few times which is kinda cringe in a middle school boy kind of way but not inherently harmful in my perspective. Also Kay's blog was deleted as we all agreed it was an unhealthy coping mechanism and it was harming both us and others.

But holy shit. This new stuff that he's been putting out makes me physically fucking cringe when I see it. I am nonbinary but our previous host is a transgender man and seeing Astro's posts feels like a direct blow to the stomach for us. I would have said I didn't think what Astro was doing constituted harassment before but, now? Absolutely undoubtedly harassment. Some of the people he has been regularly interacting with I'm not a fan of personally but I feel bad for their sake. It's gone past immature humour and into 4chan trolling territory and it's disgusting and not okay.

Astro would spam like my posts and reblog complimenting me and my blog which made it really fucking hard to block him because I genuinely felt super guilty (ocpd:[) even though I know I wanted to and I know it had to be done.

But as an anti-endo I wanted to make a statement that Astro does not speak for anti-endos as a whole and he uses it as a guise to get away with pure bigotry and harassment.

He doesn't just harass endogenics, he targets anyone who is even SLIGHTLY accepting of endogenics. Collectively we are anti-endogenic and we have our reasons but there are some of us who are endo-neutral and all of us agree that endogenics are still human and they are still deserving of basic human respect and kindness. This isn't okay, ever.

[IMAGE ID: ponyville is a (pro) endo free zone break dni and get blocked loser! END ID]

#did system #did #endos dni #did osdd #actually did #system #actually plural #osdd system #osdd #kingofantiendos #cdd #cdd system #cdd community #pluralpunk #syspunk #systempunk #polyfrag #polyfragmanted

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electricalhuzzah · 2 days ago

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Hm wait since Stan and Bill had a heart to heart (ish) last chapter and everyone thinks Ford and Bill hate each others guts and are fighting more than ever….now I’m imagining Stan being like “hey bro you’ve dealt with him the whole time, he can stay with me now so you can have your room back!”

what if i told you,,, i was originally going to put something along those lines in the fic,,, but scrapped it in favor of throwing in something angstier,,,

and what if i told you… it wouldve gone something like this…

[Bill leaves room, just having done some shit to “piss off” Ford.]

Stan: Hey, Sixer, listen… I know Bill’s kinda a pain in the ass to ya, and I don’t think there’s really any substance to it, but… if he’s really gettin’ on your nerves, I can take him in my room and—

Ford: (way too quickly) No.

Stan: (surprised) I, uh… okay, geez. I just thought since he was pissin’ ya off and all… Why do you wanna keep the guy in your room so bad?

Ford: That is… an excellent question… to which I would have to reply… that he snores. Yes, he snores. Very loudly. And I wouldn’t want to subject you to that.

Stan: Don’t be a martyr, bro, I slept through a police raid once. I can take him off your hands, and I won’t have to hear you two constantly bicker about—

Ford: NO.

Stan:

Ford: I just… want to keep an eye on him, okay? I don’t trust him, not for a second, and everyone else in this household’s gotten so lax with him.

Stan: (mumbling, ready to let it go) M’kay, Poindexter, whatever floats your—

Ford: (saying too goddamn much) And, plus, where would you even put him? Our air mattress has a hole, your back wouldn’t let you sleep on the floor if you wanted to, everyone had “moral objections” to making Bill sleep on the floor, and sleeping in the same bed is frankly out of the question— I’d recommend setting oneself on fire before risking skin-to-skin contact with that jaundiced asshole.

Stan: … Well what have you been doing?

Ford: pardon

Stan: I didn’t know our air mattress had a hole. Where the hell has Bill been sleeping??

Ford: (thinking he is in fact cooked) … Another excellent question, if iI may commend you on your… questioning abilities on this lovely—

Stan: Stanford have you been making Bill sleep on the goddamn floor after we specifically said not to do that

(silencio)

Ford: Yes. That is a viable explanation. That is certainly what occurs. Regularly.

(cue an argument)

now, alternatively, if stan went to bill with this proposal—

Stan: Hey, Triangle, you n’Sixer been fighting a lot recently… If you wanted, you could move into my room and—

Bill: Not a chance in hell, ugly twin.

Stan:

Stan: Man.

Bill: I’ll take arguments and eye candy over denture cream and toupees, thanks.

#gravity falls #bill cipher #handyman bill au #bill x ford #billford #ford pines #stanford pines #secret dating #stanley pines #text #fic outtakes #grunkle stan #gravity falls stanford #gravity falls stanley #stan pines #only one bed trope but 2x and theres secret dating but stan just wants these funkers to stop bickering

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punksyeet · 3 days ago

Text

ᰔᩚ Mama To Be ᰔᩚ

Plot: While expecting their first daughter, Gianna (OC) and her boyfriend Josh are going through all the emotions. Specifically Josh, who’s a nervous wreck and trying to protect his girls 24/7.

Warning: Hefty flirting & mature language!

My eyes flutter open as I wake up to an uncomfortable feeling in my lower stomach.

I look down and see my belly button area slightly moving, signaling that baby girl is awake and kicking.

I look over at the clock on my nightstand - 3:04am.

Motherhood is not for the weak!

I shake my head and smile softly, gently rubbing my belly.

I lay back on my pillows and look over to my left, my eyes met with my favorite sight: my beautiful man peacefully sleeping, his muscular and tattooed chest rising and falling, alongside light snores pouring from his parted lips.

It brings me so much joy to see him at peace, especially since he's gone through hell and back for this baby already.

Josh has been a very protective father so far.

He feels the need to be by my side 24/7, helping me with everything.

Even if it means staying up all night, he wants both me and our baby to be protected at all times.

I gently kiss his lower lip and lay back down, deciding to scroll on my phone for a bit.

About 15 minutes later, my stomach starts to rumble.

Not me being hungry at 4am! 🥲

I gently wiggle out of his arms, doing my very best not to wake him.

If he finds out that I'm leaving the room - or even the bed - without him, he'll throw a fit.

I swing my legs off the bed, step into my slippers, and quietly shuffle out of the room to the kitchen.

After a little while of seeing what we have, I settle for my current favorite craving: ice cream.

I take out one of the many containers of "Half Baked" from Ben & Jerry's that Josh got me yesterday, grab a spoon, take a seat on the counter, and dig in.

The flavor of the cookie dough and brownies mixed with the vanilla ice cream satisfy me immediately.

** Josh's POV **

Half asleep, I roll over to cuddle my lady some more.

When I feel an empty space and only bed sheets, I sit up immediately.

Where the hell is my girl?

"Baby?" I call, hoping she's just in the bathroom and that I'm overreacting.

When I get no response, panic starts to set in.

What if she's hurt?

What if she fell?

What if something happened to our baby?

Fuck!

I quickly hop out of bed and search all over the room.

From the closet, to the bathroom, to even under the bed - she's nowhere to be found.

I throw on some sweatpants and a hoodie, and race downstairs to grab my keys from the key hook near the front door.

I need to find my lady. And fast.

Just when I'm about to unlock the front door, I hear a familiar voice call from the kitchen.

"Baby?" Gianna calls from, what sounds like, the kitchen.

I instantly spin around and, when I see her, I fall to my knees in relief.

"Gianna," I say breathlessly. "Thank God."

She walks over to me and places a comforting hand on my back. "Baby what's wrong? Where are you going?"

I look up at her. "I couldn't find you and I panicked. Babe, it's 3:30 in the morning. Whatchu even doing up at this time?"

She takes a deep breath before responding. "I had a craving. And I didn't wanna wake you after all the stress you've been under lately."

She rubs her belly when saying that last part.

I hang my head, still trying to watch my breath, before standing up.

"Baby," I say, looking down at her and cupping her face. "I don't give a fuck if I'm up for two days straight and finally getting some rest. You need to tell me when you plan on going anywhere. So I can be with you."

She bites her lip and looks me in the eyes before responding. "Joshua, I'm pregnant. Not crippled."

"What?" I ask, tilting my head.

Where is this coming from?

Since when is me looking out for her an issue?

"Ever since I showed you that the test came back positive," she begins, tears starting to form in her eyes. "You've been super overprotective. And don't get me wrong, I love you for caring about me. For caring about our baby. And I know it's gonna pay off when he or she comes. But I need some freedom before I explode."

** Gianna's POV **

After finally telling Josh how I've been feeling, he just sits there with an unreadable expression on his face.

Is he mad?

Is he offended?

Fuck!

Why would I do this?

How could I do this?

After a long silence, I finally decide to speak up again and break it. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

As tears begin to roll down my face, I look down.

I hear Josh take a deep breath before gently lifting my face up by my chin.

"You don't need to be sorry," he reassures under his breath. "Because you're right."

My face goes from regretful to confused. "I am?"

"You are,” he replies with a soft smile on his face, stroking my cheek with this thumb.

"I've been so overprotective about you and our baby," he continues, reaching out and stroking my side. "That I didn't even take a second to think about how it might overwhelm you."

I bite my lower lip gently, not responding.

"The truth is," he speaks up again. "I'm scared to death. I'm scared to be a father for the first time. I'm gonna be responsible for a human being for the rest of my life. For the rest of our lives. And I've been one big ass worrywart. I'm sorry, baby."

He sniffles and lowers his head, wiping his tears away with his sleeve.

I just sit there watching, allowing the comfortable silence to roll on, not knowing what to say.

It’s not because I don’t wanna comfort him, but because he’s never opened up about the baby like this.

It’s almost comforting in a way, to know that he cares this deeply.

Of course I knew he does, but to hear him finally be vocal about his feelings, it means so much to me.

"I'm scared too," I finally reply, my voice just over a whisper, fiddling with my fingers.

He lifts his head again and allows our eyes to meet once more. “Really?"

I nod, giving him a soft smile. "Terrified. But I know that once baby is here, we're gonna rock parenthood. And we're gonna rock it together."

He smiles back and gently kisses my forehead before pressing ours together. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," I reply, wrapping him into a hug. "You're gonna be the best daddy."

He immediately hugs back, kissing my shoulder and rubbing my back.

Once we pull away, he cups my face and we share a deep and passionate kiss.

"Half baked?" he asks, licking his lips once we pull away.

"Only the best flavor," I respond, folding my arms and smirking.

He gives me a mean mug. "Girl, hell nah. Cherry Garcia is where it's at."

"I guess we all can't have good taste," I tease before rolling my eyes playfully.

"Girl bring yo ass-" he squeezes my cheeks and pulls me in by my face for another kiss.

I giggle against his lips and, hand in hand, we make our way back upstairs to the bedroom.

He helps me back into bed and hops in himself afterwards.

Once we get comfortable, he lays on his stomach and rubs my belly.

"Daddy can't wait to meet you," he coos, feathering light kisses onto it. "And he loves you so much."

I lean my head back on the pillow and smile softly, playing with his hair.

I can't wait to watch him experience fatherhood - he's gonna be the best dad in the world.

Liked by uceyjucey, jonathanfatu, trinity_fatu, rikishi, and 91.3k others

giannamacri ⏳🖤

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uceyjucey Proud of you baby 🫶🏽

jonathanfatu Can't wait ❤️

trinity_fatu SO EXCITEDDD 🥹😭😍

Liked by giannamacri, jonathanfatu, wwe, romanreigns, and 176.5k others

uceyjucey Strongest woman I know 🖤

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giannamacri best daddy in the world 🔜 🥹🫶🏽

jonathanfatu Love yall ❤️

wwe So happy for you two! 🥰

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