#but he’s got his family by his side so he knows everything will be ok 🥰

[alientee]

Shimmer Head

Ekko x reader

6k+ words

Fem reeader

Hazbin hotel Easter egg included. Addicted song describes reader.

Warning: suicidal thoughts and actions, drug use not by choice though.

Im sorry it took so long yall I’ve been crocheting blankets for Christmas and life has been lifting with work

You were an anomaly, or at least that’s what Silco called you. Apparently he saved you at birth; one calm walk through Zaun's lanes, and your mom was an overdosing shimmer head who was getting her last fix before she pushed you out. You survived. This was something Silco never thought possible; even when you looked like a shivering, whining skeleton, you were strong, a survivor, and from that day on, you were his daughter.

As life went on, you got stronger, faster, and a little more insane; your eyes changed, looking like a wild mix of two different colors. You changed so much it confused you every day to see yourself. How the voices in your head would go from telling you to slaughter everyone to offing yourself.

Silco had you microdosed with shimmer ever since you were a newborn till now, and you handled it each and every time. You were his creation, his wild card. Even as a child, he had you by his side with torture, robbing, and meetings. You’ve done it all. There were days the voices really did get to you; sometimes it was better to hurt yourself rather than to crash. You can remember the times Silco had to stop you from hurting him and yourself. The scars on your arms, the bloodstains left on your clothes, the burn scars from throwing bone down without any care, ready to give it all up. Either you survived, or Silco was just in time.

So when you first met Jinx, your first thoughts were, This poor kid, she’s just a dreamer.

But she followed you around everywhere, calling you sis, saying she’d never leave your side, she’d never leave you no matter what. Not like her sister did. You didn’t believe her; how could you? No one but Silco ever saw you; he’s the only one that loved you.

Until she followed you to a club one night.

You spin around in the chair, listening to the grungy punk music, drunk, horny prowlers, angry wannabes, and goofy dancers mixing into the crowd. You sit in your chair in the corner of the club, drink in one hand, revolver in the other. One bullet, one drink—it was all a game to you. The gun clicked three times, and you took three shots before it was snatched from your hand. And lo and behold, it was your new shadow coming to ruin the fun.

“Hey, what gives, Blue Jay!”

“How are you going to be the big shot legacy Silco says if you're dead, dumbass!”

“It’s none of your business!”

“We’re family now, so yeah, you are!”

“You going to love me even if I try to kill Silco in his sleep?”

“I’d still love you even if you killed me with him.”

Family, huh?

“Fine.”

For the first time you didn’t take your game too far, or get fucked up and pass out behind the bar; you didn’t even have a mental breakdown.

At least the voices got quiet for a while.

After a while you started to think of Jinx as a sister. Someone you could confide in, someone who gets you. Was Silco the best dad? Nah, but he was all you had. Now you know he had Jinx too. You thought everything was ok; you could be happy with your found family; even if you were broken, you still had people to fix you up, so everything was fine.

At least you genuinely believed everything was alright.

Until Jinx’s actual sister showed up, calling her Powder, the hugging, the crying, the family reunion was cute. You haven’t seen Jinx this vulnerable in a while. Everything was calm until some Piltie came out, and then the moment was gone. Jinx threatens the redhead with the gun, and boom, the Firelights had you all surrounded.

“Jinx, if you want your sister back, you gotta be smart about this.” The silence you got back let her know she was thinking up something stupid.

Smoke and ash covered the air, bullets flying and fighting at every turn. The firebugs just didn’t know when to quit, always trying to get into business that isn’t theirs. It was fun knocking them off their boards every once in a while. You’ve faced them before with Jinx killed a couple of times; you didn’t kill any of them, though. Never had the guts to really kill innocent people; you didn’t want to know what the voices would say if you did. You didn’t want to lose yourself all the way.

As always, Jinx is shooting bullets every which way in the sky, which wasn’t bad, but using bombs to blow up the platform is very bad. Your body hurt, your ears were ringing, and you could barely breathe. You tried calling out for Jinx but got no answer. You finally dragged yourself up; you can see some fire bugs down, but you couldn’t see Jinx. Couldn’t see her sister. Didn’t even see the body lying dead somewhere.

Huh, you were all alone.

Then it dawned on you: Jinx did it on purpose. She really was a genius, truly. She blew up the platform, making a distraction; a lot of people were down and out. Nobody could see what was happening; some too injured to chase.

Looks like she could only carry her sister to safety, though.

You’ll never leave me no matter what, huh?

Hehehehehe, yeah right!

You could finally breathe again and got the strength to stand up. It was all just so funny, really.

Bunch of bullshit hahahahaha

You didn’t notice anything going on around you, the shuffling of people standing; you didn’t feel all the cautious eyes on you. Not that you cared; all you cared about were the voices screaming at you so loud you could swear your ears were bleeding.

Walking towards the edge of the platform is easy. Turning around and giving a mock salute to the firelights with a smile on your face was easy. But dropping to your death knowing the last thing playing in your headphones was your and Jinx's song, it fucking burned every lyric you tried to sing just turned to ash in your mouth.

But at least now the voices would stop forever. The air rushed through your ears and then nothing.

Out like a light

You woke up in an eerily dark room; honestly, it was predictable. Down to the moldy smell, the silence, and the creepy guy in the corner with a mask. And you honestly should’ve been more mad at yourself for getting saved; you couldn’t even die in peace!

“Why am I alive, dammit!”

The silence was so annoying; there’s no need to try and be intimidating. You’ve seen worse. You hate people who try those tactics; you can’t torture someone who’s already tortured every day. Geez, just kill them if they don’t tell you what you want.

“Look, I’m not going to tell you shit, so just kill me already!”

And then the mask comes off. You don’t know him, but you knew him, apparently jinx’s past. The boy savior, she calls him; he looks just like she said he would. You also remember what she told you about him. “Better watch out; the boy savior likes to think he can save everybody.”

Ok, you can deal with a wannabe hero.

“Your on shimmer. You are an addict; Slico has you do his dirty work, and he gives you your next fix. Am I right?”

You’re really fucking wrong. Scratch that; you didn’t want to deal with the wannabe hero.

“So how about you tell me what I need to know, and you get to lay low somewhere secret and get off that shit before you try and die again while Silco just replaces you?”

The voices started to get louder, your throat tight and blood dripping from your palms for how tight you started to squeeze them. His words were like acid on your skin. Just who did this asshole think he was?

“First of all, dipshit, I’m his daughter! Ok, not some random street rat shimmer head he feeds. Second of all, shimmer makes people stronger. I should know; came right out of my druggie mom, still living and breathing, full of shimmer! I’ve been injected with it since Silco adopted me! He says I’m perfect; he says I'm his legacy. I don’t do his dirty work; I help him make Zaun better! So you're dead fucking wrong, wannabe!”

Now he’s looking at you like you’re crazy…. And you're used to that.

“This is better? Our people are dying all around us. Kids are abandoned! People are sick and starving. How is this better?”

“Blame Piltover! Duh!”

“It’s Piltover. And Silco, are you crazy??!!”

That word. It always did something to you. You didn’t care when people looked at you like you were... but calling you crazy? Different story. Something that made all the voices laugh, an itch in your brain that told you to break, hurt, destroy, kill, and show them your insane.

“FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU! Hahahahahahahahaha. All of Piltover and Zaun is going to burn you, and your fucking bugs are going to be ash! I’m not crazy. I’m perfect. I’m perfect he said”—

Your music!?! Where were your headphones?!!?

You were so numb, in a really dark place, you never fully remembered how your episodes went. When that singed guy injected you with your first microdose of shimmer, all you remembered was the screaming and Silco whispering how proud he was. But Ekko would remember it all even in his dreams. How you banged your head against the pole you were tied against over and over again. Crying tears of shimmer while laughing hysterically until blood dripped on the side of your head. Only to end up sobbing.

The voices screamed and screamed and screamed. Until they stopped, they never just stopped without music or silco. And you never had this heavy feeling over your ears without your headphones.

Oh, it’s this Ekko guy. What is he doing? Why is he holding his hands over your face? Why is he looking at you like that?

“I’m sorry. You’re not crazy. I promise, okay? Breath for me nice and slow.”

This was nice: everything quiet, everything nice and warm. This is new, huh?

“Hey!? Wai”—

Out like a light again

“She’s a danger to the base!”

“We can help her. She’s not like Jinx! She’s the product of a bad situation. She’s not with Silco because she wants to be; it’s because it’s all she knows.”

“She’s a mess; keeping her here is like bringing bullshit to our door!”

“He’s been injecting her with shimmer since she was an infant! We can’t kick her out!”

“Can y'all shut up sleeping here?”

Bat Guy and Ekko just stared at you.

“Look, I don’t care what you do to me; can I just have my damn headphones? The voices, ya know, they’re telling me to escape and kill everyone here. Soooooo, my earphones, pretty please.”

The boy wonder hands them over and puts them over your ears. And even with no music playing, everything feels peaceful. The whole time, he and Bat Boy are still going back and forth; this time you couldn’t hear it, though. Finally you get silence, if only for a moment. You almost bit Ekko when he moved one of them back off.

“Look, let’s compromise: you get a little freedom, supervised. And we get one shimmer shipment location… not the factory, just the shipment.”

“No bullshit babysitters; it’s you or nothing.”

“...fine.”

You could’ve told him to fuck off and die. Make him eat his sappy little words. But after the way he held your ears, he looked like a kicked puppy for making you freak out. How softly he said sorry. It was different; it was new. You didn’t do soft, not that much.Silco always told you to play your enemies, so maybe giving a little bait wouldn’t be too bad.

“Fine, boy wonder, I’ll give you a shipment that’s all.”

“Thank you.”

There he goes, looking at you like that again.

Like some kind of puppy. What a sucker.

Ekko took you outside, but you didn’t want to socialize, so he kept you both at a good distance from the others. While taking you out of the base, you didn’t want to look at anyone. If you saw any leering faces and judging eyes, you knew you’d lash out.

Oddly enough, you didn’t want to smack the fuck out of Ekko's face. Maybe a little bit, not a lot. You didn’t know what it was, but Ekko was calming; his presence was like a warmth in the dark murk of Zaun. You didn’t understand how he could be so... normal with all of this around him.

Maybe it was the fact that he actually took you out of the hideout and onto a roof to look over Piltover. You could’ve knocked him out, taken his board, and run. Why is he so stupidly trusting? “How do you do it?” He raises an eyebrow. “Do what?” You raise one back “Be so happy-go-lucky when we live in a place like Zaun.” That made him stop his steps, and he looks serious; you haven’t seen him unless he’s talking about shipments.

“I have to make a change for the people who can’t help themselves; I want to give people something to live for; the firelight is my way of doing that.”

And there he goes again, making your mind feel funny again. It sounds like he means it; everything Ekko says always sounds genuine, but somehow you can’t bring yourself to believe him.

“Alright then, help me by teaching me how to ride one of those hoverboard things.” Ekko’s eyes get wide, and his mouth even opens a little. “You want to learn? I’ve been trying to get you to do that for a week. What changed?” You didn’t want to let him know the real reason, so you decided to play it off.

“Just thought I could kick your butt at something, boy wonder,” he scoffed. You knew he hated the nickname; it was too fun teasing him to stop, though.

“Alright, alright. If you’re so confident, then I’ll teach you. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when you end up falling off a few times.”

“I’ll be a pro; just you wait and see.”

You were in fact not a pro. Your knees were scuffed, and the dirt on your clothes was a testament to just how many times you hit the dirt. “Sorry this is taking so long; I feel fucking stupid.” Ekko grabs your hands and pulls you up, grabbing the board. “Don’t; it takes everyone a minute to learn this is no different. How do you think I feel? I made it; I had to test it and fall a lot.” You give him a nod, deciding to take the board back with a little more confidence this time. “What a boy genius you are,” you got a snort in return.

“Now, remember, hoverboards are pretty sensitive. You have to find your balance and keep it steady. And be careful not to lean too far to one side or the other, or you’ll tip over.” Ekko watches you carefully as you mount the hoverboard, his arms crossed over his chest. The hoverboard begins to move forward as you lean, slowly at first, but steadily gaining speed.

You could hear Ekko yelling behind you, “There you go, you’re doing great! Just keep your balance and focus on the path ahead.”

“What about turns!? What if I fall??”

“Don’t worry; I’ll be right here to catch you if you fall.”

You got the hang of it after a while; you both went back to the base riding your hoverboard and even racing some of the kids. It was a good time, no responsibilities, no expectations. It still hurt you; there was no Silco, but at least you had distractions.

Ekko seemed to show up when he wasn’t asked; it’s like he knew when to butt into people's business.

He was there during your worst moments of loneliness. When the darkness was too much, when the voices kept repeating the insults louder and crueler. Telling you to kill yourself, that you're nothing, worthless, not good enough, burn the firelight base to the ground, and watch everyone around you die. You’ll only end up alone anyway. The smell of ash and blood, you could remember it by heart. Tears pouring out of your eyes continuously, you didn’t even sob. You had nothing to be sad about in the moment. You just naturally cried, and all you could do was scream, hoping I’d stop. Sitting in the dark waiting for it all to end. Thinking, hoping that just maybe one day you’d be blessed enough not to wake up.

It wasn’t until you felt Ekko's heavy gloves on your shoulder. Asking if you were ok, if you needed anything, if you needed him. Looking at you like you're the only thing that mattered in the moment. Moving to sit next to you, his shoulder lightly touching yours. “You don’t have to talk; just know I’m right here with you. I’m not going anywhere.” Those days were hard, but it always felt nice to have Ekko lying on the floor next to you, no words, just his company.

He even let you into his little workshop. His words: “You don’t have to knock. If you need me, just come in” You’d hand him his tools and use all the knowledge you had on tech to help. You used to make a lot of trinkets that helped your day-to-day life. You didn’t like to make weapons like Jinx, but you could make a mean bomb. You’ve even fallen asleep to his tinkering and his little nerd-out moments. “You're such a dork.” He wouldn’t even take his eyes off his invention.

“Shush if you're not going to help.”

“Touchy touchy. Here, let me look, boy genius.” When you actually put in effort to help him, he’d look at you from the side of his eye, and you’d pretend like you didn’t notice the small smile creeping up on his face. Sitting by his side until late at night, making new things to help out in the base. Both your giggles and the metal clanking were the only things heard at 3 am.

And that’s how it was for a month. Ekko is coming in, trying to coax you into giving up Silco; you give him a little info, and he folds and gives you what you want for the day. You had a good thing going. So why’d he want to ruin it now? You were fine seeing the kids; you made small talk with one of the firelight girls, but that’s it. Everyone else you dealt with in passing. So why was Ekko so set on you interacting with more people?

“How about we hang out with the group for a bit?”

“I’m fine; I hate people.”

“Look, I’m just trying to—“

“I don’t need help! I don't need friends! I—I need my dad; I need…. I need to feel in control. It still feels like I’m a fucking prisoner even if you say I’m not.

Ekko doesn’t talk for a minute; you can tell he’s trying to choose his words wisely, his white locs covering his face. “I don’t know what you see in Silco, even if he took you in…. You can’t tell me you truly see the good in what he’s doing.

You didn’t answer him. Afraid you’ll say something you’ll regret by lashing out. He didn’t get it; he didn’t get you! Silco was your dad; Silco helped you ignore the voices; he loved you even if he had a funny way of showing it.

“He’s not the best dad in the world, but he’s my dad. He helped me when I had no one. Doesn’t that count for something?”

Ekko didn’t answer you; it’s like he wanted to argue, but he knew you needed this.

“Just... just give it a chance; you may find your people.”

If he heard your scoff, he didn’t react to it.

I don’t have people; all I have is my dad and myself, even when I don’t love myself.

Ekko’s soft words pulled you out of your thoughts.

“You have me too.”

“Until how long, hmmm, till I run out of information?”

“That’s no—“

“Hey, Ekko, tell me how I survived the day I jumped.”

Ekko went back silent; he was giving you that look again, and you hated it. It’s like he saw everything within you, and it made you feel naked, like you couldn’t hide.

“Oh that… flew down to save you.”

“Why?”

“When you smiled at us before you fell, I thought you were asking for help.”

You giggled at that; only Ekko would think of saving his enemy who tried to off themselves in front of him. “Your something else, Sunflower.”

“Sunflower!? What kind of flower is that? We don’t have those in Zaun.”

“Alright, take me out or whatever it is you want.”

“D-don’t say it like that. Come on, I’ll introduce you to the kids.”

You never knew Zaun could look like this, or even have a tree, and now the name firelights makes sense: nothing but a lush green tree with the fireflies all around it. It’s peaceful, plush; it’s nice. You got a few looks here and there, but it’s fine; ekkos here, and you weren’t forced to hang out with who you didn’t want to.

And that’s how you spent your day bonding with Ekko and even the kids; they weren’t as judgy, and you appreciated it. Even when they had questions, it didn’t feel pointed. “Why do you always wear those things on your head?” your headphones; you never took them off, never could bring yourself to part from the one thing that helps stop the voices, no matter how battered and dingy they are. “They’re headphones. They help me when I’m scared or upset.” “Oooooh, I get it; my mask helps me! Makes me feel stronger!” “Good, use your strength to become the best firelight you can be.”

That’s how the day started and ended: you playing with the kids, running around, playing tag and hide and seek until the night came. The kids gathered around, using common objects around them to make a little band; music brings a lot of the firelights together, and somebody brings an actual scrap-made speaker playing louder music. Some even start to dance. And in this moment you couldn’t help but think maybe Ekko was right; maybe these people were ok.

You grab the overworking leader by the arm and pull him with you. “What is it?”

“Come on, Ekko, let’s dance!”

“Dance?”

“Yeah, you scared boy wonder?“

“Not at all, but um… why?”

“Who doesn’t like dancing!”

That’s when the music hits and nothing else matters. Ekko moves effortlessly, his body flowing in perfect harmony with yours. He keeps you close, his chest pressed against yours as he twirls you around. The world outside seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble. Your body’s moving in rhythm as the music gets Ekko pulls you closer, one hand resting on your waist while the other takes hold of your hand, spinning you. He begins to sway gently, guiding you in a slow dance. Holding each other’s sides, swaying back and forth. Every minute you got to look in Ekkos's eyes, seeing him smile at you like that did something to you; he really was something else.

You couldn’t let those eyes shake you, though. You knew it was only a matter of time before it all went to hell; no one really gives a damn about you, no one except Silco. But maybe if you were a better daughter, he would’ve found you by now.

Ekko could only look at you in confusion when you walked away from him, away from the gathering. He thought it was a good moment that he was finally getting through to you. But he wasn’t one to push, not when he knew what you’d been through, but he followed you up the stairs to the treehouse.

And when he found you, the silence was heavy but comfortable. That’s how it was with you too, and you’d never say it out loud, but he made you feel safe.

“Do you want to stay here?”

You timidly glanced into his eyes before you took a deep breath. “I don’t know,” you looked away, closing your eyes, trying to stop yourself from getting out of hand. Ekko hummed, leaving more silence in between you both, and then he asked another, “Even if you know Silco loves you, it isn’t healthy.”

You opened your eyes as a bitter taste remained in your mouth. Your face contorted into different expressions as you debated with yourself on whether or not you would share.

“My mother was a shimmer addict; she had me right as she overdosed. And Silco found me; I was different; I survived even with a small, premature body full of shimmer. He said I was unique, that I could change all of Zaun. I believe him. I’ve done a lot of great things… at least I think so. Even if you don’t agree with him, he saved me.

“But you're not okay—

“Don’t tell me what I am! I’m perfect as I am; he said so! I may not be normal, but I am living instead of surviving, Ekko! Can’t you see that?”

“I do. But you know what else I see? I see how happy you are riding your board; I see how sweet you are with the kids, especially when you steal yarn from the top side and crochet stuff for them; I see how you care for Raven when you think she’s not looking by finding her favorite things to surprise her without letting her know it was you; I see how you truly care for the people you're loyal to. You touch people's lives and leave light in your wake. I see how beautiful you are inside and out. You’re your own person, not what Silcos made you! You can do better than what he has you doing.”

“Is that what you’ve come up with in your mind? That I’m just this lost, misguided girl who was groomed to be fucked up? News flash! Boy Wonder, I’m in Zaun. I was going to be fucked up regardless of Silco! Who do you think I am, huh? Don’t act like you know me, 'cause you don’t! Stop trying to change me into something I’m not! I’m not some knockoff version of Jinx you can fix just because I decided to be nice a few times. What?! I’m your little powder passion project. Couldn’t save her, so you’re trying to save me because we both have family, daddy, and abandonment issues?!”

You knew it was a low blow, but even though she left you, you couldn’t help but think about Jinx’s words, taking them to heart, and everything she told you. “He likes to think he can save everyone.”

He narrowed his eyes at your response; you could see him clenching his fist and clenching his teeth. His eyes no longer looking at you with acceptance or worry like you were used to, only irritation

“I wasn’t trying to change her; I thought she was in danger. I didn’t know she went with that piece of shit willingly…. I thought I could save her; I needed to because she was my friend.”

“Ohhhhh, that’s right, you’re the boy savior!”

His eyes went from a glare to cold and lifeless.

“Fuck you. You know nothing; you only know Jinx's pain but not mine. You’re right about one thing, though: you and Jinx are similar. So I don’t know why I was stupid enough to try and help you; just like her, you don’t deserve it.” That just pissed you off more.

“I didn’t ask you to help me! I didn’t ask for you to save me from offing myself! I didn’t ask for you to try and fucking fix me or my life!”

“I’m not trying to change you; I’m trying to give you something better! A chance! Silco didn’t give you a chance; he used you! Your work, a tool! If you survived on shimmer this long since birth, you're proof that his product can lead to something greater than he thought. But it’s at the expense of you and your health.” His voice lowers, his breathing heavy. “Please… tell me you see it. You have to know that keeping you on shimmer as long as he has wasn’t to help you. Only him.”

In the back of your mind you knew; you always knew. And yet the faith he put in you gave your heart love you’ve never felt before. How he always stated he was proud of you, said you were the best thing to happen in his life, that you're his legacy, his daughter. But what was the cost for your heart, suicidal thoughts, breakdowns, nightmares, and dissociation? A mother that never wanted you, a father that loved you but not enough to see your pain, only your potential. “Hey Ekko, thank you. For saving me and making me realize. I don’t want people to end up like me... because I’m not ok.”

“Then let me he“—”. He didn’t get to finish before you pushed back, making him crash into the tree behind him. You jumped from the stairs on the tree; you didn’t care about the fall because it’s the freest you ever felt. You could hear the other fireflies yelling, but the adrenaline and the wind in your ears helped you ignore them. As soon as you fell, you pushed forward, not caring about the pain in your legs and ankles. Grabbing a hoverboard before speeding off and out of the hideout.

When Ekko got up, he didn’t chase you, nor did he call out for you; all he could do was watch. Scar rushed up to him, looking at him expectingly. “She’s going to go back to Silco!? We have to catch her before she rats us out!?” Ekko didn’t react to his words, only looking forward to where you had run. “Ekko!” And when Ekko finally looked at Scar, he just shrugged. “She’ll be back when she’s ready.” “She’s not coming back." Ekko, she’s been waiting for an opportunity to escape, and we let her!”

Ekko just shook his head, picking up something off the ground. “She’ll be back.” “How do you know!?” Ekko moved his hand in front of Scar, showing him what he picked up. “She left her headphones.” Scar just scoffed. “That doesn't mean anything.” Ekko just shook his head. “Trust me, if you knew her like I do, you’d know it meant everything.”

You wandered around one of Silco's biggest shimmer factories, where most of his shipments go. You walked around the rooftop, pacing back and forth. “I’m addicted to the madness~” You turned on your headphones, singing along, tuning out the noise below, scummy workers and henchmen everywhere. “Let me leave my soul a-burning; I’ll be breathing it in.” Sneaking down through the crawl spaces, you laid out bombs everywhere you could stick them. You set up trap after trap after trap after trap. You knew this place like the back of your hand, so it was easy to get in and get out.

“I’m addicted to the feeling, getting higher than the ceiling~” This place had meaning to you… this was the first place Silco took you when he felt like you were ready to work for him. The first place where he showed you the ropes was the same place he had you start your injections. The same place you had your first breakdown. This felt like a goodbye to the past, the pain, everything that made you feel inadequate. You don’t know what you’d be without Silco; you knew the voices would never fully leave, but at least with this you could let your dad know you were ok and that you were going your own way.

“Just concede and give in to your inner demons again~” You hit the button, and it all blew up—the building, the workers.

And you too. Hopefully, Silco can forgive you for not saying goodbye.

It’s been 3 months; Ekko waited for you to return. But after a while he could only assume you’d either gone your own way or something terrible happened. Missions still happened with no sign of you with Silco's goons, and there’s talk about the huge explosion that happened, so he couldn’t pinpoint what had happened to you; all he had to give him comfort about your departure was your headphones. He never touched them, only keeping them by his bedside with your memory lingering with him whenever there in his sight. But today at 12 am, he finally had the courage to tinker with them, hopefully fixing them up.

He was concentrating so hard he didn’t hear the door open; it was Scar. “Your stray is back,” and as soon as he came, he left.

“Hey sunflower,” he jumped and turned around so quickly you thought he’d fall out of the chair. He did slip a little as he rushed to hug you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to laugh.

“Missed me?” He squeezed your torso, chuckling a little. “Missed your humor, not your bullshit.” You poked at his side, making him jump. “Lies, you missed that too. Everyone else is boring.

He pulls you over to his patched-up couch, both of you plopping down. You lean into his touch, laying on his shoulder. Neither of you said anything; you didn’t need to. You don’t know what you expected when it came to his reaction. But you’re glad Ekko didn’t pressure you to talk about anything or question what you’d been doing. You’d tell him one of these days. The withdraws, breakdowns, you almost ending it all. But right now you just wanted to enjoy his company; being alone for months took its toll, so it’s good to be back in a warming presence.

It took everything in you to not go back to Silco, to everything that was easier. But you pulled it off, and you hope Ekko could see that you really are trying. “Was it you?” He spoke so softly you thought you just imagined it, but Ekkos looking into your eyes let you know it was real. And you knew what he meant; your explosion was nothing but destruction, but you wanted to leave that behind you. So you said the only thing that was closest to the truth. “I’m following my own path now, Ekko.” When you looked back at him, it almost took your breath away. Those stupid, big, brown eyes looking at you with so much warmth you could’ve melted right then and there. It made you sick.

“I’m happy for you... So you’re just visiting?”

“Geez, trying to kick me out already, huh?” He shook his head. “Of course not. I just…. I want you to be happy and go your own way, even if it’s not here with me.” You looked away, biting your cheek. “So what if I wanted to be happy here?”.

“Then I’d make a space for you right now; you’re always welcome.”

“Even in your room~”

“Yeah, you can stay with me if you want.”

You felt all your thoughts falter and come to a stop once the words were out of his mouth. You paused and looked at him, face red. “Easy there; we don’t want everyone jealous that the big boss in charge is playing favorites.” He pulls you so close, too close. His nose and forehead touching your own. You don’t know this Ekko, Ekko who always was too shy to flirt back, who was always the gentleman, who only gave fleeting touches like he was afraid to break you. “You are my favorite; you’ll always be someone special to me.” You couldn’t help pushing his buttons, not wanting him to see your face reddening.

“Leaders shouldn’t show favoritism, ya know. I’m going to need something for me to keep quiet; wouldn’t want to hurt the kiddies feelings, would you? out of all the things you expected Ekko to say, you didn’t expect what he’d do.

Ekko leans down, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. It’s slow and tender; the brush of his lips is so soft. He takes his time, savoring the feel of your lips against his, pouring all of his love and affection into the kiss. He leaned back and smiled warmly as he continued to gently caress your cheek. He looked at you with a soft, affectionate expression, his gaze filled with adoration thatyou’d noticed before. You just never had the guts to call him out on it.

“Is that enough to keep you quiet?”

“It's a start.”

[brummiereader]

@mischievouslittlecreature Lizzie, please stop 😩...

Another chapter that has me raging internally at Lizzie's misplaced superiority in Tommy's life and Arrow House 😤. She's never gonna give it a rest, is she?

My heart broke for Lucy when she was watching them during their boardgame. I hate how she misinterprets those moments she sees between them for a happy family 😭.

As Lucy watched, Lizzie’s hand came to rest on Tommy’s thigh, her long, pale fingers inching towards brushing against his. Arghhh, Tommy! Why didn't he swat her hand away 🤦🏼‍♀️?? This was such a crushing scene for her to have to witness. No fucking wonder she feels the way she does all the time!

His eyes widened, and she heard him call her name softly but she pretended not to hear, walking briskly towards the stairs. Immediately she felt bad. It was not her intention to make him feel guilty for prioritizing his family over her. Am I cruel? I feel like I'm cruel, but I want him to feel guilty for this. Lucy has drawn the short straw ever since his major fuck up. And Lucy is his family too 😭!

The next part with Lizzie, enraged me! I can't believe she "changed her mind" which I believe wasn't her having a change of heart but her playing her next move in her endeavour to have Tommy all to herself. I'm genuinely starting to think that that was her plan all along, because she agreed to this arrangement far to quickly for someone that has shown so much hate towards everything.

Yeah, well, she would never pull this kind of shit on me in the first place. She bends over backwards to make you happy and comfortable and all you do is treat her like garbage.” - Tommy rounded on her. “Stop making it out to be more than it was! We fucked in a dark dirty canal while I was thinking of someone else. That’s all.” FINALLY! He's telling her how it is! I know this was a pretty hurtful and a harsh thing for him to say, but I feel like she needed to hear it. She's deluded herself into believing that that quick shag was more than what it was, and that's exactly where she went wrong with it all.

Arghh 👌🏼😍!! Their reunion sex was so hot! You had me at this line 🥴... He froze, slowly lifting his face to look at her. “Feel,” he took her hand, sliding it down to cup his crotch, where his cock was already bulging in his slacks. His fingers flexed around hers, encouraging her to squeeze slightly around him. “Feel how much I still want you, Lucy.” I'm weak 😩! I can't explain to you how sultry how steamy this was. I live for these moves he makes. It exudes that confident, passionate side to him I love to see between him and Lucy.

Don’t stop,” he half begged once they separated for air. His mouth dropped open, breathing heavily and letting her hear him as he drew closer to his climax. Another hot line! Them kissing is enough to have them both falling over the edge...I love it 🥴!

It's honestly a relief to see Lucy just relax for once 😂. He's the one that stops that constant nagging of thoughts in her head, and he's the only one that can reassure her enough for her to understand that she will always be his only girl! I just wish Lizzie would get the memo. Hopefully she did after hearing some hard truths from Tommy!

I'm on edge as much as Lucy with Lizzie's yo-yo cattiness 🙈. It's so hard to see her step around her bratty behaviour like she's a guest in Lizzie and Tommy's house. And as much as they were able to open up and clear the air in this scene, Lizzie still opened with this line...“And yet you’re not going to stop doing it.” she agreed to this arrangement !! I swear I'm gonna be pulling my hair out by the time this season ends 😬! Imagine if Lucy turned around and said "Well, you spoiled mine and Tommy's fun when you got knocked up"?? Tommy was never hers to begin with, and it's like she's playing the betrayer wife or something. It's so hard to understand the way her brain works 🤦🏼‍♀️!

Ok so we left on a better note with Lizzie, for now 😬. But it never lasts long. Can we have Dian make an entrance so Lizzie can turn her vengeance to her and give Lucy a break 😂? Maybe having a common enemy will do the trick 🤭?

Amazing as always hun! Excited to read more 😍.

Part 22: This Misery We've Made

Summary: Tommy has to make a choice of which woman he will pledge himself to.

Word Count: 7,520

Warnings: Jealousy, depression, smut, and infidelity (sort of).

Notes: I am so sorry for the high word count of this chapter. I just couldn't find a good place to break it in two. Tommy's a bit of an idiot here, but he is trying.

Thank you to everyone who has read this fic! I have been absolutely blown away by the reception it has gotten. If you enjoyed this and are looking for more like it, I am planning to post another fic set in this same timeline that takes place during season 5, and manages to be somehow even more angsty than this one. So keep your eyes open for that if you're interested!

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Part

Chapter 5: Promises

“Miss. Winters.”

Lucy looked up, startled out of the sharp focus she’d been concentrating onto the papers in front of her. Frances was standing there near her desk, peering at her from over the tray of steaming food clutched in her hands. 

“Mr. Shelby wanted me to bring this for you. He didn’t want you to go hungry.”

Lucy frowned, capping her pen and setting it aside. Grabbing a stack of papers, she moved them out of the way to make room on her desk for the tray. “They’re having dinner?”

“Yes, Miss. They were just finishing, I think.”

“Oh. I didn’t know.”

Frances frowned. “Mrs. Shelby told me that you were working and wouldn’t be able to eat with them this evening.”

“Ah.” That made sense, then. Frances stuttered. 

“I’m sorry if there’s been a miscommunication…”

“It’s alright. Don’t worry about it,” Lucy waved away her apologies. “Thank you for bringing the tray.”

Frances nodded, and departed from the room. Fingertips rubbing together, Lucy glanced over at the plate on her desk. Piled upon it was a filet of salmon, some potatoes, and steamed vegetables. Picking up the fork, she picked idly at the fish, flaking it but bringing only a few mouthfuls to her lips. Her appetite was nonexistent.

Something in Lizzie had changed. That much was clear. Whatever warmth or amiable attitude towards her and the arrangement they’d agreed upon prior to the wedding had evaporated. She must have changed her mind about being okay with Tommy remaining involved with her. Or maybe this was her plan all along; to get Tommy legally bound to her and then push Lucy out. 

She could not say for how long she sat there, staring into space and picking at her food. When she looked up at the clock, it was to find that it was a lot later than she’d expected. Fucking hell, had it really been that long since she’d watched Tommy and Lizzie depart with the children for their picnic? 

Pushing away from her desk, she made her way out of her office with mechanical movements. In her mind, she debated whether or not she should even try to seek out Tommy wherever he was in the massive house. Probably with his wife. Enjoying their time together. 

She’d just leave them be, she decided, taking the route towards the stairs to head to bed. He clearly didn’t want to see her, considering it had been hours and he hadn’t even stopped by her office after they got back from their outing. She’d hate to pop their happy little bubble more than she already had.�� 

On her way to the staircase she passed by the library. The door leading inside was slightly cracked open, revealing a sliver of golden light. From within, she caught snippets of chatter and laughter. Footsteps coming to a stop, she stared at the wooden door, the feeling of being left out sitting like a rock inside her chest. 

Unable to stop herself, despite knowing it would only cause her pain, she shuffled forward to peek through the small crack between the doors.

Tommy, Lizzie, and Charlie were all crowded around a table, playing a board game together. Tommy and Lizzie were seated next to each other on a couch, both laughing at something Charlie must have done during his turn. As Lucy watched, Lizzie’s hand came to rest on Tommy’s thigh, her long, pale fingers inching towards brushing against his. 

 A crushing sensation squeezed harshly at Lucy’s heart. She took a staggering step back, hoping to escape before any of them spotted her, but Tommy’s eyes lifted before she could fully dart out of view from the doorway. Maybe he had sensed her there. Or maybe it was just her movement in the corner of his eye that caught his attention. 

“Lucy?” he straightened, and the way that the small smile that had been playing on his lips as he watched his wife and child fell just about killed her. It felt like she’d burst in on a private moment that she had no business being a part of. As if with just her presence alone she had ruined all the fun and joy he was experiencing. 

“I was just going to bed,” she said, so that they knew that she had no intention of intruding further. “So, erm…goodnight.” 

“Goodnight, Lucy,” Charlie said, despite most of his concentration being focused on moving his piece across the board. Lizzie said nothing, but Tommy scrambled to his feet, crossing the room to her before she could back away. 

“Hey,” he spoke gently, taking her gently by the arm. “I’m sorry. Frances said you were busy, and Charlie wanted to play–”

“It’s fine.”

He blinked, concern filling his eyes. “Love–”

“It’s late,” she shrugged him off. “I’m going to bed.”

“Dad, it’s your turn!” Charlie called. Lucy started to retreat away. So that he could return to his family.  

Tommy tried to reach out for her again. “I’ll be there in just a minute.”

Pausing, she looked back at him. “It’s fine if you don’t.”

His eyes widened, and she heard him call her name softly but she pretended not to hear, walking briskly towards the stairs. Immediately she felt bad. It was not her intention to make him feel guilty for prioritizing his family over her. The breaths leaving her lips turned shaky. Hands stuffing into her pockets, her head bowed, she began the walk through the winding halls to her room. Tucked far in the back of the house, away from the main apartments, where hardly anyone ever wandered. 

Hidden out of sight, out of mind. She wondered if he knew she had moved rooms. And if he did, if he knew where she was. 

If he would even try to come looking for her.   

∗ ∗ ∗

“Alright, Charlie, mate, it is well past your bedtime,” Tommy said, gesturing to Frances who was hovering by the door, ready to take him up to his room.

“Aw, c’mon, just one more round!” Charlie whined. 

“Yes, Tommy, just one more,” Lizzie agreed, smiling around her cigarette. Tommy narrowed his eyes at them. 

“I don’t know if I like this with you two ganging up on me.”

They both smiled innocently. 

“Pleaseeeeeeeeeeee,” Charlie begged. Tommy chuckled, ruffling his hair fondly. 

“I’ve had a long day, son. I’m tired. Maybe tomorrow, eh?”

Charlie pouted a little, but relented, saying goodnight to both him and Lizzie before taking Frances’s outstretched hand and letting her lead him away.

“Right,” wedging his cigarette between his lips, Tommy eyed the door that led out to the main staircase eagerly. Anxiety constricted within his chest.  

It’s fine if you don’t.

God, he was such a fucking shit. He should have gone after her immediately, or at the very least invited her to join them. But she had practically run away from him before he could get the chance. 

The day was almost over, and he had barely gotten to spend any time with her. 

“I’m going to bed. If you need anything, just pull the cord in your room and a maid will come around.”

“Tommy, wait!” Lizzie’s voice was strained with agitation, her eyes suddenly frantic. “Why don’t…why don’t we go for a walk on the grounds?”

Tommy took a long drag from his cigarette, eyes narrowing. “Lizzie, it’s dark out.”

“B-but we could–”

“Lizzie,” he wasn’t shouting, but his voice was firm, stopping her in her tracks before she could say any more. “Enough. I know what you’re trying to do. And you need to stop.”

Her jaw clenched, and while anger entered her face, the desperation in her eyes did not cease. “I just…I thought…”

He sighed, turning to face her fully. “You knew what this arrangement was going to look like,” he was mindful to keep his voice calm, not wanting to be unkind. It was understandable that she might struggle with it all at first. But that didn’t mean that he was going to suddenly go back on all the promises he’d made to Lucy. “I gave you a whole week in Paris. I need to go back to her now.”

“No, you don’t.” She rose to her feet, going to him and resting her hands on his arm. 

“Lizzie, this is what you agreed to–”

“I changed my mind,” she blurted out. Tommy stared at her, lips half parted, eyes wide. Horror twisted deeply in his chest. No. Oh, God, no, Lizzie, for fuck’s sake…

Of course he had known that this was a possibility, but after he and Lucy worked so hard to double and triple check that Lizzie was alright with their arrangement, and to impress upon her how things were going to be, he had hoped she would have known better than to hope for more than what he was explicitly offering her. 

He felt his features harden. “Well, I haven’t.”

Lizzie’s features twitched. He could see her trying to keep her vulnerability hidden behind a facade of sternness, but there were cracks forming in the mask. Especially in her eyes.

“We agreed to a very specific type of marriage, Lizzie. Just because you’ve decided to go back on that, doesn’t mean that I have any obligation towards you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “The rings on our fingers and our marriage license say otherwise.”

“For fuck’s sake,” he rubbed a hand across his eyes. “How many times did we ask if you were alright with the deal we were presenting you with, huh? Are you fucking kidding me, Lizzie!?” He pulled back, shaking her hands off of him and half turning away from her. A headache was starting to build behind his eyes. When he looked back at her it was to find Lizzie watching him, hands playing with the buttons on the front of her dress. There was still a tendril of hope in her eyes. 

“What do you want from me?” he asked defeatedly. Lizzie swallowed, lifting her chin and squaring her shoulders.

“I don’t want you to see her ever again.”

He shook his head. “That’s never going to happen. I’m not leaving her, Lizzie. Not ever. I don’t know how many more times I have to tell you that before you understand–”

“You would never treat her like this!” Lizzie exploded, the mask she’d been trying to keep carefully in place over her features shattering. Bitterness laced her voice as she spat the words out. “If it was the other way around, you would do what she asked of you in a heartbeat!”

He winced at the truth in her words. She was right. He would always prioritize Lucy’s desires. It wasn’t fair to Lizzie. She deserved better. But for fuck’s sake, she knew all of this going into things. It wasn’t like they’d pulled a blindfold over her eyes and tricked her into marrying him with promises of more than what he could offer. He had been as upfront as he knew how on what a marriage to him would be like for her. 

She said she was okay with it. Had she been lying? Had she intended to trap him all along? Or did she think she could handle things only to realize that she was in over her head after the fact? Or was she still that delusional to believe that he would somehow have a change of heart once the rings went on and the honeymoon was finished?

“Yeah, well, she would never pull this kind of shit on me in the first place. She bends over backwards to make you happy and comfortable and all you do is treat her like garbage.”

Shame entered Lizzie’s face, head dipping to stare down at the floor while her arms wrapped around herself. 

“It’s not personal.”

“You hate her.” He accused, feeling his own resentment and bitterness begin to burn in his eyes. 

“No, I don’t! But she has you and it’s not fair! I’ve been in your life longer. We created a child together—”

Tommy rounded on her. “Stop making it out to be more than it was! We fucked in a dark dirty canal while I was thinking of someone else. That’s all.”

Lizzie’s eyes widened and grew glassy with tears, and he immediately felt bad. But God, he didn’t know how else to make her understand…

Silence hung heavily between the two of them

“Tommy, I love you,” Lizzie said in a quiet voice. He could hear the hope in it still. For fuck’s sake, woman, he thought, closing his eyes. In his head, he debated whether or not to tell her that she didn’t. That you couldn’t love someone who you didn’t really know. Who you didn’t understand.

He opened his eyes, and forced himself to meet her hopeful gaze. “I’m sorry.” He saw something in Lizzie crack at the words, but forced himself to go on, despite the self loathing he felt for hurting her. “I love Lucy. If you’re forcing me to choose between you two, it’s going to her, Lizzie. It always will be. That does not mean you aren’t important, or unwelcome here. We want you and the kids here with us. We already have an arrangement sorted out. One you agreed to, remember? And we’re willing to make adjustments and compromises here and there, within reason. But I love her and that isn’t going to change. It’s up to you if you can make peace with that or not.”

“And if I can’t?”

“Then we need to talk about other options.”

She looked at him as if he’d just hit her. 

Swiping a hand across his brow, brushing his fringe to the side, he shifted from foot to foot, suddenly feeling the need to try to somewhat soften the blow. “Look, give it some time before you make a decision. Let yourself get adjusted. It might not be as bad as you think.”

The clock on the mantle chimed. Lizzie was still hugging herself, looking seconds away from tears.    

“I have to go,” Tommy said. “I promised her.” He looked deep into Lizzie’s eyes, begging her to understand. But she said nothing, just staring at him with wounded, hate-filled eyes. He sighed. There was nothing really left to be said. As he walked past her to get to the door, he reached out to touch her arm. “I’m sorry.”

She winced away from his touch, turning her back to him. Tommy felt his heart sink at her pain but kept on moving, figuring that it might be better to leave her alone. 

He went to the library door, opening and stepping through it. Right before he closed it behind him, he heard the sounds of Lizzie starting to cry.

His hand hovered over the doorknob, considering, and then retracted, slipping back into his pocket. With hasty footsteps he retreated away from the library, heading towards Lucy. And away from the sounds of Lizzie’s heartbreak.

∗ ∗ ∗

Lucy stared at herself miserably in the mirror. Hands flexing into fists against the tabletop of the vanity, she was half tempted to smash the reflection of the pathetic, pale, ugly girl staring back at her. She had finished wiping off her makeup, scrubbing perhaps a tad too aggressively at the sensitive skin of her face. And then she’d caught herself fluffing at her hair and adjusting the lay of her lacy red nightgown, and felt so damn stupid. What was the point? He wasn’t coming.

Lizzie had obviously changed her mind about being alright with everything. And maybe Tommy had too. It was over. 

Her eyes squeezed shut painfully at the thought, hands bracing on the edges of the basin in front of her until her knuckles turned white. How ridiculous she felt, to have ever thought that the arrangement they’d made with Lizzie would work. 

Should she start packing her things now, or wait until he gave her the official order to get out of his house?

She opened her eyes, wiping at her nose with the back of her hand and sniffling, swallowing down tears. It was amazing just how quickly everything had fallen apart.

Unable to stand looking at herself any longer, she abandoned the sink to shuffle her way into the bedroom. 

Golden light from the lamps set on the two nightstands on either side of the bed illuminated the room. Shivers wracked down Lucy’s spine from a chill that she was pretty sure was the result of a draft somewhere by the window. The staff had tried to keep the layout of the room the same as it had been in her previous quarters, but everything was just more cramped in the smaller space. Lucy was suddenly struck with a stab of claustrophobia; the feeling settling nauseatingly alongside the tightness of unshed tears already in her throat. 

Rubbing at her forehead, she took a step towards the bed, just reaching for the sash on her dressing gown to remove it when the door opened. 

Tommy’s expression was tightened with stress and exhaustion when he first stepped into the room, but it softened when his eyes landed on her. Features relaxing, a small smile found its way onto his face while he closed the door behind him with a soft click.

“Took me a while to find you. I had to ask Frances what room you were in.” He took a step forward, head cocking. “What are you doing all the way out here in this part of the house? No one comes to this wing much except for the maids.”

“Lizzie moved me here. She had the servants switch around my things during the wedding and reception.”

He frowned, inching even closer to her, eyes taking in the dimly lit bedroom. “You don’t have to stay in this room just because she says so.”

“It’s fine. It might be for the best that she and I aren’t that close to each other anyway.”

He reached out and touched her face, angling her head up so she was looking at him rather than the floor. His thumb traced the shape of her lips, eyebrow quirking slightly. “You didn’t think that I would come.” It wasn’t an accusation or a question, just a simple statement. Lucy shrugged.

“She seemed very intent on keeping you with her.”

“I made you a promise.”

“You’ve made promises to her too.”

His head tilted. “I’d rather keep the ones I’ve made to you.” 

He made a move to kiss her, palms coming to rest on her hips, but she stopped him with a hand on his chest. Her eyes searched his face, not even entirely sure what she was looking for. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked, voice suddenly very hoarse. 

“Do what?”

She looked at him sadly. “Cheat on your wife.”

He frowned. “I’m not sure if what we’re doing really counts as cheating…”

“I doubt Lizzie sees it that way.”

His gaze lowered, thumbs beginning to rub circles into her waist. “She just needs time to adjust.”

“Tommy, she’s changed her mind. It’s obvious. She wants a real marriage with you.”

“That’s her problem. We both did our part to make sure that she knew what she was signing up for. She really has no leg to stand on if she’s shocked about it now.”

“Was she upset when you left to come see me?”

He didn’t answer, gaze darting away again.

“She was, wasn’t she?”

“That’s not your responsibility.”

“My presence is the reason she’s getting her heart broken–”

“No.” Something sharpened stubbornly in his eyes, his grip tightening on her. “Don’t you dare try to put responsibility for Lizzie’s bad decision making onto yourself. She knew I wasn’t going to stop being with you. And she agreed to marry me anyway. That was her choice. We didn’t force her into it.” He cupped her face urgently. “It isn’t your fault if she’s miserable.”

“It’s hard not to feel like it isn’t…” 

“I know. I know. But love…even if you weren’t a factor at all, I doubt that I would be faithful to Lizzie.” He shot her a sheepish look. “I don’t love her. At least not the way that she wants me to. If anyone’s to blame for her unhappiness, it’s me. Not you.”

She smoothed her hands along his chest, leaning forward until her forehead rested between his pecs. Tommy embraced her tightly, rubbing her back.

“I thought you might’ve changed your mind too,” she mumbled. He drew back only far enough to look into her eyes. That stubbornness that she’d grown so fond of, despite how exasperating it sometimes was, had taken root in his blue irises. 

“I’m not going to change my mind. I’m not going to leave you or stop loving you.” Up and down, his thumb stroked across her cheek while his palm cradled it. His face was so close that she could feel the warmth of his breaths on her skin. The stubbornness in his eyes had transformed into earnestness. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Her bottom lip started to tremble, and her voice broke on her next words. “But maybe there’s no room for me…”

“Of course there is. Of course there is; there will always be room for you in my life.”

“Tommy,” she sighed, feeling as though the weight of the world was resting upon her. The guilt so encompassing she felt that it might swallow her whole. “You have other priorities now. You have a wife and children. I can’t…”

His brows furrowed, eyes turning stern. “If you’re asking me to not make you a priority, that isn’t something that I can do,” he shifted closer, wiping a stray tear she hadn’t even realized had rolled down her cheek. “You’ll always be a priority to me.”

“I can’t ask that of you.”

“You don’t have to ask. I’m giving it to you anyway.”

She lifted both hands to rest on his face, throat constricting hard with emotion at his words. One of Tommy’s large palms landed on top of hers, squeezing her hand. Face turning, he pressed a kiss to the center of her palm. Then he tipped his head down, so their foreheads could touch. A few more tears leaked from her eyes.

“This has been harder than I thought it would be.”

His strong hands pressed into the middle of her back, encouraging her to press herself closer to him. “Yeah,” he agreed, then looked away, clearing his throat. Lucy frowned at the change of expression in his eyes, something ashamed and deeply guilty entering them. 

“Tommy?”

“I feel like I’ve been unfaithful to you.” 

“What? Love, no…I said it was okay.”

He breathed in deeply. “Still. It was awful without you being there.”

Her thumb stroked the length of his cheek, raising up on her toes to get closer to him. “You didn’t betray me,” she said, lips almost ghosting over his. Tommy pressed himself even more firmly against her, leaning forwards and kissing the tears that still lingered on her cheeks. He raised his face enough to brush his nose with hers. 

“You’re not upset with me?”

“No, of course not. I was just scared you might change your mind about us, that’s all.”

His eyes softened, hands caressing her. “I would never. I love you.”

She drew in a shaky breath. “I love you too.”

He kissed her tenderly, lips at first only brushing over hers before pressing more firmly, hands gripping her tighter. She sighed into his mouth, lips parting to him, arms coiling around his neck. When his kisses migrated from her lips to her neck, and his hands started to palm at her needily, she let out a small, desperate sound, latching onto his shoulders while he started to fumble with the strings at the back of her nightgown. 

“Oh, I missed you,” he whispered, kisses growing more urgent against her skin. “Let me show you how much I missed you.”

She could only moan softly and tilt her head back as he pressed his lips to her chest, right under her clavicle. Fingers fumbling with the buttons holding his waistcoat closed, all the while she let him pull her nightgown from her body. His hands moved to help her in undressing him, shedding all his upper layers and drawing her back into the circle of his arms.  

He purred when his hand slipped up from her waist to cup one of her bare breasts, her breath hitching at his thumb running across her nipple. 

“My beautiful girl,” he tucked his face into her neck, kissing from behind her ear all the way down the column of her throat. “Come here,” he murmured, as if she were not already pressed flush against him. But his hands still tried to draw her in even closer.

Her chest tightened, fingers stroking along the back of his head. “You know, I was worried for a while that you didn’t want me anymore.”

He froze, slowly lifting his face to look at her. “Feel,” he took her hand, sliding it down to cup his crotch, where his cock was already bulging in his slacks. His fingers flexed around hers, encouraging her to squeeze slightly around him. “Feel how much I still want you, Lucy.”

A moan shivered from her lungs, lips parting so that when his mouth descended on hers, his tongue entered her mouth with ease. He kissed her harder, a hand on the back of her neck while the other curled over her hip, beginning to walk her backwards towards the bed. He moaned deeply while she palmed him through his trousers, hips twitching.

She let him press her back onto the bed, him taking but a moment to unfasten his trousers and slip them and his underwear off before joining her. He crawled on top of her, slotting himself between her legs and kissing her hungrily. Lucy cradled his jaw in her hand, nuzzling at him while he explored her mouth before beginning to move down her body, spending time palming and sucking on her breasts, tracing the scars that marked her body with his lips, and then seeking out her cunt with his mouth and thick fingers. With clever, practiced movements he coaxed her into arching her back and gripping his hair, thighs twitching in response to his movements.

Maybe it was selfish, or signified something else wrong with her, but any and all guilt–or thought at all, for that matter--regarding Lizzie vanished the second that he kissed her. It was wondrous, really, how she could feel so inconsequential and insecure one moment, only for those feelings to almost entirely evaporate when he touched her. 

Terrible as it may have been, her guilt for what she was doing to Lizzie did not outweigh the desire, love, and loyalty she held for him.

She cried out when he added a second finger inside of her, crooking it and pumping rhythmically while his tongue toyed with her clit. Her nails scraped against his scalp while her head fell back against the pillows, thighs twitching. All it took was a strategic curling of his fingers inside her, and she came with a hoarse cry. 

Perhaps it was good that they were tucked away in such a far corner of the house. At least they didn’t need to worry about being quiet. 

Tommy brought her down from her high gingerly, withdrawing his fingers and pecking her inner thighs before rising up onto his arms, hovering over her. He wetted his lips, dark tendrils of hair falling across his forehead, pretty blue eyes wide and gazing down at her softly. He was so beautiful it nearly made her want to weep, stunned that someone so gorgeous would ever even consider wasting their time on her.   

As if reading her mind, he smoothed a hand over her hair, cupping the side of her face and drawing their foreheads together. “You’re perfect,” he said, eyes roving over her, dropping his weight onto her. Not enough to crush her beneath him, but enough so that she could feel every inch of his torso pressing into her. “I don’t deserve you.”

Her brows drew in on each other. “Yes, you do.”

The look he gave he was affectionate yet somber. She stretched her head up to kiss him. 

“You do,” she insisted. “I love you. I don’t want anyone else but you.”

“I love you too,” he said hoarsely, burying his face in her shoulder, hissing as he reached down to guide his cock to her entrance. “I’ll always love you.”

She drew in a harsh breath as he sank into her, filling her completely with a singular deep thrust. Tommy made a sound of intense relief, face nuzzling deeper into the crook of her neck. Lucy latched onto him tightly, a sharp mewl leaving her lips, solace washing over her potently once they were fully joined. Hand seeking out hers, he entwined their fingers together as he started to move.

The thrusts he gave her were slow and deep, grunts and praises passing his lips against the shell of her ear. Lucy clung to his back, legs wrapping around him. Her head was, finally, blissfully empty of any and all thoughts save for the pleasure he was giving her. All she knew was the heavy comfort of him on top of her, and the stretch of his large cock fitting snugly inside her. 

“Tommy…” she spoke without really being aware that her lips were moving. “My Tommy…”

“Yours, all yours…” he agreed, still moving. Her eyes rolled in her head at a particularly deep thrust, trying to comprehend how in the hell she had managed to survive a whole week with him. Without this.

They belonged together; and their bodies knew it. Their coupling was as natural as breathing. His pelvis ground into her clit, making her see stars, and when she pulled his hair to lift his face from where he was sucking marks into her neck, he growled. Instantly, he knew what she wanted, kissing her open mouthed and desperate.

“Don’t stop,” he half begged once they separated for air. His mouth dropped open, breathing heavily and letting her hear him as he drew closer to his climax. Hips moving half frantically to meet each of his thrusts, Lucy scratched her nails down his shoulders, legs tightening around his waist. 

She teetered on the edge, wobbling like a trinket about to fall off the edge of a desk. Her walls squeezed and fluttered around him in warning, and when he reached between them to brush his thumb across her clit, she howled and clung to him for dear life. The barely-there touch was enough to send her careening off over the edge completely. Eyes rolling in her head, back arching, ankles pressing down harder into the small of his back, she came violently.   

Tommy shouted, grabbing onto her hard enough to bruise, but that was okay. She was holding onto him just as tightly. His cock twitched, then throbbed hard, and a contented moan emitted from low in his chest as he started to cum right after her.  

He thrusted a handful more times, prolonging both their orgasms and spilling languidly into her before coming to a stop, face pressed into her shoulder, back heaving up and down with exertion. Lucy realized that they were both covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Had they really been going at it that hard? She had been too lost in having him again to notice. 

She wrapped her arms around his back, nuzzling at the side of his head while they both caught their breath. He was trembling a little against her, face turning to kiss her shoulder a few times before pulling out and moving to lay beside her.

It fully hit her then. Seeing him return to filling the space that for the past week had been left vacant was enough to do it. He had come back to her. He had kept his promise. She wasn’t going to lose him. 

Tears clogged in her throat, emotion almost entirely overwhelming her. Tommy’s arm hooked around her, pulling her into his chest. Immediately she snuggled into the warmth of his bare skin, head laying atop the patch of hair between his pectorals. His fingers stroked along the ridges of her spine, cheek moving to rest on the top of her head. Every once in a while his face turned to press kisses against her hairline. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked quietly after a moment. Lucy dragged in a shaky breath. 

“I think I will be.”

“Don’t worry about Lizzie. I expect that things will be as they always have with her. She’ll have her good days and bad. But you don’t have to spend time with her or deal with her if you don’t want to. She’s my problem. Not yours.”

“Your problems are my problems,” she said, adjusting her head on his chest to peer up at him. He gave her a tiny smile.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He swept a curl behind her ear. “It’s going to be alright,” he decreed, shifting to relax more properly on the pillows, holding her tightly. As if to remind them both they were just as inseparable as they had been before he made his vows to Lizzie. Lucy closed her eyes, clinging to that indescribable, unbreakable bond between them, letting the presence of it soothe and lull her into believing him. “I promise,” he added.

And Tommy never broke his promises to her. 

∗ ∗ ∗

Lucy watched Lizzie with a mounting sense of terror building in her chest. Hands fidgeting with each other earnestly, her heart leapt upwards to pound relentlessly in her throat. 

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she ought to leave; before Lizzie noticed her. 

And yet she didn’t move, frozen in place, just watching as Lizzie poured over a book propped up in her lap, steam from the teacup perched on the nearby table curling up into the air. 

She had slipped away while Tommy was busy returning all the calls he’d missed during his absence. They had risen early that morning, first for another round of sex, and then to begin getting him caught up on everything. There was a small mountain of papers for him to sign, and that was just for things to do with his position in Parliament. 

Forcing herself to be brave, Lucy took a step forward. “Lizzie?”

She looked up, expression immediately souring. Lucy gulped at the chilly reception, but forced her features to remain in an expression of pleasantness, her voice warm.  

“We didn’t really get to talk yesterday.”

“No, we didn’t,” Lizzie returned her gaze to the book in her lap, her tone greatly suggesting that the lack of conversation had been by design. 

“Well…did you have fun? In Paris, I mean.”

Lizzie looked up at her again. “Yes.” Her shoulders heaved with a sigh. “And now it’s over.”

She couldn’t bring herself to continue to hold that gaze. Not when it was filled was such heartbreak and accusation. Instead, she dropped her head to stare down at her shoes. “I’m sorry.”

“And yet you’re not going to stop doing it.”

“It’s…it’s what we all agreed to…”

Lizzie scoffed, slamming the cover of her book shut with a light thwap, placing it on the table and standing. 

“Lizzie,” she brought more firmness into her voice when she started to walk away from her. Lizzie froze, back stiffening. When she turned to face her, she had her chin tilted up, only adding to the intimidation of her already considerable height. Lucy gentled her voice, aware that barking at her was likely to get her nowhere. “You and I have to figure out a way to deal with each other.” 

Lizzie’s throat worked, but still she said nothing. 

“I know that you want me to leave…but…I told him I’d stay. I can’t just abandon him and Charlie,” Lucy tried desperately to explain. 

“So devoted to each other,” Lizzie sneered, shaking her head from side to side. “You don’t care who else you both hurt because of it.”

“I do care.” She took a step forward. “I do. That’s why we asked you so many times if you were sure about this, Lizzie,” her voice cracked with frustration. “Why did you say yes if you weren’t?”

Lizzie’s lips pressed together, head turning towards the windows. Lucy felt her shoulders slump. 

“Did you really expect things to change, once you got back?” That thought had been plaguing her since last night. The question. Did Lizzie plan this along? Did she intend to trap him? Did she know from the very first moment that she accepted the proposal that she was going to change her mind about letting them be together? “You know who he is, Lizzie. You’ve known for years. Did you really think that he would just transform overnight into what you wanted him to be?”

“He changed for Grace.”

“Yeah, but that was different, he–” she cut herself off sharply. He was in love with her, she had been about to say. Lizzie shot her a wounded expression. Lucy looked away. It felt like too cruel of a thing to actually speak aloud. Even if it was the truth. “Even then he couldn’t change the core of who he is,” she decided to say instead. “And if he knew you were going to change your mind, he would never have married you. You know that.”

“Yes,” Lizzie whispered. Lucy took another cautious step towards her. “I have a feeling that you’d leave, if I asked you to. If I really pushed hard enough. To try to…assuage your guilt and make things easier for him. Is that right?” 

“Probably.” She admitted, feeling a lump starting to grow in her throat. “Are you asking me to leave?”

Lizzie’s chin had dipped, face turning down to the floor. “If I did, and you left, he’d go after you. He’d bring you back home, and then he’d divorce me. Just like he would divorce me if I asked him outright to choose between you and me.” A spasm went through her chest. “I know…I know that there’s no competition between us where I’ll come out on top. Not in his eyes.”

“You’re the mother of his child,” Lucy inched a little closer to her, wanting to reach out, to touch her arm, to maybe even give her a hug. But she was too afraid that any physical contact between them would be unwelcome. 

Lizzie finally looked up at her with teary eyes. “So are you.”

“It’s not the same–”

“To him it is.” She sniffled, hands gripping at the material of her dress. “I’m not asking you to leave.”

Lucy nodded. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I can keep out of your way, if you’d prefer. I’ll stick to my wing of the house. We don’t have to eat together, or spend evenings with each other. You won’t have to see me much at all. The only thing I ask is that I get to have some time with the kids.” 

“Tommy would never agree to you being excluded like that.”

“He would if I asked him to.” He would kick up a fuss about it at first, she was sure, but in the end he’d relent. So long as it was her who asked him to do it. Fixing Lizzie with a careful look, Lucy tilted her head, bracing herself. “Is that what you want, Lizzie?”

Lizzie’s lips had started to tremble, chin wobbling. She suddenly raised a hand to her face, pressing her palm to her eyes as the tears welling in them finally spilled over. “I don’t know what I want,” she started to sob. Lucy reached out for her, touching lightly at one of her shaking shoulders. When she didn’t jerk away from the touch, she shuffled close to her, wrapping her arms around her in a hug. 

“That’s okay,” she tried to soothe, feeling a little lost as far as what to do or what sort of comfort would be welcome from her. “You don’t have to decide right now. The three of us are just going to have to feel things out for a little while. Figure out what works best for all of us.” 

Lizzie nodded, head dropping to rest in the crook of her shoulder. Lucy rubbed at her back. “I’m sorry for how I acted yesterday.”

“Don’t be. I understand. I know…I know that I don’t have nearly as much to be upset about as you do. Not even close, but, this isn’t exactly how I would have preferred for things to go either.”

Lizzie raised her head, looking at her with red-rimmed eyes. “No?”

Lucy raised an eyebrow. “You think that I wanted to have to watch the love of my life have a family with someone else?” Her fingers squeezed around Lizzie’s arms. “You’re his wife. I’ll only ever be his mistress.” We’ll never have a full life together, she swallowed around the unspoken words and the hurt they inflicted. Despite what Tommy had said, about eventually divorcing Lizzie, she couldn’t help but be skeptical that such a thing would ever actually come to pass.

Lizzie’s hands rested on her waist very lightly, and Lucy leaned closer to her until their foreheads touched. 

“I’m sorry we can’t love you the way you want us to,” she whispered, feeling Lizzie shudder and sob a little more at the words. “But we do care about you, Lizzie. Please know that. We do care.”

“I know.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

She let her go, and Lizzie drew from her, space once more finding its way between them. Lizzie sank slowly into a nearby armchair, limbs slumping like a marionette that had just had its strings snipped. Lucy pulled out a handkerchief that she passed to her to dab at her eyes.

“Take some time to adjust,” she said as she watched her. “Maybe…maybe it’ll get better.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

She forced half a smile to pull at one side of her lips. “I’m sure that you can find some other benefits to your life as Mrs. Shelby that don’t involve me and Tommy. With just the house, the kids, and the foundation I imagine you can keep yourself quite busy.”

“Yeah.” Her voice was monotone, not full of much hope; the wall that had briefly come down while she cried in Lucy’s arms starting to rise back up. Brick after brick being placed between them.  

“Do you want me to leave you alone now?” 

“Yes.” 

“Okay.” Struck with a sudden feeling of boldness, she bent down, pressing a quick kiss to Lizzie’s forehead before doing as asked and going to the door. 

She found Tommy still in his office, just setting the phone down. He smiled when he looked up and saw her, standing and walking around his desk to meet her. 

“Where did you sneak off to?”

“I went to go talk to Lizzie.”

His smile dropped. “Oh?” At her nod, he put his arms around her. “How did it go?”

Shrugging, she rested her head on his chest. “She didn’t shout at me, so I suppose it can be considered a positive interaction.” She craned her head up to look at him. “This isn’t going to be easy for her, Tommy.”

“No,” he agreed with a sigh, kissing her forehead. “It’ll be okay.”

“She might never adjust. Not fully. This most recent conversation between us went alright, but the next could be awful with how all over the place she can be.”

“I know. It’s like living with a fucking pendulum.” He sighed, rubbing her back. “We’ll look at getting a place in London like we talked about, eh? Give us somewhere to go hide out during the times when it gets really bad.”

“Do you think that it would be better if I lived somewhere else? I could get another flat in Small Heath…”

“Absolutely not.”

“It might be worth thinking about.”

He drew back enough to cup her cheeks. “You’re staying with me. You’re living with me, wherever I am. End of discussion.”

“Stubborn mule.” But she was fighting back a fond smile.

“Oi!”

Grin blooming, she rested her chin on the center of his chest. “It’s just something to consider. If things don’t get better…”

“I’d go mad in this house without you,” he said, shaking his head, giving her a kiss and then taking her hand. “C’mon. I’ve got more calls still to make. Mr. Martenson kept me on the phone for thirty bloody minutes.”

“And what have I got to do with that?” she asked, letting him pull her along with him. He collapsed back into his chair behind his desk.

“To keep my lap warm,” he grinned, and promptly pulled her squealing into his arms to sit upon his thighs.

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[girlsdads]

#ok it’s giving girl dad wearing his daughter’s handmade necklace special for him into work 🥺🥺😩😩

couldn’t stop thinking about this tag of mine, wrote a little smth about it 🥰

The stomping footfalls racing down the hall behind him could only be those of a toddler. Daniel turns and squats just in time for his tiny blonde projectile of a child to come barreling into his chest. The force sends Daniel falling back onto his butt with a surprised oof, his daughter giggling delightedly in his lap.

“Hey, Ellie-bug,” Daniel smiles. “Daddy’s gotta go to work, remember how we talked about it and you promised to be a big girl?” He brushes a strand of hair away from her mouth where it’s gotten stuck in a little smear of jam leftover from her breakfast. Daniel had shown Max how to make it just the way she likes—the pancake batter shaped in the silicone star mold, the silly faces drawn in jelly and jam.

Ellie’s head bobs up and down dutifully, but she makes no move to get up.

Max appears from the kitchen then, looking like a man who’s been fighting a losing battle with the second pancake. There’s a splatter of thick batter on his white t-shirt. He’s holding the spatula like it’s offended him somehow. Daniel looks at him over their daughter’s head, and loves him fiercely.

“She is of course the biggest girl,” Max says. Ellie grins proudly. “Why don’t you give Daddy your present now, then we will finish your pancakes.”

Daniel watches her grey-blue eyes light up like she’s just now remembering why she came running at him in the first place. She reaches a chubby hand into the bib pocket on her overalls, embroidered Enchanté script stretching as she roots around and produces a string of brightly-colored plastic beads. She holds it out to him expectantly.

Daniel takes the strand delicately in hand, wraps it around the backs of his fingers and rotates his wrist to get a good look. It’s a necklace, probably more of a choker given its relatively small circumference, the fat pony beads the only real indication it was made by a child. The powder pink and fuchsia beads are separated by interspersed pearlescent white orbs and clear sparkly stars. Smack in the center is a single number bead, a glittery pink three.

“Jeepers, did you make this for me? It’s beautiful!” Daniel says, and means it. He’s already been wanting to talk to his team about adding a jewelry collection to a future drop, and what better inspiration?

Ellie nods excitedly. “Papa helped me do a…,” she pauses, squints and tilts her little head, searching for the word, “…a pattern!”

“We made it the other day, while you were out with Blake,” Max chimes in. “For good luck.” He sounds almost bashful, like maybe it wasn’t their daughter’s idea in the first place. Daniel’s heart is so swollen it’s threatening to leak out through the gaps in his ribcage.

“How’d I get so lucky, huh?” Daniel muses, softly, mostly to himself. He stretches the elastic over his head, feels the smooth plastic three settle in the hollow of his throat. His pulse thrums evenly against it, grounding.

He flashes his biggest smile at his family. “How do I look?”

“Pretty, Daddy!” Ellie throws herself forward again, wrapping her arms around Daniel’s neck. It leaves him locking eyes with Max, who’s gazing down at the two of them like nothing else in the universe exists. Daniel can never quite get used to that look—still feels butterflies dancing up the back of his throat, his stomach dropped into a glorious freefall.

“Beautiful, Daniel,” Max says, reverent. “Always.”

[im2tired4usernames]

Ugh I was excited for today until I found out I'd have to spend it with people that actively make me hate being alive hate the future and drain me off all energy physically mentally spiritually like a vampire I can't stand to be around her she is the definition of stupidity and even then that's generous as fuck this bitch has filled her brain with so much garbage I watch her brain cells die at alarming rates every single time she uses her vocal cords her giggles make me want to jam a sewing needle into my ear repeatedly so I can never have to hear it again its a friendly reminder that my parents decisions this time my dad's constantly makes me want to die

[princesssmars]

home sweet home

a vi x reader.

the war between the silco and the firelights has gotten tense, and all you want is a day off to rest. but when an old flame returns from the dead you find the energy to give her a welcome home present she won’t forget.

wc: 4.491

contains : fluff, adoptive brother ekko and firelight reader. mentions of vi's abuse in prison :c smut. dry humping and tribbing yippee.

a/n : idk something about being separated for years and celebrating the reunion with rough and/or desperate sex does it for me bro 💔 started this beforeeee everything and hopefully this gets posted the morning of act ones drop <3 update i love vi but i need to kick her ass yayyy enjoy.

-

for lack of a better word, your day was getting really fucking weird.

you woke up with a weird feeling in your stomach, an ache strong enough to rouse you from your sleep and out of your bed. you chalked it up to hunger, having skipped another meal last night to stay up looking over some of the injured firelight’s and new schematics for tools and weapons.

but once you got a good meal into your stomach, staring up at the giant tree you called your home, you realized the feeling wasn’t from neglecting your appetite. it was that feeing you got when something big was about to happen.

you felt it when the breakthroughs were made on some of the bigger inventions like the hoverboards, when the firelights found this impossible and beautiful grove and made it their home, on that day years ago where your life crumbled around you in the space of a few days.

so it was only up to fate if something bad or good would happen today. and you didn’t feel like waiting to find out.

quickly making your way up the tree, you rapidly do your special knock on ekko’s door, only to be met with silence. you try again and silence still. trying and slightly failing to keep yourself calm, you head back down and start asking others if they’ve seen him, the ache in your stomach growing at some of the awkward and shifty responses you get.

for six years you and ekko have been inseparable. both traumatized by the trials of growing up in the undercity, getting taken in by benzo, and then the sudden and bloody death of your friends, you had no one else to depend on except for each other. it was hard to put it lightly, navigating a rapidly changing undercity and taking care of your little adoptive brother while trying to deal with your own trauma. even as you met others and formed this group you now call family, you made a promise to each other to stick side by side no matter what.

and that included not running off and doing god knows what in the early morning while the other was sleeping.

you’re halfway through pulling on your coat and mask when you hear the sound of the main door opening and a small commotion, running as fast as you can to get down the tree again before a tall figure stops you.

he tries to be funny, throwing out a 'hey hey hey, slow down! your running like there’s a fire-ow!' before he holds a gloved hand to the side of his arm, cradling the spot where you punched him. you get a solid minute of berating and cussing him out before the look on his face tells you he's being serious, conflict clear in his brown eyes.

you have about a million questions running in your head as he leads you to one of the stock rooms, his breath inhaling multiple times to explain before he lets it out in frustration.

“just…promise you won’t freak out, ok?”

you nod before he pushes you inside and closes the door behind you.

you scoff, calling his name and knocking on the hard material for him to let you out. you weren’t in the mood today to entertain his hidden playful nature, most of the time you indulged him but you were too worried at the moment. you’re seconds away from cursing him out again when a soft voice calls out your name from the darkness behind you behind you.

no. it’s not possible. it’s deeper, more rugged then you remember, but you wouldn’t, couldn’t forget that voice. you heard it in your dreams for years, pushing you to keep going for yourself when you felt like giving up, reminding you she was always there by your side when you felt so alone.

you slowly turn your body, unconsciously trying to protect yourself from the possibility of this being a farce when two strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you into a sturdy torso. at the slightest glimpse of hit pink hair your eyes start to water and your chest is heaving with long building gasps, wrapping your arms around her shoulders and digging your face into her neck.

for years you’d daydream about this moment, what you’d say if you were reunited with the girl who was your best friend and likely the love of your life. you’d imagine the rushed out words and apologies, the shared wails as you assured the other you’d never leave their side again. but this silence just feels so right, makes so much sense for all the emotions you’ve been letting sit in your heart without any kind of resolution or closure.

she pulls away from you slightly and you hope she ignores the subtle whine that leaves your throat as she does. her large, and you mean really large, palms come up to cup your cheek as she stares at your face, blue eyes flitting across your features like she’s trying to commit every piece of you to memory. you don’t mind, you remember how she liked when you let her observe things so she could take in things as much as possible lest they be gone in a second. it just gives you an excuse to stare at her, too.

and gods above are you staring. obviously a large part of you is sentimental and sad as you see how much she’s changed over the years; the longer jagged shapes of her jaw, her nose. your heart pangs seeing the cuts in her brow and lip that you unconsciously bring a finger up to rub at. but it takes an embarrassing amount of strength not to pay attention just to her lips as you feel over the scar, how her bright eyes go wide and unblinking as she stands and lets you do whatever it is you’re doing.

you want to do anything to break the tension and you’re given the opportunity when your eyesight drifts slightly to the right and catches onto the tattoo on her upper cheek.

“did you…tattoo your name on your face?”

you’re still so close you can feel her laugh rather than hear it, her chest pressing into your when she huffs through her nose.

“wanted to make sure the guys in there knew who was kicking their asses without the need for introductions.”

“still punching first yelling insults later?”

“nothing anybody in there didn’t deserve.”

gods does your heart hurt for her. you knew it was likely other people like her were probably in stillwater, disposed of to cover someone’s ass or see as thrash just for where they were born. but you knew despite that she would have faced so much being thrown in there at such a young age that you not anyone else could understand, the way they must have treated her…

even after all these years it’s like she can ready your body language like a book, able to know your fingers stalling in their exploration means your mind is wandering, and given the previous subject matter she knows it can’t be good. her bandaged fingers gently wrap around yours and rub over your knuckles until your attention is back on her.

“hey, stay with me for now. we’ll have time to go over all that stuff later. right now just stay with me, alright?”

like you could ever say no to her.

you figure the best way to make progress until your much needed conversation is yo acquaint her with where your sure she’ll be staying until she gets back on her feet, however she chooses to do so. at first she seems uncomfortable with the idea of staying at the base, like she doesn’t want to intrude on the home you and others had built from the ground up.

“obviously i’ll help with anything you guys ask but are you sure everyone would be alright with me staying here? i kind of punched the shit out of that scar guy.”

“he’ll get over it just like everyone else. you’re a legend here, vi, you’re up on that mural for a reason.”

the whole time you show vi around you feel a warm mess in your chest. you forgot just how nice it was to spend time with her, thinking back on fond memories of the two of you sneaking away when the others were busy to spend time together on the safer and quieter parts of the undercity. your feelings aren’t helped with how close vi insists on being, hand never leaving your grasp as you tug her around and occasionally bumping her shoulder into yours when your mind wanders.

you’re recounting the story of how one of the hoverboards went haywire and crashed into one of the bases walls when a low rumble from the side of you cuts you off, footsteps halting you in place. when you turn to vi she has that same cute embarrassed look she used to have when you were younger, eyes wide and body still like if she didn’t move you wouldn’t acknowledge what just happened.

she knows better than to argue with you as you drag her pliant body somewhere, most likely to get her something to eat after only having some scarfed down jerichos a few hours ago. you bc lead her to some small communal dining area before not so gently guiding her to sit, eyes on her form for a few seconds to make sure she won’t be stubborn and refuse to let you grab some food for her.

and why would she even think of resisting when she can sit here and finally get a few minutes to just relax. ever since cait somehow managed to get her out of prison her body had been on, sheer stubbornness and willpower keeping her going until she found what she was looking for. a part of her knew she wouldn’t stop searching, wouldn’t stop hoping to see you and her sister again.

but as she watches you across the room pick and prod over a meal a vastayan is helping to out on your plate her shoulders unclench and the muscles in her legs ease. nothing felt better than when you’d dote over her. she remembers one time she caught a flu and had to stay inside and distant from everyone, ready to be miserable in solitude until you burst in with vander hot on your heels and insisted you wouldn’t leave her side until she was better, that she’d do the same for you.

which she did have to wind up doing as you caught the sickness from her after only three days. she never once complained.

when you finish her plate you look back to her with a sweet smile and start to walk back over to her. she writhes in her seat a bit under your gaze, suddenly feeling a little too warm when you sit the plate in from of her and tell her to eat up. she tries her best not to scarf this down as well, but when you give her a look that says you know how hungry she she is and won’t mind she can’t help herself.

she spends the rest of the day by your side, never leaving your sight as you introduce her to some of your fellow firelights and some of the younger kids who’d heard stories about her and vander. you can tell it still prods at an unhealed wound to talk about him in past tense, but that she still looks back on those fond memories with happiness. you’re more than happy to join in and help narrate the tale of one of your more adventurous and dangerous trips through the old undercity.

eventually the sun starts to set and the lights of the tree turn from a dazzling green to a soft collection of oranges and yellow, a signal to everyone that it’s time to wind down and end the day. the two of you meet back of with ekko who tells you he had already shown cait to an extra room she could use for the next few days.

“cupcake didn’t put up too much of hassle today, did she? don’t think she’s ever spent this much time past the promenade.”

“she was alright. uptight but i can tell she means well. you can talk to her in the morning, her room is right across from yours.”

you’re paying too much attention to just being in the space of two of your favorite people again that you don’t even notice how vi has turned her head to look at you, silently asking you to ask her for what she hopes you both want. by the time you realize and turn back to ekko he has that dumb little grin on his face that he used to wear all the time he’d catch the two of you getting a little too close for comfort.

“don’t even start, ekko.”

“i didn’t say anything! i’ll catch up with you two tomorrow. try not to be so loud, some of us need a good nights sleep tonight-“

you quickly reach over and swat at the young boys arm as he laughs and hurries away from the two of you, voice carrying as he leaves to head off to sleep.

it’s surreal as you take vi’s hand into yours and start the brisk walk to your personal quarters. you don’t have any expectations about tonight but you can’t lie and say a deep part of yourself isn’t hoping to get more than close with her tonight.

once you reach your bedroom you start shuffling for some clothes for the both of you to wear while she prods and examines all of your things. you watch her for a moment, nearly giving yourself away with a laugh when she nearly breaks the dusty antique snow globe you’d found abandoned on a scrap run.

“it’s crazy, right? how they’ll just abandon things without even thinking about their worth.” you speak offhandedly as you settle yourself on to your bed and start to remove your boots and holsters.

“yeah, no offense but i just. really don’t wanna talk about abandoning things right now.” her tone is malicious enough to make you sit your movements, eyes softening at the broken and tired woman in front of you.

“i’m sorry, i just-“

“no, no, it’s okay. i understand,” you gently reach out your hand to hold hers, locked in that tight fist she does when she’s bottling up her anger. “can you talk to me about it? whatever you want to say, just say it.”

she rolls her shoulder before setting down the globe and sitting on the bed, her tensed back facing you. you gently pass the spare clothes you have for her and watch as she takes them and sets them on her lap.

“every night for the first year i was in there i’d have these nightmares. about what happened. first it was just, replaying what happened on this endless loop. then it was wondering what i could’ve done different, if i could’ve been smarter-“

“vi dont do that,” you crawled over to sit right behind her body placed your hands on her shoulders, gently rubbing them across and down to her forearms. trying to look her in the eye proves useless. “what happened was…tragic, and blaming yourself is pointless. you did what you could, i know you did.”

“how? how could you possibly know?” she finally turns her head to you and the look in her eyes does nothing to help the sick feeling you have building up in your throat and stomach. “i told you to stay with ekko, you weren’t there. how could you not be even a little angry at me, for not being here for powder, for ekko and the firelights, for you?”

you can hear the lump in her throat and see the tears building in her eyes when you bring your hands up to cup her face. a stray tear runs down her face and you brush it away with your thumb.

“i could never be angry at you, vi. not for this. the girl i know always kept fighting for her family, and if she didn’t come back to us it was because she couldn’t. she’d never abandon us, you wouldn’t abandon us.”

she gently nods her head and nuzzles her face into your hands. you give her a minute to calm down, continuing to softly brush her cheeks and her crazy hair out of her eye.

“what is going on with your hair?” you whisper as you struggle to push a strand away and out of her face, giving up once it falls back into place for the tenth time.

her eyebrows scrunch. "what, you dont like it? its cool."

"its covering half of your face, its horrible."

"you'll get used to it." she shakes her head with a small smile before softly resting her hand on your lower waist.

"maybe, but im definitely not going to brush over you tattooing your name on your face. please tell me you didnt make any other rash b ody adjustments in there."

the growing smile on her simultaneously puts butterflies in your stomach and makes you very nervous. its not helped when she turns her back to you again and starts to shrug off her jacket, revealing the previous glimpse of her neck tattoo you'd seen goes further down. way further down.

"wow. that's...wow." you want to bury your head into your hands and leave the room. 'wow just wow?' really smooth. "can i touch?"

"uhhh yeah, no problem."

after she gives her consent your fingertips lightly hover and brush over the interlapping lines of curves inked into her skin. you feel a small thrill seeing the goosebumps rise on her arms when your hands glide down them, taking pride in knowing you can still bring out a physical reaction in her with your touch.

"this is really nice, vi. did you get someone in there to do it for you?"

"nope, did 'em both myself. wasn't exactly the best environment to ask people to have access to your body with a needle for hours at a time."

you hum in response while continuing to observe the tattoo. you can see it goes further down her back and decide to speak without thinking too much about what you're saying.

"can i see the rest of it?"

you're a bit scared at how still she goes, wondering if maybe you crossed a boundary before her hands slowly reach behind her and start to lift the white fabric of her shirt until its full taken off of her body.

you make sure to continue the gentle touches as your hands run down the muscles and planes of her back, continuing to admire the clouds and gears that make up the design. you feel a little pang in your heart when you see the initials of mylo and claggor at the bottom of the tattoo, along with the number of welts and scars on her skin.

"its beautiful, vi." you whisper. her body subtly scooches back on the bed to get closer to your touch. the moment is just shy of overwhelming, which is probably why you leave a small kiss on her shoulder, right where one of the scars starts before trailing down her back a few inches. she lets out a muffled noise and you start to pull away before the strong grip of her palm clasps down on your leg, holding you in place.

you leave more kisses and pecks over the length of her tattoo as your legs start to wrap around her from behind, both of her hands grasping your thighs as she relaxes into the affection. you test the waters when you come back up to her neck, lightly sinking your teeth into her skin.

"oh fuck-" her strained voice hits your ears right before she abruptly pulls out of your arms and tugs you by the arm and leg until your reversed, sitting in her lap with her hands gripping at your hips.

you continue to drag yours up and down her arms, reveling in the fact that you can now see her facial expressions, how her eyes droop and lips part as you slightly scratch at her skin.

you adjust your hips to sit closer to her at the same time she lifts hers up, the friction causing small noises to escape both of your throats. her eyes open up and she stares up at you with those big light blues.

your hand travels up to her hair, running through it as you keep looking at her. "are you sure? i dont wanna push you,"

"you wont, i do. please, just wanna be close to you."

you give in, wrapping your arms around her neck and bringing her into a sweet kiss, reveling in the feel of her arms coming up to grip on your back. its slow and languid as you get used to each other before she adds her tongue to the mix, pulling a moan from your throat as you try to bury yourself even closer into her hold.

you move your focus onto her neck, trailing kisses and bites down and across her throat, as she rocks your bodies together and claws at your back.

"used to dream about this, about you, missed you so much," her voice has a slight rasp to it already that drives you nuts, instantly darting back up to bring her into a messy kiss. she adjusts her knee to rest in between your legs and lifts it up into your core, pulling away to look at you as you moan at the friction.

"jeez, what'd they teach you in there?" you let out a breathy chuckle while you grind down into her knee. your eyes drift close before her gentle kiss to her cheek drags your gaze back to her, unblinking as she watches you come undone for her. her stare along with the hazy smile on her face yanks you to the edge, gasping and moaning as you come in her arms.

you feel almost drunk as you come down from your orgasm, nuzzling into her neck while she presses gentle kisses to your shoulder and the side of your neck. she starts to place your body on the bed before you tug her back on top of you.

"what, aren't you tired?"

"maybe, but not tired enough to stop now. take off your pants."

she grins like she'd just been offered free sweets from a piltovian candy shop for the rest of her life. you try not to giggle as she stumbles off the bed and tugs her pants off before settling her body back on top of yours. she resumes her barrage of kisses and bites into your skin, finally paying some attention to your chest while you bring your hands up to thumb at her nipples, biting your lip at how sensitive she is to the touch.

she wastes no time spreading your legs beneath you and getting your silent agreement before moving her lips to rest over yours, taking a second to drag her fingers through your cunt and stuffing them inside her mouth.

"vi!"

"sorry, was just curious." she leans down to kiss you sweetly before resting her self on you, legs draped over the curves of her arms as she oh so slowly starts to drag herself back and forth over you.

you slightly wish you had done this first as the overstimulation makes it oh so intense for you, the feeling of her hair and clit rubbing over yours nearly sending you into a frenzy. your eyes roll back into your head once she starts to speed up her movements, her soft whines and grunts into your neck only adding to the physical stimulation you're feeling.

your core feels like its on fire when you start to hear the subtle whispers she's letting out into your neck, curses of 'fuck, fuck oh-fuck,' and grunts of your name mix together to create a desperate harmony.

"vi, feels too- oh my god i-"

"i know, baby, i know," she moans, pressing a harsh bite into the underside of your neck. you can feel her smile into it when you involuntarily let out a squeal at the action. "never gonna leave you, pretty. could never leave you, leave this."

you never fancied yourself the possessive type, but the reaction you have to her words definitely proves there's something there as you wrap your hands around her shoulder and squish her down into you again, moaning just a little too loud at the lack of closeness and feeling of her chest rubbing against yours.

you can feel your next orgasm building quick and fast, thighs trembling as you desperately grind your hips into her even harder. you can tell she's close too, hips losing their rhythm as her panting gets even louder. you nudge your face to the side and rub your cheek against hers, thankful she gets the hint to smother both of your noises with an intense kiss.

"fuck, vi, missed you s'much, love this, love you-"

you're grateful that you have some semblance of brain activity left to drag her head down to your neck to bit down as she cums, her groan loud and long as she keeps moving her hips until you cum only a few seconds after she does. you can feel a tear or two escape your eyes, overstimulation so intense you think you see janna for a moment.

both of your chests are rapidly panting as you catch your breaths, dragging your hand through her sweaty hair while she presses gentle kisses over the marks she no doubt left over your chest. now you'll have to wear more layers for a while, but at the moment you cant find it in you to care.

"you have no idea how glad i am that i still have you," you almost dont pick up on the silent whisper she says, muffled by the current kisses. you lazily drag your fingers to lift her up by the chin until she's looking at you, eyes filled with nothing but love and affection.

"you're always gonna have me vi, i promise."

you can tell she has her doubts, you do as well. but she lets herself relax into your hand yet again and wears the tiniest smile while she starts to fall asleep in your embrace.

you gently pull the covers over both of your bodies and follow her into the lull of sleep, falling asleep in vi's arms again for the first time in years.

you have the nicest dreams you've had in years.

[gguk-n]

Daddy Dearest (Oscar Piastri Dad fic)

Summary- Oscar is a girl dad.

There weren't many people who had Oscar wrapped around their little finger, except Amelia Piastri. Almost 2 years old and she could make Oscar dance like a chicken on the drop of a hat.

Oscar had met Amelia's mother and the love of his life, Y/N when they were in high-school. They started dating soon after. The year Oscar was a reserve driver for Alpine; he might not have been busy racing but he was busy with his girlfriend. The whole Alpine-Mclaren fiasco brought us baby Mia. It was a usual Thursday, Y/N had been stressing out about missing her period for the second time this month when she had regular periods since she could remember. A thought passed through her; it had been floating around in her head since last month. What if she was pregnant? Oscar and her had always been safe; but not a single contraceptive was a hundred percent perfect. So, without informing Oscar, she went to the store and bought a few tests. When the first one said positive, she did another and then another. By now Oscar had become aware of his missing girlfriend who was coup-ed up in their bathroom for the past half hour. He was knocking on the door; "babe, is everything okay? You've been in there since you returned" But when no reply came; the knocking became more rapid and worried. "Y/N, are you ok? Please answer. You're stressing me out" he begged. Then the door opened slightly. A tear stained Y/N was peaking her head out. Oscar pushed the door open and hugged her. He was scanning the room as his girlfriend's body shook slightly; that's when he saw it; pregnancy tests. He pulled away to look at her; "Have you been busy taking those pregnancy test?" he asked. "How do you know what they are?" she hiccuped. "I've watched TV growing up" he smiled. She nodded and handed the 3 tests to him. They all read pregnant in bold letters. Oscar was over joyed; "Are we gonna be parents?" he shouted. "You're not angry?" she asked. "Why would I be? I get to have kids with the love of my life. Best thing that could ever happen to me" he stated. For the first time since she got the tests, she smiled. "Aren't we too young though?" she asked. "Yes, but I could take on the world with you by my side" he said kissing her. "You'll be the best dad ever" she told him. "You'll be the best mum ever" he said. The pair stayed in each other's embrace for a long time. Oscar will never admit it but he cried and then went on reddit to research what to do as a first time dad.

Amelia was born the next year when Oscar was busy racing. He wasn't able to be there for the birth of his daughter; he might have called his mother and cried about being a shitty dad from the get-go. But his father later consoled him and told him it would be fine. Oscar flew out the first chance he got to be with his girlfriend who was being taken care of by both their parents. The first time he held Amelia, he had started crying as soon as she opened her big brown eyes and looked at him. She was an exact copy of him when he was a baby, at least that's what his mother said. Y/N had to console him instead of the baby. He was sat there with his arms wrapped around Y/N who held their daughter for a really long time. Y/N had fallen in love with the name Amelia after watching the Princess Diaries growing up and Oscar wasn't about to argue with Y/N about naming their daughter after the Queen of Genovia. That's how she was named "Amelia Opal Piastri"

Oscar kept them hidden from the world after they had mutually decided not to tell anyone except their close friends and family which some how, had now included Lando Norris, much to Oscar's dismay since his daughter from the moment she could speak called Lando her twin; Oscar hated it, he was just dad or daddy when she wanted something but Lando was her best friend and twin. Lando took great joy in having to be able to steal Amelia away. Lando was helping Oscar move since he'd been staying in Monaco longer and moving with a kid wasn't easy. Mia was being very difficult today until she saw her Uncle Lando and jumped out of Oscar's arms running to Lando. "Lan, I mwiss you" she pouted raising her hands as if to signal him to carry her. Lando quickly scooped her in his arms, kissing her cheeks which elicited giggles. She wrapped her arms around Lando's neck and turned to her dad sticking her tongue out making Oscar pout. "Come here, you're my princess" he whined. "NO. I wan Lan" she said and hugged him tighter as Oscar tried to pull her away. "Oscar, behave. We have a lot of work to do. If Lando can watch over her while we unpack, that'll be great." Y/N said kissing her daughter's cheek and giving Lando a hug. Reluctantly Oscar agreed to let Lando play with her while he got the house unpacked.

While the two unpacked, Lando kept their little princess entertained. "Lan, do you vroom vroom fast?" she asked playing with the race cars she had. "Yeah" he nodded. "my daddy, vroom vroom" she paused for a moment to think, "fast more, win, wohooo" she said jumping up when the Oscar car she was playing with won and Lando's car came in second. Obviously, Mia was growing up watching racing; her dad was a F1 racer. Lando laughed when she jumped up; "Uncle Lando won many races too" he said. "My daddy win 2 races" she said looking at her fingers, counting them and holding up 2. She looked proud of herself for holding the correct number of fingers, Lando was proud too.

All that playing had tired her out; she was now laying on Lando's chest mumbling gibberish about how Leo could fly while he patted her to sleep. Oscar came back to find his daughter peacefully asleep. "I hate that she likes you more than me" Oscar stated watching the two. "Who said that?" Lando tried to control his laugh. "You can see right now" Oscar pointed out. "Mate, she loves you so much. All we talked about was how her daddy is so fast and has won 2 races." he added. Oscar smiled, "I'll put her in her room, we just got done with that" he said slowly taking her to her bed.

The house would take a few more months before they would be able to be done completely. Mia was already enjoying her play dates with Leo and Roscoe. Alex and Leo would be over a few times a week since Mia would pester Alex to come over with Leo. Leo loved Mia so much, the two would always be seen rolling around on the floor or running after each other. They never seem to tire out until they did and then they would be cuddling each other in their sleep on the couch. Roscoe was an older dog and he had seen quite a few children, he kept Mia more tame if that was possible. He would look out for her and protect her from harms way. He was very protective of her; it was very adorable to watch.

During the break, Oscar was spending the 3 weeks with his family. Y/N had been taking the bulk of parenting their 2 year old which did make Oscar feel guilty and he would try to give her as much me time when he was around as possible. "It's time for a daddy-daughter date" Oscar cooed at Mia as he carried her to get dressed. "What does my princess wanna eat today?" he asked plopping her on the changing table. "I want dino and fries and juice and white icey and tuddles" she cheered. She couldn't say Vanilla ice cream yet so it was white icey and cuddles were tuddles which Oscar hoped she wouldn't out grow. Oscar changed her into a pink tutu on her request. The two of them sat on the sofa watching Bluey with their dino nuggets, fries and a juice. Once she was done eating, half the fries were in Oscar's mouth but who was counting; he got out the ice cream and this was the one food item she would not share with anyone. The latest episode they were watching finished up and Mia was cuddling her dad. Oscar rubbed circles on her back to help her fall asleep; "I love you my angel" Oscar whispered kissing her head. "I wuv you my daddy" she whispered kissing his chest. She had seen her mum do this a few times and Oscar's heart swelled up watching her imitate her mum.

Oscar and Y/N were busy setting up another room in their house when Mia found Oscar's phone unlocked. No one knew how she got onto Instagram but she did and ended up taking a picture of her face and posting it as a story. Within minutes Oscar and Y/N's phones were blowing up. Y/N saw messages from her friends and family to check Oscar's story; Oscar had already seen what his daughter did. The next race was gonna be so fun trying to explain who that was.

The driver's group chat was going crazy, they couldn't stop laughing about how Mia posted herself. The other drivers joked that she was sick of not being able to attend races so she decided to hard launch herself. McLaren's PR team was making a story up which Oscar shut down quickly. He had been dating Y/N for a long time and had a family with her, he wasn't about spin some shitty tale about it being someone else's daughter. This was the final push that Oscar needed to strike the iron when it was hot. Oscar would propose now; the ring he had bought was burning a hole in his pants for a while now.

oscarpiastri

Liked by landonorris, mclaren and 2,367,458 others tagged y/n.y/l/n

oscarpiastri To a lifetime of forever with the loves of my life💍🧑‍🧑‍🧒

landonorris Mia is so cute in all the pictures, I'm stealing her👀👀 oscarpiastri landonorris NO YOU CAN'T HAVE HER😤😤 alexandrasaintmleux next Leo-Mia playdate when??🥹❤️ y/n.y/l/n alexandrasaintmleux Mia says tomorrow❤️❤️ logansargeant my fav Piastri is growing up so fast😭 Liked by the author mclaren such a beautiful family🧡 y/n.y/l/n mclaren I remember you trying to break it up 😐😐 mclaren y/n.y/l/n I was following orders, I didn't wanna do it🥲🥲 user1 too many things, I can't process it🤯 user2 he has a girlfriend, a daughter and got engaged all in one post🤯😭 user3🤯🤯🤯🤯 user4 Congratulations Oscar!!🧡🧡🧡 lewishamilton Congratulations you two!! ❤️❤️Mia said Roscoe is the ring bearer Liked by y/n.y/l/n charles_leclerc my beautiful granddaughter😭 user5 the Leclerc family is expanding at an alarming rate😱😱 user6 user5 does that make Leo her uncle??🤔 user7 What's her name?? user8 Mia is the cutest name for the cutest baby😍😍 user9 can't wait to watch her become a formula one driver😪 user10 only known her 2 days but if anything happens to her, I’ll kill everyone and then myself user11 the last picture🤤🤤 we might be getting baby no. 2🤭🤣

[sincerelybubbles]

ok shy bau reader and the team finally managed to get her to come a rossi dinner party so she can meet the rest of the team families that she hasn’t met yet, maybe after her first date with hitch and the team realized quickly she softened very fast with the kids and jack and her just seemed to click really fast and jack had her talking more than any of the team has so far… hotch is star eyes

hotch x shy!bau!reader \\ Dinner and Delights

Warnings: brief mention/allusions to Christianity. Otherwise, fluff! More insight into what Aaron is thinking :) I got very carried away, I hope you enjoy <3

"Woah hot stuff, where are you going so fast?" Morgan intercepts you with an arm around your shoulder as you attempt to slip out of the BAU unnoticed. "Hopefully to get ready for our big dinner plans?"

It's not that you don't want to go to one of Rossi's famous dinner parties, you're just afraid that your sub-par social skills would be noticeable by tenfold in a more casual environment.

At work, you can hide your quietness by talking about the psychology of the unsub, your specialty as a licensed psychologist. You can pretend you're not hiding in your shell when the team is all laughing and talking about personal lives by quietly listening while pretending to read your maps and journals. You can observe them and spend time with them, because you do truly love them all at this point, without feeling bad that you prefer to listen over talk.

And that's really it - you prefer to listen to them. You would say you've all but warmed up to all of them. You like Morgan's teasing, Emily's stories, Reid's rambling, Rossi's sarcasm, and Hotch's...

Everything, but the thought snaps you back to the present before you can dwell on memories of a sweet date in a dark restaurant.

"Of course," you succeed, nodding and sending him a tight-lipped smile.

"Hey," he slows you down and stops in the hallway, turning you to face him gently before lifting his hands in a placating gesture as if you were an animal he expects to run. "You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with but I promise none of us are trying to lead our little lamb to slaughter. We know you're quiet," the admission embarrasses you and makes you feel guilty pleasant that he sounds so gentle about it, "and nobody minds, I think it's cute and I think the rest are just happy our other genius isn't as vocal as Reid."

Your nose scrunches at the small dig and you open your mouth to protest at putting Reid down to lift you up.

"And look at that! Another thing we all love - you're quiet but won't let anyone say anything about the other behind their back. You're a good person, we all just want to spend some less-intense time with you. So, go home and doll yourself up, and get ready to see Hotch wine tipsy. We all know that's your main motivator." Morgan winks at you and moves quickly down the hall and away from you, laughing, before you can protest.

He's not wrong, though, and you shake your head as you move toward the elevator.

You end up on Rossi's doorstep, choking the neck of a bottle of expensive wine between two sweaty palms. Your heart is in your throat, nerves humming in anticipation.

Your team cares about you. Nobody expects you to be anything you're not. Gentle affirmations meant to soothe over your skin in gently lapping waves erupt into steam; like water hitting lava rock. You're too tense, too worried about not saying enough or too much; saying the wrong thing or saying the right thing only once and never living up to the expectation of repeated occurrences.

"Hey," Emily says from behind you. You turn to see her jogging up to stand beside you, brushing off her pants and adjusting her jacket. "You brought wine!" She cheers happily, reaching past you to turn the nob and open the door.

She gestures you inside, making no comment about your obvious hesitance. With her by your side, your nerves are calmed. Aside from Aaron, she's the easiest for you to be around. You don't feel any expectations with Emily. She doesn't talk too much or too little, doesn't push, doesn't ever send a pitying look when you opt out of activities outside of work.

"Château Lafite," you say to her, lifting the wine and shaking it gently in the air as you walk inside.

"Oh! Fancy wine."

"Wine?" Rossi asks, rounding a corner. He's dressed slightly more casually in a soft sweater and jeans, drying his hands off with a pristine dish towel. "The more the merrier, bring it in here."

You follow his gesture back into the kitchen, leaving Emily to go to what you presume is the living or dining area.

"Where did you find this?" Rossi asks, taking the wine from you to examine it and letting out a low whistle as he appreciates it.

"Just my local winery," you say, neglecting to admit that you go there often enough that the owner leaves the nicer stuff behind the counter for you.

Lonely nights crave wine, twisting them into lovely things you can appreciate. You enjoy your own company after years of quietly observing others. You've learned how to observe yourself, too, after all of these years.

And, even though you don't quite realize it, the self-awareness carries like confidence. That's what Aaron sees in you: observant eyes darting across a room and noticing everything, understanding flickering before anyone else catches a cue, deft movements across the paper while taking notes, and swift motions always with a purpose.

It's what he sees now, hands in the pockets of his dark jeans while he leans in the doorway of Rossi's kitchen, watching you. How could he not? You're a lovely creature, always begging for his eyes to settle on you for another second, and then another.

He knows the moment you realize he's in the room, minutes before Rossi. You stand straighter, tilt your chin lower, and are aware far before you tilt your head to the side to send him a soft smile. He returns it before Rossi can catch him. It's a warmth he wants to reserve for you.

"Dave," he interrupts the other man's monologuing about the wine he's sure you already know all about, "Jack would like to know if he and Spencer can use your chess set when he gets here?"

"Of course, I'll get it from my study." Rossi leaves, passing you the wine and gesturing to the opener.

Aaron steps in before you can start the process of opening the wine. He doesn't quite know why, but he wants to do it for you. He finds himself wanting that more and more recently: to do simple tasks for the sole purpose of you not having to do them. Opening doors and pulling out chairs are simple gestures that he did with Hayley, but he wants to do sillier, smaller, things, too. Straighten the pens on your desk back into their cup, reorganize the files on your desktop, untangle the wires of the headphones he really should reprimand you for using at your desk, open a damn bottle of wine he can't pronounce the name of but that he heard you say so gently to Emily as you walked in.

"Jack's here?" You ask, handing him the wine and crossing your arms over your chest as you lean back against the counter to watch him work.

He relishes how your eyes focus on his arms, pupils dilating, as his muscles work under his thin henley.

"Yes, I have him this weekend and he likes to spend time with Reid and Garcia."

He has to step closer to reach above you to get the wine glasses. He could ask you to step aside, tuck his hand against your waist to move you himself, or simply walk into the next room to grab the glasses sitting on the table. But, instead, he tucks one foot in between yours, puts one hand on the back of your head to guard it from the cabinet, and opens it to find the nicer crystal there.

Your breath hitches across his neck and he remembers the chaste kisses he's given you before. Nothing serious, nothing has been yet because he's waiting for you to lead him into that, but tantalizing nonetheless. He steps back to pour the wine, standing closer to you than he started.

A little for you, passed gently, and then a little for him. Dave could pour his own glass.

You take the wine and sip it slowly, tongue darting out to taste before you sip. He's reminded of communion as a child. The blood of christ, sacred, something to be tasted but not meant to satiate. Reverence in a sip, devotion in a small act.

He wants to give you the same thing. The desire hits him in the sternum, suddenly, leaving him winded as he watches you lower the glass. Your eyes are locked on his, you haven't seemed as hesitant about holding his gaze recently - something that makes him melt - and he wonders if you can feel how he wants to take care of you. How he wants to show you the same force that water uses to carve canyons. Persistence and pressure, time and care. He's willing to take his time, he's filled with the same patience as everything all together in nature. He's a rabbit perched on its hind legs, sniffing the wind for safety before darting forward; the bird hung in flight between beats of wings, the whisper of wind carrying small seeds miles away to wait and watch the growth. Wait, wait, wait, however long it takes, he's there. For you.

It's a strong feeling to fully realize in David Rossi's kitchen, but he's grateful for it, anyway.

"It's good," you comment softly, eyes smiling.

"Is it?" He asks, setting his glass down and retaking his spot nearer to you. He misses your warmth. "Can I?" He asks, brushing his fingers across your jugular before cupping your cheek.

"Taste the wine?" You tease, eyes flickering to his glass. The gentle jest pulls a chuckle from his chest. Another thing you've become more comfortable doing around him. His blood and bones sing at how familiar you can be with him.

"Yes," he says in a breath, dipping his head down to brush his lips against yours.

And you're reciprocating - you've always reciprocated, enthusiastically, just never in the pressing way you are now. You set down your own glass to hold his arms in both of your hands. Fingers dig into his arm as you sigh and open your mouth, new lands to explore, tilting your head back to grant him full access.

"Daddy?" Jack asks and Aaron pulls away, a man parched and staring at an oasis in the middle of a desert, before Jack can round the corner. He doesn't go far, though, hand traveling down to the small of your back as he turns.

"Jack?" Aaron replies, waiting for him to come around the corner.

"Hello," Jack says, stopping in the doorway and looking up at you with wide eyes.

You've met him a few times before, always in passing, but you still smile warmly and wave at him.

"Hi, Jack."

"Do you know how to play chess?" Jacks asks. Aaron smiles at the eagerness on his son's face.

"Yes, I do. Would you like to play?"

"Yes please!" Jack jumps forward to grab your hand, pulling you into the living room before you can react.

You go easily, though, following him with a gentle laugh that warms the coldest parts of him. Pieces of him he doesn't think have seen the light in years brighten at the sound. He's heard you laugh before but something about the sight of you laughing because of Jack illuminates needs that he didn't even know he had. Needs you're meeting before he can feel the yawning desire of them.

He follows, unable to resist the desire to see you two interact over and over again. You're setting up the board, listening to Jack chatter on, nodding intently.

[empty-blog-for-lurking]

Oh also i forgot to add for Lance-

They are better as a part of a dynamic- I think Lance is one of the characters who specifically requires to have a dynamic with others in order to truly reach his full potential. Even though Lance wants to standout, his greatest strengths lie in him being support, whether to be emotional one or sniper cover (Which again leans into him being contradiction, truly the bisexual man of all time). Lance works best when he is working with people, especially when it comes to filling out gaps the other person can't cover (whether it is trying to push Hunk out of his comfort zone, getting Keith to stop and think before running off, trying to form connection with Pidge who is trying to work alone etc (s1 is full of such examples))

To me it's like he wants to be the star of the show when in actually he works best as the production manager

@sockdooe

Lance/hunk/shiro for character opinion bingo :3?

Hi!! Thanks for asking!!!!

Lance-

Everyone but me is wrong about them<3- Source: trust me bro. But ok seriously, everyone is going to have their own opinions and interpretations and they are more or less valid. I get that! And i also get that people are just having fun! I really do! I am not trying to be fun police! But also there is so much in the fandom that is Just......plain wrong whether it's coming from Lance stans or Lance haters or Keith stans who ship kl, i don't even know where to begin with. And even if i did know, if i started listing all of them we'll be here all day. Ok i think my biggest gripe is this insistence that if kl (or anu Keith ship really) had became canon it could have saved vld, cause just no. No it won't. The writers hate their characters of colour and the Love Keith, if kl had became canon Lance would have just been reduced to being Keith's eye candy. Neither would making him Black paladin. Just look at what happened to Shiro and Kuron

They got done dirty by the fans- Kl shippers insisting that their fanon 'fixed' Lance and said fanon is Lance having every nuance or complexity removed with only things remaining is either his insecurities and him having a crush on Keith my beloathed. Please i need most fans (especially Keith stans) away from him, doesn't matter what their feelings about Lance are, all of them somehow come up with worse canon

They got done dirty by the creators- Everyone and their mother has talked about this in great detail but still. Just. A farmer?!?! A FARMER?!?!?!!? Also apparently him moving to Altea even though he spent so much time missing Earth like?!??! I would have accepted that if it's because he is Allura's Prince Consort or a diplomat or something but this is just bullshit

Wasted Potential- Lance could have had such a great arc about being support and humility and finding his own place with his own strength but noOooOoo it's instead about how he'll only ever be second choice to fucking Keith

I am constantly going insane rotating him in my brain like a fork in a microwave- this fucker has been in my brain for 7 goddamn years and he is neither planning to leave nor planning to pay rent

Popular ships for this character suck- i actually like most of his ships except klance, the blight that it is (i enjoy it too occasionally but it's so everywhere it's getting on my nerves, free my boy i am tired of Keith)

Overrated- I love him. He is my most favorite character ever, but people need to shut up about him forever <333, especially because that fanon guy is not my son

Constantly listening to songs and mentally holding them up like paint swatches- i have. So. Many animatic ideas around Lance. So many of them

I WANT TO STUDY THEM LIKE COCKROACH- He's my little labrat and i am an unethical scientist about to have fun experimenting. He's just so intriguing, i think what's intriguing to me about is how much messy, contradictory and human he is as a character

FREE SPACE- Maybe i am bit biased here but in my opinion vld should have had three main focal points. Shiro, as he has connection with galra empire and the horrors they were committing in the present and the universe that needs to be rescued, saved and healed. Allura, as she has connection with the lions and their legend as well as the past of the galran empire and what was destroyed in their wake and seeks justice, healing, and remembrance. And finally, Lance, as he's connected to every member of the new team, no matter how uncertain and one sided those bonds were, to Earth and his family who never even knew about those dangers and are unprepared, what's at stake and the future that needs to be defended and protected.

What's wrong with him (affectionate)- He's so goddamn annoying<33333

Not Enough ScreenTime- Or atleast he definitely he needed more focus

My opinions would be received by most fans as akin to hitting a wasps nest with baseball bat- other than my dislike for kl? I think allurance was fine, yes the relationship needed to be better written. But So was every relationship in this goddamn show buddy, as a matter is one of the only ones that actually had some development for both the characters. Also Lance should have stayed the blue paladin "He deserved to be someone's first choice" HE WAS ALREADY SOMEONE'S FIRST CHOICE!!! HE WAS BLUE'S FIRST CHOICE!!!! BLUE WAITED FOR HIM FOR 10,000 YEARS!!! SHE CHOSE HIM OVER THE BEST PILOTS, THE BEST ENGINEERS, THE BEST SCIENTIST AND SO MANY OTHERS!!!!! *rattling and gnawing on my cage bars*

BITING AND KILLING AND MAIMING THEM AND DEATH AND VIOLENCE- I am definitely Normal™ about him. Yup. Just don't look at my blog

Hunk-

i have answered him here!

Shiro-

They got done dirty by the fans- I do not get this opinion that Shiro staying dead. Like Shiro had been dead since s2 and only came back at the end of s6 to be a side character. Him staying alive was not the reason behind the quality of the show decreasing. Also the entire "who should be the Black Paladin" debate is pointless the answer will always be the guy who fought Zarkon in the Astral Plane for it.

They got done dirty by the creators- Literally so fucking dirty, Shiro really goes from one of the most interesting character with compelling backstory integral to the plot, to a side character who may as well just not be there. The absolute bs of it all

Wasted Potential- Shiro had So Much going for him as a character, but alas

They work better as a part of a dynamic- Shiro and Black Lion parallel mirrored dynamic my beloved they'll never make me hate you <333. Cause seriously it's the most Lion-Paladin bond in the whole show, their shared similar trauma and that too from same people!!! How can you not???

The popular ships for this character suck- maybe this is just me being a Keith hater, but Shiro's dynamic with literally character was far more compelling over his dynamic with Keith. Like with Allura? Shared trauma from same people and also shared responsibility. With Pidge? Trying to find the same people they love. With Hunk? Two characters who struggle with their neurodivergency and need stability. With Lance? Character foils. In all these cases Shiro is in an equal position and feels like a character. With Keith however, platonic or romantic, the entire relationship is about how Keith feels about Shiro, and how sad Keith gets when Shiro gets hurt/missing etc etc, and just a completely one sided mess that is less about them equals and more about putting Keith on pedestal, which is just utterly boring nothing burger to me

I want to study them like a cockroach- Tell me your secrets boy <33

Not enough screen time- Yeah </3

My opinions would be received by most fans as akin to hitting a wasps nest with baseball bat- Like i said i find his dynamic with Keith at best boring and at worst detrimental to his character in canon in Doylist perspective way. Which sucks cause like it's fan favorite relationship in both canon and fanon and is also almost everywhere.

Also i know twinganes (Kuron and Shiro being bros) is really popular but i personally cant see them get along. Especially at first. Shiro canonically doesn't like Kuron and refers to him as an evil clone, which understandable, Shiro did spend months dead in astral plane while Kuron (unknowingly) took over his life and then goes on to nearly kill his friends. But it is also so unfair to Kuron who is not only dead but also no one is mourning AND his body is being used by Shiro. So if Kuron were to survive all That™ i doubt he'll have high opinions about Shiro as well (hence my post s8 au)

And even if all that didn't happen i still think they'll have problems. Like at best they will be civil and friendly but also deeply uncomfortable around each other (Kuron cuz clone trauma and Shiro cuz Haggar trauma). At worst it's just this-

I like them but i don't think about him much- confession i personally found Kuron to be much more compelling as a character. Shiro is a good character! I get why people like him!!! But also if i had to choose between the two it would be Kuron without a doubt. Shiro just doesn't hit the brainrot levels of likability to me

[hamilando]

ੈ✩ where the heart is (smau) ੈ✩

pairing : george russell x adopted! hamilton reader

summary: a move will test where the heart lies

tw : fluff

fc : jasmine tookes

a/n : thank you so much to @josephqunnies for suggesting this ! lysm 🫶🏻

·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ

liked by lewishamilton, georgerussell, alexandramieux and 1,302,498 others

ynhamilton ending 24 with blings *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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user1 ma’am just came to serve looks

user2 is everything ok with george? HE IS WEARING A SHIRT !?

user3 george literally said I ain’t leaving the hamiltons

lewishamilton mum said that you need to learn to smile 😃

ynhamilton you could never get a picture as perfect as mine 😗

user4 if they fight like this in the comments

user5 don’t even imagine real life

georgerussell stop buying ferrrari merch

ynhamilton my brother is in ferrari?

georgerussell your lover is still in mercedes ?

ynhamilton yeah yeah, our kids will support mercedes

alexandrasaintmieux ma’am, can you contact me to your stylist !?

ynhamilton you have my number bbg 😍

user6 the fashion genes do run in the family I guess

liked by lewishamilton, georgerussell, user1, user2 and 2,378,297 others

ynhamilton Wrong Direction ˘͈ᵕ˘͈

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landonorris album drop when ?

landonorris saving me money 💰

ynhamilton McLaren not paying you ?

oscarpiastri he probably spent it on his late night escapades

landonorris for god's sake, THIS IS THE MAIN ACCOUNT !?

maxverstappen1 waiting for my fifth

ynhamilton waiting for the eighth and first

georgerussell you remember me ?

ynhamilton I remember toto 🫶🏻

alexandrasaintmieux can’t wait to go explore Monaco !!

ynhamilton I have George’s and lewis’s cards ready

georgerussell I am going round on track and debt

francolapinto you should come to argentina!

ynhamilton are you inviting ?

francolapinto is it you are asking ?

georgerussell stop flirting with an old lady

ynhamilton glad to know that this OLD LADY still has her charms 😊

liked by georgerussell, landonorris, lewishamilton and 1,267,297 others

ynhamilton keeping up with the hamiltons and a russell

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lewishamilton what’s with your obsession with reality shows !?

ynhamilton just like your obsession with your clothes

lewishamilton for god’s sake, either stop posting me on your feed, or post a better picture

ynhamilton no, DEAR BROTHER

georgerussell another day of being the side chick

ynhamilton hey! at least you are in the show !?

charlesleclerc which streaming platform ?

ynhamilton f1tv 🫦

charlesleclerc I mean if you plan to seduce them and get it there …?

georgerussell I AM STILL ALIVE !

georgerussell NOT YET DEAD FROM MY CRASHES !

ynhamilton oh, don't need that when you have got a seven time works champion

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4 and 372,487 others

f1wags With the recent move of her brother to ferrari, will Y/N Hamilton and George Russell’s relationship be affected ?

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user1 that’s a low blow man

user2 tbh, I don’t think so, she is Lewis’s adopted sibling, so I doubt she will support him that much

user3 seriously !? adopted ?

user4 adopted or not, they are still siblings

user5 I don’t think we should speculate someone’s relationship just based on a move

user6 not like he is moving away from the paddock!

user7 but y/n won’t be around both at the same time ?

user8 this is going to be messy

user9 I hope she dates Charles

user10 bruh, what about Alex ?

liked by lewishamilton, charlesleclerc, maxverstappen1 and 2,376,378 others

ynhamilton guess the heart stays with Mercedes

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lewishamilton guess I need to see your face every day

charlesleclerc George, please don't make your wedding photos include that pose of yours

georgerussell its not that bad now

landinorris FREE BOOZE

ynhamilton you guys are forgetting to congratulate me ..?

alexandrasaintmieux OMGGGG, WEDDING IN THE HOUSE 🤭

maxverstappen1 congrats y/n and George !!

liked by ynhamilton, georgerussell, landonorris and 4,287,270 others

lewishamilton You were just 2 when you came waddling in our house, I kept on asking mum if she really had to get you home. I would always tease you that they picked you up from the dustbin and I would laugh seeing you cry but thank you for the number of scars on my knees and elbows, dipping my face in jam and drawing doodles on my helmets. Thank you for always putting my needs above yours, sacrificing your school trips and prom dresses just so dad could afford my karting. I am grateful that you have found a soulmate in a man like George, who I know will go poles to keep you happy. I am proud of you and will always love you, my little sister from the dustbin. ❤️

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[yonch]

it's been 15 years and you can see better than ever

(design notes under the cut) (there are spoilers)

ok this got really long. here you go

sif:

ditched the cloak. it was collecting dust in their closet until recently, but they realized they don't need to cling to their grief so much anymore. someone else will need it more soon.

ditched the eyepatch. the prosthetic eye is a labor of love designed by isa, as is literally everything else they're wearing.

they cut their bangs finally and started braiding their hair back so it wouldn't obscure their vision as much anymore.

they like darker/tighter clothing and prefer function over form but unfortunately their gay ass boyfriend keeps treating them like a dress up doll so they're stuck wearing waistcoats and a fancy cloak. (they don't mind. it's designed to look like loop.) they keep flowers in their many pockets to give to people.

they're a woodworker in their free time. they don't usually talk about being any sort of savior so he just becomes sif the guy who's really good at carving birthday presents for people and also tags along with isa to charity parties and fundraisers

41 year old 5'1" they/he absolutely zero intention of Changing. bonded to isabeau. they adopted a kid who leo or i might post about some other time i think. her name is estelle.

isa: i'm not taking credit for the design that's by my friend @fembard /@leoweooo. i'll include his design notes

isa dresses mostly for comfort, he doesn't like wearing stuff that might get stained or ruined when he's dyeing clothes or chasing stelle around in the mud or something, all his fashion sense goes into his handiwork

he Changed a few more times over the 15yrs, eventually settled. picked up she/her pronouns again on the side but was never really able to ditch the name isabeau and he kinda ran out of names anyways...

kept the long hair, kept a few inches in height, very happy to fulfill the role of male (space) wife

can't ditch the kimono jacket it's the piece de resistance. odile influence and Wisening Of Age means its made with a little more knowledge of ka buan technique but still very clearly an Isa Design. the fabric is imported silk sif!!!!!!

39 year old Tall with a capital T he/she "i swear i'm not a weeaboo i'm just really into ka buan fashion" vaugardian indie clothing designer in your area help support this man in his attempts to use his family members as living advertisements for his brand

mira: with design input from @jastertown thank you my friend

i took a lot of inspiration for the sparkly, sheer fabric on her dress from euphrasie. she's not head housemaiden yet because she doesn't feel like she's ready but everybody knows it'll be her

speaking of inspiration. she's been taking a lot of fashion cues from a certain lady in dormont that she thought was kind of scary, but it turns out she's very nice? they're besties now.

she got rid of the earrings for a little bit but then she realized she just liked how they look on her. so now they go ding ding! it's for her and nobody else, and that's how she likes it.

moved her ornaments to her skirt because they ding ding more often there. her necklace also jingles with merriment.

38 year old she/her advanced cisgender+ legend who's realizing that people are trying to get her to be the pope but all she really wants to do is write yaoibait fiction that looks like it came straight off of ao3

odile:

my glorious hag. she started shrinking about 3 years ago. all those years of bending over books has finally caught up to her. her hips are fuuuuuucked. but she has a sick cane that sif carved for her so everything's okay

she was already pretty comfortable and settled in her sense of style when she was nearing 50 so i don't think she would change much. darker clothing maybe. ditched the high-waisted pants for some looser slacks.

she's started writing a familytale of her own. the only person she's told about it is bonbon, who caught her up way past their bedtime, and scribbled all over one of the pages. she'll pass it on to sif when the time's right, after she's written down everything she can remember about their family.

64 year old she/her wasian researcher recovering from hernia surgery who's getting really into things like "political activism" and "body craft law reformation in ka bue" and "making sure people aren't sourcing their hrt from back alleys"

bonnie:

prefers to go by boniface these days. it's cooler. more mature. please stop calling me bonbon that's a nickname from when i was 10 guys c'mon guys ugh fine frin you can still call me bonbon but not around my girlfriends ok (nobody calls them boniface except for odile)

speaking of which they have 3 butch lesbian girlfriends. this got established as a joke but i think they have it in them. they're still young!!!!!!! they should be at the club!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

they traveled for a while with everybody but eventually settled down back in bambouche to start a little family owned restaurant with nille featuring dishes from all over the globe. people travel from all over to get a taste of boniface's good eats... bambouche is bustling. (they have a few recipes that are sourced from the country. they meet people every once in a while who find something achingly familiar about it, and they usually direct those people to jouvente to get in contact with frin.)

26 year old they/them "i dont know how tall i am but i'm taller than za" chef cooker whose restaurant keeps lighting on fire because this time i swear nille i can figure out how to do cooking craft i swear i wont explode the kitchen this time please i promise

loop:

ok. this is where lozy gets to just talk about what he thinks happens post game. i think they stick around for way longer than they really should and follow the crew around on their travels (mostly invisibly) because they're sooo fucking scared of change they're sooo scared and they're so scared of their wish fucking up beyond belief. they're kind of incapable of aging or dying in this body and theyre like permanently 26 which is what spurs them to finally move on.

i think they go back to their timeline eventually after making a Brand New Wish to "go back to their real family." alas the universe leads and we can only follow. and it turns out loop has actually made a real family in stardust's world also. this is my justification for why they can pop in between sasasap and isat worlds without much repercussion. i think they're always permanently loop shaped in isat but i imagine they can probably go back to their original body in their home timeline... might design that later. who knows. i'm fucked like that

i just think they deserve a chance for their own happy ending you know. isat's a game about how it's never too late to communicate and how you shouldn't punish yourself forever and ever. and i think theyve punished themself enough you know.

ok tank you for reading if you read this far. it's really big and long so i would understand if you didn't. but i hope you liked it. thoughts appreciated. here's a little something for the people who read all the way through.

[goldfades]

FLIPPED──RAFE CAMERON

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine it's crucial that we stand in solidarity with those who need our support. right now, the people of palestine are facing unimaginable hardship, and it's up to all of us to do what we can to help. whether it's raising awareness, donating to relief organizations, or supporting calls for justice and peace, every action counts. we can amplify their voices, shed light on their struggles, and work towards a future where every individual can live with dignity and freedom. your support can make a difference! FREE PALESTINE!

for this request, for my baby jojo! @wanderlusturous

─ summary | rafe is completely devoted to his pregnant wife, spoiling her endlessly and preparing for the arrival of their baby girl, who becomes the center of his world. after a life of feeling lost and disconnected, rafe finally finds purpose in his new family, vowing to protect and love them unconditionally.

─ pairing | rafe cameron x wife!reader

─ warnings | such a sweet, domestic bliss fic! rafe spoiling tf outta reader, rafe being a girl dad, mentions of toxic family, but other than that it's just so sweet.

─ ev's notes | the chokehold that gif has on me is... insane. also wheezie needs to be included more in fics like... shes so awesome (ik she hasnt done anything but thats kinda the point) ALSOOOO I NEED MORE DOMESTIC RAFE LIKEEEE, PLS SEND ME REQUESTS. i might do a part 2 for this fic cause it's so heartwarming i cannot

ok love u bye!!! pls send me requests!!!!!!

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my masterlist!

You’re lounging on the couch, wrapped in the softest cashmere blanket Rafe could find, a far cry from the one you had before. That one had been comfortable too, but Rafe never thought it was enough for you, not when his princess deserved the best. The soft hum of the air conditioner fills the house, the only sound in the otherwise still afternoon, while your fingers absentmindedly trace patterns on your growing belly.

Sunlight streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a warm glow over the room, and you sink further into the cushions, feeling the quiet luxury that has come to define your life since you met Rafe. He’s out right now, picking up God knows what — probably more baby things, even though you already have a mountain of stuff piled high in the nursery.

He never does anything halfway. Every stroller, every onesie, every diaper cream has to be top-of-the-line, the best that money can buy. He doesn’t just spoil you, he suffocates you with care, but in the softest, sweetest way possible, so you don’t even mind. No, you love it, revel in it, feeling like you’ve been plucked straight out of one life and placed into another, where all you have to do is exist and be adored.

The front door clicks open, and you can feel his presence before you even see him. He’s always like that, larger than life even when he’s trying to be quiet. You sit up a little, trying to hide the way you’ve been lazily sprawled out, but he’s already at your side, his hands gently urging you back down.

“Relax, baby,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your forehead. His eyes flicker to your belly, then back to you, that familiar mixture of awe and protectiveness gleaming in his gaze. "I've got everything handled. You just need to rest."

You open your mouth to protest, to tell him that you could've gotten up, could’ve helped him with the bags, but he’s already shaking his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as if he can read your thoughts before you even say a word.

"Not a chance." He sets the bags down, filled to the brim with things you know you'll never touch, because he’ll do everything for you. “You’re not lifting a finger. Not while I’m around.”

His voice, low and firm, sends a shiver down your spine, the kind of reassurance that only Rafe can offer. He crouches down beside the couch, running his hands over your legs, making sure you’re comfortable—like he always does. His touch is possessive, protective, the kind that says without words, you’re mine to take care of.

You let out a soft sigh, sinking back against the plush cushions as his hand glides up to rest gently on your belly, almost like a reflex now. You’ve noticed that since you started showing, his hands always find their way there. Like he has to be close, to make sure everything’s okay. He’s obsessed, really—your safety, your comfort, your every need. It’s like a switch flipped the moment he found out about the baby, and he hasn’t let you out of his sight since.

“Everything’s fine, Rafe,” you say softly, trying to reassure him, but the way his brow furrows ever so slightly tells you he doesn’t quite believe you. He’s always worrying.

“I know,” he replies, but there’s a tension in his voice, the kind that tells you he’s already thinking five steps ahead—about the doctor’s appointments, the vitamins, the nursery. He leans in, kissing the top of your head as his other hand gently brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “But you’re carrying our baby. I’m not taking any chances.”

You smile at his overprotectiveness. It used to overwhelm you at first, this all-consuming devotion, but now? Now it’s like second nature, the way he hovers, always making sure you’re not doing too much, that you’re not straining yourself. He’s like a human safety net, never more than a few feet away, always anticipating what you might need before you even know it yourself.

He stands and starts unpacking the bags he brought in—high-end baby gear, of course. Another designer bassinet, this one with extra features that make it look more like a spaceship than something an infant should sleep in. You watch him move around the room with purpose, his movements fluid and sure, as if orchestrating a plan only he’s privy to. He barely spares you a glance, but you know he’s hyper-aware of your presence, always keeping you in his peripheral vision.

“You didn’t have to get all this,” you murmur, though you already know the answer. You say it more out of habit now, like you need to put up some token resistance to the endless stream of gifts and gadgets.

“I know, but I wanted to,” he says without looking up, his tone casual, but you can hear the edge of finality in it. It’s the same way he talks about everything when it comes to you—like there’s no room for negotiation. “Only the best for you and the baby. You deserve it.”

He sets down the bassinet and moves back to you, taking a seat on the edge of the couch, his hand immediately finding yours. He strokes the back of your hand with his thumb, and you lean into him, letting yourself relax in the comfort of his presence. For all his intensity, there’s something so soothing about him when he’s like this—calm, focused, entirely devoted to making sure you’re taken care of.

“Rafe, really… I don’t need all this. I just—” You hesitate, biting your lip. You want to say that all you really need is him, that he’s already more than enough. But before you can finish, his lips brush against your temple, silencing your thoughts.

“Don’t worry about it, baby. I’ve got you. I’ve got everything.” His voice is gentle, but there’s an unshakable confidence behind it, the kind that makes you believe, even for a moment, that the world outside doesn’t exist. That as long as you’re in his orbit, nothing can touch you.

You glance over at the bassinet, the sleek, modern design standing out starkly against the warmth of the room. It’s absurd, really, how much Rafe is willing to spend, how nothing seems too extravagant when it comes to you. But that’s just him—lavish, obsessive, determined to give you a life where you never have to want for anything. And despite how overwhelming it can be sometimes, you can’t deny how intoxicating it is to be the center of someone’s universe like this.

“You think you’ll ever let me out of this house again?” you tease, half-joking, half-serious. He hasn’t exactly been keen on you going anywhere without him lately. Even the grocery store is off-limits unless he’s there to push the cart and carry the bags.

Rafe chuckles softly, but there’s a protective gleam in his eye. “Not until the baby’s here. And even then, only if I’m with you.” He’s only half-joking, and you both know it. The idea of you out in the world, vulnerable, without him by your side—it’s something he can’t stand.

You roll your eyes playfully, but the warmth that spreads through your chest is undeniable. It’s not like you want to go anywhere without him. Not really. The truth is, you’ve gotten used to this, the way he dotes on you, the way he watches over you like you’re the most precious thing in his life. It’s addictive, being adored like this.

“Fine, fine,” you say with a mock sigh of defeat, settling back against the pillows. “I guess I’ll just have to get used to being spoiled.”

Rafe’s smile widens, his eyes softening as he looks at you. “Good,” he says, leaning down to kiss you again, slower this time, lingering. “Cause that’s not changing anytime soon.”

───

The moment he found he was having a girl, his world flipped upside down in the best way possible. The baby shower was small and private, only inviting your close friends and family. And for Rafe, he only invited Wheezie. He doesn't really have family or friends he'd want to be around—he only needs you, really.

Rafe never really had a family, not until he met you. Sarah was... well, Sarah. She used to be a part of his life, but they were worlds apart now, and Rafe had long since stopped trying to bridge the gap between them. She had her own life, her own people, and it didn’t overlap with his anymore. Rafe had always felt like an outsider in his own family, never really fitting in, never living up to what was expected of him. His father was distant, his mother gone, and his siblings—well, they weren’t exactly close.

But you? You were different. From the moment he met you, something shifted. For the first time in his life, he felt like he had something solid, something real. You gave him a reason to try, a reason to build something better than what he grew up with. He didn’t just want a family—he wanted your family. One that wasn’t broken or full of secrets and betrayals, but one where he could be the man he’d always hoped to be.

The moment he found out you were having a girl, everything inside him shifted. He wasn’t just Rafe Cameron anymore. He was going to be a father—a girl dad. The idea scared him at first, the weight of it hitting him harder than anything ever had. He wanted to be perfect for her, for both of you. He wanted to give his daughter everything he never had growing up: stability, love, safety. Things he never knew he craved until now.

The baby shower was intimate, just the way you liked it. Soft pastels draped the room, and delicate decorations hung from the ceiling, a far cry from the over-the-top events Kooks were known for. But that wasn’t you. And that’s why Rafe loved you. You made everything feel simple, real, stripping away the excess that had always suffocated him growing up.

Wheezie was there, of course, quiet and awkward as ever, but Rafe didn’t care. She was the only family he had left that mattered, the only one who hadn’t looked at him like he was too far gone, beyond saving. She wasn’t like Sarah, who had washed her hands of him long ago, or Ward, who saw him as nothing more than a disappointment.

As you sat in the corner, surrounded by a small group of friends, Rafe couldn’t take his eyes off you. You were glowing—literally glowing, your skin radiant, your hands instinctively resting on your belly. You were laughing at something Wheezie said, but all he could think about was how surreal this all was. How he’d gotten here. From the chaos of his old life to this—a quiet, perfect moment.

Rafe didn’t need anyone else, not really. His friends? They were more like shadows of a life he’d left behind. Toxic, empty relationships that had never filled the void. But with you? He felt whole. He didn’t need the Outer Banks, the parties, the fake smiles and empty promises. All he needed was sitting right in front of him—his future, his family.

You caught his eye from across the room and smiled, and just like that, the world shrank down to just the two of you. It always did. Everything else faded away when you were around. He crossed the room, ignoring the small talk and the laughter, his focus entirely on you.

“Hey, princess,” he murmured, kneeling beside your chair, one hand instantly finding your belly like it always did. He pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder before leaning his head against it, closing his eyes for just a second to ground himself in the moment. “You good? Need anything?”

You shook your head, resting your hand on top of his. “I’m fine, Rafe. You don’t need to keep checking on me every five minutes.”

He huffed out a laugh, but there was no humor in it, just a soft kind of affection. “Can’t help it,” he said quietly, opening his eyes to look up at you. “I’ve gotta make sure my girls are okay.”

Your heart melted at that, at the way his entire face softened whenever he talked about you and the baby. Rafe Cameron—the guy everyone thought was a lost cause, a wreck waiting to happen—was now the most devoted man you’d ever met. He wasn’t perfect, far from it. But he tried—tried so damn hard for you.

“Everything’s perfect,” you reassured him, squeezing his hand. “And you’re spoiling me too much. Again.”

A mischievous grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “Not possible. I’ll spoil you both for the rest of my life if I have to.”

You laughed, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead. “You already are.”

He looked up at you, his eyes full of something soft, something vulnerable. “You know… I never thought I’d have this. A family. Not like this.”

You reached out, gently cupping his face in your hand, your thumb brushing over his cheek. “Well, now you do. And you’re going to be a great dad, Rafe.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his eyes flickering with emotions he didn’t quite know how to put into words. But then he nodded, his grip on your hand tightening slightly, as if he were afraid to let go.

“Yeah,” he whispered, his voice thick with something unspoken. “I guess I do.”

And when his baby girl finally came, his world cracked open in ways he never thought possible. Everything changed in an instant—the noise of the hospital, the rush of doctors, the sterile white walls—all of it faded into the background the moment he saw her. Tiny, fragile, perfect. His heart seemed to stop and race at the same time as the nurse handed her to him, her soft whimpers breaking through the silence like a delicate melody.

Rafe had never known he could love something this much. Not until he was holding his daughter in his arms, her little fingers curling instinctively around his thumb, her eyes barely opening to reveal the softest hint of blue. In that moment, every bad decision he’d ever made, every reckless move, every mistake—it all faded away. Nothing mattered anymore except this.

She was his.

His chest felt tight, his throat constricting as he tried to wrap his head around it all. The weight of responsibility hit him like a wave, but it wasn’t fear that came with it. It was a sense of purpose, a deep, unshakable need to protect her, to give her everything. To never let her feel the kind of emptiness he’d grown up with.

You were lying in the bed, exhausted but glowing, watching him with a tired but content smile. Rafe caught your gaze and smiled back, tears threatening to spill over as he gently cradled your daughter against his chest, her tiny body fitting perfectly in the crook of his arm.

“She’s so small,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion, barely above a breath. He felt like he was holding the most precious thing in the world, something so delicate he was terrified of breaking her. But at the same time, he didn’t want to let her go. Ever.

“She’s perfect,” you murmured, your voice soft and full of warmth. “She’s ours.”

Rafe swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that were quickly clouding his vision. His thumb gently brushed over the soft tufts of hair on his daughter’s head, his heart swelling with so much love it almost hurt.

“She’s more than perfect,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I—I don’t even know what to say.”

You smiled gently, reaching out for his hand. “You don’t have to say anything. You’re doing it, Rafe. You’re already her father.”

The words hit him like a punch to the chest. He’d never been sure if he’d be good enough for this, good enough for you, for the family you’d built together. But looking at his daughter, her tiny face so serene in his arms, he knew he’d never stop trying. He’d move mountains, tear down the sky, do anything and everything to keep her safe.

Rafe stood there for what felt like hours, rocking her gently as you dozed off, exhausted from labor. He couldn’t take his eyes off his daughter, couldn’t believe she was real. She had your nose, your delicate features, and he could already see hints of his own wild streak in her.

It terrified him, and yet it filled him with a pride he couldn’t put into words.

As she shifted slightly in his arms, letting out the tiniest yawn, Rafe felt his entire world center itself around her. His priorities had changed in an instant, everything he’d once thought was important—money, power, even his own survival—seemed so insignificant now. The only thing that mattered was the little girl sleeping soundly against his chest.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering as he whispered, “I’m never letting you go. I promise.”

And in that moment, he meant it. Every word.

He didn’t need anything else—no approval from his family, no redemption from his past. He had you, and now he had her. His little family. A family that was his to protect, his to love, his to spoil with every fiber of his being.

Rafe knew he’d made mistakes—plenty of them—but as he held his daughter close, he made a silent vow to her. He’d be better. He’d always be better for her.

Because now, his world wasn’t just about him anymore. It was about her, about you. And for the first time in his life, he had something worth fighting for that didn’t come with strings attached or conditions. It was just love. Pure, overwhelming, unconditional love.

And Rafe Cameron was never going to let that go.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Just got this idea and it made me cry ok so for 141+König where the reader suddenly walks up to him and just kisses and holds him while crying cause they love him so much and they panicked at the thought of losing him maybe sth happened and they got scared or maybe they were just thinking about it idk FUCK I love them so much can't bear the thought of anything happening to them 😭💔

141 + Königs Reactions To You Crying For/Over Them

Warnings: swearing, crying, mentions of death, mentions of bullying, angst

Simon Ghost Riley-

You hadn’t been able to find Simon all day. You chalked it up to the both of you being busy on base, but usually you’d always caught a glimpse of him throughout the day.

You had a gnawing feeling at your chest, but weren’t able to act upon it until later that night. You found Simon on the rooftop of base, staring up at the night sky as he took a drag of his cigarette.

“I thought you quit smoking.” You teased, slowly walking up to him.

When Simon didn’t give his usual witty remark in reply, you knew something was wrong. His eyes remained glued to the stars, and you could see that his eyes were red.

“Simon, are you okay?” You asked, your hand resting on top of his in a comforting gesture. “Talk to me.”

Simon tore his eyes away from the sky, and flicked his cigarette over the railing. “It’s the anniversary today.”

“Anniversary?” You asked, your brows furrowing in confusion.

“It’s been 6 years since they died.” Simon said, his voice hoarse from crying.

“Your family?” You asked, giving his hand another squeeze. In the years you’d been together, Simon had only talked about his family a few times, and you were never one to press the subject. Simon was a reserved man, and you’d don’t want to push your luck with that.

But Simon told you everything that night. Every little detail of his life when he was a child. The kind of man his father was. How his family was murdered and that the only thing he could do for them was to get revenge. No detail was spared, and once he was done speaking, Simon found a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He’d finally let someone in.

He took a breath, and looked up at you to find you sobbing. You didn’t know what to do, other than throw yourself into Simon’s arms, gripping around his waist at tight as you possibly could.

“Simon, I am so, so sorry you’ve gone through that. I don’t know.. I don’t know what to say other than I’m here for you. I will always be here for you.” You cried into his chest. “I love you, more than you’ll ever know.”

“I know, kid.” He said, his eyes softening as he looked down at you. “I know.”

John MacTavish-

You awoke in a cold sweat, breathing rapidly as you blinked away hot tears. You’d just had the worst nightmare. You were out on a mission, when Johnny was killed right in front of you. The dream felt so real, and your heart was aching at the very real possibility that you could lose him on a mission.

You looked next to you, and found Johnny’s side of the bed cold and empty. It was clear he hadn’t been in bed for some time.

You threw the covers off of you, throwing one of Johnny’s hoodies on before making your way toward the gym- somewhere you knew he would be at this hour.

You breathed a shaky sigh of relief as you laid eyes on Johnny. He’d worked up quite the sweat, and it was clear he’d been here for some time.

Your legs reacted before your brain could catch up, and you found yourself grabbing Johnny by the collar of his shirt and roughly placing your lips on his.

You pulled back, breathless as you looked up as Johnny with tears in your eyes. He immediately frowned, his brows furrowed in concern.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart. Are you alright?” His hands rubbed at your arms soothingly.

“I- I had a dream. You were gone and there was nothing I could do.” You sobbed, rubbing away at your tears as your eyes drifted to the floor. “I woke up and you weren’t there.”

Johnny pulled you close to him, his arms holding you tight against his chest as he pressed kisses along your temple. “I’m here, Bonnie. It was just a dream. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up. I couldn’t sleep.”

“It felt so real.” You said, pulling away. “I.. I don’t know what I’d ever do if I lost you. I just.. I can’t even comprehend it.”

“Then don’t. Because I promise you, I will do everything in my power to keep coming back to you, okay?” Johnny asked, lifting your chin up so that your eyes met his. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You sniffled in return, rubbing your teary eyes against his shirt causing Johnny to chuckle softly. “Let us get back to bed, yeah?”

“I’m not even tired anymore.” You mumbled, not pulling your face from Johnnys chest.

“Well, it’s a good thing a beds good for more than just sleeping, eh?” Johnny threw you a cheeky smile, before lifting you in his arms. “Gotta show my babe I’m not going anywhere.”

John Price-

Everything happened so fast. One minute, John was by your side as a hail of bullets rained down on the two of you in the field. The next, John was halfway across the field, oblivious to the enemy behind him. It was a blur, the man raised his gun, and proceeded to shoot John in the chest.

“John!” You shrieked, watching as the man you love fell to the ground. Your heart began to beat wildly in your chest as your brain started to malfunction. Nothing else around you in that moment mattered. He couldn’t die, not like this. He couldn’t leave you.

You sprinted across the field, ignoring the shouts of the other soilders around you, your eyes welling with tears as John’s frame came into view.

You skidded to your knees, your hands immediately reaching for John’s face.

“John!” You whimpered, your eyes skimming down the length of his body.

“Baby, hey. It’s okay. The vest caught it. It just knocked the wind out of me.” John reached out to grab your hands, trying to calm you down, to no avail.

Your hands continued to frantically pull at his vest, you needed to see he was truly unharmed with your own eyes. “No! No you got shot!”

John grasped your hands in his gently, forcing you to look at him. “Y/N. Look at me.”

You blinked away tears, your bottom lip wobbling as you threw your arms around him in a tight embrace. “I thought I lost you.”

“I hope you know it’s going to take a lot more than a stray bullet to keep me from you.” John said, before capturing your lips in his. “I promise you I’m okay, alright?”

You nodded, pulling away to help John to his feet. With one final firm kiss, the two of you finished out the mission, neither one of you straying too far from the other.

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

You twiddled your thumbs anxiously, your eyes darting back to the front door of the base every few minutes, praying Kyle would walk through the door.

141 was expected back three days ago, and according to Laswell they’d gone radio silent the day they were supposed to come back.

You choked back a sob, burying your face into your arms. You don’t know what you’d do with yourself if Kyle never came back. He was your everything.

You slowed your breathing, trying to regain your composure when the click of the front door caught your attention. Your head jumped up, your heart immediately skipping a beat as Kyle and the rest of the 141 walked through the front door, looking a little worse for wear.

Without a second of hesitation, your legs moved faster than they ever had in your life as you slammed yourself into Kyle, your arms encompassing his waist in a firm grip.

Your relationship wasn’t common knowledge, so Kyle was quite surprised when you made such a public display of affection, but it wasn’t unwelcome in the slightest. His squeezed you in return, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m here, babe. It’s okay.”

“They kept saying you weren’t coming back. That you were all dead.” You cried softly, burying your face in your boyfriend’s chest. “I was so scared.”

“I know, I’m so sorry. Everything’s going to be okay.” He promised, holding you tighter. “I’ve got you.”

The two of you remained inseparable for the remainder of the day, neither one of you taking your eyes off each other.

König-

It was no secret that König wasn’t the most popular person on base. Between his height, the frightening mask he wore, and his timid nature, he wasn’t known for making many friends.

It’d come as a shock to the majority of the people on base when it was announced that you and König were a couple.

You’d heard the whispers of course, just as König did. The rude comments thrown about him behind his back, unbeknownst to you, had König’s self esteem plummeting.

You didn’t find out until late one night when you found your boyfriend alone in the weapons locker, looking the most upset you’d ever seen him.

“Babe? You weren’t at dinner, is everything okay?” You asked, pausing a few paces in front of him. You’d never seen him like this and you were unsure of how to react.

“I’m a freak, Maus.” König spoke, his voice so quiet you can barely hear him. “No matter what I do, no matter how good I am out on the field, no matter how well I follow orders… I’ll always be the outcast.”

Your heart shattered at his words, hot tears forming in your eyes as you stepped closer to him. “König, that’s not true.”

König finally looked up at you, a solemn expression on his face- something you never wanted to see on your lover again. “It is. I know you’ve heard what they say. I’m a monster. I’m weird. I look more like the villain than the hero. It’s all things I’ve told myself before.”

“Look at me.” You said, crouching before him. You quickly wiped away the stray tears that began to fall as you spoke. “You are not any of those things. Those people are fools. They haven’t gotten to know the man underneath the mask. On the field, you’re the battering ram. A powerhouse. The perfect weapon. But off the field? You’re the best fucking person I know.”

You pulled him into a tight hug, holding him close to you as you rubbed his back soothingly. “I love you so much König. If I have to, I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you how great of a person you are.”

“I don’t deserve you Maus.” He murmured, squeezing you tighter. “But I thank god every day you’re in my life.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: ahh not super happy with this turned out- I’m not sure if I captured this request the best🥺

Excited to keep putting out the next few requests. Thank you again everyone for all your support❤️

[cocoreallylovesraiden]

How about the mk1 characters getting annoyed ( cause you know women like to sleep with pillows or blankets or something between their legs and just lay there cuddled up with a pillow) cause they're cuddling a pillow one I'm their arms and one between their legs

MK1 characters genuinely beefing with a pillow

(bi han, johnny cage, syzoth, tomas vrbada)

this is actually so real of you anon i cannot sleep unless i have 4 pillows with me (requests open as always :D)

Bi Han

-Is offended by the gratuitous amount of pillows you’ve managed to populate the already cramped bed with.

-In the beginning of sharing a bed with him he’d just sleep faced away from you so he never realized this was always something you did; and probably took it personally 

-He suggests that you are being childish and in a moment of mild embarrassment, says you can just hold onto him instead.

-Good on him for voicing his needs and opening up to his partner! But you don’t have the heart to tell him his arms are too muscly and less comfortable than your pillows. 

-In the mornings he stores the extra pillows under the bed or on the seats to make everything look neat because you DON'T no matter how much HE TELLS YOU.  

-In the warm summer months when shit is hot as hell you will forgo it because who needs them when you have the equivalent of “cold pillow side” all night! 

-It makes him feel like he’s the little spoon, which he doesn’t appreciate, and you get really sweaty at around 4am, which he appreciates even less, but it’s very grounding and the pressure makes it easy to sleep 

-He always wakes up really disoriented and mistakes you for the blanket (read: almost tosses you off the bed as he gets up)

 Johnny Cage

-This is equivalent to letting your dog sleep at the foot of the bed (except let's be real you’ve probably done something similar to him) 

-Thinks its super cute when he comes into the room after his shower and sees you all comfy and snuggled up, expecting you to reach for him all sleepy once he gets under the covers

-And when I tell you it hurts his pride like nothing else, when you turn around to get into a better position

-Babe i'm RIGHT here (gets a bolster thrown at his head)

-Out of spite he’ll copy you and sleep with the bolster instead of holding you, and immediately gets the appeal

-Because yes he loves you dearly, but he can’t exactly fold you three times to fit under his bad knee (as much as he wants to)

-As time goes on you both now have more extra pillows, bolsters and djungelskogs than you know what to do with.

-(you two both have one except he weighs like a brick shit ton so his is extremely disfigured and looks like a sack)

-He thinks you look really hot when you lay on your side cuddling all the pillows

-You’ll just be watching TV and he’s got the googly eyes ok calm down buddy not while you’re wearing the muumuu…

Syzoth

-Thinks you are building a nest because there is no other reason someone needs five pillows and two throw blankets

-Though this is coming from a man who spent most of his life sleeping on the cobblestone floor 

-Over the next few weeks he comes back to you with an assortment of sort fluffy…things

-You don’t have the heart to ask why he’s suddenly showering you with gifts, initially thinking it’s good nature but hey ok there’s a limit to your patience AND space on this bed. 

-The teddy bears are adorable, but spa…towels? Does he know what a spa is? You have more questions than answers.

-Every time you thank him he gets quietly excited since he thinks this is confirmation that you are nesting and possibly want to start a family with him

-Doesn’t actually mind the part with you not cuddling with him as often, he usually just lightly holds your hand or big spoons you 

-The day you actually ask him about it, and eventually have to break the news that no you are not nesting and that it’s just for your comfort, he deflates like a balloon

-Bless his heart you spend the rest of the day begging for forgiveness and clinging onto him like a koala explaining your side

-“Does that mean… you are uncomfortable with me?” NO IT’S JUST SECOND NATURE SYZOTH!! LIKE WHEN YOU WANT TO BASK ON A ROCK!! SECOND NATURE!

-He looks at you pointedly. Just because he’s zaterran doesn’t mean he’s going to behave like an iguana…. Not the zaterran discrimination…

-You compromise using him in replacement, and grow to enjoy the feeling of your new pillows occasionally squirming under your iron death grip.

Tomas Vrbada

-Will cheerfully use his herculean strength to just wriggle through your grip so you hold him and not the pillows. 

-Wiggles up like a snake coming out a pot until he can wrangle his arms above yours and hug you

-Just starts telling you about his day like its a normal conversation while you lay there completely stunlocked 

-It’s also just a reminder that as sweet and kind your partner is, he is also insanely strong and is just careful to be soft with you 

-If you’re both laying in bed and you prefer to cuddle up with pillows he’ll just stare at you with the saddest, wettest boba eyes using his curled up forearm as a pillow 

-And since you are merely a mortal man you relent and cling onto him instead

-At the same time he likes when you rest your head on his chest and hold onto a bolster, a perfect combination of not overheating and physical touch

-Biggest flaw is that he tends to spook you with how quietly he enters the room, so more often than not he is getting PELTED by that soft Egyptian cotton pillow at light speeds

-He’ll catch it 80% of the time and laugh, the other 20% he’s equally scared and the thing takes him down like it’s Sisyphus’ boulder and he’s the hill

[sugdenlovesdingle]

If you’re still taking prompts, Tommy spending time with Maddie?

Oh I like this!

----

"At least this time it was planned." Maddie offered

"Yeah... And the nurse did say everything is going according to plan earlier."

"But you still worry."

"Yeah." Tommy chuckled. "I convinced him to get it done now so he'd be back on his feet by the time the little one starts walking."

Maddie smiled and rubbed her pregnant belly.

"Yeah I think he is looking forward to meeting his family. He's about to walk right out of there in a minute. Jee wasn't this restless."

"I guess he takes after his father then. I've never known Howie to be calm and relaxed." Tommy commented "Well... off the clock at least." he added after a beat and they both laughed.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, drinking bad hospital coffee and Tommy's eyes fixed on the door.

"What about you two?" Maddie asked.

"Hmm?"

Tommy reluctantly tore his eyes away from the door and looked at her.

"One of these." she gestured at her belly.

"I don't think either of us is at risk of getting pregnant any time soon." Tommy deadpanned and laughed when Maddie slapped his bicep.

"You know what I mean. Am I going to be an aunt any time soon?"

Tommy sat up straighter and played with the lid of his coffee cup.

"We've talked about it. Marriage, kids... the whole nine yards... and we want the same things..."

"But..." Maddie prompted.

"But... not just yet." Tommy shook his head. "We've only been back together about six months. And the last time we rushed into things it didn't go so well. So one step at a time for now."

"Isn't he moving in with you when he's discharged?"

"Yeah but that's because he's going to need a lot of help. Especially the first few months. And those stairs in the loft are lethal."

"He managed before..."

"Maybe. But he doesn't have to anymore now. I have a bedroom and a bathroom on the ground floor at my place and the stairs aren't so damn steep, he can easily manage them with crutches if needed."

Suddenly the door opened and one of the doctors walked up to them.

"Evan Buckley's family?"

Tommy was on his feet in seconds.

"That's right. How is he?"

The doctor gave him a tired smile.

"The operation was a success. No complications. Straight out of the medical text books."

"So he's ok?"

"He has a long road to recovery ahead of him, but I don't see why he shouldn't make a full recovery in due time." The doctor told them. "He'll still be asleep for a while, but one of the nurses will come get you when they've gotten him settled back in, in his room and you can sit with him."

Tommy let out a sigh of relief while Maddie thanked the doctor before they left the two of them to it again.

"He's ok." Maddie said, slipping her arm through Tommy's. "He's ok."

About ten minutes later a nurse came to get them and took them to Buck's room. He was still fast asleep but apart from a pulse oximeter on his finger and a cast on his leg, he looked just like he would on a regular day at home.

Tommy sat down next to the bed and softly brushed the curls off his forehead, while Maddie sat down on the other side and held Buck's hand in hers.

"You know he always hated that?"

"Hated what?"

"His curls. People playing with them." Maddie explained. "I used to do it when he was little but when he got old enough to pick his own hairstyle, the curls were gone and everyone was forbidden to touch his hair. I think I still have some pictures of when he gave himself a haircut when he was about 12 or 13."

Tommy grinned.

"If you can still find them, I'd love to see them."

"I'll get Howie to look for them." Maddie promised. "But what I'm trying to say is... he's changed since he met you. For the better."

"I did tell him I liked the curls once... He hadn't had time to get a haircut in a while and his hair was getting longer and the curls just made him look... soft." Tommy smiled, running his hands through Buck's hair.

Maddie smiled.

"Not just the hairstyle. Or wearing clothes in his actual size instead of at least two sizes too small." She laughed. "But he's... more comfortable in his own skin. He's content. Happy in a way I've never seen him before. And that's down to you."

"I don't know about that..." Tommy ducked his head.

"I do." Maddie insisted. "You're good for him. You're good for each other."

Buck began to stir and groaned as he opened his eyes. He rolled his head to the side and smiled when he saw Tommy.

"Hey you." Tommy said and got up to press a kiss to the top of his head. "Welcome back. How are you feeling?"

"Hmokay... better when the room stops spinning... and there's only one of you. is my leg still there?" he reached out to touch his leg and then realised someone was holding his hand. He turned his head and saw his sister. "Maddie!" he said happily, like he hadn't seen her in years.

"Hi." she giggled and squeezed his hand. "They've got you on the good stuff, huh."

"They fixed my leg." he explained. "Tommy said I should do it now. For the baby." He frowned. "Not our baby." He turned his head back to the other side to look at Tommy. "You're not having a baby... right?"

Tommy bit his lip to stop himself from laughing.

"No, no I'm not. But your sister is."

Buck turned back to Maddie.

"You're having a baby?" he asked, and then noticed her pregnant belly. "You're having a baby! Wait... i-is that Tommy's baby?"

"What? No!" Maddie said and both her and Tommy burst out laughing. "I don't think I'm really his type."

"Yeah, sorry, I prefer the other Buckley." Tommy said laughingly.

Buck frowned.

"Who?"

"You." Tommy told him and softly kissed him. "I'm going to get a nurse. Let them know you're awake. I'll be right back." He got up and left the room with Buck looking at him with a dopey smile that wasn't just the anaesthetic.

"I love him." Buck declared, still looking at the door.

Maddie smiled and gave his hand another squeeze.

"I know. He loves you too."

"Yeah? Yeah!" Buck replied answering his own question. "I'm going to marry him. I have a ring." he said, just as Tommy came back in with a nurse.

"Hello mister Buckley, glad to see you awake." the nurse told him as she quickly checked him over. "The operation went well, and you should be able to go home in a few days."

Buck nodded and turned to Maddie.

"You need to call Eddie for me. He has the ring. I need it... for Tommy. I'm going to marry him."

"I'll call him." Maddie promised. sharing a look with Tommy over the bed.

"Good. I'm just... sleep..." Buck mumbled as he started to drift off again.

"He probably won't remember this conversation when he wakes up again." the nurse told them. "I'm guessing you're Eddie?" she asked Tommy who shook his head.

"I'm Tommy. And I guess I better start working on my surprised face."

---

send me a prompt and I'll write you a fic(let)!

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Imperfect Couple - 11

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 , Chapter 11 , Chapter 12 , Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

As Bucky stood in front of you, his expression calm, like everything was normal, a surge of anger rose within you. After everything that had just happened—after he spilled details of your private life to the press—you couldn’t believe he had the audacity to act like it meant nothing.

"You thought that telling the press about our marriage would magically make everyone stay quiet? That we’d just be OK?" Your voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. You watched as his jaw tightened, but he didn’t answer.

"And now… you’re still keeping secrets." You shook your head, frustration and disbelief coursing through you. "Now it’s about Steve."

Bucky's eyes flickered with something—guilt, maybe. He hesitated for a moment, then spoke coldly, "About that. I will bring it to my grave."

His words hit you harder than any blow could have. You stepped closer, heart pounding in your chest, barely able to control the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside. "Your grave? That’s your answer?"

You laughed bitterly, though there was no humor in it. "How dare you stand there and act like that’s acceptable? How dare you think you can keep doing this—lying, manipulating, keeping me in the dark—just because you think you’re protecting me?"

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, but he stayed silent. That silence only fueled your anger further.

"You think I don’t know what you’re doing? You’re so used to pulling the strings, making decisions behind everyone’s back, and pretending like it’s all for the greater good. But you’re not saving anyone, Bucky. Least of all me." Your voice cracked, and you hated yourself for it—hated how much you still cared, despite everything.

He opened his mouth, but you didn’t let him speak.

"You think after everything I’ve been through with your family, with Steve, that I don’t deserve the truth? That I’m just supposed to trust you after everything you’ve done to me? After you let them destroy me?" Your voice rose, the pain spilling out of you like a flood that had been held back for far too long.

"You didn’t protect me then, and you’re not protecting me now. You're protecting yourself. Because you're scared. You're scared that once I know the whole truth, I’ll finally be done with you."

Bucky’s face was set in stone, but you could see the cracks forming. His silence was loud, deafening, but you weren’t done. You weren’t letting him get away with it this time.

"You think I’m stupid enough to believe that this—whatever this is—is love? You control everything. You manipulate everything around you so that you never have to feel like you’re losing. But you are, Bucky." You stepped back, your chest rising and falling with the weight of everything you were saying. "You’re losing me. Every secret you keep, every lie you tell, you’re pushing me further away."

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The room felt too small, the air too thick. Bucky’s fists clenched at his sides, but still, he didn’t say a word.

"I’m glad I never got pregnant," you whispered, voice shaking. "I’m glad I never brought a child into this—into your mess. Because no child deserves to grow up with a father like you."

That was the final blow, and you saw it hit him like a punch to the gut. His eyes darkened, and for the first time, Bucky seemed truly shaken. But even then, he said nothing.

The silence between you stretched, unbearable, suffocating. You turned away from him, the weight of your words still hanging in the air, and walked out. Neither of you said anything as you left the room, but you both knew that something had broken between you—something that might never be fixed.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

As the door closed behind you, Bucky stood frozen, your words reverberating through his mind like the relentless echo of a nightmare. "I'm glad I never got pregnant."

That one sentence hit him harder than any punch he'd ever taken, harder than any bullet wound or battle scar. It was as if you had found the one part of him still vulnerable, still aching—the part he had tried so hard to protect—and you had driven a dagger straight into it.

The idea of building a family with you had always been his greatest hope, even if he had never said it out loud. He had pictured it in quiet moments, in the silence of the night when his thoughts wandered. A future with you—a family. The idea of you carrying his child, of starting something new and pure with you, had always been a flicker of light in the darkness that consumed him.

But now, that light was gone.

The bitterness of your words seeped into him, mixing with the sour taste of guilt that had been festering inside him for years. He clenched his fists, staring at the space where you had stood, feeling the weight of everything he had done—or failed to do—crushing down on him.

You’re losing me. Every secret you keep, every lie you tell, you’re pushing me further away.

He had never meant for it to be this way. He had convinced himself, again and again, that the lies, the manipulation, the control—it was all to protect you. To keep you safe from the chaos of his world. But in doing so, he had become the very thing that was destroying you. He was supposed to shield you, to be your safe haven, and yet here you were, crumbling before him because of his choices.

But you are, Bucky. You’re losing me.

The thought of losing you—of you walking away from him for good—was unbearable. He had always believed that no matter what happened, he could somehow fix things, that he could make you see that everything he did, he did out of love. But now, standing in the aftermath of your fury, he realized that he had underestimated just how deep the damage went.

The one dream that had kept him grounded—the thought of a family, a future with you—was now tainted. What was once a vision of hope and happiness now felt sour, like something spoiled and irreparable. The idea of a family with you, once so precious and sacred in his heart, now felt like a bitter reminder of all the ways he had failed you.

And the worst part? He knew it was his fault. He had driven you to this point, pushed you to the edge with his secrets and his selfishness. He had always told himself he was doing it for you, but now he saw the truth: it had been for him. He was terrified of losing control, terrified of losing you, and in trying to hold on too tightly, he had begun to suffocate the very thing he cherished most.

Bucky swallowed hard, the taste of regret sharp on his tongue. He had always been good at compartmentalizing his feelings, at shoving his pain deep down where it couldn’t touch him. But not this time. This time, there was no escaping the ache. The words you had thrown at him had hit their mark with deadly precision, and there was no denying the truth in them.

His Achilles' heel—his desire to build a family with you, to have a life with you—was now the source of his deepest pain. And as much as he wanted to believe he could fix it, that he could win you back, a cold, bitter part of him knew that it might be too late.

For the first time, Bucky felt something he hadn’t in a long time: true helplessness. The kind that gnawed at his chest, leaving a hollow ache behind.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

After the heated argument with Bucky, you retreated to your room, feeling the weight of the conversation bearing down on you. The tension between you two was suffocating, and you needed to escape—if only for a moment. Grabbing your phone, you called Greg.

“Is there an activity that doesn’t involve me being around Bucky?” you asked, your voice strained.

“After the recent debate, the two of you don’t have many joint schedules. You can pretty much do whatever you want,” Greg replied.

You sighed, staring at the ceiling. “What am I going to do?” you murmured to yourself, feeling utterly lost. Just then, your phone buzzed with a text from Hazel: ‘Can you babysit Nate for a while?’

A smile tugged at your lips, the tension momentarily lifting. Babysitting Nate felt like the perfect distraction. You quickly typed back: ‘Yes.’

An idea struck you. You decided to pick him up from school yourself, giving you something to occupy your mind. Arriving at the prestigious Catholic school, you were struck by its grandeur—stately brick buildings, perfectly manicured lawns, and an imposing church at the center of the campus. You shouldn’t have been surprised; of course, Nate would attend a place like this, surrounded by privilege and tradition.

As you walked through the campus, the sound of bells ringing faintly in the background, your eyes fell on the old church. Its large wooden doors stood open, inviting anyone seeking solace. You hadn’t set foot inside a church in years, and now, as you watched parents filtering in to pray, something stirred within you.

Your gaze shifted to a woman who emerged from a confessional booth, her face serene. She’d just finished her confession, and for some reason, that simple act gripped you. A sudden, overwhelming urge came over you.

Before you knew it, you were standing inside the dimly lit church, walking down the aisle toward the confessional. You hesitated for a moment, staring at the closed wooden door of the confessional booth, your heart pounding in your chest. Then, with a deep breath, you stepped inside and knelt down.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” you began, your voice shaky. “It’s been five years since my last confession.”

The priest’s gentle voice echoed through the screen. “Go on, child.”

You took a breath, gathering your thoughts. “I don’t even know where to start. The first thing I need to confess is what my ex-husband—no, my husband—has done to me. All this time, I thought I was free. I thought I’d divorced him, that I was my own person again. But it turns out he never finalized the papers. For five years, I’ve believed I was single. And now… now I find out I’m still married to him.” A bitter laugh escaped your lips. “Isn’t that just the cruelest joke?”

You could hear the priest listening in silence, giving you space to speak.

“The worst part is, he lied to me. He kept this truth from me for years, letting me live in ignorance. I feel like such a fool. And now… he’s forced me into this agreement. A contract, of sorts. One year, he says. One year, and then we’ll officially be divorced. I can’t forgive him for this, for manipulating me into this situation.”

Your hands balled into fists as you spoke, your voice trembling. “He’s changed. I don’t like it. He used to be someone I trusted, but now he’s nothing but a man pulling strings behind the scenes, controlling everything.”

The anger surged through you, but beneath it, something else was there—something you didn’t want to acknowledge.

“I hate myself for agreeing to help him, for pretending like everything’s fine when it’s not. I’m exhausted from lying to myself, from keeping up appearances just to spite his mother. And what’s worse… I still care about him. After everything he’s done, part of me still cares.”

The priest’s voice was calm, gentle. “Child, do you want to quit? To walk away from this?”

You sat there in silence for a moment, your heart heavy with indecision. “No,” you finally whispered, the word almost surprising you. “No, I don’t.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips again. “It’s funny, Father. I’ve always had this strong instinct to run. Whenever I’ve felt like I needed to get out, to escape a situation, that instinct has never failed me. But now? Now I don’t understand. I could've run. I could've leave him, but…”

The priest’s voice cut through your rambling thoughts. “What feelings do you have now?”

You swallowed hard, the word slipping out before you could stop it. “Stay.”

The silence in the booth seemed to echo that single word. You could feel tears prickling at your eyes, the conflict inside you tearing you apart. “I don’t understand it. Every night, when I’m alone, I think about leaving him, and yet, something inside me tells me to stay. I don’t know why.”

The priest spoke softly, a sense of wisdom in his words. “There is a reason for everything, child. But the answer may not be clear to you yet. You must trust in God’s timing.”

“God’s timing,” you repeated, the words feeling foreign in your mouth.

“It’s no coincidence that you are here today,” the priest continued. “There is a purpose to everything, even when we cannot see it clearly. Trust that God is working in your life, even through your confusion and pain.”

“A purpose?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Sometimes, we are placed in situations not for our own understanding, but to fulfill a greater plan. The burdens you carry now may reveal a deeper truth in time.”

You nodded, feeling a strange sense of calm wash over you, even as the conflict within you remained.

The priest offered a simple prayer for guidance and peace, his voice soft and steady.

You whispered, “Amen,” making the sign of the cross as tears silently streamed down your face.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

After confessing, you stepped out of the confessional booth, feeling an unexpected lightness in your shoulders, as though the weight you'd been carrying for years had been lifted, if only for a moment. A faint smile touched your lips, the tension easing. Then, you heard the bell ring—its echo followed by the excited chatter of children ready to go home.

You waited near the entrance, looking out for Nate, but as minutes passed, he still hadn’t appeared. A sense of worry started to creep in. You scanned the crowd of children, but there was no sign of him. Your footsteps quickened as you walked around, the knot in your stomach tightening.

Then, you heard it—a familiar giggle. You followed the sound and froze. Nate was hanging in midair, swinging by his arms as two tall boys, older than him, held him up at the playground.

And then you saw him. Steve Rogers.

You blinked in disbelief, dumbfounded. What is he doing here?

The two boys—tall, blonde, and strikingly familiar—were clearly the Rogers twins, Steve’s sons. Both carried a mix of Steve and Peggy's features, but Steve's strong genes dominated; their blonde hair and sharp jawlines were unmistakably his.

An unsettled feeling stirred in your chest. There was something about those twins that always made you uneasy, though you couldn't quite pinpoint why. And what were high school boys doing, playing with a first-year elementary kid?

“Aunty!” Nate’s cheerful voice snapped you out of your thoughts. He had noticed you before you could even call out to him. He wriggled free from the boys and sprinted toward you, his small arms reaching out.

Your heart swelled as he hugged you tightly. Compared to the rest of the Barnes family, being with Nate always felt like a breath of fresh air.

“I missed you,” Nate said, his face beaming up at you.

How could your heart not melt at that?

Before you could respond, the Rogers twins greeted you politely, “Hello, Mrs. Barnes.”

You smiled at them, though unease lingered. “Hi, William. Hi, Charles.”

“You still remember us?” William asked, his voice surprisingly mature.

“Of course. And both of you are so kind, playing with Nate,” you replied, though your eyes remained cautious.

“Well, our families are close partners,” Charles added, patting Nate gently on the head. “And our dad told us to be good role models for this champ.”

“Hehe,” Nate giggled, not fully understanding but clearly enjoying being called a champion.

“See you, buddy,” the twins said in unison, giving Nate a fist bump before heading toward their car.

Then Steve approached you, his expression a mix of surprise and something else, as if he hadn’t expected to see you here.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice calm but with a hint of hesitation.

“Hey,” you replied, crossing your arms instinctively, keeping a certain distance.

Steve glanced at you and then down at Nate, who was busy looking through his backpack. “How are things with you and Bucky?”

Your lips curled into a wry smile. “Sinking ship.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Titanic?”

Before you could respond, Nate, ever the sharp listener, jumped in. “Titanic?” he repeated, drawing a laugh from Steve.

"He's a ray of sunshine." Steve chuckled softly and patted Nate’s head in that gentle, fatherly way that almost made you pause. It seemed that in your absence, Steve had grown closer to Nate, filling in a role you hadn’t even realized was vacant.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

As you sat in the car with Nate, the bond between you felt like a warmth you hadn’t experienced in a long time. Nate chatted excitedly beside you, his small hands gesturing animatedly as he talked about how happy he was to stay with you.

“Aunty, I missed you so much! It’s been forever,” he said, his smile infectious. “And guess what? I get to stay with Uncle Bucky too!”

Your heart ached a little at the mention of Bucky, but Nate’s joy overrode it, at least for the moment.

“Yeah?” you replied, brushing a hand through Nate’s hair. “That sounds fun.”

Nate nodded eagerly, and then you remembered the twins. “So, those boys—William and Charles—how do you know them?”

“Oh! I met them on my birthday,” Nate said with excitement. “They and Uncle Steve gave me huge presents. It was so cool!”

“Wow, that’s amazing,” you said, trying to match his enthusiasm.

“Yeah, since then, I’ve had two big brothers,” Nate added with a proud grin. “I always wanted a big brother—or a little brother—or even a little sister,” he said, his tone wistful. “I asked Mom, but she said no.”

He sighed, and you chuckled softly. The memory of meeting Hazel while she was pregnant came to mind. Back then, no one knew who Nate’s father was. Hazel had always kept her lips sealed, refusing to speak about it.

You recalled the heated arguments between Hazel and Caroline. Once, you overheard Hazel snapping, “I already continued the bloodline. I’ve done my duty. I don’t want to get married. Period.”

You had admired her strength, but it also made you realize just how complicated everything had become.

Thinking back, you realized you had never heard of Hazel being in a relationship. With her status and career, she could have any man she wanted. But why was she so close with the Rogers family? What made Steve and the twins come to play with Nate after school?

A curious thought crossed your mind. Could Steve and Hazel have… No, you shook your head, dispelling that notion. It was impossible.

But the curiosity clawed at you. You turned to Nate, your brow furrowed. “Do Uncle Steve and the twins always play with you?”

Nate nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! Uncle Steve stood beside me when the doctor injected me,” he said, lifting his sleeve to show you the sore spot on his arm. “Ouchie!”

You chuckled, leaning over to blow gently on the spot, making him giggle. The sound was infectious, yet it tugged at something deeper within you, a swell of guilt rising as you wished you had kept your curiosity in check. Your instincts were telling you something else entirely.

No matter how close family friends could be, it seemed unlikely that someone like Steve would take the time to accompany Nate for his vaccination. Unless…

Nate's eyes sparkled with excitement as he leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Oh, and he bought me ice cream and pizza! This is a secret, Aunty.” He glanced around, making sure no one was eavesdropping, his expression filled with mischief.

You chuckled, unable to resist his infectious enthusiasm. “That sounds cool!”

Nate nodded vigorously, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. “And the big brothers always ask me to watch them play basketball. They’re so cool!” He raised his arms, mimicking a jump shot, his little face lighting up with joy.

You smiled, “Sounds like a blast.”

“My favorite part is after the game,” he continued, his eyes wide with memory. “We always watch movies and eat caramel popcorn. It’s delicious!” He rubbed his belly dramatically, as if savoring the taste all over again.

“Does Uncle Steve also join in watching movies?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, hoping your instincts were wrong. Your heart raced slightly, and you felt a knot tightening in your stomach at the thought.

“Yes!” Nate replied, his enthusiasm unabated. He practically bounced with joy, his small fists clenched as he hopped in place.

You sighed, feeling a frustration bubbling up. Gosh, you hated your overactive imagination and your inability to suppress your investigative instincts.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

When you arrived home, Bucky was already there. As you stepped inside, he stood up, his expression shifting from surprise to something softer at the sight of you. But before he could speak, Nate rushed forward and hugged him tightly, the excitement radiating off the little boy.

“Uncle Bucky!” Nate exclaimed, squeezing him. Bucky’s face lit up with genuine happiness, and he leaned down, pressing a kiss to Nate's head.

“Hey there, champ,” Bucky replied, his voice warm and inviting.

“I have to wash my hands and feet first!” Nate announced, darting off toward the bathroom.

With Nate out of the room, the atmosphere shifted, leaving you and Bucky alone. An awkward tension settled between you, thick enough to cut with a knife. Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, the motion betraying his unease.

“Uhm…” he began, searching for words, his gaze flicking away as if he were weighing his options.

Before he could finish his thought, you interrupted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “What made you want to support a liar like Steve?”

His eyes widened, surprise mingling with a flicker of something else—was it defensiveness? Confusion? The air crackled with unspoken questions, and you felt the tension deepen, a mystery hanging between you, waiting to be unraveled.

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[viennakarma]

Everything I Wanted II.

LESTAPPEN X READER (PART 2)

Summary: Your journey to become a Motorsport legend wasn't easy, especially when your path clashed with your greatest rivals, Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc.

Word count: 8.9k

Tags: Driver reader, mentions of crash, angst, abusive parent, daddy issues, trust issues, character death (not reader), cursing, strong rivalry, misogyny in motorsport, invasive media, aggressive fans, reader suffers with cyberbullying and hate, smut, female reader, +18, unprotected sex, voyeurism, exhibtionism, edging, filthy, porn with plot, queer! everyone, polyamory lestappen, bit of dirty talking, pet names, not beta read

Relationships: Lestappen x Reader

Mentor!Kimi Raikkonen x Reader

Sebastian Vettel, Fernando Alonso, Lewis Hamilton x Platonic!Reader

Notes: this is full of motorsport categories inaccuracies, just go with the vibes please. There are a few inaccuracies regarding other drivers' lives, but they are just to fit the story. This chapter is very angsty and none of it is an attack at the drivers nor their fans and personalities, please.

I know I KNOW, this got out of hand, AGAIN. I promise next part (and hopefully last) is more focused on the romance, and the happy ending reader deserves.

Find me on Twitter!

-

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

-

You spent Christmas with your mom, sharing a lot of presents and watching a bunch of stupid Christmas movies. New Year’s was now a tradition to spend with the Raikkonen Family, joined with the closest friends for a little get together. It was a good opportunity to reconnect with Kimi’s kids who missed you a lot during the season.

Charles never contacted you during winter break, which you were sure was the best after that mistake. You hated each other too much and the only thing that could come out of that was toxicity from the both of you. You refused to even acknowledge what had happened and its implications, that wouldn’t and couldn’t mean anything.

During the pre-season testing in Bahrain, you and Charles were back to whatever your relationship was before that one lapse in judgment months before.

Nobody noticed anything.

One day, Fernando pulled you aside for a little chat. You two sat side by side on big moving boxes, sipping on energy drinks.

“There’s something I have been wanting to talk to you about since last year,” he started, seemingly pensive, distant.

“Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, yeah. Remember after we first met when you asked me if I had advice for you regarding your career?” Fernando said, and you remembered.

Right after you had gotten close, you asked him for advice, you always did, especially about racing. But one day, you were chatting about his career, and you asked if had any lessons you should never forget. He had laughed joking about read all your contracts then asking if you were calling him old, but he said if he ever had any advice, he would tell you.

“Yes, have you got my answer yet?”

“Sí, Nena,” he paused, looking deep into your eyes, “enjoy.”

You frowned and he saw the confusion on your face.

“I see much of my younger self in you, you know? The same passion, this fiery desire to win, your goal for the championship, to conquer the world…” Fernando paused, looking up to the clear sky, the sunset coming around, “And I did. But I wish I had enjoyed it more. I should’ve gone to parties, I should’ve visited the countries we went to and tried the food, I should’ve made more friends, I should’ve had more lovers… I was so focused on winning, on getting my hands on that trophy of champion of the world, that I missed out on a lot.”

You felt your eyes tear up, and you wiped it before the tears came down. Putting your hand on his shoulder, you smiled at him.

“It’s such an honor race with you. And an even greater honor to have you as a friend, Nano” you whispered to him, you two laughed as his eyes watered too, and slapping his shoulder you laughed, “don’t make me cry, you old softie!”

You took his advice to your heart.

You went to the parties, you met new people, and that’s how after two entire seasons, you managed to befriend Lando, your teammate. You two had to open your hearts a little bit and meet in the middle. Which proved to be great, the whole team loved the change in your dynamic. You still weren’t besties, but you were close colleagues, and that was great. Everyone noticed the change and it reflected on how you started racing as a team instead of individually.

The car was even better than the year before, and the first race of the season you got a promising win.

That win, Lando’s pestering, and Fernando’s advice was how you ended up in a party after the Bahrain GP. Wearing a skimpy mini dress and 5 tequila shots deep, swaying your hips to the sound of Rihanna. You were dancing and singing with Lando and a few of his friends, loudly screaming the lyrics.

When it was way too hot for you, you grabbed a water bottle and beelined your way out of the crowded dance floor. You found a corner of the VIP section where the AC seemed to be working better, and as you stumbled inside the small space, you ran chest first into someone.

“Sorry,” you said, taking a step back and pressing your back against the cold wall.

“Enjoying your win?” Your head snapped up as you recognised Max’s voice. You had run into him.

Lando had mentioned inviting Max to the party, he had gotten a P2 in the race but you doubted he would go to a party he knew you would attend. You were obviously wrong.

“You know I am,” the victory was so good that nothing could ruin your mood.

“Well, then enjoy it. I’m coming for the win, again.” He warned you but his voice was devoid of anything, just sounded like he was casually telling you about the weather. But you knew that he was implying his championship the year before, rubbing it in your face.

“Don’t be so confident, Max,” you finished your water, smirking at him, “Enjoy the view of my rear!”

You flipped your hair, feeling his eyes on you the whole walk back to the dance floor.

And yet-

Somehow-

You ended up back at that small corner, dancing with your body pressed between Verstappen’s and the wall, his hand holding your jaw firmly, you rolled your hips against him, feeling the way his body responded to yours.

“We can’t-” he said to you, still, his eyes hadn’t left your lips, like he was so oh so tempted.

You rolled your eyes, annoyed. Sober you would never do that, but then, that was a problem for later. Checking to see if anyone was looking at you, you hooked a finger around his waistband and pulled him towards the bathroom.

As soon as the two of you were inside, you locked the door and Max pressed your back against the door, latching his lips to yours in a very desperate open mouthed kiss. You hugged his shoulders, opening your lips to him, his hands went down your sides and he grabbed your ass, pulling you into him. But that wasn’t enough, so he held your thighs and pulled up, carrying you. You locked your legs around his waist, and he stopped the kiss to walk, sitting you on the marble side of the sink, still between your legs, forcing his bulge against your panties, and eliciting a moan from you.

He took a half step back to hike your dress up, palming your cunt over your panties feeling the dampness of it, he tried to press his hand under your panties, but the lacy fabric didn’t leave much space, so he simply tore the bottom of them, exposing you to him. He just ran a finger over your slit, collecting your wetness for a brief moment before pushing a finger into you. Max watched your face with concentration, studying your body’s responses. Your hips shaking at the movement of his finger, and when the second one joined, you got louder. He curled his fingers up, his thumb pressing your clit, and you had to use both hands to hold onto him, your head lolling back against the mirror.

“Take it and shut the fuck up,” he grunted between clenched teeth.

He was pressing your insides so good, the slick sound of his fingers going in and out, his heavy breathing, the loud music outside and his laser focused fingers had you coming against his fingers in minutes. When he noticed you close, cunt spasming against his fingers, he pressed the other hand against your mouth, covering your moans when your toes curled and you orgasmed on his hand.

Max barely let you recover as he opened his jeans and stroked himself twice before pushing his cock into you in one swift move, making you gasp at the sudden intrusion.

“That’s what you wanted, right? Fucking teasing me all night,” He pushed particularly hard, hitting your g-spot, making you see stars, “you’re a fucking menace, y’know that? Fucking insufferable,” then his words became a mumbling of something dutch you couldn’t quite catch anymore with the way his hips snapped against yours, taking all your focus away and turning you into a mess of moaning.

Max fucked like he raced, focused and relentless, brutal. He hugged you with one arm around your waist to keep you in place and the other held you face, tilting your head so he could kiss you, or whatever that mess of saliva, tongues and teeth was. Your orgasm crashed through you unexpectedly, and you only hugged him tighter, pressing your face against his chest, biting into his skin through the fabric of his T-shirt to silence yourself, your teeth sinking into him was enough to send him also over the edge, coming with moans against your ear.

That night, you went home with shaking legs and an incoming headache, as Max left with the scraps of your panties in his pocket and your lipstick stain on his shirt, above his chest.

It was the seventh race of the year, Monaco, and you absolutely hated that specific track since your years of F2. During your two first years in F1 you had awful experiences, the rookie year you DNF and the year prior you had barely managed a P7. You were trying to keep your head up, be hopeful that you could at least try for top 5.

But since you couldn’t catch a fucking break, an old video of your teenage years resurfaced.

You were walking to your first round of interviews when Amanda, your PR manager, started walking by your side.

“There’s something. An old video of a karting competition resurfaced, where Max and Charles pretty much call you stupid,” Amanda was always direct, you could give it to her.

“Let me see the video” you asked, offering your hand for her phone.

“We don’t have time, but everyone will ask you about it. I need you to be the bigger person and act like it isn’t important, yes? They will try to taunt you and get a bad reaction from you, I need you to dismiss everything they throw at you. Agreed?”

You sighed. You knew the stuff from your teens were pretty bad, you rarely badmouthed Max or Charles, but they always felt threatened by you, so there were lots of instances they attacked you. Honestly, you just didn’t want to come out of this victimized. So as you entered the first round of interviews, you decided you were going to downplay anything they asked you.

“Y/N, have you seen the footage of you, Max and Charles from your teenage years that resurfaced recently?”

“No, uh, I haven’t.”

Someone pushed an iPad in your hands because of course, they wanted a live reaction from you. You pressed play, reading the subtitles someone put on the video. It was an amateur recording like a post race interview made by another teenage guy. First as Max walked out of the track, the guy asked what he thought of your win.

“It was luck, she’s not bright enough to think of a strategy,” Max said, walking away, clearly pissed having lost to you.

There was a cut and the camera was turned on again when Charles walked toward the guy asking the question. He repeated exactly the same question he had asked Max.

“Y/N, I don’t worry about her long term. She’s not going very far in this sport anyway,” Charles shrugged, seemingly unbothered.

As the video cut again, it showed your face, you remembered when that was. You were 14, and your dad had dropped you a few months earlier, so you were working your ass off balancing school, work and karting.

“Hey, Y/N. What do you think of your result today?”

“Uh, I tried a new strategy I learned earlier this week, thankfully it worked in my favor,” teen-You dried your forehead with your coat’s sleeve.

“What are your plans for this competition?”

“Well, I hope to be good enough to get into F4 next year, and work my way up into Formula 1,” you smiled softly and walked away after a quick bye.

The video ended and you still spent a few seconds staring at the black screen of the iPad. This interview didn’t come to your mind in more than a decade, but it was nice seeing how you made your 14-year-old dream come true.

“So, what do you say?” The reporter extended his mic to you.

“I guess I proved them wrong, right?” You giggled a little, “don’t take it to heart, really. We were all hormonal teenagers, I’m sure if someone digs, they will find a video of me saying the same stuff about them,” you shrugged, despite that being a lie, sounded dismissive enough.

“So it doesn’t upset you?” The reporter insisted, and you knew he wanted a scandal you weren’t willing to give.

“Of course not. I’ve always known my worth, and I’m P1 in the driver’s championship as of right now. So I don’t really care.”

The interviewers soon let the video go, when they realized you didn’t care about it. You weren’t sure if anyone would also approach Charles or Max with questions about the same video, but you couldn’t care less, you wanted to avoid drama for the time being so you could focus on the championship instead of this bullshit.

On the morning of qualifying, you were in your room, trying to meditate and clear your mind, when a knock interrupted you.

“Guys, I asked for twenty minutes so I could-” you stop yourself when you realize it isn’t anyone from your team, but it’s Max and Charles, “what are you doing here?”

“We came to apologize about the video,” Max started.

“Did your PR teams send you here?” You looked around, trying to catch a camera or even a phone recording.

“No uh, we realized we were very immature with you, and this video is just proof of how silly that was,” Charles sighed, seemingly embarrassed.

“You don’t need to apologize, I mean- the two of you really had it out for me, you called me dumb a lot,” you pointed to Max, then Charles, “and you called me ugly countless times. I don’t know why it would make any difference now.”

You were just so used to being defensive, to protect yourself from hatred you found it hard to believe them, to give them a chance to apologize because you couldn’t believe it to be genuine.

“Even if you don’t take it, or believe it, I would like to apologize for that behavior. I was just a stupid kid.” Max looked deep into your eyes, which could’ve made you uncomfortable if he didn’t seem so honest.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. It was too idiotic to be like that to you, growing up. You were just a kid too.” Charles added.

You understood where that apology came from, it was stupid and embarrassing for all three of you this teenage rivalry when you all were barely mid racers back in the day. Sighing, you looked around, dropping your façade for a second, allowing yourself to display the same honesty they showed you.

It was hard and required some sort of deprogramming because you could only see them as rivals, like your dad had whispered in your brain so many times before, like their actions towards you had cemented dad’s words. They had said things that were on your mind for so long, that had made you defensive and deflective.

“Look, don’t worry about it. Whatever happened back then, it’s water under the bridge,” You shifted on your feet. As they started walking away, you added “this doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

They only nodded before leaving. Your routine went back to the same, and as the next scandal went on, people forgot about the silly video, but a very specific part of the fans started shipping you and both your rivals.

The rivalry never died down though.

Then, out of nowhere, Sebastian pulled you and Lewis aside to a conversation. Then he told you that he was going to retire by the end of the season. It was the first time the two of them saw you cry, and Sebastian hugged you tight, shushing your crying softly.

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered, petting your head.

“No, don’t apologize,” you let him go, drying your face, “I have listened to you talking countless times about how you missed the kids. Don’t apologize for choosing to be a great dad. I know Hanna and the kiddos will be ecstatic.”

“You two are my closest friends here, that’s why I wanted to tell you first, before my announcement.”

“Thank you, Seb,” you said, eyes still watering, “I’m going to miss having you around.”

“Thank you for telling us beforehand,” Lewis said, also visibly emotional.

The season was writing itself to be just as close as the year prior, but now you were slightly better at keeping the lead most.

That is until Zandvoort. This GP was always a nightmare to you, because it was full of Max’s fans, and they absolutely hated you for being his rival. You had been booed when you were on the podium the year before, so now, you and Amanda decided it was best to keep your head down during the whole week. Not out of shame, but more of a matter of safety, you didn’t know how far the crowd could go in antagonizing you. When you were booed the other year, Max had said it was part of the sport and dismissed the conversation.

The morning of free practice, you went into the paddock very low-key and kept to yourself. You arrived with a little cup of coffee and got mentally ready for a hostile environment the whole weekend. That, until you spotted a small group of people dressed with your color and wearing your number, waving wildly to you.

In a spur of the moment decision, you went there, getting close to the barrier to sign a few caps and take a few selfies. In retrospect, you knew you shouldn’t have done that, especially with only two bodyguards accompanying you.

You were finishing chatting with your fans when you felt something heavy hit the side of your head and the impact made you stumble backwards, you were confused as you heard the screams and felt one of the bodyguards pull you back, as the other jumped the barrier and started running. You patted your temple and something wet and sticky was dripping down the side of your face. You stared at the small group of fans who were looking at you horrified. Staring at the hand, you saw the red staining your fingers, and as the bodyguard kept pulling you away to somewhere safer, the thing flowed even more and  got into your left eye.

You wondered if it was blood as you touched your temple but felt nothing, not a gash nor small cut. You covered your left eye as it started to sting from what you supposed smelt like paint.

“Hey, hey, what happened? You’re bleeding!” Max jogged up to you.

“Not blood, just paint” you muttered, trying to use your coat to clean your face.

“Someone threw a paint ball at her,” the bodyguard said.

“Fuck, it’s burning!” You exclaimed, feeling tears in your left eye.

“Come here, the RB hospitality is close,” Max said, holding your wrist, he stopped shortly pointing to your bodyguard, “and you, sort this and find the person who did it.”

You let yourself be taken by Max into the RB territory, the burning so annoying that you rather take whatever solution he was thinking of. He held your waist and placed you sitting on a sink, and then you felt water streaming down your face.

“Stay still,” Max commanded, holding a hose over your head, pouring water down your face, “now blink slowly, let the water wash it,” his voice soft as you did what he told you to. Slowly but surely, it washed the paint away, relieving your left eye from the stinging. Max held the hose up and held your chin, tilting your head up so he could check your eye, still letting the water stream down your face.

You took a few minutes, breathing and regulating your heartbeat from that scare, trying to come back to normal and understand fully what was going on. From what you gathered, you were chatting with fans when someone else came and threw something with paint at you.

“How does it feel?” 

“It’s better, already stopped burning,” you told him, feeling your heart miss a beat at the close proximity you found yourself to him. You were sitting on a sink, Max standing between your legs pretty much like you two had done months before for entirely different reasons.

“Open your eye, let me see,” he asked, and you tried to blink it open, “can you see?”

“It’s a little blurry but I believe it will get better,” you explained, and he didn’t let go of your chin. Suddenly, he covered your right eye with the other hand, leaving you only with your left eye sight.

“How many fingers am I putting up?” He showed it to your left eye. The vision was a bit blurry but you still could make out the shapes very clearly.

“Four, Max. It’s just a little bit blurry, probably will get better in a few minutes” you sounded annoyed, you tried to move but he pressed a hand against your waist, keeping you in place.

“Now, what happened?” He asked finally. You ignored the proximity, and the hand still on your body.

“We’re in Zandvoort, that’s what happened,” you shrugged, really annoyed about it.

“What do you mean?” He was visibly confused. You scoffed because you knew it wasn’t something he didn’t know, since the year before he has dismissed the importance of how hostile people were to you.

“We’re massively surrounded by your fans, Max.”

“I don’t understand.”

“They hate me because you hate me, and they think because you hate me they’re justified in their hostility towards me,” You explained, with a sigh, you pushed away from Max, “this GP has been like this for me ever since Rookie year.”

“I don’t hate you,” he said, brows furrowed.

“You do. And they do too,” you pointed down at the paint that had also stained your shirt as proof.

“I don’t,” he insisted and you rolled your eyes, jumping off the sink, but he didn’t give you space, which made you stand chest to chest with him, “I promise.”

You stared at him, breathless. That wasn’t part of the game you played, being kind, sounding worried and making promises. None of that was part of this whole rivalry. Pushing his chest, you tried getting away but he caged you against the sink, body flush against yours.

“Do you believe me?” He asked and your eyes fell to his lips, and you allowed yourself to remember the desperate and chaotic kisses you had shared in a dimly lit bathroom, “I don’t support any of this behavior.”

You heard voices and steps approaching, which made you finally push him away, walking towards the door. Whatever little magic had been happening between those walls was undone the moment you remembered none of that would’ve happened if he had politely put a stop to it earlier.

“It’s part of the sport and I have to deal with it, right?” You returned the very same words he had said about you when you were booed by the crowd the year prior.

As you opened the door, you were faced with Sebastian. He stopped, taking you in and then pulling you in a hug.

“Are you ok? We just heard what happened!” He murmured, guiding you out of the bathroom. He held your shoulders and looked at your face, checking how your left eye was still a little red, “we should take you to see a doctor, come on.”

Lewis soon arrived at the entrance of the RBR station, he warned about the reporters crowding outside, waiting for a glimpse of you after the attack. The British man gave you a Mercedes coat so you put it over your head and avoid the cameras waiting outside. With the bodyguards and both Lewis and Sebastian leading you away, you ended up at the medical center, and after a quick examination, the doctor gave you eye drops to put throughout the day.

Your Principal suggested you sit the FP1 out, letting the reserve driver take your place while you recovered. By the middle of FP1, your eyesight was 100% and you went to get ready for FP2. The whole day you felt like everyone was being extra careful, tiptoeing around you. You hated feeling like you were being pitied, so when the inevitable round of interviews came, you knew what you had to do.

“We heard about your incident earlier today, how are you feeling about it?” Someone asked.

“I’m pretty upset, to be honest. Formula 1 is a sport loved around the whole world, and the paddock overall is supposed to be a safe place not only for the fans, but also the workers and drivers. What happened today is unacceptable and could’ve been much worse. I’m voicing my dissatisfaction and I intend to, through legal means, take this complaint to the FIA.”

Later that night, as you laid awake on your bed, scrolling through the repercussions of the day, you stopped when you saw a snippet of Max's interview.

“What happened today was dangerous and unacceptable, I don’t support this behavior and I stand with Y/N,” that was all he said, but Max usually was a man of few words, always knowing when it was enough.

You knew he should’ve voiced that much earlier in your career, specifically after the booing the year before, but still- He also could have opted to not say anything at all, and he didn’t.

Amanda also sent you the news that the fan who had attacked you was found and banned for life from Formula 1.

After calling Sebastian, you managed to get ahold of Max’s phone number and texted him a simple message.

Thank you. Twice. - Lioness

The text went to read almost immediately, and the three dots appeared from his side of the screen. You wait, and wait, and wait. And then the dots disappeared, and an answer never came.

After a solid P2 that weekend in Zandvoort, you went home for the summer break. You and your mom had planned to go to Monaco for a little while since you were planning on buying a place there. From there, you and your mom would go all around the French Riviera to enjoy the sea and spend a few days in a spa resort. Then, you would go back home and relax before going to Ibiza for a weekend to meet Lando and his friends to enjoy some partying.

Everything went according to plan, but one day when you came back home after the trip to the French Riviera, you found your mom passed out on the living room floor.

You called an ambulance, quickly taking her into the hospital. Everything was a blur, the tests and scans, your mom still unconscious on a hospital bed, and the results. The results that pulled the floor from under your feet.

Your brain couldn’t fully compute what was said. Cancer Stage 4. Surgery. Palliative care.

The world was muted around you as you sat on a chair in the waiting room, hands shaking when you tried to understand what was happening. You somehow ended up calling the one other person you trust.

“Y/N? What happened?”

“I don’t understand- she just- she just passed out and I thought- but- but they said- palliative care” you try to come up with words.

“Talk to me. Are you sick?” Kimi’s voice is so focused and a little soothing.

“It’s mom”

“Send your location, I’m going there,” that’s all he said.

Waiting for Kimi gave you some sense of purpose, because it’s Kimi. He could fix anything. He fixed your life when you were 14, he can do it again. He would get there and find a way to help. Your mind got so clouded when the word cancer was thrown in the conversation, that you probably missed the part about treatments and- and surgery and stuff.

In your mother’s room there was a comfortable couch where you tried to settle to sleep, but you only spent countless hours awake. You hoped to see the doctor again to try and get him to explain everything for a second time.

You wished you were smart and quick, but no, you just sat there holding onto the hope that Kimi had a way to fix this.

Kimi arrived early the next morning, knocking on the door before entering. You stood up, hugging him tight.

“What happened?”

“It’s pancreatic cancer, they said. We need to see more about surgery and- and treatments.”

You and Kimi found the doctor, who explained again, and in that moment you finally understood what he meant the first time around. She was in a late stage of pancreatic cancer, which was usually a very difficult illness to find before it is too late, due to the placement of the organ in the body and late symptoms. The only options were either to try a very risky surgery and chemo so she could extend her life for around 8 months to a year. Or she could go home to live her last few months the way she wanted.

You begged and cried and bribed and offered every single solution your brain could muster to try and save her. Kimi held you when you fell to the floor, sobbing.

When your mom woke up and you and Kimi told her the diagnosis, she cried too, sobbing in your arms as you tried to hold it together for her sake. It took a couple of days for her to choose to go home. The two of you spent the last days of summer break traveling around the world a bit more, visiting temples and statues, and seeing nature and everything good the world had to offer, going to places motorsport hadn’t taken you to.

Your mom went to every race week from there on, even when she felt especially weak, even when you had to hire a full time medical team for her. 

Your focus on the season was solely on the moment between entering the car and leaving the car. You still managed to race like you’ve done before, calm and controlled, with the help of your engineers and team, you still could put the car where you wanted it, paving your way for a solid world championship that year. It was like your brain was seeing racing as the one thing in your life you had full control over, so sometimes you even felt like you and the car were one.

You didn’t tell anyone about her. Though every driver noticed how distant you were, even Charles and Max and the ones that weren’t very close to you noticed how you were only fulfilling your obligations and leaving, you weren’t even celebrating your wins, leaving the fastest you could after a race.

The Singapore GP was tough for you, having to leave your mom home alone with the medical staff and a couple of friends from her book club, since she wasn’t strong enough to travel anymore. Your attention was failing all throughout media day and free practices. Qualifying was shit compared to your performance the rest of the season.

In Q3 you did a reasonable sector 1 and 2 but you messed up sector 3 completely. It was a complete accident when you got in the way of a Ferrari when he was doing his fast lap, and you ended up messing his qualy too. Jace let you know it was none other than Charles Leclerc, who was setting the pace for a pole position. Out of 19 drivers, you had to ruin his lap. In the end, Max got pole, Charles qualified P3 and you qualified P5.

You went through the motions during the post qualifying press. You were about to leave after debriefing, when Charles Leclerc found you on the way to the parking lot. You pulled your coat tighter around yourself protectively as he walked up to you. You were hoping to escape his fury at least until after the race the next day. Before he could even get a word in, you started.

“Look, I know I messed up your pole. I know you won’t believe me, but it wasn’t intentional. I really thought there was no one doing fast laps on the track, I thought everyone was either still doing out laps or in the pits, so when you-”

“Calm down, breathe,” he interrupted you, “I’m not here to fight.”

“No?” You frowned, confused with the kindness in his eyes.

“We know you’re going through something, and I’m sure I’m the last person you want to hear this from, but you’re not alone. And you should really consider talking with someone on the grid. They’re all- we’re all worried about you.”

The words felt alien coming from his mouth, but the gentleness was so comforting you felt a lump in your throat.

“Why do you think I’m not ok?” You muttered trying to sound confident, but your voice failed, betraying you.

“You’re skinny and you look sleep deprived for a few weeks now,” Charles said directly.

“Damn, thanks.”

“I don’t mean it like that, you know it,” he paused, putting both hands on his pockets, “have you been eating?” Your lack of response made him press further, “have you eaten today?”

You pressed your lips together, not wanting to answer that.

“Let’s go, I’ll drive you to the hotel, we’ll stop on the way to grab some food,” Charles gestured to his car, a few meters away. You stood there, shocked as he started walking away, then he stopped looking over his shoulder, “come on, I don’t have all the time in the world.”

As you sat in his Ferrari, Charles put music on and you didn’t do much talking, but it was tranquil. He called the restaurant to order take out on the way, and 30 minutes later he dropped you off at the hotel with a bag full of food.

“Thank you, Charles.” You whispered before leaving the car.

You ate the food while on a video call with your mom.

You recovered well during the race, finishing P2, behind Max and ahead of Charles.

Your mom passed away a few days after the Japanese Grand Prix, the one you had won and dedicated it to her from the top step of the podium, even if she wasn’t there, just watching from home. You went home and stayed with her, holding her hands and hugging her as much as you could.

Some part of you knew she was somehow fighting, because she had promised you the year before she would be there when you became world champion. You could see she was hoping to make it to the end of the season, but you also knew she wouldn’t, and you rather she didn’t have to endure any more pain just for your sake.

“You don’t need to fight anymore, ma,” you whispered before she went to sleep, “you raised a strong woman, too. I will see you on the other side, ok? You can rest now, I love you.”

“I’m so proud of you, honey. I love you to the moon and back.”

You made it through her small funeral, following what she had written down before passing. An intimate funeral, full of flowers and a toast to her life. You cried the whole time, with Kimi and Minttu taking turns at comforting you as they could. Coming back to an empty home smelling of cleaning products made you almost lose your mind, and the sight of you in such despair was enough for Kimi to convince you to stay with them until you had to travel for the next race, in almost seven days.

The days passed in a crying blur, you let part of your team know about your mom’s passing. Only Amanda, Jace and your Principal. Jace tried to convince you to take a break and not go to the next race in Austin, but you quickly shut it off. Not only because racing was the one thing keeping you sane amidst the chaos, but because you were so close to the championship, and  it was still close competition with Max and Charles, so you couldn’t afford to lose a race and the points that could come with it.

You had to honor your mom in some way.

That’s how you ended up on a plane to Austin with Kimi and Amanda. You knew Kimi had convinced you to let him go because he was sure you’d have a mental breakdown anytime along the weekend, but deep down you appreciated the company. Arriving there, Jace was the first to hug you and whisper his condolences, as well as your TP too.

You survived the entire weekend without breaking down crying in public, but that was your worst race in a few months, the first time out of a podium since Spa. You ended up P5, which luckily wasn’t too bad because Max finished P4 which you were grateful for as he was the one who was P2 in the driver’s championship close behind you.

After that week, you packed your stuff and moved to the new condo in Monaco you had bought during summer break. Despite loving your mom to pieces, you couldn’t manage to live alone in the house you bought for her a couple of years before, it was lonely and it hit you with overwhelming waves of sadness all the time. You distracted yourself a lot with buying furniture and decorations for the new place, and discovering Monte Carlo in a whole new way. The one comfort in all that, was knowing your mom wasn’t suffering anymore.

Then you went straight to Mexico for the next Grand Prix, this time, Kimi left you because he had to come home to Minttu and the kids. Amanda had been such a support for you, that you knew you had to give her something special for the holidays, out of gratitude.

Everything was going as expected until the press conference. You were there with Charles, Max, Sebastian and Lando. You suspected they were putting you always in the same group as Max and Charles because, as the season nearing the end, only three races left, they were your close competition.

While someone asked something of Charles, you were whispering with Sebastian, chatting about Mexican foods you wanted to try after the race. Then, something bizarre happened, and phones started to ping all around the room, between reporters, cameras and everyone else started checking their phones. It seemed like something out of a black mirror nightmare.

You reached for your phone but then remembered you left it to charge in your room.

“This question is for Y/N,” a reporter asked, reading something from his phone, “there’s a new article that just came out saying your mom passed away a couple of weeks ago, is that true?”

Your blood ran cold, and every sound felt like it was muted inside the room. Wide eyed, you searched for Amanda, who was somewhere on the opposite side of the room, and when you found her, she was pale. Then, there was a cacophony of voices and cameras and questions, that made you suddenly overwhelmed.

Swallowing, trying to reassess, you found Sebastian already standing, holding your shoulders. Looking around you noticed how the other three drivers had stood up, making some sort of shield around you, protecting you from the cameras and reporters swarming around. 

“We can go, ok? Come on,” Sebastian was saying when Amanda caught up to you, leaning beside Sebastian.

“We can leave, right now,” she said, holding your hand.

Still a little confused, you nodded and let them both guide you back to your room.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry for your loss,” Sebastian hugged you, running his hands on your back for comfort.

“How- how did they find out?” You ask Amanda.

“An article came out, I’m not sure. Someone was probably digging into your life, but don’t worry, I put the team on it already.”

“How do- how we diffuse this? How do we proceed? We need to address this, right?” You started blabbering, trying to wrap your head around everything.

“That was very disrespectful of them to ask like that!” Sebastian exclaimed, making you two jolt.

“We’ll do whatever you’re comfortable with. Do you want me to release a note asking for privacy?” Amanda suggested.

“Can I write something and then run it by you?” You asked, she only nodded.

After a moment, both Amanda and Seb left you alone as you typed a note on your phone. You rewrote and deleted a few times before settling on something heartfelt and respectful but also, calling out the invasion of privacy.

My mom passed away a few days ago after battling with cancer for the past few months.

She had requested of me to keep it a secret until after the season was over, so I could mourn her without the weight of racing over my shoulders. 

But obviously someone went digging and disrespected not only one of her last wishes but also disrespected my grief and my right to privacy. I love my mom but I’ll not be answering any more questions about her illness or death, please respect me and respect her memory.

All the love, Y/N

Nobody asked anything over the weekend, but again, it felt like everyone was tiptoeing around you. As soon as you first saw Nano the next day, he held you tight for almost a minute whispering his condolences, and it made you almost cry again. Lewis also spared you a hug, saying if you ever needed anything, to contact him.

You survived that weekend, and decided to go straight to Brazil for the next GP instead of going back to Monaco. In São Paulo you mostly slept your worries and fears away. You had promised yourself to try and focus on the season only, to make your dream come true, to fulfill your mom’s promise in some way.

With Ferrari’s bad strategy in Mexico, they had ruined Charles’ chance at the championship. Now your only competition was Max and the Red Bull rocketship.

You rewatched the race a couple of times as you usually did, to try and catch any mistakes you or your team may have made, to fix it for the next one. But also to try and notice any weaknesses of your rivals, if it was something you could use in your own favor.

You noticed right away in the FP1 that your car wasn’t adhering to the track, you were losing balance and needed more force than usual to keep yourself in place. By FP2, you managed to control your car better, but that caused your tyres to wear off way more quickly.

Quali was one of the shittiest you’ve ever done in your career, taking you out in Q2 for the first time that year, placing you for a start at P12.

“Listen, we’ll do better tomorrow, ok?” Jace told you as soon as you entered the garage, seeing Max still out with a shot at pole position.

“Give me a few minutes to unwind, please,” you asked, dropping your helmet, balaclava and gloves at a nearby table.

You went straight to your room, searching for your phone. Immediately calling Kimi, you waited for him to pick up.

“I watched it,” he said first and foremost.

“If I do bad in the race tomorrow, and Max does well, then I’m gonna lose the championship, Kimi,” saying that out loud made you shiver in horror, “FUCK!” You screamed, kicking a chair.

“First of all, even if you did bad tomorrow, you’d still have a chance to fight for the championship in Abu Dhabi. You know that,” Kimi warned you as if he was scolding a little kid, “second of all, I never taught you this loser mindset. You’ll have to find a way to work around the problems in your car tomorrow.”

“Shit, I’m so fucked! How? How could I even-”

“Remember when I first met you? Your kart was with almost this same problem, yeah? Remember you got P2? You went ahead and fixed it. That’s what I need you to do tomorrow, don’t focus on what you can’t do, only focus on what you can do.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“No trying. Do it.”

After spending the entire night crafting plan A, B, C and Z with you strategists and engineers, you barely got any sleep, but you forced yourself to rest. In the morning, you went to the track early to meet with your team again, to run your strategies one more time, when you had an idea. You’d still follow the plans you had carefully crafted with the team, but you decided to make a Plan Star, as you had called. Interlagos didn’t have any safety car in the last two years, so it was dangerous to fully count on one. But your plan star consisted in the case of a safety car in this one specific window of laps, you’d go to the pits for hards, counting on everyone else being on old softs or mediums at that specific point in the race. But for it to work, you had to be the first of the front field to go in.

As the lights went out and you accelerated, you got already three positions up, landing in P9, and luckily, the points zone. Jace was worried in your ears, talking about the car and the tyres management. With controlled calm and Kimi’s voice in your head, you managed a few more positions in the first 14 laps, landing P7. You lost a bit of time there, since Nando was P6 and everyone knew how tough it always is to overtake him. But you eventually managed to get the position. Unfortunately, it was the moment you had to go to your first pitstop. Due to the problems in your car wearing off your tyres, you would have to go for a two-stop, which ended up costing you three positions again. But you were patient and you were rewarded when the other cars had to pit, which gave you back the four places you had lost.

The race you went on and you barely moved up or down from your P5, but you managed to concentrate.

Jace, on the other hand was sounding more and more worried about your second pit stop, about the difficulty in get closer to P4, about the P6 trying to enter DRS zone behind you, with your tyres wearing off, with the-

“Jace, I love you but please shut the fuck up, I know what to do,” you were praying for a miracle when suddenly, there was a yellow flag, and the safety car went out during the perfect window of laps, “fuck, Jace, this is plan star.”

“Copy,” he paused, his voice sounding secure, “Box, box.”

You changed into hards, no one else went to the pits, and the race restarted after three more laps. The safety car had closed the gap between you and the P4, which made you overtake him easily.

Jace was still keeping quiet to help your concentration, he only interrupted to warn you about overheating your tyres, and your velocity per lap compared to the next position. You started overtaking like a madwoman as much as your tyres allowed.

“That’s P1, Lioness,” Jace told you.

“Copy that.” You said with your voice shaken.

As you managed your P1, you went back to be aware of your surroundings, seeing a Red Bull right behind you, trying to overtake but you managed to hold position.

When you took the checkered flag, you sighed with relief, Kimi was right.

“Congratulations, Y/N! That’s a brilliant, brilliant win!” Jace’s voice was sounding shaken too.

“You’re crying, Jace?” You laughed softly.

“It’s an honor to tell you that you, Y/N Y/L/N, are a Formula 1 world champion!” Jace shouts, and behind him you can hear more people screaming.

“What? Jace you’re fucking with me!”

“No, Lioness, you’re the 2022 champion of the world!”

“But- but how? There’s one race left? And Max was right behind me!”

“No, Verstappen DNFed during that one yellow flag. Behind you was Perez.”

You made the calculations quickly in your head. Max was P2 in the championship, but this DNF meant no points, and even if he managed to win the last race in Abu Dhabi, he wouldn’t be able to equal you in points. So-

“OH MY GOD, oh my god!” You screamed your lungs out, feeling the tears streaming down into your balaclava, “Fuck yes! I’m Formula 1 World Champion! Thank you, thank you so much guys! Jace, holy shit, I’m the champion!”

“You’re the champion!” Jace confirmed.

You felt joy in a way you hadn’t felt in a long, long time, as you stopped your car on the number one spot. Still a little dizzy from the thrill, you left the car, going straight to your team, heavily waiting for you. They all hugged you, hitting your helmet, saying congratulations and everything. You took a moment to hug Jace and Amanda, who had been of great support throughout the year.

After getting weighted and being congratulated by the other two on the podium, Perez and Hamilton, the latter hugging you tight as he took you off the floor, you drank water as you waited for the post race interview with Nico Rosberg.

You were giddy, barely holding yourself together with how happy you were feeling, how you wanted to hold the trophy, how grateful you were and more importantly, how you felt a great weight being lifted off your shoulders.

“Y/N, congratulations on becoming a World Champion! I have to say, as a girl dad, it is great to see you become the first woman ever to win this title. How do you feel? What do you want to say?” Nico offered, with a kind smile.

“To be honest, I can barely contain myself. It’s such an honor to be here and be the world champion. I look at the past and see my younger self who never thought would make it to Formula 1. It’s such a dream come true, after this year’s hardships, I’m glad to achieve the greatest dream of them all!” You said, kinda quickly, rambling as you tried to put into words all the emotions mixed with the happiness, “I’m sorry, I know I’m taking up all your time, I just want to dedicated this win, and this championship to three people who saved my life: Kimi, thank you for being the salvation of my career when we first met; And my mom, who’s not here anymore, thank you for being the light in my darkest days. And lastly, I want to thank myself for working my ass off and never giving up.”

You muttered a thank you as Nico only laughed at your rambling. Before you moved to the cooldown, you grabbed the mic back again.

“May I add one last thing?” You asked for Nico, who only nodded, pointing to the camera again, “This is to my father: I made it, you asshole.”

You wanted to send the middle finger too, but you knew you couldn’t because of the FIA’s guidelines, and you were already risking a penalty for cursing on live TV. In the cooldown room, you sat beside Lewis, watching a few highlights of the race on the screen. It showed a couple of your overtakes.

“Damn, you overtook like crazy,” Lewis muttered, seemingly amazed.

“I pulled a Lewis Hamilton in Interlagos last year,” you joked, and he laughed.

That podium felt like the culmination of everything you had worked for your whole life, felt like recovering your love for the sport for what it was, for the fast cars and the adrenaline. Being on that podium in Brazil as a World Champion shifted something inside you forever. During your anthem, you laughed, and when you got the trophy, you cried, pointing the trophy to the sunny sky with a silent prayer to your mom. You barely noticed, but you felt the champagne raining on you, and opened your arms to shower in it. Putting the trophy down, you splashed the other bottle, laughing and wetting everyone that was close to you, Lewis, Checo, Jace, who had gone up representing the team.

When the celebration ended, you stayed behind a little more, watching the crowd from the podium, and they started chanting. It took you a few seconds to realize they were chanting your name.

You raised your trophy at them, and they cheered even louder. Then you pointed it to the sky again.

“Look, ma, I made it” you whispered to yourself, feeling the tears streaming down your face.

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