#finding certainty in uncertainty

[sunni-stuff]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 This is part 4 Part 5

His question hit like a punch, and the pressure of it lingered in the air, heavy and suffocating. Armed Forces Day? Three years ago? A sharp jolt of recognition hit you, though the details of that night remained fuzzy. The memories were there, but they felt distant—like something you hadn't allowed yourself to fully remember after becoming a mother. 

You steadied yourself, trying to mask the unease rising in your chest. “What are you talking about?” you tried to sound steady but the tightening grip on your purse betrayed the rush of nerves running through you.

Simon shifted, his broad frame nearly eclipsing the dim light of the bar. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he seemed to wrestle in his own head, as though each word carried a burden too heavy to bear. “There was a night,” he began, his tone low and rough, every syllable deliberate. “Here. Three years ago. You were here. So was I.”

Your heart skipped, a wave of realization hitting with an almost physical force. The hazy recollections of that night flooded back, slowly accumulating together—laughter, drinks, an unexpected connection. Something that hadn’t felt planned but had burned far too bright to ignore.

The knot in your stomach twisted painfully, every part of you urging you to push it away, but the truth had already begun to sink in. “You’re…” The words stalled in your throat, heavy and lodged, the sentence unfinished as the reality stung like an accusation between you.

Simon exhaled sharply, part sigh, part laugh—but there was no humor in it. His gaze locked onto yours with unsettling intensity, and for a moment, it felt like he was waiting for you to break. “Yeah,” he replied simply, the word thick with certainty. “And she’s mine, isn’t she?”

A cold shiver ran down your spine, your body instinctively stiffening. The truth strung in the silence between you both, too glaring to avoid. Heart racing, every sense screamed to deny it, to distance yourself from this conversation before it spiraled out of control. But anything that could be said felt wrong, heavy on your tongue as you forced them out: “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Simon’s eyes held yours, filled with something you hadn’t seen before—a desperation that cut through his usually composed demeanor. “Please,” he urged, the plea more potent. “Just tell me.”

How could this be happening? How could something so raw, so unspoken, suddenly spill into the air between the two of you? The weight of the moment anchored you, and for a moment, you couldn’t find a way to move past it. 

“She is,” you muttered at last, the confession slipping out like an unwanted secret. Fingers clenched tightly against the table’s edge, grounding yourself against the suffocating reality pressing in. “I never thought… never thought you'd come back into the picture.”

A brief silence stretched out before you spoke again, everything tumbling out in a rush. "I didn’t even know your name. All I recall was you kept making me." The admission hung in the air, lighter than it was, an attempt to lighten everything you didn’t want to say. 

The memory refused to stay buried. His face from that night, the intensity of his stare under the bar’s muted glow, how his presence seemed magnetic and overwhelming all at once—it all surfaced, unbidden. The connection had been undeniable, but that was your secret to carry. He didn’t need to know the details you still clung to.. 

“I don’t even know how it happened,” The sentence barely made it past your lips. “We used protection.” Doubt crept into your mind, unraveling the careful narrative you’d built for yourself. Did we? The past, fogged by alcohol and blurred moments, refused to come into focus.

Simon blinked, the blankness in his expression giving way to confusion, then disbelief. “Did we?” he asked with an edge of uncertainty. He was searching for answers neither of you seemed able to provide. Silence filled the space between you, heavy with unspoken questions.

"That parts a bit fuzzy," you admitted quietly, thoughts drifting away, the edges of the remembrance blurring with every passing second. “And clearly we didn't given our current situation.” 

Meeting his gaze, you knew this was the man from that fortunate night. Only different. More mature as if life hadn’t been kind to him. “All I know is… I woke up, and it was just me.” The recollection hung heavier than expected, twisting in your chest. "I never imagined I’d run into you again."

A heavy silence settled between the two of you, the gravity of everything left unsaid pressing down on the air. Neither of you knew how to move forward, or even if moving forward was possible.

“I knew she was mine,” Simon muttered, his hand clenching into a fist at his side. He looked like he was trying to hold something back, fighting against his own emotions threatening to break free.

You blinked in disbelief, the reality of his revelation settling in like ice in your veins. “You saw her?” The shock was evident. The idea that he had been so close—watching, perhaps even knowing—yet remained silent was almost too much to process.

Simon nodded, his gaze never meeting yours as he began. “Last month. When you were leaving the café with her. Johnny stopped you, and I was there.” He hesitated, swallowing hard as if the bulk of it all was pressing on him. “Johnny and the lads, they were the first to say they saw a little girl with my face. I was skeptical at first But then… then I saw the two of you together. And I saw it. Saw me in her. I had no idea she was even a possibility. Or that you were, for that matter."

Your breath hitched, a sharp sting rising in your chest. The anger that had been simmering beneath the surface, the hurt, and the confusion all collided in one sudden wave. “Why didn’t you say anything?” The question shot out before you could stop it, the accusation sharp and loaded with all the frustration. He had been so close. Watching. Why didn’t he speak up?

Simon paused, his gaze dropping to his hands, fingers flexing as if he were trying to grasp for something he couldn’t hold. The silence stretched long between you, the tension palpable, as if the room itself was holding its breath. He wanted to say something, anything, but nothing came. 

“I…” He started, staring at his hands as though they might hold the answer. “I’m not good with things like this, love.” He rubbed the back of his neck, having a hard time fully expressing how he felt but this moment needed authenticity. “I needed time to figure out if I could step into a life that was already doing fine without me. I was afraid of complicating things, of ruining something that was just fine without me."

You didn’t expect what he said to hit you so hard. The impact of his confession—that he had stayed away because he wasn’t sure if he was fit to be a part of your life, Adira’s life—settled deep within you, heavier than you could have imagined. You’d been fine, hadn’t you? Raising Adira, carving out a life on your own. But there's always been that lingering voice in the back of your mind, that small, quiet thought of “what if?” What if things had been different? What if he had been there from the start? Maybe you wouldn’t have had to quit those overpriced mommy-and-me classes because of those judgmental women who gossiped behind your back. Maybe things would’ve been easier.

“I wasn’t about to just waltz in, love,” Simon’s voice softened, more vulnerable now, like he was carefully weighing his thoughts. “I needed to know if you’d even want me here. You and her…” His gaze darkened for a moment, his voice trailing off as though unable to bear too much out in the open. “I wasn’t sure if I was the right person to step into something already so… perfect.”

In those words, there was something you hadn’t expected to hear from him: honesty. He was afraid. Afraid of being the one to ruin what you had built. Afraid of not being enough for you or for Adira.

“I guess I understand,” you said quietly. "I just wish you showed up sooner."

Simon didn’t answer right away. Something within him flickered with guilt, and for a moment, you both stood there in silence. He glanced down at his hands, fingers twitching like he wanted to reach out, but wasn’t sure if he had the right to.

"Can I meet her?" Simon asked nervously, a grown man fidgeting in his seat, the weight of his request sinking in.

"Now?" You chuckled, trying to brighten the moment. "It's late. I'm sure she's already asleep."

Simon’s gaze flickered with hesitation, but the desire was clear. He was barely holding it together, as if afraid that the chance to meet his daughter would slip away if he didn’t ask now. 

"I understand," he mumbles after a pause, almost to himself, but there was a longing there you couldn’t ignore. "I just…I need to see her. To know her. Even if just for a moment."

The magnitude of the situation pressed down on you again, this wasn’t something you had expected when you woke up this morning. You had no clue what to do with all of this, with him, with Adira’s future—your future. But still, you could hear his sincerity.

"Tomorrow," You decided. "We can meet up tomorrow, but it has to be on her terms. She's not exactly the warmest with new people."

Simon nodded, his expression a mix of relief and determination. "I can wait."

You gave him a small smile, a silent acknowledgment of the moment. There was still so much to figure out, but at least now, for the first time, there was a possibility. A chance to rebuild what had been lost. "Bring toys," you suggested sincerely, thinking about what would make her happy. "She likes trains. Doesn’t need to be anything cartoon-ish, just a proper train."

Simon blinked, a touch of confusion in his gaze. "She doesn't like dolls? Like most girls?" His tone had a hint of disbelief, as though he couldn’t quite picture a little girl who wasn’t into the typical, pink frilly things.

The thought of dolls made your stomach tighten, and you shook your head vehemently, as if to expel the very idea. "God, no," you replied, unease creeping into the conversation. "Please, don’t bring dolls. That’s the last thing I want." You shuddered as you spoke, recalling all the unnerving memories. "She gets all Sid from Toy Story with them."

Simon’s brow furrowed even deeper, clearly unsure. "What does that mean?"

You visibly grimaced, the image flashing vividly in your mind. "It means I wake up to doll heads scattered all over the place," you say, your voice low and serious. "And it's... creepy. Like she's planning something with them. It’s like waking up in a horror movie."

Simon chuckled at first, but as he saw the unflinching seriousness in your expression, his laughter quickly turned uncertain. His grin faded, and the unease that filled his eyes told you that he was realizing this wasn’t some joke. "You’re messing with me, right?"

Your stare at him, completely deadpan. "I wish I was."

For a moment, Simon just stared, taking in your unwavering expression. His lips parted, a nervous laugh escaping him as he absorbed warning. "Alright," he said slowly, now understanding your cautious warning. "No dolls. Trains. Got it."

You gave a relieved sigh, feeling the baggage lift off your shoulders. The tension hadn’t fully gone, but for now, at least the toy issue was settled. There were plenty of bigger things to confront later, but this? This was a small victory.

This one is a little shorter than the rest, simply because I want the meet up chapter to be really long for yall! :3

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[multific]

The Gladiator’s Empress

Lucius Verus x Reader

Summary: He choose you, and you had no other choice.

Lucius’s rise from a skilled gladiator to Emperor was a tale told across the Empire. 

A story of determination and skill. 

You first saw him in the Colosseum, his fierce presence captivating the crowd, though it wasn’t the adoration of the masses he desired, it was you.

He became obsessed, his eyes finding you in the sea of faces each time he fought. 

After a while, he didn't even have to look.

You had a specific place where you liked to sit.

Though you didn’t know it at the time, Lucius’s victories weren’t merely for glory or freedom.

They were for you. 

When he became Emperor, his first rule was one that surprised you, he wished to marry you.

Fear filled your heart when you heard the news. 

Lucius was known for his ruthlessness in battle, his unyielding will, and his obsession with victory. 

You imagined a cold, authoritative man who would force you into a loveless marriage, one where you would be nothing more than a trophy.

A nice piece by his side.

Your parents were thrilled by the chance, a union with the Emperor would elevate your family beyond anything they had dreamed. 

But you, with uncertainty in your heart, didn’t share their enthusiasm.

The day you were summoned to the palace, you braced yourself for an encounter with a tyrant. 

Instead, you found Lucius waiting for you in a beautiful garden, surrounded by blooming flowers. 

He rose from his seat when you arrived, his expression softening at the sight of you.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he said, his voice gentle, surprising you. “I have no intention of hurting you. I only wish for you to give me a chance.”

His words were unexpected, and you found yourself speechless. 

He wasn’t what you had imagined. His eyes were intense and yet they held a warmth you hadn’t expected.

“Why me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lucius smiled faintly, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“Because from the moment I saw you, I knew there could be no one else. You made me want more than battles and blood. You made me dream of a life beyond the Colosseum.”

His honesty surprised you, but your fear didn’t vanish overnight. 

Still, you agreed to get to know him before making any final decision.

"I wish to get to know you first. If you truly care about me as you claim, you would understand."

"I greatly appreciate the chance, My Lady." 

In the weeks that followed, Lucius showed you a side of him that the world rarely saw. 

He was patient, never demanding more than you were willing to give. He walked with you through the palace gardens, listened to your thoughts, and even laughed at your sharp wit.

One evening, as the sun set behind the palace walls, you found yourself alone with him in the grand hall. The flickering light of the torches cast a warm shine over the room.

“I was wrong about you,” you admitted, breaking the silence. “I thought you were ruthless and cold. But you’re not.”

"I’ve fought many battles, but winning your heart has been the greatest challenge of all.”

A smile played on your lips, and for the first time, you didn’t feel fear when you looked at him, you felt something far deeper.

The night he proposed again, it wasn’t as an Emperor demanding a bride but as a man asking the woman he loved to spend her life with him.

“Will you marry me?” he asked, holding out a simple ring, his voice trembling slightly. “Not because I’m Emperor, but because I love you.”

“Yes, Lucius. I will marry you.”

The wedding was a grand affair, but despite the grandness, all you could focus on was Lucius’ unwavering stare and the love shining in his eyes. 

He had proven you wrong in every way, turning fear into love, doubt into certainty.

As his wife and Empress, you stood beside him, not as an unwilling partner but as someone who had fallen deeply in love. 

And in his arms, you found the warmth and safety you had never expected, but always longed for.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[divinesangel]

— why people are jealous of you [detailed]

pm me for an affordable, in-depth personal reading! — 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞!

— 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟏

people see you and they don’t always understand. they are jealous of you, not because of what you have, but because of how you carry yourself. there’s a quiet strength in the way you move, in how you know what you want, how you’ve always been so sure, so grounded. you’ve always known what you want, clear and unwavering, standing firm in your choices. there’s a steadiness in you, a calm certainty that others struggle to find in themselves.

it unnerves them, because where they doubt, you are grounded. when they question, you are sure. you seem so complete, like you’ve mapped out your life and found your way, while they’re still wandering. and instead of looking inside themselves, they project their envy onto you, as if your certainty reflects their own uncertainty. they feel the pull of you—how others are drawn to you without even trying. they see the way you move through the world, pulling people in without effort, and it stirs something in them. envy. insecurity. they can’t quite explain it, but they feel it.

there’s something in your warmth, hidden at first beneath that cool surface. when people first meet you, they might mistake you for someone cold, distant. but as time passes, and you let your guard down just a little, they see what others have already seen—that warmth, that care that runs deep in you. it’s rare, the way you care so deeply, so genuinely. and that, too, makes them jealous. you are genuine in a way that’s hard to find, and that makes you stand out even more. the ones who already feel insecure around you, they feel this too, and it only fuels their envy. they see you as someone who can draw opportunities toward you without trying, someone who doesn’t need to push so hard. you just are. you follow your instincts, and things seem to fall into place. it’s like they’re in competition with you, even though you’ve never played that game.

they think things come easy for you, that you don’t have to try as hard, but they don’t see the work behind the ease, the quiet effort. they battle within themselves. part of them knows you’re not their enemy, that you’ve worked for everything, and that maybe, you’re even on their side, trying to help. but the other part, the envious part, pulls them back, makes them feel small in comparison to you. they know, deep down, that you’re going to succeed, and it terrifies them. that you are destined for something bigger. and while they fight their own feelings, they can’t help but see you as someone complete, someone who has figured it all out. they feel the weight of their own uncertainty when they look at you, because you remind them of what they’re still searching for. and it’s not your fault, but it makes them feel like they’re not enough. in their eyes, you’re already living the life they wish they could have, and that’s what tears them apart. but it’s their own doubts they’re really wrestling with, not you. you’re just the mirror they don’t want to look into.

— 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟐

many people feel it, the quiet envy, watching the way you’ve come to treat yourself, like someone worth tending to, someone who knows their worth. you’ve been through it—transformations that have left you raw, broken open. maybe you come from a troubled past, maybe it was love or friendships that drained you, left you wrecked and empty. but you took that wreckage and rebuilt. you changed, over and over, until you became someone new. and it shows now, that transformation, it rises to the surface like light breaking through.

they see it, that shift, and there’s jealousy in how you've moved through things they can't fathom. they wonder how you’ve managed to endure so much and still come out strong, still doing well. they watch, but they don’t understand it—how you’re always changing, always moving forward. it’s like change is part of your blood now. when life turns, when things don’t go your way, you shift. you redirect yourself, finding the better path. and this ability of yours bothers them. they feel stuck, caught in places you’ve long outgrown. the distance between you widens, and they feel the emptiness in themselves more deeply because of it. they watch you keep moving, eyes always on the horizon, while they hesitate, afraid of what lies beyond their small view.

despite your past, despite the weight of what you’ve been through, you still hold hope for what’s to come. your vision, who you want to be, who you’ll allow into your life, it’s all clear now. instead of breaking, you’ve taken your wounds and made them into armor. you wear your scars with strength, but still so soft, never pretending to be more than you are. you are honest about your journey, open about what it’s taken to get here.

and this is what unsettles them. they can’t face their own cracks, their own unhealed wounds. they watch from a distance, filled with a passive longing, a quiet bitterness. your heart is full, and they see that. they see how you’re not afraid of the unknown, how you’re building a life that reflects what you want, even if it’s still in pieces. and they can’t grasp how you find contentment in the progress, how you’ve taken nothing and built it into something beautiful. you’re getting what you wished for, piece by piece, and that stirs something in them, something they can’t quite name. they want that strength, that quiet power, but they haven’t healed enough to claim it for themselves. so they watch, unsettled, as you thrive.

— 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟑

there's a sense of peace in your life that unsettles others, a peace that runs deeper than happiness. it's not just contentment, it's a kind of emotional depth they can’t touch, can’t understand. you’ve built something solid—your own home, your own space, a belonging so sure of itself, it shakes them. while they skim the surface, jumping from moment to moment, you’re grounded. you know how to build connections that last, that matter. it’s that steadiness, that contentment, that upsets them the most. you don’t boast about it, don’t need to. but they see it. they see you living in a place they can’t reach, and it leaves them feeling empty, like something inside them is missing.

sometimes, this feels less like a general crowd and more like one person, someone who feels unsettled just by how you move through the world. you have this way about you, this ability to create connections and tend to them, to take care of the people who choose you. and when a friendship goes wrong, when something turns nasty, it’s not your fault. you know how to hold onto people, how to keep that peace around you. so when things fall apart, it’s not a reflection of you. they see your calm, your balance, the way you move forward without rushing, without crumbling, and it makes them uneasy.

you’ve found a middle ground, where you can grow and stay strong, without falling apart. and that community you’ve built, the people around you—it’s strong. or maybe you just know how to get along with everyone. there’s something approachable in you, something that draws people in, makes them want to know you. but that can make others jealous. it’s a double-edged sword, meeting so many people and letting them in. but you see through it all. you don’t let your emotions cloud your judgment, and you’re not cold either. you have a clarity, a way of seeing people and situations for what they are.

you’ve learned to protect yourself, to keep out those who don’t belong. you know your worth, your value. you’ve built this, and you protect it fiercely. you only want healthy, nurturing relationships, and you’re careful about who you let in. that makes people uneasy, too. you don’t let strange energies into your space, because you’ve worked hard to protect your peace. in the past, there were friendships that hurt, that didn’t understand you, that crossed your boundaries. but now, you guard yourself, and not everyone can handle that. they can’t handle how sure you are, how much you’ve grown, how much you’ve learned to care for yourself. you’ve come a long way, and not everyone can keep up.

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 !

hi! it's daphne here.

i'm currently offering personal readings for €7 and soulmate readings for €14 so don't hesitate to send me a private message if you're interested!

thank you for being here!

[fear-less]

harry + first time for both of them + set during dh 1 when ron leaves (in this scenario hermione goes with him) + they have kinda experimented before but this is their actual first time

tysm ❤️❤️

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 Your fingers in my hair

pairing: harry potter x f!reader

��� In which, you and harry are left alone, stressed but glad to still have each other.

warnings: smut, first time, dom!harry, pretend the tent is big and not tiny…lol, y/n used once, pet name (baby), unprotected sex

1.3k words

divider creds: i-mmaculatus & dollywons

The night was unnervingly still, the kind of silence that amplified every crackle of the campfire and the faint whisper of the wind threading through the trees. Harry sat alone outside the tent, his eyes fixed on the flickering flames. He tried to push away thoughts of Ron’s sudden departure and Hermione’s decision to follow him.

He wasn’t sure what to feel. Betrayed? Hurt? Maybe relieved? The tangle of emotions knotted in his chest, making it impossible to settle on any one.

The soft sound of a zipper being pulled back snapped him from his thoughts. He turned to see you stepping out of the tent, your hair tousled from sleep, eyes still heavy with exhaustion. You wrapped your arms around yourself against the night’s chill, pulling your coat tighter as you stepped into the cool air.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you asked gently, your voice a comforting murmur in the silence.

Harry shook his head. “Too much on my mind.”

You nodded, then sat down beside him. Your shoulder brushed his lightly as you settled into the space between him and the fire. For a while, you sat in quiet companionship, the flames casting shifting shadows around you. Finally, it was you who broke the stillness.

“Ron and Hermione... they’ll come back, you know.” The words came out softly, but there was an underlying doubt that couldn’t be hidden.

Harry didn’t respond right away, his eyes locked on the fire as it danced between you. "I don't know," he said finally, his voice low. "And even if they do… things won’t be the same."

Your hand hesitated for a moment before it reached out to rest on his. There was warmth in your touch, steady and unwavering. Harry didn’t pull away, but he didn’t know how to respond either. The truth was, for so long, he’d been wrapped up in the fight against Voldemort, in the weight of their mission, that he hadn’t allowed himself to think about what he wanted. Not about this. Not about you.

"Y/N," he whispered, his voice barely carrying through the cold air. "I—"

Before he could finish, you leaned in. The kiss was gentle at first, tentative, but there was an intensity to it, an unspoken understanding that Harry’s heart stuttered at the touch of your lips. It wasn’t the first time you’d kissed, but it felt like it was—different, more real, more... inevitable. When you pulled away, your eyes searched his, asking for something he wasn’t sure how to put into words.

But Harry nodded, the unspoken weight between you two finally breaking through. Everything had been building toward this moment—the stolen glances, the unacknowledged longing, the shared silence in the face of everything falling apart.

Your movements were slow, tentative at first, as if unsure whether the fragile spell between you could withstand more. But the hesitation quickly gave way to something deeper, more certain. Your hands slipped beneath his shirt, your touch sending a warmth spreading through his chest, and Harry’s breath caught. His hands found their way to your waist, trembling slightly as he pulled you closer, feeling the urgency of a connection that couldn’t be ignored any longer.

"Are you sure?" he murmured, his voice rough with a mixture of uncertainty and longing.

You smiled softly, your eyes glistening with tenderness, with something stronger. "I’m sure."

Harry, his heart racing and now with your certainty, didn’t waste a moment. Without hesitation, he closed the distance between you, his lips finding yours once more. This time, there was no uncertainty—only a quiet urgency.

You guys had never gone too far, only ever making out and subtle grinding on each other. Harry was determined to change that. So to no surprise, with trembling hands, Harry pulled off your jacket. Minutes later, both yours and his shirts were discarded in the dim glow of the campfire, forgotten on the ground.

He took a moment to look at you, you weren't wearing a bra so your full chest was on display. You were beautiful—breathtaking. Your body, your eyes, your smile. All of you. His heart raced again, though this time it was for a different reason. You, too, had been watching him, your eyes tracing the lines of his chest and the muscles beneath his skin. The intensity of your gaze was enough to make him forget everything except the way you made him feel.

Before he knew it, he was guiding you gently down to the couch, lowering you with a tenderness that contrasted the urgency of his actions. He hovered above you, eyes locking with yours, both of you breathing heavily. 

“Please,” you said breathlessly. 

Harry wastes no time in taking off your pants, now leaving you in just your underwear. 

“Fuck baby, you’re soaked, all for me, yeah?” 

You nodded, too hazy in the head to form any words. Harry Now catching onto your neediness, he wastes no time in taking off his boxers and your panties. The only pieces of clothing that were separating you from one another were now  gone. 

He looks down at you, his gaze intense, a silent question hanging in the air as his eyes search yours for any sign of hesitation. The warmth between you both thickens, and you lock eyes, your heart racing. With a breath that feels too heavy to release, you nod, your body tingling with anticipation and desire, impatience igniting the air around you.

So with no warning, his cock was pressed against your slit and slowly went deep inside you. You cried out in pain and pleasure as he was still against you.

"Shhh, I’m right here," he whispered, his voice low and soothing. "I won’t move until you’re ready, got it?" He leaned down, his lips gently kissing away the small tears that had escaped down your cheeks, his touch tender, grounding you in the moment.

You were a mess beneath him, struggling to take him fully but to Harry, he felt like he was on top of the world–like nothing else could compare. Harry dreamed about him wanting to desperately fill you up and he reckons he's damn near doing that.You grasp onto his back, your fingers digging into his skin, nails pressing deeply into his flesh, a mix of urgency and need coursing through you. He couldn’t help but move forward slightly into you from the sensation, a sharp intake of breath escaping him as the intensity of your touch sent a rush of heat through his body. The connection between you deepened, both of you caught in the rawness of the moment. You let out a soft moan, instinctively tightening around him, the sensation causing him to groan deeply, his lips brushing against your neck as he succumbed to the overwhelming wave of pleasure.

“Harry, you can move now,” you breathed out.You didn’t have to ask him twice; his hips surged forward with a sudden urgency, a raw intensity in his movement that even took him by surprise, the heat between you both building with every passing second.  His hands gripped your waist hard, unknowingly leaving marks that would darken into bruises by morning. You barely noticed in the moment—distracted by the way his breath quickened against your neck, the urgency of his touch, as if every second mattered. 

“Fuck you feel so good around me, youre sucking me in so deep.” He said through a whimper. His words made you clench hard around him, making him let out another moan.

His fingers drew closer down and found their way to your clit. Your moans filled his ears like music, each sound more desperate than the last. It was as though he was the only one who could make you feel this way, pulling you deeper into something neither of you had fully prepared for.  Begging for a release that you were desperately in need of.

"Harry, I-I’m so close..." The words escaped you in a breathless gasp, your face instinctively finding its way to his shoulder as you cried out, trembling with the anticipation of release.

“Does my baby want to come for me? Have you been a good girl? Should I allow you to?” His voice dropped even lower, dripping with a mix of authority and indulgence, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Please… I need it. I can’t take it anymore,” you cried out, your voice trembling with the urgency of your need. Every inch of you burned, desperate for release.

“Shit, cum on my cock, baby.” Harry spoke, his voice full of intensity, but softer now, as if the moment demanded it. His fingers now circling faster around your clit, you could feel yourself on the edge, so close to that sweet release, every nerve in your body on fire with anticipation. WWith one final, powerful snap of his hips, you lost all control, your body trembling as you came undone around his cock. 

When he felt you coming undone, he nearly lost it, your moans, the way you clenched onto him. 

“Holy shit, baby,” he cursed, his thrusts now becoming sloppy, he was nearing his release while you whined, still high off your release. 

“Fuck, take it, take my cum, fuck!” He shot load after load of his hot cum deep into you. Groaning and whimpering like a mad man as he reached his much needed climax. 

As if he couldn't take his weight any longer, he laid on top of you, your fingers subconsciously finding their way to his hair while he wrapped his arms around your waist. 

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[jellybonbons]

Playground Love

ೀ older!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader

Tags: hurt/comfort, age gap (unspecified but reader is an adult), a lot of self doubt, talks about mommy and daddy issues, pet names (angel, princess, sweetheart).

W/C: 1.0k

A/N: studying? who is that? Anyways, this was supposed to be a cute ‘sitting on his lap would fix me’ but I got hit by existential crisis at 2am so angst.

"Wow, dating an older guy? That's so sophisticated!"

“Are you sure about this? Don’t you think there’s a reason why no one his age is dating him?”

"You get to date someone older? That's not fair! All I get are immature guys my age."

"Darling, I know you're an adult now, but dating someone significantly older... it just worries me. Are you sure you're on the same page?"

I love him.

At every reaction, you find yourself repeating the same phrase in your mind. It was a simple truth that anchored you amidst the swirl of opinions and doubts. Every concern, every envy—you faced them all with the same unwavering declaration.

But do you really love him?

The question lingered like a shadow, casting doubt on the certainty you had clung to so desperately. You couldn't shake the nagging feeling that perhaps you were merely caught up in the allure of dating someone older, mistaking infatuation for love. Or was it that you longed for attention from an older guy who could fill the void your absent father left?

You craved the paternal presence you had been denied, and in him, you found echoes of the guidance and affection you had longed for. 

"Dating someone older? Isn't that a bit... strange?"

"Why? Age is just a number, right?"

"Yeah, but... do you really think you're at the same stage in life?"

Oh, how naively optimistic you were. 

Perhaps you have been too quick to dismiss your loved one’s concerns, too eager to embrace the illusion of love in the arms of someone—his arms—who offered the fleeting promise of stability and security. 

“But he makes me feel loved and safe,”

“Does he?”

Was your love truly built to withstand the test of time, or was it merely a fleeting illusion, destined to crumble beneath the weight of your differences?

“Darling, can we talk for a moment?”

“Sure, Ma. What’s on your mind?”

"Well, I couldn't help but notice... you seem quite taken with this new guy you're seeing."

"Oh, you mean Leon? Yeah, we've been spending some time together."

"He's... older, isn't he?"

"Um, yeah, he is."

"I see... darling, I just want to make sure you're being careful. Dating someone older can bring its own set of challenges."

"I know, Ma. But he's different. He understands me in a way no one else does."

"I'm sure he does, dear…but promise me you'll take things slow and really get to know him before things get too serious."

"I promise, Mama.”

You've broken many promises with your mama, but why did this one hurt? Is it because you partially blame her for shaping you the way you are? Is it because she married your father? Maybe she would have lived a happier life if it weren't for him, if only.

But you thanked her, both her and him, for the lesson learned, for the wisdom imparted, for the love that had always been there, and for helping you recognise the kind of partner to avoid. 

You stood before the polished wooden door of Leon’s home office, your hand hovering in uncertainty over the ornate doorknob. Each second felt like an eternity as you battled with the torrent of doubts and fears that raged within you. 

You needed him, wanted him to hold you, and tell you that everything would be fine.

But what if he couldn’t understand your doubts? What if your confession shattered the fragile illusion of your love?

With a steady breath, you pushed aside your apprehensions and grasped the doorknob, steeling yourself for the conversation that lay ahead.

“What’s up, sweetheart?” His voice, gruff yet soft and reassuring, always managed to send shivers down your spine, freezing you in place. You couldn’t find the words to speak, and your throat suddenly dried.

Sensing your hesitation, he beckoned you closer with a gentle smile. You could see the experiences he went through, the complexities of adulthood etched into the lines that creased his weathered face.

“Come here, angel. Sit on my lap while I work.”

You obeyed, crossing the threshold into his office, your feet padding on the wooden floor as you made your way to him. Settling onto his lap, your linen dress pooled around you, the fabric soft against your skin. His arms encircled your waist, pulling you close, his rough touch sent warmth flooding through your veins.

You inhaled his scent, a mixture of citrus and wood, with a hint of something familiar: whisky. You thought he quit. Ready to question him, you opened your mouth, but he stopped you before you could question him.

“Don’t worry your pretty head, princess. I only drank a glass, I promised. I’m just a bit stressed.” 

“Mm, okay,” you replied, pushing aside your concerns for the moment as you melted into the warmth of his embrace.

You found solace in the familiar embrace of Leon's arms, the weight of your doubts momentarily forgotten as you leaned into his chest, burying your face against him. A few of his buttons were undone, allowing the soft hairs on his chest to brush against your face. 

"Is everything alright, angel?" Leon's voice, soft and concerned, pulled you back to the present moment.

"Yeah, everything's fine. I just want to stay like this, with you," you murmured, the words slipping out before you could second-guess yourself.

His arms tightened around you, drawing you closer, as if he could sense the hesitation in your voice. "Me too, princess. Me too," his stubble pricked your forehead as he murmured against them.

Oh, how weak you were. His voice and touch alone melted you into a puddle, and all your problems seemed to vanish in his embrace. Your mama wouldn’t be happy with how you turned out; she wished that you would never let a man make you weak like she was.

Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to sink deeper into his embrace, letting go of the weight of your doubts and worries. In this moment, all that mattered was the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against yours.

Perhaps one day, when the time was right, you would find the courage to open up to him about your inner struggles. Until then, you cherished this moment, clawing in the warmth of his love.

Pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, Leon whispered softly, "I love you, angel.”

“I love you, too, Leon, always,” you replied. The words were a vow of unwavering devotion and love…was it really?

All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does, and that is his.       

- Oscar Wilde

[twilightau]

LOVE VIRUS; L.DH

synopsis — after a fateful encounter with a mysterious resident, you decide to follow his example and became a nurse, just to get the chance to see him again. romance, fate-like moments, you expected a lot from your first meeting after many years... just to find out he is the most insufferable jerk!

genres — first love au, co-workers-to-lovers, doctor au

pairing — lee donghyuck x fem!reader

warnings — language, mentions of death, incorrect medical descriptions, accidentally attempted suicide, sharp objects, medical setting

word count — 7,6k

[ ♡ previous part. ] — [ ♡ next part. ]

Nobody liked the ending of things. Everyone liked beginning something believing or hoping it would help them reach a specific place. Still, that certainty stops once you get the spot you only dreamt about.

Endings were never your think. Everyone liked beginnings, it meant starting on a dream, creating hope, believing in a certain goal. But it all halts it's fairytale-like meaning when you don't know what to begin with.

High school ended in less than eight days, and you were wasting time with your girlfriends in the streets of Seoul, none of you with any ambitions for the future. All you could think of was which bars to sneak into and how to convince a tired convenience store employee on midnight duty to give you a pack of cigarettes for cheaper.

Uncertainty scared you, but it was so damn frustrating to find a career path that suited you. You weren’t the smartest in class, you hated numbers, you were far from the most athletic, and frankly speaking, you hated studying in general. No one was going to accept a student with a bad rep anyway, even though most of the bad doings were done by your friends, you were just merely a bystander.

But what will you become if you cannot find the right path in time?

These wandering thoughts and ‘what ifs' were eating away at your sanity. Your drunk friend waved at you, signing you to another night of drinking all your insecurities away. You smiled at her, about to join the group when you heard a loud clatter behind you. A small elder who was collecting cartons onto his little cart fell to the ground, his frame getting smaller with each bathed breath you took. 

You didn't know how you crossed the road in seconds. Your heart was still racing while you asked the elder if he was alright. You could still hear the ringing in your ear while you told him to follow your breathing pattern. He tried to grasp for something inside the cart, you leaped forward to find his bag hanging on the handle of the cart. But it was too late, the man was already out cold on the ground.

If what you felt before was anxiety, you are now in full worry. “Sir, can you hear me? Please answer me if you can?” You heard his breathing but it started to sound more labored by the second. You searched his bag for any indication but found two unfamiliar types of medicine. You were not a pre-med student and stood frozen at the realization that you did not know how to help this elder.

“Someone help! This man collapsed on the ground!” You yelled into the empty streets of Seoul at twilight. Everyone was busy zombie-ing themselves to a restaurant or club to relieve stress, the working class could not afford to save another person but themselves. You kept shouting for help, feeling the man’s pulse weakening. The sight was making your heartache.

“Are you alright?” You heard from your left, you nodded before taking the outstretched hand without looking, pulling the person down with you to observe the elder. He didn’t seem to mind, immediately getting to work. “Okay, what happened?” You told him how you found him and how long you have stayed and watched his condition.

The stranger starts looking around, grabbing the elder’s bag and rummaging through his things as if looking for specific items. It is the first time you look at the stranger, and you realize it is a handsome stranger. 

The points of his curly brown hair are slightly darker, soaked in sweat as if he came running. His nose had a soft round tip and his lips were upturned, a wide cupid’s bow engraved in his upper lip. You almost start counting the moles on his face before you realize what he might be looking for.

“A-are you looking for these?” Your outstretched hands contain the two unknown tubes of medicine. The stranger looks relieved and nods. He opens the cap and you realize it is a needle instead of a pod of pills. He stabs it into the leg of the elder with a force that shocks you, but his smile reassures you ever so slightly.

“Can you call an ambulance? The number is on that utility pole, I think–” He looks at the medication bottle for a second, “Mister Hwang is going to be just fine, don’t worry.” You nod, but your hands still tremble, the adrenaline leaving your body. The stranger holds you still, “You did well. Mister Hwang is going to be okay thanks to you.” He gave you a warm smile and patted your head encouragingly. 

When the ambulance arrived, the stranger took over the situation entirely. “Hello, my name is Lee Donghyuck. Please go to Neo-Seoul Medical Center, I’m a 2nd-year resident there.” The paramedic nodded and Haechan hopped onto the vehicle behind the stretcher. You watched as the back doors closed and the car drove away, the whole scene leaving you in awe.

The words he had spoken to you were still replaying in your mind, slowly woven into your heart like a design into a sweater that cannot be removed. For the first time in your life, you did not screw something up, you helped save a human and you succeeded. Haechan and the ambulance were long gone by now, but it was almost like the trail it left behind was highlighted in gold; you had found your career path in life thanks to him.

♡

Neo-Seoul Medical Center was one of the most prestigious university hospitals in all of South Korea. Standing in front of a hospital to start your career was unimaginable for you five years ago. And if it depended on your GPA back then, you’d have never been able to start a medical career at all. It helped that you had good study buddies who helped you with the selection exams as well as teachers who truly saw your good qualities behind all the natural clumsiness you radiated.

You smiled at the building once more before Chenle called your name, telling you to hurry up before you got late for your introduction week. He was one of the few close friends you made during nursing school. He was similar in the way he always went beyond for the people he cared for, but unlike you, he doesn’t always act on his emotions.

Your introduction group consists of two other rookie nurses: Ningning and Sion. You weren’t familiar with the two, but it wasn’t unknown that Yizhou was the top student during your years in nursing school. 

The receptionist pointed your group towards the eleventh floor where a head nurse would appoint you each to a department.

Once the elevator door opened, you were met by an administrative nurse who told you to wait a bit. The LED screen above the reception showed that there were several surgeries being performed right now. Your eyes widened at a familiar name between them.

Lead surgeon – Lee Donghyuck – General Surgery  00:02:10:37

He has not left this hospital despite all these years. A small smile creeps up your face. Ever since you decided to study nursing, you had secretly wondered if you’d ever get to work with him. The image of the two of you rushing to help patients always helped you ground yourself while preparing for another practical exam. 

A familiar mop of dark brown curls passed your daydreaming state and you were quick to react. His scent, his hair, his soft features, and his moles; it was just like you remember. You start to realize that he hasn’t moved, your hands unbeknownst to you holding onto the sleeve of his dark blue scrubs. He looks at you with confusion, about to speak but you beat him to it, almost in a hurry to tell him everything you wanted to him all these years before you lose your courage.

“Dr. Donghyuck, I– I’m so glad to see you again. Thanks to your help, I was able to see the path before me and worked hard for the past 5 years to get here. I am so happy to be able to enter the same hospital as you and look up to you as–” He holds up a hand, making you stop mid-sentence. He raises a brow and makes a clicking sound with his tongue. 

“Listen, I don’t have time for this right now.” He looks at your badge and then your fellow rookie nurses behind you. “You are the new rookie?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes before continuing, “Okay. Listen up, you guys, too. Do not ask stupid questions that you could have studied beforehand, do not waste doctor’s time, and –,” he looked straight at you, “Do not talk to me unless necessary. I’ve got better things to do.” You let go of his sleeve, your cheeks heating up with embarrassment and anger. Who the hell does this jerk think he is?

“Seems the rookies have met our fellow Donghyuck” A female voice states, you look to your left to find a woman in purple scrubs next to your group. “Hello rookies, my name is Karina Yu. I’m the head nurse of the emergency department and your temporary mentor while you do the rotations. Now get out your little notepads, write down everything I’m telling you, and make sure to ask if something is unclear. The emergency department isn’t a place that goes slow and steady, if you notice something you must be fast on your feet and react quickly. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am!”

“Nurse Karina is fine, by the way.” She smiled kindly before it dropped and she started to walk and talk like it was a military drill. 

♡

“Okay, this is our weekly schedule board. We have it digitally but since the emergency department is about always being on the move, it would be too troublesome to have someone look it up every seven minutes. I added some ID pictures so you guys can easily distinguish which surgeon and doctor is who.

This is Lee Mark, he is a cardiac surgeon who often handles emergency cases since he just recently switched to CS from GS. The cardiology department is on the eighth floor, but you will find him in the doctor’s room of our department more often. If you have any questions, go to him and he will answer them in detail for you.

This fellow is Lee Donghyuck, he is from general surgery and the main surgeon you will work with here. Liu Yangyang is also a fellow GS specialist and the other surgeon you will meet the most often. Both the general surgery specialists are quite strict and meticulous in their work and it shows in the way that they will hold you accountable for any mistake you make. Remember, this is not nursing school anymore, you passed your exam: now it is real.

“Yes, earlier you mentioned we will start rotations in the ER. Do all four of us start in the ER?” You ask, trying not to get too embarrassed by your little stutter.

“No, from the spreadsheet I received only nurse Yizhou and Y/N will start in the ER. Nurse Chenle will assist Dr. Lee Mark in cardiology and Nurse Sion will join neurology and assist Dr. Qian Kun until the further rotation. The four of you will rotate around cardiology, neurology, and emergency as you have chosen these preferences. Of course, if in any case, those three departments end up not befitting your best qualities, you can apply for any of the other departments you want to try out. After your introductory period, you can decide which department you want to join.” The four of you nod at Karina’s words. 

“The surgeons in our team seem to be young, do we not have any senior doctors in our team on site?” Ningning asks. Unlike the way you asked your question, Yizhou remains cool and focused, her hands writing down everything she hears while her eyes are trained on everything Karina points out.

“Good question, we do have young surgeons because they are exceptionally good and adaptive to the always-changing situations in the ER. Do not let their age fool you, Mark has already finished his fellowship and is only a humble step away from his next promotion. Haechan and Yangyang are both in their last stretches as well and have gained enough trust from the Chief of General Surgery dr. Kim Doyoung to work independently on ER cases while our emergency surgeon Dr. Lee Taeyong is on leave.”

♡

The soft melody of a random R&B song plays in the living room while you clean the fog of your mirror. You look at your tired reflection, but muster up the energy to smile back at yourself. As much as today went by fairly peacefully, you can’t shake off the unfortunate encounter with Dr. Donghyuck. Was five years enough time to change an entire personality, or did your young and naive self paint him in a light he was never meant to be seen in?

“Y/N, where did you put the remote? I swear you never place it back at our designated spot!” Winter complains, already in the doorway of your shared bathroom to give you an earful about designated spots for shared items. But every word she planned to say dies down when she sees your face.

“Y/N? Is something wrong? Didn’t your first day go well?” She takes your hand and leads you to the couch, two cups of warm tea already on the coffee table. “What happened?” She asks after you haven’t answered her first question.

“It’s nothing. Just some nerves” You try to shrug it off, but your roommate keeps staring at you with suspicion. 

“Babe, as a third-year nurse, I have already honed the ability to sense lies whenever I ask my patients about medication. I don’t want to play nurse when I’m at home as well. So spill, what is upsetting little spring sunshine?” You crack a small smile at the nickname; your overexcitement on the first day of moving in made the apartment owner laugh, she said a little spring sunshine will move in with the resident winter princess. Since then, Winter and you have started to call each other those nicknames to become more comfortable with each other as roommates and friends. 

“Remember why I joined nursing school in the first place?” You asked, looking down at your takeout and poking in it with your fork. “Yeah, you fell in love with a resident and wanted to become a nurse so you could work beside him,” Winter answered breezily, slurping a long strand of noodle loudly as she looked for you to continue. 

“Don’t make it sound like I’m doing all this over a crush! I truly got inspired to get into this work field!”

“Was anything I said false though?” You didn’t answer. “Point proven.”

"Anyway!" You try to continue the subject so the two of you won’t go down that tangent. “I met him today and he became a completely different person. I’m not saying I expected him to be 100% the same, but it is kind of sad that I couldn’t find traces of the guy who inspired me in him anymore.” Winter hums, putting the plastic fork to her lips.

“Hold up, you met him today? If you were in intro group four…and you start rotation in the ER…” Minjeong taps the crease between her brows, trying to piece the strings of information together. After a few moments of silence, she gasps at the realization.

“Your first love is Lee Donghyuck isn’t it?” You nod, the burdened expression on your roommate’s face unsettles you. “You look at me like I made a big mistake, is he in a relationship or something?”

“No,” You felt relieved for some stupid reason. “But Donghyuck isn’t exactly the type of guy I imagined you being into. I thought you meant Mark Lee when you first talked about your crush.”

“What’s wrong with Donghyuck?”

“I want to say it’s a rumor, but I saw it firsthand once with a rookie nurse a few years ago. A nurse quit after just a week because Donghyuck gave him a hard time. Be perfect or he will lecture you until you’re about to hand in your resignation letter.” You pale at your roommate’s words, deeply regretting every course of action you took today, including entering the hospital. “But I’m sure it’s just a facade, so don’t lose hope yet!” She tries to cheer you up, but it is already too late. You have dug your own grave.

♡

As if the gods wanted to mess with you for a bit, you were assigned to assist Donghyuck’s patients. To say your first week went bad was an understatement. Karina was right when she said Donghyuck has a low tolerance for questions he gets annoyed at anything relatively quickly.

On your second day shadowing him, you noticed that he had long legs. Legs that do not wait for you and your cart to keep up. He gave you a side-eye when you eventually arrived at the right room, you also got lost because he didn’t wait up.

(“If this were an emergency alarm, the patient might have already died. Keep your head in the game, dreamer.” He mockingly taps his writing clipboard against your cart before turning around and smiling brightly at his patients. You feel like you were fuming from the ears at his act.)

On your fourth day in, you discovered a little hiding area where you could take a break without Donghyuck throwing mean remarks at you. You figured, if he can’t find you, he can’t talk bad about you.

The little box of cookies you found in a drawer was already half gone once you heard two people enter the room, a small curtain separating you from them. 

“Dude, I think that Nurse Y/N might have a crush on you!” Dr. Liu said with excitement. It has been a while since romance blossomed for his friend and the littlest indication that it might happen again made him happy. 

Donghyuck raised his brow, “Who?”, and Yangyang’s smile drowned away. He doesn’t even know your name? “Nurse Y/N, she is – dude?" Donghyuck shakes his head. “For real? The nurse who has been assisting you for the past four days?” 

“Oh, the dreamer. I doubt she’d have a crush on me.” Maybe it was because you couldn’t see his face, but your delusion might have caught a bit of a somber tone in his voice.

“Besides, the chances of something happening between me and her is 0.00001%. Any other rookie might even be better than her.” Lee Donghyuck has proven once again that he is hard to empathize with.

(“Have you seen my chocobi cookies, by the way? I was planning on eating them but I couldn’t find them in my snack drawer.”)

You finished his nasty cookies with no regrets. 

Your fifth day came around and you were doing your rounds without Donghyuck, the doctor was yet to return from a four-hour surgery and thus you ended up doing the rounds with Mark. 

Although Mark was a bit too much of a talker, it was a nice change of pace compared to the GS specialist who criticized your every move. 

“You just have to look through the words,” Mark said after he finally made you share your worries with him. The two of you already arrived at the third room for the current check-up round.

“I’d rather not look straight into his eyes. If looks could kill, I wouldn’t have made it past day one, dr. Lee” You slide open the door and greet the patients warmly. In the room were four patients from a traffic accident that happened on your second day. Because it happened late at night, Mark was already scheduled for a long surgery for pediatrics, causing Donghyuck to do back-to-back surgeries on these four patients. 

Minnie, a high school girl, greeted the two of you with a timid smile, her eyes lingered longer on Mark before meeting yours again.

“Dr. Donghyuck is currently occupied, so Dr. Lee Mark over here is guiding me today.” You explained to the girl, the feeling that she might have a crush on Donghyuck was unbelievable but also kind of cute.

“She has been waiting to thank him since yesterday evening.” Riku, a college student, commented, earning a glare from the girl which caused him to laugh. You hum while prepping Mrs. Choi for a blood sample. After you finish filling two small tubes for the tests, she signals you to come closer.

“Dr. Donghyuck allowed her boyfriend to visit her yesterday, even though visiting hours were already over. The academy hours these days cause students to finish their studies at late hours.” You look back at Minnie, noticing a singular rose in a tiny vase next to a small teddy bear on her nightstand. The scene reminds you of a sweet youth drama.

“How is your appetite, Mrs. Choi? I noticed you didn’t eat much the last few days, if you want, I can alternate a few things on your menu plan to help get your appetite back?” The older woman softly shakes her head. “No need, the doctor gave me some stomach medicine yesterday. I feel much better now.”

Although you added a small comment about Mrs. Choi’s appetite into your nurse log before you clocked out for the evening, you didn’t expect Donghyuck to take the note as seriously as he did. Writing up medicine for patients always required a lot more paperwork, and your seniors in nursing always recommended trying to minimize the prescriptions doctors had to make. 

“I’m glad it is working out, Mrs. Choi. Let me know if you need me to adjust anything, alright?” The lady smiled before turning to Mark. “The other doctor and nurse Y/N make such an interesting duo, don’t you think? They remind me of my first love.” You were already halfway through the room to check on the last patient, the comment made you stop in your tracks a second too long. Mark laughs, “What was your first love like Mrs. Choi? I wonder how Donghyuck and Y/N compare to it.”

You try to focus on the teenager’s stats, Jisoo is also seemingly intrigued by what Mrs. Choi has to say about her first love and late husband.

“We were like opposites. Chan was always driven by his ambitions, he never knew when to stop and enjoy the slow and steadiness of the world. After we met, he used to tell me how I re-taught him how to live life.” Mrs. Choi’s gaze was fixed on the window, but you knew that she was also holding back tears, it was evident in the way she spoke about her late husband. 

You finish up Jisoo’s check-up before returning to Mrs. Choi’s bedside, squatting down and giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “He sounds like a love worth spending a lifetime with, Mrs. Choi.” Her gaze turns to you and you can see the glossiness of her eyes. “Thank you.” She whispers before lying down again, Mark and you bid the other patients goodbye before leaving the room.

“You handled that situation well, nurse Y/N,” Mark says after a beat of silence. You give him a sad smile, “She lost so much in the past few days, dr. Lee. If I can lighten that pain for even a moment, I will.”

“You live up to that speech dr. Nakamoto gave on your second day, huh?” You smile, thinking back at the random visit of the pediatrician. He was looking for a specific person (you later figured that person to be Mark) but got thrust into giving the rookie nurses a motivational speech by nurse Jaemin.

(“I don’t think I’m in any position to give a speech, dr. Na.” Yuta eyed the nurses with an awkward laugh, making Jaemin, the ER doctor, challenge him further. “These nurses will rotate into your department soon, anyway. Besides, I doubt you’d come all the way down from the tenth floor to disturb us in our busiest hours, right Dr. Nakamoto?”)

Doctors treat illnesses, nurses heal patients.

Although he probably said those words without much thought behind them, you found new meaning behind those words. Sure, ever since working with Donghyuck, many of your rather superficial motivations disappeared into thin air. But Dr. Nakamoto’s words were a good reminder that Donghyuck wasn’t your only reason. 

It’s patients like Mrs. Choi, those who don’t only suffer bodily injury or illness, but also have a wound to the heart that needs healing. The surgical scars will eventually fade, but without genuine and continued support and care, a patient might carry painful memories for a long time. To you, soothing their hearts for even a moment was a reward worthy of suffering through the nursing program, and even Dr. Donghyuck’s never-ending remarks.

♡

The taste of Winter’s cooking was one you could never quite get enough of, the girl was always in her element in the kitchen and it was evident in her food. Tonight you were also accompanied by Karina. Although you already knew Winter had invited a friend over, it didn’t quite dawn upon you that the nurse friend she mentioned from time to time was going to be the head nurse of your department. The awkwardness from your greetings earlier still lingers ever so slightly in the back of your head, but you try to pay it no mind. It did help that none of you talked about work, rather giggling away with every sip of wine as you talked about your college adventures.

“You know, I think you will do well in the ER, Y/N. If you can handle someone as cold as Donghyuck, I don’t doubt that even the most enraged Karen will get to you.” Karina says in between hiccups. Winter is already leaning on her arm, slowly drifting off with occasional mumbles while Karina keeps rambling on about random thoughts she has. 

You weren’t a heavy drinker, but luckily Winter had opted for wine (the two women had already finished a few shots of soju before you came home) which you were able to handle.

“I think Donghyuck truly has a stick up his ass like he knows the ER is heavily understaffed and yet he is driving any nurse he sees away.” Karina huffs, another large gulp of red wine. 

“It’s one thing to feel entitled because you’re a good doctor, but it’s another to assume every nurse to be at that level from the start, right Y/N?” You try to pry the wine glass away from her hands, but she downs the entire glass before you can.

“Karina, are you going to be okay?” You watch as she stands up and points her finger at the decorative succulent on your dining table. “This plant is dying, it’s withering away.” It was a fake plant.

“I will call a cab for you, Karina. Where do you live?” The woman seems to acknowledge the time and her condition, already stumbling into your hallway to grab her shoes. You follow behind her with her belongings. She laughs a little too loud at your questions and points upstairs. “I’m alright, Y/N. I’m your upstairs neighbor!” She chirps happily as she spreads her arms in the air before blacking out. Great.

The trip is anything but easy: the elevator decides to take everyone else to their respective floors before arriving at the sixth floor, and of course, Karina keeps wiggling in your hold while the other residents keep side-eyeing you in your pajamas.

Since she didn’t quite tell you which unit she lived in, you had to walk past each front door like a creep with Karina’s arms nearly killing your neck. None of the unit numbers 601-604 had her surname on it. You were praying that you didn’t have to go all the way down the hall to unit 610 before you finally read her name underneath unit number 605, right next to Lee Donghyuck’s name. 

You froze, trying to process what this meant, but Karina had already woken up and was loudly banging on the front door of unit 605. You were torn between leaving her here, but she didn’t quite look sober enough to stand steadily.

The door opens after a few loud bangs from Karina, an annoyed – nothing new there – Donghyuck opens the door. His hair was damp and he was wearing grey sweats and a black shirt, a towel around his neck, and black-framed glasses adorning his face – definitely new. It takes everything in you to not admit he looks like a cute nerd in those glasses.

He was about to hurl a mean comment. At this point, you are pro at recognizing this. Donghyuck stops when his eyes settle on you. He raises a brow, and you only reply to his wordless questions with a sheepish smile.

“Your girlfriend had dinner over at our place, sorry. I put some hangover medicine in the pocket of her jacket for her to take in the morning. See you tomorrow, Dr. Lee!” And you ran away, accidentally pushing Karina into Donghyuck’s arms, but you weren’t going to stay there a second longer than needed.

Even though you thought you were pretty sure that you didn’t like Donghyuck anymore, the new information that he lived upstairs with his girlfriend still left a bitter taste in your mouth. 

♡

You were transferring your notes into the nurse logs when Karina entered your little cubicle. “Hey Y/N, are you busy?” You shake your head, moving to the side so the head nurse can comfortably stand in your little workspace.

“Normally I wouldn’t talk about personal affairs during working hours, but I wanted to apologize for my behavior yesterday. I was upset at my boyfriend and when Winter said the two of you were going to stay at home and just casually drink, I couldn’t help but ask to join. I needed some company for a bit.” She starts to explain, and you start to notice that drunk Karina and sober Karina aren’t much different. 

The scary image of head nurse Karina fades away as you watch her ramble, animatedly making her points with her facial expressions and hands. You smile at the sight, realizing the subtle cuteness of Karina’s true character. “It’s okay, nurse Karina. We all have ups and downs in relationships.” Karina shyly nods, “I also have a little request to make.” You let her continue. 

“Please don’t tell our colleagues about Donghyuck and I living together, it’s embarrassing.” Although you were confused as to why it would be embarrassing, you promised her you wouldn’t tell a soul. She gives you a grateful smile before her pager goes off. Before you turn back fully to focus on your logs again, Karina calls your name. “You can just call me Karina when we are alone. I think we are way past the formalities after what happened.” 

Karina disappears behind the doors and your polite smile falters slightly. You wonder why Winter and Mark didn’t warn you about the relationship between Karina and Donghyuck, feeling stupid that you were so open about your admiration for the man in front of people who knew he was already off the market. 

It wasn’t like you were full-on pursuing him, but it does hurt to know that his type and you were so far off, evidently marking that 0.00001% to be true. Karina was extremely pretty, smart, and good at her job. Sure, she was a rambler and loud drunk, but she easily carried herself in confidence.

A soft cough pulls you back from your thoughts. Donghyuck leans against the wall, handing you his clipboard. “I saw you were filling out the logs, can you upload this chart to Riku’s profile?” You wordlessly take the papers and start typing, expecting him to leave after he says what he needs, but you don’t hear any footsteps. Before you can ask, he starts speaking again. 

“She’s my cousin.” His words were rushed and Maeda Riku’s chart had already taken most of your attention, making the only sound coming out of your mouth a confused ‘huh?’.

“Karina, she is my cousin. I’m not dating anyone. That’s what I wanted to tell you yesterday before you ran off.” If someone told you you would see an awkward Donghyuck less than two weeks into the job, you wouldn’t believe them. The man had a sharp tongue and – just like his cousin – carried himself with certainty, attitude, and incredible skills that steadily established his dominance in the department. But for some unknown reason, he was avoiding eye contact and fumbling with something in his pockets in front of you. 

“Oh.” 

“I gave her the hangover cure, it helped.” He added after way too many seconds, still fumbling with his white coat pocket. You give him a weak smile, not knowing how to act in this strange situation. The air was not tense like it usually was, but it was far from comfortable.

“I got you the same one.” His hands were too fast, but the bottle on your desk and his empty pockets prove that he had been fumbling with the hangover medicine all this time. 

“Thank you…” The act of kindness (?) made you speechless. 

“You were reaching for your head a few times while doing rounds. It’s disturbing my work and the patients. If you can’t handle alcohol, don’t drink.” And the Lee Donghyuck you knew has ruined the moment again.

“I don’t think I deserve scolding when your cousin ended up like that.” Your remark earned a half-hearted scoff from him. You hated the way your heart started beating like your younger self again.

“Just drink it and get ready to join me for your OR testing.” 

♡

The biting winter air felt like tiny pricks against your exposed skin, but you remained seated on the cold wooden bench while hugging your bottle of water tightly. Your OR testing didn’t go wrong, but it didn’t go smoothly either. 

It wasn’t necessarily what Donghyuck said, but it was the way that he said those words to you in a room filled with your peers and other colleagues. He was complaining about how handling different tools wasn’t just about speed, but also about precision, how you were too hasty and could cause dangerous accidents. How he wouldn’t tolerate it if it were to happen in his OR and how you weren’t going in there anywhere soon.

It hurts that just when you finished painting him as an awful person, he started to make you doubt him again, causing his words to twist as painfully as they were the first few days as his assisting nurse. 

You weren’t a big fan of crying, it felt like losing control over your feelings, but you couldn’t help it when you’re so deep into your self-pity party. 

“Nurse Y/N?” The voice of an uncertain Minnie makes you look up, staring into the eyes of an equally teary-eyed teenage girl. You try to wipe away your tears in a hurry to attend to the girl, but she just hands you a handkerchief with a sympathetic smile.

“You know, crying does make everything a bit better, don’t you think?” She asks through a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. You breathe in some more air, feeling better despite being spotted by one of your patients. The two of you don’t say much at first, sitting in a comfortable silence while staring at the few white dots in your pitch-black sky. 

“Boys are stupid.” She suddenly says, catching you off guard. 

“Why would you say that?” 

“They just are, I think girls cry more often because of them than any other reason.” She explains nonchalantly, making you grin at your words.

“Can’t disagree on that.” You mumble.

After a while, you returned inside to finish one last welfare round before switching out with the night shift nurses. You greet Karina as you pass the nurse station, she holds you back by your arm. “I had a word with Donghyuck about what happened during testing, are you alright?” Admittedly, you were still a bit mad at his choice of actions, but you couldn’t blame him for correcting you on something you did wrong. 

“I will get over it, but thank you for looking out for me.” You grabbed your necessities and walked through the dimmed hospital corridors, making your way quietly through the resting areas of your patients. Most were already asleep, some mumbled soft words while you gently checked their stats and some even bid you a good night before turning around to sleep. 

Once you made your way into room 4, you expected Minnie to have returned when you opened your curtain, but her bed was still empty. You frown, remembering how she mentioned how cold it was and that she should quickly return and sleep the night away. 

After a few confused moments at her bedside, you notice the small but important details surrounding her little sleeping space. 

The rose she received days ago bore no petals and the little teddy bear was stuffed inside the small trash can. The conversation from before replays in your mind, and you take out the handkerchief she had handed you. 

You recognize the handkerchief was part of a goodie bag for a small promotion the hospital held once in a while. The words 2023 on the embroidery make you speed walk towards the storage room where older items were kept for PR. 

The storage room wasn’t a huge mess, but it was evident that someone had roughly opened the stored tissue papers and used a few. Your heart ached, thinking how the young girl must have cried in here, feeling lonely and betrayed.

Without thinking, you put out your pager and send out a notification for a missing patient, running towards the terrace where you last saw her. You kept calling her name, heart hammering in your chest as different thoughts spun in your mind. 

Different nurses and medical staff on the floor start spreading and calling out for Minnie, everyone equally worried for the young teenage girl.

You end up on the eighth floor, briefly informing Mark before rushing off into another hallway, feeling more and more anxious with each passing second. You hear a click from nearby and rush towards the sounds, opening the door to a balcony wordlessly as you freeze, Minnie’s hands on the railing and a devastating look in her eyes.

“Minnie–”

"Don't!" Her voice shakes as she puts one leg over the railing. “I don’t want to hear about how young I am, how much life I have to live. What is the use if no one will love me?”

“Why would no one love you?” You ask softly, still stuck in place, afraid that one wrong move will make her do something irreversible. 

“Because I’m permanently broken. Because I have a scar that will never heal. Because I will have to return to the hospital every few years.” Minnie wasn’t directly looking at you, she was staring down the levels, the tears in her eyes dropping down eight floors.

“But it will heal, Minnie. Both your scar and your life.” You carefully take a step, noticing how she doesn’t flinch at your movement. “Right now, you are in a very tough battle, wanting to look the prettiest for a boy you like, don’t you?” She is quiet.

“And having him see you in a hospital gown, having him not see the best version of you, it hurts, doesn’t it?” She closes her eyes, whispering a small and shaky ‘yes’, but you heard her.

“I used to think like that, too. I used to think that once I meet the love of my life, I have to be perfect already so that he will fall in love with me.” Minnie doesn’t react, even though you are certain she knows you’re closing your distance slowly.

“But I found out, quite recently, that I don’t want to be perfect to be loved. I want him to see me at my weakest, and see how I fight my way through my weaknesses. Don’t you want to show him that you are a fighter, too?” Minnie looks up at you, although she doesn’t say it, her eyes tell you everything you need to know.

“Thank you, Minnie. Give me your hand and I’ll help you down slowly, is that alright?” She nods, giving you a hand before turning around. The action makes her foot slip and she slides off the railing with a scream. You lunge forward, holding her hands as tight as you can. 

“It’s okay, trust me, I will not let go.” You grunt, trying your best to lift her, but she is too heavy for you to pull up alone. “Somebody, help!” You shout out in between reassuring words for Minnie. You feel her trying to climb up, causing her grip on yours to loosen. You shout for help again, begging the skies to help this little girl. You were fighting a rough battle with exhaustion, using every fiber in your being to keep the hold on the girl’s hands. 

You start to lose grip, you shout out for help one more time before you feel a warm body against you, arms surrounding yours and holding onto Minnie’s forearms.

“I got you” Donghyuck speaks to you softly before raising his voice for Minnie to hear. “Minnie, I will count to three, and Nurse Y/N, and I will pull you up. I need you to use your legs to climb up, okay? Everything is alright. We got you.”

You finally look at him and he nods counting to three before you gather all your remaining strength to lift Minnie. The three of you land on the ground of the balcony, most of the landing softened by Donghyuck embracing you both. 

Minnie holds onto you tightly, crying into your chest as she keeps mumbling apologies. You close your eyes to keep your tears in, soothing the girl with strokes through her hair. “Everything will be fine from now on, Minnie. You are a fighter, remember? You will show everyone that you are a fighter, okay?” Donghyuck stands up, typing on his pager before the medical staff comes through the door with a wheelchair, taking the shocked teenager from your arms. 

You are still shaken from everything that happened in the past 10 minutes, your legs and arms have completely given up after all the adrenaline wore out. Donghyuck wordlessly helps you on your feet. “Let’s go, my shift ended as well. I’m taking us home.” His voice was soft again, just like when he told you that he got you in your most fearful moment. 

He tugs you forward, but you don’t budge causing him to shoot you a questioning expression. “I can’t walk anymore.”

You didn’t have any ulterior motives when you said those words, but getting a piggyback home from Donghyuck did feel nice.

It still felt odd, you were sure a week ago that you hated his guts, but now and then, he made your heart flutter like five years ago. The thoughts confused you, making you unsure about how you should act around the man. Avoiding him wasn’t an option for now, although you knew your rotation in the emergency department was coming to an end soon. 

“You have potential.” He suddenly speaks as your apartment complex comes into sight. “You aren’t as fast as Nurse Ningning or as knowledgeable as Nurse Chenle, but you notice the small things about patients.”

“I doubt small things matter as much as accuracy and knowledge in this work field, Dr. Lee.” You mumble into his shoulder.

“You might think so, but I know for a fact that if you didn’t notice those things, we might have lost a lovely person today.” It was hard to find the right words to say, so you stayed quiet and let him continue.

“Your attentiveness saved a life, Y/N. Don’t ever think any less of yourself as a nurse.” Normally, you’d assume he is saying this to mock you, but even without seeing his face, you know he said those words sincerely. 

“Thank you for finding me, Dr. Lee.” You say after he steps out of the elevator on the fifth floor. “It’s hard to miss you when you still shout like an endangered teen girl.” Your heart skips a beat.

“So you remember me?” You don’t know why you’re holding your breath, but you are.

“I didn’t at first, but after all the hints and pieces I got from why you joined the nursing program, together with what happened today, I just followed the string of information and realized that young girl was you.”

He has stopped in front of your apartment and you try to hurry off his back before your roommate sees you, but he doesn’t let you go as smoothly as you thought. Your roommate seemed to have sensed you because the door swung open. Winter looks at you, your arms around his neck, and then Donghyuck himself. Before she can open her mouth to say anything, you rip yourself from Donghyuck’s hold – ignoring the immediate absence of his warmth – and wave him goodbye, slamming the door in his face and shushing Winter.

“Girl, you act fast.” Minjeong throws you a smug grin. 

“Please don’t even start, Winter” Unfortunately for you, her grin only widens.

The two of you continue to argue, unbeknownst to you, Donghyuck was still outside, listening to your little arguments with a chuckle. He stops himself from mumbling how amusing your reaction was, the word ‘cute’ almost escaping his lips. His footsteps start echoing again after your voices fade away, heading home in high need of some back pain-relieving patches.

any like, reblog, comment and feedback is appreciated! if you'd like to be on the taglist of this fic, let me know through an ask or comment on this work ♡

[blitzwhore]

All 2 U (Motherfucker) and I Will Be Okay are thematic parallels of each other.

And I really, really love that.

It's the taking a person off their pedestal. The idolised image that you've always had of them finally crumbling down around you, shattering to pieces. They are not the person you thought they were.

It's the uncertainty. The asking yourself, or them, “Did I mean nothing at all to you? Do you even care that you hurt me?” Desperate for some sort of reassurance.

It's the assuming the answer is no. It's the conviction that the other person is already gone. Even though they're still fighting for you, still trying to reach out to you, desperate to fix what's broken. It's the being too caught up in the feeling of having lost them already.

(Now I know there's one thing I can't keep // When you're gone I will be okay, but my tears won't fall upon your shoulder).

It's the still reaching out and chasing after them, desperately trying to find a single good memory to hold onto—only to find the other person rejecting you over and over again, the memories cracking under your touch and burning in your grasp. It's the sudden certainty that every single good moment was a lie.

And it's the way both Stolas' and Octavia's fears and insecurities were exploited and validated by those around them, which ultimately pushed them to believe they'd come true.

Yes, he is a motherfucker; no, you didn't do anything wrong, he just didn't care about you. He deserves to be insulted and hated.

Yes, he is a deadbeat father and a disgrace who didn't give two shits about you and willingly left you behind. He deserves to be laughed at and shunned.

And above all else, it's the fact that Stolas eventually found his way back to Blitz; found himself in the arms of the same man whose love he thought he'd never have. Found himself loved, knowing he is cherised by Blitz beyond a trace of doubt.

It's hoping that the same will be true for Octavia someday; that she'll find herself in her dad's arms once again, knowing beyond a trace of doubt that she is loved by him.

[girlscomehome]

after the first kiss

pairing: abby x gn!reader cw: fluff + (not rly sexual) kissing! winter/christmas + modern setting, ib the faye webster song, friends to lovers, referring to you and abby as the prettiest around, lazily proofread, and i believe that’s all! wc: 605 a/n: i know christmas passed and all… but i’m still feeling some lingering longing for christmas abby !!!!! masterlist | taglist

Oh, it was nothing short of enchanting. You felt as if you were floating on the lightest, most ethereal clouds, a sensation so tender it bordered on the divine. Yes, it was a cliché—a saccharine definition you might have scoffed at another time. But it was the truth—your truth. In that moment, nothing in the world could stop you, not with the lingering imprint of Abby’s lips, soft and warm against yours, still igniting your senses.

It unfolded with an agonizing slowness that still felt far too fleeting, leaving you yearning for time to stop, to stretch, to hold. You wished, pathetically and earnestly, that someone had captured it—a moment so profound that historians would immortalize it, waxing poetic about the soul-lifting, almost religious wonder of it all.

Abby had invited you to the Winter Wonderland at the local mall, a charming outdoor festival where the air smelled of spiced cider and pine. Grubby kids darted about, teens giggled nervously on first dates, and adults wandered in search of the perfect tree to adorn their living rooms. But you and Abby? You hovered somewhere between those two worlds—caught in the giddy uncertainty of “firsts” yet entirely certain that the prettiest thing in that snow-dusted field was each other.

You’d been friends for so long—close enough to know each other’s quirks, to share endless laughs. So why did this feel so unnervingly new? You ambled aimlessly through the rows of trees, trading silly jokes and snatches of laughter, the kind of mindless joy that made the cold seem warmer. But then, somewhere between the laughter and the quiet, your steps faltered. The air shifted.

Perhaps your body knew before your mind did, sensing that this moment would mark the start of something you’d never forget. Abby turned toward you, her gaze soft yet electric, her puppy-dog eyes drawing you in like a spell you were powerless to resist. And then, with a quiet boldness, she leaned in, and her lips met yours.

It was brief but breathtaking. Not messy, not hurried—just soft. Sweet. The faint taste of the candy apple you’d shared lingered between you, a whisper of sugar on her lips. You hadn’t known a kiss could be perfect until that moment.

When you pulled away, your breath caught, and you opened your eyes to find her staring back at you. Her cheeks flushed pink against the winter chill, her pupils wide, and her lips curved into a crooked, lovesick smile. The sight melted you, leaving your heart dripping like snow under a warm sun.

“Again?” she asked, her voice soft, almost shy.

You blinked—once, twice, and then a third time as the word echoed in your mind.

Again? Again. Again.

Your head bobbed in an eager nod, and she laughed—a quiet, musical sound you wanted to capture and keep forever. Before the moment could slip away, you kissed her once more.

This time, her hands cradled your face with purpose, her fingers warm against your skin. Your own hands found her cheeks, your thumbs grazing their soft curve. The kiss was another meeting of softness—so sweet, so unhurried. Yet it carried a depth that reached beyond the physical, as if your souls were finding one another, intertwining in ways words could never capture.

When she pulled back to catch her breath, her forehead rested against yours, her lips curling into a smile that felt like sunlight breaking through clouds.

“Are you free again later this week?” she murmured, already weaving plans for your next adventure between breaths.

You smiled, your heart swelling with the certainty that, like her kisses, this was only the beginning.

[b38rman]

READ YOUR MIND ᯓ★ Ollie Bearman

tags - ollie bearman x afab!reader, friends to lovers, fluff, slight miscommunication, loosely inspired by the sabrina carpenter song of the same name

synopsis - This was definitely not on the marketing internship job offering for Prema Racing. You swore you had everything under control before this—before Ollie Bearman took up most of the weekend's agenda.

rating - teen and up readers

warnings - slightly suggestive ending

a/n - i wrote this before ollie was announced as a 2025 f1 driver and the slight implications of dread related to that uncertainty are littered throughout this work so just keep that in mind (or not) enjoy!

Thursday — Spain, 2024

The unmistakable sound of the hotel doorbell rang through your room. Admittedly, the best time to go to sleep had already passed you by at this point, considering the 7 AM lobby call time the team had for you. Unfortunately, the restlessness that could only be attributed to constant location changes seeped into your bones.

You got up, trying to dispell the feeling populating your gut. Perhaps, more than anything, it was the dull influx of certainty. You were still learning how to get used to this.

You opened the door slightly, just enough to see who was on the other side. 

“Took you long enough.” The familiar rumble of Ollie’s voice filled your ears, as he pushed his way into your bedroom.

At this point, you were 100% sure that any of this was not part of any of the contracts Prema made you sign when they offered you the internship. No matter how much you looked between the lines of wage and non-disclosures, you wouldn’t find what you and Ollie had anywhere.

It was just that it was becoming a routine at this point. From the beginning of the season, Ollie seemingly couldn’t find a better victim than you for his late night musings. You tried to gently reprimand him at first, telling him off about his bedtime and his racing and all of the things he’d scoff at you for and turn a stubbornly deaf ear towards.

Ollie rounded the room slowly, his white sleep shirt and flannel pajamas contrasting against your worn summer camp shirt and cotton shorts. You felt overexposed, as you always did in these situations. 

“Wanna play Mario Kart?” Ollie asked, mindlessly making his way to your side of the bed.

You thought about it for a second before responding, “Nope, too tired to be that stressed out.”

Ollie hummed in acknowledgment before laying back onto your bed, phone in hand, with his legs still dangling over the edge. He always took your side of the bed, despite it very obviously being rumpled and occupied.

You climbed onto the other side and tucked yourself in under the sheets. As if on instinct, Ollie moved his head upward, resting it on your stomach, before locking his phone and setting it on his chest. 

“I just feel a bit odd, you know? Like everyone says so many good things about me but really, I haven’t done anything.” He looked to the ceiling as he rambled. “I have another FP1 tomorrow and all I can think about is how I don’t know how to be what people want me to be. I don’t know how to keep being good, or how to really be good; will people even look back and think I was good?” 

“That’s some bad imposter syndrome you got there, huh?” You stretched your hand out and lightly laid it on his head, stretching your fingers against the expanse of brown waves. Ollie leaned into the touch, shutting his eyes.

“The only thing that should matter is who you want to be.” You grinned fondly at him, even if he couldn’t see it. “Besides, you’re way too young to be worrying stuff like that.”

“We’re the same age.” He opened his eyes just to look at you as he said that. 

“And do you see me worrying about my legacy?” You joked, earning a toothy smile and a roll of eyes from Ollie. 

At every moment you’ve spent with Ollie so far, he’s not felt like someone that appears on national television broadcasts or on carefully curated Pinterest boards. You could almost see yourself looking across the lecture hall, seeing him, and wondering if he was really paying attention or just browsing on his laptop.

Instead, he was one of the boys you’d keep track of social media appearances for. You managed his filming schedules for both long-form and short-form videos, and wove through seas of people and motorhomes with him to find a spot to record his little post-race briefs. You weren’t assigned to him specifically, but it usually was you and him most of the time.

“It’s, um, getting late.” You tried not to be too awkward about untangling your hand from Ollie’s hair. “I think you should get some rest.”

You waited for him to complete the final part of this routine you had going, wherein he’d sleepily walk to his own bedroom and you’d fall asleep in your own fully warmed bed. 

Except for the fact that he didn’t do that at all. 

“Could I just stay here? I don’t really want to be alone right now.” You felt Ollie shift ever so slightly from where he was, head still resting on you.

Questions on professionality and ethics rang through your mind one after another. 

“Are you sure?” Was all you could muster. 

Ollie seemed to recognize your concern without you voicing it. After all, you weren’t particularly discreet about any of it. 

“I’ll just wake up earlier, it’ll be fine.” He finally raised his head and began setting an alarm for five in the morning. Part of you knew it was futile. Considering everything, it was a bold move, considering that it was just past midnight.

You watched him mindlessly, as he turned all the lights off, only leaving the light from the bathroom peaking out through a slight opening in its door. For a moment, you let yourself think of a time and place where this was a normal occurrence—one where him curling up in bed next to you in near complete darkness felt like a grounding force instead of a guilt-inducing one.

You turned to face away from where he was laying, opting to try and not make this any weirder than it could be. 

“Good night.” He said regardless. “Sweet dreams.” He said, in a softer voice, almost as if he didn’t want you to hear him. 

You could feel his body near yours, almost as if the full size bed was too cramped for the two of you. 

“Sweet dreams, Ollie.” You replied.

You felt him roll over to his back as you drifted off to sleep. 

Friday

Your eyes shot open at the sound of an iPhone alarm going off, obviously being the one Ollie set a few hours prior. What you didn’t immediately process was the arm wrapped around your waist, and the soft snores coming from the face that was nuzzled into your hair. Your heart was pounding. 

“Ollie,” You lightly shook the arm that was over you. “Ollie, wake up.”

You were only met with a long grunt and a tightened grip.

“Ollie, please, come on.” You tried sitting up to give him a bit more of a hint, displacing his arm on you.

Finally, he rolled over, turning off his alarm. The sun was barely out yet, and you saw him squinting at you through his sleepy eyes. 

“I don’t want to go.” He said softly and groggily, toying with a loose string on your worn shirt. 

“You have to.” You replied with every ounce of control in your body.

Ollie grunted faintly before stretching his arms over his head, silently sitting up and making his way out of the door as quickly as he came through it. 

Everything kept moving into the next day. You’d comprehensively briefed Kimi in the morning on his share of marketing activities over breakfast and sneaked some Live at Prema footage here and there, with Ollie notably paying less attention and getting called by some F1 media members midway. 

The constant elephant in the room was the tinge of disappointment the team felt due to Ollie’s slightly lackluster feeder performances in direct comparison to all of the F1 hype surrounding him, which no amount of sarcastic humor from the team could conceal. 

Despite everything that happened the night prior, everything remained calm and professional (he barely acknowledged you outside of what he needed to do, which was both a relief and a punch to the gut). 

Between photoshoots and practice sessions, you’d spotted Ollie from afar. Barely anyone could get a hold of him after free practice, as he was justifiably rushing between garages. 

He was up and down the paddock clad in his black Haas shirt, clearly moving with an air of confidence that filled your chest with something you couldn’t describe. This Ollie felt worlds away, which brought you as much joy and pride as it did a hint of melancholy. You were still figuring out what he was making you feel, but at times like this, he felt worlds away.

You were pulled away from your thoughts as quickly as they came to you, as you engrossed yourself in content with the F1 Academy drivers. When you weren’t doing that, you were organizing paperwork, analyzing metrics, and sifting through footage on your phone and camera.

The feeling you suppressed earlier only returned as the F1 cars hit the track. You thought about how near he felt at present, just at touching distance in the space between your hotel room and Grisignano de Zocco; but you also thought about how faraway everything would become after Prema, and how much you’d have to feel if you allowed yourself to let your guard down around Ollie.

After all, every sane racing driver would hope that feeder wouldn’t be forever. Deep inside you, though, you wished this feeling wouldn’t just be hidden in the footnotes of what would become Ollie’s career. Nevertheless, the sheer idea of wanting someone who was literally the face of a future generation of racing amidst the backdrop of him being capable of being wanted by every other person in the world felt incredibly absurd and daunting to say the least. 

(The two of you weren’t even anything. You weren’t really sure about these thoughts.)

After your rumination and the inevitable conclusion of the free practice session, you continued your work as you were directed to. It was entirely a coincidence, though, that your next duties included bringing parts of Ollie’s race kit and his water to his area in the shared driver’s area in preparation for qualifying. As every internship went, you often had miscellaneous work to fulfill.

Kimi had already finished his personal preparations for qualifying, already looking over last minute data, while Ollie was running late due to his prior commitment. The air was undeniably stress-ridden, as your first real encounter of the race day with Ollie was him scrambling to get into his overalls and suit, but you set everything down calmly while pointedly avoiding eye contact.

“Was starting to think you didn’t miss me at all.” Ollie was the first to break the silence, imploring you to look up at him.

Warmth filled your body at his words. For a moment, you worried that he knew he had some type of effect on you, but you quickly pulled yourself together mentally. 

“One less person to persuade to listen to my content briefs.” You shrugged, smiling at him playfully, almost daring him to retaliate. 

As the rush caught up to both of you, the only cohesive answer to your banter that he gave you before exiting into the garage was a soft squeeze on your forearm. 

“We’re friends, right?” Ollie asked, already tucking himself into your bed without hesitation.

Once Ollie was done slumping over in qualifying debriefs with the team, he made his way to your room again. It was the same routine as last night, just with a lot less talking.

The thing is, you weren’t saying anything either. That in itself said a lot.

You looked at him, eyebrows scrunched together. “Yes?”

Well, you were sharing a bed, tucked under the same sheets, staring face to face at each other in the dim yellow light of your Barcelona hotel room. 

“Maybe? I don’t know, Ollie—“ You second-guessed for a moment before continuing, “—I’m literally an intern. We work together, technically.” 

Ollie’s face twisted into something unreadable. His eyes shifted to the side as he mouthed the word ‘technically’ under his breath. 

“I mean, I guess we could be friends if you want.” You followed up. God, you felt ridiculous for having a conversation that sounded like this. 

He took a breath, deep and slow. “I want a lot of things,”He answered.

Ollie looked at right you, eyes so big, bright, and endless.

“I know.” You replied impulsively, in a voice barely above a whisper. 

He got so dangerously close to you that you could feel the warmths of his breaths on your face. 

“You don’t.” The weight of his gaze felt like it was melting you from the inside out. “You really don’t.” 

Ollie closed the gap between the two of you, his dry lips engulfing yours for what felt like an eternity, despite it being maybe a five-second peck at most. When he pulled away, you were breathing like he’d taken all of the air out of your lungs just from the sheer pace your heart was beating at.

A look of uncertainty flashed across his almost annoyingly pretty face. The kiss was so sweet, and you hated to be the one to make him question himself.

“We shouldn’t.” You said in conjuction with your uncontrollable heartbeats and air-filled breaths. 

“Then tell me you don’t want this.” Ollie challenged, laying one calloused, warm hand on your cheek.

“Ollie—“ You tried to protest. Every logical part of your brain was telling you how wrong all of this was, and how stupid you were for letting this happen in the first place.

In spite of all that, you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. You couldn’t lie to him for the life of you. 

You wanted this so bad. All you could do was want.

You laid your cold hand atop the one cupping your face, and let yourself look back at the earnest look on his face. You felt overexposed, sensitive all over like you’d been put out in the sun for too long.

“Please.” You could barley manage words, but you finally let yourself lean into him to erase every seed of doubt planted in his mind. 

The movement of your lips against one another quickly turned hot and heavy, and you let Ollie take and take everything he could’ve wanted. His hand wandered down to your neck and achingly close to your chest, as his kisses migrated down to your neck.

“We—ah—we really shouldn’t be doing this,” You weakly attempted to be rational, even if your hand was tangled in his hair and heat was quickly pooling between your thighs.

In response, he dove right below your collar bone, beginning with a bite and continuing with not-so-subtly marking you there, coaxing a mix between a gasp, wimper, and a soft moan out of you. 

It was glaringly obvious that he didn’t care all that much.

[andy-15-07]

hiii! i saw that your request is open. i would love to read about reader and pedro planning to go public

reader and pedro have been dating for almost a year but never go out on public together because reader wasn’t ready with people’s response and she has some trauma from her previous marriage (got cheated on and divorce). pedro was also scared that paparazzi & fans will bother her. but now after they said ily and sure about each other, they finally planning to go public

thanks in advance 💖

Us

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x female reader

Word Count: 1235 | requests are open!

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the city. From their apartment window, they watched the lights of the skyscrapers twinkle into life, creating a breathtaking panorama. Inside, a comfortable silence hung in the air, a quiet anticipation buzzing between them.

Y/N sat on the edge of the couch, her gaze drawn to the swirling patterns in her coffee cup. Beside her, Pedro stood by the window, his profile etched against the vibrant hues of the sunset. A thoughtful expression softened his features, his eyes tracing the city lights as if lost in a private reverie.

Almost a year had passed since their relationship had blossomed. A year filled with stolen moments, whispered confessions under the cloak of night, and an unwavering support that had deepened their bond. Yet, their love story remained a secret, shielded from the public eye and the inevitable scrutiny that came with fame.

Y/N had always been wary of the spotlight. The echoes of her past marriage, a painful chapter marked by betrayal and heartbreak, still lingered. The discovery of her ex-husband's infidelity had left deep scars, a constant reminder of the vulnerability that came with exposing her heart. She had vowed to protect herself, to keep her love life private.

And then there was Pedro, a man who understood her fears, who respected her boundaries with a gentle patience that melted her heart. He never pushed, never pressured her to share their love with the world. He understood the potential pitfalls – the intrusive glare of the paparazzi, the relentless scrutiny of the public, the way their love story could be twisted and sensationalized. He knew how easily something beautiful could be tainted by the harsh glare of fame.

But something had shifted. Their love had evolved, deepening into an unwavering foundation. It was no longer just about the private moments they cherished; it was about building a life together, a life they yearned to share with the world.

Pedro turned from the window, his gaze finding hers. He walked towards her, his footsteps a soft rhythm on the wooden floor. He sat beside her, his hand reaching out to gently cup hers, his thumb tracing soothing circles on her knuckles.

"We're really doing this, aren't we?" he asked, his voice a low murmur, a question hanging in the air.

Y/N looked up at him, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. "Are we?" she echoed, the uncertainty in her voice betraying the whirlwind of emotions swirling within her.

He smiled, a warm, reassuring smile that reached his eyes. "We're ready. I know you've been through a lot, but with you, I feel an unwavering certainty. I want the world to know how deeply I love you. And I'm ready to face whatever comes our way, together."

She squeezed his hand, his touch a grounding force amidst the fluttering in her chest. She had spent countless nights battling with doubt, fear gnawing at her, picturing the judgmental eyes and the potential for heartbreak. But in his presence, she felt a newfound strength. She could do this.

"I love you too," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "But I'm scared. Scared of the judgment, of the possibility of it all being torn apart."

He gently stroked her hand, his touch a silent reassurance. "I know, mi amor. I understand. I wouldn't want anyone to hurt you. That's why I've been so cautious. I've seen how the public can twist things, how they can turn something beautiful into a spectacle. But we can't live our lives in fear forever. We've waited long enough."

She took a deep breath, letting his words settle into her soul. There had been countless sleepless nights, the weight of the decision pressing down on her. But with Pedro by her side, the fear seemed to diminish, replaced by a newfound resolve.

"I don't want to hide anymore," she confessed, her voice trembling slightly. "Not from you, not from them. I want to be with you, openly, without the constant worry."

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "We'll do it when you're ready, mi amor. Together."

A comfortable silence settled between them, a shared understanding unspoken yet deeply felt. They had made the decision, but the path ahead remained uncertain.

"So," Pedro began, his voice light, attempting to break the lingering intensity, "how do we want to announce it? Instagram? A joint interview? Maybe a staged paparazzi photo?"

She chuckled, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. "Let's not go for the full 'paparazzi' act. But I think I'm okay with social media. It feels like the most natural way to share it."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Sí, I think so too. Maybe a simple photo of us, something casual, something that captures the essence of who we are."

"Real," she echoed, the word resonating deeply within her. It wasn't about creating a spectacle, but about sharing their authentic selves with the world. "It's not about impressing anyone," she added. "It's about showing them who we are, no matter what they think."

He pulled her close, his embrace a comforting cocoon. She rested her head on his chest, finding solace in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

"Are you sure?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He pressed another kiss to her hair. "Más seguro que nunca, mi vida."

They remained like that for a while, simply holding each other, the weight of their decision settling into their souls. It was a significant step, a leap into the unknown. But there was also a sense of liberation, a feeling of finally stepping into the light.

As the night deepened, they started to plan. They would post a simple photo of them together, a candid moment captured, a reflection of their genuine selves. No grand proclamations, no elaborate schemes – just a glimpse into their love story.

When the time came to post it, her heart raced. Pedro was by her side, his hand gently resting on her thigh, a silent anchor amidst the storm of emotions. She could do this. They could do this.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the Instagram app and uploaded the photo – a casual snapshot of them walking hand in hand, laughter sparkling in their eyes. She paused, her finger hovering over the 'post' button, a wave of apprehension washing over her. Then, with a trembling hand, she pressed it.

The world would see them. It wasn't just a relationship; it was their life, their love, unfiltered and authentic.

The response was immediate, overwhelming. Messages poured in from friends, family, fans, and colleagues. The support was abundant, but so were the inevitable questions, the curiosity, and the occasional critical comment. The scrutiny was inevitable. But for the first time, she didn't feel alone. She had Pedro by her side.

He squeezed her hand as they scrolled through the comments together, reading the messages of love and support.

"We're doing okay, aren't we?" she asked, her gaze meeting his.

He smiled, his eyes twinkling with pride. "Más que okay, mi amor. We're doing fantastic."

The future remained uncertain, as it always did. But one thing was certain – they would face it together, hand in hand, no longer hiding in the shadows. It wasn't about impressing the world, but about sharing their love, their story, with the world. And that, in itself, was enough.

[insidekatmind]

She is no match with you~ Pope Heyward

Wearning: +18,smut, jealousy, english is not my first language.

It was a hot summer day at John B.’s cabin, and the atmosphere between you and Pope was perfect, as always. You were sitting together on the couch, he with an arm resting on his back, and you huddled next to him, legs stretched out and heart beating happily. The day was quiet, yet there was something in the air, an imperceptible tension that you could not ignore. Cleo, who had decided to spend some time with you, couldn’t stop her sneaking glances at Pope, and even though you tried not to pay too much attention, you couldn’t help but notice him.

Cleo stood outside the living room, by the window, staring at the landscape as if she was lost in her thoughts, but you knew that wasn’t the reason for her attention. You could see in his eyes: there was something more, an unspoken wish, a hope that Pope might notice her in that special way that sometimes seemed reserved for you. But you knew, Pope was yours, and there was nothing Cleo could do to change that reality.

Your gaze met that of Pope, and he smiled softly. He was always so affectionate with you, and you knew there was nothing but love in his eyes. The situation with Cleo was starting to bother you, but you decided it was time to do something about it, to stop that constant gawking and to tell everyone, especially Cleo, that Pope was and would remain yours.

You approached Pope, feeling his steady breath as his gaze followed your every move. You looked into his eyes and, without saying a word, you began to touch his hair, sliding your fingers between the dark locks. A gentle gesture, but full of meaning. Pope closed his eyes, an imperceptible smile painted on his lips as he felt your touch.

"What are you doing?" asked Pope, his voice soft but with a hint of curiosity.

You didn’t answer immediately. You stood up slightly, tilting your head towards him, and without thinking too much you got closer. Your eyes found hers, and at that moment it seemed the world around you was stopping. Without a word, you kissed him. A full, intense kiss that told the passion you had inside for him. There was no fear, there was no uncertainty. Just the certainty that at that moment, you and Pope were together, and no one, not even Cleo, could change that truth.

Pope immediately returned the kiss, his hands finding your life, holding you gently as the passion grew among you. It was a kiss that spoke of love, complicity, and also a certain firmness in making you understand that there was no room for any other between the two of you. You didn’t care about Cleo, or her looks or her attempts to get Pope’s attention. At that moment, the only thing that mattered was him, and you knew he felt the same way.

You finally got off slightly, without stopping looking into his eyes. Pope smiled at you, and you could see in his eyes how much he loved you.

"You’re fantastic," he said, his voice full of affection

You didn’t need words, or statements, because you both knew what you had was special. And while Cleo stood quietly outside the window, probably feeling the tension between you, there was no doubt that Pope would never turn his heart to her.

You got closer to Pope, the hearts beating in unison. There was no more uncertainty, no thought to distract you. You looked into his eyes, and without saying a word, you slowly rose from the couch, hands still touching him gently, as if you wanted to feel every part of him.

Then, with a firm but gentle movement, you mounted him, your eyes fixed on his, looking for confirmations of a love that was no longer afraid to show itself. Pope raised a hand to touch your face, and smiled at you with that smile that made you feel safe, as if nothing could ever separate you.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice still warm from the emotion of the kiss you had shared before.

Without answering words, you approached him again, this time with a deeper, more intense kiss, which seemed to tell you more than any sentence. Your hands were running on his chest, and you felt his breath light up as his hands held your life, guiding you as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Meanwhile, Cleo was still outside, standing by the window, but now she didn’t even seem a presence. You didn’t care about her anymore, how focused she was on Pope, because you knew that at the time, Pope was all for you. The passion between you grew, as if nothing could interrupt that moment that was only yours.

Each kiss seemed stronger, more complete, as if you wanted to tell yourself that no one else could ever enter your world. Your position above him allowed you to feel every vibration of his body, every response to your every movement, and each kiss that became deeper and deeper made you feel your strong bond.

You started rubbing your dick while he groaned in your kisses. Pope put his hands on your butt as he accompanied your movements.

"Baby" Pope whispered and you smiled satisfied as you felt the look of cleo burning your skin.

"Come on love show cleo how much you are in need for me and how much you are only mine" you whispered through the kisses while you still moved your butt on his cock and he groaned.

You just got up and shoved his shorts and boxer shorts and lifted your gumbo to get your thong off and put it in Pope’s mouth.

"Open your mouth my love" you said softly and he opened it and when he felt your underwear in his mouth and felt how wet it was, he groaned as you salivated on his cock.

When you sank both of you moaned and you lowered your head back for his cock in your pussy.

"Pope, your cock is so perfect for my pussy" you moaned as you started bouncing off his cock making him groan.

Pope was moaning loudly from how you were groveling him, but the sound was still maintained by your panties in his mouth.

Pope looked at you like a god while you were bouncing off his dick. You had your eyes half closed and your mouth open as you moaned loudly and bounced.

He put your hands on your butt to slap it and squeeze your buttocks while you were still moving on his cock.

You started kissing Pope’s neck and he closed his eyes because of the pleasure you were giving him.

Cleo was watching the scene angry, cursing you but you didn’t care, you were focused on Pope.

Pope started pushing him even harder by hitting your g-spot and you moaned as he came on his dick.

You moaned and took the thong out of his mouth, casually throwing it on the couch as you joined your lips to Pope’s.

You were both moaning in the kiss as your pussy squeezed his cock more and more.

"You’re fucking squeezing my dick" Pope shouted, head down on the couch.

You smiled as you put your hand on his neck, squeezing a poʻ while he looked at you with pure adoration, lust and love.

"Come on love make Cleo feel good I do feel good" you murmured as you bounced more on her dick and Pope moaned.

"Shit y/n don’t stop, nobody can give me the pleasure you’re giving me, I’m yours... only yours" he said moaning loudly and then spit inside of you.

You groaned and then passionately kissed him Pope held you close to him while he gave you a final pat on the ass.

When you broke off the kiss, you turned your head to see that Cleo had run away. You smiled and put your head on Pope’s shoulder.

"Finally" you mumbled while drawing on Pope’s chest while still having his dick buried in your pussy.

He chuckled softly and gave you a sweet kiss on the forehead by stroking your hair.

"I love you y/n never forget it"

[d-targaryenshoe]

Love Of Tomorrow - Colin Bridgerton

Word count: 968

Summary: How becoming a father can change a man's feelings, quite strange is it not?

The first light of dawn crept through the heavy curtains, casting a soft golden glow over the room.

Colin Bridgerton lay on his back, head propped on pillows, gazing at the two people who had become his entire world.

Beside him, you, his beloved wife, slept peacefully, your hair spread across the pillow like a halo.

Nestled between you, in a tiny cradle of blankets, was your newborn son, a perfect bundle of warmth and innocence.

Colin’s heart swelled with an emotion so profound he could hardly find words for it.

He had always imagined what it might be like to become a father, but nothing had prepared him for the sheer depth of love and protectiveness that surged through him every time he looked at his child.

The baby, with its tiny, delicate features and the softest skin, seemed almost too perfect to be real.

Every breath his son took, every little noise he made, felt like a miracle.

Colin gently brushed his fingers over the baby’s tiny hand.

The infant stirred slightly but did not wake.

Colin marveled at the small fingers, so perfectly formed, and felt a lump in his throat.

He couldn’t believe that this little life was his to care for, protect, and love.

You stirred beside him, your eyes fluttering open.

You smiled softly as you took in the sight of your husband gazing down at your child.

“You’re still awake,” you whispered, your voice thick with sleep.

Colin turned to you, his eyes shining with happiness. “I can’t seem to take my eyes off him,” he confessed, his voice filled with awe.

You smiled and reached out to touch his cheek. “I know the feeling,” you said softly. “But you need to rest too, Colin. You’ve barely slept since he was born.”

Colin shook his head. “I don’t want to miss a single moment,” he said, his voice catching slightly. “Every time I close my eyes, I feel like I’m missing something.”

Your heart melted at his words.

You had always known that Colin would make a wonderful father, but seeing him now, so completely and utterly in love with your son, filled you with a happiness that you could hardly contain.

“Why don’t you hold him for a bit?” you suggested, your eyes twinkling with affection.

Colin hesitated, a look of uncertainty crossing his face. “Are you sure? What if I wake him up?”

You chuckled softly. “He's your son, Colin. He's used to your voice, your touch."

"Besides,” you added with a mischievous grin, “you’re going to have to get used to holding him at some point.”

Colin nodded, though he still looked a little apprehensive.

Carefully, he reached out and lifted the baby from the cradle of blankets, cradling the tiny body against his chest.

The baby made a small noise but then settled back into sleep, the tiny head resting against Colin’s heart.

Colin felt a surge of emotion so intense it took his breath away.

Holding his son in his arms, feeling the soft rise and fall of his tiny chest, he felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility.

This little life was so fragile, so precious, and it was up to him to keep him safe.

You watched him, your heart full.

You could see the love and wonder in Colin’s eyes, and it made you love him even more.

You had always admired Colin’s carefree spirit, his sense of adventure, and his boundless energy.

But seeing him now, so gentle and tender with your child, made you realize just how deep his capacity for love truly was.

“You’re a natural,” you whispered, your voice full of admiration.

Colin looked up at you, his eyes shining with gratitude. “I don’t know about that,” he said, his voice tinged with humility. “But I’m going to do my best.”

You smiled and leaned in to kiss him gently on the lips. “You’re going to be an amazing father,” you said with certainty.

Colin smiled back at you, his heart full. “And you,” he said softly, “are already an amazing mother.”

You blushed slightly at the compliment, but your eyes sparkled with happiness.

You had always known that motherhood would be challenging, but having Colin by your side made everything feel possible.

For a while, you simply sat there in the quiet of the early morning, taking in the wonder of your new family.

The world outside could wait.

At this moment, everything you needed was right here, in this room.

As the sun continued to rise, filling the room with a warm, golden light, Colin felt a deep sense of contentment settle over him.

This was his life now, and he couldn’t imagine anything more perfect.

Every adventure, every journey he had ever taken, had led him to this moment, to this little family that he loved more than anything in the world.

“I think we should stay in bed all day,” Colin said suddenly, his voice filled with a playful determination.

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Oh? And what about your duties? Your responsibilities?”

Colin shook his head. “Nothing is more important than this,” he said, his voice firm. “I want to spend every possible moment with you and our son.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with love for the man you had married. “Then it’s settled,” you said with a grin. “We’ll stay in bed all day.”

Colin beamed at you, his heart light with happiness.

He leaned over and kissed you, a sweet, lingering kiss that spoke of all the love he felt for you.

When you finally pulled apart, Colin settled back against the pillows, holding your child close.

As the day went on, the three of you stayed in bed, wrapped up in each other and in the joy of your new family.

[kimingyuslover]

shattered promises

synopsis: in a relationship marked by constant arguments and unfulfilled promises, you seek clarity from Jeonghan about your future together.

word count: 1,543 & some edits

genre: angst

warning: tears, jeonghan is an asshole, 6 and a half year relationship!!! lowercase intended

a.n: kinda rushed ending(?), i had a writer block while making this t__t. I hope y'all enjoy this. Also, i finally updated something on my account, lol

☆ check out my other works > main masterlist

argument after argument keeps happening inside of your relationship with him, whether it's because of something small or big.

in the past, these fights would simmer down after a few hours, ending with whispered apologies and lingering touches. but now, things feel different. after years of cycling through the same frustrations, you find yourself standing at a crossroads. you need clarity, certainty, something more.

"do you plan on taking our relationship to a serious level?" you ask, breath shaking, and your voice seems to waver.

he's silent, not wanting to answer your question, because he knew he'd say the same thing– he's not ready.

you sigh, the weight of his unspoken words crashing down on you. quietly, you retreat to your shared bedroom and pull out a large suitcase. slowly, methodically, you begin packing your belongings.

while Jeonghan stays seated on the living room couch, his mind running hundreds of miles per hour, he just needs to wait for your reaction. either you'll lock yourself in your shared bedroom like you always do or the worst thing that he could ever imagine, you broke the relationship you have with him.

Jeonghan, initially optimistic that the argument will blow over like before, realises with dread that this time it's different.

His stomach churns at the thought of the worst-case scenario: you leaving him for good.

minutes later, he hears the unmistakable sound of luggage being dragged. alarmed, Jeonghan rushes to the staircase, his heart pounding. at the top of the stairs, he sees you—three suitcases packed and ready.

"no, no, no," he mutters under his breath. He wasn’t expecting this. the arguments were familiar territory, something you always overcame. he thought this would be no different.

"I've made up my mind" you said to him, still a little struggling carrying all of your suitcases.

Jeonghan's eyes widen in panic. the woman he thought he’d love forever is walking out of his life, and he doesn’t know how to stop it.

“you're everything i want, Jeonghan–

you pause, the usual softness in your voice replaced with quiet resignation. no more "baby." no more "my love." none of the pet names he adored so much.

"You’ve always told me I’m ‘the one,’ but I’ve never felt like it. I’ve tried to hold on, but I can’t just survive anymore—I need to live. I love you, Jeonghan. I really do. I always will."

your words hang in the air, heavy with finality.

Jeonghan opens his mouth to speak but quickly closes it again, realizing he has no answer—nothing that can undo the years of uncertainty he’s put you through.

"You’ve been inconsistent," you continue, tears threatening to spill. "We’ve been together almost seven years, and you still tell me you’re not ready for something serious. I told you, from the start, that I wanted more by the time we hit four years. But I’ve been waiting... and hoping... and I just can’t do it anymore."

“but i guess i'm hoping too much, i shouldn't be putting hope to you when i first asked you at our 5 year anniversary, it may be selfish of me for thinking this way, thinking that maybe you want to be wed to me as much as i want to be wed to you, i'm always wrong. thank you for the memory though, i've learned a lot from this” with that you drag your suitcases and walk past Jeonghan whose legs are pinned to the floor, even when he heard the closing of that one door.

You still hope, deep down, that he’ll chase after you, beg you to stay, promise to change. But as the seconds turn into minutes, and the minutes stretch into ten, the apartment door remains closed behind you.

By the time the elevator reaches the ground floor, you know—he’s not coming.

You step into the night, flagging down a taxi to take you away from the place that once felt like home.

.........................

meanwhile, Jeonghan is still seated at his couch, replaying every word you say to him earlier. His brain is still processing everything that happens, the argument, confusion, and regret fully filling his head.

all he knows is, the next second, his brain finishes, swallowing every piece of information he got, tears already staining both of his cheek, and it's too late to chase you.

he hurriedly searches for his phone, wanting to call you, but he halts his movement, thinking that you would want some space after the big argument.

so he didn't call you.

.........................

Three and a half years pass.

Jeonghan steps off the plane at Incheon Airport, his sleek black hair neatly styled, his black trousers and white button-up making him look polished yet distant. he’s returned from Italy, where work projects with Woozi kept him occupied, but no matter how far he went, he could never escape the thoughts of you.

he's hoping that this time, you will gave him another chance, because he's ready now, to be in a serious commitment with you.

in fact, he already has the ring on him, he just has to find you again, making you his again and you will live happily ever after.

arriving at the old apartment, he feels a strange mix of hope and dread. he’s never let go of the memories you shared there, good or bad.

he picked up his mail from the receptionist, giving him a smile before walking to the lift carrying his things.

A few minutes pass and he finally arrives at his apartment.

after he takes a shower and gets dressed, he wants to start opening his mail one by one, but something catches his eyes, an envelope with your name on it.

for a fleeting moment, his heart leaps. but then he notices another name below yours: Choi Seungcheol.

he opens it, and he doesn't even think he can handle his heart breaks again, but it does happen.

it was your wedding invitation, with that man.

all of his hope was getting crushed by the simple “we're getting married!” text inside of the invitation and the pre-wedding photos of you and seungcheol.

the photos show you and Seungcheol, radiant and in love. the invitation is beautiful, but it feels like a dagger to his heart.

all of it was beautiful, but it's not him who you married, it was not your wedding invitation, it was not his intention when he came back overseas.

the things he had in his mind long gone, only filled with the regret that starts to fill up his body painfully slowly.

he curses under his breath, tears streaming down his face, nothing can't stop it anymore, his sobs are getting louder.

.........................

days later, Jeonghan finds himself seated in a church pew, his hands clasped tightly together. the music begins, and all eyes turn toward the doors. You appear, arm-in-arm with your father, wearing the wedding dress you once described to him as your dream. you look breathtaking.

the music starts to play, all the guests turn around to see the big door opens then there's you and your father. The gown fits your form gracefully with the veil covering your face and there's crown on your head.

you really look like a princess, and Jeonghan remember that you had told him that this is your wedding dream look.

lots of guests start tearing up, including him.

tears well in Jeonghan’s eyes, though not from joy like the other guests. he watches as you walk down the aisle, each step taking you further away from the life you once shared with him.

everything feels like it's going slow, the way you walk down the aisle delicately with your father by your side while holding a bouquet of your favourite flowers and seeing your fiancé ahead with the officiant, the slow music fills the air and makes this scene even more beautiful.

and god, you're so gorgeous in that dress, a smile etching both at yours and seungcheol's face, happy moments really shared through the air.

after the officiant announces you as wife and husband, seungcheol launches at you, kissing you deeply while Jeonghan and the other guests clapping and smiling, except his was fake.

your "I love you"s and shared smiles are beautiful, but they aren’t meant for him.

morning turns into evening, the sun finally gets tired and decides that it was the right time to get some sleep while the moon is rising to replace the sun's work.

all the people you invite watching you slow-dance with the one you love.

Jeonghan swallows the lumps in his throat with a shot of vodka while seeing you with seungcheol, his heart burns and so does his body.

this time, his heart is shattered, he knows he loves you but he has to let you go, because you're someone else’s now.

you're not his girlfriend anymore and you will never be again, he regrets not being able to fix his mistakes, and he regrets not being able to be your husband so he can be by your side as long as you live.

he will mourn every single day of his life until he dies, the pain of missed chances, and unfulfilled promises will always haunt him

[intrepidacious]

about that night (the bugs and the dirt)

summary: You never talk about that night, and Bucky never asks. Even though he can't help but suspect something is wrong.

pairing: bucky barnes x witch!reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: past character death and vague mentions of blood (yk, spooky stuff); there's no actual dialogue in this and the characters are worse for it 💛 please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: it only took me three years but i finally managed to finish a fic in time for halloween 😌🎃 i genuinely don't know how to describe the vibes of this except buffy the vampire slayer season six meets "if lisa frankenstein was a drama" meets hozier's like real people do. have fun 🫶🏼

masterlist | read on ao3

Something’s wrong.

Something’s been wrong for a while, but Bucky can’t quite put his finger on it. It’s a fragile thing, this knowledge, this certainty, lingering at the back of his mind like the dim light of a forgotten lamp, shimmering, seeping through the cracks.

Whenever he asks you, you tell him that everything is fine, and he wants to believe you, desperately. You wouldn’t lie to him, you with your luminous eyes and your soft smile. Deceptions would taste foul on your lips.

But something’s wrong.

It’s all wrong.

He’s always been too smart for his own good, and he’s going to find out, you know he will, but that’s precisely why you can’t let him. He’s going to know how far you’ve fallen, and he’s going to despise you for it.

So he forgets.

Sometimes, when he wakes up, his tongue is heavy with bile and dirt, his eyes crusted shut with something worse than bad dreams. Sometimes, when he listens closely, he can hear the air humming with lost hymns that are not from this earth.

Maybe he should’ve gotten used to that, by now; your walls have always had ears and mouths and eyes, after all. That’s the price for loving a witch, you’d say, back in the days when your smiles came easy. Wherever you are, you’re never alone.

It’s different than he remembers, though, even through the cracked and blurry pictures of his memories, his foggy mind, but he can’t put his finger on why. Darker. Colder. Damp. It’s like something has left.

Doubt follows his every waking hour, even more so when he tries to think of that night.

That night.

Oh, that night.

The taste of blood on your lips when you kissed him, desperately, like you hadn’t seen him in months. The muddy streaks on your arms when he looked at you in the pale moonlight, the scrape of dirt underneath your fingernails. It had been raining. You smelt like pain.

What had you been digging?

He needs to forget about that night and what it actually was you’d dug up, then. You’d told him you’d had to bury an animal that had gotten lost and died in the garden, and it was a half-truth even by the most generous account.

Dark, evil things happened that night, and no matter their intent, you were the sum of them.

You’d sacrificed a lamb to dig up a wolf.

He doesn’t remember your answer now, but it must’ve been enough for him, then. It must have been.

So he doesn’t ask again, no matter how hard uncertainty tugs on his lungs.

On that old, familiar path, he follows you home and feels like a stranger.

The blood itself was the easiest to wash off, and maybe that was the worst part. In the human world, crime rarely disappeared without a trace, but magic always left its mark.

You remember tumbling on your way back, almost tripping over your doorstep, a sudden pulse of energy pulling the breath from your lungs. These were your own four walls, the ones you’d blessed yourself, tended to and looked after for years, and they seemed to recoil.

Bucky caught your arm without even looking, catching you like he always had, and you crossed the threshold together. You looked at him, then, for the first time since the graveyard. You could feel his pulse under your grip, his heartbeat strong and loud enough to be mistaken for your own, but his gaze so uncertain, like he wasn’t sure he actually belonged here.

With you.

You made up your mind right then and there. He could never know.

You stir your tea as you always do, and you’ve set out his cup on the kitchen table. Alpine paws at it before he can pick it up, a fierce growl accompanying the sound of smashing porcelain.

She’s been angry with both of you, and he doesn’t know why. She keeps hissing at him, and she refuses to sit on your lap when you study your books next to the fireplace like she always used to. Like she’s punishing you in whatever little way she can for a crime he doesn’t understand.

You sigh, and you repair the cup with a flick of your wrist, and then you don’t reach out to pet that spot behind Alpine’s ears.

It’s little things like that.

And it’s your tired eyes.

Of course, no one else can know either; it’s not a risk you’re willing to take.

If Bucky notices the phone’s been unplugged all this time, he’s never said a word. He’s never been much for talking, anyway, but he does it even less so these days. You’ve both turned quiet around each other, but the only thing that matters is that you’re both still here.

Even now, you can feel the dark powers humming through your veins, just like you could that night. You hear the whispers calling out your name and see the shadows at the very periphery of your vision. They follow you into your dreams until you give up on them, slipping out of the warm embrace of your bed to hunch over the tome again, again, just a little more.

Perhaps you should worry about repercussions, but what for? After all, everything you did that night, you did out of love.

Everything you’ve done, you’ve done for him.

Sometimes, he doesn’t notice them for a very long time, and then it hits him all over again just how exhausted you look. When he wakes up in the middle of the night, your side of the bed is empty and the roof of his mouth tastes like ash and decay. In those moments, he thinks he might still be dreaming; his bones are heavy and cold and unyielding, and he lies there like something forgotten, and all of his thoughts revolve around you.

He’s so worried about you.

He wants to ask if it’s something he’s done. He wants to know if he can make it better, make you smile again like you always did at the sight of him, every time. But he’s afraid of the answer.

You’ve not been yourself and you know it, but at this point, you feel unable to stop it. It’s too late, anyway. The dead already walk to earth, and you’re the one to blame. You’re the one to thank.

Sometimes, the thought does hit you that there’s something a little wrong with you these days. But then he looks at you and he smiles, and you’re young and foolish and in love all over again, that weight of all those weeks of screaming and crying lifted with every glance, every touch, every kiss.

This, the uncertainty, is the worst part of it. It becomes his closest companion, and it only lifts slightly when you return to him, if only for a moment. When you do smile, when you put your hands around his neck and kiss him and he can feel real again, feel like himself again.

He barely notices that you will only look him in the eye when it’s dark, when he can lose himself in your touch, foreheads pressed together, breaths heavy and mingling, the only real creatures in the world. The sweetest thing he’s ever tasted.

Maybe you are wrong. Maybe you are wicked and evil and rotten to the core, and maybe there’ll be hell to pay for it yet.

But you’re not sorry.

hearing hozier perform "like real people do" as a duet with victoria canal changed lives y'all

thank you for reading!! if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications!! also, comments are trick or treats that last all year long. just saying 💛

oh, before we leave, here's an extra shoutout to @brandycranby for telling me this was fun and the perfect length. i accidentally made it longer again. love u 🫶🏼

[nothingbutsweetwords]

ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ꜱᴏɴ, ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ!ɴɪᴇᴄᴇ

"ᴡᴀɪᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱɪɢɴᴀʟ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ'ʟʟ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴅᴀʀᴋ…"

Word count: 5,000.

Fandom: House of the Dragon.

Pairing: Aemond x Reader!Velaryon!Niece.

RELEASE — 13. Her.

Their lips met with an increasing frequency, each kiss more insistent than the last, like an unquenchable flame demanded to be further stoked. Yet, just as the desire to surrender swelled like a tide ready to break, he would always pull back, extinguishing the moment. The frustration coiled tightly in her chest, a painful knot that throbbed with each missed connection.

She found herself adrift in uncertainty, grappling with the reasons behind his withdrawal. It gnawed at her, this need to understand and break through the obstacle that held them in this painful limbo. He seemed to revel in her company as much as she did, then a shadow would flicker across his expression, and he would retreat, an unseen force compelling him to do so. 

Was she simply too demanding? The thought lingered. Perhaps her expectations were the invisible walls. 

Usually, in those instances, she said nothing. Instead, she offered him a gentle kiss on the forehead before turning away, her back facing him. She would close her eyes, desperately trying to block out the unrelieved pressure that would keep her on edge as the night wore on and inevitably shadow her thoughts the following day. 

For him, that did not seem sufficient; he had begun to evade contact even in sleep, placing a pillow between them as if it could somehow contain the tempest of emotions swirling in the air. He believed himself subtle in this maneuver, convinced that she remained oblivious in her slumber. On more than one occasion, that act had elicited an amused chuckle from her. 

One particular night, they had surrendered to kisses that left their lips red and swollen, their breaths ragged and their hearts racing. Driven by desire, she attempted to slide her leg over his hip, seeking a more intimate contact, but he pulled away once more, maintaining that chivalrous gentleness that she so longed to shatter.

For her, it was a titanic effort to hold back. Her entire body, rebellious and restless, screamed for resolution, a warmth coursed through her from head to toe.

A frustrated sigh escaped her lips as she distanced herself, feeling the weight of unspoken words pressing down on them. He, with his eyes closed and jaw clenched, buried his head in the pillow.

“What troubles you?” she inquired, barely breaking the stillness. “What is it that holds you back?” It was the first time she dared to voice that question.

He was rigid beneath her touch; she could feel the strain under her hand as she gently cupped his face, coaxing him to meet her gaze. He obeyed reluctantly.

“What holds me back is the certainty that if I continue, I shall not be able to stop” he confessed, each word laced with raw sincerity. Her breath caught in her lungs.

Though she wanted to dismiss it, she knew he was right; someone had to be the anchor, the steady force that kept them afloat. Her mind, intoxicated by desire, struggled to think clearly, and she realized that if they didn’t find a way to slow down, they could plunge into an abyss that would ruin the delicate order they were meant to uphold. But, gods, how she longed to abandon all caution and lose herself completely in him.

She merely nodded, her throat tight and parched. In the depths of her thoughts, she mused that if he wished to stem the tide, his words didn’t quite fulfill their intention. For that night, she couldn’t shake the dream of persuading him to surrender fully and to intertwine so completely that there was no trace of where one ended and the other began.

The corridors of the castle hummed with frenetic activity, buzzing with a level of commotion far beyond the ordinary. The upcoming celebration in honor of the King had ignited a whirlwind of anticipation and hustle. Servants scurried about, their footsteps a rhythmic clatter on the stone floors, while emissaries from the most powerful lords mingled, their conversations filled with hushed politics

She moved with a determined stride, her mind set on a single destination: finding the one person she knew could offer the guidance she needed in these… delicate matters. Their interactions since their arrival had been fleeting, limited to brief exchanges during meals—a great contrast to the time they used to spend together in Dragonstone, where constant proximity was the norm.

Upon reaching the room, she noticed the door slightly ajar. Even so, she announced her presence, feeling a slight flutter of nervous anticipation in her stomach.

Baela, hearing the knock, spun around with a beaming smile. “Sister, how great it is to see you!” she exclaimed. She was dressed in her riding attire, adjusting her leather gloves. “I was just about to take Moondancer for a little flight. She has been so restless since we arrived. Come join me! We need to escape this madness for a bit” she added with a laugh.

“Yes, I would love to” she replied, though her tone carried a touch of seriousness. Clearing her throat, she added, “However, I came here to talk to you about something.”

Baela’s curiosity was immediately piqued. Her eyebrows shot up in interest as she motioned for her to enter. The door closed softly behind her as she made her way to one of the room’s armchairs. Baela soon joined her, her demeanor shifting to a more serious, concerned expression.

Before she could ask any questions, she blurted out the words in an excited rush, her voice rising higher than was prudent: “I am with a man.”

Baela’s eyes widened in astonishment, her face lighting up with a gleam of excitement. She sprang to her feet, her energy bubbling over. “This calls for wine!” she declared, heading towards the door with the same determination one might use to conquer a battlefield.

Upon returning, she tossed her gloves disdainfully, letting them fall into the floor and sank back into her chair, taking her hands into her own. Her hands reached out and clasped hers, her eyes alight with eager curiosity. “Pray, tell me everything” she implored. An alleviated chuckle escaped her lips as she nestled into the intimate atmosphere.

“Who is he? A lord? A knight? Or perhaps a mysterious stranger?” She couldn’t help but smile at the hunger for details. “Is it… casual?”

“He is courting me.” 

“Then he must be someone of significance” Baela exclaimed. “Do not leave me in suspense. Who is he? At least provide me with a clue. Is he from court?”

“It is quite complicated” she murmured, wrestling to withhold too much information.

Baela frowned, her tone shifting to one of persuasion, as if she were unearthing a buried treasure. “Complicated? You cannot drop such a bombshell and then just remain silent. Do I know him?”

The directness of the question made her bite her lip, caught between the impulse to confide and her loyalty to Aemond, who had requested discretion. The truth burned in her chest, eager to be released, but breaking his trust was a boundary she was unwilling to cross.

“He wishes to keep it a secret, at least for the time being.”

Her eyes watched every small gesture attentively, searching for a clue, anything that might betray her. “Come now, you are not going to keep this from me, are you?” Baela exhaled with playful exasperation, her fingers drumming impatiently. “This is torturous.”

“I cannot, Baela” she insisted, pleading for understanding, even as her smile betrayed her longing to share. “I promised not to.”

“Oh, by the Gods.” Baela reclined dramatically against the back of the chair, feigning frustration, though her face still shone with excitement. “What if I were to uncover it myself? You know I excel at these things” she said with a confident grin, certain that she would unravel the puzzle sooner or later.

“Then that would not be my fault.” She let out a small laugh, well aware of her sister’s determination. “But everything in its own time.”

“At least tell me this. Does he treat you well? Does he make you happy?” 

She took a deep breath, allowing the warmth of those memories to envelop her. “Yes, Baela. He treats me wonderfully, and yes, he makes me happy. Truly happy.”

“That sounds magnificent” Baela responded, gently. “And what was it you wished to discuss specifically?” she sought, taking on a knowing mischief.

She bit her lower lip, feeling a rosy flush creep onto her cheeks at the mere thought. “Well,” she began, intertwining her hands and playing with her fingers, searching for a way to start without giving too much away, “I have been spending a few nights in his company” she confessed, drifting into a dreamy tone.

“Do not tell me you have shared a bed with him?” Baela looked at her, her mouth slightly agape, a glint in her eyes. “This is getting better and better!”

Suddenly, firm knocks echoed, and Baela dashed toward it, almost running with the speed of someone unwilling to miss a single word. The tray waiting at the threshold was deftly received. “Do not stop speaking!” she exclaimed, as she closed the door.

With swift and assured movements, she placed the tray on the table beside them, the delicate clink of crystal glasses punctuating the air as she filled them with white wine, their favored choice. “I have long awaited this moment” she remarked, her laughter filling the room.

Her words rang true, and were far from exaggeration. In the past, Baela had queried numerous times about those certain topics, but she had never been able to provide the satisfying answers she was hoping for. Even on more than one occasion, Baela had introduced her to various lords. Although they seemed kind, none managed to awaken in her an interest beyond courtesy.

“The truth is, he is a gentleman, Baela, truly” she asserted. “And while I am grateful for it, I find myself immensely frustrated” she added, lowering her voice slightly as she savored a sip of wine, the liquid emboldening her spirit. “I am at a loss as to how to encourage him to relax. We have only kissed, as he will not even allow me to touch him.”

“Well, I understand that it can be quite complicated to halt once you have begun” Baela replied, leaning forward with keen interest. “Sometimes, a touch of patience and a dash of cunning can lead you further than you might expect.”

The atmosphere in the room shifted, charged with a new energy as she continued, her tone blending wisdom with a frolicsome charm, as if she were sharing an enchanting secret. “However, it is not always necessary to delve to the depths right away. There are many ways to explore the waters before taking that final leap. Although I am certain your mysterious man is aware of that. Perhaps he simply wishes to proceed with caution, or he is waiting for your signal.”

“I doubt that is the case, for he must be just as unfamiliar with this as I am.” She recognized the unlikelihood of him seeking counsel, given his reserved nature. As Baela regarded her with a sidelong glance, as if demanding more insight, she continued. “He has awaited for me, just as I have for him.”

“Has he?” Baela mused, brimming with astonishment. “That is a rare find indeed. Men typically do not place the same significance on the first time as we do” she remarked, amazed. A smile blossomed on her face, pleased to have further confirmation of his exceptional nature.

“He is unlike any of the others” she asserted, confidence radiating from her as thoughts of Aemond illuminated her features.

Baela returned the smile, her look warm with affection. “You deserve someone like that” she said earnestly. “Now, would you care to know more, or can you guess what occupies my thoughts?” she teased, pouring more wine into their glasses, the golden liquid sparkling in the light.

She let out a soft laugh, relishing the thrilling direction their conversation was taking. “I can surmise a few things, but I suspect you will guide me better than my imagination” she replied.

With a twinkle in her eye, Baela began to outline a series of possibilities that had never crossed her mind. Each word she spoke drew her in deeper, and as the hours slipped away, they delved into the topic with fervor. Their lunch transformed into a delightful symphony of laughter and wine, with Baela sharing her insights and past escapades, imparting wisdom she had gathered along the way.

“I understand now why you fought so fiercely to prevent Daemon from cutting off that cook’s hand” she said, recalling a past incident.

“It would have been a crime to lose those hands” Baela burst into laughter at the memory, biting her lip with a mix of nostalgia and amusement. “But back to you. Do you wish to go further with him, or would you prefer to wait?” 

“Unlike him, I cannot think so coldly” she responded with a soft chuckle. “If it were up to me, we would have crossed that bridge the very day I arrived. The only thing restraining me back is, well, the consequences that follow.”

“In that case, I shall tell you that as long as you take the proper precautions, there is no reason not to indulge yourself” Baela explained. Noticing the confusion on her face, she continued, “We live in a world where men hold precedence, deemed superior and untouchable. They can enjoy and not face repercussions or lose their prestige.” Her pitch grew sharper with discontent.

She listened, surprised by the depth. She had never reflected so deeply on such matters before.

“There are truths that neither the maesters nor the septas dare to share with us” Baela continued, her tone energetic. “Because if we yield to temptation, just as they do, we shall bear a lifetime mark. We will be branded, lose our worth, and be judged mercilessly. Is that not a dreadful injustice?” She nodded fervently, her frown reflecting their shared indignation.

Then Baela smiled, relaxing a bit as she said, “Well, I apologize, I can be rather passionate about these topics at times.”

“There are ways to avoid such fates—tricks discovered by and for women to prevent unwanted consequences and to enjoy ourselves just as they do” Baela continued, in a conspiratorial whisper. “You must pay heed to the signs of your body and the cycles of your moon. You see, it is crucial that,” she paused briefly, allowing her words to linger in the air, fostering understanding without the need for explicit explanation, “that must occur outside. And if, in the heat of the moment, things spiral out of control, there are certain teas one can consume to ensure no remnants remain.”

Her advice was clear and precise. Then, a new doubt crept into her mind. “The septa always claims that before a wedding, a maester will… examine us to ensure we are still pure.”

Baela frowned for a moment, her expression thoughtful before she replied, “Yes, that is true. But do not fret too much, it is not as common as it once was” she reassured her. “If it comes to it, you can always claim you lost it while riding, no one would be able to verify such a tale” she added with a roguish grin. She nodded, appreciating the logic and irony behind her words.

“Is it as painful as they say it is?” she questioned, feeling a twinge of apprehension.

“That is merely a rumor, spread by those wishing to scare us into submission, to deter us from pursuing our desires. I am certain of it” Baela said, dismantling her fears with confidence. “Or perhaps by someone who has not been with a partner who knows how to treat them. Personally, I did not suffer at all. It all hinges on preparation.”

“Thank you for this, I truly needed it.”

Baela threw her arms around her, rocking her back and forth. “Thank you” she said between giggles, “you cannot fathom how long I have been waiting for us to finally speak about this.”

“Let us toast!” Baela exclaimed, raising her glass with enthusiasm. “To us, to you two.”

After the evening's revelry, she staggered towards her room, each step feeling heavier under the weight of the wine. As she reached her chambers, she crumpled onto the bed, her body sinking into the softness with a sigh of relief. As her head met the pillow, an unrelenting tide of fatigue swept over her, pulling her into the depths of slumber with a fierce, unyielding force. And, in the realm of her dreams, Aemond appeared once more as the central figure, just like he always did.

The next night, after a dinner that seemed to stretch endlessly, she sought solace in a soothing bath to calm her frayed nerves. Lyra, her ever-loyal companion, moved with practiced ease, adding a few drops of fragrant rose oil to the steaming water and tenderly massaging the lather into her hair. 

As the steam curled around them with the delicate scent, the room filled with a determination, as calming as invigorating. She longed to unleash every detail of her conversation with Baela and the recent developments with Aemond, but she was well aware that such revelations would compel her lady-in-waiting to remain vigilantly at her side until dawn. Lyra’s watchful presence, akin to that of a protective elder sister, would ensure that no indiscretions slipped through the cracks.

She couldn’t fault Lyra for her vigilant demeanor; her innate caution was a virtue she greatly valued. It was the tether that kept her grounded in moments of temptation. Yet, in that moment, she felt an overwhelming urge to cast aside prudence, to indulge in reckless abandon, and to surrender to her impulses, regardless of where they might lead.

Once she bid farewell to Lyra, she secured the door, as if the simple act could seal away any swirling fears. With a flutter of anticipation in her chest, she prepared to change her attire. She stipped off her usual comfortable nightgown, replacing it with a more revealing garment that clung to her figure like a second skin, each seam accentuating her curves. Her still-damp hair cascaded in soft waves over her chest, leaving glistening trails of moisture on the fabric, creating an almost translucent effect that hinted at the secrets hidden beneath.

As she glanced at her reflection in the mirror, a gesture of satisfaction appeared on her face. She mused that if Aemond could withstand her tonight, his strength of will would surely merit accolades, destined to be celebrated as a remarkable triumph.

A soft knock at the back door made her heart skip a beat, quickening with the anticipation she had nurtured throughout the day. She wrapped herself in a cloak, concealing her figure like a precious gift, enhancing the element of surprise. Besides, she knew he wouldn’t allow her to traverse the halls without it.

The previous day and part of this one had been spent apart from him, and she hoped that the distance would work in her favor, making him yearn for her in her absence, allowing desire to blossom with the wait.

Taking a couple of deep breaths to steady herself, she opened the door. Aemond’s expression upon seeing her was enough to affirm her choice, relief washing over him, illuminating his face as if she were his guiding beacon. He took her hand gently, and she allowed him to lead her.

Once inside, and after closing the door, the stillness embraced them, as if all the words he might have spoken were left outside. She slowly removed the cloak in front of the window, allowing the moonlight to caress her skin. For a few moments, her eyes wandered over the vast night landscape, feeling the heat of Aemond's attention on her back. A confident smile tugged at her lips, but she masked it before turning to face him.

He was watching her, utterly absorbed. Letting the cloak fall gracefully onto the armchair, she advanced toward him with measured, deliberate steps, her stare locked on him. Her face wore a calm expression that belied the bubbling excitement within, waiting for the perfect moment to overflow.

When she stood before him, Aemond lifted his gaze, appraising her body with a burning intensity that placed a blush across his own cheeks. She was entranced by the warmth spreading through his skin, as if his emotions were laid bare before her—vulnerable and sincere.

Without uttering a word, she turned away and glided toward the bed, presenting her back to him once more. She settled in the center, extending her legs to one side, partially veiled by the delicate fabric, leaning on one arm.

He followed her, moving carefully until he positioned himself beside her. She watched him, quiet, allowing the tension to fill the space between them, tangible and warm.

“Are you upset with me?” Aemond’s voice emerged as an unexpected whisper, laden with uncertainty that contrasted with the confidence his presence always exuded. She furrowed her brow slightly, taken aback by the inquiry, her confusion evident in the slight tilt of her head.

“Why would I be?” she replied, with confusion and tenderness, wanting to understand the root of his fears.

He opened his mouth, but words did not immediately follow, creating a hesitant silence. After a brief pause, he finally expressed, “You have not wanted to see me all of yesterday, nor this afternoon.” There was a trace of fragility in him, and she felt a sharp pang of guilt for having kept him waiting, her heart constricting with remorse. She resolved to set aside any notion of repeating the plan.

She hurried to shake her head, offering a small smile that aimed to reassure him. “I spent the other day with Baela; as soon as I arrived in my room, I collapsed from exhaustion. Today, I was with my family, but do not believe that you were not on my mind” she explained, and he nodded slowly, relief easing his features.

She extended her free hand and gently caressed his face, her fingers brushing his skin with love. Aemond closed his eyes at the touch, leaning his cheek into her palm and seeking solace in her warmth. “I have missed you” he confessed.

“I have missed you as well” she replied, her smile reflecting the sincerity of her words. 

“I feared I caused you discomfort with what I said the other night” he added in a subdued tone, as if alarmed about having ventured onto forbidden ground; yet, those very boundaries he feared were precisely what she yearned to blur within his arms.

“That did not cause me discomfort.” A cheeky smile curling on her lips, the spark in her semblant showing her true feelings. “In fact, it was quite the contrary.”

Aemond regarded her with a flicker of surprise and relief as she continued, her tone seemingly indifferent yet heavy with intention. “Yesterday, when I spoke with Baela, I asked her some questions.” There was an undertone in her words, an unspoken invitation to explore the topic that now hung tantalizingly between them, waiting to be uncovered.

The fitted dress she wore restricted her movements, so, without breaking eye contact, she directed her hands to the hem, slowly lifting it. Her thumb and index finger grasped the silk, while the rest of her fingers glided over her skin, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. Aemond’s intense look returned, shedding any remnants of vulnerability, as if her actions had reignited his desire in an instant.

“Questions?” He seemed torn, wanting to focus on her conversation, but his eyes roamed to the mesmerizing play of her hand, capturing every subtle movement.

She slid her hand over her knee, then paused when the dress creased against her thighs. “I thought she could guide us.” Aemond's eye locked onto hers, concern passing through his face. “I did not mention your name” she clarified. He nodded gently, returning to the observation of her legs, this time with deliberate intent. A slight smile graced her lips, reveling in the attention. “She told me a few things.”

“What did she say?” he wondered, unable to tear his mind from the exposed skin that beckoned for touch.

“That there are certain pleasures we can explore before taking the big step” she breathed, letting her words hang in the air like a fragrant invitation. “But if we so desired, we could let ourselves go.”

She sat up, leaning toward him, parting her legs. Sliding one over his, she settled herself atop him, wrapping her arms around him. Her face nestled against the crook of his neck, her warm breath caressing his ear.

“And I have been thinking about this, about us, repeatedly” she confessed, her fingers tangling gently in his long hair while the other hand traced the taut muscles in his back. “I do not want you to stop” she uttered. “Do you want to stop?” Her voice a blend of uncertainty and desire that made him shiver. His answer came swiftly, charged with raw emotion: he shook her head, breathing heavily, as if on the brink of diving into the void.

Just as their lips were about to meet, Aemond sliced through the quiet like a dagger, rough and filled with deep sorrow. “Wait.”

She froze at his hesitation, the moment stretching taut between them. With a compassionate softness, she said, “We do not have to continue if you are not ready.”

He rested his forehead against her shoulder, hiding his face as his body slumped inward, a silent testament to his isolation. The sense of confinement was palpable, as though he were ensnared in a labyrinth with no escape.

“Aemond, what is it?” A murmur, an attempt to clear the clouds of uncertainty surrounding him. Yet he remained silent, as if each potential answer would only deepen his anguish. “Would you prefer me to leave?” She tried to offer space and time.

“No” he murmured, his voice muffled and low, softened by his hidden head. “I am afraid.”

“I am a little scared as well” she admitted, her fear transforming into empathy. She tried to lighten the weight that he carried with a small soft laugh.

“Not of that” Hh corrected, almost inaudible, and the air thickened, as if a silent storm was brewing. “I must tell you something” he finally said, the urgency in his tone making her grasp the magnitude of what was to come. Even though he wasn’t looking at her, she nodded, her fingers brushing his neck with a delicacy that sought not to rush him.

After an eternity of hush, Aemond lifted his head, his face a silent plea for understanding. His expression was a painful portrait of fear and desolation. His troubled eye met hers, and that was enough for her to move her hands to his face, feeling a wave of concern crash over her.

“You can trust me” she reassured him, a soothing promise of the safe space between them.

“I” he began, trembling, “I have laid with another woman.” The words slipped from his lips like a sigh, a feather descending slowly through the air. Yet, despite the soft delivery, they fell on her with the force of a thunderclap.

She remained motionless for a moment, her hands still on his face, as if trying to steady herself amid the crumbling world crumbled around her. Her heart, once beating with feverish intensity, faltered and stopped for an unbearable instant. Confusion engulfed her, as if a dense, opaque fog had descended, darkening the truth she thought she knew and held dear.

“What... what are you saying?” Her voice a fragile thread, disbelief etched into her eyes.

The realization hit her like a physical blow, and once it settled in her mind, a chilling clarity turned the warmth she had felt into unfeeling ice. The cold spread from her core to the tips of her fingers. Her breathing grew erratic, each heartbeat a drum resonating with the fury of her emotions, and her denial was evident in every involuntary tremor of her body, every shake of her head. 

“No, that cannot be true” she murmured, as though saying the denial aloud would somehow make his words less real. She sprang to her feet, desperate to flee the new reality.

“Wait” he called out, reaching for her hand, but she recoiled with a speed that seemed to accelerate with each passing heartbeat.

“Did you... were you with someone else?” she demanded, the words escaping her lips like a strangled cry, full of deep disappointment. The chasm that opened between them felt insurmountable, a void threatening to swallow everything they had.

“I can explain.” With his face twisted in a grimace of desperation, he tried to approach her again, but she moved farther away, her rejection clear and emphatic.

“Do not dare touch me” she warned, choking with a mix of anger and sadness as she frantically searched for her shoes. Her body trembled, not solely from the cold.

“I did not wish for it to happen” he explained.

She let out a bitter, hollow laugh. “Did she force you?” she spat rhetorically, disbelief biting through her tone. She quickly donned her shoes and made her way to the door, unwilling to listen to another word.

The certainty that the separation had been a sharing agony was crumbling in the face of the fact that he had been there, savoring the company and touch of another woman, while she had languished alone. Her breathing grew more labored, the storm of pain and rage becoming an uncontrollable tempest beyond her control.

“Please, stay” he begged, desperation in his manner as he reached out to grasp the remnants of what was slipping away. “Let me explain.”

But she didn’t heed his pleas. With hurried strides and a heart fractured into a mosaic of pain, she moved towards the back door, each step widening the rupture between them. He trailed behind, his desperate calls fading into a distant echo as she reached her room. With a resounding thud, she slammed the door, plunging him into the darkness, left alone with nothing but his supposed regrets.

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The next one is the best I have written so far, I can't wait to upload it 🥹

[lottielee-altar]

HC that Lottie is not the biggest fan of physical touch, but when Laura Lee first held her hand, she couldn’t get enough and doesn’t understand why.

Her parents only held her when she was a child, and there was an uncertainty to it from them that made her greatly uncomfortable. The more they didn’t understand what was going on with Lottie, the less they tried to touch her.

Being in a soccer team means that there were pats on the back, high fives and a lot of hugging, which took a long time for her to get used to. She learns how to console the younger girl on her team when her bone was peeking through her skin and flesh. She learns to accept physical affection from her teammates and eventually enjoy them from time to time as she grew to love them more, but casual affection is a different thing, and there’s still an uncertainty on her end.

But on that crashing plane, holding Laura Lee’s hand was the most steady and sure she has ever felt. She wonders how being faced with death could seem so forgettable when holding a girl’s hand. She keeps an eye on Laura Lee after the crash—holds her and leads her away from the chaos after blood from the sky kisses her pretty face.

Laura Lee eventually leads her to the water and holds her close, leaving Lottie wondering if she felt how fast her heart was beating while their clasped hands were pressed to her chest. The cool water kisses Lottie’s skin on that particularly hot day, and she clings to Laura Lee the same way the water clung to her.

Lottie finds certainty in holding Laura Lee, just like how a believer finds certainty when they feel the touch of their god.