#he deserves the world and more and i’d give it to him in a heartbeat

[slavicdolls4mangione]

“despite all my best efforts” he’s SO endearing to me god i love him so much 😭😭 as an aries venus myself i just know our boy loves so intensely, i truly think he’s the type of man who’d give his gf the world if he could

[pickingupmymercedes]

It's not just a win - Lewis Hamilton NSFW

The 104th win Special - He's bloody done it ❤️

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: unprotected sexual activities.

Also, wrap it before you tap it guys

wordcount: +2K

a/n: Don't have anything to say really. I don't even think this gets close to putting to paper what it meant. To him. To us. But I also think it's going to take time for us to really understand how much this win meant.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT

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Y/n stirred gently in the early morning light, the soft glow of dawn filtering through the slits on the window of the motorhome. She blinked sleepily, her eyes slowly adjusting to the soft, golden hues that bathed the room.

The warmth from the arms around her brought a lazy smile to her lips, and as she turned, she saw Lewis lying awake, staring at the ceiling with a faraway look in his eyes.

"Good morning, GP winner" she murmured, her voice still husky with sleep.

Lewis turned his head towards her, a content smile capturing his features as he returned from whatever world had been occupying his mind. "Good morning, love" he replied softly.

Y/n scooted closer, her arm draping over his chest, her head resting on his shoulder as he embraced her tight. She could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat pick up as she looked back up at him " Wanna debrief?" her voice gentle and inviting.

Lewis sighed, his eyes gazing into hers, searching for the right words. "Just...thinking about everything," he admitted. "Yesterday was...a lot."

Y/n nodded, encouraging him to continue. She knew that he needed this, a chance to make sense of his emotions out loud.

"There were moments in the past few years when I doubted myself," he began, a low rumble in his chest. "That maybe I couldn’t do it anymore. That I should have retired. It felt like I would never win again. But then...yesterday."

"I thought I had healed from 2021" Lewis admitted for the first time to her, his voice low and hesitant. "I know I always told everyone I was through. And maybe I had tried to convince myself I had. But standing on that podium yesterday… I still have so much to give."

He paused, taking a deep breath as he gathered his thoughts. "I’m not one to accept love easily… you know that” he almost whispered shaking his head a bit as you lowly chuckled “But these past years… the energy and support people have given me. I couldn’t… I can’t let that go unnoticed.”

Y/n traced small circles on his chest, her touch soothing and grounding. "What makes you think that?" she asked softly.

"I kept catching myself thinking about Abu Dhabi," his voice barely above a whisper. "About how close… how everything just...slipped away. It felt like...like I had failed. Like I had let everyone down." He sighed, a deep, shuddering breath. "I just...I needed this. I needed to win. To prove to myself that I still can."

Y/n tightened her embrace, her heart aching for him. "You deserve every bit of love you receive, Lew." Her hand going to trace the lines of his cheeks where his beard started. “And I’m sure people don’t expect anything more than the best you can do. And I know you always try and give your best.

Lewis nodded, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I know. I know. But I could always fight on track those who doubted... and then when I couldn’t…" he shook his head looking away. “Finally winning again. At home, with everyone there, my mom, my dad, my family. You. It was...overwhelming. I sobbed when I got out of the car. I couldn't help it. It was like everything I’d been holding in just poured out because I knew I had proven myself. That I had shown everyone what you all believed in... even when I doubted it"

Y/n sat up a bit to reach for his face in her hands, forcing him to meet her gaze. "There will always be challenges, always be obstacles. But you’ve proven time and time again that you can overcome them. You have an incredible strength, Lewis. And you don’t have to face them all alone. I’m here. Your family is here. Your team is here. And we’re always going to believe in you." she said honestly.

Lewis smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that reached his eyes "It felt like...like a new beginning. Like maybe, just maybe, I’m finally starting to heal." he said softly.

"It's not just a win, is it?"

He looked at her, his eyes glistening with tears. "No" he sighed; his voice thick with emotion. "It's...closure? Proof that I'm not finished. Not just yet."

Y/n agreed. "You can finally let go of the past now … or at least put it in its place."

He nodded, a sense of peace settling over him. "Thank you. For everything. For being here, for believing in me."

"Always," she whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "I’ll always be here." she whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his neck.

Lewis angled his head slightly, meeting her lips with his own. The kiss was tender at first, a sweet affirmation to her, but it quickly deepened. His hand found its way to her hair, tangling in the soft strands as he pulled her closer.

Y/n responded eagerly, her hands roaming over his chest and shoulders, feeling the heat of his skin through the fabric of his shirt. She pressed her body to his side, savoring the feel of his warmth and his muscles.

The kisses grew frantic and soon they were wrapped up in each other, lost in the moment.

Y/n felt Lewis's hand slip under the hem of her shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on her skin. She arched against him.

When she felt his hand move lower, sliding towards the waistband of her underwear, she pulled back slightly, breathless. "Do we have time?" she asked, her voice a husky whisper. "You’re supposed to head to the factory this morning."

Lewis looked at her through hooded dark eyes "They can wait" his voice rough with desire. "I feel like celebrating a bit more." Y/n smiled, a slow, sensual curve of her lips, and leaned in to capture his mouth in another searing kiss.

But just as their lips met again, a sudden bark from the foot of the bed pulled them back to reality. They both glanced down to see Roscoe looking rather annoyed and impatient. His expressive eyes, almost accusing, seemed to say "Are you two quite finished?"

Lewis chuckled, the sound vibrating through Y/n’s chest. "Looks like someone needs to go to the bathroom" he said with a grin, his fingers gently brushing Y/n’s cheek.

Y/n laughed softly, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before sitting up. "Duty calls, go one dad, we’ll resume after" her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Lewis gave her a playful nudge before swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Alright, buddy, let’s get you sorted" he said, his tone affectionate as he leaned down to give the bulldog a scratch behind the ears.

When he returned the sounds of running water drew his attention, and he made his way to the bathroom, a soft smile on his lips.

He found Y/n in the shower, the steam curling around her, obscuring his view. And as the mist cleared, he could see her silhouette through the glass door, the water cascading over her body. She glanced back through the glass, catching him watching her.

"Enjoying the view?" she asked teasingly, her voice thick with amusement.

Lewis chuckled, leaning against the doorframe. "Very much," he replied, his voice low and warm. Y/n turned to slide open the box door, her expression softening. "Care to join me?"

He didn’t need to be asked twice. Quickly shedding his clothes, he stepped into the shower, the hot water immediately welcoming him.

They stood there for a moment, letting the water pour over them, washing away the remnants of the previous day.

He was the first to reach out, his fingers gently trailing along Y/n’s arm, marveling at her. She almost felt exposed at his gaze, but the way his eyes held her captivated had her forget everything but him.

She stepped closer until their bodies were pressed together and he dipped his head, capturing her lips in a tender kiss, their movements slow and deliberate. A rhythm that was achingly familiar although their hands explored each other’s bodies like they had to reach every bit of skin they were yet to memorize.

Y/n’s fingers traced the lines of his muscles, her touch light and loving. Lewis mirrored her actions, his hands caressing her curves, his touch both soothing and electrifying.

The water continued to cascade over them, a warm, comforting presence that seemed to heighten every sensation. Y/n tilted her head back, her eyes fluttering shut as Lewis kissed a path down her neck, his lips leaving a trail of electricity.

"I love you " she breathed, her hands tangling in his loose braids as she pulled him closer.

"I love you" he whispered back against her skin; his voice filled with emotion.

They lost themselves in each other, the world outside the shower fading into insignificance. The water poured over them, mingling with the soft sighs and whispers that filled the small space.

When Lewis’s hands found Y/n’s waist, he pulled her flush against him as he kissed her deeply. She responded, her body arching into his, seeking more of his touch. They savored the moment, the feeling of being so close, so connected.

Y/n's hand slid down his chest, her fingertips tracing the hard planes of his muscles. Her touch was electric to his skin.

She reached his half-hard erection, her fingers wrapping around him with a gentle but firm grip. She began to pump him slowly, her movements teasing and deliberate. Lewis groaned softly into her mouth, both of his hand finding her waist. Her pumping combined with the hot water cascading over their bodies was almost overwhelming. He responded by pressing her against the cool tile wall, his lips never leaving hers.

With one hand still wrapped around his length, Y/n used her free hand to anchor herself against his shoulder. Lewis lifted one of her legs, creating better access to her core. He positioned himself at her entrance, his eyes locking onto hers.

"You ready?" he whispered, his voice a low rumble.

Y/n nodded; her pupils wildly dilated. "Yeah" she breathed.

Lewis kissed her deeply, his tongue tangling with hers to muffle her moans as he slowly entered her. The sensation was almost too much, her walls stretching to accommodate him. He paused, holding himself still to regain control, feeling her warmth envelop him.

She gasped into his mouth, her breath hitching as he filled her completely. He waited a moment, allowing her to adjust, before he began to move. Each thrust was slow and measured, his lips still pressed against hers to keep their sounds low to possible bypassers around the motorhomes.

Y/n's nails dug into his shoulders as she wrapped her arms around his neck, her body arching to meet his movements. She bit down gently on the soft spot where his neck met his collarbone, making him wince in pain and pleasure.

The rhythm between them became more urgent, their need for each other driving them on. Lewis groaned softly, his grip on her tightening as he lifted her other leg, supporting her entirely against the wall.

The change in angle allowed him to penetrate even deeper, eliciting a moan from Y/n that he quickly swallowed with another kiss.

As he felt her walls start to flutter, he pulled out to turn her in his embrace, her back pressing against his chest as she moaned in protest. He entered her from behind, the new position allowing him to reach even deeper.

One of his hands slid around to hold her close by her lower abdomen, pressing into the spot where he could feel himself pushing into her.

Y/n's head fell back against his shoulder, her moans growing louder despite their attempts to stay quiet. Lewis kissed along her neck, his other hand moving down to flicker at her clit with precise, deliberate movements.

"I'm so close" she whimpered, her body trembling.

Lewis's own control was slipping, the sensation of her tight around him driving him closer to his own orgasm "Let go" he whispered against her ear. "I've got you."

With a final thrust, he felt her walls clench around him as she saw white. Her body convulsed; her cries muffled by how she bit on the skin of his neck, her head hanging on his shoulders. The mix of her walls and the biting of his skin triggered his own release, a wave that left him shaking.

They held each other close when he pulled out and turned her on his arms, his forehead resting against hers. "Hi there gorgeous" he murmured when she opened her eyes to look at him, his breath still coming in ragged gasps.

Y/n smiled; her eyes glimmering with satisfaction. "You’re handsome too" she joked, chuckling softly.

They stayed like that for a few moments longer, savoring the intimacy of the moment and the water falling on them. Finally, Y/n reached out and turned off the shower, the sudden silence almost deafening after the steady sound of running water.

Lewis grabbed a towel, wrapping it around Y/n before pulling her into his arms. "I think that’s the best way to start the day," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her damp hair.

Y/n leaned into him, her heart swelling with love. "Couldn’t agree more. Now go, they’re waiting for their champion."

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TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

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[lueurjun]

━━━━ celestial vows. h. hyunjin

underground boxer!hyunjin x reader. written on pure sleep deprived vibes at 5 am after one too many hyunjin edits and a sudden rush of motivation to write.

“i’m going to give you a big house one day.”

delicate, lingering kisses brush against your skin, hidden beneath the veil of night. they scatter softly along your arm, trailing over your shoulder and up the curve of your neck, until they reach your lips. each kiss is a silent vow, a promise sealed by hyunjin’s lips, unbreakable as always. but this is more than a promise—it’s an oath. an oath to be better, to give you not just what you want, but what he believes you need.

“i’m going to get it all for you. the big house in the countryside, the dream car, the dogs. all of it—right now, it’s just a promise, a glimpse of the dream. but when the chance comes, i’ll make it real. i’m all in, baby, and it’s all for you."

another promise, sealed with a kiss—this time on your lips. firm yet soft, it leaves you sinking into him like velvet, every sense overwhelmed. as he draws back, his lips brush your nose, a whisper of a kiss, before he rests his head on your chest. he listens for your heartbeat, the rhythm he knows like the back of his hand, as if it were his favorite song, a melody he never tires of, woven into the fabric of his soul.

your hand slips into his hair, fingers threading through the soft strands, sending shivers rippling through his body. with your free hand, you gently trace the fresh scar on his cheek—a reminder of the price he's paying for the dream he’s hellbent on building for you. a life funded by something far from lawful—a job that tears at your heart, as if it endures the blows meant for him

"i don’t need any of that. not as long as i have you here with me, breathing and safe." the one-bedroom apartment is far from perfect; it’s cold, damp, and mold clings to the walls. it doesn’t feel like home; it’s just a place to exist. but you don’t need a nice house when your real sanctuary is found in two arms and a heartbeat—one you want to keep strong and steady.

“tell me what you envision for our future house.”

“hyunjin-”

he catches your hand, cradling it gently to his lips. “humour me, just this once.” though the darkness of the bedroom shields his eyes, you can feel the warmth of his gaze knowing that a lazy smile accompanies the usual shimmer in the brown.

“i picture being surrounded by plenty of land so our dogs can roam freely, enjoying life as they please. i’d love to have my own little garden, where i can plant pretty flowers and grow fresh produce for dinner. And i dream of a big bedroom with a bed that takes up the entire space—just so you’d stop hogging the mattress—” a yelp slips out before you realize it, surprised by his finger poking your side in warning, and you chuckle lightly. “but most of all, i want you. i want to come home every day and find you in that garden, playing with the dogs. i want to slow dance in our big kitchen, illuminated only by the moonlight… i just want you, hyunjin."

emotion sweeps over you like a gentle tide, and you lower your head, burying your face in his hair, inhaling the scent that feels like home, enveloping you in its warmth. he’s here, he’s safe—untouched and unbroken. he’s still your hyunjin, a steadfast light in the shadows, grounding you with his presence.

“you have me.” a promise tenderly bounded with a soft kiss upon your chest. “you will always have me, and i’ll give you everything and more. you deserve the world, and i swear it will be within your reach… just—” he exhales softly, vulnerability lingering in the air like a delicate thread. “just don’t leave me, okay? even when the fear rises and threatens to tear us apart… i know it’s selfish, but i can’t handle this without you. just hold on for me, will you?”

you nod, fully aware that leaving is not an option, even if you wished for it. your heart is intricately bound to his, a connection no one could sever—not even the dangerous path he insists on walking. whether you like it or not, you’re in this for the long haul; for the quiet moments spent cleaning up after his fights, for the anxious hours spent waiting for his safe return… for the life he has sketched in his mind. you’re in it for everything. for him.

“i won’t. but don’t leave me either, okay? keep that heart beating for me, yeah?”

he smiles against your chest, tilting his head up to meet your gaze. In the dim light, his silhouette blurs, yet you find him effortlessly, pressing your forehead against his. “Yeah. always.”

he seals his most crucial promise with a kiss to your lips. he can’t guarantee a safe return, but he’ll fight with every ounce of his strength. and as fear grips you, his words and actions provide a soothing comfort, allowing you to drift into a peaceful sleep with him wrapped around you, safe and sound.

[misdeliria]

Simon prefers to take breaks next to you. He likes to lean against you and feel your body pressed against him. When you run your palms over him, it reminds him you’re there. 

He worries that one day, he won’t have you and won’t know how to stop. He thinks he doesn’t deserve you or your kindness. The way you insist on him resting. The way you insist he lowers his mask.

You’d never ask him to remove the mask, you love him whether or not he wears it. It’s not up to you what he reveals to everyone else, but when he’s with you…Just you… it’s different. 

And you can tell. The entire squad can tell. He carries a gentleness reserved for you, and you feel like you’re on top of the world when he shows it to you. When he silently pulls his balaclava back, his cropped hair stands in all directions. When you can see the love in his eyes behind the faded black paint.

Simon hates sleeping by himself. The bed is always too empty, too cold. But when you’re with him, and some part of your body is draped over his, the warmth from your body and steady heartbeat lull him to sleep. 

He doesn’t know how to express his feelings through words, but it’s enough to know that he trusts you. He can rest with you, sleep peacefully, and not worry so much. 

You’re his loyal teammate, and you’ve been around for so long that Simon doesn’t like to think about before you entered his life. 

Sometimes he gets scared of your recklessness. How you don’t value your life compared to his or Price’s. 

“You’re my best friend,” you murmur to him one quiet night. You’ve joined him outside for a smoke, and what’s great about your company is that you don’t force a conversation. You’re as content as he is sitting in silence. 

“I’m your only friend,” he gruffs in return because he can’t find himself to deny it. 

You’re so expressive compared to him. You love sharing how you feel; sometimes, Simon doesn’t know how to react. 

“You think we can be happy?” You ask him after returning from a mission. He lost you somewhere in the middle, but when you returned to the group, you were covered in blood that wasn’t yours. Even though you pointed a gun at him, assuming he was the enemy, he could remember the relief he felt when his mind registered that it was you. Unharmed, a little traumatized, but safe. 

He looks at you, stone-faced with the skull mask. “I do.”

Even though you’re sent through hell, it doesn’t matter to Simon. Aside from the mission, he only cares about getting you back home. When a situation worsens, he imagines the night after returning from the mission. When Soap convinces everyone to drink, he can watch you drunkenly dance from the bar. 

And he thinks to himself, What would I do without you?

“I’d die for you, Si,” you confess when it’s just the two of you in the gym, not looking at him but finding your fingers more entertaining. “Not because you’re my Lieutenant.”

I know, his voice whispers in the back of his head. And he hates that you’d throw yourself in front of a bullet for him. “I know,” he answers quietly, and the way you solemnly nod your head makes his head hang low. “I need you to live for me.”

And when you finally sacrifice yourself for him, his hands shake against you as he compresses the wound. He’s sweating, but he feels cold with you lying in front of him with a paling face and glossy eyes. 

“It’s okay,” you tell him. “You need to get-” You can’t finish your sentence because you’re choking on your blood. 

“I’m getting you out too, runt,” he huffs, hauling you up in his arms like a doll. You can hear gunshots and feel Simon running as you jostle against him. “Don’t close your eyes.”

You die that day. Your heart stops beating, and your chest doesn’t rise for air. 

But somebody decides you deserve a second chance. Or that Simon deserves a break. And when he’s informed that you’ll be okay and that you’ll recover, his knees almost give out. 

He’s next to your bed when you finally wake up weeks later. And even with a hospital gown, crust-rimmed eyes, and mussed hair, Simon thinks you look like an angel when you smile at him.

“You can’t do that to me,” he whispers. “You can’t- I thought-...I thought I lost you.” It’s just the two of you in your hospital room. The door’s locked because Simon pulls his mask off to reveal his grief-stricken expression.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” you croak with weak chords. 

Simon grits his teeth, and his eyes are brimming with tears, and he doesn’t know why he feels overwhelmed suddenly. “I was never afraid before you showed up.”

You laugh softly, giving him a watery smile. You hold your hand out for him, and he rests his paw in your frail hold. He feels you try to squeeze his hand the best you can. It’s a reminder that you’re there with him. Alive.

“When’s the last time you slept, Si?”

He shrugs. He doesn’t know the answer.

You take his silence as an answer and carefully tug him closer. Simon sits beside your bed, and you keep his hand against you. You’d rather he join you on the bed, but it’s too small, and you’re still in pain.

“I’m okay,” you gently remind him. “You can rest now.”

And even though he’s sitting upright in a chair, and your monitors are beeping obnoxiously on the other side of your bed, it’s the most peaceful sleep he’s had since the mission.

[skzfairyyydreamz]

Gentle Love w/ Bf!Channie❣️

(listening to save you by rum.gold on repeat while reading this is highly recommended for ambience purposes). Masterlists

Genre: Comfort, Fluff, Friends to lovers

pairing: Bestfriend/Bf!Chan x Fem!Reader

a/n: This seasonal depression got ya gurl heavily craving some form of comfort so this one was a bit self indulgent. i’ve never wrote a headcanon before but i really enjoyed making this so i hope you enjoy it too! (please give me your feedback) reblogs are super appreciated. taglist is open so lmk if you would like to be taglisted!! Lastly Thank you sm for being here; sending lots of love and big hugs to everyone who needs it right now. 🫶🏼🫂

© Skzfairyyydreamz - Plagiarism is a crime. Do not repost, alter, translate or copy without my consent.

Bestfriend!Channie who settled with his unrequited love for you bc there was nobody else who could ever compare to you & nobody else he had eyes for.

Bestfriend!Channie who always had to love you from a distance bc he just didn’t have it in him to confess and potentially ruin something that was so special to him.

Bestfriend!Channie who had to sit back and watch you love shitty men who didn’t deserve you.

Bestfriend!Channie Who watched you cry over men who didn’t even deserve to be in your presence in the slightest. 

Bestfriend!Channie who helped you through each heartbreak bc there was never a time that he wasn’t there when you needed him. 

Bestfriend!Channie who knew in his heart that there was absolutely nobody that could ever love you better than he, bc he knew you better than anyone else in the world.

Bestfriend!Channie who finally worked up the courage to tell you how madly in love with you he was and always has been (with the help of your mother ofc; she saw the way he looked at you with the whole galaxy in his eyes and had always wanted you two to be together. Mama always knows best!) 

Bf!Channie who loves you with every bone in his body and every fiber of his being.

Bf!Channie who just wants to save you. Save you from all your past love traumas and mend your heart. 

Bf!Channie who helps you on your healing journey. 

Bf!Channie who shows you all the gentle, soft love in the world, bc its what you’ve always deserved.

Bf!Channie who makes it his business to give you the best of everything and stands on that. 

Bf!Channie who always puts you first. Before anything and anyone. 

Bf!Channie who does his best to learn and indulge you in ALL of your love languages. 

Bf!Channie who never fails to treat you like a princess, a queen, a goddess and more. 

Bf!Channie who will tie your shoes for you and slap your hand when you try to open doors on your own. “Don’t you ever reach for a doorknob in my presence, thank you very much!” as he rolls his eyes and shakes his head in a playful disbelief. 

Bf!Channie who will take off a week of work if you’re sick just to nurse you back to health regardless of your protesting. 

Bf!Channie who is always showing you off, rolling out the red carpet no matter who’s around. 

Bf!Channie who refuses to let either of you go to sleep upset at each other. bc he just cherishes you and prioritizes the importance of communication in your relationship that much. (he’s honestly such a king) 

Bf!Channie who is always calm and gentle with you; attentive to your feelings even mid argument.

Bf!Channie who takes interest in/ learns about all your hobbies and things that you are passionate about bc seeing you happy, makes him even happier. 

Bf!Channie who is so fond of your family and siblings. he has great relationships with all your family members and will never miss a single family gathering regardless to his busy schedule and idol life. 

Bf!Channie who hates to see you hurting or in pain. With teary eyes he wouldn’t hesitate to tell you “Princess You know i’d take this pain for you in a heartbeat if i could!” whether it be a broken bone, killer period cramps or even something as simple as a paper cut or a headache. His chest is heavy knowing there isn’t much he can do to comfort you and stop you from feeling any physical pain or discomfort. (i’m literally on the verge of sobbing, not me making myself emotional half way through writing this some one please send help 😭) 

Bf!Channie who is such an amazing listener. whether you are ranting about a horrible day at work or having a transparent moment about the current state of your mental health. He listens super attentively, giving you his undivided attention. Never breaking eye contact, He’ll hold both your hands in his occasionally leaving gentle reassuring kisses to your knuckles as you sit on your bed cross legged in front of each other. (this is so so so boyfie channie coded nobody talk to me im sobbing 😭) 

Bf!Channie who loves to take you on romantic night walks through the city. it has been your thing for years even before you two started dating. 

Bf!Channie who always invites you to join him on his late nights at the studio bc he just wants you to be near him. Even tho you are quite literally just there to sit in a reclining chair eating snacks while you rest your legs in this lap. You both are so content and cozy. He claims to work better with you around him and you absolutely adore watching your sexy producer man boyfie in his element. even if you are only staring at the side of his face for hours on end you will never turn down his offers.  

Bf!Channie who takes the sidewalk rule super seriously. there will never be a time where he will let you walk on the outside of him, always keeping you safe from any passing cars with his right arm around your shoulder, your waist or holding your hand while you walk together. 

Bf!Channie who is super protective and can be slightly possessive over the love of his life. always wanting to know your whereabouts and who you’re with; Sometimes even hiring a bodyguard for you when you are solo traveling for work or going to big modeling events when he isn’t able to attend with you. especially since you’re now well known in the public eye for being the significant other of one of 4th gens greatest! you now need to be protected and taken care of at all times (at least in his mind you do!) But You don’t blame him or ever complain bc you’ve been in pretty dangerous and traumatic situations before and thank god channie has always been there protecting you. He really has always been your knight in shining armor (shining armor being a black beanie and hoodie in his case 😂) 

Bf!Channie who loves your natural body just the way it is. Always reassuring you that he loves all your curves and the things that make you, you. Regardless to your insecurities he always has his hands on you some type of way whether he’s playing with your hair, resting his hands on you, absentmindedly massaging your legs while you two watch a movie together or coping a full feel as he walks past you in the kitchen; squeezing a whole hand full of booty cheek 😂 his hands are always on you. It’s so obvious how attracted and madly in love with you he is. 

Bf!Channie who loves your goofiness and all the silly ways you show your affection towards him. He loves it when you’re completely yourself. absolutely adoring whenever you’re in a playful mood and you just walk up to him to give him a quick bite on the shoulder and walk away with a smile on your face. he loves it even more when you’re really hyper and you do something unhinged like asking to give him a forehead kiss but instead licking his face and running away from him in a fit of giggles before he can catch you. (which he easily does a few seconds later) 

Bf!Channie who loves your pretty brown eyes. easily zoning out sometimes getting lost in your deep eyes mid conversation which always ends up with his ears and cheeks turning a bright red color at you snapping your fingers in front of his face and the sound of your voice bringing him back from a daydream.. “Hello!?? earth to loverboy!? are you with me?? ”

Bf!Channie who loves how soft you are with him. Always touching his hands or softly grabbing one of his pinky fingers when you want to get his attention to show or tell him something. He melts into a puddle seeing how soft your eyes are for him and how your voice is always just barely above a whisper when you speak to him in the warm comfort of your home. you walking up to him while he’s relaxing or doing random things around the house, pushing a few strands of his hair out of his face or softly grabbing his chin and turning his face towards you to simply ask him if he’d like you to make him a quick snack or bring him a cold drink. it unleashes a swarm of butterflies in his tummy and makes his knees buckle every time without fail. (he never understands how something so soft and gentle drives him so crazy, he’s clearly weak in the knees for a soft dom!mommy 🥴) 

Bf!Channie who is so enchanted by your comfortable silence. You two have created such a cozy and calming atmosphere in your home. Always finding each other at random areas of the house at any random hour of the day and enjoying each other’s presence without saying a word. Bringing comfort to one another simply by just.. being. You could be catching up on a new kdrama as chan would come and lay his head in your lap for a nap, intertwining your fingers and placing your hand on his chest. And without a word you’d grab the throw blanket off the back of the sofa and put it over him so that he could sleep comfortably. the feeling of his heartbeat underneath the palm of your hand instantly bringing you a unexplainable warm fuzzy feeling. this was just something that always seemed to happen naturally for you two. this part of your relationship was like a tacit agreement. The way you would climb into channies lap and rest your head in the crook of his neck after finishing up a few house chores as he just scrolled on his phone. it was something so soothing that you both thoroughly enjoyed but never spoke on bc you simply just didn’t need to. this atmosphere you created in your home was even felt by others around you. Family and friends always telling you guys how they felt utterly safe and comfortable every time they were at your house. And that was your favorite compliment to receive as a couple. You two were made for one another.. everything just seemed to work. Truly the best of soulmates. 

Taglist: ??? @hanniemylovelyquokka @goblinracha <;3

buy me a coffee?

[amelissaofficinalis]

#14DWY  Amour Sans Fin

#14DWY fanfic 

Amour Sans Fin: Endless Love

<traumatized Angel consulting Ren/[Redacted] about nightmare in the midnight>

Minors PLEASE Don’t Interact

*Headcanon

*Assuming this all happens after engagement

*Angel is gender neutral; mostly use he/him as Ren/[Redacted]’s pronouns

*My first language isn’t English. Excuse me for the unexpected funny confusion <3

Word count: 1000(+-)

----------

I used to toss and turn all night, devoured by fears and helplessness before I found you.

Two broken souls are now nestling together, dragging each other away from the abyss of the past.

We have each other now.

-----------

You were woken up by a slight movement, humming in confusion. Your eyelashes shivered faintly when the one beside you pressed a soft kiss.

“[Redacted]?” You squinted your eyes, and then you realized it’s 3 am. You could barely recognize his face in the darkness, only hearing his faint breath. The one near you remained silent, locking his ocean-blue eye on you.

“Are you alright…?”

“…’m fine.”

His voice was calm and comforting, but you had an instinct that something was off-track about him right now, so you struggled to get up, leaning yourself on him slowly and gently. His rapid heartbeat betrayed him, desperately revealing the truth for you, just for you.

He COULD act perfectly like nothing happened, but he hesitated because of the faint hope you gave to him as you said: “I’d love to know ALL of you, as how you saw me when I cried and grieved.” He knew you’d despise him if he told you, but what if, maybe, you would give him some… pity? This wasn’t enough because he CRAVED love, but he couldn’t dare to expect more if he revealed his past. Probably because of the confidence boosted by the fact that you two were engaged, this stupid idea echoed in his head. It was the first time he couldn’t be prepared before you checked on him.

For a long while, none of you moved an inch. As you heard his heartbeat stabilize, you reached out to hug him, rubbing your face against his collarbone.

“I love you more than anything or anyone else.” You murmured quietly, but you knew he could hear every word from you. “You have me now. All for yourself.”

His eyes widened in disbelief. He had just dreamed he was the helpless kid he abhorred again. He had just woken up in fear as the whole world abandoned him, but right now you just stayed beside him, confessing your love and affection to him. You were lively, warm, and soft.

This is REAL.

“I love you too.” He kind of choked on his words. He couldn’t think of anything else but just repeat this straightforward commitment again and again. Then, he quietly sighed, “I don’t deserve you, Angel.”

Your brow rose in disagreement. The fact that he saw you, the complete and real you, and still chose to love and devote to you for ages was far more than enough for you. He held you and hid you under his wings. If you stared at your photos with him, you would see bright admiration in both his and your eyes, but you knew that you couldn’t convince him with words. Instead, you snuggled with him, holding his hands.

He seemed to relax, and you started to wonder what happened. Your words slipped from your lips before you gave it a second thought. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” He tensed up again and shivered faintly. He suddenly felt he couldn’t hold back anymore, but he just bit his lip and shut his eyes close, not letting sounds escape from his throat. But you still heard those vague groans. He bit it too hard so that his lower lips became pale and might bruise. You couldn’t stand letting him hurt himself, so you caressed his lips, trying to comfort him by patting his back at the same time.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”

He caged you by his arms tightly, unconsciously caressed your back when he buried his face into your shoulder.

 “I just couldn’t… I had no choice…I…I never wanted to…” He sobbed while feeling comforted and safe around your aurora.

You couldn’t understand what he was talking about, but you guessed it.

Vaguely, probably about the past. You were as broken as him before you met him. You used to curl up desperately inside the closet, whispering things you didn’t even understand. Your mind fell into a void and your vision blurred. Then he came along. He sat down on the floor, staring at the closed closet as if he could see through the inside.

“Knock, knock.”

His fingers gently knocked on the closet, but he didn’t say anything else, nor did he open the closet. You noticed him, staring back through the tiny gap. For a long while, he just sat there and waited patiently. Finally, you pushed the closet door timidly to test the water. He immediately reached out your hand, fingers intertwined. You couldn’t hold back burst into tears and dive into his hug. You cried out loud like a kid but with relief because you finally found long-lost soul fragments. He kissed your eyelids and told you he loved you and would guard you, again and again, and you almost melted in his embrace. The emptiness within was seamlessly woven whole.

And now you just wanted to cup up his shattered heart as well as he did.

So, before he covered up his indecency with embarrassment, you ran your fingers through his velvety hair with admiration and murmured, “[Redacted], I understand…I love you.” He violently shivered after he processed what you said. You cuddled him until his breath was even. He slowly pulled himself from you, wiping his tears awkwardly and looking deep into your eyes.

“Sometimes I feel we were meant to be for each other.”  He leaned forward to beg a long and soft kiss, caressing your engagement ring.

“Maybe we are.” You chuckled, and patted the bedsheet while lying down, “And I probably need a nice nap with my dearest SOULMATE before waking up for my job. Wanna catch some Z's??”

“’m in.” [Redacted] settled you by his chest and smirked. He fell asleep right after you idly yawned. He hid his most cherished treasure near his heart proudly, smug, probably dreaming about the upcoming wedding.

----------

Random thoughts:

* Kind of inspired by the “DiE4u” from the Spotify playlist of [Redacted].

I really want to share some lyrics:

“'cause I’ve died inside a thousand times               

    But still I’d kill myself for you

‘Cause the truth of it, you could slit my wrists       

And I’d write your name in a heart with the hemorrhage”

This is Ren/[Redacted]…

*Probably would add some suggestive content if I would post this in AO3

*English is devastating. I laughed out loud when I realized I had misspelled Angel to Angle (probably because the math professor brainwashed me with polar coordinate integral this week)

[throneofsapphics]

the moth and the flame part 11: our penance

poly!Nessian x f!Reader

summary: after meeting Nesta in a bookshop, you find the darkest parts of yourselves bonding with each other. Naturally, Cassian finds himself entangled with the two of you.

warnings: angst, drug abuse, references to suicide attempts

a/n: one more chapter after this!

series masterlist

Dreams created a reality so poignant, so desirable, that when you woke the lines between that land and this were blurred so well you had difficulty differentiating. Did they actually come back to say they still wanted you, that this wasn’t over? Or was that some sick sleep induced hallucination? It took a few hours to become clear, but ...

Hallucination was always the answer. Always. 

Deep in your mind, you imagined their forms outside of your window, moths hovering close to your flame, willing to throw themselves into the fire just to feel that sweet heat one last time. It was never truth.

-

Nesta knew it was wrong to hang out here, outside of your apartment, just begging for a glimpse of you; but she knew you left your window blinds wide open and told herself that you did it on purpose, for her. Hoping Nesta or Cassian might come and watch you. Or perhaps in protest because each time Nesta and Cassian had seen you they’d closed the blinds again. 

“Can't have anyone spying on you,” Cassian planted a kiss on your forehead. Nesta laughed as she pushed past him, wrapping you in a tight hug. 

This was heaven, here with you. She’d go to the ends of the earth to protect it. 

But Nesta hadn’t, and you deserved someone who would go that far for you. She couldn't be that person. 

Maybe, however, you both just needed a hint of closure. Something to ease the sting. It had begun the two of you, maybe it needed to end that way. 

She stood from her post on the shadowy bench across the street from your place. A swirling wind shook the leaves from the trees lining the street, raining them down on her like she’d personally angered it. 

Nesta barely made it a step into the sidewalk when a wing snapped in front of her. Not Cassian’s. 

Azriel’s shadows twirled around it as he followed, stepping into its path. 

He didn’t ask where she was going, or what she was planning. Those shadows of his undoubtedly told him everything he needed to know. 

“Move,” she ordered. 

“I’d say you've hurt her enough,” Azriel commented. She heard the sound of a smashing glass. “And he’ll kill me if I let you put yourself in that situation.” 

Another glass smashed. A scream followed. Guttural, raw, and pained. 

Your scream. She pictured your body lying over the bed, wrists bleeding out onto the carpet; her scream as she slid to you and clutched the wounds, praying to the mother and for once cursing she had nothing to give back, cursing the world if she lost you, cursing just to bring some kind of sentiment at the end. 

Arms wrapped around her, tentative, unfamiliar. Wings closed in, bathing her in shadow and darkness. 

“It will be alright,” Azriel murmured the words of comfort as if they were unfamiliar to him. 

Wet drops stained her collar, splashing against her skin and slipping through the small gap. Nesta hadn’t realized she was crying. 

-

Nesta would kill him when she found out, but he had to see you, to see how you were doing. If you were still... Reason said it wasn’t his problem, not anymore, but he still felt like he was abandoning you to the wolves by leaving like that. Only this time, the wolves were your own mind. 

Cassian creaked your door open. Through the main room, your bedroom door was cracked open, just enough for him to see a hand hanging over the edge. 

He blinked, the red clearing from his vision, revealing perfectly��unwounded skin. He moved a bit closer, hanging just outside your door, he heard your heartbeat. Strong. Steady. Alive. Perhaps a bit fast, but ... he glanced over his shoulder at the clock. It was unusual for you to sleep around this time, you’d never been much of a napper. 

Not his problem. No, not problem, he lost the right to be concerned two days ago. 

An unusual shape on the kitchen table caught his attention, and Mother curse him he was too fucking nosy to be in here. 

Still, Cassian investigated. 

He flipped the bottle around, freezing as the pills inside made a jingling sound. Several breaths, no movement from the other room. 

Sleeping pills. You’d found someone who would prescribe sleeping pills to you. 

He had half a mind to find that doctor and rip him to pieces. Still, not his right to be concerned anymore. 

Guilt at his actions burrowing deep in his stomach, he left his place exactly as he found it. Enough Azriel might even be proud. 

“I knew you’d do that,” as if his thoughts had summoned the male, he stepped from the shadows. “Rhys asked me to keep both of you away.” It was unlike Azriel to offer up this information, so Cassian kept his mouth shut in hopes of more. “But I would’ve done the same thing.” 

Had Azriel done the same thing in the past? He’d always been so secretive with his lovers ... None of his business. 

Right now, Cassian felt as if he mattered to nothing and no-one. No amount of love had been enough, no amount of desire or care. 

“Let’s go home,” Azriel said, nudging his forward with his wind. 

Some big, tough, brave general he was. Walking away from his ex-girlfriend’s apartment building with his head hanging low. 

-

The Gods must be growing tired of you and your bullshit, let alone the Mother. That was a fact. All you did was run around and make a mess of things. 

You glanced at the bottle of pills sitting on your counter. Hadn’t they been on your kitchen table before? It didn’t really matter, as long as they were still there. If anyone had been in here, they hadn’t cared enough to take them away from you, and since rational was out the window that meant they obviously wanted you to take them, didn’t it?

You wondered what would happen if you dumped the entire bottle down your throat. 

No. 

In your twisted brain, it would mean they won. 

And in your own way, you were ready to bite back. 

-

series taglist: @breadsticks2004 @shamelessdonutkryptonite @rowaelinsdaughter @fightmedraco @acourtofbatboydreams @readinggeeklmao @krowiathemythologynerd @kooterz @anxious-study @lilah-asteria @nestaismommy  @idkmyoldonewasembarassing

general taglist: @rowaelinsdaughter @bookishbroadwaybish @nestaismommy @erencvlt @book-obsessed124 @callsigns-haze

acotar taglist: @lilah-asteria @yeonalie @I-am-a-lost-girl16 

[ainyan]

A Little Companion (A Kalicred Short)

Title: A Little Companion AU: Woven Souls OC: Kal'istae Miurani NPC: Thancred Waters Timeline: Post-Endwalker, shortly before patch 6.2 Synopsis: Waiting for Kal'istae to return from whatever adventure G'raha Tia had taken her on, Thancred finds himself at loose ends. While sorting through the supplies in his wife's craft room, he takes it upon himself to finish a project he'd been waiting years for. Inspired by this amazing artwork by @lemon-plort

Thancred was at loose ends, and he didn’t much like the feeling. Normally he’d be in Garlemald right now, sticking to the shadows and helping clear out some of the bandits that had begun infesting the place after the fall of the capital, but he’d told Kal’istae he’d remain available. She’d had something she was looking into with G’raha Tia, but once she was done, she intended to take him back to the First.

Back to their daughter.

And wasn’t that still a kick in the ass. He had a daughter. Not an adopted daughter, like Minfilia, like Ryne, but his daughter, born of him and his beloved Kal’istae.

His fingers flexed as he remembered the weight of her in his hands - so tiny, so delicate, so absolutely perfect. She’d looked up at him with eyes already a misty gold, the tiny horn nubs jutting from her temples, the stubby tail swishing against his hands, and she’d wailed her anger at being thrust into the cold world.

He’d held her as they’d stabilized Kal’istae, as they’d cleaned her up, as they’d taken care of all that happened after the miracle. Ryne had come, wrapped her in a blanket, and Gaia had steered him to a chair, gently pressed him down. He’d barely been cognizant of any of it, every ounce of his being focused on that tiny, angry angel in his hands. Later, he’d crept back into the room as Kal’istae and their daughter slept. He’d peered down into the cradle where his daughter - sweet Minyda, named for Minfilia, for Moenbryda - slept, tiny lips pursed and suckling as she dreamed. “Thancred.” Kal’istae’s soft voice, little more than a whisper, had drawn him to her side; nothing but his wife could have torn him away from that sleeping miracle. She’d smiled sleepily up at him. “Look at you. My big, strong husband, so befuddled by a tiny baby.” He’d felt the tips of his ears grow red. “Kali.” Her laugh had been soft and gentle, teasing rather than mocking. “Come here,” she’d coaxed, reaching for him. “There’s enough room in here for both of us.” “I don’t want to hurt you…” She’d tugged again, harder, and he stumbled forward. “I’ll be fine, love, once I’m in your arms.” How was he supposed to resist her? Skirting around to the other side of the bed, he’d climbed in and slid his arms around her, holding her tight. Wrapped around his love, her heartbeat and his mingling in his breast, he’d slept, contentedly exhausted.

Now Kal’istae was absent again, and Minyda back on the First, in the care of her older sisters. He’d wanted to bring her home, but his wife had flat-out refused. “I’d rather leave her with Ryne and Gaia and Lyna than risk her here. They can protect her. Who here could give such a guarantee?”

He couldn’t argue. On the First, no one would dare disturb them. Back on the Source? It was a daily chore to fend off the requests for help - and inevitable that one would come they could not refuse. And who would they trust to protect their daughter - the daughter of the Warrior of Light - against those who might seek to strike against her mother?

But now he was at loose ends. He daren’t head to Garlemald lest he get tangled up in something and not be free for when Kal’istae returned. And though she’d invited him along, he felt Raha had deserved some of her time - especially since he had no idea why she’d been absent for so long.

So here he was in the house they shared, unfettered. Free. Bored.

Aimless, he wandered from room to room, searching for anything to do. He thought to clean, but the house was in fine shape. He thought to read, but found himself too restless to focus on the words. Perhaps a spot of exercise?

He wandered past Kal’istae’s work room, then paused and backtracked, peering in. Rolls of cloth, skeins of thread, yalms and yalms of beads and gems were scattered casually about the small space; the Warrior may keep the rest of the house clean, but her own personal office was always just shy of a disaster zone. She claimed she knew where everything was, and he saw no reason to disbelieve her…

But he had no idea how she could work in there.

Still, he wandered in, catching the scent of her as he crossed the threshold. Lavender and starflowers and just a hint of sage; the scent of his wife’s hair, her skin, her soul. He inhaled deeply as he drifted in a wide circle, studying the stacked shelves, the overflowing tables.

A bolt of cloth caught his eye; indigo plush wool. Frowning thoughtfully, he stole closer and fingered it. Nearby, he could see purple silks, gold chains, dripping crystals. There was silver thread and a box of glass eyes, two of which he noted had lavender rings.

Had she been preparing to finally fulfill his wish?

He ran his eyes over the worktable and caught sight of some half-hidden papers. Pulling them free, he opened them up, spreading them out across the laden table. As he thought, it was the pieces of a pattern, a pattern for a particular plush doll. He could recognize his wife’s work anywhere, and realized, with a lifting of his spirits, that she had indeed drawn up plans for a Kali doll, just as he’d been asking her to for years.

But when would she have time to finish it?

He studied the plans, noting how neatly she’d written all of the measurements. Using this pattern and the attached itemization, he realized he could probably make the plush. It wouldn’t be as professional as the ones Kali made - but it felt… right… that he should be the one to make the plush of her, just as she’d made the plush of him that was currently sitting on their bed.

But there was no way he could work in this chaos. With a quiet apology to his wife that he had no doubt she heard across their shared soulbond, he set to cleaning up her office.

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

Once everything was straightened and put away, Thancred selected the materials he needed and set them upon the now-empty worktable. First, a proper length of indigo plush, soft and elastic and strong - just like the woman who had purchased it. He thought of all of the times he’d sat here, watching her work.

First, he used a tracing wheel to carefully outline each of the pattern pieces, pricking tiny holes into the thin, crackling paper. Not every piece, yet - the horns, the tail, the scales, all of these would be done in an obsidian-shaded suede, and that he would save until later - but the body, the head, these would be done in that rich indigo plush.

Once he had traced the patterns with the tracing wheel, he laid them upon the plush, then went over them with a bag of loose chalk, gently tapping it along the pricked lines. This would, he knew, outline the pattern upon the cloth, making it easier for him to cut and stitch it. He could have, of course, used the pattern directly, but he didn’t want to waste his wife’s hard work - and if he messed up, she would be able to fix it.

Once the pieces were traced and cut out, he arrayed them on the workbench. Closing his eyes, he thought back to the countless nights he’d sat in here, perched upon the chair she’d placed for him, reading a book, studying reports, and simply basking in the calm and quiet of being together with Kal’istae. He focused upon those memories of her hands, remembering the steps she’d taken, the moves she’d made.

His own hands began to move, cutting, basting, stitching. Slowly, the doll began to come to life beneath his clever fingers, a plump mannequin of indigo plush, obsidian suede, and silver thread. The hardest part, he found, was stitching the star-like freckles that covered his lover’s body. He knew exactly where each one was; the gods knew he’d spent enough time tracing constellations among them to be able to map them true to life.

But stitching stars in silver thread was harder than he’d expected, and by the time he was done, his fingers ached from the tiny pinpricks he’d endured from the needle. But she was sewn up tight, all but the hole through which he’d feed the stuffing. He took hold of the fluffy cotton batting Kal’istae used on her specialty plushes and began to feed it into the dall, watching it plump up. Kali’s tiny hand could easily fit inside, allowing her to place the cotton precisely; Thancred had to depend on a rod with a comb-like head to do the job.

Soon, he had himself a plump - and naked - doll. Turning it over in his hands, he studied the glitter of the stitched silver stars, the lay of the suede scales, the midnight-blue hair he’d painstakingly threaded into the doll’s head, then braided together. Sure, the stitches were somewhat crooked and there were a few places where the seams didn’t quite match up - but it wouldn’t look terribly out of place among Kal’istae’s more professional creations.

At least, he didn’t think so.

All that was left was to find clothes for it. He couldn’t hope to mimic any of Kal’istae’s intricate outfits; silk and leather and lace, all draping and flowing and elegant. In the end, he took some lavender cotton cloth, some denim, and an applique star and made a simplistic approximation of one of her casual outfits. He dressed her, then set her upon the bench to give her one last examination.

And cursed. One of her eyes was missing.

He searched the bench, scooping up piles of scraps and remnants to see if perhaps it had rolled under them. He got down on his hands and knees, crawling upon the floor to see if he could catch a glint of it. Coming up empty handed, he instead dove into the eye box to find another eye with a lavender limbal ring.

And there were none to be found.

Maybe he could make her an eyepatch, like the cloth he wore once upon a time? But she had never, to his knowledge, worn one.

Damn it! Where was that eye?

In the end, he dithered over which eye could replace it - though none of them had the signature lavender limbal ring that Kal’istae sported. He almost chose a plain blue eye when a box of buttons caught his eye.

Maybe…

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

“Thancred.” Despite the exhaustion he could feel from her, Kal’istae’s voice was laced with laughter. “I know you’re eager, but I just want to bathe and change and eat something right now. Let me get some of my energy back before you start trying to trip me into bed.”

His hands were everywhere, and her clothing didn’t stand a chance. By the time he’d backed her into their bedroom, her gear was littering the floor, and his own had mostly followed. “It doesn’t have to be bed. We’ve proven over and over that the bath is more than big enough for the both of us.”

Her tired laughter rang again and she squirmed out of his grasp, grabbing at the post of the bed to spin herself out of his reach. “You may join me,” she allowed, “but I want to get clean before you go to the trouble of getting me all dirty again.”

He reached for her eagerly, then skittered to a halt when she suddenly gasped. “What? What is it! Are you hurt, Kali?”

Her lavender-edged eyes were round as she skirted around the side of the bed and reached out, picking up the plush he’d laid on his pillow. “Where did you get this?” she demanded. “Thancred, I told you I’d make one eventually…”

“I made it,” he said quietly, and stopped her cold.

Blinking, the plush in her hands, she peered up at him. “You? You made it?”

Scowling, he tried to shove his hands in his pockets, only to remember that his pants, like the rest of his clothing, were strewn across the living room. “Yes. I saw the plans in your office and I thought maybe, since you’d written them out so well, I could do it for you. As a… surprise. After all,” he quipped weakly, trying to recover the mood, “why should both of us be lonely?”

Lips shut tight, Kal’istae turned her attention to the plush in her hands, turning it over and over, studying it carefully. “You did an amazing job,” she said finally, and he could feel nothing but surprised pleasure from her no matter how deep he delved into her heart. “Thancred, I’m genuinely impressed. You never expressed any interest in learning a craft before this.”

“Only that once,” he told her. “My fingertips still ache.”

Kal’istae smiled at him over the top of the doll’s head, then reached out and rubbed her finger over the button eye he’d sewn on. “I thought I had two lavender eyes.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “You… did.”

“Ah.” Gently, she laid it upon the bed, then tugged her Thancred plush over until they were cuddled together. “Come here, my love,” she murmured, holding her arms out to him. Nothing loath, he reached for her, drawing her into his embrace, and walked her backwards towards the bath. She allowed him to lift her up and set her gently in the water, then reached out to him again as he sank in beside her. “I missed you, my own,” she murmured.

“And I you, Bright Eyes,” he replied, bending his head to kiss her.

On the bed, the plushies embraced, oblivious to the goings on in the bath, together.

[bluehoodiewoozi]

YOON JEONGHAN + “Can’t you feel the sparks?”

wc: 437 /// genre: royal au. /// warnings: none.

Every inch, ounce and bit of sound reason was screaming at you. It demanded you to stop, to push him away, to come back to your sense and accept that you weren’t his to keep. It yelled. Coursed in your veins. Echoed in your ears.

Your heartbeat drowned it all out before you could second-guess. 

Your lips remained on his as he held you to his chest, arms keeping you in his embrace like an exquisite iron cage. The freezing stone walls of the castle, hiding you from the view of any passersby, barely felt cold against your back.

In a perfect world, your sound of reason would win out. You’d push him away in an act of loyalty towards the kingdom. He was but a mere knight, one of many. In a perfect world, you’d never give him a chance.

No. Your heart screamed at the thought and you found yourself pushing closer to him instead. 

In a perfect world, he’d be yours already. You wouldn’t have to hide behind walls and curtains and sundowns and shadows. You’d give in to your desires without hesitation, holding him closer until there was no space left between you. In a perfect world, he’d be your prince like he deserved to be.

But this world was far from perfect. Your heart crumbled into pieces when he pulled away from your lips and glanced around in a display of paranoia. Suddenly, you were reminded that someone could be watching. There were many curious eyes in the castle, after all, and not all of them were benevolent.

“We can’t keep doing this,” you whispered, broken beyond imagination as you admired him for what you considered the last time.

But Jeonghan was immune to your doubts and worries. He smiled at you, arms still holding you close, before replying, “You always say that, but you never act on it.”

“It’s wrong.”

“Can’t you feel the sparks?” You could. You could see them, too: dancing in his eyes as he looked at you just as fondly as you did at him. “How can it be wrong? I don’t believe it.”

“You don’t believe in many things, Yoon Jeonghan, but that doesn’t make them any less true.” 

He sighed, pressed his forehead against yours. “I’d do anything to make this true.” His smile seemed sadder than usual. “I’d do anything to make you stay.”

As a single ray of moonlight hit his eye, making him even more breathtaking than usual, you granted him his wish. Your lips landed on his once again. This time, the screaming and the coursing and the echoes weren’t there.

[melishade]

amazing chapter!!! Firstly enjoy the bit with Primus giving there weapon and them freaking out, I’m glad that Primus help them made peace, wish there was a bit with Lara. Love how Primus is still keep the level of disdain with Eren, also thank you!! With the trio’s discussion, like damn Eren is his worst enemy. Glad that Mikasa and armin came to terms and stopped defending him, also f*ck, he loved her but want freedom more (imagine what happened if they know what he did to his mother😬)

I’d figure that founder yimr and Mikasa will be in the touched. And armin discussion with Primus jeez the brass on this kid. Interesting that Primus showed armin the other and original timeline. ( I figured he would have a mental breakdown on predetermined fate)

liked pieck’s moment, the emotional goodbye. Returning to the living world the burning of the scarf was good. Finally the segment with Optimus and Megatron short but gut wrenching. Ratchet and bulk only saw prime scream in frustration but this… nah. Over all this chapter gave what wanted and what I did think I want 😁

Firstly, thank you so much for the praise. Secondly, let's go in depth.

I do wish that I could have talked more about Lara, re-introduce other characters and have more emotional reunions, but it just would have derailed the whole chapter and it would have taken so much longer. I can't bring everyone back. I did figure Hanji asking Primus to

I'll probably have Primus talking to other people in prompts asks or a mini anthology. I'm not sure yet. We'll see what happens.

And yes, Primus still hates Eren's guts because Primus gave Eren and option and Eren chose genocide. He's not going to forgive that. Despite the fact that he refers to Unicron as brother and feels lament over their degraded relationship, Primus acknowledged he was committing genocide and took action. There's no exception with Eren. And yes, Eren is a slave to freedom and it ends up destroying him and the relationships that he had!

But in regards to Eren taking out his own mom in the manga and anime, it just felt like both a plot hole and one final twist that Isayama was trying to make and we only had one hint towards Eren's interference, but that could easily be chalked up to Dina's titan being an abnormal. Carla's death is strictly happenstance in AOP.

Mikasa and Ymir's connection in AOT was...weird. Because many of us were led to believe that Ymir was waiting for Eren to release her from the power of the titans, but it turned out she was waiting for Mikasa to release her because she saw how Mikasa was able to let go of Eren, allowing Ymir to let go of Fritz because she was in love with him and served him because she loved him. The analysis and criticism has already been done, but it definitely felt rushed and out of nowhere for me. I do have Ymir look at Mikasa letting Eren go, implying Ymir's feelings towards Fritz, but just didn't outright say it.

And Armin and Primus' conversation, oh boy! That's a can of worms there! The conversation was going to go very differently, but as I was writing this chapter, I got creative and I thought that Armin, dealing with both Optimus and Megatron, and the loss of Eren, while also learning that Primus had a hand in the Rumbling happening, deserved to know what Primus saw. There were also a lot of people in the comments calling out Primus and calling him hypocritical for letting genocide happen. So I have to explain that things are not that simple. Primus doesn't want to impose control and take away freewill to obtain peace. Even if he did do that, he would only be able to affect the Eldian people, not everyone else. He can't change the minds of the Marleyans. Additionally, altering the fabric of time puts the whole universe at risk and he can't do that. If Primus had the opportunity to make the Peaceful Timeline a reality, he would do it in a heartbeat. Also additionally, Primus showed Armin glimpses of these alternate timelines, not the whole thing.

But the reason why Armin didn't break when shown alternate timelines was simply how he reacted in the anime. When Eren told Armin the truth, Armin was understandably angry at Eren, and as he wept, he still clung onto the idea of hope. That hope does exist and it could be used to change the heart and minds of the people into creating a peaceful world. And the fact that Primus with his all seeing power still can't find another solution to the madness he claims he wants to stop? What does that make him? Also, Armin has been dealing with Megatron's bullshit for four years along with immense amounts of trauma. He's not about to buckle to god when he's been through hell.

Also, Pieck deserved an explanation for everything Primus unintentionally put her through. And Primus of course has to make a grand gesture when ending the power of the titans. And in regards to the end, if you haven't seen this ask telling you to listen to the song while reading the ending, I recommend that you do.

[chicknstripz]

∘₊✧ [[ Sun, Surf & Sand ]] ✧₊∘

Pairing ||  Fives x GN!Reader Word count || 987 Warnings || Brief mentions of PTSD, Fluff, So much fluff. Overview || Self indulgent Fives takes his family to the beach feels, in honour of father's day! 'Fives' prompt for @clonexreaderbingo

Crashing waves and salty air backdrop your perfect day, the shriek of your little one pulling your attention from your trashy romance novel.

Fives has your toddler by the hand, standing at the water's edge with not a care in the world. He looks so good like this, his tanned skin glowing in the light as he lifts the toddler over another wave. The small girl yells in delight as the water tickles her toes, her interaction with the water managed with care by her doting father. 

Fives doesn't want her to fear water like he does, the endless blue stirring memories of Kamino. He remembers being tossed out to sea, his survival skills tested in a brutal five day training session. He also remembers time spent below the waves, his flash training ill preparing him for deep sea diving. None of it had been enjoyable, the company of his own heartbeat prevailing over every memory, and none of it could hold a candle to the beach he stood upon. Cold unfeeling water had been swapped for warm waves, and complaining brothers had been swapped for a happy family. His little Sarad was smiling at him like he'd hung the stars, all chubby checks and sparkling eyes. And you? He's pretty sure you've never looked prettier. you're laid on a towel with a drink in one hand, and a book in the other - your eyes soft as they catch his. He stops to appreciate the sight for a moment, just long enough for a ware to crest over Sarad's waist. She squeals in surprise and holds tight to him, her little arms barely covering his chest.

"Woah, you alright there lil one?"

She nods, her curls tickling his jaw with each move.

"You sure? We can say hello to your Buir for a bit if you want. Maybe build a sandcastle?” 

She nods again and Fives takes this as a sign she’s done with the water, at least for now. He drops her to her feet once the water laps at his ankles, watching with a smile as she totters up the beach with giggles. He’s not at all surprised to see you’ve pulled out a holorecorder, your form dropped to one knee to get Sarad’s best angle; and he can’t help but tease you as you lift the cam to include him in the shot. 

“Why cyare, I’d never thought you’d ask! Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!”

He watches you roll your eyes, your expression giving away the flush of heat that rises to your cheeks.

“We’re already married, di’kut” “And what if I wanted to marry you again?” He’d marry you a billion times if he could, on as many planets as you wanted. All he wanted was for you to feel loved and appreciated, to know that you’d been and always would be the center of his galaxy. 

“I don’t think it’s entirely necessary ...” “Oh, but it is!” He beams as he cuts you off, happy to watch the effect his words have on you. The subtle shift of weight from side to side, the shift of your brows and lips; it all tells him he’d made you feel warm and happy. “But what about the cost?” “What about it?” “We can’t afford it, not on that ‘pension’ they gave you” Fives scoffs. The republic had decided some years back that his service deserved a soldier’s pension. It was, in his opinion, nothing more than a publicity stunt. The sum was barely enough to repay his vode for years of pain and loss, but it was also better than nothing - which was what they were due to get before Senator Chuchi stepped in. “My brothers will help.” “Fives, I don’t want them paying for something we don’t need.” He drops beside you with a chuckle, gathering Sarad into his arms and settling her atop his crossed legs. The blanket more than protected her from the warm sand, but he was feeling indulgent and protective today; her happy giggles encouraged his internal desire to dote on her. “I didn’t mean it like that. Kix got himself ordained. All we have to do is give him a time and date.” Your eyes widen in shock, then laughter; the expression warming your face as you retrieve a bottle of sun lotion from your bag. “Did he know? Why does that not surprise me.” Fives laughs alongside you, passing a small toy to Sarad to keep her occupied while you cover her skin in a protective layer of lotion. “He said, and I quote. ‘I’m not letting any of you di’kute ruin your cyare’s special day’. Anyone would think we can’t do serious” Your soft laughter turns to guffaws, the sound violent enough to make you snort. He’s not sure why you find it so embarrassing. He loves it when he can elicit this kind of laughter, your form near hunched over as you nurse aching ribs. “I can’t see why he’d think such a thing, I really can’t.” You spend the next few moments in laughter, settling Sarad between you to play with her toys. She’s still too young to understand the concept of making a sandcastle. For her the fun is in the filling of the bucket, and the demolishing of the castle. She doesn’t even wait for her father to say ‘ta-da!’. She’s already pushed her hands into the damp sand with a giggle, pushing the sand about to further explore its texture. “So, you in? Or ...” You lift your head with a shy smile, your eyes full of warm love as you sit on your haunches. “Only on one condition.” “Oh? And what might that be?” “That Echo and Sarad have to be our flower girls” He can't help but mirror your playful smile, his chest blooming with laughter as he reaches over to shake your hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal, cyar'ika.”

[pickingupmymercedes]

Partition - Lewis Hamilton (NSFW)

Part of 1K Jukebox Event

song: Partition - Beyoncé - @scuderiarossa

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

genre: smutty (there's a bit of angst to start though)

wordcount: +1k

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT

______________________________________________________________

The limo’s low hum is almost soothing, a contrast to the coiled tension radiating off Lewis.

I’d thought the worst of this would have been over after the last race—when he’d crossed the finish line and nothing, no controversial ruling, no last-lap drama, could take that eighth title away from him.

He had stood on the top step, grinning like the world had righted itself, like he could finally put those ghosts behind him.

For a few days, I believed it too. He’d laughed more, had this lightness about him that made everything feel... easier. I thought we’d left that weight in the past, buried under the trophy he had lifted with both hands.

But trauma, it has a way of sticking around, of finding cracks to sneak through.

And today, on the night of the ceremony where he’d finally be recognized as what he’s been, he’s back to being that stone of tension.

I watch him, his brow furrowed as his gaze lingers out the window. His hand rests on his thigh, fingers twitching in that way they do when his mind won’t stop.

I know how much history weighs on him.

It’s why I’m here, why I slid into a deep burgundy dress and spent 45 minutes getting everything just right. I know what tonight means to him.

My hand moves up to his chest, my fingers tracing the sharp line of his suit jacket. “You shouldn’t still be this tense, babe. The season’s over. You won.”

He doesn’t answer right away, just exhales a deep breath, eyes still fixed on the lights of Paris streaming by. “Yeah” he finally says, his voice tight, restrained. “I... I just don’t want anything to go wrong tonight.”

I study him for a moment, my heart squeezing at the vulnerability in his voice. Lewis Hamilton doesn’t let that part of him show often, not to the world, and sometimes not even to me.

But it’s there, under all the strength, the confidence, the legend. He carries everything with him—every win, every loss, every time someone questioned his place, his worth.

And that weight, it’s heavy.

“I get it” I say softly, my hand resting more firmly on his thigh. “But tonight, isn’t about proving anything. You’ve already done that.”

His eyes flick to mine, and I see the briefest flicker of doubt, like even now, standing on the cusp of the recognition he’s deserved for years, he’s still fighting ghosts.

Well, not tonight, not on my watch.

I move closer, my lips brushing against his ear. “You need to stop thinking so damn much” I murmur, my fingers trailing higher, teasing the tension right out of him.

His brow lifts slightly, a knowing look passing between us. "Do I?"

I don’t answer him with words. I just give him a look, the one that promises I’m about to make him forget every damn thing that’s been on his mind.

The past can haunt him, but tonight? Tonight, he’s going to feel exactly what he is.

I smirk, settling in closer, my hand sliding up to his chest, feeling the slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “Paris traffic isn’t going anywhere. We’ve got, what—thirty minutes?”

He raises a brow, catching on quickly, though there’s still that edge in his eyes. "And what are you proposing we do, love?"

I meet his gaze with a wicked grin, as I call for the driver. “Monsieur, pouvons nous avoir un peu d’intimité?” (Sir, can we have some privacy)

His eyes darken as he hears the french roll from my tongue and watches me shift off the seat, positioning myself between his legs.

My dress pools around me, and for a moment, there’s only the sound of his breathing, heavy and expectant. I lock eyes with him as I reach for his belt, my fingers making quick work of the buckle.

"Est-ce que tu aimes le sexe? Le coit… Tu aimes ça?” I tease him, echoing a familiar line with a playful smirk. (Do you like sex? The sexual act... Do you like it?)

His chuckle is low as he gets the reference, but it quickly fades as I pull him free, my hand wrapping around his growing hardness.

This night is his, and I’m going to make sure he walks in that gala like the titan he is.

I take him into my mouth slowly, savoring the groan that escapes his lips, his hand instinctively coming to rest at my exposed arm.

My mascara is going to be a mess after this, and my lipstick—well, that’s going to be a different story altogether. But it doesn’t matter.

Nothing matters except this moment, and the way I can feel his body start to loosen under my touch.

I work him with the same precision he uses on the track—focused, determined, in complete control. His grip on my skin tightens, his breathing quickens, and I can tell he’s close.

“Fuck, Y/n,” he growls, his voice thick with need. His hips buck slightly, and I feel him pulse against my tongue.

I push him right to the edge before he tumbles over, his release hitting the back of my throat as I swallow every bit of it.

There’s nothing around to clean up, so I do what I have to—handle it like a pro.

I pull back slowly, giving him one last teasing kiss before I sit up, licking my lips. His head is thrown back against the seat, eyes closed, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips.

“Better?” I ask, carefully wiping the corner of my mouth with my thumb to smudge a minimal amount of lipstick.

He opens his eyes, that stormy expression from earlier completely gone. Now, he just looks at me with a satisfied and lazy grin that certainly beats that gaze he occasionally gives Will Buxton.

“Way to take the edge off” he murmurs, his voice soft but filled with affection, a finger still on my arm, tracing circles on the skin there.

I reach into my clutch, pulling out the tube of red lipstick and expertly reapplying it in the dim light.

As I lean back to check my reflection, I notice something on his shirt—a small smudge of lipstick, the same shade I’m wearing, right at the hem of his blazer jacket.

I smirk. “Looks like I left a little souvenir.”

Lewis glances down, following my gaze to the stain, and he chuckles, shaking his head. “Of course, you did.”

“Do you think they’ll notice it’s my shade, too,” I tease, reaching out to fix the collar of his undershirt. “Maybe get them to wonder.”

His hand cups my cheek, thumb brushing lightly against my jaw. “I don’t care what they think” he says, his voice dropping an octave, more serious now.

“Good.” I lean in, pressing my freshly reapplied lips to his lightly, tasting the remnants of him still on my tongue. “Because tonight’s yours. You’re going to walk into that ceremony and claim what’s been yours.”

He pulls back, his brow arching slightly. "And then?"

I settle back into my seat, crossing my legs slowly, deliberately. “Then, I’m all yours. But first, you’ve got a circus to attend.”

His grin widens, that familiar spark of confidence returning to his eyes. “I’ll hold you to that.”

The limo slows to a stop, the sounds of Paris creeping back into the cabin. The driver opens the door, and I adjust my dress, smoothing out the fabric as Lewis steps out first, his hand extended to help me. I take it, stepping into the cool night air, feeling every eye and camera flash on us as we make our way into the grand venue.

Tonight, the world will see Lewis for what he is—a titan of Formula 1.

And when the cameras are gone and the applause fades, he’s all mine.

______________________________________________________________

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If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[mirrortouchedsea]

ES Rarepair Week Day 4: Angst

This one is kind offffff a continuation of this fic that i've been meaning to get back to. There's scenes between that one and this one that I want to write eventually but just know that they're connected. CW for character death and Mikejima typical family issues

---

Shu hadn’t been in this hospital room in almost three years. The last time, Maguro seemed to be on the up and up, but he couldn’t help but feel that there was something he was missing. Maguro, the girl he had been watching over, was fine, her illness was no longer getting the best of her and she had stopped being able to see Shu at their last meeting. Her brother on the other hand, that pesky Madara Mikejima, had stopped coming to the hospital room as well, though Shu had sensed him in the hallway on more than one occasion. 

Shu had come to check on Maguro, who was now 16 years old, only to find her brother in the hospital room once again. He looked all the worse for wear, kneeling on the floor next to her bed, cheeks sunken, clothes sagging on his body that was severely underweight. Mikejima, Shu spoke up, what are you doing? Isn’t it obvious, Madara replied, barely shifting his head to look at Shu, I’ve been doing this for her. What do you mean ‘this’. I… Oh. 

Oh. Shu was hit with the realization. You’ve been giving away your life force, but why. I couldn’t let my sister die like that, alone, in the hospital without anyone to look after her, isn’t that what big brothers are supposed to do? You might be the only big brother to give up your life force itself for your sister, aren’t you worried about what will happen to her when you’re gone? Yeah, it gave me nightmares as a kid but this is for the best, and since God isn’t real, someone has to protect her. Does your family know? I haven’t spoken to them in months, not since, well, I’m sure you’ll hear soon enough. 

Shu could see that Madara’s life was fading rapidly and he’d be dead before long, and Shu would have to usher him to the afterlife. Are you scared of dying? I accepted long ago that I’d die young. That’s not what I asked, I want to know if you’re scared of dying. Madara turned away, his hands covered Maguro’s and squeezed them gently, or maybe it was simply due to how far along he was that he couldn’t squeeze any harder. I don’t want her to see me like this, can we do this somewhere else? You won’t make it out of the hospital in that state. That’s alright, as long as Maguro-chan isn’t the one to find me. Fine, I can at least grant you that. 

The two of them exited the room and Madara immediately collapsed, the door barely closed behind him. Shu-san, it’s been a while since we’ve talked like this huh. What’s got you acting so sentimental? You act like the dying aren’t the most sentimental people alive. Well, you would be right that we haven’t talked since you were what, sixteen yourself? That was when I discovered I could transfer my life to Maguro-chan and I… I was scared of losing her, the world can live without someone like me but she deserves the world. What makes you say that? Shu could sense Madara’s soul was preparing to leave his body, but he kept the conversation going. I’ve done horrible, horrible things, things you only associate with the dregs of society, all for her, and I’d do it again, that’s the thing isn’t it, I’d do it all again in a heartbeat if it meant that she’d be okay. Madara’s body shuddered. I’m ready, Shu-san, whenever you want to take me, just make it painless. 

Shu couldn’t control when Madara died, but he could pretend, hold his hand and coax him into that deep slumber until his soul separated from his body. The hospital staff were busy in other wings but his body would be found by the morning. As much as Madara had gotten on his nerves, Shu couldn’t just leave him to die completely alone and have a stranger usher him to the afterlife, not when Shu was right there. When Madara’s soul finally separated from his body, Shu pulled him to his feet. You’ve died, alone, in the hallway of a hospital. I know. Were you satisfied with the life you’ve led? Yes. 

[mandoalorian]

Look For The Light

Prologue: Part II

[read prologue part I here]

Summary: You are a hardened survivor trying to navigate your way in a post-apocolyptic world when you bump into an old friend who goes by the name of Joel Miller.

Warnings: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH(s). All TLOU relevant warnings such as gore, violence, guns, drugs, and cursing. dickhead boyfriend gets his karma<3

Author’s Note: This chapter was such a challenge to write! I'm not used to writing action sequences, or horror for that matter. Now that the prologue is over, I'm excited to officially explore the post-apocalyptic universe and write battle-hardened Joel. The best is yet to come! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Word count: 5,000 words.

Masterlist | Want to support me? | Listen to ‘Look For The Light’ on Spotify

<Please remember to reblog to show your love and support! Reblogs give me the motivation to continue the series, and motivation means that I’m able to pump out chapters quicker than usual!>

----

You didn’t speak to Michael for the rest of the evening. Battling with your own concerns and your feelings towards Joel, you told yourself you were just worried about Tommy. That was enough to justify your heart-wrenching fear of regret. You liked Joel, you always had, and you didn’t want to leave it too long to tell him. So, you decided that tomorrow, during movie night, you’d pull him to one side and tell him the truth. If he rejected you, then so be it. You’d be hurt for sure, but what kind of life would you live if you weren’t honest with yourself? 

At around 7 p.m., you started to get hungry and contemplated ordering a pizza. You dragged your feet out of bed and padded into the living room to check in with Michael, who was just sitting on the edge of the sofa, playing on the PlayStation 2. You flinched at the blasts of gunfire that emerged from the television set as Michael’s character shot down what looked like monsters made out of pixels. 

“What are you playing?” you asked your boyfriend, trying to push to have a conversation with him. Truthfully, you just wanted Michael to apologise to you. You deserved that much, and if you could swindle an ‘I’m sorry’ out of him by taking interest in his dumb video game, then you’d be more than satisfied. You felt shameful, having to jump through hoops in a pitiful attempt to get him to say sorry to you. 

Michael grumbled something incoherent and then violently threw the controller at the TV. You jumped, your lips parting in shock at his sudden outburst. His character had died. On instinct, you bounced back, not liking this angry side of him. Sure, Michael could be a jerk sometimes… or, all of the time, but the violence he was displaying ever since coming home today was unusual, to say the very least. He was normally more than comfortable making snide comments about your appearance or backhanded misogynistic jokes, but today he was yelling, breaking what little furniture you had, and he had even kicked one of the chairs over, cracking the leg. 

“If there were ever a zombie apocalypse, I know damn well I’d survive,” Michael smirked. He seemed to have calmed down pretty quickly, picking the video game controller off the floor and starting the game back up. “But you…” your boyfriend looked at you up and down. “Well, at least you’d lose a little weight.”

There was the Michael you had come to know. You narrowed your eyes in his direction. No pizza then.

You felt so fed up, and you contemplated just calling Joel. Did you really have to wait til tomorrow evening to see him again? You’d do anything to leave this life behind and go back to the neighbourhood you were brought up in; back to your family and your easy old babysitting job. You didn’t care for your new job at the office, and you didn’t care for your faulty apartment and shitty boyfriend either. You missed your friends back home and you missed your old life. If you just had one chance to go back and change everything, you would do it in a heartbeat.

If only you didn’t feel so trapped. If there was a chance to leave this life behind, you sure as hell would take it. No matter the consequences.

“I’m going to bed,” you announced flatly, anticipating that Michael would spend the entirety of the night playing his video game anyway. You figured that you weren’t going to force an apology out of him, especially if he wasn't prepared to give one. As you used to tell Sarah, ‘if men wanted to, they would.’

“Could you pass me the rest of the cookies?” Michael asked, not even tearing his eyes from the screen. His tone was crass. 

Without another word, you tossed him the plate of cookies, dropped it by his side and marched into your bedroom. You felt tears burn your eyes and you were furious that you had obliged with his request. You were a people-pleaser through and through, and no matter how much Michael irked you, you hated to be on his wrong side. The only thing stopping you from breaking down and crying was that you got to see Joel again tomorrow, and Sarah, of course. It may have still only been earlier, but the quicker you managed to get to sleep, the quicker tomorrow would come. 

Only between the sirens outside and Michael’s yelling from the other room, you found it hard to settle down. You glanced at your bedside table and looked over at your phone. You could just call Joel, find a good excuse to talk to him… ask him about Tommy. You decided against it though, believing that Joel certainly would have had better things to do than spend his Friday night on the phone with you.

However, while you were tucked up in bed trying to sleep, Joel was in Arlington County Jail with the full intention of busting his younger brother, Tommy, out of his cell. Fully aware of the chaos outside, Joel knew that he didn’t have long and that he had to get home to Sarah.

When Joel arrived at Arlington County Jail, Tommy appeared distressed, his black curly hair out of place and beads of sweat lacing his hairline. Joel found him alone, pacing back and forth with his arms crossed against his chest. There was no security, no cops. It was unusual for the jail to be this isolated, especially down in the cells. 

“Where’s the sheriff?” Joel asked, busting through the door.

“Gone home,” Tommy said quickly. “Left me here to rot. Everyone is gone. They all left me here. And—and there’s something going on out there—I don’t know what but I can hear the screams and—”

Tommy’s heart pounded against his chest as he gazed through the small grid-locked window at the top of his cell. There was no way he could see out of the window, which made it all the more terrifying. He couldn’t put context to the sounds he heard. 

“I know Tommy, I know,” Joel replied, equally as stressed and confused as his brother. Joel didn’t know much, but he knew more than Tommy at this point. He’d heard things about the Cordyceps. Things he couldn’t believe were true… but right now he had no choice but to not question them. He could only think about his daughter. “We have to get back to Sarah. Where’d the sheriff keep the damn key for your cell?”

The older brother scurried around, checking all the pots and trinkets on the sheriff’s desk and even on the hangers behind the door, making a mess of the ornaments and décor in the meantime. A loud scream from outside the jail made Joel freeze in his footsteps, his entire body tensing up as a person’s painful cries echoed throughout the station.

Snapping Joel out of his thoughts, Tommy clapped his hands together. “Top drawer to the left of his desk,” Tommy pointed. “Hurry up Joel.”

Joel opened the drawer and located the small silver key, twisting it into the cell door and unlocking it. The cell door swung open and Tommy immediately dived out of the hole and jogged around the sheriff's desk, opening the much longer bottom drawer and bringing out a rifle. Tommy had seen the sheriff leave it in there before he left the station an hour ago. Like second nature, he slid the weapon over his shoulder and grabbed the sheriff’s pistol from the desk. He offered it to his brother, but Joel merely shook his head. 

“Jesus Christ Tommy, really, a gun?” Joel asked, bringing his hand to his face. 

“We don’t know what’s going on out there, but with all this gunfire and sirens and screams—well shit Joel, I guess you ain’t gonna be the one shooting anyway,” Tommy said as coherently as he could, but the words ended up jumbled in the panic he was currently facing. He slid the pistol into the back of his jeans and kept his hand armed on the rifle. Tommy was a US veteran; he’d fought in wars… he was a survivor, but if there was one thing he hated, it was not knowing what was going on. It was being without a plan. 

Tommy’s gaze located the fire alarm which was guarded by a glass frame. Next to it, was an axe on the wall. Tommy grabbed the axe and handed it over to Joel, his eyes wide and pleading as he issued Joel a compromise. Joel hesitated for a moment, looking at the axe, but his thoughts were quickly interrupted by a large explosion that erupted outside, making both of the brothers crouch down and cover themselves on impulse. Joel took the axe from Tommy and adjusted his grip around the wooden handle. 

“We have to go, now,” Tommy announced, and Joel swallowed. He could barely get his words out as worry filled the pit of his stomach. He said a silent prayer, hoping that Sarah was safe and had locked all the doors. She was a smart girl, Joel told himself. She wouldn’t do anything rash that would put herself in danger. 

Joel nodded in agreement when he’d registered Tommy’s needing words. Finding his feet, Joel stood up and followed Tommy outside of the station and to the truck. Hundreds if not thousands of people fled the streets, running away from something that had yet to reveal itself. Bodies massed the ground, some injured and some dead, and the smell of smoke filled the air.

Joel slid into the driver's seat and started the engine. He skipped through the radio channels, hoping to hear a broadcast that would give him some information as to what exactly is going on. But all that could be heard was loud, crackling static. 

“Call Sarah,” Joel requested Tommy as he pulled out of the driveway. 

After multiple attempts of calling his niece, Tommy shook his head in defeat.

“She’s not answering?” Joel quizzed hurriedly, slamming his hand on the steering wheel as he continued to navigate the streets. His palms were clammy and his heart slammed against his chest. 

“It’s not that,” Tommy huffed. “I can’t get through. The line must be down, no service…”

“Fuck.” Joel hissed through his teeth, now speeding down the highway, doing his damn best to avoid the traffic and cars that were offside the road.

When Joel and Tommy pulled into the driveway, Sarah was already standing outside, waiting for them. Her brown eyes were wide, her mouth was agape and tears stained her cheeks. Behind her, Mrs Adler made rapid movements, crawling across the porch and eventually standing up. 

Joel and Tommy sprung out of the car and Tommy raised his rifle, getting a clear shot on Mrs Adler as she approached the family at a rapid speed.

“Sarah get in the truck!” Joel cried, and the young girl quickly obliged.

“Joel! What are we doing?” Tommy quizzed frantically, his index finger hovering over the trigger of his rifle as Mrs Adler’s body twitched and quivered. The infected old lady growled in pain as Joel took his axe and with all of his pent-up brute force, hammered it into Mrs Adler’s skull.

Sparing not even a second, when Mrs Adler dropped to the ground, Joel and Tommy clambered back into the front seats of the truck. Tommy this time took the driver's seat so Joel could give directions, but also comfort his daughter who was silently sobbing in the back.

“You—you killed her.” Sarah whimpered, her fingernails digging into the palms of her hand as she looked at her father in horror.

“I’m sorry baby girl,” Joel whispered, leaning back and outstretching his arm. He took Sarah’s hand and with his thumb, began to rub comforting circles into her skin. “I’m so sorry.”

It was late when you woke up; two maybe three in the morning. Michael’s side of the bed was still empty, and as you sat upright and rubbed your eyes, you doubted that he was still playing his game. It had been hours. The sky was painted a velvet blue-black and in the far distance, you could still hear sirens, albeit it was now a lot quieter. 

You contemplated for a moment, wondering whether you should go back to sleep or check in on your boyfriend who had been acting out of the ordinary all evening. After a few moments, you breathed out an audible sigh and determined that you should probably check in on him. He had work first thing in the morning and should’ve been asleep long ago. You slipped out of your bed and throw over your robe, sliding your feet into your favourite fuzzy slippers and opened your bedroom door.

The first thing you noticed was the crackling sound of static on the television, almost as if the power had cut out. Your gaze followed a pile of crumbs on the floor which traced back to a crumbled-up cookie and a smashed china plate that you had previously presented them on. You adjusted your vision, your tired eyes still getting used to the bright light of your living area, and noticed Michael who was standing tall and upright, staring out of the kitchen window.

“Michael?” you asked, slowly walking up to him. “Have you seen the time? You need to go to bed.”

Michael didn’t respond, other than a small twitch of his fingers at the sound of his own name. As you closed in on him, you noticed his breathing was very heavy and he moved very little.

“You ignoring me now?” you whined. “Look, you’ve been nothing but a dick to me ever since we moved in together, but if I’m willing to move past your attitude, and the fact you broke a chair and smashed one of my china plates, then you should really—” the second you placed your hand on Michael’s shoulder, he let out a high pitched shriek and darted around 90 degrees so he was facing you.

It all happened so fast. His skin was pale white and his pupils appeared dilated. Not only that, but the white of his eyes was bloodshot red and you noticed the veins in his temples pulsating. Michael looked at you and for just a moment, his expression appeared soft and regretful, but then, within a mere second, his movements became quick and animalistic. Michael dived on top of you, letting a growl escape his lips as he pushed you down onto the hardwood floor beneath you. You yelped as your body came crashing to the ground. Michael was stronger than ever and it took all your might to escape his grip. You felt his muscles spasming and his body twitching as he eagerly tried to pin you to the ground, but as he struggled, you managed to shuffle your body backwards in the direction the TV set and closer to your bedroom.

You couldn’t draw your eyes away from your boyfriend, despite feeling the pure terror rage within you. Your back hit the bedroom door and you cursed yourself for closing it behind you. Dead end.

Michael came closer and closer, and in an effort to evade him, you stumbled to your feet. And squeezed behind the television. It was a cube-shaped 28 inch Sony TV box, typical of 2003, with rounded corners and a mighty weight to it. He grappled to get to you and you noted just how determined he was. He kept growling, his mouth watering as he punched his fists into the television and scream with rage. He seemed unfazed that his hands were now bleeding, and that the glass had smashed into smithereens around his feet on the floor. 

“Michael,” you sobbed quietly, helpless warm tears rolling down your cheeks. “Michael, you’re scaring me.”

Michael snarled and shrieked in response, and his bleeding hand found your face, grabbing onto it in an attempt to get closer to you. You screamed into the palm of his hand as his fingernails dragged across your skin, scratching down your cheek and neck. You knew if you stayed here, Michael was going to hurt, maybe even kill you. Something had happened to him, and you were in danger, that much was clear. But there was nowhere to run. Nowhere to go. The TV set was the only thing blocking Michael from you, and if you were to slip out now, his fast and primal instincts would have no qualms with attacking you again.

And then, an instinct which was driven by nothing short of raw, unfeigned fear – you knew what you had to do.

With all the power and energy that you could muster, you shifted your entire body weight and applied pressure to the TV. Slowly but surely, your force began to move the TV away from the entertainment centre and closer to Michael. You let out a scream as your muscles tensed and your arms began to hurt. One more big push and the TV would fall atop of Michael.

You blinked away the tears that filled your glossy eyes and whispered. “Michael, I am so sorry.”

And with one final push, the weighty TV box crashed on top of Michael, pushing him to the ground. Michael’s shrieks were no more and his body lay there, a pool of blood emerging from his lifeless frame. 

You heaved and cried and screamed as you slid out from the entertainment centre and looked at Michael’s corpse. You’d killed him. You had killed your boyfriend.

You were a murderer. 

Pacing around in circles you wondered what to do – whom to call. So you took out your phone and dialled the one person you could trust the most. Joel.

When Joel woke up, he was on the ground. As were Tommy and Sarah. Flames engulfed their surroundings and the truck had been turned over on its side as a result of a plane crashing into them. Joel wasn’t sure how long he’d been knocked out for, but it surely couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. It was the ringing of his cell phone that had awoken him. Joel didn’t move until the ringing stopped, his phone was too far to reach anyway, and then he tried to gather himself.

“Daddy?” Sarah croaked. “Daddy? Wake up.”

“I’m here baby girl,” Joel assured quietly, reaching his hand out and interlocking his fingers with his daughter’s. Sarah breathed an air of relief as she felt her father’s hand on hers. For the first time all night, she felt safe. Joel gave Sarah’s hand a reassuring squeeze and then reluctantly drew it away, placing both of his palms flat against the roof of the car. Sarah felt her heart deflate. “Watch out.” He warned, before shifting position and pushing his foot into the main window of the car, overhead the bonnet. 

He kicked open the car window and crawled out from the remains.

The second Joel found his feet, an infected man grabbed onto him, and Joel wrestled for freedom. Within seconds though, Tommy appeared, smashing a brick into the man’s face causing him to lose consciousness and fall to the ground.

“Dad?” Sarah called again, alerting Joel. 

Joel knelt down and Tommy covered him as he helped his struggling daughter out of the car. She whimpered in pain as she found her balance, with the help of her father who wrapped an arm around her shoulder to prop her up. But Sarah was struggling to stand.

“What is it?” Joel questioned with concern.

“I think it’s my leg,” Sarah replied and Joel noted her injured calf, blood seeping through the material of her pants. 

“How bad does it hurt?” Joel asked, bringing his hand down to the wound.

“Pretty bad.” With hesitation, Joel knelt down and tried to take a closer look. It seemed as though some part of the car had impaled his daughter and she was bleeding out pretty badly. Joel noted just how strong she was. He was so proud of her. 

“Okay—we need to go, now,” Tommy warned quickly, interrupting Joel’s sentimental thoughts and picking off the infected with his pistol as he covered his brother and niece.

“Can you run?” Joel asked Sarah hurriedly.

Sarah didn’t reply. The girl winced with pain as Joel’s hand moved over her leg and she shook her head ‘no’.

“Come on Joel.” Tommy urged, firing another shot.

Joel muttered a curse under his breath and swept Sarah off her feet, cradling the little girl in his arms. “Cover us.” He told Tommy, before following his younger brother down the infected-ridden main street. It was hard to tell who was ‘normal’ and who wasn’t as shrieks and screams and cries filled the atmosphere. Everyone’s movements seemed panicked and erratic and as Tommy continued to shoot down oncoming enemies, Joel noted his daughter tensing up in his arms.

“Don’t look at them sweetheart, keep your eyes on me,” Joel said softly. Sarah’s big brown eyes gazed up at her father but when she noticed the hoards of infected chasing the family from behind, terror filled her gut once more. 

“Quick!” Tommy shouted, pointing his finger at an abandoned diner up ahead. Speeding up, the brothers raced to get into the diner. They ran as fast as their legs could carry them. Tommy removed a wooden beam which was barricading the door, and opened it, inviting Joel to slide inside, still holding onto Sarah. As Tommy tried to shut the back door of the diner, three infected people jammed their way into the opening, growling and clawing at Tommy. Tommy scuffled to fight them off, but at least he was winning against them.

“Uncle Tommy?” Sarah cried with hysteria as she saw her beloved uncle struggling against the mania.

“Get to the highway!” Tommy instructed as he held back the infected.

“I ain’t leaving you!” Joel cried out in response, his eyes darting around the diner to look for something he could use to help Tommy fend off the infected.

“Go! You got Sarah!” Tommy reminded his brother. He was right. Sarah was Joel’s number one priority, and Joel just couldn’t play hero right now.

As Joel turned his back on his brother, Sarah cried out for her uncle once more, tears streaming down her cheeks as her father ran out of the front door of the diner.

“Daddy no! We can’t leave him!” Sarah sobbed as Joel closed the front door to the diner.

“He’s going to be fine,” Joel promised his daughter. Breathless, he jogged down the muddy embankment that led onto the highway. At least now he could see the bridge. That was his way out of here. “Come on honey, we’re almost there.”

As Joel ran up the road leading to the bridge, two infected chased after him. Joel could taste blood in his mouth and he wasn’t sure he was going to make it until he saw a bright, blinding white light ahead. 

Pointing an assault rifle at Joel was a man, a soldier perhaps, dressed in an armoured black uniform. He was wearing a gas mask and had grenades strapped to his chest. Joel had never seen anything like it before. Not even in movies. The soldier fired his gun and picked off the infected that were behind Joel and Sarah, before slowly approaching the pair, not lowering his gun once.

Sarah was shivering in Joel’s arms, her eyes wide as she watched the man direct the barrel of his assault rifle into her father’s face.

Joel held Sarah’s hand in the hope it would help ease her anxiety. “It’s okay now. We’re okay. We’re safe.”

Joel swallowed and turned to face the soldier.

“Help us,” he begged. “Please. It’s my daughter. Her leg is injured.”

Joel took a few steps closer but stopped abruptly when warned by the soldier.

“Stop right there.” The faceless soldier said, his index finger hovering over the trigger of the gun.

Joel hesitated, his lips parting in shock and confusion. “We—we’re not like them. We’re not sick,”

The soldier clicked on his radio. “Got two civilians in the outer perimeter. Please advise.”

“Daddy? What about Uncle Tommy?” Sarah whispered as the soldier spoke over the radio. Joel drew his eyes away from the man and looked at his daughter. 

“He’s gonna be all right, don’t you worry about him. We just need to get your leg better right now.”

“But—there’s a little girl,” The soldier’s comment alerted both Joel and Sarah and they looked over at the man again. “But—” the soldier’s protests were weak and eventually he settled on a simple. “Okay.”

The radio became silent and the soldier let out a huff of air before pointing his rifle back at Joel and Sarah.

“Listen, we’ve just been through hell, okay? We just need—” Joel noticed the shift in energy and the way the flashlight on the gun focused on him. He was going to shoot. “—Shit.”

Multiple shots. In an attempt to take the blast and cover his daughter, Joel turned his back on the oncoming fire. He threw himself and Sarah down to the ground and rolled down the hill as the soldier continued to spray shots. The soldier jogged onto Joel and aimed his gun at Joel’s head. Joel raised both of his hands in a surrendering motion.

“Please—don’t—” Joel whispered under his breaths.

BANG. Another shot. The soldier fell to the ground. Joel jumped and sat upright, looking up at his younger brother who had just killed the soldier. Joel let out a groan of pain as he peeled back the hem of his navy blue t-shirt and examined the wound on his stomach. The grazing off his bullet. The pain was so immense, he didn’t even hear the whimpers and cries of his daughter who was only a few metres away. 

“Joel…” Tommy interrupted his brother’s thoughts and nodded towards Sarah, his eyes wet and horrified. Joel’s entire body jolted upright when he overheard Sarah’s pained cries, and he crawled over to his daughter who was laying on the ground in a pool of her own blood. Her t-shirt was soaked red.

Joel picked up his daughter and held her in her arms. Her breathing became short, loud gasps for air and when Joel found the main source of the bleeding in her abdomen, he pressed his two hands on the wound. It needed pressure. Sarah’s entire body jolted and she screamed as blinding hot pain ran through her body.

“It’s okay baby, it’s okay baby,” Joel tried reassuring Sarah but he appeared even more panicked than before. When he saw the tears fall freely from the corner of Sarah’s eyes, he couldn’t help but hold back his own. He didn’t know what to do. Sarah’s gasps became quicker and more panicky and she couldn’t get her words out. She couldn’t tell her father how much she loved him, or how grateful she was for the short years that she spent with him. Sarah’s grip around Joel’s neck tightened as she felt herself becoming increasingly lightheaded, and she let out another cry with pain.

Joel leaned into Sarah, rocking back and forth. “I know, I know baby, I know it hurts. You’re going to be okay,” all he could do right now was reassure his daughter. He didn’t know if it would be ‘okay’, but it had to be, right? It had to be. “Baby, baby, listen to me. C’mon, I’ve got to get you up. Come on baby—” Joel stopped and looked over at his brother.

Tommy was just standing there, his gun lowered and his entire body weak with shock. 

“Tommy help me!” Joel cried out with anguish as he tucked Sarah into his chest, holding onto her limp frame with the utmost desperation.

Tommy swallowed and lets his own tears spill from his eyes. “Joel.” He said weakly, nodding his head towards his niece. 

Joel turned back to Sarah, who wasn’t moving anymore. She wasn’t making a sound. Her eyes closed, Joel clutched onto her and gave her held her tighter than ever before, crying out her name. 

“Sarah?” Joel’s voice was quiet as he looked down at the fragile girl. “Baby? Don’t do this to me, baby. Come on. Come on, baby. No. Oh no. Please don’t do this to me. No… no…”

And at that moment, time stopped for Joel. Sarah was gone.

-----

Taglist: @onlyrealjoy @honeybunzzzz @hawkins-2000 @keepingitlokiii @januarycolor @anapnovo-blog @pardebellesnuits @mi0o@supervengerslock @bigpepperpicker @alitaar @pedrostories @pedroprinces

[synthetickitsune]

hello I’d like to request soohyuk and angst prompt #22 (hint hint break up?? joking, only if u want to) the fluff and the (m) for his works are lovely but i thrive off angst so 😈

you and me both anon ♡

Lee Soohyuk | Words left unsaid angst | 0.7k | gn!reader

It’s here again.

He closes his mouth upon realizing that the words he wishes to say would only reach his own ears. So instead he ups the volume of the music and focuses fully on the road. His knuckles are white on the steering wheel. It’s hard not to get annoyed with himself, but that’s life. He should’ve told you when he had a chance.

Admittedly, this was a mess Soohyuk got himself into. He’s the one avoiding you, stubbornly, despite the fact he’s perfectly aware of his childish behavior. Nothing really stops him from calling you right now and telling you what’s at the tip of his tongue. Then again it still is tender, a healing wound that aches when the weather changes. And it hurts to know you’ll get it and, perhaps, be there when he’s ready and act like he never ignored you.

He hopes he can get over it one day. You deserve better - you’re more than just a past tense in his life. He wants you to be.

And there he goes again - another thing enters his mind, something you asked him a long time ago but that he didn’t have an answer to then. 

It used to happen a lot in those days. You'd ask him something and Soohyuk would be caught off guard or he would have no idea about the answer, no opinion on the matter. (You always introduced him to new things, something he never paid attention to before. He misses that.) Or he'd want to tell you a story, only to be interrupted by a phone call, or his manager walking into the room. 

There are many promises he broke, but the ones haunting him still are all the stories he promised to tell you later. It's unimportant in the grand scheme of things, and he wonders if his refusal to interact with you right now has anything to do with his friends laughing at him when he drunkenly rambled on about this exact topic. But to be honest, it matters to him. It's rare to have someone's undivided attention all to yourself, to have someone actually listen and care, and you were that rare person.

He worries that all that he is is just that - selfish and lonely. Greedy for someone’s attention, your attention, that would never stray away. It felt safe talking to you, being with you. Without judgment, without pressure. You still are his best friend, so why is he like this?

His jaw clenches painfully and unclenches. He’s not ready to talk to you, but maybe a text? Would it be too strange to shoot you a random message out of nowhere? You used to do that all the time, albeit in the past that’s at the same time fresh and yet it feels like years ago.

Soohyuk keeps pondering over it the entire day until tomorrow is only minutes away. Cocooned in his bed, he’s hiding away from the world, from life, as if it could make the seconds stop ticking by. He’s staring at his phone screen, your chat window opened. Would it be pathetic to text you? He isn’t sure about the rules, about what’s appropriate. You used to do it so naturally, but that was back then…

He tries giving himself pep talk, tries to manipulate himself into thinking this is the exact opposite of pathetic because talking to you like nothing happened would make it seem like he’s over you already, right? He tries logic - it would make him feel better to talk to you. Hell, he even texts a friend to get a second opinion. If only he would respond…

He tosses and turns without any rest for his eyes, his mind, or his heart. He wants to talk to you. But he doesn’t want to be the one doing it. If there was a way he could turn the conversations with you that he has in his head into reality, a memory that he could enjoy, he would take it in a heartbeat. 

Finally he closes his eyes. He can’t do it after all. Blindly he locks his phone and puts it away on the nightstand. He sighs, and the sound resonates in the empty bedroom. You always used to hug him from behind and just hold him wherever he did that. No matter if there was something on his mind or not, you always cared. He misses that.

Was what you had really that bad?

He knows now is not a good time to think about it. But Soohyuk allows himself tonight to wallow in his loneliness and memories of you anyway.

[xxrainshadowsxx]

Interpersonal Chapter 16

So... what do you do when you learn your boyfriend has been committing eco-terrorism?

You’re not sure how long you cry for. Time does not exist. At some point, you think Aurora asks if you want to go to the hospital to see him one last time, but you vehemently reject that idea. You don’t want your last memory of him to be of him in a coma.

Onceler’s there for you the entire time, never saying anything, never leaving, just being present and holding you together, both figuratively and literally. The only time he leaves your side is to grab you a glass of water once you cried yourself hoarse. You can’t fathom how you could have ever gotten through this without him.

And after the worst of it was all over, all you knew is that you were exhausted. Instead of leaving you to sleep on your own, he still stayed with you in case you needed him; he let you lay down on his chest, the steady cadence of his heartbeat rocking you into a blissful state of unawareness….

“How is she?” You vaguely register Aurora’s voice an indeterminate amount of time later, but you’re in no mood to acknowledge her or even lift your head; you’re far too comfortable and you’d much rather go back to sleep. But Onceler answers her, and the slight vibrations under your head means that more sleep isn’t going to happen just yet.

“I mean… she wasn’t okay. But I think she will be,” he murmurs, stroking your hair. “I’m just doing my best to help her get through this, but I don’t know how good of a job I’m doing. I don’t have any experience grieving a family member.”

“I think you’re helping her more than you know,” Aurora tells him. “And you’re very lucky that you haven’t had anyone in your family who’s died yet. It fucking sucks.”

“Well that would mean I’d have to have family I cared about in the first place,” he mutters. “That used to bother me a lot, but then I met her. We’ve made a family together, and that’s the only one I need.” He says all this without a hint of embarrassment. He’s completely confident in what he feels for you.

“You really love her.” She doesn’t phrase it like a question, but he answers it like one anyway.

“Yeah. I do. She’s changed my whole life. At this point, I can’t imagine my life without her in it.” His arms tighten around you ever so slightly, and it’s all you can do to pretend you’re still asleep.

“Can I ask you something? And I need you to answer me honestly.” Oh fuck. She’s going to ask him the same thing she asked you at the hospital. And you absolutely have to hear his answer.

You assume he nods, because Aurora continues speaking. “Do you want to marry her?”

“Yes.” There’s not even a moment of hesitation. You let out the tiniest of squeaks that you pray to whoever’s listening that they didn’t hear. They continue like they don’t. “I want to spend the rest of my life with her. And I’m the luckiest man alive that I think she feels the same way.”

“Well good. She might not admit it, but I know she wants to get married. And I know you asked Dad for permission. I stalled as long as I could in the hall for you.” You can’t see her, but you can still hear the grin on her face.

“Er… yeah, I did,” he laughs nervously. “I was afraid I wouldn’t get it since he didn’t know me, but he said it was mine as long as I loved her, and I definitely do.”

“Well I know she loves you, and she’s never fallen in love with anyone before. And even more of a miracle, you got me to like you. Don’t fuck it up. She deserves all the love in the world and then some.”

“I don’t plan on ever leaving her. I want to give her the world,” he whispers, running his fingers through your hair again. You hear Aurora leave as you try and process what you just heard.

He really did get your dad’s permission.

He… he wants to marry you!

And now you were going to have to pretend like you didn’t know anything. It was going to be utter agony.

But it was going to be so worth it on the other side. Because now, after hearing it from him, you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that you also wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. In a strange way, you’ve always known. Ever since he’d come into your life, you couldn’t fathom your world without him in it.

You’re only able to feign sleep for about twenty or so more minutes when you can’t take it anymore. You pretend to stir, pushing yourself off of Onceler’s chest. Smiling doesn’t exactly come naturally to you at the moment, but you manage to give him a small one before snaking your arms around him.

“Thank you… for everything,” you murmur. “I don’t know what I would do without you.” He doesn’t know it, but you mean it in so many more ways than just him helping you cope with your father’s death.

“Of course love,” he says, kissing the top of your head. “Anything you need, I’ll be here for you. God knows you’ve helped me more than enough. Do you want something to eat? Water?”

“I’m okay,” you decide for now. “Honestly, I just want to get out of this bed and stretch my legs.” He releases his hold on you, and you make your way out to the small living room where Aurora is folding laundry.

“Hey,” she says with a little smile. She walks over and pulls you into a tight hug. “I know you were awake,” she whispers. “So if you had any doubts left about him, hope I just killed them.” She pulls away, giving no hint about the bomb she just dropped, while you can only pray your own face isn’t bright crimson.

You sit on the couch and try to focus on the TV instead, but get another shock when you see yourself on it. Aurora’s put on some sort of celebrity gossip show, albeit on mute, and they’ve clearly started talking about you and Onceler from his party (how was that only two days ago?). 

You lunge for the remote to unmute it, but another hand grabs it before you can. You look up and see that it’s him. “They don’t matter,” he reminds you before turning the thing off.

“There was something I wanted to talk to you about anyway,” Aurora interjects. “How long can you stay for?”

“I got a week off,” you say absentmindedly, still eyeing the TV maliciously. You’d emailed your work on the flight here, and they’d thankfully been very understanding of your situation.

“Okay, good. That should give us enough time to get together Dad’s funeral, and then you can fly home after that… I assume? I don’t know how the fuck private jets work. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that you’re rich as fuck now,” she muses.

“Oh no. I’m not rich. He’s rich. There’s a difference,” you emphasize. You had no claim to a cent he made unless he did marry you and you decided to combine finances. There was a lot to talk about if he did end up popping the question soon–he’d probably want a prenup, how big of a spectacle did you want to make this, and of course, you couldn’t avoid talking about kids forever.

But one step at a time. No matter what you heard, this was his decision to make, and when to make it. But you just rest easy knowing that it would come in time. And you would say yes when it did.

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

A couple weeks after you got back, you were still processing how different your life was. While your daily life hadn’t changed much, there was still the psychological difference of knowing both of your parents were gone.

You were also reeling from the madhouse that had been your dad’s funeral, which Onceler was still apologizing for, even though it hadn’t been his fault at all. Your hometown was small, as he’d learned, and because of that everyone knew you. And due to him being an internationally known celebrity, everybody was also aware that you were dating him. Aurora had foreseen danger and had asked for no pictures at the funeral.

Someone hadn’t listened. They had taken a picture of the two of you coming in, posted it on social media, and by time you tried to leave a few hours later, there were paparazzi swarmed outside, clearly not caring that it might be a sensitive time for you.

And as if unannounced, unexpected journalists weren’t bad enough, one of them had sneezed, nearly directly in your face. It hadn’t hit you, but it was close enough to catch whatever he had, so you’d come home with a nasty bacterial infection. Thankfully, your doctor had given you medication that had cleared it up almost right away. You’d been feeling fine for days now, and had taken your last antibiotic that morning.

You’re making your way to Onceler’s office for lunch as you usually do. It was gray outside, an omnipresent color in the sky since you’d gotten back to Thneedville. The air itself seemed bad, too, but you didn’t know what that could be. The city probably just needed a good rainshower.

As you step into the building, almost immediately you can tell something is wrong. There’s no one around. It’s as silent as a graveyard. He hadn’t answered your texts that morning, but that was normal. You’d assumed he was just busy. This silence, this emptiness… this definitely isn’t normal.

You take off at a run in the direction of his office, your footsteps echoing loudly. You have an awful feeling in the pit of your stomach. If something happened to him…

As you turn the corner, you see his new PA stepping out into the hall, looking confused and a little disturbed. “What happened? Why isn’t anyone here? Is he okay?” you fire off, making him look more disturbed than ever.

“Um… I-I really don’t know,” he stammers. “He was his usual self most of the morning, and then like half an hour ago he started going around yelling at everyone to go home. He’s been talking to himself, looking stressed… no one knows what’s going on. He’s still in there.”

You don’t need to hear anymore. Something had happened, and you needed to find out what that something was immediately. You push open the now familiar oak doors, eyes searching him out.

He’s at the very back of his office, turned away from you. He seems to be arguing with someone just outside the door that’s back there, but you can’t see who it is, nor can you make out any individual words. “Baby? Are you okay?” you call.

He spins around towards you, his face stark white. Apparently, he hadn’t heard you come in, and didn’t realize what time it was. There’s a gruff voice you don’t recognize coming from outside calling for his attention, but he slams the door on them unceremoniously. “What are you doing here?” he yells, his tone harsh and unfamiliar.

You take a step back. He’s never used that tone with you before, and you don’t like it at all. “Excuse me?” you ask, your own voice low and dangerous. You’ll give him exactly one chance to fix his mistake.

At least he does seem to realize he fucked up. “I… uh…” He’s floundering for words like you’ve never seen before. “Why are you here? You shouldn’t be here!” he ends up spouting out, causing you to raise an eyebrow.

“That was the wrong fucking answer,” you accuse. “You absolutely do not get to speak to me like that. What the hell is going on?”

“Nothing,” he says way too quickly and with a faker smile than you’d ever seen before. It’s like he wasn’t even trying to be convincing, and you don’t buy it for a second.

“There’s no one here, you were clearly arguing with someone outside, and your PA said this only started about half an hour ago. I’m not an idiot, Oncie, I know something had to have happened.” He flinches at the use of your pet name for him, and you notice that all of the sudden he looks terrified. You walk up to him and take his hands, trying a different approach now. “Baby, please tell me. Maybe I can help you,” you implore.

He says nothing, but grips your hands so tightly that it’s almost painful. You just wait. If it’s a contest of patience, you’re determined to win.

The phone shrieks, breaking both of you of your concentration. He looks at you for a moment, then lunges for it, but for once, you’re quicker than him. “Yes?” you say as you answer it.

“You’re there?” One of his lawyers is on the other end, sounding like they’re suffering from a cold sweat instead of being cool and confident. “You need to get out of there now. For your own safety. The forests–” The line suddenly goes dead, and you look around in bewilderment.

You find him standing right next to you, the phone cord in his hand. He’s unplugged it. Whatever had happened, he didn’t want you to know. Dread begins to fill you.

“What happened with the forests?” you whisper, though you’re not sure you want an answer. His eyes go wide, both with fear and anger, but he stays stubbornly silent. “What happened to the forests?” you shout, nearly at the point of hysteria.

Your eyes wander behind his desk, where the curtain is covering the window that shows the forests. A horrifying realization suddenly hits you. He’d closed that curtain right when you’d started dating him. You’d never seen it open since. Which meant this had been in the works for months now. The length of your entire relationship, at the very least.

You dash over to the curtain, but before you make it, his arm is around your waist, preventing you from getting any farther. You whip your head around to look him dead in the face. “Don’t you dare touch me,” you hiss. He drops his arm slowly, and behind his eyes you can see the gravity of the terrible wound you’ve just inflicted upon him. But you have to know.

You make your way to the curtains, unhindered now, and throw them open.

You almost can't believe the sight of devastation that greets you. The last time you'd looked out this window, the view was of a lush valley, trufulla trees as far as the eye could see. Now, there was nothing but ragged stumps, smog, and the occasional axe head on the ground. And it wasn't just the trees that were gone. Every plant was dead, down to the last blade of grass. 

You slowly turn back to face him. "What did you do?" you whisper. You want him to refute you. You want him to deny it. But the look of guilt on his face is admission enough.

And the deforestation, as awful as it is, isn't even the worst part. You had to confront the other truth, the one you'd begun to suspect several minutes ago and were all but sure of now. "You never intended to tell me, did you?" you ask in a flat, dead voice.

Instead of answering, he just deflates, and your chest starts to physically ache. It fucking killed you to see him, usually so proud, charming, even a little cocky, so broken and defeated. You loved this man. What the hell were you supposed to do?

You once again have to be the one to break the silence after several minutes of it have passed. "What do you want me to say? What the hell were you thinking, doing this? And worse, not telling me?"

"I didn't want to worry you with my problems," he finally mumbles. "These were my own issues. They shouldn't have been your burdens as well."

You shake your head in disbelief. "That's the whole point of a relationship," you growl. "The other person is there to help you when you need it. I thought you understood that. I let you see me at my most vulnerable. But you couldn't trust me to do the same."

"No, that's not it," he desperately tries to explain, sounding like he's close to tears. "You were helping me so much, you were my world, you still are my world. I just didn't want to pile on more of my baggage and have you decide I wasn't worth it anymore. It's not that I don't trust you. Darling… please."

You sit at his desk and bury your head in your hands, hot tears stinging the back of your own eyes. You can hardly bear staying in this room; you feel it suffocating you. Some of your best memories had occurred right here, but they were all tainted now. You hated it.

After several more minutes, you finally look back up at him. "It's not your trust that's the problem anymore," you rasp, so close to tears. He's hitting you with those big puppy dog eyes that have enabled him to get his way so many times in the past. Your resolve wavers and you have to disconnect. You have an almost out-of-body experience as you hear yourself say, "The trust that matters now is mine. Because you have completely broken it."

At your words, you do see a few tears fall from his eyes. It seems like he's understanding the weight of the situation now, but it still left one question. You didn't want to address it. You wanted to say you could forgive him, that you could work through this. But when your trust had been so utterly decimated like this… you weren't sure you could say that.

Even the thought makes you let out a dry sob. It hurts. Oh God, it fucking hurts. Because no matter what he had done, it remained that you had loved him, and you loved him still. Whatever became of you after today, the fact that you love him would never go away.

"I think… I think I need some space," you breathe out, and his entire body language changes from penitent to frantically fearful faster than a traffic light.

"No! I can't lose you!" he begs. "Needing space is always another way of saying breaking up. Darling… I love you, I can't lose you." You say nothing, not trusting yourself with something as delicate as words. You just stand and head towards the door, but start in alarm when he grabs your hand, whirling you around to face him. "I love you," he repeats, tears streaming freely down his face now. "And I didn't want to do it like this but…" 

You have no clue what he means by that, but he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a simple black case before throwing himself down on one knee at your feet. No, no, no, not now, he can't be doing this now…

But then he opens the case and there sits a stunningly pretty ring. The band is gold, with small diamonds decorating it, finishing off with a larger but not over the top round diamond in the center. It's gorgeous, not gaudy, and exactly your style.

"I know I fucked up," he murmurs. "But I don't want to lose you. I've been planning this for weeks now. I-I want to marry you."

You're stunned into silence. You'd been imagining this moment ever since you'd learned he'd asked your dad. You didn't know if he'd go for some big, romantic gesture, or if he'd be so nervous he'd trip over his words in that endearing way of his.

But in all of your imaginations, one thing remained constant: your reaction. You'd always pictured yourself elated with glee, saying yes before he could even get the whole question out. Never did you think there would be a possibility where you might turn him down. Or that it would hurt this much.

You would have said yes yesterday.

You would have said yes fifteen minutes ago.

You still want to say yes. There's still a very large part of you that wants to ignore the past few minutes and all you'd learned, put that ring on, and work things out. 

But for some reason, you couldn't make yourself do it. Why couldn't you? You wanted to work things out. You wanted to fight for this. He was worth it. Your whole relationship was worth it.

But the fact that you couldn't trust him reared its ugly head once more. And if you couldn't trust him, you couldn't marry him. You needed time to heal, process everything, and truly think about where you wanted to go from here.

You couldn't do that with his ring on your finger.

It kills you to do it. But you feel yourself shaking your head once before ducking away, running out of the office so you wouldn't have to face his heartbreak as well as your own. You knew you'd change your mind if you were forced to confront the damage you did to him. It was cowardice on your part, but it was the truth.

It takes every ounce of willpower you possess to make it out of the building and not run back to him. When you finally get outside, you're almost jarred by the fact that it isn't raining. Isn't that how it always happens in movies? Your life had been like a movie, like a fairytale, for the past year. It would have been morbidly poetic, and yet fitting, for it to end like one as well.

Movie or not, rain or not, nothing could have stopped you from falling to your knees, and then to your hands as well a minute later, taking deep gasping breaths as your whole self tries to vehemently reject what your mind knows to be true. How could he do this? Didn't he love you? At what point did you not become enough for him that he felt like he couldn't share everything with you?

You're starting to get a headache now, feeling like you might get relief if you could only start to cry. But your grief seems to be beyond tears. Within the span of a month, you've lost your father, your future… and now you might have just lost the love of your life as well. 

You don't know how long you stay on that sidewalk, gasping for air. Time is inconsequential. All you know is the crippling ache of drowning in an ocean of despair, with no end in sight.

I'm so sorry. But before you all come after me with your torches and pitchforks, I just have to say, this isn't the end. We still have a few more chapters to go.